Disclaimer:
Gary, the paper, and all the other EE characters do not belong to me. They belong to CBS, Tristar, Fox Family, etc. Please tell me what you think. I know that the beginning is from the opening in the third season, but I used it on purpose. And one of the other scenes is sort of like the opening in Jumanjii, but no copy right infringement is intended.
The setting is sometime during the 2nd season (1997), before Chuck leaves.
Spoilers: The Paper, His Girl Thursday
Revenge
His name is Gary Hobson. He gets tomorrow's newspaper today. He doesn't know how. He doesn't know why. He only knows that when the Early Edition hits his front door, he has 24 hours to set things right.
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His name is Curk McCruger. He has decided that it is time for all those who have made him suffer, to pay. He doesn't know when. He doesn't care who dies. All he knows is that he's mad and will do anything for revenge.
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~~~~~~~~~~ Chicago - October 9, 1796
"Are you sure this'll hold it Ralph?" asked the worried man as he continued to shovel dirt into the deep hole at his feet.
"I sure hope so Steve," Ralph answered as he stopped to wipe the sweat from his forehead. "A thing that evil is bound to get out sooner or later. I just pray it ain't any time soon."
A half an hour had past since they began. Shoveling the last of the dirt into the hole, the two men patted down the dirt. Afterwards they stompted on the ground to make sure that anyone who camt to the spot wouldn't be able to detect there was a grave beneath their feet.
When they were satisfied, they quickly walked away. "God bless anyone who stumbles upon that grave by accident and unknowingly unleashes that beast," Ralph said shivering despite the humid night air.
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~~~~~~~~~~ Chicago Present
Walking faster, Gary stumbled over his own feet. There was someone or something pushing him further.
Finally they stopped. Looking around, Gary could hardly see. The sky was dark and over cast with clouds, and there was an eerie mist surrounding his feet.
Out of nowhere a bright light shined down, only touching a young child who was about 5 years old. It was as if she was the star of the show and the spotlight was fixed only on her. She was digging frantically at the ground. Using her fingers as if they were a shovel.
Gary, watched as the little girl continued to dig. As if by some strange force, she was being pushed to dig, maybe perhaps by the same force that brought him here. The hole was about two feet deep, and the little girl climbed in and continued digging from inside the hole. Gary was amazed how fast the girl was digging. He couldn't have dug that fast even if he had a shovel. Finally the girl stopped digging and climbed out of the hole.
She stood up and turned towards Gary. Her face was pale, and her hair hung limp against her face. Gary was terrified when he noticed that the little girls eyes were glowing red, and she just stood there looking at him strangely.
A noise caught Gary's attention and he looked past the girl and towards the hole. Walking towards the it, he peeked inside. The hole was filled with a strange mist that glowed the same color red as the girls eyes.
"Grrrrrrr!" a deep growl came from the mist.
Gasping, Gary stepped backwards, bumping into the little girl. Gary noticed that her complexion was back to normal and her eyes now were a beautiful bluish-gray color. She was trembling.
"Where am I?" she asked Gary in a tiny voice.
"Come on sweet heart," Gary said as he picked the little girl up. Putting her arms around his neck, she put her head on his shoulder. Sighing, Gary remembered how much he loved kids. If only Marcia hadn't divorced him. He would have made such a good father.
"Grrrrrrrr!" a familiar sound snapped back into reality. Walking as fast as he could, Gary looked back at the hole. A dark figure rose from it. "Oh no," Gary said turning back around and quicken his pace. Gary had no idea where he was. Stopping to catch his breath, he looked around.
Putting the little girl down, he leaned against a tree. Looking away from the girl he tried to get his bearings. The fog made it hard to see, but from what he could see, Gary realized that he was in a cemetery.
Turning back around when he heard the little girl let out a startled cry, he found himself face to face with the figure.
Before Gary could react, the figure grabbed Gary's neck, lifting him over his head.
Gasping for breath, Gary tried to loosen the figures grip. But it was no use, the figure was too strong.
