maskormenacelogs | What fills your pride will make you fall

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What fills your pride will make you fall

WHO: The Maurtia Falls Torturers AND YOU
WHERE: Maurtia Falls
WHEN: 9th/10th and onwards for the manhunt
WHAT: A murder is committed in Maurtia Falls. This log comprises the crime scene information, as well as providing space for log reactions to the press presence in Maurtia Falls, MFPD and RISE involvement, and the interview of the prime suspect. It's also the place to play out the manhunt and capture of Dean Winchester, who will be cured thereafter.
The news has hit the game as of this Majority Report, so feel free to get involved even if you're not tagging into the log.
Please feel free to jump right in! Sneak onto the crime scene or break into Lucifer's church looking for Dean, turn up in the interview room, whatever you like! Previous planning isn't necessary to get involved, but please feel free to touch the ooc post if you need more information! Some starters will be posted below, but feel free to start your own!
WARNINGS: Mentions of severe violence, trauma and torture, as well as self cannibalism. The final victim is also a child abuser, and this is only mentioned in passing. Warnings are all tied into the crime scene itself, not the manhunt element.

Maurtia Falls. midnight.

The nightclub is deathly quiet above them.

Half an hour ago, it was thumping out "modern" disco beats, the thump of shuffling feet on the dancefloor above their heads obliterating any sounds from the basement below. The space was barely used, full of crap from years gone by. Half a dozen broken speakers, two shattered base drums, a bent cymbal, a guitar cracked down the spine, joined tangled fairy lights, two dozen wooden chairs, and boxes full of Christmas decorations, all covered in layer upon layer of dust, were abandoned together in disco hell.

And Hell was what it was, or at least, Hell was what it had been, for poor Hans Gretel. One of those chairs had been pulled out, and the man had been tied up with broken strands of fairy lights. Two steel pegs had been hammered through his feet into the concrete floor, but only one of those feet was still attached at the ankle, giving the corpse a skewed look in the chair. Hans Gretel had been flayed up that same leg, careful, accurate work that stopped just before the knee.

His hands were equally ruined. The fairy lights had cut right into his flesh, down to the bone on the more damaged left hand, where three of the fingers were missing. The right had been flayed up to the wrist, fingernails and all. Gretel had been gagged. He was missing his ears, and one side of his scalp, and his mouth had been ripped open with a knife on one side. All these wounds had bled, and profusely, leaving a messy pool behind on the floor--a pool of blood which had been walked in and tracked all over.

But as much as Gretel had been alive during the attack, he was most certainly dead now. Something had stabbed into his chest, from under his ribs, and with remarkable accuracy had pierced his heart. He'd died almost instantly.

It was the least he deserved. Photos of Gretel's prey lay in the blood around his feet, torn and scattered. Some of them were his children, and others were not. Hans Gretel owned a sweet shop, and he had used his store for the worst possible motives. Nobody would mourn him.

And how had Lucifer chosen this target? This one? Through his church. His teachings that God would forgive whatever sin, so long as its perpetrator sought absolution. A burned piece of skin, removed, still faintly bore the image of the tattoo that he had had Dean remove, Lucifer's own seal, abused by an abuser. Yes, this one had been personal.

The witness, Siri Hjang, was an employee of the disco, and a smoker. Rather than go outside and risk being seen by the kids, which the manager had forbidden, she used the basement instead. Halfway down the stairs, she noticed light and movement in the room below, saw blood, and faces, and watched as the man with the pale blue eyes - watching her - pressed a silver blade into Gretel's chest. Now, she was sitting in the empty disco above with a paramedic treating her for shock, a foil blanket across her shoulders, afraid to tell what she had seen, afraid of what would happen if her name ended up in the press.

And speaking of press, they were already setting up outside, all light and noise, attracted by the dozen police cars, the mortuary service, CSI and SWAT, and the two ambulances stacked across the road and up the sidewalk.

Maurtia Falls. morning.

By morning, the body had been removed, and forensic services had swept the scene. There was still work to do, of course, but it was done under the buzz of the national press, now arrayed up and down the street outside. Gretel's sweet shop was boarded up, its windows smashed in the early morning; the family had been taken to a safe house for fear of their lives. And Siri Hjang, briefly in hospital, and then at the MFPD, had been hustled quickly out of the way when the department's first suspect had arrived spontaneously.

