Multiple Settings Enigma United [IC]

Salem, Massachusetts. The time is 9 am. Jacob bishop drives the 1970 mercury cougar XR7 towards the John Proctor house. The sun was high, and the weather was warming up. The plants had started budding into flowers with vibrant colours, the leaves and the grass lush green, but the wind was still cold. He looked in the rearview, seeing a ghost that looked like a burn victim. Jacob could smell smoke and burning hair. "You're not supposed to be here," Jacob said assertively.

The ghost remained silent, staring at Jacob in the eyes before vanishing in an instant. Jacob swallowed the lump in his throat. It made him think about the superstition. Hold your breath, driving past a graveyard. Of course, this was never going to stop a ghost from following you. Most people couldn't see them begin with, and generally, they couldn't affect the physical world. But like everything else, there are those particularly nasty ones. Jacob pulled into the driveway. He looked in his rearview one more time to make sure nothing was there. Then he exited the car. Following the path to the door, he stepped into the Foyer. His fedora and jacket being placed on the coat rack. On the ottoman to the left, he placed his bag.

"Elizabeth?" He called out; the manor was too quiet. Especially during the witch trials anniversary, Jacob expected Elizabeth to be extremely active. He shrugged it off but kept an eye out for her cause she was an evil ghost. Jacob picked up his bag, releasing a sigh. The manor kept most of the decor, aside from some of the den being turned into office space. That is where Jacob navigated to. The old oak desk, a small filing cabinet next to it. Jacob sits at his desk, still really uneasy that Proctor's ghosts had become so quiet. He was always behind on paperwork. No matter how much he did, there was always more. He takes a deep breath beginning to type out a report. The decor from the 17th century seemed to be still. He continued to pound on the keyboard, the droning click as the characters popped up on the screen.

Jacob stopped typing and looked over his shoulders, cautiously checking the room for anything that might be out of place. He reached down to his bag and opened it up. The items inside looked small that they had to have been miniatures. He reaches into the bag and grabs a small iron bar just in case. All the records say that Iron can break up a ghost's form, and it takes ghosts to manifest apparitions a ton of energy. He placed the bar next to him on the desk and continued to type out his past case reports. Once again looking over both shoulders to make sure nothing was going to jump out and scare him.

It was a fifteen minute walk to the Procter house from Iris’ apartment. Iris preferred to walk rather than take the bus as she still wasn’t used to being in such close quarters with so many strangers. Many of the other pedestrians were bundled up against the chill, but it hardly bothered Iris, who was accustomed to long bitter winters and had mastered personal heat-regulating charms by the time she was three. Still, she kept her hands in the pockets of her jacket, as it was a comfort to feel the ticking of her watch against her skin. She kept it in a secret pocket she had sewn on the inside, but still she could feel it through the fabric. It hadn’t been wound up in decades, and should all rights be still, but the soul of the demon trapped inside kept it tick tick ticking.

A few cyclists passed her and she watched their receding backs envious and a little bitter. Even if she could afford a bicycle, she had never learned to ride one, and she refused to make a fool out of herself by figuring it out now, as an adult. Many of the passersby also wore headphones and listened to music as they walked. Iris had tried this once, when she’d gotten the hang of her new cell phone, but felt it impossible to focus on navigating the streets with a song blaring in her ears. There was already so much going on.

After working at Enigma for nearly a month, Iris had surrendered her habit of automatically checking the wards on the door as she entered, since she had quickly discovered they were ancient and faultless. Whoever had created them knew what they were doing and she had to admit she was begrudgingly impressed by the thoroughness of the craftsmanship. Iris knew that most of the wards were made to keep dangerous entities inside the building, rather than vice-versa, but she was nonetheless comforted that they were unlikely to be intruded upon.

Keeping an eye out for any spirits, which she had been warned about extensively but had yet to encounter, Iris made her way to the office space and the desk she had claimed as her own. She nodded a greeting to Mr. Bishop across the room and got to settling in. Her jacket she kept on, but set her bag down next to her chair. So far she’d only been assigned basic office work: fact checking reports, acquiring permits, and recording expenses for tax purposes. Occasionally she was consulted when a case involved witchcraft, but mostly she was left to herself. It was boring and perfect, because it meant that if she completed her work for the day, she had quite a bit of time to raid the library and conduct her own personal research.

