A Cold Case of Nerves

[Spinister]

Spinister raises a hand to cover his badge, and his helicopter blades flick a bit. One might suppose that he is offended.

Spinister stares at the waitress. She's flirting with him. He only knows that much because he can hear Singe cracking up in his head. And thinking about... uh... Spinister doesn't want to think about what Singe is thinking. Payback, ya big pink fairy. How do you think I like when you and your boytoy-

When the waitress is gone, he stares at the mug and the folded napkins. Hairsplitter and Singe have been here a while, and Hairsplitter has at least been paying attention to something other than the women. She's new. It was a different waitress all morning, and I don't see her at all now. Could just be a shift change, but you'd think for the lunch rush, they'd double up, not replace.

Hmm. An imposter? Some kind of trick? Or something less sinister? Certainly, she singled him out over Kup. Is it just that he's a man in a uniform? The cops here are often on the take.

Spinister doesn't think he'll be, unless it'll particularly benefit the Decepticons.

Weveil. The guy leaning on the department, too? Maybe. Spinister's just a rookie. He's just heard rumours.

Spinister deadpans, "Please. Continue being a productive law-abiding citizen." He could be serious. It's possible.

He reaches for the napkins under the mug as the bug tries to leave. Hairsplitter pays up, in coins, folds his newspaper, and drops down off the bar.

[Kup]

Kup doesn't try to stop the bug from leaving, but he does look him up and down, then double-checks the contact information, then casts the bug another glance, then shrugs. He responds to the Waitress by ignoring her in return, and instead just spreads out the file, reading through them.

After a moment, maybe two, he glances up at Spinister.

"So, junior, you actually gonna do this? I don't want you around, and I figure you don't wanna be around me. No reason I can't just take care of this, and you can't just sit back and enjoy your free drinks."

[SceneMod]

If anyone decides to follow Pritie out the door, they won't have to go far. The bug hurries to the corner, waves down a cab, and is quickly away. In precisely half an hour, he will clock into his tedious day job as a money changer in the Tourist district.

A waitress comes out of the backroom, but not the cute girl who flirted with Spinister. Instead it is the same waitress who has been working all morning. She looks a bit harried as she adjusts her apron and smooths her hair before clearing Hairsplitter's empty cup. She turns and murmurs a few words to the barrista, then puts on her smile and goes back to waiting on the slowly increasing crowd.

Depending on how Spinister picks up the napkins, he will either notice that the napkins are awfully firm for paper napkins, or will uncover a very thin and small datachip. There's also a phone number equivalent scrawled on the top of the first napkin in bright green ink, complete with a little heart.

As Kup pours through the various clippings, he may notice that about two years ago, there was a sudden variation (ie, an increase in torture level) in the murder patterns. Enough of a variation that the local news (and according to the paper, the cops) attributed that killing and the subsequent dozen to a different perpetrator or group.

At least until three weeks ago. It appears a reporter decided to try and make the murders- old and new- front page news again. She made it to page eight. In that article, she drags up details not mentioned in any previous articles, including that the bodies all proved to have the exact same stomach contents when autopsied. Not similar. The same. Contents consistent with having had their last meal at a particular food line run by a particular temple. A temple that is halfway across the city from the area where the bodies were found. She posits that the variation isn't a variation at all; that it is merely an escalation in violence caused by the murderer's having more time to play with his victims. More time given, because he's perfected his hunting technique.

The timeline the reporter worked out indicates that, based on first injury to last, the killer was taking roughly seventy-two hours with each victim.

The last murder was four weeks ago.

The most recent clipping in the folder though, details the disappearance of the female reporter, Tweety Jill.

It's dated this morning.

[Spinister]

Hairsplitter doesn't follow Pritie all the way to work, just long enough to see the bug catch a cab. Then he wanders back near to the coffee house, though he doesn't re-enter.

Junior? Perhaps Kup really is trying to rile Spinister. Well. Spinister won't give Kup the advantage of his anger, and he calms himself down. On the other hand, perhaps Kup wanted Spinister to calm down. Oh well. Being calm is still better.

Spinister replies, voice perfectly level, "Dereliction of duty is a serious offence." Yeah. You'd need to be a rookie to believe that, right? "You may reach me at [frequency]."

It is an old Golden Age Iacon police band, not Spinister's actual frequency. Perhaps he does have a sense of humour, after all. Spinister'll be checking it, anyway.

