[BPRD] Slaughterhouse, pt 2 [All 2.2]

edited October 2012 in In-Game
Moments ago, you pulled up to the Willard InterContinental hotel and parked in an outside lot. The weather is warm, a bit dry. You headed up the the murder scene, up on the fifth floor. As you walked down the hallway, you saw men milling about near one room. After coming closer, you saw the police tape over the door, but plainclothes men and women are moving in and out of the room and talking.

You meet FBI Agent Nora Brady, she matches her picture: an African American woman in her late thirties: sharp eyes, plain face, wavy long hair pulled back, dressed smartly. Once you flash some credentials (like what, exactly? A BPRD card? Just the say so of being with BPRD? What do you use?), she shares some details of the case while moving the tape up so you can enter the room, "Mistaugh checked into the room by himself, we've canvassed the hotel staff and guests, found no one who saw him with anyone. The rest of the floor was unoccupied."

By now, you've all entered the room, the smell of blood is strong here. You get a closer look at all the symbols on the walls. The body has been taken away. Nora continues talking this whole time, "The hotel rents the entire floor to a CIA holding company on a standing basis, it is often unoccupied. The arrangement was maintained by Mistaugh himself. Also, at his request, there are no security cameras on this level. Mistaugh's clothes and personal effects, keys, wallet, jewelry, watch, all gone. He was identified by Harley Porter, the night manager. Estimated time of death was 3 AM."

She walks over to the side of the bed, pointing at something beside it, a wastebasket, "Evidence collection found a used condom in there. Otherwise, the room is clean of trace evidence."

The intro may not have been clear, but Nora is an FBI agent, you are investigating a murder of Mistaugh, a CIA agent.
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Comments

  • Joe would quickly flash his BPRD badge as his credentials to enter the crime scene.

    I follow agent Brady into the room with the others. The metallic smell of blood is heady and over powering. Strong magic has been worked here.

    I pause next to the bloodied wall more to catch my breath than to examine. I've been trying to control my breathing since I've entered. The hairs are standing up on the back of my neck and a feeling of nausea is growing the further into this room I enter.

    Damn who ever did this. Terrible what he did to Mistaugh but maybe worse the what he has put these other people through.

    As agent Brady gives us the details of what the FBI has made of their sweep of the room my attention is wholly on her and the other agents. I crouch down next to the bed, arms resting on my knees and hands loosely clasped.

    How are these people coping with what they have come into contact? How are they making sense of this? Do they think this is the work of someone merely mentally deranged? A Dahmer?

    When the used condem is mentioned I tilt my head to the side. Though I think to resist I instinctively peer into the wastebasket. Suddenly I'm self conscious about Penny being there. It was unsettling with the blood painted on the walls and at least the body parts had been removed. But now we are talking about sex. Maybe prostitution will come up. She seems so young for this.

    I look up to Blake to see what he wants us to do.
  • edited October 2012
    I am standing by the door, hands behind my back. It all looks about how I expected, considering the photographs and the nature of the ritual. I am no forensic scientist, however, so there is only so much that I can do here, without disturbing the scene.

    Instead, I keep my granddaughter under a close watch. She saw the photographs, of course, but the real thing may still be overwhelming, particularly with her psychic sensitivities.
  • red
    edited October 2012
    [Penny]

    I show my nice and shiny BPRD badge along with the others. I drag my feet as we go down the hallway though. The closer we get to that room, the more I can smell the blood. As everyone else ducks under the tape and enters the room, I stop in the doorway. The smell is overwhelming now. I don’t think I can go in there. I don’t see a body from where I’m standing, but the smell! I feel a little bit lightheaded again so I rest my forehead on the cool doorframe, and listen to what Agent Brady is saying. She says it so clinically, like we’re not talking about a person who was just cut up into pieces.

    Oh that brings up the images of those pictures again. I wish I could unsee them. Press rewind and then delete. I examine the grain of the wood in the doorframe and count backwards for a while, but I lose count when I hear Agent Brady mention a condom. Ok. I need to do something besides pretend I’m very interested in the make of this doorframe (as I am not really qualified to give an informed opinion). I don’t really need to go in the room, right? I’ll see what I can find out with my minds eye. They can study the blood, I think I’ll try looking past it. That should be a little less horrifying...hopefully. I try not to think about what I saw earlier.
  • Investigate a Mystery Spooky Style

    #DiceRoller( 2d6+1 )

    On a hit: Where did the murderer go?

    highlighted for 1xp
  • Penny,

    The murderers are two men named Oswald Hartford and Duncan McGready. They murdered Mistaugh and left his body for a another man to perform the rites upon his corpse, then cleaned up the mess. They reside in the area, both returned home.

    Both of them are dead now.
  • "Oswald Hartford and Duncan McGready." My voice is strangely high, but it carries into the room with surprising clarity. My eyes are wide and unblinking and fixed on something, nothing. "They did this. They murdered him and left him for another man to cut into pieces. They went home, and now they are both dead."

