Fear Not The Night: Lobsterfest

Prospero
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"Oscar Mike."

Posts: 12

Fear Not The Night: Lobsterfest May 31, 2022 11:49:15 GMT Ghostly likes this

Post by Prospero on May 31, 2022 11:49:15 GMT

One of the agent's eyebrows piqued ever so slightly like tons of stone suddeny rising to change the stern expression of the moʻai monoliths on Easter Island. It did, in fact, appear that one of his younger female colleagues was actually talking to... anything, really. Her name was Lillian. The operatives he was used to leaned towards more externalized abnormalities due to the nature of their work. Forward operatives. Frankensteins, some called them behind their backs. She was very much unlike that. For one less privy to the stranger side of the world it would be easy to dismiss her as mentally disturbed.

"Ah, yees.", Rasputin pouted and then chimed up. "Beach." Frankly the word left his lips sounding like an expletive. "My talents are good vhere there is fyzikal altercation...eh...'fisting cuffs', as you say." At least one person in the history of the world had to have said that before in the past. Shame they probably weren't sitting at this table. He clenched his fists, leaned back a bit and shook both of them in mid air for emphasis.

"Violence.", he also somewhat roared, faintly and matter-of-factly, from the back of his throat after he said that and then lowered his hands back on the counter. Rasputin of course meant to say that he would be more useful investigating where the anomalies had already occured, rather than where they originated from. Violence spoke to him.

Finally, he turned and opened his chest to the others; one hand on the back of box seat and the other rising with palm to the ceiling. A confused shrug followed, eyes looking for affirmation from his colleagues. He hoped he was being understood. "Field work?"

Last Edit: May 31, 2022 11:53:51 GMT by Prospero

Ghostly
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The Last Pale Light in the West

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Fear Not The Night: Lobsterfest Jun 13, 2022 9:30:30 GMT The Spectre likes this

Post by Ghostly on Jun 13, 2022 9:30:30 GMT

Sara scribbled corrections to their orders onto her hand and left the group to their coffee and chatter. Once truly alone, the group took the chance to make their first assessments of the case and offer questions to their new handler.

Andromeda was almost glowing. She hadn’t experienced this kind of excitement and engagement in her career since her accident - it had been only veiled pity and overbearing concern after she’d lost them, psych evaluations and suicide watch. She wasn’t like the others, fragile and easily discarded. Andy knew what she was - an agent for the fucking Bureau, a professional with responsibilities and respect.

Now that she had it back, all was right in the world.

“Do we have a map of the locations of previous dives and the ranges that were investigated by previous agents?” Janice asked.

Andromeda revealed a highlighted map from her case. She’d anticipated this - professionals who expected her to be ready, it was what she wanted after all. “Yes, should all be here from the previous excursions. Only the three, not too much got pulled up but they would be good places to look into if you’re wanting to get wet.”

The man-mountain spoke up next after eyeing the mermaid. “Vhere is this nasty now?” The German followed. "We will need… soil samples within the bay, where these creatures were caught - and we will need markers on the water composition. pH levels, metal toxicity, chemical assays… the like.” There was an implicit statement in his words: I will be doing this.

"Not to mention a sample of the mutated fish. Any toxins or compounds present in the soft tissue or bones may… indicate a potential origin.”

Andromeda nodded in response and looked between the two of them. “In your vehicle outside you’ll find necessary equipment for environmental testing - our results are from quite a while ago, so checking with someone with environmental services in town or performing them yourselves might be for the best.” She thumbed the edge of the mermaid photo. “As for this nasty, we believe it’s being held at the Sheriff’s office.”

"I'll work on closing off the beach." Miriam unfolded a small notepad from her pocket and began taking notes. "Probably the safest bet to say we're EPA. Can you get us badges, or are we going to have to be persuasive?"

Ian set down his mug and turned towards her. “I know a guy in the EPA who can get us some badges - well my guy is technically Fish and Wildlife, but he’s got a friend who can get us something,” Ian removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes - the warm relief of rest laid tantalizing in the back of his mind but could not advance. “Might take a good day or two for anything more official than badges - but it’s what I’ve got.”

"Are there any more photographs of the oarfish at all, from other angles? This one... it's a very good photograph and it's trying its best, but I don't think it quite has what we need. That was... recently, though? What happened to the oarfish after the photograph was taken?"

Agent Medrano let out a downcast sigh. “I’m sorry, but that’s all I have - like I said, I believe the fish has been taken to the sheriff’s office or at least nearby.” She offered a half smile before adding, "but if I hear anything or anything else gets pulled up, you'll be the first to know."

It wasn’t hard to see this was a bit of a rushed job for the Bureau. No screening team or embedded scout to see what was happening, just a team of misfits from all over the skill spectrum thrown together to look into a case long thought resolved. It wasn’t the first time Ian had seen something like this happen, but at least this time it was interesting.

