Ghostbusters International: Chronicles of Gozer
GBI Case File GBI-2004-22/001
Story by Fritz Baugh, Vincent Belmont, Ben King, Jeremy Hicks, TheRazorsEdge,
and Brian Reilly
Original Edit by Vincent Belmont; recut by Fritz Baugh
8:30PM
Rosey Collins' head was still spinning from what had happened earlier...it had taken her all to calm down the frantic Sarah Jones, then to see Vincent just completely lose it the way he did...she needed a walk, and the grounds outside the former Asylum seemed inviting.
With a start, she realized there was somebody already out there. One of the Americans.
"Doctor...oh, how was it pronounced? Bog?"
"Baugh, Miss Collins. Rhymes with 'awe'" he responded, just having noticed her there.
"I bet you spent your entire childhood pronouncing and spelling it for people..." Rosey couldn't help but crack.
"Indeed..." he replied. "It's been easier since Rush Limbaugh became popular, but I hate to use that fact for fear of people thinking we're connected-the man is an ass..."
"How long you been doing this then, Doctor?"
"Call me Fritz. A little over a year...April '03."
"Rosey. And I've only been here a few months-since Graveyard Shift started..."
"A pleasure to make your formal aquaintance then, Rosey."
"You look like you have a lot on your mind..."
"How could I not? Barely a month ago I buried one of my teammates...after foiling an Egyptian god...and now all of this..."
"The GBUK guys lost one of their mates last summer...they don't talk about it much..."
"I can't blame them." Fritz shook his head.
There were a few minutes of silence.
"Belmont's got a plan...but I have trepidations about it. Or more honestly, after that show back in the conference room...dare I say, trepidations about him."
Rosey just nodded.
"I agree totally with what he said about the Professor...it's hard not to be a little awed by him and all of the founders, I know...but that doesn't mean we turn our brains off and let him do all the thinking for us."
"But his attack on Bestler..."
"Bestler can be a bit..." Rosey paused. "Abraisive. But they're all close here-I got a brother myself, and we fight all the time. You got any brothers or sisters?"
"Three younger brothers. And yes, there were some definite bad moments growing up..."
"Well, Vincent and Adam are sorta like that."
"Perhaps. But it was Belmont's...for lack of a better term, self-righteous indignation that gave me pause. I grew up in the Mid-West, among very religious people...I have my beliefs, but I could just never fit in to their mold. Too many people that religious shut their brains off...it took the Catholic Church three hundred years to admit that the Earth was not the geographical center of the universe, and they're still arguing about evolution..."
"Vincent is a very intelligent man."
"I know that. And on the whole he's definitely NOT been one of those self-righteous pricks I grew up around. But this whole situation is eating at him-he actually snapped at me when I shared one of my translations..."
She had to blink. It was somehow disjoint from her impressions of him to hear Fritz uttering a description like "self righteous prick."
"It talked about the 'War of the Gods' and the destruction of the 'great lizard beasts'..." he continued. "I mentioned that it showed some parallels to the theory that an asteroid led to the death of the dinosaurs and he practically bit my head off."
"I never understood that kind of belief either, Fritz...but it's a large world out there."
"I'm just worried that his beliefs might blind him at a critical moment."
9:35PM (England)
"Are you sure this is wise? I mean, something could crawl out of the Hell Hole and into this while it's still warm." Ben King Sr replied as he indicated a doorway set into a grey, concrete wall.
"I must do this, there is a chance that I might be able to find something that I can use to help us defeat Gozer...I don't know how long it'll take but I'll try keep my time in Arcane Alley to a minimum." Vincent Belmont explained as he drew a series of runes along the doorframe of a small cupboard in the basement of the building with a length of chalk.
"But are you sure there's even such a thing here? I'm surprised if there is one...this place wasn't much before they built the sanatorium." Ben King Sr asked.
"It IS here, and has remained hidden from everyone who have no knowledge of the stuff of wizards," Vincent explained as he consulted a large book which had several pages dedicated to the process he was performing. "Ben...I cannot guarantee that I will be back too long before we need to confront Gozer...I have taken a lot of thought into this issue, but I want you to keep a watch over the Graveyard Shift until my return." He fixed the other Ghostbuster with a serious expression.
"You think that's a good suggestion? I'm gonna be tied up with my research into this thing...surely Eric's good enough to handle things by himself, he usually fills in for you when you're away." Ben replied.
"For short term, as good as Eric is at leadership, I do not believe he has the right amount of experience just yet, I believe you are more then capable of maintaining order within the team until my return." Vincent explained.
"Okay, but you'd better be coming back...last thing we need is another funeral of a former team-member to screw up things."
"The track to Arcane Alley is dangerous and nearly a labyrinth in its own right, but I will be fine. I've already spoken to Egon about the plan, and both he and Fritz are already making preparations," Vincent replied.
"Okay, so if I'm hearing this right, we're conjuring some thing to keep Gozer busy while we look for Gozer's weak spot?"
"Correct." Vincent stated. "Egon knows what to do, now I'm going to get what we need to do it. Good luck, friend, my course shall be sure and swift."
Ben nodded and stepped back.
Vincent's voice echoed slightly as it reverberated through the room. Deflagrate muri tempi et intervallia. Ego ambulo arcanum Viae de Magum accelerare peregrinatio. His voice seemed to waver, and an eldritch chill permeated the room as a sound which seemed to be a chorus of chanters trailed off after Vincent finished speaking.
Suddenly, a purple and gold energy flashed and sparkled around the doorframe for a few moments before dissipating. Vincent then grasped the handle and opened the door, Ben uttered a gasp when he saw what lay beyond the wooden doorway, instead of the broom cupboard lay a vertical silvery blue pool of what looked to be a liquid resembling mercury. Vincent strode in and the door closed itself behind him.
Ben hesitated for a moment, and then grasped the handle and opened the door. Instead of the murky, reflective pool sat the broom cupboard.
"One of these days I think I'm gonna need to take a very long vacation..." Ben muttered as he closed the door and walked away.
9:45PM
"Well, Belmont's safely on his way to wherever he's going." Ben King Sr announced as he walked into the GBUK Rec Room, unzipping the top part of his flight suit so he could relax a little in one of the many chairs in the room.
"How'd he leave?" Roger Kennedy asked, looking up from a game of poker with Eric Rose. Roger was also playing cards with Robert Griffeths, Joey Williams and at the moment, Dr. Peter Venkman. Strangely unsurprising, Peter held most of the chips.
"Portal..the portal in the basement." Ben explained, standing, and taking a moment to remove his glasses and try ease some of the tension out of his brow.
Ben looked up after what seemed to be a strange silence suddenly overtake the room. He looked at the break room table to find all of the Ghostbusters staring at him as if he had had announced that he was pregnant. Peter was the first to break the tableau by looking around the table at the other confused Ghostbusters.
