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Glaive - Chapter 2: The Problem With Being Famous

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  • Glaive - Chapter 2: The Problem With Being Famous

    Warren Kingston

    The call had come about three hours ago. A 17 year old boy had just been caught in the middle of killing one of his mothers. The boy, Benjamin Johnson, had been taken into custody with Forensics already on the scene gathering evidence and photographing the crime scene. His second mother. Laurie Johnson, had been taken away from the home by a family member and was currently giving her statement of what she encountered with a police officer. The deceased, Emily Johnson, had been taken to the coroner in a body bag.

    You had been there about 10 minutes before you had seen everything of note. The weapon, a large kitchen knife. 16 stab wounds of which the first three were sufficient to cause her death. The motive unknown, however similarities between this and another case had quickly become apparent. As you were perusing the crime scene you overheard the cops on scene claiming the boy Benjamin became confused when he was placed in handcuffs. He didn't seem aware of his actions and when he noticed the blood all over his clothes and skin his mind began racing wondering just what had happened. At first he thought he was injured. In truth, he had just blacked out and had no knowledge of what he had done.

    Almost 6 months ago, this exact scenario had occurred on a similar case you had been assigned. Which is the only reason you were called to this one. A Private Investigation into the killing of an adult male Derek Hoffman by his step-son Shane. The wife and mother couldn't believe that her son could have done anything violent against his step-father. The two, she said, were practically best friends. Along with the fact that Shane had no memory of the events of the entire day leading up to and shortly after the murder of his step-father. You were hired to look into possible foul-play. Quickly ruling out meta-interference you found no reason to believe this was a crime of passion. Shane was sentenced to confinement in the Arbour Hospital (a mental institution) until approved for psychiatric release where he would then serve 7 years in prison for the crime he had committed.

    But something nagged at your mind, you were called before the link between these two cases were discovered. The mother hadn't even had time to give her statement before you arrived. You were simply given an address of the crime and a number to call once you had finished your investigation. Perhaps this time you should comb through the crime scene a bit more thoroughly than before. Maybe someone knows more than you.


    Roxanne Wells

    It's been 5 years. 5 long boring years of monotonous day to day boredom. "Normal" High School Problems, then at 18 you did everything you could to get out of the house and become independent. You had lived such a strict life under the watchful eyes of the government now that you're released. Well freedom feels pretty great.

    Last week you finally finished building your custom Computer. Well, your main computer. The one that can do everything you need it to. After getting off work at The Thinking Cup you headed home and cleaned up your apartment a little. You and your roommate were on opposite schedules, which worked out as it basically meant you lived alone most of the time.

    Now you are home, your evening routine already started. As you log onto your computer you are instantly notified of a private message. Strange, as you disabled that ability.

    It reads:

    Glad to see your back, it's been awhile and you've missed alot. But now that you're back we can resume your work.

    - M


    Staring at the screen you see the option to reply.
    Last edited by Awfulmonk; 8th November 2017, 04:17 PM.
    GM Pillars Rise and Heroes Fall (OOC) (IC),Setting Notes for Pillars Fall

    Games I'm In:
    Emily Whittier aka Arc in Crinoverse: Tales to Astonish

  • #2
    Re: Glaive - Chapter 1: This Used to Be a Funhouse

    Originally posted by Awfulmonk View Post
    Warren Kingston

    The call had come about three hours ago. A 17 year old boy had just been caught in the middle of killing one of his mothers. The boy, Benjamin Johnson, had been taken into custody with Forensics already on the scene gathering evidence and photographing the crime scene. His second mother. Laurie Johnson, had been taken away from the home by a family member and was currently giving her statement of what she encountered with a police officer. The deceased, Emily Johnson, had been taken to the coroner in a body bag.

    You had been there about 10 minutes before you had seen everything of note. The weapon, a large kitchen knife. 16 stab wounds of which the first three were sufficient to cause her death. The motive unknown, however similarities between this and another case had quickly become apparent. As you were perusing the crime scene you overheard the cops on scene claiming the boy Benjamin became confused when he was placed in handcuffs. He didn't seem aware of his actions and when he noticed the blood all over his clothes and skin his mind began racing wondering just what had happened. At first he thought he was injured. In truth, he had just blacked out and had no knowledge of what he had done.

    Almost 6 months ago, this exact scenario had occurred on a similar case you had been assigned. Which is the only reason you were called to this one. A Private Investigation into the killing of an adult male Derek Hoffman by his step-son Shane. The wife and mother couldn't believe that her son could have done anything violent against his step-father. The two, she said, were practically best friends. Along with the fact that Shane had no memory of the events of the entire day leading up to and shortly after the murder of his step-father. You were hired to look into possible foul-play. Quickly ruling out meta-interference you found no reason to believe this was a crime of passion. Shane was sentenced to confinement in the Arbour Hospital (a mental institution) until approved for psychiatric release where he would then serve 7 years in prison for the crime he had committed.

    But something nagged at your mind, you were called before the link between these two cases were discovered. The mother hadn't even had time to give her statement before you arrived. You were simply given an address of the crime and a number to call once you had finished your investigation. Perhaps this time you should comb through the crime scene a bit more thoroughly than before. Maybe someone knows more than you.

