Panophobia: Second Impact (IC Thread)

[Sixkiller]

John Smith
Mickey's Long Term Storage - Interior
Evening
​Thursday

The number was received with a scoff. Ten disposable digits. The whole thing had an air of conspiracy. Added a more serious spin to the investigation. John couldn’t tell if that made it more or less bonkers.

“A legit burner, huh? Never thought I’d see one outside of NCIS.” He whistled about the transport. “And I shit you not a mystery van. I guess you two put a hefty amount of greenback on that joyride. Don’t want to get crammed in the back, though. I call shotgun.”

One more contact was added. One of four there. It was the Big Moment. He’d jumped headfirst into the venture. Now there was evidence to link him with the misfits. Judging by his looks and equipment they were packing, the cops would’ve little sympathy for him if caught. But life is worth a little danger. A little truth even.

Murder? Cover up? Blood? Half-hearted rumors. Wellswaters. Corporations. A lone house.

Leave a pile of trash outdoors and watch the ants come swarming over.

John said, “I'm with the Parker girl on this. You’d probably text us about it, but I want to hear here.”

[Draconic]

Adrian Saunders
Mickey's Long Term Storage - Interior
Evening
Thursday

Leylines? Native secrets? And the Carter mansion was built on top of these? Adrian had to admit, that his suspension of disbelief could only get him so far. A paranormal investigation was one thing; he found ghost stories exciting. This however was getting into what sounded like European concepts of witchcraft with the potential for Native American folklore to get mixed into it.

It just felt like a stretch, to say nothing of slurping up ‘the soul of the land.’ Was Wellswater supposed to be an alias for ShinRa Corp. from Final Fantasy VII? If this was how things were going to feel for the whole excursion, he might have to back out. He didn’t want to feel awkward the entire time.

All that in mind, it came as a surprisingly palpable relief when it was revealed that Ramon would be their escort. When he thought about it, Adrian felt like that probably should have been obvious. Ramon might have been a skeptic, but he’d still obviously been working with Douglas for some time at this point, and the big man seemed far too boisterous to run a successful stakeout.

“Anyway, we'll be meeting back here in a couple hours, so you've got time, feel free to grab anything you think we might need, just shoot me a text to the burner.”

He had several hours to kill. And they were investigating a house Was there anything else that he might find useful?

“Umm, I’m just going to run home and grab a few tools, if that’s alright? I don’t live too far away, so I should be back in an hour-and-a-half.” As he headed out the door, he turned halfway around as he remembered something.

“Just some advice, since it’s old and unmaintained, it might be a good idea to bring a crowbar and a fire axe, if you have either in the clutter back here. I can’t really bring either for, well, multiple obvious reasons. You usually don’t see pedestrians carrying heavy equipment across town at night.”

RE:Expression

When he returned — his walk back punctuated by repetitive glances at his watch to make sure that he wasn't running any later than he'd expected — he’d come back wearing a small tool belt. Immediately visible were a multi-headed screwdriver, his aforementioned LED flashlight, and a chisel. Anything else was hidden by his lab coat.

“So… uh, just let me know when we’re ready to go, I guess,” he said with a smile.

[arkturus]

Yeong Min
Mickey's Long Term Storage - Interior
Evening
​Thursday

"Nice." Yeong grinned.

Finally, after all the boring talk, he gets to the point: a good old fashioned ghost hunt in a spooky abandoned house. She didn't really know or care about the story with the Carter Incident. She might have heard about it before but simply forgot it. Following the lives of the rich and famous seemed like a huge waste of brain space and she'd much rather spend her time studying the techniques of top athletes. At least they accomplished something with their own effort.

However she did frown when she heard Sarah's question and it dawned upon her that she'd have to sneak out of the house tonight. She'd have to make sure that her parents didn't catch her. They already gave her enough grief spending so much time on soccer practice and her independent training instead of doing those stupid worksheets her tutor assigned her or helping run the store. Luckily they both of them were in the habit of rising with the sun so at least they should be asleep by the time she would have to sneak out. And maybe if Jong was back home, he'd help cover for her, she knew how to get her oppa to dote on her. It wouldn't be the best reunion, but they had the whole summer to catch up and hang out.

"Er, yeah. I gotta go take care of a few things, eat dinner, ya know."

[Bloble]

Jacob Hopeman
Mickey's Long Term Storage - Interior
Evening
​Thursday

Clap.

