Rick Deluca

Concept: Upscale drug dealer

AKA: Rick never goes by his real name if he can possibly help it. Nearly all of his of his clientele know him as “Quinn” or “The Eskimo”. 

Desc: Tall and kind of skinny. Pale, as if it’s been a while since he’s gotten any sun at all. (which is true.)  Talks low and kind of fast. Can be a little hard to understand at times as a result. Specs, already losing his hair in his late 20’s. Often looks as if he hasn’t slept in days. Is perfectly at home in hospital scrubs and sneakers. Watery blue eyes that have some intelligence showing.

History: Ricky decided at an early age that he wanted to be a doctor. And in truth, he’s talented, at least in his hands. But as he got deeper and deeper into med school it started becoming apparent to him that he might not exactly have the grades.  He might have gutted it out and be doing a residency somewhere, but we’ll probably never know for certain.

   As Rick was in the process of losing his scholarship, which likely would have sent him packing back home, one of his neighbors in the student ghetto asked him if he was interested in picking up some extra cash.  He indicated he was, and one short meeting  with a supplier later, Ricky was on his way to a new and lucrative career in dealing drugs.

   Now, Rick got lucky insofar as his supplier was relatively chill and sold coke instead of grass or meth or crank.  Coke meant a slightly more upscale clientele. After all, you have to have some serious jack to have a coke habit. and since Ricky was a white boy, he could mix and mingle without anybody looking twice at him. You think some dude named “Pablo” is going to be able to wander around a gated community without someone coming around to ask him some pertinent questions with the business end of a billy club? 

   Not only that but while Ricky didn’t come from money himself, he’d met quite a few of those kids in Med school and already had an idea of how many were using speed to prop themselves up. Ricky used his last semester as a full-on student to network for his new career.  It got him invited to a few upscale parties, and business just took off from there.

    In fact, Rick has been branching out. He’s found that a number of his clients like exotic chemical entertainments and are willing to pay a premium for them. Rick’s not stupid. He cleared all of this with his primary supplier first and cuts the guy in for a slice. In exchange, Rick’s supplier makes contact with cooks who can make acid or DMT or whatever the kids are craving these days.  

Now it’s not all kittens and rainbows certainly. Rick still hasn’t mentioned to his parents that he’s not in Med school anymore. Although push comes to shove, there might still be a way for Rick to score a license credential. There are guys who can put that shit together and make it look good.  Rick’s supplier has his hooks into the local narcotics department, so often they can see the law coming from a mile off.  But there is one real weak link security and that’s the clients.

   It’s fairly simple. Some kid gets popped for a traffic violation and maybe he’s real nervous and sweaty, and maybe the cop searches the vehicle and finds a kilo in the trunk.   Well, that particular rich boy is now looking at possession with intent to sell.

And that particular rich boy hasn’t been raised all of his life in a culture that loathes squealers. So he sings. Oh yes. Arias.

    It looked pretty touch and go there for a while. Until Rick came up with a plan and told his supplier.  When Pablo heard the plan he actually smiled for the first time since Rick had known him.  They waited. The kid had parents with serious money and serious lawyers, and so naturally in return for “cooperation”, they released the kid.  The kid had been back all of 2 days before someone put the bag on him. They found him the next day wandering around his parent's tennis club in some kind of haze.

Their relief turned to horror when the haze didn’t lift. Someone had lobotomized him. He’d apparently been under when it happened and couldn’t even describe his assailants.  The Prosecutors case fell apart and Rick skated.  After that, he went very very covert, and of course, word got around about what would happen if you squealed on the Eskimo. Pablo made sure of that.

Attitude: “I used to want to help people.  I kind of still do...But my career has moved into helping people have a good time. I used to worry about what my parents would say. I used to worry that I would get jailed. and I used to worry that I was ruining lives left and right....But you know. as my man Pablo would say, I never forced any of those people to buy drugs off of me. And let’s face it, money in the bank tends to bring with it a certain amount of Buddhistic calm.  And as long as people can keep their mouth shut, nobody has to get hurt.”

