2596/Daytalker

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Daytalker
Date of Scene: 24 July 2020
Location: GCPD Headquarters - Midtown
Synopsis: Ariah Olivie heads to Gotham Central for an interview/consultation following the discovery of a ritually murdered woman who looked just like her. Much is learned.
Cast of Characters: Jim Gordon, Ariah Olivie




Jim Gordon has posed:
First shift at Gotham Central is the precinct's busiest, as everyone tries to catch up with the previous night's open cases while also dealing with the surge of new incidents from diurnal life.

There's some buzz in a conference room near one of the bullpens--several large whiteboards are set up, with a number of photos and printed documents taped to the boards and just as many assorted arcane-looking symbols and words written out.

Five or six detectives seem to be discussing the information in an interested, or perhaps frustrated, manner. Among the crowd is police commissioner James Gordon, who offers some words and drops a stack of folders onto one of the conference tables.

"Keep me updated," he can be heard saying as he steps out of the conference room and moves through the bullpen toward a large staircase near the entrance to the building, maneuvering around the growing crowds of officers, handcuffed perpetrators, and potential victims also navigating that space.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    As requested, bright and early, Ariah is present at the precinct. Prompt and punctual, she's there five minutes early. She still has her book satchel, likely having done some trading as she wandered the streets. She doesn't look like she's changed, but it also doesn't look like she slept in her clothes.

    She's still looking rather immaculate, as if frozen in time from the night before. Even the officer who may have checked her ID and run her data could see that the picture is a perfect 1:1 match. Not a hair out of place, no half-blinks, no oddities one might find on the average ID photo.

    But she waits. She'd left her name and told the counter clerk that she was told to be here.

Jim Gordon has posed:
Gordon nearly passes by when he spots Ariah. He stops and looks around. "Miss--have they not taken you back yet?" With a pursing of his lips, Gordon exhales loudly through his nostrils. "Come with me." He gestures to the counter clerk. "She's with me."

The clerk holds up a visitor's badge, which the commissioner takes to hand to Ariah. "Follow me, please." He takes a step and looks back at the woman. "You know, I don't think I got your name."

Winding back through the bullpen, Gordon leads Ariah to the conference room. "Based on what you mentioned last night, we've got some questions for you. We've called in some help from experts, too, but given your, ah, visual connection to the victim ... the knowledge could be very helpful to us. To figure out what's going on."

Inside, the detectives turn to regard the commissioner's return, and they each offer a distinct--if similar--response to seeing Ariah, all at the same time.

"No shit...!"
"--gotta be related--"
"--practical joke--"
"--sister?"

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    As requested, Ariah stands, and begins to follow. She takes the badge and attaches it somewhere conspicuous and tags along behind Jim. "Ariah," she states in response to his question about her name. But she still follows.

    Winding, wandering, she stays in step behind the Commissioner, not once deviating from the path even if her head does turn this way and that to examine the rooms and halls and of course, the people. So many scents, so many heartbeats. Good thing she ate before coming in this morning.

    And then the situation room. So many people. So many sudden commemts about her appearance. She turns to Jim, the diminutive woman craning her neck a bit as she's rather close, and meets his eyes. "...no one on one?"

    Slowly, she turns her head and body to take in the sight of the other detectives. "...I will answer what I can," she states in that cold, accented voice before turning back to Gordon. "...but it is you alone I prefer to answer."

Jim Gordon has posed:
One of the detectives barely manages to stifle a chuckle, rolling it into a cough drowned by a chugging of coffee.

"Sorry about that," the detective mumbles. "Allergies're bad today."

Gordon places his hands on his hips and clears his throat. "Alright, everyone. Ariah here seemed to have some familiarity with the scene. Not so much the victim or the like, but rather she recognized some of the ritual aspects of the murder."

He looks to Ariah. "I'm not sure that's possible, and the info you provide could be helpful to prevent any further deaths--assuming this wasn't an isolated incident." He shakes his head. "But if the crowd's too large to deal with, I can get Driver here to take you to a room to chat." Gordon nods at the whiteboards. "But the visual aids could help, too, for reference."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah fixes an icy glare on the one detective in particular before looking back to Gordon. She does nod when he suggests her familiarity with the rituals, but blinks up at him again.

