Category: Person

#Lore24 – Entry #295 – Sentinel City by Night #21 – Ghouls of War

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“What’s that old saying?  When you’re getting flak, you know you’re over the target? 

Took me a few more nights, but I got myself a lead on someone selling Vamp-Out.  Wasn’t one of the regular dealers I’d been hitting up, though, was someone new in town, just opened up shop after they took down one of the other pushers.  Don’t usually pay too much attention to gang wars and fights between dope dealers, but this one piqued my interests.  Came onto the scene out of nowhere, established himself practically overnight, and had muscle to enforce his will.  Word was starting to spread that the “Pillbilly” was in town and would soon open for business, the new hotness from down South. 

Word was that he was taking up shop in an old brewery somewhere on the southeast side of the city, run down slum area, known gang territory.  Must’ve been pretty bold to come in and casually wipe out a gang and not fear the blowback. 

Should’ve known something was up when I kept getting that feeling that I was being watched as I headed out to track down exactly where this guy was setting up shop.  Those usually didn’t start till much later in the night, after I’d snooped around the really bad parts of town for a while.  Kinda got used to them lately, was starting to think it was just me.  Mistake on my part.

I’d parked a good way off, hit the alleys and side streets to get a feel for the area.  Seemed like another gang-infested slum in the bad part of town, but there was definitely something in the air here.  Didn’t feel quite right, was too much tension, not enough people out and about; seemed almost like the gangbangers had taken the night off or had better things to do.  Should’ve trusted my gut and cleared out, but I kept pushing deeper, looking for that brewery.

I was getting close to an old industrial area when the lights went out.  Literally.  Shadows surged all around me, poured out of every nook and cranny like crude oil from burst barrels.  Before I could begin to get a grasp on what was going on, two huge forms came at me from both ends of the alley.  Must’ve been seven feet tall, muscles for days, mess of bone spikes coming out of all angles.  Tzimisce war ghouls. 

At least I knew I was onto something to rate so highly as to call the big boys in.  Of course, my little revolver seemed awfully puny all of a sudden.  Realizing that my future unlife may we be measured in seconds rather than centuries, I somehow managed not to panic.  Calling on my heightened senses, I only somewhat managed to penetrate the shadows that surrounded me, enough to give me a vague idea of the buildings that were hidden by them. 

It was enough.  I dove into the cold, thick blackness, somehow managed to push through them and dove through a window.  If anything gets a girl’s blood pumping, it’s the roar of a pair of monstrous ghouls chasing her.  The shadows continued to shift and chase me, but I managed to navigate through them in the partially burnt out and collapsed building I’d found myself in.  The ground shook as the ghouls came after me, ripping though the brick walls like they were nothing. 

Something big flew past my head, crashed into the darkness ahead of me; it was a chunk of the outer wall, damn near took my head off.  I stumbled through some rubble, tumbled down over a pile of old bricks and hit the ground running, desperate to find a manhole.  If I could get to the sewers, I might have a chance.

Next moment I was flying wild, something massive slamming into my back.  Vision went all starry, body was screaming in agony.  Came crashing through the building opposite the old warehouse.  Right and both legs weren’t supposed to bend that way; pretty sure my spine wasn’t either. 

Then the two ghouls were on me, the first one snatching me up in its huge, misshaped claws, threatening to crush the life out of me.  More bones snapped.  Feeling a growing fear inside me, through the pain, some neurons fired.  I had a chance, if only it worked.  I began to speak through the pain, calling on my clan’s blood, of the madness that ran through all of us. 

Not sure what I said.  Not real sure what happened after that if I’m being honest.  Got a vague memory of that fear inside me amplifying itself, spreading from my voice and into the ghouls.  Blind terror took over all of us then.  Think the one crushing me threw me away like it was afraid I might explode, think I might’ve crashed through another wall.

Can’t remember much else.  Just know that when I came back to my senses, I was crawling through sewage, somehow having pieced back enough of myself to actually move, though I still couldn’t walk, couldn’t feel my legs, in fact.  Wasn’t sure even what part of town I was even in.  Was starving, too.  Usually try not to feed on rats, but sometimes you don’t have much choice; couldn’t risk losing myself further down in the dark.  Managed to heal up enough to get feeling back into my legs, could walk.  Sort of.  Every step was agony, spine was bent at an odd angle, arms weren’t much better.  At least it got me somewhere mostly safe, old monitoring station, maybe part of the old subway system, not used for ages.  Had a door I managed to block with some old shelving, seemed secure enough for now. 

Had to rest, had to try to heal up with dawn coming fast.”

#Lore24 – Entry #294 – Sentinel City by Night #20 – Matters of Faith

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“Been to several strange places all over Sentinel City, but Light’s Hope Chapel was the strangest one yet.  Hadn’t planned on stopping in, no reason to really, just happened to be in the neighborhood.  I’d continued my work, had a couple more instances where I picked up on someone following me, but never could pin them down.  Think they know that I know for sure now, so they’re being a lot more subtle about it.  Got word to Grim Jacobs via Sokolova but hadn’t heard from him or his Hounds yet.

