Castle watched the kid go get some food.  He wondered where he was from.  

Then he turned back to the table and the two men sitting there.  A biker priest?  Interesting.  A bit out of his normal area of interest, but interesting.  And the question about the envelope . . . 

Catle looked at the two men and decided he might as well answer.  That was sort of the point of telling them that he saw it delivered.  "Honestly, I don't know exactly who or what he was."  He looked at the others gauging their reaction.  "Yeah, what.  I don't know.  I was looking around the place - trying to talk to people about this man in white - yes, I've seen him as well.  Then I saw this person, but I really couldn't see him.  If you didn't focus on him and really stay focused, you missed him.  You forgot him.  He was gone.  But I stayed foused.  I kept him in sight, but barely.  He dropped the envelope on the table and left.  It was hard, but I managed to follow him."

Again, he looked at the others for some look of surprise or recognition.  "I followed him.  He seemed shocked that I could see him.  He didn't say much beyond warning me that things were always watching.  He looked . . . human, I think.  Human, but badly scarred.  And a bit afraid, I think.  But I can't say more."

"I don't know what he knows, but I do know something weird is going on around Toronto right now.  And it involves that man in white somehow.  And I think there is some information in that envelope."  He looked again at the biker priest who was persuing the envelopes contents.  "Anything interesting?"  

When Haze and Castle reach the Owl’s second floor, the older man leads the way toward a table where a priest and the big biker-dude are conversing. Upon their approach, the priest’s eyes lift and frame Castle. “What can I do for you,” he asks.

“Why don’t you go get some of that food,” Castle suggests, nodding towards the remains of the buffet and ignoring the pastor for a moment, “then come back.”

Haze’s gaze flits somewhat warily from face to face, then to the envelope, then back to the faces, again, before he nods and, wordlessly, breaks away from the group and meanders over to load up a fresh plate while the “grown-ups” continue their talking. You dudes’re sittin’ there talkin’ like this is some Sunday afternoon football or somethin’, the kid thinks, trying really hard not to say the words aloud as he drops a lukewarm burger on his plate and proceeds to douse it with condiments, It ain’t! He risks a glance over his shoulder at the three men as he scoops a helping of wings from their congealing sauce and deposits them alongside the burger. You dudes had any idea what ya might really be lookin’ at and ya’d bolt, man… he licks some wing sauce from his fingers as his attentions return to the food laid out before him and, as he helps himself to what’s left of the fries, gives another slow shake of his head… which is pro’ly what I should be doin’ ‘stead o’ feedin’ my face, again. Get on my board an’ kick it back for Toronto… He squirts a pool each of ketchup and ranch dressing onto his plate, then, burying a good portion of the fries in the stuff, and, stuffing a few fries into his mouth, shrugs his narrow shoulders as a contemplative look passes across his features… “Mebbe headin’ more eastward’d be a good idea,” he says out loud, then, though more to himself than with the intent of anyone else hearing it, “friggin’ boogens showin’ up ‘round here ain’t no good sign…”

The rest of the thought is stifled as Haze lifts the burger to his mouth and heads back to where Castle, the biker, and the pastor are hovering over the contents of the envelope, bouncing words off of each other like this kind of stuff was normal, day-to-day for them. The kid doesn’t say much when he reaches the table; he simply offers a nod and a muffled “Sup, dudes,” through a mouthful of half-chewed burger before plopping himself down in a chair near Castle.

"What do you folks think we should do,” the pastor asks, taking his hat off and placing it in his lap, “Man in White is the issue but how are we gonna find him?  And also I've never dealt with anything on this level before."

“Ya should friggin’ leave it alone, bro,” Haze says without really thinking, “Like I told Castle-dude; ya don’t wanna go messin’ with no hinky juju like this Man In White…” He stuffs another pinch of ketchup and ranch soaked fries past his lips, chews, swallows, and shrugs; “Good way ta end up all corpsified and gross, dudes! Truuuust me.”

'Castle-Dude'?  Alex smiled a bit, for the comment almost made him laugh out loud.  Kids were so . . . kids.  And this one seemed to be a walking stereo-type.  Exactly the type of thing that made him laugh.  

