"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."
Dezuel