---

Located in the upper half of Southern Millhaven, nestled in the quiet neighbourhood of Brackenmere, was an establishment under the name of Glenlight Café.

As the name suggested, it was, of course, a café. In particular, a small one that sat halfway down a narrow, unnamed street in the neighbourhood, the kind of lane that bends just enough to hide what lay at the end of it.

The café prided itself on freshly brewed good-quality coffee beans and a cosy ambience, with deliberate and gentle lighting. Together with its modest size and somewhat 'hidden' location, the café was the sort of place that could be described as 'charmingly rustic'. The sort of place that would be frequented by those in the hipster subculture or coffee enthusiasts, many among them the sort that would look down on a certain famous American coffeehouse chain for not 'serving real coffee'.

Nailed to the brick wall just below the sign for the café, however, was a sign for a different establishment. Compared to the vintage look of the café sign, this one was more modern and minimalist looking, a simple black sign with a star on it, as well as the name 'Sidereal Agency' and the tagline of 'Cosmic Solutions, Down to Earth Prices'.

Established recently, just last year, the Sidereal Agency was a detective-fixer service with a focus on strange cases related to the occult. It had put out an ad a few weeks back, the owner deciding to recruit employees as the agency was poised to handle bigger cases this year.

And today was the day that the new employees of Sidereal Agency would start their work, early in the year 2020.

Thus, when the owner of the Glenlight Café heard the sound of the door chime that notified him of a customer, he turned around and quickly matched the face of the newcomer to the ones in his memory that the owner of the agency above his establishment had told him about.

Both being business owners sharing the same building, such cooperation was natural, after all.

With a smile, he greeted his guest in a jovial tone that matched the classy yet casual atmosphere of the smooth jazz playing in the café.



"Welcome. Looking for the Sidereal Agency, right? It's on the second floor. Your employer said he's running a bit late today, though. Something about meeting a contact. Feel free to wait here, I'll serve a cup of coffee on the house."

"No."

And so the first visitor sat down, without a drop of coffee to her name.

People from Portland can be weird. That's the whole gimmick in some peoples' eyes; "Keep Portland Weird" has been a motto for some years now because of a perception that people moving in from out of town california are diluting the unique character of the city, its places and people. Portland is celebrated for its oddity. What else is there to this place? And yet, at the same time, this quality isn't appreciated elsewhere...

The people who desire that weirdness can live in Portland all they want. People who do not want to interact with it stay the hell away, even if it's the most populous city in the state by far.

This is an important thing to note because this lady broadcasted her regional allegiance for all to see. It was clear she was attempting to go for business casual, button-up shirt and shoddily-wound tie and slacks and all that, but apparently she ran out of good dress shirts to wear. One could conclude this when seeing "KEEP PORTLAND WEIRD" with a silhouette of what could only be described as Bigfoot smoking a fat doink across her backside. Either she was strapped for better options, or she just...was a fucking weirdo. Both were correct.

No suitcase, but instead a cloth instrument bag that wasn't being used for its original purpose. The heavy, rectangular shape at one end sure looked like the outline of a hammer or a brick or something, and it was evidently the only thing in said sack. As she sat at one of the chairs, she laid the bag across her lap and looked down into its murky depths...whispering something, awaiting a reply...

Honestly maybe this lady wasn't a worker for the Agency and just was some crackhead who got to the coast instead of bumming around Multnomah somehow.

The man walking in a handful of steps behind the first lady was also dressed in a way that might be described as business casual, although this one seemed to have his clothes more in order, or at least fresh instead of ragged... but somehow, his attire made him look as if he was in mourning. A black button-down (no tie), black slacks, black belt, and black dress shoes. It seemed at first glance like the only splotch of color on his attire were the golden buttons on his black leather coat, which matched his hair color nicely.

He drank in the sight of the cozy little establishment and its barista's words for a couple beats from the door (which he'd mercifully let shut behind himself, so as not to let the cold Winter air in), then sauntered over and took a seat close to the counter, letting out a slight exhale and then smiling towards his "fellow customer" and the man offering him a free coffee.

"Sure, I'll take a-- actually, can I leverage her rejected coffee for a specialty drink?" he half-joked in a light Southern accent, voice soft and blue eyes twinkling behind his oval glasses. "Or I can just pay for a mocha, if that's gonna set you back any. I don't mind."

