Encounterlogs
Toros Odd Encounter Sr Iris 241208
In the quiet, rustic embrace of his small cabin, Toro finds his Saturday morning interrupted by the foreboding wail of police sirens drawing closer. He watches as a state police cruiser halts before his home, unveiling officers Lieutenant Ryan Park and Detective Fergus Cifero. Despite Toro's scramble to hide his dubious stash of rifles and drugs, the officers, with contrasting demeanors, approach him with questions concerning a recent murder related to a certain Gaman Tori. Claiming ignorance, Toro covertly employs a teru teru bozu doll, a spirit tasked to create a distraction if needed. However, as the interrogation unfolds peacefully within the cabin, it becomes clear that the officers have mistaken Toro for another, given his conclusive alibi and mismatched identity, leading to their abrupt departure.
Later, as storm clouds threaten the sky, Toro encounters a disembodied voice, desperate and seemingly trapped in an alternate dimension. Guided by Toro's instructions, the voice, belonging to a man misled during his vacation, follows the sound of Toro's bike to a gas station. In the restroom, through the actions bestowed by a nightmare charm, Toro assists the trapped individual back into the tangible world. This successful, albeit draining rescue finishes with Toro advising the gas station's cashier to call emergency services for the worn and thankful man. Toro leaves the scene, indifferently concealing a gentle smile of satisfaction, unspoken gratitude echoing behind him as he contemplates the day's peculiar events.
(Toro's odd encounter(SRIris):SRIris)
[Sat Dec 7 2024]
In A Small Cabin
In this small but well-designed living space the walls are adorned with wooden panels, giving a sense of nature indoors. To your left, there's a black sofa with plush cushions, and warious throw pillows. The sofa is strategically placed near a large window that allows natural light to fill the room during the day. The window also provides picturesque views of the surrounding wilderness.
On the opposite side, there's a neatly arranged bed with green linens and various mix-matched pillows. The bed is framed by a wooden headboard, adding to the rustic feel of the cabin. Overhead, a warm and subtle lighting fixture casts a soft glow, creating a tranquil ambiance in the sleeping area.
Adjacent to the bed, a built-in closet is seamlessly integrated into the wooden wall. The closet features sliding or folding doors, maximizing space efficiency. Inside, there are shelves, drawers, and hanging rods for organizing clothes and personal items, keeping the cabin clutter-free.
Overall, this one-bedroom cabin combines the comforts of modern living with the tranquility of nature, providing a serene retreat for those seeking a peaceful escape.
It is morning, about 5F(-15C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
(Someone has sent the state police after your target. Perhaps they're a real criminal or perhaps they've been framed, in either case it's up to them to get their arrest warrant handled and removed.
)
It was still morning and a wave of dull November sunlight shined through the large window next to the sofa. It was Saturday, a day most would often spend lazing around and that might just be what Toro would be doing were it not for a distant wailing starting to grow closer. Hearing sirens wasn't something the small town was known for, but the odd ambulance or police car would sometimes cruise to who-knows-what emergency across town. This however was not across town, with the telltale 'weee-wooo' 'weee-wooo' of a police siren nearing the cabin.
It came closer and closer, red and blue lights starting to dance across through the window signifying that the vehicle was almost ready to park in front of Toro's abode.
The alternating blues and reds of an emergency vehicle wouldn't usually be something that would demand Toro's attention, after all, even in a (at face value) quiet town such as Haven, shit happened. But Toro hadn't yet bothered with enduring the pain of purchasing a television and, being as technologically illiterate as he is, his phone seldom did much to dampen his boredom.
He approaches the window, pulling the curtains, and finds himself surprised when the brief entertainment of flashing lights finds itself prolonged, parking on the street side of his cozy, woodland cabin. "Great," he murmurs.
The circumstances drive him into an uncharacteristic haste, he slides across the floor to make certain that: yes, yes he had remember to hide those rifles and drugs beneath the floorboards of his bed. Phew.
With a final tire screech, it was revealed what came up: a police cruiser pulled up. But this was no local shindig sheriff car, no, this was apparently a state police cruiser that now stopped right in front of the cabin. The loud noise finally died down, as did the blinking red and blue disco lights that sat atop the car, these ushering in the two officers that stepped out. These two were almost exact opposites of each other.
One was a disheveled looking man wearing an open long, dark blue police coat, his white buttoned up shirt only half-tucked in as if he just got out of bed. His scraggly beard rested atop his face like a wild animal ready to elope with his even worse looking mullet. A faded detective badge was pinned onto his shirt in the same vein that a store clerk would wear a badge.
The other one was a prim and proper Asian looking man, a pair of vintage glasses settled on his attentive face. An orange-brown bomber coat with his precinct's number stamped on the back covering up most of his white buttoned up shirt. In near perfect contrast to the other, his hair was short and well maintained, no facial hair what-so-ever on his waspy face.
A detective? Toro's unaware of having broken any laws, as of recent. Mistaken identity? Maybe they just needed to ask him a few questions about a case that had happened in the neighbourhood? This still didn't bode well, especially when he's unaware just how legal or illegal those firearms and pills he had were. Luckily, he hadn't touched them since he initially hid them, so there weren't very many signs of the stash.
Toro's not one to take chances. So, slinging the bass case over and off his shoulder, he unzips it, throws it open. Inside are meshes and nets and pockets, meant to surreptitiously contain instruments of the occult and not the musical. Lower left pocket, he reminds himself. His hand reaches in and when it pulls back, yanks a small, teru teru bozu doll out by its noose. Warm fog is exhaled into its drawn on, shark-toothed mouth, a life-giving breath that gives it the spark of life.
