(PRP - Cold Case) Casual Insanity

[Samaritan]

Vassagon Truce

Soundtrack

For most residents at the Crestwood Centre, the phone call would quickly be filed under “same shit, different day”. Being new in town and having your office still smell of desinfectants, paint thinner and new linoleum flooring however, it turned the notion into “new shit, new day” for Truce.
Being woefully understaffed and borderline bankrupt in the social service department, the Sacramento Police force had outsourced their psychological care for officers to resident psychiatrists, councilors or family members of the policemen in question.

Hollis Cook had had none of the three. Quiet guy. As the saying goes – “It’s the quiet ones, you wanna watch.” He did not have a partner and since he had been transferred to Sacramento PD, he had been working the beat, because he had problems with authority. Word in the locker room was, he had dealt with some serious shit up north in Oregon or Washington and it had broken him. And since Hollis did not even try to discourage the rumor-mongering, the mill churned new stories out on a base of “whenever nothing of interest is around”.

The phone call made an end to that. Or it would make an end to it, whenever the rumor-mill was finished with processing Hollis Cooks latest addition to the cauldron of boredom. As it were, this would be Cooks final drop of spice in the soup of the day. Patrol responded to a code indicating a firefight. When they arrived on site, they found it to be wrong.
Oh, there had been a lot of shooting. 9mm holes were evenly distributed in the walls of the staircase in the apartment block. Three people were involved in the shooting. Hollis Cook, Smith and Wesson. Nobody was hurt, the residents had hunkered down once the bangs went off. Nobody, except Hollis Cook, who lay sprawled on the floor at the lower end of a flight of stairs, his neck firmly snapped and an expression of desperation and terror on his features.

Now, there was the matter of paper works. And since it was a dead cop, the brass up top wanted the full works, psychological documentation and everything. That meant a psychological profiling which included the scene and living arrangements of the deceased.

That was, why the phone had rung.

“Paul, I need you to check out an incident. The Captain of the 12th precinct just called and needs a psychological assessment of a dead cop, that went on a rampage. Go to <address> and handle it, we are really short at the moment. Just look around, write down your two cents and hand it in as fast as you can. Thanks a lot. *click*”

So now he stood in front of the building. Yellow strips marked the borders of the scene. The cops were already gone, now it was only the coroner and an officer of the beat, who had waited for Paul to let him through. It was five in the afternoon and darkness had settled in along with a soft haze of rain. It smelled of rancid fat, wet cardboard boxes, cold asphalt and snow.

[Truce]

Truce has been fairly straightforward with Crestwood about his background in forensics, but overall the call seems to be a lucky break for him. An inner voice of excitement seems to blossom for the chance to forward his career and experience, chided by the stark reality that a man has died today. Police officers were known to endure more stressful lives than an average citizen, and his death would almost certainly mean more burdens left behind.

Before he heads to the apartment building he conducts a series of rotes, preparing for the inevitable crime scene.

  Sense Consciousness 2suxx, Grim Sight 3suxx

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2014-11-26 12:25:37		Truce rolls 7 to cast Grim Sight rote [WIT+Occ+Death] (10 Again)		2, 8, 1, 4, 3, 7, 10, 9		3 successes
2014-11-26 12:25:03		Truce rolls 7 to cast Sense Consciousness rote [WIT+Emp+Mind] (10 Again)		6, 6, 9, 7, 2, 10, 4, 7		2 successes

He looks to the coroner and the remaining officer when he arrives, nodding somberly, closed umbrella in hand. "Good afternoon," he says, pulling his jacket closer around him in response to the chill of water vapor in the air. "I'm Paul Fears from the Crestwood Centre. I understand I'm expected?"

[Samaritan]

The beat cop was a man in his forties. Tall, dark and kind of handsome, his posture wary, but he visibly relaxed, when Truce introduced himself. His nametag read "Mason". He pulled up the yellow barrier tape and held it, so Truce can pass underneath it.

"Oh, you 'da shrink, huh?" Officer Mason stated with a neutral voice. He was probably concerned, that he could get analyzed. "Step right in, sir."

He dropped the tape behind Truce and went back to minding his own business. The coroner stood beside his gurney, which was covered by a white blanket. He was a young, pale skinned man, thirty years tops, but he wore that detached demeanor Truce had seen on many people involved with the dead. It was a shield, plain and simple. A shield to keep them sane.
The "boy" gave Truce a nod.
"Evening, Mr. Fears."
His voice sounded a little squeakish, but nothing unpleasant.
"I'm Sebastian Allison." He lifted the blanket to reveal the corpse. Hollis Cook had been a tall framed man, 1,90m tall and with broad shoulders. His skin already pale, Cooks nose was still tinged red and he also reeked of cheap rum.

