Another day, another dollar. The boss' motto was almost accurate - not to the point of the dollar, since the seedy pawn-shop moved much more money than one'd think at first sight; but the tedium it invoked was definitely on-point. This, however, spoke more about Crow's view of life than life in the shop itself, considering how often they engaged in illegal affairs of some kind.
This combined with his reluctance to speak had made Crow the boss' favourite for these kinds of activities, which he undertook rather happily since they meant he got a cut of the profits. And things rarely went wrong when you could count on creatures nobody else could see or hear to do you favors; not to mention other, more direct ways of fixing any issues he could have.
Which was good, because his other job gave him enough excitement for an entire lifetime, or perhaps two. Hunting down haunts, chasing possessed people, stopping mediums from meddling, necromancers from tampering too much with the natural order of things... One way or another there was always a mess going on somewhere, and it wouldn't do to just pretend it didn't happen until it all blew up. And even when none of that was going on, there was the ghosts - chasing him, trying to get him to do things, get his attention. All of them new ones, of course. The older ones had become... well, either resigned or deranged. It was the new ones that thought they still belonged to the realm of the living, that they had pending business to attend to, that they had affairs to solve. Well, usually.
Those were his reflections as he walked home from finishing his shift, pestered by one ghost after another - and while he usually got some attention when he walked about, never this much, never this constant. There was something in the wind's howling today, and the dead were getting more and more agitated by the minute, whispering, moving excitedly from one place to another. Last time this had happened, it'd been a mass seance in a dorm and... It could've definitely gone better, so Crow picked the first ghost in the crowd - a woman holding her guts with one hand, clearly one of the Torn - and set to questioning her.
Ten minutes later, one exasperated Crow walked away from the ghost, almost muttering a curse under his breath. At least he'd managed to find out where the happening was, even if not what it was... and every minute of trying to pry information from the uncooperative woman meant he was late for something that had the ghosts in an uproar. It was time to sprint, and sprint he did rattling the chain wrapped around his left arm, up and down the streets, narrowly dodging an incoming car, jumping over a fence; his breath stable as if he was having a walk. Ever since he'd become a Sin-Eater his body had simply raised the tempo, and where before he would've been left panting, now he was staring at the ominous manor with a wide smile. He could understand where people came from when they said exercise was enjoyable.
Sweaty but satisfied, Crow gave the manor a quick once-over - itr looked to be all but inviting even without second sight, all dust, closed curtains and dark glasses. It still managed to keep a certain regality to it, sign of what it probably had been back in the day. Whoever had gone in had to be seriously troubled, either in the sanity or the brains department, but that wasn't Crow's problem. What was, however, was the feeling of asphyxiation coming from his lungs, as if he were lacking air for a brief second. With a shrug, the man walked to the main door, produced a set of lockpicks and got to work. A moment later, his lanky figure was vanishing into the almost unnatural darkness of the place.
If he could sense the ghost, the ghost could sense him, and if it was the kind of ghost he expected it would only be a matter of time before... A flying chair smashed into his body, splintering as he recoiled, twisting to face the source of the attack. Standing in a doorway, grinning eerily, there was a goth girl. Woman, probably the better term. Possessed would work too, because through her flesh he could see the flickering body of the phantasm, shifting in and out.
"Let go of her and I'll..." A second chair flew towards him from a nearby table, but this time the Sin-Eater was ready and stepped to the side nimbly, blinking during the motion - and when his eyes opened they were covered in a white layer, as if he were blind. A tap on one of the amulets hanging from the shackle on his left wrist, and something struck at the ghost's essence, punching a hole through him - it was on.
And it wasn't pretty or stylish. The Sin-Eater stood straight, his hand tracing the path for the blast of chill winds that struck at the ghost's core, frost appearing on the goth's clothes - and every single piece of furniture in the room started rattling, swirling, flying towards him. He ducked and weaved as best he could, closing the distance to the ghost slowly but surely, saving his power for when it was truly necessary. A chair broke on him, two, three, and yet he moved forward. A table gave the ghost a brief moment of pause, before the Sin-Eater threw the bloody thing back at the ghost, fortunately hitting the doorframe instead of the goth on the other side - but the loss of sight was all Crow needed to close in, the chain on his arm unfurling as if alive, then hanging loosely from the shackle for a brief moment as the table in front of him snapped, revealing an angrier shrieking ghost.
The chain lashed out like a whip, passing through the human's body like it wasn't there, wrapping around the ghost's neck. Crow took another step forward, thrusting his fist towards her face - and straight through to the ghost's body, turning around while the creature recoiled, and pulling from the chain with all his strength. A pained scream, a ripping sound, and the ghost was flailing at the end of the chain as the goth's body fell limply onto the floor. Slowly, Crow turned to face the now defenseless ghost, a predatory grin in his lips as he punched the creature - again and again and again, until it was no more.
God it was good to be alive! The thrill of the hunt sang in the man's veins, his wounds setting as he burst out in laughter, the darkness enveloping him doing nothing to damp his good spirits. Humming quietly to himself, he threw the woman's unconscious body on his shoulder. When she woke up, she'd have much to answer for.
Well, he would've never thought that one of the advantages of living in the bad part of town would be to be able to carry an unconscious woman into his house without anyone batting an eye, but there it was. She had still been out cold when he'd reached his house, and though he could tell she was nowhere close to death it had looked like she would still sleep for a few more hours, so he'd dumped her into his bed, got rid of most of his clothes, and slumped on the torn couch to talk with the static. Around him, fetishes of all kinds, signs of multiple religions, makeshift altars and books on philosophy and theology shared space with pizza boxes, gun magazines and newspapers. The mess wasn't as great as it seemed at first, though - most things were in a certain area of the room, the pizza boxes were clean and had some odd sigils on them, newspapers covered in symbols and diagrams.
"I know what you're going to say." Crow chuckled at the TV's static. "We should've taken her out." A short pause, and another chuckle. "I'd rather test the other options first, you know? If she came back as a ghost..." With a smile, the Sin-Eater laid back on the sofa, moving the conversation to the quiet side of things on his side, though the static still spoke loud and clear to him.
The squeaking of noises roused the Sin-Eater from his thoughts. Slowly, the man stood up - tall and lanky, left arm with a shackle and its chain wrapped tightly around it, right arm with a tattoo imitating the chain on the other, wearing a fairly torn T-shirt and some even more torn jeans, the man walked towards the girl in the middle of the darkness, flicking the lights on as he went. He stood at the side of the bed, bony features staring down on her like an eagle for a second, two, ten, before he finally spoke.
"Who are you? Why were you inside that mansion? What were you doing there?" His tone wasn't too friendly, but it wasn't accusing either.