"Spirit, I need you to sneak out the back window and enter that police cruiser. If I yell: 'what's that', distract the officers however you can. Preferably, if they've left the keys inside, remove the parking lever and push yourself on the accelerator. Just do not hurt anyone," Toro whispers to them. The back window is opened, the doll let loose for potential mischief. He closes the window and readies himself for the potential knock.
Knock-knock sure came up, the two police officers now present in front of Toro's door, even their stances being complete opposites. One was slouched over and smiling for no reason while the other maintained a statue-like posture with his arms clasped behind his back. The prim-and-proper one calls out in a tempered, calm and collected voice "This is the police, we want to have a short discussion with you."
Toro zips the bass case back up and leans it, resting, on the hinge-side of the doorway. Click, clack, the door unbolts, unlocks, opens. "Good morning, officers," Toro says polite but withdrawn, giving them both a little wave with his hand. "How can I be of assistance, today?" He keeps his eyes level, focused on the officers even as the little, ghastly doll silently rushes past and toward their vehicle, looking for an easy way in.
Their cruiser was easy to sneak into, turns out one of them forgot to lock his side of the car, though the keys were no longer in the ignition and the parking brake was pulled.
At Toro's front door, the two officers gave him a quick look over, with the prim-and-proper one answering "I am Lieutenant Ryan Park." while setting a hand on his chest. He then moves the hand to point at the other officer "And this is Detective Fergus Cifero. We are currently investigating a murder that has happened and have some questions for you, may we come in?"
Toro had read his fair share of police procedurals, nordic noir had taught him enough about the basic goings on to know: you never invite a cop in. Unless, of course, you potentially do have things to hide and would rather they not come back with a warrant. Turning on his heel, he drags the door a fair bit wider and gestures inward.
"You may," he says calmly. "Would you like some tea?" His eyes briefly flit upward, watching the doll's bulbous head peek over the wheel which it, using its unnatural weight, tries to shake left-and-right. No dice. As Toro invites the officers in, the doll, following its given order, hops onto the dash and slams its head against whatever button(s) appear as if they might pop the trunk.
Trunk apparently clicked open but most of the buttons seemed to not do anything without the key in the ignition, leading to empty taps and clicks. Ryan and Fergus both stepped into Toro's cabin, with Fergus starting to glance around inquisitively, somehow lost in his own thoughts.
At the same time, Ryan continued their initial conversation "We are investigating the murder of one Gaman Tori. Mister Tori was found hanged somewhat nearby your cabin, we are hoping you can help us with some information."
The cabin's cozy but small. Studio-styled, all of its necessities are contained within one room. Bedroom, kitchen, bathroom. It's neatly organized and there's no sign of anyone but Toro living here.
Toro opens a plastic tea-holder, choosing a cheap variety of green. Why pull out the expensive stuff for two strangers? As promised, a kettle is set on the boiler plate to heat up some tap water, and the ground up herbs are chucked inside preemptively. Three cups, regular glasses, are brought out.
"Detectives. My apologies, but I'm not frequently at home. I unfortunately know nothing about the hanging nor have I had the fortune to meet any of my neighbours," he tells them. He didn't even own a TV, so it's likely he really didn't do all that much at home.
In the meanwhile, the doll, the spirit of which must've (to Toro's luck) been an officer in life, slid its way across the seats and out of the cruiser, planning to get into the opened trunk. What cruiser didn't have some firepower in the trunk?
There was no firepower in the trunk, it seems, just a suit, some overly tacky tie and a stack of newspapers for some reason, turns out the car's gun safe was also empty. Inside, Ryan turned to face Fergus, clearing his throat. Fergus sets his hand against his scraggly beard and meets Toro's eyes with a piercing gaze, pupils locked in and lips moving for a few seconds in some form of internal monologue. "What is it you do for a living?" Is asked by Fergus, his other hand set upon his hip, making him look like a fat teapot.
With the spirit's idea to utilize the gun as a potential distraction, it's left clueless as to what to do next. Silently, the white cloth rushes back to the cabin, peeking out from a crack in the doorway which Toro had only left partially closed.
Waiting for the tea to boil, Toro turns and leans against the counter behind him. He pats his satchel twice and answers: "I'm a medium and tarot card reader," he answers. The sight, out of the corner of his eye, of the unsuccessful teru teru bozu draws slight concern, concern that goes unshared. They are just about out of here, he assures himself.
Keeping a watchful eye on the officers, he asks them, "Will that be all?"
An answer like that should've sufficed for most, but Fergus intensified his gaze by squinting while Ryan was inspecting the room, basically performing a visual search warrant. "A medium? You must've noticed the soul of poorly departed Gaman then, correct?" Was the question the detective posed, eliciting a rather loud scoff and sigh from Ryan. This was the kind of logic one could expect from this wild looking detective, but one couldn't deny that there was a seed of truth to his question.
Toro shakes his head. "I did not. I try not to bring my work home with me." The pot screeches, its water boiled. Toro turns the plate off and stirs the ground leaves with a mixing stick. He pours half a cup into each laid out glass, using a filtering net to keep the grind from following the fluid and potentially ruining the drink. "Tea?" He asks, gesturing toward the cups. He doesn't wait on the officers, taking a glass for himself to drink while he waits on them.
