Play@YSDC

Leaving the confines of London, you head west, into a rain storm.

Thankfully the journey to Wales is uneventful, despite poor visibility in places due to the spray off the soaking motorway. Following the sat-nav, you take the new dual carriageway to Cwmllyn. It winds along a damp valley, overlooked by partially forested hills blurred by mist. Taking the slip road towards the town brings you past a huge building site: one of many new housing developments in the area.

This shifts abruptly to a row of Victorian townhouses as you near the town centre. Here there are narrow streets, lined by squat terraces of grey stone and dark slate slick with drizzle. Occasional half-timbered or whitewashed shops break up the monotony.

Continuing down Grove Street, which appears to be the main road through the town, a ‘warning, children crossing’ sign heralds a squat 1970’s
primary school; an adjacent Victorian chapel, also of grey stone, belying it’s earlier origins.

Further along, standing next to a largely empty municipal car park, is Cwmllyn police station, a small, red brick edifice that screamed 'modernisation' some twenty years ago.

DS Singh, a slim Sikh woman who looks more annoyed in person than she did on screen, waits impatiently for you in the tatty foyer.

“You took your time,” she grumbles. “I’ve heard about you Falcon lot.”

She doesn’t elaborate, but looks very unhappy.

As far as Des could see, Wales was wet, miserable and the names of most of the villages were unpronounceable.

No wonder DS Singh looked so fed up!

Skipper grunted blearily at the DS as he stretched his neck and back, having been fast asleep for the trip.

"Well," he explained, rubbing his sleepy eyes and brushing chocolate bar crumbs off his clothes, "Federation rules. We had to make a few ref's stops along the way, obviously. Second breakfast, elevenses, early pub lunch..."

Skipper pulled out a somewhat downsized digital SLR camera and took a few snaps of the village's main street. He turned back to the local copper with an evil grin. "Give us a smile," he quipped as he took her portrait.

Leo abandons his vintage clothing to don more professional togs -- an off-the-peg dark blue suit altered to fit nicely. Today's tie is a blue and green 1920's art deco pattern, silk, picked up at the Wimbledon Oxfam. He loaded up a Spotify playlist with some of the better Welsh men's choruses, and he hums softly with his off-brand ear buds in as they make they work their way west. He loosens his tie for the drive, but he but he straightens it again as soon as they pull in. "You only have one chance to make a good first impression." he explains as they park.

"Yes, our apologies, DS Singh. We did stop a couple of times for food. The weather didn't help either." Leo extended his hand. "DC Leo Dansby from the Special..err, Falcon."

Leo grimaced. "I see you've already met our photographer, Raymond Pearson."

"And I'm Dr. Jordan Schneider," says Jordan, offering her a handshake. "I'm a civilian consultant."

On arrival, Izzy is in a slightly bad mood to begin with. Just her luck, Leo did bring up the Tiger Bay thing after all. She's glad the others speak first.

"Not being funny, but we've been on the road for more than 200 miles and four hours... and it's been pissing down with rain on the M4. I know we passed Cardiff on the way here but we haven't got a TARDIS, you know..." Izzy mutters as the water drips from her coat onto the lobby floor.

"DC Izzy Cooper, from the Folly," she says a bit louder for DS Singh to actually hear her, as she approaches the other officer.

”Des Orivo,” said Des. ”An’ I’m like ‘im,” she continued, pointing at Jordan.

Leo, on the way to Cwmllyn, you manage to speak to an old acquaintance in the South Wales Police. Unfortunately she is unwilling to shed much light on the case, for fear of compromising the investigation into bigger fish than a corrupt councillor.

She also warns you against antagonising DS Singh, saying how the career officer got enough backs up in her native Manchester to find herself shunted into this dead-end backwater. Driven and determined, she is a hard taskmaster and not to be messed with.

This might explain her sour expression, her curt acknowledgement of your introductions and her sharp smacking down of Skipper's camera.

"Stop poking that thing in my face! I was told you were professionals, so start acting like one!"

Without waiting for a response, she shoves a folder of papers into Izzy's hands.

"Witness statements - not that anyone noticed anything unusual. You're all here to locate Short so that we can question and prosecute him. The bigger picture is none of your concern. Stick to your job and let me stick to my job."

