I snap my phone closed, and press it against my head for a second, then snap to attention and start helping Mark move the injured man. After he's settled, I turn to Connor, and quickly explain the situation with the family doctor.

After I'm done with that, I take a step back and look at the group. "Alright. We've got an hour, max. Mark, give me a hand here."

I stick my head in the dredged car and crack the glove compartment, rummaging through it quickly for anything that looks vaguely important-- A notebook, recorder, phone, or something like that. Assuming there's nothing, I check the sun visors and the back seat.

I am not at all thrilled about the prospect of having to molest a bloated dead guy to see if he has anything on his person.

 

The glove compartment is drenched, but there are no gloves inside. Instead, there's a map of the city in a book form, the pages are almost glued together by the water, and to open some of them you actually have to peel them from each other. There are two music CD's, of semi popular bands, a drivers license and a concealed-weapon carry permit in Evan's name (Evan Klein).

The sun visor has a comb in a small compartment, and the passenger seat has a small mirror.

Rummaging everywhere you find that the driver's seat has a small hidden compartment, empty, it's probably where the gun is usually held while driving.

The fare-meter and the communication system of the taxi look like they are destroyed by exposure to water.

There are no phones in the car. You do find a crumpled twenty dollar bill on the floor.

The back seat has Devon, holding an empty clay vial, and there's another, with a broken top, with vampire blood inside. Also, there seems to be a loose key, hidden in the same place.

The guitar was used to hit something, as it has a few dents, apparently it's made from some harder wood than usually used. Kyle notices a small phone number engraved on the side. A mobile phone number, also there's letters proclaiming "Evan". On the front of the guitar, there's a small sticker of "Six Pistols Bar".


So, are you going to search the three dead bodies?

Also, do you plan to take them with you?
By default, you are taking Evan's body in the back of the jeep.


There's someone coming on foot from the path you drove through. "Hey!" There comes a shout. "Do you need a hand?"

 

I hear the voice from the path and say, "Yeah, I'm going to search the bodies first, but we could use some help cleaning them up afterwords."

I move to the bodies and start to search them for anything that could be useful. The scent of the blood is slightly distracting. I can control my urges, but the smell is tempting.

I then call out, "Is anyone going to drink that second vial?"

-Mark Lin

 

Jack finally comes near enough to be recognised. He's carrying a pistol in his right hand and a metal stick in his left (it has a leather looking straps around the bottom forming a handle).
"The fuck happened here?" He looks around. "The guy was talking some bullshit about fucking demons. Who the fuck you were shooting at?"
He takes another glance at the bodies. "Damn. Yeah, I can help move them."
He puts the pistol in a pocket, and straps the metal bar onto his belt. Then he takes out leather gloves from the other pocked and puts them an. "Alright, where do you need them put?"
He glances backwards.
"The car is fine, by the way, had only one fucker trying to get throgh, told him to go the fuck away. He cooperated." He grins viciously. "The fucker was really cooperative."



Mark is the first one to rummage the dead bodies for anything important. Alonzo has a phone in his pocket, wrapped in a plastic bag. It is grazed by a shot, but looks to be in working order. The phone looks new-ish, and is on. It's one of the folding-in-half models. It has only one number in the adress book, marked as "H".

The woman has a small purse, that got shot through once. The contents include around a hundred dollars (with bullet holes), a bank card (snappen in half) and a worker's permit, claiming her to be "Eliza Conder", working in a branch of "Pentex Enterprises". It's a firm in the harbour.

Evan has nothing in the pockets, and there's a pistol in his hand. He has a guitar strings tatoo on one of his hands, too.
Do you try to remove whatever is in his throat? You'd probably need to cut the throat open for that. Or have a good reach and a good roll.

 

I ignore the blood and walk over to Mark.

"I'll cut open his neck and hold him down, just in case he tries to come back again. You reach in and pull out whatever it is."

-Connor McCroft

 

Jack outright stares when you start cutting Evan's throat. "Fucking shit," he whispers. "Wait, that guy is Evan? Damn."

The slice is simple, and you practically see the little metal thing inside.
Jack spits on the ground when Connor is holding Evan like he could start resisting, but doesn't say anything.

Mark takes out the metal thing easily.

It's a small usb flash drive, the only difference from usual ones is that it's made from sturdy materials, probably to withstand many things. It seems to be waterproof and looks like the little thing could take a bullet and only dent.

EDIT: It has a lid, that closes tight enough to be water-proof. You can use it with anything that has usb port.

 

I snap a picture of the sticker and the number on the guitar with the camera on my phone, then grab the map and step out. After Connor starts slicing open Evan's neck, I turn to face Jack and light a cigarette, offering him one in the process.

"Yeah, we don't play... Gonna have to haul this one with us too, though. Cigarette?"

 

Jack takes you up on the offer.

"So..." He lets the curiosity get the better of him. Again. "Who were you shooting at? Or do I have to break Timmy's arm for doing fucking drugs on the job?" He lets out a puff of smoke. "Thomas isn't the one to run- Fuck. Forget it, I don't need to fucking know. Will have to pay the guy for the fucking arm, that will be enough." He points at it with a radiating tip. "Want to place it in the car too? Ed might get it attached back on, right?" He leans to take it. "Fucking magled. Still, it's his fucking arm." He walks to the jeep and places it in a back, but not before putting it into a black plastic bag.

Takes out a few black body bags from the back of the jeep. "Everyone, yeah?"

