Is Your Dad Evil?

Out of the frying pan, into the fire... Max had been at Starlight Academy for less then a fortnight, and already, he'd received special orders from his handler, a Paladin back home, to investigate the case of a man named Gabriel Baltimore, the owner of Gomorrah. Rumors of abductions and other illegal activities had come to their attention, and as Max was the only active Field Knight, he had been sent to investigate. Normally, The Order stuck to dealing with cases of brute force, like the taking of the island that Max himself had been found on, but Field Knights were a special case. They could get in where an army could not, be the eyes and ears. Essentially, Field Knights were the agents of the Order, meant to keep a low profile and keep tabs. That being said, Max wasn't usually one for subtlety, so this was difficult for him.

A little gossiping had led Maxwell to discover that Mr. Baltimore had a daughter at the academy, one who was, well, very visibly a Demon. Chloe Black was her name. Some research and a little bit of connect-the-dots told him that Mr. Baltimore was a Goetian Demon, and that things were not what they seemed. He doubted very much that "Gabriel" was even his real name, much less his real body. However, this was when he hit a wall. He couldn't find anything else about him. Everywhere he looked, it seemed there was simply no information. He had either covered his tracks amazingly, or simply managed to keep things quiet all this time.

It seemed he didn't have any other choice. He'd have to go right to the source. Of course, he wasn't about to just waltz into Gomorrah. That might be suicide if his what he knew so far was true. So he decided to go to Chloe, first. Maybe she'd be a little more cooperative, after all, Demons weren't known for their fantastic family lives.

And this was what had brought him to be here, leaned up against the wall, around the corner from the student lounge, watching her in the reflection of the mirror in front of him. He tried to be as inconspicuous as he could be, and after all, she had her back to him, so it wasn't painfully obvious. For a little while, he just watched her, trying to learn as much as he could about her. He didn't get much. The book she was reading from seemed supernatural in some way or another, but aside from the obvious hooves and horns, there wasn't much to infer.

Sighing, Max resigned to the fact that he'd have to question her directly. He was never any good at this part of the job. Turning the corner, he pushed up his hat, sidestepping a few high schoolers and finding an armchair facing perpendicular to the couch, where he sat, resting his arm on his knee.
"Chloe, right? I'm Max. Could you talk for a second?" He asked her politely, waiting for a response to continue.

Max cocked his head as the whispers grew louder, almost protesting as the book was shut. That... Wasn't ominous at all. This was just getting creepy. Still, she was polite so far, so he'd try to keep her positive attention. She didn't seem that bad, after all. As she fiddled with her tie, Max took off his hat, to imply that the matter at hand was serious and needed respect.
"Okay, Chloe, you seem like a smart girl, so I'm not going to sugar coat it. He began, his tone serious but not threatening. "I've been sent to investigate some shady goings on, namely disappearances, involving Gomorrah, a club I'm sure you're familiar with." He explained, moving idly in his seat. "Is there anything you can tell me to shed some light on the situation?" He would ask, politely as he could, optimistic, but preparing for the worst. He didn't know her loyalty to her father. From what he heard, they were pretty close, but he didn't want to assume anything.

[BCOLOR=transparent]Max sat there in silence after he spoke, waiting for the girl to respond. Was she collecting her thoughts, or preparing a lie? Her answer came after a few moments, and she seemed cooperative. Still, he wasn’t sure what exactly he could believe from her. The first thing she asked was who sent him. Well, shit. He had hoped she simply wouldn’t ask. He was really bad at this whole subtlety thing. [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]”I’m a private investigator. I was hired by an organization interested in the safety of Manta Carlos citizens.” He answered, technically telling the truth, sort of.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]She asked him about the nature of the disappearances, telling a little more than expected. Well, now he could verify temporary disappearances, at least. ”Just tell me what you can. Every bit helps.” He said, not wanting to constrain the information she gave him.[/BCOLOR]

Maxwell was tempted to ask just where exactly this employee entrance was, but perhaps that would be best left to the imagination for now.
"That doesn't explain the gaps." He said with a frown. "The records I have showed people disappearing for several weeks before turing up again." He explained, shifting in his seat as the girl seemed to be getting irritated with him. He resisted the urge to reach for the gun and demand answers, which is what any of the Paladins back home would have done; No, he needed a bit more subtlety here, if he could help it. Plus, he meant her no ill will... So far, at least.

"I care because something is happening to these people. Their friends tell us that they return... Different. A shell of their former selves. Wherever your employee entrance goes, it's not home." He told her, actually starting to get a little frustrated himself. "Well, it isn't a short cut, at any rate." He added, knowing she was probably going to respond with a repeat of the statement he had already heard about them turning up if he didn't clarify.

The girl kept telling, confirming what Max suspected. The door didn't go home. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together as to where the door went... The club was run by a demon, after all. She didn't seem to understand just what they were doing wrong, it seemed almost foreign to her.
"I fail to see how pulling somebody into another dimension, Hell or otherwise, is legal, much less ethical. A business has the right to throw people out and call the police, not punish people themselves." He retorted, angered by her casual attitude towards this.

"Especially this way. It's medieval at best, like chopping the hands off of thieves." He added, shaking his head in disgust. "I've asked, but they wouldn't say. Just kept warning me never to go to Gomorrah." He responded to her question.