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"If it's birds, I'll hold myself responsible." And he hadn't even had to deal with them as personally as everyone else had, having been knocked out for a majority of the trip and all. But he'd seen enough to not want to deal with them again, and heard even more.

Shifting his hammer on his shoulder, almost fidgeting. Impatient to find out what was going on, expect, not really. There was a certain accumulating air of dread spreading throughout the chosen that was impossible not to react to, even if he hadn't felt it himself. On the other hand, Rose's hopeful theory of taming wild and mystical beasts could be exciting.

Another new face, and Ed offered a small nod in greeting before the woman that entered behind her, the one that offered a wink and blown kiss actually had him smiling back at her. "Misha, you're in good spirits." He was fine, but that was probably obvious. She was a little too cheerful given the circumstances, but it wasn't the first time he'd seen her trying to hide less favorable emotions behind a happy mask.

It was time for business all over again. At the mention of "groups of two or three" he looked between Beth and Misha. No, he told himself. He was being over-protective and there was no reason to. They were all going to be in the same building. Thus, he turned to Beth and offered her a smile.

"What do you say?" he said, "Should we go backpack-digging? Or... broken-window-searching?" Those were his two first thoughts, and they were a little cinematic. Maybe they'd find a map or otherwise telling paper in the backpacks? Or maybe something had come in through a window. At this point he had no idea where the line between reality and supernatural cliche was drawn.

"How many people were sent out here, Griffin?" Brian asked. A part of him told him to call the Ares Chosen "Sir" but in the end didn't think it was necessary. Not unless Griffin asked for it, he supposed.
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It was a good thing that Brian was holding onto Beth as, upon seeing Misha, she started waving the woman over, the windmilling of her arm tugging her slightly off balance. She returned Misha's one-armed embrace happily. Quietly promising herself to catch up with her once the business part of their trip was done, she watched Misha move to Brian's side and greet him as well. Asher hadn't done anything more than give her a look, so she resolved to leave him on his own for awhile, no matter how concerned she was. Their other two companions seemed nice enough. When the blonde (Edward, was that what Misha had said?) who might have been offended by her on some unremembered occasion cracked a smile at Misha, Beth smiled in relief as well. She would trust her friend's recommendations.

When Griffin gave them their instructions, Beth was sure to put her serious business face on, perhaps looking a bit comical to those who knew her to be both warm and nervous. She had no idea how to deal with a crime scene, and so turned to her friend, the cop. "I'm not sure! How do you normally run through a crime scene?" She was genuinely curious. She knew those procedural crime shows made up half of their imagery for the drama and iconic striving. She scrunched up her nose, trying to think of the most common sense thing to do. If she were smart, what would she suggest? "Well, the backpacks sound less dangerous than broken glass, so that's where I would go. I suppose we could always recycle what we find? If they brought it, they probably thought they would need it, right?" She leaned down to grab the nearest back pack, letting her hand slide from Brian, though kept it held out in case she needed to be grabbed.

Everyone quieted down as Griffin started speaking up, and Ed listened along with the rest of them. When they were dismissed, instructions given, the bouncer glanced around at his fellows before Asher's voice, closer than he'd been expecting it, drew his attention down to him.

"You'd know better than I would," he commented idly, nudging at a pile of knapsacks with the heavy end of his hammer. "Though it's certainly starting out considerably more subdued." Head tilting, he examined a few of the contents that had spilled from one of the disturbed packs, then glanced up to Asher, brows arched.

"You're looking miserable today." There was no bite or tease to it, just an observation.

"Eight Chosen were sent out to investigate." Griff smiled briefly at Brian. Sir, apparently, was not necessary.



Asher's idle kicking stirred the abandoned pants enough for him to see chewed edges and wear and tear that did not look like something from normal use.



Beth must have grabbed at the backpack at a bad place because a cascade of small items spilled out of it as she lifted; mascara, sunscreen, bug spray, aloe vera, and a couple of expensive tubes of BB cream and other sundries clattered to the ground in a bright spill of containers.

The backpack Brian rifled through, by contrast, had marks on the outside, but it looked like it had been blundered into by something with claws that may or may not have gotten tangled. There was a first aid kit inside of this one, extra bandages, and some remedies for bug bites and sunburn.



Nudging the pile tipped it over, and brought a distinctive odor to Ed's nose; something had peed, either on the knapsacks or near enough to them that the tipping pile made the smell waft up.



There wasn't much beneath the pieces, but if she looked at each bit as she touched it, Misha'd find that the haphazard nature of the pile of cloth meant that everything was varying degrees of scuffed and dirty, and a few pieces had new holes where things had been pushed through the cloth from the inside, tearing outward.

The filth of the clothing she touched was only slightly off-putting once she spotted the ragged tears. Misha's eyes widened, huge and grey in her heart-shaped face, and she bit down on her lower lip. She fingered a fraying edge. Then she draped the item over her left forearm and reached for another piece and another. Each one had the same sort of strange holes. Other than the filth and the rips, everything seemed to be fairly new.

Not a single tear she found was thorugh a worn-thin bit of fabric. Misha swallowed. She had no idea what that meant other than... The people wearing these items had voluntarily torn them off their own bodies. What if it was a flesh-eating bacteria or something? Cursing under her breath, she quickly dumped the items on her arm into the curved side of her buckler and picked it up like a large and rather gruesome serving dish. She flowed to her feet with barely a totter.

"Brian?" she called. "Can I get a second pair of eyes on this?" Her skin itched. "It looks like someone either was in a big hurry to get some and couldn't be bothered with buttons or..." She trailed off, looking at him with clear concern.



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Beth's glance went from Misha to Brian and back again. She felt her stomach twist at the sudden tension in both of her friends. The fear in Misha's voice, trying to be hidden behind her glibness, made her swallow any words that might have played along. At Brian's sudden change in tact and focus, Beth took in a sharp breath. Based on what they had discovered, it was a logical conclusion. She tried to think back to if there were records of lycanthropy in Greek myth. "Are werewolves, like, a thing? I mean, after metal birds, I would accept practically anything. And I want to say there's precedent for shape shifting in the myth. But..." She stuttered to a stop. "Usually that was from eating something enchanted or...as a punishment for sins." Quietly, she wondered what kind of sins Chosen of the gods might commit to be changed into animals.