Monsters and mages in Colorado
Posted: Mon Jul 07, 2008 6:40 pm
My name is Jack, I am a Police Detective and freelance paranormal investigator in Colorado. I work with three others and we are called the Black 4.
My initiation into the supernatural came when I came across drug dealers in Southern Colorado. This wouldn't normally fall under the auspices of the supernatural unless the man behind the organization is an arcanist who was simply using the drugs to build his empire.
Being open minded, when some of the arrestees (the street level dealers picked up due to some undercover work) displayed the same tatoos, I checked them out against our gang symbol databases; nothing pinged off the radar so I took it a step further and simply posted it on a tatoo site. Another note was that all the arrestees were illegal aliens out of Mexico but were not linked for the most part in any other way.
I got only one hit saying it looked like an "arcane rune." That was enough to start hitting up all the local magic shops. In Manitou Springs I finally got someone who recognized it and said it was related to an ownership/brotherhood glyph.
To cut to the chase I managed to track the originating artist down; he was new to the area and an old employee of the source of the drugs being run through his gangs.
It turns out that the tatoo has to be on a certain part of the body, the lower left forearm. This fact along with the belief that this organization was actively recruiting illegal aliens was evidence enough for me to start surveilling the tatoo parlor and waiting for an obvious hispanic to leave with a bandage or tatoo in the right area.
I didn't go to my boss with this because the case was closed with several arrests as far as they were concerned so I called a friend my military days and now stationed at Ft. Carson, a guy named Chris and one my fellow Black 4.
After a few days our perseverance paid off and we were able to follow a lead out east of Colorado Springs to the City of Peyton. It was a big house with a bigger barn, sitting on 20 acres with a lot of money invested in the vehicles parked in front. At this point beside a "rune" tatoo I/we saw nothing to indicate the supernatural.
Wanting to get more of a feel for the house Chris and I managed to talk one of Chris's friends (and martial arts instructor) into helping us out, the third member of what would become the Black 4, Stan.
Stan is an honest to goodness British ninja whose day job is a School Counselor. He runs a dojo at night teaching one of the X-kans. Chris convinced him that this was strictly a scouting type mission and that at any point he could turn back, go to the car and wait for us. The only reason he sold him was because he said it was the closest thing he would get to a "real" ninja mission in his life time.
A few nights later we were all dressed in black, complete with masks and gloves (we waited until there was no moon). I brought my own gun (a S&W 9mm) in a tac holster (drop leg) and the other related equipment while Chris brought 1911 in a military set up with the biggest fighting knife I have ever seen and some NVG(s). Stan brought a tanto and some throwing stars even though he as a permit for a concealed weapon and has been through firearms training with Chris.
Taking our time walking through the field toward the house our attention was drawn instead to the barn where a lot of light and sound was coming from. Peering in we saw what appeared to be a cult meeting that included a head guy in a robe and kriss dagger surrounded by a bunch (5) of hispanic males stripped to the waist with glowing tatoos. The freakiest part for me was the guy strapped down to an alter that already had blood on it; I couldn't swear by at the time but I thought he looked like one of the guys who got arrested for dealing.
All three of us were mesmerized as the hooded figure plunged the knife into the victim. The victim's eyes visibly glowed for a moment as blood flowed from his wound and as his glow died out the glow of the men's tatoos increased.
I was the cop there and I couldn't keep up with Chris. The next thing I know Chris is kicking open the locked side door to the barn and screaming "Stop, nobody move!" I was faster than Stan who stood well back behind me and Chris as we had our guns out and covering the crowd.
The hooded figure, also hispanic, screamed something in spanish and all five men turned on us with murder in their eyes. "Alto!", "Voltese!" and "Manos Arrivas!" didn't do anything and when one of them picked up a shovel hanging on the wall Chris put a .45 round through his melon, dropping him right there; this got me started and the nearest one to me took two to the body and one to the head putting him down. Chris put down one more and so did I leaving one last one to move in as if this didn't phase him.
Before we could do anything more the hooded figure made a hand gesture and this was followed by a flash and a sound like something burning shooting past the two of us. I thought he had had a gun and before I could finish processing that thought I heard Stan fall down behind us. Whatever it was it hit him.
Chris stepped in front of me, I went back to check on Stan and the final "bandit" made his last effort to advance on us; two rounds from Chris's .45 permanently ended any hope of his continuing that line of thought.
More rounds from Chris's gun told me he was engaging the hooded guy and a flash of light and a hold in the wall next to me told me the hooded guy wasn't done yet either but I could see that Stan was still breathing.
The blast from the hooded man (which we now believe was real magic) had struck Stan in the chest, right where his inner pocket containing his numerous throwing stars were held. A hole the size of a fist with an exposed shuriken was the extent of the damage; along with some brit cussing to go with it.
Stan was able to roll up behind the corner of the barn while Chris dropped back to reload; a practiced shooter (and Iraq veteran) he was able to get back into the fight before I could get my second shot off as I had turned on my knee and brought my gun back up out of my holster.
