Chapter Text
The Reporter knew she had a bad feeling when she signed up for the internship. When she had first heard about the foreign exchange program that had come to Witherburn, she was skeptical. A paranormal research institute looking for interns to send to their sister institution in London? Yeah right. Sounded like a pretty obvious scam. But since the Reporter apparently had nothing better to do with her time, she decided to dig further into it. After a few days of grueling backdoor research, she was able to determine that it actually wasn’t a scam and that there was indeed a system of paranormal research institutions and archives scattered all over the world, and that they were looking for interns. At that point, the Reporter had gone a little… obsessed with the whole thing. Birdie said that she was rabid, but the Reporter ignored her, saying she was just invested in the mystery. She didn’t think Birdie believed her.
Due to this new mystery and a lifelong love of cryptids, the Reporter didn’t hesitate to sign up for the exchange program.
And, upon receiving permission, Birdie as well.
Anyways the point was that she had sent applications and today was the day that she was getting a response. Unfortunately, it was also the day her creep meter was going haywire. With all the missing people, it was starting to get hard to focus on anything else other than finding information on the missing. Luckily for her though, she had a wonderful girlfriend (who had somehow received a response first) to help distract her.
“What are you doing?” asked Birdie, draped over an old beanbag in the corner of the Reporter’s room.
“Waiting for the Institute to get back to me.” She replied.
“You’re still on that? Didn’t you already get your answer?”
“Yes I am, and no, I didn’t.”
“And you think you got in?”
“I don’t think; I know. My resume alone should have outclassed any other puny applicant! Except you, of course.”
Birdie smiled. “Of course. I’m sure you did fine. Your application was great. And if I got in, so did you.”
“Now, I just have to wait.” The Reporter pouted.
“I’m sure it’ll come soon. I mean, how far apart can they send their results?” Her girlfriend reassured. Just then, a ping came from the laptop.
The applicant scrambled for her device, almost rabid with the speed and voracity in which she opened the newest message. The title, “The Magnus Internship Program Results” taunted her from the top of the screen, and she clicked on it. For a long, almost sickeningly suspenseful moment, the Reporter’s eyes scanned the file, skimming it desperately in search of the words she was praying for. And then, she gave out a squeal of excitement.
“I got in! Birdie, I got in!” The intern near-yelled. “We’ll get to work together!”
The other teen smiled fondly, wrapping her arms around the shorter girl. “I can’t wait.”
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“Statement ends.” Jon sighed as he finished off reading out the paper. This one was particularly… strange. But he wouldn’t let it bother him. He had been recording them for almost three months now and was no closer to getting used to the unsettling feeling of being sucked into the story. Sighing again, he gave his final notes and clicked off the tape recorder.
Getting up, he stretched, his arms above his head, his spine popping into place and releasing the tension in his back. Sighing, Jon walked around his desk and out of his office, looking for a new set of statements to file.
The second that he stepped out of his office, however, he was ambushed by a grinning Elias Bouchard.
“Ah, Jon. Just the person I wanted to see.”
“Elais. What can I do for you?” the taller man’s smile widened, looking like the cat who got the mouse.
“Well, as I’m sure you’ve heard, the institute hosts interns from time to time, usually academics from another sister institute from somewhere around the world as part of an exchange program.”
Jon nods. “Yes, I’ve heard of the program, but I’ve never participated.”
Elias ignored him, choosing to continue talking. “Well, our sister Institute in the states has decided to send a trio of interns to the Magnus Institute. They will have their own flats and accommodations, and will be overseen by you. They will be here for six weeks starting in the second week of June. you should have gotten their files in your inbox.”
Jon gaped at Elias for a moment. It was the end of May and Elias was just now telling him this? He would have less than two weeks to prepare!
But before he could say anything, Elias was gone.
Sighing in frustration, Jon turned around and went to go make himself a cup of tea. Tea always calmed him down.
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The Reporter thanked the cab driver as he dropped her and Birdie off at the Magnus Institute. It had been a long, long journey to get there, consisting of several projects on the plane ride over, a lot of confusion over how to get to their provided flat, and finally a very overpriced cab drive to the institute, which turned out to be about three blocks away from the aforementioned flat anyway.
Regardless, they had made it. And, upon stepping inside the building, it was clear to the both of them that this was the right place.
Everything was basked in a certain scent, like if you looked too closely at anything you touched a print would be left, scattering dust. It smelled like Ms. Newberry’s house, as well. Tea, books, some faint pastry-like aroma. Everything was very dark-academia, seeming more like the type of thing one would see in a pinterest board than in real life, with vaulted ceilings, greco columns, dark tile and gold detailing. In short, it was perfect.
The pair just stood there for a moment, taking it all in. And then, a voice rang out.
“Are you two our new interns?” A curly-haired woman asked, leaning in the entrance of a stairwell to what looked like a basement. There was a taller man with purple hair that was standing behind her.
“You can’t keep asking that to everyone who walks through the door, Sash.” The man sassed, before adding underneath his breath, “at least this time they’re actually seniors, and not senior citizens.”
“Hey!” The woman playfully said back, reaching behind her to elbow him.
Birdie laughed. “Yes, we are.”
“Good to see you made it. I’m Sasha, if you couldn’t tell, and that git over there is Tim. We usually have Martin as well, but he’s been sick these past weeks. Jon, our boss is downstairs.”