Skills: Decent dex and pretty good with a knife or taser. 3 dots of medicine and 3 more dots of science with a specialty in chemistry. He could probably go into the cooking end of things if he ever amasses enough operating capital. But he also knows that would put him in management and he’s paid enough attention to the way Pablo does business, to know that he’s not exactly keen to do that. He’s got some pretty decent socials and is developing a real talent for subterfuge, both telling them and knowing them when he hears them.  In a pinch, he could pull out a bullet or stitch a wound or even a few things beyond that, should it be necessary. 

Gear: Hand-held taser, Burner phone, Personal phone (with NO criminal stuff on it at all. It’s just that his mom calls sometimes.) and a phone which is not actually a phone, but is, in fact , a two shot gun. Carries a doctor bag in the trunk with actual useful materials in it.  Many times, he’ll go for a suit and keep his money in an actual bank deposit bag. driving his escalade. No one looks at him twice.   He’s gotten in the habit of having a dozen bank accounts so that he can drop cash as fast as possible. Dropping product is more difficult obviously but again, suit and Escalade means he’s virtually never been stopped.

Home: Owns a pretty decent sized house out in the sticks. The house also has a barn which houses exactly two things. The tractor, for mowing and an operating theater. The barn has been heavily soundproofed.  You know, just in case there’s screaming.

Circle: Rick has become fairly connected.He’s interested in making connections with criminal specialists of all sorts. He may never need the service of a professional arsonist, but fuck man, you never know, right? Also, Rick has used drugs and money to work his magic on the local airport.  He’s found a way to work with other drug dealers which prevent things from going south. They meet in an airport VIP lounge, which means both parties have been searched and scanned for weapons, once the money gets handed over for a bulk order. Rick calls his guy at long term parking, hands over a key, and the buyer finds his merch in the trunk. So far, it’s worked like a charm. Rick is starting to realize that he’s actually good at this crime thing...Maybe management isn’t such a bad idea after all?

Story Uses:

“Dude. I sell coke to a lot of people’s sisters. you’re going to have to be more specific.”

Sure. He’s criminal scum. but he’s not dumb and you’ll have a hard time bringing him to justice in any conventional way.

Cops can’t really touch him

“Yeah. I can cook that up for you here if you like. Big party you say?”

For certain types of characters having an upscale drug dealer on speed-dial isn’t an option, it’s a must.

Connections:

* Has occasionally worked with Marcie Hawkins. Senses a kindred spirit there maybe. One job required a solution of DMT and DMSO to suitably distract a set of security guards without killing them. Fortunately, Rick was along for the ride, because the safe cracker got shot during the job and they needed his medical expertise too. Marcie, for her part, recognized someone who doesn't rattle easily.

* Also knows T.C. Mitnick. Pablo can't stand talking to that guy, but occasionally dealing requires information management. So since Rick doesn't make him nervous...Rick gets sent. A nervous T.C. tends to jabber more than usual.

* Milo Karanikas =steady demand for poppers and ecstasy. Bread and butter money. Not a bad dude to know. Sexually, Rick tends to be a bit uptight but Milo has seen to loosening him up some. He had Rhonda do that thing with her tongue to him...and well... It damn blew the top of his head off.

* Clavo Hernandez Let's just say that if Rick needed to disappear tomorrow, he could do so with about 10 minutes lead time.

* No discussion of an upscale drug dealer would be complete without a discussion of The Vermillion House. Quinn the Eskimo is considered an honored guest within the House. Maybe not member material..but he has shown unusual promise for one with such lowly beginnings. Who knows?

* Deals to Dj Razor Burn at The Caboose. Many of the ladies there also like exotic chemical entertainments of various sorts. Rick is very discrete in here. He's fairly sure that Carl is onto him.

Collette Reeves

Concept: The little girl who keeps trying

AKA: Chose the name “Scheherazade” as her craft name. That’s a bit of a mouthful so most people in occult circles know her as  Collete or “Scher”

Desc: Mid 20’s On the short side and curvy. Well proportioned. glossy black hair and dark blue eyes. Tan’s well. Slight tilt to her eyelids is the only thing that betrays her Amerasian extraction. Big smile. Musical laugh. Smokes too much, but she’s trying to lay off of actual cigarettes in favor of a clove/vapor regimen, with mixed results. Needs to start exercising more before her metabolism turns on her. If they made colors darker than black, she’d wear them instead.  Leans a little towards a look reminiscent of Neil Gaiman’s “Death” but she’s not pale enough to completely pull it off...Not that the boys are complaining.

