Through the Looking-Glass (Closed CVnU RP) IC

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Rosso

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#1  Edited By Rosso

Red Roof Inn - 1034 Hours

“Fifteen-year-old Kelsey marks the latest in a string of missing persons cases citywide over the past month. Local authorities are uncertain whether these cases are connected, but say they're not ruling out the possibility just yet. We’ll keep you up to date as this story develops. From Live@5, I'm Sharon Partners. Now back to you, Woody.”

The segment ended and, for Valentina, the hotel room might as well have fallen silent. She lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking. Occasionally grunting. Hard to believe it but the authorities in this Gothic City were worse than the ones in Madripoor. At least back home when they couldn't solve an issue it was usually on purpose. She had no doubt eventually these cops would figure out what was going on. The problem was that they were slow. By the time they worked it out, the job would no longer be profitable. Understaffed, underequipped. Maybe they just...needed some help. She smirked at the thought. Sorabella's daughter, working on the inside.If nothing else I would always be many steps ahead of myself, and everyone else.

But then the game would lose its lustre. She sighed. And besides, holding a regular job would mean she had to stick around, grow roots, become a regular face. Harder alibis, fewer out of town jobs. Not worth it. Still, Gothic was close enough to some of Madripoor's major cities, in terms of the kinds of people who dwelt there, that it was worth several safehouses.

A few more exertions later and her right wrist was free. More difficult than I expected. Well done. Brooke, you tie a hell of a knot. She smirked, gazing at the warm body just to her right. Shame we'll never meet again.

With one arm free the rest of her limbs were easy enough, her biggest challenge then to do it without disturbing last night's "adversary." The present game nearly finished, Valentina bent over and planted a kiss on the girl's forehead, with a whisper: "Que sueñes con los angelitos."

Her eyes shot across the cluttered room to the other bed, and the man who lay passed out on it, restrained just as she had been. John, was his name? She shrugged. It didn't matter. Or wouldn't, soon enough. The only important thing was that he was the older brother of the girl from the news report. From the nightstand between both beds the Scarlet Assassin dug through her purse, pulled an ampoule of a clear liquid which she drew into a syringe.

Succinylcholine. Strong muscle relaxant used in hospitals to allow intubation of conscious patients. Ideal due to rapid onset of action and short half-life. Not normally tested for in toxicology screens. Paralyzes respiratory muscles, and in higher doses the entire breathing apparatus, causing suffocation. Autopsy should suggest a heart attack.

Meting out 100 mg, Valentina inserted the needle where it would be hidden amongst the many other marks on John's arm. Muscular depolarization in 20 seconds. Suffocation and death within 5 minutes. Brooke would find him when she awoke, panic, and make the call. She'd be an early suspect, but easily absolved.

Stepping over bottles, cans, glasses, piles of clothes and sheets, she ran a bath with the door open, soaked a towel in hot water and wiped the dried droplets of Sangria Dulce candle wax from her body. A few minutes to soak herself, then she was out the door in time for a continental breakfast, the only trace left behind, a blonde wig from the night before.

The Summit Nightclub - 2129 Hours

Hundreds of drunk people crowded under one roof and music so loud you could feel it in the ground several blocks away? What's not to like about this guy? Valentina rolled her eyes and took a sip from the drink in front of her. Really, the place wasn't so bad, in and of itself (though she would've preferred the smaller saloon-style establishment up the street). The problems lay in the fact the owners were trying so desperately (and failing) to be the new Olympus. This, along with the actual prices, attracted a certain clientele. She could hardly get a moment alone with all the entitlement headed her way. Although the free drinks are nice.

Nice or not, this was disruptive, and free drinks wouldn't pay for her lifestyle. A generous tip to waitress and bouncer ensured both physical disruption and the liquid kindness coming her way were dammed up where they started, freeing the Crimson Viper to review her dossier in peace.

James-Isaac Wiltshire, taken to calling himself "Tex" ew, why? – Frequents the establishment roughly every other weekend, alone or with a group. Textbook douche-canoe who doesn't seem to realize or care that he's rubbing nearly everyone the wrong way. Black hair, dark brown eyes but prefers his baby blue contacts, roughly 5'11''.

Designated driver slash babysitter for the evening: his sister, Mary. Valentina put down the dossier to check in on the sad-looking girl by the bar, watching from afar. It was unfortunate, how much she cared. Too much to say no and leave her asshole brother to his own devices. Too bad he didn't care enough to return the favor. Too bad...

