HTML1DocumentEncodingwindows-1252GeneratorMicrosoft Works 4.0Disclaimer:
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. The setting is sometime during the 2nd season (1997), before Chuck leaves.
****David Strau is a character I made up, he's never been on the show****
(A very big thank you to Measer! Thanks so much!!! Your the best!!!!!!!)
I'm *very* sorry that it took me so long to finish. I hope this is worth the wait. Enjoy.......
Revenge Part 2
Dumbfounded, Gary began to read the article out loud to himself, "Last night 15 Chicago residents died of mysterious causes. Friends and family awoke to make the horrific discovery that their loved ones had died of mysterious causes. None of the deaths seemed to be related in anyway. Strangely all of the victims bore a tiny marking behind their left ear. The police have little leads as to what the marking is or how it associates with the deaths. Detective Donnaley of the Chicago P.D. stated, "It could be anything from a gang symbol to an ancient hieroglyphic. Despite efforts made by the police to cover up the deaths, citizens all over Chicago are panicking because of the deaths occurring through out the city. Many are anxiously waiting for the autopsies in order to determine the cause of death."
Sighing, Gary quickly pulled on a clean shirt and jeans, then headed downstairs to show the article to Marissa and Chuck.
"Morning Gary," Marissa said cheerily.
"Hey Gar. What's wrong with you? You look terrible. Another one of those dreams?" Chuck inquired.
"It's not just that...there's this too," Gary answered holding the paper out for Chuck to see.
"Terror strikes Chicago; 15 dead." Chuck read out loud. "Is this some kind of joke buddy?"
"I wish it were. Listen to this." Gary said, quickly reading the article to Chuck and Marissa.
"Whoa!" Chuck said solemnly. "What are you gonna do buddy?"
Ignoring Chuck, Gary began talking, not directly to Chuck and Marissa or to himself, but to anyone in general, "The figure has something to do with this. The one from my dreams. There has to be some reason I'm having these dreams. If only there were someone who could help..." Rubbing his chin in thought, Gary snapped his fingers. "I got it." Rummaging through his wallet, Gary found a crinkled business card. Excitedly, he began to walk out the door.
Confused, Chuck lead Marissa in the same direction Gary had taken off in. Frustrated, he called, "Gar. Buddy. Wait for us!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Curk leaned against the shovel and wondered what he was doing. He didn't know why he belived in the Dark Figure, for all he knew it was just some ancient ghost story, but something told him to keep going.
There was only one way to see if this were a fact or fiction. Driving...
Driving the shovel deep into the soil, he continued to dig. At that second, memories flooded Curk's tormented mind as the mental barriers he built to keep the painful memories away, slowly crumbled.
His eyes were filled with tears as the memories flashed in his head. The visions came like a movie, the only sounds came from his memory, and like his memory, they were faint and faded.
The first vision was of him at work, answering phones at his desk, the name tag that rested it read 'Vice President of Sales'. Curk saw himself walking down the halls of his business with confidence and success. Next he saw himself proudly announcing to his staff that because of everyone's hard work, they were the biggest corporation in Chicago.
The happy memory was shattered by the figures of his wife and two beautiful daughters lying on the floor, covered in their own blood. Bullet holes and cuts spread throughout their bodies. Curk saw the figure of himself kneeling down besides them in grief as the police came and arrested him.
Wiping tears from his eyes, Curk drove the shovel deeper into the ground. His anger giving him un-human strength.
Laughing triumphantly, Curk watched as a dark figure rose from the hole.His triumphant laughter was hushed by the realisation that there was a three thousand year old deamon standing infront of him. It was true. Curk felt strange. He hadn't expected the figure to be real. Curk thought that the mission would keep his mind off the past, and calm his anger. But now that he had releashed it, he feared that he made a terrible mistake.
Pausing, the figure stopped in front of Curk. Its eyes glowed an eerie dark red as it studied Curk carefully. Bored with Curk, the figure began examining it's surroundings.
Sighing, Curk said, "Its to late now." His voice broke off in thought. His voice rising again, Curk said, "All I can do is sit back, and hope that lots of people die. It'll be worth it. I'll get my revenge." Curk reassured himself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"You wanna tell us where we are going?" asked Chuck.
