Fantasy We're the people who bump back. (Private for Tarmagon and Lucyfer)

[Tarmagon]

Carl Adamson was not a happy man as he stalked along the corridors of the Paranormal Solutions headquarters. The last mission he had been a part of had been concluded successfully, but the cost... Goddess bless, the cost. One team member dead, two in the infirmary, and then there was Cheryl. He hoped that some time at Brentwood would help her put her mind back together. For their sacrifices however, the small town Half-moon Falls still existed, and most of the townsfolk were in the process of rebuilding their lives after the attack by the Dark Coven, Carl could still see the hordes of undead, the homunculi, and the demons. The intelligence briefing hadn't warned them about the demons. Carl shook his head, thanking the Goddess that the demons hadn't been incarnate, just possessing human bodies. Of course, that had been bad enough. The speed and strength... Carl's thoughts were interrupted by a hail from down the hall.

"CARL!" a familiar voice called. "Davis wants a word."

"Shit," Carl muttered under his breath before raising his voice. "Fine Max, tell him I'll be right there."

"He's in his office," Maximillian, Max to his friends, called back before ducking his massive frame back through the door he had emerged from.

Carl quickened his pace, his body moving on autopilot as his mind whirled down a different path. What could Davis want? He knew Carl was just back from a difficult mission, that he had people still recovering. There was no way he could be thinking of deploying them again. Hell, Carl was the only team member still on his feet and with his mind intact. Carl's thoughts were cut short by the sound of a throat clearing, and he looked up to see that his musings had carried him to Davis' office, and that he was no longer along. Marya Reynolds was standing outside the door , obviously waiting for him.

"Boss call you too?" she said, holding out her hand. "And... I heard bout Josh. I'm sorry, he was a good Hunter, and a good man."

"I guess so," Carl said, giving Marya's hand a quick shake. "And yeah, he was. But before he went down, he took a lot of the bastards with him, and saved a group of twenty kids, so I'm certain he's laughing it up in Valhalla."

"He was Asatru?" Marya asked, her eyes widening as Carl nodded. "Tyr bless and welcome him. May his fallen foes serve him until Ragnarok."

"Odin's will," Carl responded, then shook himself. "Shall we see what the boss has up his sleeve this time?"

At Marya's nod, Carl knocked once on the door, then pulled it open without waiting for a reply. Davis, and that was all anyone ever called the leader of Paranormal Solutions, didn't stand on ceremony. If he sent for you and the door was not locked, you just entered. Davis was sitting behind his desk, a frown on his face as he examined a piece of paperwork, but he looked up with a smile when Carl and Marya entered.

"Have a seat you two," Davis said, waving at a couple of chairs. "Carl, that was a good recovery in Half-moon Falls. I'm sorry about Josh, and I'm sorry about the lack of good intelligence on that mission. To be fair however, that thing that you recovered when the smoke cleared about gave Jasper a coronary. When I left he was muttering about centuries since anything like it had been seen. I'm expecting a full report from him, and I'll make sure you get a copy. Meanwhile... I know you're the only one of that team to come out more or less in one piece, but I need you for a contract job."

Davis grabbed a couple of folders out of the pile on his desk and handed one to Carl and the other to Marya. As they flipped through the contents, Davis resumed speaking.

"We're contracted with Artis Petroleum for specialized site security. They've got an exploratory drilling site at the Texas/Louisiana border that is having some issues. There's nothing overtly supernatural taking place, but at the same time the incidents are, unusual given the remoteness of the location. Marya, I want you to set up one of your special security packages at the site so we can determine if we actually need to send in a team to deal with a serious threat. Carl, the reason I need you with her is that because of the remote location, I'm authorizing the use of The Rig."

Carl whistled at that last statement. The Rig was a heavily modified tractor/trailer combination that could function as an independent base of operations for several teams. Living quarters were a bit cramped, but there was a full galley, armory, workshop, medical bay, and command center. It cost a large fortune, and was one of the reasons PS was as successful as they were. Carl also understood why Davis was asking him to return to the field so soon. He was one of the handful of people with the proper credentials to actually drive the thing.

"There's another reason to use The Rig," Davis said, and his voice had turned serious. "I'm not sending you two to the back end of nowhere without security... but we're a bit short of shooters right now, so I'm sending Desantes and Edom with you. You should be back well before the full moon, but if something goes south and you're still in the field... well, Desantes knows how to use the crypt, and he's proven time and again that he's in control enough to do so."

"I've go no problems," Carl said. He had worked with supernatural beings in the past, and if they were in control of their more, predatory natures, he gave them the benefit of the doubt. He knew Desantes was a werewolf, but he wasn't certain what Edom was. He only knew that she was short, female, and had horns that she kept perpetually filed down. If she had been red, he would have pegged her a female version of Hellboy. "When do we leave?"

"I've got Desantes and Edom coming in for a briefing in a few minutes," Davis replied. "After that, it's up to Marya. So soon as she can get what she needs loaded into The Rig, you can hit the road. Don't push it, Artis just wants an investigation for now. If things look normal, leave monitoring gear and head home. If things turn strange, observe and call for backup."

The last was a clear dismissal, so Carl and Marya stood, nodded to Davis, and headed out. Carl headed for the garage to inspect The Rig, Marya turning down a side corridor, most likely heading for her shop to start gathering gear. Once he was finished with his inspection, Carl went to his room to gather his own gear and weapons. Time to go to work.

 

[Lucyfer]

"You need hobbies, Adrienne. You won’t think about eating people if you’re distracted."​

Marshall wasn’t exactly wrong, but the frustration at the poor, dying african violet did make Adrienne Edom wonder if it was even worth pursuing this particular hobby, or any other hobby, of late. The pink blooms were gone, leaving her with leaves, some of which had fallen off. She still had some good ones, and finally, the grow lamp had arrived, but now she sat.

And watched.

Time was a relative thing. Adrienne was no vampire, but she had learned how to be still and alone.

Knocking took her out of the trance.

Hunger coursed through her immediately as it broke and she reached for her bag of buffalo jerky as she turned her attention to see Marshall, stuffing her mouth with a bite as the werewolf grinned and stepped into her small quarters, “Hey, Davis wants to see us for a job.”

