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Witch Hunt [IC]


trollthumper

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"Sorry, kid," Malloy said. "Letting you view the scene was enough of an infringement. Now, you're free to walk around the woods at your leisure... once you come with me down to the station so you can explain who you're with. It's procedure, you know; we may have bucked it in this case, but everything's still gotta happen nice and proper."

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For a moment, Marcus fully recognized he could probably bolt and the officer would never catch him. That, however, would defeat the entire purpose of his being there. Outside of some extreme stroke of luck, he was going to be in trouble a lot sooner than he thought. "...I thought you might say that." He sighed, shaking his head. There was no sense in trying to run from it, after all...

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"I have something of a way with words."

"Ah," Eric said. "Well, I'm a bit verbose myself. Unless you mean you've got talents in the way of weighted words; those might prove to be useful, too. I wonder if --"

Eric was interrupted by an officer pushing the front doors open, leading in a somewhat burly teenage boy. "Jenkins, is the sheriff back?" he asked.

"Still leading Vigourie back from the airport, Malloy," Jenkins asked. "What's the problem?"

"This kid here wanted to take a look around the crime scene. Said he was an expert."

"Seems we're getting more of those."

"Yeah, well, he's got a Jersey driver's license, says his name is Marcus Irons, place of residence, Freedom City. Not really any other credentials on him, though, and I mean, look at him. I wanted to bring him in just so we could get this --"

"Marcus!" Eric strode across the floor to close the distance with the kid. "I thought I told you to come to the station! We were gonna take a look at the scene together! Man, where are my manners. Officers, this is Marcus Irons. He's my... intern."

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"Let's just say that so long as we're careful, and don't do anything stupid, I have a very good shot of keeping these people calm and somewhat friendly towards us."

He turns as the other officer enters with Marcus. He quirks an eyebrow at Eric's display, but doesn't question it...for now. He frowns at the mention of the sheriff meeting someone at the airport. He pulled out his cell phone, and made a quick call to this one guy he knew. A minute's conversation narrowed down his options to two people.

The first, a pundit, was highly unlikely. Which left the crackpot "expert" who would be looking for the first scapegoat possible. Gabriel closed his phone, his voice barely audible.

"Blasted narrow-minded blighter. He's going to mess this whole thing up. Lord preserve me and keep me in this trial..."

Ceasing his angry muttering, he quickly walked over to Eric. Glancing at the officers for just a moment, he looked back at the other man.

"We need to talk a second. ASAP."

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Marcus wanted to hide under a rock somewhere; in his heart of hearts, he knew he was busted. Had he really come all this way just to get himself into trouble? He didn't have any real way of getting out of this situation, and while he was pretty certain he wasn't under arrest, he'd put himself into a rather unfortunate and indefensible position.

"This kid here wanted to take a look around the crime scene. Said he was an expert."

"Seems we're getting more of those."

Marcus frowned; he never explicitly said he was an expert... just that he'd seen things like this before. And he had... in books. His one real mix-up with magic was hardly the same, and it wasn't even on the same plane of existence--a difficult thing to explain to someone not magically-inclined. And who would really believe that he scared off the Boogeyman?

"Yeah, well, he's got a Jersey driver's license, says his name is Marcus Irons, place of residence, Freedom City. Not really any other credentials on him, though, and I mean, look at him."

And what the heck is that supposed to mean?! Marcus's brow furrowed, betraying his irritation; the Beast Rune pushed at his psyche, making him feel a little bit lightheaded. Being treated like a child was definitely one of the young wizard's pet peeves, and though he managed not to say anything, his temper was threatening to get the better of him. At hearing his name again from a less familiar voice, Marcus looked up, blinking at the strange man walking towards them. Marcus didn't have a clue who he was, but for some odd reason, he was being vouched for. Fate really was jerking him around today. Still... when opportunity knocked, who was he not to answer?

"I... I'm sorry, sir. I guess I got a little bit ahead of myself."

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"It's okay, Marcus," Eric said. "I'm sorry for the confusion, officers, but Marcus tends to get involved in his work. He's definitely got an innate talent for the strange, though."

Jenkins and Malloy exchanged glances. "All right, Mr. LaCroix," Jenkins said. "Just tell him next time to make sure everything goes through proper channels."