Terrified, Gary looked towards the little girl. She was crying hysterically, pulling at the figures robe, trying to get him to put Gary down.
The figure laughed and pushed her aside with his hand. The other hand griped Gary's neck even tighter.
With his last ounce of strength, Gary tried to wriggle out of the figures grasp. Failing, Gary looked down at the little girl who was still sobbing and pulling at the figures robe. Reaching his hand out he gently squeezed her hand. Then everything went black.
Quickly sitting up in his bed Gary gasped for air. Looking at his clock it said 6:29. Finally he caught his breath. A minute later his radio went off, and he was greeted by the familiar sound of the cat delivering his paper.
Ignoring the cat, he walked over to the bathroom. He could still feel the figures hands tightly clasped around his neck. When he arrived in the bathroom he bent down to splash cold water on his face. Patting his face dry with a towel Gary stood back up and gazed into the mirror. Horrified he studied the red marks on his neck. There were five on each side, each the size of human fingers.
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Rubbing his hands together, Curk laughed. The sound rolling out of his mouth like fog rolling over a cemetery.
This was too perfect. What a coincidence that he just happened to stumble upon a hidden book while at the library. Curk loved the library. He loved the knowledge that was held within every book. He spent most of his time in the history section, looking at all the books from when Chicago was first established.
Today, he found a book that had been hidden behind all the others. He wasn't surprised that he was the first one to find it, nobody was interested in the past these days, all they thought of was the future, and how to make things better. Sitting down in a near by chair, he opened to the first page and began eading.
About an hour later he finished reading the book. He couldn't believe it. He book was a journal written by someone who had lived back in the early 1800's. According to this book, in one of the cemeteries in Chicago, there was a grave. (Well of course there are graves in a cemetery, but this was no ordinary grave.) In this grave, there was something so evil, that it would cause death and destruction. But it could only be released from its grave on every hundreth aniversay of when the figure was banished to it's hiding place.
Walking over to the front desk, he casually looked at the calendar. Today was October 2nd. Just as he thought, in one week it would be October 9th, the two-hundreth anniversary. This was perfect, this is how he would get his revenge.
"Can I help you?" asked the librarian.
Hiding the journal behind his back so that she couldn't see it, he calmly answered, "No thanks, I was just looking." Curk quickly exited the libary.
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"Gare? Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost," Chuck said as Gary walked into the bar.
"I...I think I did," Gary said scratching his head. Sitting down at the bar next to Marissa, he rubbed his eyes.
"What?!?" Chuck and Marissa asked in unison. Chuck who had been wiping the counter from behind the bar, stopped and listened to what Gary had to say.
"I...I had this dream," Gary paused to think, "at least I think it was a dream. You see this figure was holding me over its head by my neck."
"But, it was just a dream right?" Chuck asked.
"Yeah, but the thing is, when I woke up it was as if I could still feel its hands around my neck. And when I looked in the mirror, there were marks there." Gary stated pulling the neck of his sweater down, Chuck gasped when he saw the marks.
"What is it Chuck?" Marissa asked in a confused voice.
"His...his neck. There are marks, like from someone's fingers," Chuck answered gulping.
"Oh my God. Gary, do you think..." Marissa started but Gary cut her off.
"I...I don't know what to think Marissa. But, all I know is that something strange is going on."
"Maybe you should go to a phycologist? One that specialises in dreams." Marissa suggested.
Rubbing his eyes, Gary shook his head and answered, "No, I don't need to go to a phycologist. The last thing I need, is some doctor locking me up in an isane aslimum."
"Come on Gare, how are you suppose to know if you dream means something? Maybe your subconcious mind is telling you to get a life?"
Putting her hand over her mouth, Marissa tried to hide her smile. But Gary saw it and remarked, "Alright Chuck, I get it. If it makes you feel better, I'll go to the phycologist. But if she starts asking me questions about the paper, I'm leaving."
