Realistic or Modern Rott Investigations Inc. [closed]

[Kaitisme]

The setting is much like our world, one where common folk don't believe in curses and ghouls, creatures and ghosts. but they are there, and there is one place to go when you encounter something beyond your expertise.

Rott investigation Inc. was founded with one belief; until proven otherwise, everyone would be believed, no matter how wild their story. The associates who gather each morning at the headquarters may have their doubts of each claim, even despite what they have seen already. Maybe they'll believe in ghosts and poltergeists, but not cryptids. maybe magic is part of their every day life, but evidence of a life beyond death hasn't shown itself to them before.

but humans and human- like creatures are subject to change. Its the one constant in all things.

The current associates, each their own entity, gather each day and help those they can with their issues. Most often clients bring simple cases of a haunting, but every so often something bigger will pop up. The gang approaches their task with their own skill sets, chosen specifically for the company.

How you came to work for Rott investigations Inc. is unique to you, but you are still here now. shall we begin the case?

 

[Kaitisme]

Moe yawned, still half asleep as she moved into the office building Rott's Investigations Inc. was in. They were still fairly small, if having been around for at least a century. But not many people believed in what they specialised in. Ghosts and ghouls, goblins and witches. Moe stopped herself then, as she was unlocking the door to their office. She herself was a witch. Was she hired only to be watched and kept tabs on? She shrugged, figuring she had no reason to believe that, nor did her higher-ups, as mysterious as they were, have reason to believe she needed an eye kept on. Pushing the door open all the way and flicking on the lights Moe pushed the thought from her mind.
The building had several offices, all set up the same way as her own place of business, the others ranging from real estate to therapists. Each office had four rooms in the back, a main meet and greet area up front, a bathroom, and a kitchenette. Two of Rott's rooms were used for storage of casework, one room full of old tomes for research purposes. The last room was Moe's own work area, if needed. A bed was placed in there, the walls surrounded with shelves of medical supplies.
Moe yawned again, looking to the clock on the wall in the first room, filled with each of their desk's and a meeting space made of armchairs and couches.
“Still early. 'bout 15 minutes before we properly open.” She mumbled, turning on the coffee pot for when the other five arrived. She huffed, sinking down into her desk chair and opening an old casefile to review the symptoms of victims again.
The police network nearby often contacted the group for information, though many officers were dubious about the whole lot of them. The current case they had brought had a few symptoms she thought she had seen before, though not under these circumstances. She turned, bringing the file with her to the research room, pulling out one of the books, then another, and another. She ended up sitting o the floor, case on one knee, current book on the other, several others scattered around her as she skimmed the texts.

 

[Undisclosed]

Early morning had always agreed with Mitchell, and the distinct musk of freshly brewed coffee was a welcome bonus. It was near impossible to miss the moment he stepped foot in the otherwise dull and inconspicuous office building.

Ten minutes early for work, he'd managed more than enough time to go on his daily jog around the neighborhood. There was even time leftover for a quick stop at the bakery, though if he was being honest with himself, the bakery was always going to be part of the itinerary, whether he was right on schedule or not.

When he finally arrived at Rott's Investigations, he followed a trail of scents familiar enough that, at this point, he no longer needed to think about to whom it belonged.

"Trade your coffee for some chocolate croissants?" He held the warm box of pastries up, as if it was some sort of sacred offering. Setting it on an empty space on the desk, he opened the box, revealing that about a quarter of its contents had already gone.

Mitchell only shrugged, not even bothering with an apologetic look for this one. Instead, he pointed at the mess of books and paperwork around the room, his gaze finally landing on the woman on the floor. "Ain't it a little early for that? We got, uh," he looked at the nearly worn-out digital watch strapped on his wrist, "about 8 minutes before they officially pay us to do this stuff, right? I say we're better off using that time munching on some brain food, and gee, I don't know, talking about the weather. What do you think, Freckles?"