"Don't worry, I will." Eric led Marcus over to where Gabriel was sitting. "Well, that's settled. At least for now. If they ask again, my name's Eric LaCroix, and you've been working with me for the past four months. Guessing you're here about the man in the woods, too." He turned to Gabriel. "And now that that's settled, what seems to be the problem?"

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Gabriel's face was all-business. He kept his voice down where only Eric and Marcus could hear him.

"The problem is worse than we feared. That "expert" they're bringing in, Vigourie? He's a real class act. A narrow-minded bigot who knows just enough to be dangerous, to whip crowds up into a frenzy over false pretenses. He creates connections where there are none, and frankly persecutes those who, at worst, are guilty of a different philosophy. Which, while potentially worthy of debate, doesn't make them criminals."

He sighs, crossing his arms.

"So we're basically going to have to be fighting this blighter constantly, at the same time we try to do actual work. Which is why I'm making myself Public Relations for our little temporary group here. You two will just stand back, smile, shake hands, and give polite greetings. Any press conferences, any meetings, anything dealing with the police, you let me handle it. It's not because I don't trust you. It's because, unless you have a majorly unrevealed talent, I am literally better at this than you ever will be. This is what I do, or at least part of it. So go out on a limb, trust me, and let's hope we do this right."

Gabriel turned to face the two officers, a smile back on his face.

"So, Officers. When did you say the Sheriff would be back? I only ask so we can get things squared away. Don't want to step on toes and such. Plus, like I said, I still need to go rent myself a room."

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A roar of an engine, and a black and gold motorcycle sped into the sleepy town, screeching to a halt outside the main building. The engine, modified beyond belief, purred like a kitten for a few moments before lowering to a murmur.

Christ, I really can't take all-night drives like I used to...and two hot chocolates really aren't going to keep me going. Ok, first order of buisness, establish bonafides, then get some food. Think I'll use the Stone alias for this one; haven't used it since that rough-and-tumble in LA.

A man in a long brown coat, with a great red scarf covering the lower half of his face and a wool cap over top of his head, swung his leg over the side of his bike, tapping his ear as his boots hit the ground. A low click came from the bike's seating, and he flipped the keys from the ignition into his hand. Gabriel Quinn, alias Push, was on the job. He stopped briefly, looking up at the small edifice that was the police station, and took in a few breaths.

Easy...it's alright. AEGIS said they'd dropped the charges. You're just going to go in there, tell them you're a consultant placed on retainer by AEGIS to aid in this investigation, examining possible connections to some previous crimes of a similar occult nature across the state. That's the party line. Stick to it. They aren't going to throw you in a cell. Yet.

He'd given the brown envelope a quick check during a brief stopover for gas on the way here, the crime pretty much screamed occult nutjob. Local law enforcement was no doubt way out of it's depth, he'd seen this kind of thing before. Standard MO for Scratch was usually roll into town, find some likely whackjob to provide just a teensy bit of power, then disappear as all hell broke loose right before Push rolled through on the chase, leaving just enough evidence to direct Quinn on his next stop. Few times, police had put a stop to it before he'd even arrived, and that always brought a smile to his face. Beyond that, though...still, he had a dossier on the case compiled by AEGIS. If nothing else, that'd get him in the door, maybe provide the boys in blue with more info than they could get with their own investigations. Taking comfort in that, he walked forward and quietly pushed open the doors, eschewing the dramatic entrance he tended to enjoy, and padded (well...more clunked, given the heavy boots he enjoyed wearing) to the receptionist. His tone was low, polite and inquisitive as he spoke.

"Excuse me, if you have a moment. Name's Mr. Stone, occult consultant and paranormal investigator; is Sheriff Durand in the building?"

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He didn't know Eric, but Marcus immediately decided that he liked the guy. It was pretty rare for anyone to stick their own neck out for him, and Marcus was willing to trust his judgment. "Er... yeah. I'll explain that later..." He figured they should know what he found at the crime scene--or, more importantly, what he didn't find. He still wanted to go back and literally sniff things out, but he had a feeling that would have to wait until it was darker out. All in all, Eric seemed like a nice guy... though where he fit into the world of the paranormal had Marcus incredibly curious.

Gabriel, on the other hand, was another story entirely.