...that it's almost her time. Mary had a day, maybe a few more. That also meant it was almost James-Isaac's time. Minutes. Hours, give or take. Could make it fun if he wasn't such a tool. But there's no need to be too cruel.

With a nervous smile and an awkward remark, Valentina excused herself to the restroom and laid down the tip for her evening's kind assistants—Two crisp hundred dollar bills, and under each, neatly folded, a white slip of paper, each reading:

This place will be bankrupt or closed in three weeks. Find a new job.

She changed in the bathroom - the uniform looked good on her, even if she did think so herself - and returned for her shift behind the counter.

"You the new hire, Leslie?" asked the bartender whose tag read Debra. "Y'sure picked the right night for it, hope yer ready to work! Need any help, I'm right beside ya." She was nice. Valentina Leslie liked her.

Thirty minutes passed and Leslie managed all kinds of patrons. The actually wealthy scumbag; the pretend-wealthy scumbag; the low self-esteem guy-who's-attracted-but-scared-to-be-creepy; the creeper-who-thinks-he's-smooth; but her near-constant companion was none other than James-"Tex"-Isaac – she saw to that with a few words said in just the right way and a wink when no one was looking.

Aconitum. Known under many names but perhaps most wonderfully the "Queen of Poisons," indigenous to many parts of the world in the Northern Hemisphere. All parts of the plant are poisonous but none more so than the root. So toxic in fact that it has been traditionally used to hunt and successfully kill large animals such as bears and whales.

A tincture (alcoholic extract) of aconite root will not only go unnoticed in an alcoholic beverage, but can be detected only by sophisticated toxicology analysis using equipment that is not always available to local forensic labs. Unlikely to be discovered by GPD. A half tablespoon placed in a bottle of whisky is enough to kill a very large man. At 161 lbs, Mister Wiltshire is as good as done. Modulate dosage carefully so death does not occur too soon.

Prognosis: Vomiting, dizziness and diarrhea followed by palpitations, paralysis of the heart and airways, and death. Time from consumption: Forty-seven minutes, 26 seconds.

"Leslie" was genuinely horrified just as everyone else when it became apparent something was wrong. She stayed for questioning. Reviewed the situation over and over to the best of her ability, wondering if there was anything she could've done differently, any signs she might have missed. Oh God, was she gonna get fired? Was she gonna get sued? Oh...Oh, she could go? N-no, thanks.

The brother taken care of, it was time then to move in on her actual mark. She'd start with a brief apology that night and scurry off prematurely. Find Mary the next day, apologize again - this time for the incident and for being rude - and offer a pseudo-explanation. Ask some questions, get to know her. Get her to realize, through subtly manipulative prompting, that she didn't actually care. Carefully. She had to feel like the realization was all her own. That some part of her, as much as she feared to acknowledge it, was glad she no longer had to play babysitter to a man three years her senior.

And with him no longer occupying her life, something else would take that spot. What better than her new friend, giving a shoulder to cry on, reassuring her that she was not a bad person despite how she felt about her brother's death. It'd be a rush job, but Valentina could pull it off before Mary's time.

It was almost time...

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Tessa_Callahan

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Tessa tapped her fingers against her keyboard, pursing her lips as she narrowed her eyes. There was a string of deaths in Gothic City. Not that that alone would be anything noteworthy, but the lack of apparent motive, that was a clear alarm for her. There was only so much weird unexplained shit that was allowed to go on in this city before somebody stumbled upon it. And Sofia had alerted Tessa to it when she noted that multiple regulars from Market Square had started disappearing.

Tessa crossed her legs in the seat, leaning forward as she pulled the wireless keyboard into her lap and continued tapping away. The police reports were vague. Varied methods of death in the several that she had been able to pinpoint of having been Market Square regulars who had died around the same time. No common friends, no common places of work, no common living quarters, no bank transactions in common. Dead end after dead end, to the point that the police had just washed their hands of it. It was coincidence in their eyes, but Tessa had learned long ago never to ignore her instinct.

James "Tex" Isaac had died in the prime of life, seemingly from natural causes. A freak accident they were calling it, just an unfortunate turn of nature, of fate. But there seemed to be more of those than usual around here lately, and Sofia was becoming uneasy. And Tessa had learned long ago to trust Sofia's instincts and intuition without question, which is what she was doing here. Her next step was clear.

