The shattering of my baton came as a bit of a shock, but I didn’t have much time to recover, because Grendel was grinning like a fool as he leapt to the attack. Apparently, he had tweaked his protections since our last encounter and had healed up too, since there was no hint of any wounds I had inflicted on him.
He leaped with both claws extended to try and get to my head, but I had just enough of my wits and my own reactions speed to grab each of his wrists and fall backwards, flipping him head first into the solid cement floor.
The impact of the move surprised us both, I lost my grip on his wrists, his head bounced a couple of times as he skidded away to land in a heap against the far wall.
Knowing I didn’t have much time, I leaped back to my feet and spun to face the critter, just as he used the base of the wall to launch another leaping attack at me.
I reached behind me and grabbed the hilt of the Witchbane blade that was sheathed there. I had it out just in time to dodge away from his latest attack and slash out unsuccessfully with the unfamiliar weapon. The blade felt heavy in my grip and distinctly...wrong.
We began circling each other again, he seemed to wary of the blade, like he recognized that the blacker than black blade could actually harm him.
Seeing the look of caution in his alien eyes, I waved the blade just a little bit, brandishing it while smiling and waving with one hand for him to try me out. He kept his distance, and even shifted directions in his circling with me when I changed to move to meet him sooner. He seemed to respect both the weapoon I was carrying and the degree of difficulty I was giving him.
I didn’t hear anything from my companions, our battle was being fought in a kind of eerie silence. Had I been alive, I would have thought that due to the rushing adrenaline and tunnel vision that accompanies highly stressful situations. But I no longer exeperience such things, so I could easily hear little sounds that were separate from the struggle I was engaged in. A quick glance during one of our shifts in direction confirmed that Ravyn and Herne seemed to be alive and breathing, but were either unconscious or too hurt to move much.
Not knowing the extent of any of their injuries, I figured I needed to move to finish this as quickly as I could. So I faked to my right like I was changing directions again and then dove forward in a modified forward roll where I came up with both hands on the hilt, trying to drive the blade into its chest. At least that was the effect I was trying for.
Unfortunately, I am not an experienced knife fighter, and I had never tried such a move before...I was too slow. Just for future referemce to any budding young demon hunters out there...it is never a good thing to throw yourself onto the ground in front on a faster, more agile foe. Let’s call that Rusty’s First Rule of Demon Fighting.
As I was coming up out of my nearly perfect move and looking to stab the bastard, I found myself looking for my opponent. Apparently he had faked his own response and had continued circling, allowing him to send my ass sprawling with powerful blow to my head with one closed fist. The blow was damn powerful, I realized anew the advantages to already being dead, since there a damn good chance that such a blow would have killed me had I been inconveniently alive at that moment.
I had managed to keep hold of my weapon and managed to twist onto my back and bring the blade up in defense as the thing pounced on me. I slashed out at the first claw I saw, managing to slice a half his taloned fingers off in a desperate move. It roared in pain and leaped back. So I had found a weapon that could pierce his protections and he didn’t like the feel of it one bit.
As it backpedaled, I bounced back up and started advancing, slashing wildly each time I got close enough to possibly hit it. Holding it’s wounded claw with the other, it kept bounding backwards with each of my attacks. Rusty’s Second Rule of Demon Fighting: Once you find something that works, keep doing it until your opponent finds a way to stop it!
The only problem with my current strategy (and it was a huge one) was that I pushing the damn thing right back towards Ravyn and Herne’s unconscious forms!
I slowed my attacks as soon as I noticed that I was pushing him in the wrong direction. I dropped into a more defnsive crouch, but also began preparing to leap forward in case he tried to do anything to my companions.
As soon as I stopped pressing the attack though, he stopped moving backwards and at this point he didn’t seem to have much interest in people he saw as no threat.
It was in that moment though that I noticed Ravyn moving every so slightly. I could see her eyes looking at me, imploring me not to say or do anything to bring to get her noticed. Those eyes burned with a hatred of this creature deeper than anything I thought possible from the normally bubbly and effervescent Ravyn. She was reaching under Herne’s body ever so slowly for something with one hand.
The creature was adjusting quickly to the setback and was already flexing its wounded claw, apparently working the pain out of its system. He was in a battle crouch as well now. We stared at each other for moment, but I could tell he was getting ready to make a move. I didn’t know what it was planning to do, so I thought maybe I would try to buy some time for Ravyn.
“Hey buddy,” I called out, “Don’t you like my little knife? Didn’t feel very good did it?”
His eyes narrowed, it either understood me, or was trying to figure out whatever trick he thought I was going to try next.
I needed to keep it distracted and focused on me, so I motioned with my free hand towards the blade and started talking again. “Hey you know what? I don’t think it is very fair of me to use this big nasty knife on you anymore, how about I put it down and we settle this fight naturally, man against demon?”
That perked its interest.
“Now I’m going to put this thing down to the side over here, but I don’t want you trying to jump me when I do that, OK?”
Did it just nod in agreement? Hell, I don’t know, but it sure seemed like it at the time. I made a big show of setting the knife off to my side, keeping my eyes locked on his the whole time. He didn’t make any sudden moves, so I set the blade down and got back into my battle crouch.
Now let me just say that what I just did was a serious violation of several of Rusty’s Rules of Demon Fighting, namely numbers 4--Never make deals with demons, and 6--Don’t put away your weapons until the damn smoke clears, but they are my own damn rules, so I can break them if I want to.
Once I was up and in my crouch again, the beast actually smiled like he thought I was a fool. Perhaps I am, but there was a method to my madness, Ravyn was silently getting into a crouch of her own, grimacing in pain and rage simultaneously, clutching at something I couldn’t quite make out.
I leaped forward, hands outstretched just as he made his own move, lunging in my direction with both claws out and ready to snatch at me. We grappled there, my arms on his writsts, his claws and fangs trying to reach at me. We stood there locked in a struggling embrace, each testing the sheer strength and the balance of the other, he was grunting with exertion, I was grunting out of a desire to hide Ravyn’s footsteps as she stood up and moved towards us with deadly intent in her burning eyes.
Too late it noticed that she was approaching. I held on firmly as he tried to break free. Slowly, deliberately, and with more malice than I ever thought possible from her, Ravyn came up behind the thing, limping and holding one arm close to her wounded side. She raised one of the Witchbane blades over her head with her good arm and hissed out, “Die, you fucking beast!”
With that she plunged the black blade into Grendel’s back with all of the force she could muster.
The blade pierced through its tough hide, but bounced off of some bone to sheer through the shoulder of his previously unwounded arm. There was an explosion of dark, roiling energies, whether it was from the blade or Grendel himself, I couldn’t tell. The force of the explosion knocked Ravyn back towards Herne, smoking hilt still in her hand.
The force of it blasted against me, but I had been able to maintain my grip on the wrist attached to the shoulder she had cut into, the whole arm ripped free from the beast, sending both of us flying.
Grendel was screeching in pain as he fell. He was still wailing in a strange, unearthly kind ofway as he staggered up using his one, wounded clawed hand and staggered away, trailing a stream of greenish ichor as he went.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Sunday, July 24, 2005
Boneswulf...Part 5
Herne insisted on descending first, Fang went down next, follwed by myself and then Ravyn. Once we were all down the ladder, Ravyn dispatched another floating ball of fire to illuminate the area better. Each of the two seemed to have minds of their own, floating about in lazy, hazy circles, but always seeming to be where we needed them at the moment.
My previous trail was pretty obvious, the dark, syrupy liquid from my ‘veins’ had congealed into sticky puddles.
Herne saw the trail and motioned for us to come together briefly. “Fang and I will hug opposites sides of the walls. Rusty I want you to follow the trail, taking no care to cover any sounds. Just like that valley in the desert, I need you to be the distraction. This thing is likely expecting you to come back.”
“What about me?” Ravyn was looking a little peeved that she had to speak up.
“Babe, I know better than to give you directions. You can follow behind Rusty, that’s probably the safest place, since this thing seems to kill with its claws and teeth and doesn’t use any weapons that we know of. However we are going to need to drop the fireballs soon, that kind of magick will attract this thing. I would like us to be the hunters, not the hunted.”
“Hmmph. Wll alright then.” With that the fireballs winked out of esxistence and the soft darkness of this unlit tunnel descended. “I’ll stick close to Rusty. Once the fighting starts I will light things back up to prevent any additional surprises for sneaking up.”
‘Very well then, let’s roll. Rusty, don’t worry if you don’t see us, we’ll be there. Fang and I have some non-magickal tricks up our sleeves to stay hidden until the right moment.”
My lenses quickly adjusted the near total darkness of the place, so I was able to weatch as Fang and Herne slipped away in opposite directions and then completely disappeared from even my enhanced vision. Ravyn was shifter on her feet nervously. I reached out and gave her arm a freindly squeeze, to reassure her that we would be OK.
“Can you see at all?” I whispered to her.
She managed a wan smile, “Don’t worry about me, you big lummox. I just hate being cooped up in this small, dark place. I’m fighting very hard against the urge to light this place up like the Fourth of July! Now get moving before I lose that battle!”
I gave her one more squeeze and then turned to follow the trail of my own dried up ‘blood’ to find Grendel and have our little rematch.
I walked loudly down the hall, keeping more to the middle this time than I did the first time. I felt more than heard Ravyn following behind me, a few paces back. After a hundred feet or so, I came to the first intersection where I had turned down the first time. This would lead to a much smaller hall, with hardly any room for Herne or Fang to be hidden to the side, so I hesitated before proceeding. I was just about to say something, when a sickening wet ripping sound and a gurgled half-grunt cut me off.
Ravyn gasped, “What was...”
Fang’s headless body crumpled to the floor about twenty feet away to our right, blood gushed out in a showering fountain from the stump of his neck.
I immediately dropped into a battle ready stance, snapping my wrist to drop my baton into place. I reached behind me with one hand to make sure Ravyn wasn’t exposed.
A form rushed out of the darkness from the other side of the hall straight towards the darkness that still stood over Fang’s lifeless body. Silently, Herne had drawn one of the two blades he carried and leaped towards the form, trying to bury the knife in its side.
One bloody clawed arm lashed out of the darkness and caught Herne just as he was leaping to the attack, catching him under his extended arm and spinning quickly to throw him solidly into the wall. With a crashing clang, and the sounds of something snapping, whether it was bone or blade, I wasn’t sure. Herne sunk to the floor, seemingly lifeless as Grendel turned towards us.
With a fierce, defiant cry of “No!” Ravyn leaped past my protective arm and launched a massive bolt of fiery red flames at the creature.
The bolt of flames lit up the hall in a blinding flash, and splashed harmlessly off the chest of Grendel who was now clearly quite visible, standing there with Fang’s head in one terrible, bloody claw.
In the quick glance I had of him before the fire dissipated, I could see that Herne was still alive, but was clearly dazed, if not unconscious.
Seeing that Ravyn was not going to play it safe, I rushed forward as the darkness descended yet again. I passed her easily and put myself between her and the creature.
It saw me and dropped into its own battle crouch, apparently it remembered the damage I inflicted upon it before and was taking a more cautious approach with me now. We circled as we closed on each other, allowing Ravyn to rush towards Herne to see she could help him.
Just as I was about to make the first move, the creature reared back and faked throwing Fang’s head at me, before hurling it at the darting form of Ravyn. I tried to call out, but it was too quick, the head struck her in the side with a sickening thud and slammed her up against the wall.
I lashed out at that, hoping at least to get an advantage on this damn creature. I landed what I hoped would be a solid blow on its shoulder, only to see my baton slam into it and shatter like it was glass.
Uh oh...
My previous trail was pretty obvious, the dark, syrupy liquid from my ‘veins’ had congealed into sticky puddles.
Herne saw the trail and motioned for us to come together briefly. “Fang and I will hug opposites sides of the walls. Rusty I want you to follow the trail, taking no care to cover any sounds. Just like that valley in the desert, I need you to be the distraction. This thing is likely expecting you to come back.”
“What about me?” Ravyn was looking a little peeved that she had to speak up.
“Babe, I know better than to give you directions. You can follow behind Rusty, that’s probably the safest place, since this thing seems to kill with its claws and teeth and doesn’t use any weapons that we know of. However we are going to need to drop the fireballs soon, that kind of magick will attract this thing. I would like us to be the hunters, not the hunted.”
“Hmmph. Wll alright then.” With that the fireballs winked out of esxistence and the soft darkness of this unlit tunnel descended. “I’ll stick close to Rusty. Once the fighting starts I will light things back up to prevent any additional surprises for sneaking up.”
‘Very well then, let’s roll. Rusty, don’t worry if you don’t see us, we’ll be there. Fang and I have some non-magickal tricks up our sleeves to stay hidden until the right moment.”
My lenses quickly adjusted the near total darkness of the place, so I was able to weatch as Fang and Herne slipped away in opposite directions and then completely disappeared from even my enhanced vision. Ravyn was shifter on her feet nervously. I reached out and gave her arm a freindly squeeze, to reassure her that we would be OK.
“Can you see at all?” I whispered to her.
She managed a wan smile, “Don’t worry about me, you big lummox. I just hate being cooped up in this small, dark place. I’m fighting very hard against the urge to light this place up like the Fourth of July! Now get moving before I lose that battle!”
I gave her one more squeeze and then turned to follow the trail of my own dried up ‘blood’ to find Grendel and have our little rematch.
I walked loudly down the hall, keeping more to the middle this time than I did the first time. I felt more than heard Ravyn following behind me, a few paces back. After a hundred feet or so, I came to the first intersection where I had turned down the first time. This would lead to a much smaller hall, with hardly any room for Herne or Fang to be hidden to the side, so I hesitated before proceeding. I was just about to say something, when a sickening wet ripping sound and a gurgled half-grunt cut me off.
Ravyn gasped, “What was...”
Fang’s headless body crumpled to the floor about twenty feet away to our right, blood gushed out in a showering fountain from the stump of his neck.
I immediately dropped into a battle ready stance, snapping my wrist to drop my baton into place. I reached behind me with one hand to make sure Ravyn wasn’t exposed.
A form rushed out of the darkness from the other side of the hall straight towards the darkness that still stood over Fang’s lifeless body. Silently, Herne had drawn one of the two blades he carried and leaped towards the form, trying to bury the knife in its side.
One bloody clawed arm lashed out of the darkness and caught Herne just as he was leaping to the attack, catching him under his extended arm and spinning quickly to throw him solidly into the wall. With a crashing clang, and the sounds of something snapping, whether it was bone or blade, I wasn’t sure. Herne sunk to the floor, seemingly lifeless as Grendel turned towards us.
With a fierce, defiant cry of “No!” Ravyn leaped past my protective arm and launched a massive bolt of fiery red flames at the creature.
The bolt of flames lit up the hall in a blinding flash, and splashed harmlessly off the chest of Grendel who was now clearly quite visible, standing there with Fang’s head in one terrible, bloody claw.
In the quick glance I had of him before the fire dissipated, I could see that Herne was still alive, but was clearly dazed, if not unconscious.
Seeing that Ravyn was not going to play it safe, I rushed forward as the darkness descended yet again. I passed her easily and put myself between her and the creature.
It saw me and dropped into its own battle crouch, apparently it remembered the damage I inflicted upon it before and was taking a more cautious approach with me now. We circled as we closed on each other, allowing Ravyn to rush towards Herne to see she could help him.
Just as I was about to make the first move, the creature reared back and faked throwing Fang’s head at me, before hurling it at the darting form of Ravyn. I tried to call out, but it was too quick, the head struck her in the side with a sickening thud and slammed her up against the wall.
I lashed out at that, hoping at least to get an advantage on this damn creature. I landed what I hoped would be a solid blow on its shoulder, only to see my baton slam into it and shatter like it was glass.
Uh oh...