Without ceremony, she assigns you all the following actions:

• Assess the primary site for Falcon activity, to wit: school crossing on Grove Street,
• Interview potential witnesses to the disappearance. Prioritise locations near to the primary site and expand to other locations in the town as you see fit.
• Assess the home of Councillor Short for Falcon activity. A front door key is provided.
• Locate and secure primary suspect Councillor David Short, and hand over to the Dyfed-Powys Police.

"I expect to be appraised at regular intervals," she says, handing Izzy her card. "Any questions?"

Izzy isn't normally the sort to act up with senior officers, even those only one rank above her. Or with anyone really, but her usual happy-go-lucky nature has been eroded severely recently since the events around Guildford. She's been struggling mentally, she misses Alice already, and she's annoyed at Leo for bringing Cardiff up on the way, so she's not in the best of moods when DS Singh gives them their instructions. Still, she's also not stupid enough to deliberately and obviously antagonize the Sarge, and so she simply sticks to equally snippy and curt replies when talking to Singh.

"Questions, yes. A few. One, do we have desk space in the station if needed? Two, you want us interviewing witnesses. Do we have any witnesses or are we just rounding up random people on the street who may or may not have been there?"

It's a small enough town, not much more than a village really. They could probably have the entire population form an orderly queue and be done by the time the pub opens.

"Three, how often do you want updates? Would that be every half hour, every five minutes, more, less? And finally... if the bigger picture is involved, then not to rain on your parade, but we might not have a choice in getting involved if it means finding him. Especially if it's Falcon stuff."

"The bigger picture may be relevant to the Councillor's disappearance," says Jordan. "We don't know that it isn't, as we haven't solved the case yet. Telling us we can't pursue a particular angle of investigation could hamper our ability to do so, if our investigation leads in that direction."

Skipper appeared wholly impervious to the DS's commentary. He was busy reviewing his photos on the camera's rear screen. "Oh, that's a keeper."

Looking up, he tuned into the ongoing conversation. "Short's gaff might be interesting, maybe? Least it won't be raining inside. And in an ideal world, there will be a laptop."

”Let’s go look at ‘is crib,” said Des, who was finding DS Singh’s ‘stick-up-her-arse’ approach tedious in the extreme.

"Yes, that should be our first stop," says Jordan, "once we're done at the primary site. We should try to detect any vestigia here."

Last out the car Eli is too busy taking in the surroundings to pay much attention to what was being said only grabbing snippets of the conversations. As if suddenly realising DS Singh was there he quickly introduces himself, [Eli Venturini, pleased to meet you. I must say you have a lovely town here."

OOC:   I will have shared what my contact in the SWP said to me with everyone in the vehicle.

After this was all over, Leo decided he was going to send DS Singh a bottle of Irish whisky, needle-nose pliers, and a copy of that Yank's book, How to Win Friends and Influence People. Anonymously, of course.

Leo withdraws his PNB and pencil that he sharpened earlier. You could just make out a Blake's 7 logo on the shaft as he wrote -- a show he watched on video multiple times with his Dad as a kid. It had been in his stocking a couple of Christmases ago. He really wanted to like mechanical pencils, but he thought old school pencils had a better writing tip. He nodded as he wrote down their assignments.

"Can do, ma'am" he says when she's done. "I think you'll find our results extremely professional." After all, the sign Molly maintains in the atrium now says "77 Days Without Burning Down a Building." (Leo recently summoned the courage to ask her to take it down; the horrifying grin he got in return will haunt him the rest of his days.)

"Regular intervals...?" Leo's eyebrows went up. "My colleagues has a point. Would you prefer us to report in as we discover pertinent information? Even if that information might be we didn't find anything at the location?"

Possibly to Izzy's annoyance, DS Singh merely smirks at her defiance, as if subtly approving of her gumption.

"One: yes, I'll make a desk available. You can also use the station facilities of course. The coffee machine produces awful muck by the way, as is traditional in all police stations."

"Two: we think we've identified and interviewed everyone in the footage: children, parents and drivers at the crossing. It's all there in that folder. However I'm sure with your experience in the... unusual, you will find other people we may have missed."

"Three: as your colleague said: update me whenever something pertinent crops up."

She glances over from Leo to Jordan.

"Four: we can't afford to compromise other ongoing investigations, so please consult with me if such an eventuality occurs."

