Phasmata: Ch-1

Chapter 1 - The Call -

Lurching up out of his bed, Ryan then rolled out of it. Landing beside it on the ground his brain was already getting him ready to take cover.

To grab his weapon and get it up and ready.

Panic slammed through him followed by fear. If he didn’t get eyes on their attackers they’d get their shit pushed in before they knew it.

Scanning the area for his weapon Ryan felt naked and that everything was about to get worse. That he was going to die here.

Then his brain actually turned on, rather than just acting without input. Which was to randomly throw training, trauma, and terror at him at the same time.

“Where they at?” shrieked a voice, cutting through the fog of his mind.

I… what?

What? Where… oh.

The pounding slowly bled away. Followed by a woman drunkenly shouting at someone else. To which the other participant in this loud conversation gladly retorted.

Ryan let out a loud sigh and pressed his face into the short and stained carpet.

Breathing in the smell of dust and stale air, feeling much better for it comparatively to where he’d thought he was. Better by orders of magnitude.

Laying there, he just took in slow breaths. Trying to stabilize himself and let his mind unfuck itself. For it all to blow over and wash through him.

He was hopping it wouldn’t take hours this time.

Without any stimuli he could feel his mind starting to tick loudly.

“-checkpoint three. Advise-”

Wincing, Ryan shook his head at the unwanted voice in his head. A voice that didn’t exist and was only in his memories. He was half tempted to slam his hands to his temples to knock the voices clear.

Immediately he began doing push-ups, rather than letting his brain start spiraling wildly out of control. Any activity was better than no activity right now.

“Fuck it’s gonna be a long night,” he growled, mentally counting out each completed push-up.

When the dawn came hours later, the sun peeking in through his drawn blinds, it found him a sweaty yet successful mess. The night had been held back and the demons forced out again.

When his phone rang he didn’t even jump. Nor did it pierce through his brain like an ice-pick cracking through a sheet of glass.

If it had been earlier, it most certainly would’ve shattered him.

His startle reflex was just to glance at his phone at this moment.

Which he was mildly proud of, really.

Picking it up he looked to the display.

“Hag,” he grumbled to no one, wondering if he should pick it up for a second. Then he immediately tapped the accept button.

“Morning,” he said instead as he held the phone up to his ear.

“Good morning,” said the grouchy voice on the other end. “Got a job for you. Dusk gig. Only active for a few hours after sunset.

“Marissa and Bobby sent you the all the findings by email. Need it done by today or tomorrow if possible. You’re breaking in a newbie for this one. They’ll meet you at the location.”

Ryan sighed and closed his eyes, he bumped the back of his head against the wall behind him. He was sat against the floor with his back to the corner. In front of him was his P228 pistol that was loaded and even had a round chambered. Next to it was a very illegal and likely to land him prison converted MP5.

Also loaded and chambered.

Laid out and readied during the long battle over night where he was both the victor as well as the defeated.

“’Kay,” Ryan muttered and looked up to the ceiling instead. “Anything to note?”

“No,” answered Cindy the Hag. “New job for you in three days. Stick to it.”

There was a bump followed by the phone going quiet.

Letting out a breath, Ryan let his arm descend, the phone slipping out of his hand and landed next to his knee. Bouncing against the medical brace, then laying face down.

He wasn’t going to admit aloud he was glad to have a job to focus on.

Even if he was.

Really was.

***

Getting out of the run-down and beat-up economy sedan Ryan slammed the door shut. Adjusting his hoodie he felt somewhat better.

Looking around he realized he was in the middle of suburbia.

Green lawns, planted and cultivated trees, landscaped bushes, everyone with their own little version of the dream.

Lights and warmth blazed out of the windows of them, showing that most of them had families that were home and in the middle of going about their evening wind down.

Walking around to his trunk Ryan popped it open and stood there for a moment.

There was a sense of wrongness in that moment.

One that overlapped with a memory that felt correct.

A memory of standing in front of his locker and hurrying into his battle rattle in record time.

