Category: Place

#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 #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 #289 – Sentinel City by Night #15 – I Want a New Drug

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“At least my time in Sentinel City hasn’t been boring.  Barely a week and a half gone since Dollface was whisked away by Conway’s team to wherever they took her and I’ve already got another “official” case.  Since the last one, I’d learned Conway was actually Sokolova’s childe, so it wasn’t really a surprise when I got the call from the Prince regarding SCPD needing a consult at a murder scene.  Walsh would be waiting for me.

Really hope I’ll get some cases that don’t involve grisly murders one of these nights.  Still, work’s work.

Old Taurus is running like a dream now; hasn’t driven this good in years.  Probably should keep it on a regular maintenance schedule…

Anyway, found the scene pretty easy, nightclub called Paragon on the north end of town, plenty of badges blocking off the scene.  Spotted Emmerson’s car a couple blocks away on my way in, but didn’t see her skulking around outside when I got there.  Could smell the blood in the air soon as I was shown inside by the uniforms on guard; it was thick.  Walsh met me outside the main dance floor where the killings happened, introduced me to the detective in charge on this one from the local precinct, one Grover Blumenthal.  He was on the young side, put me more in the mind of an accountant by the look of him, but at least he wasn’t outright hostile to me coming in on the case.  Guess he hadn’t had time to get jaded, cynical, and territorial yet.  He was also “in the know” as far as my reasons for being there.

The CSIs were hard at work on the dance floor and a few dozen witnesses were being interviewed in another room off to the side.  Dance floor was a bloody mess; doubt a bomb could’ve done it much better.  Just a quick look told me there were at least four victims here based on the number of left hands I counted.  Took a moment to steady myself as I took it all in; all that blood stirred the Beast, made me hungry.  Guess it had been a couple nights since I’d had a proper meal. 

Looked almost like an animal attack; shredded flesh, limbs ripped off, chewed on, blood splattered everywhere.  Several people had been taken to the hospital who had survived the assault.  Suspects escaped, bloody footprints headed toward the emergency exit, disappeared into the night once they hit the wet alley and the steady rain that had been falling since yesterday.  The absolute brutality was impressive; didn’t figure regular humans could pull off something like this without a weapon of some kind.  Ghouls could, perhaps, given enough time to season; a Fiend’s war ghouls could definitely do something like this, but they’d have spooked the crowd before they got too close.  Lupines could also make a scene like this, but they tended to avoid known vampire cities unless they were looking to stir up trouble.  As I asked about witness descriptions of the incident, Blumenthal read off some of his notes; these were young men, sounded like regulars on the club scene, known to spread around recreational drugs when they came out to party; then they freaked out and started tearing people apart.  Descriptions weren’t tracking with a lupine attack; I’m no expert in their ways, but I do know they have a way of fogging mortal memories when they change into their wolf forms.  Handy that.

Wasn’t about to touch these bodies with my second sight.  Level of violence and the horrific deaths they’d suffered meant several sleepless days for me if I did.  Did take some time to look over the scene with my aura perception, though, and it paid off.  Hidden in one of the meat piles was a very faint magical aura.  Went for a look, saw a little red vial mixed in with the gore.  Pulled the detectives over and let the humans catalog the evidence as they would before I had my closer look.  Stuff looked like blood, but it was too bright, too red, almost glowing.  Vial was the kind that slipped into some kind of injector device, which hadn’t been found yet. 

Given the aura on this stuff, I wasn’t sure what to make of it.  Assumed it was some kind of drug, maybe, but I wasn’t about to shoot up with it to find out.  Blumenthal seemed a little more intent on watching me than the scene, and when I asked him about it, he seemed a little embarrassed, said it was the first time he’d ever worked with one of my kind, quickly corrected and said he’d meant a PI.  Smooth cover.  Maybe the kid had potential. 