Whether you're a Maurtia Falls resident facing the noise and chaos of the busy street, or someone involved in the investigation, the press are always in the way, always asking questions, demanding answers.

At police headquarters, Lucifer exhausted the police with his rhetoric, but the fact remained: there was evidence, not just of his having been there, but someone else, left behind in fingerprints. Their witness had seen him kill the Hans Gretel, and her testimony would put him away.

Lucifer didn't admit it. He didn't deny it either. He proposed that he was a very popular target for such accusations, a contended public figure, not to mention famous. It was easy to make a sketch look like someone you saw on TV all the time. Besides, things with his fingerprints on them wouldn't be so hard to fake. People knew all about fingerprint evidence. He suggested that he was being set up, befuddled the line of detectives questioning him with his cool, and more or less waited for RISE to arrive, and take over.

He admitted absolutely nothing in regard to a conspirator. He had no idea what they were talking about, and look how willingly he'd come to answer their questions--would a guilty devil do that?

The coroner discovered that Mr. Gretel had been forced to eat the missing fingers and ears. They were discovered in his stomach contents.

-----

Lucifer surrendered, and Dean Winchester, the demon--well, he ran.

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[ The body is removed by 6.30 am, and apart from crime scene tape, most of the police officers vanish by 5pm, apart from a light guard presence. Whether you're a member of RISE or a look-y-loo, this is for crime scene shenanigans and/or mingle. A crime scene mingle. Yup. ]

[ The archangel sits in interview room one. People come and go behind the two way glass, but they may as well not bother hiding--the archangel's eyes follow every one of them, and make him an exciting spectacle for those of the MFPD who probably haven't seen him in person before. They're prohibited from asking him for an autograph, but don't think some of them aren't thinking about it. ]

Edited 2016-08-10 17:18 (UTC)

[ Dean's fucking booking it.

Granted, he's never had much reason to stand still over the course of his life, but never has been that been more true than now. He's out of Maurtia Falls as fast as he can manage it, heading South- just about anywhere else other than here. (For once in his life he might not even be headed towards Kansas; who knows.) He has no reason to sleep and therefore not much reason to stand still in motel rooms or anywhere else and yet he still hits the occasional bar for no other reason than he can. Though really, he's not dwelling anywhere for too long.

He's not scared out of his mind but the last thing he wants is to get caught or end up in the middle of an unwarranted Devil's Trap.

Pick a place, any place - there might be a likelihood that he's been there along the way, hiding out in an unused warehouse or crashing into a not yet built home, finally hunkering down and staying put starting in Louisiana. At least for a few days.

ooc; SO BEGINS THE MANHUNT. want to pick up his scent somewhere and start tracking it, want to run into him in a bar, want to see his face in passing? Invite him to play bobbing for apples with holy water? Anything or anything? Really, I am up for any excuse as how to get this guy caught and delivered back to Jo in a bag. Feel free to hit up the OOC post, PM me, or ping me at

thermite if you're interested, want more information, or have any additional ideas. ]

Edited 2016-08-10 17:41 (UTC)

[They could have found Dean a lot sooner than six days in if Daryl didn't have to stop to orientate himself and check the direction the flowers were growing every couple of hours just to make sure they hadn't overshot a turn off. The bike turned on a dime well enough, just that Daryl's flowers didn't and he had to stop and concentrate on them to get them to show and then follow for a bit. Get a direction to go on and work from there.

But eventually, eventually the flowers led them to a few buildings clustered together. Daryl knew the flowers weren't going past the cluster because he circled around them and checked the directions they kept growing and every new flower - one of those damn giant eyesores that smelled like shit - wanted to toward those buildings. He'd kept himself out of easy view of the buildings, but sight lines to any of them were pretty open unless he used another of them for cover. And without knowing exactly which building Dean was in taking that risk would have to wait until he'd talked it over with Jo.

When Daryl got back to her and where he'd stashed his bike (complete with covering it with some fallen tree branches to hide it), he waved at her to come with him.]

He's in one of them. Ain't sure which yet and I don't want to get the flowers growing too close. They're too obvious.

[Muttered under his breath:]

Why the hell couldn't he have daisies growing for him?

