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Date: May 22nd, 2010.

Saturday night. Typically a night of rest and relaxation. And Eric could've stood for some of that. End of his first week back in Freedom after graduation, and he'd gotten things all lined up. He'd hauled all his stuff back up from Savannah and into his new apartment, a small little studio in the West End. He'd managed to get his old summer job at the Black Petal Cafe back up on a more permanent basis, and already turned in more than a few hours slinging espresso.

But there was still business to take care of. So he'd put on the black, ladled on the make-up and hit the streets. His smile wasn't entirely painted on -- it had been a while since he'd gotten the feel for Freedom, and tonight would be a great time to get the paths of the city back under his feet. Most of his tutelage under Eldrich was spent indoors, with only the occasional unguided foray into the plains of the dead. Sure, there'd been a crisis or two in need of stamping out, but most of his beat was down in the South. Freedom had always been a place to come home to.

Even when you're home, though, there's always work to be done. He'd drafted up maps of the cemeteries and rumored "dumping grounds" around Freedom and established a nightly patrol route. Tonight was the first night of putting it into action. Lantern Hill would likely be a bit tame -- any place that plays stomping grounds to a revenant and an angel is likely well cared for in the department of psychopomps. But the cemetery had always fascinated him, even when he was a little boy. The place had always seemed like a true place of rest, not like some of the other rundown boneyards in the city. it would be a good place to reorient himself to the flow of mortality in the city, and perhaps a good place to get better acquainted with the local players. And if he found a ghost in need of assistance? Well, all the better for that.

And as the witching hour struck, Nick Cimitiere crossed the gates of Lantern Hill Cemetery, his eyes opened to the second world. "Okay, guys," he muttered under his breath. "What is it you need? Just tell me..."

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It had been a good night so far for Stesha. She'd already hit up the community gardens on the West End, which were suffering from the heat and then the overabundance of rain lately. The gardeners would be happy tomorrow when they saw the first tomatoes of the season ripe and ready to grace tables, along with cucumbers nearly two feet long and lettuces the size of soccer balls! She was always a little careful when she did that, knowing that gardening was its own reward, and hurrying the process cost it some of its magic. But this was the start of harvest time anyway, so she might as well help the work pay off!

She was humming a little as she transported into the cemetery, popping out of one of her favorite old maple trees. A little sprucing up here, and she'd call it a night. If Derrick was home, maybe they'd still have a chance to make an evening of it... Her ruminations, and her humming, were cut off when she realized she wasn't alone in the cemetery! Someone was there already, a stranger with a head like a skull! She'd run into Dead Head a time or two as he did his work in the cemetery, but this wasn't him. But was he friend or foe?

Cautiously, Stesha reached into her pouch and held a few seeds at the ready as she approached the stranger. "Hello," she said. "Ah, the cemetery closes at dusk. What are you doing here?"

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Okay, yeah... not much changed from the last time I was here. Can feel a few guys kicking around in the crypts, but they seem to be long-term residents. Something coming out of that statue down there...

Cautiously, Stesha reached into her pouch and held a few seeds at the ready as she approached the stranger. "Hello," she said. "Ah, the cemetery closes at dusk. What are you doing here?"

Already. Huh. Knew this would work.

Nick turned to look at the girl -- small, curvy, and bright green hair. Not bad. He could smell something earthy off of her, and saw the flowers in her hair. Plant girl, then. Should've done more research into folks beyond the occultists, Nick...

Nick smiles convivially -- which is a bit of thing when you've already got a skeletal rictus painted on your jaw -- and bows, hoping the setting and the circumstances might pick up a little of the charm from that old goat Baron LaCroix. "Sorry 'bout that," he says, playing up an adopted Southern drawl, "just trying to get the feel for the place. Guessing you're one of the local caretakers? Name's Nick Cimitiere. I'm... well, I'm kind of a ghost talker."

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"A ghost talker?" Stesha repeated, belatedly remembering that she'd forgotten to pull up the hood on her cowl. Well, it was hot out! "What do you talk to them about?" Since he didn't seem to be immediately hostile, she relaxed a little, but kept a careful eye on him. "I'm Fleur de Joie," she told him. "I help take care of the plants here, and in most of the cemeteries around the city."

