Encounterlogs
Iriss Odd Encounter Sr Irene 241112
On a stormy afternoon, Iris finds herself in a bizarre and alarming situation after feeling a moment of dizziness in her kitchen. She becomes the victim of an abduction, waking up restrained in a steel-reinforced room with no visible doors, facing a large mirror that would soon reveal its own secrets. In a peculiar turn of events, she communicates with a robotic-sounding, yet sympathetic, female voice through a speaker, which conveys a tone of genuine concern for her well-being. Despite the unsettling environment, Iris maintains her wit, engaging in a dialogue that implies this is not her preferred way of spending a Monday. The encounter takes an even stranger turn as two figures in white hazmat suits emerge from the mirror, perform a medical procedure on her, and then discuss her recent employment at the Haven History Museum. Revealing a mistake in her capture, the voice over the speaker apologizes for the error and suggests that Iris might want to forget this harrowing experience, hinting at the supernatural undercurrents of the city of Haven.
The second part of the story centers on Aristotle's mundane reality being interrupted by an emergency alert. He is informed about a woman outside a Starbucks, hysterically claiming to have witnessed a man transforming into a bird and flying away. Aristotle, embodying the calm and collected figure of authority, approaches the scene to manage the situation. He cleverly navigates the woman's crisis, validating her experience to some extent to pacify her and offers to take her to the police station for her to make an official statement. His tactfulness eases the woman's agitation, and she agrees to go with him, all the while Aristotle is keenly aware of the extraordinary claims she makes, hinting at his understanding of Haven's supernatural intricacies. As he leads her away, promising to aid in her quest for justice, the scene subtly underscores the frequent, bizarre incidents that law enforcement in Haven must routinely contend with, blending the line between reality and the extraordinary elements that lurk within the city.
(Iris's odd encounter(SRIrene):SRIrene)
[Mon Nov 11 2024]
In an empty living room
This once-empty living room and kitchen combo has been painted a tastefully neutral off-white that compliments the blue carpeting in the living room and starker white linoleum in the kitchen. The living space is slowly being populated with furniture that doesn't quite match, while there is a themed of dark wood, and leather, it's pretty clear that each piece is from a different time and manufacturers, and likely has been picked up from Facebook Marketplace. At the very least, the mismatching sofa, couch and chairs offer somewhere to sit and glance at the rather large television mounted to the wall. While the kitchen has a nice set of gray and white, granite countertops that play off a set of maple-toned cabinets.
It is afternoon, about 45F(7C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds. It's raining outside.
(Your target is abducted in their sleep, waking up alone in a locked room. They need to either escape or draw attention to them so their allies can come and provide assistance.
)
Iris looks down at herself in the kitchen, unbuttoning her shirt and glancing down at her bandaged up waist. A few fingers palpate the tender spot, eliciting a wince as well as the words "Damn, this'll take a while to mend up. I should've been a bit more careful. Oh well." With that out of the way, her hand retrieves a glass and fills it up with tap water, chugging it like no tomorrow.
It's always important to stay hydrated, especially while recovering from injury and illness. And after a few sips, Iris feels refreshed, perhaps even enough to take on the rest of this rainy Monday.
Until, that is, the glass slips from her hand, shattering into pieces on the ground. The room starts spinning, and slowly fades to a vertigo of black ...
The last thing someone feels are two sets of hands wrapped around her ankles, dragging her back, away, and out of her home. When she comes to, she finds herself tied to a metal chair, in a room with steel reinforced walls. Facing her is a large mirror, giving her a clear view of the situation she's in. In the top corner of the ceiling, there appears to be some sort of speaker.
It's always important to stay hydrated, especially while recovering from injury and illness. And after a few sips, Iris feels refreshed, perhaps even enough to take on the rest of this rainy Monday.
Until, that is, the glass slips from her hand, shattering into pieces on the ground. The room starts spinning, and slowly fades to a vertigo of black ...
The last thing Iris feels are two sets of hands wrapped around her ankles, dragging her back, away, and out of her home. When she comes to, she finds herself tied to a metal chair, in a room with steel reinforced walls. Facing her is a large mirror, giving her a clear view of the situation she's in. In the top corner of the ceiling, there appears to be some sort of speaker.
Iris clicks her tongue upon finishing the glass, only to see it slip from her hand in a clumsy fashion. Her lips part to voice a protest or let out some funny quip about being tipsy but they instead mouth off a gasp and a muffled scream as darkness engulfs her. Conscious once more, her eyes dart about the room in a frantic manner while her arms tug at the restraints on the chair, shoulders trying to square up "The-fuck? What the?"
For a while, Iris is all alone in this room, even as she struggles; yet at the edges of her hearing, a subtle keen can be heard emanating from the speaker at the top corner of the room, of a pitch barely audible at all. Soon after, a soft and feminine voice speaks into the room. "Good morning, Ms Draghna; welcome to Haven. How are you feeling?" it asks.
Iris calms down after testing the bindings a little bit more, drawing in the kind of breath that made her chest swell for a few seconds and letting it out in a long sigh. After swallowing once, she answers while glancing up towards the speaker, as if trying to find something but the mirror to focus on "Could be better, got into a scuffle that left me worse for wear and now I'm apparently in a snuff film."
"I'm so sorry to hear that," comes the voice over the speaker, soft and feminine, with a very deep, genuine-sounding sympathy and a slightly musical yet robotic cadence. "Let me see what I can do to help, we'll have you right as rain in no time."
