Early Morning Meeting
The leftovers of last night’s down pour lazily fall from the soaked buildings of downtown. The hazy of the early morning marine layer slow begins to clear. From the underground SCAT station passengers on the 6:15 train from Oceanview emerge. One of them, a girl who looks much too young to work, heads for the nearby bakery. Ralyn had her long golden hair pulled back to a pony tail covers the tops of her ears, while her cozy Ug boots splish-splash in the puddles.
The baker has her usual order waiting for her. From the outside water drops makes rivulets down the front window as the girl and baker talk. Wave three fingers in the air the baker laughs and fills two more boxes and stacks them on the first. She smiles as she back out the door and the baker waves her off. Smiling he adds today’s order to her tab knowing that it will be paid at the end of the week.
It was only a block away before Ralyn pasted the entrance to Doyle’s, the more public section of the Ormond Sacker’s Club for Extraordinary & Exotic Personages. Around the corner she started up the main stairs to the more exclusive entrance to the club. This was one of the last exclusive clubs around and the only one that catered to Neighbors. She had the door open an inch before the morning watchman helped her in. He gave her a pleasant tip of his hat and took the boxes from her.
The two walked down the main hallway and then took one of its tributaries that ended in a heavy oak door. Uttering the password the morning watchman opened the door and ushered Ralyn through. There were two doors beyond the first. On the right is the back entrance to Doyle’s; usually guarded by one of the bouncers, and the other, in front of them, had the words: “Order of the Scale” stenciled. Ralyn opened the stenciled door in front of her and was greeted with hellos from the night shift. A tall mongrel face man moves quickly to the attracted to the scent of fresh donuts. The morning watchman hands the boxes to the eager Gnoll before retreating back to his post.
Ralyn tells him that he may have one and should place the rest in the main conference room and reminds the rest that they have an all hands meeting at 7. Ralyn heads to her desk in front of James’ office and begins organizing the day’s paper work for him. As she does this other members of the Order start to trickle in from one of the three doors that lead into the main room.
The morning light seeps in from the two parallel sets of windows. At one end the restaurants and coffee shops of Market Square through the glass. Those living in or near Chinatown enter from the door on that wall and usually proceed to the main entrance affectionately name the Doyle’s Wall. On the other side of the room the windows over look Arcadia through the Reese estate. Those entering from that door usually come via Hillside or Spanish Town.
* * *
[John]
John Deccenti handed over the dollar bill to the street vendor as his polystyrene cup was placed on the counter. In a practiced manner he poked several air holes in the plastic lid, the material giving way easily beneath the pressure of the cocktail stick before the holes imploded ever so slightly under the release of hot steam from the coffee. It was a crisp morning, surprisingly cold for a Californian day. He leaned on the counter conspiratorially, taking care not to let his overcoat sleeves get covered in cold leftover coffee. "Thanks Bill." He said in his thick Manhattan accent. He'd been coming to this same stall every day for ten years before work. A dollar for a large coffee and a donut was a bargain, especially in a town as pricey as San Ci. Of course, it was cheaper than most places in NYC, but that was changing as it grew. He supposed it was the curse of people like him, to stay static as things grew. Especially in his profession. He was detached from the normal world, no longer a part of Norman's town, nor part of the Neighbourhood's. He was an interloper between the two, and it suited him just fine.
"Yer welcome, Johnny."
"You got anything for me today?" He took a sip of his coffee, and winced as it burnt the top layer of taste buds on his tongue. Dammit. He'd be feeling that all morning. Bill had been one of his sources since he'd moved to the city. A friend of a friend of a cousin, he'd found him a valuable ear in the underworld as a cop, and an even more valuable asset as a member of the Order for the last ten years. Bill was a Fey, a creature from another dimension who looked human, but only as far as his glamour would extend.
"Nothin' much. Streets are quiet these days, nobody talks to anyone else anymore."
"People always talk, Bill. Some things change, but if there's always a constant, it's that people talk."
"Maybe back on the Island, but I ain't heard a whisper outta no-one this past week." The detective shook his head before taking a bite of his donut.
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
"You tell me man, you're the cop."
"That's right, and don't forget who keeps you in business, pally." He joked, wiping at the powdered sugar around his mouth with a paper towel. "What's the time?"
"6.50 in the morning. Why I'm up this early I don't know. It's not like anyone except for you wants coffee this earl-"
"Shit! I gotta be at work in ten minutes." Deccenti cursed, and grabbed his coffee off of the counter. "I'll see ya around, Bill."
"Hey!" The man cried out, "Just make things easy on yourself for a change"
* * *
[Miles]
Roan Horse enters the department office about ten minutes to 7:00, led in by the bouncer who had been watching the door from within Doyle's. He has a smile on his face, but also the lines of curiosity, as he looks about the place, getting the lay of the land.
He is dressed in jeans that are fairly clean, though used. He wears a collared, button-down white shirt with a bolo tie. A choker necklace made of bone sticks up out of the collar of his shirt. A bracelet of silver and turquoise rests on each wrist. His hair is newly braided in a single braid, tied with a bit of leather and hanging over his front left chest, an eagle feather worked into the knot. His boots have been shined, but also evidence the wear of months of constant wear. He holds a Stetson hat in his left hand, probably having taken it off when he entered Doyle's.
After he nods his thanks to the bouncer as he closes the door, he looks around at each of the faces in the room. He scans with the eye of one looking over a crime scene, taking in the windows, the desks and their contents, and other aspects of the layout. He waits silently until he is spoken to.
Mary looks up from her desk as she finishes one of her morning emails. The short and voluptuous secretary greets Miles with a smile. "Hi, you must be one of the new guys. I'm Mary," she says.
[Miles]
Extending his hand and a broad smile, he replies slowly, "Ye-ah, new guy. I'm Miles Roan Horse."
As the door closes behind Miles, Mary cranes her neck in time to see a figure return to Doyle's through the textured glass door. "Was that Wulf? Did he give you the 'don't ya come in through Doyles unless you're going to eat something... yadda yadda yadda... use the main entrance instead," her voice drops an octave, mimicking the large bouncer. "Never mind him, he does that to all the new guys. When you get your badge you can use the club's main entrance if you want. The meeting is in the main conference room, that's the first door on the left through that hallway," she says point to the left hallway.
[Kleo]
The walk from her brownstone to the Ormond Sacker's Club takes only 10 peaceful minutes. Kleo is glad to see the rain slick streets and the hazy, gray sky - just another normal day in San Cibola. As she comes to the eastside entrance of Doyle's, she absently fiddles with her silver filigree bracelet.
