The Green Green Grass of Home

A relatively normal evening at the Saevae is punctuated by the arrival of seven apparent humans, clad in immaculate grey suits. The mysterious patrons draw the attention of several of the regulars with their odd visage, and quickly make strides towards one of the Saevae’s meeting rooms. Anyone watching the group would be struck by how odd they seem, especially in their expressions and movement, but they are quickly ignored by the regulars, as the fact that they show no discomfort at being within the Saevae indicates that they are at the very least fellow supernaturals.

The grey-suited people are not at the Saevae for idle chit-chat or drinks, however. These grey suited individuals have sent a request down the grapevine for ‘specialised assistance’ and ‘professionals’ to assist them with a vaguely-defined ‘task.’ The request is vaguely worded, but indicates that the grey-suits are willing to pay handsomely anyone who takes them up on their request.

A phantom often referred to as the shadow man was in Saevae, he had heard of the price, and a little about the job, he was lingering in the shadows of the main bar when the men in gray arrived, he slipped into the shadows and hitched a ride on one of the men’s shadows as they entered in the meeting room, ready to listen in and appear when necissary.

A silver haired woman and a white-masked man showed up that evening, threading the way through the crowd to the meeting. The pair donned matching outfits, a labcoat for the female and a military uniform for the masked one. Both had a black-green color scheme, accented by brass and copper embroidery.

Some regulars fell silent. With the uniforms came a reputation: the pair was no friend, but no foe either. They weren’t part of the supernatural world, nor quite part of the normal world. They were a third element in the order of things, indifferent to the rest of the world.

Now this third element had become aware. And money was the least of all things that would attract this organisation’s attention.

The next person to show up was known to many at the club, though to some mixed reviews. He had a reputation of doing exactly what he said he would do, rumors had it he was engaged to be married at some point, though no one knew if that was still true or not. They had seen him with a rather strange woman and occasionally a sheep? This had harmed his reputation somewhat, few understood the addition of a farm animal though they thought perhaps it was a pet? Rumors had circulated briefly that it was the payment of some kind of gambling debt.

The man was dressed in a white zoot suit with a dark heavy wool coat over it, black fedora with a white ribbon around it for accent. He carried a gentleman’s cane and a messenger bag grasped with black leather gloves. The patrons did glance at him, but not for long as he went into the meeting saying nothing to the others.

Mike haf somehow found his way to the Savae. He’d never been here before, but one of his employees had recommended the place for work. And since he did need work… He came to investigate.

He had a black baseball cap on over his head, pulled down to shadow his face. A Spartan Security shirt and a jacket covered his body, with a Glock 19 holstered in a conceal carry spot beneath the jacket.

After the grey-suits are sure that nobody else is set to arrive for the meeting, one of their number leaves his seat and closes the door, remaining by the door with his arms crossed. After several seconds, one of the grey-suits, a woman, begins speaking:

“Welcome. We are glad that you have chosen to respond to our request. Especially as we haven’t provided much personal information ourselves…”

Her eyes sweep across the room, with her head following the direction of her gaze soon afterward.

“…We do not believe that providing such information is strictly necessary, given the nature of the work we require. However, it would be convenient if you were to provide identifiers or preferred monikers, so that we may be able to more properly address you all.”

The Shadow man rose out of the shadows in a darker corner of the room and leaned against the wall of the meeting room, he watched the people there… He shook his head at the request for identification of some kind, He didn’t remember much about his old life, let alone his name. He’s only recently found some information that may help with that, but he wasn’t entirely sure about it himself. He knew he needed to do more research before he used a name… He had heard rumors of people simply calling him the Shadow Man, and it seemed appropriate considering the circumstances. He remained silent however, just observing for now.

The man in white nodded, “Trevor.” he said curtly, watching the room, scanning it slowly with his eyes every so often. He wasn’t nervous, but he didn’t sit. Leaning against a wall, he notices the shadow-man appear but doesn’t overly react – just a glance really. “What should we call you?” The question wasn’t what their name was but rather how to address them.

((Carry on, skip me.))

Mike let the others introduce himself, going last. “Just call me Mike.” He answered with a shrug, leaning back in his seat. “Nice to meet you all I guess.”

The woman seems relatively satisfied with the names given.

“Thank you. As for us, well…”The Merkabah group people” should suffice, should it not? At least when referring to us in conversations. “The Merkabah group” is equally valid, since there aren’t many other members besides us, and we do represent the group’s interest.”

The woman produces a briefcase and removes a file from it. She keeps the briefcase opened on the table, with the interior facing her.

“Anyway, about the job itself. We, that is to say, the Merkabah group, are a small paranormal research start-up. We have yet to really establish ourselves, but we already possess several local contacts. One of our agriculturally-alighned contacts managed to dig up this a couple of days ago…”

The woman produces a forensic evidence bag from the file and places it on the table in full view. Contained within is a healthy-looking leaf, most probably from a lettuce plant. Occasionally, the leaf seems to twitch in the bag.

“Before I continue…does anyone have any questions?

Trevor raises an eyebrow looking at the leaf, “Just one, is this an investigation or are you telling us that you all let something loose which now needs to be dealt with before it hurts more people?” It was a straightforward question, mostly dispassionate but there was a bit of judgement there behind the professional gaze.

The shadow man chuckles after hearing Trevor’s remarks. He agreed with the question and was suspicious of this new… so called Merkabah group who were focused on paranormal research… even as a start up, it reminded him that some research and experiments are better left alone, as opposed to being played with. The situation that lead to him becoming a Phantom, or wraith… depending on who you asked was due to research and experiments of things that aught to be left alone. He didn’t move from his spot however, but He did watch this group of representatives with a stare that could make many people uncomfortable.

((I got nothing to reply.))

“I think my question is the same as that guy over there.” Mike gestured to Trevor and shrugged.

“I’m new to the paranormal shit.”

The spokeswoman for the group looks at Trevor
“A reasonable assumption to make. However, we can assure you that we had no part in the creation of this…thing.”

The suited humans’ faces betray no feelings of discomfort, or other emotion besides mild indignation. After one of them notices the shadow man staring, they all gradually begin to actively avoid his gaze.

The spokeswoman addresses the group collectively again, motioning to the leaf:
“As you can see, this leaf has been…mutated” The spokeswoman produces a laser pointer from her pocket and uses it to highlight areas of the leaf. “You can see a primitive muscular system beginning here…and a circulatory system beginning to form here.”
“The story our contact gave is that some farms up north of here have been having exceptional harvests over the last couple of years, with the exception of this year. This year, most of the crops have been plagued by mutations such as these. Our source was…vague…but they informed us that “mysterious events” have also been occurring in the area as of late. They mentioned disappearing farmers and dying livestock…and that’s an overview of what we know.”

“Again, does anyone have any questions?”

“So what is it exactly that you want us to do?” The Shadow man finally speaks, his voice sounding haunting behind his mask.

Trevor made note that they said they didn’t create it but didn’t say they didn’t summon it. Still, it was strange, he was not a scientist though. Problems like mutated plants seemed like a job for professionals of different expertise than himself. When the shadow speaks up, it does slightly startle Trevor but he shows little of it – the question though, provides solid nod in agreement at that question.

The Shadow man chuckled to himself, at the slight start from Trevor. “I guess not everyone is ready to see shadows walk and talk” He continues his chuckling. And listens to the people in the room.

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