Was on my way back from trolling for a source on the drug when I happened upon the church.  Parking lot had to have been half full, odd for this time of night, so I figured what the hell, I’d bite the bullet and stop in and see what this preacher was all about. 

Can’t say I was prepared for what I experienced when I walked into the chapel.  Heard her preaching about the works of the “Great One”, of the power found within its “pure and holy light” and the like.  The crowd was enthralled by her, don’t know if she was using one of our vampiric tricks or if she was just that damn good at preaching.  Still, noticed she wasn’t referencing God or Jesus during that sermon.

Tried to get a good look at Ausar.  Could tell she was dressed like a nun but had trouble keeping my eyes on her.  Hadn’t felt this kind of sensation…ever.  My skin tingled as I hit the rear pews, not painfully so, but I couldn’t keep from squirming, kinda like that feeling I got that time back in San Diego when I was nearly caught outdoors on a late night and felt the dawn creeping up on me.  Had to avert my eyes when she picked up her cross and brandished it over the crowd, the candlelight glinting off the gold just too intense for me.  I wasn’t even using my heightened senses.  Then I got the bright idea to read her aura.

Was damn near blinded by the light radiating off her, pure, golden…holy.  I’d never seen that before, had to quickly shut that off and rub my eyes, but still couldn’t get the after images to clear for a good while.  I’d never come across this before, but I knew instinctively what it was.  True faith. It might not have been in the god that cursed us Kindred, but whatever it was, Ausar had the utmost unshakeable belief in it, and I’d wager her flock believed in it just as much as she did. 

And here I thought I got hyper-obsessed with my work sometimes…

That was probably the most uncomfortable twenty minutes of my unlife; just kept waiting for my skin to burst into flames under the power of ‘the Light’, and though I’d thought to leave, I couldn’t make myself get up.  Fact that I’m writing this means I made it out, of course, and not even a sunburn to show for it.

Ausar’s intensity faded once she’d wrapped up her sermon, thankfully.  I kept my distance while she mingled with her flock, but eventually, once they had started to file out, she came up to me.  She seemed every bit the true believer she presented herself as, a fervor in her that I’d almost call a mania, barely contained.  Still had trouble keeping eye contact with her, kept feeling like I was transgressing or something.  Damn strange sensation.  She apologized for it, though, said those like me with increased senses often struggled around her at first.  Won’t go into too much detail about what we discussed; I’ve never been the type to be especially religious, but a little food for thought never hurt anyone. 

Wasted damn near the whole night chatting with her, though; tried to wiggle out of it, but something about her kept drawing me back in.  Definitely counting this one amongst the strangest nights in my life…so far, anyway.  Who knows what tomorrow may bring?  By the end of it, she’d extended an invitation for me to share her haven if I didn’t wish to go home, an offer I respectfully declined, but likewise advised me to keep her in mind should I require guidance in spiritual matters and even if I should find myself in need of healing.  Not so sure I wanted to be touched by those hands of hers or not given that her presence alone was enough to make my skin crawl. 

Ankara Ausar is something else.  That’s all I can really say.  Don’t know if that’s holy fervor and her faith guiding her or some kind of madness.  Maybe both.  She is a fellow Malkavian, after all.  We’re all known to have our moments of lunacy, just have to wonder if she’s living in hers all the damn time or if I caught her on a lucid night.”

#Lore24 – Entry #292 – Sentinel City by Night #18 – Humane Treatment

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“Well, think Sokolova’s anger has finally been cooled.  When the news came out about Emmerson’s mental break, complete with multiple videos of her attacking people at the steakhouse while raving like a madwoman, it didn’t take much of a push from Sokolova for the media to distance themselves from her.  Her own paper issued retractions and apologies for running her stories, the editor-in-chief who had approved them even stepped down.  I’d scrubbed everything I could from Emmerson’s home and office systems, made the trail as hard to follow as I could, but kept what I needed to try and locate her source.  Couldn’t find any information about who had clued her in on the backdoor, though.

An eventful few days for sure. 

Reckon they’d taken Emmerson to the Edgewater Mental Hospital.  Called up Misha Kyle, got her to set me up with a meeting with Jennifer Tempest regarding Emmerson.  Not real sure why.  Maybe I’m feeling guilty?  Maybe I just wanted to be sure?  I don’t know.  Whatever the reason, I just felt the need to follow up on the matter.  Clear my mind of lingering doubts, maybe. 

Tempest was pretty much what I’d expected at first, a no-nonsense type, real strict on keeping her facility in order.  She was agreeable to me seeing Emmerson, but not face to face.  Fine.  We talked little as she lead me through her facility; was certainly more modern than the hospitals I’d visited around San Diego, but had that run-down feel that came with a certain amount of age, use, and lack of funding.  Emmerson was safely tucked away in the maximum-security area on the top floor, in a drug-induced stupor, sitting in the corner of a padded cell, straitjacket and other restraints secure; they’d even had to gag her to keep her from biting off her own tongue. 

