The Killing

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1:53 AM- Modersder, Næsser

It was a wet, foggy, and cold night in the highlands of Næsser province. Solveig was walking down her driveway to her car. She got a text from her mother about 5 minutes earlier, saying her father was in the hospital, and that she has to go immediately. As she was getting in the car, she could see down the winding mountain road that there was a man standing there. His eyes were fixated upon her, and she stared back at him. Her heartbeat started to speed up. She sat in the car, and turned it on, as the electric motor spooled up, the heater turned on. The man was still there, and he had moved several meters closer to her house. She grabbed her phone and called 999. As the operator picked up, the man had reached the car’s door. She could see him now, his face was sunken in. His eyes were rolled back into his skull, leaving only the pale white spheres visible from his eye sockets. He grumbled, and opened the car door just as the operator said “Polizei, Eld, eller Ambulans” (Police, Fire, or Ambulance). Solveig let out a shriek as the man plunged his knife into her chest, leaving her body there, and stealing the car. The operator located the phone’s coordinates and dispatched an officer.

As the police cruiser pulled up to her house, her dead body lay on the driveway, her blood now frozen beside her. He picked up the radio and called for a coroner and several more officers.

As the coroner arrived, the officer issued an information request, and posters were made using the information provided at the scene.

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(OOC)
OOC Thread: Linky
Contact me in the OOC or in Discord if you wish to join!

The Following Day,
4:36 AM, Goyanes City International Airport

The ground level restroom of Terminal 1 was cold and bland. Nobody ever used that bathroom, as it was far away from everyone and everything. He sat there, in the farthest stall from the door. It was the disabled persons stall, and was large enough for what the man was about to do.

As he sat on the floor, he reached into his bag and pulled out a large container of red powder. He poured it on the floor, and arranged the powder into a circle. He lit a candle in the center, and began to mumble some words.

"Dies irae, dies illa
Solvet Saeclum in favilla
Teste Satan cum sibylla.
Quantos tremor est futurus
Quando Vindex est venturus
Cuncta stricte discussurus.
Dies irae, dies illa!"

He slipped into a trance, and his body lay there for several hours. He woke up again around lunchtime. By then, the powder was gone, and a boarding pass and passport were laid on his chest. He got up, and walked to the mirror. His eyes were rolled back, and his face was red. He put on sunglasses, and drank some water from his bottle. He then walked up the stairs to the terminal, and went to his flight.

---

12:00 PM- Naderfjord, Nyhett

Officer Jasner turned down the road, and he encountered the car mentioned in the case file at the office. He pulled over, and walked up to the car, and looked inside. The keys were there, but there was no trace of the driver. He radioed for a truck and a detective to head over.

January 9th, 2017

Kerat Police Communications Archives

-

"Where are you?" the voice crackled down the phone. It was Laura. He knew she'd catch on, she was smarter than that.

"Telling you that would be a mistake." he replied. It would take a single signal bounce to trace his location back to the Communications Archives, a place strictly off-bounds to unauthorized personnel. They'd been on the line, listening. All communications around the facility were monitored. Among all the other muffled voices, Michael knew his was one of them. The beeps of computers and lights smothered the sound in the room, there was nobody around, perhaps except the occasional security guard walking through every half an hour. Michael didn't have long, more files are taken to the archives every two hours, so it was important that he found the tape and got out.

"What do you mean telling me woul-" Michael hung up. He turned his phone off and tucked it back into his back pocket, continuing the search. He scanned the shelves, looking for Goyanes. It had taken him 50 minutes just to search the files from Xentherida, Syrixia and Andrenne on his way in, no mention of the murderer anywhere. When he finally reached Goyanes, every single file was sorted by date. It'd be easy to find January the 8th, it was right at the start, second row down, third tape from the far right. He grabbed the tape and slipped it into his jacket pocket, rushing away and back out of the door. He'd got the tape, but it wouldn't be long before someone noticed it was missing and checked the CCTV; lucky he'd been wearing a cap on the way in, different clothes and his head firmly faced down.

Michael knew the risks, he knew what would happen if he'd been caught sifting through tapes from Foreign Security Transmissions. He'd posed as an intern at the reception desk, under the name 'Christopher Quinn', so he intended on doing the same back out. The receptionist looked back up at him as he made his way for the door.

