It's a miserable night. The rain pelting down and threatening to become sleet or worse at any moment. The dark clouds overhead hindering the light from the moon but at least keeping the evening mild. Aislinn and Beatrix have been put together for a little surveillance job - or Brigitte volunteered her niece for it.
The pair of them are watching a small house on one of the larger islands off shore. The boat that brought them here is beached nearby and the glow of light can be seen through a window of the single level dwelling - more a holiday bungalow than a residence. They've been told that something is amiss in that collection of wood planks and broken tiles but they have yet to see a soul come in or go out in the two wet hours they have been there.
Beatrix already misses her car, having had to leave it behind on the main land. The diminutive little French woman soaking wet and miserable. Dressed in an attempt to keep the wet winter weather away, Beat keeps herself in a black leather jacket with the hood of a grey woolen sweater beneath it. Some comfy and thick black denim jeans and some comfy and well-worn in work boots do what they can for the lower half.
Keeping her shotgun slung where it can be brought about, one hand stays steady where she can pull on the weapon. "So shall we move closer?" she asks to her fellow hunter, beaming a cheery smile towards Aislinn.
Aislinn has her scoped rifle, the slender goggles she's often carrying, a dour expression. She's wearing dark greys, her coat a heavier all weather sort of overcoat which makes her much less prone to getting overly wet than Beatrix. The trouble is that hoods interfere with vision and so red hair has been thoroughly soaked. Ais does her best to ignore this for the moment.
"Closer sounds like a good idea to me," Aislinn responds almost absently. She is staring into the dark as she often dos. Nightvision looking goggles make sense in that context. "I want to see what is inside to be honest, but we can at least case the grounds...?" Ais doesn't smile often but at least her sour disposition isn't aimed at the petite blonde beside her.
Lightning streaks across the sky, illuminating the house for a moment before it goes black again. Then the rumble of thunder shakes their bones and drowns out the sound of the rain hitting the ground around them. Another flash of light and for a moment they see a figure standing between the house and their hiding point - and staring right at them. A hooded figure dressed in layers of rags. Their face hidden in the shadows of the hood. The world grows dark again and the figure is lost from sight.
The rain continues to pour down as thunder and lightning argue overhead. It is a dark night, the moon hidden by the clouds, and a group of Hunters have been tasked with watching a house. The third member, Aurore, was momentarily indisposed but reappears as the other two have decided to get closer to the house. Though whether the brief illumination by lightning of a figure watching them back changes their mind is another thing.
Aurore hunches into her all-weather gear, while scowling worriedly through the rain towards the spot where that lightning-silhouette appeared. "I'm starting to think that this might not be just a simple observation task," she grumbles under cover of the angry weather.
Beatrix spies the flash of someone watching them. "Well, I am wondering which is creepier. Us poking about, or whomever is down there watching us poke about." she says with a shrug of her shoulders.
The sight doesn't seem to deter the tiny blonde while she moves with slow, squelchy steps of her boots in the muck and mud beneath her. "Is it ever?" she asks back playfully, turning her smile on the darker haired woman.
"Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. Freud needed a better dildo," Ais responds, her scowl still firmly engraved into her face as she considers this for a moment. "Anyway..." Aislinn quiets down and starts to advance past Beatrix, intending on at least being quiet and unobtrusive despite having likely already been seen. She adjusts her goggles again so that they properly cover her eyes, scanning the darkness for some idea of what is ahead of her. Aislinn intends on searching the grounds, as promised. Get a good look at whatever she can find, including alternate entrances or spooky figures in the dark.
The crash of thunder and flash of lightning converge overhead. The figure is back. Standing right in front of them. Tall. Slender. Wet silver hair appearing from under her hood and plastered to her rags. Thin fingered hands reach up to toss back the hood and reveal a teenage girl's face. Grey eyes study the trio as she slowly smiles. "We know who you are." A pause as thunder rumbles once more overhead. "And you're all going to die."
Aurore confirms why she was not originally earmarked by the Loyalists for a field career, by letting out a startled squeak upon being confronted by the rain-drenched girl. Then she blinks rapidly, before venturing a shaky smile. "We can help," she ventures. "Whatever's going on, we can try to help."
"Well that's a mean thing to suggest." Beatrix says, thumbing the safety off and cranking that lever action to chamber the first round in the weapon. The sound of the weapon cocking might as well be the French girl saying 'Fuck that.' just without the expletives. "So like my friends here say. If you need help, and aren't the one trying to do the killing, then let us help."
"Stay back from the demonically possessed teenaged monster corpse," Aislinn responds to all of this. She keys off the safety on her M4 as well though otherwise she has her eyes firmly trained on the soaked, slender teen in front of them. "So you guys did mean - all of us, hm? You're not very good at following up on your promises. What is it you want from us?" Aislinn may be addressing the hooded figure but her gaze keeps shifting to the house. That is still her destination apparently.
The slender girl starts to rise into the air as the rain flows over her clothes and drips to the ground now inches below her feet. She stretches her arms out to her side, the skin on her fingers peeling back as claws tear through the pale flesh. Her face starts to bubble and distort as if aging a thousand years in a moment. Her hair tilts to one side with a crack of breaking spine as she smirks at Aislinn. "We want your souls" she rasps before grinning at Beatrix. "You will be the ones who need help. And none will be coming." Her eyes, all milky white now, turn on Aurore. "Yes...you should run."
