Hester’s Tuesday morning exorcism

July 22, 2025

Date: 2025-07-22 11:32

(Hester’s Tuesday morning exorcism)

[Tue Jul 22 2025]

At Haven Field/span>/spanmorning/span>/span74F(23C) degrees, and there are clear skies. The mist is heaviest At High and Blackstone/span>/spanThe morning sun beats down on Haven Field as Roberta and Hester approach along the main gravel pathway. Something feels wrong immediately – the geometric flower beds that were merely precise yesterday now form perfect mathematical spirals that hurt to look at directly. The fountain in the center gurgles upward in an impossible helix, water flowing against gravity in brass-fitted channels that gleam too brightly.

Marcus kneels beside a rose bush near the fountain, his groundskeeper’s uniform pressed into knife-sharp creases. He holds a brass ruler against each stem, adjusting their positions with mechanical precision. His movements are unnaturally rigid, following perfect right angles as he pivots from plant to plant. A collection of measuring instruments – calipers, protractors, levels – spreads around him on the grass in an expanding circle.

“Thirty-seven point four degrees,” he mutters to the roses, his voice carrying an odd cadence. “No, no. Thirty-seven point three eight seven.” He doesn’t look up as the two women approach, completely absorbed in his measurements. The brass pipes beneath the park’s surface emit a low humming that seems to synchronize with his movements.

Several other park visitors stand near the entrance, looking confused and slightly nauseous. An elderly woman with a small dog tugs at her leash, trying to leave, but keeps walking in circles along the redesigned pathways.

Hester purses her lips and peers about, expectantly checking the intersection for incoming cars or.. more riderless horses. But there is only Marcus. She waddles closer to the rose bush to wave him over for a query, but pauses at the odd motions he displays. “Ehm.. did he have too many energy drinks?” she whispers to Roberta.

Stepping over alongside– and using Hester as a human shield, Roberta looks at the expanding circle, the grounds keeper, and then back to Hester.

“I actually think he’s possessed.”

Gesturing to the scene before them– the flower beds, the plant growth, the curious behaviour, the ruler and measuring equipment, Roberta points to each of the on-lookers in turn. “None of this is right.”

Then she gets an idea– Roberta steps closer and palms a protractor, slipping it away and waiting to see what Marcus does, or if he even notices.

As Roberta’s fingers close around the brass protractor, Marcus’s head snaps up with mechanical precision. His eyes reflect the morning light like polished metal, and for a moment the humming from the underground pipes grows louder. The protractor feels unnaturally warm in her hand, almost vibrating.

“The measurements,” Marcus says, his voice flat and measured. “They must be precise. Perfect.” He stands in one fluid motion, pivoting exactly ninety degrees to face the two women. His gaze fixes on Roberta’s closed fist. “Return the instrument. The calibration cannot be disturbed.“

Around them, the other measuring tools begin to shift slightly on the grass, as if drawn by invisible strings. The elderly woman with the dog stumbles again on the pathway, her pet whimpering as they’re forced into another loop. The fountain’s impossible spiral seems to pulse faster.

Marcus takes three steps forward, each footfall landing exactly eighteen inches from the last. “The park requires correction,” he continues, reaching into his pocket to produce another ruler, this one etched with symbols that seem to writhe when viewed peripherally. “Every angle must align. Every measurement must achieve perfection.“

The brass pipes beneath their feet emit a deeper thrumming, and several visitors near the entrance look increasingly distressed as they find themselves unable to navigate the redesigned pathways toward the exit.

“Uh-oh, here we go again,” Hester shudders at Roberta, letting the smaller woman take the lead. The corpulent freshman does serve a fair meatshield for the slight diva, even if she doesn’t realize it. “I’m sorry, sir, but your feng shui is ehm.. disturbing the other people,” she grimaces as she stares at the ground, looking a bit nauseous herself. The bag of salt she had been keeping handy is put to use – a fistful of salt! Salt for the roses. She scatters them like an amateur acolyte who never went through training, “B-begone, foul obsessive-compulsive demon!”

“I see… I see…” Roberta muses, attentive to Marcus’s words. She doesn’t give the protractor back though. To the contrary, Roberta takes another of the instruments, tossing the first for Hester to either fumble or catch– Likely the latter as this is done as the student begins spreading salt. “I figure that if he cant get perfect order, he’ll either go insane or die…” the vampire taps her lip in thought. “Or I guess things may go back to normal. Who knows.”

Helpfully, she takes another measurement device, pocketing it without a care in the world. “So you need all of these?” she asks Marcus. “What happens if we ruin your work?”

The salt hits the roses and the ground around Marcus with a sharp hissing sound, like water on hot metal. Steam rises from where the grains touch the brass pipes beneath the surface, and Marcus jerks backward as if physically struck. His perfectly pressed uniform develops wrinkles for the first time, and the measuring instruments on the grass begin to vibrate more violently.