After I’d had my look, I turned to see Tempest glaring at me.  She’d wanted to know if I felt good about what I’d done to Emmerson.  Couldn’t say I’d felt good about it, but I didn’t feel bad, either.  Some things just had to be done, especially when she was endangering the entire Sentinel City Kindred community.  Don’t know why exactly, but I decided to explain to her what I’d originally intended to do, but things had gone sideways. 

I’d sensed something in the air then, that sixth sense I’d developed regarding the supernatural, and took a look at Tempest’s aura, saw a swirling mess of randomness I couldn’t focus on.  Knew what that meant.  Needless to say, she wasn’t from around here, was from somewhere I would never have expected.  I’d only ever seen one or two of her kind before.  Demon. Fallen.  Whatever they called themselves.  We stared at one another long enough for it to get uncomfortable.  She broke the silence, said that now that we understood each other, she’d see to it that Emmerson recovered, however long it took, and though she didn’t care for the method I’d used, at least I’d given the woman a chance to redeem herself, hadn’t killed her outright like many of my kind would have done. 

As she walked me out of the psych ward, she told me to visit the Light’s Hope Chapel and see the preacher if I was feeling particularly guilty about my choices in life or unlife.  Said it would be an enlightening experience, attending one of the preacher’s sermons, even if her faith might not have been in exactly the right place.  Said it might do me some good to unburden myself of my sins.  Wasn’t sure what that meant; wasn’t particularly bothered by then if I’m being honest, well,  mostly.  I was already damned, so what would it matter, anyway? 

Still, can’t say she hadn’t piqued my curiosity about this mysterious preacher, Ankara Ausar.  Reckon she was of my clan too, was close to Sokolova, even had her own mortal following.  Maybe I should look into visiting her before long, see what she was all about. 

Later, though.  Had to follow up with Blumenthal about this drug; reckon he’s gotten the results back from the lab.”

#Lore24 – Entry #291 – Sentinel City by Night #17 – Dealing with Delia

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“Try to get a day’s sleep, and all hell comes crashing down around you.  I was stirred out of my slumber by several message alerts on my phone; it was barely after sunset.  Forcing the remnants of my slumber away, I looked at the messages, the first from Becky with a link to Delia’s latest article, and several from Sokolova demanding I contact her immediately.  Shit.

I checked my computer first, saw no further copies of Delia’s messages, my connection to her system still offline, so not an equipment problem.  Then I checked the article, and could my blood run colder, it would have.  “Shadow Government Controls Sentinel City!  Vampire Cult in the Lead!” the headline proclaimed.  She’d been busy since her last big piece, or someone else had fed her quite the healthy dose of intel.  The article started off talking about the murder at the Paragon, then spun some yarn about it being an escalation after Dollface had been taken down by the rest of the cult, targeting someone in retaliation.  Seemed a stretch.  Photos were something else, though, taken from far above; had she been in the ductwork?  She even caught me when I had been examining the scene with Walsh and Blumenthal. 

The really damning stuff came after, when she tied it into Sokolova’s operations.  Emmerson didn’t name names, not yet, but had started painting a picture of something akin to an organized crime operation, infiltrating the upper levels of city government, guided by the hand of the vampire cult’s leaders.  She proclaimed my involvement with the police to cover up evidence, mentioned how all it took was one word from a powerful member of this shadow government to get a SWAT team called on the killer after they had stepped on their toes while the police had done nothing to stop the killer beforehand, how some of the most powerful positions in the city were part of the cult.  She had photos of Sokolova’s building, the Light’s Hope Chapel, and Kyou’s arthouse, with promises to reveal more in her next article, to expose the corruption.

Fuck.

My phone rang.  It was Sokolova.  Beginning to think she had my place bugged, was watching me with how good she was at her timing.  Took my licks like a good soldier.  Her tongue may as well been a whip with how she lashed me with it.  Whatever I had planned tonight was on hold.  Emmerson had to be dealt with, and it had to be me that did it.  I had until sunrise. 

My brain was already working on how to repair the damage, but that all hinged on getting Emmerson out of the picture first.  I had my false sources still in play, perhaps; likely whoever had revealed I’d hacked her system had exposed those, too.  How had they known, though?  Another hacker?  Becky?  Someone else just as good?  No, gotta focus on the main job first.

I threw some messages out through my false sources, trying to get her attention.  Also added another six random emails to the mix, but one of the new ones had some juicy bits tied to it.  My neck was already on the chopping block; might as well go all in.  Named myself in that one, told her I was working for the head of the ‘cult’ and that I was actually related by blood to the Dollface killer; not a lie, that.  Gave her a few more details that should entice her into a meeting.  Gave her a time limit, too; if I didn’t have an answer from her by midnight, I was gone with all my information. 

