Trafalgar D. Water Law (
memento_corazon) wrote2019-11-18 11:01 pm
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I must be dreaming cause I don't believe in ghosts
[Rosinante was late this morning, although Law knew why. He was picking up breakfast, he always offered to do it for them, and Law always put a little money in the heart shaped basket on Rosinante's desk to try to make up for it. Sometimes it got accepted, sometimes it ended up back on Law's desk, but the tradition of Rosinante bringing breakfast for them to work was a consistent.
It was one of many things that were constants for them. Rosinante got breakfast, Law looked over the early work that was set up for them, the files given that came from their superiors and he sorted out which ones he felt were needed to be dealt with first. Rosinante would skim through everything, he always did, the man was meticulous when it came to their cases. But Law usually had a good eye for what was important first.
Vintage dolls were going missing, and people spoke of seeing a 'centipede made of babies' in the distance. At the distance stated, this suggests a very large entity. And people are starting to feel compelled to purchase dolls and leave them out for this creature.
A cat in the next town had started supposedly speaking and telling fortunes in exchange for fish dinners. Everyone who feeds the cat has seen a rise in income, but feel unhealthily indebted to and will not risk not gifting it more food.
One vintage radio, Marine specific model, that tells the listener something dark they need to hear if put on the right station. The results have supposed driven nine people to suicide, no other information is had.
An apartment owner has sent specific information about a loud and repeating haunting. They've been aware of this haunting for years, a replay of a murder-suicide. However, the issue seems to be escalating and warping the apartment building.
Dozens of others are there, a house of VGGs, Victorian ghost girls, none of which ever actually are described in any way that matches children of that time period, all blond and blue eyed. Of course. Those are a dime a dozen, and hardly ever end with anything. This one though, one that slides out from the stack of ghosts and big foot and magic wells, says that the girl is beautiful, fragile looking, and the people who have encountered her feel like she's about to eat them the entire time. Law adds it to the four files above, on the top of the stack.
He's so caught up in his file hunting that he doesn't notice the sound of Rosinante's footsteps.]
It was one of many things that were constants for them. Rosinante got breakfast, Law looked over the early work that was set up for them, the files given that came from their superiors and he sorted out which ones he felt were needed to be dealt with first. Rosinante would skim through everything, he always did, the man was meticulous when it came to their cases. But Law usually had a good eye for what was important first.
Vintage dolls were going missing, and people spoke of seeing a 'centipede made of babies' in the distance. At the distance stated, this suggests a very large entity. And people are starting to feel compelled to purchase dolls and leave them out for this creature.
A cat in the next town had started supposedly speaking and telling fortunes in exchange for fish dinners. Everyone who feeds the cat has seen a rise in income, but feel unhealthily indebted to and will not risk not gifting it more food.
One vintage radio, Marine specific model, that tells the listener something dark they need to hear if put on the right station. The results have supposed driven nine people to suicide, no other information is had.
An apartment owner has sent specific information about a loud and repeating haunting. They've been aware of this haunting for years, a replay of a murder-suicide. However, the issue seems to be escalating and warping the apartment building.
Dozens of others are there, a house of VGGs, Victorian ghost girls, none of which ever actually are described in any way that matches children of that time period, all blond and blue eyed. Of course. Those are a dime a dozen, and hardly ever end with anything. This one though, one that slides out from the stack of ghosts and big foot and magic wells, says that the girl is beautiful, fragile looking, and the people who have encountered her feel like she's about to eat them the entire time. Law adds it to the four files above, on the top of the stack.
He's so caught up in his file hunting that he doesn't notice the sound of Rosinante's footsteps.]
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And maybe, that's another reason they work so well together.
Law makes sure that he hasn't wasted any of his breakfast, eats the last couple of bites, and nods.]
Yeah, let me grab my coat. [Law sighs as Rosinante goes down, and grabs his laptop to take with him. That goes into his bag, with a couple of other items, and that's all he needs to get moving. Save for Rosinante righting himself, that is.] Do you want to drive separately? Or go together?
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Together. Come on.
[No justification needed, really. He goes to get the door for the both of them so they can head for the parking lot.]
I'll drive if you have the directions ready.
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Rosinante wants to carpool, so Law won't argue. He grabs the last of what he feels is needed for the trip, and heads out with his partner.] I've got it. It's not that far so we'll be fine, and the roads are pretty straightforward once we get closer. [He gets them up on his phone, and locks the office up before they make their way to the parking lot.] You think it's going to be anything worth the trouble this time? We've gotten a lot of boring cases lately.