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"It's nice to meet you Mr. Hobson," the woman said as she lead Gary into the room. The room was on the small side, but the huge picture windows made the room seem more spacious then it actually was. The tiny room only contained a desk and two chairs. "I'm Dr. Dittmar. But you can call me Jen," she added.
Gary still couldn't believe he had come, but Marissa had insisted. Her friend once went to a dream psychologist when she kept having repeating dreams and had help Marissa's friend figure them out. So reluctantly, Gary went to see what the psychologist thought about his dream.
"Sit down Gary, make yourself at home," Jen said to him. She was in her early thirties and Gary couldn't help being attracted to her.
Sitting down, he stretched out his legs to get comfortable. Looking around, Gary studied the certificates on the walls. One was a degree from Harvard, and the others where awards for excellency in psychology.
When Gary was appeared comfortable, she said, "Before we get started, I'm going to tell you some things about dreams. Dreams are very important. Many ancient civilizations used dreams to help make important decisions. We have been studying dreams for years, and we have become very good at deciphering what they mean. No matter how stupid, or weird your dream may seem, it is very important not to skip any details and any specific colors. The reason for this, is because one detail, one little detail, may tell everything."
Nodding, Gary nervously tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair.
Taking out a notebook and a pen, the woman sat down in a chair next to him. "Gary, please tell me anything you remember."
Gary told her about his dream making sure to mention every detail. He didn't know why, but he also told her about the marks on his neck. She gasped when Gary showed her.
"I've never seen anything like that," she had said.
Gary felt comfortable talking to her. She seemed to really know what she was talking about.
"Well," Dr. Dittmar started, "it seems to me that there is a lot of pressure being put on you by something and beacuse of this you are under a lot of stress. Is this true?"
"Yes, that's right." Gary admitedresting his head on his arm as he listened to Jen talk.
Continueing, Dr. Dittmar said, "Also, that there is something wrong in your life, or you feel that something bad is about to happen because of something you did."
Nodding, Gary remembered when he went to stop someone from having an allergic reaction, but he wound up making things much worse. First he accidentally knocked a man into a shelf, creating a domino affect and the last shelf fell into the picture window in the front of the store. A man with a bag of jawbreakers dropped them all over the sidewalk outside of the store and a jogger who was running past slipped on them. The jogger tried to grab onto a nearby ladder to regain her balance, but the ladder toppled over, spilling paints onto a stoplight. The stoplight maufunctoned and all the other lights on the street went out. This caused a huge traffic jam. When all of this was over, it wound up that the man still ate the food he was allergic to, as Gary was busy watching the chaos he had created.
"As for the little girl, she represents something good in your life that is going to help you out, or already has. But what I can't understand, is that you said you kept seeing the color red and also you saw that the little girls eyes changed to a bluish-gray color. Men usually don't dream in color. Are you sure that you did see those colors?"
"Yeah, I'm positive."
"Hmmm. The colors you saw, red and blue. They mean two completely different things. Red means love and romance, but on the other hand, blue means sadness and depression."
"What do you think about the marks? Gary asked rubbing his neck. It was almost 2 o'clock and his neck was still sore.
"I've never seen anything like it. Sometimes people will dream about falling and they wake up and have fallen out of bed. But I've heard of anyone dreaming about being strangled and actually wake up with marks on their neck." Puzzled, Jen got up and searched through one of the drawers of her desk. Pulling out a book, she flipped through the pages. When she reached the end, Dr. Dittmar sighed and turned to Gary. "I can't find anything about what could have caused the marks. But I have some colleagues who might know."
Writing something in a calendar, she said to Gary, "If you have anymore dreams like the one you had last night, please call me."
Gary thanked Jen and walked out of the office.
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The laughing echoed in his brain. Grabbing his head, Curk tried to shake the laughter out. The mocking laughter, and the jeers. The humiliation was unbearable. He remember covering his face as he ran out of the office.
They would pay for his pain. His humiliation. His failure. They would see, they would regret it. They would beg for mercy. But no, he would just sit back and watch them suffer.
