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awfully-sadistic · 5 years

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Week 1: Oct. 1st

The Adventures of Dottie and Dodger A series of linear prompt one-shots.

I don’t know what else to say about this series. I’m still working things out halfway, but I think I know where I want this to go. It’s an all original series, I don’t want to really implement anyone from the Family because I’m holding off on that. I want to try to flex my creativity muscles on creating a new world and filling it with characters, hopefully reoccurring characters and characters that are just there to move the plot forward. You know how it is. I just hope it’s not too ambitious. The prompts themselves are supposed to be light and well, in the honor of spooky stuff supposed to have that Halloween feel to it. I hope that I can pull that off, too. I’m nervous about starting this “series” and even more nervous to see if I can work my way through it to the end.

Before this note gets any longer, because I hate rambling off in the beginning of my stuff, I’ll end this here. I don’t think I’m forgetting anything. Oh, just to say if you like anyone from the series, Dot, you can expect to see them around as soon as I can flesh them out more just the same as my muses are around.

…That’s not a very good example because you hardly hear from my muses but! I’m just saying, they’re not going to die into oblivion just because the story is over. If that makes sense. OH GOD THIS IS JUST GETTING LONGER—

-x-

The office building had obviously been in use before but how long ago that was remained unknown and perhaps unsolved for the rest of its life. Aside from its massive size housing many personal office rooms, there were cobwebs and dust everywhere and old furniture that the previous tenants had left behind. Whether they didn’t bother to throw it away because it was cursed or because they didn’t feel like it, there was no telling why it remained and ended up their “problem” now. All of it was still covered with white sheets sprinkled as far as the eye can see making the place resemble some sort of discounted winter wonderland where snow had fallen in clumps on just very specific places. In reality, they were probably in place to prevent the furniture from accumulating dust, but it just made the place seem more like a dusty old attic than the future home of Dottie and Dodger, Supernatural Investigations. Dot took one good look at the place and almost walked back out, but her business partner of five years stopped her at the doorway by the shoulders and turned her back around almost immediately.

“This is the least expensive place they had on the listings. We have to take this or wait another year to get our business off the ground.” Dodger Ainsworth Mac Alister had the no-nonsense type of voice that came along with a very distinct accent one couldn’t place. It sounded like a mix between English and Irish, but Dot could never tell, and Dodger never divulged. For as long as she knew him, however, that was the least eccentric thing about him. To match his strange accent, Dodger’s appearance could also be marked down as usual. The man was very tall but not bulky, he was lean but had muscle mass to him. His skin color was a little darker than a tan one could acquire by staying out in the sunlight, but he didn’t get any darker nor any lighter, aided by the sunlight or not. He was also freakishly strong, but one couldn’t tell by the unassuming demeanor he frequently exhibited. He was the sort to often forget how tall he was and hit his head on the doorframe as soon as he tried to walk into your house.

His eyes were the oddest shade of amber, growing darker or lighter with his moods and his gaze was always intense. His hair turned different colors in the sunlight, seemingly the hue of spun straw the color of gold one moment and a sort of amber tone in the shade. His hairstyle seemed to match his strange lifestyle; a fringed short cut with wavy hair that sat on top of his head with his curly bangs occasionally getting into his eyes. But the shaved sides should indicate that he could at least keep a little of his life in order.

Dodger was quite handsome though he didn’t seem to realize it himself or he simply didn’t care. However, his sometimes-disheveled appearance could probably account to not caring. One could assume he didn’t care that his jaw was strong, or his cheekbones high. He was the type to always have his mind on the business at hand, keeping Dot grounded in their dynamic. And as far as she knew, she was the daydreamer.

And in a lot of ways, his opposite. Dot’s disposition was mostly sunny despite the rare occasions when she hasn’t had her coffee yet. But she was quite the serious person, too, which allowed for the two of them to excel when they put their heads together to sort out a problem. It was one of the reasons they worked so well together. But where Dodger was serious nearly 100% of the time (if not a little absent-minded), Dot liked to fluctuate between the two; serious and carefree. It was only because of Dodger that allowed her to sometimes take an absurd approach and rely on Dodger to help bail her out when plans blew up in her face.

That’s to say, Dot’s plans didn’t often backfire. But she was grateful that Dodger had been around when they did.

Much like his opposite, she was shorter than Dodger. When they were first paired together back at the Agency, it had been one of the things that she realized straight off the bat. Dot was taller than the average height of a human woman, but she was beginning to see that a lot of the supernatural were even taller, often towering over the human race. But it puzzled her to learn that Dodger wasn’t supernatural. Everything about him seemed to tell her that he was from his appearance to his strange habits and personality traits but over time, she just realized Dodger, well, was weird.

