Encounterlogs
Madelines Odd Encounter Sr Victoria 250102
Madeline's serene journey through the White Oak Courtyard, aiming for her nursing shift, takes an eerie turn as a supernatural chill grips the air, heralding a ghostly encounter. A disembodied voice, fraught with pain and mistaken identity, whispers to her, believing her to be "Addie," someone from its past marked by a tragic misunderstanding. As snow whirls menacingly around her, Madeline engages the spirit, learning of its regretful actions tied to a mishap that led to an untimely death. Despite initial fear, her compassion leads her to play along, offering the spirit, Oliver, the closure he seeks by feigning memory of a shared past and granting forgiveness. This moment of empathy allows Oliver to find peace, his spectral form dissipating, setting Madeline free from the spectral confrontation, the courtyard returning to its tranquil state, with only the lingering sound of water below as a haunting reminder of Oliver's tale.
In a stark departure, Sam and Finn are embroiled in the grim task of dealing with a vampire, Doctor Rice, deemed a threat by the obscure "Mark" from a shadowy organization. Tasked with eliminating Rice to prevent further complications, they gear up, cover their tracks by convincing the onsite security to leave, and prepare for the encounter. Despite Finn's inexperience with firearms and his UK background, he's quick to adapt, opting for armor and the more familiar stakes as their weapon of choice against the nefarious creature. Their plan hinges on stealth, the element of surprise, and a haunting ephemeral guidebook to the supernatural world Sam hints at, termed the Understanding. Together, they navigate the building's exterior, ready to confront the vampire lurking within, the storm above mirroring the tumultuous quest they've embarked upon.
(Madeline's odd encounter(SRVictoria):SRVictoria)
[Wed Jan 1 2025]
At the courtyard center
The center of White Oak Courtyard stops just short of the Fountain of
the Faceless Mermaid. It's flanked on the two grassy northeast and
northwest corners by stone benches. The walkway continues north toward the
Asylum and Laboratory and south toward the Arts building and Academy. Far
beyond them and shrouded by the woods lies the Dormitory Enclave
It is afternoon, about 13F(-10C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
(Your target encounters a ghost who's fixated on some past tragedy from their life, they need to either give the spirit some sense of closure, or send it on it's way through more violent means.
)
Madeline is walking down the White Oak Courtyard, on her way to her Nursing shift. Her gloved hands are in her pockets as she admires the afternoon snow on the ground.
A typical afternoon in Haven, or so it seems at first glance. The sky is a soft tapestry of scattered clouds, lazily drifting across an expanse that is mostly cloudy, save for the occasional rays of sunlight that manage to break through. The light is delicate, reflecting off the blanket of fresh snow that covers the ground like a shimmering sheet of glass. The peaceful silence of the courtyard is only interrupted by the crisp crunch of footsteps in the snow as Madeline makes her way through, her breath likely visible in the chilly air.
As Madeline draws closer to the center of the courtyard, the air seems to shift. The cold, which had already been biting, suddenly deepens, turning frigid in a way that feels unnatural. It cuts through layers of clothing as though they are mere suggestions of warmth, the icy chill seeping through to one's very bones. The wind, once gentle, now began to whip around with an eerie force, tossing up the last of the fallen leaves and bits of snow, sending them swirling in chaotic patterns around her. The fragments of snow glinted in the air as they spun wildly, caught in the updrafts, making it feel as though the entire courtyard was alive and watching.
Then, without warning, she heard it. A voice, barely a whisper, slithering into her ear like a sigh of breath.
"You look like her."
The words, spoken with a softness so sharp it seemed to cut through the atmosphere itself, leave a shiver running down Madeline's spine. The voice is delicate, as smooth as a lover's caress, yet with an unmistakable edge of something dark, something unsettling. It lingers in the air, the only trace of it nothing but the sudden movement of her hair, stirred by the faintest shift in the wind.
The courtyard is empty save for her, the swirling snow, and the whisper that refuses to be seen. The chill in the air tightens, as if the very ground beneath holds its breath. It seems something is watching, something that cannot be seen.
Madeline shivers in the cold, trying to regulate her breathing to help keep herself warm. An unsettling feeling washes over her, faster she walks to her destination eager to get out of the cold. Some part of her figures, voices in the wind? Probably some student playing an elaborate prank or something, but even pranks have the potential to go sideways and she just wants to get to work.
As the swirling snow continues to rage around her, the winds pick up in intensity, moving with a fury that seems to have a mind of its own. It's as if the storm itself has become sentient, angry with her, frustrated by her calm indifference. Each step is met with a barrier, the snow thickening, the wind howling, pushing her back. The world around her seems to close in, the white chaos blurring her vision until all she sees are the violent flurries swirling around her like a vortex.
Then, it calls to her again. A voice, no, a sound that is a twisted mixture of a hiss and a shriek, low and haunting, right into her ear. You ignored me then, too. Why? The voice isnt just in her ear. Tt seems to vibrate through her very bones, seeping into her thoughts, demanding an answer.
You ignored me, the voice repeats, growing louder, angrier, as though it may be right behind her. The air around her shifts again, the icy wind feeling sharper, colder like fingers brushing against her skin. The snow continues to twirl in frenzied spirals, obscuring Madeline's vision, disorienting her with every step she takes.
Madeline pulls her hands out of her pockets to shield her eyes from the sudden flurry surrounding her. As the wind seems to shriek, fear and confusion sets inside her. "Who are you? I don't understand!" She shouts through the wind at whatever entity seems to be calling out to her, giving it at least some of the attention it so clearly craves.
"You dont even remember me?" The voice, now unmistakably male, slices through the howling wind, its tone carrying a quiet, yet palpable, sense of hurt. It's almost a whisper, but the weight of disappointment hangs heavily in the air with each word. "Oliver... come on, our fight wasnt that bad, you know." The words linger, like the remnants of a storm thats passed, but whose echoes still cling to the atmosphere, refusing to fade."I didn't mean to do what I did," the voice continues, the softness in it now tinged with a trace of regret, as if each word were a step toward redemption. "You can come with me now, it's okay." Theres a comforting assurance, as though the speaker is offering a bridge over the distance that's stretched between them, a chance to heal what was broken. Madeline feels the weight of a hand on her shoulder, its presence suddenly heavy and unnerving. The touch is gentle, yet theres an unmistakable pull, as if the hand is trying to guide her, urging her toward an unknown destination. The air around her seems to pause and the pull becomes stronger, a quiet force that tugs at her very core. Its as if the hand, though tender in its grasp, is intent on taking her to a place beyond her understanding, a place where the rules of the world she knows no longer apply.
