The hot summer sun beats down on you as you wait outside the ancient looking mansion that makes up the headquarters of Blackfield Supernatural Consulting. After making your way from your home to Boston, Massachusetts, then to Salem, you finally had to go almost an hour out of the town to reach this mansion that looks like it's been abandoned for years. Upon arriving, you found a note taped to the door saying "Out for lunch, be back soon". You've been waiting for over an hour and there's no indication your new employer is going to arrive soon.

You almost feel as if this could be a joke. A mysterious consulting firm specializing in the supernatural and advertising in the tabloids and on conspiracy websites? Except, something tells you there's more to it. Several background checks, numerous interviews, and even a doctor's examination tells you this is serious business. Not to mention that you know there's more to the world then meets the eye.

So you wait.

Eventually you hear a car approaching. A single black sedan with heavily tinted windows pulls into the shade of a nearby tree. A pale skinned man in a dark suit with sunglasses gets out of the drivers seat and makes his way around to the rear passenger side without saying a word to you. Opening the door, another man, this time much older and almost frail looking, steps out. Using a cane to carry his weight, he makes his way over to you with several manila folders in his free hand, closely followed by his driver. The old man is certainly unique looking. He's wearing old faded jeans that have been patched up too many times to count and a t-shirt that says 'Woodstock 1969' across the chest. Faded brown cowboy boots, a leather belt with a shiny silver looking buckle, Aviator sunglasses, and a dark blue baseball cap with the Boston Red Socks logo round out the look. The cane appears to be a well polished dark wood with a large knob on the top that the man grabs on to.

Stopping right in front of you all, the old man looks at each you in turn before speaking in a gruff, though not necessarily unfriendly, voice. "Ahhh so you must be the new hires. I'll assume you've all taken the time to meet each other, so I'll just introduce myself." The old man steps closer and seems to puff up his chest a little. "I am Orion Blackfield, head of Blackfield Consulting. My companion is Wilfred. Wilfred isn't much of a talker, so don't expect any answers from him."

Finishing his introduction, Orion proceeds to hand out the folders he carried over with him. "Rather then do some boring long winded speech, I found us a little test run. I've got a friend who's having a little ghost problem, so we're going to see what we can do. Take a moment to look over the mission dossier and let me know if you have any questions."

Opening the folder, you find only two papers inside. One is a labeled 'Client' and the other is labeled 'Creature'.

Adrian arrived at the building's location nearly two hours before the designated time, exploring the grounds and searching for threats in the area. He had hiked from his motel room in Salem, carrying his bag of medical supplies and his hand gun, a 9mm Beretta, in a leg holster. He wears a dark overcoat, dark grey sweater and weathered jeans tucked into a pair of even more weathered combat boots. Around his neck, the medic has a dark olive and beige keffiyeh, completely covering his throat and providing nose and mouth cover in a pinch. On his head, he wears a plain black watch cap, covering close cropped grey hair. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, Adrian plunked himself down on the front porch and waited.

When the others arrived he gave a raspy hello and a weary, but firm handshake, noting their appearances. Another weary soul with an imposing air, a twitchy kid with a cast, and a British IT girl. An eclectic bunch sure, but if they were up to the challenge, he was there to make sure they came back physically well.

Adrian decided he disliked the kid with the cast, Lancer he called himself. It was the way he carries himself, the way he saw some upstart junior officers act before they got a man killed. Mike acted like that the first couple of months...ignoring his train of thought Adrian continued to study the group. The detective, Harvey, stood out with his stance and his gun, and seemed to be a good man and someone similar to the ex-soldier. The young British African woman was the one outlier of the group, though in a good way. Young, she lacked the broken air of Harvey, lacked the strange affinity Lancer seemed to have with the supernatural, and lacked his own tainted hands. the very clothes she wore differentiated herself from the rest of the small group. Her business attire, the attention to presentation contrasted with the casual outfits of the men. No doubt she would be one of the more important members, if only for her air of professionalism.

As he introduced himself, he began categorizing the individuals into roles. Harvey was a leader, perhaps a detective when he was on the force, capable of leading by example and handling difficult personalities. Another hitter if push came to shove, but better left to verbally defuse situations. Shepard was the technology person of the team, he had seen the laptop bag she carried with her, and her image was one the team could exploit for lukewarm clients and authorities.

And Lancer, where to begin with Lancer. To start, he's extraordinarily unhealthy. Adrian saw the way the man had come in, huffing and puffing and red faced. He also appeared to be both sleep deprived and caffeine addicted. The large dark bags under the younger man's eyes, and the small furtive glances he gave towards Harvey's cup of coffee only added support to the corpsman's diagnosis. His figure, though only slightly shorter than Adrian himself, was also unhealthily thin, enough to make Adrian clinically wonder how the other man hadn't collapsed yet from low blood pressure. From the words the younger man spoke, Adrian began to dislike Lancer even more than he originally thought possible. He put up with the man's caustic words as best he could as he waited for his employers to arrive.

---

When the car pulled in an hour later, tinted windows and all, Adrian went on alert immediately. It was suspicious when a car with all tinted windows was anywhere, even more so when said car pulled up to a group of individuals at an isolated location with no cell reception. Pulling his gun out of it's holster, he thumb caressed the safety softly, hoping that the threat would be enough to deter action long enough for him to react if the situation went hot. Thankfully, his actions went unneeded, though he was aware of how he appeared to his co-workers, when the two men stepped out of the car.