"I'm excited already~"

Jacob happily applauds the performance put on in front of him. The information, the plan, the secrets, the intrigue, the conspiracies, all of it is very well done. It's the sort of thing that gets his blood boiling, as if it were scientifically designed to. Opportunities like this didn't just grow on trees after all!

"We meet back here in a few hours, eh. In that case I'll collect some supplies from home. You know how it is, inspiration might strike anywhere, anytime. See you lovelies again soon!"

After waving goodbye to the crowd and draping an arm over Jill's shoulder, Jacob turns away from them.

It is only when they are out of sight of the compound and he is certain they are not being followed that his cheerful expression melts down into a more thoughtful one.

"Sooooooooo. What do you really think? Honey pot? Real deal? Everything back there is so sketchy it should be its own brand, but it did send some nice shivers down my spine. We could report this little escapade to the police before it gets someone hurt, or we can enable Kenny's Wellwater Witch Project and see if it leads to fun. I'll go with your detective instincts on this one, babe. It's high time since we did something nice and stupid."

[Mormarth]

Mickey's Long Term Storage - Interior
Evening
Thursday

"Pfah!" Douglas scoffs, "Sundown, preposterous! Far too early to go mucking about in abandoned buildings! No excitement! No mystique! No threat of terrible danger to life, limb and longevity!"

Ramon coughs, "Uh, the translation is that we're going to be meeting here at quarter after ten."

"Just so! Close enough to the witching hour, but not too close, if you get my meaning, HA!"

Digging at his ear to try and drive out the ringing, Ramon grimaced at you all, settling one gimlet eye on the departing form of Adrian.

"I mean, shit, whatever, man. I'd try to not, you know, fuck up the house that people know we were there, right? This ain't exactly legal."

"But nor is it exactly illegal, my good man! The property's practically in the public domain by now! Not even the rampantly corrupt and borderline useless state police would bother getting you on anything serious by just being there! All else fails, blame this dodgy old codger who hornswoggled some enterprising youths into doing something foolish, why, it's practically my pastime, apparently!"

The old man's face hardened, "No, I suspect the law would be the least of your worries if you got caught."

========
Mickey's Long Term Storage
Night
Thursday

You assembled, the lot of you, just beyond the dimly-flickering lights of the Long-Term, the only other illumination a distant streetlight, the dotted, feeble spotlights on the exterior of the storage containers, and the amber light emitting from the current domicile of your benefactor.

It strikes you then, in the gloom of night, looking upon the lot of containers, that what you are looking at is a graveyard. Where we lay the old, broken, faded and forgotten things, we memorialize, of course, pay homage, pay visits.

But if you liked these things, cherished them truly, had them in your life, then why were they here, in a ill-used lot.

Even now, the specter of a great man lays locked away, forbidden from passing beyond the walls. It is no hospice, for him to slowly die in, this is a pit, an oubliette from where there was intended no escape.

Ramon's glasses gleam in the light from the sign, the grave keeper's arms are crossed, and his ever-present frown creases the skin on his forehead, it is a familiar expression to his face, brows settling into furrows long since dug on a face far too young.

He's settled against the classical white van so common to curbside stories of child abuse and violent crime, adorned along the paneling is a half-finished stencil of what appears to be an outline of Douglas' hairstyle. The engine clicks and pops lowly, on the edge of your hearing, the van, despite its suspicious appearance, seems in fine condition.

The crisp, clinging air of the ailing spring weighs over you, an old blanket tinged with scents of pine, tar and a silent tension that no one mentions aloud.

Not many of the sleepy citizenry are privy to this face of the town, save the night walkers among you, adrift on wanderlust and distaste for 'the way things are'.

You need to be a certain kind of person to go wandering about after dark, after all. Not merely to and from a place of work, or the 24-hour stores that dot the perimeter towards the highway, no.

Walking about in the open air, beyond a metal shell or a driven purpose, to immerse yourself, purposeless, in the world lit by the moon is to go against the makings of man.

Here, now, on the border march of what is and is not, you feel it.

The unknown.

"Alright, now that we're all here, for better or worse..."

The bespectacled young man claps his hands once, the more keen-eyed among you notice the fleeting glimpse of a chagrined expression, knowing the booming thunder of Big D's claps are as far away as Olympus.

"Righto, let's pile in."

With a click, the eyes of the van flash to life, casting away more of the veils of mystery with the full power of 4,000 lumens.

The door is tugged open with a grunt, revealing the assemblage of equipment he had espoused, here, a box with neatly sorted cameras, a small pile of audio records over there, a thermometer or two in the corner...

And a few bags for all of you.