"Here we go" she whispers to no one as she enters the bar. Untying her pale, camel trench coat she makes her way to the back of the room. Kleo's ensemble consists of a soft, herringbone tweed jacket - black, cashmere turtleneck and black, wool slacks. Her black, leather, short boots tick quietly on the floor. She wears her long, black hair in an elegant chignon bun at the nape of her neck. She also carries a slim, brown leather briefcase in her left hand. Today, Kleo's make up is very understated. She wears a hint of peachy, lip gloss and her large; black eyes have a minimal touch of mascara.
As Kleo enter Doyle’s, the front bouncer smiles and lets her on in without any fuss. Making her way back she passes a few patrons eating their breakfast. In the back, the rear bouncer just returns to his position with a grimace on this face. He looks to she Kleo approach and his grimace quickly melts to a weak smile as he looks down with a certain schoolboy bashfulness. Standing about a foot taller than the Muse he politely asks her her business and leads her to the Order’s front door.
She gives a small smile to the bouncer as he leads her into the office of the Order. Upon entering the offices, Kleo notices the desk to the right of the doorway where a man, with his long hair freshly braided into a single strand, stands listening to a shorter but very curvy woman given him direction. Kleo goes over to the desk and waits.
[Miles]
Miles nods and laughs softly as her story matches up closely with the dullard who'd led him in. It wouldn't be a new sensation to bide one's time until he started to fit in. "Thank you," he says, fingering his Stetson with is right fingers and he nods slightly with his head.
As another person enters through the door, Miles smiles and nods a silent greeting to her as well before making his way to the conference room as directed.
[Kleo]
As Kleo approaches the desk, she gives the tall gentleman a warm smile in return. "He looks pleasant enough," she thinks to herself. She notices his unusual choker necklace and centers her attention on it - trying to learn more about its past.
As Miles leaves Mary focuses on Kleo, “Good morning, I’m Mary. You must be a new recruit?”
[Kleo]
"Yes, it seems so, Mary!" Kleo says in a friendly manner. Extending her hand, the dark haired goddess introduces herself, smiling "I'm Kleo Kafalas". She makes sure to give the woman a gentle hand squeeze in greeting.
“The morning meeting is in the large conference room. That’s the first door on the left on the left hallway,” Mary continues with a smile.
[Miles]
The back of the conference room, where Miles enters is crowded as other members mill around the morning donuts talking about the love life of someone named 'Ross' and 'Rachel'. Once inside, Miles takes a seat near the front but farthest away from the door, settling his slightly damp hat upon the tabletop there. Taking a deep breath, he surveys the room, waiting for others to sit.
[Kleo]
As she enters the room, Kleo takes in the scene... It seems most of the people already know each other - as they munch on doughy sweets. She heads straight over to the man she saw in the lobby. He is sitting alone, near the front of the room. She places her brown satchel on the table and introduces herself. Her melodious, continental accent is friendly, yet professional. "Hello - my name is Kleo, I'm a new recruit for the Order." As she sits down at the table, she turns towards the man.
[Miles]
Miles offers his hand to the woman as she introduces herself, standing up slightly from his seat and giving a firm but warm grasp. "I'm Miles," he replies, "also a new recruit."
"I don't suppose you know what it means to 'smell pretty, norman,' do you?" he asks in his slow manner of speaking. "I assumed he wasn't hitting on me." He smiles a slow smile and lets out a snort of air thinking of the bouncer.
[Kleo]
The dark haired woman raises an eyebrow in amusement and smiles warmly. "Well, Miles, you never know... You are an attractive man - and I love your braids. I think your hair might actually be longer than mine!" She leans a bit closer, the humor leaving her voice, "Uh, hmmmm... the Norman thing... well, not everyone here is as friendly with normal folk. I'm always surprised at how close minded some of our Neighbors can be."
Looking intently at the man, "So tell me, how were you recruited to the Order, Miles?"
[Miles]
The young Saunee focuses his attention primarily on the woman sitting next to him, but it is his habit to look over whenever he sees someone new enter the room. As he settles into his chair so that he can face Kleo, he props his left elbow on the back of the chair. To her explanation he lets out an understanding, "Umhh."
"Well," he responds, seeming to mull over an answer, "my uncle was speaking to some people he knew. Mr. De'voreaux dropped by my place yesterday and invited me here today." He looks down at himself as to present himself for inspection, upturning his right hand as if to indicate that that's all there is.
"I must say," he continues, looking to the feeding frenzy at the back of the room that isn't unlike hungry scavengers tearing apart a recently left kill, "I'm impressed that so many people are here a full ten minutes before the meeting is scheduled to start." He pauses for a moment, then adds, "Not what I'm used to."
Picking up on her conversation starter, Miles returns the question to her. "And Kleo, how'd you get involved in this?" nodding slightly toward the front of the room.
[Kleo]
The goddess straightens in her chair and looks directly into Miles eyes, "Let's just say that I have seen quite a few things in my time." Pausing a beat, "I've always been fascinated with how the past shapes the present... and the future - if you know what I mean?"
Seeing that the meeting is about to start, she continues quickly, "James and I were colleagues over at the University - he came to me, asking if I might be interested in a change in career." She looks away, emptily, not wanting to let on what she knows about the Order. "And so, I took him up on his offer," she smiles wanly.
[Bekka]
The mornings were always rough for the somewhat down on her luck guardian angel. The literally heavenly blonde walked through the bar, dark glasses shielding her eyes from the light...any light, really, as her posture, and manner, suggested that she was on the mend from a serious bender. Letting herself into the Order's headquarters, the statuesque figure walked past all those that she encountered, greeting no one. Upon sitting down at her messy desk, she tossed down her badge, and her two Colts on the desktop. Generally people in the office preferred that she not have the guns on her while in the office.
For a moment, she put her head down on the table. Then, she sat up, and made a half hearted attempt to smooth out her white double breasted man's suit....last in style in the mid 80's. Unsuccessful, she fished through her notes, finding a memo telling her to head to the conference room. Assuming that this meant an increase in her unsolved cases, the so called "NRAngel" stood, and lit a cig, heading to the conference room.
Bekka wasn't the last to enter the conference room, other late stragglers filter in and grumble at the crumbs in the donut box. While there are still plenty of seats empty many just stand around the walls as they know this will be a short meeting for them. Every once in a while eyes flash at the two new recruits sitting together near the front.
>From the back, James enters wearing a dark blazer and a yellow striped tie. In his hands is a manila folder. He reaches the podium in front and sets his pages down as if there is real weight in the tiny folder. The room quickly quiets down as James looks about the room then glowers briefly before opening his folder. "First; I.d like to thank everyone for coming early this morning. I'm sure the bribe of donuts helped a little." There is little levity in his delivery.
"Memorial services will be held Saturday for Jack and Salkarin, and Sunday for Williams and Gava. Your attendance is not mandatory but will be appreciated... even for Williams."
