• Long Island Blues

Posted: **Tue Dec 27, 2011 7:07 pm**

The Charles J. Hoffman Slaughterhouse had been constructed in 1871. It had providing butchering and packing services to a growing Long Island population in the years after the Civil War, and in its lifetime probably saw tens of thousands of animals – and a few workers – go in and never come out alive.

There really should be more to the tale, but publicly speaking there isn’t a whole lot known about the place. However, a fire destroyed a good portion of the building in 1893, killing Mr. Charles Hoffman himself as well as 13 others in the process. After this, ownership changed hand several times for varying reasons – embezzlement, bankruptcy, and one double homicide by an owner following investigations of fraud.

The slaughter house was then abandoned for about 24 years through both World Wars. It was last under ownership of Randy Jones from 1946 under the name of the Abattoir and Edibles Processing Facility. According to some Long Island locals, Jones had been found hanged four years later from one of the meat hooks of his own factory. Police had ruled it a suicide.
It goes without saying that death is well acquainted with the place.

The slaughter house was along Long Island Sound on the north shore of the island, practically a skip of a rock away from Connecticut. To add to the creepiness, the area was heavily wooded, and the outline of the tall brick structure could be seen against a moon-lit backdrop. We parked off of a side road, away from the nearby gas station and the highway, and proceeded to unload what we had.

Hannah went about unpacking a nice looking compound bow, complete with an assortment of various arrows and a release trigger. She seemed insistent that I keep the guns, adamant that she wouldn’t need them.

I went about with looking over my firearms. Hannah could confirm that the revolver had enough stopping power to put down one of those dog things (the term Montauk Monster had come to mind after an article I read some time ago about something that washed ashore off of Montauk Point – it gave us both a laugh). With the shotgun, I went with 2.75” 00 Buck so I could keep an extra shot or so in the tube. That wasn’t counting what I had in my coat pocket, of course.

And people who know me know that I keep interesting things in my pockets.

I mostly went without too many spells. Using my pocket knife, I pricked my finger and inscribed my usual protective ward on my hand, investing a bit of energy to keep it working for an hour or so. I did the same for Hannah, who seemed less squeamish than I’d have expected.

“This usually freaks people out.” I noted as I carefully laid the protective ward on top of her hand.

“I used to kill and clean the chickens for dinner when I was growing up, this is nothing.” She noted.

Creepy.

We made the approach up the hill through the woods, Hannah leading. It was a bit difficult keeping up with her as she was most certainly the outdoorsy sort. Really, the woods that time of year should have scared me senseless, but I was doing surprisingly well. That said, feeling that we were being watched wasn’t helping me be at ease, and there was something else in the air – a certain staleness I had felt before.

After about 10 minutes, Hannah held up her hand motioning me to stop. I did so, leaning against a nearby oak tree, when I distinctly heard Hannah talking – to the tree?

“Dia dhuit.” I heard her speaking low, before motioning towards the Slaughter House, “Hm? Ah, Ta.”

I just stared at her dumbfounded a moment, before whispering, “Hannah, who are you talking to?”

“One moment.” She said, before glancing at me, “The faeries.”

“Hannah, that is a tree.” I noted, pointing towards the one she was speaking to.

“Yep! They’re kind of gloomy around here, as you can probably tell…”

“No, no I can’t. I just see a plain old creepy tree.”

“You’re looking right at one!” Hannah protested, pointing at the tree – and a fine cedar tree it was.

I of course just stared at her like she was insane.

“Just… wait a moment. They’re telling us something important.” She said, before resuming her conversation with the tree, “Am faca sibh…”

I sighed and leaned against the tree as Hannah went about her conversation. As ridiculous as it was, I figured she actually was talking to fae. And knowing what I knew of Hannah’s connection with them, perhaps they’d tell us something useful.

That said, there was something else getting to me, possibly related to that ‘being watched’ feeling. Quietly, I closed my eyes to concentrate a bit.

Way back when, when I was investigating that hotel with all of the blood rites in the basement, I could sense – no, feel a certain taint. It was like sour milk meets carrion, and it made senses tingle that most people probably don’t have, metaphysically touching places in your being that you wish nothing could. Since then, I’ve learned that that’s what death feels like – not just one, or even a few, but a lot of it, in one space.

That’s what I’d been feeling since we’d gotten there, and the closer we got, the more I felt it. It had felt different at the hotel – stale, desperate, but lingering, like an angry dog that had been abandoned decades ago, but was still alive.

This time, I felt like we were being watched by something much larger, and much more malevolent.

“Mel?”I opened an eye to glance at Hannah, who was apparently done speaking with the fey/tree.

“The tree spirit said that those Montauk Monsters were lingering about at certain points near the slaughter house. It also said that some death tainted humans had been seen going in and out.”

“That was awfully informative.” I noted.

Hannah nodded in agreement, adding “And in between musing about the inability of the human mind to fathom its own mortality – it’s a death associated spirit, appropriate after Samhain - it also noted the presence of a malevolent presence.”

“I know.”

“Well I imagine you would, Mel. You do dress kind of gloomy.”

“Erm, no Hannah.” I said, shaking my head with a weak chuckle, “I meant the presence. I… think it’s aware of us.”

“Darn. I thought we were being quiet.” She noted, glancing towards the slaughter house, “I think I see a chain link fence down the ways. Let’s see if we can’t get past it. Stay close.”

I followed Hannah with about 5 yards of space, watching her carefully as she moved through the woods, jumping over logs and dips like they were nothing. Now, my vision sans contacts is kind of bad. My night vision, however, is quite good, and save a stumble or two I was mostly able to keep up.

“So… if you don’t get along with your mother, and if your father is never around, what do you do for Christmas?” Hannah asked after scaling a small hill, waiting for me to climb up.

“It’s just… another day for me.” I noted. That is universal code for “I sit at home all day and drink by myself” probably.

“You could join my father and I for Christmas, you know.” She said quietly, squinting at something in the distance, holding up a hand before I could reply as she whispered, “Monsters at 2 o’clock.”

The slaughter house was built on a large rectangular, concrete foundation that was raised up about 4 feet from the surrounding woods. Low and behold, there were several of those dog things apparently on guard. One was standing atop a loading garage, peering out. Another one was doing some rounds outside the perimeter. There were gaps along the chain link fence, but the platform the whole thing was built on made scaling into it an arduous process.

I glanced at Hannah, who pointed at the one atop the loading bay, drawing her hand, palm down, in front of and across her throat. I nodded as I kneeled down; both of us waiting for the MM wandering the perimeter strayed around the corner. Hooking the string of her bow with the trigger mechanism and notching a nice, sharp broadhead arrow, I watched Hannah stand and slowly draw her weapon, making it almost a meditative process as she aimed her shot carefully.

I heard a click as she pressed the mechanism, the string making a swift twang as the arrow went flying. A faint breeze followed after, as if the air itself were trying to assist the shot. Half a second later, the dog-thing’s head flung back as it crumpled into a pile.

For some reason, that sent a shiver up my spine. I was about to pause and figure out why, but then I heard Hannah whisper “Come on”and begin moving down the hill. I shook my head, following along.

There was a small clearing between the tree line and the fence perimeter, giving us clear view of the second beaked-dog shambling back the other way. About five yards apart, we both took separate positions in the bushes as it walked along, pausing to sniff the air a moment. Seeming to not notice us, I exhaled softly as it began to shamble off.

However, it paused halfway between Hannah and I, its ears twitching at some noise in the forest. Snorting quietly, it began to make its way towards Hannah.

Now, I’m sure Hannah could find a clever way to either evade it or shoot it in the face at point blank range. Really, she was far more qualified at these things than I was. However, I never gave her – or it- half a chance.

Drawing the long kukri knife I tend to keep on hand, I took several quiet steps into the open, kneeling down slightly as I did. I think I saw the surprised look on Hannah’s face as I grabbed the thing right below the beak from behind, before bringing the knife down right down on the side of the thing’s neck, severing the spine and the major blood vessels. There was a quiet, but disgusting noise as blood far thicker than human oozed out of the wound, the body twitching as I eased the thing to the ground, watching the threads that bound its Frankenstein form together slowly begin to rot.

I’m not going to lie. It felt good – better, really. It felt amazing, and I didn’t know why.

Hannah just stared at me as she quietly moved towards me, watching me quietly wipe my blade clean on what was left of the thing’s shirt, and asked,

“Mel, why didn’t you tell me you could do that?”

“Well you didn’t…” I paused, looking down at the dead, quickly melting monster with a surprised look before nearly falling backwards, staring.

“…I did that?” I asked, not believing it. Frankly, that was way more physically badass than I thought I could be up to that point.

I deemed it 'Pulling a Nemmy'.

“Yes, you did. Not quite professional work, but really good. I didn’t even hear you.” Hannah said, glancing around to see if there were more of them.

I pinched the bridge of my nose as I regained my composure. Somewhere, I felt that the presence was feeling… entertained?

“Never mind. Let’s go.” I said, picking myself up as I motioned towards the fence.

The four foot foundation shortened to about 1ft on the other side. After Hannah quietly eliminated another roof bound sentry, she led us to a stack of old crates propped next to a locked gate. The lock, of course, was on the other side. Fantastic.

Offering Hannah a pair of hands as a lift, I helped her climb atop the boxes, watching her hop over and land with a light thud. Picking up the lock, I felt there was a tingle of something in the air before she waved her hand. Something inside of the lock made a muted crack before she pried it open.
I really need to figure out how she did that, I thought as she undid the chain holding the door closed, opening it slightly to let me in.

“Did that entrance look recently used to you?” Hannah asked as we made our way towards one of the entrances. I thought about it quietly; the lock was more or less new, as were the chains.

“Come to think of it, yes.” I noted, before looking down. There was some blood – reasonably fresh – that was leading along the concrete towards one of the doors. I pointed and noted quietly, “And so has that door.”

“Odd… I think that used to be the loading dock for cattle.” She said with a moment of observation, glancing around and pointing towards a window with some boxes stacked in front of it, about 30ft away, “I might suggest that entrance instead. Less chance of ambush.”

“I agree.” I said, quietly thinking that going down a cattle chute was a bad choice.

Discreetly, we both made our way up the crates, Hannah pulling me up after I gave her a boost. Apparently someone decided that the stale air of the slaughter house was a bit much, as they had risked opening the window partially, the boxes blocking any pending view from the outside.

“I’ll go in first, and signal when there’s an all clear.” Hannah noted, slipping beneath the open window before hopping inside into the darkness.

At which point, the window promptly shut.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Posted: **Tue Dec 27, 2011 9:35 pm**

My first response was to try and pry the window open. No luck with that one, of course; somehow the window had locked itself, to boot. Considering it had chain link latched to the outside of it, breaking it to get in was not an option either.

I finished cursing just in time to hear a scratching right beneath me. Looking down, one of those Monsters had crawled out of hiding, and was lunging right at me, its hind legs powerful enough to make a 12ft leap like it was nothing.