"So we're basically going to have to be fighting this blighter constantly, at the same time we try to do actual work. Which is why I'm making myself Public Relations for our little temporary group here. You two will just stand back, smile, shake hands, and give polite greetings. Any press conferences, any meetings, anything dealing with the police, you let me handle it. It's not because I don't trust you. It's because, unless you have a majorly unrevealed talent, I am literally better at this than you ever will be. This is what I do, or at least part of it. So go out on a limb, trust me, and let's hope we do this right."

It wasn't that he didn't like Gabriel. He was just so damn... charming. His entire demeanor insinuated charm, and Marcus could see that inner beast of his making childish and obscene gestures at him as he spoke. It stopped short of being smug, although he wasn't even certain Gabriel was even capable of that. It was strange that he was willing to play sidekick until Gabriel's 'smile and nod' suggestion. Gabriel had a rather irrefutable point, however; in the world of public opinion, Marcus knew he was rather powerless, and using the abilities he did have were certain not to win him any popularity contests. If nothing else, this particular case was going to test more than just his physical magic.

That didn't at all change the fact that Gabriel's first impression rubbed Marcus's proverbial fur entirely the wrong way. It was something he could live with though; he had a feeling that a significant part of his life as well as his magical education was going to involve swallowing that deep well of pride he had. Rather than dwell on being all but told to 'sit down and be quiet in public', Marcus shifted his belongings and put his book in his lap as he sat down, his right ear twitching a little bit at the heavy booted footsteps of yet another visitor to the station.

Man, does this happen THAT often? Marcus eyed 'Mr. Stone' for a brief moment brief moment before opening his book to one of the back, blank pages, quietly sketching what he recalled of the crime scene. If Gabriel was going to be the group's mouthpiece, the least he could do, he figured, was start compiling what he did and didn't know.

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"So we're basically going to have to be fighting this blighter constantly, at the same time we try to do actual work. Which is why I'm making myself Public Relations for our little temporary group here. You two will just stand back, smile, shake hands, and give polite greetings. Any press conferences, any meetings, anything dealing with the police, you let me handle it. It's not because I don't trust you. It's because, unless you have a majorly unrevealed talent, I am literally better at this than you ever will be. This is what I do, or at least part of it. So go out on a limb, trust me, and let's hope we do this right."

Eric bit back his words. Yeah, I'd say I've got a pretty good talent. But calling up the restless dead has limited PR opportunities...

"All right, then," he said. "You handle PR, I handle intel. Not a bad plan. But we should probably --"

He was interrupted by the new arrival. Officer Jenkins looked from "Stone" -- who cut a somewhat intimidating figure in his longcoat -- over to Eric and Marcus. He then turned back to Push. "We seem to be getting that a lot," he said. "Sheriff's on her way back. You can take a seat while you wait."

Eric waved over to Push. "Man, at this rate, we really need to think about starting a union," he said.

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It was at that moment that a woman in a long black coat over a white shirt, trousers and boots strode up, long black hair streaming in her wake, eues glowing with a soft, soft white light, just enough to obscure the details of her face. As she approached the group, she cast her hands backwards, a sudden burst of wind hurling her coat backwards just long enough for her to casually put her hands in her pockets and nod casually to everyone. "So... guess I'm not the only one to need to think they needed help up here."

Then she noticed Nick, and broke out into a radiant smile dropping the casual, cool act altogether. "Oh, hi, Nick! How's it going?"

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Quinn nodded, the edge of his coat whispering across the ground as he walked to the waiting area. Judging by the eclectic assortment already there, he wasn't the only one interested in studying the murder. He took a seat beside the group, looking at each of them with obviously evaluating eyes. The kineticist remained quiet for a few moments as he looked them over, ignoring the officers.

Hmm. Case like this usually draws out the crackpots and con artists trying to act the brilliant occultists. This lot looks pretty genuine, honestly...maybe express delivery from Freedom City? Hrhmm...better test the waters.

"Right. Before I introduce myself, can anyone tell me who here's actually tussled with the paranormal before?"

The tone of his voice was questioning, but not perjorative. It didn't sound as if he was calling anyone's credentials. His eyes snapped up as the young woman walked up and introduced herself to...Nick, was it? He shrugged.

"Question still stands."

