Delinquency

by Daemon McRae

Act Seven: Enter Stage Left

Act Seven: Enter Stage Left

The avid horror movie viewer will tell you that there are certain tropes that they would never play into should they find themselves in the same scenario as the victims in their favorite movies. Everyone who watches such films likes to think that they are smarter than the average bear, and certainly smarter than the average teenager with an ax growing out of the back of their head. Of course, given that specific scenario, it’s rather difficult not to be, yet somehow people find a way.

The most common, the one people constantly yell at the screen for, is splitting up, even into groups. Unfortunately, this is a double-edged sword. There are, of course, many flaws in this plan, but staying together all at once creates its own unique set of problems. When one doesn’t truly understand the nature of the threat, it might make the victims little more than a conveniently packaged meal to stay in the same room. Splitting up requires the malevolent force to split its attentions, divide its energy, and as far as screen time goes, gives the others more time to survive as the writers have to explain in some fashion how the killer traveled from one end of the map to the other, granting the next victim precious few seconds of screen time.

Of course, one could argue that a ghost could easily be in multiple places at once, with a wide reserve of energy to draw from, whose attention is not a limited resource which can be easily manipulated. On the other hand, one could also argue that putting a bunch of people in a box with a ghost about actually makes things easier for the entity to disperse of its problems, with, say, a well-timed and unfortunate explosion. Truly, finding a balance between safety and efficiency is a dangerous rope upon which to walk, and so it’s rather difficult to say for certain what one would do in such a scenario, having never done so before.

Fortunately for those present, there happened to be a well-experienced group of almost professional survivors who had made that decision quite a few times before. “Alright, you guys,” Treble said finally, after a rather awkward moment in which Raven demanded that Twilight never share the details of her Spring Break to another soul, “As much as I like the idea of sitting in this comfy chair until the sun comes up, hoping the ghost forgets that we’re here, the sad truth is the longer it goes without doing anything the more energy it has for the next big ‘event.’ Now, I imagine nobody here is going to pry Spooks out of his chair with anything less than the gravestone of his own grandfather as a lever,” a statement that earned a rather scowl-y eyebrow from the skinny boy, who didn’t actually have a rebuttal, “And Twilight, I doubt anyone here but you knows what half of that stuff even does. So, you two are staying here. Good so far?”

A noncommittal grunt from Bones and a nod from Twilight encouraged him to keep talking. “Right, Miss Inkwell, I believe, if you don’t mind, that you’re still our best bet for finding our way around this rather well-furnished death trap. Would you mind?” he asked.

Raven gave a small nod, still a little flustered from her… conversation with Twilight a moment ago. “That’s fine. I could use the… walk.”

Twilight smiled sheepishly, busying herself with something on a screen pointed away from the homeowner. Treble pressed on, “Right. Dusty, if you please, could you stay here and keep an eye on these two? They might need some decent muscle,” Dusty opened his mouth to protest, to which Treble already had an answer “-and I’d like you to put down some wards in this room, as I get the distinct impression we’re to be using this as our base of operations for the time being.”

DD tapped his foot impatiently, but conceded the point. “Gives me something to do, at least. Sure, fine,” he grumbled, though not too gruffly."

Rubble gave DT a stern glare. “And what am I going to be doing, pray tell?”

“Whatever you want,” Treble shrugged. “As much as neither of us like it, you’re not exactly our heavy hitter anymore, unless your opponent stands still. You could come with us, but there’s a distinct possibility you could slow us down if we run into something that requires a tactical advance in the other direction.”

Rubble swore under his breath. “Well, what use am I going to be here? We haven’t found much of anything about this house in any of Old Man Bones’ notes, at least not the… unabridged version.” He took the lack of response from the younger Bones to mean he hadn’t found anything, either. “I’d basically just be sitting on my haunches for however long you’re gone.”

This time Twilight had something to offer. “Actually, I could use your help. Most of this stuff can actually run on its own, now that I’ve got the settings right, but I only have one set of eyes. If you don’t mind playing security guard for a while, you could help me keep an eye out.”

Treble smiled encouragingly at RM, who rolled his eyes dramatically. “Oh goody, more sitting. Sure, let’s do that.” Seeing the crestfallen look on Twilight’s face, he added, “...thanks.”

“Um, ‘scuse me?” Indigo asked. “What the hell am I supposed to do? I’m not exactly trained in Ghostbusting, you know.”

Raven rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Well, you’re welcome to come with us. If I understand correctly, you’re the athletic type, right?” Indigo nodded. “Well, as much as I’d like to think of myself in the shippest of shapes, I’m loathe to admit I won’t be much use in any physical endeavors.”