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Boneswulf...Part 4
“I’ll carry the fourth blade,” Herne said, looking to calm things down. “I can use two if I need to, but it is alway good to have a spare on hand if needed. I should tell you one more thing about these blades.”
Now Fang spoke up, “What’s that dude?”
“The reason there are only four of these blades left is because Moira and I have made it our personal mission to destroy these cursed weapons. They black magick that was used to create these blades caused the Spirit of an innocent child to be trapped inside each blade. When the forging of the blades was nearing completion, the evil bastards that the Arch Bishop had hired to make these things cooled them in then living bodies of children of people who had been accused of using witchcraft.
“After this fight, I want to ask your help in destroying them for once and for all.”
Ravyn looked like she could kill with a thought at this moment, she was shaking as she said, “I will certainly see that we do whatever is necessary to destroy them and release those poor Spirits.”
“Me too. I have some personal experience on being a trapped Spirit, I couldn’t imagine being trapped inside a prison like that for hundreds of years.”
“Agreed.” Fang looked as outraged as I felt when he said that.
“Good. Shall we track ourselves a monster then?” Asked Herne.
With that, he sealed up the case again after restoring the one sheathed blade he had pulled out to show us. He muttered some more words as a small flash lit up the locks again. He loaded the case back into the van that they had rented. We piled into the vehicle with Herne taking the driver’s seat.
The ride into the City was a quiet one, we had already shared everything we could on the coming struggle already, and the talk of those damn daggers put a damper on any kind of idle chat.
On the way into the City, i called up SAIC Murphy of the Manhattan office and informed him that I was going to the scene of the last crime for another look around. He was more than a little surprised to hear my voice and to hear that I was well enough to try tracking that thing again. He did manage to regain enough composure to ask if I needed any backup, but seemed more than a little reassured when I indicated that no additional men would be needed, other than a pair of men to watch the scene from the outside to keep curious onlookers away.
He agreed to send the one car and hung up.
About 45 minutes later, we were pulling up to the alleyway where a car with two bored looking agents were waiting near the still roped off entrance to the home and business of the dead gypsy fortune teller, Henna.
The agents perk up with more than a little interest when they recognized me, both of them spent more time looking at my resotred leg and hand than at any of my new companions. I approached the driver’s side of their sedan. “Look, I’m going back down there with these folks. We’re taking in some special tools to deal with the killer. I need you guys to make sure that no one slips in behind us and tries to interfere. Also, keep a line open to Murphy in case we need to request assistance.”
The driver looked at Ravyn, Herne and Fang and then back to me. “You sure you gonna be OK down there Agent Bones? You were messed up pretty bad the last time.”
I made a point of patting him on the shoulder with my new hand, which I saw he noted, and said, “We’ll be OK down there. Just keep anyone else from getting involved, OK?”
“Yes sir.”
With that, I led the three others to the rusty door and pried it open, “Be advised, it stinks pretty bad in here.”
Herne follwed me in, carrying the closed case containing the blades. Fang followed him with Ravyn trailing. Her gagging cough sounds told me all I needed to know about how bad it actually smelled down here. Remembering the way back to the manhole cover, I led them through the warren of bookshelves and knicknacks until I came to the still open cover.
“I think we need to get ready right here, that thing could be anywhere down there, so we better be armed for trouble.”
Herne nodded, set the case down and did his little ritual to open it back up. Once it was open, he carefully handed one sheathed blade to me. I used the clip on the sheath to attach the thing to my belt in and angled the blade so that the hilt pointed down from the small of my back, making it easily accessible with either hand.
Fang took his sheathed balde carefully as well and clipped it to a device on his left forearm, giving him a tool to block blows with the sheathed weapon, and the ease to draw it with his other hand when needed.
Herne attached the remaining two sheathed blades to his own belt and nodded when he finished.
Ravyn stood by the hole waiting impatiently for us. Once she saw Herne nod his readiness, a ball of flame erupted from her outstretched hand and balsted down into the darkness below. The ball of fire then seemed to settle near the floor, illuminating the place with its flickering flame. The shadows danced to an unheard music as Herne took the lead and climbed down into the tunnel below....
Now Fang spoke up, “What’s that dude?”
“The reason there are only four of these blades left is because Moira and I have made it our personal mission to destroy these cursed weapons. They black magick that was used to create these blades caused the Spirit of an innocent child to be trapped inside each blade. When the forging of the blades was nearing completion, the evil bastards that the Arch Bishop had hired to make these things cooled them in then living bodies of children of people who had been accused of using witchcraft.
“After this fight, I want to ask your help in destroying them for once and for all.”
Ravyn looked like she could kill with a thought at this moment, she was shaking as she said, “I will certainly see that we do whatever is necessary to destroy them and release those poor Spirits.”
“Me too. I have some personal experience on being a trapped Spirit, I couldn’t imagine being trapped inside a prison like that for hundreds of years.”
“Agreed.” Fang looked as outraged as I felt when he said that.
“Good. Shall we track ourselves a monster then?” Asked Herne.
With that, he sealed up the case again after restoring the one sheathed blade he had pulled out to show us. He muttered some more words as a small flash lit up the locks again. He loaded the case back into the van that they had rented. We piled into the vehicle with Herne taking the driver’s seat.
The ride into the City was a quiet one, we had already shared everything we could on the coming struggle already, and the talk of those damn daggers put a damper on any kind of idle chat.
On the way into the City, i called up SAIC Murphy of the Manhattan office and informed him that I was going to the scene of the last crime for another look around. He was more than a little surprised to hear my voice and to hear that I was well enough to try tracking that thing again. He did manage to regain enough composure to ask if I needed any backup, but seemed more than a little reassured when I indicated that no additional men would be needed, other than a pair of men to watch the scene from the outside to keep curious onlookers away.
He agreed to send the one car and hung up.
About 45 minutes later, we were pulling up to the alleyway where a car with two bored looking agents were waiting near the still roped off entrance to the home and business of the dead gypsy fortune teller, Henna.
The agents perk up with more than a little interest when they recognized me, both of them spent more time looking at my resotred leg and hand than at any of my new companions. I approached the driver’s side of their sedan. “Look, I’m going back down there with these folks. We’re taking in some special tools to deal with the killer. I need you guys to make sure that no one slips in behind us and tries to interfere. Also, keep a line open to Murphy in case we need to request assistance.”
The driver looked at Ravyn, Herne and Fang and then back to me. “You sure you gonna be OK down there Agent Bones? You were messed up pretty bad the last time.”
I made a point of patting him on the shoulder with my new hand, which I saw he noted, and said, “We’ll be OK down there. Just keep anyone else from getting involved, OK?”
“Yes sir.”
With that, I led the three others to the rusty door and pried it open, “Be advised, it stinks pretty bad in here.”
Herne follwed me in, carrying the closed case containing the blades. Fang followed him with Ravyn trailing. Her gagging cough sounds told me all I needed to know about how bad it actually smelled down here. Remembering the way back to the manhole cover, I led them through the warren of bookshelves and knicknacks until I came to the still open cover.
“I think we need to get ready right here, that thing could be anywhere down there, so we better be armed for trouble.”
Herne nodded, set the case down and did his little ritual to open it back up. Once it was open, he carefully handed one sheathed blade to me. I used the clip on the sheath to attach the thing to my belt in and angled the blade so that the hilt pointed down from the small of my back, making it easily accessible with either hand.
Fang took his sheathed balde carefully as well and clipped it to a device on his left forearm, giving him a tool to block blows with the sheathed weapon, and the ease to draw it with his other hand when needed.
Herne attached the remaining two sheathed blades to his own belt and nodded when he finished.
Ravyn stood by the hole waiting impatiently for us. Once she saw Herne nod his readiness, a ball of flame erupted from her outstretched hand and balsted down into the darkness below. The ball of fire then seemed to settle near the floor, illuminating the place with its flickering flame. The shadows danced to an unheard music as Herne took the lead and climbed down into the tunnel below....
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Boneswulf...Part 3
We spent the next several hours discussing all of the available information on the Grendel-thing and its potential mother/companion that was suspected to be present as well. I pulled up the recorded images I had downloaded onto my iMac and after those were viewed and reviewed and view again, I led everyone into the back of the motorhome and tried to demonstrate some of the moves the creature had displayed. I alternated using Herne and Fang as the ‘dummy’ creature in recreating some of the scenario, in part so that the other could watch some and also in part to get a true feeling for their individual strengths. I also wanted each of them experience my strength so that they could have a better understanding of this creature’s strength. Combined with its sheer speed and the vicious claws and jaws, it was going to be a very dangerous opponent.
I found that both Fang and Herne were stronger than they looked and had better trained reflexes and hand to hand combat skills than most athletic men. But I was still very concerned. A part of me didn’t want any of these people down there with me, I would feel so responsible if they were grievously injured, or worse yet, killed.
Fang alleviated some of my fears when he offered to spar with me, one on one. He was an expert in several forms of martial arts and demonstrated an amazing ability to escape my punches and blows. For the most part he was able to land blow after blow on me, but with my much heavier frame and reinforced skeleton, he was unable to land any disabling blows. So many of his various forms were designed to impact nerve centers and to otherwise incapacitate living opponents who could feel pain. The contest was ended rather abruptly when I allowed him to make a leaping kick where he landed two solid blows, one to my head, another to my chest. Once he was fully committed to the attack I grabbed the foot that hit me in the head and held in place with one hand and reached out with the other hand, landing a glancing blow to his ‘nads. He fell to a gasping heap on the floor as I stepped over him and grabbed his neck, lifting him off the floor with one hand.
“This creature doesn’t have the same weak points as a human. I don’t think it feels pain any more than I do. You would be dead right now, if you were facing it alone.”
Fang nodded as I put him down. He hid his obvious pain and embarassment very well, bowed to show he respected the lesson and took a seat.
“Are you done flaunting that testosterone that you claim not have anymore Mr. He-Man Zombie?” Ravyn was not so impressed.
“Look Ravyn, I’ve fought beside Herne and you before, I know what you can do. I needed to know what Fang was capable of, and I think he needed to know for his own good what it was like to face an opponent that was virtually unstoppable. Am I right Fang?”
He nodded, still flushed from our sparring, “Dude, no worries there. I appreciate and shared your concerns. I had read about you, but it was good to find out first hand what I am up against. I also have some skills I didn’t bring to bear that will be very useful. I didn’t think it was appropriate to use any of my Chi powers in the sparring match.”
“That’s all very well and good gentlemen,” said Ravyn, looking rather perturbed that Fang had agreed with me, “but I don’t think we’ll destroy these creatures with your punches or kicks. Herne, can you get the case that Moira sent with us?”
Herne nodded, left to get the case, and returned very soon with a long black suitcase that looked large enough to hold a rifle.
He brought the case into the room, placed it on the floor and then muttered some Celtic sounding words over the locks before reaching to the now glowing locks and clicking them open. He carefully openned the lid to reveal four long, sheathed daggers that were so black in color that the light seemed to grow dimmer right around them. There was a definite feeling of deep, dark magick about these blades.
Herne reached into the cushioned case and pulled out one of the still sheathed daggers. I could see Ravyn almost shiver as the dagger was brought out into the full light.
“What’s up with these things?” I asked as I reached towards one of the other blades.
Herrne stopped me from touching it, but brought the sheathed one in its hand closer to me to see better. “These blades are exceptionally dangerous. Don’t try to unsheath any of them until you are prepared to use it in battle. These are the last four Witchbane blades known to exist.”
“Witchbane blades?”
“Yes,” he continued, “there were originally thirteen of these blades created by some very talented and very twisted men during the Spanish Inquisition, the Burning Times. They were conceived and commissioned by a powerful Arch Bishop in order for his men to be able to face and slay powerful Casters. These blades will cut through any and all known spells, wards, or protections raised by any Caster, and should be able to put this Grendel thing out of its misery rather easily.”
“Why can’t we unsheath them then?”
“These blades are evil. Once they are drawn from their protective sheath, it is literally impossible to sheath them again until they have drawn the blood and life energies of a Caster or magickal creature. If you try to sheath one of them without quenching its thirst, it will pull the life energy right out of its wielder through the hilt. When we recovered the fourth blade, it was from some poor soul who thought those were just stories. I sheathed the blade while it was still in his cold, dead grasp.”
“I see. So what’s the plan with these things then?”
“Well, you, Fang and I will each carry one of the blades down there with us. Once we locate the beast and its mother, we’ll use these blades on them to cut through the protective spells that prevent most weapons from harming them.”
I looked over at Ravyn, “Aren’t you going to carry one as well?”
She shuddered visibly. “No. I won’t touch one of those cursed things.”
“But what if they get to you, you won’t have a weapon that can hurt them.”
“You worry about keeping your own damn hide intact. I can take care of myself. Always have, always will. Besides, you’ll need my brains around since you are all so impaired by that terminal condition known as manhood.”
I found that both Fang and Herne were stronger than they looked and had better trained reflexes and hand to hand combat skills than most athletic men. But I was still very concerned. A part of me didn’t want any of these people down there with me, I would feel so responsible if they were grievously injured, or worse yet, killed.
Fang alleviated some of my fears when he offered to spar with me, one on one. He was an expert in several forms of martial arts and demonstrated an amazing ability to escape my punches and blows. For the most part he was able to land blow after blow on me, but with my much heavier frame and reinforced skeleton, he was unable to land any disabling blows. So many of his various forms were designed to impact nerve centers and to otherwise incapacitate living opponents who could feel pain. The contest was ended rather abruptly when I allowed him to make a leaping kick where he landed two solid blows, one to my head, another to my chest. Once he was fully committed to the attack I grabbed the foot that hit me in the head and held in place with one hand and reached out with the other hand, landing a glancing blow to his ‘nads. He fell to a gasping heap on the floor as I stepped over him and grabbed his neck, lifting him off the floor with one hand.
“This creature doesn’t have the same weak points as a human. I don’t think it feels pain any more than I do. You would be dead right now, if you were facing it alone.”
Fang nodded as I put him down. He hid his obvious pain and embarassment very well, bowed to show he respected the lesson and took a seat.
“Are you done flaunting that testosterone that you claim not have anymore Mr. He-Man Zombie?” Ravyn was not so impressed.
“Look Ravyn, I’ve fought beside Herne and you before, I know what you can do. I needed to know what Fang was capable of, and I think he needed to know for his own good what it was like to face an opponent that was virtually unstoppable. Am I right Fang?”
He nodded, still flushed from our sparring, “Dude, no worries there. I appreciate and shared your concerns. I had read about you, but it was good to find out first hand what I am up against. I also have some skills I didn’t bring to bear that will be very useful. I didn’t think it was appropriate to use any of my Chi powers in the sparring match.”
“That’s all very well and good gentlemen,” said Ravyn, looking rather perturbed that Fang had agreed with me, “but I don’t think we’ll destroy these creatures with your punches or kicks. Herne, can you get the case that Moira sent with us?”
Herne nodded, left to get the case, and returned very soon with a long black suitcase that looked large enough to hold a rifle.
He brought the case into the room, placed it on the floor and then muttered some Celtic sounding words over the locks before reaching to the now glowing locks and clicking them open. He carefully openned the lid to reveal four long, sheathed daggers that were so black in color that the light seemed to grow dimmer right around them. There was a definite feeling of deep, dark magick about these blades.
Herne reached into the cushioned case and pulled out one of the still sheathed daggers. I could see Ravyn almost shiver as the dagger was brought out into the full light.
“What’s up with these things?” I asked as I reached towards one of the other blades.
Herrne stopped me from touching it, but brought the sheathed one in its hand closer to me to see better. “These blades are exceptionally dangerous. Don’t try to unsheath any of them until you are prepared to use it in battle. These are the last four Witchbane blades known to exist.”
“Witchbane blades?”
