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Triple Murder in Riderside, Rebooted


Dr Archeville

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Despite his imposing manner and frightening demeanor, Avenger didn't actually seem hostile. Indeed, standing perfectly still with his gloved hands at his sides, he was the perfect picture of composure during Scarab's little seance. "Good. Avenger." He didn't offer to shake hands; his own clad in tightly-fitting motorcycle gloves with a lot of wear and tear in the knuckles.

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As Elena's mind races back through the corridors of time, her mind's eye sees nothing but blue light at first.

Slowly the light fades so it is but a border around her vision, and she sees the same spot in the living, but many hours earlier. It is still dark, as dark as it is now, but the room is clean and normal, and the only sound is that of thunder from the raging storm.

Suddenly, movement, from above and the back. She could just make out Richard running down the stairs and towards the back door, flicking on a light as he went. He opened the door, and there in the pouring rain stood a very attractive woman with long brunette hair and piercing green eyes (very much like Sophie Marceau, oddly enough), wearing nothing but scarlet lingerie.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" she cried, running to him with such force as to push him back into the house, into the kitchen, then clung to him.

Elena didn't need her telepathy to know that almost the exact same words were running through Richard's head.

"Quick, please, shut the door, before they see me!"

"Who? Whoah, whoah, hold on now-"

"No, please, close the door, those men will find me!" She moved behind him, away from the door, cowering. "Please!"

"Okay, okay, settle down, it's alright," Richard said, closing the door. "What's going on? What men? Muggers?"

"Yes, yes, muggers, beastly men, they stole my purse and jewelry, then tore off my dress and said they would... would... oh!" She fell to the linoleum floor, breathing hard, almost curled to a fetal position.

"Alright, okay, you're safe now, we'll just call the cops. Mom!," he called out, "Mom! Grampa! Wake up!"

Joan came down, and Maury soon after. Both of their eyes practically bugged out at the site of the woman.

They all escorted her to the living room. Joan then started to head back to the kitchen, stopped, went back to the living room, tugged at her father's pyjama sleeve, and had him go and get something for the jangled woman to drink, to calm her. It was bad enough with her son ogling the woman, she didn't need her father doing the same.

At length, the woman seemed to calm down; she sat on the couch next to Richard, while Joan sat in a chair across from them and Maury stood, leaning on the back of the sofa. She said her name was Danielle Sylvie, and she repeated her story, about a gang of men who attacked her, stole her purse and jewelry, and tore off her clothes in preparation to... she stopped, sobbing.

Joan reassured the woman of her safety in the house, and introduced her family ("Please, call me Rich!"). She rose to give Danielle a hug, and told he father to go call the police. Maury shuffled off into the kitchen, Danielle rose, and Richard leaned a bit to get a good view of her behind.

Joan and Danielle hugged... and hugged... and then Joan fell to the ground.

"M... Mom?" Richard's voice quavered as he looked back and forth between his mother and the woman of his dreams. The woman who was now holding an index finger to her lips and shushing him, even as her nails extended into wicked talons.

The woman slinked off towards the kitchen, and Richard scrambled to his mother's side. He tried to wake her, but couldn't. Suddenly his attention was drawn to a loud crash in the kitchen, followed by his grandfather calling out for help. Then a gunshot, from the shotgun he knew Maury kept hidden in the kitchen, followed by a gasp and then a gurgle.

Then the woman slinked back, in an exaggeratedly seductive walk. Her claws and the front of her were covered in blood. Several shotgun pellets, clinging to her due to the blood, slowly fell of her, leaving a trail behind her.

"That wasn't very nice of him, Richie," Danielle said in an eerily part-purr, part-hiss tone. "And after I came all this way, just for you!", she said in a tone that was all honey.

"F-for me? But... what? What's going on?!"

"Oh, silly boy -- don't you know to be careful what you wish for?"

"You did wish for me, right? All those spells you were looking up, all those sites you were visiting." She licked some of the blood off her talons.

