---

---

Somewhere in Arizona...

As the midday sun begins to set, signaling the coming of the night, a stripetail scorpion emerges from its burrow home and crawls across the cooling desert ground. The blurred backdrop comes into focus, revealing a highway road and, situated just beside the road, a blue 1962 Volkswagen Beetle with its hood propped open; the car is not being operated. A man hidden behind a detailed map of the contiguous United States traces his finger from the West coast to the East. He stops at one spot and makes tiny taps on the map with his finger. "Right, right, this spot. Right? Is it this spot? 'Innsburg'?" He mumbles to himself before becoming frustrated and setting the map down onto the trunk of his car. We see a man in his late twenties, possibly early thirties. He's clean-shaven with bright eyes; dressed in a trench coat and, more noticeably, a navy tie with prints of little brown dachshunds in red collars on it. "No, this is fine. This is fine. The universe has never failed me before. Uhhh- Oh! Maybe-"

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a quarter. Kissing it for good luck, he closes his eyes and flips the quarter into the air, allowing it to fall all the way onto the map. A second passes and he opens one eye, pleased to see that the quarter did in fact landed on the map. Both eyes open, he gingerly removes the quarter and simultaneously fingers the location marked by the coin. It's a location in the New England region of the States; more specifically, a town in Massachusetts. "'Innsmouth'." Slamming shut the hood of the car—revealing the eviscerated corpse of a rather large raven on the other side of his car—he gets into the vehicle and starts the engine.

voooooRRRR...!

A young woman in a black 2016 Toyota Camry drives down a quiet road in a dark countryside. There is an overcast sky above her, hiding the sun and adding an atmosphere of gloom to her environment. Fortunately, she's used to such weather by now, being an Arkham native and all—a city not far off from the destination she's heading to. Her eyes are intense with an unparalleled amount of focus behind them. She's on some sort of mission it would seem.

August 21^st, 2018 / Innsmouth, Massachusetts

Sometime later, she arrives at the sleepy seaside port of Innsmouth and parks her car on the curb of the main street. She pauses for a brief respite, taking in the scenery around her. The old-timey architecture lends the town a rustic charm, harking back to the days of antiquity. Innsmouth—after all—has been around for a long, long time. The smell of the sea hits her, carried along by a refreshing breeze. It's almost worth a smile. But the sweetness would turn bitter in her mouth as the breeze then brings upon an ominous chill, one that sinks its teeth into your very bones. She is only brought out of her thoughts when an old woman walking her... dog(?) strolls by. Black of fur and skin of wrinkled leather, its head is cocked to one side as it prances about, pale tongue dripping copious amounts of droll onto the pavement below. "Excuse me, Ma'am."

The old woman stops. "Hmm?"

"I'm looking for the Gilman House Hotel. Do you think you can help me out?"

"We rarely get visitors to our little town. Nothing but fisheries here. Wouldn't you be happier touring the sunny beaches of California or the towering skyscrapers of New York City?" Her speech is slow, methodical and akin to pouring molasses.

"Oh I much rather be here. I'm a journalist, here to do a story about the missing girl. Suzanne Moore, was it?"

"Ohhh. Yes, poor dearie... The police couldn't find anything, but, they're trying. Maybe you'll find something if you look close enough."

"Well I'll certainly do my best. And about the hotel?"

"Ohhh, yes. Of course. Take main street down and left at the high school."

"Thank you. You have a good day."

"I hope to read your article in the papers someday, dearie." The old woman waves her off. She gets in her car and turns on the engine but, as she slowly drives off, she notices the old woman's head following the car as it drives away; the old woman, herself, still smiling and waving and, most importantly, her dog(?) has somehow escaped from its leash and has vanished from view.

DIIIIINNNNGGGG!

The clamor of freedom: the bell signaling the end of the school day reverberates all throughout Innsmouth High School from the silent halls to the raucous classrooms where minds are molded. In Mr. Scott's Physics classroom and lab—fifth period—a balding, lanky gentleman in big-framed glasses steps in front of the teacher's desk to address the class. "Alright, settle down. Now before you all go meandering off to partake in whatever debauchery you have lined up for the day, Ms. Hall would like a moment to address the class concerning our dearly missing Suzanne Moore. So listen up." The teacher—presumably Mr. Scott—motions to a female student holding a bunch of cards to take the stage, figuratively speaking.

And so she does. Standing in front of the class, a teary-eyed girl with long red hair glances at Mr. Scott. "Well, actually..." She stops and turns back to the class. This girl is Olivia Hall, one of Suzie's closest friends. "Some of you may have heard but Mr. and Mrs. Moore have decided that they'll be holding a funeral for Suzie. They felt closure would be better than waiting around for news that may never come. And since school is closed tomorrow for staff meeting, they would like for some of Suzie's classmates to attend," she sniffles. "So, I just wanted to hand out these invites. Please attend if you can. For Suzie and her parents' sake."

Olivia walks to each one of the students' desks and hands out an invite that reads "In loving memory of Suzanne Moore. August 22^nd, 2018. Celebrate the life, cherish the memories," followed by the address of the town's cemetery. Mr. and Mrs. Moore will be burying an empty coffin it would appear. "Here you go. I hope you can attend." Olivia hands one invite out to Kanna Saitou @Migyudon. Kanna never really knew Suzie but they did had a brief moment to get to know more about each other on the day Suzie went missing when Suzie's lab partner was absent and Kanna was assigned to be her lab partner for the class period.

"I'm sorry, Quincy. I hope you're doing okay." Olivia handed the star football athlete @Cryfest an invitation and placed one of her hands atop of one of his for a brief moment. Is this a simple show of comforting Suzie's boyfriend or could it signal something else entirely? In any case, she moves onto the next person and then the next and the next. Finally, as Olivia approached the desk of outcast Gwyn Thatcher @ProPro, she moves right past him and, instead, hands an invite to the student one desk over, but not before giving the young man a glance of resentment. It's to be expected. After the photography incident a few weeks prior to Suzie's disappearance, Gwyn has since been eyed by nearly every student as the prime suspect in this case. Soon, the last of the invites were handed out and the students are allowed to take their leave.