"To see David Stau. He's a...a historian. He was going to be shot when a car jacker tried to steal his car a few weeks ago, and I..I...well, I saved him." Gary answered as he quickened his pace.
"Of course. I should have known." Chuck said sarcastically.
"This is it." Gary said, checking the address on the business card he was holding.
"What a dump." Chuck retorted as he climbed the stairs of the small apartment.
"Just come on." Gary stated as he knocked on the door.
"Coming! Coming!" a voice called from inside. There was a crash followed by muffled curses. Finally the door opened. A plump man in his late forties stood at the door. When he saw Gary, he exclaimed, "Oh hello. Wait...I remember you. You're Larry, Larry Hopskin right?"
"Gary Hobson." Gary answered.
"Of course. Come in." Then seeing Chuck and Marissa he added in a welcoming voice, "All of you!"
Guiding Marissa around the piles of stuff that were scattered throughout the apartment, Gary said, "I was wondering if you could help me...us with something."
As soon as his guests were seated, David answered, "Well, it all depends on what it is."
"Do you know anything about the...the Dark..." Gary struggled to remember what it had said on the tombstones in his dreams. "The Dark...Dark figure?"
Stupefied, Mr. Stau asked, "How do you know about the Dark figure? If I'm not mistaken, the government spent hundreds of years trying to get rid of any evidence that the Dark figure even existed."
"If this is supposed to be such a big secret, then why did you just tell us about it? Can't you get in trouble with the government?" Chuck asked smugly.
"What the government doesn't know can't hurt 'em." David answered, winking at Chuck. "Anyway, if the figure *is* unearthed, thousands of people may die."
Chuckling to himself, Chuck discreetly leaned closer to Gary and whispered, "Ha. Like we are supposed to believe that. I think that guy has a few loose screws in his head if you know what I mean."
"What if he is telling the truth? I mean...until two years ago I never thought I'd be getting a paper that tells the future. But now it arrives at my door every morning without fail."
While they were talking, David searched through one of the numerous piles. Pulling out a book, he cleared his throat loudly.
"Is this what you were talking about?" David asked holding out the book open to a picture of the figure. His fingers shook, hoping that it wasn't the Dark Figure after all. Maybe a ghost or some other harmless apparition. David's hope was shattered by Gary's answer.
"That's it." Gary answered solemnly. "That's the figure from my dreams."
"You mean you've been dreaming about the Dark Figure?" David asked worriedly.
"Yeah, almost every night for the past week." Gary answered.
"That's very bad. Very bad indeed."
"Howzat?" The three friends asked in unison.
"Well, thats how the figure kills, through dreams." David answered. "You see, the 'Dark Figure' worked for Hemotept, the Egyptian pharaoh of the 15 dynasty. The figure who's name, I believe was Ramomus, would decipher the pharaoh's dreams. One day, the pharaoh had a dream in which he was killed. The Ramomus told the pharaoh that he had this dream because he was afraid of death. The enraged pharaoh decided to teach the Ramomus a lesson; to make the him fear death. For twenty years Ramomus was tortured before he finally died of starvation. The strange thing is that the everyone knew that Ramous was dead, but the body was never found."
"So, that means that the figure is...is human?" Gary asked
"I suppose. I'm really not sure." Davis said.
"It can only kill at night, when I'm...I mean the *victim* is asleep? Right?" Chuck inquired.
"That's right." David replied.
Mumbling to himself, Chuck said, "Then I'm not going to sleep tonight."
"Is there anyway we can stop it before it *does* kills anyone?" Marissa asked.
"Well, it says here," David answered reading from the book he was holding. "There are two ways to defeat it. The first one is to contain it somehow and bury it deep beneath the soil." Putting the book down, he stated, "Now obviously, that isn't a very good technique. The other way is more effective though. The other way to defeat it, is in your dreams. That's the only way it can be killed."
"How do I do that?" Gary asked.
"Well, many people believe that there is a vortex, and if the figure is pushed into it, it will go back to...wherever it is that it came from." David answered.
"I don't believe this. I feel like I'm in one of those cheesy monster movies." Chuck stated.
"All except this is real." Gary said to Chuck.
"So you gonna go for it?" David asked.
