[Emily Littleton] There is a thick blanket of snow everywhere, everywhere along the lakefront. Thicker than even the winter she'd spent in Kiev. Thicker than any she can think of, ever, in any corner of the globe. It distorts and distends familiar shapes, softening them to mere suggestions, softening those to insinuations, gentling even that to nothingness.
They'd closed Lake Front Drive for the better part of the day. Emily hadn't bothered trying to take the El toward campus, and she knew better than to drive in snow deeper than her knee. But staying cooped up indoors was not in her skill set. Not after the agitation of the week before. Not after her social skirmish with her once-Praecept (another mentor down [oh-for-three, Little]).
Out in the snowy wasteland, it was easier to feel like she was getting somewhere. There was a tangible realness to how her nose froze and her lips chapped. She left footfalls behind her, things that fell darkly and clearly on unbroken snow, marks that filled up with time and snowfall. She was immanent. Real. Tangible.
This upscale neighborhood is not too far from her own. She hasn't gone so far that she cannot find her way back without the conveniences of public transit or taxis. It's not so close that she feels like she's been swallowed up only by familiar signs and places. The snow remakes everything anew. She breathes out, and it eddies in the wake of her exhalation: a testament. I am; I effect.
She pauses on a corner, waiting on the light to change. It's silly, really, as there's no traffic. But Emily is a creature of rules and guidelines. The signs says Don't walk; she doesn't.
[Ellizabeth Zhao] There is no sane reason that Elizabeth should be out. But then, there are many who would say that the Asian-American was far from sane. She spoke of voices in her head after all, and how they were her past lives. And...you know. That whole "magic" thing. But even many of her fellow Awakened would say that she's nuts for baring this weather.
Those Awakened are not her though, so here she is. The woman his bundled up in enough clothes that she is not liable to suffer incidental damage from the weather. That's about all the clothes that she has. But then, she's largely out as a way to test her dedication. Some of the Awakened that she has met in Chicago have questioned asceticism, and they would not be the first. This also would not be the first time that she tested herself thus...just the first time in this extreme of a snowstorm. She walks along the street, careful not to slip as she does. Her footsteps are taking her toward Emily, another instance of paths converging in just such a way.
[Foreboding] It was Wednesday afternoon on the second of February, and mother nature had finally stopped her wintery assault on the Midwest. The city of Chicago had been blanketed by a record-setting 20.2 inches of snow nearly overnight (the third largest snowfall in the city's history,) which the recent heavy winds had whipped into thick drifts that piled themselves high against the sides of buildings and buried the few stray cars that had been foolishly left by their owners on the streets.
The city plows had made their way through Lake View by now, but many of the local businesses were closed, along with the schools. It meant that Emily and Elizabeth were not the only people out braving the winter today. This, after all, was a family neighborhood. Well-maintained brownstones lined the street, and across the way a small outdoor shopping center boasted a couple of shops. One of them was a Starbucks, and unlike the stores surrounding it, there was a lit Open sign in its window. Not surprisingly, a handful of parents and more than a handful of children had flocked to it, crowding the tables inside as they sat sipping hot, sugary drinks.
But that nexus of activity was not where Emily and Elizabeth found themselves. They were passing by the houses, coming from opposite directions down the same sidewalk. Set amidst the brownstones was a more serviceable-looking building with large windows that had been curtained shut. This was a place of business. Like many, it was closed due to the weather. The sign above said: "Kookaburra Exotic Bird Shop" and from inside, the occasional muffled call of one of the parrots within could be detected.
Next to this shop, on the right, stood another slim, two-story brownstone. There were footprints in the snow, leading out from the front door, and one, two, three bright spots of crimson staining the otherwise pristine expanse of white in the yard. The blood was just obvious enough to catch the eye, but not enough so that it would be an obvious concern for people passing by on the street.