Taking the proffered dossiers with one hand, he holstered his gun and began reading through the documents.

"Medical records? Police reports?" Adrian rasped out as he thumbed his way through the reports. The case intrigued him. Non-violent monsters? That was an unseen unknown he hadn't considered in his experience, though in hindsight wasn't an unreasonable leap to make.

Eddie arrived with at the derelict mansion exactly when he was expected to. He wasn't the suspicious sort even though he probably should be, so he felt no need to come early and case the area. He came dressed in a short sleeved red plaid button-up shirt, blue jeans, aviator sunglasses resting on his face. He fancied himself fairly stylish even though he was old enough to be considered 'not with it'. On his hip was a holstered pistol, a Glock 22, in his hand a Styrofoam cup of coffee still steaming hot which he gently nursed as he strode up towards the door of the building. He was almost certain he had arrived at the wrong address, but the presence of other would-be new hires for Blackfield Supernatural Consulting confirmed he was indeed in the right place. The building was derelict and he was sure it was abandoned. A note informed him that their new boss was out to lunch, so he had nothing to do but wait.

He took the chance to introduce himself to his new coworkers. A gentle smile rested on his face as he glanced at the others who had arrived, "I'm Edward Harvey. Just 'Eddie' is fine." His voice exuded a warm tone. When he first walked up he might have looked a little intimidating, with the pistol on his hip (He figured he might need one) and the neutral scowl he wore when no one was looking, but the moment the smile hit his face he seemed to take on a lighter air. He returned the handshake of the man sitting down on the porch- his voice was raspy, suspiciously so, but Eddie knew better then to comment. As for the others that would come or had already come there there was a gaunt and sickly looking man who's arm was wrapped up in gauze. He knew better then to comment about that too. The last seemed to be the only one of the group that wasn't suspicious, a girl that didn't have any notably strange qualities. After examining each in turn Eddie set in to wait, leaning against the wall of the mansion.

Soon he drained his coffee and they were still waiting. He disposed of the empty cup in his car. When he returned to the spot where he was waiting they were, in fact, still waiting. Had an hour passed? He glanced at his watch. No, it had been fifteen minutes... and they were still waiting. It was at this point Eddie wondered what the hell he was doing out here. He had left his job, which he liked very much (At least before he ran into serial killing Frankensteins) and payed well. He moved away from the town he had lived in for 47 years of his life. He moved across the country to a place he never really wanted to go and came out into the absolute middle of nowhere... and for what, to play ghostbusters? He knew in the back of his mind that he had only made this decision because he wanted to and that this was what he really wanted to do, if only to find answers for what he'd seen, but he still needed to vent.

He also needed to wait.

He briefly considered making small talk with the people around him, but they all seemed... well, a little off, with the exception of the group's female. So he made himself content with waiting. It was by the time that he was picking incessantly at a blade of grass he plucked from the ground to keep himself sane that a black sedan drove towards them. He discarded the piece of greenery and waited for the car to come to them. It seemed that his raspy-voiced friend was a little jumpy, pulling out his pistol as the car came. "Woah, woah, woah, it's just a car! Put your goddamn gun away!" Seriously, was this guy some kind of maniac? This guy got some kind of problem with cars? Maybe he doesn't like the color black? Remind me not to... well, do anything to him, since he seems pretty eager to wave a gun around. He shook his head as the pair emerged from the car and walked towards them. One of them was a sharply dressed but silent man, the other man old and nearly as decrepit as the mansion. The old man greeted them, introducing himself as Orion Blackfield. So, our boss then. And the man that almost got shot by the crazy gun-waver.

Eddie accepted Orion's packet, "I'm Eddie, nice to meet you sir." He knew well enough to be respectful to his boss. He glanced over the file. Ghosts? Guess I really am a Ghostbuster. He had dealt with Frankensteins, but... well, Eddie knew better to be skeptic now, but he wasn't really sure he was ready to accept that so much existed in his world. He guess he would see it and have no choice but to accept it. "So, basically we have to figure out why the ghosts are still hanging around? Sounds... easy enough. I'm ready to go."

Showing up moments before Ed had (that is to say a few minutes before the designated time) Lancer had been visibly sweating and breatheing hard-not only had he made the mistake of walking out here but he had also decieded to play forest ranger, having spent a good two hours wandering in what he was sure would be his pine tree covered grave. By some miracle he had wound up at the right place (and on time, even more shockingly.) Despite his frail frame he regained his composure rather quickly, taking a seat on the steps to the porch he did his best to brush off his signature beige overcoat-of which he had tied tightly shut around his chest and waist giving him the appearance of some oldschool detective. Luckily his leather boots had been perfect for his near death march through the forest.

Almost moments after his arrival another man appeared on the scene to match the one on the porch.

Lancer was quick to note that both slabs of beef were carrying guns-atleast one of them had the audacity to hide his little noise maker though, perhaps he was the clever one of the two Lancer pondered? Clearly the pair were both overcompensating for something he went on to surmise. But then again a brilliant mind such as his did warrant protection; a fact which quickly made Lancer decide these two men were no doubt here for that very reason.

The clever goon who'd been lounging lazily on the porch when Lancer arrived finally did his best to rub two brain cells together in an effort to speak-the results of what Lancer was sure had to be a rather arduous task for the man resulted in a mere hello and handshake. Lancer was honestly somewhat surprised the brute didn't crush his one good hand in some overzealous display of machismo.