The most obvious and eye-catching object, of course, is the array of monitors spread across the paneling like any movie or production about computer hackers you'd ever seen.

Or maybe just a particularly invested computer gamer.

Wires run to at least four or five different receivers, each with a hemmed off corner of the frame for it to settle in. The rearmost hangs above a bulky-looking battery, like that from a car.

"Can't have it all running off the car," Your driver grunts, "I'd like to not fry my battery."

Across from the battle station are benches, bolted to the floor and the wall, seatbelts lay across them, almost as an afterthought.

"You can throw your shit in the back," He calls, hopping into the driver's seat, "Just try not to muck up any of the stuff, alright? Took me a while to get it all together."

The engine roars to life, snarling its fury into the world, blood of the earth coursing through veins of centuries-honed artifice, flame born of force and ingenuity, a modern alchemical marvel.

This is your last chance, you notice.

To turn away, to walk back into the darkness and place your blinders firmly over your periphery.

There is no shame in it.

There is a very real chance you will emerge from this broken, forgotten, or irrevocably changed.

The door lies open.

[RacingeR]

Jill Dumont
Mickey's Long Term Storage - Interior
Evening
​Thursday

“Hmm~” Jill’s expression was also thoughtful as she walked along her partner, eyes narrowed as she reviewed everything in her mind.

“To be honest, it is a bit too sketchy, you know?” The detective replied after a while. “Like, it does feel a bit weird, he floats out some legitimate mysteries, but then goes onto the ghost spiel, and he’s got to know how that’ll come across. So why do it when he’s trying to bait people into investigating for him?”

“Can’t help but to think that he’d have known we’d come knocking sooner or latter if he kept this as an ongoing thing, too. Well, not like he could afford our fees as is, but makes me wonder if he predicted we’d show up. Or maybe I’m being too paranoid or thinking too much of our little business.” Jill shrugged empathically.

“I think it is half legit, half honey-pot, Jac. Kenny’s got to be desperate if he’s just throwing flyers around and hoping that the random bozos that’ll show up will be able to find something for him. A shot in the dark, as it were. Makes it sound like the police went after his ass for investigating the whole Carter Mystery, which sounds like a conspiracy theory, but then why did the police go after him, then? We both know the department, they usually got bigger fish to fry than just going after a celeb for a bit of possession. Whole thing would sound odd even without Kenny’s input on it. Lotta legit questions about this whole thing, really.”

“So, I dunno about you buut, you gotta admit the mystery bits of it sound like fun, don’t they? Gonna be stupid but fun, and you’re right we owe it to ourselves to go do something idiotic once in a while.” Jill finally grinned, returning a bit to her normal self. “And I do wanna give the Estate a look-over before we decide on anything. I mean, do you imagine it if we somehow end up solving the age old Carter Family enigma?”

“Not likely, but just imagine. All those juicy details… secrets only us would know about and we could dangle out as we want to…”

[Mormarth]

Mickey's Long Term Storage - Exterior
Night
Thursday

The brief lull in time passed, a quiet, unseen gate shutting behind you with clear finality. Ramon turned back to the front, squinting out the windshield and grumbling idly under his breath.

"Well, come on."

Raison d'etres myriad and wild abounded between you all, but you all piled into the large van, as white and sleek as the Circus Maximus at the height of its glory.

Shame about the likely horrible gas mileage.

Finding seating where you could, how you could, squeezing together on benches or grimly holding on to whatever handhold were available, as your grave driver guided you through this strange and alien night.

Streetlights passed through the frosted windows, ghost-lights illuminating paths to empty cul-de-sacs and silent trailer parks, here and there you'd spot a light through drawn curtains, turtles hiding in their shells, prairie dogs huddled in their burrows beneath the earth.

Here, a light on in a house long empty, there a streetlight illuminating only a barren stretch of road.

The night is vast, silent and as empty as the nightmarish expanse of eternity outside our atmosphere, your silent, white craft puttering through the darkness, piercing that thick silence with the dulcet tunes of the 80s.

"The mem'ry of my angel, could never cause me pain..."

Ramon hummed idly, tapping the wheel, casting an eye to each side of the intersection before he passed.

Clownish, obnoxious, as crass as an ass and twice as uncouth.

The quasi-nostalgic tale of revelations and youth corrupted serenades you as you pass through the edges of civilization, down Duckin Avenue and out to the gravel road leading to the edges of town.