Madeline tries her best to maintain her composure, the name being unfamiliar to her. "What happened to you? What turned you into... this?" She asks, not necessarily eager to follow this entity where it wants to lead her, but more trying to buy time to figure out what it wants.
"Turned me into what?" the voice echoes, its question hanging in the air like a cloud of mist. Slowly, through the thickening swirl of flakes, a figure begins to emerge, faint at first, like a shadow pulled from the depths of the storm. As the snow dances around him, the apparition fully reveals itself. A man, not much older than Madeline, stands before her. His appearance is striking, well-groomed, almost impossibly pristine despite the harsh conditions. Yet, beneath his neat exterior, an undeniable sense of otherness clings to him. His eyes, empty and distant, betray the truth: he is no longer a part of the world she knows. He lingers between realms, a spectral presence drawn from a time long past, his form flickering in the cold, like a dream she isnt sure she should wake from. "I didn't mean to push you..I knew you were still here somewhere, Addie! Why didn't you stay near the bridge?"
Madeline thinks for a moment, listening to the details it gives her. "I fell off the bridge... the river carried me away..." She bluffs, hoping she has the context right. But what bridge? Physical? Metaphysical? All she has is a shot in the dark and her hope that it lands. "I'm sorry... I couldn't get back to you..."
The grip on Madeline's shoulder falters for a moment, as if the apparition itself is unsure. A pause hangs in the air, and then the voice speaks again, quieter this time, tinged with confusion. "Back to me? But you're here, I'm here." Theres a flicker, almost imperceptible, of something like clarity in the spirit's words. For a fleeting instant, it seems as though the world has righted itself, time rewound, as though everything is as it once was. The tension in the air lifts slightly, and the cold around Madeline feels less suffocating. But then, as if reality snaps back into focus, a faint frown crosses the spirits face, the expression more human than she would have expected. "I will show you, so you remember," it says, the words firm with intent, as if a decision has been made. The air grows heavier once again, and Madeline feels an odd sense of inevitability, as if the moment has been building toward this very revelation.
The hand's presence shifts, moving from Madeline's shoulder to gently rest upon her head, and in that instant, a strange sensation washes over her. The world around her blurs, and it's as if the very fabric of time is unraveling. She feels herself slipping away from the present, transported to a night that happened long ago. The scene unfolds before her eyes with sharp clarity: a woman who looks nearly identical to herself, standing on a bridge in Haven. The air is thick with tension, and the argument between the woman and Oliver is heated, each word a weapon, each glance a flash of anger. The woman, her, turns abruptly, spinning on her heel in an attempt to walk away, her movement swift and determined. But then, in a burst of frustration, Oliver, his emotions running high, attempts to push past her. It's a moment of careless recklessness, and that's when it happens.
Madeline watches, heart pounding in her chest, as the woman, her double, loses her footing, stumbling backward. Time seems to stretch as she trips, the ground beneath her giving way. A cry, a gasp, and then the sickening sound of her body falling, the chill of the night air surrounding her as she plummets from the bridge.
Madeline seems to understand better now. "It was an accident, right? I know you didn't mean to." A look of remorse washes over her face as she takes a gamble and attempts to right a perceived wrong from whenever this was. "It was a stupid argument and it never should have gotten as far as it did... I'm sorry... and I forgive you." A chance, maybe, if she guessed right, this is what it was looking for. Maybe.
Everything freezes. The world around Madeline comes to a halt as if time itself has decided to pause, holding its breath. The snow, once a fierce blizzard swirling violently in the air, now hangs motionless, suspended in the stillness, no longer biting at her skin. The silence is profound, like the world is waiting for something to unfold.
Oliver stands before her, his gaze locked onto hers, his face etched with a deep, unspoken pain. His form seems to shimmer faintly, as if struggling to remain solid, caught between realms. The ghostly whisper of his voice cuts through the silence, fragile yet filled with yearning. "You forgive me?" he repeats, his words a delicate echo of his original question, as if he needs to hear them again, to understand if redemption is still possible. His eyes hold a sorrow so raw, it seems to pulse in the space between them.
"I've been looking for you everywhere, you know. For a long time." The words hang in the frozen air, a confession long withheld, a burden carried through countless moments, through years lost in between worlds. His voice trembles slightly, the weight of his search, and the regret that has followed, unfolding with every word. As the snow continues to hover, unmoving, it's as if the world itself is suspended, giving Madeline the space to decide what comes next.
Madeline approaches the apparition slowly, placing a single gloved hand on it's cheek, the cold of him digging into her fingers. She smiles, with a hint of sorrow in her eyes, "Yes Oliver, I forgive you. It's ok... rest now..." She tells it, attempting to soothe the anguished spirit.
Oliver replies to Madeline with a smile and a nod. "Thank you, the heartfelt whisper echoes in her ears as his form flickers and begins to fade. The world around Madeline fades, her surroundings becoming normal again, and she is left with the sound of rushing water below, the echo of the fall lingering in the air like a haunting reminder of the past."
Oliver replies to Madeline with a smile and a nod. "Thank you," the heartfelt whisper echoes in her ears as his form flickers and begins to fade. The world around her fades, her surroundings becoming normal again, and she is left with the sound of rushing water below, the echo of the fall lingering in the air like a haunting reminder of the past. (fix)
(Your target and their allies are charged with tracking down a supernatural criminal on the run from the factions, what they do with them then is up to the players to decide.
)
Finishing up a bug-sweep of his room, Sam humms as he sends off a few texts, rolling his eyes. He shakes his head, and straightens his jacket, seemingly deciding what to do next.
While Sam looks over his phone and mentions the bugs placed in the rooms, his phone buzzes with a message. "Name's Mark. Need to talk. Meet by Howl at the Moon," it says, if the jock looks at it. It's not much to go on, but sent afterwards to his phone is an image. And image of a clenched fist.
A simple text is given back, and Sam taps back. "Omw."
He gets out, and once outside, he hops on his bike, taking the short, less than a block ride to the Howl from the Elm Street Apartments. Once ther,e the jock looks around, tucking a hand into his jacket pocket.
When Sam arrives, he'd notice a man with black hair, a shaggy beard, tired brown eyes looking over a newspaper. Outside too, as if waiting for the jock to arrive. "Sit," the man who's supposedly 'Mark' commands of the man, not even looking up to watch the new arrival. Instead, he takes a drag of what looks to be a cigarette, exhales the smoke, and then mumbles something as he continues to read, furrowing his brow. He looks old. Grizzled. Worn. Reeks of cigar smoke and some other coppery scent. Wears a black leather jacket, white tee, jeans, and biker boots.