    WARREN KINGSTON

    Warren Kingston sat alone in a well-maintained, but completely nondescript white '94 Dodge Colt. He was parked several streets away from the horrors awaiting his blood-shot, but trained eye. The sun was shining – there was a pleasant breeze. A girl walked her dog down a nicely paved sidewalk, engaged completely in the cellphone conversation she was having. The P.I. had always been amazed at just how little distance life needed to get back to normalcy. What was the minimum safe zone beyond yellow police tape for people to get on with their lives?

    He hated this case. Distance from the failures of his past had afforded him some semblance of a life. This was a pale reflection of what he once was – who he once was – and these days, he didn't much care for looking in the mirror. It was too bright, he was too sober, and he only had a solution for one of those problems.

    The detective pulled a well-traveled flask from the breast pocket of a rumpled navy blue suit jacket. With practiced familiarity he twisted the cap until it popped free and brought the comfort of the flask's metal kiss to his lips. The hooch inside wasn't quite flammable, but it was good enough to burn his throat and whatever hesitation remained in his system.

    Warren groaned in tune with the car door as it swung open, pulling his aching bones and about forty pounds of extra paunch out into the urban cul-de-sac. He stashed the flask and positioned his hand upon his forehead, just under his black, graying hairline to block the sun.

    The worst part about this job? The very worst part for Warren? Unless there had been a coincidence that bordered on the preternatural – he was going to have to admit that he had been wrong. The two murderers – Shane Hoffman first and Benjamin Johnson now – well, they shared far too much in common for the Detective to continue ignoring the possibility that they were somehow connected. That meant he couldn't continue ignoring the next possibility – that he had been too stupid and too rusty to have put two and two together before someone else got killed. He was looking for the connective tissue between the two tragedies – and that required a nice long dive into the cesspool that he'd been kicked out of years ago.

    Oh man, but he'd never forgotten the smell. As he approached the line of police vehicles, press vans and a small crowd of lookie-loo civies trying to get their own slice-of-life true crime drama fix, he caught the faintest whiff – the stench of someone dying messy. His stomach lurched, and he nearly lost all of the nutrition a breakfast of four cigarettes had given him.

    He approached the police line haltingly. His hands buried deep into his pockets, his dark eyes focused on the sidewalk as he drew closer.

    The uniformed officers at the line turned their attention towards Warren. They didn't recognize him – no one really did anymore. Once the eye of the media turned away from his case, it didn't take long for the zeitgeist to forget his face.

    “Sir this is a restricted -” the officer began, moving herself bodily into his path.

    “Yeah,” Warren cut her off, showing off his cheesy, gilded-tin badge, “name's Kingston. Warren Kingston. I'm with Carter – Lombardo Investigations.”

    They exchanged looks and took note of his badge.

    “Alright – we've been told about you. Forensics is still working and we are under strict orders to slam down evidence tampering charges on you if you touch so much as a door-handle. Clear?” the broad-shouldered, dark skinned officer beside her spoke.

    Warren grimaced and nodded. Yeah, he hadn't expected even that much cooperation, normally a P.I. like him would have been told to go kick rocks, hell – he'd done it himself a time or two when he'd been working the beat in Chicago.

    They held the tape up for him as he ducked under. Still – at least they hadn't brought up -

    “Oh, and try not to shoot anyone in there, HK,” the lady snapped over her shoulder. HK. Hero Killer.

    “For f***s sake, guys... I'm just trying to work here,” Warren grumbled and mentally restrained himself from taking another long draw from his flask.

    Soon enough, he was inside the home – working the case. His hair tucked into a blue-bonnet that had been provided, same with the blue booties on his shoes to prevent him from tracking anything into or out of the house.

    Nothing looked as cool as it did on TV. Real detective chic was closer to lunch lady than sunglasses and trench coats.

    Kingston took mental images of everything. The knife. The splatter patterns the blood had taken on the furniture and walls. The tape outline of the victim and the pooling, sickly – sweet, cloying tacky blood that had soaked into the carpets and floor boards. Eavesdropping got him most of his information. The boy, Ben Johnson had been in a fugue state when he was found – no memory of the murder – same as Shane Hoffman. Not that 'I don't remember' was exactly an original response to police inquiry. However, the connection went much deeper than that – the two boys had been living in a home with a biological parent, and a step-parent. In both cases the alleged murderers then killed the non-biological parent.

    Warren had ruled out meta-influence in the Shane Hoffman case– mostly based on the lack of motivation that he had found for anyone else wanting the murdered stepfather dead and somewhat because he didn't ever want to have anything to do with the world of metahumans again. He was happy taking money from suspicious spouses and greedy insurance firms. That was as far as his ambition traveled these days. That, and maybe one day getting his act together enough that a court wouldn't immediately shoot down a request to see his kids a few times a year.

    Shoot down.

    Warren grimaced as a flash of memory sparked in his mind – the sadistic grin of the pyrokinetic teen – the thunderous retort of his firearm. He couldn't help himself – he dulled the glow of his memories by dousing it liberally, the flask turned upright as he took two hard swallows.

    No use thinking about anything except the job, he resolved, steeling himself against any further encroachment from past lives.

    If there was anything to be found – he was going to have to find it. And quickly. First he was going to have to lean on his perceptions and hope that he still had what it took to piece together what actually happened.