Took about an hour, but she responded to that one.  We sent some messages back and forth, I gave her a few more details to sweeten the pot, told her I had a whole dossier ready to hand over that would give her all the juicy bits.  She was playing it more cautiously, so she must’ve had some inkling of what it was she was getting involved in.  I suggested a dead drop in a public place; I wouldn’t reveal myself but would stick around to make sure she picked up the package before I left town, otherwise I’d take it with me.  She agreed; I’d make it work; sent her the details and a time. 

Picked a place that was public, but not too public for my needs.  All I had to do was meet her eyes.  Picked a steakhouse down by one of the shopping malls, plenty of people around to dissuade any foul play.  Got the package ready, just a bunch of old junk articles and notes I had stuffed here and there from twenty years back, some random bad photos that hadn’t turned out, that kind of thing.  Nothing anyone could get anything out of.  I got there on the double, dropped it behind one of the toilets in the women’s restroom after I’d slipped inside.  Set myself up near the back and waited.

She was there on time, looked a little paranoid.  Probably would have made a good ally if she hadn’t stepped on the wrong side of the line.  Watched her pass by my hiding place near the restrooms; she passed within a couple feet of me and never had a clue.  She went inside, I followed.  I let her pick up the package, then when she turned I was there.  Her eyes widened.  I tapped into that swirling madness that we Malkavians loved so much, and I dumped all I could into her poor mortal brain, stoked the embers of what was already hiding in her subconscious. 

Then I was gone.

Delia started screaming before I slipped out the back.  Would make for one hell of a story:  “Up and Coming Reporter Goes Crazy in Family Steakhouse!”.  My next stop was her apartment to scrub her records and add to the story, mess her place up to match the lunatic behavior she had just started to experience.  Would probably need to visit her office as well, make sure she didn’t have anything left behind there.  Would fill Sokolova in on the details when I was done, let her handle how the story would develop from the foundations I’d set up; she seemed the type to have friendly media on hand.”

#Lore24 – Entry #290 – Sentinel City by Night #16 – Knocking on the Chantry Door

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“Wound up taking three nights, but I was finally allowed a visit to the Tremere chantry.  By then, the aura in the vial had faded somewhat, but it was still visible, so maybe it wasn’t too late to glean something useful from them.  Their place was very much what I’d expected it to be, fancy gothic-style manor in the neighborhood reserved for the rich, old-money types, surrounded by a big fence and plenty of magical auras I wasn’t even about to try and decipher.  Just passing through the gates was enough to make my skin crawl.  Fun fact: after I’d announced myself on their intercom, the gates opened on their own, but not with any kind of mechanical device. 

Of course, I didn’t get a full tour of the place.  Once I was inside the front entryway, got to see the grand stairway leading to the upper levels, and several closed doors lining the entry hall; shadows were deep here, deeper than even my heightened perceptions could penetrate, even though there were plenty of candles glowing with arcane, purple flames to light the way.  A moment later, one of the side doors opened, and a teenager wearing all black, a t-shirt and jeans, combat boots, and a smattering of your typical goth girl accessories, ushered me toward her.  Sitting room was fancy, fireplace was glowing with what looked like a normal fire even if there wasn’t any heat coming off it, though the room was pleasantly warm regardless. 

Another Tremere waited for me, this one dressed like some kind of cowgirl, could have just stepped out of the old West at that moment and I probably would’ve believed it.  She introduced herself in what sounded like another Texas drawl as Abigail Dawson, and her companion as her apprentice, Elizabeth Powell.  At least they were being courteous for all their secrecy, so I introduced myself in kind.  Knowing they weren’t likely interested in chitchat, I got right down to business, gave them quick rundown of the situation and passed them the vial.

Though they hid it well, I could tell they were intrigued.  They excused themselves to the connecting room, told me to make myself comfortable but not to wander.  Could’ve at least left me a magazine or something else to read.  Took about an hour before they came back, about half the contents of the vial missing, the magical aura gone.  Both of them had a look on their faces like they’d just discovered dog shit on their shoes after they’d already tracked it through the house.

The sorcery in the vial stank of the Tzimisce, they said, likely a modification of a type of blood ritual they often used to frenzy their ghouls when they went to war.  The rest they said was a mixture of various mundane chemicals and ingredients, common in street drugs, the exact nature they’d leave to me now that the sorcery had been removed.  My first instinct was that my suspicions of Misha Kyle were correct all along, but Abigail said it was unlikely; their people were keeping a close eye on Kyle and had not noted any strange behavior out of her.

Elizabeth then told me that our time was up, and the rest of the mess was mine to sort out, but if more sorcery was discovered, to let them know.  Then a curious thing happened; the two shared a look, Abigail nodded at her childe, and then the apprentice told me that shadows loomed around Sentinel City, so the head of the chantry had divined, and trouble was coming.  Couldn’t get more specifics out of them, guess they’d loose their mysterious reputation if they made it that easy.  Either way, thanked them for their time and left the chantry on the quick, my mind working on the situation as I drove toward Blumenthal’s precinct.  Dropped off the remnants of the vial, let him know that I had a vague lead, but would need more time to track it down.  Told him it was probably some kind of new street drug from what I’d been told, and to get the word out to his people to be on the lookout for more of it, and that I’d be in touch.  Said he’d let me know what the lab techs found out about it.