Adrienne nodded and popped another bit of jerky into her mouth before settling the bag besides the plant and getting up, padding barefoot alongside Marshall who towered above her, and plenty of others. Some considered their partnership was only because of their supernatural status, and while not a lie, it wasn’t the only reason. There were few among the supernatural who could keep Marshall reigned in, but Adrienne had that dubious honor, as Marshall had the questionable duty of re-domesticating her.

If that was even a thing.

Marshall knocked, but entered without waiting to hear Davis call them in. He lifted a hand with a friendly smile, “Hey Davis – what’s going on?” Marshall knew better than to do much with pleasantries, though his expression shone with warmth as he looked at Davis.

Davis cut to the point, “Atris Petroleum has contracted with us for security down on the Texas-Louisiana border,” he said, “there’s nothing obviously supernatural happening, but better safe than sorry, given the remoteness of the location. I’ve got Adamson and Reynolds going along – Reynolds will be setting up a security package to verify if there is reason to call in a larger team. Adamson will be driving the Rig.”

Adrienne cocked her head, “You think something serious is going on.” Deadpan. Obviously he did, but more than usual, if the Rig was involved.

Davis nodded, and he added a bit, “Workers are quitting without explanation other than the land feeling wrong—”

“This is native land, isn’t it?” Most lands were, really, “Is this another burial ground?”

“Unconfirmed,” Davis said. “All that is known is that people are quitting over that reason, and there are complaints of strange shadows at night.”

Adrienne didn’t enjoy the jobs on the burial grounds. While she was not undead herself, she’d felt off even before she realized what was going on with herself whenever she happened upon those blessed lands. Understanding the term ‘wendigo’ made it make a bit more sense. The power that imbued those blessed lands, was akin to the power that had cursed her. Sometimes, she wondered if the lands she ate her family upon had been blessed and that’s how the curse happened to begin with.

She’d never roamed back to it.

Davis continued, “We’re short on gunners right now, so I need you two to go. It’s far enough from a full moon, but the Rig has a crypt if the job takes a while.” And he knew the lands didn’t really seem to have any impact on her. None that she’d noticed enough to report, at any rate. Just that feeling, but regular people could feel it, too.

Obviously.

“I know, I know,” Marshall said, “I’m not worried, I watch my cycle religiously.” He shifted his weight a bit, contemplative a moment, “Haven’t worked with Adamson and Reynolds before, so I’m excited to meet them,” Adrienne rolled her eyes. “My comic was needing some new characters.”

Eager like a pup.

Davis made no comment on the comic. “If there are no more questions,” he glanced to Adrienne, but she remained silent, “then prepare yourselves and join them at the Rig.”

Adrienne walked out first and Marshall was right behind. “The plant is going to die,” Adrienne complained.

“You can bring it.”

Silence.

“Have you named it like I told you?”

A sigh, “Simone,” she answered.

“Bring Simone. The grow light will work on the Rig. We’ll find a way to make it stay steady.”

“Fine,” it was going to die anyways, may as well die in the Rig. Staring at her failure would at least keep her mind off of eating anyone.

Gods was she hungry.

Marshall parted ways from her soon enough and she stepped into her room to pack a bag, throwing on black tennis shoes to go with the gingham pajama pants and too-large T-shirt of some band called ‘Sleep Token’ she’d yet to listen to a single song from. It mostly served to cover the locket underneath. There was no need to change for the Rig, but she had more…well, clothes didn’t look like they belonged to someone who had given up, in the bag she slung over her shoulder.

On her hip, rode Annabelle.

She carried Simone carefully, and had the light bundled up under her arm rather than thrown in the bag so she could, ideally, get it plugged in sooner than later.

Aches gnawed at her. She wished she had kept the bag of jerky out of the travel bag, but she just bit her bottom lip and sought the door into the Rig, locating it, and heading in without ceremony to set up her little space.

To tear open the bag and eat.

She distracted herself with not spilling the plant instead, though still heard when Marshall arrived outside.

She could hear him calling out to someone, “Hey! I’m Marshall Desantes,” she could imagine his lifted hand, bright smile, “– you on this mission?”

 

[Tarmagon]

Marya

Marya stepped into her cluttered workshop and paused to take a mental inventory of what she had available, what she could put together on the trip, and what she wanted to take with them. Seismics were out. Too much vibration from the drill rig. Thermals were always an option, but they couldn't detect undead or spirits. She'd probably go ahead and throw a few into the mix just to cover all of her bases though. Starlight sensors might be usable, but only if she placed them with care, since drill rigs tended to run serious illumination after dark. Laser/optic trip lines? Now that had potential. Pair that with IR floodlights and cameras... humming happily to herself, Marya moved around the shop, filling a couple of large cases with finished items and parts. Stacking the cases onto a dolly, she tossed her portable toolkit on top of the pile then unlocked her gun safe. Considering the contents carefully, she finally pulled out a pair of shotguns. One appeared to be a standard pump action, and the other was, different. It had a boxy magazine slung under it, and a very non-standard selector switch mounted near the trigger guard. Considering the rest of the safe's contents, Marya pulled out a large box with a caution label on it saying 'Kitchen Sink' and added it to the pile on the dolly. Satisfied with what she had, Marya turned her steps back towards the garage where The Rig waited.

It took a bit longer than normal to get to the garage, but that was to be expected considering the weight she was hauling. Even with the dolly, Marya was sweating profusely by the time The Rig came into view. As she approached, Marya noticed an absolute mountain of a main standing outside the converted semi. He was over six feet tall, broad, and boasted a shaggy mop of black hair. Before she could notice anything more, he spotted her and waved.

“Hey! I’m Marshall Desantes,” he said, “– you on this mission?”

"Marya Reynolds," se called back as she hauled her load closer. "Davis said you would be on this run. Just call me Marya. We can talk some more while we travel, but right now I've got to get this stuff into the workshop."

Carl

Carl had just finished packing his armor and was turning his attention to the rifle he affectionately 'Melody' when there was a knock at his door.

"C'mon in," he called, not even looking up from Melody's action as the door opened. When his visitor spoke however, his eyes snapped up to see Jasper leaning in his doorway, frowning slightly.

"I will never understand why you love that cannon you call a rifle," Jasper said, shaking his head. "It's heavy, incredibly noisy, and useless at anything less than twenty-five yards."

"This 'cannon' as you call it," Carl replied with a familiar grin, "Can reliably reach out and touch something at over a mile, more than double that if conditions are right and I get a lucky shot."

