NationStates Jolt Archive

This is a suspense thriller set in Washington D.C. It revolves around the death of a well known and out spoken senator. But, his death is only the beginning of a trail of danger, betrayal, and drama filled with plot twists. Where does the rabbit hole end? This death will trigger a string of events which will shock the nation to the core. A conspiracy which runs through every shadow in the capitol. As a secret and powerful group plot something unimagineable to further their own agenda. They are dhasows which follow every person of importance. Will the authorities uncover this plot in time? or will the conspirators succeed in their plans?

Link to sign-up and OCC Thread:
http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=484277

Map of Washington D.C.:
http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.areahotelguide.com/dcmap2.gif&imgrefurl=http://www.areahotelguide.com/maps-washington-dc.htm&h=1127&w=1500&sz=169&tbnid=w5425c51xJT8mM:&tbnh=112&tbnw=150&hl=en&start=6&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dwashington%2Bd.c.%26svnum%3D10%26hl%3Den%26lr%3D

Prologue

Night grasped the sky but its' hold began to slwoly slip with the sun. It had been a cool night due to the breeze. Boston was quiet for the most part, except the bar crowd and prostitutes. About a few miles away, just outside city limits was the victorian style house of Senator Albert Cross. His home was finely decorated with paintings, sculptures, and a well stocked library. The life of a senator was good for the most part for this 65 year old man. His wife Martha was away in salem, visiting their grandchildren. Albert reluctlantly couldn't go, pressing matters needed attended to. Life as a senator can be stressful. His bed was a king sized bed with decorated oak banisters on all four corners. The clock read 3:15 when he lazily looked to it. he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. A sound echoed from downsatairs, a clanking sound. It startled him just as he was in mid yawn.
The senator jolted up in the bed and sat there, motionless. What was that? There was no other sound. he slipped his feet into his slippers and put on a blue robe, tieing it around his body. Albert was a bit hefty, nothing horrible but packing on a few extra pounds. His bifocales lay on the table which he picked up quietly and put them on. I know I heard something. It was dark inside the house. A grandfather clock downstairs ticked the time away at a steady pace. he sneaked down the hallway which was lit by shafts of light from the moon every so few feet due to the windows. Alberts' aged right hand slid over the wall to help guide him. It's probably nothing but I'm up now. he sighed and continued into the darkness. The staircase led down to the first floor which was all but pitch black. At the top he stood for several seconds and listened, nothing but the grandfather clock. Confident, he stepped slowly down the stairs. One foot carefully in front of the other.
All was still, quiet, and dark. Just as night time should be. Albert took in a deep breath and continued, now on the first floor. he made a turn and stopped. A window was open in the living room. The wind must've blown it open. he walked over and placed a hand on it. This wasn't the first time a gust of wind ever blew open a window. Even senators fall prey to nature's tricks. he chuckled to himself and closed it. Back to bed, that's enough suspense for one night. he turned around in the dark and carefully walked away, content in his discovery.
All of a sudden a hand clasped over his mouth and another brought his arm back behind him. the phantom began to pull the arm back further, Albert tried to scream but his mouth was covered by a leather hand, his shouts were mere muffles. he winced in pain as it felt like his arm was being pulled out of its' socket.
"Don't speak, only listen" a raspy voice whispered next to his ear. "I have a message for you". The assailant whispered something even more quietly into his ear. Albert's eyes shot wide open and he began to tremble in horro. The assailant's words shot through him like an arrow. His arm finally snapped...it was broken. he gave out a muffled shout. The assailant let go of the limp arm and put his large hand on Albert's head. The hand covering the mouth slid away as the senator grunted and winced in unbelieveable pain, but said nothing. Without warning, the assailant snapped his neck with tremendous force. Albert dropped to the ground next to the couch like a lead weight. With half of his mission complete the killer stepped over Albert's warm body and went straight towards his private study. Killing the senator was only part of why he was there. The killer carefully and skillfully sifted through a drawer, finding a small black book. He ripped out a page and neatly put the notebook back into the drawer. He exited, mission accomplished.

OCC: As of now the law enforcement agencies haven't learned of the murder, in fact no one has except for the conspirators.

Dom was wandering the streets, an old habit of his when he had no particular story to work on. It had paid off. It was on one of these rambles that he had recieved the tip that had led to his famous story.

Tonight seemed queit, but Dom was convinced that that was only appearances. Another thing his story- the only one he had written worth mentioning- had taught him was to follow his instincts. And his instincts were telling him there was going to be a story tonight. Quite possibly a story to end all stories.