Tea wasn't on their minds, that was for sure. Fergus' gaze scoured the room for now, allowing Ryan to step in to the conversation and lead this forward. "We did not come here to simply talk, there is currently an outstanding arrest on you and we were sent to execute. However, Detective Fergus believes you are innocent." Ryan set forth, being almost interrupted by Fergus asking a direct question "How did you get those cuts on your palm?" As it turns out, something must've snapped in the detective and he was observant enough to notice Toro's injury.
Toro cants his head some. This is news to him. "The cuts are not relevant to your investigation, detectives." Seeing as if he's not staying home for much longer, Toro chugs the rest of his tea. It's a shame that the other two glasses are going to go to waste, but he didn't want to slam those too and appear impolite. With a little push, he steps away from the kitchen counter. "I appreciate detective Fergus' trust in my innocence, but I have my doubts that it'll result in much. Seeing as I am under arrest, shall we get going? I'd like to be out of the precinct in time for lunch." He reaches the door with a lackadaisical step, wherein the doll hops into his pocket, hidden by its master's frame. He wags his chin toward the cruiser. "If you would please step outside, detectives. I'd like to lock my door before we go. It appears one of you forgot both your door and trunk open," he casually informs them.
What an unsatisfactory answer that was, though it seems Fergus had other plans rather than driving off with his suspect. "It would be a two hour drive, this is being handled at a state level rather than the local sheriff's department due to Gaman's connection to the senator. If we end up taking you in, you're not going to be home even for Sunday dinner, so enligthen us, did you cut yourself trying to adjust the rope for his noose?" his question was so direct and blunt it might as well have been a mace, all while Ryan stepped outside to go take care of the car, shaking his head and mumbling a few things about how Fergus handled things.
Toro perks a brow at the odd line of questioning. Both his hands are raised so that detective Fergus could get a good look at the cuts. "Detective. Does this look like damage made by a rope?" The scars were old, several years old. They are thin and accurate, likely made by a blade as opposed to the parallel notches one might see from epidermal damage from your typical rope. The scars are only on one hand, furthermore, he adds: "I'll wager a guess that if I cut myself on a rope, you'd easily find dee-en-ay evidence on it, detective."
Now that was a much better answer, carving a smile on both Fergus and Ryan's lips, Ryan now pitching in with "I do not believe that sort of evidence would be relevant now there, samples that were lifted did not reveal anyone else, or anything else, having tampered with the rope." After a brief sniff and drawing in of a breath, Fergus completes this impromptu interview with "Before we go and conclude this, as I think we have everything we need, did no spirit visit you? Tell you about a suicide or something?"
Toro shrugs with his hands. "As I've mentioned, detectives: I try not to bring my work home with me." He doesn't take what he assumes to be a question asked for their own amusement with any hurt or malice, answering simply: "But no, I did not have a spirit inform me of anything of the sort."
The two nod to each other and stand up straight as if on queue, with Ryan taking the lead with "Very well, that will do. I do not believe there's anything to be gained from taking you in, Mister Calipso, but you may still need to come with us." Hold on a second, did they just call Toro Calipso?
Toro cants his head. He hadn't been bothered before, after all, these men were purely conducting their duties. But now? His distanced expression presses its lips into a dissatisfied pout and he squints at the two men, eying them with disbelief. "Detectives, that is not my name," he informs them and, slowly, reaches for his wallet to produce his driver's license. The license is fairly new, so his likeness is irrefutable and, on it, the name printed: (1) Kumayaki (2) Toro. "I believe you may have the incorrect address," he says with a sigh.
With that, the two detectives look at each other, Fergus pulls out the warrant and squints at it, only for Ryan to take a step closer and point on the paper. A collective 'aah' is heard and the two smile towards Toro. "Our apologies, Mister Kumayaki, seems we have the wrong address. You stay safe." And with that, the two make a rather quick escape to their cruiser and speed off into the distance.
Toro pinches the bridge of his nose, slamming the door behind him. "That could've gone worse," he tries to reassure himself. It does little to ease the annoyance that buzzes the back of his brain. "And you," he says, fetching the doll from his pocket, ironically shaking it by its noose. "You could've tried harder," he complains. It takes him a second to realize that the spirit within it has already made its escape. Who knows, maybe that had been the victim? It isn't his concern anymore. Taking the two glasses off the counter, he settles into his sofa opting to have lunch a little later.
(Your target encounters a human who's become stuck in the nightmare, lost and frightened.
)
Throwing his leg over the side of his second-hand vespa, Toro adjusts his open-face helmet and turns on the low-powered engine, about to drive off from home. He sniffles and sneezes, caught by a wayward, winter breeze.
It's afternoon in Haven but the dark stormclouds overhead blot out the sun, making it rather dark out on Guardian Lane. There is no street lamps out there and only a faded grey glow makes it through the clouds to illuminate the area. Where you are in Haven is irrevelent when trouble can come knocking anywhere, sometimes its in the club, on the street, in the toilet.
The ignition of the vespa fails to start the first time, it probably is a bit too chilly and its messing with the engine. Fortunately, or unfortunately the fact it didn't start gives Toro a chance to hear a breath on the wind, its distant 'Help me!' very faint and its impossible to tell where it comes from.
Freaking thing. Toro gives the engine a second and a third go, hoping it might start on him yet! He's murmuring and crossing his fingers, he just couldn't afford the cost of a vehicle giving up on him. Then the 'help me' comes. He sighs and shakes his head. Not too much earlier, a pair of police officers had visited him asking about a suicide. Could he not get a break today?
He hops off the bike and peers into the darkness, fetching his flashlight so that nothing goes unseen. "Hello?" He loudly asks but once.