It was an old, familiar argument between the two. Carl loved his M82, and Jasper was aware that he had sniped targets before the creatures had even managed to catch their scent, keeping his teammates and civilians safe during what could have been messy encounters. That didn't stop Jasper from ribbing Carl about the massive rifle's weight or the thunderous roar it made when firing. Carl respected the magical trinkets and potions Jasper made, and Jasper respected Carl's skills with the massive rifle.

"Your proclivities for overkill aside," Jasper said, and his tone deepened to match his frown, "I understand you're out again?"

"Yeah," Carl replied. "Scout and security run for a petroleum firm. Ass end of nowhere Texas, or maybe Louisiana... it's so close to the border we might end up straddling the line on the lease. I'm basically the chauffer this run. Marya's running the surveillance package, and Davis is sending Desantes and Edom as security."

"That's... why I'm here," Jasper said slowly. "You know Desantes is a werewolf?"

Carl nodded, and Jasper took a deep breath before continuing.

"Edom is, something else," Jasper said, and Carl looked up sharply at his tone. "She's not undead... not quite. We think she's a wendigo, but one not bound to a specific parcel of land."

"Wendigo?" Carl asked, his brow furrowing as he dredged up all the information he had been taught about wendigos. Technically not undead, since they never died, wendigo were humans who were cursed by the land itself, usually after committing some act of incredible evil or something most people thought of as unforgivable. Cannibalism figured heavily in most of the wendigo creation myths. Once cursed, the unlucky being became the protector of the land that created them, possibly as a cosmic sentence of community service to atone from the heinous act that cursed them. "Is she going to try and eat me or the team?"

"NO!" Jasper said forcefully, then grinned. "Okay, you got me. In all seriousness... no, although it might get tough on her if she gets badly injured."

"In that case I'll shoot her a bad guy," Carl said, absolutely deadpan. Jasper shot him a look, but Carl returned the mage's gaze steadily. After a moment, Jasper nodded.

"You would, wouldn't you?"

"She's a teammate," Carl said simply. "As long as she sticks to the bad guys, who am I to judge? It's not like she has a choice in the matter."

"I know our motto is flexible minds," Jasper said with a disbelieving shake of his head. "But you take it to a whole new level. Safe travels my friend. May She watch over you."

"Merry meet and merry part, to merry meet again," Carl replied, watching as Jasper turned and left his room. Moving quickly, he gathered the rest of his gear and headed for the garage. The Rig wouldn't drive itself.

Lucyfer

 

[Lucyfer]

‘Reynolds.’ Marshall acknowledged the woman as one of his companions on this trip, apparently the tech savvy one based on all she was planning to load up. He gave a nod at her request, “Good to meet you Marya. I’ll head into the Rig, but if you need help loading anything, just give a shout,” he knew better than to just step in. Everyone here was fairly capable on their own, and most already knew to ask for help.

They had teams for a reason, after all.

And his only job was to be security, so he didn’t want to step on any toes when he was just a glorified meat shield. Well, glorified meat shield, and had the task of making sure Adrienne kept her head. That wasn’t really difficult, but mingling with other people always seemed a bit dicey. Some didn’t really appreciate what she was, so he never announced it, nor did she.

Better people not know.

Marshall was able to find her easily enough. She’d found a bunk to claim near an outlet, where she had managed to rig up the grow light on an shelf that could be pushed back into the wall; great for placing phones and other temporary devices that would need to charge, but of course, she was just going to use it for the plant.

“Mmm, not a good way to make sure the plant doesn’t rock, huh?”

Or the lamp, for that matter. “I’ll see if I can find some duct tape, there’s always some of that around,” he wouldn’t wait for her to agree, simply step out to search the Rig for it, and he knew where the junk drawer was in the workshop, so he slipped in, and out, with the duct tape. “Here,” she had at least put the plant down, and took the duct tape from him, slicing the lengths she wanted with her nails and then taping up the lamp so it wouldn’t move. “Gonna tape up the plant?”

She shook her head, “I’ll just hold it.”

He could comment on how boring that would make her trip, but he refrained.

Boring for her, likely meant an amusing comic strip for him

He’d considered turning her character into a vampire – but they didn’t really need anymore good PR. People already romanticized the bastards enough. A wendigo wasn’t really easy to romanticize – no one wanted to imagine their genitalia being eaten – but he’d kept her as just that in the story all the same.

It was different, and with the popularity of Hannibal Lector, it worked in his favor. How and why people romanticized him was beyond Marshall’s comprehension.

“I met Marya,” he said as he settled onto another bunk, while Adrienne pulled the jerky out of her bag, “Marya Reynolds. Seems like she might be tied to her devices, so shouldn’t bother us too much,” that was the vibe, and Adrienne hummed around a piece of jerky she’d popped into her mouth. She didn’t bother chewing it, as she shifted back to holding the plant under the light.

He knew, very well, she would indeed sit like that for hours on end, moving to likely get new pieces of food.

And he’d settle into making a new comic when the Rig got moving.

“Haven’t met Adamson yet, but I’ll pop up front to see him when we get moving,” unless the other poked their head back here to make sure everyone was on board, of course. Always possible.

Another hum.

“Maybe they’ll be new characters.”

A scoff.

“Hey, there’s been plenty of one-offs. People are still begging me to bring back Anders.”

Marshall could not bring back Anders. The real life inspiration for Anders was dead. He had considered immortalizing the fight that took his life, more than once. His comics weren’t always funny, considering there was a story arc, but he hadn’t figured out how to do it just then. Especially since he hadn’t been on that job.

Anders may just remain a one-off forever.

“You know, they say talking to plants helps them grow. Something about the oxygen movement.”

He had a shit eating grin on his lips when she flicked her cold gaze up.

Even if it was the truth.

She didn’t speak, just went back to staring at the bloomless plant, waiting for movement to disturb everything and occupy her entire attention. “You’d be a great bodhisattva.”

 

[Tarmagon]

Marya

Marya appreciated the offer of help from Marshall, but she was glad when he didn't push. She was rather particular about her equipment, and unless it was an emergency, she preferred to handle it herself. Hefting her shotguns and the box marked 'kitchen sink' she climbed into the Rig and made her way to the armory. A quick glance at the keypad lock told her it was one of her designs,, so she tapped in her personal code, making the lock click open. Inside the small room were racks of pistols and long guns, as well as various cases of ammunition. Moving to a small, heavily armored box marked with caution symbols, Marya opened the lid and deposited her burden within, carefully closing the lid before racking her shotguns into a pair of empty clamps. As the door shut behind her, she felt the slight vibration of someone climbing the stairs into the Rig. Carl must be here.