    OOC:


    POWER USE: Brilliant Deduction – Post Cognition, Check Required – Investigation DC 12, Voluntary Modifiers: -2 (Can't really touch anything, working around other people), -2 (Buzzed)

    Reason: He's hoping he can verify a version of events by reading the evidence that's all around him – he's fairly certain that the kid did physically commit the murder – but perhaps there was someone or something else doing the driving.

    Postcognition Investigation Check: 1D20+10 = [5]+10 = 15


    *Note – Check was made with all applicable modifiers accounted for; and as such has succeeded.

    Once he gathers whatever information he can get from the crime scene – he's going to reach out to his network of contacts and spend the prerequisite ten minutes to try and set up his next lead. Basically he's reaching out to see if he can figure out who would be more intimately familiar with this case than he is.

    ADVANTAGE USE: Contacts – Investigation Check Re: Contacts, Voluntary Modifier: -2 (Still Buzzed!)

    Contacts Advantage Roll: 1D20+12 = [13]+12 = 25

    Comment


    • #3
      Re: Glaive - Chapter 1: This Used to Be a Funhouse

      Originally posted by Awfulmonk View Post
      Roxanne Wells

      It's been 5 years. 5 long boring years of monotonous day to day boredom. "Normal" High School Problems, then at 18 you did everything you could to get out of the house and become independent. You had lived such a strict life under the watchful eyes of the government now that you're released. Well freedom feels pretty great.

      Last week you finally finished building your custom Computer. Well, your main computer. The one that can do everything you need it to. After getting off work at The Thinking Cup you headed home and cleaned up your apartment a little. You and your roommate were on opposite schedules, which worked out as it basically meant you lived alone most of the time.

      Now you are home, your evening routine already started. As you log onto your computer you are instantly notified of a private message. Strange, as you disabled that ability.

      It reads:

      Glad to see your back, it's been awhile and you've missed alot. But now that you're back we can resume your work.

      - M


      Staring at the screen you see the option to reply.
      What the F**K!?

      Roxy was sitting in the darkness, the only light coming from the glow of the screen in front of her. Her nerves were frayed from having to suffer through the mundanes of work, the suffering of having to deal with managers and coworkers talk about her "Attitude", and now the only thing she had left, technology, was starting to cause her problems. Half of her mind shifted quickly to the FBI women...her handler. Was this some kind of test? Wanting to see if she was going to funnel some illegal money into some Swiss bank? She took a small breath and shook her head. No...Laurie was tough...maybe more so since Roxy was a kid when she was brought to see her, but it was for her own good...or so she said.

      She scowled back at the computer screen, her hands together and cracking her knuckles before her fingers started to fly over the keyboard. First she needed a way to trace him...or at least where he was. A simple program was written up, primed and ready to be executed on her mark. She then turned her focus over to the message and typed a reply in her usual blunt fashion.

      "Who the hell are you?"

      Comment


      • #4
        Re: Glaive - Chapter 1: This Used to Be a Funhouse

        Roxanne Wells

        Almost near instantly a message comes back, your swiftly made program seemingly failed as no sent IP address was found.

        The Doctor is in but the patients never get out.

        - A


        An attachment is sent with the message. As you open the document you are disappointed to see only one line of text. An address that as you put into Google Maps leads you to Arbour Hospital. Their Yelp page shows low reviews - staff problems, not very clean. It also shows it as being an in-house mental health care facility. With about 30 nurses, 25 in-house orderlies, and 5 doctors, figuring out the meaning behind the cryptic text will take some time.

        But a voice reaches into the back of your mind, a thought running through it. You had just gotten off a list, are you sure you want to risk doing something illegal and putting yourself back on it. You're a full-fledged adult now, you haven't done anything illegal yet but still. Do you really want to risk it?

        Warren Kingston

        Walking through the room everything seems in order, its a standard murder. Knife, blood, body. Nothing stolen and nothing (outside the area of the where the murder happened) is out of place.

        Walking through you do find one colleague who seems to at least tolerate your presence on most days, officer Jessica Gritsan. She too is in protective equipment and as she leaves the kitchen and comes into the living room you see she is holding a clipboard. Doing a standard walkthrough of the house.

        "Well this is surprising, usually no one thinks to call you until after the crime scenes been 'tampered with'" she says, mocking you in a small way as that seems to be your almost constant complaint, "Walk with me, I still have to check out the upstairs. You're lucky, we only just got here about a half hour ago so I doubt too much will be out place." she reaches over and signs a baggy a CSI brought to her as she talks and walks with you. Inside looks to be a piece of fabric, from a shirt, that was torn off. Your mind analyzes and you can tell it's from a woman's shirt. She must have tried to fight back, or at least gave some sort of struggle. "The Victim was at home with the son, from what it looks like in the kitchen she was making dinner, when it looks like the attacker came up behind her and tried stabbing her, there's a blade mark on the kitchen counter." She seems proud to tell you what she's found so far. She continues talking as the two of you head upstairs. "We think the victim tried going for her phone when her attacker pushed her against the wall,
        the phone was thrown across the room and the victim was stabbed twice, once in the shoulder once in the abdomen. She was able to push her attacker off her and headed for the living room where she fell and the attacker finished the job. That's what we found so far, the son doesn't remember a thing, but he said something about his medications so I was going to tag and bag them and maybe we can find out if he was on drugs or just hated his mom."
        The two of you reach the boys bedroom, it's to tell it's his as there's a post of Metallica on it. "You doing alright? You don't look to well?" Jessica asks as she stops in front of the door.
        Last edited by Awfulmonk; 14th August 2017, 08:20 AM.
        GM Pillars Rise and Heroes Fall (OOC) (IC),Setting Notes for Pillars Fall