[She laughs at the muttered comment. Dean's probably never been one for flowers. The idea of something as normal as daisies representing him makes her smile.

But there's business to deal with and the laugh quickly disappears. She surveys the buildings and huffs out a frustrated breath.]

We can scope them out now or wait to see if he comes back or leaves. [Leaving would be better. She could set up the devil's trap in a matter of minutes and then it's just another waiting game.]

[He gave that some thought. Ended up curling his lip in frustration.]

Lot of exits to cover and we don't know when he's gonna get his ass out of there. Be better if we knew a way to draw him out so we wouldn't have to split up just to watch the doors.

Just getting him out isn't the problem. [She sighs and shakes her head. She could try to paint traps at every exit but that's more paint than she brought.]

Without him in a devil's trap he'll just jump away before we can get him.

What'd'ya by 'jump'?

[Because he didn't think she meant it in the sense of hopping around on his feet since Daryl could (presumably) tackle him if that's all it was.]

[A sigh.]

He can teleport.

[oh]

Shit.

[That made it harder. Waiting it was.]

Okay. We'll wait. When he leaves, we'll follow him. He don't know me, shouldn't be able to tell who you are on the back of the bike. Be easier to keep track of him once we know which of the cars're the one he's driving. Follow him to his next stop. Set the trap at that one.

[Her life is never easy. Welcome to her world, Daryl.]

That works. As soon as we have someone for me to set up it won't take long at all.

[Daryl pointed to the other side of the buildings.]

I'll be over there. You stay here. When he walks out, let him go and then head for the bike and if you get to it 'fore me, you get it ready to move.

Okay, I will. [She'll probably end up trying to follow Dean instead, to make sure he gets in a car...]

[Nothing more needed to be said, so Daryl moved off to get in position and start waiting.

Hopefully they wouldn't be sitting on their asses for hours.]

[ The Church of the Morning Star is still operating without its figurehead. No mention of affairs in Maurtia Falls is mentioned during the sermons, but a small picket sets up outside the church within a few days. At night, invisible beasts prowl up and down the aisles. One guards Lucifer's office. ]

[Daryl showed up at the address Jo had given him on an "old-fashioned" bike with some beat up canvas saddle bags and a crossbow mount that was currently occupied. Leaving just enough room for Jo to hop on the back and ride with him.

Laws probably required him to have a helmet, but he'd yet to get around to buying one so there weren't any waiting for her as he pulled to a stop and looked her over.]

Jo Harville?

[Pronounced as 'har-vell' through a heavy southern drawl since he'd only seen it on the post ID and not heard it yet.]

[Jo packs a duffel in record time. Holy water, spray paint cans, ammo for the pistol tucked into the back of her jeans, a box of hypodermic needles and two changes of clothes.

She left extra food for the dogs and hid a key for whoever she decided to ask to check on them.

The bike pulls up with a roar and Jo nods.]

Harvelle. That's me. You're Dixon?

Yep.

[He leaned forward and nodded over his shoulder.]

Hope you're okay carrying that bag across your back. Hop on.

How do you think I got it here?

[She slings the bag over her shoulder and settles it at the small of her back before climbing onto the bike behind Daryl.]

Good?

[Rather than answering 'carried it' he just tilted his head in acknowledgement while she climbed on. She seemed to know how to hold herself, the balance wasn't terrible by any means.]

Yup. We're taking the highway south and west. Might be in Georgia, might be further out. I'll check directions when we get to the Tennessee-Alabama border. Gonna take us about eight hours to get to Chattanooga, not counting gas stops.

[It isn't her first time on the back of a bike, even if her mother would ground her for that. (And has in the past.)]

Got it. [She's used to road trips so this feels familiar.]

I'll let you know if anything changes.

Slap me on the shoulder if you need me to pull over so you can piss.

[Daryl left that as his final warning before revving the engine and taking off.

It took about half an hour to get past the city limits and into the suburbs and smaller cities that circled De Chima. Another hour to get past those and into the countryside. The Appalachians rising up in the distance. He didn't plan to cross those until they hit the Great Smokies right at the edge of Virginia. But they hovered in front of them and to the right for a long while, growing larger.