[Emily Littleton] [Alertness: I notice stuff. Like Blood. Blood is a very good thing to notice.]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 5, 5, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
to Foreboding
[Emily Littleton] [Awareness: ACK! Having noticed blood, is there anything oogy-boogy going on in my neighborhood? (Who ya gonna call... Ghostbusters! [Or Ashley...]) ]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 5, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
to Foreboding
[Ellizabeth Zhao] [[Go Go Gadget Awareness!]]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 4, 6, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Ellizabeth Zhao] [[Oh, and Alertness too!]]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 5, 6, 6, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Foreboding] Emily notices the blood. Thankfully, at the moment there doesn't seem to be anything else out of the ordinary.
to Emily Littleton
[Foreboding] There is resonance here, but it's faded - a lingering echo of what had been there not long ago. Both Emily and Elizabeth will recognize the dominant presence, because they've felt it before - from a member of a cabal of mages that had swept into town a few weeks ago.
Chaotic, Destructive and Vengeful.
The other was barely felt, but there. It seemed both colder and further away (coming from inside the house.) Where the first had been volatile and unstable, this one was rigid - a pattern. Like numbers. Like code. Organized. Insightful.
to Ellizabeth Zhao, Emily Littleton
[Emily Littleton] There is very little room in Emily Littleton's world for coincidence any longer. She understands that there's a sort of random background noise that occurs in any given system, but more and more it's been converging toward meaningful patterns. There was method to the oddest parts of the madness of general life. So blood on newfallen snow, beside a pair of footsteps, exiting a brownstone, in a part of the city known to harbor a rather high density of fellow Awakened?
No. The Singer girl did not expect it was happenstance alone. She didn't presume any meaning into it, either.
Emily is not dressed overtly for the cold. She has an Initiate's grasp of a sphere that helps her mitigate any undue stress to her vital patterns. She wears her winter coat and beneath it a fine-knit sweater. Her scarf is a soft fabric, supple and sturdy but also fine-spun. What Elizabeth cannot see, but may presume, is that she rarely wanders alone unarmed. That she does not stray without her foci. Her phone.
And that's what comes out of the pocket, just now. Emily thumbs through the keys to find her camera, snaps a quick picture of the blood spots. Captures the building number. These things have a way of slipping her mind... eerily often. The phone's been vetted by a V-dept and her own skills. Maybe it will prove less prone to forgetfulness.
There's a long moment when the Singer looks at her phone and considers calling a not quite familiar face. She holds off, for now, and glances around to see if anyone else has taken undue notice.
[Ellizabeth Zhao] She pauses as she notices the blood, her brow furrowing. The receding presence of the resonance raises the hair on the back of her neck--she missed the Horsemens' resonance when they first met, so she doesn't make the immediate connection. All she knows is that something was wrong here, thanks to the blood, and that there was non-material evidence that someone Awakened had been here.
She drifts closer to the brownstone, looking the building over, before she realizes that she is not alone in noticing it. She sees Emily then, and she turns to the Singer, offering her a little nod.
"Good evening, Miss Littleton." A slight inclination of her head, a greeting and show of respect for the other Awakened. "I am handicapped a bit by my newness to the city, in this incarnation at least...would you, perchance, know if anyone lives here?" She looks at the brownstone for reference, and then back.
[Emily Littleton] "Miss Zhao," the greeting is perfunctory, a little distracted. Then her expression warms as she looks away from the building and over to Elizabeth. She catches herself and corrects: "Oh, forgive me, Elizabeth, it's good to see you."
There's a subtle tension to the greeting, however friendly Emily can seem. Now is not a time for niceties. She's grateful that the Akashic understands that. The Singer whets her lips, glances toward the brownstone and then back over.
"I don't know lives or lived here, but I recognize the resonance. One of them is passingly familiar. It's not a local, but someone passing through. The other I don't know."
She breathes out a little, her expression is tense.
"Should we check this out? I can call Gabriel, but I'd rather have something to tell him when I do." She could also call Solomon, but she doesn't offer. Or Ashley, but that doesn't come up just yet either. Emily's reply is calculated, even if her reasoning is not made immediately clear.
[Ellizabeth Zhao] "Passing through." She's learned enough from her conversation with Ashley and her own brief run-in that she seems to know what that indicates. She leans down as she looks at the blood spots. She is no forensic pathologist or blood spray analyst, so she apparently isn't trying to recreate the crime. She just seems to be studying it to commit the blood pattern to her mind before she looks at Emily.
"I believe checking this out would be a wise decision, yes." She looks around for a moment, then looks to the door. "If nothing else, there may be someone inside who needs our help." She steps forward and reaches for the doorknob.