---

Small, cold, sharp drops of rain pelted from the sky, beating at the windshield of the black SUV that was Tessa was driving. She'd circled the block four times and only just now found a parking spot outside of O'Malley and Family Funeral Home. Visting hours had begun for the wake of the deceased James Isaac. He was a friend, a brother, a child, and his extended family had dolled themselves up and put on their brave faces.

She wore a simple black dress, one with short sleeves, a modest neckline, and which flared out and hit her right above the knees. Nothing that would draw notices. Her hair was het black, her eyes light brown, and she had a small smattering of freckles across her nose. Unremarkable and simple.

She trotted through the rain as fast as her booted heels could take her, and ducked into the funeral home. There were people milling about the open rooms, and James' family positioned at various areas, all looking oh so solemn and sad. Tessa was still compiling a full background report on Tex, but he hadn't seemed like the best guy. She of course, had no experience with a beloved family member passing, so who knew what people were willing to forgive once a loved one was gone?

Just as she walked in, there was a table set up with a guest registry where you could write condolences for the family, and above that a collage with family pictures of Tex throughout his life. Her heart twinged for a second as she looked at a picture of him and his father playing baseball in the backyard on what looked to be a warm summer day. A childhood she had never known, a normalcy that would never be present within the framework of her life.

She picked up a prayer card and moved further into the funeral home, cataloging everything she saw and heard for review later, no detail too small to escape her attention as she looked to find some sort of clue.

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Rosso

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"Please, I'm begging you. Don't make me do this. After what just happened..."

"Leslie, stop it. Please, just...Please, stop. For the both of us, please just...come along with me." Mary stopped on the sidewalk, standing in front of her friend, hands clasped over hers and looked down into her eyes. Pleadingly pouting, she swayed back and forth on both feet, tugging gently on Leslie's hands. She held her gaze, and Leslie stared back.

Finally the now ex-bartender broke down and capitulated, breaking her gaze, flush coloring her face almost the same color as her hair. "Okaaaayyyy, if it helps make it easier for you."

Mary shrieked so loud it made Valentina wonder if a sonic scream was her power, leaned in and stole a kiss before she even knew what'd happened. "Yes! Thank you so much! I promise, it'll be fine. Now, let's get out of the rain."

At the door, both girls were beset by a bevy of stares, half-curious and half-judgemental. Leslie's apprehension returned threefold and she realized a detail missing from everything she'd read so far. It's worse than I thought. Stupid, should've figured. Wiltshire, why hadn't I read about that? One of Gothic's old families. There was enough money in that small building to buy her death more than a million times over. She was suddenly very self-conscious about her outfit and felt extremely out of place. She wore a short black cocktail dress that hugged her figure, with a very unmodest neckline that showed enough cleavage she wouldn't have been surprised if James-Isaac's corpse hopped out of the casket for one final look; her mother's pearl bracelet and a pair of last-minute pantyhose that Mary convinced her was "perfectly fine in the absence of anything else." And that was it. Leslie hadn't really had much else, and nothing fancier. Only then did she realize she was woefully unprepared. At least her heels were a modest 2 inches.

Sensing her renewed trepidation, Mary pulled with one hand and used the other to guide Leslie by the small of her back, whispering to her. "Nobody even has to know you were serving him drinks that night - not like you were the only one, we'd been there for hours - and besides, nobody ever even said it was alcohol poisoning. The coroner's report won't be back for a while and, let's face it, he was having a pretty wild night. Even for him. I should know. I was there for all of them." By the end her whisper'd become sharp, just a hint of resentment peeking through.

"...You may be right," Leslie reluctantly agreed.

"I am, I'm sure. That's just your own fear convincing you you're guilty. Besides, even if they do look at you funny, we don't even have to stay long. Just...if you want to say a piece to make you feel better, you can. I've never been good at funerals, so personally, I'd just like to say a goodbye just in case I get cold feet and chicken out at the last second."

They stood before the body then, awkward silence between them. Even Mary's upbeat veneer failed to hold up against the actual sight of the body, close enough to touch. Both girls pulled back at the same time, giving space for another family member - some aunt or great whatever - to have a look at James-Isaac. She seemed annoyed she even had to be there. Probably scolding the boy for dying and forcing her to come around and pretend to care.