Gwyn sat calmly in his seat as the final school bell loomed near. In fact to any casual observer he'd look like he was trying to become the seat. He naturally just sort of bled into the background that way. Unless he was catching your attention with strange, off habits like his nervous twitching or mumbled half-finished sentences. To be honest he just wanted the day to end so he could slink away from all these faces. Ever since Suzie vanished, no, ever since the photography incident, people have been giving him far more attention than he'd ever wanted. It only became a whole lot worse since she disappeared. The situation was uncomfortable in the best of times. At the worst... Well... Mr. Scott, can't you just hurry up and let us go already?

That's when Olivia Hall took center stage, metaphorically speaking, at the front of the classroom. Oh god no, not Olivia. She was just the worst. Others held him in contempt without ever really trying to get to know him. She seemed to completely loathe him. How she was one of Suzie's closest friends--nice, angelic, borderline saint-like Suzie--he couldn't figure out for the life of him. It was harder to tell who was the bigger jerk: Olivia, or that walking amalgam of stereotypes Quincy Knight. Well, she was addressing Suzie, so best to be respectful. Olivia announced that the Moore's were holding a funeral service for their daughter. This shocked Gwyn down to his core. His normally lazy looking eyes stretched open and immediately his fingers began tapping the top of his desk very quickly, signalling off his nerves to anyone bothering to pay him the attention. That was it? They were giving up? This was... But why? It it it it had only been three weeks. Three weeks, that's not even as long as he had been stranded on that island in the dead of winter! His own parents, they never gave up hope, they found him they they they the Moores no, they couldn't stop, no. Suzie... Suzie was out there, somewhere. No. No this wasn't right. This wasn't right.

Lost in thought, beginning a cold sweat, Gwyn almost failed to notice when Olivia completely passed him by and didn't give him an invitation to the service. "Hey, I didn't get one... Oh..." Oh. That look said it all. She wasn't inviting him. Well that wasn't for her to decide, was it? That was, that was the Moore's decision, right? Screw that bitch. Yeah, that's what he should say. But, oh dear, that would just make things worse, huh? Oh. Well. Well she couldn't stop him. Gwyn liked Suzie very much. She was always nice, even if they hadn't sat down and had a full conversation. Her smile told him everything it needed to. She always liked him photographs on Facebook, too. He didn't have anything to do with what happened, why why why would he when she was nice the only nice one why? If he did something wouldn't he do it to everybody else? Ugh. Whatever. He was going to go to that service and there wasn't a thing Olivia could do about it. He had every right to pay his respects. In fact, he could help. Yeah, he could help with the service. He had the perfect picture, something that he could put in the coffin. Better to bury something than nothing, right? Maybe... Maybe...

That was it. Time to go. Gwyn almost missed it and was the last one to get up out of his seat. Oh man, so much was going on. The young man shook his head defiantly, then sighed and resumed his usual look of defeat. No. No no no. Something had to be done. The Moores. They were making a big mistake. Yes, yes they were. They needed to talk to someone. Someone that knows about these things, someone with personal experience. Someone like him.

... But nobody ever wants to talk to him. Crap.

Dejected, Gwyn slung his backpack over one shoulder and went for the door. As usual he took the fastest, most efficient route straight for the school exit. The longer he lingered, the more chance people would pull him aside to make fun of him, call him names, or accuse him of terrible things. Best to avoid all that. Yeah. Best to avoid it. Gwyn got up to his car in the parking lot, then stopped in his tracks. The windshield had been covered in shaving cream, real thick, about three inches of the stuff. One word had been drawn in the stuff, one word to really twist the knife in. "Pervert."

God damn it. Gwyn unlocked the door, tossed his backpack in with more force than he needed, and slammed the door hard. Starting the car, he turned on the windshield wipers, and the cleaners too. Clear blue liquid moistened the cream and helped to wipe the stuff away. Teenagers. So immature. Shaking his head, Gwyn cautiously pulled out of the high school parking lot, but he didn't head for home. He needed to take a risk. He needed to tell Suzie's parents what a mistake they were making.

---

---

Po began downshifting and decelerating gradually, her Yamaha Virago the only vehicle on this small rural road, swallowed by thick, dark woods. Gradually she came to a complete stop, her bike in neutral. She dismounted and with the bike still in neutral rolled it off the road and stashed it a few meters further into the tree line. She turned the engine off and lowered the stand once she made sure her baby wouldn't be seen from the road in case someone was crazy enough to take this back country road. If Po wasn't who she was, she'd be the first to acknowledge its mint creepy factor.

But she was who she was and she was on this road, in these woods, with purpose. She was on the hunt.

'Yeeeeeeeeesssssssssssss!' A voice hissed inside her head. 'Hungryyyyyyyyyyyyyyy! Eat! Eat! Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeat!!!' The Wraith urged impatiently.

Po gritted her teeth. It had been a while from when last she'd truly gorged it on some properly deprived monsters. The run-of-the-mill criminals were fine to temper the hunger, but to really feel sated if even for a day or so, she needed to really gorge on the Life Force of true evil. Well, the Wraith didn't care one way or the other if it fed on good or evil. The distinction was purely for Po's benefit. She would just as soon rip her own heart from her chest than take another innocent life by way of the Wraith.

'Eat now! Moralize laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaateeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer!' The Wraith hissed.

"Alright already!" Po muttered under her nose. She grabbed her gear from the bike. Her Walther P99 went in its shoulder holster after making sure it was operational. She fastened her fighting stick in its leather sheath on her back, put her night vision goggles on and started for the location she knew the followers of The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young gathered for their rituals. The one she was planning on crashing apparently had to take place during a new moon, hence the goggles. She didn't want to alert them to her presence before she got the chance to get close by stumbling blindly through the forest. She would have to take the goggles off once she neared the ritual grounds as she knew the place would be well lit up. She'd worked way too hard to identify this particular cell of the Black Goat's followers to give away her position and presence by fumbling stupidly through the woods. This particular cell of the cult was especially nasty and prolific in the department of summoning Dark Youngs for their mother the Black Goat. She'd linked them to a number of missing person's reports. Them becoming too greedy was what allowed her finally to get solidly on their trail.