It was a warm night, and Dom was enjoying the walk, even if it meant he was going to have to sleep till noon tomorrow. Unless... unless the police scanner on his belt went off with his lead, in which case, Dom didn't imagine he was going to be getting sleep any time soon.

Undisclosed Location

The interior of the room was dimly lit. Several lamps along the walls were lit at a low setting, giving off an eery glow. A table sat in the middle of this room. There were glass ash trays and glasses of cognac on it. Several individuals sat around it. They chatted amoungst themselves, an occasional laugh here and there. Several papers were scattered on the table. It was a windowless room and cool air breezed into the room from several floor vents. A cellphone rang. The man at the head of the table held up his hand and the room fell silent.
"Yes?" The man answered in a commanding but low voice "...Excellent, did you retrieve what was needed?...Excellent...Yes, we'll contact you" he put the phone away. The mysterious people murmured to one another. The man stood, his face unseeable due to the light
"Phase one is complete" he addressed them 'Now that this set back is taken care of we can move forwards" he sat down and they began to talk.

(OOC: Can I post my character being in DC? I'm not sure, so if this post is messed up please tell me. Also, Washington and Boston have an hour time difference, Mas is 1 hour ahead.)

IC:
FBI agent Lesa Hart stretched under the covers of her bed, her eyes opening wide as fear cluched at her and she bolted up from bed. Breathing hard, the woman didn't know what had awakened her, until she thought back on the nightmare that she had just awoken from.
'Damn.'
She thought as she sighed and laid back down, the clock on her nightstand reading 2:15 A.M.

OCC: Sorry if I failed to mention this, you didn't kill the senator, but don't worry. there'll be plenty of work for you to do.

Viktor turned a tight corner leading down a hall, his hands clutched a small Colt .45 pistol that he had picked up not to long ago from the desk of the man he was chasing. A trickle of blood raced down his arm staining his suit, the small cut above his left shoulder was begining dry up and the blood was becoming hardend. He ran down the hall and stopped at a door that led to a small room 'No escaping now' he thought to himself. He unloaded the gun and checked the ammo, taking about four or five seconds doing so then loaded it back in and turned into the room. An exchange of two bullets brought his suspect to the ground and unto his knee's.

"FBI, your under arrest." Viktor proceded to left the man up and read him his rights while doing so. The man spit on the ground and gave a groan as he was bent over onto a deck sitting in the corner of the room.

On the desk lay a bag of coke, enough to sell and maybe some left over for yourself. The man was cuffed and led out of the room and into the armes of a police officer and his partner who had gotten there right behind Viktor. The officer on the right's nametag read Jameson and he took the suspect away while the other who's tag read Juan talked to Viktor.

"You've done well, but you know this guy isn`t involved in your case." Juan said as he and Viktor walked together down the ratter hallway. The paint was beginning to thin out showing a damp color green on the wall. There were a few rooms in the building but nothing worth looking in, sence Viktor knew they only housed drugs.

"I dont know what you see, but in there is a nice bag of coke that I could most likly trace back to my case. In-fucking-fact all around us is coke, meth, even marijuana that could all be traced back to Guliano's organization. It could take awhile but I bet I could get this bastard for selling and soon after I could get him for selling from Guliano." Viktor responded then began to walk back to his car.

"Viktor, you son of a bitch. This wasn't your case, your an FBI agent which means when you see somthing that isn`t high profile like this guy you call us. Were the dogs and your the owner, but the owner doesn`t go after the bone unless its got meat on it." Juan said

"So, were you not listening to me." Viktor began to get irratated then slammed his fist into a door to his right opening it, inside were bales of Marijuana as well as a few bricks of coke.

Juan looked surprised then turned away and began to call in narcotics. Viktor on the other hand had left the building and got into his black mercedes car. His car seemed in perfect condition on the outside but on the inside it was an entire mess, even if Viktor had taken the suspect in custody he would have had no where to put him. 'Man I need to clean this out' He thought as he slid into his seat and started the car up forgetting about his seatbelt. He reached for a cup in the cup holder and took a sip from it tasting a disgusting blend of black coffe and age. He spit the drink out the window that he rolled down electronicly then switched over to drive and spun his car around one of the police cruisers. He left behind him the scene that suddenly was turning hectic as narcotics arrived and they were hauling out the drugs.