The windows grow dark, yet your vision grows clearer, trees fill your vision, great pines and fruiting trees dot the landscape, stately maples tower beyond your view. Deeper into those woods, some of those maples would still have a spigot driven into their bark, ushered back to refining and glazing, drizzling over pastries and meats alike, rotting teeth and filling the arteries and veins of proud Americans with burgeoning seeds of delicious diabetes.

But I digress.

Trees.

The ride on the gravel road leads to a bumpy ride, and even the burly truck's sturdy constitution cannot quite smooth your passage, the rocking and shaking of the view outside lends the forest a dreamlike quality, blurring together into a morass of leaf, trunk and branch.

Are they a vigil, you wonder? Silent sentries of decades gone by, witness to secrets and histories and the lies that form both? You don't know, because you can't talk to trees, and they certainly won't talk to you.

Pretty rude of them, I have to say.

The ride transitions slowly back to a smoother ride as Ramon makes his way into a hard-traveled stretch of road, the headlights illuminate bits of detritus and trash by the sides of the road, energy drink can there, traffic cone or two over there, even a bit of tire leaning against a rock.

The only signs of life that you see.

J. Geil's raucous chant fades to silence, and the radio shrinks, only the barest whispers of static emit from the speakers around you, the air is heavy, thick with the phantom weight of something you can't name.

"We're here."

The Carter House - Approach
Night
Thursday

He pulls the truck off the side of the road, between a pair of peculiarly placed cones, and drives a bit into the brush, he parks, pulls the e-brake, and turns to look over his shoulder.

"Welcome to Casa de Carter."

Light illuminates a bit of the landscape before you.

The trees are dead, askew and leaning, like those interred in a hospice, the yellow-gray grass of the once-lawn that you can see is painted across the ground in wild, mindless strokes, like a child who's stolen his mother's special marker and knows he hasn't long to use it before doom descends.

You can't quite see the house itself from where you are, save for a bit of craggy masonry from what looks like towers and a smattering of chimney.

"Right, grab a flashlight if you didn't bring one, god knows why if you didn't, and we'll start divvying out tools. If anyone brought any extras of anything, feel free to pass those out as well," Ramon grunted, unbuckling himself and going through the awkward motions of finagling passage from Driver's position to you all.

"I got to get this junk hooked up, too, preliminary checks went good beforehand, so we shouldn't have any problems performance-wise, but best to triple-check."

[Sixkiller]

John Smith
The Carter House - Approach
Night
Thursday

John vanished during the intermission and returned with a cheap flashlight, gloves, and mask. He looked like a burglar. Squint and a highwayman’s glare took hold.

The only thing missing was a large knapsack.

He jerked his head back looking inside the van. “On second thought, I’m not getting cooked inside with you all. Got my own auto.”

The 2003 Honda Civic in all its duct tape glory appeared soon after. The Japanese knew how to make their cars last, but it sure wasn’t pretty. The rough gravel road jangled John but he made it in one piece.

Saliva’s Every Six Seconds was his only passenger for the ride.

He looked on from the front windscreen for the gang to get out.

"Hopefully one of those bitches don't spill the beans before actual shit goes down. I got a good feeling about this little road trip."

[Airen]

Sarah Parker
The Carter House - Approach
Night
Thursday

Boredom.

In the end, what had driven her to go through with all of this was simple boredom. The return home had been relatively stress-free, breakfast for dinner had been good enough for the kid, pancakes and eggs and bacon, the usual lazy sort of meals she made while the parents were out and about suffering in the eternal machine that was the work force, grinding their souls to dust in that way adults often do, forced at metaphorical gunpoint by the hands of a clearly broken system. After that it had been easy, same old same old, help with the homework, send the brat to bed at eight, climb out the window at nine, about when she usually fell asleep, and...

Now she was here, in a suspicious truck, preparing to do suspicious work, with the usual blank expression and similar clothes as before (albeit a black hoodie now) and only a few items to her name...

Two spray paint cans and a lighter, just in case anyone got overly handsy.

A cheap flashlight, for obvious reasons. Best to conserve phone battery where she could...

A rosary, partly for the heck of it, partly because she had decided to get a bit more into the atmosphere, and...

Gloves.

Best not to leave prints.

"..."

When John speaks she says nothing, instead just stepping out of the van and turning her gaze to the distant house, where...

She looks... About the same as always?

Hard to tell with Sarah.

[Draconic]

Adrian Saunders
The Carter House - Approach
Night
Thursday

He stared out at the decrepit mansion. So this was the place that no one was brave enough to explore. He had to admit, he was getting a bad feeling himself.

