She's going to find you

Hunger
It was around 7:00 am when the Denver PD got the call about a homicide over at the Hill-top Tavern. The owner found the body when he dropped by to take inventory: a young man in his early 20's who'd been beaten to death and dumped in the alley beside the bar. Alex was one of the cops called in to the scene, and by the time he got there the lead Detectives were already ordering the area taped off and swept for evidence. It was a grisly crime. Denver had its share of homicides, like any large city, but human brutality was never an easy sight to digest. The owner of the bar, a man named Harry Corbin, was a 63 year old long-time Denver resident. When he was young, he'd done a tour of duty in Vietnam. He'd witnessed brutality and death before, but looking at him now, talking to the Detectives with a cigarette shaking in his hand, you'd think he'd just seen a fucking monster.
Maybe just the remnants of what that monster left behind.
The victim was a John Doe. There didn't seem to be any form of identification on him. No wallet. No cell phone. Probably whoever killed him had taken these things. His face was unrecognizable: broken and bloody from blunt-impact strikes. From the way he lay on the pavement, sprawled face-up with his limbs twisted at odd angles, he had at least a few broken bones. Once, his hair might have been something close to pale brown, but the soft curls were now matted with caked blood. He had a light bone structure. Maybe around 5'10" in height, though it was hard to tell with the way his legs were twisted. His clothes were scuffed and torn, and his body was marbled with bruises.
Someone had pulled out all of his teeth, and the word: WEAK was carved into his chest.
Officer Brandt
Morning roll call had just ended, with the usual check of uniform and gear, attendance check, assignments, information on missing and wanted people... A normal start to a normal day. Today’s assignment was to a patrol car – an assignment which usually involves trying to clear the backlog of parking complaints and people driving off from gas stations without paying. It’s all low priority work though.
So he’s driving towards the first name and address Dispatch had passed – a complaint about a car parked on someone’s lawn – when the radio buzzes into life again. A new dispatch to a homicide and it’s not particularly local. But then a pile-up on the interstate will tie up officers and drag them in from further afield. Hitting the switch for the lights, he swings the car round and makes his way. Cars may not be as visceral as bikes to drive at speed, but he still gets a buzz – even now – from weaving through traffic and making pretty good speed.
He’s not amongst the first there – a couple of other cops and the Detectives from Homicide are already there. He catches the request for a cordon as he’s getting out of the car and calls out that he’ll take care of it. The other officers already at the scene are clearing out the bar and surroundings. The yellow tape is stored away in the back of the car and it’s barely the work of minutes to create a barrier. It’s a job which would have gone faster if he wasn't looking around so much as he wound the tape around street lights and trash cans. Not looking for anything in particular, just anything that might be out of place in the surrounding. Feeling for it, too. Reaching out for any sense of resonance that might have been left behind.
Tape placed and returned to the trunk, he makes his way towards the deceased. He doesn’t get close enough to risk contaminating anything with his presence, but close enough to get a decent idea of what might have happened and whether or not it happened in the alley.
[Per+Awareness, in case anything went bump in the night]
Roll: 4 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 4, 9) ( success x 1 )
[Per+Investigation]
Roll: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 8) ( success x 2 )
Hunger
He had to be careful here, Alexander did. This was his job, and certain protocols were expected of him. But he was subtle in the way he surveyed the crime scene, taking in whatever clues he could glean by sight and sense alone. As he cordoned off the alley, a small group of pedestrians paused to observe the activity from across the street. They couldn't see much from their position, so they dispersed after a few minutes.
As he worked, Alex felt a prickle of resonance on his skin. Like a cold, lingering echo. It hovered in the air around the body: this ravenous hunger, gnawing and primal.
There was blood on the ground where the body lay, but not as much as one might expect. There didn't appear to be any splatter on the walls or the pavement, which one would expect from a beating of this severity. It seemed probable that the beating itself, along with the body's mutilation, had occurred in another location. So then, how and why did the victim end up at the Hill-top Tavern? That was a question that could not be so easily answered.
A woman from the CSI unit was crouched beside the body, carefully checking it over. She paused now and then to jot down her notes. As she worked, one of the detectives joined her: a middle aged woman with short, dark hair and a sharp profile.
"Got an estimate on time of death?"
"Only a few hours. Three or four, tops."
The detective nodded and grew silent for a moment. Her eyes traveled from the victim's chest to the ruined mess of his face. "... Why the teeth?"
(Why any of it?)
Officer Brandt
He is careful. There are procedures to follow at any crime scene, especially when there’s a fatality with potentially material evidence to collect. Contamination could lead to evidence being disqualified, which could lead to the perpetrator to escape their justice. Only there’s the possibility that that this perp in this particular case isn’t likely to see a courtroom. He stays close to the detective and CSI, though – close enough to overhear what they’re talking about.