“No, no, NO!” Marcus’s measured cadence breaks into something more frantic. “The measurements are corrupted! The angles are wrong!” He clutches his head with both hands, the ruler in his grip bending slightly. “Thirty-seven point four degrees becomes thirty-seven point two… the spiral collapses…“

Hester fumbles but manages to catch the protractor Roberta tosses her way. As soon as it leaves Marcus’s vicinity, the fountain’s impossible upward flow stutters, water splashing down in normal patterns for several seconds before resuming its supernatural spiral.

The elderly woman with the dog suddenly breaks free from her circular path, stumbling toward the exit with visible relief. Other visitors begin moving more naturally, though they still look confused and unsettled.

Marcus drops to his knees, frantically trying to gather his remaining instruments while his movements become increasingly erratic. “Perfect order… must maintain… the design requires…” His voice wavers between his normal tone and something mechanical and alien.

The brass pipes’ humming grows discordant, and hairline cracks appear in some of the geometric flower bed arrangements.

Hester gasps as something flies at her from Roberta’s direction. “M-miss Pinn, should give me a warning first!” she panics, taking a heavy lurch forward to swat the other brass instrument into her mitts in mid-air. “Whew..” There’s excitement that gleams behind her spectacles when Marcus’ rose bush hiss like steam from a screaming kettle. Frantically panting for a spell, she sounds almost nuts when she yells, “IT DID SOMETHING!”

And what happens when something works? You keep doing it, of course. Filled with a zing of confidence, the fat freshman frolics toward the fountain and flings another serving of salt into its waters. “Go away and screw your perfection! Go do maths in the corner or join the ehm, the weather forecast team!”

The salt hits the fountain’s impossible spiral with explosive results. Steam erupts from the brass fittings as the water’s supernatural flow collapses entirely, sending normal cascades splashing down in chaotic patterns. The geometric precision of the fountain’s new design warps and buckles, metal groaning as it tries to return to its original Victorian form.

Marcus screams, a sound that shifts mid-cry from human anguish to something like grinding gears. “The perfect spiral! Years of calculation!” He scrambles across the grass on hands and knees, desperately trying to collect his scattered instruments, but his movements are no longer following geometric patterns. “Must recalibrate… must restore the design…“

The brass pipes beneath the entire park emit a deep, resonant wail. Cracks spider through the mathematical flower bed arrangements, and several of the perfectly trimmed hedges begin to sag back into more natural, irregular shapes. The air shimmers with heat rising from the damaged underground network.

Other park visitors, now able to navigate the pathways normally, hurry toward the exits. The elderly woman pauses at the gate to look back with concern. “Should we call someone?” she calls out, but her voice is nearly drowned by the mechanical shrieking from below ground.

Marcus’s eyes flicker between brass-bright and their normal brown as he clutches a bent ruler to his chest. “The measurements… they’re all wrong now… everything is wrong…“

Success. Roberta is saving the day without murdering anyone.

Unsurprising, when Roberta usually shoots people, things go wrong. Maybe the vampire is on to something… Or maybe it’s all Hester’s doing. The salt may be a good idea…

Well then, there’s nothing else for it. Roberta is now obligated to steal all of Marcus’s measurement equipment. One could say that it’s Roberta’s civic duty to start throwing them around in random directions… So that’s exactly what Roberta begins to do.

“Perfect order.” she claims, beginning a villain monologue of her own, “Is perfectly pedestrian. Only a boring nothing with no dreams what so ever could ever get fooled by something so… boring.” Another tool gets tossed away without looking and Roberta smirks at Hester before continuing as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “Order, structure, reason and common sense is just the trappings of those people too stupid, or too uninventive to choose their own paths. I reject your OCD. I reject your perfect angles and your rulers, and your perfectly pressed clothing. It’s pathetic. It’s drab, and the world would do far better if you just failed and took your own life for my amusement.”

And you were doing so well, Roberta. Then you made it about yourself.

It’s a miracle. Maybe ot divine in nature, but Hester and Roberta are apparently on the same page. Chaos to destroy this perfect order.

To be honest, Hester had been repressing an itch nagging in the back of her mind all this time. Somehow, it just doesn’t feel.. complete. “Ehm.. did you forget your gun today, Miss Pinn?” Wise to bring it up? Or unwise that the vampire was reminded at all? Surely, no episode is complete without the Roberta’s barrel pointed at someone.

While the smaller woman delivers another of her classic villain monologues, the ginger joins in the pilfering of brass instruments for her own purposes – whichever of these might be useful for a budding alchemist such as herself. “Oh, this looks neat.. oh, this one’s cracked,” are her side commentary, beneath the vampire’s eloquent conclusion.