Carl

Carl climbed the access stairs leading into the back of the Rig, noting the dolly sitting by the steps with a couple of large cases sitting on it. It seemed that Marya had beat him back. Idly he wondered if the other two team members were already aboard as he opened the door and stepped inside. He saw Marya heading towards him down the central passage, a bright smile on her face.

"Weapons are in the armory<' she said as she passed him, obviously heading out to deal with her equipment cases. "I met Marshall, he's already on board. No idea about Edom though. I'll have everything on in five minutes or so, then I'll be good to go."

"That's good," Carl said, turning to let Marya pass. "Meet up in the galley in ten minutes if you would."

"Be there with bells on," Marya replied before disappearing out the door.

Carl dropped his bag outside the armory and keyed in his code. Once the door clicked open, he stepped inside and unslung Melody, placing the massive rifle into a cradle built into a ledge along the back wall. He thought long and hard about keeping his pistol on him, but in the end, decided against it. The odds that they would be stopped for any reason were low, but not non-existent, and law enforcement types tended to get trigger happy when they saw holsters, even when the wearer was properly licensed. He'd retrieve his weapons before they hit the site. After racking his pistol, Carl left the armory and headed to the living quarters. He heard faint sounds coming from one of the small bunk rooms, so he opened the door to the other, finding it empty. Setting his bag on one of the two bunks, he reached out and flipped a switch mounted by the door. The intercom system crackled to life, and he waited a second before speaking.

"This is Carl Adamson," he said, listening to his amplified voice come from an overhead speaker. "I'll be your chauffer for this little outing. If everyone could meet in the galley in five minutes, we can do a quick mission review and then get on the road."

Releasing the switch, Carl left the cabin and headed for the galley. He had time to brew a pot of coffee and grab a snack before everyone got there, probably, and he intended to take advantage of the chance. He was going to be driving for a long time, and wanted the jolt of caffeine


Lucyfer

 

[Lucyfer]

Static from the speakers made Marshall wince, his nose wrinkling a bit in displeasure before the voice began to speak, introducing itself as Carl Adamson. He let his expression relax, even if he couldn’t settle into a cheered expression while listening to the speaker. “Well, you heard the man!” Marshall said once the voice stopped speaking, clapping his hands on his thighs as he rose to his feet.

Adrienne shut her eyes and let out a long sigh, but she settled her plant carefully on the little shelf before rising. She took one last piece of jerky and followed Marshall out to the galley, which he found partially from memory, and partially from the scent of coffee that started to exude from the room.

As with Marya, he gave Carl a wide smile, “Hey Carl – I don’t suppose you have a taste for hands, do you? – ah, never mind, you probably haven’t seen Llamas with Hats,” he mostly said it to get a bit of a smile from Adrienne, and it worked.

Cannibal jokes.

Of course it worked.

A truly distasteful sense of humor.

“I’m Marshall Desantes,” he introduced, “werewolf, but we shouldn’t have any issues with that, I’ve been living like this for years now, I know what to do.” He wasn’t ashamed of what he was. He hadn’t wanted it, but he knew how to deal with it, “I just become a raging bitch consumed by blood once a month, not too abnormal,” he chuckled to Adrienne’s roll of her eyes.

He didn’t actually know if she had that issue anymore, though he realized the joke could be in poor tastes to Marya. He almost felt like apologizing but didn’t catch sight of her immediately. “Anyways, good to meet ya. Can’t say I know much about you but that’s not too strange. I don’t work with too many others here, just Adrienne.”

Open minds, maybe.

But not everyone was willing to work with two obligate carnivores.

Adrienne nodded when her name was mentioned, but she was looking around the small kitchen, resisting the urge to look at the food stores. The scent of coffee didn’t really make her hungry, thankfully, but it was an irksomely potent scent all the same. “Adrienne Edom,” she knew the introduction was unnecessary. Carl would have figured it out easily just through deduction, even if he hadn’t met Marya yet.

Unlike Carl, she had not taken her gun from her hip.

 

[Tarmagon]

Marya

Marya heard Carl's voice over the intercom as she busied herself settling the contents of her cases into the small workshop. Some items stayed in the cases, some went into clamps on the cramped workbench, and some went into bins racked along one wall. She had opened up her portable tool kit, settling it onto one end of the work bench before strapping it into place. She wouldn't be able to do any fine work while the Rig was in motion, but she could easily do design and enclosure work. Finally satisfied that she could work reasonably well in her little domain, she turned her steps to the galley, arriving just in time to see Marshall and a small woman making introductions to Carl. Barely pausing to give the trio a nod, she made a beeline for the coffee pot, pouring herself a cup and sipping appreciatively before returning her attention to the room.

Carl

The coffee pot was nearing the end of its cycle and Carl was trying to decide between a bag of trail mix and handful of energy bars when he heard footsteps behind him and turned to see a veritable wall of a man and a woman who seemed tiny by comparison walk in. Before he could open his mouth, the man spoke up.

“Hey Carl – I don’t suppose you have a taste for hands, do you? – ah, never mind, you probably haven’t seen Llamas with Hats,” he said, and Carl felt his brows knit in confusion. What was...“I’m Marshall Desantes, werewolf, but we shouldn’t have any issues with that, I’ve been living like this for years now, I know what to do. I just become a raging bitch consumed by blood once a month, not too abnormal. Anyways, good to meet ya. Can’t say I know much about you but that’s not too strange. I don’t work with too many others here, just Adrienne.”

While Carl was trying to process everything Marshall had just bombarded him with. the small woman spoke. her voice and demeanor nothing like Marshall's.

“Adrienne Edom."

His mind still locked up in processing everything, two things came to the forefront of Carl's mind. First, that Marya had entered the galley at some point and had made straight for the coffee pot, and second that Adrienne had a pistol holstered at her hip. Shaking his head slightly, Carl joined Marya at the coffee pot, taking a mug for himself as his brain finally kicked back into gear after the flood of words and information.

"A pleasure to meet you both," Carl said after taking a sip of coffee. "I'm Carl Adamson in case you hadn't already guessed. I'll be driving this behemoth while Marya works and you two get to take it easy. Adrienne, that's Marya, technology whiz kid and not someone you want irritated with you."