        Games I'm In:
        Emily Whittier aka Arc in Crinoverse: Tales to Astonish

        Comment


        • #5
          Re: Glaive - Chapter 1: This Used to Be a Funhouse

          Warren Kingston



          In his attempts to stay out of the forensic crew’s way Warren found himself ambling down a short hallway – when out of the kitchen walks a familiar sight. Officer Jessica Gritsan – he’d recognize her anywhere. In their brief dealings he’d come to respect the officer’s no-nonsense demeanor and her focus on results. What’s more, he got the feeling that she legitimately cared for the people around her, a rare trait in their career of choice. The job had a way of hardening people – jading them to the often ‘petty’ concerns of people around them. Hard to worry about someone’s lost dog when you’d just gotten off a sixteen hour stretch with homicide. Somehow Officer Gritsan had avoided that – and that made Warren want to avoid her.

          He didn’t want her concern for him to drag him along with it. The detective had a talent of seeing thigs – putting puzzle pieces together, and he was afraid he’d get a good look at the picture the pieces of his life were forming.

          “Phone isn’t exactly ringing off the hook these days…” Warren replied to Jessica’s good-natured ribbing, still, he had a way of avoiding eye contact that had become his signature in the past few years. “Sides, you got an alright crew – well, more like… middling to fair… but still, better than most precincts.”

          Warren was honest with her, so long as the subject didn’t venture too far into his past or his personal life. It was the least he could do for someone that gave him a level of respect that he was pretty sure he didn’t even deserve. When she asked him to walk with her, the detective fell into step –a heady brew of nostalgia, déjà vu and alcohol soaked regret coming over him as he listened to the facts of the case.

          Gritsan had things down pretty good – that’s exactly as he’d read it during his walkthrough. The victim hadn’t even reacted until after the first stab. Even though the victim struggled – she wasn’t fighting for her life against a stranger. She was fixing dinner. Plenty of sharp implements around – heavy pans. If she wanted to fight harder, she could have – but she was worried about hurting the boy. That didn’t speak to a strained relationship between him and his step-mother. She truly cared about him - enough that even in the middle of a barbaric assault, she didn’t reach for any of the dozens of weapons that were on the kitchen counter. Instead she went for her phone.

          Trying to call the police? Maybe.

          They stopped at the door to the alleged murderer’s room. The Metallica poster caused Warren’s lip to bloom into a lopsided smirk. It was 2022. Most kids weren’t into the classics.

          “Medications…” Warren repeated. “Young kid - ambush didn’t go according to plan… but he was healthy enough to kill a grown woman in a struggle… so, psych meds?”

          Warren’s lips pursed tightly together when Jessica asked about him. It was a practiced motion, wielding a crooked smile like a shield. Was he alright? No. Absolutely not. He hadn’t been in years. Some people might say that the Megafyre shooting destroyed him, but the truth was further from that – it was clear that he’d been slowly destroying himself for a long time. His fingernails were nicotine-yellowed and he smelled like someone tried to douse a cigarette factory fire with rubbing alcohol.

          “I’m… uh… I’m approaching adequate,” he nodded and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers in a futile attempt to stamp down a late-morning headache. “In my prime, you know? Let’s not waste any more time while I’m at the peak of my faculties…” He gestured a latex-gloved hand towards the door – he wasn’t about to touch anything, last thing he needed was to lose his license for some trumped up obstruction of justice charge.

          Comment


          • #6
            Re: Glaive - Chapter 1: This Used to Be a Funhouse

            Roxanne Wells

            She swore the second the program failed, muttering darkly under her breath as she pulled up the information on this mental hospital. "If this is some kind of joke, I'm sure as hell not laughing," she muttered to herself. God, it was a good thing her roommate was gone or else she might spook this one away with her frantic behavior. There had to be some clue within the messages that she was sent...but after reading the first message again, she felt like a bucket of ice just hit her stomach. Been awhile? Resume her work? It couldn't be...but could it? The Gabris family?

            She stood up, the laptop falling onto the bed as she felt very exposed. It couldn't be the Gabris family...she had more computer savvy then the whole lot of them. But she had been out of game for five years, who from the family might still know about her. Who might have managed to escape from the raids or the justice system? Her stomach seemed to twist into knots. But suddenly a fire was kindled inside of her. She was not the child they forced to keep their hands clean. Beside...maybe she was overthinking things. Maybe she was playing chess with some kind of nut. But still...this nut managed to evade her so far.

            She ought to message Laurie, inform her of the message, let her take care of it. That was her job wasn't it? But she stared down at the screen...she wasn't going to let some wacko scare her away. Besides...she wouldn't get in trouble if she didn't get caught. And technically, they didn't catch her last time...she practically turned herself in. She turned to another box, pulling the headset out carefully. The FBI didn't know about her getting some of her old programming and gear an upgrade. She plugged the headset and started another program. Pandora's Box. She was just going to see if their was any computers in this mental hospital to give her any sort of hints.

