One rainy day, six teenagers (along with some recording equipment) were sent out into the wilds of the Pacific Northwest. Their mission: to combat the paranormal while still making a multi-million dollar grossing feature film. They have yet to return. . . .

Day One 11:24 a.m.
5th Avenue and Pine St., Seattle, WA
 

"Hey Raven, get me in this shot, okay?" Elisa Marquez fluffed her stylish honey-colored hair around her shoulders as she fluttered her lashes.

"Why don't you try lugging this thing around for awhile?" demanded the tall, willowy girl dressed as a low-key goth princess. She hefted the heavy movie camera higher on her shoulder.

"Because I'm the star, honey."

Raven gave a shout of frustration. "M, I can't work with her!"

"Dude, M, I think we're lost."

"You know, Grant," Raven drawled, "you are as stupid as you are gorgeous."

Grant laughed in that annoying surfer-boy way. "Thanks."

"Enough!" M turned to the assembled group. "We have a mission to accomplish here. Elisa, you will cooperate. Raven, save your griping. And Grant. . . ." M sighed. "Nevermind."

"So where are we off to, Agent M?" Paul asked, picking up the rest of the equipment.

"Agent M? Like Mariah Carey?" Grant asked, wide-eyed. Raven smacked him with her free hand.

"Nordstrom?" Elisa asked hopefully.

"No."

"The Bon?" She gestured towards the Bon Marche in the background.

"No!" Raven, M, and Paul shouted in chorus.

M opened her laptop. "Our instructions are to proceed to the waterfront and take the ferry to Bainbridge Island. A car will be waiting at the other side."

"But what are we supposed to do?" Elisa whined.

M looked at the laptop again. "It doesn't say."

At that, Paul raised an eyebrow. "All right. Let's walk down to fourth and take the bus. It'll save us a few blocks of walking."
 

20 minutes later . . .
 

"Thirty three . . . twenty four . . . fifteen . . . eight . . . I haven't seen any thirty-seven. I don't think the bus is coming."

"Thank you, oh wise Grant."

"Can it, Raven." Paul looked sheepish. "Okay, so maybe we'll walk."
 

And soooooo, Raven subsequently shot several minutes of crowded sidewalks, strange and frightening tourists, even more frightening natives, and Elisa's whining.
 

"Forty-three, forty four—"

"What are you doing, Grant?"

"Counting the coffee shops. Oh look, a Starbucks! Forty-five."

"The ferry terminal."

"Thank god," Raven muttered.

"I hate to burst your bubble, guys, but this is making for a pretty boring movie." Elisa yawned.

"All right." M assumed her director stance. "Cut and cross fade."
 

1:12 p.m.

“Bainbridge Island.  Raven, get a nice pan shot of the scenery.”

 “Panning, M.”

 “Now we’re exiting the ferry.”

 “Thanks for the narration, Grant,” Raven snapped.  The next moment she found herself falling.  She couldn’t stop her descent, and the twenty-pound camera prevented her from regaining her balance.  If the camera hit bottom, all the footage to date, the equipment, and the mission would be at a loss . . . . . . .