There are no doors in this room, yet it soon becomes apparent why none are needed. Out of the mirror, two figures emerge, each of them wearing a bright white hazmat suit that stands in stark contrast to the dark tone of the walls around Iris. One on each side approaches her, the first of them grabbing her right arm, glancing over it, and then moving around to instead select her left. He ties a rubber band around it, while the other prepares what looks to be a large syringe.
Iris looks at the mirror and doesn't seem to be too phased or startled by the individuals stepping out of it, instead glancing at the syringe and the two hazmat-clad folk. Once the tourniquet is secured tightly around her arms, she answers with "If this is some form of advanced drug tests, you can skip that, I only drink: like ever self-respecting hard worker." A nervous laugh slips out past her lips in an attempt to calm herself down.
Iris tried to maintain a steady breath. Attempting to deflect her uncertainty with funny quips turned out to be quite hard, a bead of sweat forming on the side of her brow.
It does appear that they're conducting some sort of test on her. The hazmat-clad figure with the syringe presses the needle just below her elbow, drawing a large quantity of blood. Iris gets to watch it siphoned away through a long rubber tube, into a clinical seeming vial. Whoever these people are, they're probably not vampires; this blood is for examination, not consumption.
"How long have you been working security at the Haven History Museum, Ms Draghna? Is that how you got into this ... scuffle?" The robotic, feminine voice inquires via the speaker. The pair of hazmats don't talk at all.
Iris contracts and extends the fingers of her left arm, feeling the blood get drained from it. This idle struggle to maintain a sense of feeling in the hand is broken by the words she heard, Iris looking up to the speaker in the corner and away from the sight of her blood being drawn "I don't know, a week, maybe a little less?" She answered, pupils slipping to the corners of her eyes as she was lost in thought.
Iris follows up with "Chased off some hooligans, and while they got it worse than me, I sure got roughed up myself.", sounding a bit unsure in her own words as if she were lying to herself at this point.
Whatever test was just conducted on Iris does not appear to take long. The two figures in the white hazmats turn around to leave, but once again, it's not through any door. They simply vanish before her very eyes, into the Nightmare, the same way they came in. "You're human?" the feminine, robotic voice asks over the intercom. She, or it, sound strangely disappointed. "I'm so sorry, Ms Draghna. That must've been very hard for you." The sympathy expressed by her unseen captor, laid on very thick, may strike her as being obviously artificial, given these circumstances. Yet in terms of tone and cadence, it's remarkably genuine sounding, enough that it wouldn't read as sarcastic or condescending were they face to face in person. The blood-thief has impeccable bedside manner, voice-wise at least, despite the snuff-film like handling of Iris.
"What brings a human to Haven, Ms Draghna? I hope you can understand our confusion here," the voice in the speaker inquires.
Iris eyes the hazmat-clad folks flee into the mirror with a small smile on her face, as if pleased to finally be alone in the room once again. Her breathing managed to wind down to an almost normal one rather than the initial hyperventilating she was experiencing. "What? You're saying that as if most people that flock here aren't humans. Listen..." Iris tried to get up, halted by the bindings that held her in place, a reminder of where she was "I just wanted a quiet-er life, Massachusetts is as quiet as it gets. But evidently, this place is a lot more active and a lot more *fun* than I expected." The word *fun* saw her face light up with a smile. "Secret organizations, ghouls and ghasts, apparently shapeshifters from what that guy showed me."
"And what guy showed you shapeshifters, Ms Draghna?" the ever polite, gentle robotic voice interrogates. There's an audible click, and the manacles securing Iris' limbs into the chair open up. Whilst there remains no visible window or door for her to exit through, it appears she now has the freedom to move around.
Iris stood up and stretched, rubbing her wrist for a few seconds and pacing around like a caged lion "Earlier today, in Rosie's Diner, some deranged lunatic came in talking about all of that, showed me pictures and such, bad CGI I say. But honestly, I'm starting to doubt it was that, especially given the fact that he was scooped up by some rather shady folk." Her hand drops against the mirror's surface, passively drumming her fingers against it. "I've had all sorts of weird dreams, and apparently they might not just be the alcohol and sleepless nights fault."
There is no gap of any kind between Iris' fingertip and her reflection, the way one would expect to see with a standard mirror; as if there is no thickness to the glass she's touching, only a mirror coating on the side that faces her. "It appears you were brought to us due to a clerical error, Ms Draghna. Please accept my deepest apologies for the confusion."
A short pause follows, before the gentle, soft feminine voice inquires, "Would you like to forget this stressful experience? It can all go back to being another strange dream. We would advise you, however, that this is not a peaceful town. Please consider relocating to Boston nearby."
Iris leans against a wall, crossing her arms and bobbing her head from side to side, chewing on the side of her cheek. "Really showed me the light on the whole peaceful stuff, I'd die of a failed liver and a bored mind otherwise." Her hand drives itself into a pocket, rattling around loudly for something. "I'd rather not forget this, I've been forgetting far too much, but while I'm here and since there's a whole clerical error, indulge me, will you? Happen to know some Emmanuel? Where I'd be able to find him? That deranged individual seemed to advise me to seek him out, but I couldn't find them in the yellow pages."
There is a pause. Even though Iris has been kidnapped from her own house, likely drugged through her own kitchen tap somehow, and brought here for some strange blood testing by unknown and unseen figures, suddenly it seems that her captors are the ones who've been caught off guard. "Emmanuel Baptiste will see to you shortly," the gentle feminine voice replies over the speaker. "Please exit the room." They don't tell her how to exit, however. Maybe they just want to see what she'll do.
