Nocturnum - Chapter I

[Velmont]

Steven enters the small snack bar. He looks at the menu.

"I'll take a steak kaiser with extra cheese and bacon."

Waiting for his meal, he garbs a journal that lay on the table next to him. He starts to scan hastly for the sport section but something catch his attention. The article told about the stry of the governement who listen to all phone communication. A bit farther, an article is telling how the canadian institution are employing american company to protect there knowledge and that with the Patriot act, the american governement could have access to all these informations, and that, without the canadian knowing it.

"That's just the top of the iceberg."

"What?" asks the cook, who doesn't have any idea of what Steven is talking about.

"I'm telling that recorded phone conversation story is just the top of the iceberg. The people just discovered that and they are going crazy about there privacy. What do you think they are doing with there spy satellite, the Internet, the many information organization. They are spying us as much as the people outside the country. The leaders of this country are control freaks. And they are manipulating us. They want us to lives in fear so we go to them like a small child jump into her mother's arm."

"What are you speaking about?" replies the cook, obviously not believing Steven.

"That" showing the news about the recorded phone conversation. "If you think it is the reporter who has found it, you are wrong. They wanted him to discover it. They have been doing that for a long time and must have found that it is no more so usefull, and they wanted to keep the fear atmosphere that inhabit this country since September 11th. I tell you, it's just the top of the iceberg."

"And I suppose they keep the cadaver of aliens in area 51?" the cook add with sarcasm.

"That's another thing, but it's not a mortuary, more a landing site."

"Ah! Here your meal. It's six dollars. And please, keep your mad theory outside my snack."

"Bah! Be a sheep if you like that."

As Steven get out of the snack bar, he hears the cook laughing. Steven shook his head and take back his walk to Dunstand's place, carrying his meal in a hand and the newpaper under his arm.

 

[ae1vart0n]

~Roger~

7AM

Wake up. Look around at his tiny studio apartment, go back to sleep.

8AM

Get up.

Review calendar. Notice he has an apartment to visit today, to find out why a lady swears she saw her dead son in the window. Unlike her other delusions, she has a picture of this one that she's clinging to. The doctors think this may be the source of her other fantasies, and it may be the last fabrication to overcome before they'll be able to release her. As always they're short on space, so releases are important right now.

When he visited her in the sanitarium, he examined the photograph. It appeared to be genuine which is why he's going to her apartment, where the image is set, to see how it might have been taken.

Her sister has agreed to meet Roger there to let him in at lunch, around 1PM. Nobody has been in there since this lady was taken away.

A pretty low key case. It would probably turn out to be a reflection of some kind, so the first thing he'd do is look for other photographs of the boy.

Not being a very busy day he goes for a short jog around the block, comes back, stretches, showers, and puts on his everyday clothes.

10AM

An egg, a piece of toast, a glass of grapefruit juice, and to the closet to make sure his equipment was charged, he had film, and everything was generally working. Then he put everything in a duffle bag, left, locked the door, and headed down the stairs (there was no elevator in his building).

Every morning he went through this routine. Loaded up his car. Drove to the library, where he checked his email account. His email had been provided as a convenience by one of the local sanitariums, in exchange, he didn't charge them as much as he did others.

10:30AM

At the library, he got on the public computer and logged in. They had provided him with a diskette with a program he used to check his account, that didn't use the normal protocol. At least that's what they told him; he didn't understand what it meant.

There was one email about a patient in the DC area, that he jotting down the information on a notepad he kept in his briefcase. A couple from various subscriptions he had to paranormal activity bulletins. Most of it was garbage, as was the nature of the thing, but he browsed them anyway looking for something interesting. And about twenty from a patient he was going to need to see later tonight.

This particular patient was a bit paranoid. Every few months she came by with a different problem, and he talk to her as seriously as a doctor was required to do. If you were to read her file though, the diagnosis was Munchausen. A hypochondriac of psychiatric disorders. Nobody could go insane in so many different ways in a lifetime. From asylums to psychiatric wards, she was banned from them all. Sometimes he considered it as good practice. Other times it was just annoying. In any case she was pretty good at faking it, and she paid. He received one email from another patient. This one afraid of human interaction. Any interaction with him was therefore via email, but he paid his bills too so Roger didn't mind.

