Print

Please login or register.
1 Hour 1 Day 1 Week 1 Month Forever
Login with username, password and session length

[wolfchild]

Calming down a little after hearing James talking, Ambrose realised that her stomach was complaining, and from experience she knew to fix that quickly, it made her less likely for her less human side to take control.

"I'm gonna get some food guys, you want anything?"

Ambrose orders a medium rare steak (not liking to eat raw or rare meat in front of strangers) and some thick cut chips

[Dwarmin]

Kathryns eyes flicked over to Ambrose. Her stomach growled, as if her body suddenly realized it had to, well, eat to live. She sometimes forgot to eat, sometimes for an entire day. How annoying.

"Hmm. Burger and curly fries, Long Island Iced tea." Kathryn had to be careful drinking on the job, dulling herself just enough to calm her nerves-just enough to keep her sharp, and not enough to start hitting on Eric. Though-ha ha-it wouldn't take much for her to start. She was in control though.

Right?

....

She saw Erics look, and it told her enough. She backed off a bit.

Her role would be 'Good Cop'-we can use that, that's interesting, and you did that all by yourself? All bullshit, but it made the mark feel better about talking to your partner. If they were talking to a woman, she'd been the straight cop and Eric would be the helper.

Right now, she'd let Eric do the meat of the questioning, and she would smooth out the conversation between the men. This wasn't exactly an interrogation, but it would certainly help.

Naturally, she'd be reading James like an open book while he wasn't concentrating on her.

Action: Aid the Questioning, but don't step on Erics toes. Try to get a read on James-tells, habits, quirks.

Order a Cheese Burger (No onions, No Pickles) with a side of curly fries, and a Long Island Iced Tea.

[Spinal_Taper]

Order a Cheese Burger (No onions, No Pickles) with a side of curly fries, and a Long Island Iced Tea.

((Please roll for this.))

[Dwarmin]

((Yeah, they better not put onions and/or pickles on my burger))

[Dwarmin]

*bump*

[Fniff]

Update coming tonight, I promise.

[Fniff]

Spoiler: Author's Note (click to show/hide)

Leaving out Ambrose and Bakstur since they didn't do much this update.

____________________________________________________________
After Ambrose got some food, Eric decided to ask James some more questions.

"Do you know what the runes mean?"

"I know what type they are, but not the exact meanings. They seem to be pretty regular summoning runes, nothing demonic or in my specific area of expertise. It could be a regular necromantic 'Life-Swap' thing or it could be a zombie uprising."

"The intestines were eaten or taken out specifically?"

"Eaten, the clawmarks are too random to be specific removal."

"You suggested demons, now you're saying it's necromancers. What's with the discrepancies?"

"Can be both, necromancers can be best buddies with demons depending on the rituals involved."

Eric nodded, then thought.
____________________________________________________________
Kathryn had seen a lot of liars, good ones, but this guy was a blank. He didn't have any habits or quirks, he was as still as a statue apart from his mouth and the hand to drink his coffee. If body language was learned, he didn't speak it.

He was either paranormal or a damn good faker.

"If this was a necromancer, then what do you think is the motive for killing all these campers?"

"My original guess was the usual gathering of life force to spend in a resurrection, but then I thought about it and it didn't make much sense because of the wounds. A gunshot is the best option, you need to make sure the life force doesn't dissipate immediately, the trauma of being ripped apart means that life force will not hang around."

"Then what is this thing?"

"I'm thinking some necromancer who has a werewolf lackey. Necromancers are usually brainy, so they get friends. Feed the werewolf with the kills, carve up the rest of the skin with runes. However, what's the purpose? I'm going out on a limb and guessing that the necromancer is absorbing the life force from the corpse. We're talking a lich-wannabe here."

Kathryn felt a fall in her stomach. Liches were bad news, spirits of death that were usually bond to a person, persons or a location. Looks like some necromancer wanted in on that act.

"Any suspects?"

"One definite guy. Harold Harker, his ancestor who came here in 1830 looks exactly like him. Harker's meant to be 54 at this age and he doesn't look a day over twenty. Definite necromancer, but we got a problem."

"Problem?"

