[Jesmond Krutova] [Intel + Medicine + Poisons]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 5, 6, 8, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Imogen Slaughter] (intelligence+medicine)
HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 4, 6, 6, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[-divine-] [Okay, 8 cumulative successes gives you guys a large amount of extremely pure sample. Now to recognize it for what it is!
Perception + Medicine/Science/Investigation, whichever is highest. Jesmond may add her 2 dice in Poisons. Difficulty 8 - 4(for prior successes) = 4.]
[Jesmond Krutova] [Perception + Medicine + Poisons, ahoy!]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 10 (Success x 5 at target 4)
[Imogen Slaughter] (perception + medicine)
HAIL!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 4) Re-rolls: 2
[-divine-] [Additionally, Jesmond should roll Percep + Occult, diff 4!]
[Jesmond Krutova] [Perception + Occult!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 7 (Success x 3 at target 4)
[-divine-] [The samples are large amounts of 1,4-methylenedioxyphenodiazopoxide, an experimental benzodiazepine indicated for usage as an anxiolytic. It is developed by local pharmaceutical firm
Mercier, Ltd., and is only now entering Phase I clinical trials. Preliminary results have been extremely encouraging, but a few experts in the field are contesting results and/or bringing up dependency and addiction concerns. Also, a few outliers in clinical trials have exhibited troubling behavior -- details on this, however, are extremely scant.
At any rate, it has absolutely no place in a cafeteria lunch.
Additionally, Jesmond is able to detect faint traces of supernatural taint: substances that would cause potent addiction and, in large enough amounts, sociopathic/violent behavior.
OOC note: I'm not going to be STing anything for investigation into Mercier. That's another spinoff SL anyone's welcome to pick up!]
[-divine-] Okay, part two --
Finances & Bureaucracy!I need Will and Ray's Law and/or Politics scores, whichever is higher.
[Ray Ostermann] [Int+Politics]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 5, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Ray Ostermann] Politics of 2 and Law of 2,
[Will Talbott] Will: Politics 2; Finance 3; Manipulation: 3; Subterfuge: 4. He would assuredly engage the resources of the financial firm for which he works. He relies on other people for the nitty gritty, and would detail this sort of thing to an intern so: if I can use subterfuge in lieu of either, lemme know!
[Ray Ostermann] if we want all those sorts of scores, ray has finance of 4 with resource aquisition as a speciality, manip 3 subterfuge 3...as well as his contacts both in the government and the financial sectors
[-divine-] Okay, Danicka! Roll Wits + Computers to get in. Diff 6 +2(remote)!
[Danicka Musil] [wits + computers // diff -2 (aptitude)]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 3, 4, 4, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[-divine-] Okay -- barely squeaked in. Intel + Computer/Investigation diff 8, whichever is higher, assisted by advice from Ray and Will (5 dice total for -3 diff, rounding up): difficulty 5.
[Danicka Musil] [intelligence + computers // -2 diff]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 3)
[-divine-] [Most of the records look pretty good so far. Keep digging? +1 diff if you do.]
[Danicka Musil] [*glares at The Dice Whore*]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 4)
[-divine-] [A trend emerges: every single piece of information that is seen, kept or approved by state and federal government is squeaky-clean. All i's dotted, all t's crossed. However, local records are much more slapdash. Nonetheless, they get approved and licensed.
Plant false information? Diff 10 base, -0 (no extra hacking succ), -3 (Will/Ray) = diff 7.]
[Danicka Musil] [Step 1: Pound vodka.
Step 2: Crack knuckles.
Step 3: Bitchslap the Wyrm]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 7, 7 (Success x 3 at target 5) [WP]
[-divine-] [Okay! So now the kin have:
- Information on irregularities in local records
- Planted irregularities in federal/state records
- Evidence of foodtaint]
[Will Talbot] The offices of Olyphant Templeton are dark and quiet, drenched in shadow except where the city lights cut through the floor-to-ceiling windows, in the private offices, in the reception area, where visitors can stand close to the cool glass looking out over downtown Chicago, imagining themselves higher than the clouds. The city seems remote, from here, impossibly manageable - with all its lights in place, all its pieces, all its moving parts, the El flashing, the loop simmering with a constant stream of traffic, high clouds above, lit orange against the dark night below.
Only the conference room is lit, and even then -just indirectly. The subtle uplights built into the baseboards, the glow of Danicka's computer as she works. The room is plush, all the seats are made of genuine Italian leather rather than some cheap Chinese imitation, and the conference table is a single slab of polished oak that gleams in the low light.
Will's jacket is off, his shirt sleeves rolled his forearms to his elbows, his tie loose. He stands at the opened whiteboard - usually concealed behind an original Matisse - a lesser work, but fine nonetheless, part of the patrimony of the Silver Fangs the firm shepherds from generation to generation - lifted out of the way to reveal it. The steps are written out in blue in a slapdash hand. Will is quick and confident here.
"You'll get the newspaper involved."
"And you, the USDA."
- and so on, as the plan takes shape, made and remade, considered, agreed.
He did not know their names before tonight. They did not know his.
Excepting one.
Somewhere, something in the world is laughing.
[-divine-] They don't have a lot of time. The information came in last Saturday. Very, very early last Saturday. It took them a day or so to pass the word around, to arrange a time, to get together.
Then it's Sunday, and they're formulating plans. They work until late, the lights off, computer monitors glowing. It's 2am when they're finished, when they go home and crawl into bed and crash, and meanwhile,
in whatever laboratory Imogen may have appropriated, the Fianna and the Shadow Lord work side by side, pipetting, weighing, reacting, measuring.
6am and everyone's up again, or still up. It's Monday morning. Phone calls are made, faxes and emails, tipoffs, string-pulls. They cover their tracks and anonymize everything and send them on to Ray's contacts, to Will's. The wheels start turning. They go on with their lives, their jobs, their school: five exhausted kinsmen and kinswomen going through the motions of daily life.
Things are quiet for a day or two. Then, Wednesday afternoon, Ray gets a call.
Mr. King on line 2, Mr. Ostermann.It's his buddy in the government, the guy with the thumbs and the pies. "Listen, Ray," he says, "I got stonewalled. I passed the info on the foodtaint on and my friend at the USDA said she'd put it in the works, they're working on it, they'll get back to me. Then this morning I get a phone call back from a Mr. Thomas Fulner saying he's been assigned the case, but he can't proceed in this without hard evidence. He wants you to meet him at his office with samples.
"I told him this is an anonymous tip, but he was adamant. Budget cuts, he said. Not going to commit an entire investigation on this without evidence and a witness. It's an optional deal, obviously, but if you don't meet him, he throws the case out.
"And no, I can't go over his head."
[-divine-] So phone calls are made, discussions are held -- in person or across conference calls -- and it's another late night debating, questioning, weighing, deciding.
Then it's Thursday morning. Ray calls Jason King back. Confirms: we'll meet. Twenty minutes later Jason calls Ray.
I just emailed you the address. He says his schedule's packed today, but he can meet you guys after-hours. 6:00pm sound good? And bring the samples.Ray doesn't show up alone. At 5:45pm, they pull up to Wimogray Building in one car or several. It's suddenly warm in Chicago, warm and moist and overcast. The sun's still up behind the clouds, the light growing subtly warmer as it nears the horizon.
The building is blocky and ugly, as all government buildings seem to be, and in downtown Chicago. Broad steps lead up to glass doors. The security guard inside seems them coming and comes from behind the desk to let them in.
"Are you here for Mr. Fulner? He left a message that you should go on up to the 16th floor and take a right from the elevators. His office is on the lef, 1623."
[Ray Ostermann] "Thank you....have a good evening."
Ray says smoothly before looking to the others with him, hes still not overly pleased about this, but he doesn't let that show, instead he smiles to his assembled compatriots and gestures towards the elevators.
"Shall we? Best not to keep the man waiting, bureaucrats do so love their timelines."
[Danicka Musil] The pretty little Shadow Lord kinswoman who chained herself to a computer through most of a night -- who was dressed in heels and a pencil skirt and a crisp buttoned top while she did this -- shows up with them looking like a different woman. It isn't her version of a disguise, it's just that she came straight from a late class. Her legs are clad in crop-legged jeans, her buttoned shirt is more rumpled looking, the sort of item made to look like it came from a boyfriend's closet, and her hair is up in a high ponytail.
It is not tied in a little ribbon. She took the ribbon out on the way to meet the others.
She's carrying a canvas messenger bag, which is more expensive than you'd guess, and made to look old and weathered and bring to mind all sorts of beat poets and road philosophers, et cetera. Her sneakers are red. Her ankle socks are adorable.
As they head into the building and get into the elevators, she's humming quietly to herself.
