2014.05.14 - The Banshee's Cry: Taking the Case

There's just a bit of Noir going on with the banshee's approach today. Jeannette's found herself a lovely green silk jersey dress right out of the 1930s (quite possibly out of her own closet /from/ the 1930s, who knows). Her assistant, though, a pretty redhead in her 20s is dressed in something far more modern and... well. Not nearly as exciting or... clingy. She's also not accessorized with a heaping helping of amethyst and emeralds, and she walks a few feet behind the white-haired woman, carrying several bags, as well as... is that a violin case? Between that and Jeannette's Roccoco hairstyle, there's certainly an ecclectic mix of eras going on in the waiting room of Edward Nigma's office.

"Katia, tell me you remembered to book this," she's saying over her shoulder, tugging off a pair of velvet gloves before even approaching the receptionist's desk. "If you've had me arrive somewhere unnanounced, /again/..." there's an unspoken threat in her voice, and then the assistant is very hurriedly rushing between Jeannette and the desk to make sure that the call she made is on the books and that the appointment was made at the right time and so on and so forth, carefully balancing all her parcels as she does the don't-let-me-screw-up-this-job dance.

Mabel, bless her soul, is ready and waiting. She is also very confused, but Mr. Nygma's been pretty busy of late with his new cases and connections but he made very sure that Mabel understood that this was a high importance client. That's why there's fresh coffee in the pot, she's dressed nicely and is totally saving Katia's bacon with her beaming smile.

"Mr. Nygma's ready to see you," she told them, and opened the door-- even as Eddie was approaching from the other side.

"Ladies. Do come in. Have a seat." Two chairs were already settled and ready.

Katia looks relieved, if slightly startled when she's actually addressed by Nygma. Jeannette smiles, and nods to her. "Leave what we need on the chair, you can wait outside dear, no need to worry you with this business," she assures the younger woman, who blusters a bit and quickly does as she's instructed, leaving her boss's company for the safety of the waiting room and the much, much safer Mabel and that pot of coffee.

Jeannette closes the door herself. "Ah. Sorry about that. The poor dear's been under /so/ much stress lately. I thought it best to let her have some time off." She sits down, and begins to go through the items her assistant left. "Now, I don't know how much was said prior to my arrival, but, I find myself in dire need of your services, Mr. Nygma. I think you may just be the only person who can help me." She says this matter-of-factly- not desperate, no pleas, no help-me-obi-wan-Riddler-you're-my-only-hope. A simple, straightforward plea to his ego.

Eddie's brows traveled up, then down, then up again. He went over to the coffee maker and asked, "Coffee?" before he saw to his own cup and hers if she wished it.

"So," he said, seating himself behind his desk. "Just how can I be of service?" He had to admit, he hadn't expected to see her so soon, here. He knew about her little project... but he was fairly sure this was not about her desire to expand into the underground club scene here.

"Marrissa Errings," she says, starting to empty the first of the bags. A few printed photos, and a mid-range tablet. A woman, young- late teens, early twenties, perhaps? Her hair is a mass of teal and sea-green waves. "This has a few videos of her performances loaded on it," she explains. "She's a performer at the Nocturne, and... someone I've come to care for." For lack of a better word. "Last week, I found out one of the medical staff I had hired to take care of her-" she pauses here to explain, "there are some mental health issues, you see. You could call them... unique challanges," she says. "I found out he was replacing her medications with... other things. After I let him go, she went missing. He's been spotted in Gotham, along with a woman matching her description." She frowns. "Frankly... at this point I'm worried not only for her safety, but... well. It's really best I take the girl back to Las Vegas," she stresses. "She can /not/ wind up in Arkham."

Despite the mention of Arkham, Edward manages to keep his cool. He doesn't like the place, doens't want it in his life, would in fact rather it not exist anywhere, anytime. His smile thins, as he look over the tablet and photos.

"I'm sure I can help Ms Errings avoid a stint in Arkham, especially iif she's being manipulated by a third party. Do we have information on our pharmaceutically inclined beau?"

"There's... a lot of information I have to give you, Mr. Nygma," Jeannette says, a little sadly at first. "Some of it though, is... very personal. Enough so that I'm going to need you to commit to the case before I can tell you," she says. And then she sets something new on the desk. It is a pile of chips from her casino. Very high-value ones.

"I know this is a lot to ask of you. So, if you agree, I will compensate you /very/ generously. Twice your double rate, and, you may take these, and for six hours, I will allow you unrestricted access to every gamimg table in my Vegas establishment, during which you are free to spend these as you wish." She taps the chips. "I'll also grant you sixteen hours of private entertainment at any of my businesses," she tells him. "The offer doubles if you bring Marissa back to me alive and unharmed. I will provide you with any assistance you may require during the course of the investigation, be it financial or otherwise."

Edward may need a moment. God, how long has it been since he was even allowed in a casino? The challenge of beating the cards, of walking out with cash because he had the skill to beat the casino at their own games...

"You have a deal, and your offer is quiet generous." He shows proper gratitude, and dips his head slighty ith a smile. His fingers twitch-- he wants those chips-- but he'll settle for taking up his coffee cup and taking a sip.