I frantically reached for my knife – or my revolver, or something – to try and intercept it before it could pounce. Clearly it had set an ambush, and I wasn’t likely to get a weapon in hand in time to do anything about it. Truth be told, I didn’t even have time to panic; I just sort of raised my hand at it and tried to conjure something.

Suddenly, with claws only two feet away from my neck, it suddenly flew to the side with a sickening thud.

I stared in shock as the dog-bird-thing, its chest cavity mostly missing, tumbled over the edge of the crates and striking the ground with a disgusting plop, ichor oozing everywhere. I hardly even noticed the blood and ichor along my coat and face – which smelled awful, I would later note.
My first thought: Was that me?

Then I heard some angry screeches.

I glanced down. Several MMs – several too many, I’d note – were making their way up the fences and along the perimeter. Quickly, I un-shouldered my shotgun, giving the action a pump and quickly went about figuring out a plan.

I glanced around, noting that the window ledge led up to some boarded windows, a bit of scaffolding, and a few other handholds. Against the moon, I could see what appeared to be a skylight…

I heard another screech as another Montauk Monster leaped at me. This one had both claws and a giant squid tentacle arm, looking to try and strangle me.

At least, I hope it was going to try and strangle me.

Not having any of that, and not wishing to test the luck of my gun toting guardian angel, I pointed the shotgun at its beaked face and fired. Its head came clean off, the decapitated mass flopping against the wooden crate with a thud before falling like a limp sock to join its cousin below.

Not wasting any time, I shouldered my shotgun and began to scramble up the window ledges. Strangely, climbing the outside of a century old building without so much as ropes or a grappling hook was one of the least insane things to me. I figured, either I did it, or I fell, broke a leg, and then was brutally murdered by Franken-bird-dogs.

Whatever it was that gave me the guts to go commando and slit that sentries’ throat earlier better still be willing to give me some courage, I thought.

As I swung over to grab an adjacent ledge, I heard a crack as a Montauk Monster narrowly missed me, running its head into the bricks. As it scrambled to keep its grip on the ledge, I heard a weak sound of gunshot from some distance away. What wasn’t far away was the impact; The monster was briefly flung against the bricks with another splatter, a rifle bullet having went straight through its torso and into the wall.

I ignored the monster taking three story fall as I grabbed onto some chain link fence over one of the windows, quickly hoisting myself up to the next level via a window mounted air conditioning unit. Hoisting myself up, I observed that my situation mandated going sideways along the windows and handholds about 30 feet, and up another 2 stories, before I could get onto the slightly lower roof of what I presumed to be the packing facility. Once there, I had to make a mostly straight 40 foot run, shatter the skylight, and then somehow get down without injuring myself.

Easy, I told myself.

As I began to climb again, I could hear that familiar report of gun shots, clearly from a high caliber rifle, and the subsequent impacts against the monsters below me. Most of the shots seemed to be coming from the wooded hill slightly to the southwest, overlooking the slaughter house As well, each shot seemed to tear right through them like they were bloody stitched-together paper, leaving them bloody messes along the pavement and walls. Briefly, I pondered what those rounds could do against humans if my benefactor were to miss…

As I hung off of one of the larger storm windows, shimmying to my right, I quickly decided not to think about it. If only pushing away the sensation of pain my limbs were feeling could be so easy.

I heard a screech from above, looking up to see another monster making a three story drop to try and catch me. With a curse, I leaped straight to the right, narrowly managing to keep hold of a flag pole as the monster missed where I had been hanging only a moment ago, quickly en route to go splat on the ground.

That didn’t stop his friend, of course, who caught itself on the ledge in front of me, blocking my way to the roof. That likely put me in the line of fire from my guardian angel, and in range of that thing’s claws.

So I did the wise thing, grabbing the rope used to hoist any flags that had used to be there, and let myself fall.

The leaping MM caught the pole instead of me, the old rusty metal creaking in protest as it strangled to not fall. As I looked up, and as the monster looked down, I watched its head just… disappear with a splatter, the rest of it jolting to the side before falling right past me.

“Thanks.” I muttered between grunts.

Not wanting to risk the now half bent flag pole, I stayed hanging from that rope, wrapping my hands through some loops as I reassessed my situation. The roof top I needed was about four feet to my right with a 4 foot drop. If I missed, it’d be about 5 stories down.

Ignoring that burn in my arms, I grabbed the rope and gave myself a good 5ft of slack, at which point I began to run along the wall as far left as I could. As I began to fall back toward the right, I let my foothold go and just let myself swing, letting go on the upswing.

Somehow, my arms and torso managed to catch the southern edge of that rooftop, even as it knocked the wind out of me. Rolling my legs onto the edge so I was on my back, I took a moment to catch my breath before sitting up, un-shouldering my Remington again. After all of that, I was feeling winded, but and achy, but very good about myself. This was ignoring the fact that from the eastern portion of the building, I was likely out of view of my rifle-toting friend.

I quickly made my way towards the skylight, glancing around warily for more monsters. I still heard some gunshots, as well as an occasional screech, plop, or other noisy death noise. Whoever it was, at least they were productive - and accurate. I can appreciate accurate.

As a Montauk Monster came scrambling out from behind a chimney, I quickly managed to strike it in the head/beak with a pommel strike, knocking it down. I followed this with a quick blast to the face and neck. This “assertiveness” went even farther, as another MM came leaping from atop the ledge to the west, trying to pounce me.

Keyword: Try. Narrowing my eyes and dropping my firearm, I reached up with both hands, palms facing towards the deathly looking critter and focusing a bit of will into it.

Now, I know my telekinesis isn’t usually that potent. But somehow, I just… knew that things were different here. The surprised monster stopped in mid air, 2ft outside of ‘gutting Mel’ distance, swinging its talons in a panic. Clearly, I was enjoying myself for once. At the time, I wasn’t realizing how much.

With a growl, I swung my arms towards the sky light, the MM swinging through the air in tow. The thing made a spectacular racket as it shattered the half-century old glass, striking something beneath and in the darkness with a metallic clunk and a meaty squelch.

Picking up my gun, I wandered over with a smirk, flicking my pocket flashlight on as I peered into the darkness. I could see what was left of the poor MM, having made a several story fall through a glass window and having struck the edge of some old slicing machinery. Not seeing any reason to linger on the roof, I murmured a spell and leaped through the now broken window, making a slow, calm descent.

I had time as I made my descent to reload my shotgun, as well as murmur a spell to help me see. I also had time to try and calm the hell down. While I am a bit of an adrenaline junky, I’ve never had this much fun putting my neck on the line. And it was only now starting to terrify me just a bit.

Throwing a person with telekinesis I’ve generally never done before either. On the other hand, this area clearly was one of power. I’ve had a weird tingle in my spine ever since we arrived at the north shore and went down the highway. Perhaps this place was one of power…

Or perhaps it was the entity?

“Perhaps I shouldn’t stay here too long.” I murmured to myself as I landed, working the action on my shotgun as I looked for a door. I wasn’t hearing voices or anything yet, at least.

That’s when I, of course, heard a spooky, echoy voice.

“But we’re having such a wonderful time together.”

First Rose, then MMs, now a creepy disembodied voice. I was going to have it out with Dad when this was all over.

Posted: **Mon Jan 02, 2012 2:40 pm**

Almost as soon as I had gotten through the window, everything turned into darkness.

I’m not talking just stepped into a darkened room type darkness, because having been outside in the dark for the last three quarters of an hour or so, my night vision was fully established.

This was true, pure; see nothing no matter how much you want darkness.
It was so dark, even the glow of moonlight that should have been present from the window had disappeared. So when I heard it slam shut, I couldn’t find it again to open it. Even Mel’s rattling of the window just echoed around me.

I flicked on a flashlight, but the darkness swallowed the light so much that only when I held it an inch from my eyes could I make out its dim glow.

As Mel’s footsteps faded across the roof I yelled after her, but it didn’t help. Soon the only noise that was left was the faint huff and puff of the wind outside.

I was now alone.

In the dark.

But I wasn’t really alone.

I haven’t ever really been alone for a while.

Wie’s presence immediately filled my mind. Well not really Wie either, but echoes of her mind and thoughts that had ended up mingled in with mine after a certain figment of my imagination had been returned to from whence it came.

I don’t usually tap these things too much, in part because I feel like it’s an invasion of their privacy and in part because I sometimes feel myself slipping away if I do it too much, but this was an emergency and Wie is always happy to share.

I began moving with Wie’s controlled, exact movements, the tip of my bow a substitute for a cane. In a few moments I had a wall. Using the wall as a guide I started picking my way through, hunting for a doorway.

Progress was slow. Work benches, chairs, racks of tools . . . each an obstacle to be carefully worked around. Spiderwebs tugged at my face, arms and legs. I stopped to pull them away.

That’s when I realized that the faint sounds I’d been hearing weren’t the wind outside. Instead I had been hearing the sound of something of absolutely massive proportions breathing somewhere in this darkened space with me.

I could only assume it didn’t know I was here yet, but other than the fact that I hadn’t heard it do anything other than just breathe, I had no proof.
Not wanting to be in this room a fraction of a second longer than I had to, I began working along the new wall. Now, each time I bumped a bench and it screeched against the floor, each time a chair toppled over with a clatter, each time a metal tool rang against the cold stone floor I imagined whatever it was looking at me, coming for me.

Finally, after an agonizing eternity of passage through the darkness, I found a door, and pushed my way out into the next room.

Hannah

Posted: **Mon Jan 02, 2012 3:13 pm**

"So he returns!" The voice was disembodied, and downright creeeeeepy. There was an odd echo to his words, but I noted it wasn't so much resonating as just a weird quality to his words... which I'm pretty sure were just in my head.

"He?" I asked.

"You don't know him? Of course you have to; you're from him!!" The voice responded with a cackle. Unconsciously, I think I held my shotgun a little closer to myself.

"I mean the one who trapped me in here, of course! Sure, I was angry when it happened, but since then I've come to appreciate the opportunity he gave me!"

"What are you talking about?" I said aloud, squinting in the darkness. Whether it was to find him or a way out, I wasn't sure.

To demonstrate, the dead MM that fell through the ceiling weakly lifted itself up, hanging by its arms as if it were some sort of gross puppet. Tensely, I pointed my shotgun at it, but realized that it was dangling lifelessly, some invisible force hoisting it up as it was quickly decomposing. One of its limp arms reached up to wave at me, before the stitches along the bicep dissolved and the limb tumbled to the ground.

"Do you like my creations? They're a bit crude, I know. But I haven't had much to work with in so long..."

"You made these things?" I asked with a growl, keeping my gun lifted just incase. Thankfully it just flung the corpse aside like a rag doll, bones cracking as it went splat against the concrete wall.

"Sometimes yes, sometimes no. Sometimes they create themselves..." The entity whispered aloud, as if telling me a grand conspiracy,"...as monsters often do."

"You are a sad little man." I muttered. Finally spotting a door on ground level, I immediately began walking towards it.