Marya looked over the rim of her mug at Carl for a moment, then nodded to Adrienne and Marshall before sitting on the edge of a table and raising her cup once more.

"Besides being your driver for this excursion," Carl continued, "I'll be our initial point of contact with the Artis crew. Once introductions have been made, it's Marya's show. We stay out of her way unless something turns nasty. If that happens, we do what we do best. Marshall, I'm hoping you'll want to take charge of the perimeter security once we arrive. My skills tend to lean more towards infiltration, sniping, and exfiltration, not fixed security."

Lucyfer

 

[Lucyfer]

The two humans had to have their coffee. It was something so normal, Marshall couldn’t help but smile at how Marya rushed over, and then Carl, getting over the introductions. He ought to be grateful it wasn’t another pair that liked to chug down monsters or redbull.

He couldn’t help but snort at the ‘take it easy’ part. That was only for the trip, but he wouldn’t argue it. He was used to the harder work of the actual fighting, and it was what he was suited for. He wasn’t too techy, and his tainted blood gave him some extra benefits even when he wasn’t a large, raging, hairy lunatic. He was still a bit harder to kill than the average human.

Adrienne nodded at the introduction.

“Noted,” Marshall said aloud, about not upsetting Marya. Not that it was anywhere in his plans to upset either of them. He knew Adrienne wouldn’t really care about the warning, though she never went out of her way to upset people, either.

“Me, huh?” Marshall couldn’t help but keep that grin on his face, “Not Adrienne?”

At Adrienne’s silent side-eye, he chuckled, “Yeah, I’ll do it, don’t worry you picked right. I have pretty good senses,” not that Adrienne’s were anything to laugh at, he’d learned. Hers weren’t in flux thanks to an inconsistent moon. His were.

More than that, he was better at the whole ‘working with others’ thing. Adrienne wasn’t there yet. If she ever would be. Which meant, “I’ll want to know the kindergartener’s version of what you’re setting up, Marya, so I know how to work with and around it, if I need to. I imagine you’ll know better when we get there, so we can keep that conversation until then. I’ll make sure Adrienne’s set on a perimeter path as well that suits her skills, but I’ll probably use her as more of an outward scout if that doesn’t bother you any. I promise, despite her looks, she’s more than capable,” he added, unwilling to divulge anything if Carl and Marya didn’t already know.

It wasn’t his secret, after all.

Someone needed to go exploring, and it may as well be the one he didn’t even know how to kill.

Through the direction, Adrienne remained silent. She had no arguments with anything so far.

 

[Tarmagon]

Carl shrugged at Marshall's comment about his sense. Even in human form, he would have heightened senses and reflexes. Of course a silver bullet would absolutely ruin his day, but Carl didn't bother to point that out. As a hunter, Marshall would know that every round they had in the rig contained enough silver to turn any kind of lycanthrope into a rug. His comment about Adrienne gave Carl an opening to see how forthcoming the taciturn woman was willing to be.

"Adrienne," he said, looking the diminutive woman squarely in the eye, "I know Marshall is a werewolf, and as long as I don't accidentally shoot him, very little I carry is going to bother him. Would you be willing to share a bit about your nature with us? I don't want to deploy something that would be detrimental to you through ignorance. I'd also like to know what I need to do to help you out if something or someone decided to take a chunk out of you."

Carl waited for Adrienne to make her decision patiently. He could already tell that human interactions weren't exactly her cup of tea, but he could live with that. As long as she wasn't a danger to him or his team... or of the civilians they were charged with protecting, Carl had no problems with her. If that ever changed, and he prayed to the Goddess that he never, ever had to take out a supernatural team mate, he would act accordingly.

 

[Lucyfer]

Adrienne kept that bored look on her face as Carl turned to address her, holding his gaze without flinching.

‘I eat people and I don't know how to die.’ Telling others she are people usually didn't go well. Even if she said it with disgust, not that she honestly felt that anymore. It was hard to say she felt much of anything outside of that hunger, though.

That and a queer sense of service to Marshall for daring to try and give her something more than that. “If you find something that kills me, Adamson, I'll thank you from Hell.” She said rather bluntly, “until then, if you need to decapitate me in order to accomplish some important task, don't hesitate. It's not the worst pain I've dealt with and I will heal.”

“That uh, that takes a bit, and the method isn't exactly…humane. But I can deal with that side of things,” Marshall waved it off, to avoid explaining the nature of healing. Jasper helped, once the head was more or less attached, but it was still slow if she wasn't eating.

And she didn't eat unless some of the bad guys happened to be delicious. Otherwise she just ate whatever meat was available and munched on jerky throughout the day, to stay occupied, the way a smoker just kept smoking because they didn't know what else to do with their hands.

 

[Tarmagon]

"Heal... from a decapitation," Marya said slowly, setting down her coffee cup with suddenly trembling hands. "Not even a Master Vampire can recover from a decapitation. I don't know of ANYTHING that can recover from that."

Marya's voice had begun to tremble just as badly as her hands had, and she regarded the slight woman with something akin to terror in her eyes.

"What ARE you?"

"Let it go Marya," Carl's voice seemed to cut through the building anxiety that was threatening to overwhelm her, and Marya drew a shuddering breath before nodding. "Now then, I actually do know a few beings that can survive a decapitation, however I'm going to operate on the assumption that Adrienne here is neither a shuggoth nor a incarnate demon. If Adrienne doesn't want us to know what she is, I'll respect her decision. However..." Carl's voice took on a much more steely tone, "Please don't do anything that will make me try and figure out how to kill you. I'm very, very good at things like that, and you absolutely would not BELIEVE the amount of paperwork I'd have to fill out."

Carl glanced at Marya as he said the last bit with a perfectly straight face, and he saw he jaw drop, then one corner of her mouth quirk up slightly. It seemed he had managed to deflect her concerns over Adrienne with a bit of gallows humor. From Marshall's comments, he was fairly certain that the werewolf knew far more than he was admitting, but it was Adrienne's choice what to tell them, so Carl shrugged it off mentally.

"Unless anyone needs any last minute supplies," he said, "We'll be getting on the road as soon as I do my last walk around. I figure it'll take around six hour for us to get to the site, so make the most of your time. Adrienne, I'd appreciate it if you'd put your weapon into the armory, or at least in a locker in your room. If we get stopped for a surprise inspection, law enforcement types tend to get really excited when they see anyone besides themselves armed."

