(no subject)

[socrowdedinhere]

Who: Sam, Noemi, Rick, and Hellboy
What: Something terrible is happening, and Sam ends up with two (of the three) best paranormal investigators on the case to help her out.
Where: Various
When: Late spring 2022

Sam had decided to take Noemi on a little vacation. So long as she keeps Noemi's anchor item, a lovely little paperweight, bundled safely in her backpack, Sam can take her friend to places, and, at a signal, let the spirit of the young lady take control to see things for herself. They're two days into things. 

Noemi is in control of Sam's body, enjoying the sights and sounds around her as she chats quietly with Sam in her head (in English! She wants to practice as much as possible!). She's having so much fun, and will cherish the memory forever for sure!

The good feelings don't last, though. A low rumble trembles in the air. No one else seems to notice or react, but Noemi stops, hands coming up to grip her head. Sam will sense the sharp pain Noemi feels just before the girl let's out a blood curdling shriek. This tattooed woman stopping in the middle of everything, hands to her head, screaming at the top of her lungs, has the crowed moving away from her, staring, startled, and unsure of what to do or what the problem is.

(No, no, no, no.) Noemi's voice is full of panic and pain, and plenty of confusion. She doesn't know what's happening, but it hurts! (S-sam....h-help!) The scream stops as her hold on Sam slips, leaving Sam in control of her body once more.

Sam will see Noemi's spirit for the first time outside of a dream. The ethereal image is faint, and will disappear from view quickly, but in that moment she looks like some stuntman in a movie being yanked backwards by a harness. Sam will be able to follow Noemi's aura as it disappears, not into her anchor item, but away through the crowd. 

Comments

[10_20_15_5_50]

It was disorienting as hell, or would've been, but for the clarity of adrenaline---some from the fright of whatever had just happened, and some from Noemi's fear and pain. She was the immediate and singular focus, as jarring as it was for Sam to see her. Jarring... and in this instant, awful, because there was nothing she could do for her friend. Noemi was scared, hurting, and there... then gone. For the first few seconds she spent processing, Sam felt hollow, cold to her core. After those few seconds, something clicked in her like an abacus, and she straightened to study the crowd. People were still staring at her, confused, curious, and wary, but she didn't look back at any of them.

Sam was looking at auras.

She didn't spot understanding anywhere, or guilt, or satisfaction, or anything to indicate anyone within sight understood the last two to three minutes any better than she did... so it seemed there wasn't anything for her, not here. Giving chase wasn't a viable option; she couldn't cover much ground on-foot. Divination wasn't practical, either; asking for help was.

Taking a moment more to note the direction Noemi had disappeared in, Sam pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed Darnell.

[neverasked4this]

Unfortunately, the only response is a canned one via voicemail - generic enough for the average listener, exceptionally telling for those who knew the keywords. The Master Detective was on a case that took him out of reach of anyone but his own agent handler (and possibly unreachable even by Thomas, depending). And if that were the case . . . there was no call trying Martinez, either.

oh schemer does aura sight reveal any fuckery?

[10_20_15_5_50]

Sam swore. Quietly, into the phone, ostensibly at the unhelpful recording, continuing up until the 'after the tone,' invitation. She hung up before the line could record her cursing, and started in the direction of her suburban. She walked as quickly as her lame leg allowed, feeling a little like her brain was sprinting on a stationary wheel; the next step that made sense was seeing if there was anything noteworthy in the direction Noemi had gone, at least within city limits. When she got someone to work with, they would probably ask if she knew of anything out that way. It was a good question.

Here's another good question; do I know anyone who can see ghosts?! She didn't think so, but Sam had very rarely actually asked anyone that question. Xan might've been able to perceive ghosts somehow, but he was out of reach; if Donna Cherry knew anyone with the ability, her cabal wouldn't be arguing over whether or not they ought to resurrect/reanimate Maurice Richard because asking the guy would (or: should) decide the matter; Deena might have a lead, but it was iffy. She'd at least text to ask the martomancer when she was done her drive, and after that... it was hard to say. The drive meant some time to decide, which she needed.

Before she'd even reached her vehicle, Sam had decided: if the thing that had happened to Noemi was actually a thing that had been done to Noemi, the doer had some kind of problem between 'crowbar' and 'catastrophe' coming.

It does indeed

[socrowdedinhere]

As Sam drove she would catch sight of a strange and very unsettling aura. Whatever it is, isn't human, and the intent is not friendly. Mix unfriendly with a sense of triumph and satisfaction, and she'll be sure it was something done, not just something that happened. It's moving fast, just barely slower than she's driving, and definitely has hold of Noemi, as Sam may recognize the young girl's aura mixed in with the other's.