Got an unwelcome surprise when I got back to my apartment.  My backdoor to Emmerson’s computer had been removed, and I was no longer getting copies of her communications.  Could’ve been an equipment failure, maybe, but my gut told me otherwise.  Someone had found me out.”

#Lore24 – Entry #288 – Sentinel City by Night #14 – Meeting in Elysium

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“Few nights later, I finally took Kyou’s offer to meet him in person.  Didn’t know he was a he till I’d met him, not that I could really tell much of a difference even then; looked and sounded just as feminine as any woman.  Don’t usually feel attracted to most people but think I might’ve felt something stirring when I finally met him.  Must have been that Toreador thing they do. 

Turns out, he’s the Elysium keeper in Sentinel City, and a rather famous, if elusive, fetish artist who does a good amount of work with “classy” kink photos and videos, most of it involving living people in various themed shoots and whatever other strangeness that kind of thing entails.  The kink scene isn’t my thing.  Outfits might be sexy sometimes, but I’ve got other things to do with my nights.

When I showed up at the arthouse that was one of the Elysium locations in town, he was in the midst of preparations for a big party.  Must have been a couple dozen humans and ghouls around, all of them in various kinky outfits and states of restraint, forming different living scenes.  Apparently, this was just the practice session before the big thing.  Modern art.  Pfft.

Kyou was very thankful that I’d helped in finding Kinzie, who was surprisingly absent, but Kyou assured me he was “quite secure” and nearby.  Didn’t ask anything else on the matter.  Still, even with my lack of interest in the things going on around me, I found it hard not to enjoy Kyou’s company.  He had a way of being absolutely charming, seemed to know exactly how to make you feel like it was something special just to be around him.  We chatted for a while, shared a little of his “special” vintage wine.  He owed me a huge favor he said.  Never a bad thing to have in this kind of society.  He invited me to his big event, but I didn’t commit to anything; might be good to network a little, but I’ve never been one for social gatherings.

I had more work to do, anyway, so I couldn’t spend too much time with him.  Car was finally in the shop, so I was on foot or relying on public transport for a few nights.  Figured I would be looking in on Emmerson more tonight.  Think our unexpectedly quick capture of Dollface threw a wrench into the narrative she’d been crafting.  Her latest article covering the takedown sounded almost spiteful, hinted at there being a larger cult at work, to expect more killings in the same manner; I’d seen where she’d originally wanted to go with her tale, and was pretty sure that wasn’t going to happen.  Her mystery source had continued feeding her information about the Kindred, however, and she was shifting her focus.  The fake information I’d been feeding her had muddied the waters, so she wasn’t entirely sure who to believe now. 

That source was proving elusive.  I couldn’t verify any real details about whoever it was; what information I could pull from the email headers was different each time, no doubt using a VPN and other methods to hide their locations.  Couldn’t exactly subpoena the email provider’s records, either, given the sensitivity of the information they were peddling.

I’ll just have to keep an eye on the situation and work it as things develop.  Maybe I can convince Emmerson to cut ties with the source and drop her whole investigation.  Could be pretty simple if I’d ever managed to learn how to control minds, but that just wasn’t in my blood.  Still, got an option to use on her if it comes to it; don’t usually rely on that, but if she pushes things too far, well…”

#Lore24 – Entry #287 – Sentinel City by Night #13 – Rapid Response

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“Thankfully whatever noise I might’ve made once I was inside the warehouse was covered by the girl’s screams.  For me, not for her.  I was moving fast, but as long as the screams and whimpers and pleading kept coming, that meant I didn’t have to worry about the killer noticing me.  Spotted the van we’d seen on the security footage, doors were still open; guess the killer had been too anxious to get to her work.  Took a minute to pop the hood, pulled the wires off the battery; if she tried to run, she’d have to work for it.

Started my way upstairs toward the torture room.  I tried to hurry without moving too fast; delicate thing.  Just to be sure, I double-checked that I’d silence my phone.  Would’ve been pretty embarrassing to be caught by something like that.  Didn’t take me long to get where I needed to go, smell of blood was getting thicker.  Door wasn’t locked, but I eased it open slow, after I’d hit the hinges with some spray lube I kept in my coat pocket for just these kinds of occasions. 

If this lady wasn’t a Malk, she could’ve definitely passed for one of our nuttier brethren.  First thing I saw when I peered in was the trophy rack; saw all the peeled faces of the previous victims staring at me from across the room.  Crazy bitch hadn’t just preserved their heads, but had gone full on Leatherface, made masks out of them.  Guess she’d used the additional flesh she’d taken as extra material.  She wore the Sidney Clark mask now as she paced slowly around Carly Greer, who was secured to a tilted surgical table, scalpel in each hand, making slow, deliberate cuts, seeming to pause to savor the sounds the poor girl made, then to lap at the blood that was coming out of her. 