She has a few bits of occult inflected ink on her body and a few piercings too.

History: Collette has seen some shit.  Before the demons got him, her father was a hedge wizard. Her mother was a sensitive before her stroke.  Her sister could channel the voices of the dead before she got arrested and then sent to a state home. Collette was the only witness when her uncle Mike had to stand off the vampires. So you’d think that Collette would be fairly grim and some kind of supernatural...natural.

But neither thing is true. Collette is about as psychic as a rock. In fact, her aura tends to fuck up psychic ability. Ouija boards and pendulums are useless when she participates.  She can do Tarot, but she tends to use it as a means of reading the psychology of the person she’s reading...Which isn’t magical at all.  And she’s careful to say so. While Collette reads every single occult books she can get her hands on, she’s proven to be a total duffer at hedge magic and true magic of any sort.

Her mentor, in fact, believes that she may, in fact, be potently ANTI-Psychic.  Which frankly stymies him, as he has no idea exactly to go about helping her control or enhance her gift, if, in fact, that is what’s going on.

Which is not to say she’s not gifted in other ways. She has a sense of humor which has seen her through countless horrific family tragedies, She’s very smart and her knowledge of the occult is deep and pervasive. She’s not eidetic but she HAS trained her memory to a frightening degree.  It’s just that real occult power has eluded her and it doesn’t look as if that’s going to change anytime soon.

The only thing in her life that is truly undeniably supernatural is that the ghost of her uncle Mike keeps a watchful eye on her. But because of her unique situation she herself can barely perceive him. She’s gotten better about it, and there is something to be said for the bond of blood between them that allows him to speak to her at all. It is instructive to note that her uncle Mike was an Army ranger. So when he does recon...it’s pretty thorough.

Collette has knocked around in supernatural circles since her late teens. She met her current mentor, a ceremonial magician named Emile Belasco, just before entering college and he encouraged her to pursue a degree in psychology.  He’s also encouraged her to join various occult groups that aren’t run by sociopaths, narcissists, or con artists.  As a result, Collette claims membership in about 8 separate groups. Emile thinks that maybe her inability to tap into the occult ability that she surely possesses may be psychological and that maybe some group will have a means to sidestep that mental block. Collette also earns a small amount of money as a tattoo artist. Between this job, her schoolwork, her extracurriculars with the various occult groups, and her fairly active sex life, she’s been leaning a little too much on gas station trucker’s speed to keep up with things.  Her housemates almost never see her

Attitude:  “Look. you guys...Unless we’re dealing with some kind of free-standing infrasonic phenomenon here, it’s not really safe for anyone to go into the house except maybe me. So...What say uncle Mike and I go take a look around and you guys keep watch out here until I get back or start screaming...Deal?”

Skills: Heavy dots in mentals, especially Resolve. She’s going to finish her degree early. Whether she means to press on and get a masters or a doctorate is still very much up in the air. She’s got good dots in Empathy and Expression, and as mentioned she has a very well trained memory and 4+ dots in Occult with plentiful specialties.  She’s got some science to back up some of her thinking. Her mentor is kind of a stickler for intellectual rigor.  She will likely develop trained observer (from the “Dogs of War” book). 

Gear: Her book bag is a morass of notebooks, small texts, witch supplies of varying efficiency, and the occasional can of pepper spray.  When on a “field trip” she also tend to take along a taser. Because you never know. She has a tiny Fiat which has been seen a lot of work over the years but still runs like a top and is still super-cute.

Home: Shares a four-plex with 3 girlfriends. She’s rarely there except to sleep, She does most of her studying at her Mentor’s place, or when he’s being a jerk, at Miss Virgie’s place.  (Miss Virgie keeps the sofa sleeper available for the girl and Collette has her own key to the garage door.)  She tries to make sure she stops into her four-plex at least once a day.  The other girls are terrified of Lawrence, her iguana.  None of them will feed him for her.  Lawrence, for his part, is a bit of an evil shit, so unless Collette is the one feeding him, he tends to act up.

Collette doesn’t actually have to work terribly hard to keep her head above water financially. Her wizard father put aside a fairly large trust fund for her when she was still an infant. She gains access to the rest of it when she gets her degree.

Circle: Collette is a known name in occult circles. She has friends in more traditional ends of psychological study and she also has a fairly wide circle of friends of the “Just Regular” college friends type.

