supremeoutcast
Hiking to Higher Ground
Everything. Everyone. Everywhere. Ends.plg%%James Woodhouse%%
Posts: 209
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Post by supremeoutcast on Mar 27, 2007 19:00:19 GMT -5
Status: Mid-section Name: James Woodhouse Age: 31 Occupation Back Home: Investigative Reporter Appearance:Pale blue shirt, dark trousers and a tie (the last one is quickly discarded) Nationality: British Residence: United Kingdom (prior to the island) Skills: Intelligent, perceptive, can tell when someone is lying, good at getting information out of people, thinks things through before acting, learnt sign language for interviewing the deaf, physically strong, easy to talk to and trustworthy. Weaknesses/Bad Habits: Has trouble opening up due to past trust and betrayal issues, not afraid to speak his mind, sometimes bites his nails in times of nervousness, sarcastic nature can make him appear offhand, dislike of politicians. Frequent Moods/Expressions: Sarcastic but friendly, James is always willing to help and engage with any activity provided he can see a point to it. Understanding, easy to talk to, valuing friendship and quick to try and raise the spirits of others, he is generally active but nevertheless goes through spells of deep contemplation. Has no time for the conceited. Reason for Flight: Recently disowned by his family following an enigmatic report. Item From Wreckage: Pen, pocket diary and a mysterious, folded newspaper article.
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supremeoutcast
Hiking to Higher Ground
Everything. Everyone. Everywhere. Ends.plg%%James Woodhouse%%
Posts: 209
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Post by supremeoutcast on Mar 30, 2007 18:30:47 GMT -5
*FLASHBACK*
Mutilated Body Found In Sewer
James sat at his desk and stared at the article on the computer screen before him, tearing his eyes away momentarily to look at the small clock beside him. It was almost 10pm and he was still at the office, though that was more through choice than requirement. Gun and drug related crime had almost doubled in the last month, a trend suspiciously in accordance with the recent prison release of convicted career criminal Fernando Moricone. Currently running a casino in Sydney, Moricone had been released years ahead of his sentence time, but James’ investigation into this un-nerving affair had been mysteriously blocked. It was at around this time that it had all begun to escalate; gun crime, drug dealing and, most recently, a disfigured and charred body appearing in the Australian sewer network. As a Reporter who had once dabbled in Criminology at University, James had had the ‘pleasure’ of investigating each of these. There was no way of proving it indefinitely, and a good Reporter doesn’t print bias or assumptions, but James had a sneaking suspicion that Moricone had played a significant hand in all this. Recently, however, his leads had completely dried up, plunging him into a vortex of complete frustration.
“Wow. Now there’s a face that could light up a room!”. Lydia Lucas, a fellow reporter two years his junior, had perched herself on the edge of his desk bearing gifts of coffee and aspirin.
“Oh, hey Lydia” James replied, snapping out of his revere and smiling up at his colleague. Although they had never been officially assigned to each other, the two had worked together on countless occasions and had consequently formed a close working relationship. She was one of the few reporters who wasn’t shallow to the point of vapidity and more than that, he trusted her. “Sorry, I was…somewhere else for a minute there”.
“Still nothing?” she asked with an understanding grimace.
“No…the article’s done now, but there haven’t been any new leads, if that‘s what you mean…”. Having no new information prevented James from further investigating and therefore pointing the finger of blame at his prime suspect and as far as he was concerned, an article without a proper conclusion felt incomplete, naked even. He was used to reaching a conclusion before now and was somewhat irritated by the lack of finality surrounding this latest investigation.
“Sounds like Moricone’s PR militia’s doing a good job of sweeping it all under the rug” Lydia commented darkly.
“Yeah, they’ve gotten better at deceit and concealment lately, I’ll give them that” James replied, running his fingers through his hair thoughtfully.
“You know…you haven’t said a word about the election since…”
“…That’s because I don’t want to talk about it” James interjected.
“I know, I know!” Lydia replied, raising her hands. “I just think you might be able to focus better if you didn’t have so many other things on your mind.”
“Believe me, engrossing myself in my work is the best way of taking my mind off other things” James replied with a tired smile.
Lydia opened her mouth to reply, but just what she had to say was cut short by the high pitched ringing of James’ mobile phone. He had only just plucked it from his desk and answered the call when a whispered voice emerged from the other end.
