NationStates Jolt Archive

It was a lazy fall day in the Big Easy. People walked down the streets, cars wizzed by. It's been several years since Katrina and the city was for the most part back to normal. The Lucky 7 motel was busy. People of loose and questionable morals frequented it to do whatever they do to quench their desires, carnal and recreational. Across from this motel was a parking lot for an abandoned apartment building which served as the parkinglot for anyone who lived nearby. Junkies shot up dop in the old building. A black van sat in one of the spaces. A telescopic lens popped out of the drivers seat, clicking rapidly.
"Jesus, you'd think they'd pick a better place" a man with a beard gruffed while adjusting the lens. A door to one of the rooms slowly jarred open. A woman walked out, she surveyed the area before a man came out, he was in a suit. Clearly not a native of the surrounding area.
"Is that him, Jack?" asked the man in the passenger's seat.
"Yep, this is what we've been waiting for, Marcus" Jack grinned and clicked a few more pictures.
"Don't you ever get tired of doing this? I mean...tracking down cheating spouses and taking pictures?"
"Eh, it's work. Besides I find it funny". He flicked the cigar out the van. "I think that's enough, let's get out of here". His rough hand reached over to the ignition and turned it, the engine rumbled and they pulled out of the parking lot, right past the hapless couple.
"Mrs.Gerald won't like what she'll see about her husband" Marcus said as he lit a cigarette and puffed out a cloud of smoke.
"Life's full of shit, it's time she learned that" Jack replied cynically as the van made a turn.

It was two days after the ex'Mrs.Gerald saw the photos and kicked her husband out the door. Jack got paid and he was happy. He ran a private detective agency in the city and did all sorts of work. Tracking spouses, finding people, keeping tabs and such. It wasn't a bad deal, he worked on his own terms and enjoyed seeing married couples breaking up. His marriage abrubtly ended several yaesr earlier. It stemed from an accident that happened while he was a police officer. At the office he sat at the desk, asleep. A bottle of gin in one of the drawers. The ring of the phone awoke him as he scrambled to pick it up.
"Reynold Detective Agency" he said in a practiced tone.
"Hello, Mr.Reynolds. I'm Charles DeMille, I require your expertise."
Charles DeMille gave the specifics and they hung up. Jack sat there dazed. Charles DeMille's daughter disappeared two years ago in a widly publisized case. She was never found. The family was rich and he decided to take the case...

Sign-Up Thread: http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=485952

Stephen Hauptmann walked slowly down the New Orleans street, surveying the situation. He was always carrying his pistol now, not to mention the 5 extra clips. The disapperances lately were getting worse, and he needed to figure out why. He knew this was a cult, he had seen the signs carved into the bodies, he just couldn't figure out which cult it was. He was stumped. He dropped into the nearest bar and ordered whiskey, he needed a pick me up.

Akre took back the shot of gin and as he did so his cuffs ruffled just showing the slight glint of green and red, there was a damp stale stench about him and his leather trench coat had alsorts of moss growing over it.

"Excuse me!" A man in the back grabbed the attention of one of the waiters.

"What can I do you for?" The waiter asked, he had a towel ready and a notepad on his belt.

"I was wondering..." The man started, he crouched further in but Akre could still hear them, "I was wondering.... who that man is?" Akre cringed, another waiter would explain Akres woefully long story.

"Well sir, he calls himself Alex but we all know he's actually called Akre, some people say he's a Communist spy left here after the Cold War, others claim that they've hired him as a hitman, all we really know is that he's been in this same bar for 32 years, even came here during Katrina..." The waiter finished and the man called him away.

Akre took another shot of gin and stared around, a black kid had just sat next to him, "Akre.... Some guys outside say they want to hire, didn't tell me anything else but they look like Mobsters or somthing organised....."

He had been known by many names over the years. Currently, he was calling himself Cyprian Penoche'. Sort of French-sounding, but he would never be mistaken for a Cajun native. Medium height, about 5'9", 181 pounds, average build. Nothing about him that would cause you to look twice......until you saw his eyes.

Each of his eyes were a different color. The left one was green, the right blue. It had caused many a comment over the years, even a few jokes. It was actually a medical condition known as "corneal rodictitum", a rare condition affecting one out of 300,000,000 people.

The real reason was the demon who possessed him. For Cyprian Penoche' was the leader of a group of demon worshippers. The demon's name was Ethiel, one of the Celestial Fallen of so many ages ago. Lucifer had charged Ethiel to guard the Gate that allowed entry to the New Orleans region, a roughly 300 mile radius. Ethiel....Guardian of DarkGate.

Lately, Ethiel had been directing Cyprian to capture and sacrifice young boys and girls, preferably virgins ( as difficult as it was to find those these days ), ostensibly to appease the demon Hurakan which had been released to do as much damage to the southern coast of the US as possible.

At precisely five pm, Penoche' closed up his art supply store, making sure that he had set the alarm. He wasn't concerned about the art supplies. He was concerned about any thieves who might break in and discover the Grotto, where the Cult of Ethiel held their gatherings. There had been one break-in a few years ago, but the snakes in the basement took care of the intruder. He was found crushed to death, most of his left arm chewed off, drained of blood. When the story hit the newspaper, the store was never troubled again.

The disappearences were beginning to cause concern in the Big Easy. While missing people was a fairly common occurence here, there had been noticed a similarity in the disappearences.

All of the missing youngsters were blonde, blue-eyed college students enrolled in the comparative religion class at the local community college. It was a large class.....freshman basic elective. All told, four students had gone missing over the past six months.

Ethiel had informed Cyprian that Hurakan was again demanding another sacrifice. Time to find a victim...............