The name “Dollface” popped into my brain at that moment.  Strange what comes to mind in situations like these.

Kinzie wasn’t far off, on his knees with his wrists and ankles chained behind a support beam, big gag ball in his mouth as he watched with a look of absolute horror on his face.  I would’ve thought him another young woman if I hadn’t known what he looked like before hand from his master’s description. 

Thought for a second there about playing hero, but I didn’t know what this vamp was capable of.  For all I knew, she was as dangerous as one of those Brujah you always hear about that can tear up a whole city block with one hand tied behind their backs.  I eased the door open a little wider, carefully, took a quick gander around the room.  Wasn’t huge, might’ve been the offices back when this place was open for business.  Some side rooms, couldn’t see much about those from here; pretty sure there was another set up stairs leading down on the other side somewhere, though, possible escape route.  Windows were blacked out or boarded up, aside from two that were raised to let in some air and what little moonlight there was, right behind Dollface’s torture rack.

Figured that SWAT team might stand a better chance than me if they could get the drop on her.  Dollface wasn’t going to kill the girl just yet anyway; sucks for her, but not a chance I could risk taking.  I skulked back and eased the door shut, then got off the upper level before I started hammering at my phone, sending what I’d seen to Walsh.  Time like this, maybe having a smart phone would have been better, or maybe if I knew how some Kindred moved so damn fast.  Still, managed to spit out what I had to tell him eventually.  SWAT was already inbound and he was talking to them.  Said one of my kind was with them, and to just stay out of their way.

By the time I got outside, I saw the SWAT van pulling up down the way, outside the fence where Walsh had parked.  Didn’t look like a standard SWAT unit to me, not enough of them, only seven of them, but I could tell they were dangerous.  Hit them with my aura sight as I approached.  One vampire, the one with the big rifle, and the rest were ghouls.  They covered the rest of the ground on foot after a quick word with Walsh, the sniper breaking off to the adjacent building, the others breaking up into two squads of three as they entered the warehouse. 

From the screams, Dollface hadn’t realized they were there yet.

Guessed these guys were military-trained by the way they handled themselves.  I asked Walsh about them while we waited, made him nearly jump out of his skin when I revealed myself.  Bad habit, I know.  Least I didn’t get shot for it.  Said he didn’t know much about them aside from all of them were veterans, though he wasn’t sure about the sniper.  Conway was her name, said she came in with Sokolova’s people, started hanging out with the SWAT team after the mayor and police chief worked out whatever “fucked up arrangement led to me working with you.”

Didn’t take long.  Couldn’t have been five minutes since I’d passed the SWAT team before that big rifle let loose.  One shot.  Some shouts from inside, then silence.  These guys were very good.  All clear came in over Walsh’s radio a minute later; they’d taken Dollface intact, victims secure.  EMTs were there in a flash, taking care of Carly and Kinzie, and were gone just as quick. 

SWAT bagged up Dollface to go, had her staked out, one gnarly head wound marring the Sidney mask.  Conway met up with them, finally got a look at her without her helmet and mask.  Pale, platinum hair cut short, had an intensity about her, the kind that comes with a lot of combat.  Shared a smoke with her men, figured they were her ghouls by how comfortable they were around her.  We didn’t speak much, but she said she’d be in contact with Sokolova shortly with a full report, and that she’d let Kyou know his ghoul was safe.  Said I did good for my first job, glad to see that I was a team player. 

I stuck around long enough to gather what other details I could for the sake of completing my case notes, but since I wasn’t there in any official capacity, I made myself scarce.  I let Walsh and his team handle cleaning up the scene and left any glory that might come from it to them.  I worked better in the shadows, after all.  For a wonder Emmerson didn’t show up on the scene till I was already on my way out, along with the rest of the media types.  Guess even her sources weren’t able to keep up with how quickly we’d moved tonight.  Would definitely be looking into that before long.”

#Lore24 – Entry #286 – Sentinel City by Night #12 – Rapid Escalation

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“Things got real interesting real fast tonight. Was at the PD with Walsh, going over the security footage they’d gotten earlier that day.  Spotted a panel van, abductor’s vehicle of choice, leaving the scene, but couldn’t get a read on the plates.  His people were trying to track it but had lost it when it had passed through Chinatown heading east; seemed like the people there weren’t too fond of cooperation.  Better than nothing, though.  Could be hiding there; none of the bodies had been found too close to the district, but I suspected there were other reasons for that, though I hadn’t taken a drive through there myself just yet.

Before I could consider possible hiding places, I got a call from a number I didn’t recognize.  The lady on the other end was frantic when I answered.  Once I got her to slow down, she introduced herself as Kyou, one of the local Kindred.  Name rang a bell, think I’d heard it regarding one the Elysium locations in town.  Anyway, she was all in a huff because her prized ghoul, Kinzie, had gone missing earlier this evening.  The way she described him, he was the most beautiful thing walking, so I guess that qualified him for attention from our killer.  Hadn’t expected her to grab another one so soon; guess this Kinzie just hit all the right buttons and she couldn’t stop herself.  Might not be related, but my gut said otherwise.