Goon two spoke up next and Lancer was somewhat surprised to find that he seemed to be the more articulate of the two gun toting men-then he flashed what many would call an amazing smile and Lancer nearly threw up all over his beige overcoat. So this was that type of guy, Mr. Boyscout-Captain of the football team and part time bully back in his day no doubt-the completely unfounded thought barreled through his almost manic mind like a bullet train. Atleast he introduced himself with a proper name before returning Goon ones (or Wheezy, if you prefer) handshake.

Lancer made note to never call his newly named team mate “Edward” or “Eddie”-instead he'd use something like Ed, making sure to call the man by a name he did not listed in his introduction. He also made sure to pay attention to see if this would bother the much larger man, afterall if “Ed” didn't get under his skin Lancer was sure he could come up with a rather cutting nickname to take its place.

Lancer had been waiting for good old Ed to shake his hand also but the moment never came, no doubt due to some discrimination on Ed's part-people like him were just rude like that Lancer reminded himself. Up until this point Lancer had completely ignored the black sheep of the group-pun intended-because she just seemed so...well...normal? Maybe once she actually started speaking though there would be something worth taking note of, although in all honesty Lancer doubted it. His beady hazel eyes had scrutinized the whole group several times by this point and it was rather apparent by the ever present sneering scowl on his face he was not impressed.

Ed's coffee did smell damn good though. Of course he had only brought some for himself. Typical.

Lancer had been in the middle of continuing his mental tirade about the obvious shortcomings of his partners when a black car began pulling into view (the type of car Lancer had no idea, a car was a car to him). Lancer assumed this newcomer was either the very people they were waiting on or another new arrival to this ever growing little group-albeit one that was either smart enough or wealthy enough to actually somehow have a car all the way out here.

Then Wheezy pulled a gun.

In all honesty Lancer was surprised it had taken this long for the killing to start, the clearly unhinged walking muscle no doubt ready to blast everyone away while under the influence of some narcotics (probably steroids, Lancer noted).

Only the shooting never started, Wheezy showing a degree of control Lancer thought impossible moments ago. Or perhaps he was just a good dog on some invisible leash Ed held? Who knew? Lancer would have to pay close attention in the future and see if that theory panned out at all.

–

Lancer had to admit he was somewhat glad their new employers hadn't been gunned down in a hail of bullets before they could sign his first check. It was no surprise to him that good ol Ed, the bastardly boyscout that he was, wasted no time sucking up to the boss with his rather impressive attempt at actually sounding genuine. The prick.

Taking a silent approach as he often did (and had so far, not even offering a 'hello' yet) Lancer simply grabbed the documents offered to him-opening the dossier in a somewhat humourous, albeit rather impressive, one handed juggling act. Reading over the contents he was slightly disappointment and extremely elated at the same time. On one hand, this was an actual tangible case, but on the other...well...it sounded like a rather simple one. Still, every rising star had to start somewhere, right?

“Well by all means if good old Ed here is ready to go then I wouldn't dream of wasting any of his precious time. I suppose I too am ready.” Lancer finally spoke up, his coffee stained teeth flashing as he spoke nearly as fast as he thought

He could feel his left hand flex on its own accord-he ignored the sensation.

Kat pulled her car into a parking space right in front of the the mansion she had been instructed to go to. It had been a fairly brief drive from Salem, her iPad had plugged into the car's audio system easily enough and she had been catching up on her latest series of audiobooks. The narrator's calm, soothing voice had helped to put her at her ease as she prepares to enter what could be the final part of some elaborate scam or the beginning of a whole new chapter in her life. However, given how much effort had been put into getting the job with its numerous interviews, examinations, and everything else, it was hard to not have at least some belief that it was real. She glanced at the clock and saw that she was about five minutes late to the scheduled meeting time. She turned off the engine and exited the vehicle, taking her laptop bag as she did.

As today was the start of a new job and possibly even career, she had taken some time to put together an outfit together so as to appear professional. She wore a maroon blouse underneath a black business jacket and black slacks, plain one inch black heels, and a small amount of makeup to enhance the overall look of the outfit. She felt rather uncomfortable in the get up and wished she could have put on some of her more comfortable clothing, but first impressions were some of the most important ones. She entered into the mansion ground at a brisk pace and noticed the sign on the door about being out to lunch as well as the three men that also appeared to be waiting. It appeared as though she wasn't as late as she had assumed.

All three of the men stood taller than her 5"7 and they appeared to be a rather strange mixture. The first man that caught her eye was a 40 something year old man wearing what she considered to be rather stylish clothing who was handsome in an older man sort of way, his hair starting to grey seemed only to add silver streaks to his hair and beard. The second man seemed to be of an age close to the first, face weathered and seemed to have suspicious eyes that patted her down as though searching for a weapon. Given his clothing, pistol, and overall demeanor, Kat placed him down in her mind as a former soldier of some sort. His gun did have the effect of making her rather nervous. The last man to be waiting for whatever may be coming seemed rather young comparatively, near her own age in fact, but very gaunt and frail looking. His beige overcoat made him seem like a detective of some sort.

