Lore - Toll Free

  00:11:58 DISPATCH: Unit Twelve, 911 misuse complaint, West Cliff Drive, cliff house at [redacted]. Caller terminated shortly after dialing.   00:12:08 UNIT 12: Copy. On scene. House dark, front door ajar. Smells like marijuana.     A muffled scream can be heard through the house. It was not at all like a prank, it sounded desperate, pleading.     00:12:17 UNIT 12: Something is off. I hear screaming inside.   00:12:18 DISPATCH: Hold perimeter unit 12. Backup is four minutes out.   00:12:28 UNIT 12: Negative dispatch, sounds like an imminent threat. Making entry.     The beam of his Maglite swept across the rich interior of the cliffside house. In the darkness it was hard to tell between the aftermath of a party and an active crime scene. He pushed deeper.     00:12:38 UNIT 12: Powert is out. Looks like they were having a party. A good one too.   00:12:58 UNIT 12: Screaming is coming from somewhere below. Moving to interior hallway.     The officer's boots squelched as he hit the hallway carpet. Thinking perhaps it was a spilled drink or possibly vomit, he swept the light across the room, revealing only a wet carpet. Touching it and bringing it to his nose the officer noted down the smell of salt and brine in his report. Another scream moved him further along however.     00:13:08 UNIT 12: At basement door. Carpet is wet, smells like... sea water?   00:13:18 UNIT 12: Descending now. Low visibility, but I still hear someone.   00:13:28 UNIT 12: Basement is flooded - there's standing water up to my ankles...     The officer calls out, weapon raised and on full alert. No one answers, but the sound of a fight is unmistakable.     00:13:48 UNIT 12: Sound of struggle ahead; gurgling, splashing-   00:13:58 UNIT 12: I have a... visual- what the... what the hell??     A woman knelt in a film of water, white gown soaked, hair veiling her face, but something in her shape didn’t add up. Angles where joints shouldn’t be, an oversized, slack jaw. A young Japanese man thrashed in her hands, turning blue as she held his form underwater.     00:14:08 DISPATCH: What do you see unit 12?   00:14:12 UNIT 12: Uh... Caucasian female... approximately six foot- HANDS ON YOUR HEAD, PUT HIM DOWN!!   00:14:18 UNIT 12: Prepping OC spray- GET OFF HIM!! I'LL SPRAY YOU IN THE FACE, MA'AM!!   00:14:30 UNIT 12: Shit, uh- negative effect, something ain't right here dispatch- STAY BACK!! DAMN IT!!   00:14:37 UNIT 12: (muffled shots are heard over the radio) Shots fired- Shots-!     The channel cuts in and out but it sounds as if the officer has begun to flee, making panicked noises and splashing through the basement water frantically.     00:14:48 DISPATCH: Did you say shots fired, unit 12? Can you confirm?   00:14:58 UNIT 12: Holy shit- holy shit- I hit her in the face- I shot her in the face-   00:15:08 DISPATCH: Understood. Sending medical for the perpetrator. Status on the victim?   00:15:50 UNIT 12: (sounds of a violent struggle can be heard on the radio) No- no! Backup, send backup!! She's breaking through the damn door!!

Rei Kagawa adjusted herself in her first-class seat so she could reach the thick manilla file in her carry-on bag. There were many candidates inside but she had selected two men she felt she could get the job done with. It was Interpol policy as much as it was lucrative for foreign cooperation. She wouldn't have the unlimited jurisdiction on her own that she was used to enjoying.     Roman Korovin would open door she needed with any level of the United States government. The American witch-hunters had organized in the last few decades, placing members as high as the Secret Service. Word was he was scalped from a Russian agency at the end of the Cold War, and was infamous for his scorched Earth tactics in dealing with the dark arts.     Grant Whitaker worked for the CIA, and could not only handle the local law enforcement but was heavily invested with the budding tech world as well. Having tied this potential curse to a phone number, she felt he would be an essential asset to tracing the ritual backs to its source. He wasn't much of a field agent she had to admit, but she planned for Roman to more than make up the slack if they found themselves in a fist fight.     Rei had never expected for this sort of tragedy to touch her own life, despite having worked with Interpol tracking down an eliminating these very types of threats for the past fifteen years. She could never rule out entirely that it had something to do with her, but all signs pointed to a random encounter with a ritual curse. There was no files, no field work already done, she was breaking ground and having to do it in record time if she meant to save her daughter.     Miko was just supposed to be scouting a campus. Coming home with some souvenirs and stories. Instead she was in protective custody after one of her friends that had come along on the trip was found dead. Drowned on the tenth floor of their downtown hotel. Lungs filled with sea water. It made even less sense after the autopsy.     They were on the clock and every moment would matter once her feet touched the airport macadam. Roman was already shaking down local leads while Grant set up a field base she could control directly. It would be the hardest thing she ever had to do, leave her daughter while she hunted down this monster, but Rei knew the odds. She had to work fast.