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Over a month ago, a young woman died to a heart attack while on a date with her boyfriend. She was the first victim of what later became known as the Roshburg Killer.
The Roshburg Killer is the hottest discussion topic of the entire city, but it's not the same elsewhere. The story is becoming more notable statewide, but nationwide not so much. Internationally even less so, as the curiosity gets barely reported in other countries' news.
When heart attacks start to kill people of all ages and physical conditions, the media starts asking questions. Questions that the police or medical professionals can't answer.
March 8 (Mon)
17:25
For reasons they keep to themselves for the time being, six men and three women are starting to gather at the address they received by mail. The address, it turns out, is that of an empty office building. A moderately-sized billboard says, "AVAILABLE For rent: business premises for YOUR company". A phone number is included.
The nine people arrive in small groups, or one at a time. Some of them double check the letter they got, to remind themselves that this was the right choice.
Dear Mr, Ms, or Mrs,
I hope the enclosed $200 is enough to have your curiosity and attention. You can stop reading this message at any time, enjoy the free cash, and carry on with your life.
I reach out to you, asking if you care about this city. If you care about innocent lives. Or if you care about excitement. Because this city is facing a terror it cannot fend off without someone taking action. Because innocent lives have been lost to the Roshburg Killer, and more will be lost if someone doesn't take action. Because what I ask is terribly dangerous, but also exciting and interesting, I am sure.
I am gathering more people like you.
LOCATION
203 Labrador Street
Roshburg, QU 92883TIME
March 8
5:30 PM
The lack of signature, and the overall mysterious tone of the envelope's message, was surely a reason for many of the recipients to carefully consider their response.
Each of the nine that showed up know that the others are thinking of the same questions. They are about to be answered.
Inside the office building is a small note, taped on a wall. Not clearly out in the open: to be found only by those who would expect to find something unusual from inside the building. The note gives directions to the basement.
17:30
The nine gather at the basement. There, they find a large table, for group meetings.
There are ten chairs at the table, and ten notes on each seat. The notes are numbered, from 1 through 10. In the middle of the table is an envelope.
One of the women speaks up. "I hope this answers some questions. Why are we here?"
She's a Hispanic woman in her late twenties to early thirties, and more attractive than most. She picks up the envelope, opens it before anyone can object, and takes out some document. She reads it for a few seconds, and says: "It says we should take seats and introduce ourselves. Before we move on."
Will knocks on the door before he enters. The musty smell of the place being the least troublesome part of things.
The attractive lady catches his eye for just a moment before curiosity sets back in. Maybe she didn't see me. That'd be an awkward way to open an introduction.
If this whole thing goes Di Simoni Code on us I'm gonna have a lot more questions than that. There's something a bit unimpressive with his physique. He's a little skinny, little tall, but his light blonde hair and expensive white suit are well taken care of. Will lays the briefcase he had carried inside next to him.
Well, I got a letter in the mail... Please allow me to introduce myself... The man sits down with note number two, pondering. Over the course of the meeting, he repeatedly corrects himself, trying not to slouch.
I'm a man of wealth and taste. He can't help smiling at his own reference. Well, taste anyway. My names Will Wesson. Glad to meet you all here. Although, I'm not a fan of this air of mystery.
Malcolm sits down in place number nine and rubs his unshaven jaw and cautions himself, Careful don't share too much. Aloud he announces as he looks around, "I guess I'll go next. You can call me Mal... I think we all received the same mysterious letter and lets say I'm a concerned citizen who cares about innocent lives."
Artemiy arrives at the building precisely as his satellite watch ticks to 5:30, and he enters, picks out the note, and heads down. He's about as tall as Will is, but he's a little more filled out in his build--lean overall, but muscular, not skinny. His hair, a dirty blond faded to mostly gray, is cut short, and his jaw sports a five-o-clock shadow but no more growth than that. He's wearing a leather bomber jacket over a sweater and cargo pants, with heavy boots on his feet and gloves on his hands. Most striking are his eyes: an icy blue, that peer out at the world as though with a dead man's gaze.
The man moves down the stairs quickly, with purpose, and his eyes sweep the room, taking in the other people present, as well as the furnishings and other details. He barely slows his stride to do so, though, and takes seat number five, settling into the chair with a straight back, and folding his hands on the table.
