Play@YSDC

Los Angeles, October 1967

A man sits alone in a nondescript office located somewhere within an ordinary downtown office building. He opens the sealed envelope on the desk before him.

EYES ONLY
DESTROY AFTER READING

You are to infiltrate antisocial enclave located in Venice, California. Following individuals, believed to be involved in subversive activities, have all been seen at an establishment, notorious for illegal activities, known as Sospiri. Said establishment known to be frequented by racial minorities, so-called artists, and young dropouts.

NORTH, ELIZABETH

British subject. Newly arrived to investigate supposed paranormal activities associated with JAMES, ZARA (see below.) Possible radical connections.

JAMES, ZARA

Substance abuser. Has produced paintings supposedly predicting future events (reference attached article, Fate magazine.) Suspect these are messages sent to radical groups to incite violence.

FERRIS, WILLIAM

Past history associated with violent deaths, no charges. Previous arrests for possession of marijuana. Unknown reason for arrival in Venice.

COLLINS, LLEWELLYN

Former left-wing lawyer. Connections with racial minorities and criminals. Book store possible meeting place for radical groups.

You are to design your own cover identity and report on these individuals, and any other suspicious characters and activities. Report via usual channels.

Good luck, Jack.

The man shreds the document and conveys it to the building's incinerator after committing it to memory.

Venice, California, October 1967

Half a century ago a man with a dream of recreating Italy's city of canals created a resort for the idle rich. Since then a playground for the wealthy has degenerated into a community of low-rent apartments for immigrants, minorities, and dropouts. Many of the old buildings have been destroyed, leaving only rubble due to lack of funds for renovation. Most of the canals have been paved over, but some remain, filled with garbage and polluted water. In recent times the city has become a Mecca for hippies. Due to youth gang activity and drug abuse, there are frequent police patrols.

Sospiri has been a guesthouse, a restaurant, a coffeehouse, and a tavern. It now serves all those functions, as well as others kept secret. There are tiny rooms upstairs where those who can find no other lodging may rest upon bare mattresses. It is here that a disparate group of people happen to come together to face whatever fate may bring.

Zara James wakes from troubled dreams. In the pale yellow morning light she can see that she has produced another painting while in a state of altered consciousness. As has happened so many times before, it depicts dark and disturbing things.

In the center is a distorted rendering of the entrance to Pacific Ocean Park, the recently shuttered amusement park, now a haven for vandals and addicts. The cheerful tower, topped by seahorses, is bent and melting. Behind it looms a gigantic human figure, completely hidden by a large black hat, black ski mask, black leather coat, and black leather gloves. In one hand dangles a straight razor, dripping blood. The blood falls into one of the decrepit canals of Venice, staining its waters bright red.

It is almost time for her to meet with the English woman who wants to interview her at Sospiri.

Dr. Liz North pulls up near Sospiri in her red Aston Martin DB6. It had been expensive to import the sports car from the United Kingdom, but well worth it, and money isn't exactly an obstacle for her. Driving on the wrong side of the road has taken some getting used to, but she's now acclimated to it. After parking, she opens her door and swings her long legs out of the car, stylish black boots rising to mid-calf. She wears a green minidress that shows off her figure to good effect. She emerges from the car, locks the door behind her, and heads into Sospiri, curious to meet Zara James and find out about her apparently prophetic dreams.

The stylish British sports car draws quite a bit of attention from a group of teenagers standing idly nearby, dressed in jeans and sweatshirts, smoking cigarettes and pitching pennies. When the driver emerges, she draws even more attention, in the form of howls and wolf whistles.

Entering Sospiri, one has to stop and wait for one's eyes to adjust to the darkness inside, after the blazing sunlight of a typical fall morning in Southern California. After a moment, it can be seen that the place consists of a few badly battered tables and chairs, along with a bar with some rickety stools. Where once there might have been a large mirror behind the bar, there is now a bare wooden wall, covered with graffiti and scribbled artwork ranging from surreal to obscene.

There are some customers, if that is the right word, alone or in pairs or trios. They sip various hot and cold beverages, smoke, converse, or just stare into space. A man, about fifty years old, stands behind the bar, reading a battered paperback, somehow managing to do this despite wearing sunglasses in the dark room. He has sandy hair cropped short, and is dressed in a white T-shirt and black chinos. He looks up as the new arrival enters.

"Yeah?" After a while he adds, "Hey. Nice wheels. Might wanna keep an eye on it."

"Cheers," says Liz, her British accent readily apparent. She is used to all of the attention by now. Overall she regards her beauty as more of a gift than a curse. For every man who might go too far, there are two who will leap to defend her honor. She takes up a position at the bar that allows her to look out the window so that she can see both her car and anyone who might enter. "Anyone who steals my ride is just asking for trouble. It has to be the most recognisable car in the city. I doubt there's another like it. Of course, I've learned never to underestimate human stupidity, so you've got the right idea."

Zara considers skipping the interview, but decides against it, though her dithering means she'll be slightly late. She opts for a colourful minidress and some jewelry, trying to make herself feel better - and when she arrives, gets herself a drink before looking around for Liz North.

Bill Ferris has two reasons to be at the Sospiri.

The first reason can be gleaned from the orange poster tacked to the outside of the building. The psychedelic wavy lettering lets everybody know that tonight
-----------------
BILL FERRIS
(FORMERLY OF
THE AMAZING HOUDINIS)
-----------------
will perform a set of solo songs.

So right now Bill (dressed in his usual dark crimson leather jacket) is busy setting up before the evening performance.

But he has a second reason, one that's less obvious. He wants to meet Zara James, a person who's he heard about before: a visionary artist, or perhaps even an artistic visionary, a true seer? Time will show...

He notices a colorfully dressed young woman at the bar, who fits the description. Holding his half-tuned mandolin, he walks over to her.

"Hey there, how is it going? Say, aren't you Zara James? The artist?"

At the mention of Zara's name, Liz turns and approaches her and the man who is speaking to her. "Hello," she says. "I'm Liz North."