Reaching up he pulled his hoodie up and off then tossed it in the trunk. Then he picked up the black plate carrier and pulled it onto himself. There were no ballistic plates in this one, though it felt just as heavy at times just in a different way.

Settling it down over his torso he began velcroing it into place. He had to stop several times to adjust the carrier pouches that were filled with hand-written blessings.

Multiple types and languages from a multitude of holy men.

Settling it down more snuggly he pulled the belly band tight and cinched it up. Taking out all the slack of it.

The dichotomy of being right and wrong fluttered through his thoughts though it was much weaker this time.

Pulling over the cardboard box that was shoved to the side he pulled the lid out of the way. Peering inside he grabbed up several of the blessed seals and their attached script.

Holding two in one hand he held the third with his right hand. He stuck it onto the top part of his shoulder strap. The second he slapped down over his side.

Hesitating for several seconds Ryan realized he didn’t have a choice this time.

Reaching over he pushed the third seal onto the side of his tactical helmet that hung on a hook attached to the back of the rear seat’s ‘child-seat anchor’.

Then picked up the helmet and pulled it down over his head. Reaching up he grabbed the very much not-needed spectral sounders and adjusted them.

If he had a newbie coming with him he was going to have to look more the part than he normally did. Because while most people in the business needed the sounders to see spirits and ghosts, Ryan didn’t.

It was more or less a torn apart console toy that was a depth sensor. Modified, mounted on a helmet, and affixed to a battery, it gave people an idea of the presence of a ghost.

A void would flicker in and out if there was the possibility of a spiritual presence, which then would cause it to beep.

Loudly.

Annoyingly.

Picking up several modified salt shakers he tucked them away into his carrier.

Snatching up the orange-tipped and heavier than expected water-pistol he slipped it into the empty leg holster at his side. He adjusted it the best he could and let it go.

It never fit quite right, but it did well enough.

Next he grabbed the telescoping pure iron club. He stuck that into the slot for it and then paused.

Deciding to do the whole shtick, he picked up another flat cardboard box and flipped it open. Reaching inside he quickly pulled out a pre-printed wanna-be version of a book of spells.

It was really just a loosely bound stack of paper that he’d made with brads to hold it all together. He could tear one out of the two inch thick mockery of spell-casting and throw it on the ground to great effect.

While he never had much in the way of mana, a magical type of hunter he was not, he had more than enough to activate a spell that was held in such a way.

Sticking it into a modified pouch stuck to his carrier he flicked the the pull-cord chain around itself and through an eyelet he’d sown into the pouch.

He cinched it shut and gave it a tug to make sure it was locked into place.

It felt like it wasn’t going anywhere.

Taking the poorly named “spirit-squawk-box” out he put it into the pouch specific for a radio. Tapping the button into an on position it audibly began to spew out low-volume static.

Feeling ready, Ryan had everything he needed for this.

Closing the trunk he looked up and surveyed his surroundings again.

Not far away was a little-boy. He had a flimsy and almost immaterial outline to him.

He looked to be perhaps nine years old with dark hair and dark eyes.

Or at least Ryan thought so. Details were hard to make out for the dead. Their forms were often hard to really see even for Ryan and his gifts.

“Hey,” Ryan said with a nod to the ghost.

The vast majority of spirits Ryan had encountered didn’t do much other than wander aimlessly through the world. Looking for an exit from this world and to escape to the afterlife.

It took a real piece of work, a terrible death, or extreme unresolved desires for them to go violent. Those were the ones Ryan was paid to deal with and make sure they passed on.

By and large, ghosts as a whole were more like tumbleweeds. They’d get stuck everywhere the wind blew them.

Best you could do was pull it out from where it got wedged and huck it so it’d move on.

Laughing soundlessly, the boy gave him a thumbs up and a wave.

Then vanished.

Only to reappear sitting atop the car right in front of Ryan. He gestured at the gettup Ryan was wearing.

“Yeah, thanks. Full kit today,” Ryan murmured, looking at the kid. “Got a newbie coming.”