Today was no different, Iris thought, as she went through the neat stack of paperwork on her desk and logged into her email. (At first, she was astounded at the speed of it. As a child, they’d only had one computer, an ancient desktop that still used dial-up internet.) It was mostly invoices, nothing too interesting. She hummed, as close to content as it was possible for her to be, and got to work.

It was 6:00 am in Aberdeen Washington and while most people on the east coast were up and already at work, most people on the west coast were still sleeping. There was one exception however, as Maluon had been up since 4:00 am. Maluon woke up early like this every morning, and thankfully, he didn't have neighbors close enough to him to annoy with the lights of his vintage home. Maluon's morning routine was as simple as get up, take a shower, choose his outfit for the day, and start the day's work, which he did from home.

Maluon worked from home most of the time as he didn't like being seen in public, as least by ordinary humans. This is all due to being embarrassed for being a vampire, despite not knowing any other life, as he was born to along line of vampires. Maluon was only 26 years old, however, because his parents struggled to have a child for a very, very long time. This was another source of embarrassment for him as his parents were centuries old, and stuck in their traditions, which Maluon viewed as outdated and once compared their lifestyle to something dug out of the Morrison formation, which dates back the Jurassic.

Maluon worked as an online researcher and data analyst for Enigma and had been doing so for a few years now. His main purpose is to pull up articles and other info online and relay anything useful to investigators about to go into the field. He also would analyze any data sent back to him for anything worth checking out further. Maluon frequently checks video, audio, and many other data forms for all sorts of information.

Maluon didn't expect much from today, as was the case for most days, it was pretty normal so far. Maluon booted up his computer, and set to sending a good morning email to let his colleagues throughout the country know he was available for whatever they needed him to do. Maluon began working on earlier assignments as he waited for new ones.

Salem was full of history, for better or for worse. Every town was in its own way, of course, but none quite like Salem. The horrors of the past steeped in its very soil made sure of that.
But here, sitting on the steps leading up to the small side terrasse of the Proctor House, the faint noise of the street ringing and birds trilling their songs, it was easy to forget its nature.

The crisp, clear air, the wind chilling his face, it was exactly what Ira needed to sort his thoughts. As was the coffee in his hands, stale as it was by now. Its acerbic taste stinging his tongue as he took another slow sip, gaze focused on the trees ahead he was not looking at, fingers tapping rhythms against the lukewarm cup.
Three promising leads at once, only one team available. He trusted Jacob, his case history and experience spoke for themselves, but the young witch was a variable he found hard to judge. Once he’d see her work more field cases, it would be an entirely different matter, but for now, caution was best.

A hunt, a haunting, a murder investigation.
He knew it was his own bias tainting his judgement, but the details around the cemetery murders made him dismiss the case outright for the two of them.
Or was he dismissing the case for himself instead, he found it impossible to tell.

The Bridgewater case was pressing, but he’d prefer sending a team with more firepower, so to speak. Perhaps he could mobilize someone to help out, a topic for later.
That left the SK Pierce Mansion haunting. Potentially a risk, however one he felt comfortable taking. Felt comfortable the two of them taking, even with it being one of the most haunted houses in North America, despite its mixed past, Ira had enough faith in them overcoming this one.

And yet, he was not satisfied. If those rogue occultists had truly managed to summon something vile at the cemetery, who could tell where that would lead.
With a sigh, he rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, his glasses slipping into the waves of his hair, hopelessly entangled there.
He needed more information. And he needed it from a reliable source.
Without hesitating further, he fumbled his glasses back in place, pulling out his phone from the inside pocket of his rust herringbone jacket, and send Maluon a polite request for further information on the occultists, giving their names and location - hoping for anything he could find about the case in return.

Stretching and hearing his joints pop back in place, he made his way back into the house, surprised not only to find his cup empty, but the investigators he had been thinking about already at their desks. The brief break outside must have taken longer than he thought. Had it not been 8.15 am when he had gone out the door. Surprise melted into a soft smile, hands folded around the mug as he stood in the doorway. “Jacob, Miss Carrier, good morning. May I have a moment of your time? There is a case I would like to discuss with you.”

It wasn’t just a few moments before he stopped typing out his report slowly when the house started creaking again. Jacob ignored the creaks, logically explaining them away in his head. Usually, he would be on top of things but the ghost that had picked up a ride in his back seat earlier and the eerily quiet Elizabeth he was on edge. A notification popped up for an email from Maulon way in South Dakota. He clicked on it and responded with a likewise message of good morning.

