2020-01-24 - Man in the Box
Esme, Ruiz and Yule end up in a Dream with Nathaniel Jones, and he helps with some of the missing puzzle pieces concerning a serial killer -- and his own story.
IC Date: 2020-01-24
OOC Date: 2019-09-20
Location: Park/Police & Fire Department
Related Scenes: 2019-11-16 - My Name is Human 2020-01-27 - Is My Reality A Lie?
Plot: None
Scene Number: 3705
It's late, so late that it's almost cliche. Outside, the flurries seem relentless in their attempt to coat Gray Harbor in a thick white blanket of snow. It's sticky and wet, earning its name as Cascade Concrete.
Inside the Police Department, there's plenty of mulling around as officers come off shift just as others go on. Set up in a side room is every piece of evidence compiled on the serial killer that has been quiet in the last month and a half despite having piled up almost a dozen bodies before disappearing. In each case, one of the victim's organs was removed, and that organ coincided with cancer. In one of the more recent bodies -- a seventeen year old soccer star from the local high school -- Yule found signs of newly developed cancer in the bone marrow of her right femur; the girl's left femur had been completely drained of its marrow, suggesting that the cancer had been leukemia.
For Esme, the biggest break came from that strange fingerprint. It ended up matching fingerprints found in a home invasion case back in 1987 where a man broke into a senior facility. A security camera image from the case caught the face of the intruder and it perfectly matched the photograph she had been working off of. No name yet, but his face is becoming common despite its apparent agelessness.
It'd been for a different case that had brought Yule around, but everytime he visited? It was always a stop by the room that had this particular case in it. His eyes flicker around the files and postings, arms crossing over his chest, and it is the last one that he'd found, that young high schooler, that seems to weigh the most heavily on his mind, standing in front of that particular autopsy report.
Late nights were Esme's thing. It's the reason she consistently volunteered for night shift. She'd rather come in later in the day and leave at ridiculously early hours of the morning. This very reason is why. Later at night it was easier to concentrate. Usually less people on duty and less disruptions in general and the chance of getting called away slimmer.
"This guy." Esme pointed at the picture taken from the senior facility footage. "Is our guy. I can feel it. It just doesn't make any fucking sense." She's either talking to herself in the room or talking to de la Vega! One of those two things is definitely happening. Esme exhaled in mild frustration. "I just don't understand how he hasn't aged a goddamned day." Also her tendency to curse rose like, 10 fold. The later it got. She was lining up the pictures she had of the person on the table.
When Yule comes in, her expression softens some, glancing to the report and then back to her pictures. "We're going to find this person. We're going to bring these people to justice."
Rather than slumming it with the detectives, de la Vega is doing what all good bosses do, and supervising things. From the break room. With a donut, and his cell phone. Technically he's off shift in ten, but fuck if he was going to let someone else have the last sour cream glazed. He's sprawled in a chair, in uniform, and responding to some text messages. Given the day he's had, including the Chief being out sick, it's probably actually a well-earned break.
"There are some medical conditions that alter how one ages," Yule offers up, but it isn't in a tone that sounds believable at all. The M.E. knows better, as he offers up, "The cases I found? Went all the way back to 1939. Still looking at connections in commonality in doctors and the like." It's the picture Esme points to that has him stepping forward, peering at the face. "Anyone in the medical field would notice a guy not aging, though. No luck on finding out who he is thought, I take it?"
A dubious look was given to the ME. Clearly she wasn't buying what he was selling. Even if part of her wanted to. "It's more likely he found the f-...fountain of youth." Likely an expletive or two was supposed to precede the phrase. "They wouldn't have noticed if he laid low. Or is passing himself off as relatives. It's definitely the same guy though." Esme was absolutely sure of this. "No hits yet on the doctors or anything?"
The shift is subtle, but de la Vega would recognize it first. The sounds in the bull pen suddenly go silent, and the colors mute as if someone dimmed the lights. Beyond the windows, the flurries turn into a raging storm with winds and flakes that make it impossible to see beyond the panes. It is perhaps the strangest for Esme, who has only entered the dreamscape once before. One moment, she is standing with Yule, and the next, she is in a dream. No, a Dream.
For Ruiz, he is sitting calmly in a chair in the break room, and the next, he is standing beside Yule and Esme, staring at the evidence that is still sharp and clean even in this murky duplicate of the police station.
"I can help you with that," says a voice behind the three, and when they turn, there is Nathaniel Jones leaning against a wall in slacks and a suit jacket. His shoes are sensible for a man who has to be on his feet most of the time, and his button-up shirt is open just enough to show off the black t-shirt under it. He doesn't wear a tie. His arms are crossed at his chest, staring at the evidence beyond them. His shadow is strange, cast on the adjacent wall despite there being no light to support its placement.