"Well, guess thats that for now, suppose i`ll go home. Hope to god ny names not mentions when...opp there they are." He said to himself mentioning a channel 8 van rushing to the scene and behind that a channel 10 one as well. He knew Juan would say somthing about capture the guy single handed like he had tried to do before but ended up giving credit as well to his partner instead of the man who really did the bust. It was an early morning story luckly and barly anyone would be watching, cept people with no life.

Once home he called into his office and requested some time off. 'I need it, this whole things getting me out of wack.' he said as his boss yelled like usual then gave in and told him he had one day...one day ONLY, as he would usualy say. Viktor sat onto his couch, next to his cat, one of the only lives in his own that he cared most about. His cat purred a bit then climbed onto the top of the couch near his head assuming he was going to lay down and go to sleep, like he would normaly. Instead he turned the T.V. on and watched the coverage of his bust, like he had guessed Juan began to take credit and left him out. A both good thing for him being an FBI agent, but also a bad thing sence he has yet to make a big bust and his boss was beginning to think he wasn`t pulling his weight. The clock above his T.V. read 1:34 P.M. which soon dissapeared from his vision as he fell asleep.

OOC: Ok, well im just doing my own little thing here, just like an intro to Viktor and such ^.^

It was around 5:30 in the morning when Joseph DeMille arrived at the front door of the senator's home. Joseph was a young man in his twenties and was one of Albert's aides. That morning he had to pick up the senator and take him to Salem. The young man stepped onto the porch and rang the doorbell...no answer. He rang it again...again no answer. Through the window he couldn't see much, some furniture and the grandfather clock. Luckily, he had a spare key and used it to open the door.
"Mr.Cross?!" he called out "Are you up yet?". Joseph went over to a table by the door and set down his briefcase. Where the hell is he? The whole house was still and quiet. The aide glided across the hardwood floor and into the living room. He jumped back in fear upon seeing the dead senator, his head nearly which was facing behind him, the killer snapped his neck with great force only two hours prior. "My...god!" he exclaimed and felt sick to his stomach. The sickened Joseph nervously took out his cell phone and called the police. He ran back outside and gasped in the fresh air.

Several minutes later, Boston PD arrived at the scene. They began to question him a bit but a dead senator belonged to the federal agencies. The Capitol Police were called and the FBI. It would take them some time to get there. The Boston Headquarters for the FBI was alerted as soon as possible.

Christopher Wolfe, an experienced and dependable Field Agent was dispatched. The news of what happened horrified him as he drove at high speeds towards the senator's home. Just before he got the call he said goodbye to his wife and child. usually he spent much time doing paper work but was specially picked to work this case. The news hadn't gotten hold of the incident...yet.

"Senator found dead," rattled the police scanner. Dom swore as he was startled, and then, as the address was given, hailed a cab.

"Double the fare if you get me there in five minutes," he promised, and the cab driver, taking those words to heart, surely must have broken at least thirty-nine traffic codes by the time they reached the residence. No other reporters seemed to be there, and Dom got the adrenaline rush that always came with a good ol' fashioned scoop.

He had scribbled some hasty notes in his notebook as they drove along, and, after paying the cab driver the exorbitant fee, he dashed to the door, and the police officer, holding up his press badge.

"Sir, what happened here?" He asked.

FBI Agent Wolf was there within 10 minutes or so. The capitol police hadn't arrived yet and the Boston PD were just securing the area and making sure nosy neighbors and others keep away. he pulled his car up along side the curb and smoothly exited the vehicle. He marched towards the police baracade with a commanding stride.
"Stop" said a policeman. Wolfe stopped and calmly pulled out his id.
"Special Agent Wolfe, FBI" he said in a powerful but low tone. The policeman dissolved away and Chris moved on into the crime scene. The were police standing everywhere, talking amoungst themselves, it was a grim scene.

(OOC: I'm still in, I'm just waiting for a chance where Lesa can fit in..she's in D.C. in my IC post..is that good K?)

(OOC: I'm still in, I'm just waiting for a chance where Lesa can fit in..she's in D.C. in my IC post..is that good K?)

OOC: Like I had said before, sence my guys in D.C. as well I thought we should have our charaters become partners or somthing...but you never answerd me on that. I hate clouding this up with OOC, so i`ll add in an IC soon...or delete this when things get decided.

Viktor awoke awhile later, his T.V. still on, he watched it for while wondering why there were so many police officers on the screen. 'Must be a murder, media's always looking for somthing like that to talk about' he said to his cat who seemed to be the only thing in the room interested in anything he did. This time though his cat jumped down from the couch and left leaving Viktor with a laugh to himself. He looked at the screen again and read the caption 'Senetor Cross, Murdered.'