These were the sort of patients he dealt with, the ones nobody else really wanted. The delusional ones like the one whose dead son he would attend to at lunch were mundane by comparison. He typed up a response to the sociophobe, and a few others, browsed some of the subscriptions and logged out, taking his diskette.

 

[Insight]

Vincent's heart began beating profusely, faster and faster as mention of him in the conversation came about. They were after him. And what was this 'trinket' of his father's they were talking about? He brought back things he had found on his digs numerous times. It could be almost anything.

If his father was away, it could be weeks or even months before he returned. The frightening truth was apparent. They wanted him, and expected him home soon. Jamie spoke up just then, tugging at Vincent's sleeve, "Come on Vincent, we need to run. We need to get out of here," she whispered frantically.

That much Vincent knew to be true. But where could he go? If there were people out looking specifically for him, and knew where he lived, where could he go that was actually safe? Such a place might not exist...

"I have no idea what these men want... and I can't endanger my friends trying to find out." Vincent thought. He took Jamie and Reggie aside. "Listen guys," he began, both friends in rapt attention. "Someone is inside the house... they're looking for me."

Jamie continued to tug at Vincent's arm. "What are you doing?" she asked, hushed. "We need to be LEAVING."

Reggie peeked inside a window. "This got anything to do with that stuff you were telling me the other night... your weird senses?"

Vincent hushed Reggie, looking at Jamie, whose interest was now aroused. "Later, man."

"Wait, what now?" Jamie asked.

"Nothing, nothing," Vincent replied. "You're right; we need to get going - now!"

"Yeah, let's roll," Reggie added, scurrying carefully towards his Lincoln Towncar. Jamie and Vincent soon followed.

The car started, and Reggie peeled out of the driveway. Men emerged briefly from the house, but neither Vincent nor any of his friends could make out any details.

"What trinket do they want... and why do they want it?" Vincent wondered.

 

[Majin]

~ Gabriel ~

Macy gives Gabriel a half-serious reproving look before looking back to his statue. "Of course not Gabe. This came from the Paradise Theater a few blocks away off campus. They have statues like this and wood carvings throughout the theater, by the baclonies and such. They're renovating the place right now, planning on a grand reopening it seems. A lot of history there; it's over a century old!

He takes out a folded piece of paper from his front shirt pocket. After unfolding it he hands it to Gabriel. "It's a flyer for their reopening. They gave me one when I picked up this statue. I hear it's haunted, though when I asked the owner about it she looked at me funny," he frowns.

"Old buildings are your thing though aren't they? This one may be young considering your normal fare, but you might wanna check it out. Cause of the haunting and all too, ya know..." he adds, meekly.

~ Vincent ~

A few days passed as Vincent took turns hiding out between Reggie and Jamie's house. He hadn't heard anything from his parents in this time, but was beginning to feel that the heat may have been off for the moment.

"Hey Vincent," Jamie called, as they were hanging out one day. "I know you're still worried about those men that were after you, but you know you can't hide away forever."

"Yeah man," Reggie jumped in. "You really need to get out for awhile. We're volunteering up at the Paradise Theater today, helping them renovate for the big re-opening. They're giving us free tickets to any show we want! Why don't you head down there with us? It's a really old building. They've got all sorts of creepy stuff on the walls for decorations and what not. Real old, arty stuff. Maybe you could get some ideas for you next painting or tattoo or somethin'? How about it?" he asks.

~ Roger ~

As lunchtime came, Roger quickly made his way over to the apartment he was scheduled to investigate. Knocking on the door, a woman he figured to be the 'sister' allowed him into the apartment.

"What are you going to do here anyway?" she asks suspiciously. "I don't quite see what all of these silly devices of yours are supposed to tell us about my sister's illness."