Po was making good time. She couldn't afford to go too fast as to not alert the cultists, but she also couldn't afford to dwadle too much. Lives depended on her. In the past three weeks five people had gone missing from the surrounding regions. Tiponi had used all her skills and knowledge as an investigator, as well as some of her other more unusual abilities to discover the ritual's location. After a hundred or so meters she slowed down as she started to hear the hushed chanting and ceremonial humming of the dark worshipers. She'd found the place!

'Yes. Yes! YES!!!' The Wraith howled with hunger, sensing the wild Life Force of the cultists. 'Hungry! Hhhhhhhhhungryyyyyyyyyyyy! Eat, noooooooooooooooooooooooow!' For a moment Po froze paralyzed with the effort to wrestle down the Wraith. Had it not been for the years of training and practice in controlling its more baser instincts, she would have burst into the clearing like a lunatic, eyes wide with hunger. Devoid of any intelligence. Only the insatiable hunger of the Wraith.

'Eeeeeeeeeeeeeat!' The Wraith drawled. Almost as if pleading this time, realizing it could not sway its host into unplanned action.

Soon! Po promised and began slowly, carefully and methodically picking off the cultists, starting from the outside in.

That night the Wraith gorged!

---

---

Po had just finished her training and was cleaning and organizing the room that served as her own little personal dojo when the phone jingled indicating an incoming message. Moreover, a message from Melissa, as the custom ringtone announced. Tiponi loved her adopted mother to death. Melissa had rescued her from the clutches of the Disintegrator and its followers. She'd cared for her and nursed her back to health. More psychological than physical as the cultists had never resorted to physical torture, but had used manipulation and brainwashing to make the child, and the Wraith by extension, do their bidding. And it was precisely that bidding that had almost managed to destroy the young girl's fragile soul. Had it not been for Melissa Po would probably have died trying to escape from the constant anguish of having to drain innocent people of their Life Force. That or she would have turned in a deranged serial killer.

So hearing Mel's ringtone Po hurried to check her device to see what her mom needed.

The message read: "Hey, kid. I know we spoke soonish and I'm not calling on you to fuss, I promise. I actually have something interesting for you. We had our regular reviewing of the cold cases in the office. See if we could catch some fresh perspective and some such. And a three week's old missing person's file caught my eye. I probably would have breezed right passed it, had it not been for the unusual circumstances surrounding the disappearance. I think the Bureau has relegated this to the X-Files pile and it probably would not get the time of day. I've sent you all the pertinent information. I know you'll do it justice. Love you. Be careful!"

Po had a soft smile on her face upon finishing reading Mel's message. "I love you too, mum." She grinned and proceeded to exit her dojo and head for her home office. The room was sparsely decorated. It held her desk with all the necessary equipment. The walls were almost completely covered in shelves upon shelves stacked with books. There was also a comfortable couch on which she'd crashed on not so rare occasions. Tiponi went straight for her desk and booted her computer. She proceeded to log into her secured mail account only she and Melissa were using. Especially when Mel wanted to send her sensitive information as was in this case the particulars of an FBI file which was open to public preview only via the Freedom of Information Act.

Po spent the following few days familiarizing herself with the case and deciding it warranted further investigation started preparing for travel.

She arrived in the town of Innsmouth, Massachusetts on the 21^st of August.

Quincy Knight’s pencil scratched mindlessly at a poorly drawn football where his notes should be. He was looking forward to class ending- eager to get to practice and out of the stuffy room where he could feel eyes behind him. They all gazed at him with disgusting pitty.

The bell rang and Quincy couldn’t help but sigh in relief and reach down for his backpack. The physics teacher, Mr. Scott, held up a hand and said, “alright, settle down..” he leaned back in frustration his blue eyes automatically flickering to the door with longing.

It was just in time as Olivia Hall, one of Suzie’s good friends came in. Quincy had hung out with her on quite a few occasions. She was a kind girl if a bit overly sensitive. Seeing her teary eyes meet his, briefly, he knew she wasn’t visiting the class with good news. It probably had to do with the funeral.

It had nearly brought him to tears to hear of it- he may not have loved Suzie the way she loved him, but she didn’t deserve this. And to hold the funeral so... soon? Nobody deserved this. Not tearful Olivia or all her friends who couldn’t make it to school and most importantly his reputation. What kind of reputation was having a dead girlfriend? All it got him was somber talk and ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’ No, it would have been better if this tragedy could have been avoided.

He was wrenched from his thoughts when a soft hand touched his and a letter was laid down on his desk, “I’m sorry Quincy. I hope your doing okay.” tearful Olivia told him. He gave a tense nod, as she pulled away. He had stayed with her the night after the news reached them. She had called, nearly indistinguishable from a gurgling fish on the phone. She had cried for hours, leaning on him until she had passed out and he graciously took his leave from her house.

People who had already received an invitation were packing up to go, so Quincy grabbed his backpack and the invitation and stood up- intent on leaving this time. Before he could walk out he caught sight of the Pervert and bile rose up in his throat. He wished that he had done more than just kick him a few times. Maybe then this could have been avoided. He hated the way he was twitching and mumbling and gazing at Olivia with... anger? Sadness? Or maybe he was waiting to invade her privacy as well.

He didn’t love Suzie, but she didn’t deserve whatever that Pervert did to her. She was nothing but kind to him. The police hadn’t even detained him for questioning. Maybe they figured he was too wimpy to do anything of that nature to her. Harmless pictures. Quincy had to look away, he was feeling sick and angry. He didn’t want to start pummeling him in the middle of the room. He wasn’t a bully and he didn’t want the school calling him that. He needed to handle this with poise and grace- and maybe something could be done out back with his boys. Where prying eyes wouldn’t catch them. If the police weren’t going to do something about him... he was.

For now he would throw his frustrations into football practice.