But 'corpsefield,' while almost equally stereotypical, was no-where near as funny.  Before trying to answer the priest's question since he didn't really have an answer anyway, he gave the kid his attention.  He watched him stuff his face with fries for a moment and spoke, trying to chose his words carefully as the kid gave every indication of being the type that would bolt.  "Ok, Fry.  The man of the cloth here already said that this was beyond anything he's dealt with.  I'd have to say the same.  Running makes some sense to me, but mostly because I don't know much.  But you seem to know something about this . . . juju.  Convince me.  Why do I need to run?"  

“Ok, Fry…”

“Haze,” the kid absently corrects Castle between wiping a smear of ranch and ketchup from his mouth and reaching for his burger, again.

“…The man of the cloth, here, already said that this was beyond anything he's dealt with.  I'd have to say the same.  Running makes some sense to me, but mostly because I don't know much.  But you seem to know something about this . . . juju. Convince me.  Why do I need to run?” 

The kid stops, mid-chew, and seems to realize that he’d said things out loud that he’d only meant to stash in the confines of his own head. His expression doing a weird little dance between embarrassment and reluctance as his eyes jump, once more, between the faces of the older men around the table. When his gaze hits Castle, though, and his ears pick up on that last question, Haze’s countenance reflects disbelief more than anything else. “Why,” the kid asks almost incredulously, swallowing the half-chewed mouthful, secretly hoping it’ll choke down with the memories welling up in his gourd and gut, “WHY?!?” He unceremoniously drops the burger back onto his plate and sighs heavily; “What part of it’s gonna f#@^in’ kill you isn’t getting’ into yer dome, dude?!?

You guys’re sittin’ around, here, talkin’ ‘bout chasin’ down demons an’ whatever hoochie-coochie crap like yer goin’ out and tryin’ to scare up some poozle on a Saturday night! An’ I’m over here all like ‘Whoa, Castle-dude! Bad idea, bro!’ cuz I’ve seen what s#!t like this Mr White an’ that friggin’ Mr Creepy you were jawin’ with in the alley can do. It ain’t pretty, man… It’s scary! An’ I don’t mean horror movie scary, dude! I’m talkin’ full-on, pi$$-yer-pants, cry-like-a-girl, run-away-screamin’-cuz-that’s-all-yer-melon-can-think scary. Then you’re all over there goin’ ‘well, convince me,’ an’ I keep tellin’ ya…”

Haze’s stomach churns in the tempest of his rant and his memories and, in that instant, he realizes both that he’s on the verge of literally screaming at these old dudes and, too, that tears have started to well in his eyes and have begun a slow trickle down his cheeks. Angrily, he wipes the tears from his face with the sleeves of his hoody and, then, throws his hands in the air in exasperation… He really didn’t want to tell this story for fear of reliving it but… “Ya think I’m out here on the streets cuz I like it, dude? Ya think I’m hidin’ in friggin’ dumpsters an’ sleepin’ under bridges cuz I want to? Somethin’… somethin’ unnatural… like not of this world unnatural… Like yer friggin Man in White an’ Mr Red Eyes… ate my mom and dad…”

"All right," Colum rumbles. "Pull it together, Haze. You don't wanna scare this crowd into a frenzy.

"Sorry about your parents. There's nothing right about what happened to you." Eyes darting over the head of the frantic young man, McRath surveys the crowd for indication of any who might have heard the skater's outburst. While assessing the situation, he continues in a much-reduced volume. 

"Things that go bump in the night are what I hunt and I'm not running. God brought me here for a reason and this pimpin' dude with the cane seems to be it."

"These," he shakes the envelope from the bottom causing the papers within to ruffle, "tell me one thing and one thing only. The Man in White is targeting god-fearing, good people for some reason and making them do bad things. It's like he's tainting their souls before killing them off.

"Maybe a demon, or a wraith-like creature drawing energy from eating their souls and he just likes to really screw them up before he dines... whatever his reason, I'm not running; I'm hunting."

Turning to Preston, Colum offers the envelope back and states, "Our little spy is another story. The Man in White doesn't seem to be particularly stupid. He comes across as more of a strategist manipulating people to do uncharacteristically evil things and that means we can't rule out the idea that this dossier might be concocted to throw us off his scent. 