[Jesmond Krutova] Jesmond drives her old hatchback across to the Wilmogray Building, with other occupants or alone. Her car was a serviceable, but unappealing dark brown number and the soft upholstered seats were faded, empty coffee cups sat in the holders, and old, outdated road maps for the states of Minnesota and California were stowed behind the front seats. The car carried the scent of stale coffee and frequent use; one of those little useless pine green deodorizers hung from the rear-view mirror.
Like Danicka, Jesmond is wearing jeans, though her shirt is fitted, and covered by a soft cream and black sweater-vest. Her dark hair is loose around her shoulders, contrasting nicely against the pallor of her skin. She doesn't so much speak to the others gathered, but cast them small smiles of greeting, falling into line toward the rear of the procession; her hand-bag slung over a shoulder.
[-divine-] They don't make it quite to the elevators. This is a government building, after all. The guard directs them to the security check first, apologizing.
"I know you're here on special business and in a hurry, but if you could just step this way, please. It won't take but a moment. Regulations, you know."
It looks like an airport security screen: a metal detector gateway, an x-ray machine.
[Ray Ostermann] Ray is dressed as the professional he prides himself on being, his black dress shoes freshly polished, his slate grey pin stripe suit ironed and pressed to perfection. Every little bit of his appearance is carefully, and meticulously maintained, far more so in this moment then others, its important that this goes smoothly, and he will see it go so in whatever way that he can manage.
He steps through the security without any trepidation, the man was here for a meeting after all, not to start a fight. The only thing he has to worry about are his key's and cellphone. Once through he waits for his associates on the other side, hoping...that none of them decided to bring anything untoward into the building, like a gun, or a machete, or a bomb...you never did know.
[Will Talbot] Will swings the front doors open then steps back, holding them for Ray and each of the women. He is a tall man, towering over Imogen, and cuts a distinctive figure in his well-tailored suit. If there is a guest book, Will leans over it briefly. In lieu of writing anyone's name, he scrawls something formless enough to be a doctor's signture, writing the initials PIRG out to the side.
There is a faintly ironic curl to his mouth. It deepens when he sees his reflection stainless doors of the elevator as the loose group of kin file inside. This late in the evening, at the end of a long day of work, his chiseled jaw is shadowed with a scruff of pale whiskers. Carelessly familiar with the security screening process, Will unlatches his expensive watch, turns over his wallet, keys, change, his blackberry and his secondary cell phone, a pair of fine pens from the interior pocket of his suit coat, et cetera, before walking through the metal detector.
[-divine-] The guard waves them through one at a time. On the other side, their belongings, chugging through the x-ray machine, begin to pile up at the end of the conveyor belt.
[Danicka Musil] Held up, Danicka blinks once or twice, then apologizes with a faint, stupid laugh, heading over to the machines. She extricates herself from the strap of her bag and puts it in the bin to go through the x-ray. It's expected: a couple of books, some notebooks, a digital recorder, some pens and pencils and hiliters, mini hairbrush, travel-size lotion, nail clippers, nail file, wallet, keys, a pill case with excedrin and ibuprofen and papaya enzyme and also a packet of tissues and some hand sanitizer and handouts from class and a calculator and two USB keys and a little zippered bag that has what look like poker chips and -- goodness gracious --
feminine products inside it.
Oh, and makeup. Good lord, you think her lips are really that color? You're sweet.
[Imogen Slaughter] The slim doctor comes dressed professionally - slacks, a cream blouse and a suit jacket to match the slacks. Her hair is clipped back away from her face, stray strands pinned up and out of the way.
She carries a brief case and purse with her; both brief case and Kinfolk pass through the security uncontested. She retrieves her purse and brief case from the end of the conveyor belt, and waits for the remainder to file through. Her eyes move absently over the area, thoughtful, a line forming between her eyebrows.
To the elevators after this, they, a rag tag team of professionally dressed suits mixed with casually dressed woman. Imogen, of course, belonging to the former group.
Elevator music inside the elevator. A white wash of noise. It is late in the day, and they are mercifully alone.
A glance to Will, as they begin to climb the floors. The building is old and the elevator is likewise. They have a bit of a wait.
"You mentioned you had an idea why we were in this together," she says.
[Jesmond Krutova] Jesmond puts her bag down to chug through. There's nothing fascinating or out of the ordinary in it aside from what looks like a child's dummy [
okay, she must be a mother] and perhaps a handful of what look like sticks [
cinnamon, to be precise, they kept her bag smelling fragrant, there were some hidden in her car, too].
[-divine-] Once through the security check, the guard smiles and wishes them a pleasant evening. Tells them he'll be here to let them out. They go on to the elevator, which whisks them quietly and efficiently up to the 16th floor. The interior of the building has a sort of drab '80s elegance: earth-toned carpets and wan, wood-paneled walls. A small sign, the sort with changeable tack-on letters, directs them to
USDA Chicago Branch on their right. The offices have numbers: 1601, 1603, 1605... 1619, 1621, 1623.
The doorplate reads
THOMAS A. FULNER. Assistant Regional Chief Inspector. There are thin windows on either side of the door, which give a view inside.
Whatever they might expect from someone so stubborn and difficult as to demand a face to face meeting, raw evidence, it's probably not this. They might've expected an impressive office, an imposing man, but the fellow inside is short, sallow, balding. He sits behind a grey metal desk, strictly economy, which is piled high with papers and journals and documents and god knows what else.
Behind him, bookshelves, mostly reference books. A windows as high and thin as arrowslits giving a paltry view of Chicago's downtown.
[Will Talbot] "We're a local steering committee for PIRG." His suitcoat is unbuttoned as he stows his blackberry and the second cell back into the inside pocket of the well-made garment, stopping for a moment by the bank of buttons to depress the key for the 16th floor, turning to give the women who are now crowding in room.
Will finds his way to the back of the elevator and braces his hands back on the metal bar, arms open, taking up more space than is strictly necessary. When the rest have joined him and the doors have whispered shut, he continues, looking forward at his reflection, gleaming back to him from the closed doors, interrupted by the bodies of the others, Imogen in her professional suit, Danicka in her jeans and messenger bag. "The Public Interest Research Group," he clarifies for them when the doors snick closed. "It's a reasonable explanation for our - rather motley appearance - and our interest in the matter."
Then: the 16th floor. Room 1623. Will reaches to open the door and gives Ray a direct look, the faintest suggestion of question evident in the pale blue discs of his eyes. "Only one of us should take the lead here, I think," he murmurs to the other kinsman. " - shall I?"
[Danicka Musil] Once inside Mr. Fulner's office, Danicka hangs back, quiet. She is the youngest of the Kinfolk in the room, or at least seems like it, especially the way she's dressed. Her bag is back over her shoulder, strap across her chest. She holds onto the strap with both hands, anchoring them, and she looks around the room curiously when they enter.
She is not a pinnacle of business or financial acumen here, nor does she carry a medical degree. Danicka is a net for raw information. Danicka is, she's coming to realize, something of a number cruncher, with a particular flair for explaining the data on a spreadsheet in plain and simple layman's terms. She is not, however, the most obvious spokesperson for this particular group.
So she observes her surroundings. And the man in front of them.
[Ray Ostermann] Ray regards the man who is in many ways, eerily similar to him, but it was already obvious the differences between them. When the man suggests only one person take the lead, or perhaps, only one of THEM take the lead, Ray seems to take a brief moment to consider the options.
After that short moment he nods, an indistinct smile crossing his face as he does so before gesturing to the door. "Of course, if you are prepared to do so, then by all means..." His voice comes out smooth but firm as he speaks implying much, but saying very little. But he does agree to let the man speak on their behalf....for now.
[-divine-] As they stand in the hall conversing in low voices, Mr. Thomas A. Fulner continues to work inside, head down, oblivious to their presence.
The 16th floor is almost completely deserted. There are voices in one of the offices down the hall, a man and a woman, and after a moment -- if they're out in the hall long enough -- the man comes out. He's tall, fit, sandy-blond, and has a sort of effortless charisma about him, which he wields in the smile he flashes.
"Hi," he says, the casual uncommitted hello of a stranger to strangers, and waves. He turns to head down the hall the other way, and if they watch him long enough, he goes into the corner office.
[Jesmond Krutova] Jesmond remains settled toward the back of the group, locating herself perhaps beside Ms Musil, she cants her head and casts her fellow tribeswoman a faint eyebrows-raised-
here we go expression before turning her gaze and all her attention onto one Thomas A. Fulner, the man who had insisted on them coming in to speak with him.