Story Uses:

“Look. I could be way off base here but look at the wildflowers blooming in the backyard.  Red carnations... There is an aching heart at the center of this haunting.”

Collette knows that details matter and she knows it's better to have those details right in her head. She studies hard and can be an invaluable resource for players if they can get her to sit still long enough to hear the premise.

“It’s just another occult initiation rite. I’ll be fine. I’ve had dozens.”

Collette is a useful resource. and someone other than the players might figure that out too. They might decide that they want her on their payroll...exclusively.  And while Collette isn’t exactly easy to fool, she CAN get blind-sided. If some vampire gets his fangs into her, it might be all over.

Connections:

* As previously noted, is a member of the Paraphysical Research Society and a friend of Miss Virgie Hawkins. Miss Virgie is like the grandmother Collette never had and she loves that old woman unreservedly. Virgie feels much the same, although she occasionally has trouble with how open the young woman is about her sex life. She just wishes Collette was a little pickier about her men... Weirdly, Virgie can slightly sense Mike, and Mike seems to feel the same way about all that.

* On rare evenings off, she goes to The Witness. She doesn't much care who's playing, she's there to dance and maybe pick up some boy. She doesn't drink a lot, though. It might screw with her " I'll sleep tomorrow...maybe" drugs.

*Has bumped uglies with Schuyler Lavey. He's not all that and a side of fries, in her opinion. And he's certainly not worth her trust fund. Thanks, but no thanks.

*Took a class or two from Clarinda Hale. Linguistics is one of those few things that Collette really has to work at, so she's a tiny bit jealous of the woman's seemingly easy facility with ALL the FUCKING LANGUAGES.  Although, if Collette had a linguistics question about something, she'd go to Clarinda first.

* is a regular at The Grimoire. Likes making Bear laugh when she beats him at puns.

*One of her housemates works at The Caboose. Swears that Collette could make a mint there. It's likely true, but for the fact that while Collette has a fairly healthy libido, she doesn't really have an exhibitionistic streak AT ALL. Taking off her clothes for strangers is just a bridge too far for her.

Goodlow and Haversham: Our prices are insane!

Dearest Cassandra:

I should have listened to you. I should have stayed at home...I should have had a nice peaceful weekend at the country house. I should have stayed away from Cincinnati. God knows our track record here isn’t the best... But on occasion, I let my love of The Deal blind me to certain realities.  And now. I find myself in a coroners drawer freezing my bloody arse off.

Perhaps I should back up. This evening I was to conduct an auction for several interested parties. But as I was making my way to the venue, I was attacked by a young African American gentleman, wearing what I can only suppose are “Gang colours”  Tellingly, he didn’t seem interested in my watch or wallet or any palaver at all. He simply leaped out of an alley and unloaded his mac 10 at me. He didn’t even go through my pockets afterward.

It was, in my humble estimation, a hit. And no one seemed to bother with making it look like anything else.  His fusillade of gunfire brought attention near immediately, or I’d have crawled away to heal.  But as it was, I was riddled with so much lead that I was forced to play dead. 

It is only by sheer dumb luck, that my phone was not a casualty. So I’ve already arranged an extraction with the local vampires, from the gentle clutches of the coroner's office. Of course, this means I’ll be in hock to them, but it can’t be helped. Rafe has already been dispatched to secure our cargo container. I suspect he’ll want to run them all down like dogs in that endearingly psychotic way of his. But that will have to wait until after I have left the city proper. Obviously, I’m not going to take the risk of being seen after such an attempt on my life.  Cassie, do be a dear and when you receive this text message, dispatch someone to take the consignment  back to the auction venue and offer all my apologies for the delay.  I have attached the manifest below:

Love

-Desmond.

Demon Foetus:

Article Description: A gnarled and unnatural looking foetus with claws, a stubby tail, one open black eye and two tiny horns. It is encased in the largest Ball canning jar that they make, and is floating is formaldehyde.

Provenance: Picked it up at the monthly poker game. Frater Lawrence sends his love.

Analysis of the Research Team: Seems completely inert to magical probes, but the research team wasn’t exactly keen to determine whether or not the infant was still a material link to its parents.  I say, let someone else find out. 

