Chapter 3: My Friend Who Died
"Holy shit!" Brian said when he walked upstairs. "I can't believe this!" He was laughing.
Sitting in the upstairs library with his back turned towards the door was a slender young gentleman with combed back dark hair, no different from Brian's, except it was thinner and looked unhealthy. When he heard the mage enter the room, he turned around and grinned.
"Yeah it's me Tons-o-Fun", Jason Riddle said as he embraced Brian and patted him on the back. At first glance, Riddle appeared to be a rather unhealthy young man. His complexion was pale, as stringy dark hair hung in his face rather carelessly. He appeared to be the same age as Brian, and yet the lines that criss-crossed his face gave the impression that he was older.
"I thought I told you to stop calling me that!", Brian said as he punched Riddle in the shoulder.
"Are we missing anything?" CJ asked as he poked his head in. "Otherwise, I could order Chinese."
"Nah, tell the guys to come on in!" Once all the members of the Ghostbusters Doom Patrol was in the room, Brian stood to the side.
"Guys", he said. "This is Jason Robert Riddle. We were roomates back in college and even studied together in Tibet for a little bit." He turned back to the young man. Riddle extended his hand. Both of his hands were gloved in dark leather, causing the handshake to feel rough and uneven, but still firm.
"Brian likes to overblow things out of proportion", he said. His voice was calm. "I didn't stay in Tibet long. I had other business to tend to at the time. Somehow", he said, a hint of a mournful tone in his voice, "I lost my love for the mystical arts." Brian laughed.
"Yeah right!" he said. "That old Fu said you had all the makings of a magus."
"Haggis?" Andrew asked raising an eyebrow.
"Magus", Riddle responded, " It's a meaningless title given to those who have mastered all forms of mysticism and magic in the known world. Just a load of crock really."
"Ah, I see. Well, it's evident really that your Brian's guest and we don't really want to push ourselves on your reunion. Come on guys, let's go feed CJ before he goes crazy."
"My stomach is already eating itself", CJ groaned. Rob and Andrew laughed as they closed the door to the library.
"There's a restaurant in Chinatown that you might want to check out", Rob said as they descened down the stairs. As they passed Erin, he asked her if she wanted anything back from General Tso's. She declined.
Once outside, Rob pulled Salina aside.
"Is it me", he said, "or did that guy seem really out of it?"
"I was getting that vibe too", she replied. "It's like...he was nervous about something. And what about that handshake? Did you feel how cold it was? I thought I was shaking hands with a skeleton."
"Metal", Andrew said.
"What?"
"That's what it felt like. Metallic. There is no hand there."
"How the hell do you know that, just by touch?" Andrew turned and faced her.
"My dad was in Vietnam. Got his right arm shot clean off during the Tet Offensive in '68. Everytime he put his hand on any of us, it felt like being touched by a can of Mashed Peas."
"That's...healthy for a child", Salina said.
"Yeah. Every Halloween he'd get the little Trick or Treaters by pulling that arm off", Andrw laughed.
"Charming."
The door to the library closed behind the two old friends. Inexplicably, the feeling of elation disappeared from the room once the two faced each other. Riddle's look flickered from Brian as he wandered around the room, trailing his gloved hand along the stacks of books. Brian studied these movements for a moment, and noticed, if only for a moment, that he had seen them once before, six years earlier. In Tibet.
"Something's wrong isn't it?" Brian asked sitting down on the couch opposite where Riddle had just been sitting. Brian looked down at the carpet and laughed silently to himself as he remembered the time CJ had overloaded a PKE meter and dropped it. It had melted itself onto the floor. Nobody had done anything really about it, but it did prove to be a bit in the way when someone was walking through the area.
Riddle looked up from the book he had just pulled down from the shelf. It was Catch-22 by Joseph Heller.
"Why do you ask?"
Brian sighed. "As glad as I am to see you man, most of my friends don't usually drop by after nearly six years just to say 'hi'. They usually send something telling me they're coming, you know? It's called mail."
