It wasn't terribly difficult to ascertain the murderer. One Albert Finlay, a junior data analyst that had disappeared from work several weeks earlier. Some form of mental collapse had taken place, his poor work habits pushed the company to suspend him prior to medical treatment. He hadn't shown up as requested, and until the murder scene no one seem to have seen or heard from him. Now his victim on the other hand, little information was available on him. No information seemed available on this apparent alias prior to it's first appearance five years ago.
"So it appears we have a man who lapsed into insanity, sought out a ghost, and then runs off in the one direction where it'll be difficult to follow." His summarized quickly.
"What do you mean the 'one direction'? She responded.
"With the traffic cams it would have been easy to follow him towards Boston or Pittsburgh. Instead he headed out of the city towards the countryside."
"The country? Like towards Arkham? That's not exactly the country."
"Yeah, but it's far enough off the grid that we're gonna have to work with Arkham's police. They're not exactly my favorite to work with. There's something off about them. Kinda twitchy you know?"
"Not really. I've never been out that way. What makes them so twitchy?"
"They're always suspicious of our motives. Think we're too big government, or have large corporate interests instead of the people. I don't know, they are hard to trust, and easy to spook."
"From what I hear of the area, they're sort of famous for their superstitions and religion. Maybe that has something to do with their hesitancy of outsiders?"
"Whatever the case, I suppose we'll need to head down that way. This ghost looks like he may also have a connection to the area." He dismissed the speculation.
The rise of these superstitious moving into the city had him uncomfortable. Gangs he could deal with. They were predictable. Rash murders, were foreseeable. But all of this cultish fervor was unpredictable. Why kill this guy? Why leave so many clues around, and leave the cash he had laying about? He was clearly looking for something, but if he found it or not there's no way of knowing. Lets hope their cops cooperate, he thought, gonna need all the help he can get.
How'd he get out in an alleyway? Last he knew he had been researching in a musty old house, and now he seemed to awaken from a deep sleep, though he never remembered falling asleep. Looking around he had his satchel with him, and a few littered plastic bags left around him, and a few scorches left in a semi-circle. He picked himself off and left down the alley. Until a few shrouded characters turned down the alleyway. Looking back was a dead end, so he headed down a side alley trying out all the doors in the dim lamp light, with little success. He hit another dead end, turned back around to see them closing off the exit, heading right towards him.
One started chanting while the other approached him. As he approached he pulled a knife from beneath the robes. He kept a distance between them, but made it clear of his intent if he made a run for it. The man decided to ignore the robed mans warnings and approached him, pulling out a jar from his bag. he said a few words before throwing the bottle at the robed mans feet. He had no time to react before the blue cloud swallowed him with nothing but fire scorching the walls and the glass remained. Seeing his companion gone, the other quickly finished his motions as the victim was approaching him. A blackness surrounded the victim before vanishing leaving him unconscious upon the ground.
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