"Very sad indeed. All of my visitors have been so boring lately!"On cue, another fleshy form fell from the ceiling, hitting the ground with a splat as I nearly jumped out of my skin.

He was human - or was from the head up, anyway - but seemed to suffer from having cow hooves sewn on in place of feet, shark heads instead of hands, and apparently a lack of bones - or maybe that was just a lot of fat, it was hard to tell.

I wasn't sure if I should shoot it or feel sorry for it, egads.

"Nghmabh!" the blonde haired, blue eyed head whispered aloud, trying to crawl towards me, waving razor sharp teeth at me as if it were trying to hug me and murder me at the same time. The face was human, but I didn't see any sentience in those eyes anymore - just torment.

I took a step back and fired head level. The decapitated being dropped dead, pus, blood, and fat oozing out of the neck like a deflated water balloon.

"See what I mean!?"Moaned the entity, tossing the limp sack of flesh out of the way, blood and bits splattering against the floor and wall as it did. Thankfully, the thing was already decomposing. But the sight of it made me feel ill.

That's not even talking about the smell.

The entity didn't notice my nausea as it continued to speak, its voice growing awfully loud in my head,"You however, girl? You are exactly what I'm trying to create."

That freaked me out, a lot, "W...what do you mean?"

"Adaptive, resourceful, ruthlessly able to subdue others to get what you want. You are exactly like he was... perfect."

"Who is he?" I shouted in frustration - or was it fear, I can never remember.

"You humans always play games! It's so amusing!"The entity chuckled merrily. That quickly shifted to a feeling of extreme displeasure and hatred, as the air felt a lot heavier, the thing speaking menacingly,"Stop playing games with me, mortal. We both know you have his mark."

"Ma..." I looked down briefly at my hand. That round, darkly inked mark on top of my hand that everyone thinks is some sort of religious tattoo.

Dad has one exactly like it.

"Now you know! Now you know!."The entity's voice had become pleasant again, and I could imagine the disembodied force bouncing up and down in glee,"I thought he'd never visit again! Not after he trapped me here!"

"I don't understand. How could he have created you and trapped you here?"

"A man who spins many webs works through many agents! You are proof of this!"The entity cackled, certain its knowledge as I proceeded to make my way towards some old wooden doors. Bloody things were of course locked, so I quickly began to line up one of the knobs to the stock of my shotgun, beginning to bash away.

Not paying me much mind as I was attempting an escape, it continued, "Much has happened here over the years. So many last thoughts, last breaths. Thoughts of betrayal, pain...And with each little finale, each stray word of power whispered, more and more of me was created..."

"Uh huh." I noted absently, grunting as my fourth blow to the door broke the lock out of its mounting, letting me nudge the slightly mangled portal open. I knew just fine how magic worked in this case. His long winded exposition was rather annoying.

Besides that, each little description that added that much detail into what went... into him was making me nervous.

"Of course, look where we are, with all of this possibility flowing around us!! There's always been that that shuffling in the corner of your pathetic mortal eyes, those occurrences that you mortals could never explain. But the original ones who built this place never knew the warnings, could never see the signs. This is all wonderful for me, of course. Had they known, I may have never existed!"

"How fortuitous." I said hesitantly as I walked down a dark hallway, avoiding some dangling rusty pipes as I glanced around in the darkness. The building I was in seemed to be a somewhat newer annex to the main facility, but the equipment was still at least 40 years old, if not older. Down the way, I could see a stairwell - though the old metal and concrete stairs had long ago collapsed, buried beneath slabs of fallen concrete. That wasn't a good sign.

"You aren't much of a conversationalist, are you?"quipped the entity with a sigh. I did not enjoy being the center of its conversation.

"Honestly? Not really." I noted politely. Carefully, I balanced myself along the fallen block of concrete, leaping up to grab a ledge where part of the old wall had broken down.

"Oh. Too bad. Your father was the same way, though he seemed capable of at least pretending to be cheerful. That's what I like about you humans; you're so cunning."

"Why in the hell was my father here?" I snapped, grunting as I pulled myself up just enough to put my feet on the wall for a springboard, leaping over and grabbing one of the twisted pieces of metal gaping from what was once staircase.

"To imprison me, of course. " The entity said with a cheer.

"You are...urgh..." I said with a sigh as I pulled myself up, trying to get my bearings. The rusty metal stairs from here on out were mostly intact aside from a few broken gaps. Now to just avoid tetanus - or for that matter, falling debris and monsters.

"And you aren't very nice!"exclaimed the entity with a sigh, before clucking its tongue and exclaiming"Would you be more talkative if you had your friend to talk to? Maybe if you were your friend?"

"That... Why would you think that?" I asked with a sigh, trying not to lose my temper. This thing seemed very... erratic. I didn't want to upset it too much, but it was doing an amazing job of pissing me off.

"Because I could do it! I could make you taller, bustier, and more happy looking if you wanted!"It answered, also doing an amazing job of creeping me out,"Though only counseling and a positive outlook could help your attitude, missy."

I just shook my head as I continued up the way. My arms were starting to get a bit tired from all of the climbing, so it was nice to have a mostly intact stairwell to go up. It also gave me a chance to think about what I was dealing with. It seemed to be a spell of sorts - or multiple spells, perhaps. An arcane entity that had acquired sentience through some means I didn't quite understand.

If it was telling the truth - big if - Dad had found a way to imprison it to an extent. However, it seemed quite alive and well, however restricted. Was it feeding off of ambient magical energy?

Considering it wasn't working alone, probably worse than that. There was something about the smell in the air and the condition of his creations that led me to believe it was 'well fed'. There was something about this place that just kind of caused stray magic to linger in the air. To me, it seemed likely that this wasn't just a spell that had lingered, but multiple spells that had organized themselves into something sentient.

Very, very creepy.

"You're a much more difficult toy than the other mortal."huffed the entity as I nudged open a broken door, glancing around into what appeared to be offices.

"Yeah, the brunette is kind of spunky" I noted with a smirk.

"Not her, the redheaded one with all the feelings. The one you wished you were still with."

I stared incredulously... at something, "What?"

"Well that's what she thinks."said the entity, quite defensive. Considering my tone, I might not have blamed it.

"First off, that bitch tried to kill me. Second, what does she have to do with this?"

An unspoken third was that all of this anger was helping me focus away from the fear. Silver linings, I suppose.

"She has been a most helpful toy, and so cunning! She said that she could figure out a way to let me go, and that she would bring me more toys to play with."Its words came with a... well, dreamy sigh.

"So she lured us here, probably expecting you and your 'creations' to kill us." I said with a hmph.

"That's what she probably thinks, yes."said the entity. I could almost hear a shrug in its words as it continued,"Of course, she doesn't know you're here yet. That would ruin all the fun since she wanted you all to herself, after murdering your friend of course."

"Love to see her try." I muttered, before asking, "So you clearly aren't exactly looking out for her. Where is she then?"

"Behind you, of course."it said cheerfully.

"Guh!" I immediately spun around, weapon drawn. There was nobody there.

"Got you!"The entity cackled with glee.

I growled in annoyance, but said nothing. I refused to give it the pleasure of a response.

The entity most certainly did not like that.

"Why are you so boring? Even the grumpy spider isn't this cold!"

I stopped in my tracks, pausing before asking weakly, "...what grumpy spider?"

"Boring! More fighting now."it shouted rather capriciously, not bothering to give me an answer.

Three seconds later I heard the sound of doors and walls breaking down the way, followed by the clacking of hooves on concrete.

Shit.

Posted: **Mon Jan 02, 2012 6:40 pm**

After such absolute blackness, the darkened interior of the next room was as welcome as a bright summer’s afternoon. Unfortunately the contents of the room were far less welcome. I had stepped out into the old animal pens.

In the dim light I could see the misshapen silhouettes of things I can’t name. Things with too many heads or too few legs. Things with mouths in place of eyes or eyes in place of ears. Things with gills gasping on the cold floor, things with wings awkwardly fluttering among the rafters. Things that oozed slime and things made of desiccated hides. Small things the size of cats, large things the size of cows. Things that were putrefying and things that still bled from where they were sewn together.

The room was full of these things from one end to the other. Looking around I saw that most of the doorways had one or more of these things occupying them, all save the one I had just left and another one on the far side of the room.

Noting the rather large birth the things in here gave the doorway I’d just left and hearing the sounds of movement from back in the darkness, I decided that the opposite door was the better choice. So, cursing myself for taking up competitive archery instead of practical shooting, I nocked a broadhead arrow into my bow and started heading for the far door.

I hadn’t had many times to be thankful growing up on a farm since I had moved to the big city, but this was definitely one of them. As a child I had learned how to act around large, potentially dangerous animals and practiced those lessons on a daily basis doing my chores. Now those lessons were paying off in spades as I picked my way past the patchwork creatures. A few of them noticed my passage, but most were too lost in the agony of their own existence to pay me any attention.

A fact which both made me grateful and sad.

I had just reached the door when it swung open, a robed figure stepping through carrying two big buckets of offal, I presume for feeding the menagerie.

There was a silent pause as we both looked at each other, then it let out a surprised gurgle, dropped the buckets and gestured at me with a hand that had sucker encrusted tentacles in pace of fingers. My arrow transfixed it to the doorjamb before it could do anything else. Almost immediately it started to shed body parts from a half dozen different species, the magics holding it together ending.

But the damage had already been done.

The scent of spilled food and the sounds of the commotion had attracted the attention of everything in the room.

I dove through the doorway, swinging it closed behind me as the room exploded in a cacophony of shrieks, squawks, howls and other noises too bizarre to describe.

I was fortunate in that whoever had built this place had anticipated the need to prevent mass escape from the pens. A heavy bar was in place next to the door. I swung it down into place just as the sounds of the horde reached the door.

The door rattled and banged, but it held.

I nocked another arrow and moved swiftly down the hall.

Hannah

Posted: **Wed Jan 04, 2012 10:26 pm**

By the time I had a moment to catch my breath, and take conscious note on where I was, I had found myself in an old butcher's room, watching abominations beget abominations.

The impressive thing to me was I was still alive.

Things became awfully blurry after the stampede of wild... things out of the rooms from behind me. From exactly where, I'm not sure. From exactly what - I think I saw tentacles, duck bills, and possibly buck antlers somewhere in the masses of flesh - I was even less sure.

My first instinct was to open fire. My first blast blew away a good chunk of flesh off of something that reminded me of a small dinosaur, its lithe body flopping to the ground as razor sharp arms made from dismembered scapulae swung feebly, trying to balance itself. The follow up blasted its face right off before it could recover.

Before I could point my shotgun at the next thing in the dark, something small, slimy and fast leapt into the air, and immediately wound around my throat in a rather sudden attempt to strangle me. Flailing at my neck, I managed to grab hold of what felt like a human hand, a suckler-covered tentacle winding around my palm as the thing continued trying to strangle me.

Gagging, and only having one hand available, I wasn't able to lift my shotgun in time to prevent something much larger leaping at me. I looked up just in time as a pair of rams horns had slammed me right in the chest.