The sleeves on the Nurse's arms have been pushed up, and secured at her elbow, her arms are bare of decoration save for a small, black leather bound watch on her left wrist. There is no wedding band or other defining jewelery but for a pair of small hoops gleaming amidst her dark hair. Jesmond looks -- proficient, as if she were perhaps a University Graduate, or at least some lower level office worker. While not as crisply dressed as Will, Ray or Imogen, there's no doubt she is an informed individual; it's visible in the manner her eyes follow the conversation, in the manner her attention is always riveted on the speaker.
She is competent with the facts she has, along with Dr Slaughter, uncovered, but for the meantime, she hangs back, and merely listens.
[Danicka Musil] [perception + intuition]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 8) Re-rolls: 1
[Jesmond Krutova] [hmmmmm.]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 6, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 1 at target 8)
[Will Talbot] Will knocks on the office door, waits for the invitation to enter, and then swings the door open, holding it behind him, casually, for Danicka, Jesmond, Imogen, and even Ray, to enter or remain without, as they wish, ineffably confident. Somewhere between the elevator Room 1623, he has rebuttoned his suitcoat and smoothed out the lines of the garment with the casual ease of a man who travels for a living. He should be wholly out of place in a little metal room with an industrial metal desk groaning with research papers and obscure professional journals, out of date textbooks, spread sheets.
"Mr. Fulner," he begins, an easy smile as he releases the office door and crosses the distance, holding out his large hand for the other man to shake. Releasing the other's hand, he offers him a business card, plain white card stock, fine black ink. It simply says:
PIRG
Public Interest Research Group
Chicago Steering Committee
(xxx) xxx-xxxx
"Thank you for taking the time to meet with us. I understand that you have quite a lot," here, his pale gaze drops to the laden desk, his mouth twists into a brief, apologetic smile. " - on your desk at the moment. I hope that we will be able to persuade you to sink some resources into this. Our own information is somewhat sketchy, but from what we've been able to gather, the situation is - a significant danger to public health," here he shoots a look at Imogen, Jesmond, if they have joined him in the room, query written into his brow as if he were seeking confirmation. "- that's what I'm hearing, right? What do we need to bring you to get you started?"
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen has, in fact, joined Will in the office and smiled politely toward Felner if he had looked at her, but otherwise remained nearby.
When Will looks at her with a questioning eye, she merely nods.
[Ray Ostermann] Ray slides into the room after the others, his shoes whispering across the floor as he smoothes out his suit and tie. He also doesn't quite fit the bill for a research group, not unless that group is incredibly well funded and had an extensive corporate branch. He smiles at the balding man behind his desk, a small but friendly smile, to put the man at ease as will quickly pours on the corporate power speak.
Ray listens intently, but takes his time to look about the office, taking in pictures, certifications, any personal little touches the man may have made to the office, anything they could use as a lever, an edge. You never did know when you might need something like that, the man before them could be simply bringing them in as a formality....Ray rather doubted that part.
[-divine-] The little man inside starts visibly when they knock. He peers at them through the door, squinting myopically, and then waves them in. The door isn't locked, though there is a lock on it.
Inside, the office is rather cool. There are two seats -- uncomfortable, cheap conference-room chairs. The rest of them will simply have to stand. Fulner paws his thinning hair with his hand,
hems, and then stands to shake Will's hand. Fulner's hand is clammy. There are perspiration circles under his arms, and his tucked-in shirt reveals a spare tire around the middle.
"Thank you for coming in. Didn't expect so many of you! Please, please, sit. Hm, very interesting," he's reading the card, and then looking up at them again. "I didn't catch your names?"
[-divine-] It should also be mentioned: there's a security camera on the wall. Behind the desk. From it, most of the room is visible, as well as Fulner himself and his computer monitor. Not much privacy for this public servant.
[Danicka Musil] [perception + empathy: TELL ME YOUR SEKRITS, FULNER.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 5, 7, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
[Ray Ostermann] [Per+Alert, what are you hiding little man..]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 7, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Danicka Musil] [perception + intuition: onoz der are lolcats in ur intartubez aren't der?]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 6, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Jesmond Krutova] [Perception + Alertness, joining the party]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 5, 7, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Will Talbot] [Manipulation + Subterfuge (selective truths)! For keeping others' names' out of it.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
[Will Talbot] Per + empathy!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Imogen Slaughter] me too, me too! per+empathy!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[-divine-] Fulner is nervous. In fact, he's more than nervous, he's scared. Something about this situation -- their coming here, this meeting, being here, what they've found,
something -- has rattled him badly.
to Danicka Musil, Will Talbot
[Will Talbot] "Will Edwards," Will supplies some portion of his own name, releasing Fulner's hand with careless ease, standing back to allow the other kinfolk to filter in or out as they wish. He doesn't offer anyone else's name. In lieu of the conference chairs, he takes a half-seat on the edge of Mr. Fulner's desk, reaching up to unbutton the suit coat, allowing it to fall open around his crisp white shirt, which remains largely unwrinkled despite the late hour. Some men have that gift.
"I'd give you the rest of the folderol, except that in this I am strictly," he says, an engaging grin etching itself across his mouth, "
strictly, acting as another concerned citizen. I'm sure you understand. We're
all volunteers, here - so we won't take too much of your time. We just want to know what we can bring you," his pale eyes touch on the inspector's balding head, the damp circles of moisture beneath his armpits. He can still feel the slick, damp touch of the other man's sweating hands. " - to keep the ball rolling," a bland, twist of a half-grin at this, alive to the cliche he has tossed out there, employing it uncaringly, perhaps deliberately. "as they say."
Then, he glances up, back over at the other kinfolk. His pale eyes touch on Imogen, then Danicka - the two who are most familiar to him - before returning to Fulner, and the security camera affixed on his computer monitor. "So. What do you need from us?"
[-divine-] That's the second time Will's had to ask. The inspector shakes hands with him and then, rather rudely, sits right back down again without trying to shake anyone else's hand.
"
Hem," he coughs, "well, let's see, what would really help, see, what would really help is if you could bring me a sample of this allegedly tainted food. I saw the numbers your organization crunched and the plots and analyses, but we have our own labs here, see, and we need to run our own tests. You understand?"
And he smiles, stiffly, showing no teeth.
"So if you could turn over the samples now, that would get things moving right along."
[Danicka Musil] "Laurie Johnston," says Danicka, giving a tiny wave of one hand, a smile that is only partly uncertain, as though she's not sure she's supposed to be talking at all, "intern."
So goes her introduction. She's still watching their surroundings. The man. Somewhere between incredibly curious and incredibly bored, she sways a bit on her feet. Her fidgeting is slight, and slow, but it's there. It's only marginally distracting.
"Oh," she says suddenly, when Fulner asks for the samples, "shit. Sorry. Oh." A wince. "Mr. Edwards? Um."
Sheepish. Ashamed. Embarrassed. "I forgot to bring them."
[Danicka Musil] [manipulation + subterfuge]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 4, 4, 7, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6) Re-rolls: 3
[Danicka Musil] [Okay so that was for the introduction. >_> _>]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 5, 7, 8 (Success x 1 at target 7)
[-divine-] [percep + subt: is she lying to me!?]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 6, 6, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Jesmond Krutova] [Charisma + Subterfuge; smooth things over?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 5, 5, 6, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Will Talbot] Manipulation + Subterfuge: PAY ATTN TO ME. NOT THE GIRLS.
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 8, 8, 8, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[-divine-] [is SHE lying to me?]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 3, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[-divine-] [what about HIM?]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 5, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Imogen Slaughter] As Danicka speaks, Imogen turns to look at her over her shoulder. Her expression hidden from Felner's view, she clearly arches her eyebrows at the younger woman's deception.
She does not speak, and merely turns back.
[Will Talbot] "You understand, Mr. Fulner - " Will smoothes over, seeking the other man's gaze, again. Seated as he is on the edge of the desk, his body is blocked half-way, the language open to the bureaucrat planted in front of his computer and the kinfolk who have filtered into the poorly appointed office. Will's posture is that of a college professor, mediating between the class at large and some nervous guest speaker planted behind the lectern.
" - we've had some negative history with such things. The samples get lost. The tests come back inconclusive. You remember Love Canal?" He continues, engaging, easy, his half-grin a casual, what-can-you-do sort. "PIRG had them dead to rights at least two years before the EPA admitted what was going on." There is a brief shrug of surrender, then. "In order to turn those samples over, we need to know that you are on our side."
Will looks off into the distance, then, staring at the hallway visible through the two windows slit into the skin of the hallway. Looks back at Mr. Fulner, his voice lower then, quiet, sure. "No, I misspoke. It's not about us. It's not about us at all.
"What we need to know is - are you on the side of those kids?"