There is a pause. Even though Iris has been kidnapped from her own house, likely drugged through her own kitchen tap somehow, and brought here for some strange blood testing by unknown and unseen figures, suddenly it seems that her captors are the ones who've been caught off guard. "Emmanuel Baptiste will see to you shortly," the gentle feminine voice replies over the speaker. "Please exit the room." They don't tell her how to exit, however. Maybe they just want to see what she'll do.
Iris hitches her eyebrows and gives a couple of nods, glancing around the room for a few more seconds. The rattling in the pocket yields results as a bone charm necklace is pulled out and looped around her neck on a necklace. "I'll be heading home, then, I'm sure you inquisition or whatever-it-was they said you were folks can find me easily." She said in an oddly calm tone, passively rubbing at her waist. The woman turns towards the mirror to stare intently into it and pass forth into the nightmare realm.
There is, as Iris might've guessed, a room on the other side of the mirror. And now that she's on this side, she can see clearly into the room where she was held captive moments ago, the metal chair and the speaker in the top corner. As the the drumming of her fingertips revealed, this was a two-way mirror.
An empty chair sits in front of a desk, upon which there are numerous controls, and a microphone, likely connected to the speaker. The chair swivels around to face her, even though there's no one in it.
"Turn left to exit the Steel Mill," comes a voice, directly in front of her, now familiar -- it's the one that had been speaking to her in the other room, sounding less robotic now. It doesn't seem to be emanating from a speaker, even though there's no one here. "You will find a mirror in the car park. Emmanuel will meet you at the house where we found you, in thirty to sixty minutes."
Iris looks at the chair, somehow not surprised at all at this point and apparently already quite comfortable with transitioning through mirrors. The instructions were clear and off she went, marching down without questioning much towards the exit that was spoken about. "Today's somehow gotten a lot more interesting than I thought." She commented, sauntering off with a steady gait, a few fingers scratching at the point where the syringe drew blood.
When Iris turns as directed, she finds herself passing through the Nightmare into the car park of the Temple Steel Mill, its logo visible upon the side of its gargantuan concrete bulk. There's a mirror just by the exit, in the car park, exactly as she's been told there would be. And then it seems she's free to go ...
(Someone in Haven has found out about the supernatural and is freaking out about it. They're at risk of exposing the secret, hurting themselves, or hurting others. Your target and their allies are tasked with containing the situation.
)
People might want to have free time, but it seems that Haven's Finest aren't able to relax all the time. As Aristotle might be enjoying an afternoon in his bedroom, his phone would receive an alert notice. It was a simple one, "Containment of Supernaturall Exposed Person". Such a thing happens often in Haven and this wouldn't be anything out of the orindary in general, but you can't tell until you show up what might happen. The report seems to indicate that a woman saw what she thinks to be a shifter of some kind just simply fly off into the sky and she's blabbering about it outside of Starbucks. At least there might be coffee involved, if Aristotle decides to take up the case.
Aristotle's phone sends that alert notice, and it takes a few attempts before Aristotle relents and goes to see. He rises from his bed where he was lounging, changing out of his pajamas and into his police-gear before letting out a little sigh. "Okay. Simple enough." He says - or rather, hopes, as he exits his room, home, and enters his vehicle to make his way over to the Starbucks.
When Aristotle arrives at Starbucks there is already someone there trying to calm the woman down. The woman is ranting in typical Karen fashion as she might be complaining about her coffee order being screwed up, but this time, she's ranting about... "And I swear to the LORD in Heaven I saw that man who was harassing me walk outside and just turn into a bird and fly away!" She gestures wildly around herself, pointing up towards the sky, "He was staring at me in there and I could see him on his phone! He was PROBABLY taking pictures of me the whole time!" This woman isn't a looker, and she isn't famous, so she probably wouldn't be someone that is being filmed actively in a Starbucks of all places. She's dressed in some frumpy clothing and while she is looking flustered, she is still taking a sip from her mocha-something-custom-ordered-drink that she made the employees whip up for her this evening.
It doesn't long for Aristotle to identify the person at the scene, considering the loud ranting going about. He steps out of his vehicle, badge on display if his gear wasn't enough, and he lifts a hand to flag her down. "Ma'am." He says, approaching her as she gestures wildly. "Couple complaints came in about a woman ranting and I'm gonna say that's you." He says. He speaks gently as he does so, eyes looking over her as if checking that she may or may not have been recording what she claims to see. He motions for her to approach. "You said you saw something? If you did, best thing to do would be to file a report at the station so we can look into it. But, we can't have you yelling outside of the establishment here."
The woman looks towards Aristotle and she is one to judge quickly. But, she isn't one to stop the attention she is receiving from her ranting and raving about whatever she may have seen. She doesn't seem to have her phone out and maybe that is part of being older, she just doesn't resort to it as the first thing like younger generations might. She begins to repeat her story to Aristotle, looking and gesturing from the Starbucks to the street, "This man was in there on his phone RECORDING me and then I told him to stop and he just walked out, ignoring me entirely and turned into a bird!" She points up towards the sky, "And flew away!" There is a bystander who was already trying to calm the woman down who looks completely frustrated with the situation and he says to Aristotle, "The guy inside wasn't doing anything wrong and she's just rambling about it, nobody has anything better to do than complain these days..." He does give Aristotle a look of knowing though, brows raising, indicating up into the air. There is nothing to be seen for the moment, but it might be a wink-wink sort of situation and a nudge-nudge that it might have actually happened, at least in part.
