((OOC: out-of-character thread is at http://forum.theonyxpath.com/forum/g...seen-costs-ooc. Please limit OOC chatter in this thread to a minimum!))
Dale:
It's early in the evening - you had to wake up early today for a case, and it has you cranky. You glance out the window of your stuffy little office and are briefly distracted as one of the last leaves breaks off of the maple tree outside your window and falls toward the ground. Another one passes across your vision, obscuring things for only a moment, before disappearing back into your Mantle. Ah, well, at least your six o'clock should be getting there soon. With any luck, you can wrap things up quickly and put in a quick appearance as Sullivan not too long after sunset.
There's a ring at your telephone. You glance down, momentarily startled - you'd forgotten it was there, again. A couple of nights without work followed by long, sleepless days spreading your particular urban legend will do that, especially given the haze of perception that Clarity leaves the world. You pick it up.
"Mr. Nightshade?" a stern male voice asks, only the barest hint of an accent marking him as a Chicago native. "My name is Mr. Voyczyk. I want you to retrieve something that belongs to me."
Freddy:
How much longer is your shift again? You resist the urge to check your watch as you make change for the yuppie in the SUV. He speeds off without saying anything, the prick - not that you expected anything else. You ignore the hobgoblin face peering out from the rear view window. It's probably not real. Probably.
You pause in the middle of making change as you hear something. Curious, you stick your head a bit outside your booth to hear a bit better. Is that just the wind, or is something... whistling?
BOOM!
There's a crack and a roar as something plummets from the sky and hits the bridge some forty feet in front of your booth. Cars immediately start swerving to avoid the whatever-it-is, and it's only sheer luck that a couple of fender benders are the worst that happens. Before you can blink, the impact has thrown up a haze of dust, cutting visibility to nearly nothing. What the hell?
Malory:
What a day! First you had to deal with that working girl who'd let her John cut her up, then you got called up for a house call, of all things, to take care of that college frat boy's nasty infection out in the suburbs. You're looking forward to getting home and getting off your feet.
...Or at least, whoever's feet you use now.
You pull up to the Skyway and start rummaging around for enough change to pay the tolls, when...
BOOM!
A thunderous impact, not ten feet in front of you. You slam on the brakes and stop in time, but grimace as the car behind you slams into you, causing your own to rock forward half a foot. Goddammit.
Free:
You adjust the folder and wait for the ancient elevator to ding to a halt. You think you might be on to something this time - half a dozen disappearances over the last two decades, all sixteen-year-old redhead boys. The details on the second one are pretty sketchy, but luckily you have a secret weapon - a Lost investigator, one that's good at disappearances.
You mentally flip through the other anomalies that've popped up on the forums lately. The usual alien sightings (some by crackpots, others you want to look into further. Some woman in Lincoln Square who says a meteorite killed her dog. Some creepy serial-killer urban legend going after folks who stick their nose where it shouldn't be going. Maybe you can get some sort of package rate on some of these things, too...?
You finally leave the elevator and head toward Nightshade's office, but pause when you hear a voice. Is he seeing another client? You know you're not late...
You step up to the open doorway and peer inside to see a man - presumably Nightshade himself - on the phone.
Dale:
It's early in the evening - you had to wake up early today for a case, and it has you cranky. You glance out the window of your stuffy little office and are briefly distracted as one of the last leaves breaks off of the maple tree outside your window and falls toward the ground. Another one passes across your vision, obscuring things for only a moment, before disappearing back into your Mantle. Ah, well, at least your six o'clock should be getting there soon. With any luck, you can wrap things up quickly and put in a quick appearance as Sullivan not too long after sunset.
There's a ring at your telephone. You glance down, momentarily startled - you'd forgotten it was there, again. A couple of nights without work followed by long, sleepless days spreading your particular urban legend will do that, especially given the haze of perception that Clarity leaves the world. You pick it up.
"Mr. Nightshade?" a stern male voice asks, only the barest hint of an accent marking him as a Chicago native. "My name is Mr. Voyczyk. I want you to retrieve something that belongs to me."
Freddy:
How much longer is your shift again? You resist the urge to check your watch as you make change for the yuppie in the SUV. He speeds off without saying anything, the prick - not that you expected anything else. You ignore the hobgoblin face peering out from the rear view window. It's probably not real. Probably.
You pause in the middle of making change as you hear something. Curious, you stick your head a bit outside your booth to hear a bit better. Is that just the wind, or is something... whistling?
BOOM!
There's a crack and a roar as something plummets from the sky and hits the bridge some forty feet in front of your booth. Cars immediately start swerving to avoid the whatever-it-is, and it's only sheer luck that a couple of fender benders are the worst that happens. Before you can blink, the impact has thrown up a haze of dust, cutting visibility to nearly nothing. What the hell?
Malory:
What a day! First you had to deal with that working girl who'd let her John cut her up, then you got called up for a house call, of all things, to take care of that college frat boy's nasty infection out in the suburbs. You're looking forward to getting home and getting off your feet.
...Or at least, whoever's feet you use now.
You pull up to the Skyway and start rummaging around for enough change to pay the tolls, when...
BOOM!
A thunderous impact, not ten feet in front of you. You slam on the brakes and stop in time, but grimace as the car behind you slams into you, causing your own to rock forward half a foot. Goddammit.
Free:
You adjust the folder and wait for the ancient elevator to ding to a halt. You think you might be on to something this time - half a dozen disappearances over the last two decades, all sixteen-year-old redhead boys. The details on the second one are pretty sketchy, but luckily you have a secret weapon - a Lost investigator, one that's good at disappearances.
You mentally flip through the other anomalies that've popped up on the forums lately. The usual alien sightings (some by crackpots, others you want to look into further. Some woman in Lincoln Square who says a meteorite killed her dog. Some creepy serial-killer urban legend going after folks who stick their nose where it shouldn't be going. Maybe you can get some sort of package rate on some of these things, too...?
You finally leave the elevator and head toward Nightshade's office, but pause when you hear a voice. Is he seeing another client? You know you're not late...
You step up to the open doorway and peer inside to see a man - presumably Nightshade himself - on the phone.
Comment