The Offices of Thalia Trimble, Private Eye - vol 1

You see a car as it pulls into a spot fairly close to the one Cyn parked in. It is a dark vehicle with slightly tented windows. Inside are two men in black suits. They are not actively watching you as you enter the mall but you are reasonably sure this was the tail that Cynthia spotted.

The rest of the plan outlined to Cynthia goes off without a hitch. Without being obvious, both of you keep a lookout but are unable to spot anything out of the ordinary. Still not 100% sure that you have thrown off whoever was following you, the two of you head to the restrooms by the food court to change up your appearances.

As they shop, Thalia says quietly, "Since they didn't leave the car, I'm betting they have someone already inside. All they had to do was tip them off about who to watch for, what we're wearing. Must be using radios, walkie-talkies, something."

They spend about half an hour, during which Cynthia buys a blouse. They visit four different stores during this time, and at a nod from Thalia, head for the restroom.

They've done this before, so there's little in the way of talking. They enter adjacent stalls. Thalia picks out an emerald green t-shirt and a floppy hat and hands them over the wall to Cynthia, who removes her own shirt and stuffs it into her shopping bag. She also ties her blonde hair into an impromptu knot at the top of her head, leaving little to show under the hat.

Thalia is already in possession of the nondescript white blouse Cynthia had purchased, which replaces the shirt she's wearing. She tops it off with a denim jacket she'd brought in her bag, and stuffs her dark hair under a mousey-brown pageboy wig. She completes the look with her prize possession - what she likes to call her Disguise Specs. At a glance, they are ordinary wire-frame eyeglasses. In practice, they transform the outward appearance of her eyes.

Using a compact mirror, she inspects her eyes. Gone are her huge brown doe-eyes, replaced by smaller watery-blue ones. As she assesses them, she mentally dials them in - slightly closer-set, lighter lashes and eyebrows, and a hint of bloodshot.

Cyn raps twice on the stall lightly. "Heading out."

"Bye," Thalia says simply. Cynthia leaves the restroom. She's heading to a pay phone to call a cab, which will take her to a coffee shop on the other side of town. Thalia's cab will take her to a dive she's never frequented except for this purpose. The plan is to phone the coffee shop from the bar and ask them to page Gloria Dunlop. (This was a the name of a girl from high school they'd both hated with white-hot passion.) That will tell Cyn that Thalia made it. Cyn's job is then to phone the bar and ask for Pete Stamos (the unapproachable guy they'd both crushed on in, yes, high school.) Once both them have thus checked in, they will be free to take cabs home.

Yes, this leaves both their cars parked away from home overnight, but it can't be helped.

Thalia waits ten minutes before leaving the restroom. It's showtime.

You exit the restroom and immediately spot one of the dark suited men walking around the food court. He isn't making any effort to hide the fact that he is looking for someone. His neck cranes over the crowd as he scans back and forth. At one point he looks directly at you but quickly moves on as the disguise works to perfection. You play the part with practiced precision and your heart rate barely even increases as you casually walk away.

Shortly there after, your cab arrives. The driver is the sort that speaks in grunts and it suits you just fine after the long day you've had. He circles around the parking lot toward the exit which affords you a look back at where Cynthia had parked. The dark sedan that the men drove is still parked a few spots down but there is no sign of either man. It seems like they may have been working alone and were completely obvious that you were onto them. You are left wondering how long they waited in the parking lot before deciding to go inside and look for the two of you.

---

"Pete Stamos! Got a call for a Pete Stamos," the barkeep shouts over the music pumping from the jukebox. Someone had just put some coins in and played that Panic Unlimited song Cyn was telling you about. You can't help but smile as the terrible but catchy song plays.

Your thoughts drift to your bed and how good it will feel to slide under the covers after a long and stressful day. No doubt tomorrow will bring forth many new challenges but at least for now you can be happy to have a few solid leads and know that your friend is going to get home safe.

Thalia breathes in deeply and releases the air slowly, almost like she's doing a tai chi exercise. They'd done it - they'd shaken the tail and made it to safety.

She goes back to the phone booth and calls another cab, watching for it from a grimy window. When it pulls up, she slips out of the bar before it's finished rolling to a stop and tells the driver to take her to an address a block from her apartment.

Now out of the cab, Thalia surveys the street as she walks the block to her place, looking for signs of anyone watching her building. If she sees any, she walks on past, turns the corner, and goes up the alley to enter the apartment building through the back.