But she prided herself on being weird, too, due to her views on controversial subjects when the Supernatural were involved down to her appearance. Always the one at the Agency for the leading trends of fashion, Dot turned heads where ever she went; whether it was bizarre outfits she wore through the day or the way she styled her hair, attention was pulled on her whenever she walked into a room. She had closets full of anything and everything she wanted; clothes shopping was a serious vice and one she was not inclined to fix, ever.

But she knew the stares were never in a bad way because as often as other people stared, Dodger often told her that she was quite gorgeous and needed to be more aware of it. It was ironic coming from him, but she didn’t tell him that. He argued that he worried about her safety and that it was only because he was around no one did anything weird or attempted anything funny with her. Dot couldn’t believe that no matter how many times other agents at the Agency would ask her out on dates.

“Another year?” Dot made a face. “Oh no, we don’t have another year. I don’t think I can last running our business out of my house. It’s weird, having people show up there at stupid hours of the day. Especially on my days off. What the fuck is that? I know we left the Agency for a reason but is it too late to go back?”

Dodger gave her one of his intense stares; he didn’t mean anything by it. He was gauging her reaction, to see if she was serious or not. “…Yes,” he said slowly, “It really is too late to go back. But I’m sure if we beg and grovel, they might let us back in as low-level paper pushers—”

“I wasn’t serious!” Dot sighed heavily, running a hand through her shortly cropped, curly hair. This time around, she wore it more as a mohawk since that last time as a fauxhawk, she vowed to shave the sides. It was the second-best decision she had ever made after leaving the Agency.

The Agency is an organization sanctioned by the government that helps Supernatural beings and aspects find their slot in life ran by the human majority. They handle cases for the Supernatural with a mixture of Supernatural and human staff working together to provide an example that they can, indeed, coexist side by side. It’s like a police force but solely for the Supernatural. And like with any organization, they can be corrupt and favor sides especially with the most amount of money in their hands. For the Agency, they started out with good intentions but quickly devolved into seemingly keeping the Supernatural in check rather than help them out, as was their only duty. She didn’t know how anyone could have fucked that up so badly, but Dot didn’t think it was a coincidence that as soon as the newly elected mayor of their town climbed to power, the old Chief of the Agency was forcibly retired and a hand-selected one was put in place by the mayor. Seeing the change take place before her eyes, Dot didn’t like that. Not one bit. But there was only so much she could have done with the lower level ranking she held.

So, she quit. And started up her own agency. Well, it was more like a private investigation. Still, she and Dodger were licensed and with their connections still in place with the Agency—as long as they avoided the new Chief—they often had the cases no one wanted (or put on the back burner) passed down onto them. It had warmed Dot’s heart to see that her old colleagues at the Agency still did care about doing what was right and often surprised her when a new client would show up saying that so-and-so from The Agency had recommend her and Dodger on the down-low.

In hindsight, leaving the Agency and starting up Dot and Dodger, Supernatural Investigations seemed like a good idea at first; she got rid of having to go through hoops and red tape and did things the way she wanted (as long as she didn’t get caught by law enforcement) and she didn’t have to report to superiors who didn’t want to do a job well done or their jobs, period, and would rather give her a million excuses as to why she couldn’t be promoted through the ranks but Dot was quickly beginning to learn that starting your own company was terrible in its own way.

Absolutely terrible.

There was a lot of paperwork you had to work through—and she hated having to do the paperwork! It was one of the reasons why she left the Agency!—and meetings that didn’t seem to go anywhere. Of course, a lot of those meetings consisted of confronting a real estate agent wanting to sell you a creepy looking warehouse by a stinky body of water that may or may not have been a dumping ground used by the town’s local Mafia organization. However, when Dodger came across this miraculous ad in the newspaper about an absurd amount of office space for terribly cheap, Dot just KNEW there had to be a reason. But Dodger had somehow convinced her to act on it.

Without looking over the property first.

Now, she wished she did.

“I wasn’t aware we were buying out the Amityville of office spaces, Dodge.”

Dodger looked around, and thinking he might have been missing something, pulled out his thin framed glasses to settle upon his nose. Once he was done with that, he took a sweeping look around the expanse of the office space. Much like the ad had mentioned, it was gigantic; definitely too big for the two of them. The main room they were standing in could have been a waiting area with covered furniture that were no doubt seats for their future clients. There was a receptionist desk that separated the waiting room from the office rooms just beyond, the space looking as dank and abandoned as that one warehouse they had checked out the night before, but it couldn’t be too farfetched to imagine someone sitting there someday, right?

“This looks nothing like the Amityville House, love. It had more of a barn-ish appearance, no?”

Dot’s expression soured as she stared at Dodger, head tilt back and mouth hung open. Yet she had no idea if he was being serious or not. Obviously, she wasn’t. Instead of answering him, she clapped him on the back to help bring him back to the point.

“Anyway, this place is too big for us. I don’t know what we’ll be doing with the extra rooms—” Dot cut herself off and her eyes lit up, “Oh! I can store all my old clothes in these rooms! Any God out there has been a witness and knows I need the goddamn space.”

