Author: Urban Sniper

#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.”

#Lore24 – Entry #283 – Sentinel City by Night #9 – Another Victim, Another Clue

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“It was a handful of nights later, after I’d hired a Chinese botnet to start the blowback campaign against Emmerson’s article and begun contacting her myself in the guise of a trio of new sources that were emboldened to tell their tales after reading her article to start the feed of misinformation that I got word that another body had been found with the same MO.  As soon as I got Walsh’s call, I rushed to meet PD at the scene, pushing my Taurus as hard as it could stand; not sure what that grinding sound is, or the wobble when I get up to speed.  Really have to get a mechanic to take a look at that; should probably ask Becky if she knows a good one that works late hours and won’t charge an arm and a leg. 

Think Walsh is starting to warm up to me, or he was just too tired to fire up the hatred tonight.  He looked strung out.  Anyway, this was another dump near the Red Light District.  It had occurred to me that with the many waterways in the city, and its proximity to the Great Lakes, there were plenty of better spots to dump a body.  That could indicate that maybe some part of the killer’s psyche was crying out to be stopped, or that the body disposal was simply an afterthought.

Either way, everything tracked with this being another victim and not a copycat, in spite of Emmerson’s article.  This victim, Sidney Clark, hadn’t been reported missing, however, and this was definitely sooner than the previously established timeline had indicated.  The killer was escalating, though I couldn’t say it had anything to do with the article or not; the timing didn’t seem to track.  As I examined the body, Emmerson showed up and had another confrontation with Walsh, this one rather heated.  She kept trying to draw me into the matter, but I ignored her attempts to speak to me.  I had plenty of lines of communication open with her already, didn’t need a face to face.

It was when I examined the victim’s ID to see where they lived that I made a most curious observation.  Though I couldn’t know what her face had looked like before it was removed, her ID showed a woman who was not up to standards for the killer’s appetites.  She looked to have been severely overweight, the deep scowl on her plump, pitted face only marginally distracted from by her bright green and red hair dye and side-shaved cut.  The body couldn’t have been even half the weight listed, even before the pieces were removed.  The ID was barely more than a year and a half old based on the date on it.  Did we have the wrong ID?  Was there perhaps another victim with whom the IDs had been switched?

I knew what I had to do, however much I disliked using that particular ability on a corpse.  Call me old-fashioned, but using my heightened perception to read the psychic echoes on a dead body seemed a bit too invasive, not to mention that it always left my skin crawling for days, even gave me daymares.  Might have been a little selfish of me, but it’s why I hadn’t done so before and had kept to the evidence and proper investigatory techniques till now.  Still, things had escalated to the point that I suppose I had little choice but to give it a try.

I waited for Walsh to shoo Emmerson off before I showed him the discrepancy between the ID and body, then told him that I needed a few minutes alone with the victim.  When he asked what I had planned, I simply told him it was better if he didn’t know the particulars.  Though skeptical, he obliged and pulled his people back.  Once I had readied myself, I removed my gloves and touched the body, peering into its past.

I saw flashes of the victim’s last moments, felt the echoes of the violence she had suffered, saw only a brief impression of the killer themselves, a cold, doll-like face smeared with blood, fangs gleaming as they wielded the scalpel.  Then a much clearer image emerged, one that wasn’t nearly as horrible, though perhaps even more confusing.  I clearly saw a red-headed woman, kind and energetic, showing the victim a computer-generated image of another beautiful woman, a sense of elation and happiness, contentment.  Then there was a sensation of awakening from a deep slumber, of peering into a mirror, the victim seeing the image of the woman that had been on the screen.  As I pulled myself out of the psychic vision, stumbling back as the connection was broken, I realized what it was I had witnessed, why the victim’s ID didn’t match her current appearance.

The red-headed woman had flesh-crafted her!  The red-head was a Tzimisce!”

#Lore24 – Entry #282 – Sentinel City by Night #8 – The Fine Art of Discreditation

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“It was easy enough to find Emmerson’s apartment; she didn’t seem to be worried about being followed, not that she would have noticed me anyway.  I lingered outside for some time after she had returned, waited until she had bedded down for the night before I slipped in and had a look around.  Security on her computer was easy to crack, simple logon screen bypass trick I’ve used hundreds of times. 

My hunch had been a good one.  The story that got printed was the watered-down version of the original she’d written which had included some very specific details about a particular vampiric bloodline that must consume flesh instead of blood.  I had dismissed that possibility early on as unlikely, though seeing the notes Emmerson had on the matter made me reconsider the possibility that a rare Nagaraja had come to town, but only briefly.  From what I knew of them, they did ritualistically preserve corpses to maintain a ready food supply, but they wouldn’t keep so little of the flesh and discard the vast majority of it; why waste perfectly good food, after all? 