            ((Using her Network Interface and Data Mining abilities, if she detects any computers at the location.))

            Comment


            • #7
              Re: Glaive - Chapter 1: This Used to Be a Funhouse

              Roxanne Wells

              As you swiftly gain access to the server site where you find an abundance of computers all connected in sympatico. As a hospital it makes sense for them to all be connected. You quickly find they are all still running on Windows 10...must not be enough in the budget for a new O.S. As you dox into their network you find the employee manifest.

              5 Doctors, 15 Nurses, 12 Aides, 7 volunteers, a host of utility staff and 4 secretaries.

              Not to mention the backlog of patient information, records (patient and financial), Calendar (Schedules and Events), and more.

              Where to begin?

              Warren Kingston

              "I was thinking some bad drugs, but psych meds or maybe even antidepressants might cause the sudden mood swing." Gritsan responds as she opens the door. Inside it smells like a poor blend of body odor and cologne, at first glance nothing appears too out of the ordinary, bed, dresser, clothes everywhere. A Laptop and case near the bed and night stand. But thats mundane, your eyes are trained for something more extraordinary.

              Give me a investigation roll.
              Last edited by Awfulmonk; 16th August 2017, 07:16 PM.
              GM Pillars Rise and Heroes Fall (OOC) (IC),Setting Notes for Pillars Fall

              Games I'm In:
              Emily Whittier aka Arc in Crinoverse: Tales to Astonish

              Comment


              • #8
                Re: Glaive - Chapter 1: This Used to Be a Funhouse

                "I was thinking some bad drugs, but psych meds or maybe even antidepressants might cause the sudden mood swing." Gritsan responds as she opens the door. Inside it smells like a poor blend of body odor and cologne, at first glance nothing appears too out of the ordinary, bed, dresser, clothes everywhere. A Laptop and case near the bed and night stand. But thats mundane, your eyes are trained for something more extraordinary.[/QUOTE]

                Warren Kingston

                OOC:

                You've got it, Monk!

                Investigation Check: Voluntary Modifier -2 (Buzzed!)

                _: 1D20+12 = [3]+12 = 15

                Comment


                • #9
                  Re: Glaive - Chapter 1: This Used to Be a Funhouse

                  Looking around the room, it's a mess. Not only do you see empty soda cans everywhere, but also snack wrappers and dirty laundry. How anyone can live like this is beyond you. Wait, no it was beyond you, right now this could almost be your apartment.

                  As such as you dig through things you seem to get the impression from Gritsan that you don't have to be gentle with the scene. She starts going through his drawers, feeling around for any loose prescription bottles. You dig through his desk and hesitantly find a few loose papers in a small pile. Digging through the papers you find school announcements, old notes...and a business card for an appointment with a Dr. Letscher and an address for Arbour Hospital. The date on the card was 5 days ago.

                  Officer Gritsan seems to be talking to you as you investigate.

                  "...so since I never got to take my lunch, maybe you and I can get something to eat after this?"
                  GM Pillars Rise and Heroes Fall (OOC) (IC),Setting Notes for Pillars Fall

                  Games I'm In:
                  Emily Whittier aka Arc in Crinoverse: Tales to Astonish

                  Comment


                  • #10
                    Re: Glaive - Chapter 1: This Used to Be a Funhouse

                    Originally posted by Awfulmonk View Post
                    Looking around the room, it's a mess. Not only do you see empty soda cans everywhere, but also snack wrappers and dirty laundry. How anyone can live like this is beyond you. Wait, no it was beyond you, right now this could almost be your apartment.

                    As such as you dig through things you seem to get the impression from Gritsan that you don't have to be gentle with the scene. She starts going through his drawers, feeling around for any loose prescription bottles. You dig through his desk and hesitantly find a few loose papers in a small pile. Digging through the papers you find school announcements, old notes...and a business card for an appointment with a Dr. Letscher and an address for Arbour Hospital. The date on the card was 5 days ago.

                    Officer Gritsan seems to be talking to you as you investigate.

                    "...so since I never got to take my lunch, maybe you and I can get something to eat after this?"

                    Warren Kingston

                    The detective rifled through the suspects things - it was almost mechanical, lifting a discarded piece of paper - some tucked away scrap, and seeing if there were any connections he could draw to them. His lips were pursed, his brows furrowed as he continued to search. It wasn't until he'd found that business card - with an appointment date scribbled onto it, that he paused and took note.

                    "Dr. Letscher..." he mumbled to himself, his eyes narrowing as he studied the card. Shane Hoffman was going to a head-shrinker himself before he stabbed his step-father to death. Sure, disturbed teenager commits violent act wasn't exactly breaking news. Something no one in the law enforcement community would take another look at - of course, that included Warren himself. At least, until five minutes ago. What was the name of Shane Hoffman's psych doctor? It couldn't be the same guy, could it?