Feeling still somewhat nervous to be alone with three strange men, one armed, by a mansion that appeared to not have been occupied for sometime, it took Kat a moment to build up her courage to introduce herself. "Hello everyone. My name is Kat Shepard, how do you do?" Her British accent helped conceal her nervousness through her carefully trained politeness. The ex soldier greeted her and shook her hand in a raspy voice. She shook his hand rather gently still concerned over the gun he openly displayed. She had difficulty with the American concepts about firearms in the first place. The older man greeted her in a much warmer voice, and she returned his greeting with a small smile. She could see now that he was also armed. She began to think that maybe she had missed a certain section of the job advertisement. The last man outright ignored her, which was fine with her at the moment. She was having some trouble not looking at his arm in any case. With introductions over, there was nothing else to do but wait. She pulled out her iPad and reviewed the blog articles she had collected on different aspects of the supernatural.

After about an hour of waiting, a car pulled into the mansions lot. She looked up at the black sedan, and saw with a shock that the ex soldier had pulled out his gun. Her body froze beneath her as she feared the worst until Eddie interceded. She breathed out a sigh of relief as the driver opened the rear door and let out an older man who introduced himself as Orion Blackfield, there apparent boss. Looking over his rather unique outfit, Kat felt again longing for her usual clothes and some confusion. Orion handed her the dossier for their "test-run" and Kat glanced it over with one eyebrow raised. She glanced at the others. None of them seemed to have any questions, but she had plenty.

"Um yes hello Mr. Blackfield, Wilfred, I have some questions actually." She waited for his attention before continuing. "If the ghost does have some unfinished business that seems rather easy to attend to. But what do we do if the ghost is after revenge? As you say it is already dead, and I cannot imagine every ghosts desire for revenge is justified. Is there some way to ward off these spirits? As for these other ghosts, will they disperse on their own after we attend to Mrs Smith's relatives?"

Orion stares at you for a moment as if searching for your name in his memory. After a moment he seems to remember it and addresses you. “Ms. Shepard I’ll presume? You’re correct, not all ghosts have justifiable desires. Hell, most don’t. Warding is possible, but it’ll just push them off the farm to somewhere else, probably to an abandoned hospital or something equally creepy. Probably piss them off to, and I’d really rather not deal with a poltergeist.” Orion pauses and stares off into space for a moment before continuing. “If you really want to, you could destroy the remains. That usually gets rid of ghosts....” Orion begins mumbling lightly “Lizzie will be pissed if she finds out though…”

Orion’s mumblings are cut off suddenly by the screeching of metal against metal coming from behind the large mansion. The screeching goes on for several minutes before suddenly stopping. While you wait for it to end, you realize that Orion’s silent companion Wilfred has disappeared.

“Looks like Wilfred brought the chopper up. Let’s head back there.” Orion walks off, making his way around the house, just assuming you’ll follow. On the other side of the house you find something quite unexpected. Whereas before there was only unkempt lawn and broken statuary, now a large helipad with a large black helicopter has appeared. The helicopter has only ‘BSC-GRIFN-3’ written on the side with no other noticeable markings. The helicopter’s doors are open on each side and you can see two large stuffed duffel bags sitting on the floor. You can see a shovel sticking out of one of them, but nothing else is really discernible.

Orion holds his arms out indicating the helicopter “This is the GRIFN-3. Custom made for our needs. Able to lift an elephant and faster than a real griffin. We had two others but a hydra took them out so this baby is all we’ve got left. Since I only saw one car out front, and my car’s too small we’ll have to take the GRIFN today.” The old man chews on his lip for a moment before giving you a wry smile and continuing, “Oh yeah, did I mention I’m coming along? Gotta make sure you all can handle yourselves. Any who, it looks like Wilfred’s got us all packed up. Hop on in and we’ll head on over to the Smith’s farm.”

@LeonVon
Adrian recognized the make of the helicopter, or at least the frame looked similar to another class of helicopter he was familiar with. Turning to his employer, Adrian raises an eyebrow as he picks up his own bag off the porch. Sliding the large pack over his shoulders, Adrian asked his employer in his weak, raspy voice, "Sikorsky, Black Hawk. Military only, how did you get your hands on that?"

Adrian had spent a lot of time on similar vehicles, a lot of time bonding with his squad mates. Staring at the vehicle, he noticed little differences, little things most people would miss. He missed those days, when Toaster squad was still alive. He knew that he was staring at the helicopter, but the memories that it brought were enough to temporarily pause Adrian's breath

@LeonVon

As Kat wondered just who on earth Lizzie was and why she would be upset about ghosts. She heard the metal on metal grating sound that the rest of them had heard. Wilifred was apparently something of a man of many talents for at some point of the conversation she would not be able to identify he had vanished. Mr Blackfield guided them around to the other side of the property where there had once been an untended section section of lawn was now a clearly a helipad with a large black helicopter upon it. She blinked at it and stared down at the ground beginning to come up with possible schematics for how it could be done. No matter what she came up with, it was an impressive piece of engineering for sure. And expensive as bloody hell. This agency apparently had far more financial clout than she had ever expected. The ex-soldier, Adrien, seemed to be paying far more attention to the helicopter though.

She did not pay much attention till he claimed it was military only. She raised an eyebrow and turned to look at the large vehicle. To Kat, the helicopter only seemed to be that, while the electrical components that made up a vehicle were quite interesting, she had taken much of an interest in vehicles beyond that. She shrugged her shoulders and moved forward into the helicopter, settling herself comfortably into her seat and securing her seatbelt. She looked back out at the others and called out, "In for a penny, in for a pound. Are the rest of you coming along then?"

