Track One: Are You Experienced?

[VictoriaSilverwolf]

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.

[VictoriaSilverwolf]

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.

[VictoriaSilverwolf]

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.

[Mr. Handy]

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.

[VictoriaSilverwolf]

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."

[Mr. Handy]

"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."

[SunlessNick]

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.

[evil_scientist]

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?"

[Mr. Handy]

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."

[SunlessNick]

"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."

[Starspawn338]

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.

[Mr. Handy]

"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."

[Rooter]

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.

[VictoriaSilverwolf]

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.

Spoiler:

[dice]0[/dice][dice]1[/dice]

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.

[Mr. Handy]

"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."

[jp1885]

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."

[VictoriaSilverwolf]

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.

[jp1885]

"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.

[SunlessNick]

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

[Rooter]

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