David holds the knife behind him as nonthreateningly as possible. "Following a lead from the museum theft, sweetheart. What are you doin' at the end of it?" He keeps a wary eye on the stitched-together monstrosity.
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Dagger still in hand, David kicks the door. There's a trick to kicking doors. Hit one at the wrong spot and you'll just bounce off. Back on a narcotics raid, David once saw a rookie with a battering ram slam on a door for literally two minutes before he took matters into his own hands and kicked the door open. He aims for the spot just to the outside of the handle, hoping to break the frame itself. The strength of a door mostly depends on the depth of the bolthole, and interior doors aren't often designed with such specifications in mind.
Out of habit, he shouts into the room, "Po-" before stopping himself. "We aren't here for a fight, so just come out peacefully! We just need to talk!" His voice fills the bathroom, echoing and seeming even more authoritative than usual.
"Someone else is here." David jumps to action, the adrenaline pumping through his system just like it was his first day on the street. When he was younger, a good foot chase was the kind of thing he lived for. Now, it's something he does rather begrudgingly. Hopefully he could out-think his quarry, rather than simply chasing after the suspect like a dog after a bone. Moving around the creature, he holds his knife to ward off any sudden attacks from it and heads to the source of the sound. If anyone else wanted to follow, that's up to them.
David silently pulls his dagger from its sheathe under his coat, keeping his eyes on the creature. "I reckon he ain't friendly, huh? Anyone got any ideas other than self-defense?" The retired officer scans the room, looking for anything of use, any clues as to where their quarry might be, or any sign of items from the museum. In the meantime, he makes his way to a more defensible spot, keeping the creature at a few arms' length.
David looks directly at Emily, just a little bit of uncomfortable teasing evident in his voice. "I'm not a criminal, so my method of entry tends to involve simply kicking the door in. Yours is probably much subtler."
David nods in assent, though that doesn't translate well through the phone. "Got it. Thanks. I appreciate it. If you hear anything else, give me a call. Bye." He hangs up and returns the phone to his pocket. "Seems that the zombies were from a gang that got DOAed a few weeks ago. Looks like they're playing it pretty close to the chest as no one wants to have to explain that one." Turning his attention to the building, he begins pointing out its security flaws. "The garage entrance isn't covered by camera, so we can get in that way. Alternately, and my preferred entrance, it looks like someone made an easy entry in the backdoor. Just got to pop it with the jimmy that they thoughtfully left out." Putting his hand on his pistol as an unconscious security, he strides into the back alley while avoiding the camera angles. "Let's go."
David takes a moment to scan over the apartment building, trying to figure out everything he can about it. Anything out of place, anything trying too hard to look normal, anyone who watches the surroundings with too much or too little interest. The signs of a well-guarded location are subtle, but not profoundly difficult to discern with the proper training and experience.
David picks up his cell phone, still eyeing the building. He answers with a terse greeting, "Monroe."
David returns with an old pair of handcuffs, his initial etched into the battered metal. "Dual-purpose, considering that we want to catch her and I imagine she likes being in cuffs anyway, if the Toy Box is anything to go by."
David rather distrusts magic, especially after Nathaniel's last spell. "Make sure that when he says to take a step back, that he really means to call the Fire Department ahead of time because he plans on blowing up the whole block..."
David tries to shake the taint of the place off him as he leaves. Having gone to quite a few Mardi Gras and having been on both sides of the parade barricades, the place didn't shock him, but it did make him feel quite in need of a shower. He's also quite thankful that he didn't shake anyone's hand while in there. To the others, he turns to say, "This ain't my town. This ain't even my country. I can make a call to see if a friend of a friend of a friend knows anything, but don't hold your breath. Let me make a call."
The others can hear his side of the conversation as he calls an old buddy from his patrol days who is married to a Fed. "Hey, Jake, it's David. How you been doing?" He listens for a moment politely, as you don't just leap in to asking for favors without at least checking in on how your old friend is doing. "Oh, man, I can't wait to see him. I hope to be done here and back home soon. Hey, speaking of, I got a favor to ask. Does Dana still know that guy up in the Vancouver PD?" He waits a minute again. "Yeah, that's the one. Would you mind gettin' her to give him a call? I'm looking for some information about a museum piece up here in Toronto that got stolen in a pretty brazen burglary a few days back. Any chance she can make a few calls and see if she can get the ORI? All right, I appreciate it. Knock a few back for me. I'll see you next time I'm back in town!"
After he hangs up, he returns to the group. "I got somebody looking into it. For now, I'm going to follow my lead on the limo driver. Anyone want to come? I don't mind goin' at it alone."