Dodger took his glasses off, replacing them in the inner pocket of his jacket. He sounded distracted as he replied, “That’s true, you do have a lot of clothes.”

“And I’m proud of that,” Dot pointed out before turning to give the reception and waiting area another look-over. “Well, this part is okay. I can see someone waiting around here. But we have about twenty-four rooms of unused space and I thought I saw a large meeting room …for what exactly?”

“Brainstorming sessions,” Dodger suggested.

Dot grinned, “I see. A bigger room for our big ideas.” She pushed past the door that swung open with a creepy creaking sound that she chose to ignore. “I guess I can put all the coffee pots we have ever owned in that room.”

“How many cups of coffee are you planning on drinking?”

“Big ideas, Dodge.” Dot called out from behind her shoulder. She could hear the door creak again signaling that Dodger was following her. For a while, they just took in the space that would be their office from now on. It was just as big as the Agency which was saying something but incredibly empty. Yet it filled Dot with some sort of pride, too. Maybe one day, they could be as big as the Agency or reputable at least. Actually, she wasn’t sure what would happen if they “got too big for their britches” as she could imagine the Agency would put it.

“What do you think would happen if the Agency starts to see us as rivals?” Dot asked, tossing the idea to Dodger for a second opinion. Aside from her own, his was the only one she respected.

“It’s not like they could fault us for helping. We’re licensed and sanctioned by the same government, after all. If they have a problem with how we’ve been getting cases solved and helping where they fall short, perhaps they should reevaluate themselves.”

Dot could feel relieved by Dodger’s reasoning; it was sound and logical as far as she could tell. As someone who was wholly opposite in terms of reacting solely on emotion, Dodger’s advice was more often the go-ahead for half of Dot’s schemes. That way, she can claim she looked at it from all angles if anyone ever asked!

“Right,” Dot nodded, finding her smile again. “Right! And it’s not like we’re newbies starting off with this thing. I’m sure with the amount of work the Agency passes down to us, Chief Aldric has some sort of idea what we’re about. He can’t stop us from doing anything.”

“Unless it pertains to his cases and jurisdiction.”

Dot shot a look at Dodger.

“I mean, you’re right. He can’t stop us from doing anything.”

Appeased again, Dot took another look at the work ahead of them. Twenty-four rooms were still a huge undertaking and Dot was only partly kidding about finding a new place to keep her out-of-season outfits. At most, they’d likely fill a room or two since Dot found it hard to part with anything of hers in the first place. It would help having clothes at the office to change in case they needed their disguises and proper wear for places with strict dress codes.

She was pleased to see that past the reception area was a general office space; it looked more like a police station with many desks and cubicles. Tall rectangular sheets in the back had her hopeful that a few of those were filing cabinets; as much as she hated to do the paperwork, she still needed some place to put her files.

Pulling off the nearest sheet off a piece of furniture, Dot was greeted with a grandfather clock that cleanly towered over her. “Wow, this looks amazing!” she exclaimed happily, running her hand down the smooth, dark wood on its side. “For some reason, I never expected anything like this. I thought all anyone left behind was junk.”

“Hmm,” came a thoughtful sound from Dodger as he glanced at his watch and then the hands on the old grandfather’s face. He met the glass with a light rap of his knuckles as if testing something. “you’re right, magnificent finish. Sturdy. Could be hundreds of years old for all we know since it was kept so pristine. But seems to run a bit slow.”

“That’s alright, we don’t need to be on time for every little occasion.” Dot said with a mischievous glint in her eye. Despite how many times Dodger tries to persuade Dot to leave on time, they were always five to ten, even twenty minutes late for something, somewhere.

So, she didn’t blame him for the dry tone as he replied, “We never really are, love.” Because she knew he meant it with love. And she knew it with certainty. It wasn’t due to how many years they’ve been partnered but for the very real ability Dot had on reading emotion. Can’t really work in the Agency without being something special yourself, after all. Human or Supernatural.

Before she had a handle on it, his seemingly detached responses bothered the shit out of her. For someone like Dot, who was emotional and not afraid to show her emotions in turn, she thought the Agency had made a huge mistake on partnering her up with someone she had thought had none. It was funny to think back on how differently she had viewed Dodger; she thought him mechanical, detached, methodical. Granted, he was still those things part of the time, but he was not as emotionless as she originally had thought. He had plenty of emotion, but he was just too absent-minded most times to take in the atmosphere around him unless the situation was looking him in the face to deal with it head on. By then, Dot knew he had a whole range of emotions; surprised, sad, angry, upset, happy, ecstatically nerdy—especially when something interested him or his weird range of hobbies.

“Let’s keep this one,” Dot smiled, looking at Dodger then to the Grandfather clock again. From the way she was standing, it seemed like she was inside the face by the cast of the reflection. “I wonder why it was left behind. If it’s as old as you think, it’s got to be worth something, right?”