Sam can't immediately tell whether the supposed 'Mark' is supernatural. But on the ring of his pinky is a symbol of a clenched fist. So, at the very least he /seems/ to be a member of the Hand.
Finn wondering down the hall, curious the hole had been dealt with, or if another one had gotten busted down. He'd done his best to keep his nose clean around the Manchester gangs, but he hadn't been perfect with that either, curiosity often got the better of him. As he makes his way in, he notices something is going on ...
Walking outside the Howl to the Moon club, where Finn likely also wanders, Sam ticks a nod to Finn. "Hey kid. Doing some business real quick, might be good for you to learn. If it's too secret, we'll cross that bridge when we get there."
He turns to a man with a newspaper, the man old, grizzled and worn. Black leather jacket, white teeshirt, jeans and biker boots. "Keeper Phisher." Sam does in fact sit next to the man, flashing his own cuff-links, which have a simular symbol. He smiles, eyes hidden behind his shades. "How can I help ya?" He motions to Finn. "Kid's with me, don't worry about it."
Finn does his best to look stoic, his hands clasped in his front of his like a bouncer as he greets the man with a small upwards flick of his chin as Sam mentions he's with him.
"Mm. Fuck it. If he's aware, it isn't my issue, but if you fuck this up, you're next on my plate. Understood?" the man tells Sam, not even looking up from his newspaper. Another drag of that cigarette and he lifts that same hand, cig betwixt the index and middle finger, gesturing over for the both of them to sit at his table. "Now," he growls. "Sit down. I don't have all day. I've got to meet with the chapter in London within an hour." The accent. It's Mid-Western. Bass. Gruff and hoarse, as if cigarette smoke had scratched out his lungs. Eyebrows, his, are knit together.
glances to the table and then takes his seat. It was clear they were out here on business so Finn decided it was in his best interest to maintain a plausible deniability that he might be a competent and capable individual. The best way for him to do that right was for him to say as little as possible, he was gunna let Sam handle the talking.
"My kid, my problem." Sam agrees with who he assumes is Mark. He does in fact sit his ass down, gesturing to Finn as he does so. "So shoot." He nods semi-approvingly as Finn has taken initiative and sat down. The jock studies the gruff man, but remains silent, letting him say his piece.
"The only name you're goin' to get is Mark. Shadow. We've got an issue with a 'traitor'," he tells Sam, lowering his paper to stare at him. "Leech type," he says, lowering his voice, sliding the newspaper over, revealing the picture of a middle-aged Caucasian, pale, bald, wrinkly, with a bulbous nose and yellowed teeth. Grey mustache, five o'clock shadow, and he appears to be rather obese. The article below lists that Doctor Rice, presumably the man captured in the photo, is planning to open a clinic in Haven. "He won't have Sanctuary. But I've cleaned up enough of his messes over the past five weeks. He's heading here, trying to lay low, stay safe, and feed. Off him. Give him to the Order, the Temple. Chop off his arms and legs and remove his eyes. I don't care. Make sure he's not an issue anymore. I've got bigger fish, and this guy, he's in your territory now."
Finn doesn't react, his facial expression making it seem as if this was just another day for him, as if he'd been told he was going to be killing people every other week for the past four years. This was, of course, not the case, but he'd talk to Sam about that once they were done meeting with this man.
A soft hiss escapes Sam's mouth as he nods slowly. "I can do that. Is he old?" The jock sighs lightly, a finger running along the charred ring, the shape of a dragon around his finger. "I presume just branding him would not work, given his history?" A scoff, and a shrug. "Actually, I'll give you plausible deniability, yadig?" He nods. "We'll speak of what sort of favors you can do me at a later date." He extends his hand. "It'll be done."
Finn wordlessly nods to the man as Sam extends his han
Finn hand* even
"Not too old," 'Mark' grunts, flinging his gaze towards Sam. "Should be enough for a small fry like you to kill." Then, slowly, the man lifts a brief-case, slams it on the table. The force unlatches and opens the contained, revealing a stake. Petrified wood. "Take this. You'll need it. He knows what I look like. But you? You're an unknown to him." Glancing towards Finn, the man cocks an eyebrow and tilts his head, watching him for but a moment. Squinting with a sort of judgmental and disgusted sneer plastered upon his weathered lips. "Don't be such a weakling," he tells the man. "Otherwise you're not going to be long for this world." Then towards the jock, the man mentions, "No, your magic won't be of use. But the stake will be. Take the element of surprise."
Finn' one eye squints as the man looks at him, caught off guard by the man's words directed to him. He glances down at the stake, realizing what they were up against was likely going to be a vampire.
Finn says "You'll get your target dealt with, you've got nothing to worry about boss man."
A chuckle escapes Sam's lips as he takes the stake. "All right." He ticks a nod to Finn, and grins. "Sink or swim, kid. Sink or swim." He looks over to alledgedly mark, and smiles. "Any location on the good doctor?" He taps at his phone, maybe texting someone as well. "Either way, this is on my plate now." A nod, and he gestures to Finn. "What the kid said."
"It's called mind-reading," the man growls towards Finn, slanting his gaze immediately at him. Those brownish amber orbs of his swivel over towards Sam, taking him in for a moment. "You should tell the kid more about our world before he insults someone and become feeding fodder to some vampire in California." At the question, there's a subtle tic of the man's lips, another sneer. "West-Haven. They're going to be preying upon the poor trailer park idiots. Stepping on Moore turf isn't wise, but, Bob Rice isn't from around here. Nor does he know how things work around here. Clinic's being built right across from the baseball field. He'll likely be sleeping in the basement below it, just got word that they finished that section. Once your through with whatever you're doing, make sure you leave no evidence. Light the place on fire, if you will. Just make sure nothing's traceable to you or him."
Finn shuffles about in his seat, visibly uncomfortable as he clears his throat and folds his arms over his chest. "If it's a vampire I've got no issues with killing it. Especially if it's feeding on people." He tells the man in a careful voice. Figuring it wasn't worth hiding his greeness anymore, he looks between Sam and the man they were talking to "What kind of abilities can we expect from him? If he's just strong and fast I know my gameplan, but if he's going to do something I don't expect that's where I'll trip up."
"Oh, shit, that's old Colton's turf." Sam shakes his head. He waggles a hand towards Finn, and nods to mark. "Work in progress, Mark." He straightens out his jacket, and pushes up. "Off we go, then." He taps Finn's shoulder softly. "C'mon, I know the spot, just need to grab some body armor for you from my place, then we'll head off, yeh?" He smiles. "I'll give ya pointers before we go in, and along the way, yeh?"
Finn will direct his question more towards Sam than the old man, assuming he answers as they walk to keep things on the move!