I could of sworn we were hitting him but it only seemed to be making him duck back toward a door while he cursed us out in spanish. He finally managed to get a door open at the back of the barn that looked like a sealed off stall. What came out looked like a cross between a dog and a dinosaur (a bald dog with the head {and teeth} of a raptor); this took up all of our attention, it was really ugly.
This thing charged right at us at the direction of the hooded man and this time I didn't need to wait for Chris, I opened up on it and had this time got visible results from my impacts, it didn't slow it down any, but I could see where I was hitting it. Chris did the same, burning through another 8 round mag while I was moving on to my second 15 rounder. During this the hooded man managed to duck out the back somewhere so at least we didn't have him to worry about.
Moving apart kept the thing off of us because it didn't know who to eat. This didn't last long though as it jumped for Chris and hit him smack in the chest and tried to fit his entire head in its mouth. Before I move in to knock it off though the thing suddenly jerked and rolled over; Chris's foot long knife was sunk up to the hilt in its chest. I don't know if it was the knife alone or the 20 plus rounds and the blade that finished it off I more concerned about the hooded guy letting another one of those beasts out on us.
Moving quickly I made a search of the barn. There were four sealed stalls that had no locks; two were empty (one was the beasts holding area), another had two more dealers tied up and ready to be sacrificed and the fourth had about two hundred pounds of cocaine stacked up in pound sized bricks.
With no hooded guy inside I went outside to see if Chris found him. It wasn't Chris who did, it was Stan. Outside in the light cast out from the inner barn lights I saw Stan and Chris standing over the hooded man, one of Stan's throwing stars was buried in the side of his neck.
The adrenaline rush over we decided to get the heck out; there was a telephone with a dial tone inside the barn so we simply dialed 911, left the phone off of the hook and bailed. The weird thing was the dog beast's carcass was gone and lying there was Chris's knife (so at least he got that back).
A quick search was made to police up any brass we could see and we got most of it but some was left behind (thank goodness for Chris's pre-planning of wiping down all the rounds and loading the mags while wearing gloves). We were driving south out of the area when we saw a Deputy Sheriff's car race past us upping our adrenaline levels temporarily.
We made it home that night and I called the wife to say I was staying late for poker with Chris and Stan. All we did was drink more than a few Coronas and not do a lot of talking.
The only thing that showed up on the news was "A mysterious 911 call leads to drug bust." After a few weeks we got together and talked it over some more and agreed it was magic in use and we survived it. We later described the dog thing to the gal in Manitou Springs and she about fell over saying we were describing a demon dog to the last detail. She wanted to know more but we kept it close to the vest. We would later use her for more information and assistance but that is for another story. We were not the Black 4 yet either but this is what got the ball rolling.
My initiation into the supernatural came when I came across drug dealers in Southern Colorado. This wouldn't normally fall under the auspices of the supernatural unless the man behind the organization is an arcanist who was simply using the drugs to build his empire.
Being open minded, when some of the arrestees (the street level dealers picked up due to some undercover work) displayed the same tatoos, I checked them out against our gang symbol databases; nothing pinged off the radar so I took it a step further and simply posted it on a tatoo site. Another note was that all the arrestees were illegal aliens out of Mexico but were not linked for the most part in any other way.
I got only one hit saying it looked like an "arcane rune." That was enough to start hitting up all the local magic shops. In Manitou Springs I finally got someone who recognized it and said it was related to an ownership/brotherhood glyph.
To cut to the chase I managed to track the originating artist down; he was new to the area and an old employee of the source of the drugs being run through his gangs.
It turns out that the tatoo has to be on a certain part of the body, the lower left forearm. This fact along with the belief that this organization was actively recruiting illegal aliens was evidence enough for me to start surveilling the tatoo parlor and waiting for an obvious hispanic to leave with a bandage or tatoo in the right area.
I didn't go to my boss with this because the case was closed with several arrests as far as they were concerned so I called a friend my military days and now stationed at Ft. Carson, a guy named Chris and one my fellow Black 4.
After a few days our perseverance paid off and we were able to follow a lead out east of Colorado Springs to the City of Peyton. It was a big house with a bigger barn, sitting on 20 acres with a lot of money invested in the vehicles parked in front. At this point beside a "rune" tatoo I/we saw nothing to indicate the supernatural.
Wanting to get more of a feel for the house Chris and I managed to talk one of Chris's friends (and martial arts instructor) into helping us out, the third member of what would become the Black 4, Stan.
Stan is an honest to goodness British ninja whose day job is a School Counselor. He runs a dojo at night teaching one of the X-kans. Chris convinced him that this was strictly a scouting type mission and that at any point he could turn back, go to the car and wait for us. The only reason he sold him was because he said it was the closest thing he would get to a "real" ninja mission in his life time.
A few nights later we were all dressed in black, complete with masks and gloves (we waited until there was no moon). I brought my own gun (a S&W 9mm) in a tac holster (drop leg) and the other related equipment while Chris brought 1911 in a military set up with the biggest fighting knife I have ever seen and some NVG(s). Stan brought a tanto and some throwing stars even though he as a permit for a concealed weapon and has been through firearms training with Chris.
