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January 2nd, 2005. A busted up Land Rover driving down the I70, Kansas.
"Smoke?" the pack was offered to the drive, he took his hand from the wheel and waved dismissively.
A moment before the man had spat a cigarette bud out the window, sending cold air shooting through the car and jostling hair this way and that; drowning the sound of the radio out, which was playing something country song or another, picked up by local radio.
Taking it back and lighting his own, the passenger took a drag before he then blew out a plume of ash, which gathered in the roof of the vehicle - somewhat cleared by the open window moments before, renewed again in black clouds.
"Your loss," he muttered and looked down at the map laid across his lap, grabbing it on either side and shaking it to remove it's folds, he rose it to his eye level "The left is coming up soon, don't miss it or I will slash your tires,".
Look out the side of his eye, the passenger squinted at him, "You think I want to be driving another thousand miles in this thing? I'm not missing it," before he looked back on the road.
The man driving, short black hair undercut and cropped around the ears, wore a leather jack with cargo pants and a white short sleave shirt, was named Richard and was 25. His friend, with dirty blond hair and wore dark brown slacks and a white long sleeved button up with the first two button's undone and sleeves rolled up, was called Ben -24- and exclusively called Rich 'Dick'.
While the two didn't see each other often, the two did live relatively close to one another in terms of 'field' Shaman associated with the IBC (Ben in Nashville, Tennessee and Dick on a small town on the coast in South Carolina) and where often paired when it came to missions that required somewhat experienced personnel.
Not that they'd call them 'missions' or refer to themselves as 'personnel', to them the IBC was just a quick means to make a buck and to each other they where friends working the same side hustle.
Yet both of them disliked this kind of job, the ones where something significant happened off of the East or West coast and the IBC needed someone to travel to the middle of fucking nowhere and check it out...
When Dick had picked him up, Ben had whined on and on about how if the bastards down in California wanted to act all high and mighty with their 'highest Curse density,' then they could handle the States closer to them instead of making them drive across country to deal with it.
But both knew why they where chosen for this, out of all the Shaman working for the IBC they where the strongest, so when shit got to hot for the brunt of their very, very small work force to manage, they'd be called on to fix their mess.
Not that they didn't take advantage, even if Ben whined, their position as the strongest field Shaman available gave them ample leverage to bump up their pay to very appealing levels.
Further more, consider what mission this was, they'd been able to (separately) get a premium for the risk.
*Whoop*
As the car crested one of the many slowly sloping hills of the plains of western Kansas, a cop car previously unseen began to blare their siren as they sped past.
"Stop now, I don't want to have to roll the car back that far," was Ben's exhausted statement. Considering they'd been on the road for over two days, so too did Dick share his exhaustion.
"Blooming Flowers, Floral Sent, Dreamless Sleep," Dick muttered, Cursed Energy spiking as he formed his hand into a finger gun and began to slow down.
Pulling over to the side of the road, both of the two men waited until both officers left the car -one hanging back behind an open door, chewing on gum as he looked around bored and the other approached- before they then got out of their own car.
"Stop ther-!" startled by their exit from the vehicle, the approaching officer, younger and relatively fit looking, began to reach for his hand gun. Perhaps the young man wouldn't have, if it wasn't for the rising sense that something was wrong spiked through his gut.
Ben darted at the man in inhuman speed as Dick pointed his finger gun at the portly officer who snapped to look at the developing situation. "Narcolepsy," a purple bolt of light sprang from Dick's finger tip and struck the normal human in the forehead, causing the heft man to fall over backwards - asleep.
Shaking his hands free from the pins and needles his Technique gave, he turned to Ben. The Shaman and the officer where on the floor, with Ben putting the other man in a full nelson and wrapping his legs around his waist from behind. He sat calmly as the man flailed in his grip, Cured Energy reinforcement allowing him to easily overpower the cop.
Walking over to the man, he knelt down to one knee and reached out his other hand, placing it onto the top of the cops head, and without any chants or hand signs, his hand glowed lightly and the man slumped into a light sleep.
"Jesus Christ," the dark haired man muttered, massaging his temple. Ben rose to his feet, took the full grown man into a princes carry and strode over to the car; both men grabbed an officer, deposited them in the car and did their seat belts, before closing the doors.