“Yes,” he continued, “there were originally thirteen of these blades created by some very talented and very twisted men during the Spanish Inquisition, the Burning Times. They were conceived and commissioned by a powerful Arch Bishop in order for his men to be able to face and slay powerful Casters. These blades will cut through any and all known spells, wards, or protections raised by any Caster, and should be able to put this Grendel thing out of its misery rather easily.”
“Why can’t we unsheath them then?”
“These blades are evil. Once they are drawn from their protective sheath, it is literally impossible to sheath them again until they have drawn the blood and life energies of a Caster or magickal creature. If you try to sheath one of them without quenching its thirst, it will pull the life energy right out of its wielder through the hilt. When we recovered the fourth blade, it was from some poor soul who thought those were just stories. I sheathed the blade while it was still in his cold, dead grasp.”
“I see. So what’s the plan with these things then?”
“Well, you, Fang and I will each carry one of the blades down there with us. Once we locate the beast and its mother, we’ll use these blades on them to cut through the protective spells that prevent most weapons from harming them.”
I looked over at Ravyn, “Aren’t you going to carry one as well?”
She shuddered visibly. “No. I won’t touch one of those cursed things.”
“But what if they get to you, you won’t have a weapon that can hurt them.”
“You worry about keeping your own damn hide intact. I can take care of myself. Always have, always will. Besides, you’ll need my brains around since you are all so impaired by that terminal condition known as manhood.”
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Boneswulf...Part 2
I was so happy to get back to being functional again, I virtually kicked Mike and his crew out of the Bonesmobile. I only half listened to Mike as he mentioned something about him and the crew heading off to a hotel closer to the City itself, just in case I needed further repairs in the course of this assignment.
Once I had them packed up and out of my home, I spent the better part of the rest of that day and night getting my sense of balance back and practicing with my new arm and hand. I couldn’t actually feel them, but there was a sense of stiffness about the limbs. It was probably purely mental, but I still felt a need to work out the kinks.
With everyone out of the bedroom, I put away the examination table and cleared the space to use for physical and mental meditations.
In my mind, I replayed the encounter with Grendel, trying to wrap my mind around just how fast and agile that thing had been. It was easily faster than I was, and probably close to having the same brute strength I did. It had advantages in various things like arm length, leaping ability, razor sharp claws, and a mouth full of teeth that could crush through my armor-plated skeleton and bite my hand right off my arm.
I certainly hoped that I had some advantages. I felt that I had slightly more brute strength, and was slightly heavier to boot, so there was a chance that I could get ahold of him and use my size and strength to hold him down, but to what end? I had been told that this thing was probably immune to most modern weapons such as firearms and explosives, and magick likely made him stronger rather than harming him. My baton had hurt the thing before, but it was hard to bludgeon something that quick and that strong to death, if it could even die.
After the exercises, I got online and read through the research material that the Professor had been able to dig up in the intervening time. Most of that material was historical in nature, some of it consisted of different translations and interpretations of the original Beowulf tale, while other stuff seemed to be even more obscure. The most interesting stuff was rather recent...stories from local newspapers in half a dozen languages (with translations) from war torn and chaotic areas where ‘strange, murderous creatures’ were often blamed for some of the most gruesome killings.
Overall it appeared that these creatures (or something quite like them) had appeared in different places where strife and violence were commonplace. Of course those who saw these creatures were often belittled or disregarded as crazy. Each incident or sighting seen individually didn’t seem very noteworthy, but when put together by someone as good at research as the Professor, the evidence was rather compelling that creatures like this Grendel and his mother had been around for as long as men had been killing each other.
I stayed up all night long reading through the dossier of information and stories that the Professor had compiled, losing all track of time until I heard the rather insistent knock on my door and the shouted impreccations, “Rusty, you better still be in there or I’ll be roasting whatever flesh those creatures leave behind over a spit!”
Ah yes, Ravyn to the rescue!
I got up and openned the door to the waiting cavalry. Standing front and spunky center was the defiant and agnry looking Ravyn. Her face softened somewhat when she saw me open the door, and even smiled as she exclaimed, “Oh, you don’t look half bad now!” Her jaw tightened though as she finished with, “Now let’s try not to get let it get all messed up again, shall we?”
Standing behind Ravyn were a healed and refreshed looking Herne and another man, with raven dark hair and strongly oriental features. Herne grinned and introduced him, “Rusty, meet our friend Fang.”
The man smiled extended his hand and spoke with a California accent, “Daniel Wang, actually, but most people like to call me Fang.”
I shook his hand, and motioned for everyone to come on in.
Once I had them packed up and out of my home, I spent the better part of the rest of that day and night getting my sense of balance back and practicing with my new arm and hand. I couldn’t actually feel them, but there was a sense of stiffness about the limbs. It was probably purely mental, but I still felt a need to work out the kinks.
With everyone out of the bedroom, I put away the examination table and cleared the space to use for physical and mental meditations.
In my mind, I replayed the encounter with Grendel, trying to wrap my mind around just how fast and agile that thing had been. It was easily faster than I was, and probably close to having the same brute strength I did. It had advantages in various things like arm length, leaping ability, razor sharp claws, and a mouth full of teeth that could crush through my armor-plated skeleton and bite my hand right off my arm.
I certainly hoped that I had some advantages. I felt that I had slightly more brute strength, and was slightly heavier to boot, so there was a chance that I could get ahold of him and use my size and strength to hold him down, but to what end? I had been told that this thing was probably immune to most modern weapons such as firearms and explosives, and magick likely made him stronger rather than harming him. My baton had hurt the thing before, but it was hard to bludgeon something that quick and that strong to death, if it could even die.
After the exercises, I got online and read through the research material that the Professor had been able to dig up in the intervening time. Most of that material was historical in nature, some of it consisted of different translations and interpretations of the original Beowulf tale, while other stuff seemed to be even more obscure. The most interesting stuff was rather recent...stories from local newspapers in half a dozen languages (with translations) from war torn and chaotic areas where ‘strange, murderous creatures’ were often blamed for some of the most gruesome killings.
Overall it appeared that these creatures (or something quite like them) had appeared in different places where strife and violence were commonplace. Of course those who saw these creatures were often belittled or disregarded as crazy. Each incident or sighting seen individually didn’t seem very noteworthy, but when put together by someone as good at research as the Professor, the evidence was rather compelling that creatures like this Grendel and his mother had been around for as long as men had been killing each other.
I stayed up all night long reading through the dossier of information and stories that the Professor had compiled, losing all track of time until I heard the rather insistent knock on my door and the shouted impreccations, “Rusty, you better still be in there or I’ll be roasting whatever flesh those creatures leave behind over a spit!”
Ah yes, Ravyn to the rescue!
I got up and openned the door to the waiting cavalry. Standing front and spunky center was the defiant and agnry looking Ravyn. Her face softened somewhat when she saw me open the door, and even smiled as she exclaimed, “Oh, you don’t look half bad now!” Her jaw tightened though as she finished with, “Now let’s try not to get let it get all messed up again, shall we?”
Standing behind Ravyn were a healed and refreshed looking Herne and another man, with raven dark hair and strongly oriental features. Herne grinned and introduced him, “Rusty, meet our friend Fang.”
The man smiled extended his hand and spoke with a California accent, “Daniel Wang, actually, but most people like to call me Fang.”
I shook his hand, and motioned for everyone to come on in.
Monday, July 11, 2005
Life Intrudes
Even for the Undead, Life often intrudes upon Art.
My apologies for the delay in posting entries to the blog, but events have conspired to make it impossible for the last few days. New entries are forthcoming, starting with tomorrow's episode in which Ravyn brings the cavalry. But will it be enough?
Will Grendel and his mother be able to escape to kill again?
We shall see...
My apologies for the delay in posting entries to the blog, but events have conspired to make it impossible for the last few days. New entries are forthcoming, starting with tomorrow's episode in which Ravyn brings the cavalry. But will it be enough?
Will Grendel and his mother be able to escape to kill again?
We shall see...
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
Parts is Parts
The next morning Mike and his crew of showed up. Mike and three and his assistants pulled up in a white Caravan with government plates, soon to be joined by another two assistants driving a highly modified Hummer with a big cap on the back.
I stood on my one good leg inside the doorway to the Bonesmobile watching them. Mike was all business. He was evaluating my damaged arm as he was shaking my good hand. “Let’s get inside and take a look.”
Without delay, I hobbled back into my modified bedroom, which was the largest open space in the Bonesmobile. I even had an examination table that I had pulled out of a closet and erected before they had arrived...not an easy thing to do one handed, but I managed.
As we filed into the bedroom, Mike looked around and nodded that he could work in this space. His assistants began filing in behind them, each carrying cases of various sizes, some were obviously tool boxes while others had the look of modified rifle or guitar cases.
Mike began talking before I could even ask any questions. “OK Rusty. We’ve been able to pull up the schematics from the old NecroLab files on your modifications and assembly. I’ve had my team and I working on the body of the other zombie...”
“His name was Greg.” I snapped, interrupting him.
“Oh right. Well, we’ve been practicing on Greg’s body and have a pretty good handle on the modifications that were made in your transition from corpse to working zombie. I’ve been pretty impressed by what I’ve found.”
“Yeah, and what is it that you have found?”
“Well, essentially, your limb structures were modified after your death in such a way that most of those moveable parts are easily detached and replaced. Matter of fact, we have at least functioning replacements for each of your limbs, and multiple copies of your hands and feet.”
“You mean they have whole extra limbs just sitting around for me?”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I am saying.”
“How’d they manage that?”
“Best as I can figure, when they were preparing your corpse, they removed each of your limbs in order to wire you up properly and to strengthen your bones with metal casings that make you so much heavier than a living person. Your whole muscular system had to be replaced with a specially designed system of bundled wires and microprocessors that functioned like your own natural muscles. When they did that though, they must have figured on using you in situations like this where you might get damaged, so while they had you all disassembled, they made a bunch of exact replicas of your limb bones and entire sets of the accompanying wires and such.”
“Did they do this for me and for Greg?”
“Yeah. They had to, since each of you is different in size in the various long bones, things just wouldn’t quite fit if we were to mix your parts with his.”
“So replacing this hand and fixing my leg shouldn’t be much of a problem then?”
“Nope. Like I said, we’ve been practicing on...Greg...so we’ve become pretty good at finding the release points on the joints and we can get you fixed up here in a couple of hours.”
“How about replacing the skin I’ve lost?”
“We’ve got some of that too. It was one of last things that Dr. Bernstein was working on before he...retired. We’ve got some very realistic looking synthetic skin that we can use to replace some of the stuff that has worn off, or been...”
“Eaten.” I waved my damaged arm at them, showing them the tooth marks and twisted metal and bone at the end of it.
Mike turned a shade paler when I made that last comment. One of the assistants dropped his case and ran for the bathroom. A couple of the others looked like they wanted to join him, while still others were snickering.
“Well,” he managed to spit out, “in any event, we can replace some of it for you. This new skin is in shorter supply however, and we are still larning to run the machinery to produce more. So, shall we begin?” He motioned for me to get onto the table.
I hopped up onto the table and laid down. “OK Doc, make me beautiful again.”
“That’s a tall order Agent Bones. We’ll be happy with just making you presentable.”
“Yeah, I guess that’ll have to do. Look, I don’t want to distract you and your team here. I’m going to shut down for a bit and watch things from a different perspective. Don’t worry if you feel a draft and a chill in the air, it’ll just be me. If you need me, just call out my name loudly, and I’ll bring myself back online.”
“Uh, OK. Thanks for this chance to make history Rusty.”
“Hey, thanks for putting my ass back together. See you in a couple of hours then.” With that, I detached my Spirit from my body and drifted up to watch them work as they began opening the stacked cases of tools and assembling portable work tables.
I had a chance to reflect on the strangeness that is my so-called life...how many folks can sit and watch a team of mechanics disassemble their limbs and pull out brand new shiny replacements that they almost snap into place like a damn machine with broken parts. Maybe this is the future for living people people too, like for the all too many wounded soldiers returning from Iraq and Afghanistan. Maybe they too would benefit from the technology...and magick...that had gone into making me possible.
I marvelled at the business like way that Mike and his team basically unzipped the remaining skin on my forearm with a sharp knife, peeled it like a banana and then detached the still shiny, but damaged bones of my forearm at the elbow. Mike tossed the damaged pieces into an open case for return to the NecroLab and then set about attaching the new, fully assembled forearm and hand into place. It was all so amazingly simple, but still so very strange.
Once the new forearm was locked into place, they cut off the peeled off skin and pulled out a roll of skin to wrap around the exposed muscle and nerve system. Once it was in place, they used what appeared to be a hot glue type gun to seal up the seem on the inside of my new forearm. At this point, my hand was still without a covering, but that was fixed when they pulled out a new pair of skin colored gloves, complete with fingernails and even a few stray hairs on the backs of the gloves. They slipped these obviously fitted gloves into place and used the glue gun like device to seal the skin gloves on the exposed edge of forearm skin on hand.
Next was my leg. After examining the damage, Mike apparently wasn’t satisfied that it was just the knee cap that was damaged, so he apparently ordered a couple of his assistants to go get another case. It took both of them to carry in a very long, and obviously quite heavy case that contained a fully assembled leg. The process was quite similar to my arm.
Overall, it took less than two hours to affect the repairs and make me more human looking than I had been in a while. They even took the time to patch up my head and neck, using scissors to cut away patches of damaged skin and then patching in new skin to replace those patches. The glue gun device actually did a passable job of making seals look like healed up scars.
The crew was just starting to pack away the myriad of tools and the used up parts when Mike called my name out. I slipped back into my body and felt things click into place nicely.
I stood on my one good leg inside the doorway to the Bonesmobile watching them. Mike was all business. He was evaluating my damaged arm as he was shaking my good hand. “Let’s get inside and take a look.”
Without delay, I hobbled back into my modified bedroom, which was the largest open space in the Bonesmobile. I even had an examination table that I had pulled out of a closet and erected before they had arrived...not an easy thing to do one handed, but I managed.
As we filed into the bedroom, Mike looked around and nodded that he could work in this space. His assistants began filing in behind them, each carrying cases of various sizes, some were obviously tool boxes while others had the look of modified rifle or guitar cases.
Mike began talking before I could even ask any questions. “OK Rusty. We’ve been able to pull up the schematics from the old NecroLab files on your modifications and assembly. I’ve had my team and I working on the body of the other zombie...”
“His name was Greg.” I snapped, interrupting him.
“Oh right. Well, we’ve been practicing on Greg’s body and have a pretty good handle on the modifications that were made in your transition from corpse to working zombie. I’ve been pretty impressed by what I’ve found.”
“Yeah, and what is it that you have found?”
“Well, essentially, your limb structures were modified after your death in such a way that most of those moveable parts are easily detached and replaced. Matter of fact, we have at least functioning replacements for each of your limbs, and multiple copies of your hands and feet.”
“You mean they have whole extra limbs just sitting around for me?”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I am saying.”
“How’d they manage that?”
“Best as I can figure, when they were preparing your corpse, they removed each of your limbs in order to wire you up properly and to strengthen your bones with metal casings that make you so much heavier than a living person. Your whole muscular system had to be replaced with a specially designed system of bundled wires and microprocessors that functioned like your own natural muscles. When they did that though, they must have figured on using you in situations like this where you might get damaged, so while they had you all disassembled, they made a bunch of exact replicas of your limb bones and entire sets of the accompanying wires and such.”
“Did they do this for me and for Greg?”
“Yeah. They had to, since each of you is different in size in the various long bones, things just wouldn’t quite fit if we were to mix your parts with his.”
“So replacing this hand and fixing my leg shouldn’t be much of a problem then?”
“Nope. Like I said, we’ve been practicing on...Greg...so we’ve become pretty good at finding the release points on the joints and we can get you fixed up here in a couple of hours.”
“How about replacing the skin I’ve lost?”