"Well I wasn`t wronge about the murder but a senetor...damn." Viktor continued to watch his T.V. and listened to the report.

(OOC: I'm still in, I'm just waiting for a chance where Lesa can fit in..she's in D.C. in my IC post..is that good K?)

OCC: That's fine. Right now the FBI and Capitol Police have just been alerted to the murder so you can have your character go to the scene.

A young policeman saw the reporter coming and sighed It's like they can smell blood in the water, damn sharks!. He stood tall and stuck out his hand.
"You can't come any further. I'm not at liberty to discuss what's going on" he said plainly. they were wall warned and told what to say to onlookers or reporters.

Damn pigs thought Dom, flipping open his notebooks, what happened to freedom of the press?

"Sir, is it true that Senator Cross is dead?" He asked, determined to wring whatever information was possible out of the policeman, if he couldn't get an outright statement.

The police officer cleared his throat "I cannot confirm nor deny anything at this stage" he replied with a straight and serious face, determined to get rid of this nosy reporter.

(OOC: Thanks for suggestion and sorry for OOC post.)

IC:
Lesa roled over when her phone kept ringing on her side table. Sitting up and clearing her throat she picked up the phone, "Hello? Yeah, oh damn; yeah I'll be there."
She hung up and hopped in to the shower, quickly dressing and drying off as she left the house by 5 after 5 as she made her way towards the station where she was informed that she'd be taking a helicopter to Boston. Lesa had only been with the FBI for 2 years, and so she was surprised that they would let her handle something like this. She boarded and watched as she took off, then she leaned back and waited.

"Sir, if someone has killed an U.S. Senator, a man who was elected by the public, to represent the public's interests, don't you think that the public has the right to know?"

This was... odd. If the senator was dead, word would come out eventually. What possible reason could there be to deny it? Something was rotten in the District of Columbia, and Dom wasn't going to rest until he found out what.

"Sir, if someone has killed an U.S. Senator, a man who was elected by the public, to represent the public's interests, don't you think that the public has the right to know?"

This was... odd. If the senator was dead, word would come out eventually. What possible reason could there be to deny it? Something was rotten in the District of Columbia, and Dom wasn't going to rest until he found out what.

The police officer was becoming annoyed "Look, I don't have any info for you. All I can say is that we recieved a 911 call about a half hour ago. I'm not even sure what's going on" he said with a more hostile tone.

Armstrong Grimes sat on a chair in NSA Headquaters in Fort Meade, Maryland. The time read 4:17 A.M. He had pulled a all night shift. Yawning and strecthing Armstrong got up from his chair. Just about a year ago he had just finished college. Now he was working for the NSA as a cryptanalysis. Looking around some other people were there. He loved his job, but it was ruling his life. The dark rings around his eyes could be clearly seen. Armstrong had been stuck on a code for along time and couldn't find it out. A code had finally stumped him. Walking over to a coffee bot Armstrong got another cup of coffee and sat back down at his computer.

Morning...

5:45 AM, Michael Harrison's Residence

Michael arose from his bed, whiping the sleep from his eyes. It was a quarter till 6 AM, he yawned. Always an early riser, his mother would always tell him. He searched around the nightstand next to his bed for his cellphone. He always checked it when he first woke up, always good to know if the FBI HQ left any messages informing him how he should breathe for the rest of the day. Something peculiar caught his eye, it was a text message from his friend Simon back in the lab. Apparently, he had overheard something about a murdered senator. He got up and out of his bed, sitting on the edge he phoned Simon's house.

Ring...ring...

"Ye..wh...*yawn*yea, hello?" Simon said, with an obvious hint of sleep in his voice.

"Simon, it's me Michael." Michael replied.

"No, really? You gotta be shitting me..I could of swore my caller ID said Aunt Meg..." He said with a slight chuckle. Michael gave a weak chuckle in response, and began speaking.

"I got your message about this...senator dealy. I need to know if you have any more information." Michael said. This aroused Simon into a full state of conciousness. Michael could hear a female's voice in the background, most likely Simon's wife.

"Oh yea mate..the game? Yea I was up all night watching it, yea just let me get into my slippers. Yea hold on...*Simon is speaking to his wife in the background* Oh ye', it's just Tom from the office. Ye'..I know, I'm sorry honey, just let me get out of bed real quick...*Simon is now out of his bedroom, speaking in a quiet voice to Michael* Sorry about that, the wife woke...yea...so the senator...hmm...what was his name...oh yea, I think it was Cross...Al Cross...heh, funny...I never liked the old fart anyways." Simon prolongly responded. Michael was silent for a bit, infact to the point that Simon thought he dropped his call by mistake. As Simon proceded to ask if he was there, Michael began to speak.