There was something here. Not something tangible; something emotional. Something had happened here, and even after four decades, that feeling hadn't let go. It was kind of agitating being so empathic. Always able to feel things you shouldn't, never sure whether it was really what someone felt, or if it was just your preconceptions feeding a flawed interpretation. But this was different. This house was giving him a feeling that didn't leave room for interpretation, and felt abnormally specific.

He'd never felt an emotion that could only be described as 'GO AWAY' before. Was this what the other UrbExers felt? He shivered.

Still, there was a difference. They'd come alone. He hadn't.

Suddenly it was gone. He couldn't feel anything coming from the house anymore.

Had it just been in his head? It wouldn't be the first time, but he was so sure he felt something coming from the Carter Mansion.

It wasn't worth thinking about. Screw it, you have an overactive emotional perception, you're not a goddamn psychic. He sighed. This was going to be an interesting night. He wouldn't complain if he didn't get that chill again, though.

[Mormarth]

The Carter House - Approach
Night
Thursday

Your driver grunts and shuffles around in the interior, grasping plugs and moving hoses, muttering darkly to himself.

"Yeah, no one bother and help the poor bastard with his set-up, he's just some loser, who care what he does, snoots, snots and a couple of up their own ass brats..."

Despite this, he seemed full capable of doing it by himself, moving with the steady motions of someone accustomed to moving delicate parts about.

Switches are flicked, and a keening hum comes from within the van as the small generator comes to a start, the faint aroma of burning hair touching at your nose and raising the hair on your necks.

"Right, stuffs chargin' up good, so we can move to the briefing proper," He turned, glasses slightly askew, pointing at the idling Civic, "An' you, get your ass over here so we can get started."

He rubbed his hands together, tugging a case out and cracking it open, "Right, so, we only got so many radios- less'n you went and brought your own, so might be best to stick in groups for this," He pulled a wide-spread of crinkling paper from the case, the penmarks smudged and a light ring of brown around a corner.

"Here's the floorplan, only got the one floor, I'm afraid, blueprints aren't in the public record, so could only get eyes on from the outside, but here's a rough estimate."

He touched on the center, "Obviously, shit's labeled so it's easy to get, but we got the main foyer here, wings out into two parts, one's got the Library and the Gallery, probably a Study in there too, and circles back to the Sunroom, which you can see from the back of the house, and into the Dining Room."

He tapped the small outlet in the west hallway, "That there's the basement stairway, it's boarded up tight, wouldn't bother with it too much, even if Big D'd love to go poking around in spooky basements and get asbestosis."

"And, if you're looking at those little flags, those are the points where we want cameras and mics set up, slap thermos in the Library, too, other rooms got too many windows, mess up the readings, but anyway."

He traced his finger up to the small hallway off the Dining Room, "Here we're on the East Wing, which shares space with the 'Help', got the Living Room, or Den, whatever, rich people, got the Ktichens back there which have a separate hallway leading to the Servant's Quarters and a Utility Closet, Laundry and such."

He paused, "But the main way to those guys, off the Foyer, is all messed up, water damage, apparently, Doors screwed to hell, so you'll have to take the back way from the Living Room."

He rubbed at his chin, "And, for that matter, we don't know if any of these doors have locks, and if the work crew's been locking up after themselves, we know the Front's good to go, but beyond that..."

He shrugged helplessly.

"Hopefully they cheaped out and got shit locks."

Now, he taps thoughtfully on the main stairs in the Foyer.

"Upstairs, we don't have much on, I know the Master Bedroom looks out over the front lawn, you can see it when you walk up, and the Servant's have a second stair in their section, back next to Laundry..."

Ramon folds his arms, "Kids' Rooms, the Guest Rooms, another Study, a fuckin' Smoking Lounge, according to some rumors, but honestly, sorry to say I'm shooting blind up there."

"Anyway, I got four radios, one stays here with me, obviously, so you lot divide em up, the Frequency's 3539 khz."

"So let's divide 'em up and get moving, burning moonlight, once you grabbed em, go ahead and get movin'"

[RacingeR]

Jill Dumont
The Carter House - Approach
Night
​Thursday

“Well, that’s a creepy-ass house, alright.” Jill mumbled as she stood near the vehicle, looking straight towards the mansion, almost spellbound.

