Tag: aura perception

#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!”