You’ve been at The Castle for three weeks now.
John owns the entire building, all fourteen floors to the roof. It’s an active theater, running mostly small musical touring shows anywhere from four to six nights a week, and John himself is back onstage within the first week of his return with a late night set accompanied by piano and string quartet. Anyone who takes the time to see his performances are completely swept away – they are supernaturally compelling to the point of being indescribably erotic – and it’s obvious that many of the theater’s patrons come specifically for that rush. The theater is managed by a very sweet lady named Martha Klein who runs the place with an iron fist. John’s other businesses, including you, are managed by Alfred.
John immediately and unsurprisingly became nocturnal, and while he seems cordial enough when you see him, his nights are generally very busy. He takes meetings in his offices or private box during shows, greets dignitaries and entertains after the curtains close, and typically ends the night in his suite, which, by all accounts, is non-stop sex, drugs, and Rachmaninov. Once you saw Daphne stumbling down the stairs from the 13th floor at four-in-the-morning muttering “Nope..nope….” it stifled your curiosity. You occasionally hear the sound of his violin or piano drifting through the halls during the day, but it’s rare.
Because of The Castle’s position in the supernatural world as a sanctuary, it is frequently host to meetings, events, negotiations and the like of all manner of people and creatures. Several floors of the building are dedicated to this purpose, with anachronistically modern and lavish conference centers and hotel space.
True to John’s word, you’re not just set up with lodging, but each with a small studio apartment, complete with a kitchenette and ten thousand dollars on a cash card for furnishings, clothes, and personal effects. Within days of arriving you each have new, fake identities and paperwork to help “make sure you don’t get tripped up by normal folk” while going about your business. Alfred also gives each of you a sealed bug-out bag with yet another set of fake IDs and Canadian passports, cash in several currencies, and other odds and ends in case “the Division decides to break the rules”.
You’re not exactly given a line of credit, but you don’t want for much of anything, you just have to ask Alfred for everything. You’ve gotten the impression that John’s wealth is somewhat vast, but accessing it is subject to the universal rule of staying under the radar. Food is catered in every day for The Castle’s small staff, and you’re welcome at the craft services table, as it were. There’s been some talk of John connecting you with people who’re willing to pay for supernatural services, but it hasn’t yet materialized, and frankly, taking a few weeks to settle-in and find a new normal has been welcome.
You’ve been given no impression that you’re out of danger from The Division, so you haven’t ventured out much, and never more than a few blocks from the theater. The secret plaza between 42nd and 43rd street is called One-Eyed Cat Lane, and it’s a remarkable hodge-podge of shops and services catering to the unique needs of the supernatural community that couldn’t exist safely out in the rest of Manhattan. You’re able to learn quite a bit about the goings-on of this new world you’ve been plunged into simply by people (and creature) watching and the occasional bit of polite conversation.
It doesn’t take long after acquiring new personal devices and both Alfred and Emily certifying they’re effectively untraceable before curiosity gets the better of you and you try to look yourselves up.
Margaret, you are not only officially missing, but listed as a person of interest in an ongoing FBI domestic terrorism investigation. The personal effects from your apartment were confiscated and by all accounts are stored in a lock-up at the FBI field offices in Boston. It appears that a warrant was issued for your arrest through Interpol a few days after the party escaped from the facility in Dubai.
Nigel James, Hugo’s contact within Lloyds of London, was arrested shortly after pointing Hugo at the container ship carrying Cole. He was charged with fifteen counts of insurance fraud as well as several maritime statutes involving abetting piracy. He was killed while awaiting trial shortly thereafter.
Apart from a few outstanding warrants against Daphne for failure to appear on minor larceny charges, there isn’t much else to be found. Records involving the murder of Mason’s gang have been sealed by the FBI.
L3 listed Cole as KIA on a classified overseas operation in partnership with the State Department and paid out your death benefits to a widows and orphans trust. What assets you had are being held in probate awaiting next of kin that aren’t likely to surface. Shortly after the incident, a woman was seen breaking into your apartment in Cleveland but wasn’t apprehended.
There’s an open missing persons investigation in Las Vegas for Mike. It took over two months for either UNLV or your ex-wife to report it, but they finally did (missing those alimony payments). About a month ago while you were at sea, a teenage girl whose records are sealed brought a rape charge against you and the missing persons investigation took on a new tone.
Steve’s mother identified his body in Chicago after the warehouse collapse at the zoo. A woman’s body was found along with him, but was too badly mangled for positive identification. However, considering Emma’s disappearance and the presence of her pickup truck outside the building, the authorities have assumed you died in the “collapse and resulting fire”. You’ve been missing and presumed dead for six months.
Strangely, Emily was declared a victim in a peculiar murder/suicide at Stanford. By all accounts, she was murdered by one Aston Stone, a jilted suitor, who then committed suicide in her dorm room. Autopsy reports say you were positively identified by dental records and acquaintances. You’re not sure how they pulled that one off. Additionally, you become aware that a man in Cleveland has been searching for you the last few weeks in regards to the estate of his father.
Jamie, you are perplexed. At some point in the last few months, photos from your back catalog have been starting to sell again, including several from after Daphne’s fateful kiss. In fact, your tiny gallery in Toronto is planning a grand re-opening, showing, and sale in several weeks. You’re not sure if you are going to be present.
As expected Seamus, you lost your job at the grocery store.