Salem, Massachusetts, Present Time The door slowly crept open, allowing in the moonlight to fill in the darkened nooks and crannies of the creaking wooden floors. His dress shoes pressed down through the threshold. Heel. Toe. His eyes began to adjust to the dark. Next foot in. Heel. Toe. Nothing yet out of the ordinary to be reported. Though, he could feel the presence of something in the room with him. Heel. Toe. Heel. Toe. He slowly let the door shut behind him with an agonizing creeeaaak. He slid his hands underneath his jacket, both hands resting on the handles of his over sized guns. In all his years of doing this job, he had yet to be surprised by anything. Or so people say. As he walked along the darkness his multiple necklaces clinked together. He held his hands out, blind in the darkness. He ran his hands through cobwebs and felt rusty wood. Does wood even rust? The thoughts didn't exactly matter to him at the moment. In fact, that little voice in his head didn't give him any concern at all. "I didn't expect you to come back." Came the willowing wisp of the haunting voice he knew all too well. "How could I not?" He questioned, knowing not to look around to find the voice. "This was my home." "You haven't returned in over thirty years. How could we think that you would be coming back at all?" "I came here to find something of mine," He said as he walked forward, past the couch and towards the threshold that separates the living room and the kitchen, with a staircase between the two rooms. As he turned for the stairs, a hue of green lit up the staircase as a dark green vision of the woman he used to call "mother" stood in front of him. "And why should I let you pass? Should you not be on some sort of hunting mission?" "My team is dealing with their own issue." He ran a hand through his hair. "Apparently some cult invoked the souls of dark Witches, and are now running around and causing chaos. Let me through, because at one point this was my house, too." As he spoke, the light slowly faded away. He nodded to himself, then walked up to his old bedroom. He fumbled around the bookshelf, and pulled out what seemed to be a few photo albums, and some leather bound books.