"What?" Ben asked, breaking the odd silence, "he comes and goes at will...he IS a WIZARD, you know."
The others shrugged as they went back to their game of cards, as the whole notion of Vincent doing strange things seemed perfectly normal, now that they thought of it. Most of them had seen Vincent perform even more bizzare feats in the past. They opened up a seat for Ben and began dealing a new hand for him.
"I don't think we're going to have enough guys here to beat Gozer..." Eric replied as he checked his new hand of cards.
"What do you mean?" Roger asked.
"Well, last time the Ghostbusters took Gozer by surprise."
"Makes sense, the big Goz probably didn't expect us to have unlicenced nuclear accellerators on our backs." Peter agreed with a grin.
"But this time, Gozer's gonna know about us, heck, this whole mess with Jeremy just shouts 'I know about you now!' It's like we're holding a pair of Deuces while Jeremy's letting on that Gozer's holding a royal flush." Eric sighed, arranging his hand, trying not to show his fellows that he was only holding a pair of Deuces.
"Well," Ben interjected, throwing in a red poker chip to the center of the table, "I say right now, we're looking to 'call Gozer's bluff."
"So you think we should get more guys in?" Roger cocluded, seeing all of the others nod emphatically.
"Exactly what I'm saying-" Eric replied. "-I just don't know who we could call in at short notice, most of the other Ghostbusters teams are three hours and three thousand miles away."
"Well, you could always call the Paris branch..." Peter added quietly.
Ben bolted upright, an expression of sheer confusion on his face.
"What?" He asked in bewilderment.
"-then there's the Luxemburg Ghostbusters...though, that's only really a three-man operation...really small country..." Peter mused.
"Peter, what on earth are you talking about?" Ben asked.
"Oh, y'know...the European franchises...though, the French one kind of got shut down after an incident with the French President..." He replied with a smirk.
"Why haven't we heard about these European franchises before?" Ben asked, a small portion of anger creeping into his voice. Peter levelled his gaze and Ben.
"Have you ever cared about anything in Europe before tonight?"
Ben just stared at the elder Ghostbuster.
"Point taken." He replied and collapsed back into his chair. There was silence in the room for several minutes before Peter Venkman finally announced:
"Now, am I the only one who thinks we should get stinking drunk before we need to work tomorrow?"
"Yes," Joey grunted, "call."
Each Ghostbuster threw down the cards in front of them, and sighed with frustration as they saw Venkman's winning hand.
"Isn't that a very bad idea?" Eric asked tentatively, raising an eyebrow at the elder Ghostbuster.
"I have to agree...I don't like the idea of any of us having a hangover when we're working tomorrow." Ben agreed, although he seemed a little uncaring after hearing the info about European competition.
"Oh c'mon..." Peter pleaded playfully, dumping his cards on the table. "The world could be ending in only a number of days, and you don't want to have one last brewski?" He added with a wink.
"You're really giving us confidence to succeed." Robert retorted, sarcastically.
"-Let me get my jacket." Ben muttered before leaving the room.
Location: Somewhere hidden...time unknown
Vincent stepped beyond the door and into the swirling mists. The place was dark. He was outside, looking onto an enormous expanse under a starless sky. He drew the wand from his coat, and tapped his index finger on the end. A soft white glow emitted from the tip. He held it aloft and looked around. Everywhere he looked, the mists of this strange place clouded his vision.
He walked on, following the dirt path beneath his feet. This odd dirt path looked more like a fine silvery powder, that was even slightly luminescent; though it was not nearly enough so to see.
He heard sounds off in the mist. It was laughter, as if small children were out in the strange fog, playing. Vincent looked off the path again, and stopped. He shivered, and pulled his coat tighter. He looked behind him, but he did not see the door. It had been left far behind him. Again, he heard the tinkling ethereal laughter that came from someone, or something beyond the curtain of mist.
"Great," he thought, "I never did walk to Arcane Alley from Great Britain before..."
He looked at his feet; at the silvery dirt path on which he stood. He looked down the path as far as the fog would allow. He spotted a small flickering glow in the shroud of fog ahead. Vincent quickly doused the light from his wand. He held his breath.
Vincent knew that this was his first time using "The Shining Path" from such a distant location. They are secret roads of magic that wind through the Astral Planes, and link between two objects that serve as "gates" to this strange place. Here, travel is hundreds of times faster than it would be on "earth." It had been a spell that took him nearly a month to decipher, but never did he think that he would find one of the actual gates within the old asylum that served as the Graveyard Shift's headquarters. However, within the text Vincent studied was a warning. It is wholly possible to become lost in the dark world of the astral, for there are no lights; only a thick fog, and a barely visible path to follow. One must know which road to take when a crossroads is encountered. Furthermore, the eldritch dimension is far from benign. Astral beings dwell there, as well as terrifying monsters, and travellers should be wary.
The light grew closer, and Vincent inched his way off the path, hesitating, as he did not want to lose sight of it. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw a humanoid shape amble into view. It was a cloaked figure. It looked to be an old bespectacled gentleman with a neatly trimmed white beard, and no hair on his head. Instead, he covered it with a wide-brimmed hat. He carried an old oil lantern to light his way.
The figure stopped.
"Evening, friend," said the man. "You lost?"
Vincent found it hard to speak at first, but finally found his voice.
"I may be, sir. What way is it to Arcane Alley in Salem, Massachusetts?"
"Ahhh, just came from there, m'self, lad." the old man laughed as he pointed a bony finger in the direction that he came from, "Just follow the right fork when you come to it, and then the first left. It shouldn't take you more than a few hours' walk. Be careful not to stray from the path...it's dangerous, you know."
"Oh, I will." Vincent chuckled, "Thank you, magister!"
"Magister!" the old man said in amusement, "That is something I haven't been called in QUITE awhile...Good day, to ya, lad! I must be home soon, or my daughter will never let me hear the end of it!"
Vincent bowed to the old man, and lit his wand again, continuing down the path again, feeling slightly more confident. He glanced at his pocketwatch and grimaced; there wasn't much time. He broke into a slight jog, kicking up small clouds of the fine silvery powder beneath his feet as he went.
10:00 PM England
In truth, Ben realised he was a little thankful to have gotten out of the HQ and out into the fresh air, leaving the driver's window open as he steered the Ecto-US toward the villiage. He'd been feeling pretty tense over the past few days in both his research and his simply the general atmosphere, and he assumed the others felt the same. The HQ no longer held the somewhat relaxed atmosphere thanks mainly due to that damned book.
The travelling band's main destination was the nearby villiage, and the local Pub. Ben smirked as he drove, the Pub was appropriately named considering their main occupation; The 'Bat and Bell' Freehouse, rentable for parties, both birthday and anniversary. Ben steered the ambulance into the Pub's carpark and killed the engine.
