Cory Daniels

Name: Cory Daniels
Age: 23
Occupation: Tabloid Journalist

Physical Description: At just over six feet and just under 170 pounds, Cory is tall and lithe in both appearance and motion.  That couldn’t have been said of him before he left Western Plaines nearly 6 years ago.  While never really a ‘nerd’, he was awkward and shy, rarely seen without his nose in a book.  Now he doesn’t even wear glasses, at least not very often.  He likes clothes and rarely wears the same thing more than a few times, his wardrobe winding up at thrift stores every new season.  A dedicated vegan, he doesn’t wear real leather, though he sometimes wears cork or ocean leather alternatives, especially in the form of belts or shoes.

Personality:  The Cory most people knew growing up was a quiet boy, awkward and reflective.  Never in trouble, he never really stood out either.  He had a small collection of friends, no memorable girlfriends though more than a few crushes, none of which ever went beyond failed flirtation and the occasional steamy dream.  If he had any other dreams he didn’t share them with anyone except perhaps his younger sister, who was the only person he really missed when he left town as soon he graduated.

If those dreams involved a life in the big city, they must have come true.  He’s far more outgoing now, not remotely shy and confident that even in a room full of models and musicians he can catch a certain someone’s eye, the trick is deciding who that someone is.  He’s also far more worldly now, in most of the ways you can be, with an appreciation for the finer things in life, even if he doesn’t quite have the budget for them.  Fortunately, he has a nice smile and well to do friends and he tends to use both equally.

Did you know the murdered teenagers?  Cory knew Elizabeth Warren better than Bobby Vance, though he didn’t really know either of them other than through his sister and that was ages ago when they were all in Elementary and Middle School.  He hasn’t been back and hasn’t looked back at Western Plaines other than one Thanksgiving a few years ago and he left again before they’d even finished all the leftovers.

Where were you when you heard about the murders?  He was at a friend’s apartment in New York City when he’d heard about the deaths.  He received a text from the editor of a paper he often wrote for saying “Didn’t you grow up there?” along with a link to a small article in the local news.  He got another text later that day saying “???” and a third that matched.  The fourth was a call.  She absolutely never called.

How did you react to the murders?  He tried to ignore the news, not because it upset him or he cared, he just knew where it was going and wanted nothing to do with it.  Still, he liked his job.  Sure, The Weekly Sun was a terrible piece of trash that was 40% b-grade celebrity gossip, 30% conspiracy theories and 20% escort advertisements, but it paid well and got him into all the best parties, so he wanted to keep his editor happy.  Even so, it took a whole lot of convincing and a few promises that his editor probably wouldn’t keep, but at least made Cory feel like he had a chance of getting something out of it other than just a trip down memory lane.

Background:  “Oh sure it's true, half the models in town are vampires,” he said with a totally straight face.  The girl’s mouth hung open in shock, pretty sure he must have been joking, but he had a way of selling even the most ridiculous stories as at least being possible.

“Have you ever seen them do anything other than drink and smoke?  They can’t eat solid food even if they wanted to,” he added with a smile that flashed in strobe lights pulsing to EDM.

“Do you want to meet one?” he offered, leaning in to be heard over the music, an offer she found hard to resist, even if he wasn't serious.

New York was a far cry from Western Plaines.  It truly was the City That Never Sleeps though he mostly slept during the day.  Not that he was a vampire, that would be silly, though he didn’t get as much sun as he had as a kid, the shadows of skyscrapers and nightclubs serving in place of shade trees.  Mostly, he worked at night, cruising the clubs and bars, getting the gossip.  Like the rag he worked for, he split his time between stupid conspiracy stories, celebrity gossip or more often than not, the combination of the two.  Want to know which of your favorite celebrity Satanists entered rehab or which model Batboy was dating now, The Weekly Sun was your source.  Occasionally, it published real news, like a two for one deal at Charlene’s Escorts that was legit, but most of it was thinly veiled gossip masquerading as entertainment parody.  Still, considering the state of print journalism (their website not withstanding), The Weekly Sun was doing pretty well.

‘Give the people what they want,’ was his boss’ motto, but if it had a shred of truth… all the better.

“People eat up Americana, especially when it goes dark red,” she had said over coffee as they juiced up for the night.

“I want Lana Del Rey Gods and Monsters,” she’d said in that way she did when she wanted to get her way.

"You know that's about L.A., right?" he shot back, knowing he’d lost the argument the moment he’d met her in the first place.

"Fine, Gods and Monsters in the heartland or at the very least This is What Makes Us Girls, and not that sad album version, the demo, unashamed and salacious,” she clarified dismissively.  She never was one to care about the finer details so long as it fit her narrative.

“Why not add Dark Paradise and Serial Killer?” he suggested, though he had to admit, she'd picked the right two songs for West P.

“Fine, but I have a few conditions,” he told her, digging in his heels, for all it was worth given he knew the ground he was standing on was made of sand.