You carefully scan your surroundings without giving away that you are looking at all. There is an eerie silence on the street for this time of night. You expect to hear sounds of TVs through open windows, couples arguing, that dog across the street that never seems to stop barking. Instead the most dominate sound is your shoes on the concrete sidewalk. You don't spot anyone actively keeping a lookout on your apartment building, but that hardly means that there isn't anyone there. In the end, you decide it is safe enough to head through the front door.

The front lobby is also empty except for one man getting his mail. You recognize him as living two floors down but can't recall his name. Beyond pleasant hellos and goodbyes you have never had a real conservation with the man. He closes up his mail slot and turns just as you start your stride to the elevator. The two of you make eye contact for a moment.

Thalia returns the man's smile and nod. She considers checking her own mail, but it suddenly hits her that she's really beat. It's been a long day, full of tension, and now that she's safely home, she wants nothing more than her bed.

The mail can wait.

She waves at the man to hold the elevator and jogs the rest of the way. Slipping in, she pushes the button for the seventh floor, leans against the back wall of the elevator, and thanks him for holding it.

You share a quiet but not overly awkward elevator ride before the man exits on the 5th floor and wishes you a pleasant evening. After entering your apartment and locking door you find that there is a blinking light on the answering machine. Thankfully it is a short message from Emilia Howard telling you that the transfer of the document has been approved and you should expect copies of everything delivered around noon tomorrow. You quickly get ready for bed and ultimately are not sure if you fell asleep before or after your head hit the pillow.

You wake up the next morning feeling fairly refreshed. The morning paper contains much of the same old thing. It doesn't appear that the rest of San Espero had a very exciting day. While Crowfall is experiencing a heat wave, the west coast is pleasantly cool for the summertime and expected to stay that way for at least another week.

With at least a few hours of spare time until the documents arrive, you start to plan out what your approach to the day will entail when a ringing phone interrupts your thoughts.

"Hey Thalia. Hope I didn't wake you," you recognize the voice of Jamal McBride on the other end of the line. It has actually been about week since you last heard from him and the early morning call comes as a surprise as he is a bit of a night owl who likes to sleep in.

Thalia sits up a little straighter in her kitchen chair and sets down her mug of coffee.

"Wake me? In what universe would that happen?" She pauses. "Everything okay?"

"Nah, I'm good. Just checking in, seeing how you doing." It is clear from his voice that everything is not ok. The silent pause clues him in that you aren't buying the act for a second. "I should know better then to try lying to you. How you haven't gotten recruited to the CIA by now is beyond me." He takes a deep breath before continuing. "You know I hate asking for help but I'm a little out of my element here.

"People in your line of work have big networks of colleagues all over the place, right? Do you happen to know anyone in Chicago? A PI that could look into something for me?" He pauses briefly but doesn't quite give you a chance to respond. You get the feeling that he wants to lay everything out on the table if only to get it off his chest.

"My mom and sister live out there and she... my sister, she apparently has been acting a little strange the past few months. Mom keeps telling me and I've been brushing it to the side telling her everyone changes in college but... I'm starting to get worried too. They had some big blow up a couple weeks back and my sister cut off all communication. I figured it would blow over but I still can't get in touch with her. I finally got through to some of her friends and they said my sister dropped out of school and won't talk to them either...

"I'd fly out there today to look for her but I wouldn't even know where to start. I need someone on the ground out there that knows the city and the people. I know if I can get a hold of her we can straighten this all out. Man, this isn't cool laying all this on you first thing in the morning. I'm sorry."

Thalia grimaces as Jamal tells his story. Cases like that are hard on everyone in the family. She wishes she could tell Jamal she'll handle it herself, but the Lawson thing is just too time-sensitive, and besides - she doesn't know Chicago well enough for Jamal's needs.

"Wow, Jamal. I'm really sorry to hear about that. And I'm flattered that you think I'm so well-connected that I have a massive global network of investigators at the ready. However, I do happen to know a P.I. in Chicago; our paths crossed a couple of years ago here in San Espero when he was tracking down a runaway teenage heiress who came out west to find herself. He found her instead. His name's Marshall Loomis. Here, let me grab you his number."

She flips through the pages of her address book and reads him Marshall's office number and the address. "Hey, keep me in the loop on this, okay? If there's anything I can do to help, you know I will."

