Tag: Dementation

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

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

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

An eventful few days for sure. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then I was gone.

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