Scene #9217: The Photographer-2

Owner	Pose
Distortion Dets.	Rain pours down heavily on the neighborhoods of District 14's Backstreets. The forewarned call came in, that the Detective had a Distortion case she wanted her new allies to cooperate on. Today, it's not to Moses' Office that you all have been called out to, but directly to a client's location. The trip from any managed warp gate within the Nest is still just as dreary and monochrome, but after crossing past the Nest's checkpoints, the strict architecture constraints that keep every building the same exact shade seem to be less enforced, with steadily increasing variance the further one goes. Fewer people linger around the streets, gutters still fill up with water, and modes of transit, like trams or bigger streets, start to become more sparse, and the air quality itself begins to plummet. Within one of the residential zones of the Backstreets, lies the "Plaza of Cherished Hopes", a sprawling commercial square that abuts a rarely-used canal. Dotted with once-picturesque stonework fountains, and flanked by quaint bridges that overpass the canal, it's easy to imagine that the plaza could be lively on occasion. Today it is wet and empty. Numerous shops sit at its circumference, taking up the lower floors of mid-rise housing blocks, with displayed wares and advertisements clustered out underneath colorful awnings. Signs plastered up and around on walls and glass advertise long-past local events, lost pets, and many many signs for open housing space at a nearby retirement facility, hanging in all stages of rain-caused decay. Also sheltering beneath one awning, a local hardware store's, stand Detective Moses, Ezra, and the store's owner, a utilitarian-dressed woman who can only be their client. Moses is smoking her pipe, quietly, as the Outsiders arrive, her assistant fidgeting with a tool she clearly just picked up from the hardware store's shelves, and the owner looking tired, impatient, and wary of the visitors. Other than those three, nobody lingers outside around the plaza. "Yo! Yoo-hoo! Over here!" Of course it's Ezra who beckons the group over, plunking down the specialized wrench she'd been playing with. "You made it! Any trouble try and take a stab at you along the way? Did you all stay dry? I didn't bring extra umbrellas but mine and the Detective's, sooooo you might be out of luck if you didn't!" Friendly and low-effort, she finishes off her string of greetings with a bright little hum, bright red eyes sparkling in the dim midday light. "Ahem," Moses clears her throat, once those she expects to arrive have done so. A little nod is the only real greeting she gives out. Straight to business. "This case promises to be a bit of a tricky one. I've already taken down the client's story, but I thought a chance to hear it from her yourself, or ask your questions, would be worthwhile. Miss... " "She's Edita, Detective! The store says it, 'Edita's Tools and Hardware'..." "Mm. Tell them what you told me?" "And you'll waive some of the fee for the time it takes me-" "Nope! Nuh-uh, negotiations are done and you already signed~! We gave you the discounted rate, even." "Tch. Whatever. Might as well mug me for pocketchange, too. 'Least you're wasting your own damn time, too..."
Distortion Dets.	Uncertain glances go towards each of the Elites, as Edita draws up her breath. "A few of the alleyways around the neighborhood here, we're all pretty sure are being haunted, or cursed, by something, and it keeps getting worse. You see, there's this..." She snaps her fingers, looking for words. "They've started to fill up with people's belongings, cars, bicycles, canes, winter clothes... it's really creepy, gives me the heebies to walk through. It's been going on a couple weeks, I guess, but it's hard to say. Stuff's left in the way, but it's all in good condition, not trash someone's thrown out? Like people passing through just up and vanished, and left all their stuff behind, only, nobody's missing, and nobody says they've lost anything? Anyways. I said it's getting worse, right? Cuz it is. My house," She points upwards to indicate, the floors above the hardware store. "Has started to be affected. My house. My husband went up to the attic to store some boxes away, and it was set up exactly like someone's bedroom, can you believe that? A bed, dressers, which even had clothes in them... it felt like someone had been living in it, right up until recently. That's why I asked around, and hired these two. You're their help, right? Think you'll be able to scare off whatever ghost, or whatnot, that's been doing this?" Moses puffs on her pipe, and puts a hand on Ezra's upper arm, preemptively stopping her from jumping to list accolades and accomplishments, at Edita's prompting. "Yes. There's a lot to take in. Would you mind answering some of the questions my associates have? Then, once they're done, I'd ask that you lead us to the alleyways in question, and leave us to our work. We won't need to take up more of your time." That Moses isn't mumbling aloud her suspicions is slightly odd- as if she's avoiding doing so in front of the client.
