Welcome to Anson! | Character-based City RP | IC Thread

[Alozia]

Welcome to Anson, Texas
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IC DATE: July 4, 2020

THIS IS THE IN CHARACTER THREAD FOR "WELCOME TO ANSON RP"
DO NOT POST HERE UNLESS YOUR CHARACTER HAS BEEN ACCEPTED.

[Spaincio]

Anthony Juarez was walking out of his house. He had hired a PR manager for him to coordinate his candidacy for the Anson Mayor, Elise Martinez. He walked into his 1977 Ford Mustang and drove to his business. He was loved by the small Business community, as he had invested in multiple of them. He had into the part of advertising.

"Anthony, we can ask for business leaders to help advertise you. I mean, you want the low taxes and a better police force to protect business."

"Yes, I guess we can ask them. I don't want to be rude and force them though." He sighed. He was trying to do this for his community and it was a good intense work. He had begun to hire another tax attorney to help care for his business while he was mayor. His name was John Taylor and was a open and blunt attorney, but he thought wit some mentoing, it could help them mutually. He arrived to his office 4 minutes after.

"Hey Maria." He said to his secretary "How are you doing?"

[Alozia]

Winston household

Operating out of her modest house, Margaret's senior campaign staff gathered for a meeting to discuss strategy for the coming weeks as well as the day's order of business. Most of her staffers are her friends, working essentially for free. At least for now. The Independence Day festivities are a ripe opportunity for a grassroots campaign to engage directly with the voters and Margaret intended to use it's to it's full potential as evidenced by the boxes of campaign material ready to be distributed. Either way, the meeting was about to begin. Sitting in Maggie's living room was a small group of people talking cordially about a wide range of topics. On the coffee table a couple of snacks were set up for the guests to enjoy in their spare time.

Finally, the candidate herself entered the room without much fanfare. Bringing a tray of drinks requested by the guests she set them up on the coffee table next to the snacks. Two black coffees there, a couple of teas etc. Sitting down in one of the chairs Margaret kicked off the strategy discussion.

In the meantime, Charlie was waking up upstairs. The noise that accompanied the meeting, while not unbearable, made it impossible for him to stay asleep. After checking his phone to see no new messages, Charlie decided to get ready for the day's events. He promised his mom to help her with the campaign before going to a party with his friends later in the evening. Making himself a sandwich after his morning shower he headed into the living room to listen in on the meeting.

The fundraising numbers were okay for that stage of the campaign. They will have to improve if Margaret and her wanted to stop being the majority donors of the campaign, of course, but there was still time to change that. Unlike some of her opponents she didn't have connections to the small business community, so she had to rely on donations from less wealthy residents. She was supposed to meet with one of the residents whose child goes to her school to discuss getting willing parents to support her campaign.

The mention of his mom's full-time job made Charlie uneasy. He was a good student, and a mere mention of school didn't bother him as far as being a student goes, but his mom's candidacy could interfere with her duties as a teacher when school is no longer out. This would mean less work hours and less money coming from her job. They didn't discuss this yet, but Charlie knew that he might have to look for a part time job for the last months of his mother's campaign if his concerns become reality.

The greatest achievement of the campaign so far was the newly launched campaign website, set up by one of Margaret's friends-turned-campaign staffers. It didn't have all of the features a well funded campaign's website might have, but it looked nice and did it's job. The majority of internet outreach is being done on social media platforms, especially Facebook, anyway.

The meeting would continue for a while before the attendees would part ways to do their tasks.

[Sao Nova Europa]

JUNE 27, 2020

It was a sunny morning day. To most people, it was an ordinary day. But for Jonathan Wilson, it wasn't so. After almost two weeks of inaction that almost drove him crazy, he finally got a phone call from the police department that there was a murder case. When he got that call, Jonathan couldn't contain his excitement. His laughter echoed across his apartment. Thankfully he didn't have any roommates and his neighbors had no idea of why he was laughing, or they would have labeled him a psychopath.

Jonathan had taken a taxi and soon enough he he had reached a grey three storey high building. A police car, with its blue and red lights on, was parked outside the building. He walked into the building and headed to the second apartment of the first floor. As he walked into the room, two police officers greeted him. The first was Thomas Gorman, head of the Homicide Division of the Anson Police Department. A lean middle aged man, he was wearing black suite and trousers and a brown tie. His hair and mustache were brown and his eyes green. The second officer was Lieutenant Lilian Morse. She was tall, with an athletic body, curly hair and blue eyes. Lilian was in her early thirties.

"Morning," Jonathan nonchalantly said, moving past them to get to the crime scene.

"Hello," Thomas softly replied, barely being heard.

