(Since i'm new and not involved in any other topics at the moment except the Elysium meeting at the railyard I figured i'd quench my thirst for a bit more writing with a Pre-Arrival hunting story and a bit of insight at what drew Nicole to Sanfield Rock)

Nicole rolls her Harley out from the safety of the abandoned building she'd called home the past few weeks.  The streets were unusually quiet in this derelict part of the city tonight.  Its as if the mortal residents had some unconscious knowledge of the tradgedies that had played out the night before.  Three primogen meeting their final death, almost the entire Tremere population wiped out, their chantry collapsing into a pit that most likely led to the depths of hell itself.  The city's Camarilla presence might never recover, but steps were being taken to re-strengthen their position and put right all that had been rent asunder.  In any case it wasn't Nicoles place to see that through.  She had witnessed what she had come here to see and had set right a path that had gone astray.  Now it was time to go.  

She checks and re-checks the bikes voluminous saddle bags, making sure shes packed everything before she hits the road.  She never notices the figure suddenly appear from nowhere until he calls her name.

"Miss Bannister," the Prince calls out.  His eyebrows are knit together in confusion and a bit of anger.  "Did you know?"

Nicole sighs and turns to face the Prince.  "Did I know that one of your Tremere was an infernalist?  Did I know that a demons corruption had turned half your primogen against you?  Did I know that by tonight your fair city would be in utter turmoil?   Is that what you're asking me?"

The Prince's anger started to boil to the surface.  His jaw tightened.  His fingers curled into fists.  His eyes narrowing to burning embers.  "Yes!" he hisses behind clenched teeth.

Nicole pauses a moment and gathers her thoughts. "No," she says at last.  "I never know details.  I never know WHAT will happen, only that it WILL.  I can sense the Pattern.  I can detect its weave as it touches everything and everyone and makes them a part of it.  And....and I can sense when its 'off'  So thoroughly corrupted that its like a cancer eating anything it touches.  When I can....I fix it."

The Prince shook with anger now taking three full purposeful strides towards Nicole.  He was sick of this talk about "signs" and "Patterns".  He didn't believe any of it.   This girl was more a lunatic than any Malkavian he had ever dealt with. An accusing finger wavs at her, "You....you're no Oracle.  You're no Saviour.  My city is in tatters. Everything was fine until you arrived."

She shook her head sadly.  "I didn't bring it.  I only follwed it.  If I hadn't been here to point out there was even a problem you wouldn't have been able to stop it in time.  This city wouldn't be yours.  It would be burning in hellfire by now."

The Prince wanted to scream and curse at her.  Part of him wanted to rend her limb from limb and pretend he had never set eyes on her.  But he knew she was right.  She wasn't the cause of this destruction.  "You're not the innocent eyed waif of a girl that rode into this city a month ago."

Nicoles lips curl in a frown. She swings her leg over the Harley and kick starts it into life.  As its engine roar she answers, "Not tonight i'm not."

As the motorcycle pulls away from the curb the Prince calls out to her back.  "You're a Harbinger!"  The Harley speeds away and the Prince gathers up all his remaining rage and screams at her disappearing form.  "YOU"RE A HARBINGER OF DOOM!!"


Nicole zooms away knowing she must find a new place to stay and find sustanence....  

--Last edited by Melissa T on 2008-08-30 20:21:17 --

The street rolls by mile by mile.  At first Nicole has no clue where to go, but thats not unusual.  She trusts shes heading in the right direction and waits for  a sign.  A feral dog picking at the carcass of some long dead roadkill near an intersection and she turns east.  A derelict car with Georgia plates on the side of the road and another turn.  

"Dear God, please don't let it be Atlanta," she says to herself.  She'd made a good habit of avoiding Lupines and the Sabbat on the road, but Atlanta would make that nearly impossible.  

As the night waned on and daylight threatened Nicole made an effort to find someplace to stop for the night. A tiny road-trip freindly community of businesses crept up on the interstate.  Consisting of a gas station, a bar, and a roach infested motel it looked like the perfect place to spend the day.

She's already paid the weasily man behind the counter for a room.  He was jumpy, possibly coked up to stay alert the long night hours.  His one hand never wavered too far from what he kept just under the counter.  The night crowd always proved to be a bit sketchy.  Even the women.  Nicole had grabbed the key from the counter, waggling the glinting metal hanging from the bright orange diamond of plastic emblazoned with the number 9.  "Thanks Norman," she had chirped.  "Just so you know, I think I'm going to skip the shower tonight."  Sauntering out she had left the bewildered motel manager to wonder what she had meant.