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"Well," said Equinox, pulling out her pentacle. "I've apprenticed under Earth's Master Mage for a while, beaten up a near-immune-to-magic golem with a car, and dealt with a few vampires and demons. And that's just the things I put on my CV." She cocked an eyebrow at Push. "I'm also an expert in theology and occult lore, so I can talk the talk as well as throw fireballs into things." Question stands? I was quite proud of my entrance there. Probably need more rushing winds...

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"Oh, hi, Nick! How's it going?"

Eric wasn't surprised that Equinox could see through the make-up and identify him as a civilian. But she called him "Nick," and that would raise questions. "I'm fine," he said back, "but I'm here in my civvies. As long as I'm here, call me Eric." He then turned to Push. "And as long as that cat's out of the bag... yes, I'm Nick Cimitiere. I've tussled with death cults, demons, entities of various underworlds, eldritch horrors, and the occasional member of the Fair Folk. I'm skilled in the gifts of the dead and the ways of necromancy. But as long as we're here, we should probably ixnay on the spellcraft around everyone else unless it's absolutely necessary. We're here as consultants, not practitioners." He took a look around the waiting area. "Well, that's us settled. I wonder what's keeping the other guy."

To show that fate is always a willing audience, at that moment, the front doors opened. A compact, built-for-brunt woman with a face that would be warm if it weren't iced over at the moment walked in, followed by a stern, brooding man dressed in black slacks and a black button-up leather coat. He wore gravitas like a hat, and his gray hair and fixed eyes lent him the air of a man who had seen much -- and might possibly understand what it all meant.

"Hey, Mitch," the woman said. "So, where's this other 'expert' you talked about?"

"That's the thing, Maggie..." Jenkins pointed over to the waiting area. Durand's eyes quickly swept over to the five individuals -- one in pretty explicit costume -- sitting in the corner. She walked over, with Vigourie quickly following behind. "Well, now," she said. "Margaret Durand, Sheriff for Stratford County. I understand you're here 'cause you want to lend a hand."

"Ms. Durand, are you saying these are... outside contractors?" Vigourie took a look over the motley band of occultists and, in Gabriel's case, theologians. "I thought we had an arrangement --"

"They came of their own will, Mr. Vigourie," she said. "Given what's going on, we may need all the help we can get." She turned back to the group. "So. What exactly do you all bring to the table?"

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Yet another arrival caused Marcus to raise an eyebrow; Equinox was definitely something new for him. It really was quite the entrance. Stone's question went entirely unanswered by the young wizard--he wasn't sure he wanted to answer, especially not after the woman's answer. That and he didn't think it was any of the newcomer's business, even if he did know the guy covering for him. Flipping to the back of the page he'd been using, he absently started sketching the people in the room rather than the scant amount of information he'd been able to get from the crime scene.

I am so out of my league here.

As far as anyone knew, he was just a kid working for Eric--or Nick, though Marcus was savvy enough to know not to call him that. That was the story he was going to stick with, and he was going to play the role as well as he could. After all, his actual talent wasn't exactly suited for social situations, leaving the man rather than the beast to deal with it all.

He regarded the sheriff and the flown-in expert with a reciprocated amount of skepticism, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. He wasn't really sure what to say outside of a swift, almost undetectable nod hello. "I work for Mr. LaCroix," he said flatly, quietly closing his book. 'Smile and nod', Gabriel said. Somehow, Marcus didn't really feel like smiling.

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Quinn took one look at Vigourie, and the eyes underneath the hat spoke volumes about his mental opinion of the man's entrance.

And what did I just tell myself before I came in...sheesh, bet this guy would take one look at the genuine occult article and get a bad case of the screaming meemies.

Shrugging, he turned to the Sheriff with a considerably warmer look in those very same eyes.

"Call me Stone; that's not my real name, obviously, but I prefer to work under an alias. Anyone who wants to check my credentials can do so at this phone number (he rattled of a contact number Agent Kent had given him if he ever required it), ask for Mr. Black, and he'll inform you of my status. As I said before, I'm a paranormal consultant and investigator. While I'm not all that up on the specifics of the arcane, I have a great deal of practical experience dealing with outbreaks of a hazardous occult nature; identification of hostile forces, containment, engagement, evacuation, etc. As for why I'm here, a certain organization contracted me to investigate this crime in connection with a certain individual linked to other occult crimes in different states. As of yet, we are under the belief it is unrelated, but any clues are better than none, and it's not like them to withhold help if it's available. So here I am. And I really hope you have a working coffee or hot chocolate maker around here, because I really need caffeine. Preferably hot chocolate."