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"Really?" Nick says, taking a seat on a nearby bench. He adjusts his jacket -- it may have been touched by the waters of the Styx and infused with the chill of death, but even then, it's heavy leather on a summer night. "Must be some beat. As for what I talk to them about... I guess the usual. Their lives, their unlives, if they've got any unfinished business they need taking care of, if they want it taken care of... last one's important. Bit bad to be a psychopomp who punches your client's ticket prematurely."

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Blake had never been to the West Freedom before, and he was always looking for new places to stroll around. He didn't like to walk around the city as KC, that usually attracted too much attention for his liking. The young Blake had his hands in his pockets, whisting a tune to himself. As he passed the graveyard, he saw two figures standing. One was clad in black, with skull makeup on, and a babe with green hair. Blake's eyebrows raised, and a grin crossed his face, which he quickly wiped off.

He had a feeling they were superheroes of some sorts, so he whispered the magic words to himself. "Cthulhu f'thagn." A wash of green fire covered his body for a moment, and a few muttered groans from beyond time and space could be heard. And in the place of the rather average Blake, a weird hero now stood. He was clad in his usual green and black superhero costume, his insignia, the infamous Elder Sign, gleamed white on his chest. He flapped his wings and took off, landing right next to the two.

"S'up?"

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Nick's eye drifts to the new arrival. Green's big on this guy, but all over... and there's the wavy pentacle in white on his suit... and the... tentacles...

Well. Good to know I'm not the only one dealing with an occult stigma here. He extends his hand to the friendly horror beyond space and time. "Nice to make your acquaintance. Name's Nick Cimitiere. Yours?"

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Stesha did a double-take at the bizarre-looking new arrival, but he didn't seem to be a threat. "Lantern Hill on a Saturday night, she murmured with a chuckle, "it's like Grand Central Station sometimes." She nodded a greeting at the newcomer. "Fleur de Joie," she introduced herself. "Are you new in town as well?"

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"Kid Cthulhu, at your service." KC said, warmly shaking the boy's hand. To be honest, I thought you were some kind of henchmen for that real big mystic...Samedi something or other. What exactly are you doing at a graveyard, though?" KC looked around, seeing only gravestones. "Uhh, nothing raising the dead-y kind of behavior, right?"

Stesha did a double-take at the bizarre-looking new arrival, but he didn't seem to be a threat. "Lantern Hill on a Saturday night, she murmured with a chuckle, "it's like Grand Central Station sometimes." She nodded a greeting at the newcomer. "Fleur de Joie," she introduced herself. "Are you new in town as well?"

KC smiled at Fleur. "I've been living in Freedom City for about six months now. Surprised I haven't seen either of you two around."

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"Kid Cthulhu, at your service." KC said, warmly shaking the boy's hand. To be honest, I thought you were some kind of henchmen for that real big mystic...Samedi something or other. What exactly are you doing at a graveyard, though?" KC looked around, seeing only gravestones. "Uhh, nothing raising the dead-y kind of behavior, right?"

"Samedi?" Nick laughs. "Nah. I'm more of an all-purpose representative for the plains beyond -- if I got anything in common with the Guede, it'd be Cimitiere and La Croix before Samedi." He pausues. "Besides, I ain't one to raise the dead -- least, those that don't want to crawl back up on their own accord. Using someone's body as a puppet just seems... disrespectful. The dead deserve their due."

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"Well, if you don't frequent parks and gardens at night, you probably won't see too much of me," Fleur told the tentacled hero with a smile. "I sometimes forget how many heroes there are in this city. Speaking of which," she added, turning to the skull-faced man, "have you met Dead Head yet? It sounds like you and he are in a similar line of work, and he frequents the cemeteries most of the time." Up close, she could see that the skull-head seemed to be some kind of makeup, which, she had to admit, was something of a relief.

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"Samedi?" Nick laughs. "Nah. I'm more of an all-purpose representative for the plains beyond -- if I got anything in common with the Guede, it'd be Cimitiere and La Croix before Samedi." He pausues. "Besides, I ain't one to raise the dead -- least, those that don't want to crawl back up on their own accord. Using someone's body as a puppet just seems... disrespectful. The dead deserve their due."