Speaking quietly so as not to be overhead by anyone who wasn’t clued in on me, I let them know that I’d sensed something supernatural about the vial, the kind of thing that really didn’t need to get out.  Knew somewhere I could get it analyzed, if they’d see me, and figured it was probably the best lead for me to take while they handled the cleanup detail.  Not getting any arguments, I tucked the vial in a Ziploc and then into my coat.  I’d have to go through the proper procedures, might take a couple nights, but it looked like I’d be visiting the Tremere chantry.  That was sure to be an experience.”

#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 #280 – Sentinel City by Night #6 – The Rough Part of Town

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“Nothing was clicking into place.  I’d been to three of the four previous body dump sites, and I had no new revelations or insights into the killer’s nature, to say nothing of their identity.  Granted, it had only been a day, but still. 

Tonight, I’d started out immediately for the last of the sites, the second in the chain of killings, the Steel Shark Tavern, a bar on the far side of Sentinel City that tended toward the biker crowd.  Was feeling antsy tonight, realized halfway there that I needed to grab something to sate my thirst soon.  Sometimes forget to feed when I get absorbed in a case.  Careless of me, maybe dangerous.  Will get it taken care of.

No sooner had I pulled into the parking lot of the location did I see a body go flying through the front door.  It was that kind of place.  I could hear the shouts and sounds of fighting inside over the music.  The guy who had been tossed out got to his feet and reset his jaw, then headed back inside after pulling a knife.  Sure enough, as he disappeared into the doorway, I saw the distinct aura that revealed him as a ghoul.  Wondering what mess I’d just become witness to, I checked my gun to make sure it was loaded.  I tended not to use the little Smith & Wesson .38 often, but better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it, right?

The ghoul was back outside in a heap a moment later, another biker, also a ghoul, sprawled on top of him, the first ghoul’s knife stuck into the second’s back, though not fatally.  The door flew open again, this time with a mountain of a woman charging out, two more ghouls firmly held in her huge arms.  She roared, tossing them into the growing pile of leather-clad ghoulish bikers, and stepped out of the way as a fifth ghoul was shoved out by another woman, smaller than the first, but still no stranger to a brawl judging by the way she handled herself and her victim. 

Didn’t escape me that these two were full-blown vampires, either.  The pack of ghouls surged toward the pair, the one plucking his knife out of his companion on the way.  The two women fought together as if they’d done it for ages, probably had for all I knew, covering each other and fighting almost as one.  The mountainous red-head was all about power, like a charging bull or a rhino, while the pink-haired one was all about finesse and technique, moving like a big predatory cat.  I had decided just to stay in the car for now; no sense getting involved in a mess like that if I didn’t need to.

The two vamps made quick work of the ghoul gang, breaking no few bones as they fended off the ravenous bunch and quickly forced them to retreat to their bikes, their limited reserves of their master’s blood having been spent.  With the busted up ghouls on the retreat, I finally stepped out of my car and approached the two vampires, who were busy jeering and taunting the fleeing gang.  They both whipped around on me in an instant, sensing my presence, still pumped up and ready for a fight.  I quickly introduced myself and complimented their display, though they were anything but impressed.  I noted that the pink-haired woman, who would eventually introduce herself as Catherine Ramos, had peculiar eyes, yellow and reminiscent of a feline’s, which she quickly covered with a pair of shades, her hair generally wild, almost like a lion’s mane, while her companion, Anita Winters, had less obvious animalistic features but for her larger build and perhaps a discoloration and peculiar pebbling of her skin not unlike the thick hide of the rhino I had compared her to previously.

Though our conversation was not the most civil, I would nonetheless join them for a drink in the bar, once they’d had their adulations for tossing out the gang, of course.  I had been looking for a meal tonight anyway, so why not?  They were working for Grim Jacobs as his Hounds, and were likewise of clan Gangrel, as I had already surmised.  The bikers they’d tossed out weren’t locals, were likely Sabbat, so they said.  Catherine swore they had the stink of Lasombra blood in them but wouldn’t give me more details as to how she knew that, though I sensed something deeper behind her obvious distaste, outright hatred of whoever she had in mind.

