Babadon't Room Crawl

[piper90npcs]

[OOC: Please tag in to the assigned room. There will be at least one NPC tag to the thread per day. Remember that your characters can still use the network to communicate findings or questions to those still in the living quarters.]

Once word is out that the victim was dragged to the Rewards Lounge, the hires who’ve been cleared head are given permission to enter that rare knock-off paradise. Somewhere along the line, someone suggests splitting into groups, an idea that gets all the more appealing when they see that the Rewards Lounge has at least five suites to investigate, perhaps in case Corporate ever decided to enlist a stable of bootlickers and snitches to feed them intel on the other hires in exchange for feather beds and middle-shelf scotch.

It becomes clear that the intelligence they got was likely correct: there are streaks of black goo along to doorframe to the lobby room between all the suites.

Comments

[notvulcan]

Michael comes closer to the rug, noticing the smear of black goo.

"What are you doing?"

She's concerned whatever it is, it's going to disturb the evidence.

[myagents]

[Price, once he's carefully fished out the paper from the shredder, tries to read it without success so he shoves it in his pockets with the rest of the paper he took before. He might as well reassemble two sheets in his dorm, while he's at it. He too, gets closer to Sam.]

Huh.

[He doesn't really understand what is this for, but he's interested. He'll watch and find out.]

[piper90npcs]

[While Price is digging out the paper, he may notice that the reason it's jammed is because someone tried to shred some credit card-sized pieces of plastic. If he fishes those out, he'll find four Jorgmund employee IDs, none of which made it far enough through the shredder to be destroyed. One belongs to a technician named Paul in the department that pulls people from other worlds; the others belong to three of the workers in the cafeteria, whom the Hires may have all seen hanging out together at the employee table after dinner had been served last night. All four employees have dark hair.

Sam's attempt to find a door isn't successful, but he does find a little bit more blonde hair caught in the black smear - some with blood at the base.]

[zerg_rush]

Kerrigan knocks on the door frame to avoid startling anyone. She's still cleaning monster goo off her hands with a purloined towel.

"Hey, my team finished our sweep, you guys need an extra pair of eyes?" It's just a total coincidence she picked this suite to help with. Nothing whatsoever to do with the presence of a locked filing cabinet.

[fromfryingpantofire]

"Well, that's not entirely a waste." Sam puts the water aside, taking a better look at the hair. "This is...recent, I think. You can still see the blood in the roots." He doesn't poke it, but more because there are people around who wouldn't understand so well. "That's been torn out of the victim's head. You don't get roots like that otherwise."

Kerrigan entering the room gets him to look up, then stand. "Wouldn't hurt. I was hoping there was a trap door hidden beneath that rug. No luck, though."

[notvulcan]

"We still haven't been able to access the file cabinets," Michael supplies. "We found all this—" she points to the bed "—but the key we found doesn't fit the cabinets."

[myagents]

Price keeps looking at Sam for a bit, but returns to the shredder to see if there's any more paper - can't hope to reassemble a document that will make sense if you don't have all the pieces. Actually there seems to something else in there. He digs his fingers trying not to get hurt by the bl-- Gasp! He's slightly startled upon Kerrigan knocking and entering the room. Greets her with a downwards nod and then tries again. Finally manages to get the four IDs, turns to the others to show them.

"Look. Someone tried to shred these employee badges."

He notices they're all dark haired only after a double take.

"The hair isn't theirs."

[zerg_rush]

"Might have been for the chest in our suite," Kerrigan says, pretending to study the items on the bed as a cover for thinking. "We just broke it. There's plenty of Christmas candy if anybody wants some."

She makes as if to reach into her jumpsuit, then stops short, pretending she's just realized something. "Uh, anyone still have their comm handy? My hands are gross and I don't have a clean towel anymore." Kerrigan brandishes her black-stained washcloth, looking over her shoulder at the group to see who has their device out. Anyone who does suddenly has a very clear mental picture of shutting off their device, accompanied by a sense of imperative and warning.

This would be so much easier if they were telepaths. Instead she has to play mental charades.

[fromfryingpantofire]

"Yeah, I got mine." Sam sets his to hover. "Should probably let those on lockdown know about this, anyway. There are some more towels in the bathroom, though, if you want one. Which...I can't imagine you wouldn't."

He starts recording the hair, adding it to the info in the info gathering thread and replying to Tenten once before he literally flinches, reaching up quickly to flick the comm off. And turning to glare at Kerrigan because it's not like he can't guess WHO did that.

The fact that his right thumb starts digging into the palm of his left hand in response to the image might slightly explain some of it.

[notvulcan]

That image being sent is similar to what would happen if she'd mind-melded with a Vulcan—she'd be able to sense their thoughts and intentions and memories. She doesn't know the source of it until Sam turns to glare at Kerrigan, though.

She also turns her comm off, looking from Sam to her.

"That was you?" she asks.

[myagents]

Price, who was still busy with the IDs, looks at others in confusion.

"What happened?"

[zerg_rush]

Kerrigan's casual posture is gone, and she nods at Michael.

"I don't think Jorgmund needs to know we got into the file cabinet." Her casual tone is gone, too. She holds up the key, ring around a finger so it dangles down her palm, the FILES label clearly visible. "'Lonestar' can claim the shadow network is secure all they want, but even granting they're right, that doesn't do a thing about leaks."

Humans, the most fallible part of any operation.

[fromfryingpantofire]

"Not just that, but whatever this thing more than likely has access to the system as well." Sam straightens, hands dropping away as he relaxes a bit. Not a lot, but more to where he was before Kerrigan put an image in his head. "You want to go ahead and open the cabinet? I have telekinesis so I'll be close. In case we need to be shielded."

Nobody knew what was in that cabinet, after all. It could be booby trapped.

"And nothing major happened, Pierce. Just a little surprise mental image courtesy of Kerrigan."

[piper90npcs]

The cabinet has three drawers stacked vertically, and the top two are empty aside from some paperclips and dividers that have been abandoned.

The bottom, though. When the bottom drawer is opened, there's a person in there, smelling faintly of rot due to the black smears of slime soaking her unisex Medium Jorgmund jumpsuit, still breathing. At first glance she appears unharmed, aside from the small smear of blood on her head where some hair was pulled.

It's Adora, unconscious.

[zerg_rush]

"No one transmit anything," Kerrigan snaps in the manner of someone used to giving orders. "I coordinated with someone else on the X list as soon as we found it."

She doesn't even wait to see if Adora's alive. The second she recognizes the face, she's keying her comm on, transmission locked to North. The message is a picture Adora's unconscious face with a line of text: Adora. No one else in the dorms knows yet.

[fromfryingpantofire]

"Fuck."

Sam moves over, reaching down to check for a pulse before moving to get her out of the drawer. "We need to get her to medical. There's no telling what it drugged her with in order to keep her unconscious."

And while he can certainly get her to medical on his own, getting her OUT of that drawer is going to take some finagling. And probably another set of hands, at least.