But just because two voices are better than one, the loser also interrupts every now and then with hype-inducing agreements such as: “Y-yeah!” “That’s right!” “So stupid!” Typical ugly henchman stuff.

“Help… me… it’s been… three days… can’t stop measuring… can’t stop…“

The demon’s influence is clearly weakening, but something more direct may be needed to complete the exorcism.

Is it possible actually shooting Marcus could be the cure to this?

There’s a pause. Hester may be on to something. Roberta pauses in her monologue to produce her revolver. It’s got demon bane bullets in it. Quartz tipped 38s for today’s choice of gun. NOt as quiet as a 22, but more destructive by far.

The old woman at the gate gets a considering look, then is completely ignored. Well then… If anyone’s going to see an execution, better the elderly woman Roberta can say is going senile.

Curses, Hester’s idea takes root… Roberta levels the revolver, aims it at someone, and without any fanfair or fuss, shoots him in the head– He did claim he wanted to stop. There’s no stop more final than murder.

Is it possible actually shooting Marcus could be the cure to this?

The old woman at the gate gets a considering look, then is completely ignored. Well then… If anyone’s going to see an execution, better the elderly woman Roberta can say is going senile.

Curses, Hester’s idea takes root… Roberta levels the revolver, aims it at Marcus, and without any fanfair or fuss, shoots him in the head, execution style– He did claim he wanted to stop. There’s no stop more final than murder.

“IMPERFECT! INCOMPLETE! THE MEASUREMENTS MUST BE PRECISE!“

Marcus hits the ground hard but he’s breathing, the bullet wound already closing as the demonic influence leaves his body. His clothes return to their normal rumpled state, and his eyes are brown again instead of brass-bright.

The brass pipes beneath the park emit one final, deafening wail before falling silent. The fountain collapses back into its original Victorian design with a thunderous crash. Flower beds crumble into natural, asymmetrical arrangements.

Vex’thara writhes in the air above them, its brass components beginning to tarnish and crack as it loses its anchor to the physical world. But it’s not gone yet – the demon turns its attention to the two women who disrupted its perfect order.

“Awh no, I’ve had to stay awake for four days straight, too.. but ehm, if we had to choose between getting him to the clinic or something more.. drastic, then…” Hester is stuck fretting and fussing here, looking between Marcus and Roberta as she’s cursed with indecision.

Thankfully, the woman chooses for her. The sound of the bullet makes her ears ring in a moment’s jolt, head to toe. It never gets any softer, that sound. And when he’s -still- giving one last holler, the ginger shrieks and staggers backwards with those stolen brass instruments in her grip! The world shifts back into its original form, and she braces – dropping to the ground on her knees.

Vex’thara overhead draws her beady eyes that way. “Oh god, oh god, it’s gonna possess one of us instead, isn’t it?” she hyperventilates, hurriedly flipping through a quaint-looking folio of ripped pages and stolen rituals from who-knows-where.

“Oh.” Roberta informs Hester, as casually callous as could be. “I know what we need to do now.

Another shot rings out as Roberta shoots Marcus again. “I missed.” she claims, her aim at Marcus’s heart this time.

Perfect adult behaviour, surely. Roberta, the authority figure… the teacher cold bloodedly murdering random innocents. Hester has the best of educations. Still, Roberta does turn this into a lesson for the ginger’s benefit. “The demon is out, but its anchor is still alive. If we break that, the demon pisses off.”

It sounds good, but from context, it’s very obvious that Roberta is making all of this up as she goes. If only Hester had someone smarter to help her with this. Too late.

to Hester’s question, there’s a shrug. “You maybe. You’re a perfect possession target. I’m dead.”

The second shot rings out across the park, and Marcus’s body goes still. The moment his heart stops, Vex’thara lets out a shriek that sounds like metal tearing. The brass instruments that make up its form begin to crumble and fall to the ground as ordinary, tarnished metal.

“IMPERFECTION… CANNOT… CALCULATE…” The demon’s voice fades as its physical manifestation dissolves completely, leaving only scattered brass shavings that blow away in the morning breeze.

The park settles into blessed normalcy. The fountain bubbles peacefully in its original Victorian design. The flower beds return to their natural, slightly imperfect arrangements. The underground pipes fall silent, no longer humming with supernatural energy.

The elderly woman at the gate has fled, likely to call the authorities. In the distance, the sound of sirens begins to grow louder – someone has reported gunshots in the park.

Marcus lies motionless on the grass, his groundskeeper’s uniform finally free of those impossible creases. The scattered measuring instruments around him are now just ordinary brass tools, no longer writhing with demonic energy.

Hester clutches her folio of ritual pages, breathing heavily as she realizes the immediate supernatural threat has passed. The question now is what to do about the very mundane problem of explaining two gunshots and a dead body to the approaching authorities.