"What? Those.. no, no! Those were just... they... they couldn't have been real!"

"Oh, but they were, Richie. They were. Except..." suddenly she was right next to him, her hand around his throat, lifting him several inches off the ground, "you were off in a lot of ways. So while I am here, I'm not bound to serve you. Which means I get to have some fun."

Her "fun" starts by throwing him into the dining area, into the table, cracking it in half and knocking him unconscious.

She then moves their bodies to the couch, and places the very dead Maury -- his throat torn out and a massive gash on his left arm -- in between them.

Then she starts to work, first on Maury's corpse, giving Joan & Richard time to regain consciousness. By the time they've woken, they find they are unable to move due to their bindings. Bindings made form Maury's intestines.

And then she starts working on them, with the unabashed glee of someone working out a lot of frustrations.

After many hours of horrific torture, all three were finally dead, and their bodies were drained almost completely of blood. Numerous implements from the kitchen had been used to paint the symbols on the walls, and the tools now laid strewn about the floor. She then went to the downstairs bathroom, washed her hands fairly thoroughly, then went upstairs, out of the vision. After what seemed somewhere between a minute and an hour, she came back into the scene, wearing what Scarab guessed were a pair of Joan's jeans, a dark blue blouse, and some comfortable shoes. Danielle went through the ground floor closet and pulled out a long coat, put it on, then went though the house (popping out of the vision when she went upstairs and popping back in when she returned), cramming assorted small valuables into her pockets. Though all of this, she was quite calm and cool, the complete opposite of the raging emotions she was exhibiting earlier.

Once she'd taken her fill, she went to the kitchen, picked up the phone, began to hyperventilate, then dialed 911. "Please, please, you've go to send someone over! My father's been mugged, I think he may be hurt! Please, please come quick!" She then set the phone down (did not hang up, just set it down), walked out the back door, and out of Scarab's sight.

The vision faded, the blue light coming in again, and her mind's eye went back a bit further.

As the light receded around the edges of her vision, at first all she saw was the knife that the man in black had given to her, held by someone all in black. The vision cleared, and Elena recognized the person: it was Richard, in his bedroom which was filled with cloying smoke and strains of Emo music (Fall Out at the Disco).

He sat on his bed, with the knife in one hand and printouts from a computer in the other, printouts covered in odd symbols (some of which Elena recognized from the walls). The knife drew blood as he made shallow cuts across his forearm, though the pain seemed to elicit no reaction. He then traced some of the symbols with the dripping knife, but seemed disappointed that nothing happened.

A voice from far away -- his mother -- called his name, and he tossed the knife and papers under his bed, pulled the pushed-up sleeves of his shirt down to cover the fresh wounds (and faint scars), and bolted downstairs.

Elena's mind reeled back through the red-limned corridors of time to the present, leaving her slightly disoriented.

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"Madre de Dios..." The Scarab looked down, shook her head, and rose to her feet. "In a way, I can relate to Richard Dickson. We both toyed with powers beyond our understanding or control. Those powers were simultaneously impressed with our insolence and amused with our ambition. So they both decided to punish us in the manner gods favor most...they gave us exactly what we asked for."

She studied the arcane symbols painted on the walls, then waved her thumb toward the upstairs. "There's more information on the boy's computer. That's where he learned how to summon the demon that...did this. But, unfortunately for him, not how to properly bind it. I'd like to get a copy of those symbols. My library may have more information on the rites he used, which could lead us to the demon currently running free on the streets of Freedom City."

She looked around the living room. "This took hours. They didn't die quickly, nor quietly. I'm surprised no one heard anything. The police didn't even arrive until the killer herself called them. She had a...singular sense of humor. She enjoyed her work. Thoroughly."

She started pacing around the room as she spoke. "Apparently, the demon lacked means of self-propulsion, since she took the time to clean and re-clothe herself. I don't understand why she also took the time to rob the place, though. After all that carnage, theft seems...petty."