"Good morning freak," Lilian responded. She never liked Jonathan. She used to complain to Thomas about him; "why do we need a private consultant? We aren't trusted to solve cases on our own?". Thomas would simply reply that Jonathan was "a freak, but a damn good detective. So tolerate him."

Jonathan ignored the comment ('I don't waste time on intellectual inferiors' was his motto) and went on to inspect the corpse of a young woman lying on the floor in a pool of her own blood.

"Her name was Johanna Stern", Lilian said. "Cause of death was trauma on the head, caused by a sharp object; most likely a knife. The window is broken, so the killer may have entered from there. There is no DNA of the killer in the crime scene nor are there fingertips; the killer must have been wearing gloves. Jewelry and money are missing, so this is most likely a burglary gone wrong."

"Trauma caused by knife, time of death around midnight," Jonathan replied as he finished his examination of the body. He then went on to silently examine the rest of the room. Thomas smirked and whispered to Lilian, "he is going to uncover something unexpected that no one else noticed. Just wait and see. You will understand why we need this freak."

"This was no burglary!" Jonathan suddenly shouted. "I do not think the killer broke through the window. There is no broken glass inside the apartment. If the killer had entered through the window, there would have been broken glass all over the place. Instead, the broken glass seems to have fallen down on the street. The killer must have broken the window from the inside once the victim was dead in order to give us the impression that this was a burglary. This is the reason why the jewelry and money are missing too. If the killer entered through the front door, and that is the most likely scenario, it means that the victim knew the killer. She wouldn't have just let anyone enter into her apartment at midnight, I presume. So the one who killed Miss Stern must have been an acquaintance of hers. I want a list of all her family members, friends, boyfriends, coworkers. The killer must belong to one of those categories. Probably a boyfriend. Statistics show that romantic partners are the most likely murderers."

"Will text you the list as soon as possible," Thomas said. "While we do that, why don't you go check the place where she worked? She worked in a shopping mall only a few blocks away from here. Maybe her coworkers there will give you some more info. I and Lilian will be talking to her family and try to learn if she had any troubles."

Jonathan nodded in agreement and rushed out of the apartment. 'Time to solve another case!'

[Islamic Republic e Jariri]

Anson Gas Station and Convenience Store

Owning a filling station in a newly built town off the majestic southside coast of Texas wasn't the easy money maker that ex-con Vincent Jones was promised by the plastic faced seller who had essentially swindled him for over $400,000. It was those damn oil prices that leeched more than half of whatever cash went into the pumps and the IRS would help itself to a decent portion of business tax leaving him chump change, the kind he'd have save up in a glass jar if he were still ten years old and trying in vain to afford a ticket to Disneyland.

But he was forty now, by some standards middle aged and the closest he ever got to fulfiling that childhood fancy was a Mickey Mouse watch on his right wrist that he'd traded for a bag of coffee from his cellmate when he was 35. That was just a year before his 13 year long incarceration ended with a surprisingly successful appeal.

Most of the real money he made came from selling cola and cigarettes at his station's auxillary convenience store. Enough to pay off utility bills, buyings essentials and maybe even hire a helping hand. Hell if he kept at it for another 13 years he might even make a third of the statutory compensation he had blown off to move and settle in Anson with a small house and an underperforming establishment. He laughed about it sometimes.

''That's $35 sir. Would ya like a pack a' smokes with that?''

''Naw man, I'm callin it quits. Wife's having a baby, she don't want none of that passive smoke inhaled.''

Goddamn.

''I understand sir. That's mighty fine. I don't suppose you'd like a refreshing bottle of locally made cola?''

''Can't. Been see'in a dentist. Ain't happy with the mess I've made.''

Son of a gun.

''Ain't they never.''

''Say ya sell beer?''

''No... I don't stock no liqour. Brings out the Devil in the best of us.''

''Oh. Right. Yeah, course. Thirty-five was it?''

Completing the transaction he thanked the departing customer and encouraged his return with a handwave of practised precision, timing it to six seconds by the tick-tocks of his wristwatch, supplemented with a careful smile that hid his neglected yellowing teeth. Then he reached to scratch the hair on his large square chin and contemplated cutting his goatee.

''I'll never make that carwash at this rate. What the hell happened to folks these days?'' he sighed shaking his head.

Vincent didn't normally care for politics, a fool's game for fleeting glory. But his own neighbour Ms Winston, a school teacher was standing as a candidate, bringing the event closer to his attention. Apparently she was running up against some hotshot tax attorney who was known for investing in small businesses like his own.

''If I could get this place run'n past life-support I'd be the true top dog of town.''