"Meet me at the LaCrosse Diner, I'll speak with you there." Michael replied, hanging up the phone. Simon proceded to complain, even though he knew Michael was no longer on the line. Cursing him self for picking up the phone, he got into the shower.

Tick...tock...tick...tock

6:32 AM, the LaCrosse Diner

Michael sat, sipping at his coffee and reading a newspaper. Simon came in somewhat rash, with his car and house keys making a jangling noise. Simon walked over to Michael, able to tell by the hair. He sat down, yawning with a slight sigh. A waitress walked over, noteably a native New Yorker due to her accent.

"So hun, what can I get ya?" She asked, seeming to be tired and extremely boored with her life.

"Oh, I'll take a cup of Coffee please." Simon replied.

"Sure, comming right up." She said, with a hint of annoyance at Simon's accent.

"So, why did you call me in the first place?" Simon asked.

"Well...you did leave a message about a murder, one of a senator. You knew you had it comming." Michael answered.

"Oh yes, leave it to the infamous early riser to ruin a good saturday morning's rest..." He said, both of them laughing a bit.

"So, what do you have for me? Anything on how he was murdered? Any leads, suspects, whos on it? The Capitol Police? NSA, CIA, FBI? SWAT? Any private detectives?" Michael asked, in a fast tone.

"Wow...leave it to the early riser to plug your mind up with a question like that...*Simon pauses for a response, but gets none. He attempts to chuckle at it, but it's a bit too late.*...soo...yea...Well, I'm sure you Field Agents are already on it. Well, albeit you. But I'm not sure on anything else, I think they mentioned the Capitol Police already working on it. But you know us FBI guys, we like to snatch all the good stuff away from the police..." He finished with the waitress setting his coffee cup on the table. He responded to the rather rude clank with a non-chalant thank you, and took a sip.

"I never understood how you Americans like this shit..." He said, between sips.

"We don't..." Michael said with a slight chuckle.

"Oh really? Then why did you all have to get so antsy over the tea down in Boston? It wasn't that bad, I'd reckon." Simon responded, smiling.

"But there was nothing else to throw overboard..." He said, both of them laughing a bit.

"So, anything else you need..Mike?" Simon said.

"Nah, I'm good. You want to go to the scene with me?" Michael responded.

"Oh, and be a Field Agent for uh'day?" Simon said, smiling again.

"Well, sounds a helluvuhlot better than just sitting around all couped up in a small little office-slash-lab staring at a computer screen praying to God to shoot you in the foot." Michael said, with a sly smile this time.

"Eh...guess you are right then, mate...so...when do we go?" Simon finished after a good laugh.

"Well, first, we can go by the office...or do you think we should just drop by the scene?" Michael said.

"Well...up to you mate, really I don't give much of a damn." Simon said.

"Yea...alright, finish your coffee then." Michael said.

"But it's too hot..." Simon responded.

"Then blow on it." Michael laughed, Simon responding with a 'Meanie...' type joke. Simon took a big sip and left it on the table, Michael had already left the bill and a tip. Simon and Michael drove to Simon's house, leaving Simon's care there they both took Michael's Black Sedan. They drove towards the area, Michael kind of taking a guess where it was again.

Murdoch watched the two men leave, hand going unconciously to the small speaker in his ear, and then went to his office in the back of the restaraunt. Honestly, the FBI was slipping up these day, talking about something like this in broad daylight, without even checking for bugs.

He picked up a phone and dialed a twelve digit number on it. A drawer slid open, containing another phone. Murdoch picked it up, no need to dial this one, and spoke fifteen simple words into it. "We've got a problem. Senator's dead, and I've got a feeling it's not ending there."

Xenocide sat at the conference table with his fellow conspirators he was quiet, reflecting, thoughtful. He had a voice scrambler on so that nobody knew whether he was male or female.

"What do you need for the next stage?" He asked, "I say we should trigger some more problems in this nation. One that will portray Target A as even more incompetent. I have a few ideas."

Lucian sat at the table miserable at the fact that some of these people had gone to such lengths to cover their tracks, "Whatever you may need.... Toopoxia can provide it." He said this with such a sinister voice in order to cary his intimidating stance...