---

August 21st, 2018 / Innsmouth, Massachusetts
Early that morning

It was a cold, dreary morning as it typically was in Innsmouth. The sleepy Massachusetts town was made even more so. The cloudy, overcast skies were something those who grew up here were used were used to, though and affected them fairly little. About this time most people would have been inside, sleeping. Those up at this hour could rightly be assumed to be up to things better left to the imagination. Of course, such things were left in the realm of fantasy, now weren't they? Even so, very few awake at this hour were unlikely to be up to anything reputable...save of course, you were one of the few brave enough to traverse the darkness and find that which lay in its depths.

Or you were a foolish teenager who didn't know the meaning of the word 'Keep out'.

"Ugh, I'm so going to kill my friends for this." Greg grumbled, the rattling of the fence making his presence obvious to any in the vicinity. With the recent disappearance of one Suzanne Moore, rumors had abound in the teenage cesspool known as 'High School'. His friends? Well, they were a buncha assholes who really liked to play pranks, practical jokes, and take on stupid dares. He was probably just as stupid for actually agreeing to break into an old abandoned fish processing plant. "Actually, no, I'm going to kill myself for agreeing to this stupid dare."

He grumbled, shaking his head as he fiddled with the recording camera he bought with him. The dare in question? Break into an old abandoned fishery and take at least a twenty-minute video in there to prove that he had, in fact, gone. An unfortunate side effect of being the guy with the expensive recording equipment because of his film-hobby. You think with the mysterious disappearance people would keep their noses clear of this sort of thing, but it seemed to have the opposite effect on some people as imaginations ran wild with ideas of what could have happened.

Well, enough standing around. He pulled hist jacket closer around him, making sure he was alone and there wasn't any sort of security before walking towards the large abandoned building and trying the front door. The door of course, refused to budge. Locked as expected. He frowned, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a set of tools that would probably get him into a whole hell of a lot of trouble if he got caught with them. A few seconds later, the doorknob on turned and the lock clicked open. Once inside, he was immediately assaulted with the smell of fish and...something else he couldn't quite place. Something Metallic?

"Blegh, and you think they'd have gotten rid of all the fish before leaving..." He covered his hand with his mouth, turning the camera forwards, getting a good view of the old place as his flashlight in the other hand lit up the room in front of him. A long, dark hallway stretched before him as it lead down into the actual processing area further down. Doors on either side of the hallway seemed to lead into office areas or other various now disused rooms. Whatever. He wasn't too interested. He just wanted to get the footage and get out before something inevitably bad happened. Felt like he was in a bad horror story.

Greg moved forward slowly, poking his head into each of the rooms as he passed. Terry and Ethan would give him shit if he didn't at least make an attempt to explore, and he wasn't going to deal with their bullshit. Eventually, his steps carried him into the main processing area, or at least what remained of it.

Crrrrack

The teenagers eyes widened as a loud snapping and cracking noise echoed through the supposedly empty room.

"...rusty old pipes, right. Probably just some water and stuff." His attempts at reassurance were quickly dispelled. There was the sound of something wet and disgustingly flesh sounding tearing and ripping. Something cutting it.

"Pretty little eyes...enough, enough." He blinked. That...was definitely not his voice...but it also wasn't the voice of something he'd attribute to some sort of monster. In a normal situation he'd be absolutely terrified, but the voice...it was music like, and it flowed like sweet honey and birdsong. Whatever fear he might have felt, was quickly dispelled by the voice of whoever was speaking.

"Hmm, still missing something. Needs...ah?" The voice suddenly silenced itself as he approached. That was likely a bad sign, but he couldn't stop himself by now. His curiosity was getting the best of him, and slow unsure footsteps carried him forwards. What he found was a grizzly scene. A pile of at least thirty or so fish dead in a pile. The oddest part? They all had their eyes removed with seemingly near surgical precision. He stumbled backwards, resisting the urge to puke. Just what had he stumbled on?! Then he became keenly aware of something breathing behind him - he could feel it on his neck. Despite all logical judgement, he turned slowly.

"Ah...now, what is a curious little human doing here?" Greg immediately stumbled backwards into the pile of fish, dropping his camera to the floor. He would have screamed if it wasn't for the soothing tone with which it spoke. The creature was hanging upside down from one of the large conveyor belts as its frail looking appendages grasped it firmly, giving him quite the good view of it thanks to his flashlight. It's 'hair' hung almost to the floor. Despite it being hair, it was clearly slimy and seemed to be some sort of filmy substance that reminded him of seaweed. Its body was covered in pale blue, clammy skin and its body was covered only by a dingy, overly long hoodie. The most horrific part though, was its face - or perhaps its lack of one. Where its eyes should have been, they were instead sewn shut with what looked to be thick barbed wire. Wordlessly, it released its grip, falling to the floor with uncanny silence as it regarded Greg.

"Hmm...don't worry, human. This one has no desire to harm." Despite the weirdness of this situation, Greg's mind seemed to accept it easily. "It is rare this one converses with humans." Even if he wasn't questioning it, he was still at a loss for words as the creature began crawling across the ground towards his camera. It regarded it only for a moment before picking it up - and smashing it against the ground, easily breaking it.

"Hey what are-" Before he could finish that sentence, it shoved a clammy hand over his mouth.

"Ah-Ah. I am La-Zha, Greggory. This one knows many things and secrets to answer your next query." His mind was racing, and it had so many questions but he still couldn't feel frightened or anything other than curiosity. The creature removed its hand from his mouth, and he sat up, trying to wrap his mind around what he was currently experiencing. La-Zha, the creature, moved over to the pile of fish and began the process of gutting them.

"What are...you?"

"Ah-Ah. You are not ready, human." It replied, pulling a skull bone from a fish.
"But...perhaps you will be soon?" It chuckled to itself, black claws scratching against the bone as it etched something into it. "Take it." Without explanation, it shoved the fish-skull into his hands. "Now...forget that we met. When you are ready...perhaps we will meet again?"

"W-ait, what?"

"Heh...seek answers in the tide, human. A rain is coming, and you would do well to listen to its song." Before he could question it further, La-Zha turned and left, leaving only a confused Greg and a fish-bone talisman of some sort with him. The teenager got up, rubbing his head confusedly. Well...this was...interesting, to say the least...but his curiosity had been peaked and maybe he'd give it a look.