“Morning, Carrier.” He said to his latest partner. Enigma always gave him the rookies. It made his job a little more difficult. But it helped train better investigators, sure Enigma had shapeshifters and vampires that were investigators. But to be a human investigator needed to be significantly more clever. Jacob was never much for words keeping the conversations between coworkers and himself more business than personal. There was definitely something going on in Salem as there always was this time of year. February through May the paranormal activity picked up in Salem. The library records of Enigma, it was connected to the events of the town’s dark history. When it sounded like there were things falling and being thrown in a separate room of the mansion Jacob ignored that too. Though he couldn’t logically explain the tapping noises. Maybe the old pipes? The house has been updated in recent years, the interior of the house was restored to the 17th century victorian style of decor. The inner mechanics of the house had been modernized.

Jacob jolted from his keyboard his hand on the iron bar about two feet in length which was a mere few centimetres in his magic bag. He looked at Ira releasing a sigh, giving a slim smile that didn’t have much character before going back to that unreadable poker face. Eyes that spoke of things most humans only thought existed in their dreams. Jacob relaxed in his swivel office chair turning to face Ira more swinging his legs from under the old oak desk and leaning back into his chair. “Morning, Ira.” He greeted the handler as he had a case that he wanted to present them. Which could it be? Jacob had read about the strange deaths occurring around Salem after the discovery of a ritualistic scene by the police investigating some vandalism. “Has anyone checked Elizabeth’s wards?” Jacob asked.

It was at this time when Jacob had let his guard down with the arrival of Ira that Elizabeth struck. The phantom grabbed Jacob's tie and lifted him into the air by an unseen force. Suspended in the tie around his neck acting as a noose Jacob kicked the chair under him too low to get his footing. "Iron!" He sputtered. Where had he left that bar? On his desk but he was now too high to reach it. The witch of the trials had bared her fangs. An ominous cackle filled the room as Jacob struggled.

Maluon was brushing up on an old case when he heard the distinct notification of an email. Upon opening up the email and seeing it was from Ira Hawthorne, Maluon quickly recognized it as being important. He read it over twice before replying with a quick message.


Maluon immediately set to work gathering information on the history of the location, as well as the victims of the recent murders, and any other details that he could find. He found a lot on the history of the cemetery, and the people buried there. However, Maluon struggled to find much information on the victims, other than names, and arrest records. He did however manage to find autopsy reports on the first victim, which was rather peculiar. Looking further, Maluon discovered that the numbers 12 13 1717 were carved on the individual's left shoulder, presumably with a small pocket knife. Maluon felt this to be important, as it looked like a date.

Upon researching the date, Maluon discovered it to be the date of death for Reverend Nicholas Noyes, who was involved in the Salem Witch Trials. Maluon also learned Noyes is believed to be buried at the Old Burying Point Cemetery, though no marker currently exists. Also of note was the supposed curse uttered by Sarah Good as she stood upon the gallows. Whether all of this was connected or not, remained to be seen. Never the less, Maluon thought it was worth noting.

Maluon then proceeded to gather all of this information into a presentable format, and sent another email to Ira.

Okay, so Iris would have to reassess what she had thought about the wards being impeccable. Clearly there were some holes in the system.

When Mr. Hawthorne had entered the room, she greeted him politely, but frowned when he announced that he had a case for them. That was… disappointing. Anyone else might have jumped on the chance to get out in the field, but Iris had been quite happy staying put thank you very much.

Then there was her apparent partner on the case. Mr Bishop seemed alright but it was hard not to notice how jumpy the man was. It was a bit odd to Iris considering he seemed a grizzled veteran of the organization. Was this what this kind of work did to a person? In a few years, would she too be jumping a foot in the air at every small sound, shoulders perpetually up at her ears? But no, she thought, she forgot herself. She would be long gone by then. Iris had no plans staying in Salem any longer than it took to dig up the mysteries of her demon.

Iris felt her heart leap in her chest as suddenly Mr Bishop was lifted by some invisible force into the air. He hung from his tie, gasping for breath, but managed to get out one word: “Iron!” She followed his eyes to the block of metal on his desk that she had not noticed before. It seemed she would have to be more observant if she was to survive this job.