Ultimately, that had been a lie.  After unpacking a few choice items from the Harley and plugging her laptop into the wall to charge and boot up she peeled off her road-worn duds and took a turn under the hot spray.  A hot shower was a rare enough occassion sometimes as to be a holiday, so she often indulged herself.  Lathering herself up in Lavender scented body washes she kept for just such occassions, and shampooing her often dry, unruly hair.  Eternal bad hair days seemed to be a byproduct of her curse but that never made her stop trying.  She emerged from the steamy bathroom wrapped in a towel.  She made quick work of drawing the drapes tight after further blocking the single window with a thick tarp.  She also secured the door, locking and deadbolting it after putting out the "Do-Not-Disturb" sign.

"One last thing before beddy-bye time," she mused as she sat down at the laptop and attempted a connection.  She was rewarded instantly.  "Thank god for WiFi and the modern age. Even in a podunk little shithole like this I can access the internet," she mused.

Tapping keys as she signed on and entered several sets of passwords.  She checked her e-mails, hoping to find something useful.  Edward had sent her a heads up that the rare texts she had found in a crumbly old new-age bookstore and sent to him had been successfully scanned and ready to download in PDF format.  She vowed to do that as soon as was possible.  The rest of the e-mails consisted of odd bits of supernatural detritus that had been sent to her through a few online forums and chat groups she belonged to.  Sometimes useful bits of information showed up but tonight it was all useless.

Lastly, remembering the derelict car with the Georgia license plate, she keyed into some Georgia news websites.  Without a more precise location thouh it was like looking for a needle in a haystack.   Most anything in the news had already been filtered and watered down for mortal consumption.  The Masquerade was crucial to survival but it also made things extremely difficult for Nicole.  Nothing. Nada.  Zip.

Cursing under her breath she quickly writes an e-mail to Professor Sigmund Algiers, her sire, appraising him of the final outcome of the situation she had just left and letting him know she felt her next destination was in Georgia.  She encrypts it with a program only she, the professor , and Edward had and sends it off.

Getting up out of the uncomfortable chair the hotel provided, she grabs it and swings the back under the doorknob...jamming it in tight.   Stretching as she feels  the first dawning rays of sunshine clearing the horizon behind the tarped up window, she crawls under the bed...the floor length covers draping around her like a warm cocoon and lets the sleep of death take her once more.

As soon as she rises the next evening she checks her e-mail again.  Still nothing and its looking hopeless.  The dark swell of melancholy starts to fall over her.  She's in one of THOSE moods now.  She feels the beast stirring closer to the surface.  Hope keeps it at bay, depression it knows is a weakness it can exploit.

Nicole packs everything back into the harley except the laptop and the protection she has to keep handy just in case. Tonight she realizes she'll have to move on without a lead.  She can't leave however without feeding.  She slips on some clean travel clothes.  She has nicer but no one stopping here would dress in fancier clothes than these: tight black jeans that accentuate her curves, a matching black tee with the latest metal band craze on the front in bloody dripping letters, and her trusty brown hide trench.  

Leaving her room, she crosses her ankles and leans against one of the posts that supports the overhang that runs along the  tract of cookie cutter rooms.  The overhang presumably protects paying customers from the rain as they exit their cars into the room or make their way there after paying in the office.  Tonight is crisp and cool though.  No sign of clouds in sight.

Before she opens her senses to find her prey she bangs a cigarette from the crumpled pack she keeps in her pocket and lights it.  She doesn't particularly like smoking at all but it provides something human for her to do as she watches.  She's found that often when shes using her heightened senses like this she stands utterly still, unblinking, like a statue and more often than not the prey is scared away by how completely alien that seems.  With the cigareete lit she brings it to her lips now and then, pairing it with a blink as she blows it out.  This makes her look bored and uninterested.

