The Weird
An airport is a strange place at the best of times. Thousands of people shuffling their way through every day, exactly none of them truly happy to be there. For the Hecata of Denver, it was intended to be a source of power and blood. And so it is. Yet, And every once in a while it is also a source of consternation, due to a phenomenon some jaded neonate dubbed ''the weird.'' The name has stuck, and for good reason.
You can't quite set a clock by it, but every month or so something truly weird happens at Denver International Airport. There is no rhyme or reason to it, no logical explanation that can be found. And the Hecata have tried. Oh, they have truly tried. Somewhere, somebody keeps a log. Otherwise, they've pretty much stopped bothering.
One time, an unmarked box was found in the hold of plane. It wasn't on the manifest, and anyone who touched it died three days later. It took them a while to figure that one out, and keeping it out of the press was one hell of a hassle. Another time, a colony of crazy yellow ants - a decidedly tropical species of ant - decided to make a hive in an unheated storage cupboard. In the middle of winter. That one still gets told to newcomers. Then there was that incident with the werewolf in the oildrum. Nobody talks about that one.
The Necromancers who keep an eye out for trouble at DIA might not know what is going to happen, but by now they do know when it is happening. It's never pleasant. It's always dangerous, although how dangerous it is, and to who, seems to be highly variable. If they can leave it alone, they do. If there's a risk to the Masquerade, they deal with it as well as they can.
Occasionally, they send a bill to Denver's Camarilla court. It's never itemized, but the Prince always pays without any comment.
Type
Metaphysical, Supernatural