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Realistic or Modern Overcast: Marten Rietveld

Lorsh

Lorsh

Varlot
Roleplay Availability
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OVERCAST
Croike Croike

  • 594597
    Spring
    9:30 PM, Congress City
    Sallient Hotel

    You are Marten Rietveld, a private bodyguard working as a contractor for Anvil Security. Your client is Samuel Wigg, a celebrity known for hosting the popular tabloid talk show, Awhile With Wigg. It has covered a plethora of topics, from dieting, to mid-life crises, to painting. Though, Awhile With Wigg has gotten more trashy and sensationalist over the years, often having sessions based around bizarre, controversial guests and sensitive topics.

    The show is usually hosted in Lankford, but your client flew to Congress City serve as a guest on The Ernest Show, which is run by one of Mr. Wigg's friends. As far as you know, they're playing therapist, focusing on a sixteen year old girl who smokes upwards of fifty cigarettes a day.

    The show is scheduled for tomorrow, but you've heard your boss talking to people on the phone about cancelling. Before the flight from Lankford, there had already been problems occurring in your home city. Now it seems like it's a similar situation in Congress. Though Mr. Wigg and his entourage (including yourself) made it to the hotel just fine, you saw quite a few sirens, helicopters, and police tape around. The radio is warning of new 'bug' going around, as well as a spike in violence, though it's being attributed to mass hysteria and looting.


    You are currently on the 13th floor of the Sallient Hotel, which provides five-star accommodation for the more affluent types of Congress. All in all, there are three rooms rented; one is set aside for you and Lane Roche (Mr. Wigg's personal assistant), one for the secretary Ms. Fischer, and one for Mr. Wigg himself. You are alone in your room, as Mr. Wigg has dismissed you for the time being. Roche, however, is still with him as per usual.

    The room has many amenities. Leather couches, a bowl of complimentary fruit and an accompanying bottle of wine, fine rugs, crystal glass tables, and classical artwork on the wall. There's a television, currently on a lawnmower commercial.

    There is a knock on your door. You hear the voice of Ms. Fischer. "Mr. Rietvelt, are you in there?" she asks. She sounds worried.

    594627
 
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Marten stretches lazily for a moment. He strolls toward the door, a half empty wine bottle in his hand and his suit a mess. He cracks it just wide enough to look through at Miss Fischer.

"What?"

His tone is one of mild annoyance.
 
Miss Fischer is a petite, auburn-haired woman in her mid thirties, with a pair of horn-rimmed glasses and a light purple overcoat. She furrows her brow slightly at your response, but ultimately pays it no mind, immediately divulging her request.

"I'm worried about Mr. Wigg," she says. "Things are getting bad here, and for some reason he isn't convinced to head home. I just think we should get back to Lankford as soon as possible, in case things get tied up at the airport soon. Did you see the news?" she asks. She then sighs. "I just think you might- well, you know. You're his protection. I think your input matters on this."
 
He shrugs at her.

"I'll talk to him about it. Roche might have the same idea you're having."

He steps back from the door.

"Give me a moment to get myself looking professional." He motions to his rumpled suit, then closes the door.

He gets himself dressed and steps out again, making his way toward Mister Wigg's room.
 
Fischer nods, lingering in the hallway for a moment before returning to her room.

As you are squaring yourself away, you hear an ambulance drive past outside.

You make your way to Mr. Wigg's room and knock. Roche opens the door and narrows his eyes. He is a clean-shaven yes-man in his forties, dressed smart casual. Before he can open his mouth, Mr. Wiggins speaks first after he turns his head from the chess game he's playing on one of the crystal glass tables. "Is something wrong, Mr. Rietveld?"
 
Marten clears his throat.

"Well boss, I was curious what the plan is. It's hard for me to do my job if I don't know where you intend to go."

He scratches the back of his head.

"And Miss Fischer is worried in general, I was hoping you might have something to say to reassure her."
 
"I'll tell you the plan when it comes along," Mr. Wigg says with a wave of his hand. He hasn't 'activated' you yet, since he seems content with the security that's already in the hotel. For the time being, he's given you license to do as you please, as long as you remain in the same building.

