"Now comes the flip side of this coin. We need to get these guys out of here, and off this Russell guy's radar." She looks over at the group, "You have some place you can lie low?"
"Well, we have the van. And I have some cash. We'll hole up in a motel for a while. What do you guys think you're gonna do to Russell? He's pretty tough."
"Oh, you know. The usual," Coop replies as he casts a glance toward Hans, "beat him up, take his lunch money, call him names. You might want to invest in a full-body Brazilian wax, big guy. We've got some detective work to do."
Cooper bids the rest of the other group farewell and, more importantly, good luck before beckoning his friends away. A short walk will do them plenty of good to think and plan a bit. "So, have any of you got contacts in the police? Or some serious chops with computer stuff? I can do pretty okay, but I'm not exactly a Batman, Jessica Jones, crazy-good private I or anything. And we should probably start digging up as much as we can about this guy, as soon as possible. Unless there's something else on our radar that I'm missing?"
"There has always been a layer between my work and the police. I never have worked with them directly. I thought we had an address through. Perhaps we should watch it, you know a steak out. "
"I mean, we can head straight there. But I'd rather have any info about the guy that we can find first, wouldn't you?" Cooper asks as he zips up his motorcycle jacket and stuffs his hands in the pockets. "Better to get any intel on what we're about to walk into or whatever, right?"
"Yes, intel would be nice, biut I don't know where to get that. I know we can watch it"
"Well, you're not wrong. Hailey, any ideas? 'Cause I'm fresh out and a stakeout sounds like the best way to go right about now."
"Other than maybe an internet search for the guy, I'm out of ideas. Sorry boys, but a stakeout sounds like it may be our best bet."
"Stakeout it is! Either of you have a car? Preferably of the Crown Vic variety?" Cooper asks curiously, given that stakeouts on motorcycles tend not to be so subtle.
Hans being a rich monster hunter only has a Mercedes, sorry.
Madge's place where Russell might be hanging?
The group drives whatever they decide to stake out in to the apartment building where Madge lives and Russell is crashing. It is about 1 pm by the time you get there and get things set up. The building is a three story apartment building, nicer than you might have expected for Madge. Apparently plumbers do alright. The street is busy, crowded with pedestrians. You know what you are looking for in Russell, and you have a building and apartment number where he might be. I'm sure there is some sort of lunch involved.
"Man, stakeouts are not nearly as exciting in real life as they are in movies," Cooper grumbles as he leans his seat as far back as possible so that he might lay back, keeping at least one eye on the front of Madge's place. As much as he can in the 1998 Chevy Suburban borrowed from his next-door neighbors.
He is careful not to be too violent with the seat, though, as it is not their car and he did promise to bring it back in good shape. "Do we start talking about ourselves to liven it up or something? How does this work?"
"From what I gather on TV, it requires coffee and donuts. "
Hailey chuckles lightly at Hans' comment, "Or very bad takeout, right?"
"We just had donuts and coffee, but I could probably go for some awful takeout. As long as it's Chinese or something," Cooper pipes up. "Say, Hailey. What got you in the supernatural business?"
Hours pass with no sign of Russell. A beat cop takes little notice of you, put off by your investigative talents and misdirection. As night falls, the magicians among you feel the energy of the sun subside. Shadows lengthen, the temperatures fall. A fine rain begins to fall, plaguing lesser spells and washing away some of the pain of the day. The car stinks of wet dog, Chinese food, stale coffee.
Finally, a man who could be Russell leaves the building. He looks a bit like Robert Downey Junior, wrapped in an old fashioned khaki trench coat and carrying a green tartan umbrella against the rain. Your magical senses detect protective magics woven into the coat and umbrella, and your normal senses detect a trace of expensive cologne, animal smells refined. Paying close attention, you can see that the rain swirls and skips around him in unexpected ways, like eddies near a whirlpool. Two figures seem to take note of his appearance, one folding a newspaper and tossing it into a waste bin, the other tossing a coffee into the trash before paralleling Russell's movement as he heads down the street.
"Looks like we're not the only ones interested in him. I don't know that we should join the parade. Maybe check out his house?"
Hailey smiles at Cooper as she nestles back into the seat, trying futilely to make the thing more comfortable, "Gram was kind of a hedge-wizard, remedies for the sick, potions for fertility and the like. I always had charms she'd made while growing up, and didn't put stock in them mostly, till I was older and realized, I'd never really been sick, hadn't ever been injured, despite what my parents would say was really trying; martial arts, sports, she grins an impish smile, "High heels." She shrugs, "I never thought about it till I went to a jiu-jitsu class and didn't wear my charm. A black eye and dislocated shoulder later...and gram coming by with salves that healed them, I started asking questions. Things just kind of fell into place after that."
Hailey inclines her chin at the departing few, "Not a bad idea Hans, but we'd better take it slow, he's sure to have wards on his place, with as much as he's got on his person.