Disposition: Not terribly useful, except maybe for parts in some unpleasant ritual. But I will say, it makes for a rather neat curio on some magi’s bookshelf.

The Jar of Antiquity:

Article Description:  A clay jar slightly larger than a human head with a beautiful red and blue geometric design around it’s exterior. Inside the jar are a collection of small white stones.

Provenance: Sold to us by the Banfield Progressive Magi Association.

Analysis of the Research Team:  I was intrigued by this one. The people at Banfield told me that the Jar’s stones each hold the memory of a single day in the life of a Hebrew goat-herder named Yashem.  The artifact only functions once for its user. It’s also not translated, and the dialect of Hebrew is a bit obscure. I got maybe one word in 4, but then I have more Yiddish than archaic Hebrew anyway.  It functions this way. a user takes a stone from the jar, puts it under his tongue, and then lays down and the magic unfolds like a long waking dream. My experiences of the ancient times were as follows:

1) Yashem hates goats and sheep in a way that only a goat herder can.

2) Paleo diet is bullshit.

3) At lunchtime, Yashem met with men who I can only assume were friends of his, and a long political discussion ensued. Most of them seemed to agree that their Rabbi is something of a shmuck. Beyond that, I didn’t get much.

4) There was wine. Quite a lot of it in fact.

5) It turns out Yashem’s wife Zipporah, is pretty hot in the sack.

The Banfield people feel that there is some deeper significance to this archive of this man’s memories. They’ve been dowsing the past trying to figure out exactly WHY this man’s memories were saved. But since there are hundreds of little white stones and only one ride to a customer, they’ve exhausted all of their membership and every single Hebrew scholar they could cajole into the trip. 

Disposition: I don’t know that there is much market for this. It’s a fascinating little mystery, that is only likely to be solved if the stupid thing keeps circulating. Tell anyone who purchases it, that the Banfield people are liable to come around and have questions for them. Mention that they’re completely harmless while you’re at it.

“Measure Twice, Cut once”

Article Description: A purple agate, apparently tumbled and smooth. Held in a silver wire with an eyelet connected to an unremarkable bit of cord, for going around the neck.

Provenance: Bodhi  (Met him some years ago just outside of Sri Lanka. One of the more talented dabblers I’ve run across. Seemingly capable of the most amazing feats of magic while ruinously stoned. Poor as a church mouse for some reason. Sold this to me because he’s trying to raise money for a particular Buddhist monastery. Apparently, the place needs a new roof.)

Analysis of the Research Team: Bodhi’s explanation was that he’d made a talisman that was a metaphorical representation of the concept, “Measure Twice,Cut Once.”  It was something of an experiment, but he liked the way it had turned out and he’d simply kept it long after he’d needed it.  As near as we’ve been able to discern it seem to give a slight advantage to certain types of crafting, although Oglethorpe found that he was able to access the enchantment while shooting. It seems to make a snap-shot into more of an aimed shot. There is a tendency for the user's ability to sense the passage of time, to slow down. It’s really quite interesting.

Disposition: This one is arcane enough, that I don’t imagine there will be too many people clamoring for it. The right sort of customer will come along for this. When that happens is anybody’s guess. 

Tibetan Binding Coffin:

Article Description: A wooden coffin assembled from a cunningly put together series of wooden slats. It’s like a puzzle box almost, in the shape of a coffin.  Will hold a human sized  prisoner up to about 6’8”. Supposedly assembled by blind monks from somewhere near Lhasa. Potent binding magic. Even our least sensitive researchers can feel them.

Provenance: Sent by the monks as an introduction. It seems they may be going into business for themselves. Good for them I say.

Analysis of the Research Team: Anyone placed inside the coffin will go to sleep and will sleep uninterrupted until the coffin is reopened. The magic doesn’t seem to provide any life support, though, so mortal creatures will still breath and either run out of oxygen or simply die from dehydration.  But supernatural creatures will likely simply become inert until the coffin is reopened. The Rinpoche assured me that the binding spells could hold a god. But not having one on the research staff...We couldn’t actually test that.

Disposition: Comes with a warranty, if you can believe that. I couldn’t.  Also, the Monks wanted me to know that they can do larger than a standard sized coffin...Just in case you need to bind something big. But that they need a bit of lead time for such projects.