"Alright everyone, time to let you guys sample some of the local brew...just don't try the Special Brew." He warned and he then climbed out, followed by the other travellers.
The 'Bat and Bell' Pub was a two story strcture comprising mostly of brick and flint. Ivy crept up one of the sides, and the building itself felt old. On the side that faced the carpark there were two windows, the upper floor was dark but the lower was lit, and appeared lively. The Ghostbusters walked around to the front and stood outside for a moment as a few patrons left. The front of the building had three windows on the top floor, two on the botton with a door placed where the middle window would have been. Cylindrical black metal lanterns flagged the doors while awnings hung above the windows. Peter looked up. A large, wooden sign swung quitely in the breeze. The Pub's name was spelt out in gold curling script and the lettering was acommpanied by a illustration of a church at night, a full moon and a bat flying past the lunar body. With the doorway now cleared, the Ghostbusters entered the building.
"Now this is somewhere I like." Peter Venkman announced enthusiastically. As it happened, usually when a Ghostbuster entered a room all eyes turned to them, their bizzare and eccentric appearance (No doubt undermined by their unusual uniforms), however, the Pub's regulars didn't seem to be too fussed when Ben stepped into the pub, albeit wearing his leather jacket over his blue and red jumpsuit. Several of the regulars studied the large group of newcomers.
"Ben." The Pub's landlord, who was busy cleaning a pint glass, greeted the leading Ghostbuster.
"Evening, Harrison...what's new?" Ben greeted with a smile on his face, it was something that made Peter smirk in surprise, he hardly ever saw the bespeckled Ghostbuster smile anymore.
"Not too much from th' usual, 'though we're gonna be clos'in a little early tonight, me an th' wife need to be leaving for London early tomorrow, we'll be closing at 'leven." Harrison explained. Ben checked his watch, it gave them about an hour.
"We'll keep that in mind, thanks." Ben nodded. He then turned to the other Ghostbusters. "Right, we've got Stella, Grolsch, Bud, Fosters, 'Old Rodger', Kroneburg and Tiger."
"Well...seeing as I've heard of only two of those beers..." Peter began. "I'd say we try a taster session."
"All I say is, be careful of the 'Old Roger', that stuff's pretty strong." Ben warned as he turned back to the Landlord. "A Stella for me."
Arcane Alley; Salem, Massachusetts, USA 6:45pm
Vincent stepped out into what appeared to be a small village square. It was late afternoon, and an orange sun hung lazily over the horizon.
He stood beneath an antiquated street lamp, on which hung a dented aluminum plate, bearing the name "Arcane Alley" emblazoned in green letters. This "square" was a more of a circular turnstyle, and in the middle was a fountain, with a large statue of a young wizard holding a great staff aloft. Vincent saw numerous shops around the square, and along the alleyways.
The largest building in the square was an old pub called "The Green Dragon." A beautiful young girl in a waitress' uniform emerged from the entrance, and lit the lamps outside of the door. There was laughing, and even singing emitting from the doorway, and Vincent could even see a few rowdy warlocks inside, singing arm in arm, and swinging around great flagons of beer.
It seems that not much has changed in Arcane Alley from the early 1800's. It was almost "cute." The whole place had a "colonial" feel to it.
Vincent strolled off down the alleyway away from the "Green Dragon." He would meet his contact there, but after nightfall. Vincent had a bit of shopping to do before then.
Vincent strolled down one of the darker alleyways, making his way past shipping crates with addresses written in old runic letters. Vincent glanced over at a trash can as he passed, and smirked as he saw a gremlin poke its head out of the trash can, munching on what looked like a glass beaker.
It was growing darker as he left the brightly lit walkways of Arcane Alley proper, and journeyed farther into the seedier side of the alley. He could now barely see where he was going. Vincent drew his wand out of his coat pocket, and struck the tip of it against the brick of the building next to him, as if lighting a match. The tip flared to life with a bright luminescence, and he saw several shadows flee the light of the wand. Drawing in a breath, he stepped out into the street.
The street was dismal, and was lit only by the occasional glass globe in which giant fireflies buzzed around inside. A few cloaked figures looked in Vincent's direction, before walking quickly away in the opposite direction. Vincent saw the miriad of grizly shops that lined the street, and gulped. A few paces to his immediate left was a ramshackle hotel. He saw the glow of candlelight emitting from a few of the windows. A rickety board hung above the door, and squeaked at its hinges as it swayed in the cool night breeze. The sign read in a simple black scrawl, "Bram's Coffin."
Vincent walked down the street. He looked up at the sky, which was starless, and looming over him was the full moon.
"Strange," he thought, "It was sunset only a moment ago."
Vincent glanced into a few shop windows as he passed. He shuddered at the site of a large steel cage, housing a black spider with legs as long as his arms. He moved away from the window when he stubbed his toe on a large barrel, which housed a collection of human bones.
He walked at a quicker pace down the cobblestone path, and looked up at the signs of the stores. He dare not look in the windows. Not only was he unable to see through the dirty glass, but he had the distinct feeling he was being watched. He paused underneath a shop called "Twilight dreams." He looked behind him, and saw a couple of figures flee, giggling into the shadows. They looked like little children wearing halloween costumes. Of the glimpse Vincent caught of the bags they carried, he clearly read the words "Trick or Treat."
Vincent looked into the shop window of "Twilight Dreams." The lamps inside provided a dull red illumination, and Vincent saw many figures relaxing on the floors and on couches. He caught a whiff of the pungent smell of Opium, and pulled his turtleneck over his mouth and nose. He spied a couple of women inside. They were attractive, from what he saw, but also realized that they were wearing nothing at all. He couldn't tell whether they were kissing and petting the prone men on the floor, still in their opium-induced stupor, or whether they were sucking on their necks...
What are you doing here, Belmont? He asked himself, get what you need here and get out.
"Hi," a soft, sultry voice called from the doorway.
Vincent quickly turned his head to see a woman standing in the doorway. She was tall , and had a tanned skin and coal black hair that reached down to her ankles. She wore a black cloak, and moved in graceful strides as she glided over to Vincent. She took his hand.
"Come on in, sweetie, I'll make you feel right at home. Whatever you want..."
She wrapped her other arm around Vincent's shoulder, and pulled him close. Vincent caught a glimpse of her nude form under the open cloak, and blushed. He found himself wanting to go in. He couldn't tell whether it was a male weakness, or if it was the smell of the opium, or even the cheesy sitar music emitting from the building that enticed him. He lowered his wand, and the light from it died down and snuffed itself out. His brain screamed at him to run, but his body did not follow.
"I'll be your girl..." she wispered softly into his ear.
Something inside him snapped him back into reality. He thought of Jill. He pushed the woman away, and pointed the wand at her.
