Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense, November 2
Underground labs
The figure in black wakes completely for the first time and stretched. He notices for the first time that he is on a regular bed and no longer in his favored coffin… Where is he?
"Oh, look, the creature's awake," jeers Director Tom Manning with a sneer. "Just what this place needs—another freak, another monster…"
The rail-thin man hears this and becomes enraged at Manning's callous comments. He doesn't know where he is exactly, but he doesn't want to be here—wherever that is. With a voice that makes the Director quake, he thunders out a reply in his native French: "You can die!"
As the sound reverberates inside the room, the disfigured figure finds he is able to "see" the energy of his very voice and manipulate it simply by focusing. Amplifying the strength and resonance of his thunderous bellow with his mind, the whole room shudders and the supposedly shatterproof glass cracks and all but shatters. Manning runs away as fast as he can, all the while shouting, "This place is full of freaks! Let me out!"
Elsewhere…
"Have you seen the energy signature on him?" A scientist asks Dr. Kate Corrigan. "It's like nothing I've ever seen before."
"Hmm… It is odd. Our physical exam of the specimen supports the idea of him being human albeit extremely deformed. Although his teeth point to something else entirely… I am going to talk to him—or at least attempt to. He may not be communicative at the moment, but I believe he will eventually talk. It is more likely that he is probably simply frightened and angry."
A woman appears in front of the nearly shattered window of his so-called room. She reminds him of his beloved—save for the fact that she has different hair and eyes, and the fact that he would die for her love again didn't help either. But still, he thinks to himself as he feels his passion burn once again inside. As his passion burns, small fires ignite upon his delicate fingertips. His golden eyes widen in amazement. How is this happening? The man wonders aloud, breaking his thoughts away from his heart, and the little fires die away.
"Is it all right if I enter, sir?" The woman enquires. The shadowed man nods. Kate Corrigan motions a guard to open the door and that he can leave again. The man's now strangely visible glowing eyes—strange as they could not be seen at all before—follow her motions carefully. He is still suspicious of her, however, and also of just about anybody else.
"Hello," she says cheerily with a serious face while extending her hand politely. He hesitates to return the all-too-innocent gesture, afraid of more rejection and pain again. "My name is Dr. Kate Corrigan. What's yours?"
He reaches out with his skeletal hand and instead of taking her hand; he strokes and caresses her face. His touch is clammy and very cold compared to most living people. "Christine…" he sighs.
"Huh?" Kate gasps at his touch, causing the skeletal figure to draw back quickly and even further into himself, becoming ever more shadowed. His eyes betray his feelings: they exude a mixture of fear and anger, along with a bit of disgust. He shakes his head vigorously, as if to clear it.
"Aren't you afraid of me? Horrified by my appearance? Disgusted that I even dared to touch your beautiful body and face?" He tentatively wonders in an alluring and heavily French-accented English, and turns away from her, not willing to see her reaction. In fact, it is almost as if he is afraid of it and any human contact or interaction.
"What? Sure you're ugly," she admits. He frowns, unseen by her and his eyes narrow. He is becoming angry with her. Why doesn't she love him? He'd die for her! He did once already! "But it's not like I haven't seen many things much worse off than you are. I've seen demons, fish-men, frog-creatures, and even walking, talking skeletons with absolutely no flesh upon their bones! Why would I then be afraid of you? What is your name?"
"I have none."
"Surely you must be called something or have been called something by someone…"
"I have been called many things: the Living Corpse, Living Dead Boy, freak, monster, magician, assassin, ghost even. And sure, I've been all these things, but I've never been truly called son. I gave myself a name, or was it one that was given to me in my travels? You may call me Erik. Just that, Erik."
"When were you born?"
"What year is it, mademoiselle?"
"2008."
"Then it has nearly been some two hundred years earlier as best I can tell, as I was never told my date of birth." His glowing yellow eyes bore into her psyche, making her ever more uncomfortable, but she shrugs off the feeling. "Why am I here? Tell me the truth. Is this just another freak show? Or an insane asylum? God only knows Erik deserves to be in one…"
"You are currently under observation. We found you in Paris, in the underground lake in the Paris Opera, and you seemed to be the source of much paranormal activity. We needed to remove you to safety for the sake of you and the city above before you brought the whole city block down around you."
Erik's eyes dim and become downcast as if out of shame or fear. "Sorry," he whispers in a soft voice. "I do not even know myself anymore."
The doctor asks if she can take a sample of his blood—if he has any even—so that they might discover what was and still is causing the energy spikes, along with the reasons why he is still alive or alive again. He agrees, almost reluctantly. He approaches Dr. Corrigan cloaked in furtive shadows and extends his seemingly brittle arm to have his blood drawn. He is trembling, but whether out of fear or hunger is not known. Sure, it looks as though he has never eaten a meal in his life, but how can one ever be so sure that he hasn't ever eaten? She quickly draws the ancient man's blood and leaves, closing the door, but not locking it. Curious, Erik waits until he can no longer see her or hear her footsteps, and then steps up to the door. Along the way he abandons the safety of the shadows he has gathered around himself, as he no longer feels as threatened anymore by the strangers. Why, he thinks to himself, that woman was not afraid of me and tried her hardest to not cause Erik pain when she drew my blood! Could they be so bad after all, in the end, then? He tests the door to see if it is either locked, as he thinks it is, or if it is indeed unlocked.
The doorknob turns easily, and the door cracks open, much to the former Ghost's surprise. Slowly, he opens the door and steps out. He notices the shadows in the hallway almost instinctually. He still is not sure of how or why he does it, but there are a lot of things he just does not know about anymore—even for all his incredible genius.
Abe notices how the shadows that have gathered in the library's reading room. The corners that were once clear of shadows are now shadowed, with one particular corner shrouded even more than others. What is going on here, Abe wonders.