Butchers of Barker Bay

October 30, 2017:

(R-Rated for gore) Cyberforce seeking a renegade SHOC discover a terrible incident. A hunt begins.

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

Rhode Island, Barker Bay

A three-hour drive north of New York the little township of Barker Bay captures the essence of small town charm. Covered in historic preserved Coastal craftsman style homes and shops it maintains it's proud characistics. Relatively unspoiled, unchanged and peaceful. Until today.

Heavy rain pours down upon the two story structures and dark paved roads that bleed in and out of eye appealing cobble. The waves crash up and around the docks, water churning as ringlets pop everywhere on it's surface with descending drops. The rainfall consistent and thick enough it forms a natural mist to fog.

Rural yet a tourist stop Barker Bay rarely manages to get much traffic especially on days like this. The intracoastal waterway through here allows boaters and commercial vessels to travel through but wharfs and docks here can only support to a certain size, it forces inland travel or smaller third party transport. All helpful to the quaint fisherman city.

The township from it's welcome sign "Barker Bay"
"Historic site of the Alptr the Viking Swan. An undiscovered Haven."

The van is pulled up just outside the town's only gas station that sits just outside the turn off in to Cape Swan or south towards the highways that lead further north or south to New York.

Ripclaw's nose curls under the brim of his cowboy hat. He doesn't say anything about what he smells other than a rough, "Be careful." To Carin, his jacket being drawn around the bulk of his shoulders as he looks past a wave of dark hair through the rain and in to the 'coastal hamlet'.

***

Carin steps out and into the rain, she does not sport a hat, nor anything seemingly fitting for the ice cold coastal torrent of rain. Jeans do not fit, she borrowed piece-meal bits of left over clothing or what was given.

Torn jeans are held up on slender waist by a belt that did not have enough notches to even latch on, it is wrapped and tucked through a loop to keep the jeans up, but they are like capri's in length, though they should not be. So cuffed like a 'boyfriend' jean, the hem of ankles hover just above the lacing of boots that remains loose, the sides gaping outwards like wilting flower petals. A flannel shirt of green and gold (gasp!) was also huge, but she turned it into a snug-fitting midriff, knotted just beneath the bow of sternum, thrust in the stretch of arms overhead, one sleeve slumping down along slender arm while bright red hair is blasted by a wave of rain fall and darkens in a plaster against the side of her face bearing the inked bolt over one eye.

"I could have run here faster and kept the feeling in my ass," A point in emphasis. "A spring was poking me the entire ride. I think this van needs to have us sign a waiver…"

All jesting aside Ripclaw's 'words of warning-wisdom' have her pointedly staring at him.

"Huh…" Annyywwaayyyy… "I need some jerky." It almost looks like a dance move worthy of the Step Up 2 final dance. A burst of speed, a slide to cast a wave from a puddle of the rain and a spin to pivot it Ripclaw's way. A cock of wrist in a record-scratch motion and Vel smiles his way.

"I got this…." Riiigghhhttt… Bounce

***

"You also would have drawn a lot more attention and your GPS doubtful can keep up with you." The van gets a 'clank' 'clank' pat from Ripclaw, "Plus you going to carry all our gear and snacks? You'll learn to appreciate the van."

Ripclaw makes a grunt sound at the puddle splash up his leg otherwise no show or retaliation his attention fixated beyond them and in to the township of Barker Bay.

A swing set creaks with the wind one swing present the other hanging half from a chain, the winds carrying the rain sideways causing the merry-go-round to wheel slowly. The breeze picking up. "This way." The broad shouldered Native murmurs and turns to the east, away from the house out front with the playground and towards what classifies as 'main street'.
No lights, doors opening and closing with the elements, a dog can be heard barking somewhere, likely chained up and hungry. No signs of active human life.
Passing the Cotton Insurance Agency something out of place suspends on the window; a handprint. A smear of red fingers and palm.

***

Carin is gone, getting her jerky, and back just after Robert is on the winal syllable of 'w-aaayyy'.

The bag is dug into, a piece of jerky chewed as she slows beside him and holds a piece his way, waving it like bait.

"Gps doesn't need to keep up, I can just view the directions and leave it in my pock—-" The creepy creak of an empty playground has Vel staring between plastered red strands, eye slightly widening as a final chew has her looking back at Robert.

"—- et." A swallow. "Remind me why we are here right now? I know Halloween is great for people like us to get out and not be looked at funny, but I think I am missing something."

A reflection in the window of Cotton Insurance places the 'bloody' handprint just over her lightning bolt on her face. "Or this is the best haunted town ever! You're doing this on purpose, make us have fun, right?! …. Right…?" She's about to stab him with that jagged piece of jerky.

***

"Stop assaulting me with jerky already." Ripclaw thrusts his hand out and pushes open the old door, the chime sound inside audible past the pelting of rain slapping against the structure. The door needing shoved harder to slide something weighted on the other side out of the way; at least enough room that Velocity can squeeze inside. Ripclaws has quite a bit more girth to him to deal or he could just rip the door off. Which he does.

