Warehouse Warehouse District

"Well, looks like we're all in on something insanely profitable. I hope you're in, you two."

This was fantastic. Eli was in. He didn't know what it was, but he was in it. That's all he really cared for. He just slid himself into the best deal in a while. Due to this, he probably looked like a mastermind to Aaron and Katyusha, and Denil probably didn't care. Eli knew now, though, that Denil could teleport. This band of thieves was becoming far more potent by the minute.

"So, you're able to teleport? The intrigue abounds here. We're a group of thieves more or less, who could use somebody like you. However, you're a witness to some top-secret stuff. So, you're coming with me. I'll see if you can't get some glasses." He seemed to think of something, and turned to the club owner.

"You're a loose-end. You're coming with me as well. I have a place a little ways from here, and there you'll convince me what you want to do. Aaron, Katyusha, you two grab this rat and Denil and follow me."

[Exit to The Wallace Estate]

Jacob - As you tried to follow the strange man (Eli), you eventually arrived at the Pier. Where you noticed Denil was with four other people. You saw another man walking away from the Pier, with a unusual object in his hands. As the four of them set off for a new location (and to escape the crime scene). They encountered you, and fearing that you were another witness, they were going to get rid of you. However, Denil recognizing your voice and pleaded your case. You could of course attempted to make a run for it, and you might have even succeeded, but Denil seemed interested in staying and you, yourself, were curious as well. As you agreed to come willingly, Eli and the others escorted you to where Eli stated, would be a safe place to lay low.

[Exit to The Wallace Estate]

[Exit to The Wallace Estate]

Katyusha clutches Aaron's Arm, and pulls him after Eli. "Lets tag along and see if there's any money in this."

Frost -
Entering from MPD Headquarters

The drive got faster, picking up speed. Katelyn told the driver various different directions, as if she was some sort of malfunctioning compass, but in reality while she wasn't taking any freeway, she technically was following one, just not as gracefully or in a straight line. She was attempting to avoid certain roads that were one-way or crowded, or had accidents on them, but she also scanned the nearby area with her eyes, as if she was trying to search for something or someone. As they approached the more industrialized areas of city, you began to get nervous to where she was taking you, because she urged the driver to move faster! Faster, she was insane!

Before long you were in the maze of different metal and wooden warehouses that filled block by block, the Warehouse District, you knew a large portion of this district was burned down but the part you arrived in appeared to be untouched, but even in the day, was void of life. After a few minutes of driving, you reached the point where the warehouse buildings began to become more and more destroyed, and eventually reached the point where you could see the shore. "Turn right immediately!" Katelyn ordered the driver, and he did so, only for her to yell. "U-TURN, HE'S RIGHT THERE, LEFT!" she shouted into all of your ears, and dramatically shifting the vehicle, the car took a direct turn, swerved and then slid over the two other empty lanes of the road before colliding into the curb and stopping.

Standing at the sidewalk, only a few feet away from the car, was a taller man. One mistake by the driver, one second off, would have surely killed him. Opening up the door, Katelyn got out and thanked the officer who drove. "Ah yes! Another job done on time!" she said and then smiled at the new arrival. "Frost are you going to come out, we have work to do" she said beckoning you, even in your dizzy state, to come out of the car.

Detective Gremon -
Entering from Dr. Lowell's Apartment & Office

The call with Gordon, well the Commission, was abrupt to say at best yesterday afternoon, but here you were a day later, a specialist again working for a good friend from the old days. Sighing as you looked around the ruins of a burned down Warehouse thread, the sun rising up from the horizon, you analyzed your surroundings and noticed the broken down pier, away from all the others, behind you. The pier so abandoned that the cement and seawall had gave away to more natural landmasses and grasses. It was slightly annoying, sand was going to be getting in your shoes, but it was for the importance of the case.

As you looked at your watch, expecting the others to be here, you saw at first a police vechile screech by, overbearing its turn and driving pass you, only to take a dramatic U-Turn where the barriers in the roads had become destroyed. Nearly flipping the car over, the car slid through the two no longer used lands, and collided dramatically, to the point that airbags would surely have been deployed (they weren't), into the curb next to you. Aghast for a second, you were surprised to see a smilingly young woman greet you, her black trench coat and a lieutenant badge on her collar. She called out the odd man in the back, a man who appeared more wolf than man.


OOC - Note this is the same pier that Wallace and the others were on the night before.

Detective Gremon.

The Warehouse Case.

Afternoon.