A slight prickle slides up his spine as Ruiz spots the change in weather out the window, and the slight shift in the air. He puts down the donut he'd been eating, and starts to pull to his feet- and by the time he stands, he's somewhere else entirely.
The wall of evidence is studied for a moment or two, but it's Detective Jones he focuses on, once the man speaks. He recognises him, of course; and not just from an old picture. They've done this before. "Detective," he greets cautiously. "Feel like elucidating for us?" On how he can help, presumably.
A soft snort comes from him, and then those eyes go momentarily wider as he murmurs, "Or he is using the body parts to create a potion of eternal life, Wilkinson." But all of those thoughts still when the whole environment seems to change, and every bit of Yule seems to go on edge for a heart beat. Slowly, ever so slowly he turns around, those brown eyes narrowing as he soaks in the strangeness, the little details that all add up to this being something a bit more than reality. His mouth opens, but Ruiz already has the question put out there that is on the top of Yule's mind. With a snap his mouth shuts, dividing his own attention between both Esme and Jones.
<FS3> Esme rolls Composure: Good Success (8 7 7 6 3 2 1) (Rolled by: Portal)
Esme froze, very much like a deer in the headlights. Because this felt...strangely familiar. Not like deja vu...but the feeling...was similar to her weird dream with the impossible staircase and floating casket. Ruiz's voice causes her to visibly start because he was suddenly right next to her. Not to mention the supposed-to-be-dead detective was now there too. And Ruiz was just...talking to him. Like this was an every day thing. The good news is that she isn't immediately freaking out! The bad news is that it's very possible she might start freaking out. Almost subconsciously, she takes a step closer to Yule while her brain tries to catch up with what is actually happening.
"Elucidating... I like that." Jones pushes off the wall, and his shadow gives an odd little shiver as it slips off the adjacent wall to cast out behind him. It casts his silhouette with sharp clarity, but there is something about it that seems anxious while Jones himself is even, calm -- almost eerily. He steps up toward the evidence, taking it in. He counts the victims by moving his finger to and from each photograph. "Twelve... it's getting harder to keep him well-fed." The words are half-spoken to those around him, and instead to himself.
Then his shoulders move beneath his suit jacket, and his hands slide carefully into his pocket. His shadow runs its hands through its hair -- what little of it there is of the balding blond. "You need to stop thinking of him as human... this is Gray Harbor. Once you got that sorted out in your head, the rest clicks." He looks expectantly to Esme and Yule, though Ruiz is just on the edge of his attention.
Ruiz narrows his eyes slightly, watching the ghost detective take a stroll around the evidence wall. Despite his outward calm, there's definitely a tautness to him. "You know anything about Billy Gohl?" he murmurs, pushing his own hands into his pants pockets, voice steady. "Though he worked through a human host, the way I understand it. Is that what's going on here? You feel like spitting it out, or are you going to keep fucking around for shits and giggles?" Well, nobody ever accused him of being diplomatic.
"So he feeds on cancer?" Comes Yule's conclusion, having little qualm about accepting that this, whatever it is? Is welll beyond the ordinairy. It is, after all, Gray Harbor. Out a hand comes, and the M.E. gives a reassuring squeeze to Esme's shoulder, though his attention? It's squarely upon the detective and his shadow. "So why so long between surfacing, or did it have a source to feed off of that recently ran dry?" It's the mention of Gohl that has a flicker of recognition from Yule, though not enough to put two and two together when Ruiz mentions it.
Esme's lips parted as if she was going to say something...and then closed again. Maybe she had accidentally inhaled some kind of crazy drug? Toxic air? Maybe she was having an aneurysm. Why were these guys acting so casual?! The squeeze from Yule didn't do much to quell the tiny bit of panic welling up. Finally though, she does manage to ask - "What is it then?" If not a human. Though she barely believes she's asking such a question. TO. A. DEAD. MAN.
"Gohl was still human." Though, the detective does offer Ruiz a ghost of a smile at his frustration. He holds up a placating hand. "Hear me out, Captain. I'm getting there." Then, Jones snap-points at Yule. "He feeds on cancer." His hand slips back into his pocket. He glances to Esme. "Every sixteen years -- " 2019, 2003, 1987, 1971, 1955... " -- he crosses the Veil to feed on diseased organs. Not sure why. Morgan and I couldn't figure it out. Morgan thought it was some crazy cannibal, but he isn't. I'm not sure what he is, but I know that sixteen years ago, he was here, getting his fill."
The Shadow of Nathaniel Jones tilts its head back, scraping its fingers down the sides of his face before it doubles over as if bursting out laughing. Nathaniel does not react. He is even, almost too even.
