Chapter Text
MARCH ‘04
The life of a paranormal exterminator was tedious at best. With the majority of the country denying your validity, you never knew when the next job would be, and none of them ever paid particularly well. It was Grian’s luck that it was the only thing he was good at.
“So, Mr Watcher, tell me about yourself.”
“I work with ghosts. Helping them move on and suchlike.”
“You’re British? How was your flight?”
It had been horrid. For the duration of the flight, there had been a baby screaming. 10 hours. 10 hours of pure unfettered noise. And it wasn’t even a good noise at that. Had the parents even been trying? “It was fine.”
“Good, good. Anyway, how much experience do you have with ghosts?”
“I worked in my previous job for what… 4 years? Before that I did a lot of urban exploring to see where all the hotspots were.”
The man nodded. “Do you know how to use the equipment?”
“Of course I do.”
“Well done - you’re hired.”
Grian blinked as the man held out a hand to shake. No background checks or anything? He could’ve easily had a criminal record and the guy just didn’t ask. Maybe the guy had a criminal record. He took the handshake.
•
Gem wasn’t sure how exactly she’d received the job. She was 18, had absolutely zero work experience, and yet… she was in. Just because she’d looked on a few wikipedia pages in her spare time out of pure curiosity and watched a few videos of hunts that her cousin had so graciously recorded. Even so, the owner of the company (if you could even call it that), Impulse, welcomed her with open arms. Her only regret was having expected it to be fun in the slightest.
Hearing a chime, she looked at her phone.
“U redy”
“Ready as possible xD”
“C u @ work then”
Putting her phone back in her pocket, Gem smiled. Maybe nepotism was another reason, what with her cousin being in the same job. He was a businessman if anything, so he’d probably given a few pointers. Not that this thing had much competition anyway.
The old warehouse was surprisingly homely for something on the verge of falling down from frankly extreme amounts of rust damage. Ah well. She couldn’t complain.
Stepping over the multiple cardboard boxes still littering the floor, she made a beeline for the coffee machine. Of course, no one expected anyone to do any good ghost investigation without at least a cup of caffeine in their system. If they did, well, they were most definitely wrong. Plus, nothing was wrong with a nice flat white to start your day.
“Well, hello there,” she heard, turning around and making direct eye contact with her cousin. “Ready for your first day on the job?”
“Yep,” Gem grinned. “Finger’s crossed I won’t die. How did you get me the job, by the way?”
“Impulse is currently under the impression that you’re 21 and have an allergy to alcohol.”
“Why the allergy to alcohol?”
“You don’t have a fake ID and also you’re underage. Can’t arrest you if you don’t drink in the first place, eh?”
“Sure,” Gem rolled her eyes. She’d been quite looking forward to possibly having a few drinks. “I’d have half expected you to fabricate a fake ID, Oscar, just like you fabricated half of the things in your wallet.”
“I think that’s a bit harsh- oh, wait, I did make you a fake ID, didn’t I.”
“Am I still allergic to alcohol?”
“Well at least you can go to bars now, at least. Sadly, I think you’ll have to stick with apple juice instead of cider from here on out.”
“How thoughtful…” Gem rolled her eyes, before taking a sip of her coffee. “Where are Impulse and Skizz?”
“Getting the van ready. You know where we’re going?”
“Not a single idea. Well, that’s the fun in surprises, my friend.”
•
Grian was lost. Completely and utterly lost. It was dark as well, which certainly made his situation far from the most ideal. Repeatedly clicking the button to turn on his torch did absolutely nothing. The wind outside shrieked in a banshee-like way as it blew through the cracked windows and out again. The wood beneath his feet creaked, and he hated that he didn’t know whether there was another floor beneath him.
He continued to walk. The teen shivered, pulling his coat closer to him. It would be fine. There was nothing here. Ghosts weren’t real. This was just a stupid dare that Mumbo had coaxed him into doing for a few quid, because no one ever went into 54 Battery View. He’d thought it would be okay, until Mumbo suddenly decided to disappear on him. Now he was alone.
Breathing. He could hear breathing. He was sure he was alone- he had to be. There was no one else here, or at least he couldn’t see anyone else here. Grian looked around. Well, he tried, but he couldn’t see anything but black. He wished he’d brought extra batteries. The creaking was getting louder, and it didn’t match up exactly with the speed of his walking. He stopped. The creaking continued.
And then, without warning, he felt the feeling of a cold, clammy and dead hand on his shoulder. Screaming, Grian ran. Or at least, he tried. Feeling the front of his foot connect with a loose plank, he went crashing to the floor. He barely registered the pain in his nose and knees, instead trying his best to get out, to flee. Somewhere. He’d find somewhere.
“Grian?” he heard a shout, and he paused. “Grian- was that you?”
For the first time that night, he saw light peek around a corner, followed by a torch, and then the shadowed face of Mumbo.
“What happened?”
Grian blinked. “That wasn’t you?”
“What wasn’t?”
The sandy haired teen tried to get to his feet, heavily leaning on the wall he found beside him. “Were you the one who put your hand on my shoulder?”
“I… honestly don’t know what you mean.”
“You’re shitting me right now, right?”
“Nope.”
“Is your nose okay? It’s bleeding. A lot.”
Grian blinked, touching his nose slightly with a finger, before wincing. His finger came away covered with blood. “You have tissues?”
“I’m pretty sure there are paper towels in the bathroom.”
“Wow, yay, rank old dead person bathroom paper towels.”
“Exactly.”
As he walked with Mumbo, torch thankfully in hand, Grian couldn’t shake one thought. Who - or what, was that?