Redshift Operators	Backstreets. That's more the Redshift Operators' speed. And they're happy to help. Although, they've gotten some things that are somewhat more appropriate -- a few locally-styled suits with selective armor padding key spots and a quick conversion to the old armor, courtesty of their giant armorsmith. The hats and caps, plus glimmering green goggles, obfuscate the top half of their faces. The bottom half is guarded by sterile masks, as if they were contagious with something. They look almost like a lesser-known Syndicate. At a harsh stretch, they could pass as a somewhat-failing office with a very consistent red theme. They're here to investigate more than fight, though that doesn't mean the gunman leader hasn't armed up with some more-combat grenade launchers (in the spirit of the city) or that the cyborg medic doesn't have her sword at her side. Even the sniper keeps their rifle, though bullets are locally sourced at the correct cost and sparsely-equipped, leaving them with only a half-dozen shots at most. As always: Keep the heat from the Head low. For now, the cyborg is the one who heads forward and nods eagerly at Edita. "Quite clearly," She says. "Such a place is undoubtedly haunted. In my cursed arm, I can feel a profound resonance." She cannot feel a profound resonance in her cursed arm. But she grips it with faux-agony. "It will be an arduous investigation. It will-" "There used to be someone there." The bomb tech speaks up and instantly interrupts all of them. "Nobody would get things like this without there being someone there. So there has to have been someone there. Now there isn't." "The hell are you talking about, Newt? She do--" "Arrangements of things are only created out of intention. If an order or an organization for things exists, intention must have existed. You must have had someone there before and now you don't. I'm going to the bedroom now." They literally don't even bother asking. They just walk towards the house, intending to go up into the room. The other three operators all collectively shrug and follow them. If a certain detective eyes the sniper, she'll see in their gleaming goggles this: A slow zooming-in of detail, from an outer view of a galaxy, down to a solar system, down to a planet, continent, province, town, building, government print-shop, ID printer, toner cartridge, ink compound, pigment molecule... They look for identification. They're expecting it to be under a pile in a closet or a box, but they'll just methodically search everywhere. Any sign of an ID -- and then a rapid search for information about them on Watch networks.
Hibiki Tachibana	"What a crappy day... although by City standards, it could be worse. Still, I really hate rain..." Such is Hibiki's comment delivered solely to herself, moving through the rainy plaza with the hood of her jacket drawn up. With another week of rest under her belt, she's looking better than the previous visit to Moses' Office, though how much she's actually improved is up for debate with her penchant for keeping her state to herself. But of course, none of this is about her. It's about the client. And also, giving help to the City that didn't get all the Light it should've. "Thanks, Ezra. I'm okay. No stabbings today." It's the Backstreets, so honestly, it was a fair concern. She returns Moses' to-the-point greeting with an equally no-nonsense nod, and then gets beneath the building cover and slides her hands into her pockets as she turns her attention to Edita... who she's not surprised to see is a little unsure about them. "...Sorry for the trouble," is all she says before listening to her story. Which leads into a frown, right about the time she turns her head upwards to follow along with the report of what's going on in her building. "It's starting to go from outhere to indoors...? Now I'm the one getting creeped out..." The grimace on her face is a little more than just that, though. What kind of 'haunting' ends up pulling things out of thin air like this? Usually it's things disappearing, not the other way around. Inhale, exhale, and then she takes a brief mental note of Moses' slight cageiness before pondering a moment. "Just one," Hibiki says towards Edita, turning to face her again. "Is your house the only one that's had anything happen inside of it so far? How long ago id it happen? ...Has anybody else around here said anything about rooms in their houses being changed around like yours has?"