Once his drink order was in and any necessary money (cash) had changed hands, the bespectacled man, still smiling mildly, asked the barista, "So, you Mister Glenlight?" then looked in the woman's direction as well and nodded towards her before adding, "And I'd like to get to know my new colleague as well, long as it don't trouble you, Miss. As for me, I'm Sunny Clearview, former Special Forces. Pleased as punch to meetcha both."

Spoken to directly (unless she wasn't actually part of this organization at all and just ended up sitting down at the wrong time), the stranger zipped up her bag immediately as if hiding some kind of terrible secret inside...

Mr. Clearview was able to see, from high on up where she sat, that she was clearly concealing a hammer. Not many other things it could be, given everything, but mages and their ilk are strange folks so who knows. Anyway, addressed, she didn't nod or acknowledge what he had said first to her, and instead got introductions out of the way.

"Winnifred Pylypyshyn. No registration with any organization. My hobbies are watching movies and eating; training for this new position has limited my viewing time." It really didn't look natural but she took her bagged object and "hid" it behind her, the heavy head sinking deep into the couch cushion.

"...I was under the impression that using our legal names is required for this position," she added after a pause. Given his name, Mr. Clearview was probably used to disbelief, but rarely put in such a technical fashion.

---

After a minute the door for the cafe will open once again, revealing a young man whose hair seems like it just recently get liberated. His casual clothing make it seem like that he is a patron of the establishment even though he only entered the place once. That being said, he might eventually turn one considering that he would be working for the agency and be visit this place more frequently.

The idea of him working on what is basically a vacation might cause a few raised eyebrows but he finds going idle for months to be impossible and to be honest, he cannot really afford to let his skills rust when he returns. He is already pushing things with this stunt, a don't want to go that far.

""Sure, please make the water extra hot." he requested as he took a small case in his box shaking it before revealing the contents, revealing a bunch of small spheres slightly larger than a thumb. It looked like some sort of eastern medicine but it also seemed to look like a candy.

He dumped the a sphere into his coffee letting it be dissolved by the hot water before stirring. Chunks of the bolus would float as they continue to break apart turning the coffee into some sort of concoction. He would sip on this concoction eyes widening as he tried to process the taste.

"That is definitely the cheese weirdly good enough. " he spoke as he looked at the young and old who appears to going to be his coworkers.

"Name's Henry Norton, do any of you want to try your luck. One of these boluses have ghost pepper as a flavor." he greeted to the two, shaking his case.

---

"No? Is that a no to the coffee or a no to being Leo's new employee?" the café owner asked. Somewhat unsure, he continued, "Pretty sure your face is the one he showed me in that picture, though. Uh..."

He remembered that she had a somewhat odd name.

"Winnifred, right?"

Before the girl could answer, the door opened again, revealing another one that he remembered from the pictures Leonardo had shown him. This time, a man in his thirties.

The barista welcomed the man in a similar manner to how he had welcomed the girl. This time with more receptive results.

"Mocha's good. Don't worry, consider it a 'welcome drink'. We're going to work in the same building after all," he said. He then added in the same jocular manner as Sunny, "You're paying next time, though. Oh, and no, my name's not Glenlight. That's just the name for the café my daughter came up with. My name's nowhere that fancy. It's just Keith. Keith Sherman."

Turning to the girl, he then added, "Anyway, if you change your mind and want a cup of coffee or something else, just give me a holler."

Keith started his work on the coffee when the door opened again, and another one of Sidereal Agency's new recruits showed up, whom he then directed to where Sunny and Winnifred were.

Having finished with the coffee, he brought them to the three, snorting in amusement as he saw Richard adding his own concoction to the coffee, "I don't particularly care, but some of my regulars would lynch you for messing my coffee like that. Anyway, you're free to make your own concoctions, just don't make a mess. Oh, and feel free to talk about magecraft or whatever, I'm already aware of it."

"Haha!" the man called Sunny chuckled lightly at Winnifred's words. "Maybe it sounds fake to you, Miss, but Sunny Clearview really is the name my momma gave me, as I live and breathe! I'm, uh, 'fraid I'm not great at pronouncing names like your surname, though, so I hope you don't mind if I use your first name, and I don't mind one whit if you use mine. If you're big into movies, what would you say your favorite genre is?"

"Much obliged, Keith!" the former special operator said, beaming toward the barista as he accepted his mocha and took a sip, followed by sighing in satisfaction. "Ahhh, now that's some good coffee! Y'all must have some real skill in roasting the beans! And good to know, about the magecraft stuff."