It happened all too fast. A sharp screech and a growing smell of burnt rubber permeated the air slightly. All the detective could do was move back in reaction and close his eyes for a brief moment. He reopened them, the car now halted with the two passengers now exitting, one of them even kissing the ground. The black tire marks matched well with the monochrome surroundings of the place, although it probably was all grey despite his current vision. The shock quickly faded away, though the thought of the matter still bounced around. The car had nearly hit him! He relaxed a little, exhaling on his cigarette--

--and put it out, a candle being snuffed out. A quick glance at the passengers. One, a lieutenant, a smiling dame. The breeze picked up her trenchcoat slightly, her steps silenced by the sand. Her friend was more wolf than man, now no longer licking the ground. The Detective simply nodded at the pair, only silence came from him--

--except a hello to the Lieutenant and the other officer. He strode forward, showing them his detective badge, although from his getup, it would most likely be obvious it was him.

"I'm Detective Gremon." the Detective said, pointing to himself, his badge shining grey. "You're the people I've been waiting for I take it. Next time you're late, please try not to nearly kill me." The lieutenant chuckled slightly, though the Detective's face was blankly serious, his eyes narrowing slightly at the hint of the laughter. He walked forward towards the derelict warehouse district, waving for the others to follow. "Now, we've got a witness to find, so let's go." They could get to know eachother on the move.

Detective Gremon.

The Warehouse Case.

Afternoon.

The Detective was slightly annoyed at this... rookies answer. How could he not know the details of this case? "Listen up, quick recap." he said, stopping in his tracks facing the officer. He spoke sharply, with an underlying tone of annoyance, "The glass objects encompass this case, yes, but we're here to determine WHO the supply is, and WHO's demanding them." He put a hand in his pocket for another cigarette, but quickly decided against it. Later, definitely. "The entire thing is..."--

--"...an intricate web of lies, and deceit. No way to know which ways where and what ways lay." The hand exitted his pocket, a cigarette and lighter. A brief moment, the cigarette lit up. A puff of smoke. "We don't know much. But theres shady people everywhere, and the scumbag we want is here. We ask questions, he gives answers." He started at the warehouse, more cindered than a pyre. Wood rotten like a crook's mind. Concrete blackened like their hearts. A hive of thriving crime, burnt to nothing. Both a blessing, and a curse. The detective puffed. He walked down--

--and quickly stopped, waiting for the others to catch up. The voice in his head was starting to annoy him more often than usual, but if it ment keeping an eye on Alyssa, he'd put up with it. A shrug later, he beckoned the two over.

Katelyn took out her favorite vibrant purple sunglasses with decorative rhinestones and placed them on her nose's arch to protect her fragile eye from the violent effects of solar radiation. The sun was rising above the nearby scorched buildings in the midst of their greetings and conversation, and Katelyn hated to have sun in her eyes as she did her job. Turning to Frost, she opened her serious standardized black satchel briefcase, which was one of Katelyn's least favorite items but it appeared to be professional, and efficient, and Katelyn always enjoyed looking professional and, of course, efficient! Rummaging through the file folders, all of them different colors inside, like a rainbow spewing color papers, she retrieved the document she was looking for. A very boring document that was a in appropriate letter spacing and simple white paper. A juxtaposition to its vibrant yellow folder with a smiley face on the back, that the file was contained in. Smiling with some satisfaction as she overlooked it again to ensure her content was triple checked!

"The man's name is Mr. Gilbert Pacheco, he is our informant who apparently is even in league with some of the individuals that deliver the 'packages' or as we refer to them, 'glass objects'. He is a shorter man, probably about 5'6, no super or extraordinary abilities to note, and up until last night he worked as one of Luigi's men that ran a run-down dirty bar in this district for gang members and their 'escorts'..." Katelyn paused as she ended the sentence with a disgusted tone. "In any case, the man is suppose to meet us here, uh..." she said stopping to try and check the time, and quickly began to scavenge through her satchel, only finding different pairs of sunglasses and other folders. After about thirty seconds of digging she stopped, gave a little laugh as if embarrassed, and reached into her trench coat's pocket and pulled out the cellphone. "At 1:20 PM, on this precise date." she said motioning towards the Detective, like she was trying to impress him. "Unfortunately this means he is three minutes late, but hopefully he will still show."

Agent Lance Steenberg, Americorp Prototypical Asset

Gunshots tore through a warehouse near a dock, coupled with the sound of a non-standard explosive, and then some loud groaning of metal crashed through an otherwise silent Warehouse District. No problem, seemed to be a part of normal life here. Two guards were approaching a particular warehouse, that may or may not have been the source of the noise for this particular night.