Odette Raskins	True to her word, Odette's here to join the detective for investigating a Distortion case, and she's dressed for the part! Barely. Sneaking out a whole trench coat from work isn't an easy proposition on short notice, but slipping one of those little checkered hats into her bag on the way out of the station is practically second nature at this point. That's why she's wearing a checkered hat today instead of her usual blue cap, although she's still dressed in her EMT uniform. She's glad for that little extra bit of head coverage, too, because the pouring rain doesn't do her any favors when her dinky little pocket umbrella inevitably collapses and forces her to scurry beneath the hardware store's awning. "Buh... Ah! H.. Hello, Miss Ezra! Hello, Detective. Hello... Uh." She shakes her head quickly at Ezra inquiring about stabbings, then tries peeking into the store itself in the hopes she spot an umbrella on sale. "N-no stabbings here! Well, unless you count self-inflcited ones from-" Odette holds up the aforementioned dinky umbrella, noting the odd angle it's bent at and the little metal tines jabbing through the fabric. "Don't worry, Miss Edita. We'll figure this out, and you'll get your money's worth." She tries to reassure the store owner with a confident fist pump, then starts listening closely to her detailing the case itself. Hearing about the alleged hauntings, though, has her furrowing her brow in visible skepticism. "Sounds like it might be a... I-I've seen all sorts of stuff get hidden away in maintenance tunnels, so... Maybe it was just people stashing away stuff? Or forgetting it, if nobody's saying it's missing..." She looks up from Edita to the hardware store's upper floor, then feels some of the blood draining from her face as she hears about the bedroom replacing the attic. "Oh... Th-that doesn't sound like.. Um. Someone stashing things casually, no. But... W-we can't rule out someone being really good about hiding and sneaking their stuff inside to..." She really doesn't want to accept that it's a ghost. Still, with little else to go on but Neutron raising the possibility someone used to live there... "Who lived here before you did? Maybe... They never wanted to leave and they're... Trying to get back in?"
Father Berislav	"Hello, Ezra," Berislav returns the greeting with the same friendliness. "And hello, Detective." His smile peers out from beneath the protective cover of his plain black umbrella. The priest's cassock is mostly free of the rain. Did any trouble find him? "No more than the usual battery of questions," he says with an amused kind of weariness. Down to business. "Edita, it's nice to meet you. I'm Father Waters Berislav." And, because this continues to be a thing in the City, he adds, with a small smile, "'Father' is a spiritual title; I'm a priest." He then listens for details between the patter of rain with his silver eyes attentively fixed on Edita. Her story sees his alert expression shift into a frown the longer it goes on. His gaze follows her pointing upwards. "I'm not trained for exorcisms," he admits. "Some people say that there's a certain talent for it that you either have or don't, and it isn't something that's given much attention because of its tendency to be a spectacle. But," he says, "That doesn't mean I can't help." "'Ghosts' were people at one point, after all. Edita," he says, "What can you tell me about this neighborhood? How long have you lived here, and how well do you know your neighbors?"
Distortion Dets.	'N-no stabbings here! Well, unless you count-' "Oh, what did you do to that poor umbrella? That's no good!" Ezra pouts, for the sake of the umbrella instead of Odette's umbrella-related stabbings. "At least you've got the cute little hat! Waterproof?" 'Has anybody else around here said anything about rooms in their houses being changed around like yours has?' "Huh? Well maybe, there was a man in here the other day, think he was looking for some saws and screwdrivers? Didn't seem like he knew what was up, but he seemed really shaken up about getting rid of some furniture. That was unusual, but who knows." '...Sorry for the trouble,' "Yeah? You'd be the first to be. Guess that matters a little. Hah. You Fixers really are a ragtag lot." 'Such a place is undoubtedly haunted. In my cursed arm, I can feel a profound resonance.' "Huh? You can!?" "Huh? You can?" "... You can?" 'There used to be someone there.' Moses reacts before Edita does, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose, and nod in agreement at the same time. However, Edita is clearly taken aback, and immediately goes on the defensive. "You think I wouldn't know the people under my roof? Look- I'm telling you, someone or something messed up our attic. We've always only used it as storage. If we had a tennant it'd make money a lot less tight, but you're being ridiculous." 'I'm going to the bedroom now.' "The hell you are! No, no way, ugh, fine!" Edita huffs, exasperated. "Tell the kids to get out of the way. Attic's... find your own damn way." The sniper can, easily, it's just through the door at the back and up two flights of stairs. Neither ID cards nor the likes of framed photographs or scrapbooks are present up in the attic- but the nightstand drawers are full of empty or almost-empty medication bottles, bills, and crumpled-up paperwork, mostly signed by Edita. The clothes in the closet are old and worn, a man's, repaired and repaired but many clearly decades out of style, given the passers-bye out in the rest of the District. Watch contacts with people who know people who've passed through this area and stopped by this store are sparse and slow to get back to Neutron, but confirm what may otherwise be assumed: an older man was known to help around the shop, and clearly used to live up in the attic- press as to who he was exactly, and sources backtrack, remembering nothing. 'I'm not trained for exorcisms,' "Then what am I paying you all for?" Moses clears her throat- "Don't dwell on that. A 'ghost' may not be at the root of this. If my suspicions are correct," She puffs her pipe, "Then you've still hired the best-suited for your troubles. 'Exorcism' or not, I plan to solve this."