"If her form remains constant, we're looking for a Caucasian woman with green eyes and long brown hair. She actually looked a lot like that French actress, Sophie Marceau. She was in Braveheart, and she was a Bond Girl in one of the Pierce Brosnan flicks. The name she gave was 'Danielle Sylvie.' It could be fake, but on the other hand, with no surviving witnesses, she had no reason to hide her identity. Could be a reference. Or maybe it's an anagram of some kind. Horrors from Beyond seem to like anagrams..."

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"But first, I'd like to see what's in the basement outside. And if there's anything interesting in this footlocker. Pardon me for a moment, gentlemen." The Scarab once more took to hovering over the floor, interlocked her legs together in a sitting "lotus position" a few feet above the ground, and let her mind run free once more.

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"Graffiti," Avenger pronounced, looking over the walls with deep disgust evident in his dark voice. "Horrors, and then graffiti. They are gang signs." He cocked his head at Slamdance. "You should take computer. Can't type." He held up his heavily-gloved hands for emphasis. When Scarab eventually came out of his trance, Avenger went on. "I know a few places she might go. City's clubs cater to all kinds."

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The Scarab unfolds her legs and stands down to the ground. "Looks like someone left the lights off. I'll check the basement the old-fashioned way." She walks out into the backyard. "Our murder suspect had the run of the house for the better part of an hour after she finished playing with her food, and she gave herself the unguided tour. I don't want to leave any stones unturned."

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What am I supposed to do with this? Avenger looked down at the footlocker suspiciously. Sure is a take-charge kinda guy. Wish he knew not all gritty avengers know how to open locks. After some deliberation, he picked up the discarded carving knife and drove it straight through the footlocker, cutting around the lock and prying it open. It was a slow, awkward job, one that required some time, but he was more than willing to keep at it.

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Scarab soon realizes that the only way to the basement is to go outside, around back, and in through a door near the patio. A switch inside, near the door, made the long fluorescent lights in the ceiling flicker on. It was a fairly basic basement, earthen floor and brick walls, a few wires and pipes overhead, the latter wrapped in insulation. Numerous boxes and crates were neatly stacked along the two furthest walls, sitting on top of a blue tarp. Another wall had a bike leaning against it, and the fourth wall had a workbench on which a second bike (missing its rear wheel) rested.

After a bit of searching, Slamdance finds a small set of tools and uses them to remove the hard drive from Richard's computer.

Avenger demolishes the section of plywood footlocker, in the process transferring some of the dried blood from the blade to the item of luggage. Inside is a neatly-folded military officer's uniform*, along with a few medals and a .45 caliber automatic pistol.

* Know (civics or tactics) check if you want to know what branch & rank the uniform indicates or what the medals signify.

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Jack felt a surge of guilt break through him that pushed right through the grim dark persona of Avenger. "Oh, Jesus..." He knelt down by the locker, apologetically reassembling the locker and its contents as best his limited abilities allowed. "I'm sorry..." he muttered. Robbing criminals is one thing; never people like this. Moving the locker in the corner, he carefully stacked everything there, absently trying to figure out the uniform and what it means.

Still feeling guilty, he dropped down to one knee, pressing his hand to his armored chin and thinking hard. Where would a demon looking for a good time go in my city?

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Avengers recognizes that it is an army uniform, of an enlisted (non-officer) rank.

The only medal he recognizes is the purple heart, awarded to those who were wounded (or killed) while serving in the military.

For a good time, a demon -- one who looks like an attractive woman -- might go to any nightclub for easily-duped victims. Or anywhere she could find easy pickings, like the Fens. Then again, Scarab said she robbed the place after she was done torturing the family, so maybe she has some material needs. Checking some of the local mystical shops might yield some useful leads as to anything new that's come into the city that might attract demonic attention.