His features were a twisted grimace of pure horror. Whatever happened, he died half-scared to death.

Allison indicated towards a massive bruising around the neck. He nodded towards he building.
"Even though it looks like a warzone up there, COD is a snapped neck. He fell down a flight of stairs." the coroner stated matter-of-factly. "CSU will probably be in there tomorrow, so please wear gloves and put everything back they way it was. You need anything else?"

While the man talked, Truce had enough time to inspect his surroundings through his supernal senses. Both the cop, Mason, and Allison registered as conscious beings in Truces direct surroundings. Allison also radiated his affairs with the parted - especially his hands gave off a shimmer of unlight, when looked upon through the lenses of the realm of Stygia.

Hollis Cooks presence eclipsed everything else in that regard.

[Truce]

Truce smiled back kindly at being mentioned as a 'shrink'. There is no need to correct the man and mention that he is still working towards his doctorate. "Thank you, officer," Truce says before passing through the gap in the police tape.

"Hello Mr. Allison," he responds. The coroner appeared around the same age as Truce, perhaps a peer that had only taken a slightly different career path as himself. Truce returns the nod. They were all here to do their jobs, but they also knew the seriousness of the affair. The man got right down to business, likely eager to get the matter over with and go home.

Truce grimaces slightly at the sight of the body, noting the distortions of panic, frozen in place by the growing rigor mortis. He then listens to what Sebastian has to say. "I understand, thank you. I'd like to borrow a pair of gloves then if you don't mind. Is there any more information you can give me? A dossier on the deceased possibly?" There probably hasn't been much time to put one together since Hollis's time of death. Truce isn't even sure if he's allowed to see a police dossier, though it would help him greatly to provide a complete psychological profile. Even if there isn't one, he believes he can put something together.

[Samaritan]

The coroner reached into his pocket and produced a pair of blue nitrile-based gloves. He tried to set a sarcastic tone, but failed miserably.
"Well, if you have noticed, the man was drinking. Skin condition and the way his apartment smelled suggest he believed in quantity over quality and he has had lengthy experience." Allison came over like a mixture between a neurotic nerd trying to sound intellectual and a horrible stand-up comedian.
"I can provide you with an autopsy report, but for now I'd say he's just went insane with a little help from the booze."

Officer Mason had the good graces to intervene and shove the coroner off.
"Thank you, Allison, now hop in on 'ya coach and be off."
Mason oozed professionalism with a touch of good natured humor. He had seen his fair share of crap and still had kept himself out of harms way long enough to know his stuff. He took Truce over to one side, while keeping an eye out on the tape-line.
"Right, listen. Cook was screwed up. But I won't be havin' some morgue rat badmouthing a cop in broad light 'a day. Ain't right, ya know?"
He came a little closer and Truce could smell aftershave, sweat and coffee.
"So, yeah, Cook. He don't talk much. No partner. Not since he came down from Oregon some years ago. Thing is, he came to us all broken already. Booze kept him stable. Well...stable-ish. So he could work. He wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but he is still a cop. We have each other back. Need to. Got precious few people respectin' the blue nowadays. Nobody knew the shit Cook has seen. That's all I know. May not help you much, but may help you better than Allison firin' off his piece."

Mason shrugged his shoulders and took back to checking the picket.
"Go right in, see for yourself."

[Truce]

Truce understood the officer's concern, his sympathy to the deceased. The coroner may have simply preferred a simple explanation for a horrific tragedy, but Truce knew that humans were complex creatures with depth, their Patterns finely woven.

Truce allows himself to be moved off to one side and listens respectfully to Mason's testimony regarding Hollis. "I'd say it helps a great deal to speak with someone who knew him, if even a little. Alcohol-related psychosis is caused by withdrawal symptoms, not drinking itself, so the fact that there seems to be alcohol in Officer Cook's system would suggest his panic was not brought on by alcoholic halluciniosis. Though the alcohol would certainly increase his chances for poor motor control. Depending on the arrangement of bullets and the state of his living conditions I might be able to narrow down what Officer Cook experienced in his last few moments." He says this to Mason hoping it might be a comfort to know that Truce didn't believe the deceased was automatically crazy.

Nonetheless, after Mason heads back to his post, Truce turns back to the coroner, accepting the gloves. "I might wish to re-examine the body after I check the stairwell and his apartment. I hope that's alright. Thank you again, I'll be back in a moment."

With that, Truce dons the gloves and heads to the stairwell and the scene of the 'accident'.