At Richard's offer, however, he chuckled again and shook his head. "No offense, but that's not a bet I'd take, my friend. Knowing me, I'd end up picking exactly the wrong one, for a given value of wrong, heh. Besides, I wouldn't wanna change the flavor of a brew this fantastic! What's your specialty, then, Sir? Alternative medicine that actually works 'causea magecraft?"

---

"Don't worry, I'll be sure to add my boluses when no one is looking. I usually eat this separate to my drink as a snack but want to change things up." Henry answered to Keith as he took another sip, come to think of it cheese is a really good compliment to a lot of things.

"This is actually a hobby, like baking I guess? Richard replied to Sunny who seems to be having a conversation about names, how ironic that the most normal sounding name is the one that's actually fake. Granted the boss knows about his true name but it is still a funny thing to think about.

"My actual talent is something more on the physical side." Richard revealed with a smile. "I'm a bodyguard and a good fighter in a spear. My clients always say that thinking is not my strong suit but you guys will safe under my watch." he spoke as he revealed his pen, those who watched a certain book or movie would know what exactly his pen could do.

"I still could make observations if needed but yes, I'll be mostly following your leads."

The door opened and a girl straight from a funeral home walks all blank clothing the talented mage sense the the frankly amount of curses on the Clothing

Yet that wasn't the oddest thing about her skin was incredibly pale, only contrasting by black scars marring her body
and the second she walks into the room, the instantly lock on to the man wearing a suit and from one glance anyone can tell she's assessing danger entertain that man the greatest danger to herself all of her movements look like predator about to attack

Moving like she didn't even hear the offer of Coffee she walks by and stands In a way where she can see the whole room

Selene mind

(Why did sister Maria tell me to be polite i am cordial to other people)

(I am concerned though With my current lack of resources and it restrictions placed upon me I believe my effectiveness has dropped around 60% )

( why a coffee place this please too open to be speaking of magecraft i don't even sense a bounded field)

---

Keith turned his attention back to the entrance, as he heard another sound of the door chime.

The newcomer, a woman who looked like she belonged more in a funeral than a coffee house, was another one of the new employees that Leonardo had shown him. He heard that she's a hotshot from the Clock Tower who had to run to America after a political fallout. A common enough story for mages around here. Though one from an older family like hers was somewhat rarer.

Well...'old'. From what Leonardo had told him, five hundred year-old was considered relatively young back in England and the Clock Tower. In America, 500 is definitely old. Likewise, in the grand scheme of things, a Cause-rank mage like her is considered an 'average' skilled mage. Here in America, Cause-rank carried more prestige with it. Leonardo himself got attention because he was a Cause-rank mage from a prestigious family.

Magi rankings might not directly correlate to strength, but since their source of strength is magecraft, more often than not, they do correlate.

In any case, no wonder Leonardo hired her. Based on reputation alone, another Cause-rank mage would definitely draw more clients. And while Keith was only capable of rudimentary magecraft, he at least learned enough to sense magical energy when he was in the same line of business as Leonardo. The girl's definitely carrying a notable mystic code.

"Welcome," he greeted her, "One of Leonardo's new hires, right? The rest of your colleagues are over there," Keith said as he pointed at the table where Winnifred, Sunny, and Richard were seated.

"If you want a coffee or something to drink, give me a holler, and I'll whip one up on the house."

MiMi TucknShine

A woman in a red dress steps out of her car and glides toward a café, heels clicking confidently against the pavement. As she moves, locals call out cheerful hellos, and admirers pause to praise her talents. Restaurant owners and chefs lean out of their doors, eager for a word, a smile any moment of her attention.

After all, this is none other than the one and only Mimi TucknShine.

She’s on her way to a café, one she hasn’t yet built a relationship with. But honestly? The café isn’t what has truly caught her eye. It’s what lies above it.

On the second floor sits Sidereal Agency.

Mimi is the owner and sole private investigator of Clues, Booze & Costume Shoes Private Investigations. She’s the local detective, famous for specializing in social cases steeped in gossip, drama, and secrets people swear they’ve buried. What most don’t know is that Mimi is also a mage one who adores human culture, modern trends, and everything new and fabulous.

Sidereal Agency intrigues her. A collaboration between the two agencies? Oh, she can already tell it would be iconic.