James pauses almost like give a small silent prayer before continuing, "Next, I'd like to introduce our new officers: Miles Roan Horse and Kleo Kafalas. Please make them welcomed here." There is some mumbling from the people around the room which again quickly dies down as James speaks, "Like always, I'd like everyone to introduce themselves to them, start with Li on my right." People in the back roll their eyes when James says this, knowing that this is the cost of the free donuts.
A short and small framed man in front quickly stands up. His calming smile has some boyish charm; he turns to the new recruits and says, "I am Detective Li Wang," and equally quickly sits down.
* * *
[Kevin]
"Monday's always suck!" thought Kevin as he groggily rose from his cabin bed 45 minutes later than he should have. He hit deck, felt his way to a hot shower, and rolled out of his cabin in 15 minutes. After spending an excruciating 45 minutes coming down the mountain in heavy traffic, he arrived at base of the main stairs to Doyle's almost 10 minutes late. He pauses for a moment and closes his eyes, reflecting deeply on past events and steeling himself against his own self doubt.
* * *
Everyone takes their turn introducing themselves in an orderly manner despite the chaotic fashion they laid themselves out. Leaning against the wall a grey skinned woman named Rues stands sipping her tea along with the other dispatchers. Sitting together an old couple Crum the goblin and Fir the Dwarf, both are so squatty that they are only slightly taller when they stood to introduce themselves.
In the back a set of four stand waiting to leave. They are the night shift. G'tar an orc yawns with her introduction, when she does everyone can see her overly large canines and bottom tusks. Muzzle of Sposs is cover with crumbs as he fishes for the last bits of donuts from one of the boxes. The other two seem transparent.
[Bekka]
Looking quite hung over, the tall blonde in Miami Vice style cothing ashes her cig on the table directly, and looks up, her large blue eyes luminous in the light of the conference room. She pats herself down, and then realizes that her badge, and guns, are on her desk as per agreement with the brass, while she is in the building. She says in a low voice, thick with malaise, "Detective Bekka Elohim....mos' people roun' here call me th' 'NRAngel'....sorta nickname."
Saying no more, she returns to concentrating on her smoking, and ignoring the meeting.
[Kleo]
As soon as the group starts to introduce themselves, Kleo quickly pulls out her linen notepad from her briefcase and begins to hurriedly sketch each of the detectives. Her abstract renditions are punctuated with Greek words here and there. Gray -Goblin - Dwarf -Orc - Blue boys - Young - Old...
She intently scrutinizes the tall, blonde woman - watching the ashes fall on the table. Kleo realizes she is staring and looks down at her pad, as she draws the statuesque likeness of the NRAngel. Trouble.
Sitting by herself away from her subordinates is Judith the head Forensic Sorcerer. On the following table is the head of technology, Kenneth, who despite his title and responsibility is the worse dressed of his group.
Huddle together like a set of fraternity brothers are four men dressed in navy blue padded pants. All but one has sharp point features, high eyebrows and pointed ears; the fourth has mess black hair who looks bored at this meeting. The oldest of the four members of the SWAT team holds himself up with such toughness as to suggest he could bite the head of bullet without harm. He introduces himself simply as Cursante, his voice cold and sterile.
A young girl that almost looks 16 introduces herself as Ralyn. As she sweeps her hand past her ear, she moves enough hair that her pointed ears are clearly visible. Next to her stands a much older looking woman with similar features. The head ME's ugly accent contrasts her lovely delicate features. While not young like Ralyn, Miranda has a matron grace the other lacks.
[Miles]
Miles listens intently to the half-hearted introductions that go around, knowing that the bulk of the names will come to him with time and experience. Miles sees that he is next in line. Standing up to face toward the back of the room, roughly the center of the various people gathered around, he starts. "My name is Miles Roan Horse. I have a few years of experience on the Saunee Tribal Police as well as training as a Hataalli." He pauses briefly, scanning the faces to see if there are any who are paying the least bit of attention. Sounding a bit tongue-in-cheek, he finishes, "I'm sure it will be a pleasure working with all of you, and I look forward to it." He smiles a closed-lip piece that sticks on his face as he turns to take his seat again.
[Kleo]
The dark haired woman hears the sarcasm in Miles' voice and tries to stifle a grin. "There are certainly some interesting personalities here" she thinks to herself. Looking back over the sea of detectives, Kleo gracefully stands up. She places her fingertips on the table and scans the room, trying to make eye contact with each detective, briefly, before she speaks.
"Hello, I'm Kleo Kafalas." Her voice is rich and melodious. "Most recently I've been a history professor over at the University. Previous to that... hmmm - let's just say that I have a background in inspiring people to action." Kleo still revels in being a Muse - even after all this time. "And while I do not have any special training in law enforcement - I am hoping to serve the Order well." She looks over at James as she sits down again.
[Bekka]
>From her own slouched position, the statuesque blond calls out, in her scratchy, too many cigarettes tone of voice, "No problem, kid. 'S all about procedure. Ya fill out th' paperwork, ya run down the leads, ya put a bullet in th' perp. Done an' done."
This seems to be her honest, and only comment about detective work.
As the new recruits finish their introductions James continues, "That's everyone who is here. Unfortunately all members of the clean up crew are either sick or on their honeymoon." As James flips a page on the podium
[John]
"Christ" he cursed under his breath as he saw the 'In Session' sign hung over the handle. Sighing and mentally berating himself once more, he grasped the handle firmly and opened the door. The usual suspects were there - James De'voreaux obviously, and the SWAT team as well as the rest. And some new faces as well. Everyone looked around as he entered, and once again he sighed.
"Sorry I'm late, traffic was terrible." A poor excuse, but he was stuck with it now. James simply nodded and motioned for him to sit down. They'd obviously started early and he'd missed the introductions along meeting or afterwards. As he settled down, the discussion resumed.
With some annoyance in his voice James says, "Care to introduce yourself to the new recruits?" as he points to the late comer with his eyes.
"Detective John Deccenti." He said stoically as an introduction, after prompting from James. "Usually more sober than NR here."
"Bit me, Deccenti." Bekka shot back, taking another drag on her cigarette. They often sparred like this, verbally jabbing at each other with really intending to offend. It was just a part of their working relationship. The new faces raised a few eyebrows whilst the regulars smirked. Or yawned, depending on which shift they were on.
* * *
[Kevin]
The watchman notices him coming up the stairs and opens the door wide, stepping out in a warm greeting, "Morning Kevin, it is so good to see you again, sir". Kevin nods and replies softly "Thank you very much." The watchman continues with small talk asking about Kevin's sabatical and even opens the door to the office where he announces to the night shift, "Look who's back boys!! thought we'd never see him again, eh?" only to find the Order.s lobby absent of anyone. "Meeting," explains Kevin. Noticing that the meeting has already started, Kevin quietly trys to slip in the meeting unnoticed and stays along the back wall, quietly surveying the room and it's occupants.