~ Steven ~

Planning on eating in Dunstand's dorm, Steven makes his way there only to receive no knock on the door when he arrives. Either Dunstand was out (unlikely), or he was sleeping in again and refused to get up. Finding a place to sit down, Steven begins to eat his meal and flip through the newspaper. During his reading he comes across a flyer for the grand reopening of the Paradise Theater. Something about it struck a familiar chord in the uni student. Oh, that's right. Both him and Dunstand had an art history report due soon. The professor had wanted everyone to focus on local history. The flyer claimed the building was over a century old, and from the pictures printed on the piece of paper it appeared it might be just the thing. He knew for a fact that Dunstand wouldn't have had it finished by now (he always blew off his general credit classes). Perhaps they could do the paper together? That is, if Dunstand ever woke up...

 

[ae1vart0n]

"I'll probably only need the video camera. I'm not here to look for a ghost ma'am. Most of these tools are used for collecting evidence. My goal is to prove to your sister that she didn't see what she believes she did. Her doctor thinks it will help."

Everyone asks that, he thought. He had recited that speech so many times he could hear it in his sleep. This case didn't deserve that sort of attention.

He switched focus immediately to the apartment. The sister was on her lunch break after all, and he'd rather go through convincing her to let him stay without her if he didn't need to.

The apartment was cozy, a comfortable looking sofa. Fake fruit and paintings along every wall. Some flowers which looked like they had been kept up, he guessed by this sister. The living room was separated from the kitchen by a half a wall. From the entrance the kitchen was ahead with the opening to the kitchen on the right. To the left was a wall with a window, but not the one her sister had seen this ghost in. In the doorway to the kitchen hung some shiny silver pans.

This would make a good reflection

He was getting a little distracted. Most of his clients lived in shambles, their insanities didn't afford them the capacity to clean. The only exception was OCs. Obsessive compulsive disorder would sometimes lead to an exceptionally ordered house.

He had given this sort of speech so many times, he could say it in his sleep. He looked around for the window.

"You could help. Did your sister have any routines that would place her near that window at an unusual time? And do you know where she may have kept..."

Roger walked straight toward a large portrait on a wall perpendicular to the window. It looked exactly like the image in her photo, only the image in the window was slightly distorted.

"... this is the source of the image."

On the wall in the livingroom was hung a large picture of her son that looked alot like the picture he had seen, he hadn't noticed it right away because it hung on the same wall as the entrance, so he needed to walk in and turn around to see it.

Now it was obvious how the image had been cast.

A good reflection would probably be seen at night, but a ghostly one was likely to be dawn or dusk. The photo and the duration of her sighting didn't support that. In her case Roger had thought it was a passing cloud obscuring the sunlight, and the change in ambience had contributed to the imagery. He was half right.

He went to look out the glass sliding door in her livingroom.

A good reflection also required some light on this photo. It would come in from this window and shine on the portrait. Then the image in the portrait would reflect off the large shiny frying pan causing an image to be projected on the kitchen window. After being distorted by the frying pan and window it probably would look like a ghost. But one thing was missing.

He was looking out this window to see if he could find the light source. It would need to be rather bright to make this happen.

Ow. He covered his eyes for a second. There was a newish building across the street with glass walls. The sun was being reflected directly into her livingroom. Such buildings, he thought, should not be built near people's apartments.

"She liked to stand by her stove and think sometimes."

Roger moved into the kitchen and stood at the spot where this photograph was taken. Right by the oven and got out his camera. He looked out the window. It was the fire escape, and people had hung old rugs out there to decorate. That gave this window some shade. And he saw it. The rugs blowing in the wind even made the image wave a little, giving the appearance the boy was alive. It was a little eerie.

"We can be done quickly, if you could do me a favor."

He got out his camera and started recording the image, trying to get both the image and the frying pan in sight.

"I need you to move that frying pan on the wall there for me, and then put it back exactly where it was. It's casting a reflection on this window you can see from where I'm standing and I need to prove to your sister that it was a reflection."

The lady had seen a ghost in broad daylight. A moving image of her dead son, in a room with no pictures of him. He needed to frying pan to explain to his client that the image was connected to that pan. He'd then take the camera to the frying pan, and her sons' portrait, and the window to show the connection.