In a flash she was over at his desk and the iron bar was in her hand. She paused. What now? Was she supposed to throw it? Iris couldn’t see whatever spirit was definitely causing this (“Elizabeth”?), and was just as likely to give Mr. Bishop a concussion. Instead she grasped at his wrist, which was still barely within her reach, and pressed the bar into his open palm.

She took back what she had said. This man was not paranoid-- obviously his fears were completely justified. And it would not take Iris years to achieve his level of jumpiness. If things kept going as they were, she would get there within the week!

Jacob remains in the air for the time being while Iris scrambled to his desk to grab the iron bar. Elizabeth's cackle had grown louder seeming to echo throughout the house. Iris put the iron bar in his hand, on the edge of consciousness as the tie cut off his oxygen, Jacob grips the bar feeling it in his hand as he lifted it with barely enough strength to get the bar above his head it seemed so heavy compared to earlier when he had brought it out and placed the bar on his desk. There was barely a second where he felt air rush into his lungs. The cackle still echoes through the house but was fading quickly.

Gravity had taken hold of Jacob now, he dropped landing on the floor with a heavy thud the air he had gotten into his lungs knocked out from the drop. He grunted and groaned in pain as he writhed on the ground for several minutes while he tried to force air into his lungs getting winded with the landing. This was taking things too far. "I am going to burn that damned Ouija Board you hear me Elizabeth!" Jacob shouted at nothing. Of course, he wouldn’t burn the Ouija Board it would only make things worse but if he could burn it and get rid of her for good he would it without question. Jacob stood up and went to his desk he leaned on it for both support and to pick up a pen to write a note of things he would need to get to rebind Elizabeth.


“We should bind her to that board again before she gets stronger,” Jacob said looking between his colleagues. He looked to Hawthorne He felt sorry for the guy, Jacob didn’t really know why Elizabeth went after him but When he and Iris left it would be him left with the ghosts. “I’ll leave you my smudging sage that should keep her from trying anything else.” Jacob offered knowing she wouldn’t just let them bind her into the Ouija Board. Once everything was settled and there wasn’t this air in the room, Elizabeth was gone for now. Jacob looked at the wall. He hadn’t seen the name in green on the wall before. But, he was also being hung in the air. “Who wrote that?” He said out loud to no one in particular. That would be a mystery for later Hawthorne has something. Jacob gave him his undivided attention, taking a spot standing next to Iris. "Ya said you had a case, Ira?" Jacob asked rubbing his back the pain lingering.

Time had briefly slowed for an eternity, as Ira watched Jacob hung by his tie, grasping for air and for aid, and Miss Carrier providing the later marvelously. It was over in the blink of an eye.
And there was writing next to him, green and orderly where there had been none before. He reached out, finding the paint still fresh, and rubbed it to crumbs between his fingertips, brows furrowed, as he spared Jacob the moment to catch his breath.
The letters were too clean for a ghost as vicious as Elizabeth had been, so he doubted it was a calling card left by her. Another ghost, then.
There were people who would have analyzed the lettering, but he personally took no stock in graphology. Yet one more mystery of many to add to this day.

His list of things to take care of kept expanding. The library needed extensive cleaning - an archivist should never let dust settle, for it was the breeding ground for all kinds of vermin that could destroy leather and paper. The wards needed maintenance, evidently, and it irked him that this even happened.
Favors needed to be called in, these cases couldn’t all be handled by Jacob and Miss Carrier, after all.
And now, there was the source of the writing to be found as well.
He settled these thoughts in the mental drawer marked for later, and refocused on the room.

“Good gracious. Well handled, Miss Carrier.” A faint nervous laugh accompanied the words, his nod of thanks to her was sincere, and he appraised her anew.
Perhaps there was little need to worry about her after all, if she always kept her thinking and reactions this fast.
Unsettled by Jacob’s sudden shouting, any further comments got abandoned, instead watching his movements for any sign of debilitating injury. His investigator seemed in pain, but determined to keep going, writing, of all things.

At the offer, he lit up, setting his cup down on the desk before him. “The smudge would be most appreciated.” He had his own little precautions of course. Iron cufflinks, a salt circle hidden beneath his desk carpet, some notes stuck on the underside on his desk on wards he found in books. Workplace safety measurements, so to speak, but another layer of protection would never be amiss. And Jacob’s ability to move on from such an incident never ceased to amaze him. Already back at the case at hand, apparently.