"An' then, he painted summa' da' crazies' sheeyit I eva seen man, usin' some dead dude he li-" the doorknob holding gangsta said to an unseen compatriot. As the door opened, the speaking thug cut his sentence short. His eyes widened, and Steenberg - the source of their concern - just smiled. In that split-second, the young men leaped backwards over some boxes and began shooting at him with their pistols.

In a blur of motion, the Agent jumped over the boxes, grabbed one thug's arm and twisted it to put the pistol in his mouth. He tore it from the gangsta's hand and used it to fire it off into the other aggressor, before throwing the pistol on the first dead man at his feet. He looked over to the car that had recently careened into position.

"Oh, are you people with the Police Department? I'm the Agent that Americorp sent down. Your chief can probably tell you that they signed all the paperwork and are going to pay for any damages. I hope my handiwork here doesn't cause a scandal. Technically, they shot first with intent to kill me. Well, it looked like they meant to kill me. When somebody holds their gun sideways I have a hard time 'feeling' them trying to kill me otherwise I'd be able to tell you a little more reliably."

Detective Gremon.

The Warehouse Case.

Afternoon.

He could see the annoyance in Frost's face, although it didn't appear he was aware. Eyes slightly closed, fixtated at the detective. Mouth subtly curled, nose twitching inwards. It appeared he didn't like the second cigarette now in Mr.Gremon's mouth. He didn't really care all that much. He turned towards the Lieutentant, who was sporting an odd pair of shades, decorated with rhinestones of various shades. Was she seriously a Lieutenant? She seemed way too... unprofessional. The thought was reinforced when out came an array of shaded files, the Detective figured they were rainbow coloured. The file she withdrew even had a... smiley face on it.

"This isn't a damn happy go lucky children's playground." the Detective thought, a puff of smoke flying from the end of his cigarette. The worst part was that she was in charge, the thought burned in his mind for a brief moment. His eyes narrowed, but otherwise he appeared neutral, hiding his annoyance. His trenchcoat picked up slightly as a gust came by. She gave an overview of the situation, everything the Detective already knew, though most likely her compatriant didn't, a quick gaze showed Frost was listening intently. He mentally noted down her way she spoke of the word 'escorts'. He removed the cigarette for a moment to speak:

"Well, brief synopsis over. This..." he circled his hand, "... Mr. Pacheco hasn't turned up yet. I have a feeling he'll be in th-"

Two gunshots interrupted Mr.Gremon's words, shattering the quiet noise of the sea. The Detective quickly went into cover on the first, shouting at the others to do the same, half expecting them to just be standing there. His mind raced, searching for the most secure and closest piece of cover. He rolled behind a wall of one of the ruined warehouses, dropping his cigarette onto the sand. A moment later, his revolver was gleaming in the sunlight. An explosion, and the twisting of crashing metal followed quickly after. A few more gunshots were fired, though they wern't directed at the trio, rather, just up ahead. Two screams were heard, then silence again. The detective peered his head, and exitted cover. A man was approaching them, a confident stride. The man spoke with confidence, though the Detective noticed the apparant lack of care describing the murders he had just committed. Sure they were criminals, but the Detective saw no emotion or feeling. He'd have to keep an eye on this guy.

"Yes yes. Im Detective Gremon. You'd best know the situation." The detective said. "Because lets get on with this."

"I might be in trouble, but oh well. They were thugs, and they shot first. There were about fifty different ways to handle it that I wouldn't have killed them in. But I am not entirely informed of the situation. Can I get a quick version?" The Agent's adrenaline was wearing down, and it made him feel irate. He needed the adrenaline pumping to keep him feeling alive. He was bored, detached... Stagnant without the adrenaline pumping.

Katelyn looked at the man approaching. An perked up with remembrance, she quickly opened her satchel again and retrieved another file folder. In the rainbow barrage of colored folders, this one was the blandest of them all. A grey manilla folder, that had no colors, no smiling faces, it was simply industrial and the embossed font engraved the word "Classified" on its front. Opening up, she quickly scanned the contents and than examined the man that approached them, she did this several times before sighing, closing up the folder, and returned it to its home in her satchel. The energy she had before, the upbeat personality dimished slightly as the new man approached them. She became more stern, actually resembling a leader if Gremon had to give a description.

Even as the man approached, Katelyn gave him little recognition and focused on the bodies that lied dead in the street after they their previously failure to flee the gunfire. "This isn't a shooting range, nor any time to deal with causalities Officer Steenberg." Katelyn said with some frustration, "A man trained such as yourself should have proper discretion and refrain from such actions." she said openly and with determined sincerity. However after this brief scolding, which wasn't much of a scolding at all, her personality switched back to its former state. A smile appearing on her face. "Though, I am sure you were acting in self-defense nonetheless, just be careful to not be such a hot shot! Alright?" She said cheerfully with a grin and a thumbs up.