                    Warren blinked, turning towards Officer Gritsan as she asked him out. He paused - it would have probably been a great way to spend his last forty bucks... and honestly, she was an attractive... intelligent woman - she'd been great company and hadn't judged him by his past. He probably could have been happy with her. But he was social ebola. The Hero Killer title was his forever. He still got threats. Protesters still mentioned his name as a poster child for police brutality and overreach. He wasn't about to poison someone else with his reputation.

                    "Uh, rain-check, okay?" he forced a whisper of a smile. "Here, I found this card for a psychologist over at Arbour Hospital. I gotta go through the old Hoffman case file... and maybe take a ride over. I figure anything out... you know I'll pass it along." He left the card on the kid's desk for the officer before turning towards the door, his hands stuffed into his pockets. "Take care of yourself, Jess." He nodded a goodbye - before starting down the stairs.

                    His mind was alight with the possibility that there was something going on - what were the odds that these two kids were under the care of the same psych doctor? Maybe even at the same hospital. Warren gritted his teeth. He didn't want to jump to conclusions, but his stomach was already twisting with the idea that he had missed something critical from the Shane Hoffman case - something deadly.

                    OOC:

                    Alright, so I'm thinking he's going to head to his car - kicking himself for not taking Jessica up on the offer of lunch and all that - but he's got a cellphone and a P.I. group that he works for so, I figure he'll try and kill two birds with one stone - call someone at the office to go over the Shane Hoffman case file and see if the name Dr. Letscher features in any of it. After that - he's going to head to Arbour Hospital in the hopes of getting a word in with the Doctor - he's not going to try and schedule an appointment or anything like that.
                    Last edited by CitizenStalwart; 17th August 2017, 08:45 PM.

                    Comment


                    • #11
                      Re: Glaive - Chapter 1: This Used to Be a Funhouse

                      Originally posted by Awfulmonk View Post
                      Roxanne Wells

                      As you swiftly gain access to the server site where you find an abundance of computers all connected in sympatico. As a hospital it makes sense for them to all be connected. You quickly find they are all still running on Windows 10...must not be enough in the budget for a new O.S. As you dox into their network you find the employee manifest.

                      5 Doctors, 15 Nurses, 12 Aides, 7 volunteers, a host of utility staff and 4 secretaries.

                      Not to mention the backlog of patient information, records (patient and financial), Calendar (Schedules and Events), and more.

                      Where to begin?
                      Roxanne Wells

                      Roxy scoffed as she found the computers running on Windows 10, their firewalls laughable as she bypassed them and looked into the files. She wanted to first look at the doctors in detail before going to the patients, especially since the message hinted at them. Was it a bit obvious, perhaps it was...but she wasn't going to take any chances. She scanned through the files, hoping that some names would hop out at her. Someone she knew from the Gabris family? Someone who had ties to them...or maybe there was someone else in here like her, but maybe with a few more screws loose.

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                      • #12
                        Re: Glaive - Chapter 1: This Used to Be a Funhouse

                        Roxanne Wells

                        The first thing you uncover is that most of the Doctors have been there for a little over three years or more except for one, who started about 2 months ago. The Second thing you find - using a quick reference guide of contact information of the Gabris family, is that none of those Doctors have anything to do with the Gabris family.

                        Looking through the patient files, that takes a lot longer. In fact by the time you're done you've wasted your whole afternoon. A lot of the patients have your normal ailments. The most common being Schizophrenia, Mood disorders, Anxiety disorders and Drug use. However there is one case that sticks out only because of the severity of what she'd gone through.

                        Patient Name: Rosie Dutchland

                        At a young age she was involved in an accident and lost the use of her legs. Despite that she was able to live a normal life and graduate high school. However it appears about a month after graduation she was involved in an accident when the car she was in was pushed off the road and down a cliff. She was the only survivor, the mere fact of paralysis being the only thing that saved her. She is registered under the hospital admission as being in for "Hallucinations, PTSD, and Delusions of Repaired Paralysis." Basically, whatever happened during that accident messed her up real bad.

                        Other then that she seems healthy. Doctors notes do state that she seems to talk to herself frequently as though having a conversation with someone who isn't there.

                        No one tied to the Gabris family, but you did find a patient with an interesting backstory thats for sure.

                        Post for everyone else tomorrow, and I do mean everyone else.
                        GM Pillars Rise and Heroes Fall (OOC) (IC),Setting Notes for Pillars Fall

                        Games I'm In:
                        Emily Whittier aka Arc in Crinoverse: Tales to Astonish

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                        • #13
                          Re: Glaive - Chapter 1: This Used to Be a Funhouse