“Yeah, and the only thing athletic about Treble is his Olympic Speed Dating record,” Dusty cracked.

There was a healthy, much-needed dose of laughter at that, as Treble simply stood around patiently waiting for his turn to talk. Once there was little enough noise to be heard over, he addressed Indigo. “Right. With Dusty doing wards and Rubble glaring computer screens into submission, you’re the closest thing we have to muscle, and I’d really rather not take an evening stroll through the Spirit Realm without someone to through in front of me.”

“Oh gee, thanks,” Zap deadpanned. She stood up anyway, only to be stopped by Dusty.

“You’re going to need some… gear,” he said with an amused grin. Rifling through the almost-empty trunk, he pulled out a couple of smaller bags. With one last look in the big metal crate, he took a mental inventory of the medical supplies they’d stored in it, the emergency food and water, and a couple of books with metal locks on them. He suppressed a shudder at the thought of their contents. He lifted a bag in each hand, and shook them both. One rattled loudly, making a metallic racket, which he tossed on the seat he’d just vacated. “That one’s mine. Here,” he said, handing Indigo the other.

She buckled slightly at the weight. “What’s IN this thing?”

“That the weapons bag?” Rubble asked, fumbling about as he tried to get a grip on his seat behind the computers.

“Yeah-huh,” Dusty confirmed.

“Then to answer your question,” Rubble continued, “There’s two sets of silver knuckles, a couple of fir stakes, some holy water, an overpacked phosphorous grenade -yes I had a spare-, the Good Book, a silver knife, a vial of mercury, a metal mirror, a hatchet, two stun guns, and a flashlight that makes a good heavy weapon in a pinch.”

Indigo’s eyes grew wide as she held the bag at distance from herself. Treble scoffed and took the bag, slinging it over his shoulder. “Thanks. Want me to leave any of it with you?”

“The mercury,” Spooks piped up.

The boys all looked at him curiously. “You know something we don’t?” Dusty asked. Bones looked up from his book with a smarmy expression. “Right, stupid question. Treble?”

The long-haired kid nodded and fished around for a small metal tube, with a smaller vial in it. Tossing the container to Bones, who caught it with a practiced arm, he asked, “Anything else?”

“I could use some coffee,” Bones quipped.

“One or two fingers?” Treble asked.

“Two’s good.”

Treble nodded and flipped him off with both hands.

---------------------------

Raven led the way down a separate hallway, which she assured her companions was the best way to get to the courtyard. Twilight had asked them to stop there first, as it seemed to be the coldest spot in the house. She pointedly ignored the argument from Rubble that it was possible the extra drop in temperature was due to it being outside in fall. Thus, she’d sent them on their way with a few handheld devices.

Her definition of handheld, however, left something to be desired, especially by Indigo Zap, who had ended up saddled with an even heavier bag than the one Treble had taken from her. “Through here,” Raven ordered, directing the teenagers through a side hallway bathed in moonlight. The walls on one side were, in fact, broad windows that looked out into the courtyard itself.

The inner courtyard of Inkwell Manor was just as much for show as the rest of the building. Impressively wide, it came with winding stone paths that weaved in and out of what were once well-maintained shrubberies and beautiful flower gardens, which had started to overgrow their pots and planters, and lose their well-manicured shape to the last couple month’s untended growth. Large marble statues adorned the more open spaces, and had started to show signs of frost and wildlife. Mainly the droppings of passing birds who had about as much respect for modern art as they did life on Mars.

All in all you could easily fit someone else’s house in the space, and it appeared that soeone had, to some degree. There was, in fact, a gardener’s shed. The previous occupants of the mansion might have considered it small, others would call it a one-bedroom house. From the windows in the hall they group could see respectably large windows that, were there more light to see by, would possibly have given them a full view of a living room or kitchen. As it was, the window panes were almost black, at least the ones facing them. They were in the direct path of the moonlight, and so that entire face of the small gardener’s ‘shed’ was all but obscured in the shadows.

They walked only a few more feet before coming to a large glass door, which opened to a wide stone path that led directly to the shed. “That’s the groundskeeper’s house. Or was. Hasn’t been a keeper here for a couple of years. My grandfather decided that it was cheaper to hire a service for the major work and do the small gardening himself. Of course, it helped that nobody bothered him while he was out here by himself, and even in an isolated house like this there was always someone knocking. You’re welcome to look inside, although I doubt you’ll find more than a few leftover tools and a poorly cleaned out fridge.”