Mary sighed. "Okay, I'll leave you alone with Te...James, for privacy's sake. I'll stand around, say hi to a few folks and mingle a bit, and you can come get me when you're ready." Pulling Leslie further from the body and any other listeners, she added (with a slightly smirk), "And who knows? Maybe you'll be the one who ends up rescuing me. After all, I'm the one who's been playing mom to him for the past year, so I'm sure they'll have tons of questions for me. 'Mary, what were you doing at the time?' 'Were you watching him?' 'Mary, how much did he drink?' 'How much did you drink?' 'Mary, Mary Mary,'" in her most pretentious mocking voice. "We'll all be lucky if I don't turn into Bloody Mary by the end of it. So if you hear me scream...run."

And they both broke into a poorly hidden fit of giggling, trying and failing to be discreet. This drew more than a few eyes, which straightened both girls up fast.

"Right, soooo I'll seeya 'round. If anything goes wrong, give a holler or text. The codeword is: Jenga."

They hugged one more time and parted, Mary running off to play her role: sister and closest companion to the deceased. And heiress apparent, Valentina added in her own mind. This one just got more interesting. But, soon...

She just had to play her role a little longer. For the moment, however, she was left alone with the body of the boy she'd killed.

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Tessa_Callahan

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Tex's' family stood in a line, almost shoulder to shoulder, as the mourners filtered into the funeral home. His sister's eyes were bright with unshed tears, his father's dark with a berely filtered rage, and his mothere's were blank and glassy. Considering their wealth and status. Tessa was sure that they had drugged her to the gills to allow her to make it through this evening without making a scene and drawing too much attention from the paparazzi lingering outside of the funeral home like vultures.

She made her way through the line of the extended family, softly offering her condolences, with her brown eyes sad and downcast. It was never easy to lose a family member, and to lose one unexpectedly in the prime of life was the worst. Her contacts at the coroner's office hadn't been able to give her a definitive on cause of death, which meant the family still had no idea what had happened, either. It must eat at them like acid.

Tessa rolled her shoulders as she completed the receiving line, stood still, and closed her eyes for just a moment to refocus. She was tired of people in her neighborhood disappearing and dying with no rhyme or reason. Death and danger was to be expected in Gothic, and parts of the city had turned that into a tourism trap for the rich to view without ever exposing themselves to true danger. But this was not your run of the mill Gothic violence. Tessa knew that violence like the back of her hand, and this... this she had no stomach for.

She slipped into a milling group of mid-twenties and made herself unobtrusive as they chatted quietly.

"I heard he drank himself to death."
"I heard it was the molly again, he never really stopped."
"It was Mary, she wanted his portion of the inheritance."
"No, they were too close for that."
"That's what they always want you to think."

None of this was helpful or informative, and so she moved on, trailing away from the group and heading towards the body. The casket was open, and she could tell that the Wiltshire's had hired somebody to make James appear pieced together. A silk scarf had been loosely wrapped around his neck, positioned in such a way as to cover the autopsy scars that would otherwise show above the lines of his black suit. Everything must appear normal, even - especially - in times of tragedy. That was a worldwide rule for familiies functioning in the high social stratosphere.

There was a young woman - probably around Tessa's age - standing in front of the casket, her arms wrapped in front of her, hands cupping either elbow, and head slightly bowed. Normally Tessa wouldn't interrupt such a moment, but instinct spurred her otherwise.

She moved quietly, her four-inch heeled booties making nary a sound on the plush crimson carpet, until she came to stand beside her. "It's terrible, isn't it?" Tessa whispered. "Everybody circling trying to figure out what's going on, and the family don't even know why he's dead I can't imagine what it must feel like. Did you know him?"

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Rosso

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@tessa_callahan:

The voice of another yanked her to attention like a person pulled from a trance. She had apparently been praying, and held up her finger as to signal "give me a moment."

Several seconds passed. "Leslie" opened her eyes, unbowed her head, and ceased the soundless utterances upon her lips. "Sorry about that," she said, turning to the stranger. "It's very important in my family. 'Treat the dead with respect' and all that. I didn't know him well but I met him and his sister not long before he died. I'm here to...keep her company, mostly." She thought about her hand in the death but remembered Mary's words - best not to stir trouble where there is none, so don't mention it - and thought better.

"And you? Are you a friend of family or...?"