[Emily Littleton] Emily pulls back the sleeve of her jacket and sweater a little, rucks it up enough that the pulse point at her wrist is easy to get to. She slips the glove off her right hand while Elizabeth concurs.
"I'm going to see what I can learn from this," she tips her head toward the bloodspot. "And then I'll be ready to go."
The Singer, who is not a blood spatter analyst, but who is very good at thinking in and out of the analytical box, lowers herself to a crouch beside the droplets. She doesn't reach out to touch them, but rather lets her bare fingertips rest on the inside of her wrist. She closes her eyes for a moment and focuses on something she'd learned to listen to last year, when the world was likewise sleeping, from someone who had known her heartbeat better than she did then.
There's a rising strum of Reverence, a sense of Grace and and majesty. There is no mistaking her Tradition. It is a simple scan, hopefully it will not delay them too long.
[Life 1: coincidental, -1 rote, -1 Focus, dif 3]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 5, 7 (Success x 2 at target 3)
[Ellizabeth Zhao] She refrains from opening the door when Emily moves to work her Arts on the the blood spot, nodding slightly. She moves to provide some visual cover for the Singer, arms folding behind her and dutifully sets herself to keeping a look out. No need for Sleepers to wonder why they're so interested in blood in the snow.
[Foreboding] Not one but two Awakened members of the population converged on this house at once. Perhaps that was a coincidence. Perhaps not. But they both noticed the blood in the snow, and they both felt the presence that had been there before them.
It felt... troubling.
The house was quiet. It sat still and serene, and aside from the blood on the lawn, there didn't appear to be anything amiss. The windows were covered, which, given the time of day, might lead one to believe that no one was at home. Or... that those who had been there didn't want anyone to see inside.
Neither of these two had the equipment or know-how to gather any detailed information from the blood, but Emily had enough understanding of Life magic to gather what information she could through more miraculous means, and as she focused on the bright spots of red, she channeled her awareness.
[Foreboding] The life force of the blood was delicate and faint compared to that of a full pattern, but it was there nonetheless, and there was basic information that could be garnered this way. First, the blood had come from a healthy body. By all accounts it seemed free of illness or mutation. Second, it was female, but whoever it belonged to, it wasn't someone whose pattern Emily had familiarized herself with before.
to Emily Littleton
[Emily Littleton] She slips her other glove off as she stands, and glances over to Elizabeth. Emily tucks these into a pocket, types a few things into a message on her phone and sends it off. The blackberry gets turned to vibrate and tucked back into the pocket that holds her prayer beads. She'll be able to feel it ring, but no one should hear it.
She nods to Elizabeth. There's little to read in Emily's expression, not outward panic or fear, but the set of her jaw has tightened and the lines around her eyes are more pronounced. She's ready, in a way she wasn't before.
"I have a don't have a very good feeling about this," she says, before looking back up at the brownstone and gesturing for Elizabeth to lead on. The Akashic had made the first grab for the door knob, so Emily expects she means to precede the Singer into the house. Meanwhile, Emily undoes the buttons of her jacket. In case she needs to reach for the firearm in the small of her back.
[Emily Littleton] Message to Gabriel:
[photo: blood on snow]
Female. Lake View.
Call me.
-E.L.
to Foreboding
[Ellizabeth Zhao] "Nor do I." She doesn't know exactly what Emily got from her examination, but she trusts that she'll find out in time. She steps back to the door and turns the doorknob--assuming it's unlocked--and slips inside, holding the door for her fellow mage.
Once inside, she looks around, trying to get a sense of the layout as well as looking for more signs of violence.
[Foreboding] There was a message sent - a picture of blood on the ground, and a brief, urgent text. A response to this did not arrive shortly thereafter, as the Singer probably would have hoped, but that did not necessarily indicate a cause for alarm. Phones could be silenced. People could be distracted.
Regardless, the two magi intended to continue. Elizabeth took the direct approach, reaching for the front door and trying the handle. There were about a dozen reasons why that plan might backfire, but surprisingly... it didn't. In fact, the front door was, indeed, open. So the two of them would be granted access to the brownstone as they made their way inside.