KC nodded sagely at the young necromancer. "Very true, my friend. We all need our time to rest. So are you new to Freedom City? We've got a few mystics runnin' around here..." KC said. "I mean, there's always Eldritch...ever met him?"

"Well, if you don't frequent parks and gardens at night, you probably won't see too much of me," Fleur told the tentacled hero with a smile. "I sometimes forget how many heroes there are in this city. Speaking of which," she added, turning to the skull-faced man, "have you met Dead Head yet? It sounds like you and he are in a similar line of work, and he frequents the cemeteries most of the time." Up close, she could see that the skull-head seemed to be some kind of makeup, which, she had to admit, was something of a relief.

KC grinned at the young woman. "Hey, well maybe I'll have to drop by to visit sometime." He thought of giving her a wink, but decided against it.

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"Well, if you don't frequent parks and gardens at night, you probably won't see too much of me," Fleur told the tentacled hero with a smile. "I sometimes forget how many heroes there are in this city. Speaking of which," she added, turning to the skull-faced man, "have you met Dead Head yet? It sounds like you and he are in a similar line of work, and he frequents the cemeteries most of the time." Up close, she could see that the skull-head seemed to be some kind of makeup, which, she had to admit, was something of a relief.

"Heard about the guy," Nick says. "Heard he hangs out here. Haven't run into him yet -- this is kinda my first night of the beat here. Would be interesting to run into that old revenant, though."

KC nodded sagely at the young necromancer. "Very true, my friend. We all need our time to rest. So are you new to Freedom City? We've got a few mystics runnin' around here..." KC said. "I mean, there's always Eldritch...ever met him?"

Nick nods back. "Now him, I have met," he says. "He helped me out when my powers were first developing -- well, maturing, I mean. He helped me get the hang of some of my tricks."

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"You'll probably meet him if you keep working in the cemeteries," Fleur told Nick. "He... his looks are a little unusual, but he's really a nice guy. Now I can understand what brings you to the cemetery in the evening," she said to Nick, then turned to the tentancled hero. "But I'm not so sure about you. What are you doing here tonight?"

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"You'll probably meet him if you keep working in the cemeteries," Fleur told Nick. "He... his looks are a little unusual, but he's really a nice guy. Now I can understand what brings you to the cemetery in the evening," she said to Nick, then turned to the tentancled hero. "But I'm not so sure about you. What are you doing here tonight?"

"To be totally honest with you, Fleur, I was just walking. That's what I do when I can't sleep at night. It really calms me to walk up and down the streets of Freedom City. This is actually my first time in the West Freedom area. And I happened upon you two. That's the good news about flying, you can sneak out of Claremont a lot easier." KC said with a grin. As much as he enjoyed Claremont, he became cramped quickly. "Pretty nice night though, huh?"

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"Yeah," said Nick as he lay back a little on the park bench. His eyes were still tuned for disturbances, but he was enjoying the company -- and the cool breeze whipping down the path. "This is probably one of the better cemeteries I've walked through. And yeah, I know how weird that can sound, but hey, I've walked through a lot of cemeteries."

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"Oh, you go to Claremont?" Stesha asked the Kid, brightening as she spoke. "My fiance teaches there, maybe you know him. Dark Star, teaches Intergalactic Civics? I've been meeting more Claremont students lately, it must be because of sumer break or something like that. How do you like it?" Turning to Nick, she explained, "A lot of superhero teenagers go to school together, which sounds a little crazy, but it seems to work."

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"Oh, you go to Claremont?" Stesha asked the Kid, brightening as she spoke. "My fiance teaches there, maybe you know him. Dark Star, teaches Intergalactic Civics? I've been meeting more Claremont students lately, it must be because of sumer break or something like that. How do you like it?" Turning to Nick, she explained, "A lot of superhero teenagers go to school together, which sounds a little crazy, but it seems to work."

"Oh, Dark Star? I think I've met him a few times. Pretty nice guy, you're a lucky woman." KC said. "But yeah, I absolutely love it there. My roomie is Rift, ever heard of him? He's the coolest. We go fight crime together sometimes."

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Turning to Nick, she explained, "A lot of superhero teenagers go to school together, which sounds a little crazy, but it seems to work."