    I blink and focus on the room again. It still smells terrible. Perhaps more terrible than before. And now there are two more rooms with more blood and more dead men and...I sway a tiny bit. "I need air." I say faintly in my normal voice and then flee into the hallway. I catch myself on the wall and start walking briskly along it back the way we came, shaking like a leaf (in the wind). Leaves do not shake on their own, you know.
  • edited October 2012
    I've seen all that I need to see, so I turn back into the hall to trail after you, Penelope, ignoring the tape across the door. Not that I am particularly good company. I suppose that ghosts usually are not, though you do appear attached to your cat. And you're more used to the dead, aren't you? Perhaps I should put in more of an effort.
  • Inside the room, Agent Brady asks, "Did she say Duncan McGready? Sunnuva bitch, I have that asshole on speed dial." She pulls out a Blackberry and tries calling him, no answer. She orders an agent to go check on an address she pulls off her phone for him, then looks at you, Blake. "I find it a little hard to believe a retired agent is mixed up in this, but for now, I'll suspend disbelief. What else do you need, Agent Blake?"
  • I finish my look around. I feel bad for Penny but this is the easy part of the job. Still, thank God I'm not psychic. At least she's not making deals this time around.

    "Once you confirm McGready's death we're going to need his file and probably to search his house. Run the other name and see if he's a fed too."

    I look over at Joe:

    "Any thoughts?"
  • edited October 2012
    I stand up and put my hands into my jean's pockets.

    "The condom? If he was otherwise alone it doesn't make sense."

    Slowly turning, spinning, as I take another look around the room. The dried blood glistens on the wall. The nausea growing but I clench to hold it in control.

    "We need to find the heart and undo the magic done here."
  • Joe and Blake,

    Nora Brady answers, "Evidence Collection is checking the contents of the condom as well as looking for skin cells on the exterior. If Mistaugh was with someone here, we'll know." She checks her Blackberry when it buzzes and says, "Oswald Hartford is retired CIA as well. Local PD is heading to check out his home. If this was an inside job, then we're going to have a ton of roadblocks along the way. Agent Blake, how did Agent Snow know about those two retired spooks?"
  • red
    edited October 2012
    [Penny]

    I make it outside and breathe in the blood-free air with relief. You'd think they could at least open a window in there or something. Surely they don't need the room to smell so badly in order to investigate. Perhaps there's also a Strange Smell Phenomenon to go along with the Strange Smile Phenomenon. Maybe Agents can't smell or smile. How tragic. I lean over and breathe in the scent of the flowering shrub next to the door just to make sure that I haven't lost my sense of smell (I haven't). I wander down the sidewalk a little ways and sit on a bench. The sunshine is nice.

    Beau, why would someone do something so terrible like that. I muse to the cat on my shoulder silently.

    Dr. Eaton, I presume you have followed me outside?
  • The cat moves halfway round your neck and settles down over you like a stole. Its cold body pulls some of your nervous energy and it flicks its tail up and down across your left shoulder blade, I have no idea, child. When I hunt living things, sometimes I will play. But this is uncalled for.
  • Blake,

    As you're scanning the room while talking with Nora Brady, you notice that a fleck of gold leaf is on the pad of hotel stationery, actually, it looks like it is part of something stuck between the stationery sheets. Either it was missed by the team or it was cataloged and left.
  • I look back at Agent Brady with a perfectly serious expression. "She's psychic." It's kinda funny how many people wonder about Penny but how few realize that Eaton is a dead guy.

    I go over to the pad, draw out my ballpoint pen and lift the sheet back.
  • Blake,

    Underneath the sheet is a business card, an ostentatiously fancy one for a business - Islington Limo Service, Inc. The area code for the business phone is an Angleton, VA number. You think Agent Brady hasn't seen what you're doing.

    What do you do?
  • I memorize the phone number. Not such a hard feat, then I pick up the card with a gloved hand.

    I don't have any particular reason not to trust her, but I'm interested in her reaction. "Islington Limo" I say holding the card and turning towards her. "Know anything about them?"

    We can read folks, right?
  • Agent Brady looks up from the photos the NCIS guy just handed her and replies, "No, Agent Blake, I don't. Haven't gotten to that one yet. On my To Do."

    You can Read folks, yes. Custom Move. But yes.
  • #DiceRoller(2d6-1)

    Reading Brady
  • I'll go ahead and use a luck point.

    What's she really feeling?
  • Blake,

    Agent Brady is frustrated. She's just found out that a CIA agent who was murdered in his own meeting place was murdered by two ex-CIA agents. She doesn't believe there IS such a thing as an ex-CIA agent, so this probably goes way up the food chain. She has very little support, the BPRD is here which means whoever is pulling the strings on her side believes in crazy magic bravo sierra and the jurt is out on that as far as she's concerned.