"You're very talkative, Will Wesson," he says, regarding the man with that lifeless gaze. The accent in his voice is slight, suppressed, but unmistakably Russian. "Loose tongues sink ships, no?" He stares at Will for a few seconds more, and it starts to seem like the man doesn't blink. "My name is Sewick. I'll say more when I hear more--I'd also like to know why I'm here."
Will freezes for the slightest moment meeting Sewick's gaze.
Oh boy, tight-lipped types. Really should have seen that coming.
He resumes his stride afterward, sporting a warm smile and short chuckle. His hand goes out across the table for handshakes.
Heh, ya have a point. Although, let's be honest. All we do have are names right now. Those are pretty easy to change. He takes a sweeping glance to the occupants of the room.
Course, we don't even have all of those now do we?
A younger man enter's the room yawning briefly, he has messy short brown hair, is rather pale and skinny. As he sit's down at seat ten taking off a long tan coat, underneath he wears a white dress shirt though is is wrinkled and loss, lastly a dark blue tie around his neck. Well this is quite a colorful collection of people already. The Name's Milo Halden, yes from those Halden's and no i had nothing to do with it.. He say's rather quickly and defensively. Myself, i work for the FBI. I get into wherever i'm needed, that's about it really. Computer's, buildings, where ever and whenever.
Adrien arrived at the meeting place 20 minutes earlier just so he could take a good look at the place and the arriving people.
Adrien, a slightly taller than average with a slim frame blond, spent most the time in silence contemplating the situation and trying to not get in anyones path or gather anyones attention.
When people start introducing themselves, Adrien ponders for a couple of minutes if it's wise to talk with these people but the curiosity of finding what is behind all of this finally overpowered his will.
The young man sits, take a pen out of his pocket and start spining it just before saying:
You can call me Adrien, not sure what else to say I'm here just because I find the situation intriguing. - he stop spining the pen two seconds after he said the last word.
The Hispanic woman figures it's her turn.
"I am Lisa Delgado, a real estate agent. My pleasure."
She says this in a relatively normal tone, but something about her makes it sound sensual and inviting. She has a long, straight, brunette hair, matching her almond eyes. One might describe her as "traditionally beautiful", as expected from someone of her field.
She takes a seat in seat number 7.
"Guess I'm next," says another woman, who has taken seat #4.
She's a white woman in her late twenties to early thirties. Immediately eye-catching is her frame which is toned. Her arms, visible because of her sleeveless shirt, are certainly more muscular than those of the average modern male. They are also tattooed, with roses and angel wings.
"Hi, I’m Kira Freeman. I work as a personal trainer, mostly. Uh, I do some delivery jobs on the side," she says, a bit nervously. "I, uh, don't really know anything more than you do? But there are all kinds of different people here, it seems."
“Well hello. My name is Silvia Bond. I should mention that I almost decided to not attend this meeting. Now that I'm here, this is starting to sound like something interesting and secret, oh my. I might be too old for getting any more secrets. Live a life time as a politician, you’ll get plenty already. Hee-hee-hee.”
Hearing her speak, most locals recognize Mrs Bond. She was an influential political figure in Roshburg before she retired. Her voice is strong, and her laugh is memorable if not a bit obnoxious.
“My husband Glen, he doesn’t know about this. Luckily he’s won’t ask questions if I’m away from home a lot. He’s used to it, I have quite a lot of hobbies.”
Mrs Bond arrived at the scene at 17:20, 10 minutes after Adrien. She sits in seat #1 when the others arrive.
Once the nine have given their short introductions, and exchanged a few awkward small talks to break the ice, Lisa Delgado continues reading the document. In fact, she's been discreetly reading it for a while now, but apparently she decided to politely wait for everyone to finish their introductions.
"Right, then," Delgado says, and clears her throat. "We all got the same letter. And, as the letter hinted, we were invited here because something needs to be done about the Roshburg Killer, and someone rich wants us do it."
"Do what?" says Bond.
Delgado places the document on the table. "On a second though, maybe you all should read it. It's a bit long."
Welcome,
Please take your seats, and introduce yourselves to one another. It helps to have gotten to know your company by name before we begin. Then, read on.
