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Multiple Settings Enigma United [IC]

Sub Genres
Action, Adventure, Anime, Horror, Magical, Mystery, Platonic, Realistic, Romance, Supernatural, Zombies
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.
 

spiralingheretic

New Member
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.
 

Windjammer

The local Devil Ship
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.
 
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Heatherling

Red Velvet Knight
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.

Good morning,

I hope this message finds you well.

A recent string of murders has been making the news, involving Old Burying Point and some sufficiently suspicious circumstances. According to our sources, the victims had tried their hand at dark magic on the cemetery, and there is reason to assume they are now suffering the consequences of this experiment gone wrong.
The matter is potentially urgent, although your own discretion is advised in how pressing this request is in comparison to your current workload, but I deem it unwise to send agents into the field without vetting the case further.

I have attached the pertinent files regarding this case, and would be grateful if I could rely on your skills in this regard. Any additional information you can access on the listed persons of interest (personal backgrounds, browser search history, police reports, witness statements, etc.) may be useful to be able to further assess the situation at hand.

Thank you for all your efforts.


Kind Regards,

Ira Hawthrone
Archivist for the Proctor House Estate
Handler for Enigma United
Salem, MA
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.
 

Windjammer

The local Devil Ship
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.

I'm on it. Ill contact you with the information via video conference as soon as I have more.

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.

Ive gathered as much info as I could so far, and it may already be of interest.

Ill be contacting you and your colleagues via Video conference in 10 minutes.
 

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