"I am, yeah," Zara replies - pointing at the mandolin, she adds, "And does that mean you're Bill Ferris?" Then, when Liz interjects, she replies "Oh hey. I'm Zara. I'm sorry I'm late, but it happens a lot."

Lew is sitting at a table waiting for the music to start, a cup of coffee on the table in front of him. One hand rests on top of his cane and the other on the table near the cup. He scans the others in the room, not avoiding eye contact but not maintaining it if someone notices him. It's always interesting to see who shows up to watch someone who has to advertise as "formerly of" when his solo career can't sustain on its own.

"At least he's still trying. He thinks to himself.

"Quite all right," says Liz with a smile. "You're not even that late. I've only recently arrived myself. It's nice to meet you, Zara. I hope I can help you understand and deal with your dreams."

Meanwhile at a nearby table, a man in a business suit sits alone, apparently reading a newspaper and nursing an iced tea.

Agent Jack Carson sips his tea and takes a Parliaments cigarette pack out of his jacket pocket, then, if anyone were watching him, appears to change his mind and puts the pack away. In those moments he has already used the hidden miniature 35 mm camera disguised in the pack to photograph each of the assigned subjects.

He takes out a pipe and puts it in his mouth instead. Sound from the radio receiver hidden in the pipe travels from the pipe through the jaw bone to the ear canal, enabling him to eavesdrop on any conversation in the vicinity.

He listens and watches.

It doesn't take long for trouble to start in the mean streets of Venice.

A couple of the more daring teenagers jump on the hood of the Aston Martin. They bounce the car up and down, laughing and shouting.

As luck (good or bad) would have it, before anyone inside Sospiri can react to the situation, the roar of engines fills the air, becoming deafening. Soon it diminishes into the dull roar of a pack of idling motorcycles, allowing the conversation outside to be heard.

"That your car, punks?"

"Uh, no. Just testing the shocks."

"Then get the hell off it."

The teenagers quickly rush off. The motorcycle engines are turned off one by one, and their riders enter Sospiri.
In walk five men and four women. The men are dressed in heavy black leather jackets with DAMNED SOULS M.C. stitched on their backs. They all wear leather gloves, blue jeans, and T-shirts. Individuality is displayed by their various choices of shaved heads, beards, tattoos, and whether they choose to wear iron crosses, swastikas, or other symbols obviously intended to provoke reaction. Four of the five are accompanied by a woman with whom they display obvious signs of affection. The women wear brightly colored tank tops and tight leather skirts, often with black stockings. The man without such a companion walks ahead of the others, nods to Liz, and heads for the bar. The barkeep tosses him two six-packs of cheap local canned beer, probably not even chilled. This is quickly consumed, some of it poured on the heads of the men by their fellows.

After a while the silent man, evidently a leader of some sort, walks outside for a moment. He comes back with the poster announcing tonight's concert in his hands. He very slowly and deliberately tears it into tiny pieces, tossing them on the ground.

"Music," he says to the barkeep, in a low, soft, but somehow commanding voice. "And not this hippie crap."

The barkeep disappears for a while, then comes back with an old record player. He plugs it in and places a stack of 45's on the turntable. The unmistakable sound of Louie Louie blasts from the speaker, loud enough to make the obscure lyrics completely unintelligible. Raucous dancing and chanting begin.

The leader approaches Liz. Without requesting permission, he places his hands around her waist and holds her tight, slow dancing as best as one can to such a song. His eyes are half-hidden behind dark glasses, his expression an enigmatic combination of amusement and contempt for the world.

"Thank you, chaps," says Liz, grinning at the bikers. "That's my car out there. Allow me to stand you lot to a round of drinks."

Shortly after the arrival of the bikers, a gleaming Rolls Royce pulls into the parking lot of Sospiri. A smart chauffeur climbs out and opens a rear passenger door, allowing one Tony Patchpole to step neatly out.

"Thank you Wandsworth." His voice is rich and cultured, his accent unmistakably British. "You may return to the hotel now. In fact, take the rest of the day off - I'll make my own arrangements from herein."

The chauffeur nods and drives the Roller out of the parking lot as Tony strolls towards Sospiri. He pauses to inspect the Aston Martin, tutting at the dents on the hood (or 'bonnet', as he would say).

He enters the building, his immaculately tailored suit no doubt standing out amongst the leather-clad bikers and the other casually attired patrons. Swinging his cane slightly in time with the music, he approaches the counter, sits himself down on a stool and smiles at the staff.

"Ah, Louie Louie by the Kingsmen - delightful tune. A coffee if I may - black, no sugar. Oh, and would you happen to know the whereabouts of Zara James, the painter? I'm in the market for some art."

The barkeep, startled by the unusual appearance of this new arrival, opens his eyes (normally kept half-shut) wide.

"This place is turning into Carnaby Street," he mutters to himself.

He procures an old-fashioned coffee pot from behind the counter, heats it over a can of Sterno, and pours the contents into a cracked mug with a cartoon image of a dog and the words I Was a Coffee Hound at the New York World's Fair 1964 - 1965. The brew is quite strong and bitter.

"That's her over at that table," he points out.

"Thank you." Tony takes the mug and raises it in salute. "Chin-chin."

He takes a sip of coffee (trying not to grimace at the assault on his finely-tuned palate) and looks across to where the barkeep indicated. There he spots a dark, waif-like girl in conversation with a chap holding a mandolin - possibly the musician advertised by the flyer on the wall nearby. He fishes out a neatly rolled copy of Fate magazine and compares the girl to the black & white photo therein, nodding in satisfaction that it is a match. Politeness dictates that he will wait until the girl has finished her conversation before he walks over to introduce himself.

His attention is then drawn to an attractive redhead. Automatically raising an appreciative eyebrow, he watches as she handles a group of rowdy bikers. He vaguely recognises her as a member of his own class - no doubt he will be able to put a name to the face soon enough. Although she seems to be dealing with her situation admirably, he prepares to chivalrously step in should she find herself in difficulty.

By force of habit, he then scans the room for anyone, or anything, else of interest.