"Two people dead in here." He says quietly to Velocity.

Dead is putting it nicely. The woman who made it as far as the window dangles from what was once a hanging chandelier and fan, one of the lights turned in to a hook. Her skin on thighs, sides, arms stomach and back peeled down exposing the inside.
The object that was behind the door the lower portion of a man's body; his torso propped up in his chair still. Bare from navel up; entrails still connected upper to lower with eyes wide open and terror stricken, mouth agape, it looks as though his tongue was ripped out of his mouth.
"Disgusting."
"If you want to step outside go ahead. Actually it might be best if you did a quick sweep… but stay in contact. Don't engage anything or anyone you encounter without my backup."

***

Yep. Jerky suddenly became…

Disgusting

The piece that assaulted Ripclaw is dropped at the door as it is cracked open and the smell assaults her.

A blur and she is inside before he rips the door from its hinges, and back out, the bg of jerky dropped into a puddle of blood just beneath entrails while she is bent at the knees where elbows prop and keep her wavering-yet-aloft in the rain. It's cold, it's awakening, it's clean. Eve if she is about to lose her snack' in it. Unexpected, much?

Parted lips bear teardrops of rain and salted mixture to fall just before the toes of booted feet, a flash of those green eyes Ripclaw's way and Velocity nods, A firmer affirmation than needed to end in lashes over her pale jawline before she rights and stares out over the small town.

"On it." From playfully unknowing to business, Velocity rights herself, no longer at play like the youth she always seems to fit 'in the bottle' of. But now, she has gone beyond being a Cyber-Genie and into the woman she is supposed to be, without certain 'receptors' of SHOC(K) turned off.

All Ripclaw is left with is that glance and the sweep of the back of her wrist over her lower lip /slowly/…

Gone Girl.

Moments of silence, and then…

"Dead."

"Dead"
"Dead"
"Deceased"
…Barking silenced…

Outside of the Insurance Agency, Velocity sits with a Mutt Dog, that sopping bag of jerky torn open like a bowl for the animal to eat while ribs thrust from heaving sides.

"All gone…." No, not the jerky…

***

Butchered, tortured, flayed, nothing in this town lives. The dog itself may be the sole survivor. Whatever evil had descended on this town left carnage in it's wake. A massacre of not just dozens but hundreds and they left it behind for a reason. They wanted the world to see it.
"Yes, there is nothing but death and sadness here." Ripclaw says quietly.
"The ones who did this have to be found and dealt with. This is almost too messy to have been Cyberdata. Not even Killjoy could have done this much… alone." That says he wouldn't put this level of depraved below her.

"I can track them, this is too much of an area not to have left something behind." A hand flexes, claws slide together with a scrape of metal-on-metal then as violent as they look they go gentle, caressing through the rescued mutt's scruff.

"We are limited on contacts in to make this just disappear safely… we should probably burn this whole town. No one needs to see this and the authorities will turn this in to a public nightmare. If it's a fire we can at least buy ourselves some time."
Maybe Ripclaw is being selfish or too sentimental. Hearing it out loud sounds crazy to him. He studies Carin, curious what her opinion is on this but also some part of him wishes the others where here. A decisive Heatwave wouldn't have the second guessing that Ripclaw does right now and could light this place up with much more ease.

***

The Mutt does not seem to budge, even as plastic wrap crinkles beneath Velocity's fingers and opens the torn ends like….

A glance towards the Insurance door where Ripclaw shadows the entry on her words, but her eyes do not linger, instead her fingers curl into the plastic wrap and turn a jerked meat feast into a water bowl for the Mutt to lap from. No hesitation from the animal as Ripclaw reaches down to offer it affection, it is more than happy to accept everything they offer.

A deep breath is drawn in, and for a moment there is a waver in Carin's tone, that small voice snuffed to the back of larynx in a squeak that has the soaked Mutt looking up between them and licking its maw… A flash of teeth.

A small smile and Velocity scruffs its jowls, a massage as her forehead meets the mutts.

"Trace the path, and burn it all behind us." A pause as she rises and looks at the unhinged door to the small borough beyond, a hand smearing hair from her face to tuck a strand behind her ear. "Let me carry the propellant?" As she has already been to each corner and can be sure it is covered in gasoline.

"We will move faster that way." Please do not put her back in that van seat…

***

"Propellant? Who talks like that." Ripclaw teases just a little. Trying to lighten things a bit. This is grim and there is no ability to escape that. This blaze will have to go up quick, it will look intentional and once again they're putting themselves on the opposite side of the law. Welcome back, Cyberforce.
An exhale and Ripclaw motions, "Gather what you can and while you're doing that I'll find whatever trail these monsters left behind. They'll pay."
Walking to the van he opens up the back doors and motions, "C'mon, pup." A tap and the dog whines but reluctantly clambers on in doors shut behind it.

A few words spoken quietly under his breath and Ripclaw starts to circle the ghost town. No, something like this is beyond conventional justice… this requires old world vengeance and wrath.

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