I informed them of my reasons for visiting the Shark this night, but they had little in the way of useful information for me.  They weren’t around when the body had been dumped, said they usually kept troublemakers in check, hadn’t noticed any suspicious types around till the ghouls had picked a fight tonight.  Got the impression they didn’t much care for me, and even less so once they had learned of my own bloodline.  Not the first time I’d experienced such mistrust, certainly wouldn’t be the last.  Not that I cared, really; everyone had their prejudices, and my clan certainly had a reputation.  I think I’m rather a positive example personally, but that is neither here nor there.

Still, after I had excused myself, I surveyed the dump site, and then left the bar; I had managed to secure a proper apartment and would be moving in tonight.  If I had time, I would see about paying Delia Emmerson a visit, though I suspected I would be far too busy with arranging my case notes tonight.  Priorities and all that.”

#Lore24 – Entry #279 – Sentinel City by Night #5 – Previous Victims

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“My reception at the SCPD precinct was about as cold as the nights were getting this time of year, at least in Walsh’s office.  No judgement here, I was just there on business, after all.  They had identified the victim, Andrew Vance, a local, manager for some local tech company, reported missing less than a week ago when he didn’t show up for work on Monday morning.  Minor drug offenses on record from his college days, but otherwise clean.  Coroner confirmed pretty much everything I’d picked up at the scene regarding injuries, though blood tests were still pending.  If it was a vampire at work, I doubt they’d find any kind of chemical restraints used; we had other ways of making humans compliant, after all.  He had a brother and parents still in Sentinel City, but they weren’t relevant at this point.

Walsh left me alone to review the previous victims they’d tied to this killer in a private room, out of sight of the rest of the team.  Fine with me; I enjoy my solitude.  So far there were four other victims, two male (Zak Harrison, Jamal Beck), two female (Eliza Stewart, Gwen Weber), all local residents, all in their mid to late twenties, and the killings had started about half a year ago.  Aside from age, they seemed to have little in common.  All were from different parts of the city, different social classes and social circles, no common background elements aside from having lived in SC most of their lives, if not all of them.  Couldn’t even see that their paths had crossed at any of their jobs or during school. 

Only thing that stood out as far as common to them all was their general appearance.  All could have been considered “above average” to “gorgeous” on the appearance scale.  Given that two victims were white, one black, and one Hispanic, with differing hair and eye colors, at this point I could only assume something about their faces had drawn the attention of the killer.  All had been slain similarly to the latest victim, had had their faces and scalps peeled, along with certain other patches of flesh.  Ritual killings could be a possibility, though I’d have to delve deeper into the occult to figure on what dark being had this particular taste in sacrifice. 

My gut said it wasn’t occult, though.  No, this killer was keeping some grisly trophies, had to be.  Operating on some kind of compulsion, perhaps, and given the rough timetable, the killings were roughly monthly.  Could fit.  Bodies had all been dumped in varying places throughout town, most around Walsh’s precinct, so that could indicate either proximity or simply a favored dumping ground, likely due to the Red Light District and all the crime that goes on there.  More likely to get lost in the mix of dead hookers and drug overdoses, even with the grisly nature of the slayings.  Maybe.  Maybe not.

I happened to be standing on the far side of the door with the case notes spread out on the table when the door opened, and someone poked their head in.  I tended to reflexively obscure myself, so the intruder hadn’t noticed me.  Though dressed as a janitor, even pushing the mop bucket along, I instantly recognized Delia Emmerson beneath her layers of makeup that might have actually fooled your average joe.  Dedicated and crafty, would possibly make a fine investigator if she wasn’t looking for fame.  Slipping inside, likely assuming that whoever had been looking over the case files had stepped out, she slipped her phone out of her coverall and started snapping pictures. 

I contemplated stopping her right then and there, but I still had to learn what she knew of the Kindred first, and didn’t need the PD ransacking her home following an arrest.  With what was on display, there wasn’t anything that would obviously harm the Masquerade; it was all standard reports on the victims.  Could her reporting cause trouble on this investigation?  Maybe, maybe not.  If a Kindred, the killer likely wouldn’t be dissuaded with a mere mortal reporting on their activities.  Taking a chance, I let Delia finish her work and slip out without alerting anyone, resolving to hunt her down and see what she really knew as soon as I had the chance. 