Zara tries to keep still and small as Liz deflects the bikers.

Carson winces and quickly removes his pipe listening device, half-deafened by the loud music.

Liz is pleased to see the Rolls Royce arrive and drop off a fellow posh Brit. It's a small world after all, indeed, she thinks. As she dances, she looks over her partner's shoulder and catches Tony's eye.

OOC,The text below the spoiler button with the dice rolls hadn't been there when I posted, but I'd still do the same thing.

The loud music (which, by this time, is blasting out Wild Thing's notable ocarina solo) prevents anyone inside from hearing a siren's wail until just before it grinds to a halt. Two police officers enter Sospiri. The barkeep quickly removes the phonograph's needle from the record, resulting in an annoying screech.

One of the bikers, a tall, thin fellow whose name, it seems from snatches of shouts aimed in his direction during the party, is Loser, grins at them.

"Well, well. If it ain't the Dynamic Duo. Sorry, Batman, the Joker done left town."

The leader of the motorcycle gang (who has been addressed as Mister Blue) walks up to the officers.

"What's the hassle? We're just having a good time. We don't need the Man bugging us."

"This isn't the usual vandalism, public drunkenness, or disorderly behavior charge, Blue," one of the cops says. It's obvious the two have met many time before. "This time it's homicide."

"Come on, man. We haven't rumbled with the Dirty Saints for weeks, and that wasn't nothing but a few busted jaws."

The cop shakes his head, almost sadly. "This wasn't a rival gang. It was a fifteen-year-old girl. Maria Sanchez. Ran away from her home in San Diego. Wound up here. We've got witnesses say she was seen with some of your boys."

"Hell, we party with any chick who isn't a square. Maybe they get high, but they walk away alive."

"This one didn't. They found her body in one of the canals. Multiple wounds. Bled to death." He moves closer to the leader. "Look, Blue, I know you guys weren't responsible. None of them are sick enough to do what some maniac did to this girl. But I have to get statements from all of you. You know the drill. Where were you last night, when did you last see the victim, all that stuff."

The questioning of the bikers and their women proceeds with much grumbling and protest. Meanwhile, the other policeman approaches the others in the place, one by one.

"I need to get your names, see some ID, find out anything you might know about what happened last night. Let's not make this any harder than it has to be."

"Of course, Officer," says Liz, taking out her passport and showing it to the cops. "I'll do whatever I can to help. I'm Dr. Liz North. Ph.D., not a medical doctor, though I've studied medicine some too. This is the first I've heard of the murder."

Zara visibly blanches at the policeman's description of the murder, and she swallows the rest of her drink quickly before asking for another (which I assume won't be forthcoming while the police are there). She will give her name, show what ID she has, and deny knowing anything about what happened. If asked why she's reacting with such clear nervousness if she knows nothing, she will answer that "It just sounds so horrible."

Mr. Handy wrote:
"Of course, Officer," says Liz, taking out her passport and showing it to the cops. "I'll do whatever I can to help. I'm Dr. Liz North. Ph.D., not a medical doctor, though I've studied medicine some too. This is the first I've heard of the murder."

"I see, Doctor. May I ask what brings you here, so far from home? This isn't exactly the Ritz."

SunlessNick wrote:
Zara visibly blanches at the policeman's description of the murder, and she swallows the rest of her drink quickly before asking for another (which I assume won't be forthcoming while the police are there). She will give her name, show what ID she has, and deny knowing anything about what happened. If asked why she's reacting with such clear nervousness if she knows nothing, she will answer that "It just sounds so horrible."

"That's understandable, miss. Just don't leave town for a while, OK? We may be back in contact." He seems to know something about her, possibly from the unwanted publicity brought about by some of her paintings in trashy tabloids. (Artist Draws Crimes Before They Happen!)

Before the arrival of the police, Tony had contented himself with watching Dr. North and her dance partner. He chuckled, not at her plight, for she was showing admirable poise, but at the chap she was with, who obviously couldn't believe his luck that he was dancing with such a fine filly. His smile faded however at the news of the murder.

He listens as Dr. North and Zara are interviewed. When she gives her name, he finally places Dr. North: one of the East Anglia Norths, heiress and descendant of the Earls of Dunwich - a fine prize indeed.

He also notes Zara's reaction: naturally troubled at such news, but somehow there was more to it than that. Perhaps there was something to the lurid stories of her gift of prophecy?

When his time comes to be interviewed, he shows the policeman his passport.

"Anthony Barrington Mortimer Patchpole if you wish to be formal - Tony to my friends. I'm afraid I've only just arrived in the area, looking to buy a painting from the delightful Miss James." He says this loud enough so that she can hear her, thus facilitating a forthcoming introduction.

"As for last night, well I was in Bel-Air, dining with a very good friend of mine at Les Brûlures d'Estomac, a delightful French restaurant that I have been thinking of investing in. I'm sure she, or indeed anyone else there last night will vouch for me."

"Officer, please may I ask what the location and nature of the poor girl's wounds were? I suspect the find was a somewhat grisly one." He smiles apologetically. "I am something of a, as you would say, 'P.I'. My services are at your disposal, should you require them."

Bill Ferris

It's not the first time Hells Angels or their ilk crash a place Bill is supposed to play at. It's almost became a staple for The Amazing Houdinis shows. But turns out, these bikers aren't here to hassle him as a solo artist. He takes a look at their insignia and patches, and tries to remember anything about this particular chapter or gang.

VictoriaSilverwolf,Does Bill know anything about the DAMNED SOULS M.C. gang? He is moving around in underground circles, picks up rumors here and then... I'm thinking of retroactively adding a "Streetwise" Asset (and one more Affliction) - would that be alright?

The events take another turn when the police arrives.

"Name's Bill Ferris. Playing a show here tonight. I plan to, at least, if the coast clears up a bit. Last night I had a gig at Smoke and Mirrors," he identifies himself when approached by the policeman.

When he overhears the other officer's story about the dead girl, he feels the onset of nausea. Multiple wounds... bled to death... The flashbacks kick in. He sees the white, exsanguinated body of Helen, his love and muse, laid out on a slab in the morgue... The stab wounds forming a ritualistic circle on her stomach...