“Their loss,” Dodger stated matter-of-factly. “and if we’re low on cash, we can always pawn it.”

Dot gasped and reached up to cover the imaginary ears on the side of the Grandfather clock. “Don’t you dare. I like him! He’s staying.”

“You are aware, my dear, that it is an inanimate object and therefore cannot hear what you are saying.”

“I’ve already named him! Armand because he seems distinguished like an Armand.”

“I believe that’s French for Herman.”

“I DID NOT NAME HIM HERMAN!”

Dodger laughed in one of the rare times he did. He never really understood how rare it was, either, when pointed out to him. He usually responded with a “I’m sure I laughed that one time” but Dot did understand, and it usually made her feel good when she could accomplish such a thing. But she was still pouting and adamant about standing her ground and making sure Dodger understood how serious she was with her stance with Armand the Grandfather Clock.

“I mean it, his name is Armand and he’s staying.”

“As you wish, love.”

And it also didn’t take long for Dodger to appease Dot by giving into her decisions as easily as he often did. Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea most of the time, but Dodger never really got in the way of Dot’s freedom or her creativity except to put his foot down in mortal danger. He appreciated it, honestly. And he thought most of the things she did was fun. So, he was looking forward to life with Dot and Armand.

Most times he didn’t need to say these thoughts out loud because they radiated in the soft gaze he gave Dot and in those times, Dot had to look away and question what she was seeing from the man with the usually intense eyes. Emotions don’t lie and she can read them, now, as easily as she can as if someone had verbally said them.

She cleared her throat, nodded once with a “good!” and did another sweep across the room; seeing without seeing. By then, Dodger had started pulling off sheets of random assortments of furniture revealing tables and chairs that didn’t look any older than the Grandfather clock they had stumbled upon. This was good news. It meant they didn’t need to waste a lot of money furnishing a large space with many rooms they probably wouldn’t ever use. They could probably stash furniture they didn’t even need in one of the many spare spaces and later down the road, sell them if, as Dodger had said, they became hard up for cash.

Starting your own business could be rewarding, yeah, but that doesn’t always mean the rewards come in the form of cold, hard cash. And as they say, money makes the world go ‘round.

Soon enough, Dot and Dodger were standing in the middle of their office with a whole ensemble of office chairs, desks, and furniture as spotless as can be for living under an undetermined amount of time under white sheets. All in all, it was a pretty good haul and Dot couldn’t foresee them having to spend any money on furnishing anything except maybe new computers. Dodger was a whiz with computers, and he could surely move their system into their new office with no hitches. Dot was excited to see that they indeed have file cabinets, too! Digital and paper records were good separate but having a back up for your back up never hurt, either. At least, Dodger had insisted.

Hey, if he wanted to do the filing, she’d let him and she told him, too.

“We’ll have to hire some people to work for us,” Dodger insisted. “At least a receptionist and they can do the filing.”

“Okay, we’ll pay them with what?” Dot pointed out, waving the sheet in her hand from the last thing she had pulled off. She seemed to realize it was still in her hand as she gestured and draped it over the back of a newly revealed swivel chair and its matching desk. “Rocks from your rock collection? We spent all we had on this place.”

Dodger’s eyes widened only a fraction as he stated, “I don’t believe I told you about the rock collection yet.”

Dot’s eyes widened as well, the gesture obvious. “I was kidding. You started a rock collection?”

“Yes. From when you suggested it the last time.”

“It was a joke!” Dot said, incredulously. She remembered saying something along the lines of Dodger starting a rock collection and his weird collecting hobby list would be complete. To date, he collected everything from mundane stamps to back scratchers. She drew the line herself at weird body stuff, like belly button lint. For now, she placed a hand on her forehead and muttered in amazement. “I can’t believe you took me seriously.”

“We’ve been together for five years and you still utter that.”

“Because I still can’t believe it!”

The playful banter would have continued if the lights didn’t suddenly go out. It startled Dot immensely. She jumped, looking around wildly. She wasn’t afraid of the dark, but working with the Supernatural for a long time, mundane things like blackouts reminded her of sinister things.

“We probably blew a fuse,” Dodger stated, ever the realist.

“From what?” Dot turned her head up in which she guessed as Dodger’s silhouette. In the dark, the amber hue of his eyes glowed dimly, and she wondered at that. “Nothing else seems to be plugged in to overload it.”

“Could be a loose wire. This place does seem pretty old.” Dodger reasoned.

“Greeeeat,” Dot said from within darkness. Her eyes were adjusting now. Everything seemed like a dim outline gently illuminated from sources coming in from the outside through the windows. Some had their blinds drawn and others were wide open. At least they weren’t in complete darkness.

“I’ll go and check out the circuit breaker—” Dodger was interrupted when something flew across the room and slammed into the wall nearest him with enough force to rattle the windows. Both Dot and Dodger stood very still; this situation wasn’t new to them but what was new was the fact they have never expected to become their first clients since re-opening.

