"Even I ain't too sure 'bout this one, boss... best be real careful now." Chloe said for the second time as they rounded the corner, his boots crunching softly on the gravel-strewn path, the corridor ahead shrouded in a thick protective veil while the weak glow from the moss-lit sconces barely enough to cut through the gloom as some of the night patrol guards gave them a polite bow.
"It's just one kid, what's there to be worried about?" he said, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his dagger. "Besides," he said, waving his dagger in front of her face, "there's nothing we can't handle together. After all, the agency told us to interrogate this man, so we pretty much have no choice."
Chloe narrowed her eyes at the gleam of the blade, her lips pressed into a thin line. "That little dagger of yours ain't gonna mean much if we're starin' down a feral D-Class spirit. Might as well try pokin' a storm with a stick." She muttered the last part to herself, but he pretended not to hear it. By then, they had already reached the building, penetrating the veil that protected the place from the ordinary eyes of the mundane while the interior of their headquarters revealed itself in all its glory. "Here we are... home sweet home."
From the outside, it looked like a humble stone lodge nestled into the hillside, but stepping through the Veil revealed a vast, looming structure of blackened brick and rune-carved iron, stretching high into a mist-cloaked sky. Some of the windows were dark, but the few that were open blinked with a soft golden light, some too high to belong to any reasonable floor, while the air buzzed faintly with the ambient mana coming off of the enchantments that curled around their skin.
The handle turned with a soft click, and as the wooden door creaked open and a figure stepped into view, he instantly recognized her as the madam's daughter, her striking presence unmistakable even in the dim glow of the moonlight.
The faint scent of jasmine lingered in the air around her, a trait he had associated with her ever since their childhood days when they used to play in the garden behind Pellinger's Skull. Though they hadn't exchanged many words in recent years, he still loved her all the same.
The magus tilted her head, smiling nonchalantly as she moved towards them, handing him an ID card while smiling seductively at him. "Protocol," she said, "for your safety and ours. Please follow the directives of the fortress, Johan, and I know I'm hot, but don't stare at me like that."
Chloe just snorted, rolling her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't dislodge from her skull. "Well ain't this just cozy," she muttered, snatching the ID card from Johan's hand before he could tuck it into his coat. She squinted at it, then back at the magus with an unimpressed scowl. "You always hand out credentials with a wink and perfume, or is that just for him?"
The magus only chuckled, unfazed by her statement. "I have better preferences, Chloe, and, you're not his type."
"I'm not anyone's type," chloe said flatly, averting her gaze from Emily's crooked smile.
Johan cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Right. Uh, thanks for the pass," he said, slipping it back from Chloe's fingers with a sheepish smile. "We'll follow protocol, so don't worry about us."
"You'd better." She smiled at them, though the expression didn't quite reach her eyes.
He took a moment to compose himself, clearing his throat in an effort to regain his composure before unfurling the parchment in his hand. The ink in the side crevice of the paper began to change, the previous letters on it rearranging themselves into new words for him to read as the age and whatever else was relevant to Callum appeared on the piece of parchment.
Name: Callum.
Middle name: Hayes.
Last name: Reeves.
Age: 17
Description: Callum Hayes Reeves was an unremarkable individual until the night of September 28, 2019, when an unidentified and potentially malevolent spirit attached itself to his soul. Eyewitnesses observed him convulsing on the ground and exhibiting erratic behavior, and when one of the nearby individuals attempted to assist him, Reeves violently assaulted the person in an uncontrollable and frenzied rage until personnel appeared and detained him.
Warning: Containment staff are advised to avoid direct eye contact for extended periods of time, and under no circumstance should Reeves be left alone without a binding glyph in place.
Threat: minimum, (currently under containment).
"Well, shit," he let out a slow breath and rolled the parchment back up, tucking it under his arm. "It was bad," he muttered. "But I didn't know it was this bad."
Chloe crossed her arms, her eyes flicking up toward one of the impossibly high windows above, the denizens inside the room laughing to one another as their shadows moved across the glass as they danced to the Melody of their songs. "Ain't the power that worries me," she said. "It's wonderin' what he must've done to make that thing do that to him." She shuddered, remembering the incident with Dr. Robert Scrampton when he attempted to resurrect his daughter, only to end up as a gruesomely malformed macabre of flesh that moaned painfully on the ground.
"Well, I don't think we have anything to worry about, right, Emily?" he turned to the mage.
"Probably not." Emily said, her smile flickering at the corners.
"Then let's give our Callum fellow a visit."