"What's your take on this fellow, Alex? You met him—talked with him, even."

“Ya think I’m out here on the streets cuz I like it, dude? Ya think I’m hidin’ in friggin’ dumpsters an’ sleepin’ under bridges cuz I want to? Somethin’… somethin’ unnatural… like not of this world unnatural… Like yer friggin Man in White an’ Mr Red Eyes… ate my mom and dad…”

What the hell!  He heard the biker talk a bit, most of which was explaining how he was hunting.  Good.  Someone should hunt. 

"What's your take on this fellow, Alex? You met him—talked with him, even."

He heard the question but chose to ignore it for the moment. 

“Jesus, Haze.”  Momentarily the thought of the expression in his current company crossed his mind, but it didn’t seem significant.  “I’m sorry to bring that up. I’ve dealt with ghost like crap.  Poltergeists – you know, throwing crap around.  Nothing so blatant as what you are talking about.  I had a girlfriend – she and her mother disappeared.  I suspect, but I can’t say . . . “  He trailed off. 

“Haze, I am scared.  And what you’re saying certainly adds to that.  You’ve seen what I can only guess at.  I don’t want to be in this.  But I’ve seen good people die.  I don’t want to be one of them.  But I don’t want anyone else to be either.  These people haven’t been eaten, but they seem to have been devoured in a different way.  I can’t pretend I haven’t seen something.”  He looked down and spoke quietly.  “And if I end up pissing my pants I just pray I can still run.”  He wanted Haze to at least know he took his warnings seriously.  The kid’s words, and even more his freaked-out demeanor, did scare him.  He didn’t have to act.  What could the poor kid have seen?

At that point it was time to address the biker.  Somewhere between the information about what was in the envelope and just the hint of Haze’s story he had become committed.  He didn’t quite know to what he was committed yet, but if there was a way to stop this thing he would be a part of the battle.  He looked at the biker and nodded towards the envelope in his hand.  “May I look at that?”

(Assuming the envelope is handed to him.)

Castle quickly looked through the information in the envelope.  It was pretty much as it had been explained.  An electric effect first?  Was that weird or normal?  It might be a place to start.  And maybe they could identify potential targets.  It had only been a couple of minutes since he had been asked the question, but it felt like a long time. 

He looked at all three of the people sitting around him.  “My take on the guy who left this envelope?”  He felt he needed to repeat the question so that they knew he was finally getting to it.  “For what it is worth, my gut says to trust him.  Not . . “  he quickly turned to the kid he’d called Fry, “blindly Haze.  I have heard you.  But it is possible that not all juju is the same.  He didn’t seem like the Man in White.  When he was up here, he dropped it off and then left – expecting to be unseen.  When I was able to follow him, he was surprised.  He was also frightened.  Not of me.  I think he was afraid of the Man in White.  “Eyes are always watching” he said.  He was getting information on this thing but seemed almost terrified that his role would be found out.  I’m not sure what he was.  He was badly scarred.  If I were to guess I’d suspect that he was a victim of something like our Man.  His scars.  His fears.  He was afraid, but something was driving him to overcome that fear and act.  I’d have thought him a human victim, but as Haze indicated, his eyes were red and he had an unearthly ability to slip the mind.  I don’t know what he is.”  He thought for a second and looked back at the biker, “Yes, it is possible that what he was afraid of was his boss who had sent him with that envelope and would be angry if he saw him speaking to us.  It is possible.  But that isn’t what it felt like.   His name is Damian.”

As he spoke he’d considered whether he should share with the others the information about the phone, be decided that until he knew more he would hold that to himself.  He wasn’t sure what his motivation was.  To keep a secret?  A sense that Damian had wanted it kept secret?  Uncertainty about what he was getting into?  Whatever it was, for now he kept it to himself.  Although Haze was probably aware of the phone. 

“I’m not sure what hunting this thing actually means.  Something is causing these events.  But while I know I don’t want to end up somethings dinner,” and at this he couldn’t help looking at the kid, “but if someone had been able to do anything to help his parents, what would that have been worth?”

