Subway Ambush...Part 1

(I have been repaired, thanks to the spare parts that were recovered from Drake’s last hideout, and can now type somewhat normally again. I will restart the narrative where I left off before my injuries.)

I looked at the spirit of the fallen hero and asked, “Do you know anything else that might help me to find and destroy this thing?”

He looked at me directly for the first time since sitting down and replied, “We only know that it feeds on two things, fear and spiritual energy. The problem we have experienced with our Call is that the only people who can hear the Call and respond are those who are most vulnerable to this creature. We sensed something different with you. You are sensitive to the Call, but you look like you might be able to face the creature and survive.”

“Yeah, one advantage to being dead myself, I suppose. How long will you and the others here stick around this site?”

“As long as the need exists. If you fail, we will send forth another Call.”

“I see. Well I will make sure that I don’t fail then.”

“One more thing, that thing is gathering objects and is picking its victims for the objects that they possess, it looks like it is trying to build something. We don’t know what it is, but it can’t be something that is good for the city or the people here.”

“No, it can’t be good for anyone if this creature is as nasty as you have shown it to be.”

“Good luck Agent Bones, please destroy this thing so that we may pass on to the next world.”

With that, he disappeared as did the vision of the dust clouds and debris from the collapsed buildings. I sat there for a moment, marvelling at the difference in perspective and the incredbile void that remained in this spot. The surrounding buildings seemed somehow diminshed by the loss of their magnificent neighbors, the current emptiness of the place echoing the silence.

I walked back to my bike and returned to the RV park where I had parked the main vehicle. I had some work to do before the morning meeting with the Special Agent in Charge of the Manhattan office.

* * *

The next morning I rode back into the City well before 6 AM to avoid the usual traffic jams. I rode past Ground Zero again to see if the strange visions would come back, but I felt none of the same feelings as I did that first time.

I found a semo-respectable looking parking lot in which to park the Ninja and forked over the outrageous sum of money the heavily accented man barked out for the cost of a day’s parking. I had an hour before my scheduled meeting, so I took the time to take a little walking tour of the nearby Chinatown neighborhood.

New York, especially the ethnic enclaves like this one, is like no other American city. The sheer number of people crowding the streets, the constant noise of passing buses and honking cabbies, the vendors hawking their wares in half a dozen different languages all worked to create an international flavor that makes New York City unique in America, a city more of the world than of any one country.

I passed buildings that contained sweatshop factories on one floor, living quarters on other floors, and had ground floors that were crwoded with vegetable stands, restaurants and tiny little grocery stores. Since my death, and my return to action, I have rarely been in such a public place, yet I felt almost invisiible as nearly every passerby was brusquely heading about their own business. It was almost like the people of this strange city were so focused on their own affairs that they couldn’t take the time to notice what, and who, was happening around them.

It was easy to get lost in the hustle and bustle of the morning rush hour, but I was able to circle back around to the impressive looking, and highly secured building that served as the home to the Manhattan office of the Bureau. There was a long line of folks waiting to get through security, so I joined the line, pulling out my badge case to flash when I got closer. I knew that damn metal detector would go crazy when I went through it.

I got rather strange looks from the contract security guards as I approached the security check point. Showing my badge seemed to satisfy them though, although the looks they gave each other as I passed through seemed to reflect that I was probably the strangest looking agent they had ever seen.

The elevator took me up to the 32nd floor and opened into a quiet hallway that was carefully decorated to reflect the power and majesty of the US governments premiere law enforcement agency. A sign pointed me towards the reception area, where I found a small waiting area lined with comfortable looking sofas and a single, locked door that stood next to a small window that looked into the receptionsts area. The sofas were separated by small tables with tasteful lamps and a single, water filled vase on each table. Looking into one of those vases, I saw a small but colorful Siamese fighting fish called a Beta swimming around slowly. I moved up to the window and flashed my badge to the young woman behind the window and announced my name.

She touched two buttons in quick succession, the first one to toggle the intercom when she said, “Come in Agent Bones, the SAIC is expecting you. Please go to the conference room, the third door on the left.” The second button activated a buzzer that indicated the door was now unlocked.

Passing through the now unlocked door, I dound myself in a more spartan hallway with several frosted glass doors on each side of the hall. I counted to the third one on the left, pulled the door open to reveal the conference room, already occupied by half a dozen well dressed agents and a large table covered in open files and large, gruesomely detailed photographs.

The agent closest to me turned as I entered. He had the easy air of someone used to being in charge. His suit was the nearly uniform dark blue, his shirt crisply starched white, and his tie a nice conservative red. He held out his right hand towards me, and introduced himself. “Agent Bones I presume, I’m SAIC Brian Murphy. I’ll introduce you to the others here in just a moment, please come in.”

I shook his hand, careful not crush it in my grip. Even so, he sort of grimaced as I released and dropped the hand quickly, trying to shake the circulation back into it out of my eyesight. “Pleased to meet you Agent Murphy.”

After the initial pleassantries and introductions, we got right down to business. Just as i suspected after meeting with the ghosts at Ground Zero, I was being called in to try and hunt down a previously unknown serial killer who was haunting the underbelly of the city. Whoever the killer was, he was killing seemingly at random, and was badly mutilating the bodies. There were no signs of any kind of sexual motives and robbery had also been ruled out, since most of the victims were poor gypsy types. The common threads seemed to be that the victims were usually known for being psychic or made claims of such previously, they were being killed in some very remote locations not far away from Ground Zero, and more than one of the victims had previously contacted both the Bureau and the NYPD in attempts to get assistance in hunting for the ‘real villain’ of the 9/11 attacks. Of course these requests for assitance had all b een rejected as crackpots looking to waste law enforcement resources on wild goose chases, until the poor souls were actually found slaughtered in grisly fashion. There were a total of 9 confirmed victims and another half dozen suspected victims to date, with the most recent being a gypsy fortune teller killed in her own shop just Friday.

After allowing me to look over the files and photos that they had available, Murphy offered to take me to the scene of the last killing, which was only a couple of miles away. Soon, we were on our way, using a pair of unmarked black sedans.