* * *
"That's enough," scolded James. "Okay, that.s it for the support staff, detectives stay." With that almost everyone begins to file out. The two transparent people glide through the wall.
[Kevin]
As Kevin attempts to slide into the room unnoticed, his stocky, well muscled frame shows through his black polo shirt, and he adjust the sporran hanging in front of his kilt as he leans his back against the wall. His face is covered in a large stylized tattoo of what appears to be a bird of some sort, whose body frame his forehead, nose, and chin. The wings seem to form giant whorls around his eyes and sweeping across his lower jaw line, giving him an overall more menacing appearance that belies his compassionate nature. He is noticeably quiet, but not angry, as though he were advertising his desire to be left alone.
Kevin's attempt stealth is hampered by the fact that everyone began to leave the room as he entered. Eventually he finds himself alone in the back with the other six detectives and James. "Late as usual, Kevin," James says with only the slightest glance. "Because of our recent loss and our new recruits we are going to do a little shuffle with partners for a while. Miles you ride with Bekka and Li today. Kleo is with Hunter, John get Kevin up to speed."
[Kevin]
Noticing the missing detectives, his friends, he correctly assumes the worse. Kevin quietly takes in the meeting as he stands, arms crossed in the back of the conference room. "Death when I left, death when I return. Guess it's just my lucky day" he mutters sarcastically to himself as he struggles to cope with the latest losses. More good agents dead, "Was THEIR death in vain, did it really make a difference!?" Kevin thinks silently as his empathy turns to John seated near the front of the room. Willy always seemed like a good partner, definitely a good agent. Closing his eyes, Kevin chants a silent prayer of passing in Willy's remembrance.
[John]
John sat sullenly in his chair as the usual litany of events and happenings went on. He'd never been one for meetings; he had to wear a tie, and next to evisceration that was one of the best way to ruin his day.
Besides, he hadn't been in a particularly good mood since he'd heard about Willy. John Williams, his partner. Ex-partner, he reminded himself bitterly. He knew most people hadn't gotten along with the were-polar bear, but he'd liked him. They'd been partners for well over two years, and in that time anyone can grow on you. Sure, the guy was unfriendly at times, cranky most days, but you would be too if you were on parole and turned into a freakin' bear every now and again.
They had all gone to Florida together on the assignment. At the end of it, four good detectives, who knew what they were doing and could handle themselves well in the field were gone. All dead. John glanced towards the door of the conference room, Willy's possessions still hadn't been cleared out of his desk. He guessed James had left it for him. He appreciated that.
As he was staring at the door absently, the movement of the handle caught his eye. A familiar face emerged quietly from behind it and moved quickly to the back of the room. Hmm. So Kevin was back.
As James began to speak once more, he focused his attention off of the weight that Willy's death had laid on it, and back to the man's words. Absorbing yourself in the job was his way of dealing with grief; which probably explained a lot of things about him, really.
"We have prisoner transfer on Monday, Bekka and Li are in charge of that," continued James. "This morning, SCPD found another body. It looks like the San Cibola Slasher has struck again. I know this is not customary for use to follow their work, and while I doubt there is a Neighbor connection, if there is I'd like to know for sure, just incase. A member from each team please check in with Kenneth, he's been follow this for a while."
"Now, any updates?"
[John]
"It's been quiet." John said gruffly, yawning. "Either no-one's talking, or my sources are keepin' schtum."
"Or maybe they.re just sick of talking to you," chided Bekka.
"Are you gonna be riding me all d-"
"Anyone else?" James asked the group, raising his voice slightly to warn the pair. John leant back in his chair, fingering the nicorette patch in his pocket in idle contemplation.
Seeing that no one had anything to add, "Bekka take Miles and Kleo to property and get them their badges and sidearms. The rest of you go see Kenneth. Then we'll have a debriefing in the small conference room."
The detectives stand up and begin to leave the room, Li is the first to leave the room followed by officer Joan Hunter with the bead is her hair lightly rattling against her ever present black leather jacket.
Technology
The four detectives find there way upstairs. The stairs leading up ends in a lobby with three doors: Technology, ME, and Sorcery. Entering the room marked Technology they find the Kenneth at the front table working on three computers simultaneously. In the back are his two assistances hovering over a work bench, prodding an exposed computer. One is holding a soldering iron while the other is make strange hand gestures while chanting.
Kenneth looks up at the four. He is about to say something to Li, but quickly shifts his attention to Joan calling her by her ‘superhero‘ name that he is famous in handing out to the detective (even though sometimes he is the only one who uses it), “Knick-knack”; then to Kevin “Stalker”; and finally to John “Norman,” his voice show a lack of enthusiasm with John. “So the chief sent you up here?”
[Kevin]
Kevin approaches the bench and smiles at John while greeting Kenneth."Morning Jimmy Neutron, so what do you have for us today!".
[John]
"Please, Jimmy Neutron was a kid." Kenneth retorted as his fingers danced quickly over two keyboards, one filled with strange symbols whilst the other two had the normal US/UK setup.
"So are you, kid." John said, folding his arms. Of course, Kenneth wasn't a child, but the man always got a kick out of taunting him. Kenneth didn't like him for some reason, possibly because John had always shown little interest in his work. The detective could use computers and he didn't dislike them, but he couldn't dedicate his life to them like some people did.
"Hmph," the cybermancer grunted in indignation. "Fine."
"I'm just kidding ya Kenny, lighten up. What's the word?" Next to John, Kevin sat on the edge of his desk, taking care not to knock the monitor nearest to his arm.
"The chatrooms are buzzing with talk of something happening in Florida. Something that happened around the time that you were there, Norman." John nodded thoughtfully, recalling events quickly in his mind.
"Anything in the local chats?"
"Nah, just the usual stuff. So and so's gone back to here, another body found etc." Joan spoke up from the other side of the desk, her arms also crossed over her chest.
"What about the Slasher? There was a buzz about it?"
"Yeah Knick-Knack, but not a lot apart from that. Just a location and rumours, nothing positive. There is one user, 'Tripytch', who seems to know more than he's letting on though. He knows all the information that comes up and dismisses all the potential rumours. Drops in something every now and again."
"Is he local?" Kevin asked, straightening.
"Yeah, he was in a channel hosted by the University."
"Can you put a trace on his username, get us an address?"
"Can fish swim? Of course, if he's using a personal computer. Otherwise it's fairly pointless."
"Do it anyway, Kenneth." Li said. "If it is public, we can always check the access logs." Kenneth began to type furiously at the keyboards, the only sound in the room being the hum of the internal fans and the clacking of the keys as his fingers flew over them. After about ten seconds, small glows began to emanate from the tips of his fingers, the movement of his hands now resembling that of fireflies. He continued in this pattern for a further thirty seconds, until finally he gave out a triumphant "HAH!" and set the printer off. When the paper came through the output feed, he passed it over to Kevin.