Again, a voice shouts in the distance and its almost inaudible. The direction the second time appears to be coming from the tree ways. But then there is a loud, very clear call directly into Toro's ear "HELLO? Can you hear me?" its so close it might as well be on the street with Toro. But casting his beam of light around does not reveal a thing.
Toro clutches his ear as he's unsuspectingly blasted by the yell. He turns in a haste, flashing his light about and swinging his helmet in succession. He's mildly bothered when it fails to reveal anything. "Great," he murmurs to himself, unzipping the bass case a third of the way open. "I can hear you," he informs it, lessening his voice. "What do you need?" He asks the voice directly.
"Oh thank god." says the voice in relief. It's masculine and sounds non-threatening for the most part. But it is a disembodied voice on the street in the middle of no where so who knows what the threat is. "I've been trapped for two days..I haven't eaten. Everyone I try to talk to can't hear me or see me." there is a sound of an exasperated sigh. "Can you help me? I thought I was just tripping bad but I've never tripped like this."
Ghost, Toro tells himself with a self-agreeing nod. Disembodied voice? Check. Confusion? Check. A bit more slowly now, a bit more methodically, Toro brings the torch's light about, paving through treeline, low and high, with the focused beam and a squint, trying again to try and see if he could catch a glimpse of the owner. He isn't going to blindly leave his bike and the road, that's for certain. "What's your name?" He starts by asking. "Describe to me what you're able to see," he follows up. He rests the bass case on the side of a tree and, with a hand, begins rummaging
Silence ensues for a few long moments, so long that it might be that Toro is alone again. But no the voice speaks up, "Uhh, its like I'm outside but everything is in deep shadow. I can't see that far and I swear I see weird things like ghost sometimes." the silence returns after that explanation is given. Toro's moves about but reveals nothing, there does not appear to be a ghost or Toro would probably see it.
Toro's green eyes flick around his surroundings, fast, as he considers the alternative. The only other possibility, be it not a phantasm is far worse. He shrugs his hand in an annoyed gesture and rubs his brow in thought. Could he be stuck in the Nightmare? How did he even end up there? "Trapped. You said you're trapped. What exactly do you mean by trapped?" He asks, re-shouldering the bass case when he realizes it'll be of little use here.
A pregnant pause occurs after Toro's question while the voice seems to be thinking of what to say, perhaps it needs time to lie or it could be telling the truth. "I was vacationing in town and met this girl. Real cute..I followed her and she took me in this alley for some..fun." there is another pause. More awkward. "I sort of spaced out and before I knew it she was gone and I was trapped wherever this is."
Toro rubs his hand across his head, ruffling his messy locks as he considers the best course of action. Fitting his helmet back on, he gets on his bike, informing the voice: "You're going to follow my voice." With a booted kick, he raises the stand. "I'll be guiding you to a mirror, in town," he continues. "If you hear or see anything that might worry you, tell me, and hide. Got it?" Leaving someone to possibly endure a terrible fate just isn't something Toro appears capable of.
Incredulous the voice goes, "Mirror?..alright, I don't think I can ride on that..not like this." the logistics concerns are a problem. Still the voice seems willing to follow Toro's instructions.
Toro perks a brow at the response. "You can hear my bike and see me? That's good. That's excellent. Don't worry. I won't be going fast." True to his words, starts to cruise at a walking pace. The bike is really more for his safety than the entity's, unwilling to leave a possible route of escape behind. If ever he feels as if he might be getting ahead, he'll stop to let the disembodied voice catch up. "Move fast but not too fast," he warns it, planning to lead it to the nearby(ish) gas station right at the start of town.
It's slow going, and by slow. Theres possibly a starving man on the other side of the veil between worlds that is forced to keep up with Toro's bike. Eventually they get to the gas station and its there a out of breath voice says, "Now what do we do?" At this point the voice is more tired than alarmed or nervous. Theres actually hope in the sound of his voice, maybe he'll just survive all this.
Even if Toro feels bad for the man and some semblance of duty to aid him, he isn't about to put his full trust in what could just a shyster. Tired and starving as he might be, he'll need to put in the legwork to make it out on his own. Having soundly arrived at the gas station presumably whole, leads the entity into the bathroom. These public restrooms did tend to have large enough mirrors. He leaves the door unlocked but makes certain the place is empty before he attempts the rescue. Removing his nightmare charm from his wrist, he tosses it at the mirror, trying to get it to land on the other, darker end of the psychosphere. "Put that on and push into the mirror," he tells the voice, whispering now that they're in public.
Once Toro finds the mirror its not his own reflection he sees, its a young man. Tired with sunken cheeks who looks back at him through the portal of glass. The man nods and reaches for the charm. There is a difficulty, someone who's never passed through the nightmare before may struggle with this. He closes his eyes, reaches to put his hand against the mirror and push...only for a moment later to be on the other side with Toro. Eyes still closed, unwilling to open them.
Toro awaits the man impatiently. That is his charm he's using, after all. With folded arms and a restlessly tapping foot, he counts the seconds until the sunken-cheeked man manages to slide his way back into the rightside of reality. The poor guy isn't given a heartbeat to enjoy the buzzing and glare of the cruddy, bathroom light, before he snatches for his charm, wrenching it back.
"Sit down," he tells him and, if not somehow prevented, now notably less weighed by any guilt, makes for the exit: he hasn't even had lunch yet! Only just inform the cashier, briefly, "There's an injured individual in your bathroom. I suggest you call emergency services."