Nicole watches the people arriving at the motel to spend the night.  Her senses open she feels their lifeforces mingling with the Pattern.  She knows she has to choose fast but a mistake could be costly.  A few doors down a family is unloading a few small bags from an overburdened station wagon.  Likely on a family trip the husband and wife banter back and forth as their two small childeren weave around their legs in a loud chase to and fro.  Their place in the Pattern burned brightly.  They will sleep soundly tonight not knowing of the predator in their midst.  She spots a man in a rumpled suit opening the door to his room, breifcase in hand.  She guesses him to be a travelling salesman of some type.  Most businessmen travel first class and they certainly don't stop at dives like these.  She can't detect his place in the Pattern but the glint of a wedding ring on his hand tells her he would be missed if he were to disappear.  Nicole rarely if ever killed but she hadn't fed in a long time and she might not get another chance.  She was starving for vitae and she couldn't be sure tonight wouldn't get messy.  If it did it wouldn't cost the life of someone that had a lasting place in the Pattern.  

And then there he was.  She can tell he is a loner right away.  She can smell her own.  An energy snaps in the air around him too, a touch of danger, a taste of feral desperation. He strides from the room a couple doors further from Nicole.  He is coiled tightly and sweating in the cool night air.  His hands are shoved tightly in the pockets of his leather jacket.  She can see he is heading for the office and in a flash she sees how the next five minutes of his life will play out.

A slow smile curls Nicoles lips as she blows out a long plume of smoke  and starts taking a few purposeful steps to the stranger.

"Hey!" she calls out...

Jonathan Banks strode toward the office fear coiled in his gut.  His fingers tightened around the snub nosed .38 he had in his pocket.  This had been a bad fuckin' idea, he knew, but he desperately needed cash to pay off his gambling debt to those mafia pigs.  Problem was he needed pocket cash just to pull this hair brained caper  to begin with.  Now that he'd spent the day resting he intended to get back the money he spent to stay in this hellhole... and then some.

"Hey!" a female voice called out and he turned to see a woman in a brown trench coming his way.  "Care to buy a girl a drink?"

Jonathans steps faltered a bit.  He glanced nervously at the office he was desperate to get to.  A bead of sweat trickled down his back.  "Listen man, i don't even know you." he said turning to the woman.

She smiled a disarming smile and gently tugged at his elbow so he turned more towards her.  "Look i'm not asking to be your best freind.  I'm simply asking if you'd like to buy me a drink.  The bars right over there." she said pointing to the small structure with the neon Budweiser sign blaring rock music out its doors into the night.  

Jonathan crinkled his nose up confused.  His heart hammering in his chest.  Why wouldn't this woman leave him alone? All he wanted was to get all the money in the motels register and get the fuck out of here.  "What are you some kinda prostitute?"

The woman immediately stepped back stricken.  Her mouth gaped wide and  Jonathan felt horrible.  "Fuck you!  I just don't like drinking alone and I thought we both could use the company but forget it." and the woman Turned on her heels to go.  But just before that something had slid behind those brown eyes of hers and all the fear and adrenaline and determination in Jonathan's gut faded away leaving only that empty stupid feeling.

"Ah shit," he muttered as he advanced towards her retreating back.  "Listen I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I'm not having a great night and I took it out on you.  Look I said I was sorry.  could you...would you just stop a second?"

The woman suddenly spun around, arms folded over her chest.  "I'm listening."

For the first time Jonathan took in her looks.  5' 6", thin but curvey build,  brown pools for eyes you could easily get lost in,  long dishevelled black hair.  It was plainly obvious she wasn't a hooker.  She wore simple clothes.  No miniskirt. No "fuck-me" platform shoes.  No fishnet stockings,  Just simple jeans and a t-shirt.  Also she didn't seem to be wearing a speck of make up on her pale face.  Still she was a pretty woman in her early 20's.  If she tried a bit harder she might even be beautiful.

"Let me buy you that drink," he said knowing full well he didn't have the money to pay for it.  Maybe if he was real lucky he might get laid.  Wouldn't that be something? Besides, the motel was open 24 hours.  That money would still be there later.

She seemed to loosen up a bit.  Her hands dropped back to her sides.  She nodded and said, "Sure. lets go.  My names Nicole." and with that Jonathan Banks had momentarily dodged the hand fate had dealt him.  If only he had realized it.

It had been easier than Nicole had thought.  In fact, it was almost as if he had run into the trap willingly.  As soon as she had recoiled at his comment she saw the look on his face. Just to make sure she had reached out to his bubbling emotions and turned down the knob on the squirming fear and driving need that had sent him towards the office.  After that it was a simple thing to crank up the remorse she saw in his eyes.  