 

[hippocrachus]

"I'm surprised I never heard of it," he returned, only a touch more interested. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to give it a once-over."
He eyed the wooden satyr with new respect and gently grabbed it from Macy. He turned it over in his hands to see if there were any markings like "Made in China" or "Property of the Paradise Theatre."
"It makes perfect sense that a satyr would be amongst the decor of a theater, of course," he began in a suddenly lecturing tone. "The Ancient Greeks held plays in which the participants would dress up like satyrs to honor the fertility gods. They were usually very comical..."
Gabriel coughed politely to let Macy know he could speak again if wanted.

 

[Insight]

Reggie drove his Lincoln Towncar around the corner and stopped. "OK, Vince," he said, "Start talking."

Vincent squirmed a bit, looking at Jamie, who said nothing but returned a "What?" look on her face. "Well, uh... I thought maybe it was a temporary thing," he began. "I realize now that's it not... so I guess I should come clean about the whole thing." He turned to Jamie. "This is what I told Reg the other night, and it's really all that I know."

"Oooooo... kay..." Jamie replied, cautious and curious.

"See, for the past couple of weeks, a month maybe, I've been seeing things. I thought maybe it was hallucinations after that bad x we took, but it's not. I'm seeing strange things that are real to me, but no one else can see them. Not scary things, not all the time anyway, but things nonetheless. I really don't know what to do with all of this."

Jamie smirked, now finally in on what's been going on with Vincent. "What sort of things? Why didn't you tell me?"

Vincent closed his eyes. "I didn't want to scare you... or have you think any less of me."

"That's ridiculous," Jamie shot back. "It's not possible for me to think any less of you." She smiled, and Reggie laughed.

Vincent smiled. "It's hard to describe what I see," he explained. "It just sort of happens... I am sitting somewhere, or walking in the neighborhood... visions appear. I have no control over it, and I don't know what it all means. I might see the image of a dead person over what is a real person walking past me, or a halo above someone's head. Sometimes, things glow in certain colors. It's nothing specific enough that I can describe any better than that."

"Maybe you just need to be on Paxil or something," Reggie suggested.

"Maybe not," Jamie countered. "Maybe it's what I thought all along... Vince here is special." She smiled, but this was not intended as a joke.

"She feels something for me..." Vincent learned. He tried hard not to let that feeling, whatever it was, cloud his mind. Vincent feared that these special senses would overwhelm him, and distort what reality he had left. He still didn't know whether he could believe these senses.

"So what now?" Reggie asked. They had yet to address the problem with the people in Vincent's house, and why they wanted Vincent.

"I have no idea," Vincent replied. "Those men... they said they want me for something. They can't possibly know... can they?"

Jamie was agape. "You think they are after you for your abilities?" she asked. "I don't understand how anyone could know. You just told me, and I'm your best friend."

"I thought I was your best friend," Reggie interjected.

Vincent frowned in frustration. "Maybe this is from watching the entire run of The X-Files," he said. "But what if they can somehow detect people like me? What if it's the government?"

Throwing her arms around Vincent's chest from the backseat, Jamie offered, "We'll protect you."

"Seriously, though," Reggie suggested. "We have two options: run far, far away... or stay here and find out what they want." He then looked to Vincent for a decision.

"We stay then," Vincent decided.

 

[Majin]

~ Gabriel ~

Gabriel's inspection of the statue does not reveal any sign of its make. Macy looks distraught as he picks it up and his face does not calm until the statue is safely down on the table once again.

"Ahh..." is all the man says, nodding his head and looking on expectantly.

Gabriel looks down at the flyer again. Paradise is coming! it states in big bold letters.

~ Roger ~

The woman's sister hesitates at the odd request a moment before obeying Roger's request. "If you say it will go a ways towards helping my sister," she nods.

After Roger does his thing, the woman thanks him and shows him the way out, seemingly in a rush. "I must be returning to work soon," she states nervously. Quite odd, someone in such a hurry to return to a task of manual labor, he thinks, but he is interrupted by an incoming call on his cellphone. Answering it he hears a female voice on the other end.