Given that she's /oh so worried/ about her missing entertainer, Jeannette doesn't smirk. She does smile, a little, giving him that relieved look. "I appreciate it, Edward," she says, sliding the chips closer to him, making use of his first name, now that he's officially In Her Employ.

"I should explain, first," she says. "About myself," she begins to toy with the emerald-amethyst choker she has around her neck. "I'm sure you've heard things about me. Vampire. Mutant. Metahuman. None of them quite right, I'm afraid," she says, standing up to face away from him. "Would you be a dear and take this off for me? The latch is... stubborn," she says, pulling curls of white hair away from the back of her neck.

Edward is so glad he's got a handle on his libido; from the fact she's draped in his colors to the offering of both sex and intellectual stimulation as payment... He was ridiculously interested.

He rose, and walked up behind her, careful. "Of course," he said-- he still had a thief's hands, touch barely there.

She allows the necklace to fall, and catches it, right before the point where it would fall beneath the neckline of her dress, and turns, holding her head up. The scar that encircles her neck quite plainly visable. This was no mere slash of a knife, this would have been near, if not total decapitation.

"Did you know that the guillotine was thought to be quite the humanitarian invention?" she asks, getting a bit of a distant look in her eyes. "A death very quick, painless. Over in less than a second. Before that, it was the axe." A pause. "When they took your head with the axe, it was never with one strike, you know." She turns again, and slips some fasteners on her dress. Within a second, it's clear she's not trying to seduce him- more scars, one huge, across the back of her shoulder. "The first one missed my neck entirely," she says. "It took three to end my mortal life. And do you know what I heard as I died? Laughter," she shares, bitterly. "This," she explains, "is when my curse found me. When I became what I am. My death was one that stripped me of all that was human and made me this. Bean sidhe. Banshee. It isn't the only way my kind are created, but it is one of the more common ones. Marissa... she was drowned. And she died screaming." She turns, then. "I keep her in a landlocked city for a very, very good reason, Edward."

Well, if his libido wasn't underwraps before, it's dead now. Such a lovely neck -- and everything else -- and she's had to endure such... depravity. The things men do to each other is grotesque. He doesn't know how to react at first; instead, simply drops his hands and looks away. This is not alright. This can never be alright.

"I'll find her," he says simply. He came back around his desk and sat down. "Is she a danger to others?" If so he... didn't particularly want to get a hold of Batman right now. It was going to be awkward, to say the least, considering what he delivered a few days ago.

Well, at least the small glimpse he gets of her not-back shows that it is unmarred, before she has the dress, and choker back in place. "The longer time she spends in a coastal city, the more danger she'll pose," she begins to unpack the bags onto his desk.

First, a printout on her recently-fired employee- a con-artist and self-described "cryptozoologist" who came to work for her under an assumed, stolen persona of an actual mental healthcare worker. "Daniel McMichaels. I believe his original plan was to study her, if not sell her. There are those who... collect the supernatural," she says, frowning. "If she's not killed him, tracking him down would be a good start." A pause, then. "Do not bring me with you when you find him. Do not tell me where he is. Do not link yourslelf in any way to me finding out where he is," she instructs him, very, very carefully.

Next, is a large bag containing bottles of psychiatric medications. He may recognize some of them! They are in doses much, much larger than any human being could safely take, however. "She knows her doses, and will take them on her own." She sets the violin on the desk, next. "Give it to her if you find her, and I'm not with you. She'll know I sent you, and that she can trust you."

And, finally, a small, circular case. Inside, a pair of earplugs. "You will probably need these at some point. Look for drowning victims. Especially those with a history of violence against women. Any who've been on the sex offender registry... that sort of thing." A pause. "Do not let her lure you near any body of water larger than a bathtub."

Recognizing quite a few of the drugs, actually, Edward frowned as he dug through the mess of bottles. Well, this was... quite the set up she had here. He began to worry if Marissa was better off like this, anymore than she as free. He'd been kept on a short leash with drugs and an padded cell... was Jeannette's care honestly better?

Keeping his concerns to himself and off his face, he looked up. This... was definitely going to be worth all the things she was paying him for. Damned if he wanted to die on a case.

"I think I have your instructions clear." And knew that the kidnapper was going to die horribly, but frankly, he'd just drop a tip to Gordon about making sure the man was off the street and somewhere safe. He'd probably have to go over this case a bit with him... Supernatural shit was a pain in the ass for cops of any stripe.

"I appreciate this," she says, and stands. "If you find her, and she chooses to run," she says, "you will, of course, still be paid," she assures him. "As I said, the deal doubles if you bring her back. You get what I promised you merely for taking on the case and for keeping what I told you about my nature and Marissa's, to yourself."

She turns to the door, and pauses, hand on the handle. She doesn't face him when she says her parting words. "I've long ago accepted my nature as a monster, Edward. I've done my best to keep Marissa from becomming one too. She's mad, yes, but there's still innocence in her. She hasn't become as horrible a thing as what's been done to her. Not yet. Stop her from turning into me."

She doesn't wait for him to say anything before she leaves.

Edward didn't attempt to get up or stop her. Not with the files, drugs, and other assorted items all over his desk. This? Was going to be a complicated case. Part of him look forwarded to it. Part of him... well, he wondered.

"Mabel? Hold my calls."