 

[Lucyfer]

The shock was familiar. The horror. Perhaps the only surprise was that Carl didn’t react that way, voicing that he was familiar with entities that could do that. Adrienne was fairly certain she was neither a shuggoth nor an incarnated demon, though she wouldn’t rule out the latter. Based on what she’d done, some certainly considered her demonic.

It was Carl’s comment on paperwork that earned something of a more human reaction from her. A bit of a smile, and an amused gleam, “I will withhold such actions until you upset me, Adamson,” she stated, “I am all too familiar with how annoying paperwork is,” she despised it.

She let Marshall do most of it.

“We shouldn’t need anything extra, we’re good to go,” Marshall added, relaxing a bit. He’d tensed up under Marya’s reaction, reasonable as it was. He’d definitely not believed Adrienne when she mentioned it before.

Adrienne added, “I’ll put the gun in a locker,” she didn’t really enjoy having it off, even if it wasn’t strictly necessary, but she understood. She wasn’t trying to start problems and they had enough as it was traveling like this.

Law enforcement didn’t exactly work with them most of the time, and wasn’t really meant to know they existed.

When she and Marshall returned to the room, she did just that, before resuming her duty of tending to the poor plant likely not to survive her care. Even so, she held it under the light, almost unmoving, as Marshall laid back and worked on his comic. He was a few weeks ahead, but one never knew when a job would keep him from creating for a while, so he preferred to work on it whenever he could.

Throughout the drive, Adrienne didn’t sense any shift that would suggest the land that bothered her. Despite her earlier suspicions of it being burial grounds, the sensation of it never struck her, and she knew the Rig didn’t keep that feeling out. When the Rig slowed to its last stop, Marshall shifted, “I’m going to see if I can get some info out of Marya about the set up – or at least take a look at things. I think we’re here,” he checked the GPS that was on his tablet before stretching up, “Yeah, should be,” or they hit a last minute diner.

He wouldn’t mind ice cream.

Maybe after the trip, though.

“You coming?”

Adrienne sighed, but set the plant down. “Try not to scare them anymore, k?”

“No promises,” though she’d probably just peek in and see if she was needed. She probably wouldn’t be until Marya was set up and Marshall knew what areas he wanted her to scout, but it wasn’t good to be ignorant. She left the gun behind, at any rate.

 

[Tarmagon]

The trip had proven relatively uneventful for Carl, at least until he hit the last twenty miles or so. Unlike the parts of Texas he was familiar with, this part seemed to consist of a massive forest with lots of pines and other trees he couldn't identify right off the top of his head. The map he had downloaded had been the saving grace for the trip, because the freshly cut roads weren't on any GPS maps. Only the fact that they had been constructed to allow for the passage of drilling equipment made it possible for the Rig to navigate into the forest. Finally, the GPS unit on his dashboard told him he was approaching the designated coordinates, even as it continued to chime an insistent warning that he was driving through forest, not along any marked road. Carl could see the road widening ahead, and he slowed, pulling the Rig up into the landing pad for what appeared to be a fairly standard wildcat rig. He pulled to a stop beside what appeared to be portable barracks for the workers and shut the Rig's massive engine down. He was in the middle of flipping the power to the solar charged batteries when the silence hit him. Wildcat rigs were always a bustle of activity, shifts running around the clock, the muted thunder of the massive generators that powered everything, the clanks and bangs as drill pipe was slotted into place and the while of the hydraulic motors and pumps. This place was silent.

"We've got a problem," Carl said after thumbing the intercom button. "The site appears to be deserted and completely shut down. Hostile territory drill until we know what's happening. I'm going to retrieve my rifle and set up on top of the Rig as over watch. Marya, can you get a drone in the air? Marshall, could you and Adrienne start a ground investigation? Oh, and everyone grab a radio.."

Rather than exit the cab and move around the Rig, Carl climbed into the sleeper cabin and undid a hidden latch in the ceiling. A hatch popped open, hidden behind the cowling of the cab, and Carl scrambled up and out. The gap between the tractor and trailer was wide, but Carl had made the jump many times, and he landed easily, moving to the hatch cut into the trailer's roof. A few seconds work to uncover the keypad and enter his code resulted in the hatch popping open, and Carl slid down the ladder into the Rig proper, landing in one of the dry storage lockers. He could hear the others moving about as he ran to the armory, unlocking the door and releasing Melody from her latches. He also grabbed a pistol, strapping it onto his waist before grabbing a bag and shoveling in a handful of magazines for it and a few for Melody. He wasn't looking forward to climbing the ladder with the massive rifle, but he had done it before and would do it now. Something wasn't right, and until they could figure out what was going on, he was going to assume the worst.

As Carl reached the ladder and started up, he could hear a buzzing sound coming in through the open hatch. He looked up just in time to see sunlight glint off of the body of a small drone. It seemed Marya had been prepping one for when they arrived. As he emerged onto the roof, panting slightly from the effort of hauling Melody and her ammo up the ladder, he saw the drone swinging around the Rig in ever widening circles. He didn't know what sensors Marya had on the little craft, but she seemed to be running a standard search pattern. Nodding to himself, he keyed his radio.

"Carl here. I'm on the roof and ready to provide fire support if needed. Let's be careful here. We don't want any blue on blue casualties."

 

[Lucyfer]

Adamson’s voice rang through the intercom, revealing they had arrived – but there was a problem. Adrienne scowled up at the speaker, mostly annoyed with the Rig in the way of, well, everything. She considered going back for her gun, but opted against it. As Marshall said, she didn’t really need it, though she still touched the necklace just under her shirt.

She probably should have gone to grab armor or something, but she didn’t.

“I’ll get the radio, wait outside,” Marshall said, moving rapidly back, no doubt to gather some weapons, too. Adrienne nodded, and continued her path out of the Rig through the more normal door. The buzzing of the drone was already in her ears as she stepped out, and she glanced up at the device, before taking in a deep breath and shutting her eyes, focusing herself on the new environment and all its strange new scents, all its strange new feelings.

Blood and shit. Those usually comingled, though.

Adrienne opened her eyes as she heard more movement around the Rig, and as Marshall stepped out and put a radio in her hand. “Think it’s good to go ahead?”