She enters the café on the first floor and is warmly greeted by the owner. Mimi smiles, glancing around with effortless charm.

“I don’t suppose you serve wine?” she asks, perfectly casual.

After a brief exchange, she takes a seat, subtly observing the collection of odd bodies scattered around the café. Every table feels like a story waiting to spill.

Mimi leans back slightly, lips curling into a knowing smile.

This is going to get interesting, she thinks to herself.

---

"Wine? No, not really. This is a café, not a bar, after all," Keith answered the newcomer.

He added, "You should probably ask your boss. He keeps a bottle in the office for important clients, pretty sure."

The other one from the Clock Tower, Keith remembered Leonardo telling him. There were technically three, but one was a dropout, unlike these other two.

Turning to the table, he remarked, "Only one more left, pretty sure. Well, one more and Leonardo. Oh, by the way..." Keith trailed off, turning to Selene and Mimi, "You two are from the Clock Tower, right? Do you know each other from before?"

"Not sure how familiar you two are with Millhaven, but, well...you three are locals, though, right?" He added, gesturing to Winnifred, Richard, and Sunny, "You can probably have them help you familiarise yourself with the city while working together. Or something along those lines."

MiMi TucknShine

“A girl’s gotta ask!” Mimi chirped, practically beaming at Keith.

“Indeed. I’m from the Clock Tower Department of Modern Magecraft Theory, class of 2018.”

“Mmm, can’t say I’ve met you before. I’m Mimi TucknShine Lineage,” she said, giving a little hair flip like it was a formal introduction.

“I’ve been here a few years, just building my brand, growing my socials… you know, the whole iconic thing.”

Then Mimi turned to Selene, eyes sparkling. “So like what brings you here?”

---

“So this is the place, kinda reminds me of the back alley deals back in Manhattan, the kind where you can hear a muffled gunshot fired whenever a negotiation has gone south, hopefully this side of the neighborhood isn’t like that.” Derald sighed and looked at the well hidden alleyway where the agency was supposed to be.

“Que sera sera, I guess.” Derald adjusted his scarf and lit a cigarette as he entered the establishment. He skims the area and notices the not-so-ordinary people around it. So far, the way the toxicologist sees it, there’s a weird girl, another weirder girl in a funeral motif, an old reservist, and a boy whom he swears is a part of a mob (he can’t just prove it yet), and a classy chick who he assumes they came here for the same reason as he does.

He takes the last puff of his cigar before flicking it away, respecting the no-smoking policy of the cafe.

“Sorry, I’m a bit late, had to take care of some business. Cleaning up other people’s messes can be a drag.” Derald shifted his eyes averting others, reminiscing about the gang-related task he did this morning by his other employer.

“The name’s Derald, if anyone would care.” He bashfully introduce himself, scratching his neck.

“Just warm water with honey for me. got a frog in my throat.” He said hoarsely, signaling the friendly bartender.

The sickly young practitioner sits by the empty couch and minds his own business. Hopefully, this motley crew won’t mind him coughing every now and then.

"My favorite genres are documentary and exploitation; I have recently watched Black Dynamite, a more recent parody or recreation of the 'Blaxploitation' genre that I feel plays too firmly on the nose to achieve the comedy, intentional or unintentional, featured in genuine articles. The ending is too beyond the bounds of its original set-up to allow it to feel authentic, and this largely plays to its detriment. The government plot is played for comedy regardless of its realism. Michael Jai White's performance is very good regardless of the absurdity of the remainder of the film, however."

Winnifred said all of that without any direct prompting and, truth be told, regardless of whether or not Mr. Clearview was actually listening to what she said at the end. Staring off into space, one must imagine that she had called from mind to vision the whole of the film in her impromptu review of this work of art. Even if she didn't think it was as good as the originals! She looked up at him in reply and said "State your own favorite genres."

She, additionally, looked upon a set of boluses (boli?) with a slight glare, silently refusing the offer. Apparently she didn't do well with spicy stuff if this is the kind of cold reception it gets...

The coffee bar started to slowly fill with more and more people, more and more mages almost certainly - the people here were certainly liberal with what they called magecraft, even with windows looking inward to the establishment. And here, in her mind, she thought that there was nothing more secretive in all the world than a magus among normal people. Normal people, like her. She was a non-magus and here they were, breaking the masquerade. How gauche. How...