“We’ve got some of that too. It was one of last things that Dr. Bernstein was working on before he...retired. We’ve got some very realistic looking synthetic skin that we can use to replace some of the stuff that has worn off, or been...”
“Eaten.” I waved my damaged arm at them, showing them the tooth marks and twisted metal and bone at the end of it.
Mike turned a shade paler when I made that last comment. One of the assistants dropped his case and ran for the bathroom. A couple of the others looked like they wanted to join him, while still others were snickering.
“Well,” he managed to spit out, “in any event, we can replace some of it for you. This new skin is in shorter supply however, and we are still larning to run the machinery to produce more. So, shall we begin?” He motioned for me to get onto the table.
I hopped up onto the table and laid down. “OK Doc, make me beautiful again.”
“That’s a tall order Agent Bones. We’ll be happy with just making you presentable.”
“Yeah, I guess that’ll have to do. Look, I don’t want to distract you and your team here. I’m going to shut down for a bit and watch things from a different perspective. Don’t worry if you feel a draft and a chill in the air, it’ll just be me. If you need me, just call out my name loudly, and I’ll bring myself back online.”
“Uh, OK. Thanks for this chance to make history Rusty.”
“Hey, thanks for putting my ass back together. See you in a couple of hours then.” With that, I detached my Spirit from my body and drifted up to watch them work as they began opening the stacked cases of tools and assembling portable work tables.
I had a chance to reflect on the strangeness that is my so-called life...how many folks can sit and watch a team of mechanics disassemble their limbs and pull out brand new shiny replacements that they almost snap into place like a damn machine with broken parts. Maybe this is the future for living people people too, like for the all too many wounded soldiers returning from Iraq and Afghanistan. Maybe they too would benefit from the technology...and magick...that had gone into making me possible.
I marvelled at the business like way that Mike and his team basically unzipped the remaining skin on my forearm with a sharp knife, peeled it like a banana and then detached the still shiny, but damaged bones of my forearm at the elbow. Mike tossed the damaged pieces into an open case for return to the NecroLab and then set about attaching the new, fully assembled forearm and hand into place. It was all so amazingly simple, but still so very strange.
Once the new forearm was locked into place, they cut off the peeled off skin and pulled out a roll of skin to wrap around the exposed muscle and nerve system. Once it was in place, they used what appeared to be a hot glue type gun to seal up the seem on the inside of my new forearm. At this point, my hand was still without a covering, but that was fixed when they pulled out a new pair of skin colored gloves, complete with fingernails and even a few stray hairs on the backs of the gloves. They slipped these obviously fitted gloves into place and used the glue gun like device to seal the skin gloves on the exposed edge of forearm skin on hand.
Next was my leg. After examining the damage, Mike apparently wasn’t satisfied that it was just the knee cap that was damaged, so he apparently ordered a couple of his assistants to go get another case. It took both of them to carry in a very long, and obviously quite heavy case that contained a fully assembled leg. The process was quite similar to my arm.
Overall, it took less than two hours to affect the repairs and make me more human looking than I had been in a while. They even took the time to patch up my head and neck, using scissors to cut away patches of damaged skin and then patching in new skin to replace those patches. The glue gun device actually did a passable job of making seals look like healed up scars.
The crew was just starting to pack away the myriad of tools and the used up parts when Mike called my name out. I slipped back into my body and felt things click into place nicely.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Boneswulf...Part 1
Yeah, yeah...I know the title of the post is a bit cocky...but can’t a dead guy with blog indulge himself once in a while? Hey, it wasn’t me who compared this freaky killer to Grendel, I’m just swiping a little credit...but alas, I’m afraid dear readers that I will be unable to compose my posts in this part of the story in the traditional prose of such epic poems...you’re stuck with my usual wry obserations and more than my fair share of smart ass comments. Hopefully that’ll be enough to keep ya reading!
So after my little dressing down by Ravyn, Cerrydwen and the Frau, I headed back home to the Bonesmobile (sorry, I just couldn’t resist).
The only eventful part of that journey was when I was on my way out of the place that Cerrydwen had called Glimmerdown Fells. The fog was still thick and roiling, but this time I saw more than a few pairs of glowing eyes peeking around corners at me, some well above head level, and others way down near the ground. I never saw more than their eyes and hints of serpentine forms, so I really can’t tell you what the heck was guarding that place, but I can tell you I wouldn’t want to have to fight my way out of there (or back in!).
I found my way back to my body and merged things back together just in time to hear my cell phone ringing. I reached over to answer it without looking at who might be calling (remind me not to do THAT again!) and found myself on the end of the longest, loudest, and most creative ass chewing I had had since being in boot camp some twenty years before. Needless to say, Ravyn was back in her body and she was letting me have it, apparently being around Jasmine and the others had tempered her tongue somewhat. Now she was unfettered, and the part of me that wasn’t shocked into mumbling ‘yes ma’am’ and ‘no ma’am’ was thinking that she was enjoying it just a little too much.
But, just to show I am a gentleman, I won’t reveal the details of her comments, other than to say that I know career drill sergeants who don’t know that much profanity, or how use what they do know so creatively. The general gist of the conversation was that I should stay put until she arrived, OR ELSE!
Luckily, that was something I could easily agree to, since I was still waiting on Mike and his crew of mechanics to show up and fix me up with a new hand and repair my leg.
So, after I was dismissed, I hung the phone up and set it aside to cool down.
Nothing much to do at that point but re-play Drake’s second message and bump around on the internet to do some research. I will post that message in the next day or two, but I wanted to take a couple of days first to ponder the stuff he has to say in it...some of it seems strangely relevant to the reading I’ve been doing into Beowulf and Grendel.
So after my little dressing down by Ravyn, Cerrydwen and the Frau, I headed back home to the Bonesmobile (sorry, I just couldn’t resist).
The only eventful part of that journey was when I was on my way out of the place that Cerrydwen had called Glimmerdown Fells. The fog was still thick and roiling, but this time I saw more than a few pairs of glowing eyes peeking around corners at me, some well above head level, and others way down near the ground. I never saw more than their eyes and hints of serpentine forms, so I really can’t tell you what the heck was guarding that place, but I can tell you I wouldn’t want to have to fight my way out of there (or back in!).
I found my way back to my body and merged things back together just in time to hear my cell phone ringing. I reached over to answer it without looking at who might be calling (remind me not to do THAT again!) and found myself on the end of the longest, loudest, and most creative ass chewing I had had since being in boot camp some twenty years before. Needless to say, Ravyn was back in her body and she was letting me have it, apparently being around Jasmine and the others had tempered her tongue somewhat. Now she was unfettered, and the part of me that wasn’t shocked into mumbling ‘yes ma’am’ and ‘no ma’am’ was thinking that she was enjoying it just a little too much.
But, just to show I am a gentleman, I won’t reveal the details of her comments, other than to say that I know career drill sergeants who don’t know that much profanity, or how use what they do know so creatively. The general gist of the conversation was that I should stay put until she arrived, OR ELSE!
Luckily, that was something I could easily agree to, since I was still waiting on Mike and his crew of mechanics to show up and fix me up with a new hand and repair my leg.
So, after I was dismissed, I hung the phone up and set it aside to cool down.
Nothing much to do at that point but re-play Drake’s second message and bump around on the internet to do some research. I will post that message in the next day or two, but I wanted to take a couple of days first to ponder the stuff he has to say in it...some of it seems strangely relevant to the reading I’ve been doing into Beowulf and Grendel.
Saturday, July 02, 2005
Tribunal...Part 2
“I find it hard to believe that that thing has a mother.” I must admit, I was beginning to see certain similarities here in how I had been responding to Murphy and how Ravyn was responding to me. I grew silent after this comment, intent on listening to the information they had.
Raven turned a beet red as her anger showed on her face. No one else even bothered to try to talk while she recovered and started again. “Dammit man! That’s the kind of thinking that will get you torn limb from limb and eaten if you go down there unprepared again.”
I held up my hands in surrender. “OK, I’m sorry. Tel me what you know or suspect about this thing and its mother. I can’t afford another draw like my last meeting with Junior there.”
With my last comment, she seemed to calm slightly, her color began to return to normal. “It’s about time you gained some wisdom. I’m going to ask the Frau to tell you what she knows at this point. I have a student to counsel.” She stepped back into the line and turned to face Jasmine. I could see poor Jasmine flinch as Ravyn turned her anger on her.
There was a part of me that wanted to interfere with the tongue lashing that Jasmine was sure to receive at this point, but something stopped me from doing so. Perhaps it was the realization that she was as hard headed as I was and that she would only learn some lessons through taking some lumps. If she was going to study what appeared to be a pretty dangerous business of magick under Ravyn, then I darn sure wanted her to respect and listen to her instructor. Instead I turned slightly to face the Frau who was now stepping forward, I did my best to ignore the only half-whispered admonitions that my daughter was now receiving.
The Frau cleared her throat, also doing her best to ignore the situation to her right. “The story of Beowulf, as it has come down to us, has it that Grendel was of a race of creatures that was descended from Cain. In a translation by Dr. David Breeden, the story goes like this:
He was of a race of monsters
exiled from mankind by God--
He was of the race of Cain,
that man punished for
murdering his brother.
From that family comes
all evil beings--
monsters, elves, zombies
Also the giants who
fought with God and got
repaid with the flood.”
She stopped at that point. Her voice had taken on a strange, almost musical quality that had me enthralled as she had recited it, leaving me wanting to hear more told in that same way, even if the author (or the translator) had thrown zombies into the same boat with this thing. But hey, I’m a New Age kind of zombie, I’m all sensitive and stuff...well sometimes, anyway.
After a moment, she resumed speaking. (See, I was being good now, I didn’t interupt this time!) “The story is quite long, but it also tells of how this creature was able to kill and devour stout warriors, even thirty at a time, because its skin had been enchanted to be impervious to keen edges and human weapons. The only way that the hero of the story was able to defeat him was to use his hands and his own God-given strength. He wrestled with the beast and held him so firm that Grendel basically tore his own arm and shoulder out in order to escape to its home before it died.
“Of course, this story is heavily laced with Christian references and has probably been altered from its original form in that context, since it was transmitted orally for hundreds of years before being written down. What we want you to understand though Rusty, is that this thing will be extremely difficult to slay, and that it is most likely acting on behalf of its mother. It will probably be immune to standard weapons of this era, like firearms, and may well heal at an exceptionally fast pace. The stories we do have all show that Grendel’s mother is more powerful and more fearsome than Grendel himself, but that she seems to remain hidden until he is harmed or slain. The research that we, the ORC’s, have done seem to show us that this Grendel thing feeds off of the death and esruction that it causes, while its mother seems to feed off of the fear and terror that her son causes.”
Cerrydwen stepped forward at this point, “We also think that this is why this pair has chosen New York for its lair at this time. It is a huge city full of fresh meat and of course it has been deeply wounded with the September 11 attacks. The fear and trauma of that event probably brought them in the first place.”
Now it was time to speak up about my encounter with the Spirit of the firefighter and the images I had seen when I visited Ground Zero. So I told them everything I had seen and experienced there at that sight, especially of the images of the Grendel-thing emerging from the smoke and dust after the first tower collapsed.
All of them stood silently and listened as I told them of those images and the words that the firefighter had spoken to me. I then told them of the complete encounter I had had with the Gendel-thing, and how I remembered the battle playing out. Finally, I also told them everything I had learned about the victims and how items had been missing from some of the victims homes from the FBI. The Frau’s face showed a keen interest, an eagerness to acquire new bits for her own tales perhaps. Cerrydwen had her usual fierce look, but somehow it seemed slightly softer, almost sympathetic. Ravyn listened with hard eyes and a tightly clenched jaw. Jasmine’s eyes were red from tears and looked chastened.
When I was finished, Ravyn stepped forward again. “Clearly our worst fears about why this pair has come to New York are fully realized now. We have to deal with them now. Rusty, this is not something you can handle on your own.” Her face had softened somewhat as she said this, almost imploring me at the end there not go again on my own.
“Well, at the moment, I am waiting for a repair team to come and fix me up somewhat before I go down there again. That will give you some time to send some help, if you know of anyone you want to send. But you need to tell them all of this shit that I am just finding out, I don’t want anyone joining me that isn’t aware of the dangers they will face.”
The Frau stepped up again. “Rusty, we will let you know who is coming and when to expect them shortly. But before we end this council, I wanted to warn you about something. Whatever, you do, don’t reach out Spiritually to this Grendel-thing or especially its mother-she feeds on emotions like fear and on the spiritual energy of her son’s victims. Grendel has been hunting down and feeding on fellow Casters, so it likely has some major protections against the kinds of powers that many Casters possess.”
Raven turned a beet red as her anger showed on her face. No one else even bothered to try to talk while she recovered and started again. “Dammit man! That’s the kind of thinking that will get you torn limb from limb and eaten if you go down there unprepared again.”
I held up my hands in surrender. “OK, I’m sorry. Tel me what you know or suspect about this thing and its mother. I can’t afford another draw like my last meeting with Junior there.”
With my last comment, she seemed to calm slightly, her color began to return to normal. “It’s about time you gained some wisdom. I’m going to ask the Frau to tell you what she knows at this point. I have a student to counsel.” She stepped back into the line and turned to face Jasmine. I could see poor Jasmine flinch as Ravyn turned her anger on her.
There was a part of me that wanted to interfere with the tongue lashing that Jasmine was sure to receive at this point, but something stopped me from doing so. Perhaps it was the realization that she was as hard headed as I was and that she would only learn some lessons through taking some lumps. If she was going to study what appeared to be a pretty dangerous business of magick under Ravyn, then I darn sure wanted her to respect and listen to her instructor. Instead I turned slightly to face the Frau who was now stepping forward, I did my best to ignore the only half-whispered admonitions that my daughter was now receiving.
The Frau cleared her throat, also doing her best to ignore the situation to her right. “The story of Beowulf, as it has come down to us, has it that Grendel was of a race of creatures that was descended from Cain. In a translation by Dr. David Breeden, the story goes like this:
He was of a race of monsters
exiled from mankind by God--
He was of the race of Cain,
that man punished for
murdering his brother.
From that family comes
all evil beings--
monsters, elves, zombies
Also the giants who
fought with God and got
repaid with the flood.”
She stopped at that point. Her voice had taken on a strange, almost musical quality that had me enthralled as she had recited it, leaving me wanting to hear more told in that same way, even if the author (or the translator) had thrown zombies into the same boat with this thing. But hey, I’m a New Age kind of zombie, I’m all sensitive and stuff...well sometimes, anyway.
After a moment, she resumed speaking. (See, I was being good now, I didn’t interupt this time!) “The story is quite long, but it also tells of how this creature was able to kill and devour stout warriors, even thirty at a time, because its skin had been enchanted to be impervious to keen edges and human weapons. The only way that the hero of the story was able to defeat him was to use his hands and his own God-given strength. He wrestled with the beast and held him so firm that Grendel basically tore his own arm and shoulder out in order to escape to its home before it died.
“Of course, this story is heavily laced with Christian references and has probably been altered from its original form in that context, since it was transmitted orally for hundreds of years before being written down. What we want you to understand though Rusty, is that this thing will be extremely difficult to slay, and that it is most likely acting on behalf of its mother. It will probably be immune to standard weapons of this era, like firearms, and may well heal at an exceptionally fast pace. The stories we do have all show that Grendel’s mother is more powerful and more fearsome than Grendel himself, but that she seems to remain hidden until he is harmed or slain. The research that we, the ORC’s, have done seem to show us that this Grendel thing feeds off of the death and esruction that it causes, while its mother seems to feed off of the fear and terror that her son causes.”
Cerrydwen stepped forward at this point, “We also think that this is why this pair has chosen New York for its lair at this time. It is a huge city full of fresh meat and of course it has been deeply wounded with the September 11 attacks. The fear and trauma of that event probably brought them in the first place.”