She paused again and took a long scanning gander around the three of you. She sighed again and put her head against her forehead, only to brush her fingers through the top of her bangs. She started to make some funny sound effects, and even started to whistle. "I only hope that the gunshots didn't scare Mr. Pacheco away." she advised.

Some minutes would pass, and far off into the distance, shrouded and distorted somewhat by the rising heat from the sand and pavement, you could see a man dressed in a fairly nice dress shirt, white and red, begin to come closer. Katelyn woke up from her daydream with some surprise. "Oh! Look he's here!" she said with excitement. "So he didn't hide and act cowardly, that's against his profile but that's a good thing, I certainly didn't want to have to try and track him down. Simply too much work if you had to ask me." she affirmed with some relief. The man took two minutes to arrive where you all were standing. Katelyn being the smart lieutenant she was, motioned to the abandoned dock, which on its right side had a small ticket booth or office.

"Oh good you are here Lieutenant Young! I was so nervous" the smaller man said, his stature crouched forward as if to shield himself. "I heard gunfire... and I nearly though about running with my tail behind my legs..."

"Its a good thing you didn't, its a good thing you are here. Not just because I enjoy speaking, well interrogating, with you Gilbert, but you're ass would certainly be in jeopardy now wouldn't it? You would lose clemency certainly!" Katelyn said with some joy and expectation for others to smile. Though the comment was unusually grim. Katelyn then took him by the hands rather forcefully and lead him to the dock house. "We just want to have a nice chat with you, of course."

"Oh, I'm an Officer now? That's cute. Give me the cushiest desk you can spare. My last job in Desertopolis saw me as 'Rebel Ass-Kicker.' Wasn't as slow as being a cop I can assure you. Lots of people rebelling Americorp interests, lots of people who wanted me dead enough to shoot first. They're all dead now, but still,"

The Agent would wait patiently, still feeling on the inside his uneasiness at sitting still. He hated this part of police work. Where was the part where he killed people? Drug dealers, mobsters, all the things that those actiony police shows displayed? Looks like they sure as Hell weren't here.

And then Mr. Pacheco walked up. Oh this was going to be fun.

"Yea, those were gunshots. I'm curious as to why you're becoming a turncoat for us. I'm sure your boss is scarier than me with a pistol." He pointed to the dead thugs across the street, "You can ask them, I'm pretty scary with a pistol. Well, it'd be more correct to say their pistols. You packing heat? Cowards like you enjoy packing heat." Steenberg said with a cold sarcasm. He walked casually across the street, grabbed one of the pistols from the thugs, and fired twice. One in each skull. He put the pistol on his hip under one of his belts. He grabbed one of the thugs, and threw him over his shoulder.

"Please be quick about whatever it is you have to say," Agent Lance Steenberg said curtly, "I really dislike people who talk to much." He dropped the dead body into the water, and took his pistol out from his belt. "Those guys shot first," he said upon any quizzical glances with a shrug. "Just tell us which Mafia don we need to go kill and we'll have a good time dealing with him. Might live longer though, if you gave us evidence as to what they're doing..." He checked the bullets in the magazine before loading it and cocking it. He put it on safety and spun it on his finger in a blur of motion before throwing it into a holster on his leg.

Katelyn grew annoyed with Lance's comments. His pestering of Mr. Pacheco would only make interrogation of such a unstructured man difficult. Sighing she responded back to them, taking Mr. Pacheco by her hands and pulling him adjacent to her as they all walked to the one room dock house. She would turn her head backwards to Lance and with a smile spoke with all genuine tones, "I called you Officer, because I expect for you to act like one. If you prefer, Mr. Steenberg is good enough for me." she said walking away. "Also put your gun down... Its not meant to be used in such a manner: cocking it and pointing it willy-nilly. Its impressing no one. Save it for when there is actually something worth shooting at." she said harshly, but the comment was more of a wound at Mr. Pacheco than Lance.

When they reached the dock house, Katelyn looked at the door examining its qualities. The small dock house was red, its original paint was ether faded or chipped off, revealing its decaying wood structure. The wood was damaged by the salt that came from the Bay, and shingles were missing from its roof. It had two windows, one facing the dock, the other facing the sea, both of which were partially broken. The knob of the door was stuck as Katelyn reached down for it. She mustered somewhat but eventually gave up. Withdrawing herself from the wooden door, she lifted up her right leg and kicked it with some impressive force for a woman her size, causing the door to fly off its hinges and collapse to the ground. "There we go..." she said with some relief and a smile, casually walking in, stepping over the remains of the door.