"Here ya go Stalker, don't say I never do anything for you."
Joan begins to move off as if to leave cueing everybody that they have what they come for. As they are about to go out the door, Kenneth says, “But that’s not what I know.” Turning around the four return to his desk. As the approach he turns a computer screen around, “This is what I got.”
“Those are just dates and places,” pipes Joan.
“Yeah, I know. The buzz around the chat rooms were people trying to come up with patterns. You know the every month for the Zodiac Killer. But they all got it wrong. He’s done 8 murders in two years. If you plot them like this,” he says as he moves his mouse across the page. “You get a straight line.”
“But they seem to be getting more frequent.”
“Good eye Norman. They are getting more frequent just by a few weeks at a time. The police haven’t caught that yet. They are going on the idea that it should be a straight line.” Kenneth pauses and looks at every one before continuing. “If you plot the interval between each killings you get this.” Another click of the mouse reveals a new plot where the curve starts at the top and smoothly bends down. “The police’s predictions are off by two weeks.”
“So we know when he’s going to strike again,” Joan says with a matter-of-fact tone.
“There’s more.” Kenneth says with childlike eagerness. “If you look at where each body was found.” Another tap on the mouse shows a map of the city.
“Looks random,” says John.
“Yeah, and if you do this,” the dot indicating each body disappear and begin to appear in the order at which they occurred.
“They still look random.”
“Yeah, that’s the point, Norman. I did a statistical analysis, they are too random. The first in Bayview the next all away across town in Hillside; the third in Oceanview the next all away in Industry City; the guys is trying to make it look random.” When Kenneth finishes he folds his arm in triumph waiting for the other’s reactions.
[Kevin]
Kevin eyes the display before them intently as he slowly sits back down, calculating the seemingly information provided. "This is really great work Kenny, I wonder, what is the average distance between points of disappearance and discovery...and where is the point of equidistance within the "random" points of disappearance?"
As Kevin asks these questions he searches the display for some signs of a growing pattern, hoping to gain some insight as to where the next disappearance will originate.
"There is no centroid to the pattern, but I can guess that the next one will be in Arcadia, Spanish town, or near the University," answers Kenneth
[John]
"Alright," John said, yawning into his fist. "What's the call then?"
"James will give us our assignments soon, I assume we'll split up." Li replied in his normal, calm way. There was a contemplative silence for a few seconds, a reflective moment in which they either thought on the case, or on other things. John's mind gravitated towards other things. His hand reaching into the cigarette packet and withdrawing a stick was automatic, a reflexive action which he knew was happening, but didn't really try to stop. Before he knew it, he'd lit the tip and inhaled the first breath, feeling the warm mixture of toxic gases flow into his lungs and the sensation of the nicotine in his blood.
"I thought you quit." Kevin observed. John smirked, a vague, nonchalant grunt that didn't really give any insight into his emotion other than its plasticity.
"Same goes for you, Kev." He replied, taking a drag on the cigarette. "Are we sure this is even Neighbourhood connected? I mean, I'd hate to be wasting our time on somethin' that's completely Norman."
Kenneth fishes in his desk and quickly pulls out a hand-held fan, blowing the smoke back to the detectives. Most of is caugth by Joan, who coughs before taking s side step away form the fumes.
"I don't know if it is or not, but we have about a month before he strikes again. I'm going to pass what I found to Veejay, maybe he can figure out something." Kenneth scratches his unkempt head before finishing, "What I can't figure out is the exponential acceleration. The only thing I know that does that is population grow or nuclear decay."
"Maybe your lead will pan out something," Joan says as she points to the print out in Kevin's hand. "If that guy isn't Norman you may have something."
[Kevin]
Kevin stepped back from the desk, reeling at the smoke redirected towards. His dislike for cigarette smoke made obvious by the squint in his tattoed face, contorting the tattoo and making the bird appear as though it turned a wing in flight. "HEEYY!! You know I don't appreciate that! I haven't been gone THAT long!" he uttered as he turned on his heel to leave the room. "Kenneth, thank you again for your wonderful insight, let us know if you work something else out on that "random" pattern. I'm gonna go check out my piece from the stunty down at the armory, and then follow up on this lead." Kevin asks, holding up the paper given to him and looking over his shoulder "Hey John, you comin' ?" as he makes his way down the stairs, {At least I didn't get stuck with some %&^%&*% rookie, John is a good detective and that should make things go much more smoothly}.
All four detectives leave, Joan and Li stopping of the main floor while the Kevin and John head down to property.
Property
Bekka leads the two new recruits down the hall to the stairs to the property room. At the bottom of the stairs the décor is starkly different, the walls actually look like a cave’s. The stairs dumps into a long and straight tunnel, where at one end it opens to a lighted room.
The entrance to of the room is dominated by both similar to that of a modern bank teller’s. The voices of Crum and Fir can be heard as far as the stairs.
“I can’t believe you… How can you say no to Ginger? What are you blind? She’s the only real woman on that island,” Fir says in his deep voice.
“You can’t change my mind you old coot. Mrs Howell is the one I’d go for.”
“Arggg… you’re such an idiot.”
“She has money, status, and refinement,” answers Crum. Seeing that is only makes the dwarf angrier, the goblin prods him even further, “You just don’t understand a goblin’s fine sensibilities.
“You couldn’t recognize a fine pu….” Fir’s sentence is cut short by a quick nod by Crum. Both turn their attention to the three detectives. “Morning NRAngel.”
[Bekka]
"Mornin' boys," begins the blonde Guardian Angel. "Fer th' record....Ginger. Fer the same reason cited by yer colleague here....she's a real woman."
She pushes back some of her long blonde hair, and levels her eyes at the property clerks. "These here newbies need badges, need sidearms. An' kids....they need ta shoot straight." Her glare indicates that she'll be judging the guns herself.
[Kleo]
Raising her eyebrows at the age old Ginger vs Mary Ann (vs Mrs. Howell) debate, Kleo wisely keeps visions of "Mary Ann" to herself. Although, there is certainly something to be said about fiery red-heads...
One of the things Kleo most enjoyed about reacquainting herself with modern culture was schlocky television. While she would never admit to it, Kleo spent many a guilty pleasure evening watching Nick at Night.
Shaking her head, focusing on the task at hand, she turns to NRAngel, "Detective Elohim - may I call you Bekka - um, Do I have to take a weapon right now? I've never had any training in modern firearms." Pausing, "I used to be a decent shot with a bow... but - ah, I really don't feel comfortable taking a gun..."