The man at the front of the table put down a glass and leaned back in his chair. "We must not divert from the plan. Cross was a set back which nearly compromised us all. Now, that problem is fixed. the item is in very capable hands. We can now move on to our real agenda. Though, I am curious as to your ideas" the man said. The others sat there, ready to hear any suggestions.

Meanwhile, Wolfe walked into the house which was roped off. An FBI forensics team arrived and began to do their thing. He looked down to the body Poor bastard. The senator was in bad shape.
"Time of death?" he asked the chief examiner.
"Judging from temperature, I'd say at most four hours ago" she replied as she examined the body. Wolfe made no comment as he looked around, nothing seemed out of place.
"I need people to check to see if anything's missing. From what I can see the killer didn't take anything...strange" Wolfe said to the others and they began a careful search.
"Sir, the family has just been notified" one of them said as he turned off his phone.

Murdoch watched the two men leave, and then went to his office in the back of the restaraunt. Honestly, the FBI was slipping up these day, talking about something like this in broad daylight.

He picked up a phone and dialed a twelve digit number on it. A drawer slid open, containing another phone. Murdoch picked it up, no need to dial this one, and spoke fifteen simple words into it. "We've got a problem. Senator's dead, and I've got a feeling it's not ending there."

OOC Sorry but I call that ridiculous.

One, the two are talking rather quietly when speaking about the important details. Thus, Michael is speaking into a newspaper. There is a trick with the newspaper too it gives you a larger field of vision. Yours eyes can peer to the far corner, and it'd appear as if you are reading when you are actually scanning about.

Second, the sun isn't even up. It is possibly just slightly blue outside, note it being 6:32 AM. Not to mention, the staff isn't very big in the early hours and neither is the customers. The reason for the non-stop chuckling and such is to draw attention, but not too much. It also helps makes it hard when Michael is talking quietly while Simon is chuckling, etc. So it is hard to make it out.

Anyways...

OCC: Take your OCC posts to the sign-up thread. Don't reply to this message.

By 6:35 in the morning the coctor had landed Lesa at the airport to which a car was already waiting for her. An unmarked police car, Lesa hopped in and began her way towards the scene at the senator's house. When she arived 20 minutes later, she parked the car down the street and began her walk dressed in her uniform up towards the house. She saw an officer talking to a reporter.
'Already?'
She thought as her walk started purposefully towards the house.

Wolfe stood there in deep thought, saying nothing as the forensics and crime scene teams combed through the entire house. It was quite perplexing. So far, they found no signs of forced entry. The medical examiner said "It looks like a ghost snapped his neck and disappeared".
Wolfe only nodded. He rapped his knuckles off the table, trying to think. What a losy start to my day.
"Are you sure you can't find any fingerprints that don't belong here?" he asked.
"Can't find a damn thing, maybe it was a ghost"

Michael and Simon had arrived about a half hour ago, having to argue with the Police to let them in. Once inside, they started recognizing familiar faces. Michael sighed as he walked in on the room where the body was found. He looked at the collapsed esaphagus, and the brittle arm.

"Let me guess...broken neck?" He startled a man who was half kneeling above the body. Michael looked at the arm again, and sighed. Then he looked at the ground.

"Tell me if I'm wrong...but wasn't it raining last night?" He asked, waiting for a response.

Lesa aproached the door to the home, seeing the officer that stood in front of the house, "Hello, I'm Lesa Hart, from the D.C FBI."
Lesa flipped open her ID, "What is the information that you have? What can you tell me?"

Thorn found out about the murder less than an hour after it happened. He pulled out his new prepaid phone, he bought a new one almost weekly, and dialed a number from memory.

"What the fuck happened with Cross?"

(OOC: anyone in the conspiracy is free to RP the other end of the line)

Lesa aproached the door to the home, seeing the officer that stood in front of the house, "Hello, I'm Lesa Hart, from the D.C FBI."
Lesa flipped open her ID, "What is the information that you have? What can you tell me?"

Dom surreptiously pressed record on a tape recorder concealed within his coat, and tilted his head quizically.

"Oh, I don't imagine he knows anything," he said quietly, "Unless he's had an epiphany since I talked to him."

Lesa aproached the door to the home, seeing the officer that stood in front of the house, "Hello, I'm Lesa Hart, from the D.C FBI."
Lesa flipped open her ID, "What is the information that you have? What can you tell me?"

The weary police officer looked at the id. The FBI? What the hell's going on?. He quickly stepped aside for the agent "Just go straight through the front door, ma'am" he said nervously.