"I'll be watching." There Kup has it. Kup can have Spinister where he can see Spinister, or he can have Spinister anyway.

Belying his words, Spinister turns around, back to Kup, as Kup looks at the clippings. This is what is known as a stupid move, given Kup's reputation, but Singe can watch Kup while Spinister looks at his napkins. Hmm. Phone number. Spinister commits that the memory. Green ink. Heart. Handwriting is... heart? Spinister thinks about Needlenose's advice that someone who doesn't usually get complements will really appreciate them, and he realises... oh. Isn't that exactly what Needlenose did with Spinister? Oh.

Hmm. Napkins are a bit thick for... ah. A datastick. Thin. Discreet. So not something he's jamming in his arm. A quick check under the cup, and he pulls out a datapad without wireless or anything terribly useful on it, and he looks to see if there's a port the datastick will fit into.

The other waitress is back. Looking harried. Hmm.

[Kup]

Kup scowls at Spinister's words. "Oh, come on, like you've got any reason to care about this business," he snaps, annoyed. He leans back in his seat, setting down the clippings. "But if you're going to be that way, then fine. Stay in leaking sight." He then leans forward and lowers his voice, growling, "But first, tell me how I can trust you not to shoot me in the back the first chance you get? How do I know you aren't going to just off anyone I'm trying to bring in - or save?"

Wait, what's that about saving someone?

[SceneMod]

The cafe continues to fill with customers, and another waitress and barrista do come on staff, though neither of them are the perky young girl who was so taken with Spinister. The morning waitress keeps shooting impatient looks at Kup and Spinister, then looking down at her watch. Five more minutes, and she's booting them. And not just because she needs the table.

The datastick fits into Spinister's tablet easily enough.

Getting the data off it, however, is not so easy. The files are encrypted and password locked. Heavily so- it will take some serious hacker skills to open them. All except one.

That file contains one simple text document:

*****

Let's play a game, shall we? It's a game for three not two, so you can't get rid of the hunter like your superiors probably want you to do, Spinister. Like it's in their best interest to do really. I can't blame them; I really have been quite the annoyance, but I'm only doing my job, earning a proper wage in a completely Pz-Zazzian way. They just hate that my doing my job means they have to look more incompetent than they really are.

But I digress. The game is simple. Find me. Both of you together. Of course, finding me doesn't mean you'll catch me, or save the girl, but finding me does mean you'll both get something very, very useful. Make a right move, and a file will unlock. Do something terribly wrong, and a file will be erased. You need most of the files to get the full story, so I'd be quite careful not to make many poor moves if I were you.

The first moves a freebie- show the hunter Kup this message. Oh, and you might want to leave the cafe through the backdoor.

*****

The harried waitress finally strides over. "Look, I need this table. You guys ain't ordering, and the guy who did's gone. I don't like this kinda mess getting set up in my place." She peers at Kup. "'Spose to tell you that there's a package waiting for you down at Dawson's. But it don't open 'til late."

[Spinister]

If people had to care to do their jobs, nothing would get done.

Spinister has nothing to say in reply to Kup's demands. He simply tries to hand Kup the mug and the datastick, before stalking toward the bar, where Singe is sitting. Singe sputters his drink out, wipes the dribbles off his chin, and hastily pays, glaring furiously at Spinister.

Outside, Hairsplitter, who was left more or less in front of the coffee house, tries to see if there's obviously any reason not to exit the front. He counts at least five cops, one plainsclothed - he remembers seeing him at the station. Two beat cops in car - are they eating lunch? It is that time, after all. Two walkers for certain. Paramedics treating someone down the corner. Way, way, down, a women screamed after catching her heel in a grate and going down. Possible broken leg. Hard to tell that far away. Busy street, but then, there are lots of lunch spots.

Nothing overly suspicious, which is suspicious in and of itself.

Spinister may need to pay a call to one of the Ravages or Frenzy or maybe a Soundwave or Stalker or... well, there are really a lot of Decepticons and even Predacons who might be able to open those files. Or perhaps Kup has someone who can, though Spinister is not sure if he wants the Autobots to open them. Or if they're worth opening at all.

This could be the killer. This could be an accomplice. This could be someone pretending to be the killer.

Whatever the case really is, Spinister knows one thing.

Someone's screwing with him.