Thankfully, we caught a break; Kyou had a nanny app installed on Kinzie’s phone and had an exact location of where he had been just before the phone had been turned off an hour or so ago.  Worked for me.  Took a ride with Walsh on this one, was a lot quicker getting through town when you’ve got the flashing lights and siren on your car.  Crap, forgot to call the mechanic again.  Maybe tomorrow night.  Noted.

Place was a high-end sex shop, dealt in real fancy gear for really rich kinksters.  Didn’t take long to track Kinzie’s movements; he was a regular, always picking up something or other for Kyou.  Kyou was an artsy type, dealt in fetish photography and living art.  Should’ve guessed she was a Toreador from the way she got all dreamy describing Kinzie to me, even in the midst of her panic.  Whatever.  We found Kinzie’s car in the garage next door, still locked up tight, keys laying on the ground next to the trunk. 

We hit the security office next, pulled the camera footage.  Same panel van came up behind Kinzie as he loaded up the night’s purchases.  Driver spoke to him, and he got right in the van without a fuss.  Classic vampire domination.  Makes it real easy to get your victims from one place to another.  Couldn’t get a good look at the driver, but we had the plates, and Walsh got on it immediately.  There were plenty of cameras in this part of town, traffic and otherwise, but that would take time to sort through them all. 

I made a call to Becky while Walsh was pulling info on the plates.  Won’t go into specifics, but I owe her a favor now; she seemed pretty pleased by this.  Bound to happen sooner or later; it’s just how her kind are.  By the time Walsh had determined the plates were stolen from a sports car that had turned up chopped a few weeks back, Becky was sending me texts with the direction the van had gone.  Walsh and I hit the trail hard and fast, headed eastward. 

Few miles later, we pulled into a dilapidated section of warehouses near the docks, the most likely place our target would have gone given the last hit Becky had sent us, an ATM camera at a liquor store a few blocks from the docks.  Could have been plenty other places for them to hide, but between the gang bangers, druggies, and other types the typically hung out in places like this, a serial killer would very likely go unnoticed.  Didn’t miss the fact that Walsh loosened the catch on his gun in its holster as we started into the area.  Decided to check my piece too.

Kept the windows cracked as we patrolled around.  I focused on what I could hear over the engine.  Got lucky after a little while, heard some screams that sure sounded to me like someone was getting tortured.  We headed in that direction, keeping the lights off as I guided us closer.  Came up to a particular warehouse that seemed a little nicer than the others around it, even had fresh padlocks on the fencing outside.  I stopped Walsh here, told him I’d go in alone to scout the place alone.  He didn’t like it, but then he figured I might be a lot quieter than him.  He said he’d get word back to the PD to get the SWAT team on standby just in case.  Seemed prudent.  I shot off a quick text to Sokolova to fill her in on what was going on. 

Then I stepped into the night, quickly picked the lock on the fence, and headed into the darkness, towards the screams.”

#Lore24 – Entry #285 – Sentinel City by Night #11 – Frustrating Developments

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“Got called into the boss’s office tonight to give an update on the investigation.  Didn’t plan on doing a presentation tonight, pretty sure she wasn’t too pleased with my lack of organization.  My mind works as it does; I have my own system.  Whatever.  She got the info she wanted, seemed happy enough, maybe, once I’d detailed what I’d come up with regarding the killer’s actions and motives. 

Also clued her in on my plan regarding Delia Emmerson.  Showed her copies of the emails the reporter had received thus far and showed her the pushback against her article that had already started as well as some of the false trails I’d started feeding her.  Sokolova seemed pleased with my initiative on the matter, both in trying to keep Emmerson alive while tracing down her source.  Did give me a not-so-subtle warning to prioritize the killer, but to likewise make sure Emmerson didn’t get out of hand.  A little help from her wouldn’t have been amiss, but then again, don’t know her people well enough to really trust them to do the work to my satisfaction.

Whatever.  Just means I’ll not have much in the way of free time for the foreseeable future.  Not that I’d really be doing much else anyway.  What’s a PI without a case to work on?  One this mess was done, I’d start putting out the word I was for hire, start getting a more steady flow of work.  At least Sokolova offered me some compensation for my expenses so far.  Nice of her.

Found a voicemail from Walsh after the meeting that we had another victim go missing last night that seemed to fit the criteria for our mystery killer, another woman named Carly Greer.  I rushed straight from the meeting to meet Walsh at the victim’s apartment, shared by another trio of college kids.  Brakes are starting to squeal on the car now.  Forgot to check on the mechanic.  Better not wait too much longer.  Noted.