 

[TheCountryWarrior]

Hunter had spent the night on a personal case, though in the end it had nothing to do with the supernatural. This was both disappointing, yet the satisfaction he got from helping the client out was also substantial. He just fineshed up with them when he checked his watch to find he had just enough time to change into his other trench coat, put on his sunglasses (something he recently discovered), and adjust his hat. After that morning ritual he heads into his new place of work, packing heat of course, his silver revolver that he treated like a baby. A very dangerous baby.

He walked into Rott. Inc and took off his sunglasses, looking around and catching a whiff of something very tasty smelling. He walks up to the box of pastries with a slightly fanged smile and asks for some, his voice as smooth and deep as the noir detectives. “Mind If I take a sample friend?”

 

[Angelofwishes7]

waking up in a daze, Famora rubbed her eyes and stretched before slowly getting up and getting ready. heading over to the Rott. Inc. Building. She would barely get there on time, if not maybe a minute or two late, as she never really cared about when she got there. She had not signed up for this job, but rather she was to work there to have some eyes kept on her, or at least that's how she felt about it. Why else would she be here instead of in the ocean then?

Walking into the building she rubbed the back of her neck and kept her gaze down, she knew everyone in the room but had no drive to interact with anyone yet. She had no issues with anyone, she just didn't have any interest in what they were doing. It was clear as day that she was clearly not a morning person, and many of her colleagues had learned that in the short time they had known her. Making her way inside and to a chair, she sat and rubbed her face some before watching her colleagues quietly.

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

Pheric had a tally going, of things he liked about the human world, and of things he didn't. Working early in the morning was at the top of his dislike list, along with how carrying swords was not in fashion.
He liked coffee and big sweaters though, so that helped.
He was late, in his big sweater and his boots, with a sword on his back and a pumpkin spiced latte with extra whipped cream, but really, if there wasn't something for him to stab, he wasn't very useful. It nagged at him, like a loose tooth. If he'd stayed with the fae, they would have found a use for him. A real one.
Pheric tried to remind himself that he probably wouldn't have liked whatever job they would have made him do.
He settled in on top of his desk (why did he have a desk? It was a mystery no one had explained. He could barely read or write in English), and eyed Moe and Mitchell and Hunter for a moment, before offering, "Morning," to Famora. She looked about as ready to go back to bed as he felt.

 

[mourning star]

If nothing else, Misaka knew she wasn’t a morning person. Hair mussed, eyes half-lidded, she blindly grasped the straps of her gloves. She peeled them away, caramel-colored hands revealing themselves. With a sigh, she tossed her leg to the side. Both feet hit the cement, cracking her knuckles as she turned back to her bike. Hazel eyes drifted towards the building, sighing through her nose. She had been up late, waiting for her aunt to return from her solo mission. The early morning meeting had been in the back of her mind as the hours ticked by, the moon setting and the sky fading into a pale blue. Her aunt had arrived as she was heading out the door, caked in mud and something that appeared to be blood. She hadn’t bothered with questions. Merely mentioned that she had a change of clothes and an open shower for the older woman. Her aunt had laughed before they parted ways, twin pairs of footsteps fading away as the door swung shut.

Peeling herself away from her bike, Misaka crossed the parking lot and slipped inside. Her keys jingled with each step, stuffed haphazardly into her jacket. She bypassed the entrance, slipping from the front of the building into their shared office space. It was easy to spot the two other members already sitting at their desks. Gaze drifting to the side, she noticed the small group talking near the entrance of one of the storage rooms. Choosing to greet her boss, she sidestepped her desk. Her gaze drifted towards the white-haired woman as she passed them by, offering a half-hearted wave. She passed the fae next, eyeing the sword on his back with interest.

Another friendly wave was offered.

“Good morning.” She greeted them, pausing at the threshold. She shifted on her feet, gazing about the room with interest. It wasn't a surprise to see Moe sitting on the floor, surrounded by old tomes. "Is everyone here yet?"

