7646/Anonymous Tip...

Anonymous Tip...
Date of Scene:	27 May 2019
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	April O'Neil, Thomas Raith

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April O'Neil has posed:
Its late on a Sunday night, April is preparing for her week. She has to be in at the news station at 5am for the morning news, to deliver a report on an investigative piece for Channel Six but then she's out by noon and headed back here to do her podcast, having a famed archaeologist on the show tomorrow.

So right now? April's in her office in her apartment above the antique store, its one door beside her bedroom and just off of the main living room of the apartment. Seated at her desk, April is tapping a stylus pen against her tablet computer and quietly listening to some music playing off of her laptop beside her.

Thomas Raith has posed:
The phone starts ringing, ID Blocked of course, but then how many people who call her want to remain anonymous. The voice on the other end is low, whisper quiet with a faint Brooklyn accent that he is trying to not let bleed through. "This April O'Neil? The Reporter?" he asks in a quiet tone.

April O'Neil has posed:
April volumes her music down on her laptop and then reaches over to her phone, she's expecting it to be one of the guys asking for a late night food run down to their lair, but when she sees its an unrecognized number she exhales and knows its a Source. With a thumb swipe she answers and places the phone up beside her head. "Hello?" She asks and when they respond she nods. "This is April, yes. Reporter, internet influencer and podcast host. Who might I refer to you as?" She asks like its on a script.

Thomas Raith has posed:
There is a hesitation in the man's voice, and it's obvious that whatever name he about to give her is a complete lie. "O'Brian. Yah can call me O'brian. But I don't want my name on anything. Word gets out I'm even talkin' to yaz my ass is grass and the Liu---and my boss is gonna be the lawn mower, capisce?" Irish name, with Italian slang...

April O'Neil has posed:
April draws in a breath and she nods as she talks, having dealt with plenty of people-- "I've talked to lots of people who don't want to give me their name, O'Brian. So don't worry, you're secrets are safe with me, at least the ones you don't want shared with the public. The ones you do?" She then asks. "Well, lemme have'em. I'll make sure they get out there, far and wide and you'll have nothing to worry about, the heat'll be down on me, not you." She knows thats how most of the Sources like to hear it.

Thomas Raith has posed:
"Yeah, look the problem is, this stuff.. people keep saying it don't even exist, yah know? Only it does exist. I seen the shit. Only the Lab guys, they say that they ran all these tests on it, and it can't do whatever it is that it does? lieutenant thinks I'm nuts. Keeps telling me ta drop it. But it's the only connection." O'Brian sighs and the stress is obvious in his voice. "I probably ain't making allot of sense is I?"

April O'Neil has posed:
April picks up on his use of lieutenant, cop or military... probably cop, not serious enough to be military--she thinks. "In my life?" She responds to the man. "You're making a lot more sense than you probably realize, pal." And she smirks then. "Can you describe this... mysterious thing that all of these tests are being run on? What is it? Give me some more details. Don't worry, nobody's listening, I promise."

Thomas Raith has posed:
O'Brian sighs. "It's a drug. Think it's a drug anyway. Funky Junkies on the street calling it Three Eye. Some sort of Haluicinigen I guess. Really powerful Really addictive. Thing is sometimes they take it, and it's all like 'Wow look at all the pretty colors.' Then later, it's screaming and clawin' their own eyes out. Litterly there is a guy in the morgue right now, ripped his own eyes out. Got two more in the loony bin who've completely checked out. Lights are on but nobodys home. Doc says brain scans are they're like trapped in a nightmare. They sedate 'em, wake 'em up, nightmare starts all over."

April O'Neil has posed:
April starts to reach for her notepad as the man starts to unleash the 'good information' now. She starts to jot it down with a pencil that she'd just sharpened with her Home Simpson pencil sharpener that was resting on the desk beside her laptop. "Three Eye." April repeats the name of the drug, her pencil wiggling as she writes it down. "Okay." She adds as she listens further. "Do you have addresses on those locations?" She asks. "Which Morgue and Which Looney Bin? I'll go check them out. Any names of employees I can ask to talk to as well?"

Thomas Raith has posed:
There is another bout of hesitation, but this time a sigh that would indicate he's at least trying to tell the truth. "Waldo Butters. He's an ME down at the city Morgue. If you can get him, he'll be straight with yah. And Saint Angela's. That's where they got those other two guys. Here's the thing though, remember them tests? They know what these guys took, but there ain't no way that it should be doing what it's doing." She can here a bit of rustling over the line as he is apparently checking his own notes to make sure he gets it right. "The stuff's a blend of a buncha crap. It's mostly absinthe, which is like some old timey booze that'll make yah see shit alright, but not like this. Then there are traces of ammonia, Antifreeze, Alum...whatever the flyin' fuck that is, then it gets really weird... Glitter, like the metallic shit my kid sprinkles on her school projects and what is, as near as the braniacs can tell, a large quanity of some sort of bat spit."

April O'Neil has posed:
April is quiet throughout all of what O'Brian tells her now as she's just writing all of this down, softly nodding as she listens to him and if anyone else were in the room with her, she'd probably surprise them by her next spoken words being "Bat spit?" because its just so odd of a thing. "You mean saliva from a, a bat?" She asks then over the phone, circling the name Butters with her pencil as thats a name she definitely wants to hit up for some information. "Is any of this leaking online anywhere?" She then asks. "Dark web and the such?" She has access to the Deep and Dark Web though she tries to stay off of it since she has a lot of web cams and stuff setup and she's... not a hacker by any means.