And now here they are in the bar, sitting on stools exchanging small talk.  Theres a couple of late nighters quietly keeping to themselves amidst the dim lighting and loud music.  She recognizes the rumpled salesman, minus his jacket and tie,  at the end of the bar drowning his sorrows.  Behind them a couple of loud, young, probably underaged men are engaged in a game of pool as they sip their beers. This is probably their late night hangout far from the civilzed area they come from.  No one gives a shit if they're legal here or not and they're free to get drunk at theirt leisure.  

This Jonathan is proving to be a bore.  She makes a good show at sipping her scotch on the rocks, letting it touch her lips so she can taste it.  Even going so far as to heighten her sense of taste as she does so.  God she misses scotch.  Vitae is delicious and heady but it doesn't have that slow burn on its way down and into the belly.  She pretends to listen to his innane chatter but in truth shes tuned it out a long time ago.  She half invents things about herself as a little game to keep herself invested in the conversation.  Luckily he's a quick drinker, downing rum and cokes like they're going out of style.  

After he drains his third Nicole lightly touches his arm with a smile on her lips.  "C'mon lets go," she says making it half a question.

His slightly glazed eyes light up a bit and he sits up a little straighter.  "Yeah...uhhhh...yeah sure."

The bartender is quick on the uptake and strolls over with the bill total.  He's an imposing figure, barrel chested with a whitening handlebar moustache, tattoos running up and down his arms.  He looks like a biker who got weary of the road and dropped roots.  Jonathan's eyes flick nervously from the bartender to Nicole.  "Look...I....uhhhh....I don't have...."

Nicole realizes this is the moment of truth.  The course of the rest of the night would be dictated right here.  She reaches into the pocket of her trench and pulls out a thick roll of bills.  She watches Jonathan from the corner of her eyes as she tosses two twenties on the bar instructing the barkeep to keep the rest.

Jonathans practically salivating.  His mouth is gaping wide, almost as wide as his eyes.  Its as if all the previous thoughts of unpromised sex had just evaporated at the sight of the wad of cash. He quickly regains his composure.  The bartender gives Jonathan a look of disdain and shakes his head as he walks away.

"Don't worry about it," Nicole answers to an apology he never uttered.  "I just wanted the company anyway."  With that she hops off the stool, grabbing his arm and dragging him with her out the door back towards the motel.

"You failed Jonathan," she thinks to herself.  "You failed miseably."

As they pass her room Nicole  gently pulls away from Jonathan.  "Hey hon, let me grab something out of my room real quick and then we can go to yours?"  

Jonathans eyes screw up suspiciously.  "What do you need? You're make-up and blow-dryer?  Lets just get to my room."

Nicole shakes her head  as if he were a silly child.  "Protection.  I don't suppose you brought protection with you? I'm not doing ANYTHING with you without protection.  I don't know where you've been."

"No I can't say I do." His mind is swirling she can see.  

She shoos him towards his room with a smile.  "Go on I'll be right there." and when he ducks into his room she ducks into hers.  She grabs what she came for and shoves it under the trench.  Next she turns to the computer and goes to pull the plug and shut it down when she sees her e-mail inbox flashing.

Hope blooms but she doesn't get too excited.  Quickly she taps in her security codes and opens the e-mail.  It was from Edward:

Hey N.

Professor X told me you were heading out Georgia way and I ran across a few interesting news broadcasts that you might be interested in.  Seems a lot of strange activities have been going on in a city called Sanfield Rock.  I attached a bunch of videos that have been broadcast over the last few weeks. You also might be interested in tuning to a local radio program called the Nightwatch.  Hope it helps. Let me know.

Nicole didn't have time to watch the video's just then but she read the breif descrïptions Edward had made a list of for reference sake.  There was a lot of activity indeed.  Child abduction.  Mysterious murders.  A fire coupled with a couple of "malformed" bodies and piles of ash.  Mostly it seemed like gross Masquerade breachs.   She couldn't be sure this was anything at all and she was too hungry to sift through the Pattern and see if it fit.  It was something though.  If only she could be sure.

Sighing she logs off and shuts down the computer.  Slipping it into the carrying case she totes it outside and packs it into the harley, the very last of her possessions ready to go.  Strolling over to room 11, the new heavy weight banging against her side she wonders just how undressed and ready to go Jonathan is.

Jonathan laid on the bed in only his boxers and a wife beater tank-top on.  He had his hands behind his head and the gun tucked under the pillow.  There was still something about this woman he didn't trust  It was too good to be true wasn't it?  I mean what kinda slut picks up strangers at flebag motels?  And she was carrying condoms with her to boot.  "She's GOTTA be a hooker", Jonathan mused.