[Bekka]
The angel looked incredulous. Staring at Kleo with a hard look, she said, "Yes, ya hafta take a bloody gun! Yer a detective! Ya get a badge, an' ya get a chuffin' gun. Ya don' wanna carry it, that yer business, but ya get one." She shook her head, amazed. "Ya gonna carry a bow aroun' San Cibola with ya? Good cover, that. Together with Pocahontas here, an' you'll blend right in."
She rapped on the property cage. "Boys...make one o' those guns somethin' fer beginners. Maybe a snub nose .38 or somethin'."
The dwarf shakes his head, “You know we don’t have anything like that.”
[Kleo]
"No, I don't want to carry a bow, either... Detective. I'm also not interested in playing cops and robbers..." She looks up at the statuesque angel, glaring intently, "More importantly, I think you owe Miles an apology for your racial slur." Kleo crosses her arms and continues to stare down the blonde woman.
[Bekka]
The angel, for her part, isn't about to take guff off of a rookie. "If ya can't do the cop's an' robbers thing, I can't see what in blazes yer doin' as a detective. As fer Miles, I think he's made o' sterner stuff than ya credit him."
[Miles]
A life filled with racists like Bekka has long ago steeled the young native against such comments, and there is no evidence on his face that he is even paying much attention to the blonde. Looking at Kleo, he says, "Don't worry about it. If kemosabe ever needs me to cover her ass, she'll regret it then."
[Kleo]
Not wanting to get off on the wrong foot completely, Kleo decides to take another tack. Mustering all her diplomatic skills, she sighs, "I'm sorry I'm taking my frustrations out on you, Bekka. All of this is quite sudden for me - James seems to think that I will be an asset to the Order...but" her voice trails off. Kleo lightens her stern glare to a look of apologetic friendliness.
Seeing Fir and Crum approach, Kleo decides not to continue her conversation with the angel about name calling.
[Bekka]
The angel makes a dismissive wave of her hand. It is unclear what, if anything, that is intended to mean, and she immediately begins to light up a cig, without offering one to anyone else.
"Carrying a gun is standard procedures," Fir says, "You can be like Li and never fire the damn thing. Heck he's never been into the range." Fir points to his left where there is an adjacent room.
Crum straightens himself up; the goblin is like most goblins, his head is as wide as his shoulders with no apparent neck in between. At the top of his head is a tuff of d ark blue hair straddled by two small horns. When smiles at Kleo, his grin is from ear to ear with enough pointy teeth to make a shark jealous, “Do worry, come down here during your lunch and I’ll teach you how to shoot.”
[Kleo]
"Um, thank you", the muse smiles wanly, obviously not happy with taking a weapon.
Fir eyes rolls up, “stop it. Go get her a glock.”
“Sig.”
“Glock”
“I’ll get both, and she can decide.”
Fir turns back to the three and pulls out some clip boards. Handing it to them through the bottom of the window, “here fill out these,” he says. When Miles reaches for the clip board, “You don’t have to fill out the second form. So can I see what you got there,” the dwarf points to Miles hip.
[Kleo]
Kleo takes the clipboard and begins dutifully filling out the forms, using her Waterman pen.
[Miles]
Miles unsnaps the guard on the holster at his waist, pulling out the standard issue TP gun he'd bought for himself early on in his career. The piece had never been fired outside the Police range - most officers were in the same situation. After checking the safety, he puts the gun down on the counter for Fir to inspect, then picks up the clipboard.
Fir slides the gun through the window and then picks up, scrutinizing it as he calls, “The the boy has a Berretta.”
>From the back Crum’s voice can be heard, “So he’s a terrible shot? Thinks he’s going to need 15 shots to hit someone.”
With precision that belies his stubby fingers, Fir pops the clip and ejects two round replacing them with plastic dummy rounds. Slapping the clip back in he fires twice at the side wall where both dummy rounds clean are ejected from the top. “Nice.” As he replaces the rounds he looks at Miles, “Clean action, real smooth for this type of gun. If you need it serviced you can bring it down here.”
[Miles]
Miles slides the gun off the counter top and places it back in its holster. "Thanks," he acknowledges, "I'll be sure to do that."
He turns his attention back to the clipboard, checking off a couple boxes and then scrawling his name across the bottom before handing it back to the equipment men.
[Kleo]
As she finishes her paperwork, Kleo asks Crum and Bekka, "So, as it seems I'll be taking a gun today - what's the main difference between a Glock and a Sig?"
“A Sig is a terrible piece of Swiss workmanship,” says Fir as he takes the finished paper work from the rookies.
As if on cue Crum steps from the back with two pistols, “Don’t you listen to that old fart, a Sig Sauer is a fine gun; you don’t want to deal with that plasticy toy.”
Waving a finger at the two Fir says to them, “Step to the right and get your photo taken for your badges.”
As the two get their photos taken Crum readies both guns and loads them with clips he gets from a drawer below the window. When Kleo finishes with her photo Crum waves her over. “I’ve loaded them with practice rounds, so you can dry fire them,” he says sliding both under the window.
[Kleo]
The skeptical muse takes the guns from the helpful goblin and notices right away that the Glock is lighter than the Sig. "I don't need to test them, Crum... this one will do" indicating her selection of the Glock. Passing the Sig back to him she says, "I think I'd like a shoulder holster, if you have one in black", she smiles.
“What? The Sig too heavy for you? The weight will stabilize your aim. You won’t jerk your arm so much,” says Crum.
“Quite trying to seller you crappy Sig. She made her choice,” Fir says with a triumphant smile.
The goblin shakes his head, “fine, fine… pass back the Glock and I’ll give you a load of real bullets.” Crum collects the pistol and reloads it, then looks up at Kleo, “So what’s your bra size?”
“Crum!!! Just get her a small shoulder holster,” yells Fir with frustration.
[Kleo]
The amused muse just raises her eyeborows and gives Crum a penetraiting "You Wish" stare.
When Miles finishes his photo, Fir says to him, “Hey you want special rounds? We got some stuff that can kill a vampire. You can get silver bullets for werewolves. What you say?”
[Miles]
"Maybe later," the young man smiles at the shorter fellow. "Wait till I see what I'm up against. Just something that puts holes in a perp will be enough for now."
[Bekka]
"Good thinkin' that. Anythin' that puts holes in a perp is solid. Fancy, ya can save fer when ya need."
"Vampires are everywhere. You got to have protection. You sure you want to go out there without insurance?"
[Miles]
Listening to the property man give his opinion, Miles looks to Bekka as the only other person in the room who might be able to offer a competing opinion. Miles doesn't bother asking though, and instead he turns back toward Fir and says, "Well, I won't argue with the experts. Throw in a couple for good measure." He shrugs as he says this, non-committal.
Fir smiles as he walks back and pulls a drawer open. He returns to Miles with two form and two clips. "I got you some silver bullets, their good for vampires and lycanthropes." Placing the clip to the window, "See they are marked with two circles." Then he slides the papers through the window, "The other are Holy Rounds, they are marked with a blue cross at the tip. You got fill these forms."
