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15:09, 29th March 2024 (GMT+0)

The Theatre Beckons.

Posted by The nightFor group 0
The night
GM, 8 posts
Thu 30 Sep 2021
at 19:18
  • msg #1

The Theatre Beckons.

The theatre  is in a seedy part of town but a lot of people still go there simply because its dirt cheap.

Over the last few weeks youve heard of mysterious incidents in the area. Animals being found dead drained of blood.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:25, Thu 30 Sept 2021.
Bob Miller
player, 5 posts
Thu 30 Sep 2021
at 20:01
  • msg #2

The Theatre Beckons.

Bob had reluctantly taken the dispatch call. It wasn't because of the neighborhood. They had some nice watering holes, by which one would see nice as cheap and people mind their own. No frou frou fruit drinks or mixologists or any new craze. Just the essentials: a stool to park on and a cup with no bottom if your stomach can take it. It was because the dispatcher played coy and would only tell him the scene was "peculiar." He took a nip from a flask and drove with the blaring siren. Screw traffic.

When he got to the scene, he almost jumped back into his car but instead tapped on the shoulder of one of the patrolmen sectioning off the scene, "Mind telling me why a distinguished gentleman such as myself is pulled here for a bunch of stray kittens?"

The patrolman looked flustered and was about to try to answer but the ME stood up and walked over, intervening with all the dignity that age and wisdom from age bring, "They said bring in the clowns and here you are. Leave the kid alone and get your ass over here. I know you're not squeamish and this isn't for animal control."

Bob didn't let many people give him guff but the ME was part of the old guard, emphasis on old and being a consummate jerk was one of the perks of being older as far as Bob was concerned.

There were a litter of kittens with fishing line string through their necks to make the most macabre Christmas decorations one could imagine. They all looked blue and slightly deflated. There was only trace blood on the wire and not much more pooled where they had been gathered. Written in red (presumably some of the blood) was, "Cats don't got my tongue."

Bob was not impressed, "What are we doing here, Murphy? It's some schizo who went off his meds or a disgruntled veterinary student who bounced out."

"Mr. Miller, while I don't value your time, I do value mine. You should find the contents of the kittens' stomachs more to your fascination."

Bob looked down and saw seven evidence bags: seven IDs, seven sets of keys, seven tongues that were decidedly not feline. You had to complain, Bob thought. Now there's a case. One of the IDs jumped out at him, made his blood run cold.

"Did you see this, Murphy? This I.D.??? Eileen Price, the one who lived through the Yorkshire Rock murders."

"I thought that would get your attention. It would appear, Ahab, that your whale has surfaced after fifteen years."

Bob took out the flask and took a big swig. The patrolman was about to say something but Murphy shook his head and hand. "He's back."
Bob Miller
player, 9 posts
Soused Detective
Fri 1 Oct 2021
at 03:16
  • msg #3

The Theatre Beckons.

Murphy put a hand on Bob's shoulder, "If you want me to inventory the evidence back at the station---"

Bob shook his head vigorously and put the flask away, "No. I'm filing Eileen Price myself so I'll do the others. Although, can't say as I'll be able to do anything with the tongues. Type and match Eileen. We're gonna have to find the others and they better not be joined around a god damn rock."

He knelt down to look at the animals once more and noticed a faint treadmark, "I don't suppose we took impressions of the ground before patrol and everyone started doing their thing?"

The patrolman looked sheepish and that was enough of an answer for Bob. He got back in his car and drove silently before slamming his free hand on the dash.

The Yorkshire Rock killings: four women were bound together around a giant rock by rope post mortem, throats slit and drained of blood, positioned as if they were offering supplication to something or someone ---the fifth victim, Eileen Price. There was something special about her but they weren't able to break through the wall of silence her catatonia had brought about. The unexpected malady must have excited a new possibility in the killer because now they had half a baker's dozen of tongues to catalogue and try to find the bodies they belong to. They'd be able to search the homes quicker thanks to the IDs and even the consideration of leaving the keys.

"Smug bastard."

It took another fifteen minutes to reach the precinct. Bob went through the clearances he needed to before getting to evidence collection. He waited for the cop on duty, Tyler Samson, to ask that he turn in his gun before entering but Tyler just stood there with a blank expression.

"Samson, open the drawer so I can disarm already."

That was when he noticed, very faint, smears of dirt and blood on the sterile faux marble floor. Bob didn't want to look up but he finally did, bile rising.

"I'm gonna need you to answer some questions, out of that booth. Come quietly, Samson. We can work this out."
Victoria Miller
player, 6 posts
Chemistry Major
Fri 1 Oct 2021
at 08:33
  • msg #4

The Theatre Beckons.

Vicky came out to the theatre today to look around and check for her roommate's cat, Mr. Engels (a calico, one of several). The cat was mostly an indoors cat, in her experience. He would hop around the room and bother Vicky and her roommate, Alice, while they studied for long hours in the evenings and weekends. It was always "Get off my textbooks, Mister." and "No, get off the keyboard!" and "No, that's my ramen, not yours!" Not that Vicky would ever complain, mind--she loved that damn cat, and Alice's two other cats, Cat and Franklin D. Roosevelt. It's just that Cat and FDR didn't intervene in studying.

They had heard about all the cats going missing and later turning up dead, in fact--someone warned Alice to keep her cats inside, although Vicky couldn't remember who. They had even mentioned this part of town specifically, but because cats are free-spirited it was best to just keep them cooped up. Mr. Engels was usually given freedom of movement all around town, and he was smart enough to dodge animal control, unfriendly dogs and neighbors, and other such nasties. But over the weekend, Mr. Engels darted out.

Despite how annoying Mr. Engels was always, it was lonely studying without him. So she found herself here, and approaching a cop near the theatre. "Uh, hi. I hear a bunch of cats died. I was looking for my friend's cat, it's a kind of petite shorthair with a tortoiseshell coat?"

She was glad--he looked young, and she didn't recognize him. So he probably didn't know her, and her dad and uncle probably didn't know him.
The night
GM, 14 posts
Sat 2 Oct 2021
at 05:41
  • msg #5

The Theatre Beckons.

Rolled for you you got 1 clue as of yet
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