Without a fight the charm is given up, in fact the man seems like he wants to give Toro a hug. He's so relieved but he's too weak to force that on him and soon he's left sitting there. Tired, waiting for emergency services. The last thing the man says is, "Thank you so much. I thought I was doomed."
Toro huffs on his way out. A tiny smile forces its way onto his expression, upon hearing the man's words, one he's quick to hide on his way out.
Later, as storm clouds threaten the sky, Toro encounters a disembodied voice, desperate and seemingly trapped in an alternate dimension. Guided by Toro's instructions, the voice, belonging to a man misled during his vacation, follows the sound of Toro's bike to a gas station. In the restroom, through the actions bestowed by a nightmare charm, Toro assists the trapped individual back into the tangible world. This successful, albeit draining rescue finishes with Toro advising the gas station's cashier to call emergency services for the worn and thankful man. Toro leaves the scene, indifferently concealing a gentle smile of satisfaction, unspoken gratitude echoing behind him as he contemplates the day's peculiar events.
(Toro's odd encounter(SRIris):SRIris)
[Sat Dec 7 2024]
In A Small Cabin
In this small but well-designed living space the walls are adorned with wooden panels, giving a sense of nature indoors. To your left, there's a black sofa with plush cushions, and warious throw pillows. The sofa is strategically placed near a large window that allows natural light to fill the room during the day. The window also provides picturesque views of the surrounding wilderness.
On the opposite side, there's a neatly arranged bed with green linens and various mix-matched pillows. The bed is framed by a wooden headboard, adding to the rustic feel of the cabin. Overhead, a warm and subtle lighting fixture casts a soft glow, creating a tranquil ambiance in the sleeping area.
Adjacent to the bed, a built-in closet is seamlessly integrated into the wooden wall. The closet features sliding or folding doors, maximizing space efficiency. Inside, there are shelves, drawers, and hanging rods for organizing clothes and personal items, keeping the cabin clutter-free.
Overall, this one-bedroom cabin combines the comforts of modern living with the tranquility of nature, providing a serene retreat for those seeking a peaceful escape.
It is morning, about 5F(-15C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
(Someone has sent the state police after your target. Perhaps they're a real criminal or perhaps they've been framed, in either case it's up to them to get their arrest warrant handled and removed.
)
It was still morning and a wave of dull November sunlight shined through the large window next to the sofa. It was Saturday, a day most would often spend lazing around and that might just be what Toro would be doing were it not for a distant wailing starting to grow closer. Hearing sirens wasn't something the small town was known for, but the odd ambulance or police car would sometimes cruise to who-knows-what emergency across town. This however was not across town, with the telltale 'weee-wooo' 'weee-wooo' of a police siren nearing the cabin.
It came closer and closer, red and blue lights starting to dance across through the window signifying that the vehicle was almost ready to park in front of Toro's abode.
The alternating blues and reds of an emergency vehicle wouldn't usually be something that would demand Toro's attention, after all, even in a (at face value) quiet town such as Haven, shit happened. But Toro hadn't yet bothered with enduring the pain of purchasing a television and, being as technologically illiterate as he is, his phone seldom did much to dampen his boredom.
He approaches the window, pulling the curtains, and finds himself surprised when the brief entertainment of flashing lights finds itself prolonged, parking on the street side of his cozy, woodland cabin. "Great," he murmurs.
The circumstances drive him into an uncharacteristic haste, he slides across the floor to make certain that: yes, yes he had remember to hide those rifles and drugs beneath the floorboards of his bed. Phew.
With a final tire screech, it was revealed what came up: a police cruiser pulled up. But this was no local shindig sheriff car, no, this was apparently a state police cruiser that now stopped right in front of the cabin. The loud noise finally died down, as did the blinking red and blue disco lights that sat atop the car, these ushering in the two officers that stepped out. These two were almost exact opposites of each other.
One was a disheveled looking man wearing an open long, dark blue police coat, his white buttoned up shirt only half-tucked in as if he just got out of bed. His scraggly beard rested atop his face like a wild animal ready to elope with his even worse looking mullet. A faded detective badge was pinned onto his shirt in the same vein that a store clerk would wear a badge.
The other one was a prim and proper Asian looking man, a pair of vintage glasses settled on his attentive face. An orange-brown bomber coat with his precinct's number stamped on the back covering up most of his white buttoned up shirt. In near perfect contrast to the other, his hair was short and well maintained, no facial hair what-so-ever on his waspy face.
A detective? Toro's unaware of having broken any laws, as of recent. Mistaken identity? Maybe they just needed to ask him a few questions about a case that had happened in the neighbourhood? This still didn't bode well, especially when he's unaware just how legal or illegal those firearms and pills he had were. Luckily, he hadn't touched them since he initially hid them, so there weren't very many signs of the stash.
Toro's not one to take chances. So, slinging the bass case over and off his shoulder, he unzips it, throws it open. Inside are meshes and nets and pockets, meant to surreptitiously contain instruments of the occult and not the musical. Lower left pocket, he reminds himself. His hand reaches in and when it pulls back, yanks a small, teru teru bozu doll out by its noose. Warm fog is exhaled into its drawn on, shark-toothed mouth, a life-giving breath that gives it the spark of life.
"Spirit, I need you to sneak out the back window and enter that police cruiser. If I yell: 'what's that', distract the officers however you can. Preferably, if they've left the keys inside, remove the parking lever and push yourself on the accelerator. Just do not hurt anyone," Toro whispers to them. The back window is opened, the doll let loose for potential mischief. He closes the window and readies himself for the potential knock.