"Back in 2003, Morgan and I had figured out his final victim, and we chased him down to an alley on Spruce. He tried to kill us." Tried.
"Every sixteen years. Ever figure out why that cycle?" Not that it probably matters, as his eyes flicker back over towards their current set of victims. "And more he needs every cycle." Yeah, there is a glance towards Esme, making sure she is still managing to take this all in without overly panicing, before the pointed, obvious question comes from the M.E. "So how did you deduce who was going to be his last victim? No rhyme to the type of cancer, save it seems to always be different. A variety of different ages, genders, everything. What was the key to figuring out his pattern?"
"Are you sure he didn't actually? Where's Morgan then?" Esme asked her follow up question. Esme's fingers are doing an excellent job of digging into her thighs as if trying to channel that anxious, confused energy. There might be more, but Yule's question seems far more important. So she quiets herself again. Brow furrowed ever so slightly as she mentally tries to focus on the every 16 years bit. Focus on something that is real and tangible. Try to work out maybe what the timing of it all meant.
The captain is indeed irritated. It's been a long goddamned day, and this isn't helping his mood. He does, however, opt to let the detectives take the lead on questioning Jones for the time being. Settling against the edge of a desk, arms folding across his chest, he listens in but doesn't interject.
"Cancer support groups," Nathaniel replies to Yule. "He visited them to target his victims, or at least some of his victims. He signed into each group with the same name -- Zachariah Hobbs. I started to stake out the meetings, and that's when I got that." He taps his finger against the picture of Hobbs that had been placed in the file Ruiz recovered. At Esme's question, Jones runs his hand back along his short blond hair; his shadow looks aside, pressing its hands into the sides of its head.
"Hobbs attacked us once we got in the alley. He almost killed Morgan." Now, Nathaniel turns aside, looking away. "I had to get us out of there... so I did. I took us somewhere we shouldn't have never gone. I'm still not even sure how I did it." He glances back to the trio.
"Shit," Murmurs Yule, for once it is put like that? It all becomes so clear. Of course there isn't a medical connection, because anonymity is so much easier in such circumstances. His head dips at that name, giving a look towards Esme to see what she's making of it all. "Name should be easy to track down... see which ones he has been to, if it is different groups. From there, we can keep an eye and wait."
It's the talk of what happened to Morgan that has Yule grunting, his head dipping into a faint nod of understanding and concern, "Somewhere... Over There, I take it? And did he just get the drop on you, or did he have..." Powers? Abilities? Who knows what, but fill in the blank.
The news about the support groups immediately makes Esme feel like an idiot for not piecing that together. It seemed so obvious now that the detective said it. "....So did Morgan die in this place you escaped to?" Her attention finally shifted to the ghost/shadow thing. "...okay." Noisy exhale. "I'm only going to ask this one time. Answer it. Or don't." She's addressing all the men in the room. "...What the actual fuck is happening right now? Am I tripping? Am I dead? Am I losing my mind??" Deep Down she knows that all the answers to her questions are, in fact, 'no'. BUT...she's going to ask anyway. Because it was really hard for her logical mind to wrap her head around this.
"He isn't human, Dr. Duchannes... he can appear human, but don't let that fool you. He's fast, strong, and deadly. I'm certain that he was able to surgically remove the organs with his fingers alone." Which should suggest what Hobbs might actually be capable of. Now he resumes with his hands in his pockets, glancing to Esme. "You're in the Veil. Or a pocket of it -- you're in a pocket that is familiar to me." Which might not make any sense to anyone here. Then he looks away, turning from them again. His shadow arches its back, as if screaming a silent scream that cannot be heard; Nathaniel stays perfectly calm, stoic. "She died years later. We learned how to survive there, but it changes you, and she couldn't adapt. They got her soon enough."
As they speak, Nathaniel's clothes start to change, becoming more ragged at the edges and smeared in dirt and dried blood. His skin becomes sallow, and his cheeks more sunken. His chin drops slightly. "Now I'm stuck here... alone." And his shadow starts scrabbling at the walls, raking intangible fingers across it like he's digging or trying to climb out.
"Hey," Comes Yule's reassuring voice, a flash of a faint smile offered up to Esme, as he murmurs, "You are not losing your mind. I'll... help explain things later, all right? But," It's that hand to her shoulder again, a reassuring touch before his focus turns back towards Jones, his brow furrowing in concentration, and the first bit of what he says? Doesn't surprise him. "Yeah. Explains how he could do it so quickly, too. With the skin." Those changes that come over the stuck detective has his eyes narrowing, a small frown curling around the corners of his mouth. "You ever find out anything it was weak to? Don't imagine injecting the damn thing with a boatload of cancer fighting drugs would weaken him substantially, would it. Surely can't be that easy." His mouth parts, some other fleeting thought that comes from him, but whatever it is, is stuffed away, only offering a sympathetic smile towards Jones.
