Tag: SCPD

#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 #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.”

#Lore24 – Entry #276 – Sentinel City by Night #2 – A Princely Meeting

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“Meeting with Ivanna Sokolova went well…maybe too well.  Won’t call her outright a loon, but she’s definitely got a vision in mind, and she’s passionate about it.  Only time will tell if it’ll pan out, though.  What can I say?  I’m a cynic; comes with the territory. 

Never heard of Carthage outside of a passing mention in my world history class, and certainly nothing of the Prometheans.  Well before my time.  Literal ancient history.  Definitely sounds like a pipe dream, but the way Sokolova spoke of it…maybe it could happen again.  I mean, how many Blue Bloods would so vehemently champion an idea that was so closely tied to the Brujah of all clans?  She’s even roped Grim Jacobs in as her sheriff somehow.  Haven’t seen him since San Diego, but if he’s putting in on this idea, that says a lot, right?  A name like “Grim Fucking Jacobs” has a lot of power behind it, after all.

Might be a dream, but one worth pursuing?  Without seeing this experiment in action over a good long time, I’d count on it staying a dream, probably one that turns into a nightmare, but who knows what the future might hold?  I’m no sorcerer, though I reckon they have a presence here, however distant they remain. 

As for me, I’m willing to play along, see if this might actually work, might even be able to help it along.  Willing to try, at least.  Basically survived the end of the world as it were, so how bad could this be?  Timing couldn’t have been better; Sokolova had a job ready and waiting for me.  Cynic in me says that was too damn convenient, but given what I’ve experienced, what’s another serial killer in a world like this?  I’m honestly surprised there aren’t more of them with the madness the humans spread amongst themselves through social media and their colleges.  Can’t recall it being that bad when I was still in school, but times change, way too quick for most of us.

Of course, nothing says this one’s human; could just as easily be a rogue Kindred who isn’t playing Sokolova’s game, maybe a lupine looking to stir up trouble, or one of the many other horrors lurking in the dark.  I’m expecting a lot of bad-faith Kindred, especially when more anarchs start showing up looking for their piece of the action, looking to test Sokolova’s resolve.  Wasn’t any mention of Sabbat tonight.  That’s odd.  Or is it?  They’re still lurking around out there, reckon they’ve still got the east coast locked down, even now.  Only a matter of time till they start trouble here, I’d bet money on it.  I was still fresh when they pulled that shit back in ’99, but even I heard plenty about it.

Anyway, got a meeting to get to, with a SCPD detective by the name of Walsh.  He’s the lead on this serial killer case, going to meet with him at the scene of the latest body dump; only found it a couple hours ago.  Killer’s still lingering on the corpse, so maybe I can get something from it if I’m lucky.  Won’t count on it, though.  These cases are never easy, especially not if a Kindred is involved.”