“Neat,” came the ghosts whispered voice. “Do you think it’s a girl? Maybe a pretty one?”

Being able to speak was a sign that the ghost was outside the norm. For them to be able to make themselves heard set them apart from most.

“Does it matter?” asked Ryan with a laugh. “You’re way too concerned about girls.”

“Girls are pretty! I like girls,” answered the boy.

“Yeah, me too,” answered Ryan with a shake of his head. Reaching down into his pocket he pulled out his phone. At the same time he leaned up against the back of his car right next to the boy. “Alright, Carl. Tonight we’ve got a simple one. Just a Nightmare.

“So we get to confirm it, ask it ever so nicely to vacate and move on, then send it on when that goes sideways.”

“Nightmares always fight,” agreed the boy with a nod of his head. “This one is really angry. He’s watching you already.”

“Really? He?” Ryan asked, curious. Glancing at the ghost he followed the line of it’s gaze up to the second floor of the home they were in front of.

There was a window there but Ryan couldn’t see anything.

At least not yet.

That’d change once he got into the house. It’d get rather annoyed and quickly. Then it’d do it’s best to chase Ryan out or kill him.

The faster it got annoyed, the better Ryan was doing his job. Because until it was making itself known and trying to get him gone, there was no actual way to effect it.

“That’ll be fun,” Ryan mumbled and looked back to his phone. On the screen were the notes he’d put together for the case.

There wasn’t much but it was technically more than he’d probably need.

If he didn’t miss his guess, the newbie would bring the whole case file and want to go over it with him. Which of course, wouldn’t happen.

Ryan was here to do his job and get out. There really wasn’t any time for an in-between here. They weren’t the investigation team that mapped out everything in advance, they were here to finish the job that was started.

“Only one known death in the house. Dave Nicks, fifty-two, heart-attack. Decade ago. Hauntings started several years ago though, recently became much worse,” Ryan read off aloud before hitting the lock-screen button on his phone. He pushed it back into his pocket and then yawned.

There was as of yet, no sign of the newbie.

Glancing to the horizon, he saw that the sun was just touching the skyline. Sunset was just starting to occur.

While he’d been told there would be a newbie for him to work with, he hadn’t been told to wait for them. Or to make sure they were there when he started the hunt.

On top of that, there was a strong likelihood that he’d end up having to deal with this newbie for the next month or so regardless of how this first hunt went.

“Should call her,” warned the boy.

Groaning, Ryan shook his head. Then nodded it.

“You’re right. You’re… right. I just don’t like it,” grumbled Ryan. He couldn’t deny Carl was more than beyond a doubt correct.

“Besides, you might get a skill up in team-work if you do this!” Carl excitedly said. Then he held up his hands in front of himself.

A faint blue ethereal screen came into view.

“Uh huh,” Ryan agreed with a grin.

Carl saw the world as a video game. That everything around him was made out of skills, levels, experience, items to collect, and NPCs that needed to be won over.

He had a bad habit of making a character sheet for things and showing them to Ryan. Often relating everything back to Ryan that was done through said sheet.

Ryan didn’t look at it but instead was calling Cindy.

Finishing dialing he stuck the phone to his ear and waited.

It rang

And rang.

And rang some more.

Before finally going to voicemail.

 To which Ryan just hung up and then tucked his phone away into his pocket. If Cindy wasn’t picking up, that meant things were wrong.

That also left him to his own devices in regards to the newbie.

“It’s just a Nightmare,” reasoned Ryan. “Get in there, dump a spell into a hall to call it to the area, turn on all the lights so it gets pissy, salt off the hallway so it can’t get out, be a dick about it, be done,” Ryan summarized.

“So just another day at the bar for you?” Carl asked, his tone revealing that while he looked like a young boy, and often spoke like one, he’d been around a while.

A long while.

He knew things that a nine-year old shouldn’t even if he still acted like one most of the time. Or at least that’s what Ryan suspected.

Carl denied everything.

Clicking his tongue, Ryan went to the front door and tried the handle. It spun easily and the door swung inward. It’d been unlocked just as he’d expected it to be.