This document assumes three or more people showed up. I originally invited ten people: it would be marvelous if all ten arrive, but I am not hopeful. Should it happen that there are less than three people present, go home. In that event, please write your name on this document if you'd like me to contact you again on a later date.
To the point:
I am a wealthy individual who wants the Roshburg Killer out of the city. I am convinced the Roshburg Killer (abbreviated RK henceforth) is a person or multiple people, killing other people using means the modern science cannot fully explain yet. I am also deathly afraid of RK, so I strive to minimize the risks I have to personally take.
Using my sources, I have gathered a list of people I could enlist for my purposes. You, the people present here and now, are among those people. It is my hope that you work together, and gather information so that I know:
1) How RK kills
2) Why RK kills
3) Who RK isHow you choose to fulfill this task is not my concern. I recommend against contacting the police directly, however. Doing so could hinder your future actions.
For your investigations, I cannot support you in any way except monetarily. At the end of each week, write a formal report on what you need funds for. The details for this process are in a separate document, also in the envelope.
I will also support your efforts by organizing your meeting place. For security reasons, you will change your meeting location every week. For this week, use this current address; the information on the next week's location will be delivered here on March 14.
Also for security reasons, you will call this secret society by the name .
The reason for this is that there is a club house on Fisher Street. The owner isn't aware of our actions, nor should he be. If an outsider ever overhears about your activities, that person will inevitably seek the club house on Fisher Street, and be led away from our operations.Your first task should be to gather information on the victims. Please make a formal report to me. The details for this reporting process are in a separate document, also in the envelope.
Yours truly,
The Sponsor
As the document states, there is a 2-page long instructions document in the envelope as well, explaining the details on how to submit the reports "the Sponsor" asked for.
"Mysterious patron, a secret society, a killer or killers, no police support. This sounds like a movie so far, i like it, i'm in.I think we can all agree these murders need to stop. But first, i'm gonna say this now, make sure we are all on the same page. No lie's, privacy or secret are fine but when it comes to the mission, we need to be straight with each other that's the only way we win this game without any of us dying or losing something important. " Milo say's apparently willing to accept all this at face value. He seems oddly relaxed his arms folded behind his head leaning back in the chair.
"'Using means modern science cannot explain yet?' What a load. I knew this was gonna be something crazy, but I didn't think we'd jump right to satanic rituals."
Will'll read the report instructions.
Wait, I recognize that name. Mrs. Bond?
As the night unfolds Mal wonders, What am I doing here? Why should we believe anything this letter says and more importantly why should I trust anyone in this room or this mysterious benefactor?
Nevertheless Mal is intrigued and before he realizes it he is caught up in the mystery of the who thing and offers, "I might be able to get my hands on the medical records of some of the victims. Seems like a good place to start." He looks to Milo, "Do you think you could find any police reports on the victims?" He begins writing notes keeping track of assignments and ideas the thinks better of it, "Best if we don't keep notes."
" Might have an autopsy file or two on record from some of the killing's. I can pull up whatever we have on file, warning you now though it's probably not much. " He shrugs "This sounds insane, cryptic as all hell, but i'm willing to believe it. I've seen some pretty weird stuff myself"
"Hmm. Access to medical files? Cares about innocent lives? So, a doctor I take it? I have to admit it's pretty relieving finding that out. If you two are gonna be looking through records, lemme know if I can help. Admittedly, I'm only really good for two things, but if anyone needs a hand speaking with someone let me know. I'm trying real hard to imagine why I'm here though. Politicians, doctors, FBI... Only other thing I can think of is legal work. All I do is move papers across a desk these days, but I can probably sort through the mountains of bureaucratic paperwork we'd need to get through if we want to know what's already there in print."
Will looks down the table once more, keeping his tone level.
"I get the feeling we'll have to get to know each other better."
Artemiy waits until the document is passed to him, and reads it quickly and silently while the others begin discussion. He glances up once or twice as the other men seem to take almost instantly to the idea of this "job," but otherwise doesn't add anything in for the time being. At Will's comment, though, he finally shrugs and taps the table. "We all have our skills, I'm sure. Like you just said--politics, law enforcement, medicine. With your legal expertise, we have the bases covered. I'd guess I was contacted maybe for backup? Legwork, perhaps. Like Miss Freeman, here, maybe."