"Sacres Flammae!" he spat in disgust, as the tip of the wand burst into bluish white flames. The woman cringed and hissed in an inhuman voice, baring two viscious-looking fangs. She covered her eyes and slinked away from the solar radiance into one of the alleyways. She looked up, and hissed at Vincent as she walked backwards on her hands and feet, and crawled up onto one of the alley walls in spasmic movements. She sank into the shadows and disappeared.
Vincent ran down the street, no longer looking in any windows at all. He only glanced at the store signs as he ran past, stopping at one that read "Voodoo Majik." He pushed open the door, that rung a small bell as he entered, and slammed it shut behind him.
He glanced around at the inside of the shop. Numerous small dead animals hung from their necks on the ceiling. Shelves lined the walls, with jars containing foul components, which Vincent would guess were not given up willingly. Shrunken heads lined a glass case in the shop window, and above it on small pillows rested grisly objects, which included a straw doll, a bone necklace, and a mummified hand.
Vincent approached the counter and stuffed his wand in his coat pocket, finding the room to be aptly lit by candlelight. The counter displayed powders and herbs, and many books with tentative titles such as "Finding the Loa," "The Book of Samhedi," and "The Bokor's Black Book."
"Go away, Senor!" called a deep baritone voice from the back, "Ahm closed for de night, ya?"
Vincent knew the voice well, but still never discerned by his accent whether the man was of Jamaican or Spanish descent.
"You hear me, senor?" the voice shouted again, as a man lumbered into view, "Ahm closed! Get odda here or I shrink ye head good!"
The man paused when he caught sight of Vincent. The man was black, and stood over 6 feet tall, being almost as big around as he was tall. He was bald, and had eyes of pure white. He wore only a dirty white shirt and a black vest, and a pair of wide pantaloons that came down to his knees. He wore a miriad of bizarre jewelry that appeared to be made of chicken bones. He pasted on a false grin, showing a gold tooth among the rows of white teeth he had.
"Allo, Ingles..." he grunted, "what brings ye to me 'umble shop?"
"Monsignor Domino..." Vincent scowled, "...do you have what I need?"
"Whatever do ye mean, Ingles?" Domino grinned, "I 'ave no idea what'choo be talkin' bout. Why don'choo refresh ol' Domino's memory, ya?"
Vincent slammed his hands down on the counter and leaned over, spitting out his sentances in harsh whispers.
"The Aglopholis, you idiot!"
Monsignor Domino's fake smile faded.
"Ah know, Ingles." Domino mumbled, "but what's de other stuff for, ya? What'choo be wantin' wit' White Claudia? You...hooked on it, Ingles?"
Vincent's knuckles turned white and his face contorted with fury.
"Don't toy with me, Domino, I am in no mood...I'm in a hurry."
"Yah, yah, Ingles...you an dat band o' monkeys is gonna stop 'dis "Gozer."
Vincent turned white. "H...How did you know..."
Monsignor Domino laughed loud and long. "No secrets here, Ingles. Everybody know about wass' goin' down. Dey all tink dat there's no worries. Fortune tellers be sayin' dat Gozer's never gonna arrive. Baron Samehdi say "Let 'im come."
Vincent was silent for a moment.
"Do you have the merchandise?" Vincent said, still lost in thought.
"My price 'as doubled to fifteen dubloons."
"WHAT?" Vincent shouted in protest, "We agreed on seven dubloons and ten reales!"
Monsignor Domino stood up to his full height. "Dat stuff not easy to come by, Ingles! You lucky I even get it for you at all! De only place to get it anymore is de one place dat no sane wizards ever gonna go. Dis is de last I got...my contact no send it no more. Last I 'erd from 'im was over t'ree years ago."
Both men remained silent. Domino drew in a breath, and leaned over the counter, and his massive bulk made the counter creak. "I no like you, Ingles...you deal wit' some wicked wanga. You even beat ol' Mardi Gras Chalmette at 'is own game. You even 'ad Baron Samehdi 'imself choose YOU as 'is horse...but'choo buck 'im off...Why, Ingles? WHY? Why you do what'choo do?"
Vincent glowered at him. "My business is my own...Eight dubloons, and ten reales."
"Twelve dubloons!" Monsignor bellowed.
"Nine dubloons, five reales..."
Monsignor glared at him.
"I wonder what de Hermetic Order would tink of you havin' White Claudia in your posession, Ingles...?" Monsignor grinned sadistically, "SIXTEEN dubloons...pay up or get ou'dda my shop."
Vincent pulled a small crystal orb out of his front pocket and waved it in front of Domino's face. Domino saw an image inside the orb...Domino saw himself in a graveyard...digging up graves, and stuffing dead bodies into burlap sacks.
"I wonder," Vincent said, scratching his chin and speaking in a mock jamaican accent, "what de aut'orities would tink about'choo diggin' up de graveyards of Salem?"
Domino slammed his huge fist into the counter, causing a very large crack to appear in the wood.
"Baron Samehdi take you, you scandelous Ingles warlock!" Domino roared.
"Nine dubloons, and ten reales." Vincent sneered, "Hell, I'll even throw in six pieces of eight."
Monsignor stood up to his full height again, and turned to walk into the back room.
"Meet me in de pumpkin patch in five minutes." Domino grumbled.
10:47PM England
Ben stared at his glass for a moment before looking up at Peter Venkman and Robert Griffeths. He was impressed that they were on their third bottle of 'Old Roger', but it was evident that their drinking contest had led to their being pretty badly hammered.
"...Time Egon got drunk" Venkman was slurring.
"The Prof?" Robert slurred back incredulously. "Hard imagining that, Mate...how'd you manage that?"
"Wasn't me, I swear..." Venkman giggled back. "Some businessman was makin' time with with his wife...course that was twelve years before they got married, but still..."
Ben looked back at his glass and downed the rest of his Stella, he'd decided to simply nurse the drink over the evening as they needed someone to drive them back to the HQ. To Ben's left Eric was taking a drink from his glass of Tiger before resuming his conversation with Joey, they seemed to be debating the principals the Microsoft X-Box versus the Sony Playstation.
Ben smiled as he scanned the pub. It had been some time since he'd really been down the Pub and enjoyed himself. He decided then and there, that whenever the original GBUK line up were operating the 'Day Shift' and were off duty, he'd try head down to the local with Iain, Tommy and Roger more often just to have a few pints and relax. Ben studied his watch, it was a quarter to ten that evening and they had to be finishing up soon. He looked up as he saw Harrison step over to a pillar at one of the corners of the bar and he rang a old brass ship's bell that hung from a metal support mount drilled into the wooden pillar.
"Time, Ladies and Gentlemen. Last Orders."
"Dosh anyone whant anyt'ing elsh?" Peter slurred.
"I think we'd better...hic...jush have a coke." Robert replied, taking a moment to steady himself.
"I'm fine." Ben replied, watching Peter and Robert with amusement.
"We're..." Eric paused before finishing his glass, which had happened to be his second glass of Tiger. "Done." He set the glass down.