Dodger was talking again but this time in a low voice. He sounded cautious. “Poltergeist?”

“…I hope not. They’re pretty nasty.” Dot whispered back.

Whispering didn’t really help the situation, but it felt like the right thing to do. The two scanned the large space they were occupying and while everything seemed normal enough, they knew better than to let their guard down now. With Poltergeists, one could never tell and Dot didn’t like to assume things especially if it made her look foolish. Usually classified as the spirit of a disgruntled being that had departed and usually in a violent way, they are the Supernatural types that are responsible for moving shit around and generally making pests of themselves often causing harm to humans and other Supernatural beings alike. Oh, and for the popular movies adequately named after them. Man, after that franchise, it was said the Agency had calls four to five times a week with people who claimed they were being haunted by Poltergeists.

There wasn’t much one could do in terms of Poltergeists. You had to exorcise them if they were attached to a person or find the item they were attached to and destroy it. Finding an item the Poltergeist was attached to was incredibly difficult unless you knew what you were looking for, so it was easier to exorcise one and the space it occupied.

Dot cursed under her breath, “Shit, we don’t have anything on us equipped to handle a Poltergeist.”

This much was true. The trip to the new office space was to get their bearings and make plans on how they wanted to operate under a new location. Dot didn’t find the need to take any of their gear if they weren’t going to work that day. Now, she was wishing she had.

“If it’s not a person, it has to be an item.” Dodger reasoned. “We can at least find it and destroy it.”

Dot found herself nodding, “Alright. That’s a good idea. How should we do thAT?!” The last word of Dot’s sentence hitched, a high-pitched squeal overtaking her statement at the end as something flew over her head and she ducked as it slammed into another wall. “WOW! I wasn’t STANDING here or anything!”

“Don’t aggravate it, love.” Dodger whispered, coming over to pull Dot down by the shoulders and they huddled, nearly on their haunches, near the ground. She looked up but all she could see was Dodger’s neck as he peered around them. Taking the lower ground was the best idea when dealing with a Poltergeist since they liked to throw things and since they were tall, they were easier targets most of the time. They both learned that early on.

“Sorry,” Dot muttered. “I don’t get scared. I get—”

“Mad, I know.” Dodger looked down and offered her a faint grin. “We’ll have better luck in finding the anchored item if we—”

“If you say let’s split up, I swear to god.” It was Dot’s turn to interrupt, using her scolding tone and gently mocking his unnamed accent in fake contempt.

“I do not sound like that,” Dodger stated indignantly but the next instant changed his tone, sounding uncertain. “…Right?”

“You kind of do,” Dot admitted. Their heads were together now, still semi-whispering despite the situation they were suddenly in. “I’ve been meaning to ask, what kind of accent is that?”

“Oh, it’s—”

WHAM!

A chair lifted off the ground and almost splintered into pieces when it slammed nearby. What Dodger had to say wasn’t as important as the Poltergeist stepping up its game. It seemed intent on scaring them out of their wits and it would have worked on normal people. But Dot and Dodger had been with the Agency for close to ten years now before splitting to deal with these sorts of things on their own. They weren’t amateurs.

“If we want to stop this poltergeist, we’re going to have to split up.”

“Goddamn it, Dodge. I said don’t say that!”

Dodger was already standing up, attempting to veer off into one of the offices. He called over his shoulder, “Remember to look for the signs of resistance. If the Poltergeist puts up more of a fight, you’ve found the room. Then all you have to do is tear it apart.”

“I know how to do my job!” Dot argued, standing up herself. She had to make a quick duck as a nameplate flew over her head. “GODDAMN IT, SUSAN!”

From somewhere in another room, Dodger asked, “Please tell me you did not name the Poltergeist.”

“No, it was the NAMETAG it THREW at me!” Dot argued, looking around. Dodger was already moving to another room and although Dot didn’t like the idea of separating, no matter if the space was large or small, she had to try her best and pull her own weight. She noted Dodger was taking the dangerous route of going further back of the building which allowed her the front rooms to rifle through. She knew he did those sorts of things on purpose—allowed her the easy access of escape, but it didn’t mean shit if he meant to sacrifice himself most times.

She’d have to scold him for that later. For now, she ducked into one of the side offices and was immediately met with a gust of wind that caused her to rock on her feet and made her eyes water. She squeezed them shut before wiping at them and took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She wasn’t scared, per se, as much as the fact that she wasn’t invincible.

The point of resistance when coming upon an anchored item was exactly like stepping into a barrier. Normal people and lesser Supernaturals would not be able to discern the difference. To those who were sensitive or trained by the Agency to feel these shifts, the room had a different air somehow and it was where the Poltergeist was strongest; strong enough to lift a grown ass man off the ground and throw them across the room; Dot had to proceed with caution.

“Dodge! I think I found the room!” she cried out, thrown over her shoulder.