    "It is you alone whom I wish to speak," she reiterates, before again turning to appraise the crowd. "...but I will answer what I can..." she repeats, suggesting she might trust the Commissioner more than the gathered group.

    "Tell me of your experts," she nods, then gestures to the whiteboard, a small swirl of her finger. "I told you they thought she was me. Ask me your questions... more lives are at risk otherwise..." she seems to at least understand the sentiment in the request for her cooperation.

Jim Gordon has posed:
Gordon adjusts his eyeglasses. "We've reached out to several occult studies departments at universities in the region. I believe we'll have at least one faculty member from Gotham State coming in later today."

One of the detectives clears her throat. "Ariah. I understand you mentioned something about witches and vampires, given the victim's waterlogged body and the stake. The stake seems kind of obvious, I guess--but how'd you come to the conclusion on the witch part?"

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "Water," Ariah says quietly, shaking her head. "...superstition. Water makes witches melt. It doesn't. Storm rituals are very potent..." she explains quietly, then gestures to the board.

    She moves over to it, indicating the copies of the glyphs from the murder scene. "...power sealing, immobilizing... a trap for traditional witchcraft..." she says quietly. Her brow furrows though she maintains a straight face.

    Then she begins to simply remove some of the images from the board, "...none of these do anything..." she explains.

    When all is said and done, all that remains are the pictures from the crime scene and maybe one complete runic symbol from somewhere else. A few phrases remain, too.

    "..theirs was too small.. would not have worked on me.." she murmurs.

Jim Gordon has posed:
"Would you mind repeating that last bit?" another of the detectives asked. "I'm not sure I heard you right..."

The detective who'd chuckled before rubs his chin and chimes in. "So this is all about superstition? Or maybe the witch equivalent of a turf war? Or someone hunting witches--or vampires--or whatever?"

Gordon scratches at his nose. "It's worth noting that not /everything/ was eliminated here, in terms of the strange writing. That would suggest someone who's got at least /some/ sort of awareness of this domain of knowledge." He glances at Ariah, his eyebrows raised. "Right?"

"Should we have a protective detail on Ariah here?" yet another detective asks, also glancing at Ariah. "I mean, the vic looks /just/ like you. They might be after you."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "Their seal was too small. It would not have worked on me," she states, matter-of-factly. "...I am not that type of witch..." Ariah explains, then nods to Detective Chuckles.

    "...amateur monster hunters..." she answers, "...basic knowledge, inferior tools... the woman may have tried to fight back but she was only human... they would have thought the seal working because she had nothing to seal..." she murmurs.

    Regarding Gordon's query on knowledge, she cants her head to the side, then nods once. "...just enough to be dangerous... fanatics... greater good, grace of God..." she murmurs though the last phrase makes her grimace, like it's a bitter taste on her tongue.

    To the request on protecting her, though, Ariah looks to the detective and shakes her head. "...they are no threat to me... not these... I can take handle myself..."

    Another glance around the room, "...more questions?" she asks, though she hasn't even indicated anything that proves her claims otherwise.

Jim Gordon has posed:
There's definitely a shared look between the detectives as Ariah speaks, and that look reads 'this is some weird stuff for the day shift'.

Everyone's quiet for a long moment before Chuckles opens his mouth again. "So what type of witch /are/ you?" he asks quietly.

Gordon shakes his head, looking down. "Fanatics are the last thing we need. And until we know how many there are, we'll have to try and round up as much info as we can." He points to two of the detectives. "Childs. Perez. You get to visit new-age and religious stores. Find out if there are any meetups or clubs or the like for this sort of thing."

"Driver. You get to read up on witches," Gordon continues. "And Ogboka and Turner--you're going to chat with the occult specialists we've got coming in. Maybe that'll help us narrow down the, ah, monster hunters."

He looks to Ariah. "Assuming you are what you say you are ... how many others are there like you? That is, how many targets might these fanatic monster hunters have to hunt down?"