"All vampires feed off people. If they don't, they go psychotic," 'Mark' tells Finn, helpfully educating him. "And a psychotic vampire is harder to clean up after. The reason you're offing him has nothing to do with him doing what he's supposed to do. No. It's about him continuously creating breaches that I have to clean up. And I'm tired of wiping memories from people." Slowly the man stands, lightly nudging the suitcase over towards Sam, giving a small nod. "Go do me proud, kid. If you do this right, I'll set you up with some more gigs in the future, if you want to take them."
Finn gets up from the seat and brushes himself off, glancing to Sam to see if he taking the briefcase before taking it himself if he doesn't. Once they leave, he looks to Sam "What's our gameplan?"
Mark nudges a briefcase towards Sam, not a suitcase.
Sam indeed takes that briefcase, ticking a two-fingered salute toward someone. "You gotcha, Mark."
He hedas outside, letting Finn catch up. "All right, kid, here's the deal." He mosies along on his bike, stopping briefly at the apartment to get an extra armor from the his apartment. The Jock himself, then, grabs a set of armor from the trunk of his bike, and puts it on, along with a black outfit, balaclava included, that would not be bad on an FBI agent, were it not for not a singular brand or marking on it.
"So, kid. Vampires. Strong, they can hypnotize... weak to wood. We wanna get up close, you wanna not look him in the eyes." He chuckles, riding along towards the south-side. "Any questions?" he hands a glock, and a bowie-knife to Finn, which he happens to have in his packback. Someone is prepared for battle...
Sam indeed takes that briefcase, ticking a two-fingered salute toward Mark. "You gotcha, Mark."
He hedas outside, letting Finn catch up. "All right, kid, here's the deal." He mosies along on his bike, stopping briefly at the apartment to get an extra armor from the his apartment. The Jock himself, then, grabs a set of armor from the trunk of his bike, and puts it on, along with a black outfit, balaclava included, that would not be bad on an FBI agent, were it not for not a singular brand or marking on it.
"So, kid. Vampires. Strong, they can hypnotize... weak to wood. We wanna get up close, you wanna not look him in the eyes." He chuckles, riding along towards the south-side. "Any questions?" he hands a glock, and a bowie-knife to Finn, which he happens to have in his packback. Someone is prepared for battle...
Finn walks, nodding as he listens "I've been told sunglasses help" He says, glowering at himself for consistently forgetting to get himself a pair "You don't happen to have a spare pair lying around do you?" He says before accepting the gun and looking it over "Sam ..." He tells the man "I'm from the UK, I don't know how to use this" He says, handing it back. "I'm more comfortable doing what I know."
Finn says "I should wear some armor though ..."
Finn frowns, he doesn't like the idea of wearing armor, after thousands of armor training how to move without it he was concerned it was gunna throw him off ... Throw him off or not though, something that could stop him getting show would be nothing but a benefit. "You got any armor I can borrow?"
Mark leaves rather quickly. One moment he's there sitting. The next moment, he's standing. Then, he's not there, as if he's disappeared into thin air. It's quiet, there's no more antics from the mind-reading Shadow. Instead, there's just the occasional passerby, heading into the bar or exiting it. Those storm clouds above gather, a symbol of a tempestuous storm rising in time.
As Sam and Finn approach the construction site, the dark grey stormclouds overhead continue to gather, covering the crescent moon above them. Light barely shines down upon the dismal place, which looks hastily setup. Wooden posts outline the walls that still need to be bricked up. Cement is drying, rather slowly considering the recent snow, which has most certainly messed it up. Footprints, for whatever reason, are implanted in the cement sidewalk being built, as if someone had walked through it absentmindedly. Whomever is building this atrocity to man appears to be clueless about the weather in Massachusetts. Or they're clueless about building to begin with. It's become quite clear that the plans for the clinic is a two-story building, for some odd reason. It's still rather small, almost looking more like a house than an actual professional setting. There's a one or two security guards (lazily) patrolling the perimeter to the building, but all in all, it seems desolate. The street lights occasionally flicker, the lights going out time and time again.
Nodding, Sam hands a ceramic plates vest over. "Wear that. Be ready for the fucker to toss you around like a ragdoll. I'm gonna try my best to not get you dead."
Finn accepts the armor and pulls it on, rolling his shoulders as he attempts to try and suss out exactly how wearing this might affect how he can move. "Focus on getting the job done, I didn't tag along to be a burden, I'm not here to be babysat" He says in a stoic tone "I'll run if I need to."
Finn looks out towards the building, trying to make it seem like he wasn't overtly checking the place out "... Those guards gunna be a problem?" He asks, looking at them. They didn't seem like they were paying all that much attention, they could probably just walk straight past them ...
After Finn is kitted out, Sam smiles, and approaches the building. "Good kid." he grins. "Watch this."
Adjusting his armor, Sam approaches the males, and smiles. "Fellows. Doctor Rice has sent in a change of guard, you lot go home, Enjoy the time off, and let us take it from here, yeh? Happy new Year!" It's subtle, almost inperceptable, but those four words have some kind of emphasis to them, like Sam meant for them to be followed.
Finn tries his best to support the ruse, flashing a friendly smile at the guards as they approach "Have a good one, fellers."
Luckily and perhaps, unluckily for Sam and Finn, it begins to sprinkle a little. Thunder occasionally rumbling in the clouds. Overcast is the night. As the duo approaches, with the jock speaking, the two security guards frantically flick beams from their flashlights into the faces of their 'relief'. It takes a moment of confusion to alleviate their concern, before one, a skinny woman who looks underweight and starved, barely fitting in her uniform, which is rather baggy and loose on her, asks, "What's with all the weapons and I-Oh-Tee-Vees?" That psychic persuasion kicks in though, and the blonde runs her fingers through her dry, straw-colored hair, grumbling under her breath. Her counterpart, an obese male, far more obese than the quarry they hunt, is already taking off, howling about, 'missing dinner' and 'my family'. There's another wary, skeptical glance given to the two, but the straw woman is off too, shaking her head and issuing Sam and Finn, "Good luck. We saw old dude who was acting creepy earlier, watching the place. Might come back again."
Finn gruffs a "We're counting on it" To the girl as she heads off before looking over to Sam "Where's he gunna come in from, do you think? We should try and hide, get the element of surprise."
With a smirk, Sam offers Finn a fist-bump. "All right, let's see if the good doctor is home." He nods to the man, and grins. "You got it. We'll want to hed inside, so uh..." He winks. "Did I mention the Understanding to ya?" He shrugs. "Either way, it's like Harry potter, yeh? Keep shit secret, or shit will go down." He tries the door, then, in order to get in.