The blond strode to the front of the car, his body rolling in Cursed Energy and began to push the car casually back into place so fifty feet down the road.
When he was done, not even a light sweat on his brow, Dick pulled up next to him and swung open the passenger side door. Wordlessly they hit a U-turn an continued on their way.
Not often did that happen, but in all honest, given the fact Ben currently had a firearm tucked into an armpit holster despite not being registered in the state, they'd both rather not risk dragging out the process of this mission further than they had to.
Dick missed the exit and, thirty minutes later, took another U-turn and actually off the slip road.
Smoking, talking and groaning was all that was done until they reached a few miles away from their destination...
In the air, something changed. The atmosphere became heavy and the light from the overcast sky seemed to dim, Dick swallowed heavily and kept on driving and the feeling of something being off (wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong) refused to subside.
And when they could see the town in the distance, anticipation sat heavy in their guts.
"Shit..." Ben muttered as he looked over to his partner. "This is... Richard I haven't seen Cursed Energy this dense outside of Japan..."
Dick turned his head and pulled over just outside town, the sign saying 'Welcome too (such and such)!,' off on the side of the road, bent and dirty from lack of care. He turned in his seat and looked seriously at the man.
"You're sure?" his fingers drummed nervously across the steering wheel. "I heard Tokyo's another level...". Despite being the more stoic of the two, the anxiety was clear on his face, drained pale and eyes slightly wide. He'd never been somewhere this thick in Cursed Energy after all.
Ben, however, had and was therefore able to keep some of his composure, "No, this is nothing like Tokyo," the comment didn't seem to relax the Shaman "But it's still like over there, just... maybe a place like Sendai..."
Dick gave him a raised eyebrow, "A million people live there, so it's not as bad as Tokyo, but still pretty bad..."
Frowning deeply he slammed both hands onto the wheel "Shit!" a sharp honk came from the horn as he stuck it.
They'd been prepared for something, but nothing like this...
But what could they expect, it's that mission. It was the one HQ was reluctant from taking because it was so convenient for them.
It was always going to be this bad, but...
"In and out," it was Ben that spoke, his voice was firm. Dick looked over at him, and his conviction resolved.
Nodding his head and looking back to the road, the man intoned "In and out," and thus they drove in.
As far as towns in the middle of nowhere went, this was just rather run of the mill. Across the main road was some Motels, which they checked in at and left the car outside, and some gas stations they bought meals from. It probably had a couple thousand residents, being filled with a hundred or two couple story buildings stretching out in a grid.
The atmosphere was terrible, the air wasn't just cold but frigid and the sun's pallor seemed to send shadows stretching further then they should. Everyone walked outside like they had somewhere to be, kids ushered in fearfully and, overall, it felt like a mix between a hurricane warning and a funeral.
Across all the streets, hiding in the alleys and sitting on lampposts and hanging off of people, where curses. More than they'd seen in one place -at least in one country- and lumbering like beasts.
Hands in his leather jacket, a cigarette now between his lips, Dick muttered grimly "remind me how the grades go again..." as he wrapped a scarf around his neck. His eyes traced the paths of curses as they flounced around freely.
"Five grades," Ben said, "Weakest is 4 and it then goes up to 1, with there then being a Special Grade on top of that for abnormalities," his breath was coming out as gusts of condensations, his nose red and gloves now on his hands. A winter coat fished from the back of the car.
As they walked down another alley he moved to continue his explanation, before a sound rang from a side path down the alley.
*Crunch*
The two of them stopped walking.
Between the back of two buildings, one being a dinner, was a creature. A Curse. It was a rancid thing that was vaguely humanoid, and was sat on the steps of one of the buildings. It held something in it's hands as it ate.
A woman, wearing the uniform of the diner, was held in it's grip. No, it was a corpse, her skin pale now and drained of blood, the splatters of red around the curses mouth telling where it'd went.
It held one of it's arms above it's head, using a bulky hand around her wrist and held her arm up as the corpse slumped in his grip, taking deep bites out of her side before then chewing. It was dressed like a TV detective from the 50's, but drained of colour like it was from an old tv.
Form flickering like an old VHS, it turned to look at them. It's eyes where hidden behind a long shadow cast by it's hat, yet the deformations of it's head was clear, nose distended and crooked and mouth easily being the size of a basket ball.
