Catch a Star
Daria Xela Matthewson; November 8-29, 2009
Daria Xela Matthewson; November 8, 2009
Goal: Find Cassandra and/or learn what happened to her
I'm having my people ask around about Cassandra, providing descriptions of her, and talk to people who live near the bridge that her car drove off of about the incident. I'm trying to gather any and all information about the car wreck.
You ask around the Staten street scene and find that quite a number of people know or know of Cassandra from somewhere or another, especially a lot of young punks, dropouts and activists. Apparently the girl had a bit of a cult following in the underground media and a lot of squatters and freegans were big on her radio show, and people are talking quite a lot about precisely what just happened to her.
You hear a typical gamut of conspiracy theories from the radical leftist, long-haired pinkos that form a sizable chunk of her fanbase. "It was the NYPD." "It was the FBI." "It was the Christian Right." "It was agents of the Numerati sent down to stop her from unlocking the code to the stock market." Nothing particularly promising on the surface.
Digging deeper into what the radicals are saying though, you do find that there is a substantial number of people voting for the FBI theory in comparison to other perpetrators. You can't get the story entirely straight at some point in time, but you hear that there was apparently a "culture jam" she pulled that got more attention than expected... or at least that's what you hear from a boozed up kid who just wandered out of a squat concert covered in sweat and Wild Irish Rose.
Checking with folks who crash around the area of the bridge, you find several were too engrossed in private parties with Mr. Daniels to really give 100% accurate input on the night of the incident. Basically, the best anyone has is that a big black car lobbed itself off of Verrazano-Narrows rather dramatically on November the 6th. Nobody caught sight of anyone in the vehicle, as it was very dark out. Nobody remembers hearing anything strange, seeing anything strange or really observing much aside from the crashed car itself, which apparently sank out of sight rather rapidly.
Word is the po-po haven't found the bodies or the car yet.
ST Notes: The "culture jam" incident refers to Cassandra and company's stunt with the speckled wood plover, which simulated FBI kidnapping. No actual FBI involved.
Daria Xela Matthewson; November 8, 2009
Goal: Figure out what happened to Cassandra and whether or not she is still alive.
I'm calling up everyone I know who knows Cassandra and asking them when they last saw her and/or contacted her and if they have any idea where she might be or what might have happened to her. This includes her out of town friends, the Danger Bullets. I'm also calling Cassandra's phone occasionally.
Cassandra's phone goes to voice mail immediately, and she doesn't seem to be returning you calls.
You head to her haven, where formerly you, her and the professor talked philosophy and bullsh*t amidst a continuous barrage of video games, and find that her housemate, the long-suffering Mike Meeks (underground trans-dimensional lesbian demon erotica comic book artist extraordinaire) has been getting a lot of people asking about her. He lets you in though, half-recognizing you as being one of the people in Cass's inner circle, and offers you a PBR while he tries to mull out the details of whatever the f*ck has just happened. He seems just about as baffled as you.
"She left two Friday's ago... came in covered in glitter and wearing a red dress and a long jacket. Her face was a little bloody and she told me it was seriously just a nose bleed. I believed her... looking back, this is likely because I'm an idiot.
Anyhow, she took a bunch of old things I think Pangloss gave her... pressed rose, old pulp novel, stuff like that, and vacuumed the living room again. She pulled the same sort of stunt when she and the prof broke up back in September. Set everything (including my mini-vac!) on fire in the barrel out back, smiled and giggled and said she had to go catch a star or something weird.?
"Not that... you know, she ever said anything that wasn't weird."
"I really don't know why they think it was her in that car - but there it is. Something was certainly up, and I'm not really that sure I want to accept that she's gone. Suicide wasn't her style.... but then again I suppose nobody ever really expects that sh*t."
He swallows some more beer a little forlornly, and shows you where Cassandra stashed her stuff, if you ask. You find many still semi-folded hippie skirts and protest tees, in addition to a standard assortment of toiletries and stuff that one might keep around to look human. There are also a few old comics, a pair of groucho glasses and a Crackerjack decoder ring. He also lets you check the barrel out back, where you unsurprisingly find mostly ashes, in addition to the gutted plastic skeletons of two rather crappy looking dirt devils. If you sift around in the grime a bit, you can feel out fragments of not entirely burnt paper, plastic, or wood; the long coils that form the backs to spiral bound notebooks; and what seems to be the metal shell of what used to be a fairly nice fountain pen.
You slide Meeks some beer money and condolences, and move on from the ex-haven, calling up Kiki Vociferous in Seattle to get in touch with any members of the illustrious Danger Bullets that might have a lead on where their glorious leader scampered off to. Keeks is completely in the dark. She hadn't even known Cassandra was missing, although she was suspicious over the communications lag of the last month. Still, until your call, she thought things were peachy and that the next shipment was a week and a half away.
She says she'll ask around, and gives you a list of people down in Staten who were apparently on Cassandra's end of the operations. While none of them prove extraordinarily useful in the search for Cassandra, you realize that you now have an effective PING on a small Underworld network.
Daria Xela Matthewson; November 29, 2009
STEAL x3 targeting Cassandra's underworld influence
I'm talking to the list of Cassandra's underworld contacts that Kiki Vociferous gave me and finding out more about them, what they do, what they want, what they need. I'll try to convince them to work with me in continuing Cassandra's work with the Danger Bullets and such. Pass the peace pipe, see if our interests coincide.
Street x3 (centered in Staten Island)- Gather information about any rumors of stake-wielding, cloak-wearing muggers, possibly with mime accomplices.
Asking around primarily in homeless and street performer circles.
You go over the list Kiki gave you and track down the various and nefarious people of less than reputable acclaim who were supposed to get your sweet botanical swag from coast to coast. They are a chill bunch overall, possibly owing to the cloud of sweet THC which surrounds them at all times. There are also three of them: Ron and Kit Windhouse, a super-cute suburban couple with about 200 square feet of hidden greenhouse in their innocuous looking cookie-cutter house, and Roxie, the vagrant train-hopping societal drop out who makes the drop off with the "night people" who come by now and a again. They've all heard your name somewhere before, all love the Wild Honey and with very little effort on your part, you find yourself invited to a Danger Bullet brownie party where you all talk about deep philosophical thoughts and how much you miss Cassandra. Working with these folks should be no problem at all.
In the meantime, your home boys on the streets tell you that they have heard of no mime-centric cult sweeping the scene. They best they can guess is that those f*cking Lucastites are at it again what with everything else going to hell, and that somebody thought it was cool to hire a mime... for the light... or enlightenment or something. The normal busking crowd around your corner of the city says that mimes aren't precisely the most popular attractions. When quizzed about some guy named "Mimey" they largely laugh at you, but say they'll keep an eye out for this enigmatic silently bearded menace. When you quiz other mimes, they largely keep quiet.
You find unsettlingly that nobody really seems horribly surprised at the notion of cultists when you bring it up. Apparently things have started to go haywire again - at least if you're poor enough to be in the cross-hairs. Turns out some family went missing a week back and people are whispering that it reeks of the Lunez case all over again. Words like "Bronx Butcher" and "Street Devil" are getting thrown about as the paranoia begins to creep over the denizens of the city's poorer neighborhoods. There are rumors of kids going missing at night and some poor girl getting her neck snapped out in Soho - you're advised to be careful, and quite possibly admonished for being a lone woman walking the streets at night during these black times.
ST Notes: Another ST is trying to figure out the Mime-issue, but has stated that this is a mime-for-hire and not an actual evil mime cult. Family/kids is possibly Constantine. Girl in Soho is Vance Loveless.