[Miles]
Seeing the badges finished, Miles arches an eyebrow as he looks at how his photo turned out. "Got anything to put these in?"
Fir waves his hands as if to say hold on. He slips the badges in a book like sleeve and closes it. “Okay here is how it works. Have it closed; say the institution and then your name, or your name then the institution; open it and wa-la you are FBI... or you could be Treasury or Sheriff’s department,” he says as he hand a badge to Miles and Kleo.
There is a echo of foot steps as Kevin and John descend the stairs to the property room. There they find NRAngel and the rookies at the front desk.
[Miles]
Miles knits his brow slightly, taking in the instructions. Looking at the badge curiously, he says out loud but softly, "Roan Horse, FBI" then opens up the badge. He then says, "SC Sheriff, Roan Horse," and opens it again. He nods to himself with a sober expression on his face, showing some appreciation for the device. He then stuffs it in his pant pocket, as he turns to see who it is coming down the stairs.
[Kleo]
Holding the gun delicately in her left hand, she takes up her badge, noticing how Miles makes it change. She nods in admiration of its versatility and slips into and interior pocket in her trenchcoat.
Crum looks up. “Hey, look who the cat dragged in, Kevin… long time no see,” says the goblin.
Crum looks up. “Hey, look who the cat dragged in, Kevin… long time no see,” says the goblin. Without any prompting the goblin goes to a drawer below the counter top, returning a side arm with a holster. >From another drawer he pulls out a few turquoise rubber gloves and a small pad of paper. “We got these new gloves in while you were gone. They work the same as the old ones but have heat activated aloe on the inside.”
There is an audible grown from Fir to which the goblin replies, “What?... I never like the talc in the other ones, they make my skin chafe.”
[Kevin]
As Kevin approached the cage he nodded respectfully to everyone in the area, trying to make eye contact with everyone. "Thanks for taking care of her for me, Crum. I shorely appreciate it." Kevin exclaimed as he accepted parcels before him. "I didn't want to ruin Jame's prefect recruitment record" He smirked as he cut his eyes jokingly at James. "Besides, seeing your lovely breaded face is more than enough reason to come back, eh? Hey, you didn't anyone fondle my baby while I was gone, did you?" Kevin said softly as he slid the object of his infatuation, a beautiful Colt .45 caliber 1911A1 service pistol he had had accurrized and tuned to eliminate their historical tendency to jam. He pointed the muzzle earthward and pulled the gunmetal slide back to check the chamber before allowing himself to reacquaint himself with the weapon. He turned it over in his hand to admire the Purple-heart wood grips he carved himself and released the slide to its original position. Overhearing the brand comparison Kevin interjected in a low matter of fact tone "Now THIS is a real pistol, not one of those Poly carbon, fiber fill, barbie doll plastic guns you see all over the place." as he sighted it in a classic two handed grip toward the ceiling. "Excuse me, Crum, would please toss me a couple of Dummies!" he chided after checking the safety and the Magazine release. Kevin's own dichotomy in weapon philosophy seemed to amuse everyone in the department. Kevin's blatant infatuation and skill with firearms was in direct opposition to the fact that he openly found the use of such in any but on the practice range disdainful.
[John]
"Crum, Fir." John greeted the two goblins with a nod, which they reciprocated in turn, Crum mumbling something about switching to Decaf under his breath. "I need you to check out my badge. Last time I said Sheriff's Department, it came up with FBI. Almost got me knee deep in a whole lotta undesirable shit." He slid the leather wallet over the counter to the smaller goblin, who in turn snapped it up and tested it.
"Agent John Deccenti, FBI." He opened the device to reveal that he was in fact a member of the Treasury. "Hmm, weird. Something's thrown the enchantment out of whack. You must have been close to some pretty heavy magic to do that."
"Must have been." John murmured, his facial expression darkening at the goblin's words. "I'll need a temp until you can get it fixed."
"Just take a new one, Deccenti. Gods, will it kill you to let something go?" Fir murmured as he slid the new badge over the counter.
"It's lucky." John replied.
"Yeah, maybe not so lucky. It's pretty screwed."
"Just fix it, alright?"
"Alright, alright. Jeez,” says Crum as he starts to re-weave the spell.
As Crum begins to fish for some dummy rounds John's phone begins to ring. "Oh, that reminds me," Crum says and more noise can be heard as he begins search for some thing else. Shortly his wide goblin head returns to the window, "Hey Kevin we got these new ones in last month. You can even take a picture with them," says Crum as he slides a cell phone to Kevin
[Kevin]
Kevin takes the phone offered by the goblin with a look of resignation and disappointment as he gently lay his pistol on the counter to examine this new technological annoyance. "Great, just what I always wanted....a picture phone!" he said with a biting sarcasm that was obvious to everyone within earshot. "Sorry Crum, nothing personal, I'm just not crazy about these phones with all of these extra useless features...whatever happened to a phone that you just used to TALK to people?".
“It ain’t about talking to people its about getting your jobs from dispatch and call for back up,” says the goblin in a sarcastic tone.
"Oh yeah phones," remarks Fir. Quickly going to the drawer he pulls out two new cell phones. "Listen up rookies, these are very important phones. They are enchanted to prevent eavesdropping. Press one to get dispatch; they can hook a conference call with others." He slides the phones, two small manuals and a set of the same gloves given to Kevin to Kleo and Miles, "Alright, you guys are good to go."
[Miles]
Miles looks at the phone for a second, and then stuffs it into his pants pocket. He grasps the gloves and the manual, turning his attention to James with an expectant look in his eyes.
[Kleo]
After getting her gun situated, Kleo re-dons her coat and asks Bekka, "Is there anything else we need before our debriefing with James?"
[Bekka]
The angel shrugs her shoulders, and speaks around her cig. "Maybe ya should learn ta shoot, but that ain't happenin' today. Might as well roll."
[Kevin]
"Anyway, it's good to see everyone again, I hope to continue to be an asset to the team" Kevin exclaimed as he pulled an empty clip from the right side of his shoulder holster. “Hey Crum, where are those dummies?" Kevin called out as he pocketed the newly acquired phone while looking impatiently thru the mesh of the cage front.
Fir shouted from the back of the Armory where he was checking various drawers for the desired items "Keep yer panties on, you know you are one of the only people STILL using .45 caliber ammo anymore,...AH, hear they are!!! the stout dwarf exclaimed as he tossed the dummies thru the small opening at Kevin's chest.
Kevin trapped the rounds against his chest with his now freed hand. "Thanks Fir, always a pleasure" he stated pleasantly as he loaded his clip and manually chambered the two rounds in very rapid procession.
