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Story Hour
First Sight: A d20 Modern Story Hour (Updated 01-03-2008)
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<blockquote data-quote="Lamprolign" data-source="post: 1688096" data-attributes="member: 7860"><p>032</p><p></p><p>The smell of baking bread permeated the atmosphere, overpowering the pungent blend of fumes that ordinarily held sway in the city's air. Winter was reluctantly giving way to spring, turning snow into grimy mush. Tiny rivulets wound out of miniature mountain ranges left in the snowplow's wake. Through this decay of winter a scrawny teenage boy made his way. He walked with no particular hurry. Even had he not known his destination the aroma was an unerring guide.</p><p></p><p>Through the wide doors of the former church a steady stream of haggard and scruffy people passed. Sol had reached its zenith and the shelter was serving a noon repast to those without the means to feed themselves. The boy slipped into the line and entered with the rest. Inside, the line of people threaded across the vast main hall to a long counter across which a group of volunteers handed out bowls filled with rich stew and thick slabs of fresh bread. </p><p></p><p>"I haven't seen you here before, young fella," the grizzled old man behind a steaming kettle said. "What's your name?"</p><p></p><p>"Joshua," the boy answered, grinning.</p><p></p><p>"Welcome to the Haven, Joshua." The old man gave the boy a gummy smile while handing him a bowl stew. "There's always plenty food here, and no trouble, the Sister keeps us fed and safe."</p><p></p><p>Joshua took the stew. "Thanks," he said as he turned toward the tables. <em>It was safe, Pops.</em></p><p></p><p>****</p><p></p><p>Gabe pushed away from his desk and rubbed his eyes. He had no sleep the night before, going straight from the Haven to the latest crime scene. Yawning mightily, he leaned back and stretched before returning to the reams of reports and forms that documented every case. In these four homicides, none of the information contained in the myriad pages brought him any closer to an explainable cause of death, let alone a suspect. <em>And why haven't I had any visions?</em> That question bothered him more than he liked to admit. </p><p></p><p>"<em>Maybe your visions are tied to places, not people or things,</em>" Mary offered. "<em>You said yourself that the bodies seemed to have been dumped. I think your visions pick up on the latent emotional energy left in a place after something happens. If the killer is disposing of the bodies with the same emotion you feel when tossing a candy wrapper, then there'd be nothing left for you to sense.</em>"</p><p></p><p>Gabe shrugged. "Could be." </p><p></p><p>"What could be, boss?"</p><p></p><p>"Dammit Chris! Make a little noise when you're walking up behind me!"</p><p></p><p>"And deprive you of the only cardio workout you get? Far be it!" Chris beamed with satisfaction. "So, what could be?"</p><p></p><p>"Could be that you're going to get clobbered if you don't stop with the sneaking up on people!" </p><p></p><p>"Well, if you're in a mood I guess I'll wait 'till later to pass on what I heard from downtown." Chris's grin now would put a canary-sated cat to shame. </p><p></p><p>"All right, junior. Give."</p><p></p><p>"Well," Chris paused dramatically, "it seems that our favorite flatfoot found himself a witness. Seems a bum was sleeping in that alley when the body was dumped."</p><p></p><p>"Now that's interesting." Gabe knew beyond a doubt that he wouldn't get any information out of Brewer, but maybe one of the other detectives on the case...</p><p></p><p>"Brewer's new partner is supposed to be by to get the latest scene workup," Chris said. "I haven't seen her yet but rumor is she's..."</p><p></p><p>"Hello!" Gabe said. "Can I help you?"</p><p></p><p>"Good morning. I'm Lori Gies. I'm here for the report on the Barnes homicide."</p><p></p><p>Chris sat slightly open-mouthed staring at the woman in their doorway. In spite of his fortunate interruption of Chris's sentence, Gabe need not imagine how it would have finished. Detective Gies was a striking woman. Dark brown, almost black, eyes peered from a finely chiseled face framed by chin-length auburn hair. Her badge was clipped to the belt of her jeans along with a standard issue Berretta 9mm pistol. </p><p></p><p>She stepped into the office and extended her hand. "Gabriel Ansgar, I presume?"</p><p></p><p>"Doctor Livingston, actually," Gabe said, standing to shake the proffered hand, "and this is my associate, Sir Stanley." He motioned with his left hand toward Chris.</p><p></p><p>"Brewer said you were a wiseass," her voice manifested the slightest hint of a Brooklyn accent.