Someone had a mythological bent, and it hurt.

The next thing I realized was I found sprawled across the ground, about ten feet from my original location, my shotgun about 3 feet further still. My jacket had absorbed most of the blow, but it had still left me wheezing and with horn shaped bruises on my abdomen. My neck was a bit bloody but free - it seemed I had managed to tear off the hand-opus as I was being struck.

I reached out for my shotgun, about to magically nudge it towards me, when I heard a snort behind me. Craning my neck up, I saw a Franken-steined satyr standing over me. It stood about 8 feet in the air, was all goat from the waist down, a bare human torso lay stitched from the waist up, with a man's face (mostly) and a pair of full sized - and sharp - ram's horns mounted atop.

Had I not been wearing protection, I have a feeling that rack would have been adorned with my blood. Ow.

I raised my arm just in time as the satyr kicked at me with a hoof, knocking me back the other direction - and thankfully closer to my shotgun. As the thing bounded in ready to try and take off my head, I managed to grab the Remington as I finished skidding across the ground, working the pump quickly before catching the charging chimera in the face.

Considering how hard it was hitting me, I was unsurprised the buckshot didn't do a whole lot besides cause a few peppering wounds. However, I apparently caught the satyr in the eye as it howled, missing me on the charge as its body mass struck a pillar with a thud and a small spray of concrete.

Not wasting a chance, I scrambled to my feet as I began to make a bit of a run for it, stomping upon the apparently dazed octo-hand along the way with a splat as I reached into my pocket for some more shells. I was out of buckshot, but I had something a bit heavier lined up...

I heard the rumbling of charging hooves behind me as I spun around a corner, wheezing painfully as I quickly loaded a single shell into the receiver. As I did this, the satyr followed me on the turn - or tried. Being rather topheavy, it couldn't navigate the turn like I did, and went stumbling into the wall with the clatter of hooves and crackle of plaster, tearing half of the wall down as it made contact.

I took about a second to brace, aim my shot, and fire.

There was a much louder, thunderous report as the satyr toppled back with a groan, the ground shaking once more as it went still. A hole the size of a half dollar oozed from its chest as the Brenneke slug from the 3.5" shell had likely ruptured its heart. Panting weakly, I watched the thing slowly begin to dissolve.

Feeling a quick rumble in my pocket, I pulled out my phone, noting Hannah had managed to drop me a text. Apparently she was safely inside and attempting a rendevous. I sighed weakly in relief.

Just in time to hear screeching and stomping from whence I came.

"Damnit." I weakly cursed as I jammed my phone back in my pocket, looking about to assess my next move as I held my flank. My body was in general, exhausted, my ribs and my shoulder ached something fierce, and I was starting to wonder about what sort of reserves I had left at this rate.

I'm not generally a pessmist, but I was really starting to doubt I'd be able to find Hannah at that point.

That was about the point I noticed the satyr, in its attempt to turn a corner had made a nice sized hole into the next room - which looked like some sort of conveyer-belt laying packing plant.

Perfect, I thought, as I climbed through the hole quickly.

The odor on the other side left me immediately regretting that choice.

I nearly vomited as I glanced down into the room. From the rafters, it was like some sort of obscene butcher's shop. Various robed figures wielded cleavers over bloodied wooden tables, all hacking away in unison at various squirming, twisting, or oozing fleshy bits with rusty hatchets, machetes, or whatever was available. On the far side of the room, I could make out a figure with octopus tentacles slowly sewing together what appeared to be hawk talons to an alligator torso.

All the while, there was a tingle of magic in the air, fluttering about erratically with each hack of the cleaver, each stitching of mismatched limbs, every twitch of body parts that should have long ago ceased to live. Combine this all with the odor, and it was all overwhelming.

The most eerie part was the silence. Except for the thump of choppers striking the table, it was dead silent.

I looked back behind me, then back into the room. When it came down to it, I really didn't want to enter that room, even if I was in the beams hanging over it...

The hole in the wall I just came out of released an angry howl from the things chasing me.

Gulping, I focused my mind just long enough to weave something about myself, quietly praying nobody was going to look up as I cast, hearing either the whispered chants or the thunderous racing of my heart. Fortunately, I faded out of view without so much of anyone paying me any mind.

I took a few moments to assess my situation. I was down to 2 bear slugs, a knife, my revolver with a full magazine, and my bag of tricks. Though I felt awful, I wasn't in such a bad situation.

My problem would come if I ran into something that just had more to throw than me, whom bullets wouldn't phase. Frankly, I wasn't sure I had that kind of fight left in me. Another satyr, or maybe if that entity decided to throw its full weight directly at me? I'd be toast.

No Mel, I thought to myself. Bad.

Doubt is normally bad. When you're a practitioner, doubt is fatal.

For the moment out of sight, I began to quietly crawl across the support beams towards the other side. I needed to go find Hannah, and fast.

Posted: **Wed Jan 04, 2012 10:44 pm**

Trying not to think about the sounds coming from behind me, I moved up to the far end of the hall.

Bow at half draw, I crossed through the doorway and found myself in one of the processing rooms. A lone sodium lamp flickered dimly over one of the cutting tables. Piles of sawdust were scattered about the room, ready to absorb any spilt blood or bodily fluids. As with everywhere in this place, the scent of carrion was heavy.

I did my best not to look at the spare parts stacked on the tables as I searched the room for signs of life. Once I had confirmed the room was empty, I fished out my phone and sent a text to Mel, hoping she had till had her phone on vibrate.

That’s when I heard a door swing open. I ducked for cover behind one of the work stations.

“. . . I don’t care what you were told, I am the one who I running this operation and I will conduct the analysis of the journal. Now hand it over or I’ll put your taste buds inside your colon.”

Something gurgled a response in what sounded like somewhat apologetic tones.

“That’s better. Now leave us. I have work to do.” With that I heard something scuttle away and a door close.

Learning the wrong lessons from Mr. Fluffers, I slowly worked my way out of my hiding space into a place I could see.

Hunched over a workbench was a woman with short red hair muttering incantations quietly at a rock dangling from her fingertips. I’d recalled seeing the back of the same head before, when it was leaving Mel’s apartment via the fire escape.

Smiling at things going right for a change, I brought my bow up before announcing myself. “You know Rose, that doesn’t belong to you.”

She spun on her seat, amber eyes flashing dangerously. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know, I enjoy touring slaughterhouses after dark.” I moved out from behind the table. “How about you just leave Mel’s property on the bench there and back up?“ I gestured with the bow. “I know what I’m doing with this thing and at this range I can pick which chamber of your heart I put it through. “

She seemed unconcerned. I really need to work on my threatening demeanour. “You know, we haven’t been properly introduced, which is a shame, since we’re both such good friends of Mel. My name’s Rose, what’s yours?”

“My name doesn’t matter.” I pulled the fletching to my cheek. “What should matter to you is that what I’ve seen about you the last couple of days gives me no compunctions about putting you out of the world’s misery. Now put the book on the table and back off.”

“You obviously have no idea what this is about, do you?” She smiled and tossed her hair back. “So like Mel to get distracted by a dumb, pretty thing.”

Maybe it was pettiness, maybe it was tired of being ignored, maybe it was her irritating smirk, but I buried my arrow in her patella.

Unfortunately she didn’t go down. In fact she barely registered the discomfort. “Angry little thing aren’t you?” she purred around a half-grimace. She looked down at her knee and muttered a brief command. My arrow pulled itself out of her knee. The blood that had come from the wound pulled itself back inside and the skin neatly sealed itself as if nothing had happened. Only the hole in her jeans gave any evidence of the event.

“Now do you understand how overmatched you are with your silly little bow and arrow?“ She grabbed one of the butchering blades from the work table. “Now I’ll make sure that Mel will never find you pretty again!”

With that she lunged.

I almost grabbed the wrist with the knife to throw her, but then I remembered what she had done to Mel with her bare hands and brought the butt end of my bow up under her chin, stopping her rush in its tracks and driving her backwards. I followed up with a kick to the abdomen which I used for leverage to rotate my other foot into the side of her face.

I took advantage of her momentary shock at my assault to place my bow on a table and pull out the collapsible batons I had been carrying. She grinned at me, her eyes like those of a hungry tiger as the skin on her face re-knit. “You really think those will help?”

I pressed the trigger stud on each baton and the tips crackled with electricity. “Oh yeah, I do.”

She was good, one of the best I’d tangled with outside of a dojo in a long time. I was also hampered by the fact that I couldn’t even let moves that normally wouldn’t be a threat come at me as ay touch could carry some sort of effect. All in all it was the hardest fight I’d had since I moved to New York.

And I was enjoying it in no small part.

Call me an adrenaline junky if you want, but when I escaped Khavik the last time I made a vow to never be the victim again. Now I want to be in control of my life. I want to find challenges and overcome them, and my tussle with Rose was definitely one of those challenges.

Rose seemed to be enjoying too, though I suspect the opportunity to do harm was what she was really after.

After several exchanges we both backed off to catch our breath. The welts about her face from my batons smoothing away as I checked the scratches her knife had left on my chest armour. My faith in my father’s workmanship was as justified in Rose’s faith in her own ability to repair herself.

“You’re pretty good” she panted.

I nodded slightly. “So are you, best fight I’ve had in a year.”

“Thank you. Once I learned how to improve my body I felt it would be a shame not to learn to use it to its full potential.” She ran a finger across her chest and abdomen, I wasn’t sure if she was trying to show off or just appreciating herself.

“Uhhm, yeah.”

Apparently, not immediately complimenting her figure was the last straw. She screeched an arcane phrase and the body parts laying on the table next to me sprung up. I did my best to deflect the rush of severed appendages, but I was almost immediately snowed under by a wave of hands, eyes, arms, feet, teeth, legs and tails.

Rose’s predatory grin was back as she swaggered over and crouched beside me. “Such a pretty thing . . . a shame that you’re making me do this. But we can’t have any pretty things around to distract Mel, now can we.” She reached towards my face.

“Wait!” I gasped.

Rose sneered. “Why should I?”

“Well . . . I know how to translate the journal.”

“Oh, really?” Rose gestured, making the body parts pinning me drag me up to my knees.

“Yeah . . . I think there are a few things you don’t know about me.”

Rose retrieved the journal and dangled it in front of me. “And what’s that.”

“First, Mel is a friend of mine, but we aren’t like what you think.” Rose smiled, not noticing a slight change in the air circulation in the room. “Next, I know magic too.”

“How interesting.” She was oblivious to the small particles of sawdust that had filled the air behind her. “What else?”

“I watch a lot of Mythbusters.” I tossed a spark into the cloud of sawdust.

There was a flash, a roar, a tremendous impact and finally blackness.

Hannah

Posted: **Wed Jan 04, 2012 11:18 pm**

I think I could figure out the moment Hannah tested out Adam and Jamie's theory on improvised FAEs about the point the entire facility shook. Caught off guard, I nearly fell off of the I-Beam I was shimmying across. Catching myself at the last minute, I winced as I heard something shatter beneath me.