To Eli, she nods curtly.

"This town is perpetually damp, dank and dull as ditchwater. Please ensure it continues to be so."

"Now, I will leave you to your... well, whatever. Unless you have any further questions."

She pointedly looks at her watch.

"Though I do have other things to do."

"I'll stick to tea, then," says Jordan. "Let's get started."

" I would like to look into the local history a bit more, especially the lay of the land, especially this grove thats been mentioned, with the disappearing people happening on 'Grove Road' it cant be a coincidence. " Eli says.

"First stop, maybe site of the vanishing act, like Jordan suggested? Then second stop, Old Son's gaff, where we can dry out while searching. And mad keen bookworms like Eli may wish to head straight to the local tourist information centre or public library instead. What say you, Voodoo 5 - 0?" Skipper looked at Izzy and Des.

”No point‘n all goin’ to de same place,” said Des. ”De sooner we get done, de sooner we go ‘ome. I’ll go to ‘is crib, an’ you go somewhere else.”

Nodding to Skipper, " Good thinking, I'll pop to the library, better chance of a deep dive into the local colour there than the fluff usually found in the tourst information. I don't mind popping along on my own, i mean what's the worse that can happen in a library?" Eli says.

”Divin’ in de library or fluffin’ in tourist information. Man, u spoilt for choice…” said Des, dryly.

DS Singh collars a constable and has him show you around the station, pointing out such highlights as the coffee machine, toilets and for some reason the room 'where we used to keep the big photocopier 'til it broke'. He also points out a small desk in the office, cleared for your personal use.

So we have Des going to Councillor Short's house and Eli visiting the local library/museum. What's everyone else going to do?

"Splitting up worked well for us last time." Leo blushes as he recalls the fit manager from the leisure centre. "We could have one team hitting the books and one team checking for vestigia. I can go with Team Vestigia team to check the school crossing and the Counselor's home. Since I've was injured on a couple of recent vestigia checks, I would definitely appreciate some backup."

"You've got it," says Jordan. "I'm not good at sensing vestigia, but I am good at backing people up and healing them."

Des rolled her eyes as the various permutations of who could do what and where were discussed. ”An’ am good at gettin’ impatient while youse all fanny about,” she said, sarcastically. ”Come on, let’s go!”

" So are we all heading to the crossing to get an initial feel the place, then heading off our own ways? Sounds good to me." responds Eli.

Even Izzy has to appreciate the directness and reasonability of DS Singh's response. She doesn't care about the coffee - she's used to the awful stuff in various other stations, of which Belgravia had always seemed like it was trying to win a city-wide award for 'Worst Coffee Ever Made', so the stuff in rural Wales can hardly be as bad as that. She simply nods, with a muttered "thanks" for the answers.

To the others, she concurs on the idea of visiting the scene of the incident.

"Probably best we all visit the crossing point, anyone here could spot something that others miss. And then, sure, splitting up seems fine. I'm happy to go to the councillor's house and poke about there. And remember we need a warrant first, we'll ask the Sarge to sort that before we leave here."

She doesn't want a repeat of the whole Barry Flowers flat debacle.

"Afterwards... we can interview the witnesses, but I think Leo and I should probably take point on that. Being, you know, trained detectives and all."

And of course, being the only ones on the team technically allowed to be conducting interviews on police business.

A short stroll along the main street takes you to the local primary school. As you approach, the joyful shrieks and yells of children are interrupted by the trill of the school bell, calling them in from their playtime.

Adjacent to the school is the road crossing. Signified by a school crossing road sign and flanked by 'no parking' zigzags, this part of the street is relatively wide. With the morning school run over, the crossing is unmanned and traffic is light.

Standing at the edge of the crossing, you immediately feel that something is different here: a build-up of some kind of power. Something buzzes around your inner sense like a an annoying fly. It is difficult to identify, but definitely Falcon.

Sense Vestigia rolls, if you please.

Des looked around to make sure that no one was likely to invade her personal space, then closed her eyes, head down, chin on her chest, reaching out to see what manifested…

Sense Vestigia (40) 1d100

1d%30%

Fail.

Skipper took a few photos of the area but wasn't getting any vibes.

