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Post by Ewan Cromwell on May 4, 2015 13:01:08 GMT
Ewan's residence is a pretty odd affair, combining what was once luxury with the chaotic whirlpool of mess. At the center of the mess is his study, a large room with one wall dedicated to the odd cases he finds interest in, one wall dominated by 3 tv's, each showing a different news channel, the third wall is more cryptic in its meaning, but seems to be a huge mind-map, all centered around a picture of his mother, while the desk, facing away from the door, is completely cluttered with papers relating to his work.
As one leaves the study, to the left is a bedroom, while to the right is what was once a bedroom, but has been converted so as to allow for him to tinker with, disassemble, reassemble, or create a variety of electronics. Outwards from here the penthouse does not get any less messy, the kitchen is concealed under a mountain of unwashed dishes, half consumed takeaways, and in general has a smell indicating that one should stay away for their own sake, while the living room is a mishmash of papers, partly disassembled electronics, books on countless subjects, with a couple more TV's, both on almost constantly.
The rest of the penthouse consists of 2 more bedrooms, one of which has been turned into a storage room, with boxes of containing information gathered for his hobby investigations, while the last bedroom is actually that. A dining room remains roughly the same, though it has piles of plates and the remains of countless ordered meals mixed with countless newspapers from multiple outlets. The open area outside the penthouse is the only place untouched by the chaotic mess, and lacks any features beyond the preexisting plants that are part of the design, and are showing signs of Ewan never watering them, ever.
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Post by The Astronomer on May 4, 2015 13:35:44 GMT
Oneday, Ewan finds an unmarked envelope has been slipped beneath his front door. Inside is a plain typed letter.
Dear Mr. Cromwell,
I have been told you are the only one who can help me. I have a problem I am unable to contact the local police with, and I fear I do not have time to locate that one good cop who will listen. All I can say is that I believe Starcrown Heights is in great danger, and I do not have the evidence to present a voll accounting to the public.
If you are a good man and are interested, please meet me at the Reif Plum Cafe on 5th and Grand Avenue. I will be wearing a Star Wars shirt.
God speed.
Ewan Cromwell INT: 32
Ewan easily recognizes that two German cognates ('voll' and 'reif') have been misused, indicating the writer is not a native English speaker and almost certainly a German speaker. The paper could have come from any office supplies store. The font is typical of most professional writing. There is a distinct smell of nicotine on the paper when inspected closely, and the edges of the paper seem worn, as though the owner regularly fiddled with it idly, perhaps indicating a hesitation to make contact with Ewan. Smoking and agitation suggest stress. Finally, the envelope has a light wine stain in the corner.
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Post by Ewan Cromwell on May 4, 2015 14:03:22 GMT
Once he had read the letter, Ewan quickly took down some notes in his pad.
'Non English, probably German. Typical professional font. Smoker. Possible questions about hiring me. Stressed.'
With that done, he took a few minutes to get properly dressed, opting to skip wearing a full suit for this meeting.
Once dressed he took an elevator straight to the lobby of the building before he set off towards the Cafe on foot. As he walked, he used his source to check if there was any news of note.
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Post by The Astronomer on May 4, 2015 19:02:38 GMT
The thoughts came in like a transistor radio implanted in his skull, constantly flipping through signals until deciding on only the most popular ones with the best signals, and then sorting out the white noise of everyday neurosis.
Captain America's a Goddamn Nazi/I think my wife is cheating on me/That cab driver's a martian nigger, I just know it/Hannibal Barker knows what's what, another ten years as mayor/Riots in Stacrown/Hans Willingham coming to town/God, I don't understand, I thought the angels were taking us with them/Slade is a crook, don;t trust him
Fort Kirby's commander Colonel Rodgers had another protest in his honor by angry Starcrown residents, complaining of harsh treatment during his time as director of the detainment camp. It was clear from the amount of noise that the majority of Ambrosia still saw him as a hero.
Hans Willingham was coming to town. This was newsworthy to several very keen minds, but the vast majority did not seem to grasp the significance of the Father of Interdimensional Travel paying a visit to Ambrosia.
Incumbent Mayor Hannibal Barker was running for mayor again. Other than his refusal to address the Starborn Problem, there was nothing to indicate he was any different than any other career politician.
More disappearances had been reported in Starcrown Heights, but the cops had yet to make progress, if they were attempting any at all.
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Post by Ewan Cromwell on May 5, 2015 1:17:09 GMT
Ewan decided to add a couple more notes to his pad, though on a new page.