Aiya, I hate sounding professonal. Always sounds like someone else is talking, and they're using my mouth.

His mouth gained a wry twist under the scarf, and his words also became considerably warmer as he turned away from the Sheriff and looked at the assembled group beside him.

"Sorry about the abrupt question, I just wanted to check bonafides. It's a real relief this time to see I'll have professional help; most of the time I end up reacting rather than acting when there's a breakout."

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Gabriel turned to face Push with an evaluating eye. Nonetheless, he offered the man a handshake.

"Call me Gabriel. As for experience...we'll cover that later."

Then Equinox stepped in, and marked herself as the only other superhero-ish person in the room. Gabriel offered her a shake and a smile as well.

"A pleasure to meet you, Equinox."

He recognized the name "Nick Cimitiere". He'd heard about him from Dead Head on one of the few occasions they'd crossed paths since. Necromancy. He couldn't keep the slight grimace off his face, but he forced it away with a solemn nod at Eric's words. Best to think of him as Eric.

Just before the sheriff and "expert" walked in, Gabriel gave the 30-second version to the others.

"I'm going to play Public Relations for the group, so that the rest of you can do what you do best, and we hopefully won't be fighting against the locals too hard. We can work out a game plan later."

Just then, Sheriff Durand and Vigourie walked in. Push did his little introduction spiel right after Marcus kept things short and simple. Then, it was time for the master to get to work.

Gabriel put on his best winning smile, and stepped forward to first shake Durand's hand. His next words were laced through and through with a combination of politeness, respect, seriousness, and even a hint of charm.

"Sheriff Magaret Durand, it's an honor and a pleasure. I'm afraid I can't give my birth name, but you may call me Gabriel. I'm here on my own initiative, as I saw the situation and felt that a bit of heroic presence might help calm fears. I'm not quite the expert my fellows are here on the more obscure matters of the occult, but I have run into such things before. But I trust them to help us sort things out properly, so that we can see the true culprits brought to proper justice. In the end, I'm just here to help, ma'am."

Then, he turns to Vigourie. His smile remains in place, but something shifts about it. There's a certain danger to his presence now, all focused on this one man, this "expert". He reaches to shake his hand, but "accidentally" applies just a bit more pressure to it.

"Mr. Vigourie. I think I've heard of you. You're considered something of an expert, yes? Well, expert you might be, but we have a killer on the loose. Wouldn't you say it's better to let as many willing people aid this investigation as possible? Mr. Stone there has very qualified credentials; the others here are less "official", perhaps, but they're all clearly well-versed in the subject matter. As for myself, just consider me a concerned citizen. A lowly layman who feels it's my solemn, holy duty to make sure the pure, unvarnished truth is found out. If you're worried of my credentials, just call Freedom City, the Police Department, Southside district. They'll vouch for me, as will a few others. And really, "arrangement" or no, don't you want to find out the truth, Mr. Vigourie? It's so important to know the truth, Mr. Vigourie. Wouldn't everyone agree?"

He finally releases the handshake and steps back. His attention returns to the Sheriff, and his smile is back up to about 1000 watts.

"Now, Sheriff, I realize this might be imposing a bit, but I was hoping we could all get some space where we could sit down, look over information, toss ideas around, that sort of thing. A little bit of workspace, you know? We don't need anything fancy, though I'm sure all of us could do with some rooms at the local motel, for those of us who haven't arranged one already. And of course, if possible, we'd like one of us to be working with you and Mr. Vigourie as much as possible. I would so hate to cross wires, step on toes, and the like. Really, we're all after the same thing here, so I want to make sure we all are able to do the best job we can. Does that sound alright?"

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Durand's expression softened considerably. "That sounds fine to me," she said. "AEGIS credentials, superhero experience, and..." Her gaze drifted to Eric. "I'm guessing you're Mr. LaCroix, then?"

"Yes, I am," he said, extending a hand. "Marcus is my assistant. I'm an expert in the ways of witchcraft, the occult, and alternative religions. I heard about the case, and came out to offer insight." He looked out to the rest of the group. "But obviously I'm not alone."

"That's for certain," Durand said. "God, you ask for a park ranger, and you get the National Guard. I don't suppose you'd object to working on a team, would you, Mr. Vigourie?"