I looked down as I pulled myself up. A vial of sparkling red powder had fallen out of my coat pocket, and had shattered atop the head of a darkly robed cultist with a cloud of cinnamon red.

Every thing in the room paused, and looked straight up at the ceiling - even the dismembered eyeballs. They were all looking right at me.

Whether they could see me or not, I wasn't sure.. Immediately though, one of them threw something round in my direction. It missed, thankfully, but not by far enough as I heard glass shatter again, something fragile having struck the beam I was on and splashed me with something foul.

I realized I was partially outlined in what I believed to be pig's blood.

Well played, shambling masses.

Although some of them could clearly see me, they didn't attack me like it. In a mass, they all began to heft their hachets, cleavers, and cutting tools - including one bloke the beveled edge of an old paper cutter - and began to huck sharpened implements right at my position.

I of course, began to quickly move, trying to shimmy as quickly as possible while trying to wipe blood off of myself. It wasn't working - it just smeared on my coat, leaving me just as exposed. The blades kept flying, thunking off of the I-Beam or taking out pieces of concrete out of the support beams. Some of the falling objects fell right back on my would-be murderers, as a few collapsed from butcher's cleavers to the forehead or had limbs torn off at the stitches by falling hatchets.

Thankfully, brains had not been stitched into those misshapen faces of theirs.

There was a quick shuffle of bodies along the floor, sawdust kicking up everywhere as beings in various states of Frankensteinism began to try and climb the walls and beams to get up where I was.

In short, precisely what I didn't want.

I ducked with a meep as a cleaver deflected off of the beam I was on, narrowly missing my fingers. Continuing to shimmy along, I tried to figure out an elegant solution to this mess - or at least something that might get me a bit of breathing space.

Snapping my fingers, I pointed down towards the shambling masses. There was a loud poof as a dense, grey smoke began to slowly spread out, obscuring them from my view - and more importantly, them from me. Taking that opening, I balanced on the beam I was standing on and began to move a bit quicker, one foot in front of the other, trying to get away from the last position they knew I was in as things kept flying from the cloud of magical smoke and dry sawdust.

...sawdust?

Hannah had mentioned that old slaughter houses often used sawdust to soak up blood, and as a consequence, to be careful when using fire magic as the end results might have been fatal.

Having reached an air vent, I jammed my knife along the edges of the vent, yanking with a grunt as I tore the grate off and threw it down below. As I crawled in, I reached into my pocket and tossed a second vial of cinnamon red powder into the smoke. It was something that I had created from the zippo in my pocket before going in. Simply put, it was pure fire crystalized into a stable, mostly inert form - until I allowed it to turn back, of course.

I crawled forward into the air vent, contorting awkwardly to round a corner before snapping my fingers and doing precisely that.

There was a weak crackle as the glistening crystals burst into flame, followed by a loud fwoowsh as the sawdust and likely some body fat violently ignited.

Had I known Hannah had pulled the same trick about a minute earlier, I'd have probably felt considerably less impressed with myself.

As it stands, I'd like to thank the Mythbusters.

I had only managed to crawl another 10-15 feet, the adrenaline still pumping rather hard, before I heard a loud creak around me. In my hurry to get away, I hadn't noticed that the air dust I was in was looking awfully charred and dented...

This was followed by an abrupt jolt, before the vent I was broke off of its mounting, sending me spilling out face first. Trying to catch myself, I did a half somersault before I landed on my side, only having taken a 10ft drop thankfully. As I picked myself up, I noticed that the room was scorched, reeking of burnt flesh and and odd pine smell. There was some furniture in the room, that was still sizzling from being blown apart.

Having landed on my bruised flank, I was quite slow getting up. Had I realized I wasn't alone, I might have gotten up a little quicker; Landing right near an unconscious Hannah and a blackened, but still moving Rose.

Karma.

Posted: **Thu Jan 05, 2012 1:07 am**

Crap, I thought.

I froze as I watched Rose stand up, holding her ears as she listed from side to side, clearly disoriented. She was facing away from me as she shambled to her feet, making her way towards Hannah, her voice raspy and low. From what I could tell, the explosion had happened about where I had fallen, with the blunt of the blast hitting Rose.

Hannah, aside from some light scorching along her outfit (not to mention some quickly dissipating charred gore), was mostly intact, though quite unconscious. Based upon the condition of Rose's clothing (blackened mostly on one side) it seemed she had inadvertently shielded Hannah from the blast.

Karma again.

The burnt, angry looking woman had clearly not noticed me drop in, possibly because she was disoriented from the blast or possibly deafened. Her breath was labored as she staggered towards Hannah, probably as a result of the improvised FAE just minutes ago. That would explain why I was having a bit of trouble breathing.

As I weakly scrambled to my feet, she didn't even turn about as I felt a bit of power being focused on her person. There was something very familiar about how it felt though... and something very profane. I was probably taking a risk by doing a bit of casting instead of just trying to shoot her, but I needed to know.

Having not had a chance to do this before she tried to rip out my insides and steal my heart (literally), I gave Rose a good hard stare, focusing not on her person, but her being.

Rose had never really had much talent for magic. She knew I was a sorceress, and she knew how much I was both fascinated and cursed by being one. She never seemed terribly jealous of that - just whenever I was with other people, one major reason we broke up (this isn't a relationship advice forum, so I'll spare you the dozen other reasons).

Her aura was... for lack of a better word, vile and inhuman. As I watched her draw power towards herself, magic knitting together the burns along her face and hands and repairing the other injuries along her body. Along the peripheries of her aura, I saw the same ugly taint condensed into some sort of fleeting, olive green taint, giving a fleeting, wicked smile as Rose was clearly drawing magical power from it.

It was that annoying entity. She had some sort of bond with that entity that had been trying to kill me. That would explain how she had became a competent fleshsculptor. But it also left a lot more questions.

"No... more... games."Rose whispered in a less hoarse tone, a now flawless hand reaching out towards the unconscious brunette.

I had a brief moment of conscience. As a general rule, I don't shoot at people. It sounds incredibly self righteous in this work, what with the beasts in the night not always being more than mortal. That said, Rose was human. This would be murder.

Then I felt that tingle of magic in the air, that wicked look in her inhuman eyes as she watched Hannah, and I felt considerably better about what to do.

Bracing my shotgun as I wobbled, I focused a bit of of my will to steady the gun with a telekinetic grasp before pulling the trigger.

Rose's body went flying past Hannah's prone form as the shotgun slug went straight through her chest, the force of the impact sending her tumbling along the ground before hitting the wall with a thud.

"That had to hurt!"commented the entity with a giggle.

Taking a deep breath and narrowing my eyes, I glared at the wispy spell construct, currently flickering in a puke green color. Clenching my fist, I drew in a bit of energy, before pointing a bolt of blue-white fire right at it.

Now, as flashy as that spell is, it doesn't work well on things without bodies. It's great for dissipating incorporeal things, like ghosts, or things that possess people.

Or living spells, as the spell entity found out. The thing screamed in pain as I saw a large chunk of it just burn away, bits of its essence unraveling and dissolving away into the magical ambiance as if it never existed. Rather quickly, it dove through the wall to prevent a follow up, cursing my name.

Honestly, I had done that as a revenge move, but also to prevent Rose from trying to draw energy from it again. The results though were far more than I expected for what I had thought to be a very powerful entity. I thought at most I'd have just pissed it off.

On the other hand, the amount of magic in the area had made it very difficult for me to figure out exactly how powerful it was in the first place. Its creations and the amount of control it exerted made me believe it was quite powerful, and with a line of power so close, it should have been able to draw more power. Really though, the thing seemed almost...depleted, like an insomniac on his last leg, not aware how close it was to just checking out.

"You... want to protect your little pet?"Rose hissed at me as she stood up, clutching her chest Somehow, she was not dead.

"What in the hell are you, Rose?" I hissed, the pump on my shotgun working itself as I waved my hand, ejecting the spent magnum shell for a new one, "None of this is right. We had some problems, but I don't remember you being a possessive, psychopathic bitch."

Don't be mislead, reader. Though I was talking and not shooting, I had already jumped the moral hurdle to shoot her once; I wasn't afraid to do it again.

"Can't you see damnit? I'm...perfect."She responded boldly, holding her chest as the 2" hole straight through her body slowly knitted itself back together, "I'm the one that you always wanted. The one I was never was and the reason you wanted to be with other people. I've done everything possible to bring us back together, to make it work, and you fucking shot me!"

"I never looked at other people. You always thought I did." I snapped back, clenching my hands tightly around the shotgun, before motioning at Hannah, who by this point was slowly stirring, "And you tried to hurt her! You're damn right I'm going to shoot you!"

"You... agh. Why did you leave me!? I thought you cared!"Her gaze became more angry, more intense as her voice became lower, a distinct tug in the air as she began to draw upon her powers once more.

I quietly considered the question, warily keeping my shotgun pointed at her. She had been caring, but very clingy. Though the murderous jealousy was a very recent thing, she never quite trusted me to be hers. Whether it was because we were in college and doing new things, or because of her own insecurity, I don't know.

I had a lot of anger. Rose had done a lot of nasty things out of 'caring'. Because of her, Phil couldn't play music, Miss Elm was in the hospital, and Hannah was nearly disfigured - if not worse.

As I watched her though, I just felt pity. The grip on my shotgun loosened slightly, as I sighed.

"Because I'm just not the girl you thought I was." I said softly.

"ENOUGH OF THIS!"interrupted the entity, loudly and audibly. I watched it fly back into the room, weakened but alive, murderous rage upon its twisted figures as it growled towards Rose,"I've had enough of this nonsense sentimentalism. Kill the mortals and be done with it, or I will stuff you with fat and turn your ugly face inside out!""

Rose flinched a bit as the entity goaded her, before she tried to leap at me, snarling in rage. However, she didn't get very far; with a gasp, she toppled over onto her face with a thud, the being howling in disapproval.

Apparently she tripped over Hannah's leg. Funny how it got there.

Crawling back to her feet, she made a swing at the prone Hannah, who is apparently a master possum player as she rolled out of the way, Rose's fist striking the floor. With Hannah out of the way, I lined up another shot, aiming at Rose's mid section.

Much to my surprise, Rose's fist struck me in the nose before I could pull the trigger, despite her being a good 6ft away. My aim thrown, my shot went off and missed Rose, striking a shattered table with a small explosion of splinters.

Before I could recover, the empty shotgun was knocked out of my hands, the supernaturally fast woman already in my face and grabbing at my ribs, clearly about to part my rib cage and reach into my chest once again. Somewhat dazed, I watched her gaze, now even more mad than before, and with no love left for me.

She was going to tear my heart out and murder me. Or she would have, had my coat not stopped her, much to her frustration.

I gave her a firm elbow towards the jaw, knocking her aside and off balance just enough for Hannah to step in, catching the stunned woman behind the knee with her foot and knocking her down, a distinct crack being audible as her patella was shattered against the floor (again, apparently).