“James Woodhouse?”.
“Yes”, James replied, sitting suddenly more upright.
“I have something to tell you…something you may find of particular importance…you know where to find me…”.
And then the line went dead.
“What is it?”, Lydia asked as James began shutting his computer down.
“A new lead, by the sounds of things. This could be the one we’ve been waiting for!” he added excitedly, throwing his coat quickly around his shoulders.
“Then I’m coming with you!” Lydia exclaimed, scooping up her coffee and dashing quickly after him.
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supremeoutcast
Hiking to Higher Ground
Everything. Everyone. Everywhere. Ends.plg%%James Woodhouse%%
Posts: 209
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Post by supremeoutcast on Apr 2, 2007 17:21:24 GMT -5
I notice some people on here have posted images of flashback so characters, so I may as well join in the fun. Lydia Lucas
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supremeoutcast
Hiking to Higher Ground
Everything. Everyone. Everywhere. Ends.plg%%James Woodhouse%%
Posts: 209
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Post by supremeoutcast on Apr 14, 2007 16:26:40 GMT -5
**FLASHBACK No.2**
It was almost 10:30 as James pushed open the door to The Twisted Oak and held it open for Lydia, allowing her to enter in ahead of him.
“God I hate this place” she muttered, her eyes roaming disdainfully over the dimly lit interior. “Are you sure this is where he meant?”.
“He said I’d know where to find him” James replied, walking with her to the bar. “I can’t think where else he could have meant”. Out of the way, discreet and considerably hard to locate, the pub was a notoriously effective source of contacts and information. This was not the first time James had agreed to meet someone confidentially there and he highly doubted it would the last.
“Where is he, then?” Lydia asked quietly as James ordered them drinks.
“Only one way to find out” he whispered back. They both turned and began looking over their surroundings. The place was packed with all manner of undesirable characters, from what could easily have been a Hells Angel division gathered around a snooker table to several slimy looking individuals engaged deep in discussion beside the bar.
“There” James muttered, gazing pointedly across the room. A row of tables had been lined up against the opposite wall and there, sat half in darkness and staring straight at him, was the man he instantly knew to be his contact. Having established eye contact, the man lowered his head and returned to his drink.
“You gonna be alright here for the minute?” James asked. “He’s not expecting a third party member and I don’t want to scare him off”.
“Oh, I’m sure I can handle myself” she smirked.
James smiled back before picking up his drink and setting off across the room. The mystery man looked up again as he drew level with the table.
“James Woodhouse?” he asked in a slow, seemingly intellectual voice.
“That depends” James replied. “Are you the one who called me?”.
The man nodded and waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the chair opposite him. James took it and faced him directly.
“No recording equipment?” he asked. It wasn’t unusual for informants to desire complete confidentiality during their interviews.
“If you wouldn’t mind” the man replied, glancing around in what was clearly an instinctive manner. “A man’s voice can be traced just as easily as his face in these paranoid times”. James reached into his pocket and extracted his digital voice recorder. He popped the back open, removed the batteries and slid it across the table to his interviewee. The man’s request was of little bother to James; in fact, it rather excited him. In his experience, anyone fearing a vocal trace was in possession of information equal in worth to that of their own lives, at least in the eyes of those it could damage.
“What do you know of the identity of the corpse you so recently wrote about, Mr Woodhouse?”.
“Not much. That he was a male, around 40 years old…his face was too badly mutilated for a proper identification process to take place on site…he was already dead before being deposited in the sewer…cause of death was unknown at the time of going to print…and that’s about it”, James concluded, taking a swig of his drink.
“Oh, the cause of death was very much known, at least to those within the correct circles. Would I be correct in assuming that the coroner’s report was rigidly unavailable to you?”.
“Yes” James replied.
“Just as I thought…this man, your John Doe, so to speak, was an associate of our mutual…shall I say…’overlord’, Mr. Fernando Morricone”.
James sat suddenly more upright. He had suspected from the offset that Morricone had been involved, but that was not something he needed to divulge to an anonymous source.
“Morricone catch him stealing paperclips again?” James asked sarcastically.
“Not quite” the source replied with a thin smile. “Mr. Morricone does not tolerate failure, particularly when the aforementioned slip up involves the delivery of certain…substances”.