"More food? My you shouldn't have," it's voice was filled was static and the usual high pitched whine of a curse. The two Shaman glared at the creature, "Though, I'd say, it SURE IS! rude to interrupt a man's~ meal no?" and while it's own voice was deep, randomly it's words would be said for it. Once by what sounded like a radio commercial and the next in the voice of a sultry woman.
Ben snarled and rage tore through him, his Cursed Energy springing to life and coating him fully. "Calm yourself, don't waste anything to your emotions," Dick laid a hand onto his shoulder and patted it twice, looking back at the Curse, "Blooming Flowers, Floral Sent-".
As his chants began and his Cursed Energy faired to life, both Ben and the Curse began to move.
Darting together, Ben ducked under a swipe from it's hand and aimed to land an uppercut.
*Tzzt*
Only for him to miss.
No, the curses form wobbled and it was where it was a half second before and lashed out. With open fingers it swiped down in an x with both arms, leaving behind two sets of claw marks in it's path; Ben, who'd back peddled frowned, a Cursed Technique.
"Dreamless Sleep: Narcolepsy," aiming a finger gun at the Curse, a bolt of purple light shot out at it.
However, the Curse was fast, fast enough to duck under the attack and apply pressure on the Shaman before him.
The curse was wearing a trench coat, standing six and a half ft tall and his hands, with finger far too long for it's bulky and wide hands, acting like claws. It's barrage of attacks where either dodged or blocked with Cursed Energy reinforced limbs.
Ben landed two heavy hits into it's chest, boxers stance as he weaved back, around or bellow blows as they came, it's jacket felt like thick hide and his hits did next to nothing. Dick joined him at his side. But as they both went to swing at the curse, it disappeared.
Both Shaman looked from one side to the other, but it was Ben who -in that half a second- bothered to look up.
From above, the Curse Lunged down, as it fell back into the alley way and landed two heft blows into the two of them. Ben was able to fully block the attack, it's claw like finder rebuffed, but Dick was only able to reinforce at the last second and four deep trenches cut into his jacket and flesh.
Cursing as he sucked in a breath, the man shoved off the hand and grasped the Curses Hat as his hand again glowed in purple light. "Narcolepsy!" as the purple light, stronger due to direct application instead of used at range, flashed, the Curse Stumbled slightly.
Ben, behind, unholstered his weapon, a Semi-automatic pistol, and chanted as well. "Acceleration: Store," before then unloading all twenty one rounds into ground. In front of him, hearing the gun shots, Dick continued to fight the Curse, holding him off as his partner prepared to use his technique.
"Acceleration:-!" hearing the words, Dick ducked down to the ground, the Curse looking past him to see that the other Human was now running straight at him, "-Release!" before it then knew no more.
Barrelling through the Curse as if it wasn't there, Ben applied as much Cursed Energy as he could to stop his immense speed. The soles of his shoe's squeaking against the ground as he skidded the full length of the side alley and slammed into the concrete wall on the far end with a hard smack.
Purple blood splattered the walls as a loud 'bang,' filled the air. The liquid then began to turn to dust and fall away
In pain, the man groaned and massaged his face, getting to his feet and turning to his partner who was standing above the discarded and half eaten corpse of the woman.
Walking over, the man placed a hand onto Dick's shoulder, "C'mon-" he said, his voice reassuring as he ducked his head to one side, "Weren't we looking for someone?".
Dick dragged his eyes off the woman, frowning and touching a cross in his breast pocket. A short prayer later, he left the woman alone in the alley way; they couldn't leave their DNA behind after all, even if it wasn't their fault.
...
For a while they where silent as they walked through the city, Dick applying some bandages too his arm wound on a park bench before pulling his jacket back on, before then they continued.
"Could you remind me again we we're looking for?" Ben damn well knew who they were looking for, it was that he didn't want his friend stewing on the life of a woman that he couldn't have saved. It would be better if his mind was elsewhere for a while.
Looking out the corner of his eye, knowing what his friend was doing and shaking his head shortly, "He's called Viktor Wright, 21, apparently Russian on his mothers side. Lived with his wife who he met in High School and about six one, two? I don't remember. Blackish brown hair, green eyes and sharp looking features, looks kinda European, but nothing much else..."
Ben nodded along.