The first thing that both Elizabeth and Emily would notice was the smell. Blood - even fresh blood - had a distinct odor, metallic and salty. And there was more of it visible on the hardwood floor, leading in small droplets and partially smudged footprints down the hallway and to the right, disappearing past an archway that led into the living room.
The house was dim with the curtains drawn. No lights had been left on. And as of yet... no one had come to greet them.
[Ellizabeth Zhao] She frowns deeply as she sees what's inside, stepping further in so that Emily can follow. "And now my bad feeling is worse." She looks around, her body tensed with anticipation. She isn't panicked, merely ready to spring at a moment's notice. There could easily be a threat inside the home.
She looks back to Emily and then begins making her way further in, looking for a light switch. It is a risk, but anyone who is waiting probably knows that they're coming already, and they will have the advantage of knowing the layout. It is not an advantage the Akashic intends to let them exacerbate by keeping the lights low.
[Emily Littleton] Emily doesn't expect an immediate response from Gabriel. It was an FYI, rather than a call to action. If she needed his attention, immediately, she would not have texted him. She would have phoned. Repeatedly. Or better yet, emailed his Spook. Guys like that love unencrypted emails from a proprietary carrier's servers. She'd be on E--whosit's blacklist until the Internet faded away into nothingness in the wake of the net big tech thing.
She follows, one hand reaching back behind her and resting lightly on the firearm at her back. They are both ready. It's a dangerous thing, two will workers keyed to this point.
"The blood outside," Emily explains. "It's female. One of the resonances matches a member of Gabriel's group. Also female." She keeps her voice low. "I sent him a message; hopefully he'll call."
She's careful not to step in and track the blood along with them. Like Elizabeth, Emily's looking for light switches, some what to illuminate this mess short of throwing open the blinds. She's also looking for clues as to who the resident may have been -- titles or themes of books on shelves, decorating cues, level of technology in the house.
"You're aware they've been hunting a Rogue member of the Union?" she asks, keeping the terminology vague, at best."
[Ellizabeth Zhao] "I am aware of that fact, yes." She nods a little bit as she creeps forward. "Someone who worked on a serum of some sort to dampen Awakened abilities." She doesn't seem to much of a fan of the man, despite having never met him or heard about him from more than one person.
"A female member of the group." She looks back to Emily. "Anya, I would assume?" It's not a difficult guess--when Elizabeth had met them, Anya was pounding a man into a near-coma. Or possibly a full-blown coma. She realizes that she never checked on the man and inwardly curses herself for not having done so.
[Emily Littleton] Elizabeth looks back, so Emily only has to nod in agreement. Then, to offer a measure of levity to their abruptly shifted evening, she adds: "For being newly acquainted with the city, you seem to be up on all the latest news."
There's a note of approval to it, something wry that slips toward a warmer note. It humanizes her, for a moment, rather than painting her as so separate or other. A year ago, Emily would not have been this calm, watchful or ready -- a year ago, a bloody mess frightened her to the point of wide-eyed shock and rooted horror.
[Ellizabeth Zhao] "I would not go that far." She smiles, but it is only faint. There's something just a little bit older in the woman than usual, with her being on edge. The habits of Cheng Li are influencing her perhaps a touch more than usual. "I merely had a fortuitous conversation or two about the situation after I had my own encounter with the Horsemen."
[Foreboding] There were light switches to be found in the usual places, just inside the door in the hall, and another on the wall in the living room. Soon enough their way would be lit by the off-white glow of CF bulbs.
As the two women made their way into the living room, they'd see what appeared to be an average upper-middle-class American living space, with all the usual furniture and homey decorative accents. But these were not the things that they would notice. What was much more apparent were the signs of violent struggle: an overturned book case, a shattered glass near the unlit hearth...
Blood. Not just drops anymore. There were more crimson footprints smudged into the beige carpet, smears of it on the back of the sofa, and if they moved in the direction where the majority of it seemed to be focused, they'd notice splatters on the wall and the floor, and then, lying prone on the ground on the opposite side of the couch: a dead woman.
Not just dead. Broken. Torn. Destroyed almost beyond recognition. This was what police might refer to as a "crime of passion." Someone had not just wanted this woman dead. They'd wanted to hurt her. There was rage in this kill, and the lingering echoes of resonance declared likewise. The body was lying atop a large pool of sticky, matted blood. It had dried enough to be tacky and congealed, but was still fairly recent. Her wounds were varied - possibly from multiple sources, though some of them were clearly knife-marks. She may have had blond hair once. It was... difficult to tell.