"Me too." Joey replied.
"Okay...I'll be right back..." Peter replied, he then stood up from the table, and to his credit, seemed to work with a lot of stability while sauntering over to the bar. "Two cokes, pleash." He asked, making sure he actually held up two fingers.
England 11:21PM
Ben King Sr. walked to the dark kitchen and yawned sleepily. It looked like most of the others have decided to turn in for the night, or have gone out to have some fun to try and forget about the evening's tragedy. He walked over to the refridgerator and opened it, bathing the dark kitchen in a dull white light. He fished out a bottle of Guiness from the bottom shelf and twisted the top off and reflexively tossed it in the direction of the garbage can, hearing the small metallic sound of the cap bouncing off the wall before it fell into the trash can.
As he took his first sip of the thick, dark beer, he noticed a small sound. it was a sound he didn't even notice until now. It was a sniffling sound, and of labored breathing. It was the sound of a woman gently crying in the dark. He went to turn on the kitchen light, but a voice stopped him.
"No..." said the broken voice of Jill Valentine, "...No lights, please."
"As you wish, hon," Ben mumbled, remembering all too clear the previous events of the evening, "you want to talk about it?"
"No." Jill stated plainly.
"Okay," Ben said in the dark, "well, this old man's just going to sit down, and enjoy his nightcap by candlelight at the table. If anyone should talk to him, he just won't listen."
Ben sat down at the table and lit a small candle, only slightly illuminating the room. He took another sip of his beer and looked across the table at the silhouette of Jill. Small features of her face flickered in the candlelight. He looked away, and rested his arm on the table as he sat "side-saddle" in the chair.
"How could he say that to me?" Ben heard Jill's voice ask him.
"How can you even believe that he meant that?" Ben asked her softly.
"I've seen Vincent become angry, he does it alot...but...never to me...never..." she said with a quivering voice, "...he just...totally..."
"I know Vincent pretty well," Ben mused, "and if there's one thing I learned about him, is that he gets angry with two things...ignorance, and disappointment. He sets people to high standards, and expects them to do their best, and he is often disappointed...especially when it involves people who should know better. He's often said that he doesn't blame people for their mistakes, but he does ask that they pay for them."
Ben sat in silence for only a moment, and continued.
"Another thing that dissapoints him, is oddly enough, himself. If he places others to high standards, he places himself to impossible ones. He's dissapointed with himself when he loses control of a situation. When he is at a loss to solve a problem, or he feels that he can't protect those who can't protect themselves, he gets angry with himself. He just never really gets that he's only one man."
"Granted, he can come and go at will, and he can do things that most consider unnatural," he chuckled, "but he IS a wizard, you know, but he can't do everything. All he should really focus on is doing what he can, and believe me, that's MORE than enough. He gets angry because he feels responsible...it's his creed that everything is his responsibility, and that is running him ragged."
Jill wiped at her eyes, and her tears renewed.
"I wish none of this ever happened to us," she sobbed quietly, "I wish we could live a normal life, and not have to worry about..."
Ben looked at her and smiled, his eyes shining in the candlelight.
"So do ALL who come to see such times, but that is not for them to decide..." Ben recited in his own "fatherly" tone, "...what is for them to decide is what to do with the time that is given to them."
Jill stopped crying, and dried her eyes. Ben smiled.
"It was Vincent who told me that, Jill, and he's right. I heard it from the lips of another wise but fictitious wizard in a Hollywood film, but when Vincent told me, I actually believed it."
Jill looked up at Ben and sighed. Ben reached accross the table and patted her hand, and got up from the table.
"Now, you dry your eyes, and know that Vincent is looking out for you. He's left to seek the answer to our problems." Ben said as he took another sip of his beer and walked to the kitchen.
"Vincent left? He left without saying goodbye?" Jill asked, slightly hurt.
Ben chuckled, "don't worry, hon. He most likely didn't say goodbye because he plans on being back shortly...and didn't want to upset you."
"But..." Jill protested.
"I won't hear another word of it," Ben said as he smiled, "go get some rest. You'll be the first to know when he returns, I promise."
Ben left the kitchen, and walked towards his own room. Jill sat in the kitchen for only moments after she heard Ben's door close.
Thanks, Ben. Jill thought, I think I'll go to bed. I'll be patient, and I'll see him in my dreams.
Jill stood up, and took the candle with her out of the kitchen. The hallways illuminated with a dull glow as she reached the bedroom door. The last thing heard in the building that night, was the audible click of the door to Vincent and Jill's room closing.
7:30pm, Arcane Alley, Salem
Vincent glanced down at the leather satchel that hung on his shoulder, then at the two vials in his hand. In his left, was the bottle of the herbal concoction "Aglopholis." It was crimson in color, and small chunks of the red leaf floated around inside. The bottle in his right hand was filled with a fine white powder.
"White Claudia," Vincent mused, "this stuff makes cocaine look tame. I'd better not be seen with this."
With that, Vincent wrapped his hands around the bottle, and wrung his hands. The bottle seemed to be swallowed up by his hands and disappeared entirely. He stuffed the bottle of Aglopholis into his satchel.
Vincent pushed open the door of the shop in front of him. He drew in some deep breaths, taking in the sweet smells of the inscence wafting out of the shop. He chuckled at the various signs in the shop, which were written in Mandarin Chinese, and underneath in English. He fingered through the various talismans that hung on small displays, and admired the dragon statuettes. The silver, gold, and jade that was in this place was worth a fortune. He passed a shelf with more than a hundred stones, powders, inscence candle sticks, and reagents. The smell made his nose sting.
"Well, if it isn't Dr. Belmont!" called a gruff, but aged asian voice from across the counter.
"How are you, Egg?" asked Vincent, picking up a few inscence sticks, and considering picking up a couple of fingers of Jade.
"Things are a bit slow right now," Egg Shen replied. He removed his small black hat and puffed on his pipe. "This Gozer thing has business at a bit of a standstill. Even though all of the fortunes say that Gozer will never step foot on Earth, no one will do any shopping! Mr. Wing next door has closed up entirely and just sits in his private sanctum in his basement with his managerie."
Vincent approached the counter, carrying some selected items. He even picked up a dragon inscence burner.
"Do you know how to use a that dragon inscense burner?" Shen asked, pointing at it with his pipe.
"Yeah, you light the end of it," Vincent chuckled, getting a look of stern bemusement from Egg Shen, "Kidding, Egg, kidding...if you'll recall, my first magics I learned were Alchemy and Chinese Black Magic. I was taught those by Master ZhuZhen Liu."
Egg Shen smiled, and his eyes brightened. "Ahhhhh!" he exclaimed, thrusting his index finger into the air. He turned around and walked into the back room. "I almost forgot! Master ZhuZhen left something for you the other day."