“Regurgitation Science for the beginner” By Sri Syadasty Dipivod

Provenance: One of our government friends. Payback for that thing in Des Moines.

Desc:A slim volume, with black and white, and color plates. The pictures are a bit stomach turning, as you might imagine, but this is frankly one of the most interesting books I have read in a long while. This book is a completely non-magical tutorial in the Indian fakir art of swallowing articles, and then being able to regurgitate them on demand. I looked this Dipivod up. Apparently, he was an Indian fakir who came to America and got himself a job in show business in the 1920’s.  Could do ten minutes of sword swallowing, swallowing an ivory ball over and over. swallowing multiple small objects and then regurgitating them out of order.  and finally, swallowing a small amount of kerosene chased by a gallon of water. He had a small metal castle on stage with him which had a small fire source in its center. As the blow-off of his act, he would expectorate the petrol onto the castle causing the flames to leap up, and then upchuck the water to dramatically douse the flames. Believe me, In the 1920’s this could have been a real act.  It’s not even the weirdest thing I’ve SEEN on a broadway stage.  Dipivod may have taught certain things to Houdini.  I was saddened to discover that he was working on a book on how to induce catalepsy in oneself, only to actually expire.  I made certain to add a copy of this book to our digital archive. 

Genre: “Stupid Human Tricks”

Rarity: I am reliably told by Rafe Cumberland that the CIA has a copy of this book somewhere to train agents in the means of infiltrating a place with seemingly no tools, only to regurgitate them later for the purposes of sabotage or escape. They may also possess the remainder of the catalepsy manuscript.

Additional Notes: We’ve made some inquiries in espionage circles that we are aware of, but so far no takers. Don’t be surprised if you can’t move this. I, personally think this is fascinating, but I’m old and somewhat jaded.

Masonic Ring

Article Description: A masonic ring in an older style ,I would say, dating from the late 1800’s. Sized for a large man’s hand.

Provenance: Estate sale in Haverford. One of our stringers picked it up. 

Analysis of the Research Team: Allows it’s wearer to see in total darkness, also, the team discovered that it is very difficult for the wearer to become lost as a clear mental image of the steps taken while wearing the ring, stays in the wearer’s forebrain. The points of the compass on the ring can actually be pushed together. When this is done, a small stub of metal protrudes from the side of the ring.  Look like the business end of a handcuff key, but with a couple more flanges on the end.

Disposition: Probably another wild goose chase, but there are some people who really enjoy Pate. Who am I, to say them “Nay”.

7 baby food jars filled with puffer fish distillate

Article Description: Just what it says on the tin.

Provenance:Ettienne Richet.  (I heard he got himself in a spot of trouble. Sent this to me for quick cash. If the other Boccor’s found out, Well. I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes.

Analysis of the Research Team: When blown into the face of an unsuspecting target cause 48 hours of a death-like state, a kind of horrific paralysis, which leaves the senses alone.  Coupled with a burial and the sensory deprivation of being buried underground can cause horrible traumatic hallucinations, leaving the victim in a traumatized and somewhat suggestible state.

Use is not for the faint of heart. Although I am told there are still medical institutions that would give their eye-teeth to acquire this material and untangle its secrets for much safer surgery.

Disposition: Keep this on the down-low. Sell only to people you know, and can trust to keep their damn fool mouth shut.

Virginia Hawkins

Concept: Sweet old lady with something extra.

AKA: known to most as “Miss Virgie”  or “Mrs. Hawkins”  Maiden name Spencer.

Desc: Blue tint in the hair. Get’s it “did” every two weeks. Spectacles on a chain around her neck. Needing to step up her prescription soonish.Doesn’t drive anymore because her night vision is for shit. Decent posture. Walks a lot still and she’s in decent health for a woman in her 70s. Soft pleasant eyes and smile.  The kind of woman, who keeps candy in her bag and a tissue up her sleeve.

History: Sometimes, the things that can shape our lives are so very subtle. Take Virgie for example. Middle girl of 5 siblings. Virgie just always seemed to know things.  It’s not as if she’s genius smart. (although she is VERY smart and you’d do well not to underestimate her.) She just has a sense about people.  It’s not flashy. It’s not like some wild psychic power which overpowers the senses or anything like that. It’s just that when she touches a person she gets an intuition which speaks up, in her own mental voice no less, giving her information. “This person means to kill themselves tonight.”  “This person wants to fuck you rather badly.”  “This person is struggling with her alcoholism”   Stuff like that.  Hell. As subtle as it is, Virgie didn’t actually recognize for the longest time that not everyone has it.  It took the longest time to even recognize that she had something unusual.

