Author's note: "Yargh, darn you and your kind words of support! It only starts a fire under my rear to get stuff done, no toasty Micer buns! Nooo! Micer buns must be kept at room temperature! Here! Take your chapter! ::sniffle:: I go hide now, the good reviews, such positive things… thank you… but my head's gonna turn into a turnip." -This author's note brought to you by lack of sleep and too much pepsi twist. Enjoy.
It took her fewer than fifteen minutes to find the motel once she made her way into town with the coming of evening, a pleasant little mom and pop business, probably still running by the skin of its teeth. She viewed the small pine green and white main building from the parking lot, most likely this entire place looked down right picturesque when winter rolled around. Right now it didn't look so picture worthy she noted from the corner of her eye, seeing the group of five or so kids hanging about at the corner watching her with what looked to be more than simple curiosity. The local shit kicker and yuppie spawn from the looks of it. Getting off her bike and removing her helmet, she started up the cement walkway that flanked the parking lot, rooting around in her knapsack for the room key she had been sent. She'd worry about finding a safer place to store her motorbike later; it would survive any abuse the local kids wanted to put it through anyway. Thankfully her little rust bucket was durable. And considering there was nothing in the saddlebags that would be worth the effort or profit of taking, she would at least have the time for other things first. With a satisfied grin she finally pulled out the key attached to a forest green strip of plastic, exactly the thing she was looking for, as always hiding at the very bottom of her bag.
Her employer had been a stickler for detail, his leach - er - legal counsel sending everything she required to get here by mail, the directions, a small bit of money for gas, the key to the motel, no stone unturned. Most likely the files for her job would be awaiting her upon the table inside, considering the stanch refusal to discuss the job until she was there and ready to perform like it or not. Any more of a refusal would have meant unneeded attention towards her business.
10, 12 - there it is, 15, quickly she turned on her heel and returned to gather her things from her bike's bags, she'd worry about changing the song on her disc player later, its uplifting tones hardly making her feel confident in her current surroundings.
With a careful glance over her shoulder she looked over the teens, guessing none of their eyes had left her from the door to the bike. They would most likely be there on the corner even after the already fading light had left the skies. Not always a good thing to have any sort of attention so early on, and it looked like seeking out dinner would have to wait for now. Blessed be the packed sandwiches.
Finally gathering all she needed Blue walked back to the fifteenth door, unlocking it and entered her sparse little room, closing the door behind her and locking it out of habit. Turning back from the lock she paused, taking in the very inviting bed and the small nook near the back of the room. Most likely containing the bathroom and with enough luck thrown to the winds, a few clean towels and a deep enough tub to drown out her troubles from the road. Too many accident victims for her liking during the trip, standing forlorn upon the roadsides. It was sights like those that made driving a car; let alone a motorbike so complicated, it would take a while to shake the visions they had left dogging her memories of the trip. But first things would be first, she noted, seeing the tidy folder upon the desk that stood before the hanging mirror besides the small television.
Scooping up the folder from where it laid, Blue turned to approach the bed, and how inviting that square bit of cloth and springs looked.
Sinking down upon the bed she tilted her head back and offered up a thankful sigh to the textured ceiling, before looking back down at the folder in her hands. Nothing truly fancy, merely the bare bones of data she found, reading over as much as she could. Finding many of it things she already knew out of common sense and previously documented paranormal phenomena, but it was the building plans that worried her - seeing no date proving these were the plans after the recent renovations the one asylum preservation site had mentioned. And as for information as to her ghost hunt - a former resident of the original asylum with no cause of death listed, just a number and a last name. Patient 327 - Kuhn, she'd have to see about dredging up some of the local folk yore if she wanted anymore answers than what the papers gave her. For all I know it could have been a guard beating, natural causes, hell maybe even smoke inhalation from the first fire - that's why I hate going in blind on jobs like this. A yawn broke through her thoughts as she leaned back completely onto the bed, perhaps just if she closed her eyes for a moment it wouldn't matter much towards her schedule - but no, instead she sat up almost instantly as the bedside telephone issued out a ring.
Pulling off her earphones and picking up the receiver, she spoke before whoever it was on the other side could begin. "Hello?"
"This would be Miss Blue?" She glanced down at her feet as the male voice answered in its controlled and very refined tones, watching as her toes dug into the carpet before offering an appropriate reply to such a question. So this is Mr. Cyrus Kriticos, at least he was polite enough not to call her by her birth name, his lawyer had learned that the hard way after being hung up on multiple times every single time her name was spoken. Blue prayed she was correct, only going on recognizing the sound of his voice from the recording she had been sent, a short message describing the job in a thick blanket of riddles and meaningless banter.