For now, though, my task of hunting the killer took priority, so I made a quick review of all the files and closed them up, returned them to Walsh and made my exit.  I decided to visit the previous dump locations as I contemplated the facts I had.  Maybe something would click into place.”

#Lore24 – Entry #278 – Sentinel City by Night #4 – Into the Spider’s Den

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“Heard the club before I saw it; not unexpected.  Nothing special on the outside, just a neon sign in greens and blues and reds, similar in design to the hand stamp, and some steps leading down to the entrance.  Could have been any other vice den for all I knew, except I knew better; could see the bouncer’s aura, unquestionably a ghoul.  Had to keep my senses in check once I was inside; far too many details were blasting me.  Sex, blood, and leather were the dominant aromas even in the entryway and had been for a long time.  Had to work to get the guys at the entryway to understand what I wanted, dumb ghoul muscle, but soon enough I was given the express tour.

Main part of the club had a bit of a retro vibe to it, kind of like 80s shopping mall vibes, the kind that were already being phased out in the late 90s when I was still a mall rat, mixed with modern flat screens and sound systems, probably fueled by alcohol and drugs of all kinds, the music serving to mix it all into some kind of techno-euphoria.  Leather and latex composed the most common outfits in the place, and I was noticeably underdressed since I wore only my leather duster and none of the other fashionable accessories common in a place like this.  Would have been plenty of eyes on me were I not so adept at blending in.

I was ushered into the “dungeons” below the club proper then, heard plenty of things I’ll refrain from mentioning on the way when I extended my perception, but before long I was on what I can assume was the lowest level I’d ever be allowed into, given the nature of the club’s owner.  Was expecting a private playroom of some kind, not the extensive server room I found myself in.  Was almost as cold in there as it was outside, but only my ghoulish guide showed any signs of being cold.  For a moment I was envious of the cable management, knowing I’d never managed anything close even on my home setup, but then it was back to business when the club owner introduced herself.  Though I could appreciate her tech setup being a computer nerd myself, I didn’t let myself get too distracted.

Rebecca Dodgers was dressed much the same as any of the others upstairs:  latex and leather-clad raver girl outfit, cyber-goth style, mix of black and neon highlights, big dreadlocks in two thick tails on her head, leather cuffs and buckles galore on her platform boots.  Couldn’t see her face behind that gas mask, not even her eyes, but didn’t take me long to discern she was a Nosferatu, what with the misshaped proportions beneath the outfit and the fact that her hair wasn’t natural; seemed like they tended to be drawn to BDSM clubs more often than not, at least in my experience growing up on the west coast; easier to hide amongst the humans when you could hide your misshapen self amongst them, after all.  What caught me off guard was the thick Texan accent that came from behind that mask when she finally spoke; I was expecting valley girl or something more refined, not that heavy southern twang. 

Didn’t let my surprise show, though.  She already knew why I was there, had known of my arrival in town before I had even met Sokolova.  No surprise there; her kind always knew.  She correctly guessed the latest victim had previously visited her club, so I gave her the details I’d picked up.  Given that he was a human, she had little to go on without a face to look for on her impressive security setup; the multitude of well-concealed cameras hadn’t been unnoticed on my way down.  She did at least offer to run through some of her footage from the main floor from a few nights previous to see if we could spot our victim, though he hadn’t exactly been dressed distinctively given the regular clientele. 

Nothing came of the search, but we did at least exchange contact info and some small talk about the latest hardware, and she offered further help in tracking the victim once I had more info to share.  Though I already planned on visiting Walsh at the PD HQ, she suggested I check up on their files as well, since they’ve been keeping the records of this particular string of killings off the digital record for now as a favor to Sokolova.  I asked her what all the help would cost me but told me she was just being neighborly, some southern charm thing, I suppose.  Nothing’s for free, so I’m sure I’ll find out the real cost soon enough.