She had all that cash too.  She wasn't leaving tonight with that.  From the looks of it she had more than the register at this dump would have.  He was going to fuck her first though.  He wasn't stupid.

As he was musing she slipped through the door, closing it behind her by leaning her backside into it.  She stood there momentarily, her eyes seeming to take in Jonathans change of wardrobe.  God, did she look a tad bit disappointed? And if so by what?  That he'd undressed at all or that his how-dee-doo wasn't hanging out for all to see?

"Did you get it?" he asked.

"Get what?" she asked, puzzled.

"The protection," he answered and then repeated it when the first one didn't seem to register.

"Oh yes....yes I did." She dismissed it as if it wasn't important now.  "You know?  You have a great oppurtunity tonight."

Oh great, here we go.  "What are you talking about?"

"This little life of theft and crime you're embarking on just isn't you.  Violence takes a certain coldness and conviction and you just don't have it." She took a step toward him, a bit of a lunatic smile on her lips.

"Motherfucker!" Jonathan cursed aloud as he swung the gun out from under the pillow and turned it on the woman.  "I knew it!  I just knew this just couldn't be real.  You're some crazy drugged up bitch or something.  What did you do in your room, take a hit?"

"You don't want to point that gun at me," the woman said softly taking another step to the bed.

Jonathan licked his lips nervously.  The gun wavered momentarily in his hand, but he recovered and cocked the hammer back.  "Don't go telling me what I want to do. Just stop right there and hand over that nice wad of cash of yours and then you can just leave."

The Nicole woman made a tsk-tsk kind of sound as she advanced another step.  "You disappoint me."

The gun shook in his grip and his jaw tightened.  "Don't move!"

She took another step.  She was already too close. "Don't..." Jonathan managed to croak.  He almost felt like he was going to cry.

One more step and he saw the sheer lunacy in her eyes.  Madness and hunger, like her pupils were swirling and that soft sing-song voice saying the scariest thing he had ever heard through a mouth with jagged teeth.  "You don't have to die tonight."

"Fuccckkkkk!!" he screamed like a little boy and the gun went off.  He didn't even remember if he wanted to pull the trigger but the woman crumbled to the floor just the same.

For a while he just sat there trying to regain his breath.  The gun arm ramrod straight just in case she popped back up over the side of the bed but she didn't.   Gathering up his resolve he finally swung his legs over the side of the bed and advanced to the slumped form of the woman.

He kept the gun on her as he examined her from above.   She was on her back.  He could see the hole in her t-shirt about mid-chest.  The black shirt hid the crimson color of the blood but he could see the damp sticky circle soaking into the fabric.  He was sure there should have been more but then again he'd never shot anyone before.  From what he could tell she wasn't breathing.  Her chest wasn't rising and falling.  He leaned down and placed his fingers against her neck looking for a pulse like they always did in movies.  He couldn't feel anything but she was so cold already.  Was she supposed to be this cold so fast?

"Oh Jesus," he muttered to himself. "I killed her." He leaned over a bit, his gun hand resting on a bent knee, the back of the other hand aginst his lips as he fought off a sudden queasy  spell.  Satisfied he wasn't going to puke he went about digging in her pockets. Coming out with the wad off cash with a smile.

"Maybe it was worth it." he says to himself, but he had felt something hard and bulky under the trench.  Gingerly he flips the loose coat to the side.  He stares stunned at the sawed off shotgun hanging at her hip.  Then he knew he was going crazy because he  could swear he hears her corpse whisper...

"Thats my protection."

Nicole's eyes fly open and her fist swings up and connects with a sickening crunch to Jonathan's nose.  The sweet tang of blood fills the air as it spurts from his ruined face.  He stumbles backwards and collapses to the floor.  The back of his head connects hard with the motel room floor.  Nicole slowly gets to her feet, her chest burning, her stomach now roiling with hunger at the scent of blood.  she grabs the twin of the chair from her room and spins it to face her into the room.  Jonathan looks like hes making snow angels as he tries like a turtle on his back to get up.  Nicole lifts him from the floor by his now red stained shirt and thrusts him in the chair.

In an instant she's on him, tearing into his neck.  Blood flooding down Nicoles throat in big guzzling slurps. Jonathan finally got his Ecstasy as the narcotic effect of the kiss numbed his pain a bit.  The wound in her chest heals even as she directs the hot delicious blood to heal it.  She's so very hungry.  She hasn't fed in so long.  She almost loses herself to the Beast bringing him right to the brink of death before licking the wound shut and pulling herself away.  She yanks up his shirt to wipe her mouth clean.   Theres something she needs him to hear.