"Here." He hands that briefcase with the stake to Finn.
Finn takes the briefcase before fishing some picks from his pocket "You want me to give it a go or do you have some kind of magic shit?" He asks the man, opening up the packet and poking with way through the tiny little metal pieces ...
"Yaknow? I actually don't. You go and do it the quiet way, my best bet was like... yaknow..." Sam makes a kicking motion, and grins. "But we're going for subtle shit."
In a stark departure, Sam and Finn are embroiled in the grim task of dealing with a vampire, Doctor Rice, deemed a threat by the obscure "Mark" from a shadowy organization. Tasked with eliminating Rice to prevent further complications, they gear up, cover their tracks by convincing the onsite security to leave, and prepare for the encounter. Despite Finn's inexperience with firearms and his UK background, he's quick to adapt, opting for armor and the more familiar stakes as their weapon of choice against the nefarious creature. Their plan hinges on stealth, the element of surprise, and a haunting ephemeral guidebook to the supernatural world Sam hints at, termed the Understanding. Together, they navigate the building's exterior, ready to confront the vampire lurking within, the storm above mirroring the tumultuous quest they've embarked upon.
(Madeline's odd encounter(SRVictoria):SRVictoria)
[Wed Jan 1 2025]
At the courtyard center
The center of White Oak Courtyard stops just short of the Fountain of
the Faceless Mermaid. It's flanked on the two grassy northeast and
northwest corners by stone benches. The walkway continues north toward the
Asylum and Laboratory and south toward the Arts building and Academy. Far
beyond them and shrouded by the woods lies the Dormitory Enclave
It is afternoon, about 13F(-10C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
(Your target encounters a ghost who's fixated on some past tragedy from their life, they need to either give the spirit some sense of closure, or send it on it's way through more violent means.
)
Madeline is walking down the White Oak Courtyard, on her way to her Nursing shift. Her gloved hands are in her pockets as she admires the afternoon snow on the ground.
A typical afternoon in Haven, or so it seems at first glance. The sky is a soft tapestry of scattered clouds, lazily drifting across an expanse that is mostly cloudy, save for the occasional rays of sunlight that manage to break through. The light is delicate, reflecting off the blanket of fresh snow that covers the ground like a shimmering sheet of glass. The peaceful silence of the courtyard is only interrupted by the crisp crunch of footsteps in the snow as Madeline makes her way through, her breath likely visible in the chilly air.
As Madeline draws closer to the center of the courtyard, the air seems to shift. The cold, which had already been biting, suddenly deepens, turning frigid in a way that feels unnatural. It cuts through layers of clothing as though they are mere suggestions of warmth, the icy chill seeping through to one's very bones. The wind, once gentle, now began to whip around with an eerie force, tossing up the last of the fallen leaves and bits of snow, sending them swirling in chaotic patterns around her. The fragments of snow glinted in the air as they spun wildly, caught in the updrafts, making it feel as though the entire courtyard was alive and watching.
Then, without warning, she heard it. A voice, barely a whisper, slithering into her ear like a sigh of breath.
"You look like her."
The words, spoken with a softness so sharp it seemed to cut through the atmosphere itself, leave a shiver running down Madeline's spine. The voice is delicate, as smooth as a lover's caress, yet with an unmistakable edge of something dark, something unsettling. It lingers in the air, the only trace of it nothing but the sudden movement of her hair, stirred by the faintest shift in the wind.
The courtyard is empty save for her, the swirling snow, and the whisper that refuses to be seen. The chill in the air tightens, as if the very ground beneath holds its breath. It seems something is watching, something that cannot be seen.
Madeline shivers in the cold, trying to regulate her breathing to help keep herself warm. An unsettling feeling washes over her, faster she walks to her destination eager to get out of the cold. Some part of her figures, voices in the wind? Probably some student playing an elaborate prank or something, but even pranks have the potential to go sideways and she just wants to get to work.
As the swirling snow continues to rage around her, the winds pick up in intensity, moving with a fury that seems to have a mind of its own. It's as if the storm itself has become sentient, angry with her, frustrated by her calm indifference. Each step is met with a barrier, the snow thickening, the wind howling, pushing her back. The world around her seems to close in, the white chaos blurring her vision until all she sees are the violent flurries swirling around her like a vortex.
Then, it calls to her again. A voice, no, a sound that is a twisted mixture of a hiss and a shriek, low and haunting, right into her ear. You ignored me then, too. Why? The voice isnt just in her ear. Tt seems to vibrate through her very bones, seeping into her thoughts, demanding an answer.
You ignored me, the voice repeats, growing louder, angrier, as though it may be right behind her. The air around her shifts again, the icy wind feeling sharper, colder like fingers brushing against her skin. The snow continues to twirl in frenzied spirals, obscuring Madeline's vision, disorienting her with every step she takes.
Madeline pulls her hands out of her pockets to shield her eyes from the sudden flurry surrounding her. As the wind seems to shriek, fear and confusion sets inside her. "Who are you? I don't understand!" She shouts through the wind at whatever entity seems to be calling out to her, giving it at least some of the attention it so clearly craves.
"You dont even remember me?" The voice, now unmistakably male, slices through the howling wind, its tone carrying a quiet, yet palpable, sense of hurt. It's almost a whisper, but the weight of disappointment hangs heavily in the air with each word. "Oliver... come on, our fight wasnt that bad, you know." The words linger, like the remnants of a storm thats passed, but whose echoes still cling to the atmosphere, refusing to fade."I didn't mean to do what I did," the voice continues, the softness in it now tinged with a trace of regret, as if each word were a step toward redemption. "You can come with me now, it's okay." Theres a comforting assurance, as though the speaker is offering a bridge over the distance that's stretched between them, a chance to heal what was broken. Madeline feels the weight of a hand on her shoulder, its presence suddenly heavy and unnerving. The touch is gentle, yet theres an unmistakable pull, as if the hand is trying to guide her, urging her toward an unknown destination. The air around her seems to pause and the pull becomes stronger, a quiet force that tugs at her very core. Its as if the hand, though tender in its grasp, is intent on taking her to a place beyond her understanding, a place where the rules of the world she knows no longer apply.
Madeline tries her best to maintain her composure, the name being unfamiliar to her. "What happened to you? What turned you into... this?" She asks, not necessarily eager to follow this entity where it wants to lead her, but more trying to buy time to figure out what it wants.