Nick nodded. "Congrats on the engagement," he said. "That's gotta be quite an experience. I kinda came into my powers after high school, so I didn't exactly get the Hogwarts experience. I mean, there was Eldrich, but it wasn't like there was a school full of hormones, cliques, and necromantic rituals." Nick pondered on that for a few seconds. "Come to think of it, maybe that was a good thing..."

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Stesha laughed at that description. "Yeah, I got my powers as an adult as well. I don't think I would've had anywhere near the discipline most of those kids do, so it's probably a good thing, too. It's impressive, they go out patrolling and stopping crime," she nodded to Kid Cthulhu, "and forming superteams, training to be on the Freedom League or whatever when they're adults. Dark Star's told me a little bit about how the school works, and I think it's just great."

Despite the conversation, Stesha had work to do, so she got to it while she talked. Taking seeds from her pouch, she began scattering them, causing flowers to immediately begin popping up around the yard. "So do you see ghosts," she asked Nick, or mostly just hear them? Are there any around here now?"

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Nick cast a quick glance over the graveyard, extending his senses --

Ping.

Ping.

Ping. Ping. Ping.

"Yeah," he said, "quite a few of 'em. They could be sticking around for the real estate... or they could be sticking around because they're still fettered here by their business. It'd take an interview to figure that out." And with that, Nick got up from the bench and walked down the nearby path, heading for a simple plot.

[bg=#000000]The ghost couldn't have been more than 21, and by the looks of it, had been a real wild child -- perhaps too much for her parents. Her hair was shaggy, and in clashing shades of red -- one a more natural copper-orange, the other the rich red of cherries. Two sets of earrings hung from her ears, but Nick could still see the piercing marks on her septum and her lips. She wore the bottom half of a respectable black dress, but the top half was tattered with the sleeves torn off, and topped with a studded denim jacket. The girl was humming something under her lips -- Patti Smith, by the sound of it -- and looked up when she saw Nick looking at her. "You're not the dead guy," she said.[/bg]

"Not yet, miss," he said, "but maybe one day. Guessing you've been around this place a while."

[bg=#000000]"Yeah, since '93," she said, sitting down on the gravestone.[/bg] Nick looked at the marker -- ANASTACIA MILAN, 1972-1993. [bg=#000000]"Man, that was a bad night. One too many beers -- Mark was there to help me, but I just... slipped, you know? Right into Lincoln Street... I would've been fine, I guess, but that cab --" She chuckles. "Eh, what can you do?"[/bg]

"You seem to be taking it well, at least, Ana --" Nick said.

[bg=#000000]"Call me Stacia," she said. "And I've kind of had a few decades to work on this. Look, I don't suppose you have a smoke?"[/bg]

Nick reached into his jacket and produced a pack of cigarettes, as well as a lighter. He pulled one out of its packet, muttered a simple offering to Osiris, and lit the cigarette -- in the middle. He lay it on the grave marker and watched it burn to ashes. [bg=#000000]A few seconds later, an ectoplasmic cigarette appeared in Stacia's fingers. She took a long drag, and exhaled.[/bg] The ectoplasmic smoke trailed briefly into the night's mist.

[bg=#000000]"God, it's been so long since I've had one of those," Stacia said. "Like I was saying, I've had a while to deal with it. My parents, though? Man, the funeral was a freakshow. They couldn't really take their darling Ivy League daughter being a punk, so they got the best morticians in town to give me a makeover. Respectable jewelry, proper dress, a hair color that looked like it originated on this planet." She gestured down to the plot. "Not like it really matters anymore. What's left is kinda fading fast, and the old me's coming back. Guess Marley just got a bum deal in the wardrobe department, huh?"[/bg]

"Goes differently for different people. I've met a few folks who regretted dying during disco, and some who died at the turn of the century who looked a lot more contemporary." Nick paused. 'Hey, listen, Stacia... if you've got anything you want done..."