"Yeah, I guess I don't have a choice."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"What this?" Curk demanded as the figure handed him a crystal ball. Looking inside it, Curk saw Gary, Chuck and Marissa talking to David. He could hear every word they said, as if he were standing right there. Angry, he handed the crystal ball back to the figure. "Looks like I'll have to kill them myself." Curk said as the figures of Gary, Chuck and Marissa could be seen leaving David's house through the crystal ball.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Uh oh. Here comes trouble." Chuck stated as he saw Curk enter McGinty's.
"You!" Curk roared pointing to Chuck, as he angrily strolled over to where Chuck, Gary and Marissa were sitting.
Gulping, Chuck whimpered, "Help me."
"I'll stay here for moral support," Gary answered. "But I think you need to handle this yourself."
"So we meet again Fishman?" Curk stated, plopping himself down in the seat across from Chuck.
"I guess so." Chuck answered nervously.
Ignoring Gary, Curk asked, "So what have you and your pals been up to? Not planning to stop the Dark Figure are you?"
"Huh?" Chuck asked, confused.
"You know what I'm talking about. And if I were you, I wouldn't try anything fishy." Laughing at his pun, Curk got up and left the restaurant.
"Everyone's a comedian." Chuck sighed.
"Great, as if things weren't bad enough already. Now we have to deal with him too." Gary stated putting his head in his hands.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Curk heard Gary's statement as he walked away. Memories filled his mind once more.
"Great, as if things weren't bad enough." Curk heard his lawyer utter as a vision of him in court, during his trial filled his mind. Curk saw himself on the witness stand, desperately trying to explain that he hadn't killed his family; that he arrived home from work to find them dead. Curk saw the judge shake his head as Curk talked. Curk watched as his figure desperately searched the courtroom for someone who would believe his story. All the evidence pointed against him, and his own lawyer didn't even believe him. Curk's figure pleaded to his business associate, Mark Mcgrath for help as the bailiff dragged Curk's figure away in handcuffs. But Mark only turned his head in disgust.
Another vision was of Curk escaping from the bailiff's grasp.
Curk shook the visions from his mind. Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, Curk stared at an abandoned alley. The memories came faster this time and there was no avoiding them.
Curk saw himself running with all his might, finally stopping to rest in abandoned alley. As a police car slowly passed by, Curk saw himself duck behind a dumpster. Fear making his whole body shake.
Next Curk saw himself stealing hotdogs from a hotdog vendor while his back was turned. Huddling over a fire inside a garbage can with other homeless people. Curk remembered how once in awhile they would share their stories. Some were hiding from the police like him and others running from their families or their past, but many were just poor citizens trying to stay alive.
The last visions were of himself applying for a new job, changing his identity, and starting a new life.
Wiping the tears from his eyes, Curk realized that it had been over a year since all this had happened.
Curk could feel his face turning red with rage. He remembered all the hard work he had put into his work. It was because of them that they were successful, not his lousy, good for nothing coworkers. What did he get for it? Being framed for his wife and daughter's murder, being avoided and gawked at during the time before the trial, being fired from his job, and being sentenced to death after A gun and bloody knife were found in his jacket pocket.
Curk hated everyone and everything even more at that moment. It was time to take things into his own hands. No one was going to get in the way of his revenge. Curk would see to that.
Turning the corner, Curk strode towards McGinty's. Opening the door he slipped in unnoticed, and hid in one of the back rooms.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"The article changed." Gary stated as he walked into McGinty's. It was a good thing the room was empty, he had forgotten that people might still be there even though it was close to closing time. Gary had gone on his last errand of the night, and on the way home, he had noticed that the article had changed.
"What article?" Chuck asked from behind the bar. He hastily finished wiping the counter and threw the rag underneath it.
"The *article.* It used to say 15 dead. Now look what it says..." Gary said, holding the paper out for Chuck to read.
"Thousands dead. The end is near..." Chuck read in disbelief.
"Oh my..." Marissa sighed. "What are we gonna do?"
"Well we..." Gary started to say. Gary flipped though the rest of the paper to see if anything else had changed. Once he got to the obituaries something caught his attention. "We're in the obituaries." Gary said solemnly.
"What?!?" Chuck asked.
"Read this." Gary stated, shoving the paper into Chuck's hands.
"Local Bar owners Gary Hobson, Marissa Clark and Chuck Fishman were murdered last night in their bar after closing. Apparently, the murderer was hiding in one of that back rooms. The police have no leads to who the killer might be." Putting the paper down, Chuck replied, "This just keeps getting better and better."
