The Supernatural Private Detective

"This is Annie Quest, reporting live from the scene of an apparent car accident. A couple traveling from Sundew Parke to downtown Birchwood for a date encountered a large beast that suddenly appeared on the road. Startled, the driver attempted to swerve but collided with a tree. The couple claims they were about to be attacked by the fearsome creature when an unknown man intervened, saving them. I'm about to speak with the shaken couple, who are currently cooperating with local authorities."

"Excuse me, are you two the victims of this incident?"

"Oh yes, dear god, it was a vile creature." The boyfriend responded.

"Sir, can you describe this creature in more detail?"

"Uh—Yes, you see—it was uh—"

The girlfriend pushed her stuttering boyfriend aside and began to energetically describe the creature, using hand gestures to illustrate her words.

"It was huge! Like 5 times the size of a grizzly bear."

"Oh?" The reporter and the cameraman exchanged knowing glances, each silently acknowledging the girlfriend's exaggeration but choosing to remain quiet.

"It had razor-sharp teeth and claws that looked like they could tear a truck in half." 

"Unbelievable."

"Oh, you better believe it. We would have been done for if we weren't saved by a mysterious young hero. He charged at the creature and wrestled it into the forest like in one of those Chuck Norris movies."

"Baby, tell them the things I did to protect you." The boyfriend cuts in, his voice carrying a possessive edge.

"Excuse me! Don't make me laugh; you did nothing more than cower in fear!"

"Come on, pookie—"

"Don't you pookie me. You are always so useless; you can't do anything right; we are done.

The cameraman leaned closer to Annie while still capturing the scene on camera. "This is getting good, huh?" he whispered. Annie's face broke into a sly smile and she suppressed a chuckle

"Baby, please don't leave me!"

"Get out of my sight! You give me the ick."

Two police officers came to separate the lovers' squabble at hand.

"Ok, that's enough; break it up, you two."

"Point the camera at me." Annie directed. 

The cameraman responded with a thumbs up. 

"We've just witnessed a harrowing account from the couple involved in tonight's dramatic incident. While the description of the beast strains credibility, it's undeniable that something extraordinary frightened them. This incident joins a growing list of bizarre reports and sightings in Birchwood, sparking concerns about supernatural entities in our community.

As an investigative journalist, I must ask: Is this mere coincidence, or is there a deeper connection? And who is this mysterious Good Samaritan consistently at the center of these events? Can he be trusted?

"I will now attempt to interview Captain James Hawkins of the Birchwood Police Department. Excuse me, Captain James!" Annie navigated the crowded scene, the cameraman following closely behind.

"I really don't like this guy," the cameraman whispered.

"Shhhhh." Annie gestures for silence, her finger to her lips.

"Good evening, Ms. Quest."

"Greetings to you too, Captain Hawkins." 

"You can just call me Jim—uh, are we live?" 

"Captain Hawkins, can you shed light on these developments?" Annie asked.

"It was just a simple accident; thankfully, no one was fatally wounded."

"But, Captain, there are rumors of strange occurrences and supernatural events happening here in Birchwood. Does today's 'simple accident' have any connection to these events?"

"As you've said, Ms. Quest, those are nothing more than rumors. There are no supernatural events happening in Birchwood."

"What about our good Samaritan? Could he be some kind of vigilante?"

"I'll repeat myself: those are just rumors. If there was a vigilante on the streets, we would have caught him by now."

"Ah, so you're saying there is a vigilante?" Annie pressed.

"I won't be answering any further questions." Captain Hawkins began to walk away.

"Wait, I'm not—" Annie attempted to chase after him but was stopped by two police officers.

"Ugh, get off me!" She pushed them aside and faced the camera.

"Well, folks, you heard it here first. Are there really supernatural events happening in Birchwood? And is this Good Samaritan really a good guy? I promise you, I will get to the bottom of it."

The sound of Annie Quest on the display TV of a convenience store echoes around the quiet streets. As the sun begins to set, Rob and Jasper stand before the store, observing the television, while Shaggy runs in circles behind them, chasing her tail.

"Annie Quest sure isn't afraid to speak her mind on live television." Said Rob.

"She is a resolute one." Said Jasper.

"She's on to me; it's kind of scary to know that."

"It's your fault for letting yourself be seen using your powers."

Rob lets out a sigh of slight exasperation.

With his hands in his pockets, Rob turned into an alley alongside Jasper and the dog, revealing a café hidden in the corner. 'Cafe Two', the neon light sign above the door reads with a warm glow. Jasper opened the door, and the bell above it chimed.

