Tag: victim

#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.”