Marcus just waved him by as jack slipped on a light coat and stumbled out the door. It was kind of cool out, but he was used to the heat and hated the cold. He got into the car and began to drive, remembering the whole case. The news talked about her day in and day out. I guess people start caring when rich people go missing. Jessica DeMille was a college student from a priveleged family. It was reported that she went out drinking one night and just disappeared. A massive search was launched but nothing ever came up. There was a hefty reward for any information. before reaching their expensive house, Jack pulled over and took out a tin flask and taking three swigs and put it in the glove compartment.

Akre pulled out the replica Soviet Zippo and lit a rolly, smoking at his age, what was he thinking, he was walking down a middle class suburb and so he decided to throw the rollup away, he in his Grandpa clothes made him look almost like he should be there, it still made him feel uncomfortable wearing this stuff.

he shortly reached the house number, now all he had to do was wait for the target to arrive, to remain inconspicuous he took out a pipe and began to smoke it, it was less suspicious than a rolly but still made him feel like a prat.

::EDIT::

(OOC: Is it oki if my guy has been sent to hit you Kulikovo, I won't succed obv but I thought I might aswell...)

His finger tightened on the trigger as he exhaled deeply, pulling his left arm back and double checking the wind. When no air was in his lungs and he was as steady as a rock, he pulled the trigger and held it back until the recoil subsided. The crack of the rifle echoed around the large room as he stood up and removed the ear defenders. He checked with binoculars, and was pleased to see a small hole in the dead centre of the cardboard target's head at the end of the range.

He handed the rifle back to the attendee and left the building, content with his results. One hundred shots fired, one hundred targets hit, consistently within the designated killzone. He shook his head as he got into his car and sat down. The action of firing a rifle seemed so familiar to him, yet he had not been taught. Or not to his knowledge, anyway.

He would never forget the day he re-awoke, in hospital in this city with nothing, not even a name. They told him he was a hurricane victim. They told him he was lucky. But he was neither, and he knew it.

Getting back on his feet was the easy part, to his suprise. False ID papers were easy to come by, if expensive. But he aquired the money by various means, each side of the law for the highest bidder.

Allan Menke, a name he had given himself a few days after he awoke, hit 100 as he sped towards the city, finally slowing down as he reached the suburbs. He checked his mobile, it was off. Good, he thought, he did not intend to do any business for a while. He intended to dedicate some time to piece together his past, and no matter what that involved he was willing to do it.

Father Miller felt it. the evil in the air. Perhaps Father Kowalski was correct when he told Miller he would find him here. The evil Ethiel, who Miller had seen once before. When he was a resident of a young boy in Carpathia. He was Miller's favorite altar boy, the one he had been hoping to groom into an eventual priest. However, the demon changed that. He took the young, pure boy that was Timeteo, and turned him into a evil, foaming, demon-child. Miller was unable to save him, for he had never exorcised a person before, but after Ethiel sent Timeteo off the roof of the church, he vowed that he would hunt him down, and free whoever he had taken. He now saw a man slouching in the corner. He had two different colored irises. A trait that Miller had seen only once before.

"Hello Ethiel. May the Lord Bless you on this fine Sunday evening."

Father Miller felt it. the evil in the air. Perhaps Father Kowalski was correct when he told Miller he would find him here. The evil Ethiel, who Miller had seen once before. When he was a resident of a young boy in Carpathia. He was Miller's favorite altar boy, the one he had been hoping to groom into an eventual priest. However, the demon changed that. He took the young, pure boy that was Timeteo, and turned him into a evil, foaming, demon-child. Miller was unable to save him, for he had never exorcised a person before, but after Ethiel sent Timeteo off the roof of the church, he vowed that he would hunt him down, and free whoever he had taken. He now saw a man slouching in the corner. He had two different colored irises. A trait that Miller had seen only once before.

"Hello Ethiel. May the Lord Bless you on this fine Sunday evening."


The presence that the priest had named Ethiel slammed Miller into a wall, knocking the wind out of him. Miller 'heard' the demon speak to him in his mind.

" I am not Ethiel. I am he who causes the wind to howl, the seas to rise, and the earth to shake. I will not play with you as Ethiel has done in the past. Interfere with me and I will cause you pain unimaginable. You will seek death, but will not find it. Your screams will tear the lining of your throat, and blood will pour from you incessantly. Now....begone!"

Adrian was riding his skateboard around New Orleans. His baseball cap was on backwards. He had just gotten out of baseball pratice. Riding by Jessica DeMille's house Adrian saw a guy drinking some form of alcohol. Adrian rode by and could remember Jessica. She went missing two years and had never been found. Turning at the corner he rode from a little longer until he got to his house. He dropped off his stuff and decided to search for an adventure.

The presence that the priest had named Ethiel slammed Miller into a wall, knocking the wind out of him. Miller 'heard' the demon speak to him in his mind.

" I am not Ethiel. I am he who causes the wind to howl, the seas to rise, and the earth to shake. I will not play with you as Ethiel has done in the past. Interfere with me and I will cause you pain unimaginable. You will seek death, but will not find it. Your screams will tear the lining of your throat, and blood will pour from you incessantly. Now....begone!"


OOC: Godmode what you do to my player again, you will be ignored.

IC: "Father Miller got up and dusted himself off.

"I have one question for you Ethiel. Are you thirsty?"

OOC: Godmode what you do to my player again, you will be ignored.

IC: "Father Miller got up and dusted himself off.

"I have one question for you Ethiel. Are you thirsty?"


ooc: how is that a GodMode? You did much the same by naming the Presence w/o checking w/me as to which demon was the one whose presence you felt. Not that I care. Go ahead and create a story. That's all I'm doing. Trying to tell a story here.