"Hello, is this Roger Evans, Para... Parapsychologist?" she asks, hesitant over that last part. After receiving a confirmation she goes on, "Hi, I'm Sara Landry, head of the Metro Arts organization. We've recently purchased the Paradise Theater and are in the process of renovating for a grand re-opening," she explains.

"Now this might sound silly, but maybe not to you, but there have been rumors circulating that this old theater is haunted. Now I don't believe in that sort of thing, but there are those that are superstitious enough that it may affect business when we re-open early next week. Could you... come by and check if the place is alright? It might ease some minds around here if you could confirm that there's nothing to worry about."

~ Vincent ~

"So we stay then," Reggie parroted. "If that's what we're gonna do then we obviously can't continue to live in fear the rest of our lives. We need to keep some semblance of a normal life. Which reminds me..." he adds wryly, "Are you coming with us to the theater or not? We'll drop you off somewhere if you want, but me an' Jamie want those tickets. Come on," he urges, "You might even enjoy yourself!"

 

[Insight]

[OOC: Woah, sorry I missed your first post about the days passing and stuff. My post didn't make much sense in context; I had planned for it to occur just after the escape.]

~ Vincent ~

"So we stay then," Reggie parroted. "If that's what we're gonna do then we obviously can't continue to live in fear the rest of our lives. We need to keep some semblance of a normal life. Which reminds me..." he adds wryly, "Are you coming with us to the theater or not? We'll drop you off somewhere if you want, but me an' Jamie want those tickets. Come on," he urges, "You might even enjoy yourself!"

"Um, yeah, why not?" Vincent replied. "I need to get out of here anyway. Reg, your house - it's all gray."

Reggie and Jamie looked around the living room, not sure what to make of Vincent's comment. "Gray, my man?" Reggie asked.

Vincent smiled. "Well, sorta. It's the 'color' I see around here. Gray. Not sure what it means."

"Death, maybe?" Jamie inquired.

Reggie frowned. "We need to get going if we're gonna get in on those free tickets," he cautioned, standing from the couch, grabbing his keys, and half-opening the door.

Vincent stood half-heartedly. "Yes," he replied, but to Jamie's question. "Death. That makes sense. Reg, did someone die here recently? If so, you've never told me about it."

Standing now in the door frame, waiting, Reggie looked at his watch. "My family and I have lived here for more than 10 years," he replied. "I think I would know if anyone had died here recently. Can we get going now?"

Jamie stood and joined Vincent. "Reg is right," she suggested. "Let's get going before all the good jobs are taken."

But Vincent somehow knew his good friend Reggie wasn't being entire sincere. "Someone has died here recently," he realized. "Reg knows, but he doesn't want to say. He is... orange..." Vincent decided that now wasn't the time for this particular discussion. "All right," he agreed. "Let's go."

The trio piled into Reggie's Lincoln Towncar. As they did, Vincent took one last look at the house. Overlayed upon the image of the real-life 1980 stucco building was the image of a dirty, shambly, smashed mortar building which was not a house at all. Vincent didn't know what to make of this, but took mental note to investigate this further at the next opportunity.

"Can we swing by my house so I can get my car - if it's still there?" Vincent asked as they drove off.

 

[Majin]

OoC: Perfectly alright; I just figured you wanted to get a little more RP with your friends in before heading to the theater. When everyone gets to the theater (something I'd like to happen relatively around the same time), I will start a "Time of day" convention, and have the day of the week and month included as well so we can keep track of more time sensitive things in-game.

~

~ Vincent ~

"You sure you wanna do that man?" Reggie asks as he slowed for a stop sign. At Vincent's insistance Reggie sighs. "Alright man, but if the Cigarette Smoking Man is waiting there to take you away, I don't know you," he jokes nervously.

"Don't scare him anymore than he already is Reggie!" scolded Jamie from the backseat, though Vincent could tell Reggie's words had succeeded in making her more scared.

As the group of friends reached Vincent's house everything seemed to be normal. The door was closed and there was no sign of a break-in anywhere to be seen. Vincent's jeep sat where he had last parked it, seemingly untouched.

"So, whatta ya wanna do? Follow us there? I sure don't feel comfortable leaving my car here, that's for sure..."