[center][color=black][h1][u][b]Pine Hollow[/b][/u][/h1][h3][u][b]Chapter One: Nightcall[/b][/u][/h3][/color][/center]

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It is Sunday, September 13th, 1987. The air is crisp and cool, and most of the trees have turned orange. 

Pine Hollow Paranormal Investigations has been hired for a minor clean-up job, removing ectoplasm causing paranormal occurrences left by a recent cleansing. The few employees there are ones missing hours, though the rest have the Sunday off. Things go well until Bill, their irate sasquatch manager, receives a concerning message.

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"Why do you think they call Nessies [i]Nessies[/i] if there's others besides the one in Loch Ness?" Oz asked, speaking over the vacuum. "I mean, I guess they call Jersey Devils that because that's where they were discovered, but the Loch Ness Nessie wasn't the first. It wasn't even the [i]biggest[/i], now that you think about it."

Bill didn't respond. He was preoccupied with running a vacuum through a small crawlspace to clean it of any residual ectoplasm that had been left by a recently exorcised ghost, and was hoping that his lack of any response would make Oz think that he couldn't hear him over the vacuum.

"And you know what else I think about? Alright so, you hear 'Chupacabra', and the first thing you think is Mexico, right?"

Bill shut his eyes for a moment, gathering an abundance of patience. He wasn't even supposed to be [i]doing[/i] this job. The building was practically older than the dirt it was built on, and Bill's Sasquatch proportions meant that he had been squatting nonstop in the small space. However, Oz arrived for cleaning that day in [i]white pants[/i], and so his job had consisted mostly of holding the frayed extension cord of the vacuum up and off of the flammable, ectoplasm-soaked floors above the crawlspace.

"But they're not specifically from Mexico! I was watching it on a documentary last night. They're actually just reptile-like mammals that live in deserts. A lot of 'em in West Africa too. More than Mexico! Ain't that something, Bill?"

Even with a literal floor separating them, Bill found himself unable to hide from the magician.

"Yep. That's something. Say, how bad is it down there?"

Bill clicked off the vacuum and raised it up the small entryway for Oz to grab, turning around for a moment to admire his work. Today was a "Make-up day", for the few at Pine Hollow Private Investigations who were missing hours that quarter due to sickness. Even Bill, who was rarely even [i]late[/i], wasn't safe from make-up days. He had taken two days off weeks ago for to attend an old college professor's funeral, and was now working on the last few hours he hadn't already made up with overtime.

The crawlspace was now clean, albeit stained green from the ectoplasm that had seeped through the floorboards. A poltergeist had been exorcised in the house a week ago, and the residual ectoplasm was still causing what PHPI had been hired to clean -- A Class III Haunting, the most minor of the three to come up. They were usually caused by ghosts or the remnants of poltergeists, such as the foggy, cotton-like bits of ectoplasm Bill had been vacuuming, and only made for minor occurrences; Floating spoons, books falling off shelves, spooky messages written on bathroom mirrors after showers, et cetera. PHPI mostly covered Class III's nowadays. A month ago there had been a [i]Class II[/i], and a few weeks before that they had been hired to take down a mother Wendigo, but other than that, the PHPI hadn't handled any major cases in years.

Bill sighed -- Not a worried sigh, but a content one. When all was said and done, he preferred things stay quiet.

"You coming outta there, Billie? Billie Jean? You still in there?"

Bill sighed again. This time, an exasperated sigh.

"Is this some kinda bigfoot hibernation thing? Should I leave?"