Treble, determined to look as unimpressed with the surroundings as possible, marched down the stone walkway with long, confident strides, coming to the small front door of the house within a house. Setting his bag on the ground (after pocketing a choice item or two), he knocked evenly on the door. “Hello? Anyone home? I’d hate to think I’m interrupting someone’s busy Saturday evening!” he called.

Indigo roller her eyes at his back. “What’s with this kid?” she asked Raven, who merely shrugged. “Look, dude, just go in!” she called.

“Spoilsport,” Treble mumbled, testing the doorknob and finding it unlocked. He threw the door open recklessly, keeping his position on the front porch. When nothing jumped out o he dark to eat his neck, he pulled the flashlight out of the bag and peeked into the house. His flashlight found little more than the bare floors and walls, however, of an empty room gathering dust and other unpleasant things. Judging by the scurrying forms running from the cone of light, he guessed rats. “Blech. Nasty little things,” he murdered to himself. Finding little in the way of resistance or malicious ne’er-do-wells, he walked into the house like he owned it.

Until his flashlight flund upwards. At first, it was just for a second, but something caught his attention. He stopped in his tracks, something Indigo and Raven only noticed when they saw his beam of light stop moving. “What’s up?” Indigo asked, taking her time coming into the room behind him.

He shook his flashlight uncertainly. “That,” he breathed, not taking his gaze away from the ceiling.

Indigo looked up, quickly covering her mouth, her eyes noticeably wide even in the pitch of the room. Raven’s expression was much the same as she joined them a second after. “What the… HELL is that?!” Inkwell demanded.

Treble’s eyes darted back and forth, taking in the ceiling, across which lay a great, dark sigil, intricate in design and massive in scope, such that the very edges reached the barest edges of the ceiling. Carefully measured, and almost impossible to decipher on the spot, Treble didn’t have a straight answer, beyond, “Very bad news.”

---------------------

“What’s bad news?” Dusty grunted, as his knees protested his poor posture in crouching to the ground so he could mark the baseboards.

Spooks flipped a page back and forth, double checking his new source. “Well, if my grandfather’s… book is anything to go by,” he said, biting back a slightly more scathing description, “There’s a reason we haven’t found jack-all in his other notes about the Inkwell family.”

“What’s that?” Twilight asked, the subject of history and conspiracies piquing her interest.

Spooks cleared his throat. “It says here, and I quote, ‘As a family well-versed in unearthing the secrets of others, the Inkwells have learned far and wide the best places to hide their own. Some in plain sight. Others under years of mixed truths and lies. Still more lay compressed under the foundations of their own labors and hard work. Yet the greatest, darkest secrets, to which I wish I had never been privy, lay anchored by stone at the bottom of a lake of blood. Pray you never find them, for you may join them..’”

“...well, fuck,” Rubble grunted.

Comments

[The Wind King]

Is anyone else getting severe "Ghost Hunt" flashbacks at this point ("Bloodstained Labyrinth" arc) because if that's the case the only way to end this is burn the entire building down and salt the earth where it once stood.

[Jarimor]

my next guess as to whats going to happen-
i.pinimg.com/originals/53/31/6c/53316cec742c35b45969240684b42d5a.gif

[Phoenix Flight]

...Well fuck indeed.

[Dlaf rferg]

I'm getting a sort of "Raven is evil alllll aloooong and it was a trap!!1!!!1!" sort of vibe from my heart of hearts. I know that's probably the least likely option, but one can speculate.

[Daemon McRae]

8560492
I fucking LOVE that show.

[The Wind King]

8560640

I will be honest, I'd love it as well, but I'm too busy being scared by it. It's one of the few horror shows that have legitimately terrified me.

[Daemon McRae]

8560645
I've seen it so many times.

[DualKitsune]

8560492
I love that show! And the manga. First time I got scared by a book. That arc was actually one of my favorites. But yeah. Burn it down and call it an "accident" like in the show.

[Alondro]

easier for the entity to disperse of its problems,

I think you meant 'dispense' of its problems.

[Alondro]

8560492 I didn't find that anime all that interesting. I quite after about 10 episodes. I found it very tedious and dull, with characters not even the least bit interesting, and frequently annoying as the multi-part nature only dragged the already slowly-paced episodes.

But then, Vulcans do not feel fear. I suppose without that primal stimulation, there was little motivation for my continued observation.

res.cloudinary.com/lmn/image/upload/fl_lossy,q_80/c_limit,f_auto,h_360,w_640/v1/gameskinnyc/s/p/o/spock-illogical-6fca2.jpg

[remnants]

We're darkest dungeon now, boys