More blood led into the kitchen from there.
[Foreboding] When the Singer and the Akashic followed the blood into the kitchen, they'd find a second body - this one of a man, slumped over in a chair that had been pulled out from the table. He was bound in place, hands tied behind him, and there was a gaping gunshot wound where a chunk of his skull was supposed to be. A diffuse spray of blood covered the wall behind him, along with some bits of flesh that had stuck to the wallpaper. There was also a small hole where the bullet had lodged into the wall.
This man looked to be somewhere in his 30's (though it was hard to tell,) and like the woman, he wasn't immediately recognizable to either Elizabeth or Emily.
[Ellizabeth Zhao] She looks over the scene, and her eyes narrow a little bit. "Anya's work, I would wager." It's what seems to make the most sense to Elizabeth, considering her encounter with them. She relaxes and then, as an afterthought, moves back out in the hallway to shut the door. This is NOT something they want to be walked in on by nose neighbors.
Once the door is shut, she goes back to the main room and starts looking for any evidence of who the two were. Mail with their names on it, photo albums, restraining orders--you know. That kind of thing.
[Emily Littleton] She swallows down the bile that rises at the back of her throat as the overwhelming sight and smell of blood floods her senses. The blood alone is bad enough, but the other bodily viscera, the slick, humanly grotesque aroma of it was almost too much for Emily to bear. The Singer's first year Awake had been steeped in all manner of violence and bloodshed, but it never stopped bothering her.
Emily glances away from the body. She minds her steps through the living room to follow the blood trail into the kitchen.
Which was, simply put, a mistake. Emily can only stand at the threshold for a moment, before her hand comes up to cover her mouth and nose. She breathes through her mouth, something she'd had to remember at the house last year, and steps away from the threshold. When she has control of her nerves once more, she reaches into her pocket and threads her fingers around her prayer beads.
Reaching out, she watches the weavings around them to look for active magics or lingering threads of effects.
[Prime 1: coincidental, -1 Practiced, -1 focus, dif 3]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 2 (Botch x 1 at target 3)
[Emily Littleton] [Dox: Sonovabitch]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Emily Littleton] [Soak: Please?]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 4, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Emily Littleton] [Again: +1 diff]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 2 (Botch x 1 at target 4)
[Emily Littleton] [Dox: I told you so.]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Emily Littleton] [Soak: I'm clearly not God's favorite child.]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 5, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Ellizabeth Zhao]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 5, 6, 7 (Success x 3 at target 6) [WP]
[Foreboding] If there were any active rotes to be found here, unfortunately Emily wouldn't be granted the sight that she needed to find them. The first attempt resulted in a flash of pain as reality bent back against her. The second... only made things worse. Sometimes impossible feats went off without a hitch, and sometimes even the safest, most familiar effects could rebound into paradox. Fate was tricky and unfair that way.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth moved through the house and checked the pockets of the murder-victims, looking for some sign of their identities. There were things that she'd notice about the place as she looked around - smaller details that had not been immediately visible upon first glance. Though the house was clean and seemingly well-maintained (recent violence aside,) a thin layer of dust had settled upon all of the surfaces. Most of these were undisturbed. (Perhaps evidence that whoever owned the place had not actually been home in some time.) The cabinets and refrigerator (should they be checked) were nearly empty but for a few non-perishables. Perhaps frustratingly, there was no mail or anything else with a name on it to be found on this level of the house, but the man in the kitchen did have a wallet in his back pocket, and this contained an Illinois driver's license, as well as the usual credit cards, club cards, etc (and a bit of cash.) His name was Michael Stevens. He was 34. Address in Chicago. Lake View. Only a few streets away.
The woman did not have any ID on her.
[Ellizabeth Zhao] She frowns deeply as she searches her way through the place. From the expression on her face, she is liking this less and less by the moment. The Akashic has spoken to people here about her philosophy and how she tries to keep herself balanced, but they have not seen the influence that her more hot-headed previous life can have on her. He was not nearly the ascetic that she is, and if Emily looks to Elizabeth, the Singer could see that is growing quite angry.