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No way to know without finding out, right? Anyway, even if it's a bust, we'll have a road trip day. Good to get out.
[Not that he's perpetually some sunny optimist or anything. He takes the job plenty seriously, for what it is. But why not enjoy an opportunity to get out and see a new town? A boring case is one where nobody gets killed by the supernatural, and people are left to their mundane problems instead, and he can't say that's all bad either. A slight waste of time, but an acceptable one.
Once Law has caught up, he goes to unlock the car and buckle in with a smile and a shrug at his navigator as Law climbs in beside him.]
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Most of this is faked, he knows it. Or folklore. But sometimes Law thirsts for this, hungers for evidence, needs something more concrete than the few experiences he's had personally.]
It's still a paid day out on the road. Could be worse. [Once Law is settled in, he sets up the map for directions on his phone. It's a drive, sure, but not a long one. And there's probably somewhere to eat along the way if nothing else.] Take Barns road out to Farm Road A66. We'll be on that road a while.
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But he lucked out in ending up with Law as his partner for this. He's a big part of why the job is so bearable on those frustrating days where the spirits in the trees are just two people sneaking out for an affair, or an old man trying to claim his own life insurance.]
Barns to A66. Got it. [Lotta long roads out here but hey, it's a nice day for a drive.] Want to put on some music? Whatever you want.
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Or what was left of his home, anyway.
And maybe that's part of why he's so desperate to find some truth in all of the mess of rumors and lies. He knows how monstrous humans are, what evil they're capable of. So maybe there's a part of him that wants something bigger beyond the spectrum of human wickedness to blame for once.]
It won't be that long of a drive. [He's almost disappointed in that. Once he has the music on, a local variety station that shouldn't be too annoying, it's smooth sailing. The weather is lovely, the skies are blue, and he's off with his co-worker to investigate.
Law is surprisingly content.] Why did you get into this line of work, Rosinante-ya? [He hadn't realized until recently that he'd never asked.]
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Always wanted to help the people who couldn't help themselves, you know? And supernatural, paranormal events and creatures are usually the definition of that. Especially when other people don't take it seriously. The investigation part is fun, too. It's like a puzzle.
[An extra-challenging puzzle with a lot of research and careful questioning. It sure does keep him engaged.]
How about you?
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Rosinante's answer suits him entirely. Law makes a soft snort, not quite a laugh, and he can't help but to smile. Of course he wants to help people, especially those not taken seriously when they're in need. Rosinante is so good, and Law endlessly admires him.
Then Law is a little more serious. He doesn't share this story often.]
When I was working as a doctor, a patient arrived at my parent's clinic dead after the ambulance driver got in a car accident on the way. He'd be drinking, and she was gone long before she made it to us. She was dead. There was no coming back from that. [Law can still remember her expression, angry and contorted.] We were just holding onto her for pick up at that point, we didn't even have a proper morgue. Just a room set aside for the purpose. But when I came into work again that evening, the door was open. And she was walking around.
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[It's less of a shock than it might have been when he first started. But it's still fascinatingly weird, and he can see why Law was sucked in. Talk about a medical mystery.]
So what happened? How come she got back up?
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[Law sighs, it seems like such a long winded story.] She marched her back to us. Held her hostage while screaming out strings. Like if we were scared of her, we'd be forced to get it. But before she could hurt her, the same people that hired me shot her in the head and gave us the chance to get Lami back. They burnt her out back. She kept moving until there was enough tissue destruction from the fire to keep her still. They classified her as an anomaly, there was no sign of any of the expected paranormal causes for reanimation. And when they took her remains back with them, she was still going on about the strings.
[He's found some uncomfortable connections to that since joining his workplace. The birdcage killer is still on the run, unable to be caught.] I couldn't really go back to small town doctor work after that.
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Wow. No, I guess not. I'm glad it wasn't worse for all of you.
[It must have been utterly terrifying. But it makes sense that Law would pursue a career like this one after a brush with it in his personal life. He's such a practical, logical guy and those don't usually take up work with the supernatural, he thinks.]
How long ago was that?
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[Without him, however. Once the hunger for more of the paranormal, more proof, and more answers took root within him he was doomed as far as hospital work went. Thankfully, Lami followed in the family footsteps, his parents have plenty of help there.]