Thomas Raith has posed:
She can hear the slight smirk in the man's voice. Not condescending in any way, more like 'Yeah, thought that'd get you're attention'. "That's right, similar to, though substantially different from, the South American Vampire Bat. Did you know we got a database that's got Bat Spit listed? I sure didn't. Your tax money at work I guess." he sighs and adds, "If it's out there, I don't know about it. Hell I don't wanna know what I already know. I got five more years, then I collect my pension. Maybe take up a nice security job somewhere and treat the Missus the way she's been deserved to be treated for puttin' up with my ass. But peoples are diein' Ms. O'Neil. Sure it's just funky Junkies right now, but hell I was alive when they was saying the same thing about crack, yah know?"

April O'Neil has posed:
"I understand entirely, O'Brian." April responds to the man as she leans back in her chair then and reaches up to remove the black framed reading glasses from her eyes then runs a hand through her firey red hair. "Look, I'm going poke around in all of this and see what I can come up with. I won't go full public with it until I've got more information otherwise it might be impossible to get anything out of anyone, right?" She nods once then as if he could even see her. "You'll probably hear this all once I do go public with it, but it shouldn't effect you one bit. You've done the right thing by letting me know, hopefully these next five years go by fast and safe for you."

Thomas Raith has posed:
She can actually hear the relief in the man's voice as he replies, "Thanks Ms. O'Neil. It's nice just to have someone not think I'm crazy about this. I should warn you. We got some of the best lab guys on the planet. They say this mix, it'll fuck you up. Hell it's got ammonia and antifreeze in it, might kill you that way... but there ain't no reason it should be doing what's happening to these people. And it sure as hell shouldn't be as addictive as it is. Had one guy in lock up. He claimed he'd only done it once... but he was so desperate to get another taste I bet he'd have sold his first born, his right kidney and his left nut. Oh it's green. Comes in a little vial 'bout the size of my di--" He hesitates and changes what he was going to say to " 'bout the size of your pinkie."

April O'Neil has posed:
April leans forward for a moment and looks at a Instant Message she just received on her laptop but before she gets distracted by that she pauses and stares blankly while listening. "O'Brian." She says his 'name'. "Can you describe to me what IS happening when people are injesting this compound? At least what you say is so unusual about whats going on with it, I get the part about why this nasty stuff is hurting people, but what is it doing thats so... far fetched?"

Thomas Raith has posed:
"Yah mean aside from get all trippy?" He sighs, "The coheriant ones say it let's 'em see the Spirit world or some Hippie Bull. See things for what they really are, not just what they seem to be. Must be a heluvah high is all I know." He shakes his head. "But some folks... apparently what they see or whatever is too much fer their brains to take in."

April O'Neil has posed:
April reaches for her glasses again and slips them back on after hearing this. "But that sounds like it has some kind of hallucinogenic compound in it, like DMT, mushrooms etcetera?" She asks but moves on without waiting for a response to that. "I'm guessing you mean that this substance is doing something beyond just... 'tripping balls'." She smirks a little. "I'll certainly grant you that I wouldn't expect a bunch of stuff like you listed off being anything but an instant trip to death, but yeah, could be just some mushrooms in there too."

Thomas Raith has posed:
O'Brian shakes his head slightly, "Nope, doc's actully checked for that. Just those five things Glitter, bat spit, alum, anti freeze, and ammonia... and of course the Absinthe which is like ninety percent of whats in the vials. No Mushrooms, no acid, no LSD... nothing like that. Like I said this shouldn't do what it does, but it's doing it anyway. that's why they told me to drop it. According to the nerds, it /can't/ do what it does. So if it can't, then it ain't, and it's all one big coincidence and we shouldn't be panicing the good tax payers of New York."

April O'Neil has posed:
April softly nods her head as she listens to the man while she raises the pencil up to curl it around idly in her red hair. "Well." She starts. "It just means those 'nerds' are missing something." She assumes, and provides as an answer of sorts. "Okay, well, I'm going to start looking into this and again, thank you for the heads up. If you find anything else out, just call me at this number or drop an e-mail to my address listed on my podcast homepage, you can find that online with a simple google search."

Thomas Raith has posed:
O'Brian grins just a little bit and says "I listen to it every wekk, Why you think I call you and not someone else." He says with a grin. "Look I gotta go anyway. I'll let you know if I find anything..." He hesitates and adds "And Ms. O'Neail? Be real careful with this shit okay. I been on the Job 15 years. I don't scare easy. This Shit scares me."

April O'Neil has posed:
"Don't worry about me." April says. "I got friends in low places. I'll be just fine." April says this because its meant to be a funny joke, in a number of different ways that most people can laugh at for general purposes and she can laugh at because it also refers to the Turtles who she pretty much relies on heavily for personal protection. "Hang in there, O'Brian." She says, knowing full well he's a cop now.

Thomas Raith has posed:
The man says nothing more, he simply hangs up the phone with a soft beef, severing the connection. Hoping that he's done the right thing... or at the very least done the wrong thing for the right reasons.