"Miss Fischer needs to calm herself. All that commotion will die down by tomorrow. Tell her that she should take a break, relax by the pool, something. She can work on all paperwork later," he says. The TV is squawking about something, but he switches it off after groping for the remote.

Roche folds his hands in front of him, a small glare on his features.
 
Marten nods.

"Got it boss. I'll be around."

He meets Roche's glare with contempt, but says nothing.

He sets out to Miss Fischer's room, knocking on the door.
 
The door closes before Roche and Wigg go back to chess.

You make your way over to Fischer's room and knock. She promptly opens the door, looking at you as if already expecting the answer to her early inquiry. "What did he say?"
 
He gives a shrug at her.

"He seems content to do a lot of nothing. Said he'd tell me what I need to know when I need to know it. However he did say that you should take the day off and try to relax a little bit."

He rubs the back of his head.

"I'd rather not just watch shit T.V. and drink wine all day- at least not by myself. Is there anything you might want to do?"
 
Miss Fischer narrows her eyes as you inform her of the boss's response. "Take the day off?" she murmurs. "And do what? Take a walk out in the street?" She sighs. Her bitterness is not directed towards you, however.

She seems to consider your offer, however. "I suppose there's the Sallient's pool, and the attached bar. I could go there."
 
Marten's response is a gentle shrug.

"Yeah, not a bad idea. I could go for a few drinks. You mind leading the way?"

He considers for a moment. "Do you know why Roche is always such a bitch? He's always side-eyeing me and sneering."
 
Fischer purses her lips, shakes her head. "Roche isn't easy to get along with," she simply states. She nods in agreement to your suggestion, and heads over to the elevator. She hits the button for the lobby floor, and the elevator begins its smooth descent, with some nice music that also spills into the lobby.

The doors open, and Miss Fischer begins to walk towards the pool section. As you pass by the lobby, there isn't anybody around, save for a nervous suited man talking on his phone by the large fish tank. A luggage cart has been knocked over and simply left there, no bellhops to be found.

Miss Fischer either doesn't notice, or ignores it. She opens up the door to the pool room, and gasps when she sees the sight. A dead woman is floating in the shallow end, the water scarlet around her. She looks like she got attacked by a damn shark. Bottles are smashed, and spilled liquor is everywhere at the bar. Stools are knocked over, and a fat, hairy man in swimming trunks is crouched over the barman, making weird slurping noises.

"What the- what the hell?!" Miss Fischer gasps.
 
Marten moves to Miss Fischer's side, taking her gently by the arm. "We need to go, now." He whispers to her, a hand on his baton. "Try to stay quiet, we don't want to get involved with whatever is going on here."

Marten tries to lead her away from the disturbing scene, back toward the lobby continuing to whisper. "Call the police, then call Roche."
 
Miss Fischer looks like she might vomit at any moment, but she manages to recompose herself after you usher her away from the grisly sight. The door to the pool room closes.

The woman fumbles with her flip phone, and dials emergency services. The number is too busy. She tries thrice, yielding no results. "What the fuck?" she gasps. Saving her questions for later, she makes due with calling Roche for the time being. "Mr. Roche- something horrible is going on down here. I think, I think people..." She blinks a few times. "I think people are being murdered." She has to reaffirm this a few times. She tells Roche to keep Mr. Wigg safe, and tells her she'll be back up in a few moments. She hangs up.

A young man in a blue hellhop's uniform and a medical face mask appears to have just come into the lobby from outside. "Don't worry, folks," the bellhop says. "Security's already dealing with the situation outside," he exhales. "Right, so... right now you should just go back to your rooms, they'll deal with it, we'll get back to you."
 
Marten gestures toward the pool room. "There's a woman dead in there! She looks like she's been ripped to bloody pieces! What's security doing about that? Not to mention whatever's happening to the bartender! What the hell are you people doing to make sure the guests are safe? Tell me that boy! Tell me!"

He steps away from the young man after saying so, attempting to join Miss Fischer on her way back to Mister Wigg's room, clutching his baton tightly the entire way.
 