Ira couldn’t help but let out an incredulous huff of air, shaking his head a bit in concern as he noticed his movements.
He hadn’t meant to spy on the note - the writing had simply caught his attention, but he was too curious to let it go. “I fear you are out of luck on the sandalwood, but I do still have some magic chalk and rock salt stored in the office.” Jerking his wallet out of the inner lining of his jacket, he offered the spare tabs of brandless pain medication inside. One ibuprofen, three paracetamol, half an aspirin carefully resealed in its casing. “Will these do? There may be more stocked in the medicine cupboard”, he offered freely, tapping against the scuffed leather.

His phone buzzed at the new message. He’d have to look at it later. “Yes, I do.
“You have probably heard of the Sylvester Knowlton Pierce Mansion in Gardner. Luxurious victorian build, expensive detailing, completely haunted. We’ve been watching it for years, but so far it did not warrant intervention. A woman died recently, levitating out of the window. I’m hoping for you to solve this before the ghosts become more aggressive. As a heads up, it’s become somewhat of a tourist trap in recent years, people staying there for their thrills and trying their hand at the supernatural.” His smile was wry. “Hopefully this tragic death will at least have removed any living obstacles.”

Iris gingerly took a step back from the man as he fell to the floor, and although she did not show her uneasiness on her face (how unprofessional), she internally winced at the violence of Mr Bishop’s recovery. Iris made a note to find a bit of iron for her own use. The pawn shop down the road from her apartment sold all manner of jewelry-- perhaps she could find something there?

Mr Bishop’s threats to the ghost she was not so concerned about, knowing them to be empty. If the relationships between bound objects and the spirits they kept imprisoned were that simple, Iris wouldn’t have half the trouble that she did. (Speaking of which, she’d have to have a little talk with Hemlock later about giving a little warning the next time they were in imminent danger. What good was having a demon with one foot in the immaterial realm if it couldn’t do at least that?)

The green lettering on the wall was a bit weird, but that seemed unimportant at the moment and patently Not Her Problem. Iris couldn’t help but preen at her boss’ praise. She’d always been quite good under pressure and it was about time someone recognized it. As the two men spoke about the necessary ingredients to once again bind the ghost, she remained quiet, though she herself had a supply of sandalwood incense tucked away in her medicine cabinet, along with numerous other materials she used in her own rituals. Iris was not interested in sharing.

Iris actually hadn’t heard about the Pierce Mansion. Well, she knew the history of the building: an enormous mansion commissioned by a wealthy furniture-maker (Pierce), turned lecherous boarding house during the Depression. Pierce’s first wife died there, and supposedly there had been more than a few other deaths in the same building, but Iris’ knowledge of the area ended in the early part of the twentieth century, and hell if she was going to let that slip. In any case, she hadn’t heard about the woman levitating out the window (though this wasn’t really a surprise to her as she didn’t keep up with the news, nor did she have much of a social life). She was doubtful that the death would keep the tourists away. On the contrary, it seemed the sort of thing that would attract all kinds of idiots.

While she was naturally averse to going out into the field, the idea of exploring the historic house did intrigue her. These sort of places tended to be well preserved, and even if Iris found nothing useful to her own personal investigation, it would be interesting at least. She would have to make sure she took the necessary precautions, however. The Elizabeth incident had shaken her up a little bit, and she wanted to make sure she wouldn’t be caught unawares by an enemy she could not perceive.

Iris would also have to do some research on the people who had died there, compile a list of suspects as it were. (This all felt very Nancy Drew.) “Was there anyone else in the room with the victim at the time of the accident?” She loathed the idea of talking to strangers, though she knew it would likely be necessary in this case.

"The Pierce house, the one they make people sign waivers to enter?" There wasn't another mansion with the name Pierce on it; was there, Jacob. Bad question. It had become quite a tourist attraction, but there is still a full-on investigation. It must have happened recently around the same time that the murders connected to the cemetery or maybe during. It seemed like something strange was always going on in Salem, Massachusetts. Jacob didn't want to stick around any longer than he had to. "When we get back, I will re-seal the binding for her." He stared at the green writing on the wall with fresh paint. It was definitely not Elizabeth who wrote that. But he didn't see who it was. Strange that it would appear just as Elizabeth had decided to hang around with Jacob. "Alright, Rookie, let's go." He looked to Ira. "Send me the details on my phone." Jacob replaced the iron bar into the bag. one might wonder how something so long could fit in a small doctor's bag. It shouldn't have even fit at all. The bag is leather in construction with iron rivets and hardware.