First, there’s the remnants of a resonance. The voracious hunger for… What? Blood? Could this be related to the vampire infestation that they had stumbled over at the Black Orchid? The lack of blood certainly suggested something feeding. Although hadn’t Kalen told him about that thing on Ginger, that Sera and Elijah had bumped into..? That was feeding too. But then there’s also the possibility that the act took place somewhere else and this was just a body dump. He checks around the nearby alley for tire tracks – you never know…
Why the teeth..? “Because it stops us identifying him?” It slips out before he realises that he’s spoken, and the two turn to look at him. “I mean. His face is mashed, so we can’t use photos. Taking the teeth takes away dental records.” He coughs, clearing his throat, a little embarrassed at speaking up and at getting their attention. “I’ll just, um…” He points a thumb over his shoulder and starts to step back from them.
Why was the guy weak, though? That part was obviously a message, but for who? He isn’t familiar enough with the gangs in the city to know if there’s a turf war going on in these parts. It’s a possibility, but it doesn’t really fit in with the other bits and pieces. Not unless it’s a supernatural gang of blood-eating… things.
[Int - kiddo should have studied more!]
Roll: 2 d10 TN7 (3, 9) ( success x 1 )
Hunger
When Alexander spoke up, the detective turned to look at him over her shoulder. There was a pensive expression on her face, and she gave a small nod as though to indicate approval. "That's likely."
The forensics worker pulled back the torn remnants of the victim's shirt carefully. As she began to collect samples from the knife wounds, the detective paused again to consider the state of the body.
"The mutilations may be connected though. This was something they wanted us to see." (But who was the message intended for, exactly? The police? The bar owner?) The detective got to her feet and walked over to where her male partner was still interviewing the owner of the bar. She pulled him aside, and they began to speak in hushed tones. Meanwhile, the CSI team continued to sweep the scene for evidence. They didn't seem to pay Alex's presence much mind. They were all there to do a job, and so long as he didn't get in their way, they assumed he was doing his part.
Officer Brandt
Alexander only moves a little, at least to start. Enough to move around the centre of the scene to get different views. If he was even vaguely religious, he’d probably say a mental prayer for the deceased. But he isn’t, so he thinks more of the family that was left behind. The guy was young. Maybe he’d always lived in the city, or came here to find work or a qualification. Wherever he’d come from, he most likely had people waiting behind. Waiting for him to call, or walk through the door. How long would they wait?
The poor soul’s body is absolutely mangled. Whoever had done it had spent a lot of time being very, very thorough. He can only hope that he was dead before they really got started. Life doesn’t often work that way, though. And Alexander? May have a restless night or two coming up.
So this is a message. Two immediate questions spring to mind. Who is sending the message? Who is the message for? And Weak. Who is weak? Again, the deceased, the sender, or the unknown recipient?
The detectives will already have looked around for idea of how the body got here, and the CSIs will tear the place apart looking too. But at the moment, the scene is safe and secure and Alexander doesn’t have much to do beyond keeping watch. So he repeats the search that they had performed before his arrival. Blood spatter, blood trails, tyre tracks, foot prints, anything that you wouldn’t expect to find in an alleyway. Regardless of whether he finds anything, there’s something else he’s keeping an eye out for. Something with a reflection.
Hunger
There were no tire tracks in the alley, but there were some in the street just in front of it. They were faint, just a couple of small marks on the pavement from where someone had hit the brakes a bit hard. They might not have been related to the crime, but they looked fresh enough that the possibility was certainly there. The alley itself was a bit cluttered. There were two large green dumpsters against the outside wall of the Tavern, and one had been pulled open and sifted through. Bits of garbage lay scattered along the ground nearby. Nothing unusual: old food, balled up paper towels. The remnants of a broken pint glass were lying just beneath the open dumpster.
There were no visible footprints anywhere near the body.
Officer Brandt
The tyre tracks could be relevant, could be connected with a body dump. They’re something that a fair degree of gruntwork might be able to tie back to a particular make, maybe even a particular vehicle. He whistles, getting the attention of one of the techs coming and marking and documenting the scene. They would be interested and, hopefully, he’d be able to sneak a peek at the report later.
The bins contain old food, and that presents another possible source of information. The invisible that vanish when there is too much light. Especially when those lights are red and blue, as it’s not unknown for a few officers to take out their anger and aggression on those who will never be missed and never be believed. The homeless. He makes a note to come back and see if any make this area home.
There is one possible lead that he can follow here and now, and the glass will give him the opportunity to check it out. He’s still learning what happens when somebody dies and the spirit separates from the body. But he’s fairly sure that there’s a chance that the spirit could still be here. And, hopefully, the spirit will be more recognisable as an individual than the body they left behind. It’s worth a shot. He looks down at the glass and looks through his reflection, forcing his will on this little corner of reality.
[Spirit sight. Base TN4, but it doesn’t look like anyone’s in any rush here so -1 for taking time.]
Dice: 1 d10 TN3 (2) ( fail )
Officer Brandt
[And trying again, because spirits don't wait forever. +1 diff, lobbing WP this time.]