The wooden shack wasn't much of an improvement on the inside. Panels were missing in the floor, making a gaps that dropped directly into the ocean. Hopping over these with ease, she brought over a chair, and being however slightly cruel that she was, set the chair over one of the missing panel gaps and motioned for Mr. Pacheco to sit down. All five people could fit in the room but nothing much was left space wise except for two chairs and one table.

"Now then... on to business..." Katelyn said, opening up her satchel and removing a folder from its contents.

Katelyn removed her purple sunglasses with rhinestones, after she threw Mr. Pacheo in his chair. Her face was stern, and aggressive, but it was juxtaposed by her inflated smile. No doubt almost anyone there was confused, she left no clear answer to what she was feeling. Setting her satchel on the sole desk, she removed a specific folder again, the colorful one with the smiley face on the back. "Why shouldn't you be here?" Katelyn inquired of Frost. "Sergeant Frost please do not feel that you can not be present for this interrogation." she said almost pleadingly but gave a laugh after Frost's complaints of Mr. Pacheo's pants. "However you are free to do as you wish, I do not require assistance in this affair. I can handle him by myself..." she said somewhat sinisterly, like a Dominatrix to her slave.

"Now then!" she yelled at Mr. Pacheo for his attention. "We need to know... what exactly do you know?" she asked the man. "More so, I mean, what is it that you can recall from that yesterday. I have brought you back to this scene to help serve your memory."

Mr. Pacheo cleared his throat, he was obviously afraid, once again, anyone probably would in his position. "Oh yesterday..." he said stuttering, "Yesterday I was just an average informant doing my job, I was placed by Mr. Luigi as a bar manager in this district. It was a simply job, it had its benefits, booze and prostitutes." he said blushingly to Katelyn who only retained her earnest smile at the man. "You can understand I got accustomed to that lifestyle, I would keep the police updated on the Mafia's affairs, and I would get to do as I pleased. However to my embarrassment and against my good judgement, I also gambled in a game."

"Gambled?" Katelyn interrupted Mr. Pacheo with the question, cutting him off from his explanation.

"Yes, I gambled in a risky game. I was informed of it by one of my men under me. He was a superhuman and a clever young man. He said that several of the smaller gangs in the inner-city would play this game of delivery boy. They would deliver this glass object, shaped sort of like a football."

"You said a 'Football' correct?" Katelyn interrupted again for validation.

Mr. Pacheo only nodded and continued. "A football, I was surprised why he brought up the subject but apparently the purpose of the delivery game, or 'job' you could describe it, was to hold it for some time. After some time of roaming and such, a man would come to approach you. A massive man, more like a Giant if you asked me. It was all random when he appeared, but if you were the one to hand him the object you would receive around 100,000 dollars right then and there. He even would give you a cellphone for future missions."

"Ah, so you were interested in joining this little affair even knowing your position as a Police Informant?" Katelyn bluntly pointed out with some mocking. "Though, I am sure you were doing this to investigate on your own. However, did you receive a cellphone from this man?"

"No. I didn't even receive the money after I delivered it to him."

"You didn't receive the money? How come, did he not like you?" Katelyn asked innocently.

"I am not sure if he liked me or not, he was blunt and uninterested in the entire affair. He was like one of those clerks at a gas station who hate their job. He would only look at his watch from time to time."

"So why didn't he give you the money if he was so impatient?"

"Because the item was taken from me."

"The item was taken from you? By whom?"

"By the man I reported to you earlier, I don't know much about him but he stole it right from under me, and the man gave him the money and the cellphone! All the work my men and I did for nothing!"

"You're just lucky you weren't killed, and aren't going to be reprimanded for even playing the game" Katelyn responded gloomily.

"Well yes... I suppose you're right, and I am truly thankful!" Mr. Pacheo explained to Katelyn with some grounds for sympathy. "Yet my night wasn't done there! The man who stole the money from me kidnapped me too. He told me I had to work for him instead of Luigi else I die."

"I assume you took his offer then?"

"Yes."

"So you are an informant for this man too." Katelyn said with some whimsicalness in her voice. "This could work... This could work nicely." she said as she brushed her chin in thought. Though she examined the contents of the room and the men around her. Only to notice the Detectives somewhat misconstrued face, not that it was physically damaged but the two emotions it portrayed were antithesis to one another. First was ambivalence, the other was concern. It was enough to prompt Katelyn to divert her attention away from Mr. Pacheo and ask Detective Gremon: "Detective Gremon, you are writing this all down aren't you?"