Jack goes to the woman first, takes a few more deep mouthfulls of smoke and throws the remains of the cigsrette onto the ground. "One ugly bitch, eh?"

He starts packing her into the body bag, with practised ease.

 

Once everyone is packed into the car, I ask Jack, "do you know who originally gave you the orders to come out this way?"

-Connor McCroft

 

"You mean, how did we get ordered here? Jan said us to taie care of the fucking thing and we did. Said there might be a car underwater, so we took a fucking jeep with us."
He coughs a few time, slightly confused.
"I should get some fucking sleep." He mumbles. "Do you want us to dump the car back, or should we try to drag it behing?" He kicks the taxi's tyres a few times. "Wet and creeking like a cranky old bitch, but it could be possible. Loud, though."


I'll send a few pm's in the nearest hour. Also, this should have been with the precious post, as per every first mention:
Thomas "Timmy" - a guy that ran away.
Ed - a guy without an arm

 

(Sorry I haven't been around the last few days. Been on a bit of a downer and Mafia's been taking up what little enthusiasm I had to work with, but I'm back now.)

I use the blood I'd just ingested to heal the leftover wounds from the battle, feeling the skin and muscle knit back together again, not even leaving a scar. The surge of everything overwhelms me and I cannot fight back the need for more. I drop the empty vial and rip open the broken one, downing the blood as fast as I can. Fuck sex. Fuck drugs. Fuck zombie women trying to rip my ribs out with her hands. This is what life is all about.

I drop the vials to the ground and cast my eyes around, searching for something. My eyes settle on the distant treeline for a long while, then I turn to the guitar on the floor of the car. It's waterlogged and horribly out of tune, making a sound that jars against my senses like nails on a chalkboard. The smooth finish of the wood has been thoroughly ruined by its stay in the lake as I run my hands over it, and the strings are loose enough to sag against the neck of the guitar.

I shake it lightly and listen intently for the sound of anything moving inside, then I draw back and drive my fist through the top of the guitar. I feel around inside, searching for anything that may be hidden.

 

Devon grasps some kind of string, hidden inside the guitar's neck - there probably was a way to remove it without smashing the guitar, but now there's no difference. The string looks a like one's used for the guitar, but is a bit thicker, and, by the looks of things, is covered with silver for some reasons. Both ends have a tiny ring atached.
(That's what people call garotte, if I'm not mistaken - a thicker snd more durable string to choke someone to deatn. There are no handles, but those could be fitted easily. Or, one could use thick leather gloves.)


There's a sound of ringing phone, sounding lauder and lauder by the second. It's the phone from Alonzo's body, and the caller is someone whose number is named as 'H'.
Is anyone going to pick it up?

 

I take the garotte from the guitar, stretching it out between my hands. It feels strong but supple and it is more than long enough to fit around a neck. The silver coating gives it a glinting, metallic look that speaks of both wealth and deadliness.

I finally take notice of the cellphone, its ringing piercing through the vibrant wall of sensory input that is the world. I growl and pick it up, looking at it as though I've never seen one before. I answer it and place it to my ear.

 

Before Devon can respond, I reach out and motion for him to put it on speaker so we all can hear.

-Connor McCroft

 

I do so and take it away from my ear, realising that it probably wouldn't be wise to have someone speaking directly into my ear with my senses buzzing as they are.

 

There's a second of silence, a beep of changing the call's setting into the speaker and then, there's a croaking voice from the phone.

"Alonzo was the first one, and the one who brought this upon himself. Kill Diegio Rossellini, and others won't follow. Leave him alive, and Pietro will burn in the harbour with the first rays of the sun. Stall, and there will be more deaths, and then, a turn for each of you, untill Diego is left alone, or dies himself. Don't throw away the phone - it will be easyer for you to witness each and every death."
There is a sudden sound of wind, then, a splash of watter, and there are strange sounds comming in from the phone as well as the lessening quality of the connection - the man on the other end, whoever he was, just threw his phone into some body of water.

 

"Shit," I mutter after hearing the message. I take a deep breath and say, "I don't think that we should kill Diegio. Right now we need to look at this evidence. I understand why Evan was here and this 'H' guy said something about Alonzo, but who the fuck is this Eliza chick?"

I look down at the usb and add, "There might be something important on this. Does anyone have a labtop here so we can check it out?"

-Mark Lin

 

I check through the two people for more identification.

"Who is the woman who was with Evan? Does anybody know?"

-Connor McCroft.

 

"Better question. What the fuck did the guy mean by 'burn in the harbour with the sun'? Last I checked Pietro wasn't ginger, so why the fuck would he burn?"

(Question: How big is the harbour?)

"If that fucker meant what I think he did, we could be completely fucked. We're fighting vamps here. They can turn us into one of them. What if he spilled about us? They could know fucking everything about us while we know fuck all about them!"

 

I sigh, and offer Devon a cigarette. "Calm down. We're the professionals. Fucking act like it."

Turning away, I look at the rest of the group. "Look. We can sit here and bicker about what we don't know until the cows come home, or we can haul these dead bodies away from the cops that will be showing up shortly. After we get some medical attention for this poor fuck, we'll swing by my place and grab my laptop, find out what's on that usb stick, and go from there. Maybe hit up the Six Pistols bar, see if maybe someone can make out who this dead bitch is from a description. Sound good?"

(Sorry I've been inactive. Had a sinus infection that felt like a mule kicked me in the head.)