Dice: 1 d10 TN4 (10) ( success x 2 ) [WP]
Hunger
Alex retrieved one of the larger pieces of glass and used it to help focus his sight, gazing past his own reflection until flickers of the spirit world began to show at the edges of his vision. Alex looked past the gauntlet into the penumbral landscape on the other side of the glass, until finally that silvery half-world came into focus.
He could still see the physical plane where he stood: the cops, the investigators, the body, the dumpsters. But now it was overlaid by another world. A reflection.
And when he looked over at the dumpsters, he'd see a young man crouched atop the closed cover of one of the bins, staring down at the body with this distant, curious cast. The man had a mess of curly, sandy-brown hair and pale eyes. He was dressed in the same clothes as the victim, and looked about the right body type.
Suddenly he looked up, as though he could feel Alexander's eyes watching him.
"They didn't eat me," he said. He almost sounded wounded.
Officer Brandt
He looks at the glass and he Looks through to the other side. He had hoped to just get a look at the guy’s spirit, something to guide him in sifting through the missing person reports to find any likely matches.
He hadn’t expected the guy to talk to him. But he’s aware of people still around him, getting on with their own tasks like ants around a hive. Plenty of people to notice how oddly he’s acting if he starts talking to a dumpster. He pulls out his mobile, holding it against his head as if he were holding a conversation with someone in another place.
Which isn’t that far from the truth.
“You… wanted them to? Why?” He’s surprised by the recognition and by the disappointed statement, so he can’t help but ask. But, then, he remembers his manners. “It’s Alexander, by the way. What’s your name?”
Hunger
"Oliver." He smiled, and something about the slant of the morning light made his teeth gleam like knives, but the smile faltered when he looked again at the body on the ground.
"It's what we do. We eat each other. Predators and prey. But they only eat the strong." The man hopped down from the dumpster and walked over to the ruined mess of his former body. The forensics worker continued to collect her samples, oblivious to the supernatural occurrences around her. One of the other cops glanced at Alex on his phone, but his attention only lingered a passing moment.
"I used to be like you," the ghost said, his voice a distant whisper. "Then she found me, and she showed me how to be different. Stronger. The wolf, not the sheep. But I failed her. I wasn't strong enough. I was so... hungry. I couldn't control it. This is what happens to weak wolves. They're a liability."
He turned around and approached Alex, and the look in his eyes grew bright and sharp.
"I'm still so hungry... But they took my teeth, see?" This time when he smiled, there was nothing but bloody sockets where his teeth ought to have been. Blood dripped in a thin rope from his lower lip.
Officer Brandt
Oliver. Alexander nods, starts to smile but that dies when he other man’s smile reminds him of a predator’s. “Nice talking to you, Oliver. I just wish it was in better circumstances.”
There’s stunned silence after Oliver says that they eat each other. “How many of you are there? You all… do that? On each other?” There’s a slight shake of his head, disbelief that this could happen. What the hell could get somebody to…” He shudders.
This does, suddenly, sound like the guy Sera and Elijah had seen. When Oliver makes his was back towards Alex, Alex turns and moves a little further away from the others. A little more distance, a little more safety for their conversation. “What do you mean like me? You Woke Up? Are… Were all of you Awake?” Suddenly he’s a little more worried. Having something picking out random Sleepers is bad enough. But there’s over half a million of those in the city. If whatever’s going on is interested in the Awakened, then the lunch menu has become much smaller and much closer to home. The others will need to know.
“Who did this? Who is this ‘she’? And… What did she do to you?”
He can’t help but wonder if this guy got what he deserved. If he had been eating others then, if anything, this sounds like poetic justice. But he wasn’t alone. There are others and they need to be stopped. This needs to end.
“I don’t think you’re going to be eating anything else. I wish I could tell you what happens next, but I think that might be something you need to work out for yourself.”
Hunger
Alex tried to seek out something like reason or clarity from Oliver's ramblings, but the dead man just opened his mouth and began to laugh. The sound was like a hyena, high and fast and more than a little unhinged.
"We all eat each other, Alexander. The rich eat the poor. The strong eat the weak. I used to be a sheep, but she made me a wolf."
His voice slurred in the absence of teeth, thick and lisped and utterly wrong-sounding.
"If I were you, I'd pray I never meet her. You and the others... you're all fucking prey. She's going to find you. She and the others. They're going to hunt you down, and then they're going to cut out your heart and eat your strength until there is nothing of you left but bones."
The light in Oliver's eyes was a mad, predatory glow. He walked backwards a few steps, slowly, until his body shimmered and broke apart like wisps of smoke and fog. As he disappeared, he left echoes of laughter in his wake.
Officer Brandt
Oliver disappears. To head towards that great river, maybe? Who knows, other than Oliver himself, what happens to him from here. Alexander, though? Alexander watches him move away and drift away and..? The hand holding the phone drifts down to his side and he just stands, stunned. The others are going to need to know. Whoever this She is needs to be found. And this needs to be stopped.
That will happen a little time later, when he can have a proper conversation without worrying about being overheard or wire taps or government monitoring for certain keywords. Face to face with the others, or over Ginger. Once he gets that burner phone he picked up to Grace and gets it set up.
The others needs to know.