</p><p></p><p>"I'm sure you've heard much more than that."</p><p></p><p>"Nothing much really, although I do get the distinct impression that you two aren't drinking buddies."</p><p></p><p>"You could say that." He sat back down. "Coffee?" </p><p></p><p>"No thanks." She eyed the stained pot dubiously. "It looks more like gear oil from here anyway."</p><p></p><p>"Your loss." Gabe turned his attention back to his computer. "The report is almost complete, it'll just be a couple minutes."</p><p></p><p>"That's fine, I'll wait," Lori sat down in the room's only spare seat. It creaked and tilted dangerously. "You guys might want to post a warning on this thing." She carefully balanced herself to avoid being capsized.</p><p></p><p>"We haven't lost a visitor yet." Gabe pecked away at his keyboard. "I heard you found a witness." He looked at her over his monitor.</p><p></p><p>"I think that may be an exaggeration." She skewed her mouth to one side. "We found a homeless man sleeping behind a dumpster further down that alley after daylight."</p><p></p><p>"Did he see anything?"</p><p></p><p>"Oh he saw plenty," she said, "but I think most of it came out of his bottle of Strawberry Hill."</p><p></p><p>"Lemme guess, aliens dumped the body?" He had stopped typing and leaned forward so that most of his face was now above the monitor.</p><p></p><p>"Almost." She shook her head slightly. "The old guy says that a white haired woman passed his spot sometime after midnight. He kept babbling about red eyes."</p><p></p><p>"Huh. Weird."</p><p></p><p>"I figure it's all pretty useless, but we are keeping an eye out for someone with bleached hair."</p><p></p><p>"Yeah, sounds like he was pretty deep in the bottle, or something stronger." Gabe caught the sheets of paper that were sliding out of the printer beside his desk. He dropped them into a manila folder and handed them to Lori. "Not much to go on, about as useful as your witness." <em>At least for a</em> rational <em>explanation.</em> </p><p></p><p></p><p>****</p><p></p><p></p><p>Heavy clouds preceding a cold front had brought an early dusk. Cold rain, driven by a howling southwest wind, pelted Poe's battered overcoat. There would be sleet and finally snow as the temperature dropped during the night. From her vantage atop the abandoned apartment building she watched the storm clouds. Their boiling undersides were illuminated by the city lights and frequent flashes of lightning. Lost in her thoughts, she sat oblivious to the squall. She looked down the length of 29th street below her. <em>I know you're here...</em> </p><p></p><p> </p><p></p><p></p><p>© 2004 Austin Hale</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lamprolign, post: 1688096, member: 7860"] 032 The smell of baking bread permeated the atmosphere, overpowering the pungent blend of fumes that ordinarily held sway in the city's air. Winter was reluctantly giving way to spring, turning snow into grimy mush. Tiny rivulets wound out of miniature mountain ranges left in the snowplow's wake. Through this decay of winter a scrawny teenage boy made his way. He walked with no particular hurry. Even had he not known his destination the aroma was an unerring guide. Through the wide doors of the former church a steady stream of haggard and scruffy people passed. Sol had reached its zenith and the shelter was serving a noon repast to those without the means to feed themselves. The boy slipped into the line and entered with the rest. Inside, the line of people threaded across the vast main hall to a long counter across which a group of volunteers handed out bowls filled with rich stew and thick slabs of fresh bread. "I haven't seen you here before, young fella," the grizzled old man behind a steaming kettle said. "What's your name?" "Joshua," the boy answered, grinning. "Welcome to the Haven, Joshua." The old man gave the boy a gummy smile while handing him a bowl stew. "There's always plenty food here, and no trouble, the Sister keeps us fed and safe." Joshua took the stew. "Thanks," he said as he turned toward the tables. [I]It was safe, Pops.[/I] **** Gabe pushed away from his desk and rubbed his eyes. He had no sleep the night before, going straight from the Haven to the latest crime scene. Yawning mightily, he leaned back and stretched before returning to the reams of reports and forms that documented every case. In these four homicides, none of the information contained in the myriad pages brought him any closer to an explainable cause of death, let alone a suspect. [I]And why haven't I had any visions?