Darkness at Bay
Flynn's Journal (object)
Name of Clue
Type of Clue
Physical artifact, journal
Pod’s Discount Storage
Flynn’s journal is a simple composition notebook filled with lined pages. It appears to be relatively new, both thanks to the quality of the journal and the relative lack of writing inside
Notes and Data
Flynn’s journal contains the following information:
Since Sieben showed me what to look for, making first contact was easy, in a manner of speaking. Three nights before I interrupted the right couple. I know about the Society—emphasis is so important to play up their egos—and represent a foreign member wishing to relocate. It pisses them off; what’s the point of their secret if some stranger calls them out on it in the middle of prime feeding time. Like sharks swimming unseen through a school of fish, wolves amongst the sheep. I got picked up by a pair of Latino men, bald and clean-shaven. Average height, I’d say around 5’10”. Not especially built, ~190lbs. Completely silent. They stared hard, opened a door for me, so I got in the car. I repeated what I said to the ‘clubber’ preying on the young and vulnerable: I represent a foreign member wishing to relocate. Complete silence.
But they took me to her, obviously not the AoS. You don’t get to see the head honcho this easily. This one called herself “Penelope”. Beautiful. Indian heritage—dot, not feather—maybe half-blood or more. Light green eyes. No immediate pull there, but I didn’t keep looking to test. Turned the charm on full blast, but I held my own. She put me in contact with a local puppet, some idiot named Harry Weston.
Weston seemed like the sort of useful fuckup his keepers like to abuse and discard. Big, not too smart, and brawny as hell. I know, what does that say about me? He obviously didn’t belong to “Penelope”. His keeper was close, though, high on the ladder. “Elena”. You can feel the addiction chewing him up inside, poor bastard.
Weston has plans for a raid on one of “Elena’s” rivals. The cancer turns in on itself, but never finishes the job. Simple home invasion, put down the other guy’s puppets, grab the package and deliver to “Elena”.
Fuckups. We were so fucking close. 22 Felkin Way. Can’t get any fucking info out of these guys. Look into address later. Didn’t get out with the package. Spotted hidden room before cops got too close; had to bail. Plan B hit the morgue.