---

August 21st, 2018 / Innsmouth, Massachusetts
Evening, Camilla's House

"What do you mean you 'lost it'?." Camilla frowned behind the wheel of her dark blue 2016 Hyndai Sonata as she pulled into her driveway. "I don't care how or why just make sure you have them by tomorrow!" She hung up the phone, angrily pressing the red hang-up button repeatedly just to vent a little frustration. The woman grumbled as she left the car, slamming the door shut behind her as she walked up to her suburban home and stepped inside, slumping against the door tiredly. "Ugh, the judge is going to have my ass on a gold plate hanging above his stupid bald head that reads 'Incompetent'. This is why doing things myself is always-annnnd why do I smell fish?"

The answer was rather obvious as she walked inside and up the stairs outside of the small foyer. Sitting on her table, was none other than La-Zha holding a large jar of something suspended in a dirty yellow liquid. Ugh, she'd have to clean that. Of course, she coudln't show any disrespect to it. That would surely earn its ire.

"La-Zha...it is rare you visit me directly these days." She said as she pulled off her heels, tossing them on the floor. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you let yourself in."

"Easy to slip in," Placing the jar of fish eyes on the table. "Slip through the cracks when the tide is high." La-Zha hopped off the table.

"These are...fish eyes?" Camilla inquired as she inspected the jar. It was something she was familiar with - she had used them before, though nothing in this quantity before. "This is quite a bit. Their purpose?"

"For a ritual of rain." It replied.

"That...doesn't help."

"This one can not divulge all the secrets of the Oceans." It headed to the back door of the house. Camilla furrowed her eyebrows in mild frustration. Cryptic as ever.

"Will you be back for the evening? Or will you be elsewhere?"

"Perhaps, this one will return to the reef, or perhaps it will be swept away by the tide and explore that which lies beyond. Depends on how many little fish this one finds." In other words, if it found something or someone to occupy itself with it won't, and if it doesn't then it might. Well, that was great. Camilla sighed, taking a seat in a chair and resting her head on her hand as La-Zha left.

Ah...today was going to be great and now her house smelled of dead fish.

---

It was August 21st, too many years later to bother tracking anymore.

He'd been drawn to Innsmouth, and had found himself the urgent job. When you don't sleep and live indefinitely, it leaves a lot of time to learn things. As such in the last few years he'd gotten a psychology degree, moving around as a therapist. He got to feed, sate his curiosity, and to use his devil skills for something useful.

He was currently in his office, decorated with antiques and the smell of a campfire. He stood facing out the window, his hands behind his back, unmoving as if made of stone.

His first appointment was due soon. A young child. No improvement in what the mortals considered too long. He couldn't blame them. When you couldn't see eternity it was difficult to find time. Always slipping, always grabbing at the Sands, always realizing you were coming up short.

He had looked into the abyss centuries ago, and it had looked back. He had clawed his way back out, and in the process he had learned that time didn't matter.

Very little mattered but what you made matter. And the only two things that mattered were feeding and figuring out mysteries.

@ProPro

Click, clack. Click clack. Click... clack. Alexander was distracted today, by the typing, by the case. All he could think about was the missing girl. Nothing but a puddle left. There were many leads, most of which lead to things that were difficult to track. Or at least things he didn't want to track. Click clack. The annoying sound of a keyboard interrupted his thoughts for the hundredth time today. Alex had to train someone, he was the best when it came to technology, so he was always the one thrown under the training bus. The person is was training, Brady, had no sense of delicacy. With each word that the kid typed, it sounded like the keyboard was ready to crack. Brady crushed the keys under his fingers, especially when he was irritated. Which was something that happened more often than he liked.

Right, the case. Alex's first thought was Kelpie. Although, they were rare in this part of the sea. They weren't close enough to Scotland, their home. Although, it wouldn't be impossible. It could be a puddle of ectoplasm, he hadn't fully gotten the opportunity to examine the scene of the crime. He didn't get to go in, he just worked with the tech. Alex was writing down a list and checking it way more than twice. There were too many options. Then again, more than one was too many. Soon, his keyboard was joining Brady's, making a sort of song. One that he didn't really mind until he heard the loud, annoying Click clack.

It was midday when the call came through, Zach had started an early shift at about midnight the same morning. The trucks pulled back in at about noon, that's when he was greeted by his super. The rest of his crew dismounted and disarmed inside the small security company building, his super Oscar Meaford approached him. "Nato, the news is around your old girlfriend died." Said the old Asian supervisor, he was about fifty but he was never one to skip around the hard topics. A bomb felt like it went off as Zach's ever-present smile faded off his face, he opened his mouth to speak but didn't.

"It's alright son, take some time off and goto her funeral. It's an empty casket, that's what I heard." Zach nodded and walked past Meaford and entered the building. He made his way to the gun room and disarmed and safely stored his ammo, firearm, and uniform before leaving. In his casuals, he got in his old 1999 accord and started the car. Fuck. Is Suzie really dead? Are they going to look at him for this, no - he's been working none stop for the longest time? His crew can give an alibi, hopefully. He heard that Suzie went missing, it's a small town it's not like he couldn't have avoided it but they were calling it. Was she really dead?

Hitting 40 over the 50 speed limit, Zach ripped up the streets of town as he headed back to his place. Maybe he could beat any cops that wanted to get him for a ticket, but honestly - he wasen't in in the mood.

"Emily Faraday... Oh, here you are. Reservation for a one bedroom suite, paid in advance for two consecutive weeks." A man dressed in a black suit reads the details of a hotel reservation on a computer screen then opens a drawer to retrieve a key card; it reads room 221. He places it on the marble countertop of the reception desk and waits patiently for the guest to respond. "Thanks." The journalist from before picks up the key card and slides it into her right front jean pocket. "Would you like a bellhop to place your luggage in your suite for you?" He asks politely.