Now it was time to speak up about my encounter with the Spirit of the firefighter and the images I had seen when I visited Ground Zero. So I told them everything I had seen and experienced there at that sight, especially of the images of the Grendel-thing emerging from the smoke and dust after the first tower collapsed.
All of them stood silently and listened as I told them of those images and the words that the firefighter had spoken to me. I then told them of the complete encounter I had had with the Gendel-thing, and how I remembered the battle playing out. Finally, I also told them everything I had learned about the victims and how items had been missing from some of the victims homes from the FBI. The Frau’s face showed a keen interest, an eagerness to acquire new bits for her own tales perhaps. Cerrydwen had her usual fierce look, but somehow it seemed slightly softer, almost sympathetic. Ravyn listened with hard eyes and a tightly clenched jaw. Jasmine’s eyes were red from tears and looked chastened.
When I was finished, Ravyn stepped forward again. “Clearly our worst fears about why this pair has come to New York are fully realized now. We have to deal with them now. Rusty, this is not something you can handle on your own.” Her face had softened somewhat as she said this, almost imploring me at the end there not go again on my own.
“Well, at the moment, I am waiting for a repair team to come and fix me up somewhat before I go down there again. That will give you some time to send some help, if you know of anyone you want to send. But you need to tell them all of this shit that I am just finding out, I don’t want anyone joining me that isn’t aware of the dangers they will face.”
The Frau stepped up again. “Rusty, we will let you know who is coming and when to expect them shortly. But before we end this council, I wanted to warn you about something. Whatever, you do, don’t reach out Spiritually to this Grendel-thing or especially its mother-she feeds on emotions like fear and on the spiritual energy of her son’s victims. Grendel has been hunting down and feeding on fellow Casters, so it likely has some major protections against the kinds of powers that many Casters possess.”
Friday, July 01, 2005
Resource Page Note
New post added to the Rusty Bones Resource Page...please use the listed link to that page for a brief note on the current storyline.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Tribunal...Part 1
Just as I was about to pick up the phone and face the music with Ravyn Fyre, I felt a Call of another kind, the kind that would require me to leave my body behind and step into the Spirit World. From the urgency of the Call, I couldn’t resist, not that I minded very much delaying THAT call for a little bit...
I sat back, found my focus point and slipped from my body. I slipped through the walls of my RV and found a nearby rabbit hole to facilitate my journey to the Other Side. The darkness of the tunnel closed in quickly and briefly formed a womb-like passage that openned into a fog enshrouded plain. In the distance, I could see huge, dark shapes that appeared to be Standing Stones of some sort. The Call was coming from beyond the first one.
As I moved closer to the huge stones, I could see that they formed a series of very large circles, very much like the Stonehenge I had seen in books and films, but bigger, more complete.
Crossing the threshold of the outermost circle, I felt an almost tangible crackling in the air about me, like I had crossed from the normal into a place of...holiness (not a sensation I have felt very often in my various incarnations!). I slowed a little bit, feeling more than a little bit like a trespasser, but the urgent Call kept me moving forward. I passed through the next two circles, each time sensing that I moved deeper into Mystery, deeper into Sacred Space.
Finally I found myself coming to last circle, the impossibly giant stones towering overhead, with the capstones forming a complete circle overhead. The archway immediately to my front was completely shrouded in swirling fog. I was battling dual urges at this moment.
First, it felt that my very presence in this place was somehow wrong, that I did not belong here, this was not my Place. But the Call inside me head was irresistable and constant. It urged me forward, told me that I was welcome, but only for the moment and only when so Called.
I stepped through the curtain of fog and found myself facing the music and then some!
Once I was on the other side, I saw four female figures waiting for me. The first to draw my eyes was the Frau. In this place, she stood without the use of her cane, although she was still obv iously older than the other figures. Her kind face was still showed the prominent lines around her eyes and mouth of someone who smiled more than she frowned. She was shrouded in robes made of some natural fiber and was barefoot. Her head was bare, except for a simple leather band that kept her hair back. She was holding a wooden wand that was tipped by part on antler, held together by more leather straps.
The next figure turned out to be Cerrydwen. She was also barefoot, but she was wearing pants that appeared to be made of sackcloth and belted with some sort of rope. Her chest was covered, just barely, by a leather vest, held together with a series of leather ties. She was holding a tall wooden staff, the surface of which was carved into various Celtic designs. Her face and other visible skin was painted with swirls and other designs in blue ink, her glare was as dark as forboding as usual.
I winced as I recognized Ravyn as the third figure. Like the Frau and Cerrydwen, she was barefoot, but she was wearing a long woolen dress that came down to her ankles. The dress was a deep blue in color. The hemline, the ends of the sleeves and the neckline was embroidered in bright reds and oranges in a style that evoked the flames for which she was named. Her arms were crossed, and for once her glare was darker than that of Cerrydwen.
The fourth figure however was the most shocking. It was Jasmine. Like the others, she was barefoot. She was dressed in a simple green woolen dress that came to her knees. Unlike Ravyn’s dress though, hers was plain and unadorned, except for a simple golden cord which wrapped around her waist and tied, with both tassled ends dangling as the only decoration. Her eyes were wide and curious, but also showed a hint of concern.
“Jasmine, what are you doing here? Where are we?”
Cerrydwen stepped forward to answer. “Rusty Bones, you have been Called to this Circle of Glimmerdown Fells by my own hand and are offered safehaven as a Guest. Do you come here of your own Free Will and without Malice in your heart?”
“Uh, yeah I guess.”
“Then as Guest of the Keeper, I grant you the right of Free Passage from this Circle when our business with you is complete. No Guardian of this place shall impede your departure when you leave.”
“I didn’t see any Guardians on the way in.”
Cerrydwen smiled, a chilling smile that spoke of hidden things. “No one does. But they are out there, and the Rites must be performed or bad things will happen. Welcome for now, but be warned, this place is Sacred and its Mysteries are not for you. Please do not try to return on your own unless you are invited to return.”
“I’ll...keep that in mind.”
“Good.” She stepped back into her previous place, apparently satisfied that the Rites, whatever the Hell they were, were complete.
The Frau stepped forward, “Rusty, we called you here because Jasmine sensed that you were in danger and was very concerned. We also felt that it would be easier to discuss the entity that you have gone to face on your own.”
“Wow, how did you know all of this so quickly?”
The Frau smiled and pointed to the rest of the women present with a sweeping gesture. “We are women, we are all touched by the Fey. Your daughter sensed the dangers first and approached Ravyn. Ravyn contacted Cerrydwen and myself and told us of her concerns. I asked Cerrydwen to bring us to this place because of the protections that are here and your proximity to that creature makes it unsafe for us to come to you. Even now, without the Guardians of this place, such a meeting would be dangerous.”
“Do you know what this thing is?”
Ravyn couldn’t hold her tongue any longer. She stepped forward as the Frau stepped back. “You know, if you had even bothered to contact any of us for information before you went galivanting off to play hero all by your lonesome, we could have told you a little something about this.”
“Whoah now, Ravyn, I was sent on here by the government. I was doing my job!”
“Yeah well that’s no damn excuse to go off on your own against an unknown foe with no warning. Just because your body is dead doesn’t mean that you are invincible you know! You have people who care about you and who need you to be around more than you have been.
“Now we’ve got some information about this thing, but there is a lot more to this than meets the eye. We’ve had a couple of our members disappear when they started looking into this same creature, but we’ve learned a lot in that time. That creature is not alone down there.”
“You mean there is more than one? Oh shit. One of those things was pretty damn deadly.”
Ravyn looked more than a little perturbed that I had interrupted her just when she was getting on a role. I could tell she was about to let loose the tongue lashing of my...death when Jasmine stepped forward and spoke up.
“Daddy, didn’t you read Beowulf when you were in school?”
“Beowulf? You mean that old poem?”
Ravyn waved her silent and pointed a finger at me. “Yes, it’s an old Anglo-Saxon tale about an epic hero. He kills a monster named Grendel in that story. A monster that snuck up in the middle of the night and killed and ate its victims. Does any of this sound familiar now?”
“Well, yeah, this thing I tracked has been pretty messy when it kills and has eaten a lot of the victims’ bodies...but how does an old story like that matter today?”
She was looking exasperated again. “Old stories survive because there is almost always at least a kernel of truth to them. We believe that the monster you are facing is an incarnation of the creature from that story. If it is, it means that it has a more powerful companion...its mother, down there somewhere.”
I sat back, found my focus point and slipped from my body. I slipped through the walls of my RV and found a nearby rabbit hole to facilitate my journey to the Other Side. The darkness of the tunnel closed in quickly and briefly formed a womb-like passage that openned into a fog enshrouded plain. In the distance, I could see huge, dark shapes that appeared to be Standing Stones of some sort. The Call was coming from beyond the first one.
As I moved closer to the huge stones, I could see that they formed a series of very large circles, very much like the Stonehenge I had seen in books and films, but bigger, more complete.
Crossing the threshold of the outermost circle, I felt an almost tangible crackling in the air about me, like I had crossed from the normal into a place of...holiness (not a sensation I have felt very often in my various incarnations!). I slowed a little bit, feeling more than a little bit like a trespasser, but the urgent Call kept me moving forward. I passed through the next two circles, each time sensing that I moved deeper into Mystery, deeper into Sacred Space.
Finally I found myself coming to last circle, the impossibly giant stones towering overhead, with the capstones forming a complete circle overhead. The archway immediately to my front was completely shrouded in swirling fog. I was battling dual urges at this moment.
First, it felt that my very presence in this place was somehow wrong, that I did not belong here, this was not my Place. But the Call inside me head was irresistable and constant. It urged me forward, told me that I was welcome, but only for the moment and only when so Called.
I stepped through the curtain of fog and found myself facing the music and then some!
Once I was on the other side, I saw four female figures waiting for me. The first to draw my eyes was the Frau. In this place, she stood without the use of her cane, although she was still obv iously older than the other figures. Her kind face was still showed the prominent lines around her eyes and mouth of someone who smiled more than she frowned. She was shrouded in robes made of some natural fiber and was barefoot. Her head was bare, except for a simple leather band that kept her hair back. She was holding a wooden wand that was tipped by part on antler, held together by more leather straps.
The next figure turned out to be Cerrydwen. She was also barefoot, but she was wearing pants that appeared to be made of sackcloth and belted with some sort of rope. Her chest was covered, just barely, by a leather vest, held together with a series of leather ties. She was holding a tall wooden staff, the surface of which was carved into various Celtic designs. Her face and other visible skin was painted with swirls and other designs in blue ink, her glare was as dark as forboding as usual.
I winced as I recognized Ravyn as the third figure. Like the Frau and Cerrydwen, she was barefoot, but she was wearing a long woolen dress that came down to her ankles. The dress was a deep blue in color. The hemline, the ends of the sleeves and the neckline was embroidered in bright reds and oranges in a style that evoked the flames for which she was named. Her arms were crossed, and for once her glare was darker than that of Cerrydwen.
The fourth figure however was the most shocking. It was Jasmine. Like the others, she was barefoot. She was dressed in a simple green woolen dress that came to her knees. Unlike Ravyn’s dress though, hers was plain and unadorned, except for a simple golden cord which wrapped around her waist and tied, with both tassled ends dangling as the only decoration. Her eyes were wide and curious, but also showed a hint of concern.
“Jasmine, what are you doing here? Where are we?”
Cerrydwen stepped forward to answer. “Rusty Bones, you have been Called to this Circle of Glimmerdown Fells by my own hand and are offered safehaven as a Guest. Do you come here of your own Free Will and without Malice in your heart?”
“Uh, yeah I guess.”
“Then as Guest of the Keeper, I grant you the right of Free Passage from this Circle when our business with you is complete. No Guardian of this place shall impede your departure when you leave.”
“I didn’t see any Guardians on the way in.”
Cerrydwen smiled, a chilling smile that spoke of hidden things. “No one does. But they are out there, and the Rites must be performed or bad things will happen. Welcome for now, but be warned, this place is Sacred and its Mysteries are not for you. Please do not try to return on your own unless you are invited to return.”
“I’ll...keep that in mind.”
“Good.” She stepped back into her previous place, apparently satisfied that the Rites, whatever the Hell they were, were complete.
The Frau stepped forward, “Rusty, we called you here because Jasmine sensed that you were in danger and was very concerned. We also felt that it would be easier to discuss the entity that you have gone to face on your own.”
“Wow, how did you know all of this so quickly?”
The Frau smiled and pointed to the rest of the women present with a sweeping gesture. “We are women, we are all touched by the Fey. Your daughter sensed the dangers first and approached Ravyn. Ravyn contacted Cerrydwen and myself and told us of her concerns. I asked Cerrydwen to bring us to this place because of the protections that are here and your proximity to that creature makes it unsafe for us to come to you. Even now, without the Guardians of this place, such a meeting would be dangerous.”
“Do you know what this thing is?”
Ravyn couldn’t hold her tongue any longer. She stepped forward as the Frau stepped back. “You know, if you had even bothered to contact any of us for information before you went galivanting off to play hero all by your lonesome, we could have told you a little something about this.”
“Whoah now, Ravyn, I was sent on here by the government. I was doing my job!”
“Yeah well that’s no damn excuse to go off on your own against an unknown foe with no warning. Just because your body is dead doesn’t mean that you are invincible you know! You have people who care about you and who need you to be around more than you have been.
“Now we’ve got some information about this thing, but there is a lot more to this than meets the eye. We’ve had a couple of our members disappear when they started looking into this same creature, but we’ve learned a lot in that time. That creature is not alone down there.”
“You mean there is more than one? Oh shit. One of those things was pretty damn deadly.”
Ravyn looked more than a little perturbed that I had interrupted her just when she was getting on a role. I could tell she was about to let loose the tongue lashing of my...death when Jasmine stepped forward and spoke up.
“Daddy, didn’t you read Beowulf when you were in school?”
“Beowulf? You mean that old poem?”
Ravyn waved her silent and pointed a finger at me. “Yes, it’s an old Anglo-Saxon tale about an epic hero. He kills a monster named Grendel in that story. A monster that snuck up in the middle of the night and killed and ate its victims. Does any of this sound familiar now?”
“Well, yeah, this thing I tracked has been pretty messy when it kills and has eaten a lot of the victims’ bodies...but how does an old story like that matter today?”
She was looking exasperated again. “Old stories survive because there is almost always at least a kernel of truth to them. We believe that the monster you are facing is an incarnation of the creature from that story. If it is, it means that it has a more powerful companion...its mother, down there somewhere.”
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Mike and the Mechanics
It took a heck of a lot longer to get my ass back up to where the Agent Murphy and his men were waiting, but I managed it eventually.
I was pretty pissed for having gotten ambushed in the first place, so my mood was grim to say the least. I had little patience for the alternating shocked and sympathetic looks I was getting from those knuckleheads. They were sympathetic because they just couldn’t comprehend that I wasn’t in any pain from my injuries, but shocked with the idea that something down...there...kicked my ass so thoroughly.
They could easily see the mangled end of my arm where the metal infused bone was twisted and crushed as if it had been caught in the grip of a very powerful vise. The vise that got me had some nasty teeth and powerful claws. My one leg was only a little better off. My foot was still connected, but was twisted at a sickening angle. The flesh and ‘muscle’ in my lower calf had been shredded and I was missing the knee cap in that damn leg now, which meant that I couldn’t support any weight on it without the whole thing collapsing on itself.
You shoudl have seen Murphy’s face when he saw me though. He went for his normal arrogant air of superiority that he had in greater measure than most FBI agents, to a ghostly white, he was almost stammering when I emerged from the manhole cover into dead gypsy’s place.
“W-wh-what happened to you Agent Bones?” He asked while trying to help me up off the floor, grunting with exertion.