Riddle laughed. "After all this time, I can say the thing I missed most about you was your witty sense of humor." He closed the book and placed it back on the shelf.
"That's not funny Jay", Brian said. "What do you really want?"
Riddle stuck a gloved hand into his pocket and pulled out a ledger. He handed it to Brian.
"Here", he said. Brian looked at him quizzically as he opened it. Inside, there were newspaper clippings of various articles. However, their language ranged from Middle Eastern to Japanese.
"What the hell is this?" Brian said thumbing through them all. "You know I don't speak Spanish!"
"Sorry. I forgot how you never learned to speak foriegn languages. You really should learn one of these days." Riddle took the ledger back from Brian and pulled out one of the clippings. It appeared to be written in Chinese. "Do you remember Eddie Franklin?"
Brian thought on this for a few seconds. "The weird guy with the big glasses? Yeah, I guess."
"You remember how he moved to Beijing after his training?"
"Yeah. Look, what does all this have to do with..."
"He's dead."
Brian stopped talking and looked at Riddle, confusion on his face. "Dead?" was all he could say. An expressionless Riddle nodded.
"Yep. The Beijing police have ruled it as a suicide, as he was found in the Yongdong river. Or I should say his body flowed right into the city from the South."
Brian shook his head, the words still ringing in his head. Eddie Franklin may have been odd, but he was a kind guy who was always full of big ideas. Mystics wasn't his thing, but he still took it up to know what it was all about. Open-minded and intelligent, Franklin did not seem the type to kill himself.
Sitting himself down, he looked up at Riddle as he pulled a cigarette out of his pocket. He offered one to Brian, who shook his head. Shrugging it off, Riddle stuck it in mouth and, pulling out at Zippo, lit it.
"Franklin's not the only one", Riddle said. "There are seven more from the Order that made headlines in the Obits. You have Cecilia Bones over in Thailand...they couldn't take a picture of her for the labs because the photographer kept getting sick."
"Why was he getting sick?"
"Ol Bonesy's entire stomach had apparently exploded all the way through the ground. It was like looking into a giant hole. You okay?" Brian had suddenly gone pale with the thought and held back a gag reflex. Getting up he went over towards the little refrigerator in the room and pulled out a glass of water and drank it.
"I'm fine", Brian said. "Just your details were a little too graphic. So...Franklin and Cecilia are dead? Accidents?"
"Ah!" Riddle said slapping the ledger. "That's what the police wants the general public to think. They don't see the connections."
"What connections?"
"These seven people were all members of the Order. You know Bones and Franklin, of course, because they studied with us. The others were members at one point in their lives. Take John Welles: prominent British aristocrat, lover of the fine arts...and a heart for black magic. A fire ravaged his entire home. He wasn't found, but the likelihood he survived is lower than Einstein's 4th grad math scores. He was also a member during the 1940s. Or", Riddle said flipping through the ledger until he found a new subject, "how about Stuart Potts? Strung up to a tree. It appeared it didn't kill him at first, but this little harpoon through the abdomen would definitely do the job. The Welsh papers actually have that picture of him hanging from that Fir tree."
"Please...stop..."
"You're beginning to see it now aren't you? Nobody just kills people to kill them. Not in this day and age. These people had one thing in common and that is that they were all members of the Order of Ra. And the reason I'm here is not to tell you gory ghost stories. I'm here to warn you."
Brian's eyebrow's shot up. "Warn...me? Why?"
Riddle sighed. "Haven't you been listening? There is somebody killing members of the Order of Ra. I said they weren't random; the murderer obviously knew who he was looking for and caught these people off guard. He knew how to isolate their powers and kill them. He knew..." Riddle stopped and took another long drag from his cigarette. "He even knew how to get into my head."
Whatever doubts Brian had moments before were cast out. Riddle had learned how to keep his mind shut from outside influences years earlier...it was one of the things that made him such a wonder pupil at that old monestary in Bangaladesh. By using his "brick wall" technique, nothing--and nobody-- could manipulate him.