Another thing about anchored items; they very often do create barriers. Dot’s voice went unheard on the outside. She knew it, too.

“Shit.” She cursed to herself. There were only two of them and the Poltergeist would have to be guarding this room, no doubt. Even so, Dot wasted no time in tossing it over. White sheets were still draping furniture and boxes of old books and office supplies were arranged unceremoniously across the floor. She could trip if she wasn’t careful. The white sheet she slipped off one of the armchairs made a smooth sliding sound as she pulled it from the leather and tossed it over her shoulder. She could appreciate some of the furniture here given the right circumstances, however, now was not the time. She didn’t seem to be getting anywhere un-sheeting the big stuff; maybe it was in one of the boxes.

Dot spun around and came face to face with a sheet standing at height, as if concealing a person underneath. It caused her heart to stutter, and she grabbed onto it, yanking it off in a fury. “Goddamn it!” she cursed again, finding nothing underneath. The first time around, dealing with Poltergeists and even demons had scared the shit out of her when they pulled this shit. Now she was more or less used to it—in a way—that she knew it was best to confront these dumb ass pranks first. The real horror, they saved for last.

She got on her knees and started yanking boxes over, using a long talon nail to cut the tape down the line and whipping open the flaps. She found more books, more pens, more pencils and more paper. At least she knew they wouldn’t be hurting for any of this shit—“Ah! Good shit!” Dot exclaimed once she opened the last box. It was an old typewriter. To the trained eye, like hers, she noted the faint glowing around the item. “Found you!”

But the Poltergeist wasn’t as happy. As soon as Dot reached in to grab the item around the edges, Dot was lifted off the ground. “FUCK!”

She hovered there for a good while, slowly turning around in mid-air. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she started shouting for Dodger despite knowing the barrier wouldn’t carry her voice. She’d have to be outside—and that was exactly what the Poltergeist had in plan for her. Before Dot realized what was happening, she was hurled out of the office.

Dodger came back into view just in time to see Dot fly out of the office. She was sent hurling towards the Grandfather clock she had named but before impact, she stopped in mid-flight looking as furious at being thrown and as stunned as being caught.

Dodger rushed over, nearly tripping over furniture and his long limbs in the process. “Are you alright?” he asked, concern clear in his eyes. He stopped short as soon as he realized that Dot had been floating in mid-air and what had been even stranger, saved from being thrown clear across the room. “What… the hell? How did you do that?”

“Yeah, what the fucking hell! I didn’t do anything!” Dot asked, flapping her arms around. “Am I stuck?!”

Dodger peered around Dot, seeing that she was inches away from the Grandfather clock. The Poltergeist had clear intent on doing serious harm; there was no telling what would have happened had she actually crashed into the heavy clock. “I… don’t know, to be honest. You seem to be levitating. I mean, in cases of Poltergeists, I suppose this isn’t uncommon, but you would have to be possessed—”

“I’m sure as fuck not possessed. I’m mad as all hell but I ain’t possessed!”

“Are you hurt?”

“What? …Oh, no, I guess not but I’m still mad.”

“I …didn’t ask that.” Dodger slowly stated as he snapped his gaze up to connect his with Dot. Dot seemed to realize this, too, in her ranting and paled. She started to reach out to Dodger and without hesitation, he met her halfway.

She swallowed thickly and hated how cliched it sounded but still asked, “…Who asked then?”

No one said anything else, but Dot could feel herself being righted, her feet touching down on the ground once more as she regained her balance on her own. By then, Dodger had her fully in his grip and he was looking around as if to identify if anyone else was in the room besides a very angry Poltergeist.

“I did.”

There was the voice again; soft, almost reserved. No matter where they looked, they couldn’t find any body to which the voice belonged. That was until Dot’s eyes strayed to the Grandfather clock and saw a face peering back at her in the reflection of the glass case.

“Armand?!” she shrieked in surprise.

The face smiled. It was kind and Dot could vaguely make out features. She had no idea whether whom she was seeing was either her own reflection or someone else’s. At least, until it made an appearance.

Something slender and long started to emerge from the Grandfather clock’s casing with flowing white hair that moved like wispy threads of silk and a more ethereal body than physical. Dressed in a simple white gown that might have been a staple for what ghosts had to wear in the afterlife, the figure appeared fully now. Dot could see that the ghost had androgynous features, both masculine and feminine, with full lips and curious eyes. It tilted its head gazing at the two expectantly.

“Fascinating,” Dodger mused in a quiet tone. He stepped closer, leaning in to get a better look at their new guest. Dot noted now that they stood at nearly the same height. But that might be because the ghost hovered, it might have been shorter as it hunched slightly as if it didn’t want to call attention to itself. That seemed to be true when it shrank back as Dodger took its face between his thumb and forefinger, turning its head from side to side.

“This is the first time I’m seeing a case like this,” Dodger continued to muse. “cold to the touch. Floats.”