[Sao Nova Europa]

JUNE 27, 2020

Jonathan Wilson had finally arrived to the shopping mall where Johanna Stern worked. The ceiling was domed high and made of the most beautiful glass. The place was overcrowded. It the exact kind of place that Jonathan hated. 'A place full of idiots, rushing left and right to buy the most useless products imaginable to man...' Jonathan was walking as fast as he could, doing his best to avoid people and instead searching for the employees. 'Now comes the part of my job that I most hate... talking to intellectual inferiors!'

And talk he did. He chatted with three employees; a tall young man, a middle-aged short man and a middle-aged woman. All three of them would talk about how Johanna was a good, sociable and kind person but couldn't provide any information that would shed some light in the case. Frustrated, Jonathan walked to a fourth employee, a young woman. Seeing him approaching, the woman put up a smile. "Welcome. How can I be of help?"

"Firstly, I can tell that your smile is a forced one, though I do not blame you. I too wouldn't be too happy if I had to work here every day," Jonathan replied. "Secondly, my name is Jonathan Wilson. I am here with the Homicide Division of the Anson Police Department and am investigating the murder of Johanna Stern."

The woman's face became ashen white and she was reduced to tears. "Poor Johanna..."

Jonathan sighed. "I have no time for sentimentality. I've already wasted way too much time here. Please tell me your name and what you know of Johanna. And please do not repeat the 'she was good and kind' mantra. I've already heard it from others."

The woman was taken aback by Jonathan's abruptness and rudeness but as he was with the police, she chose to cooperate. "My name is Emily Mulligan. I and Johanna ar- were friends."

"Do you know why anyone would want to hurt her? Did she have any enemies? Did she do anything that could upset someone?"

Emily paused for a moment. She looked to the right and touched her face for a few seconds before replying. "No... I cannot think of anything. She was a nice person; people liked her."

"You are lying!" Jonathan exclaimed. "Not about people liking Miss Stern or that you believe that she was a nice person. You are lying about her not having any troubles."

"I am not!" the woman protested.

"Yes, you are. And you know how I can tell? You showed me. You looked to the right for a moment. When right handed people lie, they look to the right; this allows them to access their imagination and invent an answer. I can tell from your hands Miss Mulligan that you are a right handed person. Also, you touched your face. A chemical reaction causes people's faces to itch when they lie. Your lying was all over your face!"

Emily hesitated for a moment before replying. "Johanna was a nice girl but... she cheated a lot on her boyfriend. Once, her boyfriend had found out and they had a fight. He hit her. They eventually got back together and she promised not to cheat again on him."

"But she did!" Jonathan said, interrupting her. "So, you believe that her boyfriend may have been angry enough to murder her?"

"Well, he did get violent with her once..."

The consultant sighed. "You should have started with that instead of wasting my precious time!"

"I didn't want people to know about Johanna's affairs. I was afraid of how people would judge her."

"Miss, I am pretty sure that Miss Stern would much rather if you aided us find her murderer rather than shutting up so a few people wouldn't gossip about her. Finding a killer is more important."

---

An hour later, Jonathan was outside the house of Johanna's boyfriend. He had got the name from a text by Captain Thomas Gorman, and finding his address was easy once he had gotten the name. His name was Gary Jackson. His house was a square grey building, with narrow windows. Jonathan rushed to the front door and ringed the bell. Another consultant would have waited until police forces were in the area, but not Jonathan. He preferred doing things on his own.

After a moment of utter silence, Jonathan ringed the bell again, yet he got not response. He shook his head. 'He isn't inside,' he thought. 'Well... that won't stop me.' This wasn't the first time Jonathan was willing to bend the word of the law in order to serve its spirit. He pulled a bobby pin from his pocket, pulled it open and striped off the knobs. He then bend the tip in the lock to make a pick. He folded the other end onto itself to make a handle. Jonathan then grabbed a second bobby pin from his pocket and bend it in half to make a lever. He quickly inserted the second bobby pin into the bottom part of the lock. He then used the pins to pick the lock.

"Piece of cake!" he exclaimed. He looked around to make sure no one was watching him, and quickly made his way inside the house. The inside of the house was untidy. There were a few baskets with dirty clothes. In the brown couch in the center of the room there were traces of food and beer cans. There was also a stench of garbage. "What a mess!" he said, barely hiding his disgust. After taking a few minutes to check the other rooms, he returned to the hall.