 

[Mistory]

With a groan, adam let his hand fall to the alarm currently blaring in his ears. He quickly put his fist down on the clock, silence returning with a click.
"Ooooi i cant stand waking up...cant i just stay in bed for...life..."
"Master, you know that is...ineffecent and-"
"oh screw you"
"...again, ineffecent. As an Imp assistant I am meant for menial tasks and general aide...I can write up a succubi summoning ritual if thats your desire?"
"No! I dont...well...you know what write that up and file it..."

Sitting up, adam cupped his face in his hands as he tried to rub the sleep away. With a groan he gave a sigh, looking about his pitted out apartment in the basement of the complex. He sleepily looked about, pushing himself to his feet with a groan as he stretched, popping his spine with a satisfied whine.

Shifting to his desk he turned on one of the bunsen burners that littered his shelves. Adding afew ground leaves, afew spices, and some unknown powders from bizarrely marked jars, he sighed, letting that cook.
"Scribble! Keep an eye out. I need to shower"
"of course, master"

The morning was, bizarrely, fairly common. As the witch grumbled, finishing his shower. Looking himself in the mirror he gave a grunt, tossing the towel aside. Things were becoming...too monotonous. To normal. Something needed to happen soon.
"I dont think normalcy is my kind of life..." Coming to the brewing bunson burner, he downed the cooking liquid like a shotglass, and gave a groan.
"couldnt you just have coffee, master? Cafinated Moonshine cannot be healthy"

A grunt as he waved the inp off, getring dressed. He grabbed his case, a wooden suit case of sorts, and shouldered his coat.

"Remember to file that ritual! And kill the burner! Ill see you in afew..." And the door clicked shut.

Ten minutes later he found himself outside the agency, looking up the building like a mountain. He gave a conceded sigh, stepping inside.
Scribble, the imp in Adam's charge, had appeared at Adam's designated desk, not only signifying Adam was on his way, but also getting to work. Opening the filing cabnet, the imp placed a folded document in, and was flipping through the others, beginning to alphabetize the files and generally clean Adam's messy work area, the still drousy Witch soon coming through the door, giving not much more than a wave as he came to his cleabing Imp, dropping a pack of hunny on the desk that the imp quickly lunged for.
Adam finally turned to the group, giving a tired smile" everything in order, Im guessing?

 

[Kaitisme]

Moe looked up as Mitchell walked in, and then offered her croissants. She chuckled, shaking her head as she looked back down.
"I'm ain't one for coffee, but like to put it on for others. Help yourself." She waved a hand dismissively as Mitchell questioned her timing.
"Never too early to start helping to save people's lives."
She looked up again as Hunter entered into the room. She smiled at him as he approached, pointing a thumb to the back rooms.
“Mornin'! You probably smell it, but there’s coffee on, too. Help yourself to it.” Famora entered next, and Moe smiled and nodded at her, feeling the low energy from the siren. She didn't blame her, Moe herself wasn't too much of a morning person, not until she was up and about, at least. Pheric was next, and Moe was about to curiously comment on the sword when Misaka entered and asked Moe a question about everyone's attendance. Her head was slightly spinning with she sudden burst of action and chatter, but she smiled, about to answer that they were expecting Adam soon, based on the imp working about, when he walked in. Moe chuckled as she waved to the other magic user.
“Now everyone is here. And yes, order is what I would call this.” She laughed, standing up with her current book and the case she had, still skimming the pages. Moe brought a finger to the book's page.
“And I think I just found what I need for this police case we were given yesterday, guys! Major aggression and fearfulness, lashing out and then bolting... almost like a cornered fox. No transformation, though, just humans attacking others for no apparent reason. BUT!" Moe walked further into the main room, slapping the book on her desk triumphantly.
"But! Seems like we've got a case of a rare, well... An allergic reaction, basically. Looks like someone is growing something dangerous, something called an Apollo plant.”
Moe put a finger to her lip, before looking up at Adam, sheepishly.
“This book doesn't have a diagram of the plant... I don't suppose you know what it looks like? I doubt the internet would have a very accurate photo or painting, if one at all.”