Distortion Dets.	'How long have you lived here, and how well do you know your neighbors?' "Just about my whole life. Moved here as a kid, took over the store, got married, got a family, the neighbors come and go, but I know some of them pretty well. Family friends, you know?" 'Who lived here before you did?' "I was just a kid. Couldn't tell you. Sorry, if it's important, but I kind of don't see why it is?" "Can you show us to the alleyway now, ma'am? I want to see the epicenter, and not just hear of it." Edita takes a deep, noticeably frustrated breath, and grabs an umbrella from where she'd left it leaning up against the store's facade. "Come on. It's not that far." And it isn't. From the plaza, around a corner and down a block, the clutter starts to become apparent. Abandoned bicycles, cars with bags still left in the backseets, folded-up jackets now soaked through with rain, stacking up alongside alleyway dumpsters and doorways like the remnants of a great flood. Left on the hood of a car is a still-steaming paper cup of something hot to drink, not even yet drenched through by the rain- with nobody in site. Moses, with umbrella in hand and pipe clenched between teeth, leans down to it. Edita, however, is quick to turn back the way everyone came. "Disappearances, from this neighborhood and its memory. Look around you, at all of this. How many people have you seen walking these streets? How many people must have been here to leave this mess behind? The storeowner's inconsistencies intrigued me, but this," She takes her pipe in hand, gesturing at the cup, the car, and the whole alleyway, "This makes me certain. Ezra, the rest of you- sound off and keep each other in eyesight, if you search around. Do you feel hunted? Haunted? We're likely looking for a Distortion that either seeks its victims out, or draws them in. It may be dangerous." Aside the alleyway, scattered windowless doors line the building walls, with only a few marked as entryways instead of private exits. Paradise Travel Agency, open 11-17:00, call ahead for appointment; 3rd St. Tailors, closed weekdays; and Lumir's Soup Kitchen, with no frills or signs posted up beyond its name- not even posted with a backlit sign.
Redshift Operators	The sniper eventually comes back with a random assortment of pill bottles, double-checked with Odette's medical expertise. When they eventually reach where Edita has led the rest, they seemingly agree with Moses. But not before processing her statement on a delay. "Huh?" Then before she can clarify her statement. "Right. There was someone there. They lived there. It's easier to remove a person from the world than it is to add a person's effects with no person." They look up, centering the rain on their vision, perceiving it like moving through a tunnel. A galaxy blooms out of their goggles for a moment, reaching with stellar arms and uncomfortably fractal detail. "Memory is a function of evidence, heuristics, and communal agreement. If you can remove a person cleanly from the equation, confabulation will misfire and you will not remember anything. Even if someone you care about vanished." They say. Then, they dig in their duffel bag and yank out the labels on the bottles. A quick pen-scrawl on each... They press the labels against the fellow Redshifts first. 1/4/9 on their leader. 2/4/9 on the medic. 3/4/9 on the giant. 4/4/9 on themselves. 5/1/9 on Father Berislav's chest. 6/1/9 on Odette as well. 7/1/9 is attached to Hibiki. 8/2/9 and 9/2/9 are attached to Ezra and Moses respectively. What these mean are largely fucking incomprehensible. The cyborg looks down at her chest, sees the tag, and shrugs. "There is little I can do besides understand the nature of the curse directly." She mutters. She clenches her prosthesis... In a detective's perspective, the flame at her arm actually recedes a little, as she splits into a swarm. In time-lapse, they wander, they wait, they meditate here, they enter each door, they test... They work to provoke the dangers of the future, by trial and error. Where does the trap lie? "Someone figure out a way to match objects left behind to schedules." The sniper says, as their friend invisibly works. "Or venue purposes. I think there's a hunting ground." They seem to just have run out of whatever high-attention brain chemical is necessary for heavy environmental investigation, so they're now just sort of standing and staring at the rest of the redshifts.