Shen returned with a small brown package wrapped in a length of hemp. Vincent eyed it closely, and then placed it in his satchel.
"How is Master ZhuZhen?" Vincent asked, placing his purchase on the counter.
"He's gone with Dr. Lao to Shanghai. It looks like there's a bit of trouble brewing in China. Master ZhuZhen is certain that you will see to the situation at hand. He also tells me to give you this to give to your friend Mr. Inugami..." Shen fished out a small silver crucifix necklace and placed it in Vincent's hand. "Zhuzhen says that it belonged to his anscestor."
"I'll give it to him" Vincent said, slightly befuddled about it. He walked away from the counter to a shelf of vials, and began taking all of the vials off the shelf, loading his arms with them.
"Quick question, Egg," Vincent asked, placing the last vial under his chin as he carefully walked over to the counter again, "Do you know anything about the Staff of Merlin?"
Egg Shen shook his head as he puffed away on his pipe.
"Oh," Vincent said with a tone of disappointment. He opened his arms slowly, allowing the vials to drop safely onto the counter, "I was hoping to find some information on it."
"What is all this?" Shen exclaimed, as Vincent placed a handful of crystals from a nearby bowl onto the counter, "You plan on doing some powerful magic? You plan on taking on all of the Oni in hell?" Shen chuckled, and gestured to all of the items Vincent had on the counter.
"I'm stocking up for the coming days ahead. It's ammunition for the battle. We have to stop Gozer from coming here." Vincent said, more solemnly, "and it looks like I've just bought your entire stock of your special "elixir."
Egg Shen scratched his beard and puffed on his pipe. He pushed away the bag of coins that Vincent dropped in front of him, and began to place everything in Vincent's satchel.
"No," he grunted, "this is my donation to your cause."
"But," Vincent protested, "well...thanks...but the incense burner is for me personally..."
Egg Shen walked from around the counter, and placed the satchel on Vincent's shoulder, stuffing in the Jade dragon. Shen chuckled, and pushed him towards the door. "Bah! I'll put it on your tab...get over to the Green Dragon. I hear someone is looking for you."
Vincent turned around as he pushed open the door. "Thanks for everything, Egg."
Egg Shen waved from the door as Vincent walked out into Arcane Alley square. "Give them hell for me, Vincent, and remember me when you run out of Dragon Powder!"
9:45pm, Arcane Alley, Salem
The Green Dragon tavern was alive with activity, as per the usual at night. The dining area was a variable sea of pointed hats as the wizards had their nightly meal. Vincent glanced at one wizard who was offering food his familiar, a rather old and matted ferret, with his own fork. Still another couple of wizards were exchanging punchlines to some rather dirty jokes. Vincent even flinched when a large red puff of smoke erupted from a table as he walked by. The warlock sitting there waved the smoke out of his face, mumbling "sorry 'bout that."
Vincent approached the bar and rapped on the counter loudly. The bartender lumbered out of the back room. He was an ox of a man, standing well over six and a half feet tall, and almost three feet wide, with arms as big as tree trunks. Vincent was unsure of his age, but from the looks of him, Vincent guessed he was approaching 90. His head seemed shrunken, sitting on top of his monstrous shoulders, and his small beard twitched as he smiled.
"The usual, little man?" he grunted.
"You know me, Lucius," Vincent chuckled as he scanned the interior of the tavern, "say, Lucius. Have you seen Gabe?"
Lucius scratched at his beard as his face contorted, as if trying to recall something that happened a decade ago. "Can't say that I have, Slim, but someone left a message for ya." Lucius reached into his shirt pocket and withdrew a black envelope with "Belmont" written in red cursive script. "Looks a might fishy to me, sonny.
Vincent turned over the envelope after it was handed to him and broke open the wax seal on the back. Vincent caught a whiff of Sulphur as he drew out the letter. Lucius raised one eyebrow suspiciously and ambled off, mumbling "I think I'll get you that drink now."
Vincent read the letter silently to himself.
Son of the Belmont Clan,
I am waiting for you in the far corner of the tavern. Your request has been heard, and your order has been processed. We may now discuss terms of payment.
Forever Damned,
Renon
Vincent took his drink and wandered past all of the tables and to the dimly lit booths in the back room. As he approached, the chatter of his fellow wizards, the music, the warm light, and the very life of the room seemed to diminish with every step he took towards the darkest of the booths. Vincent slid into one of the far booth seats as darkness engulfed him completely, and the loud and boisterous tavern was nothing more than a smattering of whispers.
Across the table, a face loomed into view. The face could almost be described as plain, except for his cold expression. His facial stubble, as well as the shadows around him, seemed to thicken as he smiled devilishly. His small green bowler sat upon his head, and his mirrored shades never betrayed his sinister nature. He tugged on the collar of his business suit as he spoke Vincent's name, pausing slightly between each word.
"Vincent ... Abraham ... Belmont." he seemed to hiss.
Vincent sat staring, saying not one word.
"Well, I am here, Master Belmont..." his voice oozed. His smile broadened.
"I am not your master, Renon, and you came of your own accord." Vincent growled.
"How very astute, young Master Belmont," he grinned, "nothing gets by you. Yes, I came of my own accord. When I heard that you were in need of something very...rare...I couldn't help but wonder what it is that you were looking for. As for the other thing...well, let's say that everything is all there."
Vincent scowled. "You were listening in, weren't you? You were there the entire time."
Renon took a sip of a thick red liquid from a gold teacup. Vincent didn't even want to know what it was. "I was away on business, Master Belmont. However, I have my sources." Renon sniffed, "the bottom line, is that the Ghostbusters are going...to WAR."
Vincent stared intently at Renon as he sipped away at his teacup.
"Ahhh...still warm..." Renon mused, "I like it like that." He sat back into the shadows, and only his folded hands could be seen on the table. He waved his left hand, and a black briefcase floated onto the table, and opened by itself. Inside, a fist-sized glass orb sat in the black velvet lining of the case. Inside the globe, a mulit-colored hue swirled within it. Yet, despite its eerie glow, it did nothing to push back the black shadows of the booth. Vincent looked up to see only the orb's light mirrored in Renon's glasses.
"All five Hermetic elements are contained within this crystal orb. I think it contains enough pure matter to suit your needs." Renon explained, his tone becoming friendlier, but no less unsettling.
Vincent touched the orb, and looked up again. "How much?"
"I think 7000 sounds about right...after all, you wouldn't believe the strings I had to pull to get ahold of it." Renon said.
"Seven THOUSAND?" Vincent hissed, "that's robbery!"
Renon merely shrugged, and shook his head.
Vincent set a small leather purse on the table. There was an audible jingle of metal coins inside.
"Greedy bastard. You know this is about 5 years of savings..."