"Without leverage on the Mistress, I'd say to go for the driver. It shouldn't be remarkably difficult to ask around and find out who the driver might be. Most of them, while discreet, are willing to let a little bit of it slip for some cash, so long as it can't be traced back to them." David begins moving for the door. This place is not his kind of joint.
David's phone buzzes with Emily's text message. After reading it, he simply puts the phone back in his pocket and heads her direction after thanking the bartender again. Coming up behind her, he says, "You know an old man like me doesn't text." He slides up next to her, snatching a quick glance at her mysterious book without being remarkably obvious about it. "It seems that a young lady of questionable morals had the Fork. She left earlier today with a pair of ugly fellas in a limo. Now, the drivers gotta keep good records, so we might be able to follow up on that. The bartender also mentioned a 'Mistress' that we might want to look into."
David allows a rare smile, knowing something about being a sellout. "I feel you. Long time ago, I did something honorable with my life. Something good. I made a difference, saved some lives. Here we are in 2010, and I'm not having the quiet, peaceful retirement that they sold me on two decades ago." He takes the refill, thinking to himself for a moment. "I'll just tell my employer that you were being a little reluctant with information. He's got more money than sense, always expects working class guys like us to do his bidding for his table scraps. We'll just keep it between us." David drops another $100 on the bar and downs the whiskey in a gulp.
David returns to the bar, placing a cool $100 on the bar. "Straight whiskey, please." He waits a beat for the bartender to get closer. "I hope you might have remembered where I can find the Heretic's Fork for my buyer. He is quite intent on getting the piece." Taking the whiskey, he downs it in one shot.
David politely thanks the bartender for his assistance and heads over to Nathaniel. "Dr. Halsey, I believe we may have a lead on the Heretic's Fork, but I think the bartender might need some financial encouragement. Monoc can recoup any costs, but I need cash. I don't have any, as I really haven't gotten any idea what the exchange rate is. For the life o' me, I can't understand why the whole word ain't using U.S. dollars."
David approaches the bar, striding up with confidence. To the bartender, he simply begins with the direct approach. "I'm working as a buyer looking for a specific piece called the Heretic's Fork. Our research has shown that they believe it's shown up here. Do you know who might be interested in selling it?"
David pats his pocket, a little grumpy at himself for not carrying cash.
David's been getting into places that crooks didn't want him to get into for years. The trick is simple command presence rather than a silver tongue or breaking in. He leans over to Danny. "You'd be pretty amazed how often someone will let you in if you just walk in like you're supposed to be there. Come on." David walks up to the bouncer, confident in his stride despite the terrible cold. "Got five for entry into the Box." He points to Nathaniel, who looks the type to carry cash instead of credit cards. "He's paying." Barely waiting for the bouncer's reply, he walks to the entrance and scans for clues, his practiced eye grabbing the proper details instead of getting distracted by the debauchery. Mostly.
As usual, David is too old for some place like this. He simply sets his face into its usual glower and steps out of the car, his long coat swinging freely until he buttons it up tight. "Look, I'm not going to enjoy this, so let's just get in there and get this over with. Are we supposed to bring our own 'toys'? Ugh."
"Great. I was hoping that this would turn into a cluster. Let's head to the fences in the daytime and the club at night, though I won't be dressin' up in nothin'."
"That ain't good, I hate the cold!" David's too old to be jumping out of the way, but he is still pretty tough. Tough, though, is nothing against the bone-chilling nature of the frost. He grits his teeth in pain, wishing desperately to be back along the Gulf of Mexico and its scorching heat.
David quietly mutters to himself. "Well, that ain't ominous at all." He surreptitiously unsheathes his dagger and puts it in his right coat pocket, then assumes a blades stance with his back to the wall.
Quietly, David elbows Emily to point out the pair of wolfen forms hanging outside the bar. He whispers, "Looks like we ain't alone. You got any idea what that ugly pair is?"
In the alley, David waits for them to come out. In his career, he had been on perimeter duty many times. It usually wasn't glamorous, especially compared to kicking in the door and taking the suspect into custody. Generally, it was also less dangerous. Several of his friends had been shot over the years in such circumstances. A few suspects also tried to shoot David as well, fortunately without success. Turning to Emily, he asks, "Do you have any clue what happened to Pernilla? Monoc is stonewalling me."
David is having a rather poor week. First, he got into a fight with a few trolls. Soon after that, he had a whole warehouse dumped on his body, and it's not like his ex-wives are lining up to give him a backrub. To make matters worse, his good friend Pernilla went missing while their employer seemed determined not to care. He would soon have to follow a lead into a place he'd rather not go, not to mention track down the finest citizens of this fair city. Not to mention the freezing, biting cold. He could definitely go for getting some revenge for the first two. David sits next to Danny. "You get them into the alley and my knife is gonna be waitin'."