"Was a part of the local law enforcement for about two years. Quit two or so months ago, after the death of his Wife and kid, and hasn't been seen that often since... that's what the PI said though, so take it with a grain of salt," That was heavy, but expected from what they can see.
"..." they said nothing for a while before, as they turned another corner on their way to the mans house, he asked a question, "What Grade was that. That Curse I mean," Ben looked at him, somewhat surprised before he then cupped his chin.
Thinking for a moment, the Ben scratched his chin "Well you'll have to understand how the system works a lil to get the meaning down in your head..." the other man sent him a look, "Basically it's meant to be organised in a way that makes assigning 'Sorcerer's' to Curses that it's easy for them to kill... but that isn't really done that often... bad management apparently,"
Dick said nothing and waited for his musing to stop.
"Well, how it goes is that a Sorcerer of the same grade as a Curse should be easily be able to kill that Curse and -when needed- work together with other Sorcerers of that grade to kill a Curse of the Grade above," Dick held his breath and blew out a cloud of steam as he listened.
"So Grade-2 Sorcerer can kill Grade-2 Curse and work together to kill a Grade-1 Curse, yeah?" Dick nodded at the question, "With the exception of Special Grade, as their power is inconsistent and can range from being just a very, very strong Grade-1 or a calamity most Grade-1's can't face,"
Furrowing his brows, the dark haired man looked at his partner "That's Special Grade Curses, what of Special Grade Sorcerers?".
"Ah..." the man scratched his ear, "In my opinion that's less a rank of 'strength,' and more a rank of 'danger,' given by the places leaders,". This got Dick to raise another eyebrow, "The criteria is 'Someone who can take on a Nation on their own,' but I think it's more, 'Who can pose a large scale threat to the Jujutsu System,".
That got Dick to stutter as he walked, and as they where walking on a cross walk, an impatient driver honked a horn as he regained his footing. "A country? That's... Surely there are no Special Grade's?"
"Three," the blond said and Dick spluttered, "Apparently the old one doesn't like the system and doesn't do what she's told, but the younger two are actually part of the School's now. First years, I think, I've been getting worse at Japanese so I might have misread my text,".
A muttered 'absurd' came from the older man and Ben chuckled.
"I hear you," he scratched his head, the sun was going down, it's be at about 10 when it set so they had only a few hours of day light left. "So if you could kill 'em normally... 4 can be beat with a bat, 3 a Hand gun, 2 a shotgun would be rocky and 1 needs a tank. It's joked you'd need to carpet bomb a place if there's a Special Grade,"
Dick blinked, he'd been ranking Curses on mental graph where the x access was 'strength,' and the y was 'trickiness,', hearing it all as plain numbers was somewhat confusing.
Ben then remarked "When I got ranked over there, I was put as a 'Semi-Grade-1,' which just means I'm between a Grade 2 and 1, and I did so in High school. If I'm reading the room right, we'd both be about a Grade-1... but likely on the lower to mid level of Grade-1,".
"Damn," Ben nodded to that, it was kinda humbling to be honest.
Thinking back to the strange static like curse they'd exorcised together... "I'd say it was a Grade-1, we could easily beat it and it wasn't that strong... but it had to means to kill us, could talk and had a somewhat tricky technique so..."
Frowning at that, Dick asked "That Disney World Curse?" Ben laughed.
"I'd say Grade-1 as well," Dick looked at him incredulously, "It was big yeah, and very strong and durable. But it was dumb as rocks and couldn't do shit if you where fast enough. If it was a Special-Grade then the IBC would have called Japan, no doubt,".
That was... disconcerting. When it came to the pinnacle of 'strength,' he always thought of the giant Curse that was tall enough to dwarf most the roller-coasters around it. But the fact there was something stronger was almost flabbergasting.
"I guess their is also the Special Grade system... but that's just the normal Grading system for the families with enough power where it'd be insulting for them to depend on the School's to tell them how strong they are..." politics... yay.
In the time it took for them to talk, they'd finally reached his home. It was closer to the edge of town, where the taller buildings gave away to small local shops and single story suburban homes. At the end of the street stood a house bathed in Cursed Energy, emitting it like a beacon.
Unlike the Energy surrounding the town, this one felt darker and more heavy, it wasn't passive energy in the ai but instead the residual build up from the man that had lived here.
"Shit...", if they where mid level Grade-1, then who'd leave behind something like this?