"If it wasn't do you think we'd be speaking on the phone, sir?"
Apparently the man on the other side of the line didn't share the same appreciation for humor. "Well, I'm very sure you know who I am already." He gave no pause as to if she indeed knew whom the caller was, immediately continuing on, "Might I inquire if you intend on going to the asylum tonight?" As always - straight to business, Blue held onto an annoyed sigh, perhaps the art of conversation was truly dead, and Mr. Kriticos and his lawyers were the ones holding the bloody daggers of that horrible crime.
"Sir, you're paying me to locate a spirit, not to be stupid." Although most likely if it meant getting paid she would indeed have to play 'stupid' and go do her job, just she wasn't intending to do it half-assed by being exhausted. "Right now I'm tired, I'd either pass out as soon as I set foot outside, or probably get lost in the woods. I'd think it would be better investment to let me find the correct location and head out there during the day, instead of wandering around like an idiot and wasting your time." That seemed like a reasonable enough request to her as she got up from the bed, holding onto the main body of the telephone in her free hand.
"The directions in that file are accurate. Everything you need is in there, you don't need to waste my time by rechecking things that already correct." Obviously it wasn't reasonable, Blue noted, hearing a tone of irritation abruptly edging her employer's voice. Ok, he's going to be stubborn; I can be just as mule headed as he wants to be.
"I'm sure to you sir, it is, I'm still looking it over and I can already tell its only one side of the story. So I'd rather go to the trouble to fill in the blanks of whatever you might of left out before I even consider setting foot in there, like it or not." She glanced at herself in the mirror, the phone cradled between her shoulder and ear, a look of intense distaste plastered upon her face.
Oh no, hit the bunkers, she's questioning the employer's authority on purpose, quipped a small voice in the back of her skull.
Before another round of arguments could begin, Blue closed her eyes and bit off, "Besides, I've managed to put up with your methods so far, sir, now I suggest you begin to put up with mine. I promise you'll find out everything that I learn tomorrow, now good night." Finally punctuating her remark by pressing down on the clear plastic nubs at the phone's cradle with her middle finger, hanging up on the old man.
Keeping her eyes closed she softly hissed out a curse towards her temper and placed the receiver back to it's cradle and the phone upon the floor. She'd trip over the cord later and place it back onto the bedside table in a fit of cursing later. For now she placed the tiny speakers with their comforting music back against her ears, hardly in the mood to hear any voices, let alone the voice Mr. Kriticos any time soon.
Wonderful… Blue could only hold off on smacking herself upon the forehead with the flat of her hand, if that wasn't an extremely childish thing to do, I don't know what is. But what did he expect from someone that had been driving nonstop for roughly two days from a comfortable flat out to a place in the middle of nowhere, certainly not the pleasant tempered medium he had sicked his lawyers upon two weeks ago? Already it was costing her a chance to research the tradition bound spirits of China town, for what? Petty spineless threats and her own sheer morbid curiosity to see Borehamwood and its long passed occupants with her own eyes, well, that and quite a very decent pay offer. Though with that little temper tantrum she was sure the pay would be slightly reduced for the penalty of back talk. Ah well, it was worth it, the small victory of vengeance for never being able to get a protesting word in before.
Her brooding to the wall was cut short as a small item on the table caught her attention, the object nothing more than frameless clear lenses of a pair of glasses lying where the folder had originally laid. Of all things in the world to be in the room to help her with the job -
She viewed the glasses with a mixture of amusement and slight annoyance. Were they really that daft that someone had actually left her a pair of the silly things, they were mentioned in one of the original papers sent to her before she embarked on her little trip, these glasses that made spirits very visible. Blue gave the benefit of the doubt to place the blame on someone who hadn't read the profile Cyrus most likely had on her, though she didn't feel as bad for acting so snappish now.
I'm a post-cognitive, and he has them give me these stupid little things. What? To make sure the ghost's I'm seeing constantly are really there? To her they seemed too much of a crutch to those who lacked the ability to see spirits, a curse as well, considering those who would most likely wear those little things would probably wind up spending their every waking moment in utmost fear, shock and confusion. And that would just be with the things that would allow themselves to be seen. Blue added to herself, sporting an amused grin as she picked up the item in question with interest.
Blue pulled them on with a grin, making sure they didn't snag her earphones, and looked at herself and the room behind her in the mirror. No ghosties out and about in here, and it'll stay that way too. Only because she intended to salt the conventional entranceways to her room before heading off to bed. What would they think of next, though it already surprised her that they even managed to create something as amazing as this for mundane existence, and than go and make them look exceptionally silly looking.
"Yea, you've certainly cornered the market on looking stupid during ghost hunting, sir. I bet your mother is proud."