“I can walk, too.” And as if to prove his claim, the ghost touched down on two feet that seemed to suddenly exist as if it always had it. It also looked solid, like a real person. There was color to its face and all around; a soft, warm color. Sunshine was a term that could be applied to it, Dot thought.

“Interesting. Also seems to possess a corporeal state. We already know it can emerge through objects. Doesn’t seem to be hostile, a little wimpy, perhaps.”

“I-I’m not wimpy,” it argued.

Dot was more prone to gape than analyze like her partner, honestly. But as soon as it protested its wimpy status, she could feel her heart clench in sympathy. “No, of course not.” Dot nodded in agreement and was pleased to see that when the ghost looked over, hope had gathered in its gaze that someone had finally believed that. It urged Dot to continue, “You’re the one that saved me, huh?”

The ghost nodded, its smile lightening up a touch. That was, until Dodger had to ask, “Why didn’t you make an appearance sooner? And are you aware of the Poltergeist haunting this building? Do you know how long it has been active?”

The many questions could make anyone’s head spin and it was obvious on the ghost’s face that it had done just that. Dot nudged Dodger and gently scolded him. “Don’t do that. It helped us so the least we can do is not suspect it—” she paused and glanced back at the ghost, “Do you have a name you want us to address you by, dear?”

There was a pause as a frown overtook its features, “I… forgot my name.”

Dot placed a hand on her chest, her chest tightening once more. From that simple statement, she could feel the overwhelming emotion of loss and confusion surrounding it. It was almost too much to handle in such a way it emerged; like a wave that had surprised her, appearing overhead in what had once been a sea of calm. If she wasn’t careful and didn’t pay attention, being too caught up in the scenery, she could one day drown.

Ghosts and their emotions were already strong. No one knew what ghosts were made of and if they were just pure spirit and what that spirit was made of, but emotions are tied strongly in either of them. So, when ghosts felt a range of emotions, empaths were usually taken along for the ride and it could be devastating. Luckily, Dot wasn’t in any risk and she was glad to have a partner like Dodger to explain it for her when she couldn’t.

“My partner is an empath,” Dodger stated quite cleanly. “Please be aware of what you’re feeling. Sometimes she can feel that tenfold.”

The surge of emotion coming from the ghost had immediately receded as if catching itself. It looked surprised, casting glances between Dot and Dodger. “Is that why you’re so restrained?”

Dot had to laugh. Dodger looked more puzzled than insulted. She had never heard anyone refer to Dodger as “restrained” before; cold, perhaps. Unfeeling. Controlled. Sometimes a dick when he spoke bluntly. But the ghost had put it so… politely.

“Dodge is… Dodge,” she said as if that explained it. Dodger took it that way, at least. The ghost just looked even more confused but smiled.

“As for what you’re asking, I don’t have a name and I don’t know the Poltergeist personally.” The ghost looked a little lost again, looking around this way and that as if understand its surroundings for the first time. Once content with looking around as Dot and Dodger quietly waited for it to continue, it finally admitted, “I’ve emerged because she needed my help. I was… a little scared before. I’m sorry for that.”

“Thank you for that,” Dot said again with a wealth of appreciation. “for helping me. You didn’t have to but you did and you did a good thing.” She had to convince herself to turn away from the ghost’s weepy look at being praised to turn to face Dodger and explain, “I happened to find its anchored item and it didn’t like that very much.”

Dodger looked surprised, “Great work.”

“Wow, you don’t need to look at me like that. I can accomplish things, too.”

“No, you misunderstood—” Dodger began to flutter around, looking for a better way to phrase his impression. “I meant, I didn’t expect us to find it that fast. But it’s to be expected you would have.”

Dot grinned and said playfully, “I was kidding. But thanks for the compliment. Always seem to know how to inflate my ego.” Then she turned back to the ghost who was still looking at her as if she had paid it the greatest of honors by the praise, “And just when I was about to take it out of its dumb little box and smash it on the ground, it thought it might funny and smash me against Armand.”

The ghost followed Dot’s gaze as she gestured towards the Grandfather clock with her head.

“Or, em, your home, I guess.” She finished.

“You named my home?” it asked. Before Dot had the chance to answer, it seemed breaktime was over because the Poltergeist came back with a vengeance. Everything in the main room had started to rattle as if it were threatening to come flying off the ground. Granted the power this Poltergeist had to attempt throw Dot across the room, it could very well start whapping items left and right.

Case in point, Dodger and Dot ducked just in time as a few pencils from the barrier room came flying at them at high velocity. They went right through the ghost and stuck into the wall behind it.

The ghost looked surprised, “…Um, was I supposed to duck, too?”

Dodger replied dryly, “You’re safe. Perhaps safer than both of us.”

Dot’s eyes widened, “That’s it!” she snapped her fingers, trying to call attention to the ghost without a name. “Augh, Armand, Jr!”