Ben strode forwards and entered the homes driveway, Dick followed behind. As they walked up the drive, Ben entering the front door, open and lock busted in, someone called out to him just before he himself did as well.
"No one wants you here!" it was a frail call, and when he turned to see who'd done so, found an old woman dragging a trash bag out to her trash outside. He turned, talking to the neighbour wasn't really their style, but he'd indulge.
"Pardon?" he called back, he took his front off of the front steps to the home and walked over to the short wooden fence between peoples gardens. The woman didn't walk any closer but did turn to him, her face twisted in distaste.
"You heard me boy." her words where full of loathing and venom as she looked him up and down "tourists like you- he had a family you know. Their deaths aren't a game,".
Raising both his hands placatingly, he gave his best smile. He'd never get used to old people looking angry, he used to think of old people as all like his gran, all smiles and old people smells, but this lady -who had to be seventy at least- was looking at him as if he where dirt.
"I don't think they're a game, I just think it's fu- messed up what happened. Just wanna know why it's being handled like this," he hoped keeping his comments as vague as possible will have her filling in the blanks herself.
She scoffed, "Your 'answers' aren't in there, only deaths in that house, get out if you know what's good for you," she turned to leave, Dick took a shot in the dark.
Laughing lightly, he called after her back "Scary~ Don't suppose you mean the monsters will get me?".
Fists tightening to balls, the lady turned to him, her face tight with anger, "I'll tell you what! There are no monsters, no cryptids and no mysteries out here for you to go around disrespecting the dea-" she cut off as she saw Dick raise on arm and show off the large claw marks in his jacket.
"You see the one between here and downtown?" he asked as he pulled off his jacket, "tall looking man from an old detective movie, but has no colour and stuttering like he's in TV static? Hands all messed up too, too long to be right," he raised his arm -his other still in the jacket- to show off his sopping red bandages.
"My- You..." she looked at him incredulously, scampering over from the front of her house and taking a closer look at his wound, her eyes widened when she saw it was real, "You... truly, if you know what's good for you, you'll leave. There's only more of those things around here..."
Nodding lightly, he smiled reassuringly "I know Mrs-"
"Ms..." his eyes darted to the wedding band around his finger, he always checked before saying such things. She saw his eyes move, "I'm a widow," ah. That explained that.
"Ms, sorry. I know that there are those creatures around here, that's why me and my friend have come around," he slipped his arm back into his jacket and hit his bicep as he flexed, "We're quite strong you see, we got rid of that guy and we just want to ask the man that lives... lived here what he knows,"
The woman gulped, "You really aren't one of those tourists," he rose a hand and Cursed Energy ingulfed it in blue flames, she flinched and let out a tiny gasp "Harold-". It wasn't a question or a statement or any kind of exclamation, but merely the recollections of something similar...
"Harold? Was he someone who could do this as well?" he gestured to his still lightly flaming hand.
Eyes returning to his face, all traces of mistrust had left, replaced by earnestness, "Yes, my Harold, he could always see the things I could only really glimpse at... he kept us away from them. Until he died..."
A Shaman out in the sticks got married to a half-'window', he see's. She said 'he died' with such weight... it could just be grief but it'd seem there could be something else behind it, "What happened when he died Ms?".
Her face sank, "It was peaceful but after he cremated... it was like a Demon. His ghost -it was a ghost I swear it- it was always over my shoulder..." a vengeful Curse? He'd only heard of them, a Shaman dying be means not of Jujutsu wasn't that rare outside whatever was going on in Japan... but it was rare when one was strong and negative enough to come back.
Dick had assumed that this Woman's husband had to have been weak if he'd been avoiding Curses his whole life, but if he came back... "What happened with the ghost? Did it go away?". Of course it didn't, he just wanted her to correct him.
"No, it was the boy, Viktor -sweet child- he could see them as well. But when Harold passed, when he saw me next, he'd insisted to come over and he-" she shook her head, "It was like a scene from one of those Hollywoods, he was being thrown this way and that, but when it stopped, I never saw that demon again,".
Ah, so it'd seem that Viktor Wright had indeed been going around Curse hunting. "My apologies, I didn't mean to bring back any bad memories," he ducked his head, though she was under five foot so he could still see her, even with his head bowed.