That wink-wink of insider knowledge isn't lost on Aristotle, and it's returned by way of a subtle nod from the officer before his attention is set back to the woman. "Well, if you saw something like that," he says, his voice still calm as though trying to influence her to the same emotional state. "Then you'd know there's no one here at Starbucks who would be able to do anything about it." He says. "Let's head back to the Station and we can get an official statement from you. From there, we can start an investigation to what you saw." He says, insinuating he might actually believe her.
There is a calming something about Aristotle now as the woman seems to lower her voice and take a sip from her coffee. She suckles the straw and then says, "You're right. I really do need to make an official statement about this because it is going to be big! You wouldn't believe how many people think aliens exist already and I bet you it was an alien..." She does start to walk closer to Aristotle now and she says, "You'll take me there? It is storming and I don't want to walk home to get my car, I got a ride here and they had to go..." She seems a lot less adversarial now and simply seems to go along with the program, because someone believes her and that helps.
"Don't worry, I'll drive you there." Aristotle says. It's paired with a nod that sees one hand extended out towards her, as if to herd, while the other gestures towards his car. "We're not to far from there, too, so it'd be a short drive." He says. "Once we're there, I'll have you wait in the lobby and one of the staff members... with the Sheriff's department," he says, as if adding that bit of information despite it being false; though nothing she'd need to know now. "Will come to take your statement." He says.
The woman begins to walk with Aristotle, herded on towards the car nearby. She smiles now, such a nice young man helping take care of her. She's placated with the attention, thinking that he is taking her seriously and then she would say to him, "Thank you, young man. I didn't catch your name, but I'll definitely tell everyone how good you have been with believing my story. People were calling me crazy and I am not crazy, I saw what I saw and..." She leans in closer to him now and lowers her voice, like sharing some really important information needs to be secret, "Watch out for the vaccines, too, that new one? It is going to make people really crazy..." Then she's off, taken by Aristotle to be fixed, or whatever needs to be done to resolve her thinking she saw something she might or might not have seen.
(Your target is abducted by a sea creature that's somehow crossed over into our world, it is up to them to survive for long enough that their allies can come help.
)
OOC: Hello! Go ahead and emote what you were up to and we'll get started! :)
Savannah walked through the shipping yard, near the containers. She was walking in a manner that had her looking about the place, patrolling perhaps. She did wear a jacket to protec ther from the elements, but the storm is hitting hard. The water rising and the waves hitting the shoreline of the docks more than usual. She looks over towards the water, the salt spray flying into the air and hitting her now. She takes a deep breath, face wet, but continues to move in that slow pacing, looking and checking locks on container doors.
The rain is cold. The wind makes it colder, and the drops rattle the sides and tops of the containers that create a constant cacophony of the elements. There is no one else out here save for Savannah, the residents nearby opting instead to stay inside unless absolutely necessary. She is alone. The glance towards the water - perhaps it was luck, because for the briefest of moments in that glance, she's able to spot what looks like someone splashing about. It's in such a way that one couldn't look and think anything other than a possible drowning.
Savannah looks out towards the water again now, seeing that splashing someone, or what looks like someone. She moves closer to the edge of the railing that is where the beach and water might meet the docks themselves. She calls out towards the splashing, to see if there is any response, leaning over as she yells, "Hey out there!" This might be an emergency, and she's alone. She could call for backup or help, but there is only so much time if someone is drowning and she begins to move, trying to scale the railing and hop over the edge to land down below, tumbling and hitting hard. The wind is knocked out of her for a moment, gasping and heaving for breath before rising up and starting to walk closer to the shore's edge, where waves splash against sand and rock, "Hey out there!"
The weather and setting sun makes it difficult to see clearly who is in the water. It is a very precarious situation, and waiting for help to arrive might run a high risk of someone being lost at sea. Savannah finds the wind knocked out of her, just as the water laps up at the shore. She calls out, but even for her, the sound of her own voice is difficult to hear. From what she can see, squinting or no, it looks like a man. Or, the silhouette of a man, splashing. He goes in and out of the water, and it does not look voluntary. Identifying features can't be seen from this distance - nondescript because of said distance. But, he's close enough that maybe someone could swim out to him. To save him. And the urge to do so is strong.
Savannah isn't dressed for swimming, but then again, who is while walking around Haven. She stops at the water's edge, and then she is removing her boots. She tosses them to the rocky shoreline and then she strips off her coat and a couple other pieces of clothing, leaving her in a sports bra and some other things covering her, but no layers to bog her down. She starts to walk into the water now, taking her time to dodge a wave and dive under it, calling out, "Swim to me!" She pushes towards the man, swimming, and she's a strong swimmer with the natural skill of someone who has practiced and done that sort of thing throughout their years.
Before entering the water, Savannah also signalled for help, hitting the emergency call on her phone before leaving it ashore.
There's a notice on Savannah's phone that confirms for her that her signal was received and responded to. And then, she's off into the water. The man she attempts to help continues to splash about. She calls out to him, and it doesn't look like her words were registered or understood, because he flails and flails, and as she draws closer, he goes under - as if losing his battle against the elements, fatigue, and the coldness of the water. And cold it is. Savannah loses sight of him. He doesn't resurface, which likely does not bode well if he is exhausted. He'd have to be sighted from under the water.