The detective had shown up wearing her normal hoodie and gloves. She had put a potent flashlight on her pocket, and was holding a case with a bunch of knickknacks in there, that’d be mostly useful for her detective work. Equipment to dust for prints, an old-fashioned magnifying glass that had actually been useful an embarrassing number of times for something so damn stereotypical, binoculars, bags to put evidence in, a few tools to poke and hold things she couldn’t touch or couldn’t normally reach, including a small shovel, and some more stuff like that. Not that she expected most of the items there to be useful, but it had become her habit to bring her tools when working regardless.

Oh, and two of her ‘arguments’, one on her pocket and another elsewhere. Because experience had told her that people tended to get very aggressive when they caught her poking her nose where they didn’t want her to. Of course, if the police caught her they wouldn’t be very happy with her, not at all, but she had her ways to deal with that particular issue.

That and… for some reason she had both a good feeling and a bad feeling about this job. Detective instincts were kicking in, telling her she was into something. Survival instincts were tantruming in, telling her she might really not like that something. Either way, she felt more secure this way.

She’d spent the voyage to the mansion in silence, thinking about the topic at hand and reviewing her conclusions. Some of the information Kenny had brought to light had been quite strange, and it wasn’t something she could just dismiss as mere superstition or paranoia from an old drug-addicted man. The problem was simply that the contrast with the information she knew from other sources lend more weight to Kenny’s suspicions.

Which made the fact that she’d never tried to poke about the case or investigate anything related to it, as if she’d forgotten about it entirely until it was brought up, all the stranger. It was a detail, perhaps a small one, but one that was deeply uncomfortable for Jill, who prided herself on her keen mind.

She hadn’t said so to Jacob, but that had been one of the main reasons she’d accepted this mad enterprise.

And now that she stood there, staring at what little could be seen of Casa de Carter, she was slightly regretting it.

“Gotta say they got the ambience right, at least.” She grumbled, doing nothing to help the poor driver as she analyzed what she could see of the estate and coming up with no real conclusions.

She sighed, and walked up to Ramon.

“Alright, then I’m keeping one of the radios. Jacob, you’re with me.” Jill hoped that if the mansion actually turned out to be haunted to shit, which at this point she was considering the slight possibility of, her partner would be the one all prepared for it. He was the one who knew the most about all the weird occult shit.

She took a look at the floor plan, memorizing it, then gave a side-glance to her friend. “So, where do you want to start at? Personally I’m more interested on the Guest Rooms, but guess we should pick around the first floor first before getting up to the second floor…”

[Bloble]

Jacob Hopeman
The Carter House - Approach
Night
​Thursday

In Jacob's hands is a sketchbook, upon which is being born a portrait of a house as an old wreck. The tip of the pencil in his hands glides smoothly down and across at sharp angles, putting in tufts of grass, loose shingles, and imperfections on second floor windows. Slung over his back is a bag of strange supplies, among them an easel off all things. He barely looks up to respond to Jill.

"Where else?" he says. "The Gallery. Then the Library. We'll find Colonel Mustard there, with the candlestick."

Tapping the paper with the back end of the pencil, he erases a cloud in the sky, and glances away from his sketch - only to get a look at the moon, and swiftly reflect it upon paper.

"Looks quite dead, doesn't it?" he remarks. "This place. You never know until you've had a poke around, though. We're quite bad at telling at a glance. Just ask all the coffins in the ground with scratch marks on the inside."

[Sixkiller]

John Smith
The Carter House - Approach
Night
​Thursday

The Civic wanted him to stay. He appreciated the car’s contours like only a mechanic would. There was history between the two. A long, oil-stained history. But he could divorce his wants from his needs.

He needed four-eyes and his explanations. He glowed by the van light; he leaned on the sides.

The map was shit. Shit made by kids no less. The thought of D giggling about the little knights he put in the Gallery was sickening.

“I’ll head to the Kitchen. You can follow me or not there.” He scratched his neck while looking at everyone outside of Jill and Jacob.

It was 50-50, really. He knew his horror tropes--entering a so-called haunted house alone was asking for it. But real life was also a heck of a lot more boring.

“Either way, I’m gonna see what they have up north. That Sun Room for one. Too poor to know what that is, so I’ll let it educate me.”

[Eru Erufu]

Clemente Jackson
The Carter House - Approach
Night
​Thursday

"Splitting up sounds like a horrible idea." Clemente says for the benefit of the younger members of their group, giving the jock and moody girl the side-eye. "I've seen enough horror flicks to know we need to travel in groups. Preferably one big group, but I get the feeling none of you will agree to that." The bespectacled lad heaves a sigh. "I'll go with John to the kitchen; I'd preferably have Sarah and Min split up into Team John and Team Jill to make i three each."