Coming in from a back door, David catches the end of Danny's conversation. He sits across from the young man. "I'm gettin' stonewalled trying to locate Pernilla. I'm gonna keep working on it, but we need to figure out what's going on with this theft. I spoke to some of the pawn shops about the Heretic's Fork and they say that it might either be at some kink club or somethin', called the 'Toy Box'. It also might be in the the current possession of one of the local fences, who are blessed with rather silly nicknames: the Mortician, FedEx, and the Shark."
David heads out, stonewalled by Monoc, to investigate the possibility that someone will sell the Heretic's Fork. The pawn shops won't be fencing it, but one of them might now who would.
Monroe isn't in Louisiana or Texas and feels a bit out of his element. Used to wearing a coat at the first sign of 60 degrees Fahrenheit, the cold is getting to him and making him irritable.
It is a self-evident truth that crooks are greedy. If the thief stole the Heretic's Fork as a distraction, he may try to sell it as a "bonus". Maybe Emily could help through her connections and skills at "low-cost acquisitions". Monroe will follow that lead. First, however, he needs to contact Monoc Securities to report the events at the museum. They're the ones paying for his Canadian vacation. He also needs to find out where exactly Pernilla went. After that, he'll head over to the First Nations to hand over the artifacts that he liberated. David feels a bit dirty. Exposure to this world has made him into something he doesn't like being.
David casts an eye back at Emily as she walks. "Worth a shot, but I wouldn't bet on it. This was a professional job. I can't imagine they forgot to take care of the security cameras."
Great. Evidence tampering. David's not happy to do something like that, but this is something that the police simply are not equipped to handle. He pulls out a plastic bag from inside his coat and picks up a single strand of long blonde hair from inside the case. "What have we here?" He puts the evidence bag back in his pocket. "Okay, folks, we ain't got any more time. We got to get out of here because the police are on their way in. Let's go out the way we came in."
This headache sticks to Monroe, pounding away at his head. David shakes it away as best he can. It isn't the first time he's had his brain rattled, so he will simply deal with it. He starts to search the room out of habit. Any burglary has a few key points that an investigator needs to determine. Point of entry, method of entry, articles taken, point of exit. The first and last were usually the same, but not always. He flags Emily over. "Where do you think the suspect exited?"
The stream of curses ends with a grunt as David picks himself up off the ground with Emily's help. "My pleasure." He shakes his head, trying to ward off the massive headache. It feels like he went to Spec's (a local Texas liquor chain) and had a little bit of everything. He glares at Nathanial. "A little more specific next time. That was like saying that gettin' Tased stings a little."
Monroe's seem some pretty rough things in his years, but an emotional wall is really not much of a match for some supernatural explosion. He looks up from his position on the floor, in obvious pain, then releases a steady stream of curses in English, followed by a few in Spanish and Creole.
"Down!" Monroe tackles the closest of his allies, taking Emily to the floor. He sweeps her leg using one of knife fighting techniques and covers her body with his own.
David stands back. Specialists have specialized roles, so he is more than happy to let Nathaniel go at it. He speaks to himself as he waits. "The trolls mentioned 'Mother' and were calling their leader 'Pa'. Now, unless I'm mistaken, there isn't much gender division that would cause her to wait at home, is there? It stands to reason that she might have been present. Could she have case a spell like this?" He may not know what the pieces mean, but he is good at thinking about how they might fit together.
Monroe beckons Nathaniel over. "Take a look." He shows him the lockpick marks on the case, as well as the intact items inside. "What's a 'Canopic Jar'?" Before receiving a reply, he points to the alarm wires, which have apparently been tampered with. "Can you tell if these are these fakes?" One of the wires is hanging freely, barely noticeable if you're not looking. The other is sticking into the solid surface of one of the jars... Somehow.
Searching a room has a special significance for a police officer. Potential danger lurks everywhere. Your eyes follow the barrel of the gun, not the other way around. You systematically divide the room into slices, clearing them each of danger before moving on to the next one. It is practiced over and over again in hundreds, even thousands, of searches. From churches to crack houses to pharmacies, a career in law enforcement will have you searching in some unusual places. A ransacked museum in Canada, following a chaotic attack by trolls, the undead, and some unknown practitioner, is one of the more unusual locales David's searched.
But not the strangest. That particular honor would go to the time he followed a suspect into an abandoned toy warehouse. [i]That[i] was a creepy place.
David listens to Doctor Carding's explanation and nods. "I see. Danny, Emily, come with me. Lets go find out of this was a thief or something more. You guys stay here brainstorm or something. I reckon I'd put some money on it bein' something more, as I do not believe in coincidences."