    She thinks she's basically screwed on this deal and she will be cut off at the knees if she even sniffs who really did this. This is probably a black bag operation and the CIA will do what they do, cover things up. She's also a little worried she might end up dead, but that's not really a driving force for her actions. She wants to get the bad guy.
  • edited October 2012
    Yes, Penelope, I have come with you this far. I'm notably just slightly insubstantial in direct sunlight.

    I imitate clearing my throat: "Ahem. Are you well, Penelope?"
  • [Penny]

    I look over at Dr. Eaton and smile. It's perhaps a slightly knowing smile. "You really don't have to do that for me." I gesture to my throat. "You know, trying to act less like a ghost and more like a human? I'm almost more used to ghosts than I am humans, after all. Have I ever told you about my ghost friends at the asylum? Oh, you asked me a question didn't you? I'm sorry, I'm being terribly rude."

    I pause and look somewhere past you out at the street. "I feel better now." I say carefully. "The smell was rather strong, but I'm fine. I'm glad I was able to help find the murders' names. I like being able to help people with my...talents." That last part was perhaps a little pointed. Not quite as pointed as a knife. Perhaps more pointed like a dull pencil. I don't want to be rude, but I do want Dr. Eaton to know that I am happy with my choice to stay with the BPRD.
  • Pointed, you say?

    "Yes, well. I am glad, at least, of that. As you have seen here, there are those that put their talents to ... other uses. And even this, I suspect, will prove to be relatively petty as these things go ..."

    I'm remembering my own first experiences with this sort of casual brutality, this sort of evil. I'm remembering the Nazis, and thanking my stars that that, at least, I may never seen again.

    Penelope: "Well, your discovery will no doubt prove useful in catching up to the practitioner responsible, though I am afraid it is possible that this case will become a matter of waiting, primarily, until conventional detection has run him to ground. This time we are tracking a man, no different from you or, ah, well, not I perhaps. Far easier for him to hide himself than the sorts of monsters that the Bureau usually concerns itself with."
  • [Penny]

    I nod along with Dr. Eaton until I feel like there's a spring in my neck, but I'm watching him and thinking about how he is so...professional...all the time. I've known him for a couple weeks now and I still feel like I don't know him at all.

    He finishes talking, but I'm still looking quizzically at him. Well if we are going to spend a lot of time waiting, then what a perfect situation to get to know each other. "Did you like waffles...before you were a ghost I mean?" I ask suddenly, the picture of utter sincerity.
  • edited October 2012
    I pause.

    "Yes, I would say I quite enjoyed waffles. Why do you ask?"
  • [Penny]

    "Because we're related, and I feel like I don't know you at all." I say simply, staring at him owlishly. "I don't know what your favorite book was when you were little or if you ever had your heart broken or if you prefer to listen to leaves blowing in the wind or ocean waves. Do you like pink or white erasers? Do you ever miss eating ice cream? If you could have a pet bird any color, what color would you choose?
  • "Aha. I see, that is fair."

    I start to scratch my nonexistent nose, then stop, as you just now did admonish me about that.

    "My dear, I am afraid that under the circumstances, I should be somewhat distracted - little as there is to do now, I am not immediately disposed toward fond reminiscence. However, Penelope, if you would indeed like to listen to an old man tell tales, I would I think be ... very happy to do so, once we are done here."

    I pause again, then: "In the meantime, perhaps we could attempt something practical, in line with the case. It's a bit of a long shot, but it should be worth a try, if you will assist me. And in any case, there are one or two things I could show you that I suspect you would never learn from, ah, Ms. Carter."
  • I smile again, perhaps a little sadly, but I nod. "Of course." I say in what I hope is a very professional tone. "What do you need assistance with?"
  • edited October 2012
    I lapse into lecture, a position from which I feel infinitely more comfortable, though it does seem to disappoint you.

    "The practitioner who is performing these acts, and I do agree that this is most likely not the only such act; he has violated the natural order in a number of profound ways. This is not remarkable, in a sense, as all practitioners of all forms of sorcery in one way or another do bend the rules. Indeed, an argument could be made, that I myself should not be here, that I should have passed on to some reward or punishment long ago. Though I think I have, you might say, a special dispensation."

    "However, these acts are different, and interfering with the disposition of souls in this way, it steps on certain significant toes. It is not so much a matter of the fairness or unfairness of the act. I'm afraid that, more often than not, the individuals who find themselves targeted by this sort of punishment are rarely innocents. Rather, it is a matter of a mortal infringing upon the authority of those, ah, persons that are normally charged with the guidance of the dead."

    "So then, would not these persons, these higher powers who have found their authority infringed upon, would they not register the infraction? Would they be able to identify the practitioner responsible? Perhaps, perhaps not. But at the very least, while the others are examining the crime scene ... we could ask, if you like."

    As bonding activities go, it may not be top shelf material. But I do have some connections in this fields, so it really isn't particularly far-fetched. Furthermore, if, Penelope, you insist upon immersing yourself in the world of the supernatural, I suppose it can't hurt for me to introduce you around the place.
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