The investigation team never locked up after they left. More often than not stumbling over themselves to get out of the home.

Pushing the door open Ryan walked in and closed the door behind himself.

Standing there he listened.

Waited.

Nothing registered on any of his senses.

If this was an investigation, he’d be hauling in equipment to determine everything he could about the ghost. That job had already been done though and he was here just to send it off.

Off to the side, next to a doorway, was a cracked UV lightstick. It’d long since faded and held no light left. Not far off from that was a pile of salt that’d clearly been disturbed in someway.

Quite possibly a footstep by the ghost Ryan was here to get rid of, though he wasn’t sure. The investigation side of things hadn’t been that interesting to him and he’d had problems memorizing all the various tests and possibilities.

Not my fault I can literally just ask them what they are. No point in doing anything more than that if they’re willing.

“Alright,” Ryan called out and then walked to the center of the hallway. Reaching to his trailer-trash spell-book he found the small plastic tab he wanted and flipped it open.

Tearing out the first paper he came across, which was a call for the spirit to come hither, Ryan pushed a speck of magic into it.

Dropping it down into the center of the hall along with a small chunk of a wax pen atop it.

Being a mare meant it couldn’t resist writing on something that exerted pressure on it.

Like a spell or a spirit journal.

Moving away, Ryan went to the furthest part of the hall. He made sure all the lights were on. Checking each and every light switch he came across just to make sure every bit of light was on that he could get.

“He upstairs?” Ryan called out loudly. He imagined Carl was nearby even if he couldn’t hear him.

“Yes,” came the whispered response.

Nodding his head, Ryan pulled out one of his large salt shakers and began to pour a line of salt across each doorway. Cutting off the possibility of the spirit moving out of the hall once it realized it was going to be dispersed.

Moving from one to the other, then the next, Ryan went through the motions of the job. These duties, contracts that were outside the norm, never bothered him.

There was no fear in this for Ryan. No concern.

No worries.

He could stand and face down an incorporeal demon and cast it out of a place with only a small hit to his courage. This job wasn’t an issue for Ryan and if anything it was somewhat of a relief.

A pop and squeak sounded from the spirit-squawk-box, signaling that the Nightmare had joined him here. Reaching up Ryan flicked the device off.

He didn’t want to actually communicate with the ghost at this time. Not till he was ready to simply get rid of it.

Moving to the stairs Ryan waited for a handful of seconds before he then ran a line of salt across the stairs. Preventing the Nightmare from going back upstairs.

Tucking away his salt shaker Ryan moved back to the front door.

Now he had to babysit the ghost till it got annoyed enough to start showing up. To show itself and make it so Ryan could interact with it.

Suddenly his phone began ringing.

Wincing Ryan shook his head.

Like the doorbell ringing the moment you sit down to take a shit. For fuck’s sake.

Doin’ my business.

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, Ryan kept an eye on the spell and the hall. The last thing he wanted was the Nightmare rushing him while he was distracted.

Looking to the screen he saw it was Cindy.

Tapping accept he brought it up to his ear.

“Just started in on the Nig—”

“I need you to pack it up and get to an address,” Cindy said quickly, interrupting him. “An investigation team ended up provoking something and it’s not happy. It won’t leave off and they’re holed up until someone can get to them.”

Ryan frowned as he heard the information. Everything about it sounded wrong and fucked up to him.

“You’re the best I’ve got, and the closest I’ve got,” Cindy said, actually sounding concerned. “Get over there. Please.”

Then the line went dead.

“Holy shit, she said please,” Ryan said as he turned and opened the door. Sticking his phone in his pocket he closed the door behind himself and headed for the car.

He was needed elsewhere and had been called in as the reinforcements.

Ryan wasn’t above feeling giddy about being the knight on horse to the rescue.

Everyone always wanted to be the cavalry. Ryan got to be the cavalry.

“Then the fucking Winged Huassars arrived, right?” joked Ryan.

“I don’t know,” Carl replied from the passenger seat.