After Jamal thanks her profusely and they hang up, Thalia calls Marshall's number herself and leaves a message. "You said you owe me one a couple of years ago, remember? Well, you're going to get a call from a Jamal McBride. He's looking for his sister. I know you probably have a lot going on, but if you take on his case without delay, I'll consider us square, okay?"

Hanging up, Thalia grabs her bag and "goes to work," meaning she leaves her apartment, walks a few steps down and across the hall, and opens the door with opaque glass and modest stenciled lettering saying, Acumen Investigations.

Thalia assumes that the space that's now her office was originally intended to be a storeroom or something. It has electricity, a tiny bathroom with a shower stall that your average broomstick would find comfortable, and a "kitchenette" the size of a postage stamp. As an office, it's perfect for her needs, but as a living space, it's clearly not up to city codes. About five years ago, Thalia had discovered that the landlord was renting it out off the books. She was desperate for an office but couldn't afford one, so she did the logical thing: she blackmailed the landlord, agreeing not to turn him in to the city if he rented the space to her - legitimately, but for a song - as an office.

She drops into the chair behind her desk and takes out her little notebook, reviewing the notes she took yesterday and making a list of the questions to be answered, people to be interviewed, and tasks to be performed. The first order of business is to wait for the messenger to deliver the case materials from Emilia Howard's law office.

Jamal thanks you again and again and promises to keep you updated. It is painful to hear the uncertainty and exhaustion in his voice that is usually filled with joy and confidence. He tells you he's going to call Loomis right away and then try to get some much needed shut eye.

When you speak with Loomis he already seems to be aware of the situation. Or at least others that have experienced similar behavior from loved ones. "College age kid cutting off all contact and dropping off the map? Seems to be a common occurrence in the city at the moment, I'm afraid. You're certainly sending your friend in the right direction by contacting me. Who knows, maybe his sister is the missing piece of the puzzle that helps me break this thing and I might end up owing you even more than I already did. Thanks for giving me the heads up."

---

A few hours later your concentration is broken by the sound of men loudly joking around outside and a series of car doors being opened and shut. Curious, you get up and head to the window to look down at the street. There you see two cargo vans and several men unloading a series of long cardboard storage boxes that are most commonly used to store paper documents. They are moving them from one van to the other.

One of the men is young and dressed in a wrinkled shirt and tie. He has a clip board and is indicating to another man where to sign. This gentlemen is dressed in a very fine looking suit. From the looks of him, you get the feeling that if you opened the window you'd get a whiff of obnoxious cologne even from way up here.

The ones loading the boxes into the second van are all wearing black windbreakers with the words 'Acumen Investigations' written on them. When you look closer at the van you can see a fresh decal with the same hastily thrown together design. It's not even the same font used on your door. Whoever these impostors are, they did not do their research but it seems to be good enough to fool this intern looking kid who was sent to deliver the documents.

Throwing open the window and leaning out, Thalia shouts loudly, "Stop! Those men are not affiliated with Acumen Investigations! I'm Acumen Investigations! The police are on their way right now to sort this out. Don't give them those boxes!"

One of the things that makes Thalia's office not up to code for a real living space is the lack of access to the fire escape. Jamal had been horrified by this and had vowed to make sure she had egress in case the building caught fire while she was working in her office. He'd demonstrated how his invention works and had urged Thalia to try it herself, to get comfortable with it, saying it was no different than a moderately frightening amusement park ride. Thalia doesn't like amusement park rides, so she contented herself with watching Jamal demonstrate it several times and praying that there was never a fire.

Cursing, she reaches behind the tall secondhand bookshelf next to the window and pulls out what looks like a fancy four feet long ladder with clamping hooks on one end. She affixes the hooks to the window sill and they automatically tighten. Swearing again, she pushes her body through the window awkwardly and gets one foot on a rung, then the other.

When she's entirely clear of the window, her right hand is clutching the special sensor-equipped grip on that side. Taking a deep breath, she steels herself and grips the one on the left--

And the ladder is suddenly extending downward. FAST. Jamal was right, it's exactly like one of those horrific amusement rides that people inexplicably adore. She leans against the ladder, holding the handgrips as tightly as possible, because Jamal had said the harder you hold them, the faster you go, and she needs to get to the street before those goons get all those files.