James felt something flare up inside him. So Morricone did have a hand in the rocketing levels of drug culture…he glanced over at Lydia and felt his eyebrows raise; she looked thoroughly disgruntled and appeared to be getting some very unwanted attention from a young man two seats down from her.
“But more importantly than the why is the how” the man continued, snapping James’ attention back at once. “You see Mr. Woodhouse, the coroner’s report, along with much of the evidence surrounding this and so many similar murders, has been placed under high levels of restriction, or, in some cases, removed altogether”.
“How is that possible?” James asked incredulously.
“Mr. Morricone has agreed to something of a partnership with someone…someone with enough influence to remove all trace of his hand from any crime scene…a cover up, if you will”.
“And what does this ‘gentleman’ receive in return?”.
“Finance, largely. I, most regrettably, did not bear witness to this deal and so am unable to divulge this man’s identity…however, there is an opportunity for you to do so”.
“How?” James asked determinedly. He glanced once more across the room; Lydia’s admirer had turned away briefly. She was now miming an action to James which heavily suggested that she was thinking of hanging herself.
“Mr. Morricone owns a casino, I am sure you will be aware of it, in Australia. He is to meet this gentleman there in two days time at midnight to discuss further terms of their arrangement. Be there, and you may have a chance”. The man picked up his glass, downed the last of his drink and stood up to leave.
“Wait!” James exclaimed. The man turned and looked at him. “Why are you telling me all this?”.
The source considered him for a moment before replying. “The man found in the sewers yesterday was a good friend of mine. I have done things in the past for which I am not proud, but I mourn the death of a companion just as any other man. Two days, Mr Woodhouse.” And with that, the man inclined his head and swept away.
“Well?” Lydia asked eagerly, appearing suddenly before him and taking the source’s now unoccupied seat.
James thought for a moment. “Well, now it seems I’ve got a little flight to book” James replied with a smile.
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supremeoutcast
Hiking to Higher Ground
Everything. Everyone. Everywhere. Ends.plg%%James Woodhouse%%
Posts: 209
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Post by supremeoutcast on Apr 14, 2007 16:30:31 GMT -5
'The Informant'
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on May 13, 2007 11:30:51 GMT -5
Wow, great flashbacks! It's always neat to find out why the characters were in Australia. Very interesting. Can't wait to find out more about this Morricone dude.
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supremeoutcast
Hiking to Higher Ground
Everything. Everyone. Everywhere. Ends.plg%%James Woodhouse%%
Posts: 209
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Post by supremeoutcast on Jul 6, 2007 10:32:43 GMT -5
**Flashback No. 3**
James sat in the Gate 2 departure lounge of Heathrow Airport, sipping unenthusiastically at a cup of Styrofoam hot. Hot what, exactly, he couldn’t tell. It could have been tea, but then again, it could have been oxtail soup for all its texture revealed.
His outbound flight to Sydney had been delayed ‘due to technical difficulties’ (“due to the wrong type of government, more like” James had thought), at which point a typically nasally voice had boomed out of the speaker systems to announce that refreshments would be provided as compensation. What had in fact turned up was liquefied gut rot. James pulled a disgusted face, wondering if the thick gloop nestled in the bottom of his cup was perhaps part of some mass conspiracy to poison customers before they had a chance to complain. It certainly wouldn’t have been the strangest story he’d ever uncovered. A small girl sat two seats down caught sight of his expression and giggled, glad to have found some small, temporary source of amusement. Her face had shown nothing but fear upon hearing the previous loud speaker announcement and James, realising that her mother was too preoccupied with her e-mails to have noticed, had re-assured the girl that everything was going to be alright.
“Not good, is it?” he said, smiling at her as he held up the Styrofoam cup. The girl shook her head rapidly from side to side, like a dog trying to release water from its ears. James laughed and turned back to his newspaper (always good to keep up with the competition), losing his concentration and giving up after the first few paragraphs. The cleaners appeared to be hosting a 24 hour Hoover race around the departure lounge and from what James could determine, it seemed that every single member of staff had decided to take part.
He looked up at the sea of faces around him, seeing but not really noticing any of them. There were too many other things on his mind. Like his new mystery informant, for instance.