"He's the chief of police."

"Shit."

[Caerwyn]

Since this whole bit about intelligent thinking and espionage isn't his strongest point, Bakstur will set up a cheap target on a tree, and practice with his pistol. Standing back at, say, thirty meters, give or take. Warn the others, so they don't get worried over the gunshots, however.

[wolfchild]

"Could we get an interview with him?, I want a sniff, if he was at the murder sight we can find a way to deal with him, would taking him alive be feasible? I think a necromancer might be a bit too dangerous to imprison, but then I do not really know anything about them"

[Caellath]

Well, this assignement had been less troublesome than some of his last ones. Things seemed well and James was talking, which had led them to their first line of investigation. Harker, eh? Eric looked around while eating some food he had brought himself - always careful - and sipping on a cup of coffe (tested beforehand for poison and magic substances with by dipping a little piece of parchment he carried into the cup).

And once again, James acted less defensive when talking to Kat. Better keep an eye on him, lest he gets some bad ideas.

"I think we could get moving after we finish this then. Asking questions to the common populace will probably get us inside their radar, so shadowing seems a better idea, but only after a small interview, of course. We can pressure him, and he may panic, get sloppy. I know necromancers usually have centuries of experience in dealing with those who hunt them, but sometimes even professionals make mistakes. It is just a matter of how you deal with them."

"And our 'level of authority' will make sure we have a shot at a meeting." he completed while grinning, obviously referring to their badges.

After finishing things, go get an interview with Harker.

[Dwarmin]

Kathryn shook her head.

They always liked positions of power, didn't they...made it hard to get to them, since they were inevitably guarded by people who were certainly not monsters, just doing their jobs.

"I'm coming with you, Eric. I'll keep an eye on him while you talk."

Action: Accompany Eric to the meeting

[Fniff]

____________________________________________________________

The team made their way through the town on the SUV, stopping in front of the police station. It wasn't a very large police station, it was just the right size for a town that couldn't have had a larger populace then 10,000. They parked in the parking lot beside it, surprisingly empty. Eric stepped out of the car before the rest followed. They made their way into the police station. Inside, it was well-lit and rather pleasant, but it was obviously not very well used, with a lack of police officers. It seemed like this police station was less of a needed creation, and more of a precautionary measure.

A receptionist looked up from her magazine at the front desk, and looked at the assembled group.

"Hello, there!" She said in a heavy Maine accent. "What do you fellas need?"

Eric flashed his FBI badge. "We're with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, we're investigating the serial killings. We need to talk to the Chief of Police."

"Oh, Harold? I'll call em!"

Bakstur coughed. "Could I please use your firing range?"

"Oh, well, sorry sugar, that's for police officers of this county only. Regulations, you know."

"Miss Garlintrope, I do believe we can work something out. I need practice, you see, and well... You know, perhaps we should get a coffee later, when I'm off-duty. What do you say?"

Eric noticed a flash in Bakstur's eyes.  A flash of red.

"... Oh my, well, we could!" She laughed nervously, but happiness came through it as well. "Well, uh... You can use the firing range any time you like!"

Bakstur nodded, and walked off.

"... Your friend is a handsome little devil. What's his name?"

"Bakstur. Yes, you could call him a devil... A handsome one too. The meeting?"

Eric wondered how the receptionist ignored the fact that Bakstur could tell what her name was, but humans had a spectacular ability to ignore things, an ability that has saved the Aesir Initiative, as well as the SCP Foundation, time and time again, as the "Manual For Containment Breaches and Mind Wiping, produced for Aesir Initiative/SCP Foundation/Order of Assassins Training" said. Humans dislike change, especially sudden change of laws taught to them from childhood, and they dislike their fears coming true. The idea that ancient conspiracies ruled the world, supernatural creatures feed on humans like cattle and that you could die at any time due to an assassin with a hidden blade stabbing you through the chest was not a very nice thing to hear about. Thus, people avoided the thought altogether, avoiding any problems with reacting badly to mind wiping technology. Eric always wondered who the Order of Assassins were. But he shook his head and thought about the matter at hand.