The policeman, who happens to be a fan of Roger Moore as The Saint (that series having been shown on the American television network NBC as a summer replacement just last year), is impressed with Tony's accent and suave manners. Glancing around to make sure no one is listening, he whispers to him.

"The cuts were little tiny ones, all over her body. But here's the weird part. Don't let this get around, but the coroner says that she was embalmed right after she bled to death. Before her body was found, see? By some wacko who thought he was an amateur mortician. Seems he botched the job and tossed her into the canal. We're keeping it out of the press, so this is strictly on the QT."

Despite his many encounters with motorcycle gangs in the past, Bill is not familiar with the Damned Souls. As far as he knows, they might be anything from relatively harmless, if vulgar and temperamental, Knights of the Road with their own twisted moral code, to cold-blooded killers.

The policeman takes down Bill's contact information for while he's in town. There's still time to for him to perform tonight, once all the excitement dies down.

Tony taps his nose conspiratorially. "Mum's the word officer." He hands him his card. "Thank you for being so forthcoming. Should you ever wish to secure a reservation at Les Brûlures d'Estomac, you need only mention my name. Oh, and my secretary's number is on the back, should anyone wish to avail themselves of my services."

Assuming the good officer has no further questions, Tony bids him good-day and heads towards Zara. However en-route he pauses by Dr. North.

"That's your Aston outside I assume? Not many left-hand drive cars around here I'll wager. I'm afraid to report that your bonnet has been somewhat dented by the local youth." He rolls his eyes. "Kids of today eh?" He bows. "Tony Patchpole at your service. I have business with Miss James as, knowing your profession, I suspect you do too. Shall we join her?"

OOC,Being in the same exclusive social circle, I'm guessing Tony will have known of Dr. North, if only by reputation.

Out of earshot, Carson takes the lead policeman aside and flashes his CIA warrant. "I'm running a surveillance operation here, Officer. Let me assure you if any of these people are linked to your murder investigation it will be handled. Did the bikers give you anything about the victim's known associates here in Venice? Any connections to this place? And speaking of Sospiri, right now I'd be obliged if you and your men would move this gang of hoodlums along. The Company will take care of these others."

"I didn't think the CIA was supposed to do domestic work," the policeman whispers back. Apparently he doesn't approve of another outfit butting into the investigation. "You've already heard everything we're releasing to the public. And I was gonna get these bums out of here anyway."

The motorcycle gang are escorted outside, some taken downtown for further questioning.

Now that the place is quieter, there remains a little time until Bill is scheduled to perform.

"I'm also here to meet Zara James," replies Liz to the officer. "She's quite popular, it seems."

"Yes, that's my Aston," Liz says when Tony introduces himself. "I'm sure I can get the dents mended. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Patchpole. I'm Dr. Liz North. It's quite a coincidence meeting you halfway around the world from home - or it would be, except I don't believe in coincidence." She extends her hand. "Yes, let's go join Miss James."

Zara smiles wanly at Liz, "Heavy guys, huh. That was cool, what you did." She flashes another smile at Tony, "Hey there. Did I hear you saying you want a painting? You're welcome, for sure.." Looking between them and Bill, and noting his reaction to the news, she turns back to the bar. "Bit of a party now," she says to the bartender - "maybe a bottle of wine for us all to share? Looks like a couple of us could use it."

Victoria Silverwolf,Zara's on her second gin, and with wine on top, I rolled against CON 8 to resist getting drunk and got a 15.

Once all those interested in Zara are assembled at her table (although few, if any, are as heavily under the influence of alcohol as she appears to be), the barkeep claps his hands together for attention.

"OK, folks. We got a guy here who wants to lay down some vibes. Let's give a big California welcome to, uh." He glances at a slip of paper in his fist. "Bill Ferry, from those great old hit makers the Amazing Whodunits."

He walks away from a large piece of cardboard on the floor (which serves as the stage) muttering to himself.

"Hope this guy knows some Coltrane."

Lew shows his ID to the police as they go around and doesn't say much in response to their questions other than to deny knowing anything about the murder. Although he does not introduce himself to the other bar patrons, his ears perk up as he hears British accents. Because they appear to be more dignified that the other rabble in this place, Lew graciously bows his head in acknowledgement to them as he repositions himself at a table next to theirs, ostensibly to better watch the show. He taps his cane on the ground instead of clapping as Bill Ferris is introduced.

Tony accepts a glass of wine, hoping that despite the less-than-salubrious venue, it's a decent vintage. It certainly seems potent enough to get the young artist tipsy.

"Ah, capital. Perhaps we'll discuss business after the performance Miss James - cheers..."

He settles in his seat and, smiling cordially at Bill, leans back to enjoy the performance. Noticing the gentleman sitting at the table next to them, he returns his gracious bow by raising his glass.

"Cheers," Liz says to Zara. "I knew I could defuse the situation, so I did." She settles into the seat next to her and pours the wine. "It is frightening, that murder. The poor girl..." She raises her glass too and prepares to listen to the music.

"He's going to do it again," Zara blurts out, though she clearly regrets the words a second later.

Tony pretends not to notice Zara's words, but tries to catch Dr. North's eye to see her reaction by raising an enquiring eyebrow.

He also considers how to bring up what the policeman told him about the murder and see how it matches Zara's supposed prophecies, without accidently seeding the information in her mind by mentioning it first.

However such a conversation will wait until Mr. Ferris has finished his 'turn'. Talking during a performance is the height of bad manners after all!

Liz shivers involuntarily. "Is this just supposition, or do you know this?" she asks. "Did you...dream about it?"

"I'll show you after the gig," Zara said quietly. "It's what you came to see." She swallows the rest of her wine and pours another.

Liz nods, then notices Tony looking at her and raises an eyebrow of her own.