Inside, the cafe had a cozy atmosphere with its beige and brown color scheme, wooden furniture, and enticing pastries on display.

"There's still an hour and a half till closing," Rob said, collapsing into a seat.

"Yeah, but nobody ever comes here anyway," Jasper replied.

"It's your fault for choosing this part of town to start your café. Your cafe is hidden in an alley, not out in the open for everyone to see. And it's in the quiet part of town."

Shaggy circled a spot next to Rob's seat and lay comfortably on the floor.

"I chose this place to get away from the car noises in the main town, you know? Some peace of mind. But still, I wasn't expecting zero customers. Everybody loves pastries."

"The love of pastries is subjective," Rob said.

"What?"

"I'm saying—"

"I know what subjective means, kid, but you have to be a complete weirdo to hate pastries. And I should know; I've lived a really long time."

Rob smirked. "Hey, on the bright side, you can make me a cup of coffee."

Jasper let out an annoyed sigh before standing up. "You're lucky I love making coffee."

Rob stretches his hands out, places his palms together, and seemingly produces a newspaper out of thin air as he separates them. The masthead reads 'Birchwood Chronicles' in bold letters. His eyes scan the headline: 'Students Kidnapped at Birchwood University.'

'I kinda thought the car accident would be the headline,' Rob thought to himself.

Shaggy, sensing something, raised her head and began to sniff around, growling softly. Rob's attention shifted, and he asked, "What is it, girl?"

Jasper, alerted by Rob's tone, lifted his head in curiosity.

"Neat trick," a low, smooth voice said from the seat beside Rob.

The two men and Shaggy turned simultaneously to face the speaker, their eyes locking onto a mysterious man. He wore a light blue collar T-shirt and a stylish scarf, which contrasted with his snow-white hair and chiseled features.

"Thank the heavens, a real customer!" Jasper exclaims, his excitement palpable. "What can I get for you?"

Shaggy, still on high alert, growls angrily at the white-haired man, her eyes fixed on him.

"Control your dog, Rob!" Jasper warns, his hands hovering over the counter. 

"Relax, girl; it's okay." Rob says with a gentle tone.

Shaggy calms down, returning to her previous position, her gaze still wary.

"When did you get in?" Rob asks the mysterious stranger.

The white-haired man smirks, "You're something of a monster hunter and magician, aren't you? You should be cautious. Avoid fighting werewolves on the streets; it could cause car accidents."

Rob's eyes narrow, his tone aggressive. "I'll ask again, who the heck are you?" He drops the newspaper, his focus intensifying.

"Waiter, I'll have a cappuccino," the stranger says nonchalantly.

"Hey, Jack Frost! I asked you a question!" Rob's frustration grows.

Jasper intervenes, banging the table, "Don't scare away my customer!" He begins preparing coffee.

The stranger grins mischievously, "How about a card trick, Mr. Magician?"

Rob's response is swift and smooth. With a flick of his wrist, a deck of playing cards materializes out of his sleeve. He shuffles and spreads them facedown on the counter before the white-haired man.

The white-haired man picks a card from the deck. "Who are you?" Rob asks again, his patience wearing thin.

"Me? Oh, I'm just a somebody." The white-haired man returns the card, his smile enigmatic.

Rob raises an eyebrow. "I hope all is well." Jasper asks, placing a steaming cappuccino before the mysterious stranger.

"Everything is fine." The white-haired man replies. 

Rob packs the cards, shuffles, and draws a random one, pointing it at the stranger. "No, that's not my card."

"Huh?" Rob examines the card; it's the three of hearts. "I'm certain I pulled the Ace of Spades."

The white-haired man produces the Ace of Spades from his shirt pocket. "Huh?" Rob spreads the deck, scouring for the missing card.

"Oh, so you tricked the magician; am I supposed to be impressed?" Rob packs the deck. 

The white-haired man flings the card back; Rob catches it, inserts it into the deck, and pockets it.

"Ok, Alucard, I'll ask again, who are you?" Rob's voice firms, but he doesn't look up.

Silence.

"Answer me, dammit!" Rob slams the counter, turning to face the stranger, but the seat is vacant, the coffee cup empty.

Jasper jolts forward. "Where's that white-haired stranger?"

Rob shrugs, his expression blank.

"He hasn't paid." Jasper scales the counter, dashing out the door.

Moments later, he returns, flopping beside Rob. "I can't even get a single customer."