"I will skin you both and mount you on my wall!" shouted the entity, as I felt a pulse of magic energy heading towards the prone Rose. I saw muscles bulging beneath her coat as she swung her arms wildly.

Both Hannah and I dove out of the way in time as I watched what had once been a friend and ex-girlfriend convulse, bulging in muscle mass as the entity gleefully invested itself into her. Her voice, playful and sensual, became a primal growl, her bones twisting and contorting as she became more knuckle-walker than biped, her clothes tearing violently. Her fingers elongated into claws as her jaw snapped painfully outwards, her teeth elongating violently. Her skin, unnaturally flawless, was becoming lumpy and scaled.

The end result both horrified and saddened me.

I glared at the entity, about to say something before I noticed how... depleted it looked. It had just invested a large amount of itself to reinvent its puppet. That magic had been expended through the transformations, however, and as I watched, all that was left of the entity was mere ragged wisps of barely assembled ether.

The way it was cackling, however, suggested it didn't care about how much of itself it had just invested, or that the background flow of magic through the area was slowly unraveling it at the seams.

...or it wasn't aware.

"Mel, move!" Hannah shouted as the gorilla-gator that was once my ex brought its big arms down, trying to crush me. I dove out of the way as it shattered the floor, concrete dust flying everywhere.

Drawing my pistol, I aimed it at the thing, before I realized rather quickly it wasn't likely to do anything against that hide except annoy it. Magically, I was feeling like I was on fumes. Blunt force was never exactly my forte anyway.

As I watched a large bolt of fire strike the thing's back with a fwoosh, I quickly realized Hannah had no such shortcomings.

"Rose" turned around, swinging at Hannah with a thunderous roar. She may as well have been targeting a gnat, as the other woman smirked a bit and summoned a bit of magic. There was a sudden upward gust as my partner-in-crime leaped over the swinging arm like a leaf in the wind, somersaulting over the ugly form and landing on her feet behind the towering thing. Half a second later, there was a loud crash as its fist struck a support pillar like a cannonball, shattered concrete and twisted iron tumbling all around it.

Taking some inspiration, I aimed a few shots at its knees, trying to hobble it. It didn't quite work, as the bullets stuck into its thick hide but did nothing except draw its attention - which is more or less what I wanted.

As I backed up against the wall, smirking to myself, I watched the scaled beast bear its teeth before leaping straight at me, covering 20 feet in a single bound. Focusing what little reserve I had left, I snapped my fingers as I dove out of the way. A loud, bright flash of high intensity light caught her/it right in the eyes, blinding the massive MM as it missed me and went tumbling straight into another support pillar.

What was once Rose howled as it was briefly buried under falling brick and concrete, sitting up and shaking its head as it prepared to try and smash me again. However, the concrete didn't stop falling, and was joined by the loud protest of creaking metal. The ceiling had begun to collapse. The thing didn't pay it any mind, raised its fist at me, about to smash me out of her life once and for all.

I stared up wide eyed, not at Rose, but at the falling I-Beam as it indiscriminately - and fatally - crushed what had been left of someone once close to me, right in the head.

I tumbled backwards as falling concrete and bricks buried what was left of the twitching mess, the rumble of falling debris barely overshadowing the angry screams of the entity. I was only barely aware of the magic that the construct was trying to use, trying to bring back what was left of its puppet. But fleshsculpting doesn't work like that - once the spark of life is gone, it can't bring it back.

It took me a few moments of staring before I finally peeled my eyes away from the mass, even as the bulk of flesh and bone slowly dissolved away into nothing beneath the fallen rubble. I glanced over what was left of the entity, holding my side as I slowly walked towards it.

"Are you alright?"Hannah asked, watching me walk towards... nothing, staring in rage. I didn't recall at the time that she probably couldn't see the wispy, decaying mess, the amalgam of a century of arcane mistakes and cruel intent. It couldn't see the fact that it had only then started to see its own mortality, starting to feel itself slowly ebb away as what was left was carried off by the nearby magical current.

"Why?" it whispered pathetically, reaching a distorted hand as if trying to cling to life.

I raised a hand, about to cast a spell to dissipate it once and for all. However, I shook my head and turned away with a sigh. I wasn't going to waste a bullet on a dying fiend, so to speak.

"...are you alright, Hannah?" I asked, turning to give her a weary smile even as I felt that horrid thing finally dissolve into nothingness, like its creations that came before it.

"My head hurts a bit, but I'm fine."She responded, looking relieved. Whether it was because she could feel that the presence was finally gone or just that the action was over was hard to say.

"...journal." I said weakly, glancing around.

"Rose's bag is over there where the table was."Hannah noted. She walked over, picking up a scorched bundle before withdrawing the journal, still intact,"Hm, it's apparently fireproof... and Rose had some extra pages in here."

"Fantastic." I said wearily, kneeling down to pick up my shotgun. Looking around, I saw that the collapsing ceiling and walls had revealed a way out through the loading dock. The rest looked like it would be cake.

"We should probably look at this away from here. Someone's bound to have noticed the explosion."Hannah noted, blinking in surprise as I tossed her Miss Elm's car keys.

"Shotgun." I muttered, staggering towards the door.

After that mess, the 20 minute nap on the car ride back was the most blissful sleep I had felt in three days.

Posted: **Thu Jan 05, 2012 4:21 am**

It would seem that the action, mayhem and destruction of this tale is now complete. Yet there are questions left unresolved.

Did the journal hold any answers?

Posted: **Fri Jan 06, 2012 12:33 am**

Stories never -really- end, Cyber... and neither does the mayhem. But ahem, I degress.

I remember waking up the next day - about 1 PM, to be exact - feeling about as awful as possible without cancer or broken bones factored in. It took me about all the energy I could muster to grab my glasses off of the nightstand, the pendulum and my father's journal (including missing pages) set there as well. Apparently Hannah had led me to Miss Elm's guest room and dropped off those things - or something. I don't remember much after dozing off on the way home.

Hannah had left to go pick Miss Elm up from the hospital. There was a pot of coffee on the oven, and a plate of English muffins as well. My stomach growled with approval.

After brunch, I took a bit of time to clean up some of the rest of the house. Hannah had done work last night sweeping the broken glass and resetting the furniture. I took the time to wipe the walls off and trying to figure out how much it'd cost to replace the windows and some of the drywall.

That just left the journal.

I sat down in a mostly restored kitchen, picking up the torn pages - which had been neatly folded in half and looking them over. They were in straight up German - Dad had always felt German was the superior language for conveying important things.

Surprisingly, they weren't written in parable, but there was also little narration. They were all notes.

The first entry came with several old newspaper clippings from 1962 to 1974, the first detailing some events that had happened at the Slaughterhouse, as well as officials dismissing reports of monsters. The last clip noted the disappearance of five self-proclaimed 'real' magicians, who were last seen near the north shore of Long Island in 1974.

As for the entry itself, it detailed some theories Dad had on so called 'sentient magic' - how a spell could become alive in the sense of being self aware and autonomous. More notably how one might defeat such a thing, which could easily escape and possibly wreck havoc elsewhere.

Apparently from observation, he noted some 'obvious' shortcomings - notably, much like a spellcaster who is in an environment saturated with magical power, it was difficult to sense what was really going on around them. As well, no matter how self aware a spell was, it was not alive. It lacked the breadth of perspective that a mortal would, being forever bound by the nature of the magic that had spawned it. Outside of acting in its nature, he declared, such a spell entity would be quite stupid.

Tell me about it, I thought as I took a sip of coffee.

Dad's solution was as brilliant as it was horrifying: Trap it somewhere with a strong enough magical 'saturation' that it wasn't aware what its own state even was. With it unaware of what was going on with itself or around it - being unable to property differentiate the ether around it from itself - one could lay down a subtle curse, which would cause the magical current would slowly dissolve the threads of magic that held it together.

He quoted Hendrix for the analogy, "Castles in the sand, fall into the sea eventually". Apt, I suppose.

The notes for the spell itself were rather simple. He effectively used the Slaughter House as closed 'circle' so to speak, trapping the entity there and just letting time work its part. As it was a very powerful entity, he noted, this would take many years before the entity would finally starve itself to death.

The materials for the spell were a bit more complex. He needed a lot of salt, some chalk, a pack of once a day vitamins, and sunglasses as a focus. Oh, and a blood offering for the curse.

I choked on my coffee when I read that last one.

Apparently after the circle was assembled and activated, 'a lot' of blood had to be shed in order to ensure the curse stuck - as apparently cursing living spells is difficult business. He figured about five 'special' folks would suffice, the outrage of their deaths fueling a curse against their killer.

I stared at those words in horror. Had he lured those people to their deaths?

No way, I thought. I rubbed my eyes a moment, before looking back through the words, making sure I didn't mess up the translation. The translation seemed pretty clear - he put them in the line of fire against the entity in order to fuel the curse, if they couldn't dissipate the entity themselves. Clearly they hadn't, which meant...

I sat there on the couch for a few moments, silent for once in my life. This was quickly followed by cursing - not a little, but a lot. I said every profane, vile thing I could think of, because frankly there wasn't much else I could think of doing. I wasn't really in the state to be handling news like this.

It was a few minutes of sitting there, taking deep breaths to calm down before I was able to continue the reading. I was hoping things would get better - I was in for a mistake.

One of his entries noted that his last encounter with the 'demon spider' had gone sourly, and it was likely that it was going to 'figure him out' soon. I remembered that story in the earlier entry, regarding the man who made a deal with a spider god for some secret. The entry didn't mention what it was; merely that he had some some things he regretted, and pondered what Sophia would have thought had she known what he had done to try and 'make things better.'

The next entry noted McAllister, the arcane consultant of one of Gotti's mob bosses. The entry was very recent - about a decade ago. Apparently the mob-mage had taken things too far, and his last attempt to kill my dad had 'regretfully missed'. I wasn't sure what he meant by that until I read the next line.

"I'll never make amends, but I can make that bastard pay. Death is too good for his sort - he'll get his eventually. This is for you, Ben."

I blinked, before pulling out another newspaper clipping. A 17 year old named James McAllister had been killed by a falling air conditioning unit out of an apartment building - the date was about three months after Ben's death. The meaning was obvious - a revenge killing, not against the mob boss that had beaten the crap out of me, but by killing his son in exchange.

I shook weakly as I dropped the journal, falling back into my chair as I felt like someone was walking on my grave. Who was the man who wrote this? This wouldn't have been my father. Jon Albrecht was a bit sarcastic, cynical, and distant, but he couldn't have been so... Machiavellian, could he?

I felt kind of sick at that point, but I couldn't stop. Too many people had been hurt or killed at this point for me to just stop.

I picked up the journal and moved to read the last entry. Apparently he had paid a small time mob delivery boy to bury something at his 'favorite spot', before making sure nobody ever saw him again. He said he left the 'usual clues' to remind himself, before noting this would be the last thing he ever wrote. The entry was dated to about 2004, and noted how much he missed my mother and I.