I pushed him and another agent away with my stubby arm, which they recoiled from rather quickly. “Well, let’s just say I found our guy, sort of.”
“What do you mean, sort of? Didn’t the killer do this to you?”
“Oh yeah, it did. I definitely found our perp. The ‘sort of’ referred to the fact that I don’t think it qualifies as a ‘guy’.” I managed to scramble to my one good leg. I started hobbling towards the exit.
“A woman did this to you?” He followed along, motioning his agents to move ahead while he kept by my side.
“No, let’s just leave it as an ‘it’. Whatever the Hell this thing is, it isn’t human.”
He looked real worried at that assessment. “Is it some kind of animal?”
I was getting tired of this game of 20 questions. “Look, if I knew what the Hell this thing was I’d tell you. But I’ve never seen anything like it. I think you’ve got yourself one nasty supernatural critter running around there. It fucked me up pretty good, but I did some major damage to it as well. I don’t know if that thing will heal up or not, but I need to get a repair job before I go looking for it again.”
“Do you think I should send some men down there to finish it off?”
I looked him dead in the eye. “Only if you want to be writing to their families and arranging funerals for the scraps that thing would leave after it slaughtered and ate them. I’m telling you, this is not your average human killer, or a even a rabid animal of some sort. This thing is a fucking monster. The kind of monster that will give you nightmares for the rest of your damn life. If you send any of your agents down there before I am ready to go again, I’ll have your fucking hide if that thing doesn’t take it before I get the chance.”
That shut him up for a bit.
In blessed silence, I stumbled my way out of the poor old gypsy’s place and dragged my leg up the steps to the worried looks of the agents waiting outside.
Murphy had one more stupid question. “Do you need to go to a...hospital or something?”
I sighed, held up my stump for examination.
He looked at it briefly, winced and looked away, as did the rest of the agents.
“No. I need a ride out to my motor home. I’ll call headquarters and see if they have any qualified mechanics down in Quantico and some spare damn parts. I’ll write up some after action reports from my motor home and send them to you by e-mail or fax. I’ll also ask if you can get someone to bring my motorcycle out to the place for when I am repaired. Is that possible?”
“Uh yeah. I think we can manage that.”
“Good, then let’s get moving.”
* * *
The ride back to my motor home was a quiet one. Murphy took me back himself, leaving his other agents to secure the scene and erect what he hoped would be some barriers to that thing getting loose through the gypsy’s house. I was lost in thought in about who I could contact to find out more about this thing, he had finally gotten the clue that I wasn’t in a talkative mood.
Once I was back inside the motor home, I shut the door without inviting him inside. I did tell him that he would get my report in the morning. Then it was time to make some phone calls, first back to Quantico, and then to my friends in the Organization of Responsible Casters, or ORC for short.
In Quantico I was able to get ahold of my most immediate boss, a short, stocky fellow named Mike Hauser. I had only met Mike a couple of times in person, but he seemed like a well meaning guy who was trying to learn about the program that Drake had created.
To my surprise, Mike told me that he had already acquired a supply of spare parts (I think some were scaveneged from Greg’s body, but some were just spares) from stuff that Drake had left behind and that he had assembled a small team of technicians to study all of the diagrams and specifications that Dr. Geek had so kindly left behind in the NecroLab. He was eager to bring the team up and get a chance to work on me.
Luckily, he was able to get a truck requisitioned and was planning to head up the next morning.
After I finished with Mike, it was time to give the Professor a call.
Jim was very interested in the encounter and asked if I could dump any of my optical images into a computer file and send them his way, so he could run some comparative searches on the image of the thing. I spent the better of the evening figuring out to do that with one hand and no patience, but I was able to link to my PowerBook and record a couple of good still images and zip them off to him.
Then it was time to face the music. I decided to give Ravyn a call. If there was anyone who might know who would have knowledge of something like this, it would be her. Of course, calling her meant having to listen to a scolding of epic proportions, but sometimes even zombies just have take their medicine...
I was pretty pissed for having gotten ambushed in the first place, so my mood was grim to say the least. I had little patience for the alternating shocked and sympathetic looks I was getting from those knuckleheads. They were sympathetic because they just couldn’t comprehend that I wasn’t in any pain from my injuries, but shocked with the idea that something down...there...kicked my ass so thoroughly.
They could easily see the mangled end of my arm where the metal infused bone was twisted and crushed as if it had been caught in the grip of a very powerful vise. The vise that got me had some nasty teeth and powerful claws. My one leg was only a little better off. My foot was still connected, but was twisted at a sickening angle. The flesh and ‘muscle’ in my lower calf had been shredded and I was missing the knee cap in that damn leg now, which meant that I couldn’t support any weight on it without the whole thing collapsing on itself.
You shoudl have seen Murphy’s face when he saw me though. He went for his normal arrogant air of superiority that he had in greater measure than most FBI agents, to a ghostly white, he was almost stammering when I emerged from the manhole cover into dead gypsy’s place.
“W-wh-what happened to you Agent Bones?” He asked while trying to help me up off the floor, grunting with exertion.
I pushed him and another agent away with my stubby arm, which they recoiled from rather quickly. “Well, let’s just say I found our guy, sort of.”
“What do you mean, sort of? Didn’t the killer do this to you?”
“Oh yeah, it did. I definitely found our perp. The ‘sort of’ referred to the fact that I don’t think it qualifies as a ‘guy’.” I managed to scramble to my one good leg. I started hobbling towards the exit.
“A woman did this to you?” He followed along, motioning his agents to move ahead while he kept by my side.
“No, let’s just leave it as an ‘it’. Whatever the Hell this thing is, it isn’t human.”
He looked real worried at that assessment. “Is it some kind of animal?”
I was getting tired of this game of 20 questions. “Look, if I knew what the Hell this thing was I’d tell you. But I’ve never seen anything like it. I think you’ve got yourself one nasty supernatural critter running around there. It fucked me up pretty good, but I did some major damage to it as well. I don’t know if that thing will heal up or not, but I need to get a repair job before I go looking for it again.”
“Do you think I should send some men down there to finish it off?”
I looked him dead in the eye. “Only if you want to be writing to their families and arranging funerals for the scraps that thing would leave after it slaughtered and ate them. I’m telling you, this is not your average human killer, or a even a rabid animal of some sort. This thing is a fucking monster. The kind of monster that will give you nightmares for the rest of your damn life. If you send any of your agents down there before I am ready to go again, I’ll have your fucking hide if that thing doesn’t take it before I get the chance.”
That shut him up for a bit.
In blessed silence, I stumbled my way out of the poor old gypsy’s place and dragged my leg up the steps to the worried looks of the agents waiting outside.
Murphy had one more stupid question. “Do you need to go to a...hospital or something?”
I sighed, held up my stump for examination.
He looked at it briefly, winced and looked away, as did the rest of the agents.
“No. I need a ride out to my motor home. I’ll call headquarters and see if they have any qualified mechanics down in Quantico and some spare damn parts. I’ll write up some after action reports from my motor home and send them to you by e-mail or fax. I’ll also ask if you can get someone to bring my motorcycle out to the place for when I am repaired. Is that possible?”
“Uh yeah. I think we can manage that.”
“Good, then let’s get moving.”
* * *
The ride back to my motor home was a quiet one. Murphy took me back himself, leaving his other agents to secure the scene and erect what he hoped would be some barriers to that thing getting loose through the gypsy’s house. I was lost in thought in about who I could contact to find out more about this thing, he had finally gotten the clue that I wasn’t in a talkative mood.
Once I was back inside the motor home, I shut the door without inviting him inside. I did tell him that he would get my report in the morning. Then it was time to make some phone calls, first back to Quantico, and then to my friends in the Organization of Responsible Casters, or ORC for short.
In Quantico I was able to get ahold of my most immediate boss, a short, stocky fellow named Mike Hauser. I had only met Mike a couple of times in person, but he seemed like a well meaning guy who was trying to learn about the program that Drake had created.
To my surprise, Mike told me that he had already acquired a supply of spare parts (I think some were scaveneged from Greg’s body, but some were just spares) from stuff that Drake had left behind and that he had assembled a small team of technicians to study all of the diagrams and specifications that Dr. Geek had so kindly left behind in the NecroLab. He was eager to bring the team up and get a chance to work on me.
Luckily, he was able to get a truck requisitioned and was planning to head up the next morning.
After I finished with Mike, it was time to give the Professor a call.
Jim was very interested in the encounter and asked if I could dump any of my optical images into a computer file and send them his way, so he could run some comparative searches on the image of the thing. I spent the better of the evening figuring out to do that with one hand and no patience, but I was able to link to my PowerBook and record a couple of good still images and zip them off to him.
Then it was time to face the music. I decided to give Ravyn a call. If there was anyone who might know who would have knowledge of something like this, it would be her. Of course, calling her meant having to listen to a scolding of epic proportions, but sometimes even zombies just have take their medicine...
Monday, June 27, 2005
Might have to get me one of these...
Zombie Dogs...Here is the link: http://www.news.com.au/story/0,10117,15739502-13762,00.html
I can tell you however, that my own existence is proof that this technique is just the tip of the iceberg as to what has already been done to humans...
I can tell you however, that my own existence is proof that this technique is just the tip of the iceberg as to what has already been done to humans...
Sunday, June 26, 2005
Subway Ambush...Part 4
Staring face to upside down face with the creature I had been tracking, time seemed to stop. I can’t excatly say why, but the two of us remained frozen in place, unblinking. Perhaps we were both assessing the strange face of the other, or perhaps we were both just surprised and it took a moment or two before reaction could take place.
In my moments of analysis, I came to the full realization that whatever this creature was, it surely wasn’t natural, at least not in any world that I knew of. Its scaly skin was stretched tight over its reptillian face, its snout full of teeth resembled a cross between an alligator and a wolf. Its eyes were bulbous and wide and emitted an eery red glow that seeped forth from behind the largest, blackest pupils I had ever seen. Its forked tongue snaked out to taste the air as we remained locked into our little staring contest. Our faces were so close that we could have smelled each others breath, if either of us had the ability to do so. (I know I didn’t, I have no idea if it smelled me, but since I don’t have breath per se, I’d say that was a wash.)
Neither of us moved, neither of us even flinched as the mutual evaluation took place. Just before that timeless moment came to an end, I got the sense that there was a mutual recognition of Spirits that were in some unknown way kindred. I am sure that this thing had never before encountered a human that didn’t cower or scream in fear or terror at the sight of it.
I was just about to try something that I’ve since learned would have been my undoing, perhaps for good, by reaching out Spiritually to this thing when the moment was broken by the sudden squawking call from my pants. “Agent Bones, advise of your position please.”
Things became a blur of furious movement as each of us reacted.
The creature lashed out with both huge claws, grabbing at my one hand holding the flashlight in its face while I had decided that best course was to allow myself to fall from my current vulnerable position.
What resulted was a spinning, slow motion fall on my end that would have made any martial movie director proud. The bad part about that though was that what allowed me to spin so effectively was the beast’s grip on my hand that somehow went from its massive claws to inside its mouth in less than the time it took me to fall.
As I landed, I was swinging my baton with my other hand at one of its knee joints, which landed with a loud, thudding crack that seemed to buckle the critter momentarily. Its claws however remained wrapped around my wrist and my hand was still inside its mouth. Unable to pull m y hand out, I decided to try the other approach, throwing my weight into shoving that hand as far down its throat as possible, esepcially since I still had that small flashlight in my grasp.
That maneuver definitely caught the critter off guard as I used my much greater than normal strength and my heavier-than-it-appears bulk to push the thing back on its haunches. Unfortunately, the thing had its own hidden reservoir of strength and its own tactics.
With an awful crunching sound and violent twist of its head and jaws, my hand was severed and I was thrown past the creature to sprawl in the shallow stream of water behind it.
As soon as I landed, I twisted to get a view of the thing and bring my baton up for defense. In that short period of time, it was on me. It pounced towards me in one great leap, claws extended as it went for my head.
I was able to get my left leg up to keep it from reaching my head, while also bringing the baton up to smash one of its bulbous eyes. A spray of reddish black fluids showered my face and obscured my own optical lenses somewhat, but I was able to see and feel enough to know that its claws were in the process of tearing my leg up.
I kicked up with my other leg, smashing into the same side of the head that I had destroyed the eye on, giving me just enough of an element of surprise to knock the thing off of me, but not until it had pretty much shredded my knee and lower leg. I regained a small m easure of balance as I got on my one good knee and landed a series of blows on its head, snapping off one if it horns and a couple of fangs in the process .
It rocked back out of reach and we sat there facing each other, waiting for the other to make the next move. I was missing a hand , a knee cap and big chunks out of my lower leg. It was missing one eye, a horn, some fangs and had a gimpy leg now to boot.
I guess the creature decided I wasn’t worth the price of admission since it got up and lurched away down the tunnel, splashing heavily with each injured step. I was in no shape to go chasing after it at that moment, so I let it go, but I watched as it made a turn to the right, hopefully heading for its lair. I knew I would be coming back as soon as I could get repaired.
Now, it’s a damn good thing that I don’t have to worry about pain. The injuries I had suffered could well have killed me if I hadn’t already been dead, and if they didn’t I surely would have been in shock and suffereing from severe blood loss. Instead, these injuries were more an inconvenience than anything else. Getting my dead ass up and hopping over to the rusted ladder was frustrating, but not deathly urgent. Trying to climb a ladder with one hand and one useful leg wasn’t any fun, but was eventually manageable.
In my moments of analysis, I came to the full realization that whatever this creature was, it surely wasn’t natural, at least not in any world that I knew of. Its scaly skin was stretched tight over its reptillian face, its snout full of teeth resembled a cross between an alligator and a wolf. Its eyes were bulbous and wide and emitted an eery red glow that seeped forth from behind the largest, blackest pupils I had ever seen. Its forked tongue snaked out to taste the air as we remained locked into our little staring contest. Our faces were so close that we could have smelled each others breath, if either of us had the ability to do so. (I know I didn’t, I have no idea if it smelled me, but since I don’t have breath per se, I’d say that was a wash.)
Neither of us moved, neither of us even flinched as the mutual evaluation took place. Just before that timeless moment came to an end, I got the sense that there was a mutual recognition of Spirits that were in some unknown way kindred. I am sure that this thing had never before encountered a human that didn’t cower or scream in fear or terror at the sight of it.
I was just about to try something that I’ve since learned would have been my undoing, perhaps for good, by reaching out Spiritually to this thing when the moment was broken by the sudden squawking call from my pants. “Agent Bones, advise of your position please.”
Things became a blur of furious movement as each of us reacted.
The creature lashed out with both huge claws, grabbing at my one hand holding the flashlight in its face while I had decided that best course was to allow myself to fall from my current vulnerable position.
What resulted was a spinning, slow motion fall on my end that would have made any martial movie director proud. The bad part about that though was that what allowed me to spin so effectively was the beast’s grip on my hand that somehow went from its massive claws to inside its mouth in less than the time it took me to fall.
As I landed, I was swinging my baton with my other hand at one of its knee joints, which landed with a loud, thudding crack that seemed to buckle the critter momentarily. Its claws however remained wrapped around my wrist and my hand was still inside its mouth. Unable to pull m y hand out, I decided to try the other approach, throwing my weight into shoving that hand as far down its throat as possible, esepcially since I still had that small flashlight in my grasp.
That maneuver definitely caught the critter off guard as I used my much greater than normal strength and my heavier-than-it-appears bulk to push the thing back on its haunches. Unfortunately, the thing had its own hidden reservoir of strength and its own tactics.
With an awful crunching sound and violent twist of its head and jaws, my hand was severed and I was thrown past the creature to sprawl in the shallow stream of water behind it.
As soon as I landed, I twisted to get a view of the thing and bring my baton up for defense. In that short period of time, it was on me. It pounced towards me in one great leap, claws extended as it went for my head.