The mix of colleagues he had been placed with were - amusing to say the least. Ian liked to stay quiet as the others worked - no need to cloud their heads with unnecessary chatter unless it could help them. He wasn’t on the same playing field as Weiss or Culver when it came to the academics, and he didn’t possess anything of use that was out of the ordinary. Just night terrors, the Hurried Man in the corner of the bedroom - never stopping, never ceasing. He wasn’t the kind to complain or break over some nightmares - he was an operator and he got the job done no matter what.

"Violence,” the European man roared.

Violence. Once in a while that’s what the situation dictated - whether with a hammer or a scalpel, sometimes things needed to get dirty. Ian had been on both ends of the stick and knew the cause and effect of such actions - it was just the state of the world - no, the state of life. Ian understood, at least he thought he did and offered the man a nod before he scooted a bit closer and offered an open hand. “Rivers, Ian. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name before, mister?.." He waited for the man to shake it and prayed he could match his grip.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what all do you bring to the table?”

Last Edit: Jun 13, 2022 9:31:39 GMT by Ghostly

. . . I could never hold enough of you in my hands . . .

Prospero
New Member

"Oscar Mike."

Posts: 12

Fear Not The Night: Lobsterfest Jun 15, 2022 21:15:19 GMT Ghostly likes this

Post by Prospero on Jun 15, 2022 21:15:19 GMT

The sheriff. Of course. It made sense for such a small town. Of course, that begged the question whether they even had the means to preserve the nasty. Rasputin's hand swiveled like an owl, intently watching the man who introduced himself as Ian Rivers scoot closer. This was not something the slav was a fan of. Personal space was one of the things that he very much appreciated. Never-the-less, he met the handshake firmly, but not overly so. Rasputins hands were large, like excavation shovels. Built for putting on people one might say. "Gregor.", he offered no further elaboration.

"Vell...", he puffed sharply. The question was something to be pondered. "...I can choke ghost. Spectral ops, yes? And I clinically dead — uh — si...seven? Seven times. Tough shit. Always get back up. Like zombie. You know Night of The Living Dead? Am fan of the independent horror film.", he also noted. Old films overall were his passion. One that he discovered very early into his black ops career where he would spend hours in transit. There was a tangible pause as Gregor took a moment to ponder what to say next.

"In Gruzia one time actually zombie bite me. One time. It not take." Rasputin waved this all off with a certain lack of enthusiasm. It appeared that he was focused solely on stringing together English sentences in his head before he said them out loud. It wasn't working as well as he hoped, unfortunately. Which is why he was gesturing to illustrate what he meant as he spoke. "Also am just good at wetwork.", he shrugged. There were only a handful more qualified at warfare than the slav.

"What about you, River. You have LinkdIn profil or...?"

It was hard to tell whether Gregor was joking or not. There was never any inflection in his voice.

Last Edit: Jun 15, 2022 21:15:30 GMT by Prospero

UmbraSight
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Lost in the Snow

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Fear Not The Night: Lobsterfest Jun 22, 2022 22:24:03 GMT Ghostly likes this

Post by UmbraSight on Jun 22, 2022 22:24:03 GMT

”Plenty you can do with just a badge and some confidence, no reason to short sell the asset you’re able to acquire. Thanks.” Janice said as she pulled the map of the bay over to her side of the table. For the time period in question the ranges of the previous expeditions weren’t bad, though they still left much to be desired. If the source of the mutations was buried in the seabed then it might be worth trying to follow a different tract than previous teams. She brought the pot up to her lips as she listened to Weiss’ questions, all good inquiries. She sat her pot back down as she squinted at the map.

The occurrences weren’t regular, but that could just be an assumption based on when abnormal samples of local fauna were found. Something caused by changing local currents?

“Some local history might be of use. What families have been here the longest? Any local businesses that have been in operation all this time? And what about shipwrecks?” Janice spoke but the words didn’t seem to be particularly directed at anyone. “Might be worth a trip to the town’s library to see the history that didn’t make it online.” She yawned as she leaned back in the booth, her eyes raising up from the map to check out the others around the table.

//... into the dark she stepped, but never did she feel free of the gaze...//

illirica
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Fear Not The Night: Lobsterfest Jun 23, 2022 15:00:46 GMT Ghostly likes this

Post by illirica on Jun 23, 2022 15:00:46 GMT

Lillian gave Ms. Medrano a distracted nod and, a moment later, a polite "Okay, thank you." Sometimes it was hard for her to talk to people, not because she minded the people themselves, but because they couldn't hear everything else that Lillian could. With all of the things that surrounded her having their own inputs on the conversation, it always felt rude to talk over something when it was speaking - but sometimes that led to spaces in the conversation with whoever she was talking to that seemed strange to them. Some people were understanding about it, but some people were not.

Lillian tried to listen to the people, too, not just the objects around them. She wasn't very sure about the talk of violence. Lillian could acknowledge that sometimes monsters were big and scary and violence needed to happen, but she hoped that she wasn't going to be asked to do it. Lillian wasn't sure she knew how to be violent. Maybe she could talk to something about it, but then she would have to find something violent. People thought that knives were violent, but they varied widely. Most of Lillian's experience with knives was of the kitchen variety, and they were just happy to be useful and divide things into small pieces. On the other hand, maybe dividing a monster into small pieces was somewhat the right idea, so perhaps there was some wisdom to be gained there after all.