"It's fine. I don't have much." Emily retrieves her single luggage bag by its handle and waves the reception clerk off as she makes for the elevator. "I hope you enjoy your stay with us." The clerk says as she walks off. In the elevator, Emily stands at the very back, allowing two more people to come inside. She stands there quietly, minding her own business. She's only going to the second floor, so this should be quick. Then, her ears perk up as she hears something interesting. "The funeral's tomorrow right?" One individual—a man in a white polo—asks his female companion. "Yeah. I feel sorry for the Moores. No parents should have to bury their children." The Moores are holding a funeral tomorrow? Despite the suddenness, this could work to Emily's advantage.

She gets off on the next floor and walks to her suite. Inside, she drops her luggage and quickly paces around the room. "Okay, okay, this is good. N-Not that the funeral is good. That's a bit rash on the Moores' part, but this means I can go take a look at the crime scene without pulling out my usual BS." She talks aloud to herself. It helps her think. She practically dances over to the mini-fridge. "This calls for some booze." As she is looking head-first into the fridge, the sound of a window opening immediately catches her attention, causing her to look up. What she sees next is odd and alarming: a man in a trench coat is—with considerable effort—climbing into her room via the aforementioned window.

Finally, the man catches her stare. "Oh. Hi. Now I know this may seem odd bu-" A mini bottle of rum comes flying towards the man and hits the wall just next to him, causing him to panic and fall into the room. As he gets up onto his feet, the man is instantly met with a barrage of punches and kicks that are definitely not those of an amateur fighter. "Ow! Ouch! Stop it! S-Stop! Time out! Time Out!" He yells while expressing the time out motion with his hands. Emily stops her assault but is still in ass-kicking stance. "Jesus, is that how you greet someone? You are insane, but whatever, live and let live." He speaks quickly while adjusting his disheveled clothing.

"I'm insane?! Who the hell are you and why are you breaking into my room?! You got three seconds before I call hotel security." The man sighs. "Technically, I'm not 'breaking' into your room as I've already 'broken' into it. It's past tense-" "One." "I-I have a perfectly reasonable explan-" "Two." "Okay, look! It's not like I'm exactly thrilled to be here, but it pointed me here so there must be something important about this room." There's a brief pause. Emily looks unconvinced but she'll continue this line of inquiry further. "And what exactly is 'it'?" The man gingerly holds an antique silver key up for Emily to see. "This magic key." There's another brief pause. "Alright, I'm calling hotel security."

@LordofthePies In the mobile intelligence headquarters—basically a large black van with tinted windows and a fake company logo on the side of it's exterior—Agent Alexander Ophidian is busy with training the newest recruit of the tech team who goes by the name of Brady. The excruciatingly loud clacking of keyboard keys under Brady's heavy hand has been a constant annoyance to Alexander who is simply trying to focus on the Suzanne Moore case that's been assigned to all agents under Special Divisions. Just then, a message pops up onto Alexander's screen from his handler, Julie Reyes. The message is warning him of the arrival of Subjects 18901937 and 46584354: Elias Carter and Tiponi Camacho respectively. These two individuals tend to appear in places associated with high levels of paranormal activity. Those of the CIA Special Divisions like to call these two "Harbingers". Their arrival signals the coming of strange things indeed. Alexander would be wise to keep a close eye on these two.

@Rune_Alchemist At Camilla Prescott's residence, if she were to look around, she would eventually find a black envelope enclosed by a red wax seal with an interesting image imprinted on the seal resting on her bed. Within the envelope is a letter that simply reads, "Tomorrow. 3 PM. Abandoned Marsh steel refinery, east of town."

@DeadDrop Once Zachary Nato finally arrives back home, he would be greeted by a police cruiser—the old '90s Crown Vic. A second cruiser would then pull up from behind him out of a nearby corner. Sheriff Perry Arthur steps out of the cruiser in front of Zach's home to confront him. An old fogey who's been on the job for way too long and, even then, still remained a while longer, he's the kind who isn't for bullshit yet speaks like he's always holding something back from you; his combed white mane speaks to his experience. Now what kind of experience could a small town cop have exactly? Well, Sheriff Arthur wasn't always sheriff of Innsmouth. He only transferred here about ten years ago after the death of the previous sheriff from a heart attack. Perry Arthur was once a beat cop from the crime-laden streets of Chicago. "Zachary." Sheriff Arthur's words could pierce glass. "There's something we need to discuss. You're not under arrest. We just want to ask some questions."

Kanna was scribbling on her notebook: a clearly well-cared-for grid-design Moleskin. Her 'notes' were more like drawings led by arrows. It was in sequence that made sense only to her. There were little words as possible, some simple ones were even scratched and out rewritten twice over: 'Grva Graivty [b]GR AV ITY/b]', followed by a simple drawing of an arrow pointing down that acted as a border in between the page.

'DIIIIINNNNGGGG!'

She hurried to finish her writing down, happily tucking her school supplies back into her bag to go to the next class. As she looked up, someone else was already at the front of the class-- by the looks of it, the girl wasn't having a good day. Kanna could only stop smiling out of sympathy for the weeping girl. As this girl started talking, Kanna finally realized who this was. Olivia was very close to Suzie, it seemed, or else she wouldn't be going to the classrooms to hand invitations for the funeral.

Of course, Kanna would make time to go to this; she felt obligated to, after just recently getting to know Suzie. Kanna felt a connection at the time: a small thought that maybe they could be friends. That thought had then been snuffed completely. It was replaced with an unsettling feeling that just some days ago their biggest problem was quantifying how fast a ball would drop at 5 feet.

Her turn came, looking up at Olivia, whose lips trembled and a little teardrop forming at the side of her eye. It almost made Kanna want to weep with her-- but that wouldn't do anything at the moment; it would just delay the class, or even have them be late for the next period.

"I'm very sorry to hear about this.." That was all she could say before their moment expired.. This didn't sit well with Kanna, not one bit. A feeling of overwhelming disbelief surged over that prompted her to want to help out with what little she could offer.

At the end of the little giveaway, she confronts Olivia. There was a small window in between classes; Kanna wanted some few words in.

"Is there any way I could do anything more for you..? This is a very difficult time for everyone; I hope you would let me help." Calmly, she tried to get a few invites to hand out to the other classrooms.