"Wards? Not sure I know anything about those. Hope you folks can deal with them. "
Coop makes a face as he glances over to Hailey, hoping she is better with wards than he is. "I'm admittedly not great with them, which is why I've just got the stuff on my jacket. Only need to refresh it once a month or so. Luckily," he says as he waits a beat for the group to get down the block a ways, "most wards aren't all-encompassing. You can't just make a wall of force that keeps everything ever out without expending a metric buttload of energy." Sliding the door open once the trio have managed a decent distance, he makes to follow the lot of them in the pouring rain.
Assuming you approach the entry to the building, you find that there isn’t much here in the way of a Threshold. The building includes several units, each with a minor threshold of its own. But the people who live here don’t live here enough to build up much of a defense. The power probably would be enough to keep out vampires and bind fey, but against mortal wizards it just isn’t established enough.
Your life gets easier once you open your mystic senses, as only one of the units is warded with any sort of active magic. Besides which, Hans can follow the smells straight to the door. You also smell pizza, something else Italian, and something like pickled eggs wafting from various other doors.
The place is nice, but not nice enough to have a doorman or anything. You are able to buzz your way in. Standing outside of the door to the apartment, you reach out with your senses.
Cooper carefully holds the door open for the other two before stepping inside the apartment building and out of the rain. Aside from the slight nudge that it takes to get over the measly Threshold, he barely notices there is one at all. With a glance back toward the other two, he reluctantly opens his Sight and uses it to trace their way up to the apartment in question. He is very careful to make certain that both Hailey and Hans stay well behind him. The less of their true selves he sees, the more sane he can (hopefully) stay. Only once they get to the door does he close the Sight again, rubbing at his eyes a bit afterwards.
"Eugh. That's miserable every time. Door's warded, so it'll be loud if we try to kick it down. Probably," he says as he quickly blinks his eyes to try to get them to adjust to reality. "I can try to pick the lock or we can find a mirror to get in there, if he hasn't warded it that way. Or, uhh. Freeze the lock? I dunno. You guys got any ideas?"
"In my line of work we usually blow the lock off with a shotgun or use a ram. Subtle is not usually my method. "
"Sorry guys, I'm not really a B&E kind of girl. Freezing might work."
"Yeah, tell me about it. Maybe when I was younger, but not so much these days," he replies with a bemused chuckle. Dropping down to one knee so that he can get himself at eye-level with the lock, he furrows his brows in concentration and calls up his will. The air between him and the lock ripples as though subjected to a significant amount of heat as he manipulates force to try to set the lock's tumblers just right.
The knob shakes as Cooper caresses it with force.
The door slides open with a creak, revealing dimness beyond. An odor fills the apartment, a combination of machine oil, fresh rubber, and a strong smell you might think is patchouli or some other incense, but which Hans can identify as a particularly potent Moroccan spice mix.
The door leads into a small anteroom and beyond that to a small sitting area that leads into a nicely appointed kitchen. The furnishings seem old and worn, but well cared for. The kitchen is a thing of beauty. Professional knives, fine pans, professional range. Despite the care obviously taken with setting it up, there is a saucepan on the tile floor, sauce exploded from it, and spices and herbs scattered across the counter. There is a cat on the kitchen floor, wheezing heavily and lying on its side.
Beyond the kitchen is a hallway with four doors that must lead to washrooms and bedrooms.
"What is up with that cat?"
Cooper eyes the cat dubiously, torn between rushing to help the poor creature and staying as far away from it as possible. There is no way to know exactly what had happened to it without opening his Eye and poking around the apartment. Given how that could very well be a recipe for disaster, he shakes his head and glances across to Hailey.
"No idea. Don't touch it. I've opened myself up to the last...two? Three? Whatever. You got this one?" He suggests as he starts looking around for anything in the way of physical identification. Junk mail, bills, receipts, journals, notebooks, pictures, anything that will help them make sense of all this.
"Hans, you want to give me a hand with all this? Try not to, y'know. Touch anything. Leave hair anywhere. Bleed on anything."
"Ya, I'll help. No trace. " and he pokes around looking for anything interesting, but not touching. He will use a pen from his pocket to move papers around and such.
Hans can smell the lingering traces of the ones who attacked you at the donut shop, each smell deeply ingrained. Those people have spent a lot of time here. There is another odor, something newer and fresher, scented like curry, a spicy scent under human stress and anger.
Cooper finds mail in Madge's name, and a few pieces of junkmail to an Andrea Malden or current resident, probably the former owner.
There are blankets and pillows that suggest that someone has been sleeping on the sofa in the front room.
Careful inspection reveals that the cat is not inside a circle of any kind, and that its ribs have been recently crushed by something like a sledge hammer or possibly a heavy can.
Moving further into the apartment, you notice that the shower is running, and that the strange spicy scent is most pronounced in the rear bedroom.
Cooper keeps poking through the apartment with a frown etched into his features. He does his best not to touch anything directly, instead using his sleeves as makeshift gloves. As he finds his way closer to the bedroom, he wrinkles his nose and decides to follow the scent, eyes peeled for any danger.
If Hans is close by, he will try to gesture for him to take a peek in the bathroom. Mostly by pointing at Hans, then his own eyes, then the door where the shower sounds are coming from. Not exactly SWAT level hand signals here.
