Well, after a few months of individual work, the company gave us a file for the local Federal building, the Boiling building, an 18 story high rise. Apparently there had been reports of things moving around and strange voices from the second floor, and the seventh floor had some sort of disturbance involving public damage. It was brought up by Tyrone that we needed equipment, so the suggestion was made that we visit someone Patrick found called Earl Rambo.
I decided to visit Mr. Rambo right away, and found him with a bunch of other ghosts in the city junk yard, and they had a large assortment of relics, but not many in the way of storage or weaponry. I offered him some personal life force for holding some items until the rest of the gang went under and could join me, reserving a hunting shotgun, a knife, an aluminum bat, and a world war two navy style footlocker.
On the way back to DMH, I noticed a blip on the top of a hill, so I followed the road to the base and looked up, seeing a familiar figure. An old train conductor flickering in and out of existence. We met him at our last major job, and it was not pleasant, but he was just a drone then. As I started walking up the hill, he phased out and was gone.
Returning the next morning I noticed a rather unflattering car parked down the street, but thought nothing of it. This would prove to be a problem three days later on the morning of the 23rd of December. The car was still there, unmoved. I went to investigate only to find it was full of bottles filled with a yellow liquid in the back and junk food wrappers in the front. No one was in it so this lead me to believe the driver was in the building it was parked in front of. I went inside and found on the top of the old abandoned apartment building was a room with lights on, a computer, and listening equipment. I inhabited the computer and listened to the files they had. Seemed they were police, and they were spying on us looking for evidence against Will for his involvement in the MOPS disappearances.
Naturally, I went to the DMH headquarters to report this, and almost blurted it out as I manifested. Thankfully I was able to grab some paper and a pen and write a note to Mr. Holmes about it. Doctor Becker decided to go mess with the police directly, and the coach (Kirk) joined him. I still don’t know what exactly they did, but something about corrupting the files and spilling coffee.
While we were waiting for them I had a chat with Tyrone about how weapons can exist in the land of the dead if they have a sentimental meaning, anything really can. He immediately took off to check for his rifle at home. Arrogant. I am sorry, that’s unprofessional, but seeing as none of my team sees these files, only my superiors, I feel I should say he is hard to work with at times.
So when we all got back to the lobby it was two o’clock and we were ready to leave when Patrick showed up with this new guy. We decided to wait when we found out he was a skimmer, and welcomed him to the team…sort of. He drove us to the junk yard and we met with Mr. Earl Rambo.
Mr. Rambo had delivered the items I reserved, as well as gathered up a few more. He had some walkie talkies (a much better find than his potato radio he offered earlier, and an item I regret not buying considering what happens later) a revolver, some bats and chains and pipes, a bunch of random sporting equipment, and the previously mentioned gear I had reserved. We asked him how things like this come into being, and he mentioned that items do tend to have emotions tied to them, but only appear here when they are destroyed in the real world. This immediately sent Tyrone heading out on his own and saying “Peace” as he left. I don’t yet know where he went, as he wont tell us, but he came back with an old beat up pistol, some damaged flak jacket, and who knows what else. Seems he is resourceful, but almost as much of a piece of shit as I am.
Anyway, we made a purchase for a knife and a football, as well as the footlocker, and headed out back to the headquarters. The gang went and looked for the cops. There were two different ones posting in their spot now, and with three computers this time. The car from before however was gone. I don’t know what happened in there, I don’t want to know. All I know is because of Todd, Kirk, and Aaron, the police are gone.
That night everyone rested, and we woke up bright and early that morning. We did a scan because Todd wanted too, and found the car from before parked on the other side of the block, hidden from general view. This car had strange written all over it, so we called Patrick to tell him to call the police and have it towed. A 10 minute game of telephone over the telephone with ghosts to deliver a simple message. We are a real Mickey Mouse operation.
When we arrive at the parking structure connected with the Boiling Building, we get out and start heading to it only to find the Train Conductor from earlier there. Patrick never did get me any info on this guy, and I never did peruse him on it. My fault, I suppose. I approached this guy and had a minor chat with him. He doesn’t know his name, he is just the Conductor, and he is going to observe us apparently. Just what we wanted to hear.
Upon entering the building we decided to be a democracy and voted on which floor to go to first. We chose the second floor, and when we got there we saw a shadowy figure run quickly through the area. Following it, we saw two different figures later. Todd and Aaron dropped down through the floor to persue one, who we later found to be a little girl named Margret, and I followed through the walls with Kirk after a middle aged woman named Kelly. The group had split up leaving Tyrone on his own. Champions. Each and every one of us.
Turns out they are only two of the 12 Ghosts on that floor, and they have all been practicing their powers. They have a strange ability to manifest inhuman features, and they seem to be dim, lacking vitality as it were, and being hunted by this shadow creature. We decided to help them and stop the hauntings in the federal building, we need to stop this Shadow, but first we need to stop whatever is on the seventh floor.
Heading up to the seventh floor, we found that things were quiet. I recognized the floor. It was where I was sent every time I needed to go to a new foster home. Unfortunately, that was the least of my surprises today. Suddenly the glass in every office broke on the pictures on the desks and the walls, practically shattering for the family photos. We heard a loud noise in the back and noticed the office of my old social worker was trashed. Fuck her. Every time I came back she was a little less caring and concerned about me, or anything. Burn out I guess, or maybe I really am just not worth anyone’s time.
We heard a slam on the desk back in the front office, with the words being shouted loudly “WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE CAN’T BE BURIED WITH HIS OWN PARENTS? THIS IS COMPLETE BULLSHIT! YOU DON’T KNOW HOW BAD HE HAD—”
It was cut off there…we went into the office to see a drone having a heart attack, and we watched him as he died again. Stress most likely. I recognized him though. He was the owner of my second to last foster home, and it turns out he was here fighting for my rights. Apparently, he was tied here by a few things, including my resting place.
Merry Christmas Alan, you piece of shit…