"Believe me, some who can deal with legal work could be useful,one of the biggest problems i've found is dealing with all the red tape and legal bs while investigating. And if we are going to be dealing with Killers, we are going to be found out eventually, having people who know there way around a fight would be nice."Milo gives words of encouragement to Will and Sewick. The young man sigh's at Will's last comment "Well i'm an open book, if you guy's want to know anything just ask. I don't have much in the way of secret's honestly, just a agent who happens to have a bit of money and lives alone with his pet cat "
Jake has been standing aside from the rest, quiet before now. He wanted all the information before he even committed to giving a fake name to this operation. His black suit and white shirt and still impressive physique for someone of his age might somewhat belie his profession, but old habits die hard. When you've worn the same thing for 25 years, you're stuck with it.
But now, he finally speaks up.
"Milo's got the right of it. Paperwork has power. Operations like these run on mountains of them."
"I'm Jake, by the way. Used to be an investigator myself. Won't lie to you, this organization's more of a means to an end for me. I want the killer gone, and nobody else seems to give a shit."
The Fisher St Club, as the Sponsor ordered it to be called, gets right down to business, making plans on how to use their individual talents. Not everyone is on board with this, however, because Delgado raises her objection.
"I can't believe this. You're just going to accept this thing, just like that?" She is frowning. "Let the police do their job. If there even is someone so dangerous out there. And that's a big if."
"I think you can leave any time you want, dear," says Mrs Bond. "Personally, I think this is starting to sound exciting. But I wonder if a civil group like ours can do anything the real crime investigators can't."
Freeman stays quiet on this one.
Will gets up slowly.
"Well, that was fast. Good to see some proactive thoughts here. If no-one minds though, I would like to try to avoid breaking too many laws. Vigilantes have this way of attracting attention.
Although, Ms. Delgado, I have to echo the words of the good Mrs. Bond. If you wish, I would understand completely the decision to leave. You have my promise that I won't breath a single word that you were here. We don't have much to go on, true. But who does?" He keeps up his smile, though straitening his suit and black dress shirt out before grabbing his suitcase.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to familiarize myself with our cover operation. Won't do us any good if someone asks what the club's like, and we can't give them the right answer. Or multiple answers. Ms. Freeman? Care to join me? Anyone else is welcome too."
And why are you being so quiet?
Means beyond modern science?, nonsense.
Adrien is about to stand up and leave when Jake spoke.
he doesn't seems to be the kind of persons who chase fantasies, could it be...
Adrien doesn't speak for now, just limit himself to contemplate the situation.
Artemiy lets out a brief burst of air through his nostrils at the comments of Delgado, and shakes his head at Will's thoughts as well. "The police? They have no idea what this is, any more than we do. A killer who kills with heart attacks? That is nonsense, science fiction. If they found poison, drugs, that caused such a thing, they would have said so by now. Ease the panic with a cause. The police do not know what this is."
He stands up and pockets the sticky note from his seat at the table. "If you wanted to stay out of things, then why are you here?" This question is directed at the whole room, as he sweeps his gaze across each person in turn, lingering on Delgado. "You could have taken the two-hundred dollars and left. Purchased a new necklace, perhaps, or shoes. But you came here. Like it or not, Lisa Delgado, we are together in this now. Some part of you wants to be."
The Russian nods to Will. "That sounds like a fair plan, Will Wesson. If you do not mind, I will join you. Before we go, though, someone should destroy those documents."
"Hey hey, there we go. Feel free Mr. Sewick The documents... well, unless I'm the only one without an eidetic memory, we'll at least need to keep the instructions for reporting what we find. In fact-" He puts down the briefcase to check said instructions.
The suited man speaks over his shoulder."So, Ms. Freeman? Waddya say? Oh and, who needs a ride? Offers are still open."
"Bad idea to go as a group, especially heading directly from here. No more than two or three, and we shouldn't acknowledge the other groups at the bar."
"I'd say go somewhere else for about an hour. Alone or in your groups, doesn't matter. Then meet up at the club."
Paranoid, Mal thinks as he listens to Jake's advice but doesn't argue the point. aloud he says, "You seem to know what your talking about Jake, mind if I tag along with you?" Perhaps we all should be paranoid. We are chasing a killer after all," he concludes.
