Feb 12, 2015 4:00 am
Henderson Nevada, 1 June 1982, 0830 hours
Location: Henderson police department
The summer heat is already beating down on Henderson even though it's still early in the morning. The hum of air conditioners can be heard all through the town. Traffic is starting to build on the roads as people venture into the heat to run errands and head to work.
In the heart of downtown Henderson is the newly-remodeled police station. Due to a recent influx or government funds, the city council of Henderson has been able to complete many improvement projects around the town, the largest of which was the police station. A six-story building of steel and glass, surrounded by lush gardens full of statues depicting historical events, the new police building is a monument to modernism.
It is a busy morning inside the department. Officers are coming off night shift and filing activity reports. Prisoners are being escorted back and forth. Phones are ringing in the 911 emergency center. Public awareness meetings and self-defense classes are being taught. New recruits are being run through drills and training exercises.
Up on the third floor, in relative quiet, is Captain John Duncan's office. He is currently standing at this window, drinking slowly from a large mug of steaming coffee. He is tall and broad-shouldered, with grey hair just starting to emerge at his temple and jaw line. The walls of his office are lined with awards and commendations from his years of service and leadership on various task forces.
On one end of a leather couch, holding a legal pad, is Sergeant Raymond Sacks. He is flipping and twirling a pen between his fingers in absent-minded habit. His lanky legs are stretched out, crossed at the ankles. He has the look of someone who is only pretending to relax and could spring into action before anyone else could even think about doing something. His eyes move sharply around the room, focusing on each person as their conversation develops.
On the other end of the couch sits Officer Elizabeth Cove. She is nervously tapping her foot on the floor. Fresh out of the academy, she has already earned a reputation as a tough and smart beat cop. This is the first major case she has been assigned to and she is anxious to prove herself.
Pacing the length of the room is FBI Agent Edward Harrison. He is nearly bald, and sweat is glistening on his forehead. His suit jacket is flapping as he waves his arms and gestures wildly. He is talking in rapid-fire statements; snapping out questions and immediately answering himself. His brash and rude, but has earned the right to do so with a lifetime of outstanding performance.
Sitting quietly in a corner of the office is Harrison's partner, Agent Samantha Basker. She is one of the Bureau's best criminal profilers, with doctorates in psychology and sociology. In stark contrast to Harrison, Basker does not immediately dismiss the stranger aspects of the job as deception or mass hysteria. Her years of experience working with people has shown her that there is some truth behind the horror stories.
The final member of this morning meeting is Jennifer Kritch. A member of the public, Jennifer works as a private investigator and police consultant in occult matters. Her record of successes is tainted by a history of mental illness, but she has proven to be a valuable resource to many in Henderson.
"Goddamnit Duncan," Harrison snaps as he paces the office. "I will not have civilians involved in this investigation. I don't need anyone playing policeman here. And especially not one with such an extensive history of mental illness." He stops and points an accusing finger at Jennifer Kritch, whose eyes get large as she shrinks down into her chair
Duncan takes a long, slow slip from his coffee mug and turns to Harrison. His gaze is calm but is eyes are cold and harsh. "With all due respect, Agent Harrison, how I operate in my own jurisdiction is my own damn business. You are here asking for our cooperation, and I have decided to bring in someone that I believe can assist us."
Harrison laughs. "Her tall tales and ghost stories may be good enough for the schmucks around here," he snaps with sarcasm dripping off every word, "but I am conducting a criminal investigation for serial killer. This is no place for an amature. I want her gone."
Samantha Basker brushes her red hair back behind her ear and clears her throat. "Edward. Take a breath. We've been on this case for a year. We cannot discount any lead at this point. Besides, her record is actually quite successful."
"She's no better than a carny con artist," Harrison snorts with disgust.
From his spot on the sofa, Raymond Sacks speaks quietly. "She's got a better track record than you do."
Harrison spins on his heel, furious. His face takes on a deep red flush and sweat beads on his forehead. "Watch your mouth you sonofabitch. I'd have your badge if..."
Sacks interrupts. "Good thing that's not your call."
Captain Duncan sighs and speaks over Harrison's rage. "Ray. Please."
"Sorry Cap," Sacks replies, with a smirk.
Basker clears her throat again and tries to restore order. "Let's try to stay focused, gentlemen. No need for tempers to get the best of us."
"Agreed, Agent," says Duncan. "Why don't we discuss the facts. Officer Cove?"