I was able to get my left leg up to keep it from reaching my head, while also bringing the baton up to smash one of its bulbous eyes. A spray of reddish black fluids showered my face and obscured my own optical lenses somewhat, but I was able to see and feel enough to know that its claws were in the process of tearing my leg up.
I kicked up with my other leg, smashing into the same side of the head that I had destroyed the eye on, giving me just enough of an element of surprise to knock the thing off of me, but not until it had pretty much shredded my knee and lower leg. I regained a small m easure of balance as I got on my one good knee and landed a series of blows on its head, snapping off one if it horns and a couple of fangs in the process .
It rocked back out of reach and we sat there facing each other, waiting for the other to make the next move. I was missing a hand , a knee cap and big chunks out of my lower leg. It was missing one eye, a horn, some fangs and had a gimpy leg now to boot.
I guess the creature decided I wasn’t worth the price of admission since it got up and lurched away down the tunnel, splashing heavily with each injured step. I was in no shape to go chasing after it at that moment, so I let it go, but I watched as it made a turn to the right, hopefully heading for its lair. I knew I would be coming back as soon as I could get repaired.
Now, it’s a damn good thing that I don’t have to worry about pain. The injuries I had suffered could well have killed me if I hadn’t already been dead, and if they didn’t I surely would have been in shock and suffereing from severe blood loss. Instead, these injuries were more an inconvenience than anything else. Getting my dead ass up and hopping over to the rusted ladder was frustrating, but not deathly urgent. Trying to climb a ladder with one hand and one useful leg wasn’t any fun, but was eventually manageable.
Friday, June 24, 2005
Subway Ambush...Part 3
Her home was far larger than it appeared at first glance. It seemed that the entire basement of this building was choked with metal shelving units, piles of boxes and collections of various odds and ends. An entire wall seemed to be made of stacked and bundled newspapers, most them too yellow with age to even read anymore.
I had to step over or around a number of bookshelves that had obviously been knocked over in a struggle. There were trails of blood just about everywhere I looked. I located what looked to be her bedroom, which was little more than an alcove surrounded by yet more bookshelves stacked high with yet more knicknacks. Her actual bedding was shredded in the struggle, soaked in blood.
Just past her bedrom though, I noted that several footprints in the blood seemed to lead further into the warren of shelves. I began to follow the prints until they led me toward what seemed to be the middle of the basement. The prints quickly began to get fainter, but remained visible until they stopped right at what for appearances was a man-hole cover.
Now this is the point at which my dear friend Ravyn would have suggested I stop and somehow or another get ahold of some other folks to go with me. However this also the point at which my own curiosity began to overcome any small sense of caution that I have left in this existence.
So, I reached down and pried the lid up, using my fingers to pull up on the lip of the very heavy metal cover so that I could peer down into what was revealed.
The drop beneath the cover was steep, the whole area shrouded in darkness so deep that I had to pull out the flashlight and use it to illuminate the area. The beam of light showed a drop of about eight feet into another passageway below. I could make out a couple of bloody prints from where the killer had landed on all fours, a torn piece of bloody paper that must have come from above was also visible. So, I now knew which way the killer had gone.
I grabbed the radio and tried to call out to Murphy, but no one answered. I shrugged to myself and muttered, “So much for backup.”
I slid the metal cover all the way off and then dropped it to clang loudly in the silence. I sat down on the edge, dangling my legs for moment before dropping down to the cement floor beneath.
I landed with a thud, flashlight in one hand, the other holding my usual collapsible baton. I had flicked it open in the drop, doing my best impression of an ever-so-cool comic book hero, and failing miserably.
The passageway was likely a remnant of some forgotten subterranean system in the cities distant past, as it was clearly abandoned long ago. There was a thick layer of damp dirt that coated the floor, easily revealing the two sets of tracks leading up to and away from the nearly rusted out ladder that led up to the manhole cover above. I have never been an outdoorsman, but Stevie Wonder could have followed these tracks. It also wasn’t hard to tell that these were more like claw marks than footprints.
I know, I know...with such a clearly marked trail, and such an obviously dangerous opponent, the smart thing would have been to go back up the ladder and grab some of those underpaid hero wannabes and make a party out of this affair. But would this blog be nearly so interesting if I had that kind of sense in the first place?
No, I didn’t think so. Shit, if I had half that much sense, I wouldn’t be a damn zombie and this would be another boring assed political blog. Who wants that?
So, I started following the tracks down the passageway, keeping to the right wall, just like my erstwhile prey. I followed those tracks for a good hundred feet before the first intersection occurred. Luckily, it was as dirty and unused as this passageway, so I was easily able to see where the critter turned to the right into this smaller, cozier hallway.
Now, instead open space, blank cement walls with the occassional ladder up, and echoing footsteps, I was faced with seemingly random sets of pipes and drains. I also noticed that every few feet I seemed to cross over a metal grate of some sort. This side passage also seemed to be angling downwards at a very slight angle.
The tracks were still visible where there was solid flooring, as were the spots of still fresh-looking blood where the creature had rubbed up agains one of the walls, or up against a set of pipes.
After another couple hundred feet of crawling over and around more and more of these damn pipes, I came to a spot where the grate on the floor had been violently ripped from the floor, leaving an openning that was easily large enough for a man-sized creature to jump down to the next level.
Using my little flashlight, I peered down into the darkness below one more time. This time I saw a thin stream of flowing water covering much of the floor. As I peered around, looking for where the critter might have gone to, I ducked my head down into the hole get a better view of things and pan the light. Unfortunately for me at that moment, our little friend happened to be waiting for me. I nearly jumped out my dead skin when I came face to face with the creature in this rather compromised position, but I didn’t have time to react that quickly...
I had to step over or around a number of bookshelves that had obviously been knocked over in a struggle. There were trails of blood just about everywhere I looked. I located what looked to be her bedroom, which was little more than an alcove surrounded by yet more bookshelves stacked high with yet more knicknacks. Her actual bedding was shredded in the struggle, soaked in blood.
Just past her bedrom though, I noted that several footprints in the blood seemed to lead further into the warren of shelves. I began to follow the prints until they led me toward what seemed to be the middle of the basement. The prints quickly began to get fainter, but remained visible until they stopped right at what for appearances was a man-hole cover.
Now this is the point at which my dear friend Ravyn would have suggested I stop and somehow or another get ahold of some other folks to go with me. However this also the point at which my own curiosity began to overcome any small sense of caution that I have left in this existence.
So, I reached down and pried the lid up, using my fingers to pull up on the lip of the very heavy metal cover so that I could peer down into what was revealed.
The drop beneath the cover was steep, the whole area shrouded in darkness so deep that I had to pull out the flashlight and use it to illuminate the area. The beam of light showed a drop of about eight feet into another passageway below. I could make out a couple of bloody prints from where the killer had landed on all fours, a torn piece of bloody paper that must have come from above was also visible. So, I now knew which way the killer had gone.
I grabbed the radio and tried to call out to Murphy, but no one answered. I shrugged to myself and muttered, “So much for backup.”
I slid the metal cover all the way off and then dropped it to clang loudly in the silence. I sat down on the edge, dangling my legs for moment before dropping down to the cement floor beneath.
I landed with a thud, flashlight in one hand, the other holding my usual collapsible baton. I had flicked it open in the drop, doing my best impression of an ever-so-cool comic book hero, and failing miserably.
The passageway was likely a remnant of some forgotten subterranean system in the cities distant past, as it was clearly abandoned long ago. There was a thick layer of damp dirt that coated the floor, easily revealing the two sets of tracks leading up to and away from the nearly rusted out ladder that led up to the manhole cover above. I have never been an outdoorsman, but Stevie Wonder could have followed these tracks. It also wasn’t hard to tell that these were more like claw marks than footprints.
I know, I know...with such a clearly marked trail, and such an obviously dangerous opponent, the smart thing would have been to go back up the ladder and grab some of those underpaid hero wannabes and make a party out of this affair. But would this blog be nearly so interesting if I had that kind of sense in the first place?
No, I didn’t think so. Shit, if I had half that much sense, I wouldn’t be a damn zombie and this would be another boring assed political blog. Who wants that?
So, I started following the tracks down the passageway, keeping to the right wall, just like my erstwhile prey. I followed those tracks for a good hundred feet before the first intersection occurred. Luckily, it was as dirty and unused as this passageway, so I was easily able to see where the critter turned to the right into this smaller, cozier hallway.
Now, instead open space, blank cement walls with the occassional ladder up, and echoing footsteps, I was faced with seemingly random sets of pipes and drains. I also noticed that every few feet I seemed to cross over a metal grate of some sort. This side passage also seemed to be angling downwards at a very slight angle.
The tracks were still visible where there was solid flooring, as were the spots of still fresh-looking blood where the creature had rubbed up agains one of the walls, or up against a set of pipes.
After another couple hundred feet of crawling over and around more and more of these damn pipes, I came to a spot where the grate on the floor had been violently ripped from the floor, leaving an openning that was easily large enough for a man-sized creature to jump down to the next level.
Using my little flashlight, I peered down into the darkness below one more time. This time I saw a thin stream of flowing water covering much of the floor. As I peered around, looking for where the critter might have gone to, I ducked my head down into the hole get a better view of things and pan the light. Unfortunately for me at that moment, our little friend happened to be waiting for me. I nearly jumped out my dead skin when I came face to face with the creature in this rather compromised position, but I didn’t have time to react that quickly...
Monday, June 20, 2005
Subway Ambush...Part 2
On the way to the scene, I sat in the rear of the second car, next to Murphy. Curious about this series of particularly gruesome murder, I asked him, “OK, so I see why you have some concerns that these murders are out of the ordinary, but I’ve been riding around this city over the weekend, and I didn’t see a single hint that there was a mass murderer loose here. How has that happened?”
He sighed, looked away for a moment before turning back to me. “You’re right. Under normal circumstances, the murders of even the dregs of society like prostitutes or drug dealers on the kind of scale we are seeing now with this killer would be the top story on every channel and in every scandal sheet in the city. But, the first couple of murders were very close to the secure zone near Ground Zero, so the first people to find the bodies were city workers. The NYPD called us in pretty quickly, and between the two agencies, we’ve been able to keep the clamps down on the press.”
“But how? I’ve never seen a beat cop who didn’t have the phone number of some up and coming City Beat reporter who wouldn’t kill for a bleeder story to lead the headlines.”
“True enough. But we’ve been able to lean on the the key reporters who have learned of this story, invoking some very obscure clauses of the Patriot Act to keep them in control until we authorize the stories for release. From what I hear, one reporter was going to break the story open, until he received a night time visit from some friends in Washington. They convinced him that he would have a much easier time pursuing his career if he wasn’t sitting in a cell in Gitmo. The word got around after that. This story is taboo until we release it for general consumption.”
“Wow, that’s pretty fucking scary. That’s not the America I grew up in.”
“Yeah, well until we know what the Hell it is we are facing, we can’t allow rampant speculation and fear to grip the City. Let me tell you, I have never seen anything like these killings. I’m not sure this killer could even be called human. But what the Hell else can it be?”
It was my turn to look away at that. “You don’t even want to know...” I trailed off as the vehicles pulled up next to a ramshackle building not more that 4 blocks from Ground Zero. The street was very narrow, one of those one way affairs that serves more a service drive for garbage pickups and greae dumps than actual thoroughfare.
There was a battered looking metal door just in front of our car, at the bottom of a small stariwell down. There was yellow police tap strung across the stairwell. Hung above the stariwell was a battered looking, hand painted sign that read simply, “Henna’s Hole--Tarot, Astrology, Palms.”
As I got out of the car, I remarked, “Some neighborhood.”
No one bothered to respond. Murphy lifted one corner of the police tape for he and I to pass. The others seemed content to let us look on our own.
The door didn’t really close tight, so Murphy just grabbed the rusty metal handle and pulled it open with a grimace, apparently the smell was pretty bad.
I stepped to the dimly lit interiror of a very cluttered place that had clearly been ransacked. I could make out streaks of blood and other dried bodily fluids seemingly randomly dragged across torn open boxes, torn furniture and dreary walls. The place was a veritable treasure trove of obscure books, scrolls, broken vials, overturned cauldrons and other odds and ends of an eclectic pagan shop. Papers from dozens of files had been scattered on the floor, most of the stained in blood and marked with footprints or...clawprints of some sort. The room seemed rather small at first glance, but closer examination showed that shadows and torn curtains obscured the fact that there were paths leading away deeper into the vast collection of...stuff.
I looked to Murphy. He remained close to the, breathing deep from the air outside. He saw me look over at him questioningly, and pointed towards one of the passageways behind me, “She was killed back there, you won’t be able to miss it. Her body parts have been removed, what was left of them, but you’ll have no trouble finding the spot where she was killed. She had a lot of blood, she was a very big woman.”
“Do you mind if I have a look around for myself then?”
“Be my guest, that’s why you’re here.” He toosed me a small flashlight that he pulled out of one of his jacket pockets. “You might need that, it gets pretty dark back there. She wasn’t much for electricity.”
I had noted that just about every empty surface either held a candle in some sort of strange holder or was covered in some sort of multicolored candlewax. Dozens of half burned candles lay scattered about the floor, many broken or crushed by unknown feet.
Just as I was about to head off into the darkness, Murphy called out again. As I turned, I saw a small black two-way radio coming towards me.
He called out, “Hey, I’ll be up by the car, call if you need anything.” With that he bolted out the door, letting it swing mostly shut again.
“I guess I’m on my own for a bit. It must really reek to high heaven down here. I guess there’s another advantage to being dead.”
I slipped the radio into on pocket, after making sure it was still on and the volume was set at high. I kept the flashlight in hand, but left it off for the moment. My dark vision is better than that of anyone alive I knew. But having it handy to peer into corners might be useful.
With that I began to explore the...warrens...that this poor lady had used as her home and her business....
He sighed, looked away for a moment before turning back to me. “You’re right. Under normal circumstances, the murders of even the dregs of society like prostitutes or drug dealers on the kind of scale we are seeing now with this killer would be the top story on every channel and in every scandal sheet in the city. But, the first couple of murders were very close to the secure zone near Ground Zero, so the first people to find the bodies were city workers. The NYPD called us in pretty quickly, and between the two agencies, we’ve been able to keep the clamps down on the press.”
“But how? I’ve never seen a beat cop who didn’t have the phone number of some up and coming City Beat reporter who wouldn’t kill for a bleeder story to lead the headlines.”
“True enough. But we’ve been able to lean on the the key reporters who have learned of this story, invoking some very obscure clauses of the Patriot Act to keep them in control until we authorize the stories for release. From what I hear, one reporter was going to break the story open, until he received a night time visit from some friends in Washington. They convinced him that he would have a much easier time pursuing his career if he wasn’t sitting in a cell in Gitmo. The word got around after that. This story is taboo until we release it for general consumption.”
“Wow, that’s pretty fucking scary. That’s not the America I grew up in.”
“Yeah, well until we know what the Hell it is we are facing, we can’t allow rampant speculation and fear to grip the City. Let me tell you, I have never seen anything like these killings. I’m not sure this killer could even be called human. But what the Hell else can it be?”
It was my turn to look away at that. “You don’t even want to know...” I trailed off as the vehicles pulled up next to a ramshackle building not more that 4 blocks from Ground Zero. The street was very narrow, one of those one way affairs that serves more a service drive for garbage pickups and greae dumps than actual thoroughfare.
There was a battered looking metal door just in front of our car, at the bottom of a small stariwell down. There was yellow police tap strung across the stairwell. Hung above the stariwell was a battered looking, hand painted sign that read simply, “Henna’s Hole--Tarot, Astrology, Palms.”
As I got out of the car, I remarked, “Some neighborhood.”
No one bothered to respond. Murphy lifted one corner of the police tape for he and I to pass. The others seemed content to let us look on our own.
