Prologue

[tuxagon]

PROLOGUE

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“We’re trying a new tactic,” were the opening words given by Kimberly Adams, the new director of the mysterious Office of Interstate Transport Safety (OITS). A governmental organization within the USA with a presumed mundane purpose relating to transportation, but that has, in reality, a much more interesting set of objectives involving the suppression and containment of supernatural phenomena.

 

The previous director, George Bell, emphasized the criticality that the OITS remain under the highest level of scrutiny and confidentiality. George inherited that approach and his mannerisms from the director before him and it has remained a core aspect of the organization since its founding some time before the USA was officially declared a nation in 1776. The official date of its founding is either lost to time or classified to such a degree that determining a specific date is impossible today.

 

Kimberly Adams, albeit still a believer in confidentiality, is bringing a new type of energy to the organization. Where, historically, details about a particular phenomenon were classified and marketed to the public as mere trickery or myth; she, instead, believes tactical education and truth can play a more vital role in preventing future incidents from becoming more dangerous.

 

This bold new direction isn’t without criticism and in her recent internal speech she acknowledged such. Her intention is to be tactical rather than reckless. Before, the OITS would have members of their marketing division craft myths and downplay the reality of incidents the organization has been a part of. Now, however, she has an idea for an experiment where the organization works with Hollywood to produce a new television show depicting the reality of the supernatural, as well as, sharing advice with viewers on what to do should they find themselves in an unnatural situation.

 

For months, the marketing department of the OITS met with and pitched several fake pilot ideas to studios and directors to find the right people for this experiment of Kimberly’s. Those selected ended up being a small team calling themselves Sandcastle Productions. Ayame Bowen, a half-Japanese, Australian immigrant with a deep knowledge of both Japanese and western media, is their founder, and her aspirations include telling authentic stories in meaningful, dramatic ways. The organization informed her that the show is actually to be as educational as it is entertaining and that one of the biggest hurdles will be convincing the audience the subject matter is not fantasy.

 

Ayame obviously accepted because the stars of the show are in her modest Glendale, California home, meeting to go over the plans and to get to know each other. She is puffing on a cigarette and wearing a full denim ensemble with a backwards baseball cap. As she lowers the cigarette to flick off some ashes into a nearby ashtray, she says, “Welcome to each of you. This here is where the magic’ll happen for the show, but I won’t bore you with specifics. Please, make yourself comfortable and let me get to know who the hell you all are.”

 

Edited October 6, 2022 by tuxagon (see edit history)

[Kavonde]

Jack Colson was standing up. One of the advantages of being dead was that his bad knee didn't bother him anymore, giving him the freedom to stand for hours--days, even!--if he wanted to. The downside was that he kept leaving these... stains where he sat. Kind of like a brown shadow of where he'd been. And they smelled horrendous, too. Given how nice Ms. Adams' house was, and how well she'd been treating him, he didn't really feel any inclination to ruin her furniture.

 

He wore the an open, floral-print shirt with lots of pinks and oranges over a solid blue T-shirt and a pair of olive green shorts. All of them needed a wash, but they were the cleanest clothes Jack had available. Though he'd always been a sandals kind of guy, Jack's bare feet were something out a nightmare now, so he'd covered them in a thick pair of old, brown work boots he'd found at Goodwill.

 

Not seeing anyone else rushing to volunteer, Jack cleared his throat and gave the others a little wave. His voice, at least, was still the same as his voice in life: warm and pleasant, with just a touch of California Dude around the edges. "Hey, so... I'm Jack Colson. I used to be a cameraman on a... kinda live documentary ghost show? Like, I'd follow these guys around while they poked around haunted houses. And graveyards. And this crypt in England, once. Anyway, one day, I was gettin' this really great shot, but I backed up a little too far and tripped and went right over the edge of the roof. We were at this four-story Victorian house, see. And... I died. But then I woke up at my funeral." He glances at Tina. "Glad you could make it, by the way. But since I was, you know, dead, I'm trying to get declared not-dead so I can get my life back. Except, I guess that'd still be kind of a lie. 'Cause I am dead. It's really complicated and I haven't really been able to afford a lawyer. And my partner left me." He sighs and stares at the floor for a couple of seconds. Then, his voice reclaiming its usual bounce, he continues: "Anyway, now I'm a super-strong undead creature who constantly hungers for greasy fast food. Life and lemons, you know how it is."

Edited October 10, 2022 by tuxagon
coloring (see edit history)

[KingGoblin]

Tina waved, turning from where she was checking out the house's decor.  "I'm Tina!" she enthused, "Part-time Ninja, full-time intern.  Mostly here for the donuts, hoping to avoid any heavy lifting."  After a brief pause, she considered.

 

"I didn't actually bring a resume, or CV, or anything, and nobody will give me a badge, so I guess I don't really have much more to tell you."

Edited October 10, 2022 by tuxagon
coloring (see edit history)

[zazamz12]

Ali was sitting on one of the couches, desperately fighting off a headache, and smoking a cigarette of his own. He'd been one of Director Adams' many detractors to her new approach originally, but he could see the advantages of informing the public - appropriately, of course. No need for everyone and their mother to learn about what really laid sleeping beneath the Bolton Strid, for instance...

 

But even he wasn't sure why he was assigned to this detail. Proximity, perhaps, though looking around to see the others, he wondered whether it had less to do with location, and more of who he'd be working with. They were certainly an eclectic group, to say the least - something that could probably be easily suited to a more public facing operation like this.

 

"Ali Kapur," he said, taking a quick inhale and exhale. "I am employed by the Office of Interstate Transport Safety." No more needed to be said. The agent was wearing a suit - none of the team had ever seen him outside of one, as far he was concerned. Black jacket, pants, and shoes, red tie, and white shirt.