Vigourie looked slightly shaken by Gabriel's pronouncement, but if anything, he recovered ably. "It should not be a problem," he said, exchanging glances with Eric. "It would be helpful to pool our knowledge... and see if we can discover the cause of this tragedy."

"You're telling me," Durand said. "If you'll follow me back here, we can start with the deceased and evidence from the crime scene."

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Quinn followed Durand, reaching into his coat and taking out the envelope he'd found in his mailbox. While he wasn't sure what kind of evidence or conclusions the police around here had drawn, best that they had as many resources as possible. His eyes shifted to it as he ran over the salient points in his mind, organizing them into a coherent dialogue...he hated standing up and talking in front of crowds (not that he couldn't do it), but it looked as if he might actually have to regardless.

Bugger.

Most of what was in the papers had to do with brief summations of the murder-ee, along with the Sheriff and...ugh, that "expert" Vigourie. He had no complaints about leaving him to Gabriel; the kineticist had almost felt the pressure of the hero's personality as he spoke. No doubt, that hero had some serious mojo behind his words, and with the angelic nom de plume, it didn't take a rocket scientist to make the connection. In a way, it was almost...slightly relieving. He knew he wasn't the only hero who spent a lot of time fighting the darkness from Downbelow, but a guy clad all in white with an angel's name, and an angel's voice too coming to poke around something obviously dealing with Old Night gave him a bit of encouragement.

Funny that they shared a name, too.

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile, and he chuckled very quietly as he thought that.

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"That's for certain," Durand said. "God, you ask for a park ranger, and you get the National Guard. I don't suppose you'd object to working on a team, would you, Mr. Vigourie?"

"One riot, one ranger was never true," said Equinox wryly, looking Vigourie up and down. He's a bigot. I mean, when you get down to it, the whole conjuring of strange magical forces is worrying, but I'm wandering around wearing a pentacle. He's probably going to spin this into Satanism. But why bow to his type?

Deliberately, but casually, she pulled the ornate pentacle from under his sweater to let it dangle on full show. Asshole.

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Durand and Vigourie's eyes quickly drifted down towards the pentacle. "That's a pentagram, isn't it?" Durand asked.

"Indeed it is," Vigourie said. "It's a common symbol in occult practices. Many members of such faiths adopt adornments as symbols of power and to reflect the internalization of principles. It is quite common in the pagan faiths, as well as Satanism."

"Of course, there's an important difference there," Eric offered up. "The inverted pentagram is common in Satanism, whereas the upright one is more common in other magical practices. Symbol of inversion and rejection of higher power, much like how Satanic groups adopt an inverted cross."

Vigourie bit his lip. "That is correct," he said. "Still, miss, I assume the pentacle represents a religious leaning. Might that not... prejudice the investigation?"

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Gabriel was going to have to talk to Equinox about how to be diplomatic in this situation. She wasn't helping.

Then Vigourie made his not-so-subtle insinuations. Gabriel barely kept control. He narrowed his eyes. His coat started flapping a little in an entirely non-existent breeze. And when he spoke, his voice had the undercurrent of ageless authority.

"If a religious leaning disqualifies her, we are all disqualified, Mr. Vigourie. Everyone has some worldview or another. Or are you implying because she's not a Christian, or something similar, she shouldn't be part of this? Were my earlier words not enough for your taste? Do you know how I came upon the name I go by in costume, Mr. Vigourie? I was visited by the Archangel Gavriel himself! I have been tasked by the powers of Heaven to keep watch over the flock! And you dare try to suggest someone I have vouched for would taint this investigation with prejudice? The only prejudice I see here is you."

The various subtle effects stop as if a switch was turned off. Gabriel's tone still carries gravity.

"However, I realize this is perhaps a tense time. If possible, I request we be allowed to collect ourselves elsewhere. You may well be able to aid us, Mr. Vigourie. But to do so, you will need to wait until you see actual evidence before making judgments."

He turned to Durand, a suddenly weary look on his face.

"I apologize for my outburst, but Mr. Vigourie's assertions were uncalled for. If you can't tell, our little group here has a variety of philosophies at work. I think this may benefit us, as we will have multiple perspectives when looking at evidence. However, you are, ultimately, the authority in this town. I will defer to your decisions and judgments on matters. I simply ask we be allowed a chance to help, with no unfounded accusations directed at our group."