[Ray Ostermann] Ray takes in the proceedings casually, unperturbed by the events transpiring around him, the lies, the deceit, the games, all of it quite common and quite natural to the man. He takes the time to pace about the office looking about casually, his eyes taking in everything and intentionally adding another factor to the scene before Fulner to force the man behind the desk try and concentrate on more and more. If the man was unable to focus properly, it was much more likely that he would make mistakes, and let something useful slip.
He doesn't give his name, for once playing the silent man, ready in the wings. He would play the bad cop in a sense, waiting to be called forward if necessary, and he did everything to ensure that his body language gave that off, in his stance, in the movement of his body, even going so far as to press at the borders of the man's safety zone by almost passing the desk.
[-divine-] As Will sits on the edge of the desk, the little man behind it clearly shies away, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. He stares at Will as he speaks, eyes darting now and then around the office, to the others, to the door, back.
"What are you talking about? Are you saying you've got the samples but you won't hand it over to me because you don't think I'm on 'your side', whatever that might mean?" He licks his lips. "That's preposterous. I'm with the USDA. It's my
job to investigate. Now turn the samples over, and we'll get started. Simple as that --
"Sir?" This, to Ray. "Sir, can you please ... not ... pry around my office?"
[-divine-] Now not only is Thomas Fulner nervous and scared, he's also beginning to feel ganged-up on and defensive.
to Danicka Musil, Imogen Slaughter, Will Talbot
[Ray Ostermann] [Per+emp]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 5, 5 (Failure at target 6)
[Jesmond Krutova] [belated perception + empathy]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Imogen Slaughter] "Pardon me," as she steps forward, she adroitly nudges Ray out of the way, and deliberately, farther back, to set her brief case down, opening the latches.
She pulls out a file folder and sets it down, "Copies of our reports from our lab," she says, then retrieving sample bags.
"Samples o' the same food we tested. Though, I imagine you'll be wantin' t' get yer own fer verification."
She holds them out, passing them over, though holds them a moment while Felner reaches up to take them.
"Mister Felner," she says, her voice quiet.
"Are you alright?"
[Will Talbot] "I apologize, Mr. Fulton. I suppose I should spend less time reading our fundraising letters," an apologetic smile, Will stands back up then, freeing the corner of Fulton's desk to be filled by another stand of unread professional journals, steps back out of the way as Imogen approaches, sliding his hands into his pockets as he steps back to give the man his space. " - and more time listening to our scientists. You look like a busy man. We appreciate the time you've already invested."
Then, Imogen says -
"Are you alright?" and Will, standing now beside the dingy windows looking out to the corridor looks back, pale eyes alert.
[Danicka Musil] Standing beside Jesmond, Danicka straightens up slightly when Imogen moves forward and starts unpacking samples and reports. She glances towards the door, then the camera, then Fulner, then at Will. In fact, young Miss Laurie looks at Will rather intently. At least, until he looks back. If he does.
[Ray Ostermann] Ray slows his pace and comes to a halt not far from Felner's desk, he turns on his heels and faces the man huddled behind his desk. He regards the man for several long and quite possibly uncomfortable moments for the man as he smiles giving the man his very best flash of teeth before he speaks, his voice even and just on the right side of friendly.
When he is nudged aside by Imogen he simply allows it. And when she asks the man if she is alright...well, that makes him glance to the others, and then back to Felner, waiting to see what he has to say.
[Will Talbot] Hands in his pockets, suit coat unbuttoned, shoulder resting casually against the wall beside one of the two windows, Will doesn't miss Danicka's intent look at him. His attention slices from the bureaucrat to the young blonde, pale blue eyes meeting hers directly, clearly.
[-divine-] When the samples are produced, Fulner's face abruptly flushes red. It's a physiological response: increased heartrate, adrenaline rush, capillary dilation.
He grabs the sample bags from Imogen -- more or less snatches them -- and then stops dead as she holds on to the files. Almost as fast as his face flushed, it begins to blanch again, sweat now visible on his brow.
"What? Of course I am. Just a long day. You know how it is. Haha." Not so subtly, he tugs on the items.
[-divine-] Rush of relief!
to Danicka Musil, Imogen Slaughter, Jesmond Krutova, Will Talbot
[-divine-] HUGE rush of relief.
to Danicka Musil, Imogen Slaughter, Will Talbot
[Jesmond Krutova] When Imogen steps forward, Jesmond slides a little clearer into view, as if she were the Fianna Kinswoman's silent accomplice -- and, in truth, she partially was, as far as the reports from the labs, went -- she does it for this reason, and for another which is far more practical -- to give her eyes the chance to scrutinize Felner closer; she can sense the man's anxiety and it did not take any impressive degree of medical training to see that his skin was clammy and he was sweating, quite a bit.
Jesmond looks at the balding, twitchy gentleman behind the desk with sympathy; with a clear intention of aid. Her posture reads open friendliness, even if she's not so much smiling as observing him with the keen focus of someone accustomed to watching over the responses of an individual under significant pressure.
"Would it help if we cleared the office a little, I'm certain one or two of us could wait outside," The Shadow Kin's voice was composed; gentle. "Let the room breathe a little, you know." She smiles, lifting a slender shoulder as if it was all so silly, wasn't it, all of it, feeling flustered, feeling edgy.
[Danicka Musil] They've met once. At her apartment. They have never spoken privately, and they have no bond. But she's pretending she's his intern, and Danicka -- just five years, maybe six or seven, his junior -- takes a few steps over to Will and stands on her tiptoes to say something to him, looking apologetic. Looking embarrassed, still.
[Danicka Musil] "They have him. And I think they're close enough to have hurt him if he didn't get those samples from us."
to Will Talbot
[-divine-] "No no. No." Fulner's smile is tight; if Imogen hasn't let go of her file and samples yet, he hangs on tenaciously, absurdly. "Not necessary. I think we're all just about done here."
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen's eyes narrow, she does not bother to hide it.
"It just seems very odd," she says. "That you would want our samples, rather than retrieve them independently.
"After all, there's no way fer you to know where these samples. No way to verify. All you'd do is test them, and you would have to get samples from the source anyway."
It is a bit of an absurd tug of war. Imogen does not release the samples.
[Ray Ostermann] Ray watches the man as he frantically tries to claim the items held by Imogen and he shakes his head, the man was caught by his own idiocy, and his own fear.
"You do realize of course Mr. Fulner, that those are not all samples...."
[Ray Ostermann] ((Gah all samples = all the samples))
[-divine-] "Well, see," Fulner is explaining to Imogen, "for me to even begin an investigation, to get the wheels in motion and commit the time and manpower, I need to have some evidence--"
that's when Ray says,
you do realize those are not all the samples.And Fulner's head snaps toward him. He's almost comically surprised: mouth open, eyes wide. Then, abruptly, he lets go of Imogen's files and samples, stands upright, paws his hair with an unsteady hand, straightens his tie.
"I'm sorry," he apologizes. "I... I seem to be a little under the weather today. Would you all please excuse me?"
And he heads for the door, meeting no one's eyes.
[Will Talbot] Will leans down to listen to Danicka, then straightens up, his shoulders squared beneath his suit coat. He nods to her once, standing, circles to open the door to the office. "And that," he adds, as the door swings open to the drab hallway, " - is hardly the only copy of the results. If necessary, we will see that they get to the Congressional Subcommittee on Agriculture and Food Safety.
"If you'll excuse me - " Will is saying, ready to excuse himself, to ask where the restrooms might be, to request the use of a landline perhaps - when Fulner asks to be excused himself. Will steps out of the door, into the drab hallway, preceding the other man, and cuts a look back down the hallway. Farther down, past 1623.
[Ray Ostermann] Ray steps infront of the door, if no one else does at that moment, he looks to Will to make sure the man is still watching the window carefully and he shakes his head.
"Mr. Fulner, what will it take to see this end in our favor?" He says plainly, and straight to the point. "I'd rather see a dedicated fellow such as yourself continue to do the good work that he is, but I understand that such positions have....hardships. So...what will it take Mr. Fulner?"
[Ray Ostermann] [Cha+Expression]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 5, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6) [WP]
[-divine-] [WP: resist... resist!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 5, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[-divine-] By now, Fulner is so frightened that even Ray -- hardly the bastion of insight and empathy -- can see it. He's sweating. He's
shaking. His eyes dart everywhere; he looks panicked when Will leaves the office, just
goes. And when Ray cuts in front of him, all Shadow Lord let's-make-a-deal cool, he sucks a breath like he expects to be hit. Or stabbed. Or shot.
And: he cuts a glance toward the security camera in the corner. Quick, furtive, but there.
It's almost a whisper: "I can't help you people. I
can't."
--
Meanwhile, outside: the hallway is quiet. The office about halfway down to the end is still lit. The door to the corner office is closed; it's impossible to tell if the blond gentleman is still in.