Pursing my lips, I slid the sheets back into place into the book, looking at where he put the numbers and a couple letters in the book as I began to write each one down. He always made a fairly large space between them, to make it fairly clear to whoever was looking at there was significance to the number in relation to the others before and after.

Or maybe I was just trying to find a pattern in all of this. Better than nothing, I thought.

I looked at what I had written down - it was a GPS coordinate. Grabbing my laptop, I quickly looked up the address.

"Montauk Point." I murmured to myself, puzzled for a moment. That's when I saw the Lazlo Society postcard on the table.

It wasn't the Society that was the clue, it was the light house. He had something buried at the Montauk Lighthouse.

Posted: **Wed Jan 11, 2012 12:16 am**

Hannah and I stuck around long enough to make sure Miss Elm's house was back in order, windows and all. I confess I was less than the most cheerful of company during the time, and I didn't go into a lot of details as to why. For their parts, neither of them really prodded much - and thank them both for that.

It was Monday before Miss Elm dropped Hannah and I off at the nearest LIRR station. Rather than head back to New York City, I put in an order for a ticket to Montauk.

"Two tickets."Hannah corrected.

I just gave her a very tired glance. I think I was trying to be disapproving.

"The help has been appreciated Hannah, but you don't have to come."

"Are you kidding? Of course I want to see what this was all about. Besides, I'd rather have company on the ride back to Manhattan."She explained, ponying up the cash for her ticket.

I had a feeling with that tone of voice that I didn't have the energy to dissuade her otherwise. I think she knew it too.

Two tickets it was.

Montauk sits on the south fork of eastern Long Island, putting us well past the Hamptons. It took us about an hour to get there, one I think I spent mostly staring out the window. Hannah was looking through some old books that Miss Elm had given her about supposed Pagan magical practices. I remember her vaguely talking about some interesting bits related to supposed ley lines, but I wasn't playing much attention. All I was really thinking about was that damn lighthouse.

The station was pretty much empty when we got there, and it took us awhile to flag down a passing cab. The driver informed us that the light house wasn't open to visitors this time of year, but that wasn't much of a problem. I'd already been there three times growing up - Dad had a fondness for that place.

The shore varies between boulders and patchy sand. Some work had been done to prevent erosion of the shore after the light house had been built, so the shore was considerably rockier than it once was. Hopefully it meant that whatever Dad had placed here hadn't been washed away.

"It's a nice lighthouse." Hannah noted as she looked up the hill."Do you think he put whatever it was up in there at the top?"

"Too obvious." I noted, "He'd also be well aware there have been plans for years to build a sea wall to prevent further erosion - not to mention the problem of erosion itself, so it wouldn't be along the shore. He'd pick a place that wouldn't be disturbed anytime soon."

"Maybe somewhere along the base of the lighthouse? If it were me, I wouldn't want to be too conspicuous when I went to retrieve it." Hannah noted as she began to walk up the hill towards the light house, me quickly following behind.

We walked along the grounds around the light house, looking around for anything unusual. The lighthouse had been automated since the 80s, and the information center was closed so there was no concern about people watching us walk along the grounds - not that such was illegal.

Hannah noted she'd check along the seaside base of the light house, just in case. Meanwhile, I meandered along the top of the hill, admiring the masonry that went into the US's fourth oldest light house while I looked along the base.

Mostly I was trying to figure out a clue as to where Dad would have hidden something, but instead I found myself remembering the time Ben tried to climb this thing from the outside, nearly rolling down the hill and into the sea in the process. Ah the good ol' days.

The wind picked up briefly as it often does, as I reached up to keep my glasses on my face. Past some unruly locks of hair, I swore I saw movement in my peripheral vision, before looking up to see someone. He was tall, with unruly blonde hair, walking around the corner of the light house. He was wearing this plaid green scarf like the one Ben used to wear...

Waaaait, ...Ben?

I nearly sprinted around the corner, not quite sure what the hell was going on. That couldn't have been him, could it?

I paused as I reached the other side of the lighthouse. There was nobody there. Frustrated, I rubbed my temples with a sigh. Clearly the past few days had been getting to me, I thought. Being in a highly magical environment for so long will start to do things to people - especially people like me.

It's purely anecdotal that insanity runs in magic bloodlines. That doesn't mean some of us aren't batshit.

Taking a deep breath, I shook my head and glanced around just incase. That's when I noticed the loose masonry near the base of the lighthouse.

"Son of a bitch." I muttered, tugging the old stone fragment away just as Hannah came up, damn near running towards me.

"I saw you running, is everything alright?" she asked, watching me pull out an old, rather thick book.

"I don't know." I said truthfully, blowing the dust away as I wiped the cover clean. It was an unadorned text save for some words that were apparently burned into the old leather, "J.H Albrecht".

"...heh." was about all I said as I sat down in the grass, cracking open the book.

I might be crazy for saying this, or maybe not, but... thanks Ben, wherever you are.

Hannah sat down next to me, watching me flip the pages. Inside the first few pages were some old, old photographs that had been posted.

"These are pretty old. And some of them are in color. Hannah noted, picking up one of a man and a woman standing in an old European village.

"Autochrome and three color process. "Sergei Prokudin-Gorsky took a lot of old photos of Tsarist Russia and the Ottoman Empire in the 1910s..." I squinted as I looked at the couple in the photograph. The goatee was different, but that nose and those eyes...

"That's your father, isn't it?" Hannah asked, picking out the resemblance right away.

"Yep. But that's not my mother." I noted. Not that I didn't know who it was as I read off the caption, "Antwerp, 1943."

"That's your middle namesake? She looks very nice."Hannah noted, "Though... she looks more Irish than Belgian."

"That might just be the limitations of color photography and age." I noted dismissively. Mostly I just didn't want to think about the woman that my father grieved for even after he had my brother and I.

Hannah nodded, picking up another photo. It was a bit older and in black and white. The folks in the photo besides him - all but him and one German looking fellow were Chinese - were in 30s clothing, with the women wearing very fine Chinese style gowns.

"I didn't know your father was in Shanghai." She noted, sorting through some of the photos.

"Mm." was all I said, instead of what I wanted to say: That's okay, I apparently didn't even know who the hell my father really was.

Wordlessly, I pulled out the photographs, something Dad had neatly tucked into a small folder, for Hannah to look through. I'd look through those myself later, I noted as I went for what was more important - the text itself.

In a way, I felt a bit like a voyeur. This was my father's thoughts and work laid bare for his own daughter to judge and lament over. It went from scrapbook to magical theory and back with no rhyme or reason. This wasn't the orderly but cryptic puzzle my father liked. This was him, I realized, in the messiest, purest sense. All of his obsessions, successes, failures and losses were in this book in one form or another.

Eventually, I reached a long, complex set of incantations and hypothesizing, which included details of human anatomy to a scale just a bit shy of the 1918 edition of Gray's. In it, he wrote down every cell, every compound, enzyme, and interaction of the body he could. He had consulted everything from Ayurvedic texts to Harvard medical school texts for what he wanted. Based upon the number of pages, their wear, and how hard he often pressed down with the pen - he had scratched through it in several places - this was something he had spent years working on, trying to do something that no mage to my knowledge has ever done.

He had been trying to restore life.

Wordlessly, I shut the book, standing up slowly. In all the years that he had lived on this earth, he had spent so much, hurt so many, just to find a way to bring back those he lost, to restore some semblance of what he had considered justice.

I wondered quietly how long it took for him to realize that not even Jonathan Albrecht could beat the reaper.

"We're done here." I said weakly, walking back towards where we could snag a taxi. Hannah looked up, carefully putting the photos back into their mini-book, before following along. I was going to be spending a lot of time dissecting his writing - not to mention figuring out what to do with it. Better to get back now.

The train ride back to New York City was rather subdued, unsurprisingly. Feeling it only fair, I explained to Hannah some of what I had found out from Dad's missing journal pages, of some of the things he had done, what had happened, and some of the ways he tried to make amends.

After I had explained everything, Hannah's response was appropriate.,"...wow."

"Next time you see your father, Hannah, give him a hug and thank him for not being mine." I said weakly, managing a small grin.

I spent most of the rest of the trip looking over those old photos, pouring back through Dad's memories. China, Belgium, England, Istanbul - he had been to all of those places at one point or another. He even had an old copy of his ticket onboard the RMS Lusitania.

"I think this is yours." Hannah noted as I looked up, dangling the pendulum stone in front of me, the thing that had started this mess. I took it wordlessly with a sigh, nodding in thanks before slipping it back around my neck.

Reading my expression, Hannah pursed her lips as she turned to watch some snow geese fly past a pond near Deer Park, and noted, "I'm sorry it turned out this way."

I sat there silently for a moment, before flipping to the last photograph in Dad's collection. It was an X-Mas family photo from when I was 10. I was sitting in my brother's arms, my father and mother on each side of me. I had the copy of The Hobbit that I had been wanting for weeks in my hands, one with a color map. Dad had apparently pulled favors with a friend from England to get it.

"The burned hand learns best." I said, quoting a later Tolkien work as I gave her a weak grin, "...thank you Hannah. I'm glad you came along for this."

Hannah just smiled a bit at me as I closed the photo book, before looking back out the window.

"...so you're coming to Christmas with me then?""

Posted: **Wed Jan 11, 2012 12:42 am**

I'm glad you guys posted all of this.

It really filled in some blanks for me. To paraphrase Paul Harvey, "And now I know... the rest of the story."

Posted: **Wed Jan 11, 2012 1:00 am**

Nemmy - you, madam, are a brat.

Posted: **Wed Jan 11, 2012 1:20 am**

You, my dear, have no idea.

You know though, if there's one thing I hate, it's a mystery.

If there's something I hate more than a mystery, it's a loose end.

So I guess that means I better chime in here, although I did consider posting it over in my Red vs. Blue thread. Since for me, that's really where the story begins.

To recap for those who haven't been following me over there, for months now I've been playing tag with some pseudo government types. Black suits, ties, sunglasses after dark and ear pieces. Ring any bells? No? Go back and reread this entire thread. I'll wait.

While everyone else is going back to read a number of lengthy posts in this thread and possibly others as well, I will continue with the story and where I entered into it.

I hate New York. So I figured if I went there, the MiB's would be less likely to think to look for me there. It'd be the last place I'd go, right? Well, the buggers followed me there. So I led them on a merry chase around the Burroughs, neighbourhoods and communities. Eventually they had more or less lost my tail and I had turned it around on them.

Yeah, it was great times. I paid some model wannabe to walk around and get them to follow. Then all I had to do was watch them from a safe distance. I had some toys and gadgets with me that did all the EW sneaking and peaking for me so I passed the time by watching them from high points with my binoculars.

Did you find it yet? The post where GW mentions two conspicuous government types? Investigating terrorists (IE: ME)?

Well, there I was watching the G-Men when who should pass my field of view but Hannah and Mel. Now obviously Hannah I recognized but I didn't know that the person she was hanging with was Mel. Not at the time.