And that was what Brian feared. No matter what monsters he had faced as a member of the Ghostbusters Doom Patrol, no matter what dangers he had put himself in, and no matter how many times he had faced death...he did not want to face the Riddle had to years ago, the one who nearly killed him.
"He came close to chipping away at me", Riddle said. "He was somewhere around me when I was in Turkestan looking in on a new case. It was dark and I know he knew that I could feel him. I could feel his aura swirl around me. I could hear his voice screaming at me...the bastard was laughing at me Brian. He was saying "Come back Jason. We're all waiting for you. You know you want to." And you want to know the fucked up thing Bri? I actually wanted to follow him." He looked over at Brian, whose face was expressionless. He now knew why Riddle seemed nervous. It went beyond the simple fear of dying.
"I swear to God, I don't know if he wanted to kill me too. I mean, what could I possibly do? I don't have even half the power I did years ago."
"He probably wanted you to deliver this message to me", Brian said softly. Now it was Riddle's turn to be confused.
"What do you mean?"
"Earlier today, we stopped a ghost from taking posession of a kid up in the suburbs. Before we toasted him, he took me some kind of dark void..."
"He used your shatterpoint against you didn't he?"
"Yeah. He was giving me all this stuff about how he wanted to talk to me. And then he said a funny thing. When I asked him what he was, he...he told me to ask you."
Riddle dropped his Zippo lighter on the floor next to the burnt PKE, his second cigarette hanging from his mouth. "Me? What the hell would a demon know about me?"
"I don't know", Brian said. He wanted to add But I think you probably do, but the emotion in the room was not proper to bring it up. The two of them stood there for a few minutes.
"How long are you in town for?" Brian asked.
"Doesn't really matter", Riddle said. "I'm mobile, remember?"
"That's right. If you want to stay here for awhile--you know, till I can figure out this whole thing--you can. I don't think the guys would mind."
"That's all right", Riddle said grabbing his coat off the couch. "I've got a place on the west side. Besides", he said grinning. "Who's going to be keeping an eye on you?"
Brian punched Riddle in the shoulder. "You don't have to go so soon. There's an extra car in the garage. You didn't meet the guys properly enough. Tso's isn't too far from here, that is, if you want to come along."
Riddle looked at him for a moment. Brian noticed that a tiny, almost infestimial glint sparked in his near-dead eyes.
"That would be good", Riddle said. "I haven't eaten since I arrived."
Chapter 4: In The Flesh
"So I'm standing there, looking down at the dumb bitch, and you know what he does?"
"What Tim?"
"He fucking starts crying! Can you believe that shit? A grown man starts blubbering like a little woman!" Tim Bondo took a long swig from his beer, trying to keep it from coming up his nose as he was laughing. He sat in a dimly lit bar in downtown Philadelphia, just one of many that are open the barfly republic after the godly hours have passed.
Bondo's friend, Vinny, takes a drink from his own mug. "What a pansy", he says, looking over his shoulder. His eye falls toward an empty pool table. He looks back at Bondo. "Up for a game, dude?" Nodding rather sluggishly (he was already 10 past his normal limit, but thought he could walk it off), Bondo rose from his stool and walked over towards the table. Grabbing a cue, he chalked it up as Vinny set the balls up.
Shooting the 6-ball with an English side-spin into the corner pocket, Bondo looked up for a moment as he cued up his next shot to see two others enter the bar. The first one was a tall, black-haired fellow, dressed in a blue leather coat. But it was the woman that came in after him that caught his attention...
"Damn", he said as he shot.
"I really don't think we should be here", Salina said, eyeing the bar suspiciously as she walked inside. The dinging of the bell above the door unnerved her more.
"Why?" Andrew said, taking a stool at the front of the bar. "Hey keep!" he shouted at a bald-headed man with a walrus mustache at the far end of the bar. "Fix me up with a Heineken, and leave the water out of it." He turned back to Salina. "If you don't like it in here, Rob and Ced are still at Tso's place."