“What evidence is there that honky quack even knows Morricone? Or that he’s not just leading you into one fucker of a bear trap?” his Editor, Richard J. Harrison, had demanded. And although he didn’t truly know, James had argued his case. He’d had to. It was the only way he could authorise the journey, let alone the costs that went with it. But now he couldn’t help wondering. What if it really was some wild goose chase? Or worse, a hoax? A fixed deception, designed solely to discredit him and those he worked for by association?
Because it just doesn’t FEEL like a deception. Stay on track. You can’t find the truth if you don't stay involved.
He looked toward the vending machines, thinking of purchasing some extra aspirin to combat the inevitable in-flight headaches he would soon suffer. What he saw made him double-take.
Lydia was walking straight toward him, glancing up every so often at the departure monitors above.
James could only stare incredulously. She threw herself down next to him, peering over at his open newspaper.
“Ooh, anything we wrote?” he asked, raising her eyebrows and smiling at him.
“What the hell are you doing here?” James asked, unable to keep the surprise from his voice.
“Oh, I came for the short-course on Temple design” she replied sarcastically. “What do you think I’m doing here? I’m coming with you!”.
“Wha- there’s no way you could’ve persuaded Harrison to let us both go, he’d rather gnaw his own arm off than fork out that much money!”.
“Well then I hope he’s got some Tabasco handy, ‘coz this gal’s primed and ready to fly!” she winked.
James raised an eyebrow at her.
“James, honestly, it’s fine. He wouldn’t finance all of it, so I’m paying half the cost myself”.
James wasn’t sure why, but he suddenly felt guilty. There was little time to discuss the matter further, however; the nasally voice had returned to inform all passengers that the flight was now boarding.
“Well, I suppose at least you didn’t have to sleep with anyone this time” James grinned mischievously, watching as the plane’s cattle began shuffling slowly toward the gate.
“Oh, don’t think I’ve forgotten about you starting that little rumour” she replied darkly.
“All I’m saying is you started drinking a LOT of water when that new delivery boy started bringing those plastic water butts to the office” James chuckled.
“There was a heat wave that month!”.
“In November?” James asked sardonically.
“Whatever” Lydia snapped, waving her hands in a particularly flustered manner. “Let’s just get this flight over with. Take off always makes me nauseous”.
“Lydia…’ James started as they rose from their seats. ‘…You don’t have to do this”.
“I know I don’t” she replied, a soft, understanding light suddenly appearing in her eyes. “But this is the lion’s den you’re heading into, James. You might need some back up. And besides’ she added, smiling warmly, ‘I know what the OTHER situation is out there. I know how hard it is for you. And more than anything, I know what it’s like to need support and not have any. If there’s any way I can be there for you, I will be”. She turned and moved toward the gate, James smiling happily at her back, unable to express how much she meant to him, yet somehow knowing that he didn’t need to.
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supremeoutcast
Hiking to Higher Ground
Everything. Everyone. Everywhere. Ends.plg%%James Woodhouse%%
Posts: 209
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Post by supremeoutcast on Aug 12, 2007 18:55:01 GMT -5
***FLASHBACK NO.4****
James stood in the foyeur of Morricone's casino, an immense, neon lit structure that quickly proved painful to the eyes if looked at for too long. The interior was lit mostly in red, white and blue, with gold pillars, lamps and chandaliers providing evidence of Morricone's trademark royal flourish. James knew too much of where the man's money came from to be impressed. People had suffered, died even, in order for these furnishings to be affordable. The thought of it was physically sickening.
James turned and finally caught sight of Lydia walking in his direction from the main entrance, dressed in a figure hugging evening dress of midlight blue. They were undercover, and it was important that they not be seen together to reduce the chances of recognition. They had even taken the liberty of arriving in seperate taxis on the off chance that one of Morricone's doormen knew their faces.
"I think your dicky needs straightening, Mr Woodhouse" Lydia whispered, smirking mischieviously as she walked past him and into the casino itself. James turned toward an elaborate mirror set into the wall beside him, smiling as he straightened his tie. His disguise had been considerably more elaborate; deciding that his tuxedo wasn't ample enough, James had slicked his hair back and donned a fake pair of glasses, a neccessary precaution seeing as it had been his work that had helped put Morricone in jail the first time round.