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"Mrs. Riley?" Gary asked the woman standing near her mailbox. He was still out of breath, and in-between gasps he managed, "don't---mail---that." Pointing to the envelope she had in her hand.
"Why ever not?" asked the old woman in a worried voice.
"Because---your---your---husband---wont---won't---like you---using his---his..." Pausing to look at this paper, he quickly found out what he was looking for and said all in one breath, "his very valuable stamp from his stamp collection." Confused, Gary looked at the paper again. He was right, that's what it said.
Walking casually up behind Gary, Chuck shook his head when he heard Gary talking. Putting a hand on the old woman's shoulder. Chuck stated, "What my exasperated friend is trying to say is; You don't wanna mail that letter, because the stamp you used is from your husbands collection."
Putting her hand on her cheek she sighed, "Oh dear. This is from Henry's stamp collection? Oh my."
"You give that stamp back to...to Henry. And make sure that he keeps it in a safe place, because..." Gary started, but Chuck cut him off.
"That stamp is gonna be worth millions in a few years," Chuck said sighing.
"Oh my, that much? Well Ill make sure that Henry keeps it in a very safe place. Thank you so much."
Smiling, Gary said, "Your welcome Ma'am." Then he walked away.
"I can't believe you did that. We could have made millions off that stamp," Chuck said angrily.
"I told you, you didn't have to come. Now stop complaining or I won't tell you who wins the Cubs game."
"I'm not complaining, I'm just stating the facts."
"Whatever you say, Chuck. But it sounds like your complaining if you ask me."
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"Are you sure?" Dr. Dittmar asked, talking into the phone. "But what about the marks?"
"The marks could be from Gary, he could have been strangling himself during the night and not know it," answered Stephanie who was a colleague of Jen's.
"No, that doesn't sound reasonable." Dr. Dittmar said, "It most likely wasn't Gary. So it had to have been someone else."
"Does he have any enemies? Anyone who would want to kill him?" asked Stephanie.
"I don't know. But if someone is trying to kill Mr. Hobson, we better make sure that we do something before the person succeeds."
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Staring into the hole, he saw the little girl at the bottom. She was screaming trying to climb up the sides of the hole. "Help!!!!! Ahhhhhh!" she kept screaming.
Kneeling down, Gary reached for the girls hand. Grabbing the girls fingertips with one hand, he used the other to grab her wrist. Tightening his grip around her wrists, he began to lift her up. Leaning back, he fell over. The little girl fell on the ground near his feet.
"Grrrrrrr!" the figure growled as it rose from the hole.
"Whoa!" Gary cried out. Picking the little girl up, he ran through the cemetery. Ducking behind one of the tombstones he sat down on the damp ground. The little girl curled up in his lap, he could feel her shaking from fright.
"Don't worry, everything will be fine," he said stroking her hair. At that moment the figure approached the tombstone they were hiding behind. Surprisingly the figure didn't see them and continued his search. Letting out a sigh of relief, Gary put the little girl one the ground next to him and leaned out from behind the tombstonem watching the figure leave. The name on the tombstone caught his attention. GARY HOBSON. According to the tombstone, Gary had lived from 1764 to 1797 and died at the age of 33.
Standing up to get a better look, he looked dumbfoundly at the tombstone. At the bottom it said; DIED AT THE MERCY OF THE DARK FIGURE.
The little girl stood next to Gary, taking his hand, she lead him to the grave that was besides his, it said; EMILY HOBSON. 1792 - 1797. Died at the age of 5.
Standing in silence, Gary didn't have to be told what it meant. Looking at the bottom of the grave, Gary noticed that it also said; DIED AT THE MERCY OF THE DARK FIGURE.
Walking along the row of graves, Gary gasped when he realized that they all held that inscription.
Sitting up in his bed, Gary wiped the sweat from his forehead. Looking at the clock, it was 6:20, he ignored the time and walked over to get the phone.
Dialing the number on the paper Dr. Dittmar had given him, Gary said into the phone, "Hello. Dr. Dittmar? This is Gary Hobson. I was wondering if I could come in and see you again. Yeah, I had another one of those dreams."