Renon chuckled as he snapped his fingers. The bag vanished in a puff of flame, and the sickening odor of sulphur. "The orb is yours, Master Belmont. I appreciate your business. I will have it delivered to England, along with your message."There was a small ringing sound as Renon produced a gold pocketwatch. He opened it, and stared at it.
"Anything else, Master Belmont? It appears I have a brand new customer."
Vincent was silent for only a moment, but spoke up when Renon put away his watch. "Ever hear of the Staff of Merlin?"
Renon looked almost shocked, but sipped again at his drink and smiled. "Why, yes, I have. You have an interest in it?"
"Don't tell me it's for sale.." Vincent stammered, looking quite taken back.
Renon laughed, and his cackle sent a shiver down Vincent's spine. "Oh, mercy, no!" he chuckled, "but what a price THAT would fetch! Seriously, though, I can't get it for you directly, but I can point you in the right direction...you Belmonts have been one of my top customers over the centuries..."
Renon grinned from ear to ear. Vincent's hand slowly reached for his pocket. Before Renon could speak, Vincent slammed a silver coin onto the table.
"What's THAT for?" Renon asked.
"Payment," Vincent said in a cold voice, "I would never risk an I.O.U. to someone like you. I trust you as far as I can throw you with a lame arm."
Renon's eyes pierced the darkness with a bright red hue. His hands folded tightly, and Vincent could see his knuckles go white. Renon's voice grew inhuman for a moment, and the fury in his voice was unmistakable.
"Very...astute...Belmont..." he hissed. Vincent only smiled.
Renon's voice was friendly as ever, as if the last words to leave his lips were never spoken. "Visit the owner of Henson and Hurt's arcane booksellers," Renon said with a bright smile, "Mr. Hurt is known for being quite the storyteller. He might know where the Staff may be."
Renon placed a hand on the briefcase, and shut it. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have another customer waiting...it has been a pleasure, as always." With that, Renon disappeared, and the darkness left with him. The light, the noise, and the warmth of the tavern returned, placing Vincent at ease. He looked around him, and saw Lucius standing over him. A very frightened waitress was cowering behind him, glancing at Vincent with accusing eyes.
Lucius glared at Vincent. "I think it'd be best if you left for awhile, son." Lucius said, coldly, "Just get out, and I won't tell the Quaesitors what you were just talking to...you missed your friend. He said he'd talk to you later. He just left you this." With that, Lucius handed him a large paper package, by the feel of it, Vincent guessed it was his great grandfather's jacket inside.
Vincent took the package and nodded, quickly leaving the bar.
Vincent hastily ripped off the paper wrap on the package and donned the long black duster, he threw his black fedora on hastily and stopped only momentarily to look at himself in the reflection of the Green Dragon's windows. He was startled by the sounds of heavy footsteps marching down the alleyway. They were perfect, and rhythmic, as if a platoon of soldiers were marching towards the tavern.
"Quaesitors..." Vincent mumbled to himself.
Five tall wizards dressed in black flowing robes, and wearing black cowls that hid their faces came into view, marching in perfect formation quickly towards the tavern. Vincent pulled down the brim of his hat, hiding his features as they strode past and into the front doors.
"Hit wizards?" Vincent thought to himself nervously, "Why hit wizards?"
He quickly strode down the streets, and broke into a jog. He neared the end of the alleyway and looked out into the main street. All of the shops were abandoned and empty. The windows were shuttered, and signs hung on the doors in clear red letters: "Closed."Vincent's heart began to race when he saw another group of black-clad wizards standing in the streets, their staves lit up radiantly at their tips, scouring the streets; looking for someone...for him.
Vincent nearly lept out of his skin when he felt something nudge the back of his leg. He whipped his wand out of his jacket and pointed it at the offender, with an oft-repeated spell about to leave his lips. He found himself staring at the frightened face of...
...a dog.
"Hey!" the dog hissed, "Watch it with that thing! You could have done some real damage to me, and the Quaesitors would have you for sure!" it whispered.
Vincent was speechless. It took him a few seconds to register "talking dog" into the long catalogue of weird things he'd encountered over his lifetime, and he lowered the wand.
"Come on," the dog whispered again, "my master sent me to get you. He's waiting for us right now. We need to get you indoors, before..."
Vincent's heart skipped a beat as he heard one of the black clad wizards speak. "Did you hear that?" one of them spoke, "over there..."
The dog began running down the opposite end of the alleyway. Vincent wasted no time in following the strange dog through the twists and turns of the back alleys, some of them being no wider than a few feet. Vincent could hardly see through the darkness, but he ran anyway, trying to make his footsteps as soft as possible. He dared not risk using any form of light for fear of being found.
The dog stopped at the end of an alley leading out to the main road. It peered out sheepishly, walking out slowly, it's tail curled up between its legs. Vincent followed suit, and looked out into the main street. It was completely abandoned. Across the street, stood a very large antique storefront. A large sign hung from the second floor, reading "Henson and Hurt Arcane Booksellers" in colorful, flowery lettering.
"This way" the dog whispered as it darted across the street. Vincent looked both ways again before running to the storefront across the street. Vincent almost stopped short when he realized that the door to the shop was opening. An elderly face peeked out from behind the door. The door opened, and the dog ran inside. Vincent saw the old man behind the door ushering him in. He was a man in his late seventies. His thin and jowled face was pale and drawn. His large knobby nose, and feathered cloak made him appear to be some enormous bird. The creases of his face illumanated with the small candle he held in his hand. His eyes were intense as he stared at Vincent, as if he were a hawk, sizing up his wasted no time stepping inside.
The old man locked the door behind him. He turned around to look Vincent eye to eye. The old man's face twisted into a smile. "Good," the old man said, "you're here."
"Mr. Duncan Hurt, I presume?" Vincent asked in a voice barely audible.
"The same," Duncan said, "and I see that you've met Brian."
"Who is Brian?" Vincent asked as Duncan led him through the shop. Duncan turned to Vincent, staring at him as if Vincent had just said something absurd.
"The dog." Duncan stated as he and Vincent continued their trek through the shop.
Henson and Hurt's Arcane Booksellers was a store that put most bookstores to shame. The store seemed even larger on the inside. All of the woodwork in the store was of finely-polished oak, and the upholstery was of the finest red velvet. The bookshelves were so high that Vincent could not see the top of them in the candle's dim illumination. Stacks of tomes piled up high on small carts, some of them stacked sideways and diagonally, defying the laws of physics. Vincent walked past hundreds of tomes, shelved alphabetically by title, some of the names written in foreign languages. Small black signs in gold lettering marked the sections of the shelves, with subjects such as "Alchemy" and "Magical History." They walked past glass cases with numerous scrolls, some of them appeared to be hundreds of years old.