“You should probably go check in with Elias before you come downstairs. He’s weird about stuff like that.” added Tim.
And so, after a few pleasantries were exchanged and directions provided, the pair did just that. Following the twists of stairwells and hallways, they arrived at the door with a nameplate with ‘Elias Bouchard, Head of the Magnus Institute’ on it. Before the Reporter’s hand could even go up to knock, a voice came from inside.
“Come in!”
Twisting the doorknob and suppressing a strange sense of unease, the pair did as told, entering the somehow even more opulent office. Before them then sat a man in the most cartoony villain-ish clothes, complete with a pinstripe vest and golden pocket watch.
“Ah, our two female interns. I’m happy to see you made it here unharmed and on time.” Checking his watch, the man frowned. “It does not seem as though your male colleague can say the same.”
The way the man talked was ancient, seeming to predate even the artifacts in the room despite looking no more than fifty. Nevertheless, curiosity pushed through anachronism, and the Reporter found herself asking the question before it even truly registered in her mind.
“Who?”
The man’s eyes held amusement, and a deep knowing that seemed to bore into her, like he knew more than she ever could, and that his wealth of information went far beyond just the identity of their late peer. For a split-second, a sudden unexpected desire nearly consumed her. She needed to know, to learn and consume all knowledge, just as the man in front of her did.
Then, the feeling was gone, and the only thing left was the three of them, and the ominous words: “You’ll meet him later”, before the topic changed back to their duties, leaving her with just the slightest touch of vertigo and the unmistakable sense that she had stumbled into a much larger creature’s territory, and was currently being stalked.
“So, Birdie, then, you’ll be working most closely with Tim and Sasha, whom you two have already met. You’ll be specializing in online research more so than field, though some cases may require field research nonetheless. For this, you will have your own desk, the space shared with your fellow summer intern, the one specializing in field work. Understand?” Mr. Bouchard straightened some papers, seeming all the academic head he should be.
Birdie nodded, not wanting to say more.
“Wondrous. Now, as for you,” he turned towards the Reporter, “you’ll be completing your internship with our archivist, Jon, and staying within the office at nearly all times, unless he deems it necessary that you both take a trip outside of the archives.”
“Makes sense.”
“Then I wish you both luck in your positions. And I think it’s just about time that you get started, so if there are no further questions, why don’t you both get on your way?”
“Of course.” The Reporter replied politely, before the two of them trailed out of the office. As soon as the door shut, The Reporter grabbed Birdie’s hand. “I’ll walk you to your desk, Bird.”
“Thanks. This place is like a maze.”
“Kinda.” The archivist’s intern agreed, shrugging.
A few minutes later, they reached the entryway again, and headed down the stairs. They greeted Tim and Sasha again, and helped birdie settle into her new desk. The Reporter gave her girlfriend a few more minutes to settle in before quickly heading towards the head archivist’s office, but not before leaving a peck on her lips.
“Good luck.” She said.
“You too!” Birdie returned.
It was at that point that The Reporter should have gone to the archivist’s office. However, it was also at that point that a familiar face showed up at the bottom of the basement stairs.
“Dyce?” She almost yelled out, flabbergasted.
“Oh, hey!” He responded cheerily, unaware of her dilemma.
“What are you doing here?”
“My parents wanted me to get a summer job, but they said I couldn’t stream, so I’m going to catch ghosts instead!” Birdie almost facepalmed at her desk.
“You three all know each other?” Sasha asked, receiving a chorus of confirmations from the trio. “That’s great! Jon’s kiddo, why don’t you show him to Elias’ office?”
“Sure.” The Reporter replied, still a bit shocked at the arrival of her classmate.
Nevertheless, she dutifully led him to the head of the institute’s office, tuning out his never-ending chatter from Dyce on the way there and dropping him off, before finally being able to enter the office in which she would be spending her summer.
She knocked three times, and a man opened the door from inside.
He was tall, skinny, and almost pale despite his darker complexion. He was dressed smartly, with a sweater vest over a button-up and wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. Bags adorned his eyes, and he looked far older than anyone around his age range should, with even a few streaks of gray hair. He was, however, not old in the way that Mr. Bouchard had been. He wasn’t full of knowledge, or at least not as much. Rather, it was clearly a side effect of great exhaustion. She could certainly relate.
“Mr. Sims?” She asked tentatively.
“Yes?” He responded, almost as though he were expecting something.
“I’ll be your intern. I’m The Reporter.” In a moment, she could tell that his expectation of her had not been fulfilled, but he didn’t seem disappointed at all.
“Ah. Come right in, then. And please, call me Jon.” He said, leading her to a chair on the opposite side of his, admittedly quite messy, desk. “I’m sure Elias has already briefed you on what it is you’ll be doing, but I’ll take the time to reiterate. As my assistant, you’ll be going through statements, and judging their veritability, as well as if they’re worth further looking into. Does that sound right?”
“It’s what I signed up for.”
“Alright. Now–”
Just then, a man burst through the door, a jar of wriggling worms in hand, and he slammed it down on the desk before her. The Reporter recoiled at the sight.
“Martin?!” The Archivist sounded just as surprised as his intern was.
“Jon. We need to talk.” The man asserted.
In that moment, despite everything going on around, only one thought truly sank in for The Reporter was:
‘Well, this internship just got interesting.’