She stopped staring at nothing once she was indicated by their host for being a local. Huh. Were there really that many out-of-towners? She complied, responding "I've lived in the region for all my life. Some of you aren't even from America. I can explain the truths of Oregon. Bigfoot isn't real."

To say Selene isn't paying attention is incorrect four win she walked into the building She's been deeply analyzing every person to untrained eyes they must have looked like she glaring at everyone

but in the same vein to say she was listening to anyone in the room is incorrect she was only absorbing the necessary information she had no intentions to speak before her employer showed up.

Or in simpler words , when the lady in red dress started to talk to her , it generally threw her off. Selene understood, it would be rude to not say anything, but she didn't know what to say and she was before she could gather her thoughts and a new person into the room.

what's the new person entered The building Selene just realized that she was the odd one out. None of these people felt like mage just in her opinion and more confusing, none of them seemed like a threat, maybe besides the man in the suit.

But it didn't help win the blonde women suddenly had a outburst about movies a concept she no knowledge of

Selene jumped on the one piece I've information that made even more about a sense to her

“ I don't understand why you believe the Magical Beast could not exist. There are plenty of Phantasmal have Great-Power of obfuscation Even Phantasmal don't specialize in stealth, would be the relatively hard find If they're not making up a present known.”

“ excuse me I did not get your name but do you perhaps sell sweets preferably a strawberry shortcake”

MiMi TucknShine

Mimi, noticing Selene’s hesitation how her attention was sharp, yet her words seemed momentarily out of reach chose not to press. Instead, she turned the smallest slip of conversation into a gracious lifeline.

“Keith… we’ve only just been introduced.” Mimi let the words land with a bright, composed smile, her gaze flicking between him and Selene as if she’d stumbled into the evening’s most delightful intrigue. “And yet, in the span of five minutes, you’ve somehow acquired the rather specific title of Strawberry Shortcake Supplier.”

She inclined a fraction closer still perfectly poised lowering her voice as though sharing something exquisitely confidential. “Do you actually provide sweets, Mr. Keith… or is this one of those moments where you simply look competent enough to be entrusted with dessert?”

Then she straightened, smoothing the situation with a soft, decisive clap more gesture than sound. “In any case Keith, do be a dear and answer the lady. She strikes me as someone who allows precisely two outcomes: shortcake… or consequences.”

---

"I've been walking around the place but yes I could use some local eyes." Richard admitted as he looked at Keith before taking another bolus and tossing it to his mouth.

Before coughing heavy and dumping the remaining coffee on his mouth.

"Fuck, that one has the ghost pepper." he spoke as he drank the coffee once again. He put the case back to his bag. "Alright that's enough playing roulette with my taste bags.

He would look at Derald and notice some signs of having sickly constitution, he is not a medical professional but he had picked up a few things listening to the lessons of one of his charge. Along with the first aid lessons he took as a bodyguard.

"That looks bad dude, I knew a place that sells a good ginseng. Not exactly medicine but they should help on throat of yours."

---

"Strawberry shortcake? Well, this is a café, so I do serve some sweets. I run this business basically alone, though, so I only keep so much in stock. I can bring it out, but that one's not on the house," Keith replied.

Turning to Selene, he then asked, "So, what'll it be? I'm gonna have to ask you to pay for that one, so—"

Keith was interrupted by the sound of another door chime.

"Strawberry shortcake? Sure, you can get her one, I'll pay. Everyone else who wants a slice, too," said the man who just entered the café.



The man, who would be recognisable to the gathered new employees of Sidereal Agency from their interviews, turned to the group.

"You guys can consider that a 'welcome to Sidereal Agency'. Also as an apology for being late. I was talking to a potential client," the man said in a British accent.

"We already spoke during your interviews, but once again, I'm Leonardo Animusphere Fidano, the owner of the Sidereal Agency. Looking forward to working with all of you."

MiMi TucknShine

“Then I’ll have a slice as well,” MiMi said to Keith, with an easy smile.

“It’s a pleasure seeing you again, Leonardo. And I have to admit I’m rather delighted by the gossip surrounding this potential client.”

She let the comment land lightly, more tease than tattletale, then softened her tone.

“Before we dive in, I don’t think any of us has properly introduced ourselves or shared a bit of our background. Would it be helpful to do a quick icebreaker? Nothing too formal just enough to put names, roles, and perspective to faces.”