As the lights, already quite dim, are lowered in preparation for the concert, and the sun sinks into the Pacific, a uneasy mood fills the gloom of Sospiri. No doubt this is partly due to the disturbing words spoken by the young artist, but there are other factors at work. A peculiar mist, barely visible in the darkness, drifts through the room. Perhaps this is no more than a miasma of tobacco and marijuana smoke; perhaps.

Liz:
Zara:
Bill:
Jack:
Lew:
Tony:

"This mist is unnatural," Liz whispers to Zara. She examines it carefully, collecting a sample of it in a small vial and sealing it with a stopper. She then looks around and tries to determine its source.

Victoria Silverwolf,Unless it would be easier for you otherwise, I imagine the creature as having a physical existence in the world rather than being a ghost or spirit - it wants Zara to be its alone - it thinks someone like Liz, who may understand her gift, may be a threat to its hold over her - plus Bill may be a threat to [i]it[/i]. All Zara knows is that is has ways to reach out to her mind, dreams, and senses - and that it's angry with her. That everyone can apparently see the mist this time is a new and frightening development. Bill could probably sense it's connected to her in some way if you haven't already decided that.

Zara whispers something under her breath. Anyone able to filter out the music to hear her... (ETA Liz presumably can if she's leaned in close enough to say something to her).

will hear:,"[color=#004000]Please,not here. They just want to buy paintings. You don't need to do anything. Please, leave me alone."[/color]

She downs the rest of her current drink, as if trying to blot something out.

Zara:
Liz:
Bill:
Jack:
Lew:
Tony:

Zara:

Liz & Victoria Silverwolf,"[color=#004000]It won't hurt me[/color]," Zara whispers back. "[color=#004000]But if you can protect yourself, you should[/color]."

Lew glances around the room to see if he can spot the object of Zara's concern.

Bill Ferris takes the stage, and launches into a moody, meandering track, made up of chiming mandolin tunes and long vocal howls. Then the lyrics come in: about forlorn lovers, and a knight lost in the forest, and a deep, dark lake... Then he notices the mist. First he thinks somebody kicked in a smoke machine. But no - this is nothing like that.

He starts playing a repetitive pattern on his mandolin, while thumping out the rhythm with his feet. His vocal microphone picks up the thumps, and amplifies them into a hypnotic beat.

While in this trance-like loop, he directs his attention towards the mist.


Intelligence 9 + 1 = 10
[dice]0[/dice]

Starspawn338 wrote: Lew glances around the room to see if he can spot the object of Zara's concern.

evil_scientist wrote:Bill Ferris takes the stage, and launches into a moody, meandering track, made up of chiming mandolin tunes and long vocal howls. Then the lyrics come in: about forlorn lovers, and a knight lost in the forest, and a deep, dark lake... Then he notices the mist. First he thinks somebody kicked in a smoke machine. But no - this is nothing like that.

He starts playing a repetitive pattern on his mandolin, while thumping out the rhythm with his feet. His vocal microphone picks up the thumps, and amplifies them into a hypnotic beat.

While in this trance-like loop, he directs his attention towards the mist.

Carson glances around uneasily and tries to focus on Zara James through the music and smoke; clearly the artist has some insider criminal information on this killer.

Vicki,Let's say a Russian spy for the Criminal Nemesis, a femme fatale he tangled with in the Cold War.

Tony mentally files away Zara's strange utterances for later investigation. Of far greater importance was the appearance, albeit in disguise, of Natasha Bolowski, KGB agent and international jewel thief!

Responsible for the theft of the fabled Patchpole Diamond - an act which nearly bankrupted his family and propped up the Soviet Union financially for several years - he had last seen his beautiful nemesis being slapped in cuffs by the Swedish police. What the deuce was she doing here?

Mumbling apologies to his companions, he made his way through the swaying crowd and fuggy atmosphere and headed after the woman. As Ferris' strange music flowed around him, he grasped the door handle of the exit and stepped outside.

Bill Ferris

Bill finally resolves the monotonic jam into a crescendo. He seeks out Zara in the audience. He then averts his eyes, and starts his next song - a cover of Donovan's recent hit, "Season of the Witch". While playing, he sometimes looks in Zara's direction, trying to see what's happening.

Jack and Tony:
Tony:
The infamous spy and thief has enough of a head start to avoid capture by her nemesis. She attempts to conceal herself among the buildings, many dark and unoccupied, of this section of Venice. She is nearly successful; however, Tony catches a glimpse of her leaping into a speedboat, its motor running, waiting for her in the nearest canal. From the direction of her escape, and given the very few remaining canals that are navigable to any degree, it seems as if she is heading west, a direction which would eventually lead to the sea, near where the abandoned Pacific Ocean Park lies.

Despite the distracting circumstances, Bill's concert is very well received by the small, but enthusiastic audience. One by one most of the crowd drifts away into the night, leaving only those who have, for one reason or another, a special interest in remaining.

RE nemesis,It's a good idea, both.

Carson gets up and heads for the payphone in the back. He dials a secure number and mutters a series of code words. Upon reaching his Government Contact he requests information on the British visitor named Tony Patchpole, suspecting him to be an associate of Liz North. When he learns of Patchpole's background and, moreover, his connection to the KGB operative Natasha Bolowski, Carson realizes he could have a full international conspiracy on his hands.

OOC,Having the same nemesis sounds good to me!

Tony races to the canal edge just as the motor boat races off. He curses, gripping his walking stick.

"I'll catch up with you soon madam..." he pledges, noting the direction of where the boat has gone.

Sighing, he heads back into the building, wondering what the deuce his nemesis is doing in Venice.

Once the music ends and Tony leaves the table, Lew will go over to Lara and Liz's table and introduce himself.

"Greetings madams. Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Llewellyn Collins. I don't mean to intrude but I couldn't help but notice that you seemed to fear the mist that arose during the concert and that you were pleading with someone to leave you alone. I don't know if someone was threatening you but I happen to have experience as a defender of the defenseless and if there is anything I can do for you, please consider this to be my offer of help."

Lew pulls out two business cards and offers one to each of them.

Heading back into Sospiri, Tony decides to call his secretary about contacting certain European agencies regarding the appearance of Natasha Bolowski in California. However another chap in a suit is using the payphone. He stands a polite distance behind the man and waits for him to finish his call.