[Bekka]
Catching the comment, the angel replies, although it wasn't directed at her. "I'm usin' .45 cal myself. Classic, ya know." Flicking some ash off of her cig, she leads Kleo and Miles off with a gesture.
As the three leave the property, John looks up from his phone. "Kevin, quite playing around, we got a robbery in the canal district."
Small Conference Room
Once up the stairs it is a short snakey route to the small conference room. When Bekka shows the two rookies in James, Li, and Joan are already their sitting at a large round table. The room is impossibly big for the size suggestion by the hallway leading in. The green carpet is dimly lit. When the door solidly closes Bekka draws a glyph on a pad on the wall. Upon completion the room briefly glows.
“Have a seat,” James calls out. Once seated James begins again, “Alright you two have joined the Order. You are sworn to protect the Neighborhood and uphold the law of our community. We have been doing this for over 50 years.” James pauses giving a look that Kleo recognizes, “However, the Order is much older, somewhere around 2200 years. We were created to stop the rise of a Babylonian god name En’lil. He was the primary god for the Mesopotamians. He changed his name to Baal and finally the Christians named him Satan. Through prophesy the Order believes that his return will be here in San Cibola. Our job is to stop him at all costs. We use our position as law enforcement to monitor the supernatural activities of the city.
"In our fight against Enlil we acquired in the 4th century the Spear of Destiny. It has going in and out of our possession ever since. Currently, it is locked up in the property room. I’ll show it to the both of you later.” Looking at Kleo, James adds, “I want you to examine it if possible.”
[Kleo]
The relieved muse nods in agreement at James' request. Kleo had been quite concerned that day-to-day police matters were to be the sole focus of her new position. The announcement of the Orders' primary objective, while obviously disquieting on the one hand - put Kleo somewhat at ease.
"Lastly no one outside the inner circle knows of our mission against Enlil or the Spear of Destiny. The inner circle is made up of all the detectives, department heads, and Crum and Fir.” James takes another pause as to let what he said sink in, “Are there any questions?”
[Miles]
It is hard to read from the young native's face what he makes of all this. When prompted for questions, he raises the index and middle fingers of his right hand and raises it slightly to draw attention to himself. "Ye-ah", he starts with his slow manner of speaking, "there's a lot of pent up frustration around here. Some people just seem to be bubbling over with violence." He doesn't need to look toward Bekka, but he pauses as if the thought occurred to him. "I need to read through the complete rules and procedures, but are there a lot of capital crimes that we're enforcing?"
James raises an eyebrow as the other detective’s eyes moves over the NRAngel. “The book of procedures and rules is on your desk. Ralyn should have placed them there with your name plaques after the morning meeting. As for capital crimes, we moslyt deal with major crimes. However, in lulls like we are experiencing we involve ourselves with more trivial matters.”
Glancing over the rookies and determining that there were no other questions he continues, “Last week we were informed of a Satanist cult out in Florida. It was rumor that this cult was very large, numbering about 30 members, and that they had found a way to personify Enlil’s power. We sent a number of detectives there including Bekka, John, and myself. I was monitoring the activities from a van. What the detectives encounter was a surprising amount of resistance, both arcane as well as mundane. Bekka, since you were there would please tell what happened.”
[Bekka]
The angel lifts her head slightly, crushing out a cig as she does. The woman appears to smoke almost continuously, punctuated by her lighting of a cig to replace the extinguished one. "Yeah, well...what happened...that's a bit unclear. Was supposed ta be a cake walk, ya know? Walk in, make th' big bust, drag in some idiots, maybe plug a couple o' violent jerks. Instead, from jump there's some kinda ward or what not in place, an' I realize right quick that I'm no longer invulnerable ta Norman weapons. Things went to hell in a hand cart after that."
She nods her head once. "Kinda suggests an inside job. Like, there's some sorta informant here."
[Kleo]
As before, Kleo began to sketch and jot ideas down as the meeting progressed. At NRAngel's description of the Florida debacle, the muse narrows her eyes as if trying to remember something... something about Enlil's followers. "Bekka, can you tell us more about this 'ward' - if I recall," she pauses and changes her line of questioning, "Was it fiery?"
“Most wards are not visible to those without site,” Joan explains. Turning to James she asks, “Did you bring back anything? Maybe I can take a look at it.”
“Unfortunately the whole place went up in flames. We were able to secure some charred computers. Technology is working on them, they should have something later today,” answers James. Turning his attention back to Bekka, “about the mole idea, I am back tracking the information source. Any other ideas or concerns?”
[Bekka]
"Yeah, in fact. Those guys were supposed ta be bush league idiots, an' they wound up heavy hitters that could make me pretty ineffective. Who th' hell was our snitch on this, an' are we still usin' the punk fer information? I'm thinkin' we should haul his punk ass in fer interrogation...." Her hand drifts to her empty, right handed shoulder holster.
“Easy Bekka,” James says in a calm voice. “The information came from one of the East coast cells. I’ve asked their Prime to check their sources. I’m also trying to correlate any information they have provided with other events like this one. If there is a mole it is not in our branch.”
[Bekka]
Leaning back, pissed off, the angel folds her arms, and mutters, "Buncha punks."
[Miles]
After listening to Bekka's explanation and Kleo's questions, Miles focuses his questions on James. "Are there copies of the report I can read through?"
Leaning back slightly, causing his chair to lift off the front legs about a half inch, Miles asks, "Is this case our main focus right now, or are you just filling us in on recent important events?"
“You can get a copy of the ‘official’ report form Ralyn. However the real events are stored here,” with that James scribbles a glyph on the table in front of him. From the center of the table an image of text can be seen and read from any view around the table.
[Kleo]
"Ah... so there was a fire" Continuing to scribble on her pad, "James, have you looked to see if there is a connection to Nusku or Gibil with this cult?"
“Good question,” James says to Kleo. “I haven’t heard much activity of the older pantheons; I’m unsure whether Nusku or Gibil are still around.”
[Bekka]
Still leaned back in her chair, the so called NRAngel also passes judgement on this line of inquiry, muttering again, "Buncha punks."
James glances at Miles as he reads the text, “One of the other detectives will get you familiar with the glyphs that operate this room.”
A calm voice from across the room asks, “James, without Salkarin I assume that we are still looking for a decent spell caster?”
Turning to Li, “Yes we still are. If anyone has any good candidates, please drop by my office.” James leans back in his chair waiting for any other comments or questions, “Okay if there is nothing else the briefing is over.” As James begins to leave, Li moves over to Miles and begins to explain the glyphs used by the table, while Joan shows her new partner the glyph for the door.
Once James is in the hall his phone rings. After a brief conversation, James turns back to the members in the small conference room, Joan and Kleo youre on. Looking right at Kleo he adds, Looks like an extended family member is having a domestic problem.