Aurore blinks worriedly at Aislinn's confident assertion of demonic possession (not to mention 'corpse'), and now takes an involuntary step back as the probably-not-a-girl starts to levitate. And sprout claws. And break her own neck. The snarling and rasping and milk-white eyes are frankly minor concerns in comparison. Her own response is quiet, heart-felt, and in Passamaquoddy - though perhaps a wholly non-Indo-European bit of muttering might be taken for an occult incantation of some sort, rather than a simple imprecation.
With an inhuman screech of victory the silver haired 'woman' dives towards Beatrix, her claws snapping together before she swipes at the diminutive blonde. Too diminutive. The attack is harmlessly above her head.
Aurore back-pedals a little more - not wanting to separate herself from the others, but keen to ensure that she doesn't get in their way. She assigns herself the task of trying to spot anything that might attempt to creep up behind them or from either side, hoping that her more combative companions can deal with the present threat.
"Funny, you should talk to the last demon that tried to make a meal out of me!" Beatrix snarls when the demonette's attack does roughly squat and the danger goes right over her head. In return, when she's able to, she points the business end of her shotgun at the creature. Blam, the trigger is pulled and the second of the two rounds her weapon is holding is chambered.
The retort of Beatrix's shotgun manages to outdo the thunder for a moment as a huge chunk is blown out of the flying woman and sends her into a spin through the air.
"These things are so damned annoying. If it's anything like the last one it's not going to stay down..." Ais opens up with her rifle, putting three more bullets into the Deadite's raincoat clad form. "Could at least learn better dialogue!" That's to the possessed monster, of course.
The short burst tears off more chunks of pale rotting flesh and the spinning girl laughs like a maniac before suddenly dropping to the ground and spattering over the wet earth as if dropped from miles above.
Aurore hangs back, staring in disbelief at the gooey mess... before blinking at her companions. "That's, ahh, normal?", she rather weakly asks Aislinn. "Wow. I don't suppose there's any way of telling how many there might be around here?"
Beat grins as her shot practically launches the Demonette. When Aislinn fires her burst, the blonde giggles. "Skeet shooting!" she says, engaging her inner teenager. Or outer, being eighteen. Someone might have had too much rap music loaded into her Charger's stereo recently. "Hope someone brought the holy water then?" she asks, getting back into mostly serious mode. Aurore's query getting that crazy grin again. "Not till they show. And I think we probably pissed them off by still being alive." just to be on the safe side she loads two more shells stashed in her pockets into the shotgun.
"Well, if I see them coming at us I'll holler," Aislinn responds, surveying the darkness once more. She adjusts the slim line nightvision goggles she's wearing with her left hand and then breathes a quiet sigh. "Should probably search the corpse first and make sure it doesn't have anything useful and then hit up the house. Does anyone see anything that could be useful?" Ais moves toward the corpse toi get down on her knee and start poking about should it fail to respond.
The flesh of the 'demon' is melting away in the rain even as Aislinn kneels down beside it. The body becoming a black sludge staining the rags that encase it. There are no pockets in the clothes and the woman was carrying nothing but her ego and an apparently optimistic attitude.
Aurore cautiously moves a little closer, peering over Aislinn's shoulder at the dissolving goo. "That... hopefully means that the, umm, particular body there won't return?", she ventures. "Or do they reform?"
Beatrix looks over to Aurore. "Last one we may have kind of buried once we killed it. But it hasn't come back yet." she says with a shrug and starts for the house. "Let us go take a peek inside, at least get us out of the wet for a little while.
"Could be a different kind of corpse-like possessed thing," Aislinn offers helpfully, frowning at the sludge. She stops short of actually touching that with her gloves and straightens, heading toward the house. She's going to head right for the door, inspect it and then try the handle if it isn't visibly locked. "There could be a lot of them around somewhere. Anyway, let's get out of the rain, shall we?"
"There aren't any ghosts or, ahh, *natural* spirits in the area. Nor a gate to the underworld," Aurore says glumly. "So 'demonic' seems like it would fit. I'm afraid that I can't sense those."
"Well it's a good thing these..." Beatrix hefts and indicates her firearm. "Work well enough to keep them off our backs till we can figure this place out. Next time we bring the sanctified ammo though. That did a wonder on the last big demon." she states while her blue eyes roam about to see what's about.
The door is unlocked and opens out into a lounge room with a small kitchen off to one side. Some doors in the back wall lead off to the one bedroom and bathroom. It is not a very flash place and the furniture seems to have been rescued from a seventies op shop. Rescued and then decorated with blood. There is blood everywhere; spattered on walls, floor, furniture, even the ceiling. The source seems to be the two corpses torn apart on the floor. Their blank eyes staring up at the ceiling. Three eyes at least, the fourth seems to be missing.
The bodies are adults, that much can be seen, but limbs and organs have been ripped free and strewn everywhere. At best guess it is a man and a woman. Under their blood caked exterior they are probably in their late twenties. There are signs of a struggle and a warped and bent shotgun is found under a pile of entrails in the kitchen.