[Samaritan]

Mason gave Truce a curious look. "Riiiiight. I'll ask station, if anyone knew Cook. Good luck in there, anyways."

The coroner gave Truce an affirmative wave and took out a pack of smokes. He moved over to the front of his van, where the fumes would not hover over the corpse, which he had stowed away in the back.

Truce entered the building. It was 8 storey apartment house made from red bricks, which the passage of time had worn into a grimey mud-brown. A fire escape had been built in an alleyway next to it. Inside, the hallways of every floor were of T-shape. The entrance being on the lowest point of the T and the stairwell right next to the entrance. It smelled of oil-heating, damp carpets and wet dog. At the base of the stairs leading up to the third floor, there was a marking where the body had been found. Faint spatters of dried could be seen, where Cooks fall had terminated. The staircase was at least two and a half metre high. Truce made his way up the flight and entered the hallway of the third floor. A faint smell of cordite still hung in the air and there was a trail of spent shell-casings like copper pearls leading up to an open door.

The door frame was taped with yellow bands in an X-form, reading "police" in black script on it. Truce made his way through the hallway.

The air was chill. The third floor was colder than the first two.

Please roll Wits + Composure - 2 as well as Intelligence + Investigation

[Truce]

  Perception, fail | Investigation, 1sux

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2014-11-27 11:50:08		Truce rolls 6 to investigate the scene [INT+Inv] (10 Again)		2, 6, 7, 8, 6, 2		1 success
2014-11-27 11:48:58		Truce rolls 3 to perceive his surroundings [WIT+COM-2] (10 Again)		2, 5, 3		failure

Truce has seen a lot of brickwork since coming to Sacramento, but this one seems to have character, or at least history. He did not have to go far to find the stairwell, clearly marked beside the entrance. He walks up the stairs slowly, observing his surroundings until he comes to the location Hollis Cook met his end. From what he could tell it seems exactly as the testimonies confirm. Continuing upward to the third floor hallway, he notes the odd smell. Studying forensics did not have the same effect as experiencing it at a crime scene, though there's still nothing to say it wasn't an accident. Truce lingers beside the shell casings a moment, sniffing twice before moving on, careful not to step on any evidence.

He wonders if there is a draft when the cold hits him, but there may be other causes for the chill that permeates the air. He continues on, backtracking through the last moments of the deceased.

[Samaritan]

Taxing the walls, Truce noticed something.
There were no actual "holes" in the walls. Instead, there were grazes, lined with ashen residues, where some projectiles had sparked off the concrete behind the tapestry. The bullets, which were actually stuck in the walls all had a graze in their wake. It seemed like Cook had discharged his firearm in the direction of the door. While moving away from it.

Something had actually scared him so hard, that he had left his apartment, backing of through the hallway and shooting whatever was following him. Until the staircase had put and end to both the chase and him.

There were a few bullets stuck around the door. Truce reached the apartment. The door had been ripped out of its hinges and a garbage can had been thrown over, spilling its contents out of the apartment and into the hallway. It seemed, Hollis Cook had not left his apartment rather than bursting out of it.

Ducking below the tapes, his first impression of the apartment revealed, why it was so damn cold in here. A bullet had penetrated a window directly opposing the door and in turn, pieces of the shattered glass had been blown in by the wind outside. Goose bumps crawled over Truces neck and his hair stood on edge, but he attributed it to the wind chill.

The apartment was a mess. The living room, into which the mage had just entered had a kitchenette on the left side and a door on that left wall led into a small bathroom. The room was dominated by a worn out leather couch. Blankets lay on the floor. Two empty bottles of Johnny Walker had been toppled over. A bottle of port-wine had been penetrated by another 9mm round, which was stuck in the frame of the couch. The smell of cheap alcohol was somewhat lessened by the icy air.
Cupboards filled with dishware lined the walls. A small collection of books stood in a shelf. Two framed pictures hung next to the broken window.

Wind howled through the broken window. On the right side, there was a door, where the sleeping room would probably be.

[Truce]

Questions surface to the Moros's mind as Truce attempts to re-imagine the events that had taken place here. What had induced so much fear in Hollis Cook that he tore through the wooden door? What kind of physical strength would have been required to tear it off its hinges? What had been the trigger? Only one man knew for certain, but there were more details to fit together first.

Truce inspects the framed pictures initially and then the collection of books to deduce their contents. Then he looked out the window. Had he seen something outside the window to provoke him? Did it lead to the fire escape?

After his short assessment, Truce looks over the small bathroom for anything of interest before moving on to the bedroom.