                          Wolfram von Bern

                          It's an easy Wednesday afternoon, today your schedule was light - or rather this whole week has been. Last week there were three fundraisers and a committee meeting. This week, a calm before a figurative mild thunderstorm. Your driver and Bodyguard Frederico was currently parking your 1948 Tucker while you waited near the entrance talking with the program supervisor. Your reason for today's visit - your annual college grant for those that needed a second chance. That's what you were known for in the community, giving out second chances sometimes those that messed up, sometimes those that failed, sometimes those that just needed a helping hand. Your assistant found them and you interviewed them. But today's candidate seemed the most peculiar of all the ones you've interviewed. Currently committed to Arbour Hospital, this candidate was not only paralyzed but recently was involved in a tragic accident killing her brother and high school friends. If your interview went well, you decided you may help get her some better treatment, maybe even give a small donation so she may pursue school. That's what this interview was for. As your driver/bodyguard came up the sidewalk the now three of you entered the hospital. The smell of cleaning supplies fills your nostrils and as you look around your a little surprised. It sure doesn't look clean. Your first stop however was with her physician, Dr. Letscher. He had been working here for the past 5 years, a Psychologist specializing in a variety of different studies. He split his time between clinical sessions here and at his office counseling patients. He awaited you at his office entrance. A small leather binder under his arms, he was dressed in a suit with a doctor's white coat over the top. As you approached he reached out his hand. You assumed by his name he was of German descent, but his accent and appearance are American. "Good Afternoon Mr. Bern, please come in." He outstretches his arm and opens his office door. He welcomes you in and as you enter you find his office immaculately clean. No open folders, no papers strewn about. Just a few plaques of awards and degrees on the wall, a computer on the desk and a few ornaments of personal note accompanying. As well as three file cabinets on one wall.

                          "I believe you were here to interview Ms. Dutchland, she's currently in group therapy but once she's done I'll be happy to introduce you two." He looks at his watch, your eyes can't help but to notice it's a cheap digital watch. ""That gives us 15 minutes if you'd like I can answer any questions you might have."

                          Frederico Alambra

                          As you enter the compound with your charge next to you, your eyes can't help but to see a sight you saw on the streets after the violence of gangs had entered their neighborhood. Their eyes were faded over, a few of them were obviously mentally ill. But some of them, they had lost hope. Such a sad life to be held in a place such as Auburn Hospital.

                          Entering the building you immediately smell the scent of Ammonia, Sodium Chloride, Chlorine, commonly used in cleaning supplies but in a pinch would make an excellent explosive compound combined with a few other ingredients. A shake your head, no need for that. This was a simple interview why would you have need for explosives. Sometimes it was hard leaving your old life behind you.

                          Walking through your eyes watch your surroundings, the entrance was clear of most people, your employer was talking with the project supervisor, and as you entered you only saw 2 women behind a glass screen. Secretaries. One them escorted you to this Dr. Letscher and along the way you could hear the sounds of the mad. The sounds of those that lived in their own reality screaming, or speaking to themselves, or moving erratically. If they weren't in a controlled environment such as this, they may be a danger to themselves and those around them, but now. With the orderlies and yourself your charge was safe.

                          You stood at the door as your charge took a seat at Dr. Letcher's desk. Wolfram didn't mind if you asked questions, but this was his domain, his interview to benefit another soul after having given so many others, even you, a second chance at a real life.

                          Despite this something did worry you, there were no security guards or metal detectors in the entrance you came in. You still held your gun under your vest and a few small explosives in your coat. You stood alert, doubtful but just in case.

                          Warren Kingston

                          You gave your protective gear back to the CSI, a quick lookover showing no contamination you were allowed to leave. Calling your office you ask them to check the name of the Doctor in Hoffman's file and sure enough the name matched the one you found. They matched it before you even got off his street. Whatever mental punishment you give yourself can wait, there is a hunger in your belly and a quick stop through a drive through ends it. Throwing the trash to the side as you finish it you drive the 45 minutes to Arbour Hospital.

                          Main Entrance or Side Entrance?
                          Rosie Dutchland

                          "...not yet time..."

                          You hadn't even asked it a question this time. The nurse leading this therapy session had asked you how you were doing. What are you supposed to say. "Oh I'm great Nurse Keller, I'm so happy I hear the voice of my brother who died after we were pushed off a cliff. A fact that apparently no one seems to believe. I'm so excited that I get to feel the use of my legs and know that if I could just move them I'd be able to walk. And I'm certainly very happy to know that that same voice of my brother who I know is dead because I saw his body at the funeral, is the one that is keeping me from walking. Won't shut up about it not being time yet. Something I have no idea what it's talking about. And most of all I'm so glad I'm here is this insane asylum instead of at college like everyone else I know.

                          No...you couldn't say that. They'd ask if you took your meds today, which you hadn't but that was an unrelated point. They'd ask why, you could tell them its because it blocks the voice from being heard. Or use the same excuse as it makes you feel loopy and weird, which was also true. They'd put you back in your room, to "Keep you safe."

                          You were starting to believe them. That none of this was real, that you're brother just made a mistake that night and accidentally crashed through and fell down the cliff by accident. That the voice you were hearing was all in your head. In fact you had almost been convinced until the your brothers voice spoke again.

                          "...it's...almost time...be ready"
                          GM Pillars Rise and Heroes Fall (OOC) (IC),Setting Notes for Pillars Fall

                          Games I'm In:
                          Emily Whittier aka Arc in Crinoverse: Tales to Astonish

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                          • #14
                            Re: Glaive - Chapter 1: This Used to Be a Funhouse

                            Wolfram Von Bern
                            HP: 1
                            Status: Cultured
                            ---

                            It'd been some time since he was behind the wheel of his own car with the boy taking that job, five or six months by this point. Feeling the power of it's engine as the car's wheels glided over asphalt, autumn leaves trailing behind him in his heir wake. The experience often made him feel young again, back to when he rid in the passenger seat as his father took them on a drive along the countryside. Breaking open those old memories and having it restored after two decades of storage was a decision he never regretted.