When she finally finds the wallet and pulls it out, she stands and looks around. "Why here?" is the only thing she says. Aloud, anyway.
[Emily Littleton] At the first surge of blinding pain, Emily's fingers tightened around the beads in her pocket, the thin thready reminder of her godfather's resonance, the call of something Steadfast [Inspiring]. Though pushing through that failure to try again was a mistake. He had ways of reminding her that she could only do so much at one time, only reach so far.
Her vision tunnels and Emily's hand slips out of her pocket to come pinch the bridge of her nose. She breathes in suddenly, sharply, like someone who has been hit unexpectedly. Pain blooms behind her eyelids, spreads around to the crown of her head, hammers.
Elizabeth is angry, but it's her voice that draws Emily's attention. The Singer blinks her eyes open, forces her hand to fall away from her face. The room is unsteady, still throbbing.
"I don't know," she says, but she doesn't sound any happier. "I can't tell if there's any Workings here." It's an admission of failure, but keeping that failure from Elizabeth would endanger them more. "I don't think we should stay here. Did you find anything?"
[Ellizabeth Zhao] "These two people do not live here." She hands over the license, which has a small blood smear on the corner. It's unlikely anyone could extricate a wallet from that without getting a little blood on her. "Or at least he does not. And no one has been here in some time."
She moves around to the dead woman, looking her over with her arms crossed over her chest. "Which means they were lured here, or dragged here, or were here on their own for some reason. That reason is likely signficant."
[Emily Littleton] There are things the once-Apprentice has learned. One is that her memory, when suffering a Paradox induced migraine, is less than perfect. The other is that Ashley is the worst memory aide ever. So she pulls her phone out and snaps a quick picture of the license. She, of course, commits the name and address to memory, and is very careful not to touch the blood smear on it.
Though, let's face it, it's hard to stay clean in this house.
"I don't recognize the name. It could also be an alias. I'll check it with Ash once we're done here. She might know something more."
Emily hands the license back. Her head was finally starting to clear, to stabilize at a threshold of pain that the Initiate could ignore. "Do you want me to look through the rest of the house?" she asks, and not just because it would get her out of the gore-splattered room and away from the bodies.
At least no one has asked her, yet, to help put them in Ashton's jeep.
[Ellizabeth Zhao] "Yes." She nods, taking the license and pocketing it and the wallet. "There could be more bodies, or more hopefully, an idea of who these people are and why they were brought here." She moves to lead the way, toward the other areas of the house. She's definitely a bit more take-charge, now that whatever it is done pissed her off.
[Emily Littleton] And out they go. Emily isn't really going to question the other woman's lead. In fact, she's somewhat relieved. She follows Elizabeth out into the hallway and they sort up who will go where for clearing the rest of the house. Emily does pull her firearm out at this point, before descending the basement stairs.
[Emily Littleton] [Per + Investigation]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Ellizabeth Zhao] [[Alertness--the three dice will not be so kind to me a second time, I fear]]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 4, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 8)
[Foreboding] The two women split up, taking the upper and lower sections of the house at once. Emily moved carefully down to the basement, readying her gun in case of potential danger. Luckily, what she found was a great deal less intimidating than the horror scene upstairs. The basement in this house was furnished and livable, with a small exercise area on one end and a sofa and chairs on the other. A washer and dryer sat in a small alcove in the corner. There was also a tv, and a desk by the wall. On the desk was a laptop. It was closed, but the power light was blinking.
Meanwhile, upstairs, Elizabeth was finding a similarly ordinary scene. There were no signs of carnage in this section of the house. The rooms looked ordinary - what one would expect to find: a bathroom, a couple of bedrooms, a study (interestingly, lacking a computer or any other means of file-keeping.) Two of the bedrooms had not been used recently, but the third one had - as had the bathroom. There was still water residue in the shower.
In the bedroom, the closet contained women's clothes. The other rooms had contained none, and looked to be furnished very sparsely (guest rooms, maybe.) There was a purse sitting on the dresser.
[Ellizabeth Zhao] She looks curious as she scans her way through the study, paying attention to specific books, a particular topic of interest within the library or so on. She also looks into the purse, opening it up and emptying it out on the bed to go through its contents.