Cooper heads into the small bedroom, the scent becoming almost overwhelming, a smell of spice and hanging meat and something else, something feral, musky.
The room is only about 10 by 12, hardly enough room for a full sized bed and a chest-of-drawers.
The wall paper suggests that something has been removed after haning for a long time. It might have been a painting, or a mirror. The bed is tightly made, the chest contains clothes in the bottom three drawers, underwear, socks, undershirts. In the top, smaller drawer, there is a black steel box with a combination lock. In the closet are five fine suits, four in dark wool and the last in white poplin.
Under the pillow on the right side of the bed is a SIG Sauer Legion Series P226 Pistol.
Hailey moves towards the bathroom and the shower, warily fearing what she suspects is behind the door, "I have a bad feeling about this, guys." She turns the knob to the door, her splatgun at the ready.
"Still have to look. " he says in a low voice and he moves to the doorway.
In the bathroom, the shower runs cold. The tub is old, cast iron with clawed feet, the shower curtain open on a rod that encircles the tub. On the white hexagonal tile there is a streak of blood, not yet coagulated. In the tub is the half clad body of a young woman, perhaps 25, with short violet stubble and and a face as naturally pale as makeup. Whatever magical residue might have been detectable is washed away from the body, but the woman is slashed like she has been in a fight with Wolverine.
The wounds are still oozing blood. The woman is not dead.
Coop frowns in concentration, calling up his will again to slide the gun out from under the pillow with his tendrils of force. Drawing it up near his face, but naturally facing the barrel away from him, he carefully ejects the clip. Painstakingly, he slips each bullet free into the palm of one of his hands, but he leaves the one in the chamber. Only then does he slide the clip back in again and slip the gun back under the pillow. Insurance for down the road.
Once that grim work is done, he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes to call his Sight up yet again, so that he might peer around the room. Maybe that will tell him the source of that abysmal smell.
"Ok, that is not what I expected. Is there some reason she would be left in a shower?"
moving into the room he will look around
"I imagine we have to move her. "
"The water will wash away any trace that can be used, magical or forensics." She turns her head back to the other room, "COOP! Do you have any healing magic, we need it in here, now." She then turns to the shower puts up her shield and cuts the water.
Cooper opens his Sight to burning light. The room appears almost to be on fire, resting on a line of magical energy that flows through the room to the northeast. The beauty of the ley line is such that Cooper can hardly pull himself away, but there is something else, a dark smokey coil twisting around the ley line, much weaker but intermittently visible. The walls of the room look like an abattoir, like a dozen Johnny Depps have been painted across the walls by a dozen Freddy Kruegers.
The auras warring in the room create the overlapping smells, blood, magic, death, undeath, cannibalism.
With a gasp and a wince, Cooper ineffectually draws a hand up to try to shield his eyes from the light. He knows it is futile, that what he sees will be left burned into his mind forever, but reflexive reactions are hard to quell. After a brief moment of his eyes adjusting, he almost cannot decide between retching and staring transfixed at the ley line.
Fortunately, Hailey's shout snaps him out of the trance and negates the need for a decision. He quickly snaps his eyes closed and drops the Sight again with a slight shiver at the grotesque visuals, before shouting back. "I'm not a heal-y wizard! Best I can do is conjure up some bandages!" That done, he turns to haul butt back into the bathroom with the other two.
Cooper stares at the poor, butchered woman for a long moment, aghast at what to do. Finally, he snaps out of it and takes a deep breath in, thinking quickly. With a flick of his wrist and a snap of his fingers, he almost seems to snatch a bundle of bandages soaked in some sort of salve out of the air. And pays for the prize when the color drains from his face and dark circles blossom under his eyes.
He stretches a hand out toward Hans, shoving the bandages at him so that he might be able to sag against the doorframe. "Ugh, that never gets easier. I'll...lift her. You wrap her up. Don't waste 'em, those things weren't cheap." When he speaks, his voice is hoarse as though he had been yelling for hours.
"We'll, uhh. Bring her out into the hall. Or something. Call an ambulance," he mutters, almost to himself at this point. Another gesture sends his rippling tendrils of force into the bathtub so they might coil beneath the woman, lifting her straight up into the air.
Hans will apply the bandages as best he can. He is no medic, but he's seen enough first aid in the field.
Hailey grabs her phone and dials for the Ambulance. "There's been an attack and a woman is hurt badly. We heard her cries from outside and came in to see what was the matter. Just hurry!" She quickly gives the address and then drops the call. "Plausible enough story, but it's pretty thin."
"I think I would like not to be here when they arrive as I am sure the police will be with them. "
Coop nods in weak agreement and gestures for Hans to scoot if he needs to, which is really just flopping one hand around in the air vaguely. "Yeah. Good call. I haven't got any priors. I bet Hailey doesn't either."
"Just help cart her out to the hallway? We'll say we found her there. Let 'em think she tripped on her way out the door," he suggests as he pushes himself up off of the doorframe and straightens up, color slowly returning to his face. The floating woman bobs gently toward Hans so that he might be able to let his magic drop sooner rather than later. "You've got probably three to five minutes to get gone. Unless we all want to zip on outta here and just let 'em deal with the woman?"