P.I.E. Operation: PARASITIC

0: Unknown Entity Approaching

An overconfident twenty-something removed the hood from his chocolate brown hair. He casually strolled into the home after a long day, and from the door was immediately led into the kitchen. His best friend, a thirty-two year old, whisky-obsessed coworker in his small partnership called Paranormal Investigators Extraordinaire, followed behind cautiously while occasionally checking behind him.

These men who were opposite in personality were not really the average example of adventurers, for heavily suggesting from their company's title, they were strictly involved in paranormal activities.

The youngest, Johnny Adrian Ghost, spoke proudly to his other half. "I'm happy to know that you and I both came out of our latest--and once again successful--case alive." He paused for a second. "I mean, you did get a small... scratch from knocking into the silverware cabinet where all the knives and peculiarly placed scissors were--"

Johnny Maxwell Toast, speaking timidly in his overly exaggerated English accent, interrupted his friend's gruesome flashback. "Please, sir. We do not want you to get into detail." He glanced at his injured leg, dark strands of his hair cutting into his line of sight. "I mean, I certainly don't." He limped pathetically to the bookshelf that held his book of P.I.E. and nearly tripped on the way back.

Toast was sort of bleeding through the cloth around his wounded leg, but he didn't seem to notice it through the numbness. "It would traumatize myself to relive the moment and the readers of our case journal won't like it if you bring me to add that in... Well, if anybody actually took the time to buy or read it." His eyes darted to the ground to avoid revealing the dramatically despondent expression on his face.

His friend attempted to comfort him anyway. "Erm, don't worry, Johnny. You'll get fans for your books over your looks if you ask them to change their preferences. I mean, seriously, they'll do anything if you ask." Ghost spoke out of the corner of his mouth. "People obsess over the taller, wiser ghost hunter archetypes anyway...I think."

Johnny straightened up and cocked his head while speaking in an almost monotone voice. "You really think so, sir? That doesn't seem right."

With a sly smile he replied,
"I know so, Johnny. Even I would be jealous."

Toast was already distracted. His eyes widened a bit when he noticed the two should've probably been staying productive for their clients by checking for important phone messages and voicemail. He picked up the receiver. It was late at night now so there was bound to be some new issues cropping up.
Calls and messaging for hauntings and ghost sightings naturally came in the late evening hours when daylight was scarce.

Johnny Toast put down the phone again quickly to say, "Oh, I've almost forgotten, sir. I read the news today... uh, earlier in the morning, actually." He straightened the bowtie around his neck.

"Someone was dubbed... by the words of the locals, anyway, a psychopath who claimed to have quite a bit of knowledge of ghosts and unfortunately less intellect in general areas. It seems he detected paranormal readings suspiciously often around the area, and maybe proved that it was undeniably so. Should we go do, you know..."

"Geez, Toast, I understand what you're trying to say. That was quite the mouthful, and all you had to say was the locations! Don't worry about details so much." Ghost interrupted jokingly.

Toast's tired expression didn't change. "Sorry, sir. Excuse my wordiness, then."

Johnny Ghost sighed. "Okay, so according to your observations... where was this supposed to be happening?" He stole a look at his watch. It was already coming to 22:30. "What time? It's getting late, Toast." He glanced outside at the cold darkness of the night that he was familiar with. The sky softly drizzled rain as they spoke.