Will and Sewick's words do not fully convince Delgado. She folds her arms. "You don't know that. It could be poison, how could we prove any different? Or this all could be a coincidence." Their words must have made some sense to her, as he later admits: "You're right, though. I can leave if I want. For now, I'll see what happens. I like this city, after all."
Mrs Bond flashes a fake smile at Delgado.
"Huh? Going to the club?" Freeman asks Will. "Sure. I have my own ride."
"You guy's check out the club, i'll see if i can find out what the officials have on this without alerting them. Hopefully they will let me see there files without a hassle, if not i have a plan b." Milo pulls out a piece of paper and a pen quickly scrawling his phone number on it " My personal number, if anyone needs to contact me for anything in the mean time" The young man stands readying himself to leave
Paranoid, Mal thinks as he listens to Jake's advice but doesn't argue the point. aloud he says, "You seem to know what your talking about Jake, mind if I tag along with you?" Perhaps we all should be paranoid. We are chasing a killer after all," he concludes.
"Go ahead. Need a lift, or you have your own ride?"
"Thanks, I'll ride with you if you don't mind," Mal responds.
Adrien spins trhee times his pen before saying to Malcolm and Jake
I'll go with you if you don't mind
The men make plans to leave, and exchange phone numbers. Freeman goes with Will and the Russian, whereas Delgado plans to also pay a visit to the real Fisher St club house, as a separate person. ("I don't know any of you when we meet there, understood?")
Mrs Bond plans to head home for today. "Well, you have one of my phone numbers. You can call that phone any time."
You park your cars nearby, and gather close to the social club. The building doesn't ooze sophistication like some upper-class social clubs do, but judging from the red carpet on the lobby, they might expect something from their visitors.
"So what do we do now?" Freeman asks. "Are we just going to walk in?"
You notice Jake, Malcolm, and Adrien's cars driving by. They park their cars a short walk away from yours.There is no sign of Delgado's car yet.
As you drive by this building you notice Will, Sewick, and Freeman near the building. They haven't entered yet.
You park your cars nearby. There is no sign of Delgado's car yet. The plan was that you three wait before the others enter. What do you do?
Will drops his jacket off inside his car in an attempt to try to look more casual. He turns around to lock it with the device on his keyring.
Yeah, lets head in. Kind of ritzy though. Heh. You know this is the first car anybody in my family's owned that came with this wireless lock thing? Rest were all rusty junkers.
Artemiy steps out and joins the others. At this point they notice a new sound coming from the man--the jingling of what sounds like many keys. They may or may not realize that there wasn't so much jingling when he entered the secret meeting spot earlier.
The Russian looks at the club and shakes his head. "I am not sure of that, it looks like they may require memberships of some kind. Or at least an invitation? But you may as well try. I will keep watch from outside."
"You go and check the place out. I don't think I'd be able to act natural there."
Milo heads to the chief of police's office "FBI, I need some help. the department is looking into any and all murder's in the area to see if they connect with a current case, If i could have a peek at any current major case files that'd be a great help "
"Wha-oh." Will responds quietly to Freeman.
"Aw, yer killin' me guys. "
Adrien was quite good at poker when he was a kid, long time without playing but the way of calculating probabilities should not be more than one thought away. Inside his car, Adrien start remembering how the math of poker was supposed to work as an excersice to gather patience since the thing he really want to do, talking to Malcol and Jake, seems out of question at the moment.
Adrien waits.
Eh. We're gonna be newcomers anyway. Might as well go say hi.
Will heads over to the door with his most casual and warm grin. he briefly knocks on the door, and if there's no doorman, he'll head inside.
Malcolm watches the first group enter and waits twenty minutes and goes in.
He arrives in a lobby of sorts, which is empty of people. There are some sofas and armchairs, for waiting. There is no staff at the reception desk, and so common sense tells Will to ring the call bell.
He doesn't need to, however, as a middle-aged man comes from behind a corner. "Good evening," the man says. The receptionist is formally dressed, and the silver name tag on his suit reads, "Xavion".
Outside, Freeman suggests to the Russian: "You know what, I think the others can keep watch as well. We should at least go check the place out a little. That was the point, right?"