Taking our time walking through the field toward the house our attention was drawn instead to the barn where a lot of light and sound was coming from. Peering in we saw what appeared to be a cult meeting that included a head guy in a robe and kriss dagger surrounded by a bunch (5) of hispanic males stripped to the waist with glowing tatoos. The freakiest part for me was the guy strapped down to an alter that already had blood on it; I couldn't swear by at the time but I thought he looked like one of the guys who got arrested for dealing.
All three of us were mesmerized as the hooded figure plunged the knife into the victim. The victim's eyes visibly glowed for a moment as blood flowed from his wound and as his glow died out the glow of the men's tatoos increased.
I was the cop there and I couldn't keep up with Chris. The next thing I know Chris is kicking open the locked side door to the barn and screaming "Stop, nobody move!" I was faster than Stan who stood well back behind me and Chris as we had our guns out and covering the crowd.
The hooded figure, also hispanic, screamed something in spanish and all five men turned on us with murder in their eyes. "Alto!", "Voltese!" and "Manos Arrivas!" didn't do anything and when one of them picked up a shovel hanging on the wall Chris put a .45 round through his melon, dropping him right there; this got me started and the nearest one to me took two to the body and one to the head putting him down. Chris put down one more and so did I leaving one last one to move in as if this didn't phase him.
Before we could do anything more the hooded figure made a hand gesture and this was followed by a flash and a sound like something burning shooting past the two of us. I thought he had had a gun and before I could finish processing that thought I heard Stan fall down behind us. Whatever it was it hit him.
Chris stepped in front of me, I went back to check on Stan and the final "bandit" made his last effort to advance on us; two rounds from Chris's .45 permanently ended any hope of his continuing that line of thought.
More rounds from Chris's gun told me he was engaging the hooded guy and a flash of light and a hold in the wall next to me told me the hooded guy wasn't done yet either but I could see that Stan was still breathing.
The blast from the hooded man (which we now believe was real magic) had struck Stan in the chest, right where his inner pocket containing his numerous throwing stars were held. A hole the size of a fist with an exposed shuriken was the extent of the damage; along with some brit cussing to go with it.
Stan was able to roll up behind the corner of the barn while Chris dropped back to reload; a practiced shooter (and Iraq veteran) he was able to get back into the fight before I could get my second shot off as I had turned on my knee and brought my gun back up out of my holster.
I could of sworn we were hitting him but it only seemed to be making him duck back toward a door while he cursed us out in spanish. He finally managed to get a door open at the back of the barn that looked like a sealed off stall. What came out looked like a cross between a dog and a dinosaur (a bald dog with the head {and teeth} of a raptor); this took up all of our attention, it was really ugly.
This thing charged right at us at the direction of the hooded man and this time I didn't need to wait for Chris, I opened up on it and had this time got visible results from my impacts, it didn't slow it down any, but I could see where I was hitting it. Chris did the same, burning through another 8 round mag while I was moving on to my second 15 rounder. During this the hooded man managed to duck out the back somewhere so at least we didn't have him to worry about.
Moving apart kept the thing off of us because it didn't know who to eat. This didn't last long though as it jumped for Chris and hit him smack in the chest and tried to fit his entire head in its mouth. Before I move in to knock it off though the thing suddenly jerked and rolled over; Chris's foot long knife was sunk up to the hilt in its chest. I don't know if it was the knife alone or the 20 plus rounds and the blade that finished it off I more concerned about the hooded guy letting another one of those beasts out on us.
Moving quickly I made a search of the barn. There were four sealed stalls that had no locks; two were empty (one was the beasts holding area), another had two more dealers tied up and ready to be sacrificed and the fourth had about two hundred pounds of cocaine stacked up in pound sized bricks.
With no hooded guy inside I went outside to see if Chris found him. It wasn't Chris who did, it was Stan. Outside in the light cast out from the inner barn lights I saw Stan and Chris standing over the hooded man, one of Stan's throwing stars was buried in the side of his neck.
The adrenaline rush over we decided to get the heck out; there was a telephone with a dial tone inside the barn so we simply dialed 911, left the phone off of the hook and bailed. The weird thing was the dog beast's carcass was gone and lying there was Chris's knife (so at least he got that back).
A quick search was made to police up any brass we could see and we got most of it but some was left behind (thank goodness for Chris's pre-planning of wiping down all the rounds and loading the mags while wearing gloves). We were driving south out of the area when we saw a Deputy Sheriff's car race past us upping our adrenaline levels temporarily.
We made it home that night and I called the wife to say I was staying late for poker with Chris and Stan. All we did was drink more than a few Coronas and not do a lot of talking.
The only thing that showed up on the news was "A mysterious 911 call leads to drug bust." After a few weeks we got together and talked it over some more and agreed it was magic in use and we survived it. We later described the dog thing to the gal in Manitou Springs and she about fell over saying we were describing a demon dog to the last detail. She wanted to know more but we kept it close to the vest. We would later use her for more information and assistance but that is for another story. We were not the Black 4 yet either but this is what got the ball rolling.