At about three hours, Daryl had to pulled the bike into a station. It was long since dark and getting on near eleven. As he started to fuel up, he looked over at his companion to see how she was doing. If she could keep going for another few hours or if they should stop for some sleep. He watched her rather than ask outright. Figuring she was probably the type to insist on going even when she shouldn't. And while that was normally a trait Daryl didn't mind seeing, when it came to a passenger potentially falling off the back of his bike, he had other opinions.

Instead, he asked:]

Need some water?

[Jo laughs as he speeds off, holding onto him and ducking so the wind isn't blowing in her face as much.

She knows how road trips work. She's prepared. When they stop she plops the duffel on the bike and stretches, stifling a yawn. She hasn't slept well, but she can stay awake if she needs to.]

I'll grab it. Need the bathroom anyway. You want anything?

[He caught that yawn. Didn't like it.]

I got some in the saddle bags.

[Daryl pointed to the one on the left side.]

Ain't gotta pay for any. Got some jerky, too.

[If she still wanted to spend money, that was on her. But he was good.]

[A yawn doesn't mean she's done. It just means she's getting tired.]

I'll get some on the way out. [She kind of really has to pee, and so she disappears for a moment to find the bathroom and do exactly that.]

[By the time she was done with her bathroom break, Daryl had gotten the gas in and paid for it. The man at the counter curious about his 'old fashioned' bike enough to try and start a conversation with Daryl despite the glare he was given.

Daryl was more than happy to back in the saddle and getting gone once she was back.]

I'm thinking we drive for another hour maybe, then find a place to camp 'til morning.

Driver decides when we stop. [She laughs quietly.]

Sounds like a plan to me though.

[At least he wasn't getting any arguments from her he'd have to deflect. Made life easier.

An hour later and he was pulling off the side of the road where the grass dipped down in a gentle slope before hitting a very thick tree line. He let the bike sorta glide to it and braked it properly right as the bushes closed in.]

We'll camp here. Weather's decent enough. We should be good with just a tarp and the blankets. Can set up a couple snares further in. If we're lucky, we'll snag us a rabbit for breakfast. If we ain't, I'll catch us some squirrel.

[She's used to sleeping in a car if there isn't a motel, so this is going to be a little interesting. She hasn't been camping for forever.

She surveys the area and laughs quietly with a shake of her head.]

I'd prefer rabbit. [...She's actually had rabbit before.]

So would I.

[Not only would he have to catch less of them to fill both their bellies, but he'd have to spend less time on the skinning and gutting.]

You know how to set up a camp?

I could probably still figure out a tent, but how about I watch you tonight and do it tomorrow?

[It seems like a fair compromise to her.]

Ain't got a tent.

[Daryl said back with a bit of laughter in his tone. Hadn't been room for anything that fancy in his bags. They weren't that big.

He pushed the bike into the underbrush where it'd be safely hidden from the street. Then opened the saddle bags up to grab the gear. A couple blankets, a tarp, some rope, and a small mess kit for cooking with. Waved at her to follow him as he stepped through the trees looking for where they thinned out some. It wouldn't take long. That much overhead cover would choke out the heavy growth that came at the edge of the woods where the smaller plants could still find the sun.]

Come on, we're sleeping under the stars tonight.

Edited 2016-08-17 03:55 (UTC)

[That's why she said she'd watch tonight.

She follows him after discreetly making sure she could reach her pistol. True, he's been good so far, but he is a complete stranger and she's not an idiot.]

At least it's not raining.

Yeah. Probably a good thing.

[The lack of rain at night was a decent break. Though if it didn't keep up, he wouldn't be complaining that much. Unless it was a flooding downpour, then he'd be cursing up a storm.

It didn't take him long to pick a spot. Just big enough for them to sleep and have a fire at their feet.]

You ain't always got one to set out, but tarp goes down first. Keeps the ground bugs off ya.

[Daryl dropped the other supplies next to a tree and unfold the tarp, then dropped the blankets on top. One for each of them. He went to the 'foot' of it and used his boot to push the twigs and leaves out of the way until the dirt of the ground was visible.]

See if you can find some rocks about half the size of your fist or bigger. If you can't then dig a trench at the edges of this with a stick or something. The fire'll go in the middle once I'm back.

[Trusting her to be able to do that much, Daryl walked off and disappeared into the darkness of the trees. The sound of his footfalls nonexistent after a minute or so.]