“What do we actually have besides this envelope?  All I knew when I got here and all I’ve been able to learn from those I talked to here can pretty-much be summed up as ‘a man-in-white has been seen around when good people go bad.’  That’s it.  I wouldn’t even know where to go from there.  In fact, this is where I came to try and learn more.  And all I learned was more of the same.”  He looked at the others and held up the envelope he had in his hand.  “Except for this.  Unless you know more than I do, this is the only lead we have.”

He looked around at the others at the table to see if any of them wanted to interrupt his little speech.  “I agree, we need to be cautious about how much we trust it, but it is at least something.  Energy fluctuations and really good people as targets – some of which seem to have achieved a bit of notoriety for their good hearts.  This is something.  Is there any history of paranormal activity associated with electric effects?  Is there a way to track when and where such effects take place?  Going backwards this might allow us to expand on the pattern this envelope identified.  At the very least it might confirm or debunk it.  Going forward it might be predictive.  Likewise, at least a couple of the targets seemed to have had reputations for ‘goodness,’ for lack of a better word.  We could look up the previous victims – were there stories in the paper about them?  Is there one particular media source in which many of them were mentioned?  If so, like the electricity, that could prove to be predictive.” 

He shrugged.  “You asked my opinion.  The envelope provides something.  What else do we have?  What do you know?”

(I just kept writing, but if Haze were to react and have an outburst in the middle of any of this Castle would consider that far more important than anything he is saying.  The kid’s story is freaky and he is both worried by the kid and worried about him.) 

“My take on the guy who left this envelope?” Alex returns to the question at hand. “For what it is worth, my gut says to trust him. Not,“ he quickly turns to the kid he’d previously called Fry, “blindly Haze. I have heard you. But it is possible that not all juju is the same. He didn’t seem like the Man in White. When he was up here, he dropped it off and then left expecting to be unseen. When I was able to follow him, he was surprised. He was also frightened. Not of me. I think he was afraid of the Man in White. 'Eyes are always watching,' he said. He was getting information on this thing but seemed almost terrified that his role would be found out. I’m not sure what he was. He was badly scarred. If I were to guess, I’d suspect that he was a victim of something like our Man. His scars, his fears, he was afraid, but something was driving him to overcome that fear and act. I’d have thought him a human victim, but as Haze indicated, his eyes were red and he had an unearthly ability to slip the mind. I don’t know what he is.” Alex looks back at Colum, “Yes, it is possible that what he was afraid of was his boss who had sent him with that envelope and would be angry if he saw him speaking to us. It is possible. But that isn’t what it felt like. His name is Damian.” Like the Devil, McRath immediately associates, remembering a sermon from some time ago when he was much more innocent.

“I’m not sure what hunting this thing actually means. Something is causing these events. But while I know I don’t want to end up somethings dinner,” Alex's eyes dart towards the kid, “but if someone had been able to do anything to help his parents, what would that have been worth?”

“What do we actually have besides this envelope? All I knew when I got here—and all I’ve been able to learn from those I talked to here—can pretty much be summed up as ‘a man-in-white has been seen around when good people go bad.’ That’s it. I wouldn’t even know where to go from there. In fact, this is where I came to try and learn more. And all I learned was more of the same.” Alex's gaze drifts to each of them and he holds up the envelope he has in hand. “Except for this. Unless you know more than I do, this is the only lead we have.”

Again, Alex looks around at the others at the table, “I agree, we need to be cautious about how much we trust it, but it is at least something. Energy fluctuations and really good people as targets—some of which seem to have achieved a bit of notoriety for their good hearts. This is something. Is there any history of paranormal activity associated with electric effects? Is there a way to track when and where such effects take place? Going backward, this might allow us to expand on the pattern this envelope identified. At the very least it might confirm or debunk it. Going forward it might be predictive. Likewise, at least a couple of the targets seemed to have had reputations for ‘goodness,’ for lack of a better word. We could look up the previous victims—were their stories in the paper about them? Is there one particular media source in which many of them were mentioned? If so, like the electricity, that could prove to be predictive.” 

He shrugs. “You asked my opinion. The envelope provides something. What else do we have? What do you know?”

"Let's assume we can trust this docket," Colum leans slightly forward so that the lack of volume in his voice isn't a hindrance, "like you say, it only proves that there's an electrical issue before these events and that the victims were decent people. But, you're right. It does provide something to start with. 