[Danicka Musil] Inside the office, quietly, Danicka muses almost to herself, a bit mild: "You know, I'm not entirely sure we're safe here, either."
[Ray Ostermann] Ray leans into the man and speaks very carefully and very very quietly.
"You can Mr. Fulner, I know you can, because shortly, we will be stepping from this building, in defeat, but...once we are gone, and once you are safe in your home, you will forward all of this information to your higher ups, you will ensure that this gets to the right people who can see it done, and in return...you will be paid very...very handsomely."
His voice is silk, and promises the man safety and protection...behind a dollar figure and a soothing voice.
[Ray Ostermann] [Cha+Exp]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 5, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6) [WP]
[Will Talbot] Will allows the office door to swing closed behind him. Or not. Ray was close behind, stepping into the breach to arrest the bureaucrat's progress. Perhaps the other man caught the swinging down with the flat of his hand, left open the promise of escape behind him. There is a light halfway down the hall. Will stands outside and pulls out his blackberry, e-mailing the particulars of the place, the office number, the people involved to his assistant with a quick, practiced hand over the keys. Then, with the device palmed in his hand, he begins ambling down the hallway toward the other illuminated office, pausing when he arrives to glance in through the windows.
If there is nothing of interest there, he continues onward to the corner office.
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen casts a glance at Danicka as she puts the items back into her brief case. "If you are concerned, you may go."
As Fulner casts a nervous glance toward the camera, Imogen does the same.
"Or you might try to find somewhere to look at the security in this room."
[Jesmond Krutova] Jesmond watches Fulner bustle for the door; and glances at no-one but Ray, as he steps into the frightened man's path and sets about smooth-talking down ruffled and evidently frightened feathers. She follows Fulner's eyes to the video camera perched high above them and shifts around so that she's facing away from it; toward the sweating man.
"Who are you afraid of, Mister Fulner," she cajoles simply, and slips a tissue out of her purse to offer him to wipe down his brow. "Whose watching us, right now?"
[Charisma + Empathy]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 3, 5, 5, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6) [WP]
[-divine-] "You think this is about
money?" Fulner gives a hysterical little laugh; his eyes dart between them. "Oh god. Oh god oh god."
Jesmond asks who's watching. And he dashes for his desk.
--
Outside, mostly oblivious to what's happening in the office, Will passes the lit office. A pretty brunette types on her computer inside. Her desk is nicer than Fulner's. Her computer is at least 4 years newer. She watches his eye through the tall, narrow window beside her door and winks at him, then goes back to work.
[-divine-] Her nameplate reads,
Alison Fairchild.
[Danicka Musil] She turns to look at Imogen then, her brow furrowing a bit. "He's terrified for his life. He's not even remotely frightened of us. I'm pretty sure that there's someone in this building, probably watching that security feed, who has him by the nutsack."
Her brow smooths. "Also: there's absolutely no reason for you to be so patronizing all the time. I'm concerned. For all of us. But I sure as hell don't need your dismissal."
Adjusting the strap of her bag, she looks about to exit, but Fulner rushes back in, and she blinks. "Mr. Fulner!" she says, in surprise. Or what sounds like it.
[-divine-] [just a quick note: Fulner's been in the office the whole time. Ray intercepted him before he could get out.]
[Danicka Musil] [Ack.]
[Danicka Musil] [I'll revise. *L*]
[Ray Ostermann] Ray winces the instant that Jesmond asked about money, and he knows he's lost the man as he turns for the desk. There was only one reason you kept your hand below the desk, for a weapon, or a panic switch.
"Were leaving Mr. Fulner....don't do anything rash. We will leave, and you will be safe."
[Will Talbot] Will flashes a quick grin back to Alison - stopping long enough to glance over her shoulder at the camera fixed on her computer - to flicker a look over her walls and her desk, all under the pretense of her returning quick, engaging little wink with one of his own.
Then, he continues down the hall to the corner office.
[Will Talbot] Wink!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
[Jesmond Krutova] Jesmond turns with his movements, her own in contrast sedate; unaffected but for her [
seeming] sympathy to his frazzled and frightened plight. "It's alright," She says, like some affable, elderly tea-lady, about to come around his desk with a nice cup of tea and a biscuit to perk him up. Jesmond goes as far as to seat herself in one of the chairs; if he plans to shoot them; he's got his first target well and truly ripe for the picking.
"What is this all about, then?" She queries, tucking dark locks behind one ear.
[Imogen Slaughter] Felner dives toward her desk, and Imogen gets in the way - she steps in the way, hands reaching up to grab him by the arms.
"Safety then," she says, if she can get him to stop short. "Not money, but safety.
"Come on, just step out into the hallway."
[Imogen Slaughter] str+brawl!
HAIL KAHSEENO!
(oh please god work)
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 5, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6) [WP]
[Imogen Slaughter] (the REAL strength+brawl this time!
HAIL KAHSEENO!
pleaaaaaaaaaaaase!)
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 3, 5 (Success x 1 at target 6) [WP]
[-divine-] [enh! resist!]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 3, 3 (Failure at target 6)
[-divine-] A panic switch or a weapon.
Ray's right about that. And Danicka calls Fulner's name, and Ray tries to talk him down, and Jesmond asks what this is about, and --
-- and Imogen grabs Fulner.
Thomas A. Fulner, Assistant Regional Chief Inspector of the USDA, bursts into tears. "
You can't help me." The man is sobbing. "
You can't help me, you can't help my family, we're dead, we're all dead now because YOU HAD TO COME HERE."
--
Down the quiet hall, passing the pretty regional inspector's office, and near the imposing door to the corner office, Will reads the sign on the door:
LINDEN M. KRANZ
Regional Chief InspectorThen the door abruptly opens. Mr. Linden M. Kranz starts when he sees Will directly outside. "May I help you?" He's walking out as he speaks, buttoning the middle button on his blazer, tugging the door shut behind him.
They can hear Thomas Fulner screaming down the hall:
"...
because you had to come here!"
Mr. Linden M. Kranz frowns in distaste. "Good lord. I better see what's going on."
[Ray Ostermann] Imogen grabs the man, and well Ray moves around behind the desk, fully intent on finding whatever..well hopefully whatever weapon the man may have had. By this point the jig was up so they said, and they would need whatever edge they could get to get out of there.
[-divine-] Jesus H. Christ: the man was packing a .44 magnum back there. It takes some hefty amount of terror for a man who looks like he could barely wield a baseball bat to buy personal protection like that. How'd he even get it in the building?
[Jesmond Krutova] It's a little startling when you see a fully grown man burst into tears right in front of you. One typically doesn't know quite what to do, where to look, is it polite to reel back, to stare at your shoes, to fluster and excuse yourself from a public display of grief and fear, what
was the etiquette for it? For Jesmond, nothing is so strange. She works at a Hospital, had worked in the past with women in labor -- Garou and Kin alike -- almost had every bone in her hand broken by an Ahroun pushing and screaming her way through birth pains.
She's witnessed many people in their worst hours, and so when Thomas A. Fulner erupts into an emotional outburst, she sets her purse down on the seat; unfastens it and removes a packet of tissues. Then she steps into line of sight with Imogen and willingly accepts the burden of the sagging figure, if need be; one arm rubbing a soothing circuit over his back; murmuring nonsensical calming words like
hush, now and
easy and
slow, deep breaths as if he were another of her pregnant patients.
Or her son with a skinned knee.
[Will Talbot] "Mr. Kranz," Will looks up when the Regional Chief Inspector exits his office, taking a moment to slide his blackberry back into the inside pocket of his suit coat. Were he to take a half-second to reflect on the place and position, he would laugh. The hallway, late at night, half-light by the illumination from a handful of offices. The door opening as he arrives.
Still, Will holds out his right hand to grasp that of Mr. Linden M. Kranz, blocking the other man's most direct path down the hall bodily, and smiling an easy, passing smile as he does so. " - Will Edwards. I'm a volunteer with the Chicago steering committee for PIRG. I'm afraid - " he shoots a glance back down the hallway. What with the shouting, echoing down behind him. " - well, probably we should've come to you at the beginning. Perhaps you can help smooth things over? Do you mind if we have a private word?"
[Will Talbot] Talky talk!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 3, 6, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6) [WP] Re-rolls: 1
[Ray Ostermann] He scoops out the gun, keeping it infront of his body and away from the camera, no reason the people needed to know for certain that he had it. He then moved around the desk and would discreetly look between those present.
"Whoever can use a gun...take this." He then offers it out to them, discreetly once more, to whoever can use it. "I believe its time we left, this is now beyond remedy."