Savannah might be freezing during the initial shock of it all, but she's got adrenaline and a savior's mentality. She pumps and swims the distance to reach where he might have gone under and then she takes deep, quick breaths, exhaling, inhaling and then dives, underneath the water. She begins to try and search, but the cloudy water of the bay might be too much for her eyes to adjust and see through. Still, she's underneath the water a few feet, rising and falling with the waves passing overhead, sending her a few feet here and there at a time, but she's at least not being hit by white cresting crashes of waves in this place just yet.
The second part of the story centers on Aristotle's mundane reality being interrupted by an emergency alert. He is informed about a woman outside a Starbucks, hysterically claiming to have witnessed a man transforming into a bird and flying away. Aristotle, embodying the calm and collected figure of authority, approaches the scene to manage the situation. He cleverly navigates the woman's crisis, validating her experience to some extent to pacify her and offers to take her to the police station for her to make an official statement. His tactfulness eases the woman's agitation, and she agrees to go with him, all the while Aristotle is keenly aware of the extraordinary claims she makes, hinting at his understanding of Haven's supernatural intricacies. As he leads her away, promising to aid in her quest for justice, the scene subtly underscores the frequent, bizarre incidents that law enforcement in Haven must routinely contend with, blending the line between reality and the extraordinary elements that lurk within the city.
(Iris's odd encounter(SRIrene):SRIrene)
[Mon Nov 11 2024]
In an empty living room
This once-empty living room and kitchen combo has been painted a tastefully neutral off-white that compliments the blue carpeting in the living room and starker white linoleum in the kitchen. The living space is slowly being populated with furniture that doesn't quite match, while there is a themed of dark wood, and leather, it's pretty clear that each piece is from a different time and manufacturers, and likely has been picked up from Facebook Marketplace. At the very least, the mismatching sofa, couch and chairs offer somewhere to sit and glance at the rather large television mounted to the wall. While the kitchen has a nice set of gray and white, granite countertops that play off a set of maple-toned cabinets.
It is afternoon, about 45F(7C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds. It's raining outside.
(Your target is abducted in their sleep, waking up alone in a locked room. They need to either escape or draw attention to them so their allies can come and provide assistance.
)
Iris looks down at herself in the kitchen, unbuttoning her shirt and glancing down at her bandaged up waist. A few fingers palpate the tender spot, eliciting a wince as well as the words "Damn, this'll take a while to mend up. I should've been a bit more careful. Oh well." With that out of the way, her hand retrieves a glass and fills it up with tap water, chugging it like no tomorrow.
It's always important to stay hydrated, especially while recovering from injury and illness. And after a few sips, Iris feels refreshed, perhaps even enough to take on the rest of this rainy Monday.
Until, that is, the glass slips from her hand, shattering into pieces on the ground. The room starts spinning, and slowly fades to a vertigo of black ...
The last thing someone feels are two sets of hands wrapped around her ankles, dragging her back, away, and out of her home. When she comes to, she finds herself tied to a metal chair, in a room with steel reinforced walls. Facing her is a large mirror, giving her a clear view of the situation she's in. In the top corner of the ceiling, there appears to be some sort of speaker.
It's always important to stay hydrated, especially while recovering from injury and illness. And after a few sips, Iris feels refreshed, perhaps even enough to take on the rest of this rainy Monday.
Until, that is, the glass slips from her hand, shattering into pieces on the ground. The room starts spinning, and slowly fades to a vertigo of black ...
The last thing Iris feels are two sets of hands wrapped around her ankles, dragging her back, away, and out of her home. When she comes to, she finds herself tied to a metal chair, in a room with steel reinforced walls. Facing her is a large mirror, giving her a clear view of the situation she's in. In the top corner of the ceiling, there appears to be some sort of speaker.
Iris clicks her tongue upon finishing the glass, only to see it slip from her hand in a clumsy fashion. Her lips part to voice a protest or let out some funny quip about being tipsy but they instead mouth off a gasp and a muffled scream as darkness engulfs her. Conscious once more, her eyes dart about the room in a frantic manner while her arms tug at the restraints on the chair, shoulders trying to square up "The-fuck? What the?"
For a while, Iris is all alone in this room, even as she struggles; yet at the edges of her hearing, a subtle keen can be heard emanating from the speaker at the top corner of the room, of a pitch barely audible at all. Soon after, a soft and feminine voice speaks into the room. "Good morning, Ms Draghna; welcome to Haven. How are you feeling?" it asks.
Iris calms down after testing the bindings a little bit more, drawing in the kind of breath that made her chest swell for a few seconds and letting it out in a long sigh. After swallowing once, she answers while glancing up towards the speaker, as if trying to find something but the mirror to focus on "Could be better, got into a scuffle that left me worse for wear and now I'm apparently in a snuff film."
"I'm so sorry to hear that," comes the voice over the speaker, soft and feminine, with a very deep, genuine-sounding sympathy and a slightly musical yet robotic cadence. "Let me see what I can do to help, we'll have you right as rain in no time."
There are no doors in this room, yet it soon becomes apparent why none are needed. Out of the mirror, two figures emerge, each of them wearing a bright white hazmat suit that stands in stark contrast to the dark tone of the walls around Iris. One on each side approaches her, the first of them grabbing her right arm, glancing over it, and then moving around to instead select her left. He ties a rubber band around it, while the other prepares what looks to be a large syringe.
