Disoriented: cause (someone) to lose their sense of direction.
Marganita drummed on the table with his balled fist. She stared blankly at the wall. The officers came into the room. "Marganita Dinur?" said Mortensen at an even level. She jumped; her eyes wide. "Y-Yes?"
"My name is officer Lester Mortensen," she put his hand out. She stared at it and squinted her eyes. "I don't have drugs..." she said. "Ok..." he put his hands behind his back. "I'm here to ask you some questions."
"Ok." she nodded rapidly. Mortensen took a sit in front of her and officer Snyder stood behind him. "Marganita are you aware that drunken vampires were found in your garage."
"Yeah." she nodded. "I put them there for the sake of the clan."
"Clan?"
"Are you part of a vampire cult?" said Snyder. Her shoulders lifted, "Yes and no, it's a discord RP."
"Larpers..." a crooked smile stretches across Mortensen's face. "Have you been... larping?"
"No..." she replied disgustedly. "That's the fucking, Fae of the Tempo." She put her hand on her chest in devotion. "I serve Elvis—I mean, I used to serve Elvis, but now I turned a whole new leaf. I'm a vampire hunter."
"What's the group name?" investigated Snyder. "Shadow Sundry." she lifted her hair from the back of her neck. "He's the son of Van Helsing himself."
Dear fucking God. Snyder sucked in air; Mortensen clasped his fingers together looking Marganita. "What is wrong with you people?"
"No! No!" she put her hands in front of her. "Van Helsing—Sweep."
"Sweep?" trailed off. "Sweep Van Helsing?"
"He's Van's 8th descendant." she stated proudly. At that moment, he believed Mortensen's bullshit. "Are you really role playing when vampires are fucking real?"
"What--no. Sweep said the police was on our side and the department was trying to get rid of them and close the realm."
"This is a good fanfiction." smiled Mortensen. He looked at Snyder. "What's your favorite part?"
Snyder dismissed the comment. "Marganita are you worshipping again? You a record as it is."
"I know but I'm fighting for the justice of humanity!" she exclaimed. "It's like the fucking holocaust out there!" she wiped the sweat from her brow. "I've seen it." she whispered. Mortensen stretched his neck out, "What?" he replied lowly.
"The spirit... a man was walking down the street. And I saw the spirit waving behind him. Wrap around his legs and go inside him. He got sanctified right then." she bent her back, and stretched her arms out beside. Her. "He was like this and his eyes glowed. He started twitching."
"Oh..." Mortensen sat back. "What level was he? Did he level up? Is that what happens when you level up? I bet he leveled up? Also was it a dungeon?"
"What?" Marganita's lips twisted, she looked at Snyder. "Is he high?"
"Not on V." he said glaring at his partner. "So, you saw the spirit of the cult?"
"Nah," she waved her hand in front of her. "So sweep knows this man. He works with the DOHRCC, the Dock. He told Sweep that he needed a Drunk, because he was trying to find out how to reverse it."
"Reverse the effects of a drunk—He's in the department?" Snyder said astounded. "Sweep has a sister, she got kidnapped and made into Valentina... or some shit."
"Valentina Growden?" Mortensen gawked. "Valentina is part of the Growden family, they dealt with vamps from the Hood. Is the old gang coming back?"
"What?" she stammered. "Old gang?"
"Why did you have drunken vamps?"
"So, Melvin Lyons would turn praisers and addicts back to themselves."
"And sweep asked him because he has a sister with Valentina's soul?" Snyder was beating her questions. "Calm down." urged Mortensen. "No! This is bad! If the old Hood is reviving that means the fucking uprising is happening again!"
.
.
.
Snyder typed away at the keyboard while Mortensen spoke with other policemen. "So, I say to the guy. I don't any trouble. He calls me a Christian, like an insult, because I have Jesus take the wheel on my car window. So, after I do my grocery shopping, I go back to my car and on back of a truck. It has a sticker, it says, 'Satan keep this car COOL'"
Philomon rests his cheek in his hand. "Isn't the hypocrisy?" he looks at Pearlie, "I guess so..." she flipped her oversized dictionary titled, 'Big Words and Nonsense Dictionary.' she searched for the word 'hypocrisy' "Here it is. The act of claiming to have moral standards or beliefs that one's real actions do not fit to," she read. "So... yeah, that is hypocrisy."
"FOUND SOMETHING!" Snyder yelled. "Valentina Growden ran away from home years ago. Around sixteen years back. She was thirty-two."
"What?" doubted Pearlie. "If she's thirty-two she isn't a runaway, she's missing."
"doesn't matter. Plus women in Houston caused a big fight saying they aren't being treated fairly especially with women getting kidnapped for vamps."
"Um, excuse me, ALL women... not just Houston." told Pearlie. "No, girlfriend," Philomon snapped his fingers. "All women is still not correct and you're pressing the stereotype that woman can't think for themselves, sweetie. Don't be a hypocrite."
They both glared at the other disgusted.
"What else did you find." Mortensen peered over his shoulder. "Why God..." he said gazing at the computer. "La Dama Falsa?"
"She has a track record. She's been in jail for child abuse, she was called the 'knock knock nanny' and what she did was drown children as a baby sitter. She claimed she was mexican, she used to be married to Ferrando Ariza. He went missing. But when the body was found, he was naked with cuts across the chest." he explained reading the screen. "Who's Ferrando?"
"A regular. The man worked for a constitution site and... oh wait..."
"Illegal..." they peered at the screen. "Ferrando's ashes were sent back to Mexico, his family, however was dead. Like he had no one else..."
"That's fucking sad..." Mortensen crossed his arms. "I'll light a match..." said Pearlie. "Wow... that's so respectful..." jested Philomon. "Fuck you, it is respectful. Don't you know about day of the dead?"
"It is about respecting the lost."
Snyder leaned back in the chair. "That's ironic."
Pearlie flipped through her book, going back and forth. "Ironic, happening in the opposite way of what is thought, and causing sarcastic enjoyment as a consequence or reward; A response," she read aloud.
"Ok," noted Snyder. "This white woman is Italian."
"Italian...?" quizzed Morten. She jolted, "What about the grave?"
"Oh shit..." she went to typing. "What were the letter?"
"LNS, I think."
Snyder typed in 'LNS, gravesite'. Google pulled up a search, legit one search. He clicked on the link, 'FUCK'. Another search link appeared under it, 'FUCK IT'.
"Click it..." encouraged Mortensen. Snyder looked at him, "You do it..."
Pearlie lifted on her toes as if trying to see something, "What's happening?"
Mortensen grabbed the mouse, he click it. Another appeared under it. 'FUCK ME HARDER'
"What the hell is going on!"
Mortensen kept clicking. The search stretched to five pages.
'FUCK'
'FUCK ME'
'FUCK ME HARDER'
'NO'
'STOP'
'IT HURTS'
'LET ME GO'
'FUCK'
'FUCK'
'Say you want to be saved hearthen.'
'I could save you...'
'Ari'
'Tie up the body'
'Get the sons'
'Erase it'
'Do it for HIM'
'I want a church'
'Call Zhaire'
'I fucked her'
'She might be pregnant
'Fuck'
'Fuck'
'I want a son like me...'
'I'm pregnant'
'But he'll be half white'
"It's a fucking story..." blinked Snyder. "Quick! Pearlie get Sherwin!" he boosted from the chair.