Clemente puts his hand to his chin, looking straight at Adrian. "I guess you can go with Team Jill?" He looks from Adrian to Jill, wondering if the fact that they've talked to each other the most means the two are friends.

[Draconic]

Adrian Saunders
The Carter House – Approach
Night
Thursday

Clemente was an odd one, but he made a good point.

“I agree, actually. Bigger groups are probably safer. Even without the context of a ghost walk, exploring an old building just comes with risks. Mostly of collapsing objects, and having an extra set of hands’ll be useful if we have to lift something.

“I’m fine to go with Jill, but which group were you planning on going with?”

…

He looked over at Ramon and the map he was displaying, abruptly thinking to take a picture of it with his phone. He wasn't going to trust his memory alone to keep track of that. Then he did a double take. There was a lot of empty space on that map. Houses weren't normally designed with that much of the interior left empty. Were those for hidden rooms, or for the staff halls? He guessed he'd try and figure that out.

Then he walked over to Jill and Jacob. Jill seemed to have a plan already, so that was always a good sign. He did need to ask her something.

“Anyway, I guess I’ll go with you two. I mean, unless you’d rather I didn’t. I do have a question though: Why the guest rooms? I would have thought that the staff quarters or the library would be more likely to catch your attention. Or do you think they've already been scrubbed for evidence?”

[Bloble]

Jacob Hopeman
The Carter House - Approach
Night
​Thursday

"Uh, no."

Jacob looks up from his sketchbook and shoos Adrian away with just his dainty fingers.

"One. This is an investigation, not a thriller, so we don't need a Scooby Doo split. Two, Jill and I are Bonnie and Clyde; you'd just get in the way. And three, I don't like you, poindexter. Go with Lord John Byron Smith; he'll need somewhere to stick all the knives he's planning to loot from the kitchen cupboards."

[Airen]

Sarah Parker
The Carter House - Approach
Night
​Thursday

"...No need to worry about me."

To Clemente, who had given her the sort of side-eye that she was quite used to from adults, Sarah responds with the sort of words that go against all common-sense in horror movie situations, namely:

"I don't mind splitting up at all, it's easier for me to work alone."

She was a bit of a lone wolf by nature after all, so...

"Here. Cell phone number." Setting a piece of paper down inside the van, one that has the digits of one of the many cheap phones she uses on her nightly walks, Sarah grabs one of the cameras and mics and starts off towards the house, "It's a burner, so won't be useful after tonight, but feel free to call me if you need me."

---Yep.

Undaunted by the creepiness of the manor, or the idea of going into it alone...

"I'll handle the living room."

Sarah continues on in her own strong-headed way.

Not the first time she wandered into the darkness alone, wouldn't be the last either, but if anyone wanted to follow her, well...

She didn't care too much one way or the other.

[Draconic]

Adrian Saunders
The Carter House – Approach
Night
Thursday

He could have just said ‘no thanks.’

“Okay, so I’m going to apologize for coming across as a wimp earlier,” he started, actually meaning it. “You don’t end up doing UrbEx if you don't have a spine, though, so it’s your own fault for making assumptions. I think you mistook me being geeky and polite for me being a doormat. I’ll be only too happy to disabuse you of that mentality. I’m not easy to push around.”

“You obviously don’t want to go with him either, so maybe you’re more observant than you make yourself out to be, or maybe you‘re like me and can actually feel that emotional turmoil he’s projecting, like an elastic band about to snap. Also, if you’re going to insult me, at least do me the courtesy of dropping the circus barker act while you’re doing it? All that bombast you're surrounding yourself with really doesn’t contrast well with your jabs, especially since all of it, insults and all, feel completely fake.”

Oh. Hey, he actually had some momentum going here.

“I honestly have no idea if you're trying to protect yourself from something, or if it’s just simple social anxiety, but it goes without saying that you don’t like me since you were pretty exaggerated in expressing your disgust for literally everyone except Jill.”

He stepped forward again, invading Jacob’s personal space, brushing aside the shooing fingers and walking in a tight semicircle behind him.

“In fact, if I didn’t know better,” step, “I’d say you were intentionally,” step, “trying to alienate yourself,” step, “from the rest of us,” step. “Which begs the question:” step. Having returned to where he started, Adrian turned around to look Jacob in the face. “why would you go to a social event with the intention of making people hate you, while bringing along your friend who seems like a skeptic at best? I get the impression that you have a personal investment in whatever’s going on here. Maybe you’ve spent too much time reading about this weird-city case and jumped at the thought of investigating it in person, even if it meant dealing with other people?” he grinned in a dark way that plainly stated 'I know you better than I should.'