A person like Virginia has always been one to lean into her gifts and despite her up close and intimate understanding of human nature, still likes to believe the best of people, while not exactly being naïve about them at all. She worked as a secretary for a private investigator straight out of a high school. Between the read she could get on clients and Mike Hawkins actual investigative ability, the firm did well. Mike eventually married her and gave her three kids of her own.

   Mike was terrible with money. He had a heart as big as all outdoors, but he was nutty for buying new surveillance electronics.  Virgie however was pretty good with money, She raised the kids, made sure that no one went hungry (including Mike), and salted away money for rainy days.  And it was good that she did because Mike passed away in his 50’s from a pulmonary embolism. Considering the way he smoked, it was hardly a surprise, but it was still a rude shock.

So Virginia, in her later years found herself back on the job market after a long layoff. Deciding it was better to work for herself than someone else, She took some of that salted away money and bought part ownership in a bar near the Precinct house.

    And in truth, she liked slinging drinks. I mean, Bartenders are practically EXPECTED to offer advice.  Heck only the really young beat officers don’t know who Miss Virgie is. And there isn’t a single older officer on the force who doesn’t have a story about that uncanny old lady who helped them solve a case, or who helped them navigate the waters of a tough time.

    In fact, Virginia probably would have gone to her grave without really knowing the true nature of her intuition if it hadn’t been for an incident on the bus.  I mean, if you’ve lived with that for a long time, you could just chalk up those intuitions to a long career in private investigation and to slinging drinks for a living. (The bar does well enough that she bought out her partner years ago.)  But some intuitions seem to go deeper than an easy explanation. And that was the case the afternoon she accidentally bumped into that fellow on the bus and her inner voice spoke up and said, “This man is a serial killer and he has the leg of a missing secretary in his freezer.”

It’s just good that Virginia has always been good at poker. Her face didn’t give her away.

She hasn’t seen that man on the bus since, but the idea of him has haunted her and made her decide to learn more about her gifts. Shockingly, Virgie has gotten pretty adept at business over the years. It’s not as if she has any special insight into how stocks and bonds work or anything like that.  But she CAN, with a short meeting, determine whether a broker is smart, competent, honest, and has no problem with hookers and cocaine.  That makes a difference.  As a result, Virgie lives pretty comfortably and she’s repurposed Mike’s den and the adjoining garage into the meeting space for a group called the “Paraphysical Research Society” A group of wanna-be ghost busters and occultism enthusiasts.

The big question is, when will this group run headlong into something that puts them FAR out of their depth. Her eldest son, Eldon has already been floating the idea that maybe she’s gone senile and that these “Ghost humpers” are simply soaking her for the rest of the inheritance. The back half of this thesis is easy enough to buy, but nobody who actually has met Virgie and spoken with her for any length of time believes her to be senile. Not even a little bit.  Even Eldon doesn’t really believe it, but he is certainly alarmed at this seemingly weird phase his mother has entered at this late stage in her life.

Attitude: “Dearie. I know you want me to tell you that this is all very simple.  But it’s not. The world has a lot of moving parts and they don’t seem to get greased as regularly as they should. As a result, occasionally, things like this happen. But give us an opportunity to do our work and maybe we can make the walls of this house stop bleeding.  Ok sweetheart?”

Skills:  A lifelong love of detective fiction, being married to a P.I. and talking with hundreds of cops has given Mrs. Hawkins an astounding 4+ dots of investigation with a specialty  in evidence handling. She’s also got crazy high dots in Empathy and Subterfuge. (playing poker with her is an invitation to getting your wallet vacuumed)  Her touch sensitivity functions much like a combination of Aura Perception and Psychometry powers in vampiric auspex. Except that the information is simply her back-brain speaking up in her own mental voice.  In addition, she’s begun to notice that if a place has a particular aura, that it tends to color her own personal emotional state. She’s started paying more attention to that, especially on ghost hunts.