[bg=#000000]"Look, thanks and all, but like I told Dead Head, it's cool," Stacia said. "I go about town myself, and everyone seems to be getting along all right. Mark remembers me, but he got married -- runs a tattoo shop down in the West End. The cab driver sought therapy, but he seems to be coping -- he actually leaves flowers here once a year. Mom and Dad..." Stacia got briefly wistful, and looked off to the horizon. "They come. They come a lot. They miss me. They're happy, and my bro and sis have their happy little clans, but... I mean, they miss me, but if I'm gonna tell them, it should come from me, okay? Not an intermediary." She perked up a little. "Besides, I don't wanna let this town go. Main reason I stuck behind was because of Freedom. I want see where it goes, y'know? See if I'm still here when we get flying cars and cyborg bodies and all that.[/bg]

"Well, we probably already do, but who am I to deny a woman her dream?" Nick nodded to the empty air. "Take care, Stacia. If you need any help..."

[bg=#000000]"Yeah, yeah, I'll give you a ring, um..."[/bg]

"It's Nick. Nick Cimitiere."

[bg=#000000]"God, you watched a lot of Bond when you were a kid, didn't you? Like I said, I'll give you a ring if that's the case. And thanks for the smoke, Nick."[/bg]

Nick nodded, and walked back to the bench. "That's what I do," he said. "Know it doesn't look like much -- usually there's more of a light show if they decide to move on, but the young lady doesn't. I could always ask her if she wants to make herself known..."

Down the road, a woman briefly winked into existence, a clash of cherry red and copper orange hair, torn dress and denim jacket, pierced ears and half-studded lips. "Hey, Nick," said Stacia, "don't go talking about me behind my back." And just as quickly as she appeared, she faded back into the mist.

Nick chuckled. "My bad."

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KC blinked once as the girl appeared. "Nick, I'm gonna be honest, that's amazing." KC said, his eyes widening in shock and awe. "I never really believed in ghosts and stuff, but...wow." He stared at where the girl disappeared for a little while longer, if just to check she wouldn't return.

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Fleur watched the show with great interest as she spread her flowers, but she had seen a lot of strange things in the past year, and a ghost wasn't quite enough to scare her anymore. It was pretty interesting though. Digging into her pouch, she tossed a seed onto the grave where the ghost had appeared, and a moment later a small hydrangea bush sprouted there, its cheerful pompons of flowers blooming in vivid reds and oranges. It seemed to fit the occupant's tastes. "It's nice that there are people in town for them to talk to. I wonder if it gets lonely."

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KC blinked once as the girl appeared. "Nick, I'm gonna be honest, that's amazing." KC said, his eyes widening in shock and awe. "I never really believed in ghosts and stuff, but...wow." He stared at where the girl disappeared for a little while longer, if just to check she wouldn't return.

"Well, I'm glad I could help there," Nick said. "What you need to remember is that a good chunk of ghosts aren't any different dead from how they were alive. In a number of cases, you'll get a ghost with bad PTSD, or a ghost who died in circumstances so rough that it left a semi-permanent echo -- that's where you get the idea of a 'drone' ghost, the repeat offender. Most ghosts, however, are pretty much as they were, if tapped into something larger. Doesn't necessarily make them nice, of course... and some of them can really pack a punch."

"It's nice that there are people in town for them to talk to. I wonder if it gets lonely."

"In some cases, I imagine it does," Nick said. "I mean, you've got the occasional sensitive, medium, sorcerer, or undead who's got the talent to register them... but that doesn't necessarily mean they're nice. And some ghosts can just get... forgotten. One summer I drove up to Philadelphia and saw kids who died in games of chicken on the side of the road. Some of 'em must've been there since the '50s." Nick shook his head, sadly. "Still, that's why I do what I do. I help 'em when they need it, in whatever way I can."

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"Well, I'm glad I could help there," Nick said. "What you need to remember is that a good chunk of ghosts aren't any different dead from how they were alive. In a number of cases, you'll get a ghost with bad PTSD, or a ghost who died in circumstances so rough that it left a semi-permanent echo -- that's where you get the idea of a 'drone' ghost, the repeat offender. Most ghosts, however, are pretty much as they were, if tapped into something larger. Doesn't necessarily make them nice, of course... and some of them can really pack a punch."

"So what do you do with poltergeists and such? Do you have to send them to the other side, or what?" KC said, his eyes full of interest. "...Are you a Ghostbuster, Nick? KC suddenly changed moods as he began singing the theme aloud. "Who you gonna call? GHOSTBUSTERS!"

KC coughed. "Sorry. So are you a psychopomp of some sort?"

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