Elizabeth Cove stands from her place next to Sacks. Her eyes dart nervously around the room for a moment. She straightens her uniform, takes a deep breath and speaks confidently. "Within the past 90 days, there have been 5 separate murders discovered in and around Henderson. There has been nothing to link the crimes to each other, other than circumstantial similarities. No conclusive forensic evidence has been discovered in any of the on-going investigations. Agents Harrison and Sacks have been contacted as these crime scenes are similar to ones from an on-going federal investivation into serial killings dating back 1 year."
Moving to his desk, Duncan sets down his coffee and picks up a case folder. He flips through, glancing over pictures of grizly murder scenes. "Thank you Officer. It would seem to me that there is an occult nature to these crimes. The way the bodies were discovered, the various implements found, and the writings on the walls, often in blood, all suggest ritualistic killings. Possibly from a cult.
Harrison chuckles. "That sounds like something a news anchor would report, Duncan. You should know better."
Basker stands and moves to look at the files with Duncan. "He's not wrong, Edward. Everything here is a text-book example of ritual cult sacrifices."
"And that's why we know it's a set-up!" Harrison bellows. "I've investigated enough murder scenes to know that nothing is ever this perfect. This asshole is putting together a presention for us. We can't get stuck on the occult bullshit."
"My profile of the killer does indicate extreme OCD tendencides, along with a desire to be admired for his crimes. He's putting on a performance for us." Basker states. "The occult paraphernalia he is making use of could just be his set dressing."
Ray stands and stretches. "On my tours of duty, we survived by taking things at face value. Reading too much into a situation creates deadly delays. If he looks like a crazed occult killer, that's what he is."
"I agree with Agent Basker," Jennifer Kritch says in a very small voice. "There is a strong occult presence disturbing the local spirits, but it's not what it seems to be." She blushes deeply when she mentions spirits, and looks down at her shoes. "I think the crime scenes are meant to be a distraction."
"We need hard facts," says Duncan. "The forensics investigation has stalled out, but maybe they can go over the evidence again. Cove, you should work your street connections and see if anyone has any stories to share. Agents, you have your own agenda and resources. Perhaps it would be best if we follow several different threads and see how they connect."
(Players, you may each pick one of the characters in this scene as your new PC to continue the story.)
Location: Henderson police department
The summer heat is already beating down on Henderson even though it's still early in the morning. The hum of air conditioners can be heard all through the town. Traffic is starting to build on the roads as people venture into the heat to run errands and head to work.
In the heart of downtown Henderson is the newly-remodeled police station. Due to a recent influx or government funds, the city council of Henderson has been able to complete many improvement projects around the town, the largest of which was the police station. A six-story building of steel and glass, surrounded by lush gardens full of statues depicting historical events, the new police building is a monument to modernism.
It is a busy morning inside the department. Officers are coming off night shift and filing activity reports. Prisoners are being escorted back and forth. Phones are ringing in the 911 emergency center. Public awareness meetings and self-defense classes are being taught. New recruits are being run through drills and training exercises.
Up on the third floor, in relative quiet, is Captain John Duncan's office. He is currently standing at this window, drinking slowly from a large mug of steaming coffee. He is tall and broad-shouldered, with grey hair just starting to emerge at his temple and jaw line. The walls of his office are lined with awards and commendations from his years of service and leadership on various task forces.
On one end of a leather couch, holding a legal pad, is Sergeant Raymond Sacks. He is flipping and twirling a pen between his fingers in absent-minded habit. His lanky legs are stretched out, crossed at the ankles. He has the look of someone who is only pretending to relax and could spring into action before anyone else could even think about doing something. His eyes move sharply around the room, focusing on each person as their conversation develops.
On the other end of the couch sits Officer Elizabeth Cove. She is nervously tapping her foot on the floor. Fresh out of the academy, she has already earned a reputation as a tough and smart beat cop. This is the first major case she has been assigned to and she is anxious to prove herself.
Pacing the length of the room is FBI Agent Edward Harrison. He is nearly bald, and sweat is glistening on his forehead. His suit jacket is flapping as he waves his arms and gestures wildly. He is talking in rapid-fire statements; snapping out questions and immediately answering himself. His brash and rude, but has earned the right to do so with a lifetime of outstanding performance.