'The food and the beer cans are here from yesterday,' he thought. 'This disgusting excuse for man most likely spent his time here, eating and drinking. Also the untidiness of his house speaks volumes about his character. This man is someone who might be violent but is certainly not a careful or patient planner nor does he seem like a bright guy, if I judge by the lack of any books in this house and his habits, which seem to be confined only to eating and drinking. It doesn't seem he is doing some other, more productive, activity in his spare time. The murderer tried to throw off the police by making it look like it was a burglary gone wrong. He also made sure to not leave any traces behind. The murderer is a smart, organized person. Mr. Jackson can thus be eliminated from the pool of suspects.'

"A dead-end it is. I should leave before he comes back," Jonathan said to himself; he had a habit of doing so when alone. He rushed out of the house and, after looking left and right to check if any neighbor had seen him, he walked away. His pace was fast, a sign that he was getting frustrated with the case. "Will need to check the other names the Captain texted me. I may also need to visit again tomorrow Miss Mulligan, to see if she knows the name of Miss Stern's lover. Statistically speaking, he is the current most likely suspect."

[Puertollano]

The Pitts Household

---

Madeline had a difficult phone-call to make.

The phone buzzed.

"Hello, Maddy?" a voice on the other end responded.

"Yes, Darren, look I wanted to give you a call about how things are going," Madeline said.

"No, need to worry. I'm looking into some future avenues for you. I was thinking, now that you're in the backwater you can kind of make it your thing right? Like Madeline goes and lives with poor people. It could be a real hit," Darren tried to explain.

"No, I wasn't actually calling to hear about any new opportunities or whatever, mate okay. I'm calling because I don't think I can do this anymore. The money is going slow right now. You were reasonably priced when I was doing the filming, but now, now," she drifted off.

"Oh woah, woah. Let's not go anything rash. I'm your agent. An agent is always useful Maddy, trust me," he tried to deescalate.

"Darren - they're not useful when you're not in show-biz anymore, right. Now, I didn't want to make this all messy, so you should probably resign. Or I'll just fire you. No hard feelings or whatever," Madeline said, tapping her fake nails on the kitchen counter-top.

"We should be thinking this through. Maybe I can come to Anson, hey? We'll chat about it over a cup of coffee or something," Darren responded, almost frantically.

"Nah, nah, that's bullshit. You can't even sit in a cafe anymore without bloody campaigners for Mayor coming up and bothering you. Sounds like a bad idea, hey." She was ready to hang up.

"No, please, don't end the call," he said quickly. "Campaigning, you said? Mayor? Madeline: I've got a great idea!"

Madeline rolled her eyes. "I said going to the cafe was a bad idea, doofus. Didn't you hear that part?"

"No, I did. Madeline, when is the Mayoral Election?" Darren asked, while quickly searching on his phone.

"Why would I know? Now, you better make this call worth it, because I'm gonna' hang up in a moment. I've got chicken tenders cooking."

"Why don't you run for Mayor of Anson? That'd be great for publicity. Never mind winning, we can get the media to look at you again. We can get pay-for-access interviews with you again. I'm imagining the front pages right now: 'Former Star Runs for Mayor', or 'Pitts makes her Pitch for Policis'."

She paused. "Right, but Darren, that costs money. I've gotta get signs and what else. I'll need to mingle with the public and all that," she said, trying to convince herself it was a bad idea.

"No, no, don't worry. You won't need to campaign, as if we're in it to win it. Being Mayor would suck hard, Maddy. This is about the fame again. And to look really respectable, you can drop-out when it gets tough and endorse a competitor. It's a win-win, the attention is back on you. You can pretend to run for Mayor and all's well." Darren explained, making his pitch quite well.

"What's this got to do with you?" Madeline asked.

"I can be your campaign manager, obviously. Handle the media. Handle the pesky voters. Organize all of the boring stuff. Trust me, I'll take care of that. All you need to do is maybe attend a debate or something and start rolling in the new subscribers, followers and media money!"

"It's not gonna' be instant, though, Darren. I still can't afford you, you prick," she said, trying to sound as endearing as possible.

"I'll take a pay cut. Just don't cut me loose. How much less? 50, 70% less? I'm willing. Just please, I burnt all bridges with the stupid Liberals in California," Darren pleaded.

"Hah, alright. You'll take an 80% pay cut, like you agreed. Come down to Anson, I've got a spare bedroom. But you better make it worth my time. Otherwise you're back on your own. Got me, mate?" Madeline responded sternly.

"Right, yes. I'll pack my bags. I'll be down in a few days. Then we can hash out the exact details of the campaign. For now, hold off on doing anything."

"Yeah, whatever," she said, hanging up on him. She laughed to herself. These next few months would be interesting.

