Glancing up from his computer, Atlas comments on the announcement."Ah, things are about to get interesting. My first field case.", Atlas grimaced. He knew something was up, call it his supernatural spider sense. He knew there would be others. People were running late today, so they would not be alone when it came time to face this evil. Atlas recoiled yet again. Another priest, or something. For him, the work environment was particularly hostile. Gory Grey? No, the name would be less...crude. Atlas didn't care, and so opened a drawer in his desk. He pulled out a dusty satchel, with spots for vials and other small objects. He swiveled his chair, turning over to the second desk. He pulled out some of his more...violent? No. More than that. At a loss for words, he just settled upon atomic potions. He also grabbed healing and mana potions, and a small sack of spices. He thought for a second,"Did I miss anything?". Something clicked. He had forgotten two extremely important weapons. Well, one. He was waiting for a parcel delivery that delivered a component of the other. He commented how it would help with his brewing, then turned to a dusty book

	The title read: A COMPLETE EXPLANATION AS TO WHY THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS SANTA. He opened it, dust flying everywhere. It was hollow, and a key was inside. He took this key, then pulled a small box out, from below his desk. Fumbling with the lock, he opened the box. A set of extremely sharp knives sat in some expensive looking cloth. There were enchantments to make the blades unholy monstrosities. The others had magic, and magic guns, and muffins, but at least Atlas had decent cutlery. He put them in his satchel, and removed his coat. Sunlight could not penetrate these clouds, but just in case he pulled out a large umbrella, sticking it in the bag. He stood, wearing some Victorian clothing and a wicked grin on his face. He always worked better when something was at stake. Just before leaving, he grabbed a bottle of liquor. Vampirism didn't counteract raging alcoholism. He rejoined the group, a seemingly different person

	"Well then. It seems we have a case. Cheers.", he said, as he laughed and drank at the same time, a seemingly impossible feat. "What is it, 2, 3 people haven't shown up for work? We're screwed seven ways to Sunday. We can hope, [i]da?[/i]". He had slipped back into Russian. "Excuse that slip up. And you, boy". He turned to Coal. He was thinking, in a spiteful manner, "[i]Don't go poking around in the head of somebody 7 times your age. I've met con men with more finesse than you.[/i]". He merely told the rest, "Let's hope SOMEBODY dies this time" Chuckling, he began to head upstairs, knowing full well he pissed just about everyone off. He tripped on the stairs, turning it into a failed flip. But he didn't stop laughing. He sat down at the table, opened his bags, and began organizing his bottles and potions before the meeting began.