She scowled, "None of that, I'm not some weak crone, I wouldn't have made it to this age if I couldn't handle heart ache..." she looked off to the side, down the street, empty and stretching onwards, "What do you want with the boy, he's been through enough,".
Jackpot.
"I'm sure he had, and I don't want to add to that," he put a look of concern on his face, all worry and understanding, "I just want to find a way to fix what's going on around here. We both know there shouldn't be monsters likes these, or this many,"
"I'll say," was her chuckle of a reply.
Back and forth they went for a little, but the conversation wasn't going anywhere. He learnt that she could only really catch glimpses of Curses whenever they came too close and that she also stayed here -even when it was this bad- because it was the place her and her husband grew old together.
He also learnt that, sometimes, Viktor would come back here to his old home. Only for half an hour at most, and go inside and, whenever she caught him going in or out of the house and she told him about a curse she'd seen, said curse wouldn't be there come the next morning.
Definitely a bit of a Curse hunter then.
It'd nearly been five minutes and he didn't want to keep Ben waiting, so he gave one last question before he left, "Do you know when this all started?" he said, "When the spirits around he started to get stronger, more populace?"
She frowned, "It'd always been calm out here, it's why we moved. But... the boy had always been strong, never even grazed his knee that one. Harold said it was a bad omen... I didn't take him seriously but... last year, one day when I woke up, the air was just... just like this,"
Gesturing broadly, he guessed what she meant, the Cursed Energy made everyone around here uneasy, he could tell... but last year. "Just to confirm, before I get out your hair, it was last year, for sure? You're certain?" he contorted his visage to be as professional, as imposing, as possible.
"Why, ye... yes. It was last year, almost to the day, that this all started," he nodded, looking satisfied and straightening up from his slightly looming posture, "Why? What happened last year,"
Half turning, he gave his best non-answer, "Oh, I just need to know how much this has built up, it can be dangerous the longer it's been you know," she looked at him suspiciously, but he was inside before she could inquire further.
Slouching his back slightly and sighing, Dick massaged his temple and shook his head. Even if he was good at getting info didn't mean that he liked doing it... too much effort.
Leaning against the front door, was Ben, giving him that scrutinizing look of his "I do seriously think you might be a Psychopath, what was with that man?" Dick smacked him as he passed him by and walked into the home's living room.
"Shove it," he grunted, smirking, "You just can't talk for shit. You eavesdrop all that time or do you have something from this dump,".
And it was a dump, it was fully of empty beer, soda, food and drink packages. He could tell why the lady was so upset now, those 'tourists,' looking for 'cryptids,' had clearly not been clearing up after themselves. Ben snorted and matched pace with him as they walked through the home.
"There is nothing to find. Classic abandoned building mixed with Curse aftermath, the only thing in the place was the bedroom and it's pretty fucked," damn, he hoped it wasn't that bad.
There was the room with the crib, which was unused as it seemed the child which had lived here had never gotten old enough to use it as well as the bedroom proper. Said bedroom had an x of police tape rolled around it and was practically bleeding with residual Curse Energy.
Walking in he found... nothing. It wasn't fucked at all, just an empty room.
It still had the dresser and wardrobes as well as the desk to one side, with the only thing missing being the bed. "I know, bland, but I'll ask you, why isn't there wallpaper on that wall?" he pointed to the outside wall that, indeed, had neither paining or wallpaper and was just bare plaster.
Ben strode over and peeled back some torn carpet to reveal- Dicks stomach dropped slightly. While the Carpet had been cleaned, wallpaper torn and bed removed, there still remained evidence of whatever happened here under the carpet and on the hard wood floor.
Two figures, the legs and bottom of a woman -who'd likely been leaning against the wall as she died- and a much smaller lump -swaddle, he thought- had seeped through the carpet, and stained the hard wood bellow with their blood. Someone so young... he hated Curses. "Police left in a hurry... to not even clean this up"
Dick nodded, "Must have been the amount of them..." Ben looked over at him, "Calls -cases, I mean- are through the roof..." again Ben regarded him in confusion.
"How'd you know," He asked petulantly, letting the carpet fall and finally covering the two blood stains.
"The lady, she was quite useful, can actually kinda see spirits if she tries hard enough," that seemed to take Ben off guard, he likely hadn't been listening in the whole conversation then "