[Sao Nova Europa]

JUNE 28, 2020

Early the very next morning, Jonathan went back to the shopping mall. Last night, he had checked the list given to him by Captain Thomas. The list included known friends, relatives and her boyfriend, who had already been dismissed as a suspect. The consultant had taken a close look at the names, but no one on the list seemed to be connected with the murder. So going back to the shopping mall and talking with Emily Mulligan, Johanna's coworker, about Johanna's lover seemed to be the only option.

Upon entering the shopping mall, Jonathan rushed to find Emily. Maneuvering through the crowd, he found her talking to a costumer. "Greetings Miss Mulligan. I will need to ask you another question."

"Excuse me, sir," Emily said to the costumer before turning to Jonathan. "Can't you see th-"

Jonathan ignored her and shouted at the customer instead. "Please leave! It is police business!"

The man nodded and moved away. Emily could only sigh in frustration. "What do you want?"

"Miss Mulligan, do you happen to know who was the last lover of Miss Stern was? Please do tell if you know his name."

Emily hesitated for a moment. "Johanna did not speak much about who she was seeing but she did tell me that she was having an affair with someone named Alex."

"Do you remember his surname?"

"No... I believe she told me once but I cannot remember it right now."

"Think!" Jonathan barked.

"I told you, I can't remember."

Jonathan was silent for a brief moment. "OK, I know a way to help you remember. Relaxation allows people to remember things more clearly. The brain is influenced by 'theta waves', which are associated with relaxation. I know a breathing technique that allows people to relax. So I want you to follow my instructions and clear your mind of all other thoughts."

"If you think that this will help bring Johanna's murderer to justice, fine," Emily replied, not truly convinced that this 'relaxation technique' would help her to remember Alex's nickname.

Jonathan took deep breaths, through the nose, and Emily followed his example. During the inhalation, their diaphragm moved downwards. They then exhaled, moving up their diaphragm, compressing their lungs and pushing the air out.

"That's right..." Jonathan said. "Now, focus on Alex. Try to remember your conversations with Johanna about him. Do not think too hard though. Let your subconscious reach to your memories. They will come to you gradually."

"I do remember...!" Emily exclaimed. "His nickname is... Mi...Mill...Miller. Yes, that's his nickname! Miller."

"Thank you for your assistance Miss Mulligan, but I must get going. I've got a murderer to catch!"

Jonathan left without waiting for Emily to reply, literally sprinting his way out of the shopping mall. 'Need to do research on this Alex Miller,' he thought as he was running. 'I am fairly certain he is the killer!'

---

Back at his apartment, Jonathan was sipping a cup of black coffee and looking at an Instagram photo on his laptop. It was featuring a couple. The man was of average height, slim, with short black hair and beard. The woman was tall, blonde and flashing a bright smile. "Took me hours to find this photo," Jonathan said to himself, "but it was all worth it. Alex Miller and Penelope Agne..."

He got up and walked to the kitchen counter to pour some more coffee on his cup. "Penelope Agne," he repeated as tasted the hot coffee. "Murdered four years ago. Burglary gone wrong, said the authorities. No DNA of the murderer or fingertips found. Killed by a knife. And now, four years later, another girlfriend of mister Miller suffered the exact same fate. Coincidence?" He chuckled as he returned back to his desk. "Mister Miller also apparently loves crime fiction. I do have to admit that he has a rather good taste in books. I am fairly certain we would make good buddies if he wasn't a serial murderer."

Jonathan turned off his laptop, let his cup on the desk and headed again to the kitchen counter, where he had left his mobile phone and car keys. "And I find myself once more in this situation, the one that I hate more than social interactions; knowing who the murderer is and not being able to get them arrested. Mister Miller did a good job at hiding his relationship with Miss Johanna Stern. Had to, considering the violent nature of Miss Stern's boyfriend..."

Grabbing the phone and the keys, the consultant got out of his apartment and into his car; a blue Smart Fortwo car, a rear-engine, rear-wheel-drive, 2-seater hatchback Microcar. It was a gift from a thankful CEO after had had solved a corporate theft case. He rarely used it, preferring walking or taking a taxi, but this was one of the few occasions that he had a use for it. Before he got the engine going, Jonathan texted a message;

I know you murdered Penelope Agne and Johanna Stern. I've got the evidence to prove it. There will be RETRIBUTION!

Click! He sent it to Alex Miller.

Jonathan then pushed down on the accelerator and began driving to Alex's address. Finding his address on the web had been a piece of cake. "Time for the hunt to begin. The prey is afraid, panicked. He is staring at the text, reading it, blinking and reading it again. He is surely pacing up and down, thinking of what to do next. Sooner or later, panic will lead the prey to make the fatal mistake. And I will be there when he does that mistake. Silently stalking him, following him wherever he goes. No matter how long the hunt will take..."