@Migyudon

After handing out most of the invitations, Olivia stands in the hallway gazing at her own personal one. She sighs deeply and wipes the tears from her eyes. She's been friends with Suzie since middle school. They had plans to go to the same university. Olivia doesn't understand why would Suzie's parents are so easily incline on giving up. No, Suzie's mother would never agree to this. But, her father. Well, he's always seen himself as a practical man. Guess it doesn't make practical sense to Mr. Moore to hold out hope, even if it is for his own daughter. What a load of bull... As she puts her invitation away, Olivia is suddenly approached by Kanna. "Oh, hey." Olivia simply says. The distraught in her voice is palpable.

Kanna then asks if she could do anything to help, suggesting maybe even to help hand out more invites. "You'd really help? I mean, we hardly know each other. You hardly knew Suzie." She takes out an envelope of about ten or so invites. "I was going to give this to the cheer leading squad but I don't think I'll be able to make it to practice today so-" She hands the invites to Kanna. "Hey, thank you." She then changes the conversation. "You transferred here, right? I wish I talked to you sooner. You seem like a nice girl. So, cheer leaders practice on the same field as the football players. Don't stay too late, okay? It's just... Well, you heard haven't you? The rumor? About the fish lady creature thing that apparently eats or kidnaps people or whatever? I know, that sounds dumb, right? But with Suzie disappearing and all... Look, just stay safe out there."

"Alright, bye." Olivia walks off. "Oh, and be careful around that pervert Gwyn Thatcher."

She held Olivia by the arm softy and briefly: a show of sincerity. "I can't just let you do this by yourself, right?" Kanna smiled at her, a thin curve opposed to her usual toothy grin.

"Alright. I'll make sure they get these" Kanna was all too happy to reduce the load; all she could think of for the moment was how painful it must be to have to keep announcing that your friend just died. This way, Olivia wouldn't have to do it so much. She took the flyers and folded it in with her all-encompassing notebook. It was cyan, with a little sticker of a fish near the bottom right side.

It was then that Olivia asked the question. "Yeah. We just moved here, too, actually." She had the lines rehearsed to a T. Maybe a story for another day. "--but we don't plan on leaving anytime soon. So.. yeah." Not that they needed to anymore; Kanna and her mother decided to just stay somewhere, and Innsmouth was basically, and conveniently seaside.

"Fish.. lady?" Now, she was piqued, eyebrows raised. The only fish lady she knew of was she and her mother-- but that description didn't seem to fit either of them. At all. "I'll watch out for her then.." Were there more of her kind around Innsmouth? Ever since their exile, news on any gossip* of mermaids had been nothing but shreds.

('kidnapping', sure.. but eating.) She used 'kidnap' loosely, as it was not unheard of for men to follow mermaids to the ocean in search for their golden voices. When pushed to survival, any creature would consider eating flesh.

She looked down briefly upon hearing about Gwyn Thatcher. Kanna could scramble for some good reason to be on his side, but came out blank.

"I'll.. see you around then?" With that, she offers hug a goodbye.

---

Once the last bell had rung, Kanna immediately goes to the field. She didn't need to wear a jacket in spite of the possible cold; the ocean offered much chillier temperature, most of which she would know for herself.

Kanna went inside the locker rooms to greet the other girls. She didn't want to have to wait until their practice started, as she had to go to her own swimming training, too.

Her spiel was pretty simple. "Hey." She smiled curtly at the women. By now, they should already know about Suzie, so an introduction wouldn't be necessary. She tried to make eye contact with every person there as she spoke. "The funeral for Suzie is tomorrow, and Mr. and Mrs. Moore would like you all to attend." Now, she handed each one of them the invite, whispering a few kind words to those who seemed like they needed it.

"It would mean a lot to them if you could go.."

---

^{*gossip: collective noun for mermaids}

Bump. Bump. Bump. The road wasn't the smoothest where Gwyn was driving. Or maybe that was his heart. Difficult to say, really. No, wait, yeah definitely his heart. What would they think? What would they say? Would they already know who he is? Oh god, what if they already knew who he is?! Olivia, Quincy, or any of the others could have told them what they thought. But the Moore's would be reasonable, right? They'd be reasonable... Yet he was going to see them because they weren't reasonable. They weren't being reasonable at all! Oh no. Oh no they were going to hate him. What if one of them has a gun and shoots him? They they chase him down with a bat? No no no no no nononononononogoodnogoodNOGOOD-screeeeech!

Gwyn had to pull over on the side of the road as his mind and heart went running wild. His vision got fuzzy and his hearing went wonky as the stress became too much to handle. Another car zoomed by, honking its horn at him along with a rude hand gesture from the driver. Sorry asshole. Next time I nearly faint from anxiety I'll be sure to signal properly! UGH! Gwyn let out a cathartic yell and punched the dashboard. His hand stung, but in a way he felt at least a little better. Once a few more cars passed by, as did some time, he felt up to driving again.

---

The young Thatcher pulled up to the household of the Moore's. He had never been before, but then again he never had a reason until just now. Still, it wasn't difficult to find. Suzie's parents were as well known and influential in the town as she was at school. He slowed to a crawl next to the two floor suburban home, making sure to give the two car driveway a wide berth. Taking a deep breath, his eyes fell upon their lawn ornament, some kind of fish. Yeah, made sense. Innsmouth was a major fishing community. Something that he... Wanted to take part in again. Shaking his head, Gwyn forced memories old out of mind and took his first step out of the car. The beeping of the security system let him know that the doors had locked and he trudged up the walkway, approaching the red brick house.

More nervous than usual, he came to a stop in front of the door. His hands, his legs, his everything, it was all shaking. What... What was he doing here? No, this would turn out horrible. They'd hate him, they'd kick him out, they'd have him arrested! If they knew who he was. If not, then they'd hate him anyway. He was the nervous freak nobody liked, the creep, the pervert taking pictures of their daughter in secret. It doesn't matter that that's not what he was doing, he wasn't doing that it's all wrong they've got the wrong idea all wrong wrong wrong wrong! Doesn't matter, they'll hate him. Might as well go home now, consider this whole thing a bust. Just leave, leave the grieving family alone so they don't have to deal with your worthlessness too. Gwyn turned back around... And took a step back toward his car.