                            The old man smiled, his hands comfortably laying on the silver lion shaped handle of his cane which rested between his feat. Wolfram admitted that perhaps he missed riding beside his father more then he missed driving it himself. He could suffer his valet's desire to make a good impression if it allowed him to lean back and watch the countryside pass once more.

                            Vincent would be home from school and done with his studies by the time they got back. Maybe there would be time for a drive with his Grandson before the sun finally set.

                            The trip did wonders to relax his nerves, not feeling an ounce of trepidation once Frederico pulled in. The elder had of course visited mental institutions on several occasions within recent memory, however he'd be lying by saying he never felt unease during these visits. Reacting around those sick of body was something Wolram knew well, what the right words to say were and the way to voice them. But the mentally touched had proven a wild factor on several occasions.

                            He subconsciously rubbed the thin scar on his left from when a woman thought he was a devil in disguise, cursing him and his supposedly satanic bloodline. That incident wouldn't keep him from doing what he knew to be right. Everyone deserved a second chance at life, even her.

                            "I do hope you take care as to not park under the drainage pipe this time, Mr. Alambra." He ribbed once the car came to a complete stop, a smile on his lips. That incident had been three months ago, yet he still brought it up just to keep the boy on his toes. A small amount of payback for the ruined suit and an awkward meeting with the a prominent investor.

                            A momment was spent while outside the car to breifly lament his displaced sword, which he chose to leave locked in it's case back home. It was often that he'd take it along with him for ceremony which helped to instill the knightly image he had been cultivating for years. But he knew better then to brandish a weapon even as noble as her around the unsound. If push came to shove though, the one within his cane would do just the trick. He of course still trusted his bodyguard to act swiftly on his behalf if something happened, that should go without saying. It simply never hurt to be prepared.

                            He greeted the nurse as a gentleman should, displaying his old charm by grasping her hand and giving it a soft kiss which left her a smiling and blushing mess. It would no doubt help put her in a good mood as well, as he knew how these places could drain it's staff so. He hesitated to enter the building right away. The sharp smell of chemicals barely matched the grimy interior. With the knowledge he had faced worse on numerous occasions, he soldiered on.

                            "Von Bern, if you'd please." He lightly scolded, like a father would to his child. He took the man's hand and gave it a firm shake. "It's my pleasure to meet you Dr. Letcher."

                            The room itself was much more how he expected a hospital to look, but for some reason it left him with more unease then if books were strewn about and his plaques were askew. He would not judge however. Each man had their own level of comfort, and this one's was clearly quite restricted indeed.

                            "That I am." He started with a smile, sitting relaxed with his hands once more resting on his silvered cane. "I was hoping you'd offer me more insight on her case and her mood. Her files noted she's been hearing voices if I recall? Is there anything I should be wary of while speaking with her, words or phrases that might set her off?"
                            Last edited by Doctor Malsyn; 20th August 2017, 06:11 PM.
                            I'm obviously a doctor of literature.

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                            • #15
                              Re: Glaive - Chapter 1: This Used to Be a Funhouse

                              Rosie Dutchland

                              Rosie hated these group theory sessions. It didn’t matter what she said to anyone. They either wouldn’t believe her, reaffirming that she was crazy or she would be lying to them, either way what was the point.

                              “I’m fine.” She went with lying today.

                              To sum up the thousands of things she could say about this whole mess, she was frustrated. To the max. It frustrated her that no one had believed her. It annoyed her that she couldn’t even blame them for it, she was aware how crazy it sounded, being haunted by the spirit of her dead brother, and it drove her crazy that even when Matt did speak to her, he had absolutely nothing helpful to say. Not yet time. What does that even mean. Seriously. Not time for what? The only clue she had, was that it had something to do with her legs. When she tried move them, or on the couple of attempts she had made to stand, Matt was always there to say ’not yet time.’

                              At this stage, she was beginning to doubt her own story. That may she was hearing her brother’s voice in an attempt to cope with a traumatic experience, or to punish herself for surviving when her friends had not. She might have bought it herself too, except she knew she could hear him. More than that though, she could feel him nearby, a constant presence, even now in room like he was standing just behind her shoulder, whispering in her ear.

                              Then there was her legs. It didn’t matter what anyone told her, she could feel them again. She had rubbed, poked and pinched and done anything she could think of, short of stabbing herself with a fork to be sure that it wasn’t just some kind of phantom limb syndrome. The biggest frustration was that despite all that, she couldn’t move them. They called to her to standing up, to walk or run or just wiggle her toes… but nothing, and every time she tried, Matt was at it again. ’Not yet time.’

                              “I’m fine.” She’d been through this song and dance every couple of days for months. She tried her best to sound more bored then frustrated. “Sparkles and rainbows. That’s all I have to say, so can we please move on to…”

                              "...it's...almost time...be ready"

                              That was new.

                              “Wait, ready?” Despite herself she responded on reflex tilting her head unconsciously to listen. Did Matt actually have something to say this time? “Ready for what?”

                              Then she realized what she was doing, and more importantly where she was doing it. She straightened up in her wheelchair, tried to look bored again, hoping no one noticed her slip.

                              “Never mind… I’m umm… I’m fine.”
                              Last edited by glyph; 20th August 2017, 08:52 PM.

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