"Well, uh, I'll just get him." The receptonist stood up and headed down the hall.
____________________________________________________________
Bakstur grabbed a shotgun from a rack of weapons, pressed a button and watched as a few targets popped up. He aimed down the sights and fired. Guns, unlike humans, were pretty simple. There was a mechanism that caused a chemical reaction that would fire a lead projectile through the air and hit at a very fast speed. The methods varied, but the simple basics never changed. You couldn't say the same about men or women.

Bakstur, after a few tries, felt like he was getting somewhere but he didn't feel like he learnt much.

He sighed and put the gun back. Maybe he'd be better with a handgun.

At the end of his practice run, he could take down the targets (Even the moving ones) in fifteen seconds flat. He really felt a pulse with the handgun. It didn't have the recoil of the shotgun and he felt he could control it. Bakstur liked handguns.

He put the handgun back. Bakstur felt ready.
____________________________________________________________
Kathryn, James and Eric sat across from the rather old looking, pudgy cop across from them. The vitality of youth had obviously faded, but a certain energy still remained within his body. He looked like he was too old to die. This was Harold Harker.

"So... What do you fellas need?" He said, looking them up and down suspiciously.

"So, Mister Harker, there has been a lot of killings recently."

"Yes, I'd rather not have you... FBI boys interfering. This is a very delicate case, we're trying our best not to scare the killer, and the arrival of the FBI will probably cause the killer to run."

"Riiiight, so why would that be? We haven't got a clue who he is, or what his motives are. He's pretty safe, don't you think?"

"How do you know that? It is entirely possibly that the killer may want to leave."

"If he was that spooked, he would have been gone already."

Harold had a deer in the headlights look. "Well, uh... See, you know..."

"What's with the spluttering? Think you're so smart driving the FBI boys away by saying the killer will go? Now why do you want us gone? You know, Harker, that's real suspicious. Seems like you're hiding something. You don't pull this shit on the FBI, my friend, your little bitches in this shithole might be easier but we are not push-overs. What are you hiding?"[/color]

Jesus, James went in for the kill at the wrong time!

A flash of utter terror was replaced with anger. "... What are you talking about?" Harold stood up. "I don't take that kind of behavior towards me! What the hell are you implying!?"

Eric stood up.

"I'm sorry for his behavior, but can we continue?"

Harold stared, and fumed, but sat down again.

Eric shot a dirty look at James, who replied with a shrug.

If Kateryn got involved, this was going to be a case of Good Cop, Bad Cop and Crazy Cop.

"Now, Mr Harker. Many of the killings seem... blatantly impossible. Gunshots to the head, claws to the stomach. What do you think of this?"

"Obviously, the killer had dogs at his disposal. The dogs ripped into the stomach of the victim, gunshot to the head."

"And the runes?"

"..." His pupils dillated, and he gulped. "Um... Look, it's obviously a cult!"

Kathryn nodded at James. This was the time for the kill.

"Right, a cult. Despite no evidence to that. What's the motive? What kinda cult is this? I don't think the latest Manson Family is going to slide by without a blink, cults aren't this subtle."

Harker seemed to think, and nodded. "You're right, I was a bit rash there. I'm sorry, I'm nearing retirement, I'm kinda edgy. All these killings have been getting to me, it's all dead-ends and... they really are brutal, I've never seen anything like them. I'm nervous, to be perfectly honest."

Goddammit.

[Caellath]

Eric sighed and shot a look at both Kath and James. They were supposed to keep putting some pressure on the guy normally and only break out their knowledge about the man being a necromancer or something of the like if all options were exhausted, and his eyes tried to tell them to keep going normally.

He had already slipped. Harker would fall sooner or later.
"Well, I'm still a bit curious about your former idea about cults with men who send dogs to rip people's guts and shoot them in the head. Do you happen to face many cases of that kind around here, Mr. Harold Harker?"

It was only a matter of time; Eric had already made dead men talk. Literally.

Keep questioning.

[Dwarmin]

Kathryn kept on...she had to be prepared...

Action: Stay ready in case he tries anything. Try to tell if Harker is lying to us on purpose.

[wolfchild]

Smell the police chief, see if he matches with anything smelled at the crime sight