“Mmm,” Adrienne hummed, “I’m not hearing anything.” Other than the drone, and then the buzz of their radios. Nuisance devices. She wouldn’t crush it, though, and she let Marshall answer as she slipped hers into a pocket in her pants.

“Roger, Adrienne and I are going to head out. She’ll go out further, I’ll explore the actual site,” Adrienne watched the way his eyes went over the machinery, the gates, with little interest. She wasn’t opposed to going beyond – the blood seemed further away, anyways. It didn’t make much sense, but Adrienne wouldn’t mention that. “We’ll comm with any findings,” she saw the look he gave her, and rolled her eyes.

She’d rather not, but she would.

With a nod, she sprinted off, going right and following the fence along the outside of it, looking for anything that might clue her in to what may have gotten into the drilling site – or what may have drawn them out.

Adrienne did let herself be drawn away from the fence by the smell of corpses, swallowing back saliva and ignoring the hunger pangs that only increased the closer she got. The scene was a mess, though she looked over it with a relatively dead gaze. ‘These all seem to be workers.’ Not that she could say that for certain. Uniforms didn’t seem to be in play here, but the reek of oil was on their clothing even over the stench of death. ‘You cannot eat them.’ Dead or not, the living deserved to have closure for their loved ones.

She pulled her radio out and pressed down. “Adrienne, due west. Lots of bodies just outside of the drill site. Trying to determine cause of death now. Over.” She knew not everyone used ‘over’ anymore, but it was a habit that died hard, as she put her radio back in her pocket and pulled her baggy shirt up over her nose and let it hang there before approaching the bodies to look for signs of injury and what sort.

She’d breath as little as possible to hinder temptation further, despite the disadvantage it put her at for recognizing incoming threats.

~***~

Marshall had walked into the drill site. He saw Adrienne going around the fence, so he’d head deep in and let her handle that from outside. There were no vehicles within the site, which seemed quite strange as he went around it. There was evidence of a struggle, though, not just outside, but inside.

He still knocked at every door, but found each unlocked, and within was often a mess. Items tossed haphazardly on the floor, food spilled, and traces of blood – but no bodies. That was the part that became increasingly unnerving to Marshall as he continued his search through the site, although an answer came for that when Adrienne’s voice crackled through the radio.

The bodies were outside.

West.

Marshall considered going to relieve her of the duty of examination, though he supposed the duty of port-a-potty inspection wouldn’t cheer her any, either, as he knocked on one before opening it. He knew it was fairly pointless to knock on them when there was no one within, but there was always that chance –

‘Ah, hell no.’

The scent of shit was strong as he opened the door, but underneath that wretched smell was something more. “Hello?” he couldn’t believe he was even wasting his time with this, he didn’t trust his senses this far from a full moon.

There was a muffled sound, that soon became unmuffled, and Marshall stepped into the Johnny-On-The-Go and looked down to see someone who found the worst way to save their own life – stuck in the damn toilet. His nose wrinkled, and he tried not to laugh at the situation, “Hey, so uh – let’s get you out of there, yeah? I’m not here to hurt ya, all right – hold on,” he grabbed his radio, “One survivor, stuck in a toilet on site. Recovering them now,” with that, he quickly put his radio back into the bag he had at his belt, and knelt down to do his best to remove the toilet itself to make getting the person out of it, a bit easier.

 

[Tarmagon]

Marya watched the drone feed as the small device gained altitude, spinning in place over the Rig to give her a panoramic view of the area. Nothing was moving except Marshall and Adrienne as they headed for their areas of responsibility. Carl was an unmoving mass on top of the Rig, waiting to pivot to cover wherever his support was needed. Muttering to herself, Marya flipped a switch and the view from the drone split into two distinct screens, one showing the regular view, and one a mass of bright colors. Only a couple of spots glowed bright enough to stand out, and Marya smothered a curse. She should have know that the thermal unit would have been useless as the sun beat down on the site. Only Marshall was distinguishable, thanks to his were metabolism, and the generators showed signs of being run recently, though the glow was fading into the general background even as she watched. About three hours or so maybe since they had been shut down.

“Adrienne, due west. Lots of bodies just outside of the drill site. Trying to determine cause of death now. Over.”

Marya resisted the urge to swing the drone over to see what Adrienne had found. She had a job to do. Leaving the thermal running respite its limited utility during the day, she began to direct the drone into an expanding spiral around the site. Best to make sure nothing was heading in for a visit.

***

Carl caught glimpses of the drone as Marya moved it around, but he kept his attention focused outward, ready to shift his position and field of fire at a moment's notice. He wasn't big on their ground units moving independently, but considering their limited resources it was the right call. Besides, if someone said they had things under control, Carl believed them until proven otherwise. Marshall and Adrienne were an unknown quantity, but they had experience together, so Carl trusted them to play to their strengths.

“Adrienne, due west. Lots of bodies just outside of the drill site. Trying to determine cause of death now. Over.”

" Copy," Carl said into his mic. "Update and advise when possible."

Carl returned his attention outward, noticing the drone had assumed a spiral course, moving outward. Good. He caught occasional glimpses of Marshall as he moved from building to building, hoping that the were was uncovering some clues as to what had happened here. As the radio silence dragged on however, Carl began to worry. When the radio crackled back to life, Carl felt his mouth drop open.

“One survivor, stuck in a toilet on site. Recovering them now.”

Carl did a double take... stuck in a toilet? What the?

"Marya, keep the drone on station," he said into his radio. ""I'm moving to assist Marshall with his survivor."

Dropping down into the Rig, Carl stowed Melody in the armory, then considered what Marshall had said. 'Stuck in a toilet.' Surely he didn't mean... Carl grabbed a medical kit out of the small infirmary, then trotted down the steps of the Rig. He paused for a moment before opening a storage bin on the outside of the Rig and pulling out two five gallon jerry cans. One contained an industrial grade disinfectant, and the other water. Slinging the medical kit over his shoulder, he hoisted a can in each hand and started jogging towards where he could see a line of the ubiquitous portable toilets. As he approached the line, he could see one with an open door that also rocked slightly as someone moved inside.

"I'm here," he called, looking inside. All he could see was Marshall's back as the man tried to do something with the attached toilet seat. "Please tell me I didn't need to bring this disinfectant and water."