[Imogen Slaughter] The imagery of it is a little absurd. Imogen is a slight, slender woman. She looks fragile, breakable. The sheer confidence with which she moves is in direct contrast, as she takes hold of the worker drones arms and wrestles him - and he ...
bursts into tears.
She does not quite look distressed to suddenly have a bawling man in her arms, but she does look a little resigned.
As he screams, she winces, casting a glance toward Jesmond or Danicka both, a tilt of her head indicating the hallway.
"Listen," quiet, her mouth near to the human's, "if you explain it to us, maybe we can help. If you don't, we can do nothing, and if you help us and explain, you have a chance.
"It's a better deal than a lost cause."
Jesmond approaches and she does not get in the other woman's way, but she does not entirely give up the burden, either.
[Danicka Musil] Mr. Fulner's sudden dash for the desk makes Danicka cry out in surprise at his panic. Imogen grabbing him makes her blink in open, increased surprise. The breakdown into tears does not cause an outpouring of empathy. She stares at him, sobbing as Jesmond offers him a tissue while Imogen offers him a deal...and keeps holding him.
The supposed intern's eyes are wide, and get wider as Ray pulls out a magnum. "Mother of god," she exhales, slinging her bag back and walking over to take the .44 from Ray, checking immediately to see if it's loaded.
"
Kurva st&+345;ednà muži," she mutters, as she does so.
[-divine-] "Not at all," Kranz replies, not slowing in the slightest. His handshake is firm, a solid grip that tugs Will along with him a few steps before he releases. "But I should really see about my employee first. God, I'm sorry about this. He's been having a hard time recently. Marital problems, I think. Why don't you come with? We'll calm Tom down and see if we can't figure this out."
They're passing the woman's office. She opens her door and peeks out. "Did you hear a shout?" she asks Kranz. "What was that all about?"
"Don't worry about it. I'm on it. You will working on that report?"
"Page 22."
"Oh Jesus. Well, have it on my desk in the morning."
"Will do, sir." Door shuts. They keep walking.
[-divine-] In the office, Ray has found a gun. Danicka takes it and checks it. It's loaded, all right. The bullets are twice as massive as the ones in her 9mm, half again as long, and a good deal wider. She's seen the damage even her handgun, a small one as far as the grand scheme of things goes, can do. These would blow a hole in someone at close range.
The owner of that indisputably deadly weapon, meanwhile, is a sobbing wreck. He's slumped to the floor, and unless Imogen and Jesmond want to sit next to him, they'll have to let go. His pudgy hands over his eyes, he sobs and sobs and sobs.
Some words make it through the waterworks, the rest blurred beyond comprehension:
"... they're paying my kids' scholarships ... said I'd just have to keep an eye out for them ... nothing for
years ... last week ... says squash this or ...
do things to my family ... oh god, oh god. Just kill me. Just kill me now."
[-divine-] [will working = still working. wtf?]
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen does not sit, but she crouches, putting herself more or less at eyelevel with the sobbing worker drone.
He cannot see her, so she does not bother to hide the way she wipes her wrist on her thigh, sweeping away a few tears that happened to brush against her skin.
"Who are they?"
[Danicka Musil] "Mr. Fulner, take a very deep breath, and let it out slowly," Danicka says mildly, checking the safety on the .44 as well. She handles the weapon like she's actually familiar with it, which is just as odd as the fact that she was doing c0mput0r hax lulz in the sort of garb worn by secretary-themed pinups just the other day. "Then do it again."
She's moving behind the desk, sitting down in Tom's chair. It doesn't keep the gun out of sight from the security camera, but it does keep it out of sight of the door. She sets it on her lap, safetied. And turns to Tom's computer. "This is tied into the building's network, right?"
[Will Talbot] "Marital problems, eh?" Will replies, flanking Kranz as they walk. He laughs, briefly - " That'll do it. You should see my child support payments." His own hands are loose, open, his stride swift and long. Quite deliberately, he clicks his feet against the linoleum floor, raises his voice so that whomsoever is closest to the door of Fulton's office can hear their quick-stepping approach.
"We might have been a bit - " a passing shrug, easy, careless. " - hard on him, I'm afraid. I understand how much territory you and yours have to cover, but, really - these findings,"
cough, cough " - excuse me. Allergies. Anyway, these findings are rather too troublesome to be ignored. Have you seen the reports?"
[-divine-] Taking Danicka's advice, they can all hear Fulner take two deep, hiccuping breaths. He manages to calm enough to look at her blearily and confusedly. "What? It has internet, if that's what you mean."
Then, to Imogen, "I don't know! Some ... some fucking
church charity group! So much for Christian values!" -- and the faucet goes full-blast again.
[Danicka Musil] A heavy sigh. "No, the building's -- nevermind, I'll just look."
And so she does.
[Jesmond Krutova] Jesmond has been instructing the man to do much the same as Danicka mildly invites him to herself, quietly, on her haunches beside him. She's taken one pudgy hand in her own, perhaps forcibly peeling it from one eye and rests her fingertips over his pulse for a moment; listening to the rapid pounding of it. She keeps hold of it; sweat-slicked and all as if it were nothing much to her; and in truth, it likely isn't to someone who's wiped snot out of nostrils, and been vomited on by infants late into the night.
"Easy, easy." The raven-haired woman on one side of him cautions, and glances over to check on whatever Danicka is attempting.
[Danicka Musil] [wits + computer]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 7 (Success x 7 at target 4) [WP]
[Ray Ostermann] Ray watches as it becomes obvious that they don't plan on leaving quite yet despite his assessment and the camera which had very likely already brought the situation to the attention of people with guns and their harm in mind.
With the others planning on remaining Ray considers the options, Danicka wanted to try the files, Imogen was still trying to reason with the blubbering man before them. He looks to the man. "They won't have a chance....Mr. Fulner. This...groups days are numbered."
[-divine-] "Reports?" Kranz is being only distantly polite now, his attention clearly on Thomas A. Fulner's door. "Afraid I haven't. -- Hey, Tom? Tom, you all right in there?"
--
Inside: they can all hear it. Approaching footsteps. Coughing. And an unfamiliar voice calling.
On the floor, Tom lets out a terrified whimper. He half-crawls, half clambers across the room to lock the door.
--
Hall:
click. A lock thrown.
Linden M. Kranz frowns slightly.
[Danicka Musil] [hello computer. where are the nuklear wessels?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 9, 10 (Failure at target 4)
[Danicka Musil] [a keyboard. how quaint.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 5, 6, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5)
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen's expression stills as Fulner speaks.
She doesn't speak to him again, instead casting a glance toward Danicka. "Let me know when you're done."
[Danicka Musil] [OKAY NOW KABOOMIFY IT!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Will Talbot] Will stands outside the door, hands on his hips, the suit coat pushed back from his broad frame. He reaches for his blackberry once more, thumb moving along the keyboard as he types in a quick message, glancing from Kranz to the locked door, then back up the hallway to the only other occupied office.
[Danicka Musil] She glances up briefly from the screen, fingers poised over the keys. Danicka has not announced what she's up to. They've seen her dig in her bag, grab a thumb drive, plug it in, and then go back to typing. The girl barely goes near the mouse; she knows her default hotkeys, yes she does. She gives a tiny nod, and goes back to work. Very little of her moves, but for the flicking of her fingers and the back and forth of her eyes.
[Ray Ostermann] Ray shakes his head, they were now trapped, the man on the other side of the door is probably the guy that the drone feared, and they were stuck without a way out.
[-divine-] "Don't let him in." They have no way of knowing whether Tom has gone full-blown delusional or if he's terrified for a reason. "Don't let him in, don't let him in."
--
Outside, Kranz frowns at the door. His hand goes to his waist, reflexively flicking over the button on his jacket and sweeping it back; the other knocks on the door a few times.
"Tom's out there, but this is insane behavior even for him," he says to Will, a long-suffering, exasperated aside. "I'm
so sorry about this. He's getting his 2-week notice as soon as he opens the door." Then, raising his voice, "Hey, Tom? Let me in, Tom. This is ridiculous."
[-divine-] [Ignore this roll!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 3, 3, 10, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[-divine-] [and this one!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 4, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Danicka Musil] "Done," Danicka says suddenly, while Kranz is yelling at Tom through the door. "This room's in a blind spot, and the earlier recording's gone."
[Will Talbot] "Maybe it's these late nights."
Will speculates, as he leans back, close to the door, his spine straight. His back is against the glass, and he shoots a look inside, over his shoulder, casually, as he does so. Those within have a passing impression of his face in the glass, the chiseled line of his jaw, the straight nose, the well-defined mouth set within a bristle of stubble. He shoots a look at Linden Kranz's waist, following the movement of the other man's hand as he unbuttons his coat.