While he waits, Tony looks across the room to where his new aquaintances are sitting. Zara and Dr. North are talking to the older gentleman who nodded to them earlier. The younger girl looks positively wretched. Tony remembers the strange words she muttered before he was distracted by his nemesis, and resolves to speak to the artist as soon as possible.

Zara takes the card with a smile. "Sorry if I interrupted the show. Bit gassed." Despite the words, and the embarrassed look she tries to feign, she pours herself another glass.

"Thank you," says Liz, also accepting a card with a smile. "I'm Dr. Liz North. I welcome your chivalrous assistance, though I'm not quite as defenseless as I may seem." She takes out a piece of chalk from her bag, which she had acquired from the Cliffs of Dover in her native England. She draws a perfect circle around herself and carefully recites the phrase "Klaatu barada nikto," knowing that it will not work unless she pronounces every syllable precisely.

OOC,This is my Protection from Evil ritual.

Doctor North's actions draw the attention of curious onlookers, as one might expect. Besides those to whom she has been introduced, who now seem bonded in a strange way by all that has occurred, there is another.

A young woman, probably well under twenty years of age, approaches the group. She has long blonde hair, worn loose, with a wreath of daisies like a tiara on the top of her head. The pale skin of her face is painted with stars and rainbows. Her loose, swaying dress nearly reaches the floor, allowing only an occasional glimpse of bare feet.

"Oh, wow," she says. "A happening. How utterly cool."

She claps her hands and spins, moving around the inscribed circle in an improvised dance.

By this time, the mist has disappeared, probably because the people exiting have allowed fresh air, such as it is, to enter through the door.

In a little while the barkeep raps his fist on the bar for attention.

"Closing time! You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here!"

"Where would you like to go?" Liz asks Zara. "I should be safe from...whatever that was...for the next hour or so. If I did it right."

"I should show you what I painted," Zara says. Looking between the others she adds, "Anyone else can come too." To Tom, "You can look what I've got for sale" - to Bill, "I owe you a drink for talking in your show" - her gaze also makes it clear Lew is included in the invitation. (Carson will have inveigle his own way in, but Zara seems quite drunk now, so it probably wouldn't be difficult).

The young blonde woman overhears this. Jumping up and down with glee, she shouts "A party! Groovy! I'll bring the incense." She carries a cloth bag of many colors on a long strap hanging around her neck, which no doubt contains the said incense, along with who-knows-what.

Emerging from the phone booth in time to hear Zara James' invitation, Carson spots his opportunity to infiltrate the group, and approaches the clearly inebriated artist. "Ah, Miss James. I'm here on a business trip from LA. The name's Carson, Jack Carson. I'd heard about your unusual work and would be interested in buying some pieces for a friend of mine who owns a gallery in LA." A surreptitious tap of his foot activates the recording device concealed in the heel of his shoe.

While Jack is speaking to the Zara, the young blonde woman makes it obvious that she intends to tag along with the others. Whether or not she should be persuaded to go her own way remains to be determined.

Bill Ferris

SunlessNick wrote:"I should show you what I painted," Zara says. Looking between the others she adds, "Anyone else can come too." To Tom, "You can look what I've got for sale" - to Bill, "I owe you a drink for talking in your show"

"Don't sweat it. This is not the Opera House. This is a bar and folk music," Bill says, smiling. "So, party at your place? Let me grab my gear."

Bill quickly packs up, and joins the others on the way to the party.

When the payphone is free, Tony makes a call to his secretary, speaking in code in case anyone nefarious is listening.

"Hello Auntie? It's your favourite nephew. Please could you tell the Women's Institute that I've seen Mrs. Worthington, and hope to catch up with her soon."

OOC,This is only for flavour really, unless the keeper wishes to use it as an excuse to introduce some outside assistance at any point.

He replaces the receiver and makes his way back to the group, which has grown somewhat larger since he nipped out. They also appear to be preparing to leave the table, so he makes haste to introduce himself to the newcomers.

"I'm Tony Patchpole - here to buy one of Miss James' delightful paintings. I have a dreadful gap at my Mayfair pad between my Doré and my Pickman."

He smiles disarmingly as the party heads to Zara's and offers his arm to Dr. North.

"Ah, are we retiring to the drawing room, as they say? Dreadful news about this murder what? Did you hear what the police had to say about it?"

Zara seems happy enough to host an impromptu party - perhaps on the dubious assumption that if one almost complete stranger might be dangerous, a whole bunch of mutual strangers probably aren't. Anyway, she doesn't refuse Jack, or the blonde girl.

Her pad isn't far away: a pair of rented rooms with a small attached bathroom. One ought to be a kitchen/living room, but it has her bed in it too, while the ostensible bedroom is her studio. "I've got cheap wine or good gin. Help yourselves," she says, making for the latter.

Tony will make polite conversation before wandering around to look at Zara's paintings. Intrigued by the stories of her 'gift', he will look for anything similar to the murder scene described by the police officer - an embalmed corpse exsanguinated by a multitude of tiny cuts.

OOC:   How would you folks normally play this? Simply write that such a painting is found or leave it up to the GM to decide? Just making sure I don't step on any toes

Zara shows Liz the painting Vicki described earlier:

In the center is a distorted rendering of the entrance to Pacific Ocean Park, the recently shuttered amusement park, now a haven for vandals and addicts. The cheerful tower, topped by seahorses, is bent and melting. Behind it looms a gigantic human figure, completely hidden by a large black hat, black ski mask, black leather coat, and black leather gloves. In one hand dangles a straight razor, dripping blood. The blood falls into one of the decrepit canals of Venice, staining its waters bright red.

Anyone who cares to listen in will hear her say, "Be careful touching it, it'll still be a bit tacky. I painted it in my sleep - from what the polce said, when it was happening, or after. That's why I know he'll do it again."

Her other art is leaning on the walls. There are pyschedelic melanges of colour without discernable images, street views of Venice, and a few that combine the two styles - there are a couple of portraits of people, but Zara says they gifts and not for sale.