A few minutes later, James turned and followed Lydia into the casino. The place was a sea of arcade machines, roulette tables and various other gambling apparatus, but it was to a lavishly carpetted staircase on the room's right hand side that James' eyes were drawn. At the head of this flight was a highly polished pair of wooden double doors, both of which led, he knew, to Morricone's office. A double row of slot machines lay directly opposite the stairway, and it was to these that James made his way. He saw Lydia feeding money into a token machine and winked as she looked up; she raised her eyebrows briefly and smiled before moving away. James changed his own money and sat at one of the machines, watching as Lydia occupied the one opposite him.
Thus far their plan had worked out smoothly; James had a perfect view of anyone entering or leaving Morricone's office, while Lydia was close enough to overhear any snatches of conversation, particularly important should the gangster's associate turn out to be an enigma.
Results were both quick and unexpected. James had only just ordered himself a whisky and fed a handful of tokens into the machine when the double doors creaked open. James felt a rush of anticipation; this was it, the moment of truth was upon them...then the two figures stepped out.
James' heart leapt up into his throat.
On the left was Morricone - short, stocky and with a face as arrogant as his posture.
And beside him, with a look of undeniable contention, was James' brother - Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of Australia, Lionel Woodhouse.
"Fuck!" James hissed; he shifted aside and ducked down out of view; Lionel would recognise him in an instant. "Lionel!" he whispered, catching Lydia's started expression. At first she just looked confused, but then, as the two moved closer and voices could be heard, the realisation started flooding into her eyes. James knelt down, pretending to pick something up, his heart beating furiously against his rib cage. He was sure they would hear it, sure it would burst from his chest any time soon, but a moment later their voices faded and Lydia rushed round to his side.
"James, that...that was your brother!" she exclaimed, walking with him to an out of the way, leather sofa.
"Yeah, I noticed" James replied sarcastically."What the hell is he doing with Morricone? He's a key figure in the Australian courts for Christ sake!".
"I couldn't catch what they were saying" Lydia said appolagetically. "They dropped their voices. All I heard was something about a case being held next week and how 'the documents' needed to be ready".
James nodded. He pulled out his mobile and, through the local switchboards, was put through to his brother's office.
"Mr Woodhouse's office" announced the cheery female voice.
"Oh hello" James began as Lydia looked on in concern, "I'd like to speak to Mr Woodhouse, if I may, please?".
"I'm sorry, Mr Woodhouse is in a meeting at the moment".
"I'll bet he is" James replied darkly. "Thank you". And with that the call was terminated.
They sat in silence for a moment, James contemplating the possible implications of this revelation, Lydia glancing across at him as if worried he was about to snap. James had never seen eye to eye with his brother, indeed, theirs had been a relationship of anamosity and outright dislike, but he would never have suspected him of this...
"So...what are you going to do?" Lydia asked, breaking the silence.
"I need to talk to him" James replied resolutely. "I need to give him the chance to tell me what's going on".
"And if he doesn't?".
"Then we find out using our methods" James replied, turning to meet her eyes. "And we do whatever needs to be done".
***FLASHBACK ENDS***
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supremeoutcast
Hiking to Higher Ground
Everything. Everyone. Everywhere. Ends.plg%%James Woodhouse%%
Posts: 209
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Post by supremeoutcast on Aug 12, 2007 19:03:11 GMT -5
Lionel Woodhouse
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Post by ana on Aug 14, 2007 13:32:28 GMT -5
OOo... Lionel looks very shady......and now I also want to go to a casino..... Loving these flashbacks... it's like some great detective story ;D Keep 'em coming, I wanna know what's made James so guilty...
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supremeoutcast
Hiking to Higher Ground
Everything. Everyone. Everywhere. Ends.plg%%James Woodhouse%%
Posts: 209
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Post by supremeoutcast on Aug 21, 2007 17:43:13 GMT -5
Haha, oh Lionel's one suspicious character alright. He's pretty much the opposite of everything James stands for. Look out for some confrontation in the next one Glad you're enjoying the flashbacks, MM! I'm trying to do something a bit different with James while still keeping it all realistic. And don't worry, you'll find out what happened to mess James up soon enough The whole "don't get involved" thing he keeps suffering from on the island is a key part of it
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supremeoutcast
Hiking to Higher Ground
Everything. Everyone. Everywhere. Ends.plg%%James Woodhouse%%
Posts: 209
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Post by supremeoutcast on Sept 7, 2007 17:23:51 GMT -5
And just because she's so darn cute, here's a new picture of Lydia.
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