"Two weeks notice? I thought that you and yours have civil service protections. Maybe you should refer him to your EAP instead?"
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 3, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Ray Ostermann] Ray hears that and he quickly kneels down next to Tom, as he weeps on the floor near the door. He speaks quickly, quietly and firmly, with a voice of a man that knows what hes doing.
"Did you hear that Tom, there is still a chance, the recordings gone and they can't see. If we leave now you can still do the right thing. That group is up to no good Tom, you saw our reports, they are poisoning people...you can help us stop that."
[Ray Ostermann] [Cha+Exp]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 7, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Jesmond Krutova] Jesmond, meanwhile, has crab-walked over to where Tom is in his miserable, hysterical state and is attempting to calm him down as best she can. Ray joins her, after a minute and her dark eyes guild over the other Shadow Lord Kin briefly, then she turns back to Tom, leaning in to smile encouragingly at him; her eyes catching sight of Will, leaning against the glass.
"Please, Tom." The young woman before him implores, eyes searching his face. "Won't you help us, for the sake of your children, that they might grow up in a safer world."
[Sappy Pleading Guilt Roll]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[-divine-] Fulnor does hear that. He hears that and his hands come down from the sides of his head; he lifts a face wet with tears and snot. His breathing is still quivery, trembly, hysterical.
"How do I know you people can keep me safe?"
--
Outside the door, Kranz barely glances at Will this time. Then he pounds the door with the flat of his hand. He doesn't shout; no. He just speaks, and with a terrible tone of authority this time:
"
Tom. Open this door.
Now."
[-divine-] [doo be doo]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[-divine-] [be doo]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 3, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Ray Ostermann] "You know because you can hear it in my voice Tom, we will keep you safe and stop the people who will try to hurt you." He says staring the man in the eyes. "We are the good guys here."
[Jesmond Krutova] "You need to trust us." Jesmond addendums after Ray, over and above the pounding on the door. "We're here to help, I swear that we are."
[Will Talbot] "Hey." Will interrupts this time, reaching out to plant one firm hand on Kranz's shoulder, to pull him away. His voice is direct as his grip is firm. "I think you need to let him come out on his own."
[Danicka Musil] She is still in his desk chair, turning away from his computer, his .44 on her lap. It's incredibly heavy. She's a little intimidated by that, but nevermind. She's taking a small wooden disk out of her bag and holding it in her palm, right up against the handle of the .44, humming softly as she does so. Out of sight, the 'poker chip' dissolves with faint sparkles, leaving something like a gash across the grip of the magnum. It fades. The symbol on the little wooden disk is gone. Everything seems normal.
Ish.
"Tom?" she says, curiously, looking up. "If you want perfect honesty, we can't promise that you and your family will be safe." She says that levelly, calmly. But gently. "But we are also doing
everything we can to keep this from getting out of control and destroying the lives of everyone in that town. We will do
everything we can to right the wrongs that you've helped suppress up til now. But you need to
calm the fuck down and tell us who and what that man outside is and what we can do to get all six of us out of here safely."
[Danicka Musil] [-1WP, activating damage talen]
[-divine-] They're getting through to him. They can see it. They can see Thomas A. Fulnor getting ahold of himself and
growing a pair when --
Open this door. Now.-- he just goes blank. And turns, like a robot, to open the door with a precise little click. Kranz pushes it open immediately, swiftly enough that the edge catches Tom in the shoulder. That had to have hurt. Thomas doesn't utter a sound, and Kranz merely gives a cheerful little,
"Oops! Sorry about that, Tom. Wow." He looks around the room. "Sorry you guys had to see, y'know. All this. Come on, Tom." He thrusts a hand under Thomas's arm and hauls the man easily to his feet. "I'm going to take Tom to calm down.
"Why don't you all," he speaks this slowly, with precision and gravity, "just go on home and forget about all this?"
[-divine-] [Roll WP to resist this!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 4, 7, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
to Will Talbot
[Will Talbot] WP!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 5, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
to -divine-
[Jesmond Krutova] [WP!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 4, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Danicka Musil] [WP -2]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[-divine-] [1 succ -- you want to do as the man says, but it's not a HUGE urge, and it's not irresistible.]
to Will Talbot
[Jesmond Krutova] "No," Jesmond says, rising easily to her full height, her eyes untouched by his command. "I don't believe that's in anyone's best interests and you removing this man," she nods at Tom, "from my sight right now is against the advice of a trained Nurse. He's on the verge of a complete mental and physical break down."
A beat, Jesmond smiles, as if determined to be resolutely sorry for the truth.
[Danicka Musil] It hits home, when she sees that put-together blond man who reminded her of pop-collared douchebags hitting on her like she'd be lucky to be their slam piece for the night, that she doesn't have any power here. The gun in her lap is almost too big for her to lift, much less fire without it taking her arm off. She probably won't get hurt if she just packs up and goes home. She'll probably be tortured, brutalized, violated and killed if she stays.
She doesn't know what he is, but he isn't good. And Tom's scared. And Tom, well.
Danicka kind of gets where Tom's at right now.
He tells them they should go home. And no, she won't forget about all this. But she also doesn't know what she's doing here anymore, what she's accomplishing by staying.
Jesmond stands up, smiles, and tells the man
No. Danicka's eyes, green in this light, flick over to the other Shadow Lord. And Ray, also of her tribe. She breathes in, exhales, and very gently thumbs the safety off of the weapon in her lap. That takes as much effort as anything else. That is, perhaps, the most defiant thing she can do right now. Give up, a little, on safety.
"Well, I'm sort of with them, here," she explains, and shrugs one shoulder.
[-1WP]
[Will Talbot] There is a moment when Will stands there, touched by the command in the stranger's voice. In the Regional Director's voice. He doesn't remember, exactly, why they came in that moment. The hysteria of the inspector, Tom, has been filtered away. Then the cringing, sweaty stranger is hit in the shoulder by the swinging door and does not react. Then Jesmond stands up, looks directly at Lindon, and defies him. Tears and snot are still running down Tom Fulton's face - otherwise now eerily blank.
"Get him out of here, would you?" Will says to Jesmond, steeling himself. Then, he taps Mr. Kranz on the shoulder. "Mr. Kranz? I apologize for this."
And sucker punches him. What the hell.
[-divine-] They are a group of charismatic people. They have clout in their respective fields, or could if they but tried. They're able, capable, brave, strongwilled.
They are, quite frankly, used to getting their way when they want.
Yet this man -- this smiling, affable, blond man -- seems utterly impervious to their attempts to persuade or charm or browbeat or intimidate. He simply looks coolly at them, smiling quizzically, as though puzzled or charmed by their attempts, and goes right on with his business.
"Don't worry," he reassures Jesmond. "I'll make sure he gets all the care he needs."
And then Will's tapping him on the shoulder, and Kranz is turning toward him with a look of vague irritation, and --
Will punches him.
[inits!]
[Danicka Musil] [+6]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6
[Jesmond Krutova] [+5]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10
[Will Talbot] +6!
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3 (Failure at target 6)
[-divine-] +7!
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1 (Botch x 1 at target 6)
[-divine-] [Init order:
Jesmond 15
Danicka 12
Will 9
Kranz 8
Ray -- effective zilch!]
[-divine-] [alert pool!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 8 (Failure at target 6)
[Will Talbot]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 5, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 7)
[Will Talbot]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 4, 5 (Botch x 2 at target 6)
[Will Talbot]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[-divine-] [self damage, 2 effective suxx!]
[Will Talbot]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 5, 5, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[-divine-] Kranz takes 3 actions a round (not rage or split actions):
1. Grapple Will
2. Dislocate arm
3. Commanding Voice: "LEAVE. FORGET."
[Will Talbot] [1a. Hit dude with paperweight!
1b. Hit dude with paperweight!]
[Danicka Musil] [1a. 3RB on Kranz]
[Jesmond Krutova] Jesmond just looks at Kranz as if he's attempting to flatter while she's elbow deep in used bed-pans, then when Will distracts him by sucker-punching [or attempting to at any rate] Jesmond grabs for Tom, propelling him out of the office post haste; Imogen taking up the slack of the man's other side.
[1. Take Tom out of the field of action!]
[-divine-] [For the record: Ray grabs samples and runs. Imogen is helping Jesmond.]
[Danicka Musil] [COME ON, YOU BITCH, GIMME WHAT I CAME HERE FOR.]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 7, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 7)
[Danicka Musil] [6 + 1 (talen) + 3: YESSS MY LEETLE BEETCH.]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[-divine-] [ow!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[-divine-]
BOOM.