"Oh my god..." AIslinn is wrinkling her nose but she also swallows hard, shaking her head as she moves through the door. The rifle is lowered and she takes a deep breath before moving toward the corpses. "The smell, though." The redhead is kneeling down beside one of the corpses, this time being careful not to actually place her knee or shin in blood. "And they took one of the eyes...?" Despite sounding like she's going to be ill Ais at least investigates thoroughly. "They were prepared for a fight? So it's not a random murder. Just... who are they?"
Even Beatrix is more than a little put off by the gore. The bent shotgun getting a concerned look. "And that is probably a good reason to not let these things get a hand on us." she says and looks down at the remains. "Do not know if there were prepared. Or could have even tried to be."
Aurore stares, wide-eyed, for a few moments... before stepping (just) outside the door to let the rain wet her face for a few moments. Then she ducks back in, teeth grinding as she takes in the scene. "This... level of overkill seems likely to have been meant as a message of some sort," she says unsteadily. "Potentially just 'fun', but... eurgh. The, umm, eye might be around here somewhere. Don't think I can bear to look. But it being missing probably means it's... being used. If it wasn't just... gouged out in the mayhem."
As the thunder continues to rumble outside, blood starts to drip from the ceiling. A piece of kidney sliding off the roof before dropping at Aislinn's feet. What is left of the clothes the pair were wearing suggests they were in bed. The bedroom itself is devoid of gore but it does have body armor and other weapons piled next to each side of the slept in bed.
Ais stares at the piece of kidney and bites her lip for a second before turning away. "No, they were prepared. Or - trying to be," Aislinn murmurs, shaking her head. "They were hunting monsters. Like us. They're coming to kill us, remember? This is the sort of us they were talking about." Aislinn is shaking her ad, looking over the weapons with a critical eye. "Who knows what that thing could have done up close... What I want to know is why all of this is even happening."
"Think this is where we'd need someone better at that forensic stuff. Someone with a real eye for detail!" Beatrix's player totally apologizes for that and the Who playing in peoples' heads. "Think we're getting out of our elements. Though I may have regretted coming in out of them. The blood dripping on the ceiling making the girl shiver more than the cold rain outside. It does brighten when she sees weapons and armor. "So caught with pants down. Anything usable? Aurore. I'd probably suggest putting on the armor. Looks like we landed in a siege."
Doing her best to avoid acquiring more of the gore than is absolutely necessary, Aurore picks her way through to crouch down and have a peer at the weapons and armour - not handling them as yet, but having a really good look to see if they seem to be occult or esoteric in any way. That might speak to both the hunters' competence and areas of interest, and to whether there'd be any nasty surprises for an unauthorised spirit-attuned thaumaturge trying to wear or use them.
The armor is well-battered and worn but there doesn't seem to be anything magical about it. It has seen better days but so have its apparent owners. The weapons - a couple of shotguns, a revolver and two machetes - are also well-used and no better than anything the Hunters have themselves. There are wallets in the clothes that identify the pair as Brian and Cynthia Cartwright of Portland, Maine.
"I am not actually bad at crime scene analysis in a pinch. I have equipment in the car. We could us an actual forensicist, but..." Aislinn slowly shrugs, tilting her head as she stands over the clothes, holding up one of the wallets. "We have names, appearances. I think once we get out of here I should be able to run background checks. Brian and Cynthia, hmm? Just who were you two...?"
Aurore ruefully eyes the kit... debating whether or not to risk acquiring it, then deciding that no, she really doesn't want to pick up firearms used by unknown people for who-knows-what. And from a potentially-demonic murder site, to boot. Reluctantly remaining unarmed, she opts to stick close to the fearsomly competent Aislinn and their tiny terror of a companion. "We can certainly do some research," she says softly. "I can probably dig up a little on who they were. This... doesn't look like their first 'gig', given the kit they have. Though they seem wholly focused on the physical side of things, from what we can see in the open here."
"Okay. Guess we prep. Make sure the weapons are grabbed and the ammo. When we come back we make sure things are set for demon wrecking. Make sure the ammo especially is set. Like we did for the last demon we killed. Fuck these ones too!" Beatrix suggests and checks the weapons themselves and the ammo. "Say we head back to the boat while we can."
"I wouldn't take their kit. Who knows who they shot or when? We don't need it, I'd let it go. We don't need blood samples or any of that either since we have their wallets... Let's just take the wallets an d quietly get out of here. I'll go back to the office and get into the archives and get their life story. The government side of things at least. Did you guys touch anything...?" Aislinn looks between Aurore and Beatrix, still frowning while she does. "Barehanded, I mean. If not we can probably safely just leave it. Mark the location down, search for anything else that might be on hand and useful, then just get out of here."
The blood continues to drip down to the floor and it soon becomes apparent that the spattered drops made a message upon the floorboards...a familiar one: 'We know who you are'. Thunder rumbles overhead and the small bungalow shakes. The wind starts to howl. The ocean growing choppy. Thankfully the trio get back to the boat and the mainland with their dignity intact.