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For jerusalem_s.

It's a Saturday morning and being a teenage boy, Pyro's doing what comes naturally to his kind -- that is to say, being studious and walking about the second floor of the school, backpack on shoulder and what looks like a sheaf of schematics in hand. He seems to be slightly confused as to where he's going, though -- and in fact walks past a certain door before stopping, turning, and heading back to his destination, which happens to be exactly one floor up from the Journalism classroom.

"So," Pyro says aloud, and knocks on the door before edging to one side just in case. He went to school with Iceman, Gambit, and Boom Boom for years, after all -- and Pyro's always been one to learn fast.

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Watching the screen, Krycek snorted softly. "I agree with Phoebe. But what would we be doing there exactly?"

"That's the rumor," Spider agreed with Pyro. "I don't believe in ghosts... but then again, I've seen a lot of things this week that should be clumped together under the heading 'Fucking Weird and Possibly Totally Impossible'."

Lighting up a cigarette for himself and two for the cat, Spider leaned back and looked at the image behind him upside down. "No one lives there, Assistant. That's probably why people go around saying it's haunted." He said the last in a spooky voice, wiggling his fingers at her. "I thought that this would be a pleasant way to begin your association with me. Debunking is always fun."

For some reason, Pyro seemed to relax as Spider's and the cat's cigarettes were lit; he sat back in his chair, tilting his head to one side.

"So are we gonna camp out there for a day and see if we all die a horrible death?"

"Sounds like fun." Grabbing Pyro's plates, he took them into the kitchen, returning momentarily. "Though I think I'll skip the dying part. Debunking could be interesting, but given this school? I'm starting to wonder what doesn't exist."

"God," Spider told him, flicking ashes at the cat. "Justice. A society in which people are actually nice to each other because they want to be as opposed to because they're forced to."

He spun his chair, looking upside down at them now, instead of the menacing picture above him. "People who tell the truth without pretension and true love."

"Not to be an idealist," Pyro said, quirking an eyebrow, "'cause I sure as hell don't believe in that stuff, but if you don't, then what's the point of being a journalist?"

He flicked his fingers at one of the cat's still-smouldering cigarettes, summoning a small spark to his fingertips absent-mindedly. "So, uh, y'want us to debunk idealism and God and rainbows too, or the ghosts enough for you?"

"I should send you to discuss the reality of refracted light with that Sidle woman, but I'm feeling merciful." Spider leveled a finger at him, still upside down. "What I do or do not believe has very little bearing on your employment or my sometimes erratic actions. I believe in truth, beauty and severe beatings."

"'The truth is out there.'" Krycek smirked. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. So what equipment do we have for this? Telemetry readers? Cameras?" He sat down, eyeing the cat warily, then decided to ignore it for the moment in favor of Pyro's fire-puppetry.

"There's a full kit of various recording devices for the Assistant," Spider told them, nodding at Phoebe. "Something for every occasion, really. Do not ever let the principal see inside that bag. It's all completely harmless, but I really don't feel like taking any chances."

"What about Krycek and me, though?" The spark flickered around his fingers in a lazy figure-8 pattern as Pyro spoke. "I mean, I don't know what your --" Quick nod in Krycek's direction, "-- particular skillset is, but me, I can operate a flamethrower faster than a camera, y'know?"

... not that he had a flamethrower.

Yet.

Krycek shrugged, reflecting that he might be at a disadvantage, given the "skillsets" of his co-workers. Or maybe he'd have an advantage, not being reliant on any sort of powers, it would depend on the situation.

"Whatever I'm holding at the time, I guess. But a flamethrower probably wouldn't be much use against a ghost."

"Last I heard, the flamethrower was being used against a tentacle monster in one of the bathrooms. If you can track it down, you can have it, as far as I'm concerned." Spider turned his chair again and looked at them the right way up this time, reaching for an ashtray.

"This is journalism, not warfare... although there are times when the two are relatively closely entwined. I'm supposed to be responsible for you lot." He winced. "If you turn up dead, I'm going to be in a world of hurt."

"Cool." Pyro kept the flame dancing around his fingers, focusing on that more than on what Spider was saying. "So basically, all we gotta do is not end up dead, 'cause you'll hurt us if we die and land you in trouble."

Krycek frowned. "Not ending up dead is pretty high on my priority list." Leaning back in his chair, he tapped his right wrist, almost reassuring himself that it still worked.

"What do we know about this house, anyway? Any particular stories?"

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