Odette Raskins	"Cute...? Oh! Um. N-no, it's... Wait." Odette takes her hat off, then shivers when she realizes just how soggy the top of and all of her head are. She checks the inside, then shakes her head slowly and damply. "Nope. At least, not enough for this." She'll need to buy one later, but for now she'll just have to tough it out! "In my cursed arm, I can feel a profound resonance." "S... Sorry, Missus Dwarf, but it's gotta be magic. I've seen it in other places, and... Oh! Maybe you've got a magic sensing arm there." Sniper pills ODette is so good at going through pills. She doesn't remember all the technical names off hand, but her PDA full of notes sure does help fill in the gaps in her memory! "If we had a tennant it'd make money a lot less tight, but you're being ridiculous." "That's how I hear a lot of people live on the stations back home. Scrounging around in the maintenance tunnels, moving all over thplace, stashing their things, and hiding from security... Some of their hiding spots even looked pretty nice. But..." Something still doesn't add up for Odette. Why an enclosed attic? "There's nowhere near enough room to move or escape detection up there..." She comments while looking up at the top floor again. "Something's not adding up, but-" "A 'ghost' may not be at the root of this." Odette's face lights up at Moses being the voice of reason in her eyes. "Th.. That's right. We'll figure this out, and then nobody'll have to worry about 'hauntings' around here." She affirms comple with air quotes. "Sorry, if it's important, but I kind of don't see why it is?" "If someone lived here before you moved in... They might've gotten kicked out. And if that's the case..." Odette slides on her medical visor, tapping on it and quickly realizing it looks nothing like a monocle. Do people even tap on monocles? "That person might be trying to move back in. Th-then it'd just be a case of someone trying to take over your attic." Even Odette doesn't sound like she believes her own theory, but it's all she has to grasp at right now. Following Edita to the alleyway, the EMT purses her lips as she looks over all that clutter. "Now this is more like the tunnels... Um. Minus the fresh drinks. And yeah, this is way too much stuff to pass off as hiding stashes..." Label 6/1/9 Odette stares at her own label briefly, then shrugs and commits that number to memory. She tries to remember everyone else's, but there's too many to keep track of and too many ghosts to disprove the existence of. "We're likely looking for a Distortion that either seeks its victims out, or draws them in." "E-eyes open.. Right! Not a ghost.. Has to be someone tracking people. That means..." Odette takes a deep breath as she starts scoping out the area, eyes flitting about with paranoid little glances. Despite looking around so much for signs of people nearby, though, she's not paying particularly close attention to where she's going until she starts seeing doors and signage. The one that catches her attention is the soup kitchen. There's bound to be plenty of people there she can try to ask about seeing anything strange in the area recently! Given the opportunity, she'll even offer antibiotics or medical care (courtesy of the Watch) to try and loosen some lips.
Father Berislav	Berislav nods and smiles politely at Edita. "I see." Following along after Moses bids her lead them to the alleyway, he takes note first not of what's in the alleyway, but what's around it. Do any of the buildings in the plaza have an unobstructed view of it, either at the ground level or perhaps a story or more up? How easy are the neighboring rooftops to access from the alley? Does he feel hunted or haunted? "No more than usual," the priest jokes, looking over his shoulder to offer Moses a grin. "Would either of you happen to have the time?" he asks the detectives, gesturing towards the doors. As he waits for an answer, he remarks on the clutter. "I do see a pattern here, but of course, that doesn't mean it's intentional or at all related." "Cars, bicycles, jackets, left-out coffee--well, I suppose that could be any kind of hot drink, but--all of it is something you're meant to take with you--" he blinks as Neutron places the sticker on his chest. "Is this your way of telling me you'd like to learn the scripture? John 5:19?" He wrinkles his nose at Neutron amusedly. "But, yes, I think you're on the right track." "Detective Moses, is there any branding or name on that drink you're looking at there?" It's then that he notices Odette doesn't seem to be aware of where she's going. "Odette? Where are you going?"