This ain't no polite little 9mm. That recoil knocks Danicka back in her chair; the report echoes off the walls in this tiny drab little office, deafens them all. It makes a big, bloody hole in Kranz and sends him staggering back against the doorjamb.
Down the hall, Ms. Fairchild decides that
definitely isn't a normal sound to hear at 7:14pm on a Thursday night.
[Danicka Musil] "OW!" That's overcome by the sound of the firearm, truth be told, but everyone in the room can see Danicka jerk backwards, nearly toppling, her arms
vibrating from the effort of holding onto the gun that just nearly broke them. She looks faintly surprised with herself.
[Will Talbot] Dex + Melee -2
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 4 (Failure at target 5)
[Will Talbot] -3!
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 6, 7 (Success x 3 at target 5) [WP]
[Will Talbot] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[-divine-] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[-divine-]
KranzGrapple!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[-divine-] Dislocate! Diff -2 (grappled) +2 (special attack).
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 7, 7, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[-divine-] [Bashing damage - 3+ after soak = dislocated shoulder!]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 4, 4, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Will Talbot] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 4, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[-divine-] Will comes in with -- not a sword, not a blade, not some ancestral heirloom of his father's father, but a
snow globe. It depicts a winter scene in Times Square. It says
New York City, 2007 and
Merry Xmas!!!.
He brings it down on Kranz's temple as hard as he can. Twice. It bounces off the man, whose body feels hard as wood, hard as iron under that off-the-rack suit.
Then Kranz turns, a glassy smile on his face, and grabs Will by the wrist. Bends it behind the Silver Fang kin. Presses his forearm to the man's upper back, bears him against the doorjamb still smeared with Kranz's blood -- and
wrenches.
Will can feel the ligaments in his shoulder tear; can feel the joint pop out of alignment. That did not feel good.
[3B + dislocated main arm. Take off-hand diff mods for all hand to hand attacks!]
[Will Talbot] Will's good arm hangs at an unnatural angle, the ligaments torn, wrench out of joint. There's blood on his face from the spatter where Danicka shot the unnatural bureaucrat; where Jesmond stabbed him.
"Leave her
alone." He kicks out again, attempting to knock the hissing man from his feet.
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 6, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6) [WP]
[-divine-] Kranz goes sprawling, a flailing arm knocking a shelf askew on Tom's bookcase. Books and binders and journals and papers spill everywhere. Down the hall, they can hear Ms. Fairchild quickening her steps.
[2. Changed to getting up!
3. Bite Jesmond!]
[-divine-] [chomp!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 5, 6, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[-divine-] [damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 7, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Jesmond Krutova] [owww. don't be biting me, foul loathesome creature! /hermione]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 4, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[-divine-] Given the fangs dropped from the roof of his mouth, the slithering forked tongue, the eyes that are rapidly becoming flat, becoming slit-pupiled, it's almost absurd that Kranz's blood is still red as it is. But it is. Soaking his shirt down, bathing him in a spreading red stain with every beat of his heart.
Even so, he's surreally fast. Smooth and steady, every motion performed as though he moved on rails, on ball-bearings, on a reptile's cold balance.
[5L on Kranz still. -2 soak now.
3B on Will still.
1 more round before Alison Fairchild sees what's going on in here.]
[-divine-] [Kranz
1. Bite Will!
2. Disarm Jesmond!
3. Throw knife at Danicka!]
[Will Talbot] Will: [what the hell. SWEEP AGAIN.]
[Danicka Musil] [1a. 3RB
1b. 3RB]
[Jesmond Krutova] [I really think I'm getting the hang of this 'stabbing' thing.
1. Going for the neck again!]
[Jesmond Krutova] [Stab! for the neck again. Let's open you up!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 2, 6 (Success x 1 at target 5) [WP]
[Jesmond Krutova] [Damage, lulz.]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 4, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[-divine-] [bleeding soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 4, 5 (Failure at target 6)
[Danicka Musil] [Oh no, I did NOT move out of Queens for this shit!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 3, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5)
[-divine-] [now losing 2 soak per turn]
[Danicka Musil] [I USED TO KILL SNAKES IN NAWLINS, BITCH. YOU AIN'T SHIT.]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[-divine-] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 3, 8 (Failure at target 6)
[-divine-] [ack! x_x]
[Danicka Musil] [CONSERVING BULLETS NAO]
[Danicka Musil] [1b. Grab Weepy Tom's tissues, wipe frantically at gun, computer, desk. Lulz.]
[-divine-] There's a startling viciousness in the two Shadow Lords. You wouldn't expect it of either of them -- the aloof, demure brunette or the pretty, stylish blonde. Suddenly one's slashing throats and the other's wielding a hand cannon and
Kranz's head snaps back from that last burst of bullets. Dark blood spatters the walls. He tumbles back into the bookcases, knocks down a cascade of shelves, books, papers, slides boneless and dead to the ground -- just in time for Alison Fairchild to appear in the door
not to scream, not to shriek, not to do any of this, but to point a gun at them.
Her eyes fly all over the room. Danicka, wiping down keyboard, gun, everything. Jesmond, covered in arterial blood. Will, one arm hanging limp. Curiously, she doesn't look at her dead boss at all. Nevermind that he's lying there with his brains blown out, his throat gashed open, his mouth full of fangs.
"Which side!" she barks at them. "
Which side are you on!"
[Danicka Musil] Danicka doesn't stop wiping. "Jesus Christ, woman, what side do you
think?" she snaps. "The one without snake-fangs and forked tongues. Mother of
god."
She's shaking. All over.
[Will Talbot] "Not his." Will declares, rather obviously, stepping deliberately into the doorway, filling it with his large frame, to shield Danicka and Jesmond from the sweep of the weapon's barrel. His face is drawn, white from the pain beneath his tan. His eyes seems sharper in relief. There's blood on his cheek, in the bristle of his beard.
"Clearly."
[Jesmond Krutova] The letter opener is still poised in Jesmond's hand when Kranz is finally, fatally, put down. She doesn't lower it until Alison Fairchild barks her frightened demand at them; and it is lowered, blood still dripping from the end of it. There's blood sprayed across her cheeks; in her hair, sticky in her lashes where its drying.
She lets Danicka; frantically wiping, and Will, wan with pain answer her as she steps over to Tom's desk, calmly plucks two tissues from the dispenser with trembling, unsteady hands all her own and wipes over the letter opener; sets it back down where she'd found it devoid of her marks.
Picks up her disguarded purse on the seat. "Whose side are
you on," she says finally; turning to look at the woman dead on, clinging to her sanity by threads.
[-divine-] A moment of silence, tension.
Then Alison Fairchild flicks the safety back on her gun and sets it atop a file cabinet.
"Gaia's," she says. "I'll help you."
--
She's kin to the Glass Walkers, it turns out. They had suspicions. They planted her in here to keep an eye on Kranz, and to sabotage him when she could. She's worked here for two years, three months.
It takes them no more than ten minutes to decide what to do. In that time the blood on the walls starts to drip, starts to run cold. They decide to fabricate a story; domestic terrorism, some employee
snapping, something of the sort. They fought in self defense. Alison pulled the trigger.
They call the police and Will's connections help; his charm helps; their ability to lie, and lie convincingly, helps. They're questioned all night and then they get to go home. They're told they might be called as witnesses at the trial. There's going to be a trial, after all, to determine whether or not the homicide was justifiable.
Alison Fairchild does not go home tonight.
--
Neither does Thomas A. Fulner. While the other kin were upstairs killing Kranz, Imogen and Ray take him to Hill House. There, he calls his wife and children. They sleep there overnight.
In the morning, Friday, Thomas agrees to get the ball rolling on an investigation. A team of inspectors drive up to Elk Grove and confiscate foodstuffs from the kitchen. Thomas is not amongst them. He turned in his resignation immediately after calling the investigation. Hill House boards him for three days, and then he and his family leave town, moving somewhere else, starting over.
When the Hive looks for its string to pull, it finds them dead, or gone.
--
Over the next few days, after the Garou raid and cleanse the place, the USDA analyzes its samples. The IRS audits tax records. All sorts of shit hits the fan for the Elk Grove Community Center. Soon after the raid, the kin call the local newspapers and leak the story to the media.
Feeding frenzy is an appropriate metaphor. Local evening news reports are full of images of angry churchgoers, outraged soccer moms, picketing parents, teenagers shrugging and going
That's messed up, dude. Why would anyone do that?The Elk Grove Neighborhood Improvement Association won't last long in the face of that. A few weeks later, the EGCC closes its doors.
A few days after that, backed by funds from Ostermann and Talbot's firms, supplied by Hill House in Chicago, the Tabernacle of the Divine Savior reopens the EGCC as an official annex.
In the Umbra, the knights begin to rebuild.