“But,” he shrugged, letting the act drop completely, “that’s all just conjecture.”

“Honestly, if you’d just said ‘no, we can handle ourselves,’ I’d have left it at that and found someone else. But you needed to insult me for some reason. So now?” he shot the other boy a crooked, but less creepy grin, “I’m actually tempted to hang around with you specifically just to be contrary. Unless my doing so were to actually harm you, which I wouldn't want to do. But if you were to say that, I’m not sure I’d be able to believe you since everything you’ve said tonight was meant to make someone dislike you. I kind of want to know what you're really after here.”

He shot a glance at Smith.

“Whatever your problem is, if you can still pick up on Mr. Anonymous’ freaky vibes through your own projected morass of weaponized insecurities, don’t go trying to send me off with him, unless of course you want me to make the same suggestion.”

[RacingeR]

Jill Dumont
The Carter House - Approach
Night
​Thursday

Jill nodded at Jacob’s words, and snapped a picture of the map with her phone, just in case. She had already committed it to memory, but having ready access to it could be useful.

She took a mic and a camera as well. Didn’t enthuse her much to do this particular job, but she might as well. She was finally ready to go when…

In order: Clemente had a dumb idea, Adrian took him on the dumb idea, and Jacob very much did not like the dumb idea.

And uh…

Jill had initially tensed up upon the man’s approach. As idiotic as his speech was, it would be a real problem if he got physical, she didn’t want to actually have to get to violence right now. Thankfully, he backed off.

Which left her with the small problem of how the hell she’d react to this. She was actually speechless. It’d been a bit too ridiculous. Had he tried to mix some sort of movie character imitation with some attempt to come across as psychotic and dangerous, with a sprinkle of school bully attitude? Was she supposed to laugh at this or what?

“Fuck right off.” She said after a moment, the dryness of her voice unintentionally taking away the edge of her insult, sounding more like a mild reaction. “Man, I would’ve apologized for Jac going a bit far, but after that explosion I really envy his loony detector. You got issues in the head, guy.”

“So, I’m gonna be clear: do not follow us. I don’t want you around us. Or around anyone, really. Because all you managed was to come across as extremely insecure and in need for urgent psychiatric help. Right now, all you are is a walking bundle of red flags.”

Shit, she really hated this group. She hadn’t really intended to engage them if possible. She wasn’t really looking down on Edgelord anymore, he did seem to have some competence at least, and Clemente had been harmless and normal so far, and his intentions had been good. The teenagers, she didn’t have much of an impression of. But this guy had weird vibes from the beginning, and now that the politeness was off, this overreaction of his proved her intuition right.

This team wasn’t going to work well. Everyone was just too… she didn’t really know how to term it. High-strung? Not quite. But they didn’t mesh together well. There was no will to work with each other, and she was honest enough to admit she didn’t have it either.

“I’ll also tell you that if you can’t get why I want to look at the Guest Rooms after all that, you really shouldn’t be nosing around here. You don’t get to claim to know shit about any of us when you can’t even work out something that basic. Now go back to posturing in the mirror or writing about how you could beat people up on Internet.”

She then took Jacob’s arm and practically dragged him away from Adrian and towards the mansion. She had too many things to do tonight to lose time with this… this mental penislet.

… Man, that one was good, she’d have to tell it to Jacob later.

Anyway, onto other things.

“Hey! Sarah, was it?” She said, letting go of Jacob and catching up with the teenager. She smiled slightly at her. “Listen to me for a moment.”

“We don’t know if we got phone coverage over there. Chances are that we don’t, and I don’t think it is a good idea to wander alone there: I know they said that nobody approaches the place, but it wouldn’t be the first time I run into a surprise crack den in a supposedly empty place.” Jill said, speaking calmly and logically. She had experienced being looked down at way too many times during her teenage detective days to look down at Sarah due to her age, and so she spoke to her as if to an equal… which well, she was. Not much of an age difference, really.

Still, she did feel a bit of a sense of responsibility. Didn’t like the idea of Sarah just wandering alone in this creepy place.

“Why not come with us? We can investigate the Library and Gallery first, and then we can wrap around to the Living Room.”

Idly, she wondered how the rest of them would team up. Not many would be willing to team up with Adrian after all that, particularly since John probably had heard his comments and would be less than amused by them. Hm, maybe she should radio Ramon later about how that worked itself out, as another just in case. Best to know who was wandering around where and with who, if possible.