At one point, though, this unsettling aura darts off in a direction Sam can't drive, at least not from where she is now, but maybe it is headed for the neighborhood nearby?

Re: It does indeed

[10_20_15_5_50]

Unfriendly, triumphant, and satisfied? Two and two for four and this fucker, thought with a variety of venomous inflections. Sam watched the entity as well as she could while still driving with all due care, awaiting anything that would suggest it noticing it had been noticed, as well as an opportunity to turn the way it went. Through the little glimpses she got, she tried to identify any tells reflecting Noemi's condition, even if the threat got the bulk of her attention. How could she not? She didn't know what had happened, but she knew ghosts could suffer, and worry remained a cold weight in her chest, stomach, hands. Threads of outrage were there, too, like the thin lines of smoke from a fire struggling to start; it felt like there wasn't yet room for all the appropriate anger, all the appropriate anger being 'spitting and incandescent.'

[socrowdedinhere]

If the entity is aware she's spotted it, it doesn't seem to care. It will be out of sight by the time Sam is able to turn towards the neighborhood. While she could still see them, Noemi's essence was... pained... scared, weak. No matter where Sam goes throughout the neighborhood, she'll be unable to find a trace of the thing that took her ghost friend.

[10_20_15_5_50]

Sam drove longer than she should've, hoping for some glimpse, some sign, something, even as she knew the odds were slim---at best. Eventually, she pulled over, and marked in her phone exactly where she'd been when Noemi was forced from her...and her anchor. A quick check proved the paperweight was still safe in her bag, as it had been, and apparently unaltered; that was one plus, in the face of such an inexplicable loss.

What the fuck had that been?! Sam didn't know; she had no answers; what she had, instead, was a next step... and a next stop: liquor store. It would've sounded suspect, but she needed a bottle of red wine for ritual reasons. The next step was seeing if she could or couldn't contact someone else who was aware of whatever-it-was and considered it a problem, and to do that, she'd need the wine, four phone books, her own phone, the right room, and a few minutes to do the rite right. The phone books were the biggest problem; she had a stack stashed at home, but it would be a long drive and she didn't want to wait that long. Finding one in-town, and hitting the nearest three until she could snatch up enough? Also a pain in the ass, but more agreeable, since the busywork of gathering components was more tolerable than trying to rush back to Porcupine River without being ticketed. The hotel room itself didn't fit the requirements, but its bathroom did; she could do the phone rite there.

Three hours after deciding her course of action, Sam---tired, worried, frustrated, and not knowing what she should expect---did. The ritual itself was simple, once it was set up; drink the wine, spin the bottle, take numbers from the helpline pages the phonebooks standing in the corners of the corners of the room had been propped open to show, adding her particular problem through the numbers corresponding to the letters: S P I R I T S N A T C H I N G M Y S T E R Y E N T I T Y I N S O U T H Q U E B E C

If I've got details wrong on where Rick has been, let me know, I'll edit.

[socrowdedinhere]

Rick is pretty seasoned as supernatural things now, and he's recently gotten a call that a town in Quebec is having issues with people just... collapsing. A few are dead, but most are in comas. People who've been nearby when someone has collapsed have commented on thinking they saw some kind of dark entity. Only one person saying it could be passed off as some spiritual nut, but with every witness, separately and unaware of another's experience, also saying they saw some dark shadow, really makes it clear this is likely some kind of supernatural entity at work.

It's his first time out of the USA for a job, but he's gotten all the legal stuff worked out and has been approved to work in Canada. And so he's off to this town in Quebec, to find out what sort of entity is putting people into comas. He's just arriving at his hotel, not far from the affected neighborhood, when he receives a call from an unknown number.

Just that, since he doesn't NEED to be paid for his services, I don't think he'd...

[neverasked4this]

((...take the time to cut thr red tape when people's lives are on the line. Rick would hop in and work out the international details later. XD Also...since I don't have an account for Rick [...yet? XD;;;]))

Rick spent a semester abroad when he was in college, and that was under ten years ago, so his passport's still good. He looked into what it might take to be able to work - well, more pointedly, to accept payment in a professional capacity - in Canada, but that was going to take too long. It sounded like something was taking people down at random left, right, and center, and he wasn't going to waste time getting something he didn't strictly need...since he didn't actually NEED to be paid for his services, when push came to shove. Really, the only reason he charged clients anything was so they felt what they were getting was of a good quality, not just freebie crap.