 

[Lucyfer]

Marshall found brute strength more to his liking than trying to find the correct way to remove the toilet. The stench was getting to him, after all, and that didn’t make for good thinking. He heard Carl as he finally got a decent grip, and he pulled the seat off, making a larger space for the poor sod to be lifted through.

He glanced back then as he stepped back to set the toilet aside, “No, we’re definitely going to need that,” he nodded, “thanks for bringing it out here, I didn’t want to have to walk him back to the Rig,” with that, Marshall returned and offered a helping hand to the man stuck within, and managing to pull him free and get him on solid ground.

“You injured at all?” Marshall asked, though he didn’t really scent anything.

Of course, all the shit could be clogging up his senses.

“I’m Marshall – this here is Carl. We’ll help you get cleaned up, and then we need to know some more about what happened here, all right?”

Probably not the best time for the walkie talkie to buzz with an update from Adrienne: “Adrienne. I cannot determine what killed these people. There are no obvious wounds. Thirteen total. I’m going to continue searching outside the site.”

Marshall frowned, and considered answering his walkie talkie, before remembering his hands weren’t exactly in the best state to touch anything until he had a moment to wash them, which he planned to do, “Mind telling her to come back? I think she should be here to hear whatever we learn,” Marshall held up his unclean hands to show why he wasn’t doing it, a bit of an apologetic grin on his lips.

Yeah, somehow, this was working into a comic.

That kind of thinking was all that kept him sane, though he wouldn’t tell that to the civilian, or even Carl, right then.

 

[Tarmagon]

Carl watched in a kind of horrified fascination as Marshall hauled a human figure out of the portable toilet and out into the light. Despite Marshall's questions the man didn't say anything, jsut gazing around with a vacant look in his eyes. His skin had taken on a bluish hue from the chemicals in the holding tank, and the grey coverall had a distinct blue tinge was well, at least where it wasn't liberally covered in brown stains. Before Carl could complete his assessment, the radio crackled to life with Adrienne's report.

“Adrienne. I cannot determine what killed these people. There are no obvious wounds. Thirteen total. I’m going to continue searching outside the site.”

“Mind telling her to come back? I think she should be here to hear whatever we learn,” Marshall held up his unclean hands to show why he wasn’t doing it, a bit of an apologetic grin on his lips.

"Carl here," he said into his radio, barely managing to keep a straight face as he continued. "Marshall... has his hands full right now and can't answer the radio. Negative on the continued searching. Please remain on station until the drone can mark your location with GPS, then return to the Rig. Hopefully our survivor will be talkative by then."

"Drone moving now," Marya's voice came over the radio. "ETA one minute."

Carl turned his attention to their survivor without waiting for further comment, studying the man. Just barely visible under a massive stain of, something, was the name Grimes in red stitching. Their contact was supposed to be one Richard Grimes, could this be him? Shaking his head, Carl pulled the medical kit off of his shoulder and opened it, setting it on a handy barrel a couple of feet away. Pulling on gloves from the kit, he took another moment to unfold an emergency blanket before addressing Marshall.

"I think our friend here is in shock," he said. "If he doesn't fight you, let's get that contaminated coverall off of him and I'll douse him with the disinfectant, along with your hands..."

Carl looked at the front of Marshall's shirt and grimaced. He hoped he had enough cleaner to get the worst off of both of them.

"Make that your hands, arms, and shirt," he continued. "Once the worst is gone, I'll rinse you both down and we can head to the rig for a proper decontamination."

Marshall nodded, then began to pull the coverall down the unresisting man's body. Grimes wasn't wearing boots, which Carl found odd, but maybe he had been wearing slippers that were still somewhere in the holding tank. Grimes started to move, making an inarticulate sound of protest as Marshall hooked a finger into his underwear, but Carl snapped his fingers under the man's nose to make him focus.

"They're contaminated, your whole body is," Carl said, watching sense start to trickle into the man's eyes. "Now shut your eyes and keep your moth shut. This will get the crap off of you, but it might sting if you have any cuts or scrapes. NO! Don't try to talk until we get you cleaned up. You're covered with who knows what, and you don't want it in your mouth."

Grimes stared at Carl for a moment, then nodded sharply, shutting his eyes and holding his arms away from his body. Carl picked up the disinfectant can then looked at Marshall.

"Make sure that his back gets cleaned," Carl said, the paused, setting the can down before rummaging in the medical kit for a handful of gauze pads, handing half to Marshall and putting half in one of Grimes' hands. "Use those to scrub with. Here comes the disinfectant."

Carl picked the can up and slowly began to pour its contents, which smelled medicinal, over Grimes' head, Marshall let the fluid flow for a moment before starting to scrub vigorously down Grimes' back. Grimes stiffened when the liquid hit him, and again as Marshall began to scrub, but then his own hands began to move, helping to remove the, less than sanitary, residue from his stay in the toilet holding tank. Carl kept the flow from the can steady, occasionally directing Grimes to a spot that he missed, then finally set the now empty can down, reaching for its mate.

"I'm going to pour the water a lot faster," he said. "Once I'm done, we have an emergency blanket for you, and we can head to our command vehicle and get you a proper shower."

Carl poured the contents of the water can over Grimes, Marshall holding his hands and arms under the stream for a moment before pulling away and letting the rest of the liquid sluice over Grimes. More gauze pads made an appearance for impromptu towels so Grimes could dry his face, then Marshall draped the emergency blanket over the man's shoulders. When Grimes looked at Carl this time, there was sense in his eyes, though they still appeared haunted.

"Thanks for getting me out of that," he said. "And thanks for keeping me calm until we got that, crap, off of me. You the supernatural folks?"

"That's us," Carl said, discarding his gloves and repacking the medical kit. "But let's save the introductions until we can get you really cleaned up and dressed. Our transportation has a proper decontamination shower with lots of hot water and proper cleaning supplies that won't burn your skin off. Might even have something for you to wear."

"Third building," Grimes said, pointing at one of the buildings Marshall had already cleared. "Locker 117. Combination is 3-25-8. Just grab the duffle bag. It's got everything I'll need in it."

"Marshall, can you grab that?" Carl asked. "I'll get our guest into a proper shower while you do, then you can take a turn. Marya and I will put together a meal and we can all hear what Grimes has to tell us."

"Call me Rick," Grimes said. "But I don't know that you're going to believe what I have to tell you."

"Trust me" Carl said, leading Rick towards the Rig. "We've all got what you might call, flexible minds."

Lucyfer