"Turned me into what?" the voice echoes, its question hanging in the air like a cloud of mist. Slowly, through the thickening swirl of flakes, a figure begins to emerge, faint at first, like a shadow pulled from the depths of the storm. As the snow dances around him, the apparition fully reveals itself. A man, not much older than Madeline, stands before her. His appearance is striking, well-groomed, almost impossibly pristine despite the harsh conditions. Yet, beneath his neat exterior, an undeniable sense of otherness clings to him. His eyes, empty and distant, betray the truth: he is no longer a part of the world she knows. He lingers between realms, a spectral presence drawn from a time long past, his form flickering in the cold, like a dream she isnt sure she should wake from. "I didn't mean to push you..I knew you were still here somewhere, Addie! Why didn't you stay near the bridge?"
Madeline thinks for a moment, listening to the details it gives her. "I fell off the bridge... the river carried me away..." She bluffs, hoping she has the context right. But what bridge? Physical? Metaphysical? All she has is a shot in the dark and her hope that it lands. "I'm sorry... I couldn't get back to you..."
The grip on Madeline's shoulder falters for a moment, as if the apparition itself is unsure. A pause hangs in the air, and then the voice speaks again, quieter this time, tinged with confusion. "Back to me? But you're here, I'm here." Theres a flicker, almost imperceptible, of something like clarity in the spirit's words. For a fleeting instant, it seems as though the world has righted itself, time rewound, as though everything is as it once was. The tension in the air lifts slightly, and the cold around Madeline feels less suffocating. But then, as if reality snaps back into focus, a faint frown crosses the spirits face, the expression more human than she would have expected. "I will show you, so you remember," it says, the words firm with intent, as if a decision has been made. The air grows heavier once again, and Madeline feels an odd sense of inevitability, as if the moment has been building toward this very revelation.
The hand's presence shifts, moving from Madeline's shoulder to gently rest upon her head, and in that instant, a strange sensation washes over her. The world around her blurs, and it's as if the very fabric of time is unraveling. She feels herself slipping away from the present, transported to a night that happened long ago. The scene unfolds before her eyes with sharp clarity: a woman who looks nearly identical to herself, standing on a bridge in Haven. The air is thick with tension, and the argument between the woman and Oliver is heated, each word a weapon, each glance a flash of anger. The woman, her, turns abruptly, spinning on her heel in an attempt to walk away, her movement swift and determined. But then, in a burst of frustration, Oliver, his emotions running high, attempts to push past her. It's a moment of careless recklessness, and that's when it happens.
Madeline watches, heart pounding in her chest, as the woman, her double, loses her footing, stumbling backward. Time seems to stretch as she trips, the ground beneath her giving way. A cry, a gasp, and then the sickening sound of her body falling, the chill of the night air surrounding her as she plummets from the bridge.
Madeline seems to understand better now. "It was an accident, right? I know you didn't mean to." A look of remorse washes over her face as she takes a gamble and attempts to right a perceived wrong from whenever this was. "It was a stupid argument and it never should have gotten as far as it did... I'm sorry... and I forgive you." A chance, maybe, if she guessed right, this is what it was looking for. Maybe.
Everything freezes. The world around Madeline comes to a halt as if time itself has decided to pause, holding its breath. The snow, once a fierce blizzard swirling violently in the air, now hangs motionless, suspended in the stillness, no longer biting at her skin. The silence is profound, like the world is waiting for something to unfold.
Oliver stands before her, his gaze locked onto hers, his face etched with a deep, unspoken pain. His form seems to shimmer faintly, as if struggling to remain solid, caught between realms. The ghostly whisper of his voice cuts through the silence, fragile yet filled with yearning. "You forgive me?" he repeats, his words a delicate echo of his original question, as if he needs to hear them again, to understand if redemption is still possible. His eyes hold a sorrow so raw, it seems to pulse in the space between them.
"I've been looking for you everywhere, you know. For a long time." The words hang in the frozen air, a confession long withheld, a burden carried through countless moments, through years lost in between worlds. His voice trembles slightly, the weight of his search, and the regret that has followed, unfolding with every word. As the snow continues to hover, unmoving, it's as if the world itself is suspended, giving Madeline the space to decide what comes next.
Madeline approaches the apparition slowly, placing a single gloved hand on it's cheek, the cold of him digging into her fingers. She smiles, with a hint of sorrow in her eyes, "Yes Oliver, I forgive you. It's ok... rest now..." She tells it, attempting to soothe the anguished spirit.
Oliver replies to Madeline with a smile and a nod. "Thank you, the heartfelt whisper echoes in her ears as his form flickers and begins to fade. The world around Madeline fades, her surroundings becoming normal again, and she is left with the sound of rushing water below, the echo of the fall lingering in the air like a haunting reminder of the past."
Oliver replies to Madeline with a smile and a nod. "Thank you," the heartfelt whisper echoes in her ears as his form flickers and begins to fade. The world around her fades, her surroundings becoming normal again, and she is left with the sound of rushing water below, the echo of the fall lingering in the air like a haunting reminder of the past. (fix)
(Your target and their allies are charged with tracking down a supernatural criminal on the run from the factions, what they do with them then is up to the players to decide.
)
Finishing up a bug-sweep of his room, Sam humms as he sends off a few texts, rolling his eyes. He shakes his head, and straightens his jacket, seemingly deciding what to do next.
While Sam looks over his phone and mentions the bugs placed in the rooms, his phone buzzes with a message. "Name's Mark. Need to talk. Meet by Howl at the Moon," it says, if the jock looks at it. It's not much to go on, but sent afterwards to his phone is an image. And image of a clenched fist.
A simple text is given back, and Sam taps back. "Omw."
He gets out, and once outside, he hops on his bike, taking the short, less than a block ride to the Howl from the Elm Street Apartments. Once ther,e the jock looks around, tucking a hand into his jacket pocket.
When Sam arrives, he'd notice a man with black hair, a shaggy beard, tired brown eyes looking over a newspaper. Outside too, as if waiting for the jock to arrive. "Sit," the man who's supposedly 'Mark' commands of the man, not even looking up to watch the new arrival. Instead, he takes a drag of what looks to be a cigarette, exhales the smoke, and then mumbles something as he continues to read, furrowing his brow. He looks old. Grizzled. Worn. Reeks of cigar smoke and some other coppery scent. Wears a black leather jacket, white tee, jeans, and biker boots.
Sam can't immediately tell whether the supposed 'Mark' is supernatural. But on the ring of his pinky is a symbol of a clenched fist. So, at the very least he /seems/ to be a member of the Hand.
Finn wondering down the hall, curious the hole had been dealt with, or if another one had gotten busted down. He'd done his best to keep his nose clean around the Manchester gangs, but he hadn't been perfect with that either, curiosity often got the better of him. As he makes his way in, he notices something is going on ...