Iris looks at the mirror and doesn't seem to be too phased or startled by the individuals stepping out of it, instead glancing at the syringe and the two hazmat-clad folk. Once the tourniquet is secured tightly around her arms, she answers with "If this is some form of advanced drug tests, you can skip that, I only drink: like ever self-respecting hard worker." A nervous laugh slips out past her lips in an attempt to calm herself down.
Iris tried to maintain a steady breath. Attempting to deflect her uncertainty with funny quips turned out to be quite hard, a bead of sweat forming on the side of her brow.
It does appear that they're conducting some sort of test on her. The hazmat-clad figure with the syringe presses the needle just below her elbow, drawing a large quantity of blood. Iris gets to watch it siphoned away through a long rubber tube, into a clinical seeming vial. Whoever these people are, they're probably not vampires; this blood is for examination, not consumption.
"How long have you been working security at the Haven History Museum, Ms Draghna? Is that how you got into this ... scuffle?" The robotic, feminine voice inquires via the speaker. The pair of hazmats don't talk at all.
Iris contracts and extends the fingers of her left arm, feeling the blood get drained from it. This idle struggle to maintain a sense of feeling in the hand is broken by the words she heard, Iris looking up to the speaker in the corner and away from the sight of her blood being drawn "I don't know, a week, maybe a little less?" She answered, pupils slipping to the corners of her eyes as she was lost in thought.
Iris follows up with "Chased off some hooligans, and while they got it worse than me, I sure got roughed up myself.", sounding a bit unsure in her own words as if she were lying to herself at this point.
Whatever test was just conducted on Iris does not appear to take long. The two figures in the white hazmats turn around to leave, but once again, it's not through any door. They simply vanish before her very eyes, into the Nightmare, the same way they came in. "You're human?" the feminine, robotic voice asks over the intercom. She, or it, sound strangely disappointed. "I'm so sorry, Ms Draghna. That must've been very hard for you." The sympathy expressed by her unseen captor, laid on very thick, may strike her as being obviously artificial, given these circumstances. Yet in terms of tone and cadence, it's remarkably genuine sounding, enough that it wouldn't read as sarcastic or condescending were they face to face in person. The blood-thief has impeccable bedside manner, voice-wise at least, despite the snuff-film like handling of Iris.
"What brings a human to Haven, Ms Draghna? I hope you can understand our confusion here," the voice in the speaker inquires.
Iris eyes the hazmat-clad folks flee into the mirror with a small smile on her face, as if pleased to finally be alone in the room once again. Her breathing managed to wind down to an almost normal one rather than the initial hyperventilating she was experiencing. "What? You're saying that as if most people that flock here aren't humans. Listen..." Iris tried to get up, halted by the bindings that held her in place, a reminder of where she was "I just wanted a quiet-er life, Massachusetts is as quiet as it gets. But evidently, this place is a lot more active and a lot more *fun* than I expected." The word *fun* saw her face light up with a smile. "Secret organizations, ghouls and ghasts, apparently shapeshifters from what that guy showed me."
"And what guy showed you shapeshifters, Ms Draghna?" the ever polite, gentle robotic voice interrogates. There's an audible click, and the manacles securing Iris' limbs into the chair open up. Whilst there remains no visible window or door for her to exit through, it appears she now has the freedom to move around.
Iris stood up and stretched, rubbing her wrist for a few seconds and pacing around like a caged lion "Earlier today, in Rosie's Diner, some deranged lunatic came in talking about all of that, showed me pictures and such, bad CGI I say. But honestly, I'm starting to doubt it was that, especially given the fact that he was scooped up by some rather shady folk." Her hand drops against the mirror's surface, passively drumming her fingers against it. "I've had all sorts of weird dreams, and apparently they might not just be the alcohol and sleepless nights fault."
There is no gap of any kind between Iris' fingertip and her reflection, the way one would expect to see with a standard mirror; as if there is no thickness to the glass she's touching, only a mirror coating on the side that faces her. "It appears you were brought to us due to a clerical error, Ms Draghna. Please accept my deepest apologies for the confusion."
A short pause follows, before the gentle, soft feminine voice inquires, "Would you like to forget this stressful experience? It can all go back to being another strange dream. We would advise you, however, that this is not a peaceful town. Please consider relocating to Boston nearby."
Iris leans against a wall, crossing her arms and bobbing her head from side to side, chewing on the side of her cheek. "Really showed me the light on the whole peaceful stuff, I'd die of a failed liver and a bored mind otherwise." Her hand drives itself into a pocket, rattling around loudly for something. "I'd rather not forget this, I've been forgetting far too much, but while I'm here and since there's a whole clerical error, indulge me, will you? Happen to know some Emmanuel? Where I'd be able to find him? That deranged individual seemed to advise me to seek him out, but I couldn't find them in the yellow pages."
There is a pause. Even though Iris has been kidnapped from her own house, likely drugged through her own kitchen tap somehow, and brought here for some strange blood testing by unknown and unseen figures, suddenly it seems that her captors are the ones who've been caught off guard. "Emmanuel Baptiste will see to you shortly," the gentle feminine voice replies over the speaker. "Please exit the room." They don't tell her how to exit, however. Maybe they just want to see what she'll do.
There is a pause. Even though Iris has been kidnapped from her own house, likely drugged through her own kitchen tap somehow, and brought here for some strange blood testing by unknown and unseen figures, suddenly it seems that her captors are the ones who've been caught off guard. "Emmanuel Baptiste will see to you shortly," the gentle feminine voice replies over the speaker. "Please exit the room." They don't tell her how to exit, however. Maybe they just want to see what she'll do.