OOC:   Dexterity 13, plus +1 Artistry SunlessNick rolled 1D20: 19 SunlessNick rolled 1D20: 8 SunlessNick rolled 1D20: 14 SunlessNick rolled 1D20: 14

The melanges are mostly just messes - perhaps an unsuccessful attempt at looking surreal. The street scenes however tend to be rather good. The combined works show some promise of doing something worthwhile with the psychadelic imagery, but aren't there yet. The portraits are fairly indifferent.

"Yes, I see," says Liz, examining the painting of the murderer. "We have to stop him before he does. What you've experienced is called precognition. It's knowledge of the future before it happens. You're not the only one who has it, though most people with it have much more mild forms. It must be disturbing to experience what you have, but it doesn't have to be a curse. It can be a gift. Knowing the future in advance can be an advantage."

As the impromptu art show/party gets underway, with the guests conversing freely and getting a good look at this artist's pad, the young blonde woman pulls a handful of sugar cubes out of her bag.

"Anybody wanna take a trip?"

She also pulls out a deck of tarot cards. "I could read your fortune, too. I'm Aquarius with Jupiter ascendant and the Moon in Leo, so I've got the vibes, like that lady just explained."

Tony politely declines the girl's offer, deciding that, with Bolowski on the loose, tripping is the last thing he wants to do. Instead he studies the painting with interest, noting that the straight razor could be responsible for the myriad of tiny cuts found on the body. The abandoned amusement park is also of interest - that being the direction that Bolowski headed in.

He listens to the talk of precognition, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

"Frankly I'm not sure whether to believe all this psychic business or not, but that's only because I've never experienced the paranormal and personal experience is the only evidence that one can truly believe in. If you do indeed possess the gift, then perhaps a trip to this amusement park is in order."

"But for now, let us see if I can experience the paranormal." He smiles at the young girl. "We have not been formally introduced. I'm Tony. You may read my fortune, er, miss...?

"I'm Moonflower," the young woman replies. She kneels on the ground, the deck of cards spread around her, face down. "OK, let's find your Significator." She flips through the deck. "Yeah, here we go, the Knight of Wands." She places the card face up on the floor. She closes her eyes and picks a card at random. "The Two of Wands. See that guy holding a globe? That means you're searching for something or someone. OK, let's find out what." Once more the closed eyes and the selected card. "Oh, wow, heavy. That's the Queen of Pentacles holding that star thing in her lap, but the card is, like, upside down, dig? That means you're looking for this chick, probably dark-haired, but she's looking for you, too!" She grins at him. "Sounds like you two are going to be, like, making out and stuff."

Carson takes one of the hippie girl's proffered sugar cubes and quietly pockets it for later analysis. "Pacific Ocean Park, huh?" he remarks, secretly taking a photograph of Zara James' painting with his hidden camera.

Duty with the painting discharged, and somewhat unsteady on her feet, Zara flops down on the sofa in the studio. "It gets heavy, for sure," she says, in response to Liz.

Tony is somewhat taken aback by Moonflower's tarot reading.

"Well I am looking for a certain woman at the moment and no doubt she'd like to bump into me, but I've no idea if she's currently a brunette. As for 'making out'... kill each other maybe..."

Liz sits beside Zara. "I imagine so," she says. "I'm sorry you have to go through that, but it does give us a chance to stop that maniac. If that's Pacific Ocean Park in the picture, we need to get there as soon as possible, before he strikes again."

"Killing?" Moonflower shivers. "What a downer. Don't even joke about that. That really bums me out." She places one of the sugar cubes in her mouth and lets it dissolve, eyes closed, humming tunelessly to herself. For a while she simply sits on the floor in full lotus position, swaying back and forth, muttering "Oh, wow," several times.

Suddenly she jumps up, shouts "Let's go for a swim!" and runs out the door of Zara's dwelling, heading for the nearest canal.

Tony regrets his blunt choice of words. He follows Moonflower, hoping to stop her from jumping into the filthy waters of the canal.

"If I'm a Knight of Wands I might as well act like one," he mutters to himself.

Tony is able to catch Moonflower before she hurls herself into the canal. While struggling with the stoned young woman, he catches a glimpse of -- could it be? -- yes, the arm of someone dressed in a wet suit, who had just been about to grab her. Who ever it is sinks back into the murky waters. Just before vanishing from sight, the figure can be seen to be equipped with full scuba gear.

"What the-?"

If Moonflower's struggles will allow it, Tony kneels down by the side of the canal and thrusts his walking stick into the water, handle first, in the hope of snagging the mysterious diver.

"Do you think we can stop him?" Zara asks. Her eyes widen at the commotion of Moonflower's departure, but she is in no condition to join the pursuit.

The cane comes nowhere near the mysterious diver, who disappears into the depths of the canal.

"Oh confound it!" Tony turns to Moonflower and anyone else who might have followed them out of Zara's pad. "I don't suppose you saw where he swam off to?"

He walks along the canalside, inspecting the water for bubbles, rippling water and moving detritus to see if he can at least determine where the diver is headed.

"Melts in your brain," says Liz, rising, "not in your mouth. I think we can stop him, yes. Whoever he is, he's just a man, and man is mortal. So is woman, so we'd better hurry and make sure Moonflower isn't his next victim." She hurries after Tony.

Lew examines the paintings but doesn't take any offered sugar cubes, liquor or tarot readings. He listens with interest to the description of precognition as expressed in the painting.

"Have you painted any other things that subsequently came true?" He inquires. "I dare say that these things are possible but there are also other reasons which might explain why something you painted ends up becoming reality."

"Some," Zara replies. She shows Lew a particular stack of paintings. Most are in a similar style to the one currently drying, with weird or violent imagery, though somewhat abstract. "These are the ones I paint in my sleep. And then something happens, and I know it's why I painted it - it's not always a killing - not always a crime, even. These two were in exhibition - that's how I ended up in that article Liz was talking about. I hope Moonflower's all right.

Moonflower remains in a hallucinatory state, not fully aware of her surroundings.