The ghost cast a surprised glance at her, pointing at himself. He seemed to be on the verge of smiling, “Did… Did I just get named? Is that my name now?”

“Yes, whatever you like, honey!” Dot said in a hurry, trying to get her point across. She figured she’d sort this out later when ghosts stopped throwing things at them. “You need to go into that room and grab the typewriter! I need you to smash it, break it however you can!”

Dot’s idea was grand and in no way would any of them get hurt in the process. But she also said her plan aloud and the Poltergeist did not like that one bit. It was funny for how a formless entity who liked to act like the biggest bitch on the planet could also pitch one of the biggest fits when it doesn’t get its way. And that was something Dot was going to put on her report, too.

Armand, Jr. didn’t need to think over this plan before the place started to lose control. The specter floated across the room, coming face to face with the door slamming shut in front of him. But Armand Jr. was a ghost and could easily pass through said doors. It only seemed to anger the Poltergeist even more.

If before Dot and Dodger had been unsure whether the Poltergeist could pick up whole pieces of furniture and fling it across the room without a care, they had their proof now. It was like living in a storm. Loose sheets of paper, pens, and pencils twirled around the room in mini-tornados while the bigger pieces of furniture ominously hovered over their heads. At this point, Dot and Dodger had to find refuge under the larger pieces of furniture before they get hit with the other big pieces like a couch from the breakroom waltzing in like it owned the place.

“Next time, we confer in private about how to destroy Poltergeists,” Dodger commented.

“Does this mean we’re giving this place up?” Dot asked, having to raise her voice over the sudden shriek of what she could only describe as violence overhead.

“We can’t get a refund. We’re stuck with it.”

“Well shit. We better hope this works. I’m not staying in here with a fussy Poltergeist!”

As soon as she said that, all the furniture and miscellaneous shit floating over their heads crashed to the ground like heavy hail. It shook the floor and then, silence. Very slowly, Dot peered out from under a desk while Dodger did the same.

“Do you think he did it?” Dot asked.

“The ghost?”

“Armand, Jr.”

“Right. Ah, I assume so.” Dodger said, taking a cautious look around. It was eerily quiet. If Armand, Jr. was going to come out of the room, he would have done it by now. And Dot had the same thought. She started to get worried.

“Crap, do you think something happened to him?”

“He’s a ghost. What more could possibly happen to him?”

Dot gestured. Of course, there were many different things that could happen to him but the things she was thinking about required equipment from their previous Agency and a priest. They had neither on the grounds. “What if he fell through the ground?”

Dodger didn’t look at her as if what she said was silly; he never did. Instead, he met her statement with serious consideration. “If that happened, he would merely float right back up.”

And that seemed to put Dot at ease, “Oh. Right.”

“He’s right, you know.” Armand, Jr. spoke from behind Dot, enough to give her a little startled jump. She was so happy to see him, she threw her arms over his shoulders. It was a good thing Armand, Jr. was corporeal at that moment otherwise she would have gone through him.

“You did it!”

Dot could feel a feather light touch land on her back. She wasn’t sure what it was but assumed it was his hand. Secondly, she couldn’t believe she was hugging a ghost. But she was just so damn proud; she knew partly it was her own emotion but since her words on Armand, Jr’s ears, his emotion only bolstered hers. He was incredibly susceptible to praise, she was finding out. If anything, it made her want to praise him more but also, protect him from being taken advantage of like he’d most likely be.

Pulling away, she held Armand, Jr. at arm’s length, “I’ve decided, you’re hired!”

She could hear both Dodger and Armand, Jr. ask with varying degrees of “What?” both confusion and disbelief. But Dot already made up her mind and it sounded like the best plan for all of them all around.

“Someone needs to keep an eye on Armand, Jr—whom we’ll just shorten to Armand—but it also gives us our receptionist!”

“But he’s a ghost…” Dodger pointed out.

“He has a corporeal form.” Dot counter-argued. “And how was that different from working with the Agency? If we’re not a mix of Supernatural and humans, what’s the point?”

That was enough for Dodger, apparently.

“Good point. He also seems willing to do anything for praise.”

“…Oh, you saw that, too?”

“Kind of hard not to.”

“That doesn’t mean you take advantage of him.” Dot scolded. When Dodger didn’t answer, Dot scolded again. “I mean it. Dodge. Dodge.” More silence, “Dodger.”

“Armand,” Dodger brushed by Dot’s scolding as he usually did in their five years of partnership otherwise, he’d been able to get nothing done if he obediently obeyed her all this time. He was only half-joking when he said, “You’d be a very good boy if you clean up this entire office.”

Armand, Jr. who had been confused but intently listening suddenly perked up with a newfound energy. Dodger immediately recognized his mistake when he looked at Dot.

“Guess who’s going to be helping him?”

Dodger cleared his throat, “Gladly.”

#{{ original drabbles: spooktober 2019

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