Beyond the store, Duncan led Vincent and his dog through the laquered and decorated hallways and up a grand set of winding stairs. On the second floor hallway, he led them to a small sitting room lit by a crackling fire. Duncan took off his feathery cloak and hung it on a rosewood coat hanger. He replaced the cloak that hung over him with a red velvet smoking jacket. Vincent followed suit by taking off his coat and hat and placed them on the coat rack. Duncan sat down in a very large chair, and waved for Vincent to sit in the chair next to him.
"Well?" Duncan said, expectantly, "sit!"
Vincent took a moment to admire the oppulence of Mr. Hurt's sitting room. It was quite obvious that he was a VERY rich man.
Duncan clapped his hands twice, and a small silver tea set floated over to the table next to him and started preparing tea on its own. Vincent almost forgot that he was fleeing the Quaesitors, and admired the small wonders of Duncan's home. Duncan handed Vincent a small ceramic teacup. Vincent sipped at it, and his body relaxed as the sweet nectar he tasted warmed his body.
"Now," said Duncan, bringing Vincent out of his trance, "down to business."
"Why are hit wizards after me?" Vincent blurted out.
"Why?" Duncan asked, suprised that Vincent could be so oblivious, ''Good Dr. Belmont, you should KNOW why. You consorted with one of the damned this night, and that is a crime...oh yes...very bad indeed. Now, even though you did so for a greater good, now they have something on you."
"They?" Vincent asked as he took another sip.
"Yes, they." Duncan said as he grabbed a poker from a metal basket near his chair and prodded the logs on the fire. The dog, Brian, curled up on a rug in front of the fire."We all know about the movement of that deplorable cultus of Zildrohar. The problem is, that there are a couple members in our order whom we've suspected of being part of it. The problem is, we have no proof."
"Why the hit wizards?" Vincent asked again.
"They mean to take you out, Vincent, and they're doing so legally. They have you for a crime, and if they can arrest you, and subject you to a tribunal, then you are out of the way."
"How did they know so quickly?" Vincent asked.
Duncan sipped his tea as he sighed. "They've been watching you for a long time. The Quaesitors are not supposed to spy on each other, but...someone's given the orders to spy on you, and now they have you for a crime. Until we find out who's on this cult's payroll, all we can do is hide you."
Vincent set down the cup. He lowered his head, shamed at what he's done. "Look, I know what I did was wrong, but why are you even hiding me? I committed a willing crime, regardless of intent."
Duncan set down his cup and leaned over to Vincent, speaking in hushed whispers, as if they were being watched.
"Now that's the trick, isn't it?" Duncan whispered, "your family has been nothing but a boon to battling evil for centuries, when Lord Leon Belmont commited his line to battling the children of the night during the Crusades. When he took that blood oath with his beloved, Sarah, he empowered the Belmont clan with that special something...that edge. All of his descendants; Trevor, Simon, Christopher, Juste, Richter, and countless other Belmonts have followed in his footsteps. You, my young friend, have followed, as well. You have a wonderful track record, Vincent, and the Magus Dominus has overlooked your more "shady" dealings with that demon, Renon. After all, it wasn't even YOU that signed that hellish contract. It was one of your family before you, though, once removed from the Belmont name; Reinhardt Schneider. I find it almost humorous that you also have wizard blood ties, as well. Young Carrie Fernandez, who fought alongside Reinhardt against Dracula in 1852, married a Belmont. Now, she was a descendant of Sypha Balnades, a powerful sorceress that helped Trevor Belmont defeat Dracula in 1476..."
"This is all interesting, Duncan," Vincent protested, "but what's that got to do with..."
"Oh, sorry," Duncan chuckled, "I do go on with my stories...anyway, the point is that the Magus Dominus has overlooked all of that because of who you are, and who your family is. We know that your intentions are pure, and we are willing to aid you."
"Why doesn't the Magus Dominus contact me himself?" Vincent mused, "what's stopping him from from stepping in?"
"He too, is being watched," Duncan said, with his voice carrying an ominous tone that almost seemed like he was embellishing for show, "he doesn't want to endanger you by contacting you directly, that's why he left that job to others. Now, what I'M wondering, is why you're here...the rumormill is spinning that you are in search of something important."
"Yes...the Staff of Merlin."
The room was quiet, as Duncan sat back in his chair. he mused for a moment.
"Why would you need such a powerful artifact?" Duncan inquired, "and even if you found it, what would you do with it?"
Vincent looked at Duncan. The old man's face went stern, as if Vincent were being scrutinized. Duncan folded his hands, silent; expecting an answer, of which Vincent had none. He thought long and hard, thinking about his plan, and of his friends. He thought about his outburst at the England headquarters, and of his injuring Adam in anger, and his harsh words even to his beloved.
"I wish I could do many things with it," Vincent answered, solemnly, "but all I can do with it is do what I can."
Duncan smiled.
"Then, let's hope that is enough."
Duncan prodded at the logs in the fire again.
"Truth is, young Belmont, that no one knows exactly where the Staff of Merlin resides...because no one knows where the man himself passed on. I only remember a poem about Merlin, and that is the only possible clue I could give you. The tricky part is, figuring out that clue."
"Across the sea of dreams, lies a castle of Gold,
where the circle of justice, a council will hold.
Beyond the forest of Oberon, to Camelot's gates,
The guardian and councellor, Merlin awaits.
Deep in the mountain, the enchanter doth sleep,
Awaiting a brother to office, keep.
His sign of office, he shall give,
That in selfless valor, others may live.
To fight the shadow that seeks to defile,
To keep the safety of the emerald isle."
"So, Merlin died in Avalon?" Vincent asked.
"Perhaps," Duncan mused, "but many people have tried to reach Avalon, and they have failed. No one knows where it is."
"Well, obviously, it's an island," Vincent said, "the only question is where it might be."
"Well," Duncan said as he rose from his chair, "there might be a way to do that...if you are willing to risk it. Other wizards have had the foolish idea to go off searching for Merlin's fabled wand, but many have never been heard from again."
Vincent stood as well. "The safety of Earth is at stake again, and it's my job to take risks to ensure its safety."
"Very well," Duncan sighed, as he strode to one of the room's bookcases. He plucked out a scroll from one of the shelves and handed it to Vincent. "This contains a spell of travel upon the waters. It is a very dangerous spell, as you must know how to word it. Unfortunately, many wizards have become lost, and never seen again due to this spell."
Vincent took the scroll, and looked at it nervously.
"How could a spell like this get you lost if you state clearly where you want to go?" Vincent asked.
"Perhaps," Duncan thought aloud, "just perhaps that it is a spell that doesn't take you to where you WANT to go, but rather where you NEED to be..."
Vincent looked at the fire, and stood in silence. He looked down at the ancient parchment in his hands and made his decision. Vincent grabbed his hat and coat from the coathanger, and put them on. Duncan, following Vincent's lead put on his cloak and grabbed a walking stick from behind the door, and turning around only to tell the dog, "Stay, boy." Without so much as an exchange of words, Vincent and Duncan left the building.
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