Once I’d left the club, I let the few details I had about the case percolate in my head for a while and instead focused on finding an apartment somewhere; couldn’t keep all my notes in a hotel room or my car, after all.  I’d seen the crime statistics for Sentinel City already, and they weren’t great.  I’d visit Walsh at his precinct tomorrow night, give the PD time to process the body, fill in more details.”

#Lore24 – Entry #277 – Sentinel City by Night #3 – On the Job

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“Took me longer to reach the crime scene than I’d hoped; haven’t had time to learn the streets in Sentinel City yet, and the old Taurus didn’t weather the trip from the West Coast as well as I’d hoped.  Will have to get that looked at soon.

Found the scene easily enough once I’d reached the Red Light District, they still had the streets cordoned off, plenty of officers buzzing around, lots of onlookers in spite of the dropping temperatures and coming rains.  Remembered to grab my coat at least this time; wasn’t quite cold enough that I’d notice it, but the humans might have, especially the detectives.  I was expected, not exactly warmly, maybe, but quickly ushered to the body, where I met Walsh. 

I could tell he was skeptical; who wouldn’t be, after all?  I’d been in the city less than a day, after all, and I got the impression those who knew of my nature, like him, didn’t trust the Kindred.  How could they?  I wouldn’t trust someone who fed on my kind either.  Probably didn’t even know about us till Sokolova started her grand vision a couple years back, though.  Still, work to do, killers to find. 

Got the impression Walsh had seen some dark shit already, and I figured he wasn’t even out of his thirties yet.  Looked stressed, especially around his eyes, maybe graying a little prematurely, didn’t look in the mood for small talk.  Introduced myself quickly, he nodded, we didn’t shake hands.  Body looked like a quick dump job, tossed in between some dumpsters.  Walsh didn’t volunteer any information, so I took in the scene for myself.  Walsh and his buddies got a laugh out of my cassette recorder as I took my audio notes.  Old habits die hard; need to get a digital recorder at least, tapes are getting harder to find.  Still don’t’ like those smartphones; hard to use when you don’t have blood pumping through your veins and can’t leave a fingerprint to access them; old Nokia still works well enough, though, gets the job done, anyway.

Victim was male, likely mid to late twenties, upper body disrobed and showing obvious signs of extreme torture, flesh missing in several spots along torso.  Unidentifiable as his face and scalp had been removed, peeled, possibly intact, no ID on the body. Ligature marks on wrists, ankles, and waist.  Old scarring in other places, likely a whip or severe flogging, fetish-related, piercings in his nipples still in place in spite of multiple fresh lacerations to torso; lower body covered by leather pants and wearing combat boots, some blood stains, but no signs of having been removed and redressed.  Little blood at dump site.  No obvious bite marks, but definitely drained, likely through the wounds, since there was little in the way of blood to pool in the body.  Figure it had been there at least a day. 

Noticed an ink stamp on his right hand, looked like some kind of spider superimposed over a web that looked like some kind of circuitry pattern, still clearly visible.  When I asked, Walsh said it was from a club not too far from the site, called the Cyber Spider, raver hangout with some heavy kink on the side for good measure.  He pretty much spit it at me; it’s a hangout for Kindred, ran by one as I’d soon discover.  Wasn’t much else of use at the scene as far as I was concerned, other minor details are in my case notes, at any rate.

As I was about to ask Walsh about prior victims, we got some unexpected camera flashes.  Local media had shown up asking about the killing.  From the heated conversation between her and Walsh, they were well-acquainted.  Delia Emmerson was her name, worked for one of the tabloids; figure she was too far on the edge to be a legit corpo reporter.  I figured I would undoubtedly cross paths with her again, because she asked specifically if this was another “blood sucker” killing.  Will deal with her later on, though, after I had a chance to learn what she knew about us vampires; had other leads to look into for now.  As I slipped away, heard her asking Walsh about his new partner, but nobody had noticed that I’d gone till they turned their attention back to where I had just been. 

I had a club to visit, even if I wasn’t dressed for the crowd.”