She secured her headset on so she would be able to communicate with everyone else over the roar of the helicopter. With that done, she pulled out her iPad and began searching for information relating to Elizabeth Smith, her farm, and the deaths of her son and husband in a barn. Any information she found would be related to the rest of whoever else entered the helicopter. She did not see any reason to delay starting her work. Given the mention of Griffins, Hydras, poltergeists, and not to mention the apparent scale of this agency. She had quite a lot of work ahead of her. She smiled down at the screen.

@Bourgeoisie@EurmalEye@Diggerton@LeonVon

Not wanting to fall behind Lancer quickly fell in step with the group as they made their way around the decrepit mansion-he was only half listening as the elderly man now known as Orion went on to answer the idiotic questions of “Ms. Shepard”: honestly, had the woman never opened a book on the occult? Her idea of the supernatural was probably sparkly vampires he finally decided. Poor old man Orion had been in the middle of explaining that there was some idiotic supervisor (there was always an idiotic supervisor) or something above him that dissaproved of destroying bones as a means to end a haunting. Damn ghost huggers.

He was on the verge of voicing this (and several other) opinions when the heavens themselves roared with metalic death-no doubt the work of some Cthullu type entity finally breaking into this world to devour the souls of every living thing. He readied himself for death.

Then he realized it was just a helicopter.

Peculiar, very peculiar Lancer found himself thinking as Orion explained that the pilot must indeed have been his now missing companion known as Wilfred. Not only was Lancer shocked at the ease of which Wilfred had made himself vanish but the speed at which he had also been able to leave and pilot the chopper. Yes, he was an odd one allright-and if there was one thing Lancer knew it was the odd and peculiar.

Orion went on to explain some of the more specifics of the giant flying hunk of metal, facts which completely held no interest for Lancer. Instead he took this moment to slide his bandaged hand into the front pocket of his beige overcoat; he'd noticed Ms. Shepard staring at it earlier in that awkward “Im really trying hard not to look but I just fucking glanced at it again” sort of way he was so used to. He wouldn't have given a damn if it wasn't for the fact that the rotten appendage would start to itch like the dickens-as if it knew it had someone elses attention and wanted to come out and say “Hi” (Or, as Lancer was aware, more likely throttle them.) For now he simply pocketed the dead thing and ignored it.

Wheezy was the next to waste poor old man Orions time by opening his mouth and rasping out a question about where a military helicopter came from. One would suppose the military Lancer mentally roared while biting his tongue. Then before he knew it he was doing that horrible habit he had where he talked “Im assuming, and this is just a huge and vastly wild guess, but I believe they may have procured this mechanical monster through military means? Perhaps even a rogue black ops off the book type dealing? Either way, my feeble minded friend, money does talk. I will grant you it is rather hard to make the connections between the words “military” and “military helicopter”, especially with that huge monoply Walmart has in the industrial war helicopter market and all.” The cascade of over the top flamboyant insults culminated in the final sentence being said in a rather sarcastic tone, the effect of which was amplified by the fact he had said everything all in one breathe-his words straining under the frantic pace of his voice trying to get everything in his mind out before he finally had to breathe in.

More surprising then this somewhat brutal over assessment to Adrians simple question was the fact that Lancer just kept walking to the helicopter-as if he didn't care about the course of the actual conversation and had simply stated his two cents. He especially didn't look like he even expected to be talked back too. Social graces were clearly lost on the man.

Using his one good hand he pulled his way into the helicopter and quickly found a seat. Fumbling for a moment with the headset handed to him he finally had the damned thing affixed properly to his shaved head after a brief one handed struggle. He wasn't surprised at all to look across from his seat and see Ms. Shepard fiddling away with one of those ever so popular tablet devices. He scoffed openly, could she really not go this long without checking facebook? Or perhaps it was angry birds?

He said nothing but was glaring daggers at the woman across from him. He really needed a cup of coffee

Orion lets out a little chuckle at Lancer’s response. ” No, the story isn't quite so extravagant Mr. Lancer. We did some private work for Sikorsky Aircraft’s president a couple years back and in exchange they offered some modified Blackhawks." Orion looks over to where Adrian has been examining the helicopter. Good eye by the way Mr. Kennings. I don't know many people in this line of business that can so easily identify military equipment.”

As you each get closer and into the helicopter, you’re able to see many details you hadn’t noticed previously. There are stands to mount guns on either side of the GRIFN. A large flood light is mounted to the front and it appears there’s a play to hook something like a tow strap on the bottom. While it looks like the entire outside has had a fresh coat of paint applied, you’re still able to make out small pock marks all along the side and bottom. Closer examination of the marks show they’re jaw shaped almost, as if something quite large managed to get it’s mouth around the outside of the helicopter.

Orion hops into the front passenger seat next to Wilfred, who is going through his pre-flight check. “Let’s get a move on! Only a couple hours before dark and I want you all to have a chance to check the area out.”

Once you’re all aboard the GRIFN, Wilfred slowly begins lifting the vehicle off the ground. The Earth begins to move farther and farther away, and Blackfield Mansion gets smaller and smaller. As you’re looking at the ground, you notice that the helipad seems to be sinking into the ground. As you watch it, it goes deep into the earth before a new platform slides out and covers the hole, returning the lawn to it’s unkempt appearance.

Finally reaching the correct altitude, the helicopter takes off to the northeast. Over the headset, Orion says This shouldn’t take too long. Feel free to look through the equipment in the duffle bags back there. Once we land, you’ll meet Mrs. Smith and get a chance to ask her any questions you may have.”