Knock-knock sure came up, the two police officers now present in front of Toro's door, even their stances being complete opposites. One was slouched over and smiling for no reason while the other maintained a statue-like posture with his arms clasped behind his back. The prim-and-proper one calls out in a tempered, calm and collected voice "This is the police, we want to have a short discussion with you."
Toro zips the bass case back up and leans it, resting, on the hinge-side of the doorway. Click, clack, the door unbolts, unlocks, opens. "Good morning, officers," Toro says polite but withdrawn, giving them both a little wave with his hand. "How can I be of assistance, today?" He keeps his eyes level, focused on the officers even as the little, ghastly doll silently rushes past and toward their vehicle, looking for an easy way in.
Their cruiser was easy to sneak into, turns out one of them forgot to lock his side of the car, though the keys were no longer in the ignition and the parking brake was pulled.
At Toro's front door, the two officers gave him a quick look over, with the prim-and-proper one answering "I am Lieutenant Ryan Park." while setting a hand on his chest. He then moves the hand to point at the other officer "And this is Detective Fergus Cifero. We are currently investigating a murder that has happened and have some questions for you, may we come in?"
Toro had read his fair share of police procedurals, nordic noir had taught him enough about the basic goings on to know: you never invite a cop in. Unless, of course, you potentially do have things to hide and would rather they not come back with a warrant. Turning on his heel, he drags the door a fair bit wider and gestures inward.
"You may," he says calmly. "Would you like some tea?" His eyes briefly flit upward, watching the doll's bulbous head peek over the wheel which it, using its unnatural weight, tries to shake left-and-right. No dice. As Toro invites the officers in, the doll, following its given order, hops onto the dash and slams its head against whatever button(s) appear as if they might pop the trunk.
Trunk apparently clicked open but most of the buttons seemed to not do anything without the key in the ignition, leading to empty taps and clicks. Ryan and Fergus both stepped into Toro's cabin, with Fergus starting to glance around inquisitively, somehow lost in his own thoughts.
At the same time, Ryan continued their initial conversation "We are investigating the murder of one Gaman Tori. Mister Tori was found hanged somewhat nearby your cabin, we are hoping you can help us with some information."
The cabin's cozy but small. Studio-styled, all of its necessities are contained within one room. Bedroom, kitchen, bathroom. It's neatly organized and there's no sign of anyone but Toro living here.
Toro opens a plastic tea-holder, choosing a cheap variety of green. Why pull out the expensive stuff for two strangers? As promised, a kettle is set on the boiler plate to heat up some tap water, and the ground up herbs are chucked inside preemptively. Three cups, regular glasses, are brought out.
"Detectives. My apologies, but I'm not frequently at home. I unfortunately know nothing about the hanging nor have I had the fortune to meet any of my neighbours," he tells them. He didn't even own a TV, so it's likely he really didn't do all that much at home.
In the meanwhile, the doll, the spirit of which must've (to Toro's luck) been an officer in life, slid its way across the seats and out of the cruiser, planning to get into the opened trunk. What cruiser didn't have some firepower in the trunk?
There was no firepower in the trunk, it seems, just a suit, some overly tacky tie and a stack of newspapers for some reason, turns out the car's gun safe was also empty. Inside, Ryan turned to face Fergus, clearing his throat. Fergus sets his hand against his scraggly beard and meets Toro's eyes with a piercing gaze, pupils locked in and lips moving for a few seconds in some form of internal monologue. "What is it you do for a living?" Is asked by Fergus, his other hand set upon his hip, making him look like a fat teapot.
With the spirit's idea to utilize the gun as a potential distraction, it's left clueless as to what to do next. Silently, the white cloth rushes back to the cabin, peeking out from a crack in the doorway which Toro had only left partially closed.
Waiting for the tea to boil, Toro turns and leans against the counter behind him. He pats his satchel twice and answers: "I'm a medium and tarot card reader," he answers. The sight, out of the corner of his eye, of the unsuccessful teru teru bozu draws slight concern, concern that goes unshared. They are just about out of here, he assures himself.
Keeping a watchful eye on the officers, he asks them, "Will that be all?"
An answer like that should've sufficed for most, but Fergus intensified his gaze by squinting while Ryan was inspecting the room, basically performing a visual search warrant. "A medium? You must've noticed the soul of poorly departed Gaman then, correct?" Was the question the detective posed, eliciting a rather loud scoff and sigh from Ryan. This was the kind of logic one could expect from this wild looking detective, but one couldn't deny that there was a seed of truth to his question.
Toro shakes his head. "I did not. I try not to bring my work home with me." The pot screeches, its water boiled. Toro turns the plate off and stirs the ground leaves with a mixing stick. He pours half a cup into each laid out glass, using a filtering net to keep the grind from following the fluid and potentially ruining the drink. "Tea?" He asks, gesturing toward the cups. He doesn't wait on the officers, taking a glass for himself to drink while he waits on them.
Tea wasn't on their minds, that was for sure. Fergus' gaze scoured the room for now, allowing Ryan to step in to the conversation and lead this forward. "We did not come here to simply talk, there is currently an outstanding arrest on you and we were sent to execute. However, Detective Fergus believes you are innocent." Ryan set forth, being almost interrupted by Fergus asking a direct question "How did you get those cuts on your palm?" As it turns out, something must've snapped in the detective and he was observant enough to notice Toro's injury.