Sitting quietly in a corner of the office is Harrison's partner, Agent Samantha Basker. She is one of the Bureau's best criminal profilers, with doctorates in psychology and sociology. In stark contrast to Harrison, Basker does not immediately dismiss the stranger aspects of the job as deception or mass hysteria. Her years of experience working with people has shown her that there is some truth behind the horror stories.
The final member of this morning meeting is Jennifer Kritch. A member of the public, Jennifer works as a private investigator and police consultant in occult matters. Her record of successes is tainted by a history of mental illness, but she has proven to be a valuable resource to many in Henderson.
"Goddamnit Duncan," Harrison snaps as he paces the office. "I will not have civilians involved in this investigation. I don't need anyone playing policeman here. And especially not one with such an extensive history of mental illness." He stops and points an accusing finger at Jennifer Kritch, whose eyes get large as she shrinks down into her chair
Duncan takes a long, slow slip from his coffee mug and turns to Harrison. His gaze is calm but is eyes are cold and harsh. "With all due respect, Agent Harrison, how I operate in my own jurisdiction is my own damn business. You are here asking for our cooperation, and I have decided to bring in someone that I believe can assist us."
Harrison laughs. "Her tall tales and ghost stories may be good enough for the schmucks around here," he snaps with sarcasm dripping off every word, "but I am conducting a criminal investigation for serial killer. This is no place for an amature. I want her gone."
Samantha Basker brushes her red hair back behind her ear and clears her throat. "Edward. Take a breath. We've been on this case for a year. We cannot discount any lead at this point. Besides, her record is actually quite successful."
"She's no better than a carny con artist," Harrison snorts with disgust.
From his spot on the sofa, Raymond Sacks speaks quietly. "She's got a better track record than you do."
Harrison spins on his heel, furious. His face takes on a deep red flush and sweat beads on his forehead. "Watch your mouth you sonofabitch. I'd have your badge if..."
Sacks interrupts. "Good thing that's not your call."
Captain Duncan sighs and speaks over Harrison's rage. "Ray. Please."
"Sorry Cap," Sacks replies, with a smirk.
Basker clears her throat again and tries to restore order. "Let's try to stay focused, gentlemen. No need for tempers to get the best of us."
"Agreed, Agent," says Duncan. "Why don't we discuss the facts. Officer Cove?"
Elizabeth Cove stands from her place next to Sacks. Her eyes dart nervously around the room for a moment. She straightens her uniform, takes a deep breath and speaks confidently. "Within the past 90 days, there have been 5 separate murders discovered in and around Henderson. There has been nothing to link the crimes to each other, other than circumstantial similarities. No conclusive forensic evidence has been discovered in any of the on-going investigations. Agents Harrison and Sacks have been contacted as these crime scenes are similar to ones from an on-going federal investivation into serial killings dating back 1 year."
Moving to his desk, Duncan sets down his coffee and picks up a case folder. He flips through, glancing over pictures of grizly murder scenes. "Thank you Officer. It would seem to me that there is an occult nature to these crimes. The way the bodies were discovered, the various implements found, and the writings on the walls, often in blood, all suggest ritualistic killings. Possibly from a cult.
Harrison chuckles. "That sounds like something a news anchor would report, Duncan. You should know better."
Basker stands and moves to look at the files with Duncan. "He's not wrong, Edward. Everything here is a text-book example of ritual cult sacrifices."
"And that's why we know it's a set-up!" Harrison bellows. "I've investigated enough murder scenes to know that nothing is ever this perfect. This asshole is putting together a presention for us. We can't get stuck on the occult bullshit."
"My profile of the killer does indicate extreme OCD tendencides, along with a desire to be admired for his crimes. He's putting on a performance for us." Basker states. "The occult paraphernalia he is making use of could just be his set dressing."
Ray stands and stretches. "On my tours of duty, we survived by taking things at face value. Reading too much into a situation creates deadly delays. If he looks like a crazed occult killer, that's what he is."
"I agree with Agent Basker," Jennifer Kritch says in a very small voice. "There is a strong occult presence disturbing the local spirits, but it's not what it seems to be." She blushes deeply when she mentions spirits, and looks down at her shoes. "I think the crime scenes are meant to be a distraction."
"We need hard facts," says Duncan. "The forensics investigation has stalled out, but maybe they can go over the evidence again. Cove, you should work your street connections and see if anyone has any stories to share. Agents, you have your own agenda and resources. Perhaps it would be best if we follow several different threads and see how they connect."
(Players, you may each pick one of the characters in this scene as your new PC to continue the story.)
