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Spirits (Hulk TF)
We come to see two teenage boys huddled around an old-looking book, reading it.
“I don’t even know what you’re trying to look for, Jake,” The shorter one said.
The one we can assume to be Jake had replied, “Shut up, Rex. You’ll see what I’m looking for in a minute.”
The duo were like partners-in-crime, with Jake at the head and Rex as an almost sidekick. They were amateur paranormal investigators completely engrossed by mysterious lore and the supernatural. And the book they have--well, Jake happened to find it at a flea market he decided to pass through. The old and stereotypical witch-y magic look caught his eye, and so he couldn’t have possibly passed on the opportunity to actually own this kind of book (at a surprisingly cheap price too).
First things first after he acquired the book was of course research. He was kind of a nerd in all of this stuff, if you haven’t already noticed. Only three results popped up on Google. O
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Smooth Operator
I’m reading his thermo-image through the door before he knocks: average human temperature distribution, no suspicious cool patches. Something chilly in his hand.
Tucking the Sternig pulse pistol into the back of my trousers, I open the door with a smile.
“Mister Vance? Your Real-Earth Cola.”
He’s the picture of five-star service, but his eyes hold an element of curiosity. I’m supposed to be a top exec, and what they sometimes do tends to breed rumours. I zip a tip to his ID-pad and he grins at the numbers. It’s real credit, too. I never short the staff.
With him gone and the privacy engaged, I pour myself a tall glass of non-alcoholic fizz that has travelled over a hundred million miles. The bottle slips as I set it down and spills its remaining contents across the table. In my haste to grab a towel, I knock my whiskey and water over.
Working from the edge of the table, swearing loudly, I carefully mop the mixed drink spill up. As far as my watchers
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