In addition, to these abilities, She’s still a decent shot with a light pistol, Has a garden that puts most to shame and has the best  oatmeal no-bake cookies, quite possibly in the world. Her social attributes are considerable and her Mentals are nothing to sneeze at.  

Gear: Virgie used to tote an enormous purse before twinges of bursitis in her shoulder put paid to that. The purse she carries now normally has a cell phone. (Her daughters insisted) Her nickel plated 38 (100 shells at the range every month.) and a metal flask with decent whiskey in it. Spare glasses, a packet of tissues, life savers, Her wallet, her tiny notebook, and a spray can of mace round out the rest of purse.

Home: Virgie has a lovely home in burbs furnished with books and plants. She’s got a black Scottish terrier named Mac, (Short for McTavish,named for an old cop friend).  Her Olds Delta 88 in is the garage and is still in decent shape, but she rarely drives it anymore.  The aforementioned den has become a welter of occult tomes and tchotchkes (Don’t worry, MOST of them are entirely harmless...)  She’s even got a housekeeper named Marta who comes around once a week to pick up the place. (Eldon insisted, mainly because it’s his way of keeping an eye on mom.)

Circle:Mike, could occasionally be a real dick sometimes. So as a result, Virginia got in the habit of going around behind him and doing some spadework, to keep people from killing him.  As a result, most of Mike’s P.I. and cop friends became Virgie's too in short order.  Her many years slinging drinks at “Hanlon's” The cop bar in this town has netted her a fairly pervasive influence among local cops.  She is beginning to put her considerable social acumen into making contact with the occultist sub-culture in the city.  She's occasionally disheartened by how many of them turn out to be full of shit.

Story Uses:

“Children...I’m catching a bad feeling here...”

People tend to learn to listen to Miss Virgie. In personal conversation she seems like she knows your soul, and in the field, it’s likely to save your life. Dismiss her as a daffy old woman at your peril.

“Don’t worry. I’m confident we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

She’s confident, She’s optimistic.  She has a positive attitude that is fairly unusual in occultist circles. (They tend to be a grim bunch.) and she’s convinced that the occult world can be understood and dealt with, as long as you pay attention and do your homework. Needless to say, she hasn’t exactly bumped into vampires, or werewolves yet.

Connections:

* Knows Rika Martinez and her best friend Latrice from riding the bus. Occasionally, they get into interesting conversations. Rika has a something going on, and for once, her inner voice just doesn't seem to understand exactly.  all it seems to say is, "She has a very old soul." And this seems to be born out by the nature of some of their conversations. She seems to know things that a teen shouldn't.

* Doesn't know it, but her housemaid Marta also works for Payton Breckinridge. It's a simple coincidence because Virgie knows Payton independently. She's taken Mac to Payton's veterinary concern when he started having trouble with his teeth.

* Is related by marriage to Marcie Hawkins. Marcie's father was a brother to Mike, making her his niece. Since Mike's brother died relatively young, He didn't really have any knowledge of her at all. It will be interesting to see what would happen if they met and Virgie's inner voice spoke up.

* Has met Schuyler Lavey. The things she learned from shaking his hand made her want to take a shower. Schuyler considers her a dilettante and not a very smart or talented one at that. This is EXACTLY what Virgie wants him to think.

* Has seen Special Agent Owen Maccready at the shooting range a few times. He's fascinated by the old lady who seems to know ALL the local cops, who shoots fairly well, and who seems interested in a lot of the same stuff. For her part. Virgie likes the young man. "He's fishing in the dark...but he means well, bless his heart."

* Has served more than a couple of drinks to Norman Cayce,  Officer Honus Brightwater, and Detective Bela Janofski.  Brightwater is headed for a bad end in her opinion, but she's still sweet as pie to him because she senses his rotten temper. She likes the other two just fine. She thinks Norman should probably see somebody about meds for depression.

* Regular readers of this blog have already sussed out that the maniac she brushed up against on the bus was, of course, Lewis Flowers. Lewis sensed...something...But being relatively unschooled in his new senses, he couldn't determine exactly what. If they encounter one another again...No telling what could happen.

* Is a regular down at The Grimoire. They love her there. Even Noel. The world's best no-bake oatmeal cookies will cut through a lot of ambivalent teen angst. I'm just saying.  If Miss Virgie were to meet a bad end, there is a section of the occult underground that would want to DO something about it.