Diving further into her files revealed that she had been communicating with an unknown contact who had provided that information to her.  I noted the email address, but it was likely a burner account, given the random nature of the username.  Still, the contact with the mysterious source had began sometime after the second victim, and their information had only grown more concise and revealing as further emails had come in.  There were promises of more information to come regarding the “vampiric conspiracy” to rule the city, with mention of an entire council of vampires already being established. 

Without checking Emmerson’s office system for more data, which seemed unlikely, I couldn’t be sure if she might’ve known more already or not.  My instincts told me to just get rid of her now and be done with it, but Sokolova’s command to save killing her as a last resort still stood.  I’d need to track her source down, too, and that would take more time.  So, I resolved to take a different tactic with her.  After I had setup some backdoor access to her system and returned everything to the state I’d found it, I departed with the snoring human completely unaware of my presence, already planning how I’d go about discrediting her work and ruining her reputation.  Not the first time I’d had to do this kind of thing; I’d developed something of a talent for it over the last twenty years.”

#Lore24 – Entry #281 – Sentinel City by Night #7 – Escalation

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“Apartment acquired, work area set up, progress made.  I’ve been studying all the notes and crime scene reports, coming up with a proper profile for the serial killer.  The time between the victims would seem to indicate a compulsive need that slowly builds over approximately a month that finally overtakes the killer, forcing them to act, though the fact that the killer keeps the victims alive for some amount of time before they are finally slain would imply a more contemplative mindset.  The lack of commonality amongst the victims, in appearance, lifestyle, background, and locations of residence would indicate that they are selected at random, seemingly when their features trigger a particular preference in the killer’s mind.  The collection of additional sections of the victim’s flesh beyond simply skinning their heads could indicate a ritual of some kind, or perhaps even a cannibalistic need to feed upon the flesh.  There are certain details that are contradictory based on the data I have so far, which may indicate some form of madness in the killer beyond what drives them to kill in the first place.  The lack of evidence thus far in actually obtaining details about how the killer captures the victims could indicate an ability to instill trust in the victims, some way to diminish mental capacity through drugs, or some kind of supernatural compulsion that is not entirely uncommon amongst the Kindred and any number of other supernatural creatures.

As I continued to contemplate the data I had, I received a text from Rebecca Dodgers, linking me to one of the local news sites, and an article recently posted by none other than Delia Emmerson.  Troubling was one word for it.  The article proclaimed “Vampiric Serial Killer Loose in Sentinel City!  SCPD Baffled!”  It was topped by a photo of the most recent crime scene, taken before I arrived and from a distance, though there would be other images, even if they were blurred out, taken from the police files themselves, and from the scene I’d been at; thankfully she didn’t catch me in them, at least the ones she posted, anyway.  She’d leaked a lot of details the police had been keeping under wraps, namely the specifics about what damage the victims had incurred, and the theory that someone was ritualistically sacrificing these people in the name of some vampire cult.  Though the headline definitely made it seem more damning, she at least hadn’t outright proven Kindred involvement, though the accusations were close enough.  Most of her fire was directed at the SCPD, though, for being incompetent and dragging their feet while failing to inform the people of the danger lurking on the streets.  She did mention a private investigator being brought in on the case as the PD couldn’t handle the job themselves while questioning whether the FBI had even been contacted.

I’d barely finished my read through when my phone rang.  It was Sokolova.  She wasn’t happy.  Don’t know what she was expecting; I had only been in town a few days; not like I could magically find the killer.  Wasn’t bold enough to ask if she’d consulted the Tremere chantry about divination on the case, but the thought did cross my mind.  Admittedly I may have been too hyper-focused on studying the killer instead of dealing with the media problem I knew about. 

I was tasked with seeing to Emmerson in addition to finding the killer.  She was adamant that I not simply kill Emmerson if it could be helped, that she should be dissuaded from her current course of investigation, and any sources she may have had found out.  Other Princes would have had the human killed without a second thought, but I suppose her vision of a city where humans and vampires got along came first.  Some would call that a weakness.

Without any additional clues to consider for the moment, I resolved to see what I could do about Emmerson and find out what she knew and from what other sources than the PD’s files.  None of that vampiric cult ritual stuff had come from them, and I got the impression she had to leave some details out because they would have been too far out for the average reader to process.  Fortunately, I’m good at getting into places I shouldn’t go.”

#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.”