He usually drove to case locations, but he didn't know what it would take to be able to drive legally in Canada, so he hopped a plane and arranged for a rental car. Said car was now safely parked in the hotel's lot while he dropped his luggage - just an old gym bag, really - on the bed and himself into the chair at the little desk in the corner to start familiarizing himself with the area. Just as he pulled out his tablet, though, his cell phone rang. He looked at it, but the display lacked not only a name but a number, merely conveying 'Caller Unknown.'

"Huh..." Well, no reason not to take it. "Paranormal Files Detective Agency, Rick Rogers speaking. How can I help you?"

[10_20_15_5_50]

"You can hold off on deciding 'I have a crazy lady here,' despite how nuts my problem is probly gonna sound. That's one way, and others, I'm afraid, may take some unpacking. Sam Patchowski, by the way." At this point, introducing herself as 'Lydia Demaire' was waving a red flag, but... Sam felt comfortable offering her actual name. She had no criminal record, and everything she and Noemi had been about was above-board---toolihg around, seeing what there was to see and enjoying each other's company. "I have a haunted item. That's not a problem. That's the opposite of a problem. The ghost attached to it is nice. The problem is something---and I want to know what in the shit it was---fuckin' ripped my ghost off. She was frightened, and in pain, all of a sudden, and then gone. Does that sound like anything you've heard of?"

Under other circumstances, Sam might not have been so blunt---but she might've. Thanks to the rite, she knew her problem was also Rick's problem; she just didn't know how much he knew... or believed.

[neverasked4this]

"...um."

Whatever Rick might have been expecting, it definitely wasn't this. Not that he thought she was crazy - really, he'd heard plenty of "crazy" in his life that was perfectly (if horribly) legit - just that it was kind of a lot to get hit with out of the blue, enough so that it managed to stun him a little. But he shook it off as quickly as it hit. Regardless of the details, it boiled down to Rick Rogers has a case.

Another one. He was already in town - in a foreign country - on a case. Could he take on a second one?

No. That wasn't the right question. The right question was how did he manage to work them both? His life's purpose was to help people, living and dead. Whoever this ghost girl was, she was clearly in trouble.

"No, BUT..." But nothing in particular, just to let him finish speaking before she jumped in again. "First, I don't automatically think you're crazy. Second...just so I know I'm understanding right - you have a haunted object, the ghost tied to it is a friend, and something managed to sever that tie and basically kidnap her?"

[10_20_15_5_50]

Sam turned her phone away from her face, so that the massive sigh of relief she heaved wouldn't be an unpleasant noise right in Rick's ear, but angle it back to answer his question immediately. "You got it. I don't know if the tie is actually severed or just somehow suspended, whether she'll be untethered or what once the thing what went for her is dealt with... but you got it."

[neverasked4this]

And with that, a clue he'd missed the first time around caught his attention. "You saw what took her? What did it look like?"

Was it possible that he didn't have two cases after all?

Can't believe this is already almost 70 comments X,x

[neverasked4this]

"For what it's worth, it's definitely trippy and the world is very weird," Rick conceded with a shrug. "I've never heard of anything like this happening to anyone else eith-" He cut off with a flinch of surprise at a loud knock on the door, but it was Room Service.

And DAMN, he was hungry.

They got things in and settled out, and there was no "ladies first" this time as Rick dug in.

Hellboy by 100

[10_20_15_5_50]

Sam had the good grace to stop and say "Thanks again," before settling to scarf her own meal. The food was good, and a welcome distraction from the worries of the day. There wasn't much to be said until dessert, and then that was "You want to try a bit of this, or you good? Better now that you're all fed up?"

[neverasked4this]

Rick's brows shot up a bit. "Fed up? Oh...full? Sorry, 'fed up' to me is being frustrated and done over something. And yeah, I'd love to, but first...excuse me."

Rick stood and headed for the bathroom, flipping on the switch as he closed the door. Sam would hear him repeat himself almost instantly but with nothing close to the same meaning.

"Excuse me!?"

[10_20_15_5_50]

"Situational for me, but sure." Sam gave a little 'seeya!' sort of wave, glad to have not only an ally, but an ally who took a bit of kidding around in stride, with a smile. Her own smile vanished---momentarily---at the tone coming from behind the bathroom door, but she started laughing on realizing Rick had just stumbled across her ritual set-up. Figuratively, unless he or she happened to be unlucky enough. "Sorry? You didn't trip? Just push the bottle out of the way, it's fine, I'm done with it."