Walking outside the Howl to the Moon club, where Finn likely also wanders, Sam ticks a nod to Finn. "Hey kid. Doing some business real quick, might be good for you to learn. If it's too secret, we'll cross that bridge when we get there."
He turns to a man with a newspaper, the man old, grizzled and worn. Black leather jacket, white teeshirt, jeans and biker boots. "Keeper Phisher." Sam does in fact sit next to the man, flashing his own cuff-links, which have a simular symbol. He smiles, eyes hidden behind his shades. "How can I help ya?" He motions to Finn. "Kid's with me, don't worry about it."
Finn does his best to look stoic, his hands clasped in his front of his like a bouncer as he greets the man with a small upwards flick of his chin as Sam mentions he's with him.
"Mm. Fuck it. If he's aware, it isn't my issue, but if you fuck this up, you're next on my plate. Understood?" the man tells Sam, not even looking up from his newspaper. Another drag of that cigarette and he lifts that same hand, cig betwixt the index and middle finger, gesturing over for the both of them to sit at his table. "Now," he growls. "Sit down. I don't have all day. I've got to meet with the chapter in London within an hour." The accent. It's Mid-Western. Bass. Gruff and hoarse, as if cigarette smoke had scratched out his lungs. Eyebrows, his, are knit together.
glances to the table and then takes his seat. It was clear they were out here on business so Finn decided it was in his best interest to maintain a plausible deniability that he might be a competent and capable individual. The best way for him to do that right was for him to say as little as possible, he was gunna let Sam handle the talking.
"My kid, my problem." Sam agrees with who he assumes is Mark. He does in fact sit his ass down, gesturing to Finn as he does so. "So shoot." He nods semi-approvingly as Finn has taken initiative and sat down. The jock studies the gruff man, but remains silent, letting him say his piece.
"The only name you're goin' to get is Mark. Shadow. We've got an issue with a 'traitor'," he tells Sam, lowering his paper to stare at him. "Leech type," he says, lowering his voice, sliding the newspaper over, revealing the picture of a middle-aged Caucasian, pale, bald, wrinkly, with a bulbous nose and yellowed teeth. Grey mustache, five o'clock shadow, and he appears to be rather obese. The article below lists that Doctor Rice, presumably the man captured in the photo, is planning to open a clinic in Haven. "He won't have Sanctuary. But I've cleaned up enough of his messes over the past five weeks. He's heading here, trying to lay low, stay safe, and feed. Off him. Give him to the Order, the Temple. Chop off his arms and legs and remove his eyes. I don't care. Make sure he's not an issue anymore. I've got bigger fish, and this guy, he's in your territory now."
Finn doesn't react, his facial expression making it seem as if this was just another day for him, as if he'd been told he was going to be killing people every other week for the past four years. This was, of course, not the case, but he'd talk to Sam about that once they were done meeting with this man.
A soft hiss escapes Sam's mouth as he nods slowly. "I can do that. Is he old?" The jock sighs lightly, a finger running along the charred ring, the shape of a dragon around his finger. "I presume just branding him would not work, given his history?" A scoff, and a shrug. "Actually, I'll give you plausible deniability, yadig?" He nods. "We'll speak of what sort of favors you can do me at a later date." He extends his hand. "It'll be done."
Finn wordlessly nods to the man as Sam extends his han
Finn hand* even
"Not too old," 'Mark' grunts, flinging his gaze towards Sam. "Should be enough for a small fry like you to kill." Then, slowly, the man lifts a brief-case, slams it on the table. The force unlatches and opens the contained, revealing a stake. Petrified wood. "Take this. You'll need it. He knows what I look like. But you? You're an unknown to him." Glancing towards Finn, the man cocks an eyebrow and tilts his head, watching him for but a moment. Squinting with a sort of judgmental and disgusted sneer plastered upon his weathered lips. "Don't be such a weakling," he tells the man. "Otherwise you're not going to be long for this world." Then towards the jock, the man mentions, "No, your magic won't be of use. But the stake will be. Take the element of surprise."
Finn' one eye squints as the man looks at him, caught off guard by the man's words directed to him. He glances down at the stake, realizing what they were up against was likely going to be a vampire.
Finn says "You'll get your target dealt with, you've got nothing to worry about boss man."
A chuckle escapes Sam's lips as he takes the stake. "All right." He ticks a nod to Finn, and grins. "Sink or swim, kid. Sink or swim." He looks over to alledgedly mark, and smiles. "Any location on the good doctor?" He taps at his phone, maybe texting someone as well. "Either way, this is on my plate now." A nod, and he gestures to Finn. "What the kid said."
"It's called mind-reading," the man growls towards Finn, slanting his gaze immediately at him. Those brownish amber orbs of his swivel over towards Sam, taking him in for a moment. "You should tell the kid more about our world before he insults someone and become feeding fodder to some vampire in California." At the question, there's a subtle tic of the man's lips, another sneer. "West-Haven. They're going to be preying upon the poor trailer park idiots. Stepping on Moore turf isn't wise, but, Bob Rice isn't from around here. Nor does he know how things work around here. Clinic's being built right across from the baseball field. He'll likely be sleeping in the basement below it, just got word that they finished that section. Once your through with whatever you're doing, make sure you leave no evidence. Light the place on fire, if you will. Just make sure nothing's traceable to you or him."
Finn shuffles about in his seat, visibly uncomfortable as he clears his throat and folds his arms over his chest. "If it's a vampire I've got no issues with killing it. Especially if it's feeding on people." He tells the man in a careful voice. Figuring it wasn't worth hiding his greeness anymore, he looks between Sam and the man they were talking to "What kind of abilities can we expect from him? If he's just strong and fast I know my gameplan, but if he's going to do something I don't expect that's where I'll trip up."
"Oh, shit, that's old Colton's turf." Sam shakes his head. He waggles a hand towards Finn, and nods to mark. "Work in progress, Mark." He straightens out his jacket, and pushes up. "Off we go, then." He taps Finn's shoulder softly. "C'mon, I know the spot, just need to grab some body armor for you from my place, then we'll head off, yeh?" He smiles. "I'll give ya pointers before we go in, and along the way, yeh?"
Finn will direct his question more towards Sam than the old man, assuming he answers as they walk to keep things on the move!
"All vampires feed off people. If they don't, they go psychotic," 'Mark' tells Finn, helpfully educating him. "And a psychotic vampire is harder to clean up after. The reason you're offing him has nothing to do with him doing what he's supposed to do. No. It's about him continuously creating breaches that I have to clean up. And I'm tired of wiping memories from people." Slowly the man stands, lightly nudging the suitcase over towards Sam, giving a small nod. "Go do me proud, kid. If you do this right, I'll set you up with some more gigs in the future, if you want to take them."