And that means someone wants to die.

Does this guy really think he's getting a wet-behind-the-audios rookie and a tired, burned out old man? Spinister hopes so, he really does. Spinister won't even disabuse him - or her - of the notion. The department won't mind a few deaths, after all. Strongly encouraged them, in fact.

Singe loosely grabbed in one hand, he turns and asks the waitress, "If I might use the washroom?" There is the glint of something in his other hand, and she just might get it if she answers 'yes'. Or perhaps if she answers 'no'. It all really depends, and he's not in a good mood at all right now.

[Kup]

Kup starts to ask 'what kind of thing' but then the waitress mentions the package, which suggests that she probably has at least an inkling on 'what kind of thing.' He makes a soft growling noise and says, "Fine, fine," as he accepts the cup from Spinister. He peers inside and snorts. "Probably tastes like sludge, anyway," he adds as he puts the cup down.

The datastick is still in his hand.

He doesn't get up just yet - in fact, as the Waitress turns away to deal with Singe, he slips the datastick into a datapad of his own and frowns at the message. Then he lifts his head and meets Spinister's optics before standing and gathering up the rest of his files.

"Well, you heard the lady. We'd better get a move on," he grumbles as he does, his optics searching out the cafe's back door and anyone who might be paying attention to it.

[SceneMod]

Other than a few people who give Spinister a nervous glance as he stalks about, no one in the cafe is really paying much attention to the odd couple, or to the various exits.

It does seem to be taking those paramedics down the way a lot longer than one would think to take care of the fallen lady.

The waitress glares at Spinister for a few seconds before answering, "Yeah, through the door there," she points at the stockroom door, "left turn, straight down on the right."

She's ignoring the fact that there's a clearly marked public restroom in the back corner of the cafe. The directions will actually take Spinister- and Kup, she hopes- out the backdoor and out of her cafe.

She stalks back to the counter. Conversation closed.

[Spinister]

Hairsplitter continues to read his newspaper, pausing in the obituaries, but he meanders toward the paramedics. He's just a little fellow in this district, and he can't run - that would attract attention. It's probably nothing, but on the off chance...

Hairsplitter can always call in aerial backup if he gets into more than he can handle, after all.

Spinister was hoping that perhaps the real restroom would have, in decreasing order of preference:
- a window he could shimmy out
- a floating ceiling he could crawl up and exit elsewhere
- a janitorial closet that actually lead elsewhere
- an actual door out
- a sewer grating big enough for him to fit down
- a window, though not big enough for him, but big enough for Singe
- a sewer grating, though not big enough to fit him, but big enough to fit Singe

But it's not the thought of being jammed down a sewer that really has Singe upset.

Spinister has his own reasons to be unhappy. He's being herded. Cattle are herded. To slaughter.

That, and everyone else but him seems to have more of a fragging clue than he does. Kup mentioned saving - the stupid letter mentioned saving. (Spinister hasn't read all those newspaper clippings like Kup has.)

This whole thing had to be set up relatively in advance, for all these mysterious packages to be in place and for all these waitresses and whatnot to be paid off. Spinister has a feeling it is only going to get worse.

The creep has his name. His name! Plan'chard was on this case yesterday night - Spinister was only handed it this morning. Suggests contacts within the department, then. Also, the threat of deleting files if they go too far of course... either an idle threat to rattle them, or they are being monitored. Best to assume they're being monitored.

Nervous glances. Not unusual, back home, but given that this is not home at all, Spinister tries to note down the appearances of the more-nervous-looking patrons.

Carrying Singe like a doll, which Singe does not appreciate at all, Spinister stalks toward the back door, though he falls behind Kup. Kup is willing to be herded, huh? Fine. The old man has obviously survived an ambush or two before. He can go first.

(Though Kup has obviously also heard to never let the damn rogue out of sight.)

[Kup]

Spinister isn't the only one unhappy. Ignoring the fact that some reporter's life may be at stake, ignoring the fact that they're being herded... well, okay, it's the fact that they're being herded, and that Kup, specifically, is being herded with a sniper behind him. A sniper who was the one who showed him the message.

It's almost enough to get Kup marching right out the front door. In fact, the only thing that prevents that is the endangered reporter. Of course, even that could all be a trick, but Kup can't take a chance. Sometimes you've just got to walk straight into a lie because the consequences of slim truth are just that bad.

