Occultist

The doors to the chamber locked, sealing the team of student volunteers away from the world outside. The harsh, fluorescent lights running along the roof buzzed with an electrical teeming, bathing the metal walls and grated floor in a flood of white. In suspended seating hanging along the circular rim of the room, they were secured by an apparatus comprising various harnesses; for their safety.

A young bespectacled sophomore flinched at first! However, he quickly recalled the goggles they'd been provided at the test's start. Without a moment's hesitation, he began to fumble with them, struggling to fit them around his already quite disruptive eyewear. He didn't mind the hassle, no small inconvenience was going to prevent him from keeping his promise! By the time he could see again, looking across the way, she was already waiting to lock eyes. In the glaring brightness, her colorful hair and nervous smile were somehow even more apparent than usual. Still, they were going to be strong...together. The both of them had come too far to back out now, all of the team had. Preliminary trials had proven extremely successful! Human testing just seemed like a formality at this point. As the mechanical whir of multiple particle accelerators begins to drown out his thoughts, Damien slowly mouths his words so there's no doubt to his intentions.
For a brief moment her nerves dissipate — they're okay.

Emergency responders were on the scene within minutes of the accidents occurrence, although the blasted heath that remained of the university's state-of-the-art research facility housed precious little in the ways of salvageable persons. Some of them cried. Some were deathly silent. However there was only one reaction when they say what had become of the Teleportation Chamber's test subjects. Violent and virile retching spread among the approaching team of paramedics like a wildfire. What a vile, gory, fused heap laid before them — only one managed to compose himself long enough to hazard counting the dead. He had with him a certain registry, a record of who'd been present although their identities would have to be confirmed through dental records. Assuming even that would suffice, that is. The official report would show: 21 students 'present', with absolutely no trace left of one Professor Alfred J. Heartfield who'd been overseeing the disastrous experiment. Coincidentally the only other missing person happened to be his grandson-in-law, Damien. Both of them were presumed dead; the official cause of death was listed "a painful but mercifully quick disintegration."

...

He awakes, but is not aware. He hazards a thought, but has no mind to process it. He is, but isn't. This nonsense state, this un-being, it evades him. The imprint he'd left behind needed filling, lest reality collapse into the 'nothing' where he resided. However he can see so much from where he isn't, why go back? Spaces and shapes 'beyond his comprehension', but comprehension is squishier here so it's easy to stuff in where it's needed. In that yoctosecond he ponders pulling back the curtain, to see what directs the grand fiction of existence and its opposite. However something stays the hand, a matter more important than sating voracious curiosity. A memory. A promise.
A shame; he was so close.

Damien awakes, he is aware...and is as naked as he was on the day he was born. As he sits up, he recognizes his surroundings as the pub he'd freqeunt with his coevals. Eyes wide and unerring in their disbelief observe him, quavering lips devoid of speech. So he takes initiative and speaks for himself; "Fucking nippy, isn't it?" He yanks the coat from the nearest bystander, the stranger too stunned by the man suddenly flashing into existence to protest. Without another word Damien wraps the article of clothing around his shoulders, then starts out the door.

Before the resurgence of psychic and preternatural phenomena in the world, the 'English Society for Paranormal Research' was little more than a fanatical gathering of a handful of elite crackpots. However, following multiple de-classifications from top brass officials the public's concern towards mystical and aberrant threats grew exponentially. Shortly after, the massive troves of occult knowledge at the organization's disposal became invaluable in ensuring humanity's safety and survival. Thus they became regular consultants for agencies the world over, as incidents of bizarre and oftentimes violent encounters with the paranormal became more common. The E.S.P.R was deploying dozens of agents on the daily, equipping them to combat, catalogue and in many cases dispatch beings otherwise too strange or abstract for mankind's more mundane means. As such, E.S.P.R received an influx of government funding along with all the red tape that comes with it. However when dealing with forces so surreal and chaotic they threaten the very nature of existence, it's no surprise one must resort to...bending the rules on occasion.

I lied here's a bust of the boy

'Azimanth's Tome of Lore':
The realm of Hell contains endless coffers of written knowledge collected by the demonic archivist Azimanth. This demon prince is as knowledgeable as he is paranoid; thus he commissioned the Scribes of Fate in secret, to craft him a tome that contains any and all information on his enemies, past present and future. Thus they wrote his 'tome of lore', a book that inexplicably alters its contents to contain details pertaining to its possessor's most immediate adversary. During a faction war he'd been nose-deep in the tome, when a wily thief snuck into his chambers. Despite the thief's dubious intent he meant Azimanth no real harm, thus he was undetected by the demon lord. After reading of his enemy's gleeful tendency to burn the treasures of those he conquered, Azimanth vacated the inner sanctum to secure his hoard! With the warding tome left unattended, it was simple work for the thief to swipe it for himself. Damien would later win it from them in a (very rigged) game of cards.

'Poddy The Mimic Badge':
Mimics have always been aberrant kind's most creative predators, often disguising themselves as all manner of inanimate and mundane objects. Their voracity and guile is well known among any aware (or unaware) of the reality of their existence. However, only a real nutter would attempt to tame one! Imagine what one could do with such a 'pet'... meet 'Poddy'. Damien discovered this runtish mimic during a fateful investigation into claims of a 'biting pocketwatch', after which he weaned the little guy on his own blood. After much trial and error, the taming of Poddy was declared a smashing success! So far, Damien's managed to train his carnivorous crest to imitate all manner of badges belonging to all manner of government agencies. It goes without saying, he does his best to keep this from his superiors.

'The GRIMoire Vol. 1':
Damien earned his title from an encyclopedic knowledge of and fanatical obsession with the mystical arts, despite having less 'formal training' compared to his coworkers. The pinnacle of this arcane interest is one book of spells he'd uncovered from his family's manor. The very nature of its contents has driven many mad before him, so mad they've all perished by now if not in body then in mind. Nevertheless, with an iron will and immutable mental fortitude Damien has endured the combined assault of both demonic and eldritch influence, mastering The Grimoire and using its secrets against the very forces behind its creation. However despite resisting the horrid tome's more hideously adverse effects, he can still feel a dark calling from deep within the pages. Deeper down than what is written in ink and blood, something that emanates instead across worlds unseen. In short, it gives him the fucking creeps.