"Christopher, is it?" she asked. Her glasses rested on the edge of her nose, the smell of perfume and hair spray choking him.

"Yes, Christopher Quinn." he reaffirmed. She tutted and smiled.

"Well, Christopher, if you ever need anything here, just ask me. That okay?" Michael nodded. "So, you do anything interesting around here?" she continued. If it had been up to him, he'd be out that door five minutes ago booting up the car.

"Not particularly, double checking transmissions, maintenance and security really." he guessed, that's what he believed the interns here did.

"Ah, well enjoy yourself darlin'."

"Will do."

3 Hours Later, back in Kerat Police HQ Head Office

The fresh airport files from Goyanes to Kaschovia rested neatly in a new folder on his laptop. Laura sat next to him, curiously leaning in to see the screen. The mouse hovered over the lunchtime recordings, from 11.30 to 1.30 - the busiest time of the day. Two-thousand nine-hundred and forty-six recordings had come before it, and Michael had heard them all. The digital clock on the edge of his desk read '1.49 AM'. Michael had been listening to these for over two and a half hours, nothing of interest coming up. Laura had powernapped for six hours straight before she'd made the call, hadn't even heard Michael leave. Her enthusiasm kept both of them listening.

Tape 2947: Transcript for 1.07 PM Jan 9 2017

Passenger Name: Unknown

Passenger ID: #000666

Audio File: Attached Below

Michael clicked on the audio file. A muffled voice began to play over the track, blocking the initial sound of the security checkers. The muffled voice cleared, allowing for crisp audio playback.

Hi, welcome to Goyanes International Aiport, please show your boarding pass and passport.

Any luggage with you?

Sir, can you please remove those sunglasses, it's just a cautionary thing here..

Ar.. Are, y- you, i-i-ins-sane? W-who are y-ou?

END OF TRANSMISSION

Michael's eyes widened. He'd found something, after all that time searching through the tapes, he'd actually found something. Now all he needed to do was trace the flight he took. The file had no attached information, but a quick web search could let him know.

'Flights to Kaschovia from Goyanes 1PM January 9th 2017' was what he entered. The website for Kaschovian Airways came up, showing the 1.00 PM flight to Laricos.

"Laricos..." he muttered.

"What was that?" Laura yawned.

"Pack your bags, we're going on a road trip. Our suspect landed in Laricos four hours and twenty minutes ago. We don't have much time to catch this guy, something isn't right, and I have a feeling he is associated with the killing of Solveig Johannson."

"That Goyanese woman killed yesterday?"

"Exactly." Michael emphasized, "Now get packing, Laura."

Laricos, Kaschovia- 10:00 PM

As the jet airplane landed on the runway of Laricos Airport, the man looked at his phone. It was right on time. The aircraft pulled up to the gate, and he stepped off into the jetway. The air was muggy, and it was raining hard. The man walked to the taxi ramp, and got on a taxi to a small hotel on the coast. He hid out in the hotel, and spent the rest of the night there.

---

GNP Detective Peterson looked at the monitor, close behind Officer Sven. He pulled up an ID picture of a man who was on the watchlist for occult activities, and the man in the security transcript. The resemblance was more than striking. It was exact. "I think we have a confirmed match." said Peterson. "I agree", said Officer Sven. "Contact the Laricos Police Department. We have a lead that our guy may be heading there." Officer Sven grabbed the phone and started dialing. "Hey, this is the GNP Field Office at Goyanes City. Im calling to tel you guys of a convincing lead we have in a pending case that involves Kaschovia in a fairly serious way."

January 11th, 2017

Highway 3, en route to Laricos.

-

Michael hung up, the blurred headlights of late night H3 traffic zipping by as he pulled the car over.

"Who was that?" Laura asked, a curious look spread across her face. Michael sighed.

"Laricos Police Department." he replied, his voice lower and more brisk than usual.

"What did they have to say about the situation?" Laura continued.

Michael rested against the bumper of the car, redialling a different number.

"The suspect is in Kaschovia; Laricosa Hotel, some shitty two star place on the coast. We need to get over there as quickly as possible, you get the car started and I'll make a few more calls." Laura swung the car door open and jumped into the driver's seat. Michael reached the caller, Manager Jeremy Usaran of Laricosa Hotel.

"Greetins', General Manager Jeremy Usaran of Laricosa Hotel, can I help you?" his accent was a heavy, coastal growl.