"I know." Gary sighed, putting the paper in his back pocket.
"Gary..." Marissa said, shakily grabbing onto Gary's arm. "I..I think I heard someone in one of the back rooms."
"Marissa, call the police. Chuck, you come with me. We are gonna go see who's in there." He was about to leave, but Marissa stopped him.
"The phone's dead." She exclaimed. Her voice cracked in fright.
"What?" Gary walked over to Marissa. Taking the phone from her hands, he put it to his ear. Listening for a few seconds, he began pushing buttons, frantically trying to get a dial tone. Giving up he said, "Marissa, go home. Lock the doors and call the police. Chuck and I will stay here."
"Gary, no. I can't leave you two here. What if something..."
Gary cut her off, "Nothing is gonna happen. We'll be fine. Go home and lock the doors. Then call the police." Taking her arm, he lead her to the door.
"Be careful." Marissa sobbed, taking his hand.
"Don't worry about me." Gary answered, sqeezing her hand. Then he called for Spike. "Spike, come here boy." Getting up from his spot at Chuck's feet, Spike walked over and stood obediently at Marissa's side. Putting the handle of Spike's harness in Marissa's hands, Gary opened the door, he hastily ushered her out.
"Why didn't we go with her?" Chuck asked.
"Because if this person is angry enough to want to kill us, do you think they are gonna leave?" Gary replied.
Gulping, Chuck answered, "No, they are gonna hide in the office for as long as it takes. And then they are gonna kill us and throw our bodies in the river."
Gary's face went pale at the thought. "We're not gonna die, just come on."
"Fine, but I'm bringing a knife or something, just in case."
At that second all the lights in the bar went out.
"There should be flashlights behind the bar." Gary said, as he groped along through the room. Tripping over an outstretched chair leg, Gary mumbled curses as he picked himself up. Reaching his arms out, he bumped into the bar. Following it to the end, he went behind it and fumbled around for a flashlight. Finally finding one, he clicked it on. Pointing the beam away from him, he searched for Chuck. "Chuck?" Gary called. As the beam hit his face, Chuck held his hands up to shield his eyes.
"Right here Gar. You mind not pointing that thing in my face?"
"Sorry." Gary said, as he directed the beam away from Chuck.
Walking behind the bar, Chuck felt around for something he could use as a weapon. His hand bumped up against an empty beer bottle. Grasping it with confidence, Chuck sat down on a nearby stool, and waited for Gary.
Taking the paper from his back pocket, Gary opened it to the obituaries. Gary was relieved to find that Marissa's name had vanished from the article. At least she was safe. "Marissa's name is gone." Gary called to Chuck.
Seeing that Gary was talking about the paper, Chuck sighed. "Let's get this over with." Chuck said as he stood up. Holding the hammer over his head, he motioned for Gary to open the door to the office. Staring at the hammer, Gary shoot his head and decided not to question Chuck's ways. Opening the door, Gary scanned the room with the beam of light from the flashlight. There was no sign that anyone was there. As Gary and Chuck walked in, the door closed behind them. Out of nowhere a figure leap at Gary. As he and the figure hit the floor, Gary felt the cold blade of a knife being held against his throat.
"Ready to die?" A voice asked.
Fumbling with the bottle, Chuck tried to steady it in his hands. As he raised it above his head, his arm shook unsteadily.
Gary stuggled to keep the knife away from hid neck. In a desperate plea, Gary managed to call, "How 'bout a little help?"
With that Chuck brought the bottle down onto Curk's head.
Releasing his grip on the knife, it fell from Curk's hand and fell to the floor. Slumping over, Curk leaned against Gary.
"He's out like a light." Chuck exclaimed. "I didn't think I hit him that hard."
Straining to push Curk's body off of him, Gary groaned, "A little help?"
"Right." Chuck said. Grabbing Curk under the arms and lifting him off of Gary.
"Let's bring him upstairs. I think there's some rope we can tie him up with." Gary said.
"Your the boss." Chuck stated, picking Curk back up. As he and Gary carried Curk upstairs, they hadn't noticed that the knife no longer rested on the floor, but in Curk's jacket pocket.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"That's good enough." Gary said as he finished tightening the knot in the rope around Curk's legs.