"Here's what I'm going to do." Tacking off items on his left fingers with his right, the biker continues, "I'm going to look into each of the victims and see if there's anything in their histories that ties them together. Next, I'll check the history on the locations where each of these people worked and lived. Perhaps there's some sort of connection there; perhaps not. After that, I'm going to search through newspaper articles, local church bulletins, and event announcements to see if anyone else in this community pops out as a potential target. While I'm doing this digging, I'll send the information we have on the Man in White to my contacts and see if anything rings their bells. I'll better know how to approach this... thing... once I've collected all of this information.

"So, I guess the only question outstanding is, are any of you interested in working with me?"

"Who will work with me?'"

Alex almost laughed at the question.  Hadn't he basically all but said he was in?  But he guessed it did need to be said.  He wasn't quite sure why he felt such a strong connection to this case.  Perhaps it was just because the poltergeists and ghosts he'd dealt with before seemed to pale in comparison.  Maybe it was becaue he felt like he could actually do something worthwhile.  Perhaps it was because of Haze's parents - if that story was real it made him want to fight more than it made him want to run.  Whatever it was, he was in.  

He looked at Haze.  "Haze, your warning matters.  But what happened to your parents.  What has happened to the people identified in this envelope.  It isn't OK.  I don't know if I can do anything, but we seem to be the only ones trying.  That is worth something.  This thing may well be too much for me.  For us.  But what if it isn't?"  He turned towards the biker and the priest.  "To try and stop something from happening to some other kids parents?  Yeah, I'll work with you.  I'm no expert and don't have 'contacts.'  But what I can do, I'll do."

"You're looking into the victims?  I want to look into this electricity thing.  I've got some materials at home I can look into.  Maybe I can find some link between electrical effects and craziness.  If you have suggestions on where else to look, research is one thing I have experience with.  I'd love to get a look at the files of the electric company, but aside from just calling them up and asking, I'm not sure what the best way to get it would be.  Somehow I doubt they'd just hand off files on their work orders to just anyone.  Got any idea about that?  Does utiltiy work have to get logged with the city?"

"Beats me," Colum shrugs and looks to the kid with a severe expression. "But you best heed your own advice, Haze. This type of business ain't no place for a kid. And what about you, Pastor? How dirty are you willing to get your hands?"

Castle listened to Pastor Preston and nodded.  He wasn't sure what he thought of the two men giving all sorts of credit to God.  It seemed to him that if God was going to get credit for the good people, that perhaps there was some responsibility for those like the teacher that lost it and Haze's parents.  But he didn't say anything.  He didn't have anything against faith, he just wasn't sure where he stood on it all.  But one thing he did know - there was more to this world than met the eye.  And some of it was bent on hurting people.  He was more than willing to work with these people even if he wasn't quite yet ready to share a pew with them. 

He was probably even willing to open his doors to them.  So when Preston asked about a place to go he spoke up.  "I have a house in Oshawa.  We can go there if you want.  It would be more private.  I'd like to start doing some research on this electircal stuff.  My university library might have some materials as well.  And, if not, I have rights with other university libraries in the area, so I can expand the search a bit."

The pastor smiles quite thankfully at the professor, reaching his hand out to his and shaking it.  "Thank you kindly.  The lord and God almighty will notice your kindness.  I will as well.".  

looking at Colum and then Haze, he raises an eyebrow at the two of them.  "Shall we meet there and discuss further?  The young boy here won't take too kindly to our investigating... but I think he should stay with one of us for the time being.  Concerning the letter...I think the professer here should take the documents, no one will bat an eye at him carrying around some files.". 

Colum shrugs, "Might as well. You got WiFi?" 

Producing his cellphone from the inner breast pocket of his leather jacket, McRath waves it side to side for emphasis. "What's your address, Alex?"

Receiving the information he needs, the biker manually enters it into his phone's contacts. "What's your last name, Alex?" It's useful to have the whole contact filled out, especially when traveling like he does. (OOC: Assuming there's no reluctance to share such...) Nodding, Colum finishes the contact information and then sends the address through to the Google Maps app before pocketing the device once again.