"Wow, my hand is so big," she mutters, along with other such remarks.

Given the fact that the person in the wet suit was spotted near one end of the canal, the only possible direction it could have gone is west, toward the sea. It does not emerge from the water while the group is gathered around the canal.

"Your hand is perfectly lovely my dear, now let's get you inside yes?"

Tony gently pulls Moonflower away from the canal, steering her back to Zara's place whilst sharing a meaningful look with Dr. North (who I think is the only person who's followed them out.)

"I wonder if the killer and our mysterious frogman are the same person? Odd that he was lying in wait like that hmm? Assuming 'he' isn't a 'she' of course."

"Probably," says Liz, helping to guide Moonflower back to Zara's. "I didn't see the frogman, but I presume the killer is a man from looking at the painting. While he wears a mask, he is quite large, and most women are not. Serial killers, especially those who target women, also tend to be male. Still, I'll keep an open mind. One thing's for sure, the killer will try to find another victim. If we're going to go fishing for him, we'll need the right bait. If I set myself up while the rest of you wait to spring a trap, we might be able to get him. Otherwise, he'll just kill whomever he pleases."

When Liz and Tony return with Moonflower, Zara directs them to bed where Moonflower can sleep it off. After that she returns to the sofa in the studio, looking about ready to sleep it off herself.

Settling down in an armchair, Tony fills everyone who is still awake in on what transpired by the canal side, and how Dr. North has volunteered as bait to catch the mysterious scuba diver.

"As much as I dislike the idea of using the good doctor here as bait, I think it's our best chance to catch this person and find out what the deuce he's up to. If he's the murderer then we all need to be on our guard."

He leans forward conspiratorially.

"I have it on good authority that the last vctim had been bled to death via a multitude of small cuts, and that when her body was found, it had already been embalmed... The person responsible must be very strange indeed... We must plan for all eventualities!"

Carson, having taken the distraction of people rushing outside to covertly plant a listening device under the sideboard, nods. "From what I hear, Pacific Ocean Park is a hive of vandals and addicts these days. It wouldn't surprise me if a maniac like that was holing up there." He considers. "If Miss James is heading out there I'd better come along to make sure she's safe. Not that I don't trust you guys, of course. And maybe that hippie chick might know something about the place; she's the addict type if I ever saw one," he adds, lighting a Parliaments cigarette.

Liz shivers at Tony's description. "Well, I know I can count on you to protect me," Liz tells him, "but I'd also like to be able to defend myself. I have a small pocket knife, which is better than nothing, but I could use some mace too, or a gun. Or both. Preferably both."

"I don't carry a gun I'm afraid - ruins the cut of one's tailoring." Tony taps the bottom of his walking stick on the floor. "This old girl tends to see me out of most scrapes."

Moonflower is quickly sound asleep. Everyone else returns to their local lodgings for the night, or crashes where they are. By general agreement, they meet again in the morning. (After such a night, late in the morning.)

Given how popular the place was before it had to close down for financial reasons, it's not too difficult to locate an old map of Pacific Ocean Park, circa 1959, which shouldn't be too much different from the way it's laid out now, given its abandoned condition.
The group needs to discuss how they might choose to investigate the place. Day or night? All together, or split up? Which area to explore first? There might be a watchman somewhere about, and there are certain to be derelicts of one sort or another hidden inside. The main entrance is the obvious way in, but maybe it would be possible to sneak in another way, even by sea. What equipment to take? There's a lot to think about.

"We'll want to arm ourselves," says Liz, "and I think we should check out the park first during the day. It might look funny if we all went together, but we don't want to venture in there alone either. Perhaps we should break into a couple of smaller groups. We'll want to find the specific location that matches what's in the painting. That will tell us where he'll strike, and he'll probably do it at night, which gives us time to prepare."

Tony, having arrived unobtrusively in a taxi, listens to the discussion.

"I agree - small groups would be the best way to go." He produces a carrier bag full of spray cans. "I took the liberty of procuring some Mace by the way, though no guns I'm afraid ."

After handing them out, he fishes a map of the park out of his pocket and compares it to Zara's painting.

"Hmm, the tower with the seahorses looks like the one over the ticket booth at the entrance to the park in Neptune's Courtyard. Rather an obvious entrance though. I wonder if egress could be gained from the water, say via Fisherman's Cove? Possibly our mysterious scuba diver went this way too."

'Not to mention Natasha...' he thinks to himself.

"From the wharf we could spread out - one group making for the tower and the others taking a look around."

Zara (looking a bit hung over, and wearing dark glasses) has brought a sketch-book. "It gives me a good excuse to watch for a while." In response to Liz's suggestion of smaller groups she says, "Two lots of three or three lots of two? You and me could each go with a couple of the guys."

"It's like the goddamn Vietnam War with these guys," Carson mutters. As the only right-thinking patriot serving his country among this group of undesirables, he checks on Moonflower. "What do you think of all this? Assuming you're not still stoned beyond thought, that is. Ever been to Pacific Ocean Park?"

The young woman is half-awake. "What? Oh, yeah, man, when I was like a little kid, you know? There were all these, like, fish and mermaids and rides and stuff. It was really a trip."

"Cheers," Liz says to Tony, accepting the mace and stowing it in her large black handbag. "I'd like to be part of your group, Tony. People may be suspicious if two Brits arrive separately, but they'll be less so if we're together. Zara, you should probably check out the tower so you can identify the exact position where the man will stand from your painting. Two groups of three would be safer, though three pairs would be less noticeable. Tony and I can be one group, you can go with whichever chap strikes your fancy, and the others can pair up together."

Zara glances in Bill's direction; "You up for that?"

Lew looks over the group of people that were strangers just a day ago and tries to imagine them wandering around together. It's obvious the Brits belong together but of the others...

"I like the idea of two groups of three. I believe I shall accompany the British contingent as Tony is carrying a cane and we can move at a leisurely pace without suspicion as we are out for our daily walk." He waves at the other two men. "I trust you can keep our midnight painter safe between the two of you?"