Lesa nodded, "Thank you," she said as he had let her pass and she walked in to the house surveying everything. She saw a man standing at a table; to which Lesa walked up to, "Who are you?"

Chris straightened himself up "I'm Special Agent Christopher Wolfe" he replied in a deep tone. The forensic teams were still combing the house. The sun was up now and there were several other reporters outside trying to find out what's going on.

Agent Chris Hallett pulled up in front of Senator Cross's home in Boston, The sun was just comming into veiw. Hallett had been sitting at his desk at F.B.I headquarters in Boston dozing off when the call came in, immeaditly a forensics team, and one other field agent were in the black suburban heading to the crime scene.

Hallett got out of the SUV followed by the other agent dressed in their suit and strolled up to the police officer holding the press back, he said in a low tone,

"F.B.I, lemme though officer..."

The agent behind him wore a black jacket that had F.B.I in large yellow letters on the back....

"Yes sir" replied the police officer as he quickly stepped aside, beating back the reporters and holding his hands up.

Agent Hallett entered the house while the other man took up position by the door standing there stone faced. Hallet went inside and seen other agents and police officers standing around, he went up to a man and a woman,

"Agent Hallett F.B.I, what dowe got here..?" he showed his identification..

Reallydrunk']Agent Hallett entered the house while the other man took up position by the door standing there stone faced. Hallet went inside and seen other agents and police officers standing around, he went up to a man and a woman,

"Agent Hallett F.B.I, what dowe got here..?" he showed his identification..

"Agent Wolfe, FBI" Chris replied plainly "Well, what we do know is that that poor bastard is Senator Albert Cross. His neck was snapped with tremendous force. So far, we canb't find any signs of forced entry or any fingerprints. We're checking to see if anything was stolen but so far...nothing. We questioned the aide who called 911. he doesn't seem to know anything."

"Agent Wolfe, FBI" Chris replied plainly "Well, what we do know is that that poor bastard is Senator Albert Cross. His neck was snapped with tremendous force. So far, we canb't find any signs of forced entry or any fingerprints. We're checking to see if anything was stolen but so far...nothing. We questioned the aide who called 911. he doesn't seem to know anything."

Hallett bit on his lip briefly then replyed,

"Umm...have phone records, answering machine been cheaked...fax's?.."

Hallett strolled around the room looking at the furnishings,

"were all the windows and doors locked in the house? i mean..the killer wouldn't have had to force his way in then..would he?"

He continued..

"Has the yard been cheaked around all openings? maybe we can get a foot print...or some more evidence leading to this guys arrest.."

Chris was frustrated by the whole scene as well. "There's nothing. We checked his phone records. Two most recent were yesterday. The first was from his son's house in salem. It turns out he was talking with his young grandkids. the second was his aide confirming that he was to pick up the senator this morning" Vhris replied as he ran his hand through his hair.

Hallett continued after heading out the other agent,

"Well...it's clean, a little too clean...Senator Cross, what did you do that gave some one a motive to bump you off.." he said quietly..

He looked back to the agents,

"Well...Salem you said? i think at some point im going to take a swing over there..can't hurt..but most likley will come up with nothing.."

Chris put his hands in his pockets. "Be my guest, the family's pretty shaken up. We're gonna keep questioning the aide. That'll turn up nothing, I'm sure" he replied.

Chris put his hands in his pockets. "Be my guest, the family's pretty shaken up. We're gonna keep questioning the aide. That'll turn up nothing, I'm sure" he replied.

OOC: I need a description of the house...just for a minor search...

OOC: Sorry for an OOC but im guessing I wont fit in for about...a few pages.

OCC: Bump

Lesa walked in to the house, "Does anything need done?"

OCC: Sorry, Tarayshia. But I gotta go. I'm tired and need sleep, nice chatting and rping with you, good night!

(OOC: No problem, night!)

Thorn found out about the murder less than an hour after it happened. He pulled out his new prepaid phone, he bought a new one almost weekly, and dialed a number from memory.

"What the fuck happened with Cross?"

(OOC: anyone in the conspiracy is free to RP the other end of the line)

(OOC: If no-one else is gonna take this opportunity then I will)

"Have you not been watching the news?" Lucian said this with an arrogant pressure on his words, "Senator Cross is Dead." Lucian was careful to keep his words ambiguous just in case there were others listening in to the convorsation, he made sure his voice sounded sorry enough to convince any trace that he was truly one of the good guys, "Now is that all you have called me for? If so then I am ashamed that you consider me to be little more than a Newspaper..."