Jacob headed out the door like he couldn't get out of there soon enough one attack from Elizabeth was one too much. Though he was also concerned with the Pierce Manor haunting escalating to such a degree. The wind had picked up before he had entered the headquarters the leaves had just been rustling. Now the tops of the trees were full-on swaying in the wind. It must have been that time of year. He made it to the vehicle, a classic metallic black '67 Mercury Cougar. He could have chosen something more modern but this was a special car to him. His mother had one like it, but he had never gotten the chance to drive it as she sold it shortly after getting married to his father. He opened the door setting his bag in the back and getting into the driver seat.

Once she had joined him however long it was, Jacob started the car the motor roaring to life as he backed out of the driveway on to the road. Jacob went into the flow of traffic and followed the cars, fiddling with his phone in one hand with the steering wheel in the other he naturally kept the vehicle straight recalling the directions to the Pierce Mansion as his attention was being divided between his phone and driving. Jacob gave up on his phone locking the screen and tossing it on the dash. "You can see spirits right?" He asked.

Jacob didn't pity anyone who didn't have the Gift of seeing spirits. He could feel the dread oozing off of her. Something was attached to Iris or attached so something she carried. But the level of pure hatred that radiated from her made him uncomfortable. This was a similar feeling as when Elizabeth had attacked. The sense of irreversible, inevitable doom. He looked over at her, then back to the road hoping she could see ghosts. Jacob wasn't going to waste time talking to all the witnesses. They would all say the same thing, but on the other hand talking to the dead was much more informative. But first he stopped at a store called The Cauldron. "I have to grab a couple things." Jacob turned the car off and exited the driver seat.

Walking through the front door Jacob waved to the cashier and browed the isle he didn't plan on staying long knowing what he needed, It would take all of ten minutes to find everything. Jacob returned to the vehicle and started the motor once again this time heading straight for Gardener, to investigate SK Pierce Mansion. All the while deducing in his mind, "Hear read this." Jacob said handing her a news paper with the article of the woman being thrown out the window by an invisible force.


The article was basically garbage but at least it had most of the details they would need to get started. "Now what do you think happened?"
It is very likely that if you provoke a spirit they would lash out, but it would still take one powerful spirit to pull it off, not that the mansion didn't have spirits powerful enough to kill people. The spirits there were all capable of something to that degree but as Ira had said EU has been keeping an eye on the mansion since the first reports of haunting and to his knowledge until now no deaths occurred due to an Enigma event. At least it made their job that much easier as people who went to the Mansion often already believed in ghosts to some degree. "We are ghost hunters from Boston looking for a real ghost scare so we are going to speak with the staff at the Mansion. Try to get some information on anything that happened before the murder." Jacob said, they wouldn't be impersonating DOJ agents today.

It had went from morning to nearing the afternoon on the drive to Gardener. Jacob stopped the vehicle and turned it off. "We work for enigma so we mostly talk with dead witnesses." Jacob figured it might still be fresh enough of a death the victim's spirit might still be lingering and confused. Plus the other ghosts had to be questioned. But this was definitely something that would have to be dealt with before it escalated. Once he had his phone back he would call the Mansion to book a ghost tour appointment. "Hello, I am doing well thank you." He said when they answered he watched from the window of the car. "I would like to book a tour preferably at night." He paused for a moment. "I understand. That is fine. Thank you." He said.

Jacob looked to Iris. "Alright we have a ghost tour at 9:00 pm." He smiled and figured it would be a good time for a nap. "Now it's time for you to do some research." he said as he leaned his seat back and placed his fedora over his face. Jacob closed his eyes and started to enjoy the silence. Though he would still be aware and she could ask any questions she liked. He would answer them accordingly.

OOC Notes:
So I have been sitting here thinking I am waiting for someone but I think you all are waiting for me. I am so sorry I lost track of who's turn it was. But here is what I have been working on in the time I have been trying to figure out who was supposed to be posting. >.< Please forgive me.