Iris hitches her eyebrows and gives a couple of nods, glancing around the room for a few more seconds. The rattling in the pocket yields results as a bone charm necklace is pulled out and looped around her neck on a necklace. "I'll be heading home, then, I'm sure you inquisition or whatever-it-was they said you were folks can find me easily." She said in an oddly calm tone, passively rubbing at her waist. The woman turns towards the mirror to stare intently into it and pass forth into the nightmare realm.
There is, as Iris might've guessed, a room on the other side of the mirror. And now that she's on this side, she can see clearly into the room where she was held captive moments ago, the metal chair and the speaker in the top corner. As the the drumming of her fingertips revealed, this was a two-way mirror.
An empty chair sits in front of a desk, upon which there are numerous controls, and a microphone, likely connected to the speaker. The chair swivels around to face her, even though there's no one in it.
"Turn left to exit the Steel Mill," comes a voice, directly in front of her, now familiar -- it's the one that had been speaking to her in the other room, sounding less robotic now. It doesn't seem to be emanating from a speaker, even though there's no one here. "You will find a mirror in the car park. Emmanuel will meet you at the house where we found you, in thirty to sixty minutes."
Iris looks at the chair, somehow not surprised at all at this point and apparently already quite comfortable with transitioning through mirrors. The instructions were clear and off she went, marching down without questioning much towards the exit that was spoken about. "Today's somehow gotten a lot more interesting than I thought." She commented, sauntering off with a steady gait, a few fingers scratching at the point where the syringe drew blood.
When Iris turns as directed, she finds herself passing through the Nightmare into the car park of the Temple Steel Mill, its logo visible upon the side of its gargantuan concrete bulk. There's a mirror just by the exit, in the car park, exactly as she's been told there would be. And then it seems she's free to go ...
(Someone in Haven has found out about the supernatural and is freaking out about it. They're at risk of exposing the secret, hurting themselves, or hurting others. Your target and their allies are tasked with containing the situation.
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People might want to have free time, but it seems that Haven's Finest aren't able to relax all the time. As Aristotle might be enjoying an afternoon in his bedroom, his phone would receive an alert notice. It was a simple one, "Containment of Supernaturall Exposed Person". Such a thing happens often in Haven and this wouldn't be anything out of the orindary in general, but you can't tell until you show up what might happen. The report seems to indicate that a woman saw what she thinks to be a shifter of some kind just simply fly off into the sky and she's blabbering about it outside of Starbucks. At least there might be coffee involved, if Aristotle decides to take up the case.
Aristotle's phone sends that alert notice, and it takes a few attempts before Aristotle relents and goes to see. He rises from his bed where he was lounging, changing out of his pajamas and into his police-gear before letting out a little sigh. "Okay. Simple enough." He says - or rather, hopes, as he exits his room, home, and enters his vehicle to make his way over to the Starbucks.
When Aristotle arrives at Starbucks there is already someone there trying to calm the woman down. The woman is ranting in typical Karen fashion as she might be complaining about her coffee order being screwed up, but this time, she's ranting about... "And I swear to the LORD in Heaven I saw that man who was harassing me walk outside and just turn into a bird and fly away!" She gestures wildly around herself, pointing up towards the sky, "He was staring at me in there and I could see him on his phone! He was PROBABLY taking pictures of me the whole time!" This woman isn't a looker, and she isn't famous, so she probably wouldn't be someone that is being filmed actively in a Starbucks of all places. She's dressed in some frumpy clothing and while she is looking flustered, she is still taking a sip from her mocha-something-custom-ordered-drink that she made the employees whip up for her this evening.
It doesn't long for Aristotle to identify the person at the scene, considering the loud ranting going about. He steps out of his vehicle, badge on display if his gear wasn't enough, and he lifts a hand to flag her down. "Ma'am." He says, approaching her as she gestures wildly. "Couple complaints came in about a woman ranting and I'm gonna say that's you." He says. He speaks gently as he does so, eyes looking over her as if checking that she may or may not have been recording what she claims to see. He motions for her to approach. "You said you saw something? If you did, best thing to do would be to file a report at the station so we can look into it. But, we can't have you yelling outside of the establishment here."
The woman looks towards Aristotle and she is one to judge quickly. But, she isn't one to stop the attention she is receiving from her ranting and raving about whatever she may have seen. She doesn't seem to have her phone out and maybe that is part of being older, she just doesn't resort to it as the first thing like younger generations might. She begins to repeat her story to Aristotle, looking and gesturing from the Starbucks to the street, "This man was in there on his phone RECORDING me and then I told him to stop and he just walked out, ignoring me entirely and turned into a bird!" She points up towards the sky, "And flew away!" There is a bystander who was already trying to calm the woman down who looks completely frustrated with the situation and he says to Aristotle, "The guy inside wasn't doing anything wrong and she's just rambling about it, nobody has anything better to do than complain these days..." He does give Aristotle a look of knowing though, brows raising, indicating up into the air. There is nothing to be seen for the moment, but it might be a wink-wink sort of situation and a nudge-nudge that it might have actually happened, at least in part.
That wink-wink of insider knowledge isn't lost on Aristotle, and it's returned by way of a subtle nod from the officer before his attention is set back to the woman. "Well, if you saw something like that," he says, his voice still calm as though trying to influence her to the same emotional state. "Then you'd know there's no one here at Starbucks who would be able to do anything about it." He says. "Let's head back to the Station and we can get an official statement from you. From there, we can start an investigation to what you saw." He says, insinuating he might actually believe her.