"Don't give up, Jasper; I'm sure there's still hope. I mean, you had a sword fight against Miyamoto Musashi—sure, he smashed your left rib and you lost, but you were good enough to fight him."

"I can't tell if you're trying to encourage me or make fun of me."

"Hehe."

"What about you? I've been letting you stay here since your uncle threw you out; the least you could do is bring some customers. Don't you have any friends?"

"Not exactly."

The doorbell chimes, and Rob and Jasper turn to see who the newcomers are. Captain James Hawkins and Detective Joe Anderson walk in, their presence commanding attention.

James, stylish in a charcoal-gray suit, his badge clipped to his belt, and a crisp white dress shirt. Joe sports a darker, earthy-toned blazer, his shirt a subtle plaid, accommodating his rounded midsection. His chubby cheeks flush from the evening air.

"Geese, Rob, you sure love getting me in the spotlight," James says with a chuckle, approaching their table. "Can't escape the media, thanks to your...extracurricular activities."

"Yeah, they were all over Jim like flies on a corpse, especially that Annie chick," Joe adds, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Detectives! Good to see you," Rob welcomes.

"Good to see you too, Rob," James replies.

"I wasn't expecting you guys tonight," Jasper remarks.

The group exchanges warm greetings before the detectives take seats.

"What can I get you two?" Jasper asks.

"I'm good," James declines with a wave.

Jasper turns to Joe, who shakes his head, "Nah, I'm good too; had a cheeseburger before I got here."

Jasper throws up his hands in exasperation, "I give up!" He disappears behind the counter, leaving the trio to their conversation.

"So, what brought you two here?"

 Jim pulls out a cigarette and says, "We've got another case. We still don't know where the werewolf you fought today came from, but now someone's been digging up graves." He glances at Rob, who raises an eyebrow.

Rob makes a blank face before raising his right index finger. A flame ignites on it, lighting Jim's cigarette.

"The groundskeeper claimed he discovered the graves empty by morning," Jim continues.

"A coffin thief, probably selling coffins for profit," Rob suggests.

Jim shakes his head, placing crime scene photos on the counter. Five graves, dug up with empty coffins beside them, bear strange writings in an unknown language.

"Interesting," Rob says, studying the images.

"If he wanted organs, it wouldn't make sense. These coffins are old, the bodies would be long decayed."

"Your observation is accurate; all individuals passed away at least a year ago," Jim confirms.

Joe adds, "We couldn't match the writings to any known language. Just random letters."

Rob gazes at the photos before speaking.

"Hmm, a mental grave digger on the loose. When does it get interesting? You know I don't take regular cases."

"We're about to get into that. We also found this at the cemetery entrance." Jim pulls out another photo. The image shows a circle drawn with blood; it has two triangles positioned in opposition to each other, intersecting within the circle. The circle contained markings and writing in the same unfamiliar language as on the coffins. These markings encircled the entire design.

"Some kind of weird ritual," Rob depicts.

"So, are you interested?" Asks Jim.

"I'll look into the case."

"Here's the case file; it contains information on all the people whose bodies were taken and detailed forensic documents." Jim hands over the file to Rob, who places it on the counter and then slips the photos that Jim gave him inside.

"Now that's aside, how have you been fairing lately?" Joe asks Rob.

Jim sucks on his ciggarete as Rob speaks. "Well, you know Jasper rented me an apartment; I've been living well, though I hope I get more work from you guys so I can keep paying the rent."

"Dude, that's messed up; you're wishing for more monsters and supernatural stuff to show up so you can pay your rent." Jim chuckles and says this right after releasing cigarette fumes from his mouth.

"Eh? No, not like that. I—"

Joe bursts into laughter.

"You know I'm still a private detective; if there's no more supernatural stuff to handle, I'll just take on regular detective work." Rob replies, a smirk showing obviously on his face.

Joe laughs. "It's hard to believe you're that loud-mouthed kid who wanted to be a police officer."

"Yeah, a lot has happened in eight years," Rob says, his gaze drifting.

Joe continues, "And now you're living alone, fighting monsters off Birchwood's streets. Your uncle, I can't believe he threw you out like that, and he's been letting you stay since—"

Joe's words trail off as Rob's face falls, his eyes clouding over.

"Since my dad died—the day I saw the Easter Bunny," Rob finishes, his voice barely above a whisper.

The air thickens with tension.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to kill the mood," Joe apologizes.

Rob forces a smile. "Forget about it. It's fine."