[Emily Littleton] It doesn't take long for her to look over the rest of the room and progress to what will obviously catch her interest. Emily sets her firearm down where it will be immediately within reach, and opens the laptop. She notes the model, brand, and whether it's plugged in. Which of the lights are blinking.
This is no cursory looking over. She's very well acquainted with technology. Hopefully it's a familiar operating system, with an easy override or simple passkey.
[Foreboding] The books in the study were a mix of technical manuals - many of them on electrical engineering - and ordinary fiction books. The latter didn't result in a terribly interesting cache: mostly popular fiction and mystery novels. The former were fairly standard fare for someone who either worked in, or had gone to school for engineering. Some of them actually did appear to be old textbooks.
The purse was more interesting. It contained the usual assortment of purse-items (makeup, a hairbrush, a tiny bottle of hand-lotion, etc) as well as a wallet and a smartphone. If Elizabeth checked the wallet, she'd find a Minnesota State ID that read: Tessa White - age 35. The address was listed in Minneapolis. It had a picture that may or may not have matched the face of the woman downstairs - it was difficult to tell. The phone appeared to be in good working order.
In the basement, Emily went straight for what appeared to be the most useful item in the room: the computer. It was indeed plugged in, and had been left in sleep-mode. The brand was HP - a seventeen inch, one of their newer and faster models. When Emily opened it up, there was no password to input. This might strike her as more than a little surprising, especially if she suspected technocrat involvement. The desktop was a plain windows 7 background. In the middle sat an icon that said: House Security.
[Ellizabeth Zhao] She takes the wallet and the phone, pocketing both of them, and places the rest of the items into the purse which is left on the counter. She makes a last check of the upstairs before moving back down and out to check the back yard.
"Checking out back," she calls down to the basement as she passes by, just to keep Emily in the loop.
[Emily Littleton] "Found a laptop," she calls back. Meanwhile Emily's doing some simple system diagnostics before clicking on what seems to be an awfully shiny red button in the middle of the screen.
In fact... before she does double click, she'll pull the battery. The system should run on the A/C adapter alone, but if anything goes haywire, she should be able to just unplug it and hard-power down the system.
[Wits + Computer: per mystic]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 10, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Foreboding] From what Emily can tell, there isn't anything out of the ordinary about this laptop. There are no suspicious documents or programs... nothing of much interest at all, really. (Except for that icon.) It seems like someone's personal computer, and possibly a recent purchase with the lack of clutter. Firefox has been used recently, and the history contains searches for movie showtimes (apparently the owner was interested in seeing the Black Swan) and a couple of restaurants in the Mag Mile area.
One point of interest though - the hard drive is about 80% full, which is rather a lot considering the apparently bare-bones system its running.
to Emily Littleton
[Ellizabeth Zhao] With a raise to her eyebrow, she looks around at the fence, to see if there it is high enough that the yard has a sense of seclusion. Then, carefully, she moves to follow the footprints, placing her own feet inside each print so as not to advertise the presence of someone else like a neon sign to whoever may come next.
[Ellizabeth Zhao] She frowns, then turns around and heads back inside. She doesn't see any reason for there to be in further investigating out back. Instead, she shuts the back door and comes in, giving one last scan of the main room before she joins Emily down in the basement.
[Emily Littleton] There's nothing odd, except that the harddrive is overfull. Which leads Emily to think there's more going on here than what she can immediately tell. Or that someone's got an extensive MP3 collection, or pirated movies. Most people don't use the majority of their storage space for programs anymore.
They use it for --
-- nevermind.
The Singer is cautious with starting up something called "House Security", but curious enough to double-click. If anything untoward kicks off, though, she'll pull the A/C line and the hardware should fault out without power. Should. It was a lovely word in the tech sector. It should be safe.
[Foreboding] It was odd that this was sitting in the middle of the desktop, this icon. Almost as if it was waiting for someone to click on it.
(The blood had been left in the snow. The door had been unlocked...)
It could have been a trap. But it wasn't. It was a message.
When Emily opened the program, a video screen popped up displaying real-time images from all of the rooms in the house, as well as the front and back yards and the garage. It was what it had appeared to be - a security feed. It was a user-friendly program, and given Emily's experience with computers, it wouldn't take her long to figure out how to play back the video from earlier that morning.
...to be continued!
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