Somewhere on the scale between creepy dockside murder-house, and upper-class, mob-run "You'll never be seen again" murder-house.
Inside, there was a single table with chairs about.
And other people! Joy! Social meet and greets.
Given the visual sweep of the sausage-fest that Heike and I found myself in, I had little to no idea what job in the world would have merited these sorts of people with us.
Were we all competing for the same job? Oh no. It was one of those early 90's I.T. Cubicle-cronies 'trust fall' sorts of team building experiences. I was half-sure we were on some sort of reality t.v. show where any minute the lights would go out and we'd all be scared for the viewers pleasure.
Allow me to explain:
Around this table, there was Heike and I.
"Conor" - From Boston, Mass: He has an SUV, an accent and an affinity for Bon Jovi. Some working knowledge of Army acronyms, so probably previous military experience.
"Bobby" - From North Carolina: Bobby has never met a stranger, mainly because a stranger never stood a chance of getting away from him. He dresses in a duster and carries a whip to perform tricks on the street for money(?). Not sure if he's homeless, but I have the feeling that he's not unfamiliar to handouts from folks to help him get by. His family used to tell him stories about vampires(?), but who am I to judge? Mine told me stories far stranger than that.
"Louis" - From Paris, France: A well-carried gentleman with a sweet tooth for pastry. He's been made the leader of our "team" and I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that he looks like he belongs to a completely different tax bracket above aristocratic. He's recently graduated and is "traveling abroad" and thought this would be fun. Handsome, yes; but I'm immune to the American woman's weakness for accents.
"Lucas" - From "Around" : He was "in the system", then "in the army" as a "sniper". He drinks like a live fish and smells like a dead one. He wears enough axe to drown your other four senses along with smell and is all around just a
Like a total dick.
Our Ultor contact is one Mr. Henry Massena. A true Texan in tone and swagger. Finally, someone that doesn't smell like they swim in something that has a boat on the bottle. He seems all business and let's be honest, I'm not one to involve myself with coworkers. (Mainly because I've really only ever had the one, but morals are morals). But it's fun to pretend.
He's eluded that in no uncertain terms we are being hired to ... well I don't know how to write this.
We're being paid to "help individuals" that have recently been involved in the dark ways of the old worlds. "Supernatural" ... "Occult"
All the stories from grandparents that keep us out of dark alleys and our heads in books.
When confronted by the skeptics in the room, they wheeled in a glass case with a 'live' ghost within it, captured. My spine grew chills the moment they let that thing into the room. That old, knowing sign that bad juju was abundant in it. Heike confirmed it as well.
So, he's giving us a day to -think- about employment and if we accept, we meet him again tomorrow morning.
=WHO NEEDS A DAY?!=
A chance to play around in the old world? A chance to learn about the things that go bump in the night? A chance to help those that are too weak or scared to help themselves? And most importantly, a chance to get out of that book tomb of a store?!
-Yvonne "Hell the fuck yes I'm going" Schmitt