Eddie was already a little apprehensive about his new... coworkers? Fellow ghostbusters? Whatever they were they didn't seem to be a great bunch so far. The girl was normal enough, but the others... well, Adrian was far to eager to pull out his gun. As for the other guy, well, besides the fact that he had yet to introduce himself it seemed like he was already mad at Eddie for some reason. Besides the snarky comment about wasting his 'precious time' he had a look about him like he was silently judging everyone around him. Maybe I did do something to him? Should I try to make it up to him? Maybe he thought I was looking at his arm and took offense? Eddie decided that must be it. He observed the man's coffee stained teeth as he spoke. Caffeine addict? Maybe I can bring him a cup as a peace offering? Eddie decided on it, unaware of the fact that there was no perceived slight and the Lancer was, in fact, just an asshole.

For now he pushed away his apprehensions. He was already here and he had a job to do. He had no questions as they approached the helicopter. He was impressed by it- there was no doubt that the organization at least had a modicum of legitimacy. After all, it would be hard for a mere conspiracy nuts to obtain a helicopter for their loony ghost hunting club. He watched as the sickly guy who for some reason was mad at him berated Adrian for asking where the helicopter came from. Eddie sighed internally. It's not like wondering where a ghost hunter got a military grade helicopter was weird. Maybe he isn't angry at me, more just angry at everyone. For now Eddie would take a seat in the helicopter. He didn't have any questions, at least any questions directly pertaining to the mission. He would save his questions for when he was sure this was the real deal.

Kat adjusted her headset and began to speak into it reading off her findings for the rest of the team. "Adam Smith, died age 44, and Joseph Smith, died age 18. Adam worked as a construction worker for several years before he inherited the farm from his father. He actually constructed the barn they passed away in after the previous barn was destroyed in a storm. As for Adam, it seems he was quite popular in school, baseball player most likely was going to play in college. They were in the barn loft when it collapsed beneath them and they fell in a storage shed with some of their sharpest tools. Their deaths were ruled as accidental, apparently during the inspection it was found that a support beam snapped causing the loft to collapse. The farm itself has remained with the family for quite some time- they mainly do naturally grown organic foods, sometimes working out specific agreements with restaurants and the like for a specific kind and quantity of crop. Quite small actually- it seems they did most of the work themselves outside a bit of local help from the high school. I doubt they have any of the larger farming equipment. As for the client herself, Elizabeth Granger Smith, age 42, got married to Adam at 22 and had Joseph at 24. Formerly involved in numerous community organizations, PTA, that sort of thing, but it seems she dropped out after the incident and hasn't often been seen around town lately. There are some rumors that she may be selling the farm soon as well."

She locked her iPad up and moved to put it back into her laptop bag. As she glanced away from the screen however, she found Lancer's eyes upon angry enough to start spitting daggers at her. She slowly raised one eyebrow at him questioningly, a frown on her face. She had not done anything in particular to the man, and he had ignored her introduction earlier today. With a cool tone of voice and a flat professional expression on her face she asked, "Is there something in particular that I can you with Mr. Lancer?"

Adrian accepted the his employer's explanation of the origin of the Black Hawk, but remained suspicious of the aircraft. "What kind of work did the owner of a multi million company need that required expertise in the supernatural?" Aiden thought as he climbed into the helicopter, noting the gun mounts with confusion. The teeth like piercings on the bottom of the craft also raised eye brows.

Taking a seat he noticed Harvey regarding him with caution, and ignored Lancer's tirade as he secured himself into a seat. Placing his own bag between his feet on the floor, he grabbed one of the other bags and rummaging through it, finding a strange assortment of items. Chief among them a shovel, lighter fluid, and crystals. Closing the bag, Adrian placed it back on the ground as Shepard shared her findings with the group. Flashing the woman a thumbs up, Adrian said, "Good work, Shepard. What else was happening at the location when they died?"

@Bourgeoisie@Diggerton@EurmalEye@LeonVon
In the middle of Ms. Shepards rundown Lancer let out a an audible chuckle that sounded more like a scoff-as if even his laughter was hostile. To no one in particular he quickly spat out "Apparently our Mr. Smith wasn't as good a craftsman as he thought." And then for first time since he'd met the group Lancer flashed something resembling a smile. Only it was a little too crooked, almost sinister in a way. To say it was unnerving was an understatement. But then again maybe he just had one of those faces. It was hard to tell, and his attitude really didn't help.
-
The young Ms. Shepard had spoken his name without him having said it-that was bad, afterall just a google search of his name could expose rather...odd...information: and that was just google, who knew what newfound computer systems this woman was using-who knew just what dark secrets she could dredge up. However he acted like he hadn't noticed, he acted like he had said his name. Part of him was glad to have a partner that could play the subtle nuances in the mental game that was so similar to chess; the other part of him however was irate at the fact that she had indeed achieved check first. Lost in thought for a brief moment Lancer was brought back to reality by what to him sounded like rough sand paper talking-quickly he realized it was Wheezy.

After Wheezy finished speakng, giving Ms. Shepard the approval she apparently craved so much with his caveman like gesture that came in the form of a thumbs up, Lancer was quick to chime in-all without breaking from Ms. Shepards professional gaze. In fact instead of looking away he returned her stare in an almost challenging sort of way, his beady hazel eyes mustering up all the venom they could. Without skipping a beat he responded, his unplaceable accent practically defining the world glib. "Not unless you're hiding a cup of coffee somewhere in that computer file of yours. By the way, could you check the weather for me back home inbetween your next facebook update? You see I left my tomato plants outside and am dreadfully worried they will drown in the rain."