"I'm happy to search the gaff. That happy DS gave us the key, and the guy is a missing person. Surely this qualifies as exigent circumstances and no need for search warrants? Our old friend PACE section 17, saving life or limb et cetera."

"I imagine the local plod might already have had a search themselves, they just don't do Folly stuff. But if there's two K's of Coke in the sock drawer, then you call that DS and tell her to get a warrant."

Eli takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and........nothing. Breathes out, :Ah well, worth a try......off to the library now i think."

Unsurprisingly, Jordan still can't detect any vestigia.

Sense Vestigia (30% base skill) at the crossing:
d%

Sense Vestigia: 60%

1d100

Spend 3 Luck to make it a Hard Success!

Izzy has absolutely no problem, conversely to her colleagues, at sensing whatever may be strange and out of the ordinary when they reach the crossing. Even now, her senses don't fail her.

She doesn't respond to Skipper's lesson on PACE Section 17, preferring instead to not tread on DS Singh's toes while she's already in a mood, and deferring to the Dyfed-Powys Police to make sure they've done all they need to do first. Better to double check a warrant is needed and turn out to not require one, than to enter and find out later that their evidence is inadmissible, after all...

Leo reached out with his senses for any trace of magical energies, but he is too distracted by his pencil to focus.

Sense Vestigia (60/30): 1d100

Despite all your distractions and, dare I say, lack of concentration, you nonetheless feel that something is different about the road crossing: a build-up of some kind of power. It is difficult to identify, but you'd put money on something Falcon related. This failure to pick anything up leaves you with a vague sense of unease and guilt.

Concentrating, you immediately pick up the sense of happy children and busy parents, chatter, shouting, and the occasional beep of a horn. Cutting through all this a feeling of calm and steadying presence; guiding, reassuring yet also judging.

Then it hits you.

Memories of all the bad things you have done rise unbidden in your mind.

What do you most feel guilty about? Describe it.

As the knowledge wracks you with remorse and shame, you find yourself being dragged towards a yawning black portal to face the judgement you so rightly deserve.

Shame.

Wickedness.

Guilt.

Then suddenly, as if the portal doors are slammed shut in your face, you find yourself back on the school crossing - bleak rainy wind tousling your hair.

”I don’t got nuthin’” said Des, with an irritated frown. ”It feel like dere should be sommat dere, but dere ain’t.”

As the group approach, the others all try and fail to sense anything too strange, though they all seem to have some kind of frown or uneasy feeling. Izzy, however, appears to be the only one able to sense the full extent of the vestigia present. And it hits her like a tsunami. Suddenly, all the good work of the past few weeks is undone as a wave of mental trauma washes over her, bringing back every feeling of guilt and anguish over the death of Will Grimes. Every reassurance that it wasn't her fault is forgotten, every moment of comforting hugs from Alice or affirming advice given by her therapist vanishes from her mind, still present but locked away by whatever horrific presence is there on the crossing.

Izzy staggers back, trying desperately to cling to those good thoughts, those promises that she did nothing wrong, but it all seems to disappear, even as the black portal opens before her. She shakes her head, tears streaming down her face, trying to scream but with no sound heard... as if the air from her lungs has been stolen away by the void. And then...

Nothing. Izzy finds herself on the ground, having fallen backwards. She cannot tell where the tears end and the rain begins as she feels the dampness of her face. Her breathing is heavy, and she barely hears Des's words as she tries to regain whatever composure she has left, hands scrambling to reach a locket she now wears with a picture of herself and Alice at the top of the London Eye, clutching it for her own peace of mind.

She refuses to go anywhere near the crossing again.

"There is definitely a........pressure here." Eli says.

Jordan goes over to help Izzy when she goes down, but she doesn't seem hurt, and there's little he can do for her besides usher her away from the crossing. "I feel that too," says Jordan, "but I don't sense any vestigia. I never have before, but it feels like this time I should. Whatever is here, it's incredibly powerful."

Skipper looked at collapsing Izzy with one eyebrow arched, then raised his hands in mock surrender. "Awright awright, get the warrant, I really don't have a horse in that race. I'll go play in the library with Eli. There might be a toy section even."

And so our heroes split the party.

Statement 3a: A Day at the Museum will lead you to that august institution.

Statement 3b: The Short Residence is where you should go to visit the man's abode.