Covered in a cold sweat, Gwyn went to wipe it from his face. That's when he saw it, when he realized he was still holding it. The picture. The picture he had taken of Suzie, even back before they caught him, the one he wanted to bring to the service. Suzie smiled back at him with confidence. She was telling him to go do it. I'm still out there. Remind them not to give up hope. This was ridiculous, it was just a picture! A picture taken two months ago! She wasn't saying any of those words and she sure as hell didn't plan to reassure him like that! But still... That's how he felt looking at her in this way. Gwyn sighed. Then he sighed again. One more time for good measure. There we go, normal heartbeat now. Then he turned back around, took one step back to the doorway, and he rang the bell.

Alexander quickly read through the message and looked towards Brady. "Subjects 18901937 and 46584354 are back. I know that means nothing to you now, but the both of them are very important to us. Their names are Elias Carter and Tiponi Camacho, and the bureau thinks they're related to high levels of paranormal activity and might be a cause."

"And you're telling me because?"

"Because that's your new task. Pull up anything you can on them. If they're back, we need to watch them. The bureau wants us to catch them, but scout them out first so we know what we're dealing with. Especially since they may be related Suzie Moore case," Brady gave a small nod, boredom written all over his face. Alex gave the boy a small glare before looking up some things on the two himself. It's not that he didn't trust Brady to do his job, it's just he didn't trust him to do a good job.

Alexander typed away, pulling up several pages of information. The only thing he seemed to find after roughly 20 minutes of looking is what car they were driving. Nothing crazy, but it was extremely useful if they were going to track the pair.

---

With La-Zha gone, Camilla leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples as a mild headache formed. It happened sometimes, especially around La-Zha. She had yet to pinpoint if it was just because of the general stress of life recently, or from something...else. It could be either really. She knew so little about La-Zha despite having spent a number of years with the creature. Chances were though, it was just stress...but she knew better than to simply assume something about anything. That's how you got careless, and carelessness in either of her professions could end...messily.

She stood, grumbling and heading over to her bedroom quickly retrieving some home-made headache medicine from her nightstand and noticing an envelope on her pillow. She picked it up, quickly taking note of what it was.

"Tomorrow....3 PM, eh? In the marsh at an abandoned steel refinery..." Had La-Zha bought it? No, it wouldn't bother itself with such seemingly trifling matters. Well, she did give others access to her home for certain...uses, should they have need of it. So long as they knew the proper way to get in. Well, that was fine too. She'd finish up work tomorrow and head straight there.

For now though, she had to yell at her co-workers for loosing some important court documents.

---

As La-Zha left Camilla's home, it pulled the hood over its head, concealing most of its facial features and concealing its arms under the articles long sleeves. Most people out didn't pay it any mind from a distance at least...and those it got to close were waved from their curiosity by a few words. 'Forget'. wasn't difficult to do such a thing, when your voice carried power by itself. Of course, it wasn't perfect and those with innate talents would be somewhat immune to the effects, or those whose curiosity wouldn't be sated so easily. But of course, those people were also the ones La-Zha found to be palatable to it's desires.

For now though...there was something else that caught its attention.

A change in the air. Saturated with a salty scent. A hauntingly dangerous melody were carried on the winds.

Suzie Moore.

To say its interest had been peaked over this disappearance was an understatement. Oh there were so many things going on in Innsmouth. So many delicious secretive things that the tides spoke of, but nothing ever so public as this. Either something had gotten careless, or something was deliberately public about this whole affair and it was gloriously intriguing. Not to mention...the girls former parents would be delightful playmates. It was curious as to how they would handle this? Handle something so obviously not mundane?

Perhaps...it could make them an offer?

It grinned, its sharp teeth forming a macabre smile on its maimed visage as its feet carried it towards the Moore residence.

Zach pulls into his driveway, he notices the cruiser coming up which prompts him to quickly park and kill the engine. The other cruiser pulls up the street and Zach eye's meet with the sheriff's. He steps out of the car and closes the door, he doesn't have anything in his hand but the keys to his car. "Hey Sheriff, what can I do for you?" He asks acting cool and clam, the sheriff had been the one who had arrested him for his stalking case. He hadn't seen the FOGEY since his arrest and after his rehab, he had become accustomed to stay out of the law's grasp. Despite his sometimes, outlandish speeding but he always seemed to beat the cops on the jump - well not this time at least.

His hands rested on his jean pockets as he stood outside of his car, the door closed and locked and his left fist gripping the keys. The wind seemed to eerily breeze as they all stood their. The sheriff was probably here about Suzie, he didn't kill her or kidnap her. If they were here to arrest him, they were weeks late. Besides, it was sketchy that there was another car to back up the sheriff. It wasn't good - whatever he was going to say anyway. Regardless, running would make this worse if he even tried - or considered it.

For now he was going to watch how this played out.

Quincy Knight stocked his way through the parking lot, the invitation was being forcibly crushed through the fingers of his fist. He had tried talking himself into football- but after reading the invitation a third time he couldn't bring himself to go. “In loving memory of Suzanne Moore.” His mind repeated. He trembled and pulled his keys out of his jacket pocket. He pressed the autostart button and his black Camry, affectionately named ‘Baby,’ started up with a soft purr.

He opened the door and threw his backpack and the crumpled invite to the passenger side door. He needed answers. Why were they just giving up? It had hardly been a full week and nobody was looking for her. She had to be out there. He was going to get answers. He reversed out of his parking spot and nearly hit the bumper of another vehicle coming out. Even knowing it was his fault he flipped them off before speeding away.

It only took fifteen minutes to pull up by Suzi’s house. He knew the way like the back of his hand, he had spent the year picking her up and taking her home from school. He saw an unfamiliar car already parked by the house and frowned. He got out and slammed the door closed. Somebody in dark clothing was already on the porch. Quincy narrowed his blue eyes recognizing him as he got closer. He scowled, it was that Pervert. How dare he show up here.

He all but ran up to the porch- not even really sure what he was going to do when he got there. Quincy roughly grabbed Gwyn's shoulder, pulling him around to face him. “How dare you show your face here.” He snarled.

@ProPro