Toro cants his head some. This is news to him. "The cuts are not relevant to your investigation, detectives." Seeing as if he's not staying home for much longer, Toro chugs the rest of his tea. It's a shame that the other two glasses are going to go to waste, but he didn't want to slam those too and appear impolite. With a little push, he steps away from the kitchen counter. "I appreciate detective Fergus' trust in my innocence, but I have my doubts that it'll result in much. Seeing as I am under arrest, shall we get going? I'd like to be out of the precinct in time for lunch." He reaches the door with a lackadaisical step, wherein the doll hops into his pocket, hidden by its master's frame. He wags his chin toward the cruiser. "If you would please step outside, detectives. I'd like to lock my door before we go. It appears one of you forgot both your door and trunk open," he casually informs them.
What an unsatisfactory answer that was, though it seems Fergus had other plans rather than driving off with his suspect. "It would be a two hour drive, this is being handled at a state level rather than the local sheriff's department due to Gaman's connection to the senator. If we end up taking you in, you're not going to be home even for Sunday dinner, so enligthen us, did you cut yourself trying to adjust the rope for his noose?" his question was so direct and blunt it might as well have been a mace, all while Ryan stepped outside to go take care of the car, shaking his head and mumbling a few things about how Fergus handled things.
Toro perks a brow at the odd line of questioning. Both his hands are raised so that detective Fergus could get a good look at the cuts. "Detective. Does this look like damage made by a rope?" The scars were old, several years old. They are thin and accurate, likely made by a blade as opposed to the parallel notches one might see from epidermal damage from your typical rope. The scars are only on one hand, furthermore, he adds: "I'll wager a guess that if I cut myself on a rope, you'd easily find dee-en-ay evidence on it, detective."
Now that was a much better answer, carving a smile on both Fergus and Ryan's lips, Ryan now pitching in with "I do not believe that sort of evidence would be relevant now there, samples that were lifted did not reveal anyone else, or anything else, having tampered with the rope." After a brief sniff and drawing in of a breath, Fergus completes this impromptu interview with "Before we go and conclude this, as I think we have everything we need, did no spirit visit you? Tell you about a suicide or something?"
Toro shrugs with his hands. "As I've mentioned, detectives: I try not to bring my work home with me." He doesn't take what he assumes to be a question asked for their own amusement with any hurt or malice, answering simply: "But no, I did not have a spirit inform me of anything of the sort."
The two nod to each other and stand up straight as if on queue, with Ryan taking the lead with "Very well, that will do. I do not believe there's anything to be gained from taking you in, Mister Calipso, but you may still need to come with us." Hold on a second, did they just call Toro Calipso?
Toro cants his head. He hadn't been bothered before, after all, these men were purely conducting their duties. But now? His distanced expression presses its lips into a dissatisfied pout and he squints at the two men, eying them with disbelief. "Detectives, that is not my name," he informs them and, slowly, reaches for his wallet to produce his driver's license. The license is fairly new, so his likeness is irrefutable and, on it, the name printed: (1) Kumayaki (2) Toro. "I believe you may have the incorrect address," he says with a sigh.
With that, the two detectives look at each other, Fergus pulls out the warrant and squints at it, only for Ryan to take a step closer and point on the paper. A collective 'aah' is heard and the two smile towards Toro. "Our apologies, Mister Kumayaki, seems we have the wrong address. You stay safe." And with that, the two make a rather quick escape to their cruiser and speed off into the distance.
Toro pinches the bridge of his nose, slamming the door behind him. "That could've gone worse," he tries to reassure himself. It does little to ease the annoyance that buzzes the back of his brain. "And you," he says, fetching the doll from his pocket, ironically shaking it by its noose. "You could've tried harder," he complains. It takes him a second to realize that the spirit within it has already made its escape. Who knows, maybe that had been the victim? It isn't his concern anymore. Taking the two glasses off the counter, he settles into his sofa opting to have lunch a little later.
(Your target encounters a human who's become stuck in the nightmare, lost and frightened.
)
Throwing his leg over the side of his second-hand vespa, Toro adjusts his open-face helmet and turns on the low-powered engine, about to drive off from home. He sniffles and sneezes, caught by a wayward, winter breeze.
It's afternoon in Haven but the dark stormclouds overhead blot out the sun, making it rather dark out on Guardian Lane. There is no street lamps out there and only a faded grey glow makes it through the clouds to illuminate the area. Where you are in Haven is irrevelent when trouble can come knocking anywhere, sometimes its in the club, on the street, in the toilet.
The ignition of the vespa fails to start the first time, it probably is a bit too chilly and its messing with the engine. Fortunately, or unfortunately the fact it didn't start gives Toro a chance to hear a breath on the wind, its distant 'Help me!' very faint and its impossible to tell where it comes from.
Freaking thing. Toro gives the engine a second and a third go, hoping it might start on him yet! He's murmuring and crossing his fingers, he just couldn't afford the cost of a vehicle giving up on him. Then the 'help me' comes. He sighs and shakes his head. Not too much earlier, a pair of police officers had visited him asking about a suicide. Could he not get a break today?
He hops off the bike and peers into the darkness, fetching his flashlight so that nothing goes unseen. "Hello?" He loudly asks but once.
Again, a voice shouts in the distance and its almost inaudible. The direction the second time appears to be coming from the tree ways. But then there is a loud, very clear call directly into Toro's ear "HELLO? Can you hear me?" its so close it might as well be on the street with Toro. But casting his beam of light around does not reveal a thing.