Hibiki Tachibana	Didn't seem like he knew what was up, but he seemed really shaken up about getting rid of some furniture. That was unusual, but who knows. "...Huh..." There's no way that'd just be a coincidence, right? If this happened to him - or anyone else - it's only normal they'd want to get rid of things that suddenly appeared practically overnight in their homes. Right? Could that be what happened with him? Maybe everything in the alleyways is from people who suffered these home invasions putting things back outside... ...no, that doesn't make any sense. Homeowners would've already said they put that stuff outside well before this. And she doesn't think cars would be included in that. This investigation thing is going to take some work. Yeah? You'd be the first to be. Guess that matters a little. Hah. Snapped out of her inner thoughts, Hibiki gives an awkward but genuine, tiny small back. ... Whatever other contemplations she has she keeps to herself, up until they all move off towards one of the afflicted alleys in question. She sees Edita off, and only then puts her focus on... "Huh? Inconsistencies? What are you talking a... bout..." Hibiki starts, then trails off with slowly widening eyes - it's the two-sided impact of the detective framing it as 'disappearances', and the resident sniper comparing removal of a person to ownerless objects appearing out of thin air. Her gaze goes between the various pieces of clutter in the between-builings, lingering particularly on the apparently brand new cup of coffee that Moses has also taken an interest in. It takes getting stamped with a label to shake her back into the moment. "Wait, wait, I'm trying to... are you thinking... there /were/ people all of this belonged to, and they've been-- forgotten about...? But then why are all of their things turning up here? Is this the Distortion's--" 'Hunting ground' is the word that a certain someone said that she doesn't get out herself, because she dry swallows at the sudden concern that it's gone from 'outside in the Backstreets' to 'inside someone's home'. Random things appearing is one thing, this is another. This case abruptly feels a lot more dangerous than it did before. "...Hold on..." Following the instructions to keep everyone in eyesight, Hibiki maneuvers over to one of the cars; trying them one by one until she finds one that's unlocked. At which point, she's going to try sorting through some of the bags to see what they're containing-- maybe trying to find a common connection between the contents, like Berislav mentioning brandings and names.
Distortion Dets.	>Odette is so good at going through pills. Heart medicine, fever medicine, pain relief medicine, OTC cure-alls closer to snake oil than medicine, all sorts, for someone ailing. 'Th-then it'd just be a case of someone trying to take over your attic.' "... That's creepy. I think I'll board it up, see if we can find another spot to store our extra boxes in. I've got kids in my home, I don't want some attic creep." . . . >... >8/2/9 >9/2/9 "Number, subdivision, total. Smart." Ezra, meanwhile, takes the handed-over label and sticks it firmly on her carry-case. Another sticker to the horde of them decorating it! 'Would either of you happen to have the time?' Ezra tugs up her jacket's sleeve, checking a chunky watch strapped around her glove. "14:07! Wow, midday? The rain makes me feel so sleepy... What for, Father?" A yawn. 'there /were/ people all of this belonged to, and they've been-- forgotten about...?' "Yes. Exactly that. I believe, considering how much is here, that this must be near where whatever happens, happens." 'all of it is something you're meant to take with you--' "When you leave, yes. So they never did." Moses takes a deep inhale from her pipe, the volume of smoke that spills back out of her mouth somewhat disproportionately higher than it ought to be. "Let's hope they're still alive. This quantity..." 'Detective Moses, is there any branding or name on that drink you're looking at there?' "Hm. No, none. Was there a coffee house nearby? I don't remember seeing one." >Hibiki maneuvers over to one of the cars; trying them one by one until she finds one that's unlocked. A bit away is the first car she finds unlocked- surprisingly so, considering it's also the most cluttered up. Scratches adorn the outside of it- but with a steady patina of rust, those can't be anything close to recent. If she sticks her head inside, it's quickly obvious that this car was one someone had been living out of, with blankets, food wrappers, and changes of clothes and other personal affects. Its owner isn't present, now.