@T Risket@Bourgeoisie

Kat turned slightly to Adrian at his comment, not breaking line of sight with Lancer and gave him a small, if also wary smile before shaking her head. "Nothing I could easily find for now. It may be easier to find out more about the events once we examine the scene and talk to the wife. Limited connectivity on my iPad at the moment. Once we arrive I can head to the town's library or the town clerk's office, presuming one exists, and search through the public record assuming Mrs. Smith does not provide us with any useful intelligence." She turned back to the gaze of Mr. Lancer's beady hazel eyes that were still fixed on hers, observing her interactions with Adrian like a hawk. But less like a hawk, she considered, and more like a viper eyeing its prey just before it struck. His gaze certainly seemed venomous enough...

His response came almost directly after she had finished speaking to Adrian. There was an unmissiable air of insincerity resounding out of each syllable that he spoke. Her eyes widened slightly and she tried to hide her reaction, but it was too late. She snorted out a breath of laughter amused, despite herself. "You know sadly I have no coffee on my iPad, but I am sure that there will be an app for that soon. While I lack the apparently requisite Facebook account, I can certainly look up the weather." She pulled up her IPad once again. Her amused eyes sharpening, though sill amused, a small amount"Where might your home be? I would hate for your tomatoes to suffer any needless damage. Perhaps you might call a friend to move them for you?" She flashed a professional smile at him, before glancing down at her bag in sudden small realization. She popped off one of the buttons holding a smaller pocket closed reached in and pulled out an unused teabag. She extended out her hand to Lancer, offering it. "Earl Gray. It seems the closest thing I have to coffee."

Kat gave them a rundown on the information she had found. Eddie was glad that while Adrian seemed jumpy and Lancer seemed to have a bone to pick with everyone and everything around him she was at the very least professional and competent. He gave her a small nod of approval, "Good find Kat... I hope it's alright if I call you Kat instead of 'Ms. Shepard', it may be our first day on the job, but I hope we can all get along." He gave the group his grin, which Lancer might have described as 'shit-eating', but most would describe as friendly. In the same breath that he finished his sentence Lancer went out to destroy any hope of a health group dynamic. Eddie has observed him staring down Kat, and when she asked what exactly the reason for that was he responded in a way that was somewhere between smug and outright hostile. So, not angry at me? Maybe he's having a bad day? Or... well, maybe he's just an ass. Eddie noted to himself.

Kat responded in kind. She returned his smugness, but Eddie was less inclined to chide her for it- after all, it had been Lancer (According to Kat his name was Lancer, Eddie now knew), that had instigated it. Eddie sighed mentally, refusing to let his frustration show, keeping his smile on his face and hoping to defuse the situation. Eddie played the role of mediator- he was adept at it, or the very least thought himself to be, after having spent many years as a police officer. Responding to arguments about to get out of hand was a very regular occurrence when he was a beat cop, back before he was a detective. Eddie cleared his throat, hoping to interject before Lancer got his next word in, "Lancer, there's no need for hostility. Let's all get along, alright." His smile grew, something that just might piss off Lancer even more. In fact he didn't really prove to be mush of a mediator after all.

He might have just made the situation, although he didn't know that.

He turned towards Kat, "That sounds like a good idea. You guys can go check out the library and the clerks office after we talk to Mrs. Smith, but I think I'll stick around and try to get some information out of her. I was a detective so I've got a little experience working a witness- er, well, Mrs. Smith isn't a witness, but you get my meaning." He said. He was really hoping that some glib remark wasn't about to come out of Lancer's mouth, but that probably wasn't the case.

@Diggerton@EurmalEye@Bourgeoisie@LeonVon
It only took Lancer a second to decide he would not give Ms. Shepard the pleasure of learning the actual whereabouts of his home-he also made a mental note to learn all he could about tomato plants in a better effort to somehow further this completely on the fly lie. He was in the process of making up names for friends when he decided it was probably best to stear the conversation elsewhere, a task that proved somewhat easier with the rude interruption of good ol Ed. Still, Lancer had to admit (although he never would outloud) he was rather glad that the fair skinned woman who he mentally called Ms. Shepard was putting up such a lively display of thoughtful banter. In his experience most simply folded like a tower of shoddily stacked cards.

Before he knew what was happening Lancer had been forced to endure having a bag of poisonous British leafs practically shoved down his throat by the aforementioned Ms. Shepard while good old Ed rambled on about...Love and friendship? Probably something along those lines, although Lancer honestly wasn't really sure on account of him not giving a damn what the man said. Instead his focus was more on the offered teabag now hanging infront of his face, his seemingly always hostile gaze treating the thing like it was some sort of diseased bubonic plague carrying rat. For a brief moment he simply looked at the dangling bag in a very personal display of silent disgust before wordlessly tossing the damned thing out the open helicopter door. He was fairly certain he had just saved all of their lives.

With the tea crisis averted Lancer fully remembered what old man Ed had been saying.

"Lancer, there's no need for hostility. Let's all get along, alright."

At the mere suggestion Lancer seemed extremely insulted, as if Ed had just slapped him in the face with a wet fish(served with Earl Grey.) His eyes furrowed into his usual expression of anger as his volatile gaze turned from Ms. Shepard to Ed. Did the man who personified small town sheriff really just say that? More importantly, did he really just say that and then flash that classic shit eating grin? Lancer had to give the man credit though-afterall it had been a good long while since he'd seen a brute like Ed who seemed to somehow mime the actual emotions of a human being. Fortunately Lancer knew better than to be fooled.