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    The question from Chuckles does little more than earn a shrug from Ariah. "...I am just the sort that I am... I like books and music... what kind of detective are you?" she responds cryptically. As if that answers everything.

    But she waits for Gordon to pass out orders and requests, listening to the ideas and the suggestions, the plans for expanding the investigation. And then attention is back on her. Again, she lifts her shoulders in a small shrug.

    "...witches do not have a census... monsters congregate like humans... I am me, and I am only one me, and I do not advertise with a cape and tights..." she says, suggesting monsters and mages and mutates are, well. As numerous as they really are.

    "Anyone and everyone can be in danger. Such is the world and the nature of humans..." she murmurs quietly, then considers other spoken words. "...is there a burden of proof to show what I am?"

Jim Gordon has posed:
"No, no, no," Gordon quickly states, waving off the question. "No need to show anything. We're just talking through our options right now. These fine detectives investigate, which means asking questions. But that doesn't mean you have to demonstrate anything in order to answer those questions."

He clears his throat. "I've got a great deal to attend to, but if there's anything else you can share that might help us catch those responsible, this crew is ready to hear it."

The detectives nod, murmuring agreement.

"Thank you again for coming in," Gordon says, and pivots on one heel to leave.

One of the detectives points to the whiteboards. "So everything still up there is /real/?" she asks skeptically.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah slowly nods when Gordon begins to wave off the idea of proving anything. She watches the man and looks around, "...other targets? Or me. Bait." She suggests, another shrug. "If they want me, they can try. And follow their thread..."

    She trails off, nodding to Jim, "Merci.. I will do what I can.." Then the detective speaks up. Even in a world full of mutants and monsters and costumed oddities, some things are still too wild to believe.

    To that detective, she approaches the board again, "...glyph of sealing..." she gestures to the one from the prior night. Then the other, "...runes of protection..." she explains. Any further skepticism is met with her reaching up towards the ceiling, to one of the light fixtures. Her eyes close and she seems like she's 'feeling' out the building's current before curling her fingers. The bulb flickers as tendrils of blue-white stretch down to reach her hand, coiling like threads around her digits. Runes that seem to be etched in bone, under her skin, flicker to life as she 'sips' from the relatively low voltage coming from the lighting fixture. The symbols resemble the ones from the the 'rune of protection' she'd indicated.

    The gathered energy illuminates her arm through those runes, brilliant blue-whiteness that collects into a sphere in her hand. Then all at once, the sphere turns into a weapon, a shining spear. She thumps the blunt end on the floor, a resounding noise like a heavy mug or cup made of glass can be heard. THUNK.

    Then it's gone. Turned to luminous dust that she seems to absorb through her skin, the symbols on her arm pulsing faintly to what one could imagine the beating of a heart. Slowly her eyes open, there's a purple glow in those dull greys.

    "...not the same kind of witch... I don't usually advertise"

Jim Gordon has posed:
Most of the detectives stand up, backing away from Ariah as she demonstrates her abilities, their hands moving to the holsters on their hips.

Chuckles, though, sits agape. Silent for several beats, he finally spits out his thoughts: "What the /fuck/?!"

There's a bit of awkward laughter, and one of the detectives offers a thin smile to Ariah. "You can say that again. I think that's all we need for now. But while you don't /need/ protection, it might be worthwhile to have some officers nearby for a bit, just in case someone comes after you and we can make these arrests easier." The detective nods back toward the front counter. "You can hand the badge back to the clerk on your way out. And thank you again for coming, really."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    The moving hands and the reactions are likely to be expected, and Ariah slowly meets the eyes of the detectives who had been reaching for their sidearms. She blinks owlishly, exhaling a quiet sigh. "...your bullets would be wasted on me..." she suggests.

    "...that fear reaction... is what gets people killed..." a nod to the board. "I exist therefor I must be destroyed, and it drives men to kill for their twisted moral compass..." It's all spoken so soft, but the chill in her voice makes it so cold, words cutting like a shard of ice, accent adding to the effect.

    "I am harmless, I will help," she states simply, then moves to depart the station.