[/I] That question bothered him more than he liked to admit. "[I]Maybe your visions are tied to places, not people or things,[/I]" Mary offered. "[I]You said yourself that the bodies seemed to have been dumped. I think your visions pick up on the latent emotional energy left in a place after something happens. If the killer is disposing of the bodies with the same emotion you feel when tossing a candy wrapper, then there'd be nothing left for you to sense.[/I]" Gabe shrugged. "Could be." "What could be, boss?" "Dammit Chris! Make a little noise when you're walking up behind me!" "And deprive you of the only cardio workout you get? Far be it!" Chris beamed with satisfaction. "So, what could be?" "Could be that you're going to get clobbered if you don't stop with the sneaking up on people!" "Well, if you're in a mood I guess I'll wait 'till later to pass on what I heard from downtown." Chris's grin now would put a canary-sated cat to shame. "All right, junior. Give." "Well," Chris paused dramatically, "it seems that our favorite flatfoot found himself a witness. Seems a bum was sleeping in that alley when the body was dumped." "Now that's interesting." Gabe knew beyond a doubt that he wouldn't get any information out of Brewer, but maybe one of the other detectives on the case... "Brewer's new partner is supposed to be by to get the latest scene workup," Chris said. "I haven't seen her yet but rumor is she's..." "Hello!" Gabe said. "Can I help you?" "Good morning. I'm Lori Gies. I'm here for the report on the Barnes homicide." Chris sat slightly open-mouthed staring at the woman in their doorway. In spite of his fortunate interruption of Chris's sentence, Gabe need not imagine how it would have finished. Detective Gies was a striking woman. Dark brown, almost black, eyes peered from a finely chiseled face framed by chin-length auburn hair. Her badge was clipped to the belt of her jeans along with a standard issue Berretta 9mm pistol. She stepped into the office and extended her hand. "Gabriel Ansgar, I presume?" "Doctor Livingston, actually," Gabe said, standing to shake the proffered hand, "and this is my associate, Sir Stanley." He motioned with his left hand toward Chris. "Brewer said you were a wiseass," her voice manifested the slightest hint of a Brooklyn accent. "I'm sure you've heard much more than that." "Nothing much really, although I do get the distinct impression that you two aren't drinking buddies." "You could say that." He sat back down. "Coffee?" "No thanks." She eyed the stained pot dubiously. "It looks more like gear oil from here anyway." "Your loss." Gabe turned his attention back to his computer. "The report is almost complete, it'll just be a couple minutes." "That's fine, I'll wait," Lori sat down in the room's only spare seat. It creaked and tilted dangerously. "You guys might want to post a warning on this thing." She carefully balanced herself to avoid being capsized. "We haven't lost a visitor yet." Gabe pecked away at his keyboard. "I heard you found a witness." He looked at her over his monitor. "I think that may be an exaggeration." She skewed her mouth to one side. "We found a homeless man sleeping behind a dumpster further down that alley after daylight." "Did he see anything?" "Oh he saw plenty," she said, "but I think most of it came out of his bottle of Strawberry Hill." "Lemme guess, aliens dumped the body?" He had stopped typing and leaned forward so that most of his face was now above the monitor. "Almost." She shook her head slightly. "The old guy says that a white haired woman passed his spot sometime after midnight. He kept babbling about red eyes." "Huh. Weird." "I figure it's all pretty useless, but we are keeping an eye out for someone with bleached hair." "Yeah, sounds like he was pretty deep in the bottle, or something stronger." Gabe caught the sheets of paper that were sliding out of the printer beside his desk. He dropped them into a manila folder and handed them to Lori. "Not much to go on, about as useful as your witness." [I]At least for a[/I] rational [I]explanation.[/I] **** Heavy clouds preceding a cold front had brought an early dusk. Cold rain, driven by a howling southwest wind, pelted Poe's battered overcoat. There would be sleet and finally snow as the temperature dropped during the night. From her vantage atop the abandoned apartment building she watched the storm clouds. Their boiling undersides were illuminated by the city lights and frequent flashes of lightning. Lost in her thoughts, she sat oblivious to the squall. She looked down the length of 29th street below her. [I]I know you're here...[/I] © 2004 Austin Hale [/QUOTE]
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First Sight: A d20 Modern Story Hour (Updated 01-03-2008)
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