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Push rolled his eyes at Vigourie's little insinuation, politely opening the door to the conference room for the Sheriff and the rest. It was a bit gratifying to see his hunch was correct about the archangel, though Gabriel's little speech there even made his knees shake.

Bloody hell, this guy'd make one hell of an orator. Throw him up against some of those more talky demons with their thous and thees, that'd be a heck of a show.

Upon Gabriel's mention of evidence, however, his head lifted slightly, and the corner of his mouth quirked as he held up both hands and faced Vigourie.

"Well, I'd say that was an interesting debate, wouldn't you? Mr. Vigourie, I really must express my admiration of your investigative methods, I'm sure my superiors at AEGIS would love to hear about your unwarranted questioning of an expert consultant in a murder case they have taken personal interest in."

His eyes were smiling as he turned to the Sheriff, extending an arm to the conference room and deliberately ignoring the sputtering "expert".

"Well then, as my colleague says, this is no time for arguing or accusations. A murderer is afoot, and I intend to catch him. Would you permit our assistance in the matter?"

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He had to admit a little bit of growing respect for Gabriel; Marcus wasn't much of a talker, but the display Gabriel put on was pretty impressive. Still, words weren't a particular talent for the young artificer. That and 'Stone' being an AEGIS officer didn't sit well with him either. Grudges like that didn't simply disappear, and he could only wonder if this particular agent knew anything about him at all--especially since his real name was somewhat out in the open thanks to his own ineptitude.

The mention of the inverted cross caught Marcus's attention, but there was so much arguing and posturing going on between the 'adults' that it was starting to give him a little bit of a headache. It wasn't difficult to annoy him, that much was proven, but this seemed to be wasting a lot of time that, as far as Marcus was concerned, they didn't have. He stood up; despite his age, he was easily as tall as anyone else in the room. Still playing the part of the humorless intern, the teenager adjusted his pack on his shoulders, making eye contact with everyone in turn--especially Vigourie--before turning to Eric.

"I can see this will take a while to sort out. Should I just wait outside?"

Adults. Pfft. Idiots, all of them...

He really didn't plan on going anywhere, but the escalating bickering was starting to get to him, and the Beast Rune was picking up on the aggression in the room--even though it wasn't his own. Cooler heads prevailed, after all, and Marcus was starting to think he was the only one save his 'boss' keeping their eyes on the horizon.

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Vigourie obviously looked shaken in the face of Gabriel's invective, but did not up and abandon the field. "I know that there are powers in this world we don't understand," he said. "Things that offer promises in a pleasing guise, the idea of power and respect. Things that hide their true face to the world. Take the gods of voodoo, who treat their charges as puppets --"

"Like the Holy Spirit?" It was Eric's turn to get up from his seat. "Most Pentecostalists believe during service that they are visited by an aspect of the Trinity, who bestows on them the ability to speak a tongue that all men understand. Are they puppets to a power they can't understand?"

"The Trinity tends to take a benevolent face," Vigourie said. "Voodoo, on the other hand, casts darker aspersions. What of Baron Samedi and his run in Freedom City? Given free reign, he exults in destruction and tempts men to dark powers."

"And his performance means the entire pantheon's rotten? Why don't we get Siren down here? I'm sure she'd love to come up from rescuing people from the floods in Australia to hear about how she's influenced by dark powers."

"What I am saying is --"

"What you're doing, Mr. Vigourie, is throwing a match in a box of firecrackers," Sheriff Durand interjected. She turned to the group. "No more pulling rank, no more shouting matches. A young man is dead, and that is the only thing that matters right now. I will gladly accept your help, but if you're going to spend all this time sniping at one another, then it's pointless." She turned to Vigourie. "Mr. Vigourie. I brought you out here, and I can send you back just as easily. If you want to actually play a role in this investigation, then for God's sake, play nice."

Vigourie looked as if he'd been made to swallow ipecac. "I understand, Sheriff," he said. "But if such... conflict is to ensue, perhaps it would be best if I worked alone."

"If that's what it takes, fine," she said. "But if I find out you're getting in shouting matches with kids' magicians next, then you're back on that plane, got it?"

Vigourie gave a curt nod, then walked past the gathered heroes. "Obviously, we have our differences," he said to them. "I hope that you know what you're doing."

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