"Hey, that's the guy from this afternoon." Chuck said as he shined the flashlight onto Curk's face. At that moment the beam of the flashlight began to flicker. "I think the batteries are dying." Chuck said as he gently tapped the flashlight to make the beam glow brighter. "I'll go downstairs and get more batteries."
"Why don't you just go fix the circuit breaker?" Gary asked.
"Good idea." Chuck replied patting Gary on the shoulder.
"Just be careful."
"Why? We caught the guy didn't we? Wait, you're worried about me aren't you? You wouldn't know what to do without me. Awww. Come here buddy." Chuck said pulling Gary into a tight hug.
Rolling his eyes, Gary said, "No...I...I just. Nevermind."
As Chuck pulled away, he gently took the paper from Gary's back pocket and hid it behind his back. Walking backwards towards the door, he rambled, "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. How hard can it be to fix a circuit breaker. If I'm not back in five minutes, call the calvalry." When he bumped into the door, he turned around and hid the paper from Gary's view.
Watching Chuck leave, Gary scratched his head.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Mommy, do I have to go to sleep?" Molly asked her mother. Clinging tightly to the teddy bear her Grandmother gave her last year for her second birthday, Molly watched as he mother walked towards her.
"Yes honey. Its past your bed time, and you have a big day tomorrow."
Stoking the little girl's hair, Mrs. Brown leaned down and gently kissed her daughter's forehead. "Good night. Sweet dreams." she whispered as she carefully closed the door.
Sighing, Molly closed her eyes and whispered, "Good night." to her teddy bear.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One by one, the lights in Chicago went out, and people went to sleep, unaware that with dreams came the Dark Figure.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Opening the door of the fuse box, Chuck pointed the beam of the flashlight inside. Reading the labels Chuck scratched his head with the end of the flashlight. He remembered Gary telling him what to do, but Chuck wasn't really paying attention. Closing his eyes, Chuck moved his hand around in a circle and stopped by a switch. Shrugging, Chuck figured it couldn't hurt to try. Pushing up on the switch, he felt a shock go through his body. Pulling his hand away, Chuck yelped in pain.
Taking a deep breath, Chuck calmly approached the box. Slamming the lid closed he began punching it over and over again. "Why do they have to make these things so complicated?!?"
Finally calming down, Chuck noticed that the door of the fuse box was slightly dented inwards. Shrugging, Chuck told himself that it wasn't that noticeable. Opening the box once more, he skimmed through the labels. PUSH AFTER LOSS OF POWER. Scratching his head, Chuck guessed that someone had put that there for people like him.
"That should do it." Chuck said as he pushed the button on the curcuit breaker. Sure enough the lights flickered, then turned on. "That wasn't so hard." Chuck said. Remembering that he had *the paper* in his back pocket, he reached or it. Skimming through the paper, he reached the obituaries. An article caught his eye. BAR OWNER GARY HOBSON MURDERED AFTER CLOSING. "I'm coming Gar!" He shouted as he ran up the stairs of the basement.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sighing, Gary found a candle and some matches. Lighting the candle he walked over and sat down on the couch. Looking over to the spot were Curk was tied up on the floor, he was shocked to see that all that remained was the ropes that once tied Curk's ankles and arms together. The rope had somehow been cut. Turning around, Gary was face to face with Curk.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Turning the corner, Marissa walked over to the nearby pay phone. Picking up the receiver, she dialed.
"911. What is your emergency?" the operator calmly asked.
"I'd like to report a crime. McGinty's, on 228 West Illinois Street and Franklin Ave.
I think someone is hiding in one of the back rooms. You have to get over there as soon as possible. Its a matter of life or death." Marissa esasperatedly cried into the phone. She had desperately tried to get home as soon as she could, hoping that it wasn't too late.
"Are you in the building with the person, ma'am?"
"No, but my friends Gary and Chuck are. You have to hurry, they're in trouble." Marissa's voice cracked as she talked.
"Calm down Ma'am. We'll have people over to help your friends as soon as possible." Placing her hand over the receiver, the operator shouted across the room, "Hey Sam. You gotta send someone over to 228 West Illinois Street and Franklin Ave ."
The officer turned around and sighed, "Yeah, yeah. All my guys are busy right now. But I'll see what I can do."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~