Distortion Dets.	'Someone figure out a way to match objects left behind to schedules.' "On it~! Reciepts print the date! We should look for those, right Detective?" "Mm." "Reciepts!" Ezra presses her face against a car window, staring in, and squinting at the crunched-up receipts on its passenger side. "... Seven days ago, five days ago- four's the earliest here!" and so on, and so on. Many of the cars and bicycles with pouches to pour through are from the last week and a half alone, with nothing implying anything happened here before that. >Where does the trap lie? White Dwarf's predictions efficiently rule out a handful of threats: lingering around the alleyway does not result in some hunter emerging, nor does straying further away on her own. The travel agency's door opens easily, to surprised white-collar desk workers worried they're under attack, with nothing but the usual white collar horrors hidden away on the premises. The Tailor's door is unlocked, but inside it's dark, quiet, and creepy with hanging clothing. One hanger rack, tagged 'unclaimed', is remarkably full of finished articles, no doubt growing more and more for the same reason clutter fills the alleyway. Through the soup kitchen's door, stairs lead down a half-level, with papers tacked up to the side, indicating it should be open- and yet, it is silent. At the bottom of the stairs, an interior door with a face-level window shows a fluorescent lit tiny cafeteria, open kitchen with steaming pots, and a coffee maker. Passing through that doorway is-click Moses' eyes glaze over from staring into the empty space, her futile attempt to follow the distorted motion of White Dwarf. >Odette heads towards the soup kitchen. "Fixer- Odette? Ezra, is that her name? What do you think a boarded-up old photo studio has to offer us here?" Huh???
Father Berislav	What for, Father? Berislav points at the travel agency. "Someone in there might have heard something," he says. "I wanted to see if they were still open." Was there a coffee house nearby? I don't remember seeing one. "It's still warm, judging by the steam," notes the priest. "I don't think I saw one either. Maybe the travel agency here would have a map of the City--" He pauses, adopting a curious frown. "Actually, where exactly would a travel agency in the City send people to? The Nest of a more affluent District?" He frowns. This is one of the more opulent Nests he's seen. "I'm going to--" He was going to go inside, maybe ask around and see if anyone in there had arranged for any trips within the past four days. But what Moses just said stops him in his conversational tracks with a confused frown and draws his attention away from the travel agency. He removes his reading glasses, hanging them on his clerical collar, and looks towards the soup kitchen. Or is it a photo studio? "I'm sorry, Detective Moses, what did you say? You're seeing a photo studio there?" he asks, pointing at the soup kitchen. "To me, it looks like a soup kitchen. One that we could reasonably expect to be operational, or at the very least, one that isn't boarded up. What do the rest of you see?"
Redshift Operators	The ninja startles for a moment. Her hundred futures waver and collapse back into her, a storm of arms and eyes twisting in different angles from her true shoulders and head. But she herself doesn't stumble or anything like that. "There." She asserts. "The seat of the dark curse. Lumir's. Wait, a photo studio?" She looks closer. She leaps to the doorframe, grips it tightly, Her hand traces along the sign itself. "Perception." She says. "Perception is in question here. No. No!" She glances back, pointing at Moses. "There is no photo studio here, but in a way, there is -- what you see is your perception of the abnormalizing area!" She leaps down, drawing her blade and facing the door. "A shift in perspective so subtle that you could not recognize it as unusual...!" A dozen futures take different defensive stances around herself and around the Redshifts. It's unlikely that any fall or vanish, but not impossible. "That is surely our target. Through the door, whether we strike first or it does." The gunman doesn't question her. "Form up." A three-eyed snake curls protectively over his shoulders as he rushes into an armed, ready stance with one of those grenade launchers. The giant takes a similar position, shining green fluid solidifying into warped crystal when he interposes himself. And the sniper pulls back, readying their weapon while the reflection in their scope zooms in on every splinter in the doorframe. "Think we need to not give this one a chance to move." He declares. "Call it, detective." He's suggesting an immediate breach, it seems, but he'll hold as long as he has to.
Odette Raskins	"Odette? Where are you going?" "Huh? Oh! S.. Sorry. Just..." Odette points all around herself, growing increasingly anxious as she keeps thinking too hard about who or what could be pursuing the group. "Keeping an eye out for.. Um. D-distortions? Or..." She pauses. "We wouldn't be able to see it until it happened already, right? So it must still be someone rather than a something." "I think I'll board it up, see if we can find another spot to store our extra boxes in." She nods at Edita. "Good call. I-I mean, maybe it's not a creep? Just a..." She trails off for a moment, perhaps realizing that she shouldn't put worse possibilities into Edita's mind. "... Really confused old person?" "Someone figure out a way to match objects left behind to schedules." That's something else for Odette to work with. She doesn't recall seeing any times or dates on the soup kitchen's door, but keeping an eye out for opening and closing times might help her identify... Something. She can't quite put her finger on what yet, but she's keeping it at the forefront of her mind! At least, until Moses brings up something strange. "What do you think a boarded-up old photo studio has to offer us here?" "Huh? Oh! Y-yes, that's right, Miss Detective. Uh... Photo studio?" She looks utterly confused as she places her hand on the door, but stops just short of knocking to turn back to Moses. "This is a soup kitchen, isn't it?" She asks, looking even more confused as Berislav confirms that with her. "Unless... D-did the old owners move out? I know I've seen a few remnants of stores before, so it wouldn't be too weird here. Um. Right?" Still fishing for answers and trying to reason away any weirdness, Odette taps her finger on her chin as she points towards the Travel Agency. "M-Miss Moses? Miss Ezra? What do you see over there? What.. Um. What time does it say?"