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The Scarab floats back up from the basement and into the house. "The basement failed to yield any useful information. I know she didn't ride Richard's bicycle away. Are the family's vehicles all accounted for out front?"

"Once Slamdance is done with the computer, I'll do a final once-over of the crime scene. Shouldn't take me but a minute or two. Then I'll take the information home to my library, and see if I can come up with any leads. She kneels down next to the footlocker. "Did you find anything interesting in here?"

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"She partially exsanguinated one victim early on. But she seemed to derive far more enjoyment from making balloon animals out of their entrails."

Scarab once again assumed the yoga-style sitting position while hovering several feet above the ground. "I performed a cursory scan before. Now, before we leave, I'm going to go over this place with a fine-toothed comb. Would you kindly cover me for the next 2-3 minutes? This is very distracting."

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Slamdance heads up the stairs and into Richie's room. He powers up the computer and monitor, then looks around the room while the system boots up. Even though the room is dark he can make out the Fall Out at the Disco poster on the wall from the light of the monitor and street light. ''I always thought you would listen to that nü metal stuff over the emo/goth stuff, Richie. What happened to you that past few years? You were a fun loving guy. All of this stuff is pretty dark. What happened?' Sandro thinks to himself. The beep of the computer bring his thoughts back to the here and now. He spends a few minutes trying to figure out the log-in password. 'Not is birthday... not his mom's name... heck, it's not even Tracy' name and he's had a crush on her since kindergarten' he thinks in frustration. 'I can spend all night trying and not come up with it.'

He spends a couple of minutes thinking and then lets out a little "Yes" when it comes to him. He powers down the computer while spending a few minutes looking for what he needs. He finds a finger nail file, a couple of screw drivers and paper clips. 'Hope this works'. He pulls the power cord out of the wall and then proceeds to work. With a little grunting, he manages to pull the panel off and then remove the harddrive. He takes the drive and wraps it in some paper. Sandro then takes that, wraps it in a couple of shirts and then places the package in his backpack. 'I hope that keeps it safe until I can get it home. He then takes a look outside to make sure that nothing suspicious is going on... at least, nothing more suspicious than him and his two new friends. 'Speaking of which, I better get downstairs and see what they came up with. I should call my dad when I get a chance to make sure he doesn't worry, even though he's probably not home' He then runs down the stairs to meet up with Avenger and Scarab.

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After 3 minutes of silence and stillness, The Scarab uncoiled and looked up with a start. "Found something..." She turned and flew upstairs, then back down a few seconds later, into the kitchen. She waved at a drawer, which opened of its own accord. A pair of plastic zip-lock bags floated out."When you go 'hitting the shops,' here's something you can take with you." She waved her other hand, and a few strands of long brunette hair fell into the bags. The bags sealed themselves, then dropped, one into her hands, the other next to Avenger. "Our killer is as vain as she is sadistic. She stopped to clean herself up, and left us some trace evidence. I'll try to find a scientist who can check these for DNA. If 'hitting the shops' implies that you have contacts in the occult world, they might be able to divine something from those hairs."

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Avenger snorted as he took the hairs, neatly bagging them before slipping them away inside his costume. "Contacts everywhere. 'Swhat I do." He looked up with a nod as Slamdance came downstairs with the computer. "Good work. Better all get out and do our job. Scarab, Slamdance," he adds a moment later, "Professional. Competent. Surprised me. I'll remember."

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"I need time to sort through this harddrive. And you guys, I'm guessing, need to do your thing. When and where should be meet back up?" Slamdance responds while trying not to beam to much from Avenger's compliment. "I figure I need at least 2 to 3 hours to find, possible less." He looks at the two others, waiting to see how they answer.

"I really need to get a disposable phone. Something paid in cash, so it can't be traced, for these kind of circumstances.' Sandro thinks to himself.