David smiles at Emily, happy to see her. "She's with Pernilla. This is Emily, everyone. Everyone, Emily. Don't worry. She's good people."
Smerg: As soon as Danny gets back from talking to Doctor Carding.
Monroe looks over his shoulder to Danny. "Kid, gimme a hand here. I need someone with some expertise in the supernatural..." He regards Nathaniel, lost in his own world. "Someone who ain't crazy." He draws Danny in under his arm. David had always enjoyed pointing things out and teaching, and Danny's a captive audience. Monroe points to a display case on the far side of the room. "See that case? Now, at first glance, it looks as wrecked as the rest of the place. Considering the bodies and damage done here, it would be easy to overlook. But take a look at the lock." He walks Danny over to the case and shines a flashlight at it. "See these scratch marks? Someone tried subtlety before brute force, and they weren't that good at it. Lockpicking isn't as easy as CSI would have you believe. It takes practice and generally it takes time. Time, as you may have noticed, probably wasn't in ample supply in the midst of all this chaos." Monroe swings the case door open and quickly estimates the potential size of the missing piece. He grabs the display tag and hands it to Danny. "Run this over to Doctor Carding. We need to know what the target was. Then, we figure out where the suspect went."
David follows Nathaniel into the room. He speaks back to the group assembled in the kitchen. "Sometimes you need a trained eye for the regular stuff. I ain't got magic, but sometimes it seems like I am magic. He takes a few steps into the exhibit, looking for anything that might give him a clue as to what the trolls wanted with the bull's head.
This was a crime scene. Monroe was a detective, active or not. He might not understand everything or everyone involved, but dealing with unknowns was a given in police work. Sometimes you have to work with the information you've got, using logical deduction and persistence, to come to an answer that makes sense. Then you had to prove it. Then you had to go out there, find the suspect, and bring him to justice.
Songdragon, I'd appreciate it if you picked a different avatar for Emily. That one reminds me of that creepy guy on the boards who does PbP as a bunch of 12 year old Asian girls with elaborately described clothing. Example. Example #2. Whenever I see that avatar, I am instantly squicked out.
Monroe nods at Danny. "Precisely. Maybe the bartender who was with the chef too. She looked like she knew what was going on. You gather everybody up. Your powers of persuasion must be pretty impressive to get twins."
"Boxes, unfortunately. A whole mess of 'em. While you were out dancing with some zombies and ninjas, from what I gathered, Pernilla and me were fighting it out downstairs with some big uglies." Monroe stretches his sore body and lets out a bit of a groan. "I reckon I'll bring more, bigger guns next time." "Now, I ain't one to be believin' in coincidences, so we need to figure out what they got in common. I'm here on business and they're putting me up in the Four Seasons, room #435. Grab whoever you think can help us put the pieces together and we'll have a pow-wow there bright and early tomorrow morning at 0900 hours." Monroe eyes the young man, waiting for a response.
Monroe's old badge came in handy in warding off any attention. Normally, you hand your badge in after retiring, but you can keep it if you promise to mount it as a keepsake. He had, but only for a little while. Now he it was helping him look like he belonged, which was pretty easy from having been a detective for so many years. When a curious patrol officer asked him what he was doing, Monroe responded with an air of annoyance at being questioned, "I'm on loan from New Orleans PD. This sort of thing's my specialty."
David's quick eyes spot Danny out in the crowd. The skinny kid was running around like he had no idea what he was doing. Monroe strides up and grabs Danny by the arm. "Kid, we need to talk. Have you seen Pernilla?"
It's taken some getting used to, but I think it's going pretty well. Maybe a little slow, but it's about that time of year for being slow. 1) I think we need a better reason to join up as a group than being in the same place at the same time. Perhaps the employers/mentors/etc. of the characters could order them to work together. 2) The only aspect of the story I didn't like was the ninjas. Just my opinion. Can't win 'em all.
As Monroe struggles to get free, Kaniko appears before him and begins to speak. "Friend David, the empire builders have taken these items from the sweat of my people. I beseech you to return them to the Mohawk nation." A few years ago, Monroe would never have considered stealing goods from a museum. However, Kaniko had been a good friend to him since joining the supernatural world, even though no one else could even see him. Monroe owed him quite a bit, even if he was just a ghost. "Okay. Any chance you could help me out of here? If I get caught in here, these items won't be goin' nowhere." He puts a few items in his pockets and continues to try his best to get free. Athletics While reaching for a piece, the boxes shift precipitously. If Monroe isn't careful, he'll be crushed under the weight of it all.
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