Hibiki Tachibana	"...Mn..." Hibiki's expression of discontent only gets worse as she goes from the exterior scratches to the interior of the vehicle, rifling through old belongings and aged clothes. Between this and the rust on the outside... "...Someone lived in here, once. Not any time recently. But it's just like Edita's attic; someone /lived/ in here, once... is the one responsible for this going after people in their... homes? Where they live? They're not going after just anybody wandering the street, or else all of this stuff wouldn't keep piling up... but why /here/ of all..." Frowning as she pulls back and folds her arms, she blinks and follows the gaze of a few of the others. Wait. "Photo studio? but that looks like..." She double takes between Moses and the building. No, that's definitely not a photo studio as far as she can tell. She sees the same thing as everybody else, sans Moses, at a glance. Which means... White Dwarf nailed it, and her brow furrows. "...People vanishing as if they've never existed, and now you can see something as different from us... which means I think we might've found our Distortion..." Giving one last look at the abandoned car, she lets out a quiet sound, and then nos in agreement with Red Dwarf's proposal. "It's the only lead we have right now. If we don't investigate while we have the chance..."
Distortion Dets.	'I'm sorry, Detective Moses, what did you say? You're seeing a photo studio there?' "Yes?" Moses gestures her pipe towards the soup kitchen. "It's old, perhaps it closed down due to the recording regulations? See how the windows are covered over there?" "Detective..." 'To me, it looks like a soup kitchen.' Moses bites the mouthpiece of her pipe. Through clenched teeth, "I see. That seems to be our Distortion. To you, it's a soup kitchen? Is it full? Are people around it? I don't see either." "Negative, Detective! It looks clear on the outside..? I just see it as a soup kitchen too. Sorry, Detective, maybe I should start listing out what I see around..?" Ezra's thumb tugs against the shoulder strap of her bag, producing a dull, flat twang. 'A shift in perspective so subtle that you could not recognize it as unusual...!' "This is new. I've seen Distortions start to affect their surroundings, but ... No matter. This feels dangerous. Ezra? Ready up." "Yes, Detective!" Ezra shoulder-nudges past the others in the alleyway to take up a clear spot, near enough to the door to capitalize on the breach. "Hey, big guy, you and me on point?" Ezra motions between herself and Red Giant, oversized carrycase still on her back, no weapon held, and not even apparent armor. "Let Ezra keep you safe~! I'll show the Distortion who's boss~." 'Think we need to not give this one a chance to move.' "Yes. I'm inclined to agree. If this is tantamount to a lair, it may hold insight as well. Importantly," Moses raises the pipe to her lips once more, tobacco smoke rolling out. "I want to know whether or not this is killing the people here. A photo studio, disappearances... I can't tell much from here. Be careful." 'Call it, detective.' There's a momentary falter to the Detective's posture, staring back at the masked gunman waiting for her cue. With genuine venom in her voice for a moment, the smoke at her lips trickling out in bloody red, "Call it yourself, soldier, it's- no, now. Go now." When the door is open, and the (likely not metaphorical) smoke clears, the entryway down the stairs to a wood-paneled photo studio is made clear. Ezra rushes in alongside whoever joins her at the point, skipping steps and skidding to a stop where it opens up into a too-wide-for-the-building room, oppressively dark, and with heavy cloth curtains hanging to and fro from the ceiling. The Fixer looks around, then back over her shoulder, waving others in without a word. Each and every paneled wall is decorated with unique picture frames, encasing photos- hundreds of them, though many obviously older and taken on cheaper cameras. Their subjects, however, even in the pictures from years and years ago, according to their dates, are obfuscated and tricky to make out. The dark room is quiet, still, each footstep a painful creak, until-- -~<\|Click\|>~-