“Right. Right your are Ed. Lets all just play friendly like one big Breakfast Club, is that it?!” His ramblings were punctuated here with a loud 'Bah!' before his frustrations were turned towards one of the bags at his feet. Quickly rummaging through the same contents that Wheezy had already gone through Lancer was somewhat impressed to see some fairly useful things here. Without a word to the team he pocketed a good number of crystals and the only piece of thick white chalk: he'd thought it best to safeguard the precious item before Wheezy and Ed got the idea to doodle with the valuable tool or some other such nonsense.

Up until this point Lancer had done his best to ignore good old Eds clear and outlandish attempts to insult him. Much to his chagrin though the dinosaur of a man just couldn't seem to quit talking.

"That sounds like a good idea. You guys can go check out the library and the clerks office after we talk to Mrs. Smith, but I think I'll stick around and try to get some information out of her. I was a detective so I've got a little experience working a witness- er, well, Mrs. Smith isn't a witness, but you get my meaning."

“Oh, we all get your meaning Sheriff Ed.” Lancer spat back, well aware of his bulky companions intents to terrorize some poor widow with some well rehearsed bad cop routine no doubt. Or atleast that's what Lancer had decided was more than likely to happen. “And I hope that when you say 'You guys' as you so eloquently put it, ED, you don't really intend to have me chaperoning this little field trip to the library do you?” His gaze momentarily met Ms. Shepards again as if moving a pawn on his unseen mental chess board. He wasn't sure if she'd picked up the gesture though-Regardless he kept on talking in a manner that made it rather apparent how he felt about Ed and in many ways the world in general. “I myself have a more direct approach in mind. But please, don't let that stop you lot from badgering widows and applying for library cards. I mean, we all have to play to our strengths afterall, am I right?”

He finished his latest verbal assault with the same oddly disturbing coffee stained half grin that had graced the group in the aftermath of his first dark joke.

@T Risket@Diggerton

Kat tilted her head in mild interest as Lancer watched the bag of tea leaves as though at any moment the bag would come to life and attack him with supernatural ferocity and hatred. While she was still uncertain of many things in the supernatural world, she had to wonder if the sheer amount of rather excessive hate directed towards the simple offering would somehow imbue it with the very qualities that Lancer seemed to proclaim it had with simply a stare. Some type of supernatural self fulfilling prophecy? If any look could have actually done it, it would have been the one that Lancer leveled against her tea. At that moment, Eddie spoke up and she took advantage of Lancer's distraction to stow the teabag back inside of her laptop bag.

"Good find Kat... I hope it's alright if I call you Kat instead of 'Ms. Shepard', it may be our first day on the job, but I hope we can all get along."

Kat nodded easily at him, giving him a brief smile. "Kat is absolutely fine. Much preferable to Miss isn't it? We will be spending quite a bit of time together it seems and it would have just gotten irritating after a while in any case."

Eddie then seemed to attempt to protect her in some regard, or perhaps he was simply thinking of the team's unity as a whole, or perhaps even thinking of how best to present himself to Mr. Orion. Kat hoped it was not the first thought that had crossed into her mind. She did not need or want any unnecessary protection, it simply made her uncomfortable and she had been doing rather well holding her side of the conversation. She did not particular sense any malice or ill will coming from Lancer, he was simply an ass, or as she had so often heard her American roommates a 'total dick.' Kat did not see any reason why they couldn't get along regardless. In any case, this seemed only to continue Lancer's tea based vitriol, now redirected at Eddie. He let out a fairly acidic verbal jab at Eddie than began rummaging around the bags and stowing several items away in his pockets. Kat thought briefly about doing the same, yet she knew very little beyond conjecture what it was that she was supposed to do with these items. It would most likely be more beneficial to leave it to those who would know more about what to use these for. Lancer obviously knew what it was he was looking for and what he wanted, perhaps he was already extremely familiar on the supernatural?

After he had grabbed the items he had wanted. He continued his tirade against Eddie after Eddie had commented about questioning Mrs Smith, in an admittedly rather awkward way, but certainly not in one that deserved this amount of scorn. Then Lancer did a very strange thing, in the admittedly long list of strange things from her perspective. He made the comment about chaperoning the trip to the library and then looked at her almost as though to see if she was watching. The expression on his face spoke almost of a challenge though still there was general disdain for Eddie and the world around him. He turned back away from her and continued talking. Kat thought about this rather strange action for a moment. With that glance, he had become less of a general ass in her mind and something more akin to a verbal sportsmen looking for a worthy opponent. While Eddie was friendly with him, he seemed to have become only more and more hostile towards him. Lancer seemed to be a strange man looking for someone to challenge him, as for why she simply could not say. With that thought in mind, she thought on what to do next. If she continued her current policy of challenging him- it was possible that he may tone down somewhat having found a suitable opponent, however it was also possible that she was mistaken and he would only get worse. However the situation as it was obviously needed to be resolved, or at least patched while their employer was present.

When he was done talking, Kat looked towards and gave him a deliberately slow blink. For every movement on a game board there was a counter move, if she commented on not needing a chaperon on her excursions, he would be able to start himself up again and come after her. Instead she choose to simply ignore the comment, blinking at him only to let him know that whatever game it was that Lancer might be playing, she knew how to play as well. Instead of replying to his comments she asked, "And in a case such as this one, what is the 'more direct approach?'