The door didn’t really close tight, so Murphy just grabbed the rusty metal handle and pulled it open with a grimace, apparently the smell was pretty bad.
I stepped to the dimly lit interiror of a very cluttered place that had clearly been ransacked. I could make out streaks of blood and other dried bodily fluids seemingly randomly dragged across torn open boxes, torn furniture and dreary walls. The place was a veritable treasure trove of obscure books, scrolls, broken vials, overturned cauldrons and other odds and ends of an eclectic pagan shop. Papers from dozens of files had been scattered on the floor, most of the stained in blood and marked with footprints or...clawprints of some sort. The room seemed rather small at first glance, but closer examination showed that shadows and torn curtains obscured the fact that there were paths leading away deeper into the vast collection of...stuff.
I looked to Murphy. He remained close to the, breathing deep from the air outside. He saw me look over at him questioningly, and pointed towards one of the passageways behind me, “She was killed back there, you won’t be able to miss it. Her body parts have been removed, what was left of them, but you’ll have no trouble finding the spot where she was killed. She had a lot of blood, she was a very big woman.”
“Do you mind if I have a look around for myself then?”
“Be my guest, that’s why you’re here.” He toosed me a small flashlight that he pulled out of one of his jacket pockets. “You might need that, it gets pretty dark back there. She wasn’t much for electricity.”
I had noted that just about every empty surface either held a candle in some sort of strange holder or was covered in some sort of multicolored candlewax. Dozens of half burned candles lay scattered about the floor, many broken or crushed by unknown feet.
Just as I was about to head off into the darkness, Murphy called out again. As I turned, I saw a small black two-way radio coming towards me.
He called out, “Hey, I’ll be up by the car, call if you need anything.” With that he bolted out the door, letting it swing mostly shut again.
“I guess I’m on my own for a bit. It must really reek to high heaven down here. I guess there’s another advantage to being dead.”
I slipped the radio into on pocket, after making sure it was still on and the volume was set at high. I kept the flashlight in hand, but left it off for the moment. My dark vision is better than that of anyone alive I knew. But having it handy to peer into corners might be useful.
With that I began to explore the...warrens...that this poor lady had used as her home and her business....
Saturday, June 18, 2005
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.
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.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
quickie update
still typing one handed...should be able to type normally tomorrow andwill update fully on events in new york this weekend.
after events are updated, i will post drake's second message in its entirety...with his next damn clue...can't wait to get use of second hand again.
thaks for your patience.
after events are updated, i will post drake's second message in its entirety...with his next damn clue...can't wait to get use of second hand again.
thaks for your patience.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
limited post due to injury
i must apologize for the format of this post. i am doing this with one hand. monday, i had an encounter with the critter i described in my last post.
let’s just say that it was a bit of a draw. we wounded each other pretty bad. i ended up crawling out ith a badly damaged leg and one hand missing...i managed to hurt it pretty badly too.
i have lots to post about the encounter, but first i need to repaired, this one handed typing just won’t do.
i am waiting on a team to come up from quantico to fix me up so i can finish that thing off...
i will try to make short posts each day until i am fully operational again.
let’s just say that it was a bit of a draw. we wounded each other pretty bad. i ended up crawling out ith a badly damaged leg and one hand missing...i managed to hurt it pretty badly too.
i have lots to post about the encounter, but first i need to repaired, this one handed typing just won’t do.
i am waiting on a team to come up from quantico to fix me up so i can finish that thing off...
i will try to make short posts each day until i am fully operational again.
Sunday, June 12, 2005
Big Apple Bound
Before I update you on new events, let me address a couple of issues from my last post and the comments I received from that one.
Thanks to Ravyn and the Professor, I have an answer to that riddle, it does appear that Rasputin is who that asshole was using for the answer to that clue. So I Google’d Rasputin and came up with enough information that I am prepared to try a couple of dates for the password to the next clue.
Second, it appears that surprises go both ways. It caught me off-guard that Drake would bother to read this blog, which of course means that I will have to pay careful attention to what is said here, particularly when I have the chance to take up the trail after him. There was also something the bastard said that I did leave out of my last post, which of course the prick used against me to try to show me as being less than honest. To clear that record, I will now provide the part that I left out of the last post, it was said after the riddle was given. I left it out because it appeared to be a purely personal message that I wsn’t sure I could trust in the first place, but also because it seemed out of place given what has so recently taken place. Anyway, here is that last part of the message:
“Finally, dear Rusty I want to offer you my assurances that our conflict, our contest if you will, will no longer involve your family members unless you or they bring themselves into it. I had specific reasons for involving your children and your ex-wife in our last encounter, which I may choose to reveal to you at a later date, but the need to involve them in our little game has now passed.
“I look forward to seeing if you are up to the challenges ahead. So many others before you have failed to rise to the occasion, but I have a feeling that you my boy, may just be the One I have searched so long to find. How ironic is it that I had to create my own best foe?” His cackling laughter ended the recording.
So there it is. I have one message to my dear ‘creator’: Fuck off. This my damn blog, you want to talk to me, you’ve got my number and I’ve got your damn PDA Puzzles.
OK, back to the business at hand. By the time I did my research on this Rasputin fellow to get the dates I needed, I had to put that issue aside for the moment. Over the secure fax machine in my vehicle, I received a very short message, essentially it was instructions to report to the Manhattan Field Office of the Bureau for a mission briefing on Monday. Apparently the Bureau has decided to put my dead ass back to work. So much for the vacation!
So Saturday I spent the day driving up to the Big Apple, trying to manuever this big honkin’ bus through the narrow streets of that overly congested city before giving up and taking the thing over the bridge and onto Long Island. I was able to find a nice RV park about 30 minutes outside of the city.
Earlier today, I spent the day riding my Ninja around the seashore and then back into the city to get an idea of where I would be going tomorrow. There is quite a lot to see in that city, I had never been there before. As I drove in though, I felt a strange pulling sensation deep inside, it was pulling me towards Ground Zero.
I didn’t try to resist that Call very long. Soon I found myself pulling up near the fenced off perimeter of that yawning maw into otherwise towering landscape of manmade mountains. The Power of that place was overwhelming. I parked the bike and began walking the perimeter. There were hundreds of others who were similrarly drawn to this place, but we were all lost in our own thoughts and feelings at what had happened at this place.
I still felt the strange pulling sensation, so I knew I was being called to do more than just see the place. I found an empty bench across the street from the barricaded area and parked myself there.
Once seated, I openned my Inner Eye to the energies of this place and was immediately taken aback. The image of the Two Towers burned brightly in that world still. Smoke seemed to burn my eye. The current sounds of the busy New York streets were replaced with tinny, almost muted sounds of sirens and screams that I remembered from watching images of this scene on television almost 4 years ago now. The ghostly images of thousands of people fleeing the building while hundreds of other brave souls, the police officers and firefighters who responded to the terrible scene, rushed in to help those still trapped inside.
As I sat there stunned by the raw emotions and the wrenching images of that disaster, I felt so small and insignificant in the face of such enormous loss. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t stop watching, I was transfixed as the scene played out, until I noticed one ghostly figure walking towards me.
He was a firefighter, his turnout coat was grimy with dirt and smoot, his helmet shattered by some fallen object. He had obviously been killed by something that had fallen from the building, but his spirit was standing directly in front of me before I realized it. He looked into my eyes, with his one remaining eye and spoke to me.
“Did you call me here?” I asked him.
He nodded.
“Why?’
He stood silently for a moment, then said, “There is something you must see.”
“But why? This was hard enough to watch on television. I was not ready for this!”
“It is never easy, but it is necessary. You must witness soemthing. Wait, it will happen in a few minutes.” With that, the figure came and sat next to me on the bench.
“Can you give me a hint at what I am watching for?”
“You will know it when you see it. Be patient. Not much longer now.”
I waited, watching the scene play out as it had that long day years ago. It was getting close to the point where the first tower came down. The emotional power of the scene began to build as I watched people fall from the highest floors of the burning towers. More people were escaping the buildings, some being helped by rescuers, others moving in small groups, clutching at each other for support.
Within a minute, the first tower began to collapse in a cloud of smoke. The plume of dust and debris quickly enveloped us as we sat there. I flinched, expecting to be hit by the force of the implosion and the debris as it hurtled towards us. The firefighter sat there motionless.
When the cloud enveloped us, our vision was obscured. I was just about to ask the man how I was I going to see anything in this, when in the sudden stillness and strange silence of the moment, a bizarre form came forth from the dust cloud.
It was a hunched form, slightly shorter than an average sized man as it walked. It was naked, revealing that its skin was more like scales, although with all of the dust covering the thing, it was hard to be sure. The feet of the creature appeared to avian like, while its arms reached almost to the ground as they swung. The hands were huge, claw-like appendages that looked very dangerous. It’s head was clearly reptillian in nature, its open mouth protruding from its skull revealing very large, sharp teeth and flicking split tongue like a snake. It had a pair of small black horns that angled back. A series of small horn like fins seemed to trail down its back towards its short, stubby tail. It appeared for all intents and purposes to be the spitting image of a...demon of sorts.
The creature walked in slinking motion past us, oblivious to us, before it found a spot of pavement just past one ghostly firetruck that showed a man-hole of some sort. It reached down with one massive claw into a hole in the large metal cover and pulled up the heavy cover withg little effort. It cast the cover aside and slunk down into the hole, disappearing from sight.
I looked to the firefighter and asked, “What the Hell was that thing?”
“None of us knows. It came from above in the collapsing tower. It killed every living person who even glimpsed it. We have been Calling for someone to come and find this creature ever since that fateful day.”
“Has anyone else come?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to them?”
“Everyone who has tried to find it has gone and never returned. So far, you are the fifth to respond to the Call.”
Thanks to Ravyn and the Professor, I have an answer to that riddle, it does appear that Rasputin is who that asshole was using for the answer to that clue. So I Google’d Rasputin and came up with enough information that I am prepared to try a couple of dates for the password to the next clue.
Second, it appears that surprises go both ways. It caught me off-guard that Drake would bother to read this blog, which of course means that I will have to pay careful attention to what is said here, particularly when I have the chance to take up the trail after him. There was also something the bastard said that I did leave out of my last post, which of course the prick used against me to try to show me as being less than honest. To clear that record, I will now provide the part that I left out of the last post, it was said after the riddle was given. I left it out because it appeared to be a purely personal message that I wsn’t sure I could trust in the first place, but also because it seemed out of place given what has so recently taken place. Anyway, here is that last part of the message:
“Finally, dear Rusty I want to offer you my assurances that our conflict, our contest if you will, will no longer involve your family members unless you or they bring themselves into it. I had specific reasons for involving your children and your ex-wife in our last encounter, which I may choose to reveal to you at a later date, but the need to involve them in our little game has now passed.
“I look forward to seeing if you are up to the challenges ahead. So many others before you have failed to rise to the occasion, but I have a feeling that you my boy, may just be the One I have searched so long to find. How ironic is it that I had to create my own best foe?” His cackling laughter ended the recording.
So there it is. I have one message to my dear ‘creator’: Fuck off. This my damn blog, you want to talk to me, you’ve got my number and I’ve got your damn PDA Puzzles.
OK, back to the business at hand. By the time I did my research on this Rasputin fellow to get the dates I needed, I had to put that issue aside for the moment. Over the secure fax machine in my vehicle, I received a very short message, essentially it was instructions to report to the Manhattan Field Office of the Bureau for a mission briefing on Monday. Apparently the Bureau has decided to put my dead ass back to work. So much for the vacation!
So Saturday I spent the day driving up to the Big Apple, trying to manuever this big honkin’ bus through the narrow streets of that overly congested city before giving up and taking the thing over the bridge and onto Long Island. I was able to find a nice RV park about 30 minutes outside of the city.
Earlier today, I spent the day riding my Ninja around the seashore and then back into the city to get an idea of where I would be going tomorrow. There is quite a lot to see in that city, I had never been there before. As I drove in though, I felt a strange pulling sensation deep inside, it was pulling me towards Ground Zero.
I didn’t try to resist that Call very long. Soon I found myself pulling up near the fenced off perimeter of that yawning maw into otherwise towering landscape of manmade mountains. The Power of that place was overwhelming. I parked the bike and began walking the perimeter. There were hundreds of others who were similrarly drawn to this place, but we were all lost in our own thoughts and feelings at what had happened at this place.
I still felt the strange pulling sensation, so I knew I was being called to do more than just see the place. I found an empty bench across the street from the barricaded area and parked myself there.
Once seated, I openned my Inner Eye to the energies of this place and was immediately taken aback. The image of the Two Towers burned brightly in that world still. Smoke seemed to burn my eye. The current sounds of the busy New York streets were replaced with tinny, almost muted sounds of sirens and screams that I remembered from watching images of this scene on television almost 4 years ago now. The ghostly images of thousands of people fleeing the building while hundreds of other brave souls, the police officers and firefighters who responded to the terrible scene, rushed in to help those still trapped inside.
As I sat there stunned by the raw emotions and the wrenching images of that disaster, I felt so small and insignificant in the face of such enormous loss. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t stop watching, I was transfixed as the scene played out, until I noticed one ghostly figure walking towards me.
He was a firefighter, his turnout coat was grimy with dirt and smoot, his helmet shattered by some fallen object. He had obviously been killed by something that had fallen from the building, but his spirit was standing directly in front of me before I realized it. He looked into my eyes, with his one remaining eye and spoke to me.
“Did you call me here?” I asked him.
He nodded.
“Why?’
He stood silently for a moment, then said, “There is something you must see.”
“But why? This was hard enough to watch on television. I was not ready for this!”
“It is never easy, but it is necessary. You must witness soemthing. Wait, it will happen in a few minutes.” With that, the figure came and sat next to me on the bench.
“Can you give me a hint at what I am watching for?”
“You will know it when you see it. Be patient. Not much longer now.”
I waited, watching the scene play out as it had that long day years ago. It was getting close to the point where the first tower came down. The emotional power of the scene began to build as I watched people fall from the highest floors of the burning towers. More people were escaping the buildings, some being helped by rescuers, others moving in small groups, clutching at each other for support.
Within a minute, the first tower began to collapse in a cloud of smoke. The plume of dust and debris quickly enveloped us as we sat there. I flinched, expecting to be hit by the force of the implosion and the debris as it hurtled towards us. The firefighter sat there motionless.
When the cloud enveloped us, our vision was obscured. I was just about to ask the man how I was I going to see anything in this, when in the sudden stillness and strange silence of the moment, a bizarre form came forth from the dust cloud.
It was a hunched form, slightly shorter than an average sized man as it walked. It was naked, revealing that its skin was more like scales, although with all of the dust covering the thing, it was hard to be sure. The feet of the creature appeared to avian like, while its arms reached almost to the ground as they swung. The hands were huge, claw-like appendages that looked very dangerous. It’s head was clearly reptillian in nature, its open mouth protruding from its skull revealing very large, sharp teeth and flicking split tongue like a snake. It had a pair of small black horns that angled back. A series of small horn like fins seemed to trail down its back towards its short, stubby tail. It appeared for all intents and purposes to be the spitting image of a...demon of sorts.
The creature walked in slinking motion past us, oblivious to us, before it found a spot of pavement just past one ghostly firetruck that showed a man-hole of some sort. It reached down with one massive claw into a hole in the large metal cover and pulled up the heavy cover withg little effort. It cast the cover aside and slunk down into the hole, disappearing from sight.
I looked to the firefighter and asked, “What the Hell was that thing?”
“None of us knows. It came from above in the collapsing tower. It killed every living person who even glimpsed it. We have been Calling for someone to come and find this creature ever since that fateful day.”
“Has anyone else come?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to them?”
“Everyone who has tried to find it has gone and never returned. So far, you are the fifth to respond to the Call.”
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