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Ahhhhhhhh. The power. It was unbearable. It rushed from the bottom of his feet to the top of his head. Just standing over the grave gave him power. Alone in the old, forgotten cemetery, Curk found the location of the grave according to the book.
Now he was sure. In six days he would unleash the Dark Figure And he would finally have the revenge he so desperately wanted.
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"According to your dream, the little girl is representing your love. Someone or something is trying to keep you from this love. Only letting you ind it certain times," Dr. Dittmar said very seriously.
Gary remembered when he was dating Meredith. But it never worked out. A reporter and a guy with tomorrow's newspaper today just don't mix. Sighing, Gary nodded.
"But if you ask me, these aren't normal dreams. Mr. Hobson, have you been experiencing anything strange or different in your life lately?"
Trying not to laugh, Gary thought about the paper. What was normal about a guy getting tomorrow's newspaper today? Giving a slight smile, he said, "No, nothing out of the normal."
"Are you sure?"
Crossing his fingers he added, "Do I look like the kinda guy who would have something to hide?"
"No, I guess not." Pausing, Jen took a deep breath and slowly let it back out. Then calmly she said to Gary, "Do you have any enemies, or anyone who might want to kill you? The only reasonable explaination I can think of, is that someone was trying to strangle you while you slept."
A chill ran down Gary's back at the thought of someone hiding in his room, waiting for him to fall asleep. "No, i don't know of anyone off hand that would wanna...ki...kill me."
"You might want to take extra precautions tonight before you go to sleep. The person wh tried to kill you last night, may try again tonight."
Trying to take his mind off of what Dr. Dittmar had said, he decided to check the paper. Taking out his paper, Gary skimmed through it. MAN MUGGED BY CUSTOMER. Seeing Chuck's picture underneath the headline, Gary stood up. "Uh, it...it was very nice talking to you, and...and I...I...BYE!" Quickly opening the door he slammed it shut.
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"What do you mean your not paying, you ate it didn't you?!?" Chuck shouted at the man across from him.
"I didn't eat it! Your stupid waitress took it away when I told her it tasted like crap!" Curk McCruger shouted back.
At that moment Gary walked into the bar. There was a crowd surrounding Curk and Chuck. Excuse me. Gary said as he pushed through the crowd. When he reached Chuck and Curk, he went to stand in-between them. This was a bad idea, because Chuck had decided to punch the guy at that moment. Swinging his arm, Chuck hit Gary in the eye instead of Curk.
Looking at his fist, and then at Gary, Chuck made a surprised face.
Stumbling back from the force, Gary stood back up. "Owwwww! Chuck you..." Grumbling curse words under his breath, Gary touched his soar [sore] eye.
"Gare...I..." Chuck started to say.
"Don't say anything," Gary growled as he walked over to the bar. Sitting down he said to Marissa, "can you please go get me some ice?"
"Of course," Marissa said walking away.
A moments later, Chuck sat down on the stool next to Gary. "I'm really sorry Gare. I didn't mean to hit you."
"I know you didn't Chuck, but next time...how about counting to ten before you loose your temper."
Smiling, Chuck answered, "Sure. That was a pretty good shot though, right?"
"Yeah, it was a pretty good shot. It just happened to hit the wrong person..." He was about to say more but Curk was walking towards them.
"Your lucky you didn't hit me, Fishman. Or you would have regret it. This better not happen again." Turning around, Curk walked away.
"What's with him?" asked Chuck watching Curk walk away.
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Good morning Chicago. Today is October 9th. Only 77 more shopping days 'til Christmas," said the man on the radio sarcastically.
Groaning, Gary turned off the radio. Counting to himself he said, three...two....one. Then he pointed to the door.
Meow! Plop.
Just like clockwork. Wrapping the comforter around him, Gary walked across the cold floor. Opening the door, he bent down to pick up the paper.
The front page caught his attention. TERROR STRIKES CHICAGO; 15 DEAD.
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