Esme felt her bottom lip tremble, ever so slight but...no. She swallowed hard. Keep your shit together, Wilkinson. She chided herself as she tried to focus and watch the man changing. "Maybe we can set it on fire." She half mumbled. Swallowing again. "I'm sorry...about Morgan." It's sincere at least. "There's no way for you to...leave back the way you came?" When he talked about being trapped. "No one else you can talk to here or anything?" Surely he wasn't the only thing is this...Veil...right? Whatever exactly the Veil was.
Nathaniel starts to shake his head at Yule's question, but he pauses suddenly. "Cancer fighting drugs," he repeats quietly, looking out the snow-blasted windows. "Hadn't thought about that." The words are said almost airily.
But then, the laughter starts. It starts as a chuckle in his throat. "Cancer fighting drugs." Then it turns into a belly laugh that bends Nathaniel over a bit. "Cancer fighting drugs." Suddenly, he's giggling with a strange, jarring shift of his demeanor. Behind him, his shadow calms and becomes statuesque. Its hands slide into its pocket, and it looks down and away. "No, no, can't. I've tried, but I don't know how... to open the door." The detective spins around suddenly, the laughter subsiding into abrupt panic. "Can't let Them know I'm here." He grabs for Yule suddenly. "Can't let Them feel me."
The police station starts to melt away, gray dead trees starting to blend into focus while the walls fade out. The clearing in the dead woods looks up into a flat, gunmetal sky.
"Suppose it's worth a try, unless you are going to lend me that backup weapon you have," It's a dry quip, one familiar to Esme by now, all meant to give her something a bit more real to grab onto that is more normal than all of this, at least. Only when Nathaniel begins that giggling fit does he take a small step away, but it's too late as the fellows hands grab about his sweater, and every bit of Yule stands up straighter for that. "Yeah," He murmurs, carefully, those eyes flickering around the station as if half expecting to feel, or sense something himself, "I know. But," When things start to melt away from them? That's when a long, hard swallow comes, "Fuck. Is it..." Them? Whatever his thoughts, now his head is truly on a swivel, trying to look at what might be lurking within the dead forest that now surrounds them.
Esme may not fully understand the situation...but she's quick enough to realize somehow...someway. Jones and his shadow were like a weird...split personality. "Radiation maybe." Is her followup to the talk of anti-cancer meds. Then back to thinking about how he had somehow been able to separate himself. Though he might not have control over it. Something to think about later, because Jones is trying to grab for Yule. Esme firmly grabs Yule's shoulder to pull him back and put herself between him and Jones. Then...the scenery starts to change and Esme immediately goes for her pistol. "Do not leave my side." Esme says softly, but firmly through gritted teeth. Act First, Process Later Mode activated.
The air becomes cold -- almost freezing cold. Their breaths fog the air -- even Nathaniel's. A howl goes up somewhere in the woods, and Nathaniel looks around frantically. "Time to go, time to go, time to go." The detective turns back to the three then, and he shoves Yule hard into Esme and Ruiz with a jarring force. Like throwing them back into reality, they snap back into the waking world. Yule and Esme stand before the evidence, Ruiz has a donut in his mouth as he sits in the chair in the break room. In Yule's hand is a yellow sticky note, and written in red ink, someone has written: Door. Spruce Street. Find A Guide. Hobbs Sleeps.
"Just don-" Whatever Yule was going to say is abruptly ended, broken into a hard grunt as Nathaniel pushes him and he collides with the others, only to snap back to reality like the shattering of glass. He's standing when he should be sprawled on top of the others, and Ruiz? Isn't even here. It takes a few moments for him to catch sight of the note, and then? Well, fuck. "That's my handwriting." Those neat block letters with elements of cursive to give a flourish to the letters. "A guide," He murmurs, filing the thought away, before his full focus goes to Esme. "We... should talk. When you are..." Not freaking out? Is she? He waits, watching to see just how she's managing to handle the whole dream experience.
Esme stumbles backwards, nearly knocking over the corkboard set up as they're suddenly back in the precinct. Like nothing fucking happened. Wide brown eyes focus on Yule and yes, it's rather obvious she is this close to going off. In the moment, she doesn't pay any attention to the note he's holding. Honestly she barely realizes he's still standing there. Her mouth opens, closes, and then opens again as she quickly starts gathering up the papers on the table to put them back where they had been before she started looking. "I'm going home." It's abrupt, and far too calm for the expression still in her eyes.
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