Still, she didn't know if it was realistically feasible. Lillian was not precisely built for violence. She looked like someone's little sister, and probably more little than she would have liked. She was fully grown, but height had not been something she was genetically predisposed towards.

The other man was talking too, the one who had been quiet so far. Mr. Rivers, he had introduced himself. He asked about the table, so Lillian looked down at it, but the table didn't really have a good answer to the question.

"Were we supposed to bring something?" Lillian inquired, "I didn't know this was a potluck." She could have brought some pickled vegetables. Lillian was good with pickles. She talked to them while they fermented so that they didn't get so salty about things. No one had told her to bring anything though. Maybe Miriam had it covered for her. Lillian looked over to her inquisitively to see what she was supposed to be doing.

Last Edit: Jun 23, 2022 15:01:33 GMT by illirica

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Quirbles
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Fear Not The Night: Lobsterfest Jul 6, 2022 14:31:51 GMT Ghostly likes this

Post by Quirbles on Jul 6, 2022 14:31:51 GMT

At the mention of equipment being provided, Johann gave a curt nod. ”I have brought my own equipment, so anything extra is helpful.” The portable AFM hybrid in his satchel would cover most of his needs for surface characterization of the samples they would be taking. Chemical analysis was also possible, but such procedures were best left to actual pH and soil testing kits. An extracting agent test would be beneficial for topsoil testing; if there were an abnormal lack of nutrients, contamination might be likely. He kept these thoughts to himself as he looked out the window, no longer engaging the group visually but nonetheless attentive at the ears. Johann allowed a beat to pass after Gregor and the small girl explained themselves before he picked up the thread of conversation. It was fickle, as threads often were— it needed great care, lest their mission fall by the wayside. Qualifications were important. Limits were important.

”I am a thaumaterials scientist. My expertise lies in the observation and analysis of… paranatural surfaces and materials,” Weiss began, adjusting his spectacles by the rim as he glanced down at the table. ”Specifically for purposes of classification and application. I assume I have been called here due to the fish being mutated, meaning… potentially paranatural tissue samples and foreign agents.”

Another brief pause. He cleared his throat, softly, and continued. ”I will be able to handle any sampling and analysis, if need be. I also… know my way around a gun, if need be.” The chances of him using a firearm during this assignment was slim, but not zero— a very important distinction to make, in a field such as this. ”With any luck, I will be able to tell you if this fish was born or made in such a state, or was changed through carcinogenic or mutative agents.”

Last Edit: Jul 6, 2022 14:31:58 GMT by Quirbles

Annasiel
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Fear Not The Night: Lobsterfest Jul 26, 2022 12:33:54 GMT via mobile Ghostly likes this

Post by Annasiel on Jul 26, 2022 12:33:54 GMT

"You're fine, Lil. You didn't need to bring anything," Miriam replied in a lower tone, before speaking up to the rest of the table.

"I'm a specialist security officer, ma'am. I deal with field operations, and ensure the safety of our intelligence when on mission." A slight smile touched her otherwise stern face, and she patted Lillian on the arm. "At the moment, I'm currently the ward of Lillian here. She's a talented psychometric, very useful for gathering information."

And very fresh to field assignments. She had her work cut out for her, here - if things heated up, it would fall on her to keep Lil safe.

"I myself have extensive firearm and conflict training, as well as training in resistance to cognitive and memetic hazard exposure."

And experience in being a boring old sourpus. Lighten up a bit, Miri! You could stand to smile a bit more, instead of being all grumpy-serious.

Miriam didn't react or respond, instead holding eye contact with the bureau woman for a few more seconds before cutting it with a professional nod.

Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn't there!
He wasn't there again today,
Oh how I wish he'd go away!

UmbraSight
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Lost in the Snow

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Fear Not The Night: Lobsterfest Aug 6, 2022 22:51:15 GMT via mobile

Post by UmbraSight on Aug 6, 2022 22:51:15 GMT

“Oh, I haven’t introduced myself fully, have I?” Janice said as the rest of the table described their specialties. It sounded like they had a healthy mixture of specialties available for trying to unravel this current mystery, and at least a familiar face or two as well, which was always helpful. The back and forth of getting to know new people always used up so much more energy, but still the Bureau had many members and she would be doing them and herself a disservice if she didn’t take the time to include pleasantries. Though, is making sure everyone knew what you had to offer the team really something as simple as a pleasantry? Something that seemed worth pondering once she was far more awake than she was right now.

“I’m Janice Culver, I’m a field researcher with specialties in mythology both ancient and modern. I also aid in the classification of anomalous objects that have been newly brought to the Bureau's attention with aims to find connections between the object and any previous writings.” Janice said, before she took another long draw from the coffee pot. “Mm, they aren’t always writings I suppose, people have been using many different communication techniques to pass information down to the newer generations — excuse me that’s irrelevant. If there’s something paranormal causing these mutations, I’ll try to sniff them out.” She finished, with a yawn.

//... into the dark she stepped, but never did she feel free of the gaze...//