I'm sure you can well imagine that I was just a little curious as to what Hannah and this stranger were up to.

“But Nemesis,” you may be asking at the moment. “Surely you wouldn't abandon your current job and responsibilities just to spy on a friend, would you?”

Clearly if you are asking this, you haven't been paying attention.

OF COURSE I started following Hannah and Mel.

Why not just go up and say hi?

Again, not paying attention. I've been playing tag with MiB's who aren't there for my protection. Making direct contact with Hannah could have put her at serious risk. If I hadn't been sure that they would be busy with my decoy most of the day, I wouldn't have risked the distraction at all.

Besides, I sent a text to my partner in crime (I'm calling him Leo for those of you who don't know), to let him know about my diverted interest. He promised he would take over the surveillance of our mutual friends and appraise me if the situation changed. Yeah. I've learned the values of friendship and teamwork. Wonders will never cease.

So tailing them wasn't that hard. I've got a bit of experience at it. The cabby that picked them up didn't have any clue I was behind them.

Their first stop, as you should know, was a cemetery. Didn't make any sense to me at the time and I couldn't really figure out what they were doing through my bino's. So I kept my distance and watched as a rather ironic tune by the Headstones played on my mp3 player. I also took note of the specific grave they visited. It might be worth investigating later on. Sure they could have just been paying their respects but their activity in the area suggested something more.

I discreetly followed them back to the train station and even boarded the same train as them. Naturally I kept out of their line of sight. It helped that I had made myself look like a frumpy brunette that day. There were other wigs and clothes in my handy dandy oversized bag.

The train ride did furnish me with the opportunity to pursue some leads with regards to the cemetery. I sent a text to 'Leo'.

How's our boys?

'A' says they've figured out they were following a decoy. They're trying to reacquire you. How's our girls?

Who's 'A'?

'A' is another asset along with 'B' and 'C'. You would be 'D'.

Can you see what you can bring up on the name 'Benjamin Jamison Albrecht'?

Will do.

Hmmm. So I was 'D', was I? Was that because my first name was Darcy or just because it followed the abcd paradigm he seemed to be utilizing? Heck, I hadn't even known there were others working this case. No matter, it freed me up to pursue my curiosity. Don't tell Diana what curiosity can do to a cat.

And then we were departing the train. Apparently the girls had a hankering for Pakistani food. I decided to take a pass and change my appearance.

They were soon picked up by an older lady. I had a vehicle to follow again. Good times. Mostly I was starting to think that it would be time for me to move on. The hope that I might be able place a bug on them and move on. Really, stake out work is boring. Very boring. And I didn't even have a real reason to be doing it other than it had momentarily appealed to my mischievous side.

Thankfully they stopped at what I presumed was the woman's place. Shortly after they went inside, I planted a bug on the woman's car, figuring she would probably give the girls a ride to the train station when they were ready to leave. Then I went to find a nice roof top to hide out on.

I made myself comfortable, prepared for a long night of waiting and watching and then... fell asleep.

Mmm. Sleep. Sleep is good. Just saying.

Though not always.

I didn't wake up until I heard the shotgun blast.

“Really?” I thought to myself as I shivered and pulled myself out of a bivy sack. “They can't go one bloody night without getting into trouble? Ron is going to have a cow.”

There were more shots as I brought my binoculars to bear. I caught one last flash and it seemed the shooting was over. I cursed at myself. If anything had happened to Hannah, I would cry and then I would burn down the city to get those responsible. Immediately I started to assemble the upper and lower receivers of an M-4 carbine I had in my magic bag of tricks.

I had it assembled complete with sound suppressor by the time the girls had moved down stairs to confront the home invader. I didn't have the best view as to what was going on inside the house but the lightning out of the eyes trick? Yeah, I caught that. Buddy just became target numero uno over that weird dog that was still sniffing around the place.

When he came crashing through the window, I didn't even think about it, I just took the shot. Right in the face. I'll be honest, that was mostly good luck but I'll take it.

Then I lined up my next shot on the puppy from hell (I'm totally a cat person). Pulling the trigger didn't result in the crack or kick I had been expecting. I canted the weapon to the left and checked. The bolt was forward so I checked my mag, cocked it and went to fire again. Again, no love.

I wouldn't discover until later when I had a chance to pull the weapon apart that the tip of the firing pin had broken off. Very curious since I only buy the highest quality gear.

Well, at least watching Hannah and Mel wasn't going to be quite as boring as I originally imagined it would be.

Of course I should have known better.

Posted: **Wed Jan 11, 2012 1:23 am**

...you're right. I didn't have any idea.

Yoooooou brat.

Posted: **Thu Jan 12, 2012 9:18 pm**

Okay, I'll admit I should have had some inkling with the random bullet to the face, but I really had more important things to work on at the time.

Seriously Dar, you should have at least let me know you were there. Would have made things sooo much easier.

Hannah.

Posted: **Fri Jan 13, 2012 10:42 pm**

I know quite well by now that you don't like hearing it Hannah, but making direct contact with you at that time was just not an option. I was already pushing things as it was. I'm glad I did too.

As most of you have no doubt figured out by now, I was the one helping Mel out at the slaughterhouse with my carefully aimed shots. Well, carefully aimed when I had the time. A lot of my shots were rather hasty. And some were just barely on time.

It wasn't all just me, however. You see, we were able to neutralize the two MIB's that had been hounding me. We got enough evidence on them to a DA they couldn't touch and that was that. The whole operation wasn't over but we were starting to wrap things up.

So Leo... I guess I can start calling him Cyber now, he lent me the use of one of his other 'assets'. The one known as 'B'. I can't say much about the guy aside from, “Yum”. That and he was quite good at what he did. In this case he was acting as my spotter and close protection. If he hadn't been there with me... well Mel at least wouldn't be posting still. But he was so it's all good.

When things finally calmed down a bit, B turned to me and asked, “What do you want to do about the giant spider?”

"Giant Spider?" I asked, completely mystified by the question.

“Yeah.” He said and pointed to the side of a building. I couldn't see anything but then a window suddenly smashed open for no apparent reason.

“Wha...?” I asked, as I couldn't see anything actually there.

B tapped his goggles. “Membership has its privileges.” He said with a cocky grin. “So what do you want to do with about it?”

At that point I figured Mel and Hannah could handle whatever else was in the slaughter house so I decided that we should go after the thing.

It was something as a surreal chase from building to building, with only my colleagues word that we were even chasing something. Trusting someone I hardly knew was not something I was used to nor something I was comfortable with. It was however, something that I was learning was necessary.

Apparently someone else had an interest in our arachnid friend. Or rather perhaps our arachnid friend had an interest in someone else.

We came to an empty parking lot that was well flanked by mostly empty and derelict buildings. By the time we arrived on the scene, the alleged giant spider (which I still hadn't seen) was apparently facing off against a lone man. While we couldn't see the man's opponent, we could see that he didn't seem to be fairing to well.

“Think you can zero me onto the target?” I asked B as I started setting up.

“I assume you mean the giant spider?” B asked as he also started to set up.

“Of course.” As Ron has always told me, always start with the unearthly abominations and work from there.

It was tricky and took some time but B was eventually able to get on target. My head was objecting to the craziness of it all. I was literally aiming at bare ground. It was time to take a shot on blind faith.

There was an echoing crack and then suddenly there was a pool of tiny spiders where I had just shot. They quickly scattered.

The man in the parking lot didn't look like he planned on sticking around to thank me, taking off in the opposite direction the way he was.

How rude. I hadn't come all this way and burned away a small fortune in ammunition that day saving his daughter just so he could run off without answering any questions. “Cover me.” And then I was off across the tightly packed roof tops.

With a leap, I was in front of him.

He skidded to a stop and then stared at me hard for a long moment. He seemed surprised to see me. He also seemed to almost... recognize me. To himself he muttered, “Maybe it worked after all.” Then he regained his composure and met my gaze directly, “I was wondering when you'd finally show yourself.”

I didn't like his attitude one bit. “You're awfully cocky, all things considered. What's your deal, anyway? And speaking of people showing themselves, why haven't you shown yourself to your daughter through all this?”

That caught him off guard. He literally took a step back. Apparently he hadn't expected me to find out who he was or his connection to Mel was. If he had been watching me, and I suspect he had been, there was really no way for him to know that I was having him investigated at the same time. You might be able to observe someone sending a text message but that doesn't mean you will know who the message was too or what was in it.

It's a new age of digital wonders. Technology has provided us with magical miracles we all too often take for granted. There are modern wizards who can perform what appear to be nearly superhuman feats with what they know and what they can find out. I have often found working with such people to be highly advantageous. Those who cling to old ways without bending are sure to be in for some rude shocks in the decades to come.

To his credit, he recovered himself quickly, “okay so you somehow found out who I am. Good for you, doesn't happen that often.”

“I also somehow found a way to shoot a giant invisible spider so maybe you better start answering my questions.” I shot back at him.

“Don't get cocky kid. I could have handled that thing on my own. You just sped things up for me is all.” Then he sighed, “but I guess you have earned some answers. I've got my reasons for staying out of the thick of it. As you just say, I had to deal with that weaver. And that's not he most dangerous thing I deal with. You people can't have any idea the types of forces I deal with.”

I heard B snort over the radio but apparently Jon hadn't as he kept going. “You folks at Lazlo do an alright job of managing the small things that occasionally crawl out of the shadows but there are bigger forces at work. More dangerous... things than you could ever imagine. They know about me and there's nothing I can do about that now. It's all I can do to protect what little family I have left by leaving them out what I'm involved in.”

I could actually sort of understand where he was coming from. That didn't mean that his arrogance wasn't getting to me or that I was going to let him off the hook so easily.

“You're full of it, and yourself.” I held up my smart phone and flashed images and data at him to give him a taste of what we had found out about him. I didn't show it all to him though. There was an advantage to only revealing part of my hand. Let him keep guessing what else I knew and what was still actually a secret.

I really wasn't making him a happy camper. “Look, things haven't been going the way I intended.” He looked briefly guilty. Very briefly. “I just hope someday Mel can understand.”

“You should be more worried about if she'll be able to forgive you.” I retorted.

“All things considered, I'd be satisfied with understanding.”

“Well... if its any consolation, I think I understand.” I guess I'm not totally heartless. Besides, the red dot that B had been painting him with the whole time had done quite a bit to lighten my mood. People are just less threatening when you know they're being covered by a high calibre rifle.

We chatted a bit more-nothing anyone really need concern themselves about-and then went our separate ways.

Posted: **Fri Jan 13, 2012 11:05 pm**

Well...

Alright then.

Nice to see Dad hasn't changed, apparently.

Oh well.

Posted: **Fri Jan 13, 2012 11:12 pm**

Really Darcy? You're lecturing a guy on being more open while you know Mel and I are only about a hundred feet away and you refuse to say anything to us?

This just keep s getting worse.

Long Island Blues

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Step into my parlour...

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