This pissed Thorn off. "Listen you arrogant little ass, I'm well aware Cross is dead, how did your incompetent minions screw up this time?"

Lucian cringed, any listener would now be well aware that he and this person had somthing to with the death, "Gods you really don't have this secrecy thing down very well, встретьте меня в кафе вне моего офиса, about ten minutes, da?"

(OOC: the writing is Russian, it says "Meet me at the cafe outside my office" assuming it'll take longer than ten minutes to find a translator we ((our characters)) would be long gone and have a secret discussion about who screwed up)

Senator Cross Killed

Dominic Smit

Senator Albert Cross's body was today discovered brutally murdered in his own home. Though police refused to confirm or deny anything, the Senator's aid Joseph DeMille, confirmed that the Senator is indeed dead.

"I never saw anything like that," said DeMille, "His arm... and his neck. Humans were never meant to bend that way."

When questioned about why someone would want to kill this illustrious senator, DeMille was at a loss. “He didn’t have any personal enemies that I was aware of,” said DeMille, “I mean, he was a nice guy. If I had to guess, I’d say it had something to do with his political views.”

For those readers who haven’t been keeping track, Senator Cross recently opposed a bill that would give substantial tax breaks to Corporate America. Even more intriguing, he was starting to gather support.

So, a threat to corporation’s bottom lines eliminated. Well, we can all rest easy in our beds tonight. That dangerous radical Albert Cross won’t be bringing down the economy now.

OCC: Bump

OCC: Bump, writer's block

Viktor poured himself a cup of black coffee as he watched the news about Cross's murder. He chuckled to himself a bit, like he knew everything the reporter said about Cross's life. Stuff about his life and things he did in the Senate. Infact it seemed Viktor new alot about Cross as he sat down and began to speak under his breath about te senetor, he was thinking aloud.

"...Quite a rude man actually. Dumb reporters only know him as a senetor...not as a man. This bastard deserved what happend, but whoever did it might have went to far with the neck snapping. Whatever he's out of the picture and thats all that matters."

Viktor took a final sip from his cup, empting it, then setting it onto his table as he turned the T.V. off and pulled a laptop from under his couch. He opened it and turned it on, a quick glance at the screen showed blurred letters as it warmed up to its former state before being set to sleep. The word Database showed ontop of the screen and soon the letters FBI shined infront of it. Viktor exited that screen quickly as he began to type up a report on the Drug bust.

OOC: Im kinda winging it, did you get my telegram Kulikovo? You never approved my idea so im not sure if I should go through with it.

American News Network ANN

Good morning, our top story today is the death of senator Albert Cross of Massachusetts. The FBI and capitol police are heading an intense investigation into his death. We have reports that he was murdered, though details are scetchy. The authorities aren't letting out much information.

Senator Cross's death comes days before the Senate is to vote on a landmark anti-trust bill which was his brain child. Already, there are whispers of a conspiracy. Those of course, are not anything more than rumors. President Cunningham was most destrought about this death. he will be addressing the press later on in the day.

OCC: Check your telegrams

Armstrong saw that some of his co-workers were crowded around a tv. Putting his coffee down he went over. It was something about a Senator getting murdered. The Senator's name was Albert Cross. Armstrong had heard that before name coming from another department. He thought he remembered it coming from a wire tap. Well as long it didn't affect him. Armstron went back to his desk and sipped his coffee.

OOC: I didn't get a tg.

OCC: I was telling Nerotika to check is tgs.

OOC: I really don't know what to do with my character.

OOC: Well im bored...so to give more life to my character i`ll just keep writing on whats he's doing.

Viktor finished his report and saved it to his laptop, soon after he opened the former screen up showing the database information on just about everyone in the US who has had a criminal record or job of importance. A quick typing job reviled a long list a pre-entered names down the list the names read slowly.

Amber J. Rockwell - Senator, Mississippi

Albert Cross - Senator, New York (I Think?)

Alfred T. Fullbell - Senator, Nebraska

The list went on, the only name on the list that was discolored was Cross's which indicated a recent activation. Viktor looked down the list to find a few names before he continued though he quickly checked a small window in the corner and began to become nervous as a name appeared in the window. He exited the database once again quickly then reached for his phone.

His fingers acted quickly all by memory as he dialed the number in. He blinked a few times, then spoke into the reciever as a click indecated a pick-up.

"Before anything is said I need to know a few things..."

(Here Kulikovo, so you can get your writers block over, RP the man on the other end of the line.)