Spoke to the roommates; they’d all grabbed some fast food and went to the movies, she’d gone to the bathroom, never came back.  No answer on her cell phone; Walsh had already got the paperwork going for a trace.  I got the address and headed that way while he called his guys on scene to be expecting me.  Surprised me when he handed me a card for a garage and a guy he knew who worked nights.  Guess I’m growing on him.  Imagine that.

Cameras at the movies were a bust, didn’t even have any except those at the concession stand and out front at the ticket office; was one of those places that was older than me, tended to show the classics.  Workers hadn’t paid attention, or at least, didn’t remember seeing her when she came out.  Restrooms were in the middle of the building, behind the concession stands, with doors to access them on either side for each of the two theatres.  Watched one of the workers wheeling out some garbage using one of the emergency exits; turns out that one wasn’t alarmed, led straight out to the alley out back. 

Did my thing with the door this time, got an impression of the victim touching it for just a moment, and someone else.  That someone else made me shiver, however brief the impression was.  Definitely Kindred, shadowy, vague, a ghost in the night.  Like me.  Can’t confirm it with what I managed to get, too many people had touched the door, but suspecting she might even be another Malkavian.  Got just a flash of her from her point of view, think she might’ve been wearing a mask. 

Had to hit the pavement around the theatre, saw several security cameras that might have something useful, but the places were closed and I couldn’t break in with the PD right there, not that I’d want to with the number of cameras around, anyway.  Can’t hide from those, not easily.  Gave the list to the officers on scene for Walsh’s people to deal with getting the footage. 

We had no more than three nights to find Carly Greer intact by my estimates.   Killer kept them alive, probably fed on them, maybe enjoyed the taste of their suffering in the blood.  Speaking of blood, better find a lick myself; starting to feel antsy.”

#Lore24 – Entry #284 – Sentinel City by Night #10 – The Fleshcrafter

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“As I would shortly discover, my revelation that there was a Tzimisce in town wasn’t nearly as surprising as I’d originally thought.  I daresay I might’ve been the only one of my (admittedly limited) circle that didn’t know about her.  Should probably socialize more.  Noted.

Her name is Misha Kyle, works as a “plastic surgeon” in her own upscale business downtown, “Lovely Longevity Limited”, real posh clientele; reckon she’s done work on quite a few famous types, though she mostly deals in humans over Kindred.  She’s got a team that handles the little things while she works the real special jobs like my last victim, where there’s some major rearrangement to be done.  Definitely not your typical Fiend, that’s for damn sure.  Apparently, Sokolova approves of her being here, though she’s not a regular at the community meetings.

I setup a meeting with her to discuss the situation regarding Sidney Clark, and she didn’t even try to wiggle out of it, sounded almost saddened by what happened if I read her right over the phone.  Still, maybe she’s just that good a liar; can’t trust a Fiend, right?  That’s the case on the ones I’ve known over my admittedly short unlife, anyway. 

Kyle wasn’t what I was expecting; she looked normal, for one, her beauty seemingly all natural, even acted like a normal person.  None of that alien-looking bullshit with her.  She didn’t hesitate to fill me in on her backstory; got the impression she’d done it so many times it was second nature when meeting a new Kindred.  Sounded solid, didn’t feel like she was feeding me lies.  Reckon she was involved in that mess down in Atlanta back in ’99, one of the Sabbat shovelheads that survived the whole affair and managed to keep her sanity intact somehow, eventually broke free during the chaos that happened all over the place twenty years back.  Been clawing her way back to some semblance of her humanity since, and says she’s dedicated her abilities to helping those who want it, and those who really needed it at a greatly reduced cost.

Sidney Clark was one of the latter cases.  Girl was driving herself crazy between all the bullshit she’d been fed online and in school and the mental state that had come of it.  Reckon she’d had a come-to-Jesus moment and sought help afterward, and was on the way to a full recovery.  She’d been working with a local shrink on improving her self-image, chief head doctor over at the Edgewater Mental Hospital, Jennifer Tempest, and once she had progressed far enough, Misha was brought in to help with getting her physical appearance to match her evolving mental image.  Seems a real humanitarian but call me skeptical.  I’ve heard things about that flesh-warping magic, can’t confirm it, but rumor is it warps minds too, which is why the Fiends are the way they are.  Course, Kyle seems to be an exception.  Suppose anything’s possible.  Reckon she even attends church on the regular, the one ran by that Malkavian preacher I’ve started hearing about.  Not sure that’s a positive or a negative, honestly; haven’t had time to stop by and introduce myself.

Whatever the case, my initial theory that she was somehow involved in the deaths seems to have been shot down.  Couldn’t detect that she was being dishonest, even her aura seemed genuine, though those dark streaks were concerning, even if they were faded, so if she had sucked a vamp dry, it’s been a while.  If she went through that shit in Atlanta, then maybe she couldn’t exactly prevent it.  Whatever; I’ll keep my eye on her, but I’m willing to give her a chance.  Either way, didn’t learn anything useful about the case.  Won’t say it was wasted time, but I might lean that way. 

Till I can find out more about the killer, I’ll busy myself tracking Emmerson’s source.”