Finn gets up from the seat and brushes himself off, glancing to Sam to see if he taking the briefcase before taking it himself if he doesn't. Once they leave, he looks to Sam "What's our gameplan?"
Mark nudges a briefcase towards Sam, not a suitcase.
Sam indeed takes that briefcase, ticking a two-fingered salute toward someone. "You gotcha, Mark."
He hedas outside, letting Finn catch up. "All right, kid, here's the deal." He mosies along on his bike, stopping briefly at the apartment to get an extra armor from the his apartment. The Jock himself, then, grabs a set of armor from the trunk of his bike, and puts it on, along with a black outfit, balaclava included, that would not be bad on an FBI agent, were it not for not a singular brand or marking on it.
"So, kid. Vampires. Strong, they can hypnotize... weak to wood. We wanna get up close, you wanna not look him in the eyes." He chuckles, riding along towards the south-side. "Any questions?" he hands a glock, and a bowie-knife to Finn, which he happens to have in his packback. Someone is prepared for battle...
Sam indeed takes that briefcase, ticking a two-fingered salute toward Mark. "You gotcha, Mark."
He hedas outside, letting Finn catch up. "All right, kid, here's the deal." He mosies along on his bike, stopping briefly at the apartment to get an extra armor from the his apartment. The Jock himself, then, grabs a set of armor from the trunk of his bike, and puts it on, along with a black outfit, balaclava included, that would not be bad on an FBI agent, were it not for not a singular brand or marking on it.
"So, kid. Vampires. Strong, they can hypnotize... weak to wood. We wanna get up close, you wanna not look him in the eyes." He chuckles, riding along towards the south-side. "Any questions?" he hands a glock, and a bowie-knife to Finn, which he happens to have in his packback. Someone is prepared for battle...
Finn walks, nodding as he listens "I've been told sunglasses help" He says, glowering at himself for consistently forgetting to get himself a pair "You don't happen to have a spare pair lying around do you?" He says before accepting the gun and looking it over "Sam ..." He tells the man "I'm from the UK, I don't know how to use this" He says, handing it back. "I'm more comfortable doing what I know."
Finn says "I should wear some armor though ..."
Finn frowns, he doesn't like the idea of wearing armor, after thousands of armor training how to move without it he was concerned it was gunna throw him off ... Throw him off or not though, something that could stop him getting show would be nothing but a benefit. "You got any armor I can borrow?"
Mark leaves rather quickly. One moment he's there sitting. The next moment, he's standing. Then, he's not there, as if he's disappeared into thin air. It's quiet, there's no more antics from the mind-reading Shadow. Instead, there's just the occasional passerby, heading into the bar or exiting it. Those storm clouds above gather, a symbol of a tempestuous storm rising in time.
As Sam and Finn approach the construction site, the dark grey stormclouds overhead continue to gather, covering the crescent moon above them. Light barely shines down upon the dismal place, which looks hastily setup. Wooden posts outline the walls that still need to be bricked up. Cement is drying, rather slowly considering the recent snow, which has most certainly messed it up. Footprints, for whatever reason, are implanted in the cement sidewalk being built, as if someone had walked through it absentmindedly. Whomever is building this atrocity to man appears to be clueless about the weather in Massachusetts. Or they're clueless about building to begin with. It's become quite clear that the plans for the clinic is a two-story building, for some odd reason. It's still rather small, almost looking more like a house than an actual professional setting. There's a one or two security guards (lazily) patrolling the perimeter to the building, but all in all, it seems desolate. The street lights occasionally flicker, the lights going out time and time again.
Nodding, Sam hands a ceramic plates vest over. "Wear that. Be ready for the fucker to toss you around like a ragdoll. I'm gonna try my best to not get you dead."
Finn accepts the armor and pulls it on, rolling his shoulders as he attempts to try and suss out exactly how wearing this might affect how he can move. "Focus on getting the job done, I didn't tag along to be a burden, I'm not here to be babysat" He says in a stoic tone "I'll run if I need to."
Finn looks out towards the building, trying to make it seem like he wasn't overtly checking the place out "... Those guards gunna be a problem?" He asks, looking at them. They didn't seem like they were paying all that much attention, they could probably just walk straight past them ...
After Finn is kitted out, Sam smiles, and approaches the building. "Good kid." he grins. "Watch this."
Adjusting his armor, Sam approaches the males, and smiles. "Fellows. Doctor Rice has sent in a change of guard, you lot go home, Enjoy the time off, and let us take it from here, yeh? Happy new Year!" It's subtle, almost inperceptable, but those four words have some kind of emphasis to them, like Sam meant for them to be followed.
Finn tries his best to support the ruse, flashing a friendly smile at the guards as they approach "Have a good one, fellers."
Luckily and perhaps, unluckily for Sam and Finn, it begins to sprinkle a little. Thunder occasionally rumbling in the clouds. Overcast is the night. As the duo approaches, with the jock speaking, the two security guards frantically flick beams from their flashlights into the faces of their 'relief'. It takes a moment of confusion to alleviate their concern, before one, a skinny woman who looks underweight and starved, barely fitting in her uniform, which is rather baggy and loose on her, asks, "What's with all the weapons and I-Oh-Tee-Vees?" That psychic persuasion kicks in though, and the blonde runs her fingers through her dry, straw-colored hair, grumbling under her breath. Her counterpart, an obese male, far more obese than the quarry they hunt, is already taking off, howling about, 'missing dinner' and 'my family'. There's another wary, skeptical glance given to the two, but the straw woman is off too, shaking her head and issuing Sam and Finn, "Good luck. We saw old dude who was acting creepy earlier, watching the place. Might come back again."
Finn gruffs a "We're counting on it" To the girl as she heads off before looking over to Sam "Where's he gunna come in from, do you think? We should try and hide, get the element of surprise."
With a smirk, Sam offers Finn a fist-bump. "All right, let's see if the good doctor is home." He nods to the man, and grins. "You got it. We'll want to hed inside, so uh..." He winks. "Did I mention the Understanding to ya?" He shrugs. "Either way, it's like Harry potter, yeh? Keep shit secret, or shit will go down." He tries the door, then, in order to get in.
"Here." He hands that briefcase with the stake to Finn.
Finn takes the briefcase before fishing some picks from his pocket "You want me to give it a go or do you have some kind of magic shit?" He asks the man, opening up the packet and poking with way through the tiny little metal pieces ...
"Yaknow? I actually don't. You go and do it the quiet way, my best bet was like... yaknow..." Sam makes a kicking motion, and grins. "But we're going for subtle shit."