 

[Mistory]

Adam gave a small frown, pulling the book across to him as he glanced over the page.
"I know of it...Scribble! Check the files...apollo plant, skitish and hostile behavior..." The imp gave a salute, quickly searching through the files. With a nod, adam turned to the book again" its...a poison. Manipulation...get the right part of it in someone and you can get someone to do exactly what you want to...think a daterape drug on steroids..."
"master, we only have a set of records consisting of multiple different uses of different plants...nothing on the specific plant."

Adam grimaced. "...granny said that the stupid plant was often mistaken as multiple. Since every part does something different...we might wanna check were fancy plants grow without question. Flowershops or personal gardens..."

 

[Angelofwishes7]

Femora raised an eyebrow as Moe spoke up. She seemed to pay at least some attention to what was going on besides her drowsy state. She watched curiously as Adam began speaking about the strange plant. Honestly, she had never heard of such a thing. She had known of certain chemicals and even poisons and venoms from certain deep sea creatures that could possibly do something similar to a human, but a plant, that was a bit strange to her, not unbelievable by any means, just strange.

She watched the imp across the room digging through the files then a book as if it had already been away for hours. As she watched the strange creature she let out a soft yawn before mumbling something afterward. "At least some of us are awake." She leaned back against the chair, stretching her arms and legs before reaching back and grabbing a patch of her hair as she scratched her head. Femora let out a soft sigh as she relaxed and rubbed her eyes some, trying to wake up.

"If we look at where the reports are coming from we may be able to single out a location, or at least a general area that we need to look in for this plant. But being that we don't have a solid picture it may be harder then we think to find, especially if someone is trying to keep it hidden." Femora paused for a moment, sitting up some in her chair before speaking up once more. "But, do we have any clue on what we'll do if we do find the source of the plant? do we have anything that will protect up from having the same reaction those people did or are we going on a 'we just hope none of us are allergic to it' type deal?" She looked around the room before looking back toward Moe. "Because, if I'm to be honest, a mere human attacking us out of the blue, okay easy fight, we take em down and done. But if one of us or someone like us just randomly comes down the street and attacks us, we may have a bigger fight then we want on our hands."

 

[Kaitisme]

Moe snapped her fingers, pointing at Adam excitably.
“Skittish is a good word for it!” She frowned as Famora brought up the point of fighting someone more dangerous than a regular human. Tapping a finger to her lips as she sat down at her desk, Moe reviewed the case work they had been faxed.
“Uh, well... I'm only going off what little I've heard and read, aye? But as I understand it, ya gotta consume part of the Apollo plant to have any changes happen. Even if someone sniffs it a bit, you can notice something off about them. It takes a very precise amount of the proper part of the plant to get the so- called desired effect of obedience. That, and depending on the person, it may fail anyway. And so far...” she flipped through the case, looking at the current victims. “So far its all black haired, blue eyed men, ages 19-25. Seems like someone has a type...” Moe grinned a bit, before turning to femora. “So, as of right now, we have little to worry about battle wise, unless this person finds the right amount to give to the proper people. And now that we know what is causing it, we can give more specific symptoms to look for, even in non-failed cases. People who may actually be brainwashed by the person doing this.”

Moe looked up as the door handle shook, the door itself swinging open. In the empty space it created stood a man of older stature. That didn't mean he was frail, by any means, but his hair was white and thinning, his skin wrinkled. Moe hurriedly glanced around at her co-workers, gauging if anyone was expecting him, or if he was a possible client. The man cleared his throat, looking around anxiously.
“Is... Is this that paranormal investigation place?” he asked, voice gravely and low.

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

Pheric glanced around at the room at large, before looking back at the stranger. "If it isn't, we're all in the wrong place," he said. "What can we do you for?"