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“Negative on target sighting.”

Binoculars lowered as one Dark Mirror Sailor Logos stood on the rooftop of a rather expensive-looking, two-story house in a wealthy neighborhood. The lights inside each house on the block (and as far as she could see from her vantage point) were off, save for a few. The one in particular she was staking out had their lights on in the living room and frantic shadows passed before the closed curtains. She and her partner-in-crime, the newly-minter Super Senshi Lovejoy, weren’t interested in the occupants of the house. At least, not at this time. With self-prescribed quotas already fulfilled, the pair of Dark Mirrors were on another mission entirely.

Lovejoy was one interested in the supernatural, and while out on a routine ghost hunt (which was anything other than routine, if you asked Logos - exercise was exercise in her book), the pair happened upon the most peculiar phenomenon. Logos herself, glaring down the barrels of the binoculars for any signs of logic, wasn’t afraid of the occurrence per se. Instead, she was more interested in explaining the thing than anything else.

Her white haired companion was another story entirely.

Jingle Bell Rock seemed to be the ghost mob’s song of choice, though their execution needed serious work. Warbling through the chorus in a stereotypically ghastly sort of way, the crowd remained invisible to the naked eye and the magical senses of those nearby. They didn’t even appear to make footfalls in the snow surrounding the house and its walkway. The occupants of the house were scared witless, one shadow frantically waving back and forth between two windows with a rectangle in their hand - a cellphone, most likely.

Who could reasonably call the police on invisible carolers?

Lovejoy's enthusiasm wasn't necessarily infectious, but Logos did start to doubt what she thought she knew about ghosts in general. Thanks to Lovejoy's incredible training regimen ghost-hunting stamina and extensive knowledge of the subject, the white-haired Super's counterpart now started to wonder what happened to the ghosts in their previous life. ...did they really die while singing, and now their residual holiday cheer manifested itself in groups of disembodied voices?

Were they such terrible carolers in life that someone murdered the lot of them? Who up and murdered singers?

The world was a scary place, indeed.

"...can ghosts choose to be seen?" she asked, raising the binoculars again to find two shadows before the curtains, pacing back and forth as the fourth damn chorus of the same damn song reached it peak volume. That alone would drive anyone mad. The fact that the carolers were invisible simple added to the auditory torture.

Logos chewed her lower lip, deep in thought. "What do you suppose made the ghosts choose this particular house? ....do you think the occupants killed them? Maybe this is supernatural revenge." Now she was starting to think like Lovejoy, who was now her superior. Part of her was frightened by this, worried she'd be thrown squarely into paranoia before long. The other part of her realized magic was real, so why couldn't ghosts be real?

"I do wish they'd pick a different song, though."

Logos hummed in the affirmative. She didn’t watch the ghost shows on television, but Lovejoy seemed to know what she was talking about. Either way, them staking the ghost carolers out wasn’t doing them any favors. Logos was hopeful they’d either move or dissipate, and neither was happening. Instead, the occupants of the house were becoming increasingly raving lunatics with each loop of the damn chorus that was now stuck in her head.

The binoculars were doing her no favors, so they were returned to that strange subspace pocket LJ had introduced her to. Physics and pocket dimensions were far from Logos’ domains of knowledge, but hey, an invisible backpack was an invisible backpack.

Turning to her now-superior, Logos smiled. “So… are you suggested breaking and entering for research purposes? Or a straight-up exorcism?” Now that they possessed superpowers and a glamour to keep their identities secret, the idea of breaking the law seemed almost appealing. For completely unselfish reasons, of course. Besides, she had training to do in order to seek revenge on that damn White Moon that threw her from a building. LJ had commented earlier that her companion looked a little worse for the wear.

“Whatever gets them to stop singing will be satisfying to me. I’m sure they’ve got a mirror or three we could use for escape.”

Logos didn't catch what she assumed was Spanish, but she did understand the implications of Lovejoy's pseudo-order. Gathering shovels? Exorcism?

Well, they were protected by a glamour. They could mirrorwalk straight back into Mirrorspace if things got hairy. Or spooky.

Sounded like fun.

With a smirk, Logos gave Lovejoy a firm nod. "Affirmative. Back in fifteen." and she sped off in search of hardware stores or even better - a closed construction site. With as much damage as was taking place in Destiny City, construction was almost constant. Shovels would be ridiculously easy to find and pluck from their site, and plucked they were. Logos found a building under repair about a seven minutes' run from their previous position, and she scooped up two shovels, an electric drill and two pairs of safety glasses (the drill and glasses were packed away in subspace for safekeeping).

All in all, it did take about seventeen minutes for Logos to return to the stakeout spot. She'd had to admonish herself for it later.

The scene that unfolded moments after Lovejoy's nod was something to behold. Something undeniably reckless? heinous? illegal in forty seven states? calculated about the way the two women bounded to the rooftop of the haunted house in question, hellbent on exorcising some demons. Lovejoy had the ahem knowledge regarding the removal of unwanted spirits, while Logos seemed to have a particular knack for demolition. Swiftly, the two women landed in the home's well-kept backyard and the less powerful of the two thought nothing of tipping over the beloved swingset.

With a showy swing of the shovel, Logos got to digging. With Lovejoy overseeing the operation, and the occupants more terrified of the spooks out front rather than the interlopers in the back, things were relatively smooth. That is, until a half-hour in and neither Dark Mirror found a grave or casket. Or even a femur. The once-lush, manicured lawn now took on the look of Swiss cheese with systematic holes the likes of which moles would be envious.

A look between the two spoke volumes of Plan B they were simultaneously concocting. Obviously, the house must have been built on top of the gravesite. As was customary, per horror movie rules. Neither one thought much of breaking and entering, either, and they did when they discovered the back door was locked.

Really, Lovejoy and Logos were doing these people a favor.

It took thirty minutes for the police to arrive, because the distressed caller was simultaneously screaming about invisible carolers and crazy women with shovels trying to dig up the living room. Between wails of the wife, the husband managed to communicate something about Jingle Bell Rock and white-haired witch stuffing herbs in his aquarium.

By the time the authorities arrived on-scene, the home would never be the same. Whatever it was the Dark Mirrors did, it seemed to scare off set the ghost carolers to rest, for they fled the scene before the popo showed up. Likewise, with the living room a complete and total loss, covered in damaged leather furniture, dirt, shovel divots and various herbs of every size, shape and aroma, the Dark Mirrors made their escape through a full-length bedroom mirror, patting themselves on the back.

A job well done, ladies.