[Jo heads in the opposite direction to look for rocks, careful not to wander too far and end up lost.

She collects about a dozen rocks, carrying them in her jacket and heads back to the campsite. The rocks are set up in a circle and she settles down on one of the blankets to wait for Daryl's return.]

[Daryl returned about a half hour later. He hadn't gone far, just found a couple paths that looked like rabbit runs. Might be a couple ground birds that took them, too. Was hard to tell in the dark.

He had some tinder twigs with him, too. Something to start a low fire. Daryl took up the spot opposite her, on his knees and got things going with his lighter. No need to rub sticks together if they didn't have to.]

There we go. You can lay down if you want. I'll take first watch.

[It was said out of habit. They really didn't need to take watches, but he was used to it. Only two people, someone should be awake.]

[Jo nods and heads for the blanket furthest from the fire.]

Wake me if you need me.

[She takes a moment to settle in and then stares at the trees above her. She's gotten out of the habit of falling asleep on command here. It's not like back home, where she was used to sleeping short shifts before running off for the latest monster.

She really had gotten soft.]

[Daryl settled on the tarp where he could put his back to one of the trees and watch the way he was used to. He could tell she was taking a while to get to sleep. Her breathing, the small movements that make the tarp crinkle beneath the muffling effect of the blanket. Little things he could easily observe. His own watch was completely silent though. Just sat there, arms around his knees, watching the woods beyond them. Listening.

Didn't even move enough to make the tarp creek until a few hours before dawn. Which was when he stood up, got the fire going again, then moved over so he could slap her outer thigh very lightly to try and get her attention.]

Hey. My turn.

[Jo awakes with a start, instinctively reaching for the pistol she had moved to under the blanket where she could reach it.

And then she recognizes Daryl as the stranger helping her and she just nods, tucking the pistol back into her jeans after she sits up.]

Got it. Anything exciting happen?

Barn owl passed overhead. Didn't have time to shoot it. Was heading west.

[Daryl answered as he settled on top of the other blanket. First sitting down, then laying back and stretching his legs out, hands folded under his head. He let his eyes shut almost immediately.]

[Jo isn't sure if the man is serious or not, so she just stares for a moment as he settles down.

Right.]

I'll keep an eye out.

You see it pass by again, don't try shooting it. That gun you got's is too loud.

[And obviously he wasn't going to let her have his crossbow. That stayed with him.

After that, he took a deep breath and let himself drift into a light sleep. His breathing evening out into a near silent rise and fall of his chest. He was out for the count practically on command.]

I wasn't plannin' on it. [She huffs quietly before he could take that deep breath and sleep.

Her watch isn't as still as his might have been, but she stays quiet and keeps an eye on things.

All is quiet and she is grateful for that.]

[Daryl wakes up on his own before the sun has a chance to rise. His waking is accompanied by a slightly deeper and longer intake of breath before he sits up, fingers digging into his eyes to clear them before he's even straightened out. His hands then find their way to his crossbow and follow that up with a quick pat down of all his knives and his hidden gun. He gives a yawn, scratches at his side, and stands up to check the fire.

Only once he's standing does he look over at her. The night is at it's darkest and dawn would come in maybe a half hour. A good time to check his snares.

Instead of trying to relight the fire himself, he digs a lighter out of his pocket and holds it out her.]

Can you get the fire goin' while I find us breakfast?

Sure.

[She takes the lighter carefully and kneels by the ashes. It only takes her a few seconds to rearrange things and add some fresh fuel to the fire.]

Sleep well? [She doesn't know if he will answer, but she asks as she relights the campfire, shielding the baby flame until it is large enough to sustain itself.]

Sure.

[He answered with a shrug. Well was a relative term. He certainly got the sleep he needed. If not as much as he'd have liked. Then he rubbed at the bridge of his nose to help clear out the crud as he headed into the woods.

Calling back over his shoulder before he disappeared:]

You ever skin anything?

Cut open a frog in high school. [And she's killed plenty of monsters, but no, no skinning.]

Did you catch anything?

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What fills your pride will make you fall

The Crime Scene

Lucifer's Interviews

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apologies for the late, got caught up in other things and forgot I hadn't tagged this back

no worries!

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