Just when she's starting to think, Hey, Jamal never told me how to stop before I paint the pavement with my blood, the ladder abruptly slows, coming to a stop two or three inches from the pavement. With an effort of will, she releases the ladder's handgrips and takes a shaky breath before turning to run toward the two vans.

Though she feels she's lived a short lifetime since opening the window, in fact it's been less than half a minute.

Every head snaps to attention as your voice projects down from the 7th floor. The young man with the clipboard looks confused and starts to question what is going on. The fake employees of Acumen Investigations jump right into action when they realize the jig is up. The men loading the boxes double time it to get the remaining boxes into their van as fast as possible. The well dressed man snatches the clipboard and shoves Emilia's intern to the ground.

Your feet hit the ground and you instinctively roll your left when you hear a strange warbling sound coming toward you. A split second later there is a smacking sound heard against the brick building in the area you were just standing. You watch as visible waves of air vibrate outward from the impact zone. Turning toward the entrance you see two more men in A.I. windbreakers who are aiming a black plastic weapon with a wide cone shaped barrel. As best as you can figure, it is some kind of sonic based weapon. Unfortunately it is not yet clear what being hit by this weapon would entail.

The well dressed leader of the group tosses the clipboard to one of the men carrying boxes and then reaches inside his jacket with both hands. In his left emerges one of those sonic blasters and in his right is a walkie-talkie. "Send in the back up." Engines rev from down the street as the leader takes aim on the cowering intern.

---

Dice Pool Limit: 5

Threat Ratings
Mooks - Impostors: 10

Optional Side Objectives
(One Round Time Limit) Prevent the intern from being shot: 2
(3 Round Time Limit) Prevent the impostor van from getting away: 5

Every protective instinct Thalia possesses is ignited when the imposter leader aims the gun at the hapless intern. She'd come down the ladder carrying nothing, so threatening him with her .38 is out. Glancing around, she notes a disappointing lack of makeshift weaponry at hand. The lone contender is an abandoned basketball lying against the wall of her apartment complex.

She does another dive-and-roll to avoid another shot from the sonic whatsis, grabbing up the basketball as she gets back to her feet. She runs toward the well-dressed man, shouting, "Over here, officer! He has a gun!" in an attempt to distract the gunman. He reacts predictably, looking around for the cop and - crucially - moving the gun as though prepared to stow it. Now that it's not pointing at the intern, she launches the basketball at his head without slowing her approach.

He turns at the last second as he detects the ball in his peripheral vision, taking the impact to his nose instead of the side of his face. The clipboard clatters to the curb as blood spurts from his nose, and he raises the gun semi-blindly in her direction. But her keen senses had already anticipated this and she's already prepared with a tai chi form, lightly gripping his wrist in her hand and using his momentum against him to continue his arm's upward motion. Getting her leg slightly behind him, she uses her weight to overbalance him as her other hand plucks the gun from his grip, and he winds up falling backward over her bent knee.

"Kid! Get in the van!" she shouts breathlessly to the intern.

The leader of this group of goons lands with a thud. His hand clutches at his chest as the air rushes out of his lungs. All of his men momentarily stop dead in the tracks in the confusion of the unexpected turn of events that has taken place over the last few seconds. The men loading the truck snap out of it first and slam their back doors shut before running over to collect the last of the boxes from the other van.

The intern hears your command but seems powerless to act in any meaningful way. He stares at you like a deer frozen in headlights for a moment before crawling on his hands and knees underneath the van that you told him to get in.

The men that were guarding the front door rush across the grass with sonic whatsis (as they will forever now be called) aimed at you. They both pull the trigger and the sonic beams seem to combine mid-air to create an ever expanding cone of sonic force. As the cone quickly widens to an undodgeable size, you do the only thing that comes to mind and fire off your own blast with your recently commandeered sonic whatsis. The blasts going opposite directions collide and blunt the force of each other. You feel a wave rush through you which brings a slight sense of vertigo and makes your mind go a little fuzzy. This thankfully passes after a second or two.

Simultaneously from each end of the block two additional cargo vans come screaming down the road. It wont't be long before the back up that was called in joins the fight.

---

Dice Pool Limit: 5
Thalia --- 3 HP

Threat Ratings
Mooks - Impostors --- 10

Optional Side Objectives
Prevent the intern from being shot --- Success
(2 Round Time Limit) Prevent the impostor van from getting away --- 5