The color seems to drain from the bellhop's face. He leans a bit, and looks down the hallway, towards the pool room. "Aw, shit," he grimaces from what little he can see through the small window on the door. He throws off his little brimless hat. "Listen, we should all just get the fuck outta here," he says quickly. "The disease, it already got in."

Red fluid splashes across the window of the pool room door, and incessant slapping sounds are heard.
 
Marten motions for the bellhop to come with them. "We have to get our client, I'm sure we can convince him to leave this place but you need to explain as we walk, boy." He hurries to Fischer's side, extending his baton in its entirety and staying in the back as they move.
 
"It's Sam Wigg," Miss Fischer adds. "If you go explain to him, we can-"

"I don't care who it is," the bellhop says, looking at the two of you with his hands slightly raised. "You can go do that, I'm popping smoke." He turns around and heads towards the front doors, probably heading to his car or something.

Miss Fischer looks irritated. "People are already abandoning ship," she says as she hurries back over towards the elevator.
 
Marten calls out to the guy as he goes. "If it's as dangerous as you're making it out to be, you're better off in a group." He doesn't bother to see if the young man comes after. "Jodi, we need to take stock of things. He implied the disease going around has something to do with that murder, and he was willing to run from his job rather than confront it. Whatever this is, we need to get away from it as soon as possible- even if Mister Wigg is intractable."
 
The door closes behind the young man, and he's already disappeared into the ether. Muffled shouts and distant shots can be heard from outside.

Jodi hits the button on the elevator, and she listens as you speak. "If he isn't going to go, I will," she agrees. "This isn't worth my life."

The elevator door opens, revealing a tall lady in high-heels, a black fur coat, and a maroon trilby. She's holding a crying kid that might be four or five in her arms, and she's pressing a clumped up, slightly scarlet bedsheet against the child's left shoulder. "Please help, does anybody know first aid?" she asks, quickly stepping outside. Jodi freezes up momentarily, then turns her head as the pool room door's window shatters, the fat man's arm sticking through and flailing.
 
Marten takes Jodi's hand, stepping into the elevator. "Lady, get back in the elevator. There's some kind of riot going on out there and that." He motions to the arm. "Is some kind of crazy murderer. What happened to your boy? I'll try to look him over while we're going up."
 
Though hesitant, the fur-coated woman steps back in the elevator. "Don't go to the top floor, don't go to the top floor."

Jodi hits the button. "Relax- we're on the thirteenth. We just need to go back up and get our friends," she says, trying to sound calm, but her panic is clearly bleeding through, as the sight of the mangled arm must have tripped her out again.

The woman keeps pressure on the blanket, but sets the kid down for you to look at. The mother explains that the blonde-haired boy was bitten by a 'crazy person' on the top floor, and that they barely got away. Removing pressure from the blanket doesn't seem like a good idea, but he still seems to be losing a lot of blood anyway.

The 13th floor is reached. Jodi peeks out. The hallway is clear.
 
Marten swears softly. "A crazy person you say? The bellhop implied there's some kind of disease going around. There was a woman down there- looked like she'd been eaten alive. He ran once I told him about it." He looks at the kid, biting his lip as he gets a good look at the wound. "Miss, there's not too much I can do for your son without a real first aid kit, and I don't think we're going to find one unless we can find a security station- and even that's a stretch. For now, keep pressure on your boy's injury." He racks his brain, trying to remember if he saw any security posts when looking at the building's floor plan. "Stick close, we need to get our people before we leave."
 
You don't remember seeing any security posts in the hotel; they must be out of sight for the most part.

The lady isn't exactly focused on the influx of information, mainly trying to calm her child down, though it looks like he's starting to lose consciousness. "Oh god," Jodi eeps. She helps usher them out of the elevator, and raps on the door to Mr. Wigg's room.

Roche opens the door, and steps aside to allow everyone in- he might have been shoved away otherwise. Roche tells the mother to lay the boy on the couch, and he grabs the first aid kit he keeps handy in case Mr. Wigg somehow hurts himself.

Sam Wigg shuffles over to you nervously. "So, it's... getting bad, then?" he asks. Meanwhile, Jodi tries to console the mother.
 
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