There is a calming something about Aristotle now as the woman seems to lower her voice and take a sip from her coffee. She suckles the straw and then says, "You're right. I really do need to make an official statement about this because it is going to be big! You wouldn't believe how many people think aliens exist already and I bet you it was an alien..." She does start to walk closer to Aristotle now and she says, "You'll take me there? It is storming and I don't want to walk home to get my car, I got a ride here and they had to go..." She seems a lot less adversarial now and simply seems to go along with the program, because someone believes her and that helps.
"Don't worry, I'll drive you there." Aristotle says. It's paired with a nod that sees one hand extended out towards her, as if to herd, while the other gestures towards his car. "We're not to far from there, too, so it'd be a short drive." He says. "Once we're there, I'll have you wait in the lobby and one of the staff members... with the Sheriff's department," he says, as if adding that bit of information despite it being false; though nothing she'd need to know now. "Will come to take your statement." He says.
The woman begins to walk with Aristotle, herded on towards the car nearby. She smiles now, such a nice young man helping take care of her. She's placated with the attention, thinking that he is taking her seriously and then she would say to him, "Thank you, young man. I didn't catch your name, but I'll definitely tell everyone how good you have been with believing my story. People were calling me crazy and I am not crazy, I saw what I saw and..." She leans in closer to him now and lowers her voice, like sharing some really important information needs to be secret, "Watch out for the vaccines, too, that new one? It is going to make people really crazy..." Then she's off, taken by Aristotle to be fixed, or whatever needs to be done to resolve her thinking she saw something she might or might not have seen.
(Your target is abducted by a sea creature that's somehow crossed over into our world, it is up to them to survive for long enough that their allies can come help.
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OOC: Hello! Go ahead and emote what you were up to and we'll get started! :)
Savannah walked through the shipping yard, near the containers. She was walking in a manner that had her looking about the place, patrolling perhaps. She did wear a jacket to protec ther from the elements, but the storm is hitting hard. The water rising and the waves hitting the shoreline of the docks more than usual. She looks over towards the water, the salt spray flying into the air and hitting her now. She takes a deep breath, face wet, but continues to move in that slow pacing, looking and checking locks on container doors.
The rain is cold. The wind makes it colder, and the drops rattle the sides and tops of the containers that create a constant cacophony of the elements. There is no one else out here save for Savannah, the residents nearby opting instead to stay inside unless absolutely necessary. She is alone. The glance towards the water - perhaps it was luck, because for the briefest of moments in that glance, she's able to spot what looks like someone splashing about. It's in such a way that one couldn't look and think anything other than a possible drowning.
Savannah looks out towards the water again now, seeing that splashing someone, or what looks like someone. She moves closer to the edge of the railing that is where the beach and water might meet the docks themselves. She calls out towards the splashing, to see if there is any response, leaning over as she yells, "Hey out there!" This might be an emergency, and she's alone. She could call for backup or help, but there is only so much time if someone is drowning and she begins to move, trying to scale the railing and hop over the edge to land down below, tumbling and hitting hard. The wind is knocked out of her for a moment, gasping and heaving for breath before rising up and starting to walk closer to the shore's edge, where waves splash against sand and rock, "Hey out there!"
The weather and setting sun makes it difficult to see clearly who is in the water. It is a very precarious situation, and waiting for help to arrive might run a high risk of someone being lost at sea. Savannah finds the wind knocked out of her, just as the water laps up at the shore. She calls out, but even for her, the sound of her own voice is difficult to hear. From what she can see, squinting or no, it looks like a man. Or, the silhouette of a man, splashing. He goes in and out of the water, and it does not look voluntary. Identifying features can't be seen from this distance - nondescript because of said distance. But, he's close enough that maybe someone could swim out to him. To save him. And the urge to do so is strong.
Savannah isn't dressed for swimming, but then again, who is while walking around Haven. She stops at the water's edge, and then she is removing her boots. She tosses them to the rocky shoreline and then she strips off her coat and a couple other pieces of clothing, leaving her in a sports bra and some other things covering her, but no layers to bog her down. She starts to walk into the water now, taking her time to dodge a wave and dive under it, calling out, "Swim to me!" She pushes towards the man, swimming, and she's a strong swimmer with the natural skill of someone who has practiced and done that sort of thing throughout their years.
Before entering the water, Savannah also signalled for help, hitting the emergency call on her phone before leaving it ashore.
There's a notice on Savannah's phone that confirms for her that her signal was received and responded to. And then, she's off into the water. The man she attempts to help continues to splash about. She calls out to him, and it doesn't look like her words were registered or understood, because he flails and flails, and as she draws closer, he goes under - as if losing his battle against the elements, fatigue, and the coldness of the water. And cold it is. Savannah loses sight of him. He doesn't resurface, which likely does not bode well if he is exhausted. He'd have to be sighted from under the water.
Savannah might be freezing during the initial shock of it all, but she's got adrenaline and a savior's mentality. She pumps and swims the distance to reach where he might have gone under and then she takes deep, quick breaths, exhaling, inhaling and then dives, underneath the water. She begins to try and search, but the cloudy water of the bay might be too much for her eyes to adjust and see through. Still, she's underneath the water a few feet, rising and falling with the waves passing overhead, sending her a few feet here and there at a time, but she's at least not being hit by white cresting crashes of waves in this place just yet.