He's weak and dazed but conscious.  He probably doesn't have much longer.  There's really not enough blood in him to keep his heart going, but she has a few minutes to explain.

She slaps his face hard and his eyes focus a bit from their daze.  She wants these words to sink in.  "Do you know where you were headed when I stopped you tonight?  You were going to rob the office with that little pop gun of yours.  At least you were going to try.  The thing is the night manager has a shotgun under the counter just like this one in fact."  Nicole brings up the sawed-off and pokes him in the chest with it.  Jonathan moans and is seized by a fit of coughing.

"Listen to me Johnny. This is important, because as you fumbled to get that gun from your pocket that clerck was going to pull that shotgun out and blow your head clear off.  That was your Fate tonight.  You see, we all have a place in the Great Pattern.  Most people don't get to escape their destinies, but tonight I gave you a chance to avoid the shitty hand  you were dealt. They'll say Fate has a way of correcting itself, but theres always a choice.  You just couldn't make it.

Yeah I could've drained you dry. but you so ardently kept choosing to reassert yourself in the Pattern you had been pulled from.  So now..."

Nicole brings the shotgun level with his face.  "I return you right back to it"

She exits the room quickly.   The shot from the .38 most people might write off as a backfire on the interstate, but the shotgun blast would cause a stir.  She didn't have much time before someone threw on a pair of pants and poked their head out.  On a hunch she had grabbed the keys to Jonathans car, a rusty old Chevy Nova, and got a flash.  Something...something in the trunk.

She quickly hustles to the car and opens the trunk.  Much to Nicoles surprise theres a teenage girl inside.  She dressed in designer clothes, trussed up tight, gagged and blindfolded.  She can sense the trunks opening but not knowing who it is she whimpers weakly in fear...pleading with a man she doesn't know is already dead.  Nicole doesn't have time for this.  The objects she's interested in are lying next to the girl and she scoops them up and walks away leaving the trunk open for someone to discover.  

Nicole pretends like she doesn't exist as she walks to her bike.  Shes nothing but empty space.  She'saholein reality that she draws the illusion of this world around to hide her non-existance.  The father of the vacationing family is the first to emerge from his room.  He's hesitant at first but he cautiously approaches the open trunk and Jonathans open motel room door.  He passes Nicole and she has to twist to the side so he doesn't bump her.  He never even knows she's there.  SAhe sits on her harley a moment and waits.  She can't start it now.  She can hide, but not the harley.  

The man cautiously peers into the trunk and sees the bound girl.  He gasps out in surprise and stumbles back.

"What is it Harry?" his wife calls out from their room.  Other heads have poked out now too curious but content to leave Harry to investigate alone.

"Call the cops Karen!" he calls back to her.  He starts to reach in to free the girl and then thinks better of it, turning to the open room behind him.  He peers into the room and immediately stumbles back upon seeing the headless corpse sitting in the chair.  

"Whats wrong Harry?" Karen asks, cell phone in her hand but not having dialed yet.

Harry waves his hands at athe onlookers. "Everyone  get inside.  Lock your door."  He's sprinting toward the office in terror.  As he passes his room he screams at his wife. "Get inside and dial 911!!! Quick do it! Someones been murdered."

At those words everyones curiosity seems to lose out over self-preservation.  Doors slam shut and after Harry disappears into the office Nicole is all alone in the night again.

She looks at the papers she pulled from the trunk of the Nova.  One is an envelope.  It hadn't been addressed yet but inside was a ransom note and a polaroid of the girl holding up a newspaper.  Kidnappers often did that as a way of "timestamping" a photo.  It was proof that the victim was at least alive on that particular day.  Most cameras these days put the date right on the photo but Jonathan Banks didn't seem like kind of guy that had the resources to buy the latest in technology.  Besides those timestamps could be faked.  

The other item was the very same newspaper the girl had been hlding in the photo.  Nicole smiled broadly.  She had her answer.  If this wasn't a sign, If this wasn;t a portent she didn't know what was.  She kick started her bike and took off into the night.  The pages of the newspaper fluttered along the parking lot from where Nicole had dropped it.  

The paper was from a quaint little city that had been troubled by a series of gruesome events as of late.  The cities name was Sanfield Rock.