'Attend Hans Williamson event. Look into disappearances in Starcrown Heights.'
Content that he had his morning news, Ewan continued walking, making his way to the Cafe fairly quickly.
Once there, he scanned the room for the mentioned star wars shirt.
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Post by The Astronomer on May 5, 2015 8:45:41 GMT
In the corner was an older gentleman who must've been at least in his 60s. He wore a Panama hat and thick sunglasses over an old Star Wars shirt that, underneath a picture of some sort of cowboy figure with a laser pistol, a curious painted grin pasted over his face, read, Han Solo Shot First, But Luke Skywalker Had the Last Laugh.
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Post by Ewan Cromwell on May 5, 2015 9:16:51 GMT
Ewan took the time to get a coffee, before walking over to where the man was sitting .
As he approached he tried to discern as much information as possible about the man from his appearance and mannerisms. (Intellect 10)
"If I may ask, what is it about this work that has got you so stressed as to contact me, you seemed quite hesitant?" he asked as he took a seat.
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Post by The Astronomer on May 5, 2015 12:04:41 GMT
The old man looked up at him only briefly, before looking back to his menu. "I suggest you order something. Perhaps you are old friend you are old friend from across pond, people will think."
Ewan Cromwell: 42
His accent was more German than Austrian, perhaps Bavarian. His hands are delicate and well-groomed, implying a life free of hard labor. The heavy glasses, hat, and shirt suggest he believes he may be recognized. The shirt could be anyone's, but he is just the right age to have been fascinated with the Star Wars phenomenon. He is obviously elderly, but the lines on his hands and face beneath the thick glasses suggest he has suffered a keen form of anxiety for much of his life.
There is a high probability this stranger is Dr. Hans Willingham, having arrived in Starcrown earlier than the papers had reported
On a less dramatic but equally disturbing note, the coffee arrrives and tastes like despair and regret. It is that bad.
"Or perhaps you are as smart as I have been told. Mr. Cromwell.", says the German stranger, impressed by the Englishman's foresight.
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Post by Ewan Cromwell on May 5, 2015 13:05:24 GMT
"Coming from a man like yourself, that is quite the compliment Hans" Ewan said, making sure not to speak too loudly.
He then opted to have a look at the menu anyway, not wanting another sip of what the place was passing off as coffee.
"Now, you mentioned a danger to Starcrown Heights in your letter?"
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Post by The Astronomer on May 5, 2015 15:47:54 GMT
Hans studied the young man carefully before answering. "Have you ever heard of something called the Source?"
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Post by Ewan Cromwell on May 5, 2015 22:58:42 GMT
"I am familiar with the concept, I believe that it is what starborn consider the cause of of their abilities" Ewan said.
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Post by The Astronomer on May 7, 2015 10:32:59 GMT
"Ja, that is the Cliff's Notes version. My good friend Yorick Vaughn was convinced that the Source was not merely some genie that granted fantastical wishes, but a sort of quantum mechanical enzyme that attached itself to those marked by a type of multidimensional complement during... My point is, he was studying it when he passed away earlier this year. He made regular trips to Starcrown Heights, interviewing the homeless there. He was a physicist by trade, not a biologist, but he knew as much as any practicing doctor." He sipped hi tea before continuing. "Do you know who J. Robert Oppenheimer was?"
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Post by Ewan Cromwell on May 7, 2015 11:45:55 GMT
"I may have read something, but the name doesn't ring any bells" Ewan said,
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Post by The Astronomer on May 7, 2015 20:29:16 GMT
"He was one of the men who built the atomic bomb for the Americans during the Second World War. After he saw the effects of the device on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, he cited the Bhagavad Ghita. 'I have become Death, destroyer of worlds.' Doctor Oppenheimer then spent the rest of his life trying to limit the consequences of his earlier work." Dr. Willingham leaned forward over his burger and fries, an intense, almost religious tone in his voice. "Oppenheimer was only speaking poetically. My colleagues and I can state, with mathematical proof, we have destroyed worlds, and nearly damned ours for it. Vaughn thought that by helping the Sternkinder of his homeland, he might find penance. I believe he found something worse."
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Post by Ewan Cromwell on May 8, 2015 2:21:11 GMT
"Okay, so I assume that this something worse is connected to the source, so my next question is, what is it that makes you think he found something worse?" Ewan said, taking another sip from his coffee, almost spitting it right out when he tasted it again.
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