As far as ritual set-ups went, this one was, at least, fairly inoffensive: a phone book in each corner of the room, and a very small wine bottle, now empty, standing in the middle of the free floor space.

[neverasked4this]

Rick took care of business, washed, and thumbed over his shoulder as he re-emerged. "Got a bit tipsy looking for a party line to call?"

[10_20_15_5_50]

The question made Sam snort laughter, and she held a finger up to Rick in an attitude of now see here, softened by a smile. "I'm not the classiest person, but I'm above day-drinking alone in a hotel bathroom for fun. The books and bottle back there are how I got a hold of you, though it's not like I knew I'd be ringing Rick Rogers. The ritual---cause yeah, that's what it was---puts the person dialing through to someone who shares a specific problem, the problem being spelled out as part of the rite."

[neverasked4this]

For what it was worth, his tone didn't really indicate that's what he actually thought had been up. Still, he glanced back at the bathroom a brow arched in renewed appraisal. "Ritual? I've seen and even been part of a few myself, but none of them looked anything like that. But...that's how you called me, huh?"

He wasn't quite sure what to make of that in the moment, so he figured he'd fill the pause with that bit of previously-offered dessert while he took a moment to just go over everything he'd learned about this case in his head.

[10_20_15_5_50]

"I know a few. They're kinda weird. Just this side of gutter magic, though they're all pretty useful. The phone rite has to be one of the most useful, though, for sure---and you don't even need that much for it. A windowless room with corners, a phone book from a different city for each corner of the room, and a bottle of red wine, the smaller, the better. And, yep. Lucky me." Sam grinned for a moment, meaning that last remark, and let Rick think for a minute before piping up again, since she knew she'd be wondering until she went ahead and asked. "Totally off topic, but... we had a moment of wait, what? over 'fed up,' and now I'm wondering what a party line is to you, cause I'm used to it meaning a landline connecting a couple of houses the same way a landline would be connected to rooms in the same house."

[neverasked4this]

"To be honest, I don't hundred-percent know. I think it's basically like a chat room, but over the phone instead of text." Wry grin. "And probably a lot less wholesome than you might think." He turned to gaze thoughtfully at the bathroom. "Think we can use that ritual to get some more information? Not just someone with the same problem but someone with a solid lead maybe?"

[10_20_15_5_50]

"Ah. The ones I'm used to hearing about were just, like, a result of the limitations of phone service out in rural areas. Wholesome enough, but prime feed for eavesdroppers." Sam let it go, following Rick's look to the bathroom. She didn't shrug, since he was looking elsewhere, but answered, "Someone with a solid lead maybe. The only thing that's for sure is getting someone with the same problem, and who that someone is is really just the luck of the draw... but I'm game to give it a go. If this round doesn't yield much, maybe you can try? Third time's the charm and all, and I did get enough wine for three calls."

Sam moved to the little paper bag beside the room's minifridge, and withdrew a bottle. Like the one already in the bathroom, it was small; a single serving. "At least it won't be on an empty stomach---and yeah, the first step is 'drink a bottle of red wine.' Want to tell me about the rituals you've participated in while I work on it?"

[neverasked4this]

To the question of performing a third try of the rite himself, he nodded. "Sure, I can give it a go."

His eyes darkened a bit at the last, and Sam would see in his eyes memories crossing the back of his mind. But he just shrugged. "Ceremonial magic a la Golden Dawn, stuff like that. Or things out of Latin America or Mesopotamia, far-flung places like that. Candles and sigils in circles on the ground, reciting texts in Latin or some little-known ancient language, activating artifacts of power without getting sucked into them or otherwise screwed over by them."

Was he being kinda vague? Yeah...if only because it wasn't overly germane to anything presently at hand. He would go into more detail if pressed, but part of him really preferred not. How did a young man explain he spent time in the body of a really attractive woman and NOT sound like just a pervy low-life?

[10_20_15_5_50]

“Cool, cool; glad you're game. It is, at least, probably the most socially-acceptable ritual I know. Not that the others are awful or anything.” Just mildly to moderately taboo, or a little messy. But by that thought, Sam had opened her wine and started sipping, pausing to mentally thank whoever had first suggested selling single-serving bottles (making ritual repetition much easier). “That's very interesting, and a wild contrast to my own experience. Want to tell me a bit about these artifacts of power? I know a guy who makes charms that keep a person from getting hit by spitting grease or anything hot coming off a stove, and another guy with a pair of chattery teeth he can sic or have fetch things like a dog.”