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"Now that you are both known to me, I can contact you anytime. Not a perfect method, since only I can initiate it. And it can be unsettling for those not accustomed to such...direct communication. But still useful for logistical purposes." Scarab reaches into a pocket and pulls out a 3-inch-wide roll of white paper, perforated at every inch of length. A different 9-digit number is printed on each sheet. "And this should also help coordinate our efforts." She rips off two sheets and lets them rest in her outstretched palm. Predictably, they begin gliding through the air, one floating toward each of her new allies. "My lair is equipped with a state-of-the-art communications array, installed by Dædalus himself. You each have one of many different phone numbers that can reach me there, with almost no chance of the call being traced in either direction. If I don't pick up, just leave a message. And don't get too attached to your number. It's disposable, and will expire after a couple uses."

Scarab turns to Avenger. "Once you're done beating the grass to startle the snakes, call me and we can set up our next rendezvous. Oh, and before I forget." She reaches into another pocket, pulls out a bank-fresh bundle of cash, and tosses it to Avenger. Flipping through it reveals that it's made up of $100 bills. 100 in a standard bundle equals $10,000. "In case you need a carrot, to offset that big metaphorical stick in your other hand."

Then she turns to Slamdance. "Dædalus also installed my computer system. If you wish to accompany me, we can pool our resources, time, and effort toward analyzing these clues. But first, I have a pit-stop to make at the house of a certain internationally-renowned scientist..."

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"Stay out of my head," Avenger replied levelly, the ten thousand dollars an almost shocking green against the shiny black armored leather gloves wrapped tightly around his hands. "You might not like what you find. I'll call you," he added a moment later, slipping the money into his pocket. "Suggest we rendezvous in 24 hours. Status report. Be seeing you." And with that he was gone, disappearing into the darkness around him with the alacrity and stealth of a ghost.

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Avenger spent a busy, dangerous night on the streets of Freedom as he dug up all the information he could on "Danielle Lynn." He asked a 'sensitive' on Ditko Street named Maria who occasionally sold her blood to vampires (and was thus bribeable) to analyze the hairs collected from the murdering demoness as best she could, then had her do all she could to track that very demon with various low-level rituals. From there he hit the streets, shaking down and bribing informants, finding out the places in Freedom where demons congregated, looking for spots where a serial murderer with supernatural abilities would present herself. At the end of the night the bundle of cash he'd gotten from Scarab was considerably smaller and his knuckles considerably bloodier, but he certainly felt much more productive.

As dawn rose, Avenger crept into the library by the expedient measure of going in through the window. Down in the newspaper archives in the basement, taking advantage of a nearby laptop terminal, Avenger delved deeply into the city's supernatural underworld, hunting for the places where a demon on the loose might go.

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"So... do you have a Scarab-Mobile or should I just follow you?" Slamdance asks with a smile. He then bolts across the room before Scarab can answer in a blur of motion, stops to give a quick nod and salute, and moves back faster than is humanly possible. "Your choice. But if we can split up the work we can definitely get through this quicker." He tilts his head to the side, giving Scarab a crooked smile, waiting for the golden hero to respond.

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"So... do you have a Scarab-Mobile or should I just follow you?"

"Heh. No, I fly. If you can't, I can carry you, or you can follow on the ground. You certainly seem to move fast enough. While in my home, you will have full access to the facilities. But entry comes with one condition: either Trust, or Anonymity. Either you arrive and depart blindfolded, or you open your mind to me on one of two levels: Either a superficial level so that I can surgically erase your memory of the location, or a deeper sharing so I can verify that you can be trusted. The choice is yours. Of course, if you have alternate access to supercomputer, and require no assistance, then we can just meet up later. In either case, once we're through here, I'm off to see The Wizard."

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Slamdance pauses to consider a moment.

"As I'm sure your familiar, we all have secrets. It's a little to early for that level of trust. You understand if I take the blind fold... which is a sign of trust, if you take it that way." Sandro then closes his eyes, waiting for the blind fold to be placed.

'By the way, I don't want to run into anything, so if you can give me a lift to your... lair." he says with a grin.

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