Normal enough, anyway.
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Normal enough is the right description - anyone whose lives are touched by the paranormal are never going to see things quite the same way once they realize there's more to the world than what they had been led to believe.]
So your family - how much do they know now about what you do?
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[Law isn't sure that he could enjoy this job as much without Rosinante. It can be frustrating, frightening, and sometimes depressing. But having Rosinante with him honestly helps make even the rough days bearable. And there are usually more rough and frustrating days than productive and fulfilling.]
In the records, the ones left from who worked the department before us, there were logs about a couple of things that would attach to people that spoke about them. We haven't come across anything like that, but I don't want to risk dragging something home to my parents and sister. And whoever else is in the clinic with them.
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[Presumably. But Law speaks of them fondly, and not with the exasperation of someone who is constantly being harassed about his job and coworker, so he can only assume good things.
Ahead lies their destination, judging by the sign. Farm Road 66 - there sure aren't many houses out here, so one of these in the next several minutes will be it.]
You want to take the lead on this when we get there?
[Rosinante is happy to do so instead, if Law would rather stand back and play foul-tempered not-quite-bad-cop. But maybe the guy has ideas brewing already.]
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Law makes a couple notes in his phone, and then gets back to taking in the countryside as they travel.
Something really hits him as they go further down the road, closer to the town in question. He can't put his finger on it at first, it's a hard to pin down what's pulling his attention. But then it hits, after Rosinante makes a turn.
It's perfect out here. There's no old tractors, no rotting barns, no abandoned buildings, none of the usual rough rusty piled up scrap that usually hits an area like this. It looks like it was taken right out of a country homemaking magazine, down to the little white flowers in the tall grass.
It's nothing that odd on it's own. But usually small low income rural areas tend to not be this meticulously maintained. And entirely clean looking for the great outdoors.] Hey, Rosinante-ya? When did you last see an animal? [He might have just missed something. But in the past, he's seen that areas that seem too good to be true usually are.]
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[He's looking now, though. Out here on this farm road, shouldn't there be cows, sheep, horses? Birds on the telephone wires? He slows down a little, partly because they're close and partly because Law has good intuition and now he's really looking.
He hits the brakes and stares when they come alongside a field of corn, and every single plant is the same height, and every flower on the stalks are at the same stage of growth. With the breeze ruffling through the leaves he can't say for sure that the plants themselves are identical, but they're uncomfortably similar. It's at this point also that the radio station he'd had on low in the background fades out to static as if they've lost the signal.]
What was the house number again?
[Got to be one of these next few, he can only imagine, as he gives the car some gas and they get moving forward again.]
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It's a sign that even nature knows something bad is here.
He shakes his head, and checks his phone again for the address when Rosinante asks. And that's when he notices the radio.] 667. [He messes with the radio a bit, changing the stations. But there's nothing but static on any of the channels, so he just shuts it off.]
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[Or maybe he's just desperately grasping for humor in their strange situation. It would be comedic if the house number was 666. Instead, it's just slightly askew like someone is trying to play a bad joke.
Maybe the corn thing was in his head. Maybe they're all cloned plants and that's normal. For all the skepticism he has, sometimes he gets a little too invested, doesn't he?
They pass a mailbox with 665, so it's the next one on that side. No cats in the fields, no birds darting across the road or sitting on the power lines, but eventually there's a driveway with a house at the end of it, set some distance off the road behind a windbreak of trees, so he pulls in.]
She's just the one who compiled the list, right? Why would the animals stay away from her?
[Might as well make sure he's following what Law is picking up on before they go knock on the door.]
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[The pristine look is starting to feel almost grating to Law. It's frustrating. It's too perfect and Law's stomach feels like it's got a weight in it while he looks around. Worse, while Law claims to love quiet, and often enjoys it thoroughly? The human body is conditioned to expect noise. Save for when the loss or absence of hearing is involved every moment from birth to death comes with a certain amount of ambient sound. And while yes, there's the lightest sound of the wind, it's distant. The sound of their own movements, the closing of the doors, the knocking on her door after the walk up...
It's all so much louder with just the loss of the expected drone that even the countryside should have.
A thin dark haired woman in her forties opens the door soon after, and it's like the world comes to life from inside of her house. The sound of a cat crying towards the back of the room sounds out, with the drone of some sort of machinery, the odd whirring sounds of an aging refrigerator, the chirps of several birds just out of view, and the serenade of soft vintage country music. He's never been particular fan of the genre but right now it's entirely comforting.
