17:50 - DR. EDMUND BASSETT - THE ENGINE ROOM

[◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊]

With a heavy clunk, the elevator jerked to life with an alarming jolt.

Of course it would be descending, right? It chugged down at a snail's

pace, the previous floor's water still splattering down the shaft. Your

flashlight beam reached out into darkness-- finding nothing.

Coppery pipes zigged and zagged out of existence, a machine rumbling

grew louder as you descended further and further...

[∆§Indea§∆]

Why hadn’t I just tried their community outreach option? That probably was relatively safe. This felt so much deeper than the boat. Was this where they sent psychologists who were so terrible their clients tried to commit suicide? People who didn’t have the guts to deal with their own problems. Their own daughters. Screw it. I took a deep and satisfying drag from my inhaler.I wish I had something stronger, something smooth and aged to perfection. Some good cheese to go with it, crackers of course as well. Then a couple of those delicious chocolates I kept hidden in my office so Giselle couldn’t find them. She had some kind of weird sixth sense of where I stashed treats. They’d always be missing by the time I got to them. It had become an unspoken game between the two of us.

[◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊]

The chugging machinery rattled the flimsy elevator's construction, and finally

your flashlight traced over a baroque knot of pipes and wires. The elevator

lurched so hard it pitched you forward against the wire-cage front, then it settled.

In front of you was a ten foot high wall of mysterious pipes/gauges/pulleys,

all of it covered in a thick black soot. It split into different directions, seemingly

forming some kind of maze. You could hear nothing but an industrial thrumming.

[∆§Indea§∆]

At least it didn't look like hell. I rubbed my side where the lurch had hit. I guess it was time to move forward. See where it had taken me. At least this looked like an engine room. That part was promising.I walked into the maze looking for a sign of where to go. I ran a finger along the sooted side so I would know where I had been.

[◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊]

The soot that came off on your hand glittered like tiny black diamonds.

Not great for the lungs. The darkness absorbed your flashlight's feeble

beam so well you had to shuffle to avoid bashing into obstacles.

Low overhanging pipes and tricky corners. Somewhere in the distance

you made out voices-- chanting maybe? Maybe just music being

distorted by distance.

Do you choose to concentrate on...

Navigation? Roll 2d10+Reflexes

Listening? Roll 2d10+Perception

or something else?

[∆§Indea§∆]

I was growing sick of my own company so I followed the voices. Banging my head several times and walking into things.I was going to be one big bruise later on.


oIYh0vt7++1·

[◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊]

You creep along, following the vague intonations until you see

movement in the darkness. A weak greyish light fills an alcove

on the other side of the wall you are walking along-- the pipes

make just enough room for you to peek between. You see what

looks like a woman passing by-- she's in all black, a big dramatic

veil over her face like a Catholic widow. She walks by, hands

pressed together in a penitent pose. You could easily imagine her

doing the rosary. There are more silhouettes beyond, strolling

figures with long trains and veiled faces. They don't seem to

notice you.

[∆§Indea§∆]

Edmund-

"Hh-..."

Hang on Eddy, you didn't get a doctorate by being stupid. I move towards the alcove as sneakily as a 47 year old with asthma can. The soot I was disturbing with my finger wasn't helping. I fought back several wheezes and coughs. I wanted to know what they were doing before I asked for help, had to make sure this was the right kind of church. It was lucky I was definitely not a virgin so hopefully I wouldn't be sacrificed. Though neither was the Bedford mother, darn it.

[◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊]

This entire area was a charcoal black, but you were situated in just such a way

that you could make out the subtle details, as these black clad figures wandered

about. They seemed to be walking a set route, part of their prayer, it seemed.

A symbol was engraved in the floor-- you could only see part, but it might be

safe to assume it was your cover image again. One of the figures passed closer by;

they seemed to have headdresses that the veils hung from, now you could see that

they were fashioned from horns. Or they just had horns of their own...

The figure's eyes glittered like oil behind the veil, and it was mumbling

incomprehensible syllables.

[∆§Indea§∆]

Not good not good, not good. This wasn't a party I wanted to join in on. It was one big no I would need to drink away later. I moved along looking for another exit or another elevator, one that went up.As much as it would make a good story I didn't want to disturb that hornet's nest. I was beginning to think this wasn't a mental break after all. I wasn't that imaginative.


jIWdJD3B++1
·

[◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊]

You crept by, whisper-silent, so easily that you wondered if the things were

even capable of hearing. Maybe better to not test it. You could not locate the

elevator immediately, but you did find a strange thing--

It reminded you of your mother's vanity from when you were a child-- an oval

tabletop with a mirror behind it, all carved in obsidian black. Even the mirror

was black as the most tarnished silver, just a vague sheen of reflection on its

surface. You could see yourself, at least the impression of yourself.

Sitting on the table was a crystal bowl of black sand. Mirror, mirror? It seemed

hard to imagine those unearthly beings traveling by elevator. How would

they move around? Or could they?

[∆§Indea§∆]

Interesting. It had to be here for a reason. You could not find knowledge without experimentation.


I sat at the vanity and put my hand on the glass. Anything?

I then tried playing with the sand in the bowl, pushing it around.

Edmund-

”Take me to Mills. Or the stern. Either one. Just not here.

I tried to put intention into my words. That’s usually how these things worked right?

[◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊]

The glass had a slight warmth to it, like almost human skin temperature.

The sand was even warmer, it felt pleasant to plunge your hand into, the

grains neatly wicking away from your skin and not embedding under your

fingernails. You made your intention felt, and you sensed the oily sheen on

the mirror had shifted. Maybe it was just your tired eyes searching for

meaning in the near pitch dark. What was all that hippy garbage--

opening your third eye and whatnot? You felt that maybe you could go

wherever you wanted, if you concentrated.

((Describe what you concentrated on, what you visualized...))

[∆§Indea§∆]

Interesting. Like a visualization trick. I tried to think of the engine room, with the police lines everywhere from the photo. I thought about everyone being there including the lawyer god forbid. Colt looking angry and pensive through her one eye, Butcher looking worried. The guard looking at me disapprovingly and Mills looking like the Mona Lisa. The sad signs of a crime past on the floor. Where that poor woman’s heart lay and that boy disappeared. Take me there.

[◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊]

The mirror slowly lightened, turning red like an oven burner heating up.

The bowl of sand rustled as the grains vibrated with some unseen energy.

On touching them, the grains crawled up your arm, and you felt a heat

sweep over you...

Red and blue lights spun around you, glaring and flashing. The light of

police cars on the dock. The sun was completely gone, leaving the sky just

that pinkish charcoal due to the fog and the refinery fires. Police gathered

in clusters, talking on radios and pacing around. Something was all wrong

with the sound though-- something with your ears. Everything was muted

and distorted. There was Detective Rodriguez, speaking tensely to a

Latina officer.

Detective Rodriguez-
" ̀͘͡¿̴̀̀̀͏ʇ̛͠͠l̴͘͝ǫ̧̢̀͜Ɔ̵̛ ̸̡́͝ɯ̢͏ơ͘͜͝ɹ̷͏́̀ɟ͘͏͏ ̨̀p͠ɹ̵̛͞͝o̷͘͠ʍ̷̀͜ ̶̡͢͠ǝ҉̷͘͟҉ɥ́̕ʇ̴̴ ̷̨͟s̵̸̕͡,̸̢͘̕ʇ̶̨̛͡ɐ͜҉̧̕͞ɥ̴M "

No one seemed to notice you at all.