"Chief Detective Michael Brown of Kerat Police Headquarters, this is a serious call. I order the lock down of your hotel, we believe a foreign murder suspect may be using your hotel as a hideout and we have to take precautions. If the orders are not followed, more people may be at risk. Lock every single exit and door out of the place, get all residents into their rooms, immediately. An armed police squad is on their way to the building as we speak, keep the CCTV up and working. As a side note, the suspect is an occult worshiper and is easily identifiable, so be careful and do NOT alert him to our arrival. Be prepared, we'll be there in about 20 minutes."

Jeremy grunted, "Okay, but try not to break anythin'."

Michael hung up, beginning to dial his last number. The phone rang, and someone answered.

"Laricos Police Dispatchers Office, how can we be of service?" a woman asked, her gentle tone almost soothed his headache.

"We need two full raid teams - armed, an interception police dog squad and all the forces you can muster. Chief Detective Michael S. Brown, identification code #9943901. It's urgent, to Laricosa Hotel as quickly as possible. We have evidence that a foreign murder suspect is using the hotel as a hideout and may be on the move any moment, surround the area if you have to."

"Thank you, sir. I'll send the request through to Emergency Management and they'll get you what you need."

Michael hung up, no time to waste. The car spurted into action, a government issue chrome police rover.

23 Minutes Later

Laricosa Hotel, Room 17

-

Candles, the smell of burning flesh and blood. Smoke, drying mouths and ashen windows. But most striking of all the things found in the room? No suspect. They'd thought the case was closed, and Michael had thought he'd been the facilitator of it all. Laura rushed in behind him, barking dogs and armed officers, all waiting for a glimpse of the target. The room felt different, out of the 30 rooms in the hotel, Room 17 was tucked away, just beyond the toilets, around a sharp corner at the end of a corridor and next to the back exit. It was a much smaller room, not enough to fit two people in, but just enough for one person to stay a few hours over night.

The suspect had escaped.

Media flocked the hotel. Five rushing police cars, a SWAT van loaded with armoured officers and police dogs had caused enough chaos, let alone swarms of reporters. Michael scanned the floor, and next to the suspect's peculiarly drawn pentagram on the floor, was a notebook titled 'Vass'. It's pages were red, and it's cover black. As he flicked through the pages, he started to notice something. In the bottom left corner of each page, was a small scrawl, almost unrecognizable to the normal eye. The scrawls were miniature pentagrams, all with letters in the center. The first page of the notebook feautured the letter 'C', the second 'A', and by the time he'd flicked to the back - a message began to form.

CATCH ME IF YOU CAN, MICHAEL. THESE EYES WERE BUILT FROM THE PALMS OF SATAN. THESE CLAWS FROM THE BARS OF HELL'S PRISON - WV.

Michael dropped the notebook and stumbled backwards.

"Tell the media that the suspect has escaped. Nothing but the truth. Clear this room, send everything over to Kerat Police HQ. Me and my Deputy Laura will handle investigation from here on out. We apologize for any disturbance. Anyone who wishes to sumbit any further evidence must state so now. The suspect will not get far, surround and patrol ten kilometres out if you have to." Michael stated.

Michael pulled Laura to the side. In a hushed tone, over the sound of the dogs and rain, he whispered.

"This is something more than just us. It's not right." he warned, "We're not dealing with a normal person anymore. Let's head back, we'll continue our investigation from Kerat while we review the CCTV from the headquarters."

As the man ran from street to street, he got on a motorbike, and rode off, heading north. The police knew where he was, and he had a feeling that those back home knew as well. He narrowly escaped a raid on the Laricosa Hotel, where he was staying. As he rode on, the chilly night air hit him. He had to stop somwhere, so he pulled over at a roadside motel on the coast highway in the middle of nowhere. He walked into the lobby, and the young lady at the front desk asked his name. He responded, Willem Vass.

---

By now all the authorities had been notified of Willem Vass' escape to Kaschovia. Detective Peterson was pissed.

"How the hell did this guy get off our radar. I need you to send a complete case file on this guy. Now!" His voice was noticeably angry.

"Jesus, I just heard from the Laricos PD that Willem got away."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes"

"God damnit."

"I swear to God that if we don't catch this bastard I'm going to fucking quit. I'm done with this job. All I want to do is just take a break."