The break in the silence is a beautiful thing indeed.
It's not idyllic in here, either. This is a real country home, faded wall paper and the table right next to the door is nearly overflowing with letters and papers, there's dirt on the entryway rug too. It smells a little dusty, along with the scent of incense, and something baking too. The woman herself has either flour or powdered sugar dusted on her apron, and she's visibly irritated at the interruption.
It's real. That's why it all feels so good to him compared to the outside's false perfection and unnatural quiet.]
"Who are you? I don't want to buy anything. I know the lord and I have insurance. You should go home. Quickly." [She looks them over, with shrewd judgement.] "You're not here to sell anything, are you?" [Law shakes his head. He's not the best at this, Rosinante usually smooths things over so nicely when he needs to, but Law is invested today.] No, we're not. We hope you can help us with something. [She's not very interested, from how her nose wrinkles up and her brows furrow.] It's about the list. [Her whole demeanor changes when he brings it up, and she looks around nervously a little.] "Hurry in. Make yourselves comfortable, and goodness please watch your head as you come in!
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But the door opens and everything inside feels exceptionally normal, and that contrast is maybe the most jarring of all. He stares past the woman for a moment, assessing what he can see and hear and smell of the inside. Why does that door form some kind of boundary between two worlds? Why has the silence outside stayed outside? He's fine with letting Law talk in the hopes it gives him a few more moments to concentrate on this particularly strange puzzle.
No answer comes, at least not yet, but Rosinante watches the woman's eyes as the list is mentioned. The shift from average, bored, slightly annoyed, to seeming like there might be anyone watching around any corner is striking, but expected of the conspiracy types he's come across in previous missions, so all that skepticism comes flooding right back, pushing at his willingness to be taken in by the strangeness of her neighborhood.
Anyway, he ducks to enter and hits his head all the same, because that's his goddamned life, and the smack rattles his teeth. With one hand rubbing the top of his head, the other closes the door as he follows in after Law.]
Thanks. Sorry we had to drop in without warning, [he says, though it's just a courtesy. Giving some of these folks time to prepare means walking into a whole labyrinth of sticky notes and odd photos and string tacked to walls. Better to get the info without a whole theatrical presentation alongside it.]
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Especially since Rosinante is usually sorely deprived of dignity due to his clumsiness.] "It's fine! I wanted to share this with someone. Go into the parlor, help yourself to a sweet from the jar if you like. I've got to wash up. And let me know if you need some aspirin!" [When she gestures towards the sitting room, Law is a bit thrown off further. Yes, of course not every conspiracy theorist is a chaotic mess with hoards of papers and random charts and a mess of a house. But they often are unstable and unsettled. They tend to be erratic and off and hard to reason with. This woman isn't like that. She all but reeks of grandmother, and the pictures of her and her family that are placed around the room pretty much confirm it.
That said, they've dealt with a monstrous serial killer grandmother so brutal that she was mistaken for being supernatural. Age and appearances mean little in the end. But he does note that several of the older pictures are Marine focused.
He'd normally be less comfortable with sitting while someone he was going to interview was in another room, but there's a large open area that makes up the main room of the home, there's a bar that's being used to separate the kitchen where she's washing up. So she's within view the entire time.
That doesn't make it very easy to talk, though.]
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Surely not.
But it's enough to get his metaphorical hackles up, as if they weren't already. The whole thing bugs him. Still, they're here to hear what she has to say, might as well get to it. He finds a seat in a chair that's too small and tries to keep his knees tucked close enough where he's not occupying half the room himself, then glances over at Law, shoulders shrugging slowly in a concealed sort of sigh, before returning his gaze to the woman in the kitchen.]
I'll be fine, thanks. Mind if I smoke?
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Or doesn't have for that matter. Just because she seems legit doesn't mean she isn't another wack job wasting their time. At least they're getting on the clock either way.]
"Go head! There should be an ash tray around there somewhere!"
[It doesn't take her much longer to join them though, free of as much flour as possible. Law watches as she touches up her hair, grabs something from a table in the kitchen area, and starts to make her way back to them.
It looks like she's got a folder in her hands.
It's about then when Law is starting to wonder if Rosinante's lean towards strong skepticism is right. The more prepared they are, usually the more paranoid they are.] "Just tell me when you're ready to look through this. I'll answer any questions you might have, but I think this speaks for itself!"
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