Toro clutches his ear as he's unsuspectingly blasted by the yell. He turns in a haste, flashing his light about and swinging his helmet in succession. He's mildly bothered when it fails to reveal anything. "Great," he murmurs to himself, unzipping the bass case a third of the way open. "I can hear you," he informs it, lessening his voice. "What do you need?" He asks the voice directly.
"Oh thank god." says the voice in relief. It's masculine and sounds non-threatening for the most part. But it is a disembodied voice on the street in the middle of no where so who knows what the threat is. "I've been trapped for two days..I haven't eaten. Everyone I try to talk to can't hear me or see me." there is a sound of an exasperated sigh. "Can you help me? I thought I was just tripping bad but I've never tripped like this."
Ghost, Toro tells himself with a self-agreeing nod. Disembodied voice? Check. Confusion? Check. A bit more slowly now, a bit more methodically, Toro brings the torch's light about, paving through treeline, low and high, with the focused beam and a squint, trying again to try and see if he could catch a glimpse of the owner. He isn't going to blindly leave his bike and the road, that's for certain. "What's your name?" He starts by asking. "Describe to me what you're able to see," he follows up. He rests the bass case on the side of a tree and, with a hand, begins rummaging
Silence ensues for a few long moments, so long that it might be that Toro is alone again. But no the voice speaks up, "Uhh, its like I'm outside but everything is in deep shadow. I can't see that far and I swear I see weird things like ghost sometimes." the silence returns after that explanation is given. Toro's moves about but reveals nothing, there does not appear to be a ghost or Toro would probably see it.
Toro's green eyes flick around his surroundings, fast, as he considers the alternative. The only other possibility, be it not a phantasm is far worse. He shrugs his hand in an annoyed gesture and rubs his brow in thought. Could he be stuck in the Nightmare? How did he even end up there? "Trapped. You said you're trapped. What exactly do you mean by trapped?" He asks, re-shouldering the bass case when he realizes it'll be of little use here.
A pregnant pause occurs after Toro's question while the voice seems to be thinking of what to say, perhaps it needs time to lie or it could be telling the truth. "I was vacationing in town and met this girl. Real cute..I followed her and she took me in this alley for some..fun." there is another pause. More awkward. "I sort of spaced out and before I knew it she was gone and I was trapped wherever this is."
Toro rubs his hand across his head, ruffling his messy locks as he considers the best course of action. Fitting his helmet back on, he gets on his bike, informing the voice: "You're going to follow my voice." With a booted kick, he raises the stand. "I'll be guiding you to a mirror, in town," he continues. "If you hear or see anything that might worry you, tell me, and hide. Got it?" Leaving someone to possibly endure a terrible fate just isn't something Toro appears capable of.
Incredulous the voice goes, "Mirror?..alright, I don't think I can ride on that..not like this." the logistics concerns are a problem. Still the voice seems willing to follow Toro's instructions.
Toro perks a brow at the response. "You can hear my bike and see me? That's good. That's excellent. Don't worry. I won't be going fast." True to his words, starts to cruise at a walking pace. The bike is really more for his safety than the entity's, unwilling to leave a possible route of escape behind. If ever he feels as if he might be getting ahead, he'll stop to let the disembodied voice catch up. "Move fast but not too fast," he warns it, planning to lead it to the nearby(ish) gas station right at the start of town.
It's slow going, and by slow. Theres possibly a starving man on the other side of the veil between worlds that is forced to keep up with Toro's bike. Eventually they get to the gas station and its there a out of breath voice says, "Now what do we do?" At this point the voice is more tired than alarmed or nervous. Theres actually hope in the sound of his voice, maybe he'll just survive all this.
Even if Toro feels bad for the man and some semblance of duty to aid him, he isn't about to put his full trust in what could just a shyster. Tired and starving as he might be, he'll need to put in the legwork to make it out on his own. Having soundly arrived at the gas station presumably whole, leads the entity into the bathroom. These public restrooms did tend to have large enough mirrors. He leaves the door unlocked but makes certain the place is empty before he attempts the rescue. Removing his nightmare charm from his wrist, he tosses it at the mirror, trying to get it to land on the other, darker end of the psychosphere. "Put that on and push into the mirror," he tells the voice, whispering now that they're in public.
Once Toro finds the mirror its not his own reflection he sees, its a young man. Tired with sunken cheeks who looks back at him through the portal of glass. The man nods and reaches for the charm. There is a difficulty, someone who's never passed through the nightmare before may struggle with this. He closes his eyes, reaches to put his hand against the mirror and push...only for a moment later to be on the other side with Toro. Eyes still closed, unwilling to open them.
Toro awaits the man impatiently. That is his charm he's using, after all. With folded arms and a restlessly tapping foot, he counts the seconds until the sunken-cheeked man manages to slide his way back into the rightside of reality. The poor guy isn't given a heartbeat to enjoy the buzzing and glare of the cruddy, bathroom light, before he snatches for his charm, wrenching it back.
"Sit down," he tells him and, if not somehow prevented, now notably less weighed by any guilt, makes for the exit: he hasn't even had lunch yet! Only just inform the cashier, briefly, "There's an injured individual in your bathroom. I suggest you call emergency services."
Without a fight the charm is given up, in fact the man seems like he wants to give Toro a hug. He's so relieved but he's too weak to force that on him and soon he's left sitting there. Tired, waiting for emergency services. The last thing the man says is, "Thank you so much. I thought I was doomed."
Toro huffs on his way out. A tiny smile forces its way onto his expression, upon hearing the man's words, one he's quick to hide on his way out.