Scowl set firmly in place, he follows the directions to the washroom that obviously don't lead to the washroom. As it so happens, he has survived quite a few ambushes. Still, as he moves out of sight of the restaurant goers, he growls quietly to Spinister, "You keep your little buddy pointed at someone else, got it?" He hesitates a moment at the back door, then pushes it open, optics narrowed as he looks around.

[SceneMod]

The backdoor opens into a narrow alleyway littered with debris. The alley dead ends a short distance to the right. The other end opens on to the street that parallels the one in front of the cafe. There's a large dumpster just beside the cafe back door. The building across from the cafe's wall has two doors. One is metal, green, rusted, and secured by an equally rusty chain and padlock; the other is situated closer to the street, sagging on its hinges, and ajar. There are the ubiquitous metal fire escapes on both sides, and a few windows, some open, some not.

A bit of gravel and tar falls from the edge of the roof as the pair steps out, but there is nothing to be seen should they look up.

If Hairsplitter joins the gawkers at the corner, he might notice, as the paramedics lift the softly sobbing woman into the ambulance, the butts of pistols peeking out from under their jackets. Of course, that might just be standard procedure in case of interference or getting caught in a turf war.

He may also notice that the woman is reptilian, has blond hair, and that the amount of blood on the ground and on the bandage around her leg seems out of place for even a compound leg fracture.

[Spinister]

Spinister tries to move to the left of Kup, just a step behind, and tries to hand Singe to Kup.

That's why Singe is so annoyed.

But Kup keeps going blah blah blah about where Spinister is and where Spinister keeps his gun, so maybe that'll shut him up and get Kup more focused on the case instead of Spinister's guns.

Because please. Snipers do it from two miles away.

Spinister looks up, of course. Just because he doesn't see anything doesn't mean no one is there. He knows that better than most. Spinister trots over to the dumpster, pulls out a pair of gloves, and moves to rummage through it. That is naturally what any paranoid bootleg does with a dumpster.

Hairsplitter makes it over to the show, such as it is. Reptilian, blonde hair... he's too short to make out her face, but it's enough to get him to climb the nearest bench. The paramedics carry guns? Well. Hairsplitter's an ecological efficiency expert who carries a rifle. The Constructicons are all packing. Hairsplitter is not the man to find paramedics with guns weird.

But why is she bleeding from a broken leg? Did the bone pierce the skin or something? Does her species just bleed really easily? Maybe he can see some of those answers from atop a bench.

[Kup]

Kup's optics widen as he's handed a little man. He accepts Singe because, while he assumes Spinister must have a back-up, a Spinister without Singe is still a slightly less dangerous Spinister. As the sniper - Kup has a hard time thinking of Spinister as 'cop' - makes his way to the dumpster, Kup himself heads towards the door that's ajar. His movements are ambling at first, but as he approaches the door, he moves closer to the alley. So why is it they're supposed to go this way, anyway?

Or is it just distraction?

Quietly, he says to Spinister, "You ain't had a chance to look over the files. Soon as there's a moment, I'm guessing you should, but there's a new disappearance, one that's probably still alive. We've already got one lead - temple accross time. Well, two, I guess, if you count Dawson's, but I can't say I'm comfortable with being led around on a leash like this."

[SceneMod]

Everything is a distraction.

In the dumpster is quite the pile of filth and food refuse; obviously, the garbage pickup hasn't run in several days today. Nothing of interest, really; several paper and Styrofoam cups, the breakfast leavings, some packaging, a green pen, a plastic spork and knife or three.

Once Hairsplitter gets a better vantage point and provided he does it before the ambulance doors shut, he will see that the wounded girl is the same bubbly waitress who found Spinister so fetching. Should he cast his eyes back over the ground where the girl fell, he might just recognize the pattern of arterial spray on the sidewalk, arcing out from the edge of the sewer grate. He also might notice a divot and skip marks on the concrete that seem very fresh.

Nothing jumps out at Kup as he nears the open door, and should he look inside, he'll see nothing but an empty, darkened stairwell that doesn't appear to be in regular use. He might be able to make out that the dust on the steps looks to have been disturbed recently. There is a thin strip of paper, like from a shredder, caught in a crack of the rusted railing. It looks almost as old and untouched as the railing itself. Should Kup pick it up, he will see that, printed in very small lettering, is a message.

Rookies are expendable.