"That's not what I meant", replied Salina, now joining Andrew on a corner stool beside him. The patron next to her blew a gray-rimmed gust of smoke in the back of her head. She pretended not to notice.
"What did you mean then?" Andrew said, his beer being placed in front of him. He wasted no time in downing it. "Another", he said, slamming the mug down with enough force that a hairline crack appeared at the side
"Ya punk", the bartender said, taking the mug from him.
"I meant", Salina began. All of a sudden, she realized she didn't know what she had meant. She knew very well that bars breed danger, and, looking around, she was very much certain that this one would be no exception: she saw, at a far end of the bar, two guys already falling asleep in their beer mugs (one of whom looked as though he was the living dead); another patron, probably a homeless drunk, slept in a pile of old newspapers and rags in a nearby corner. She wasn't afraid of these miscrents, and Andrew knew this as well.
He was edging towards something that she did yet want to admit, to herself or even to him.
"Well?" Andrew asked again, this time with a smug look on his face. He was now on his third glass. As he began raising it, Salina was suddenly seized by a flash of anger as she popped the bottom of the glass, causing the beer to splash Andrew in the face.
"Dick", she said and walked off towards the ladies bathroom.
Andrew lingered there in his seat for a moment, the beer dripping from the tip of his pointed noise down his shirt and glasses. Behind him, he heard the patron who had blown smoke at Salina's back laughing silently to himself. He looked at the patron, his eyes lingering on the guy's double chin's jumping up and down as he laughed.
The patron did not see what happened next coming:
He recalled thinking how much of a jackass the guy in the heavy coat was, and how that sexy little number had basically destroyed every vestige of manly dignity he had. Then he went back to his drink.
The very next thing that happened was a bright flash of light, then darkness; this was followed by an intense throbbing pain in the side of his head.
Andrew stood over the patron, his right fist raised high. His eyes, primarily blue, had turned crimson.
"Hey!"
Andrew turned his head slowly to see the bartender with the walrus mustache pointing the blunt end of a Louisville Slugger baseball bat at him. Scrawled along the side, as if a knife had carved it, were the words "The Moderator". They stared at each other eye to eye for a few seconds.
"If ya wanna brawl," the bartender said, his voice calm, "take it outside. Otherwise, get the hell outta my place." Turning around to face him, Andrew noticed that the bartender's hand was shaking; not from the weight of the bat, but from fear. He extended his hand towards the bartender's mouth and took out the toothpick that had been dangling on the side of his mouth.
"That bothers me", he said in a gravelly voice and walked in the direction of the bathrooms.
The bar had stopped for a few moments to watch this scene unfold. As suddenly as things had slowed down, the patrons went back to their beers, poker games, and forgetting that they ever existed for a few hours. Vinny and Bondo too had stopped to watch.
"What the hell was that about?" Vinny asked. It was his turn now, as he cued the poolstick.
"Search me", Bondo said, taking a swig from his Budweiser bottle. "You gotta shoot at least five of yours to get close to me."
"Fifty says I do, and a hundred says I win", Vinny said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a wad of cash. Bondo's eyes lit up. Vinny grinned. "That's probably about the right amount to fix that two-wheeler of yours, ain't it?" Bondo's face quickly flashed red as a vein appeared in his head.
"Quit stalling and shoot the damn ball!"
Vinny smirked as he shot. He missed the 2-ball by several inches and hit a stripe, his attention fixed on the tall guy walking inside the bar. Someone had started up the jukebox. 'Black Sabbath' was playing, with Ozzy wailing over the speakers, "What is this/That stands before me/..."
Salina washed up as she stared at herself in the mirror. What had just happened, between her and Andrew, was a surreal moment. Something that she had never thought she was could do, or even think of doing.
He had it coming, she assured herself. But somehow she didn't quite believe it.
Andrew was as dirty, rugged, and above all uncouth as the day they first met. It seemed strangely a lot longer than the year and a half they had known each other, since that fateful afternoon when Andrew showed just how callow he could be by doubting her profession.
He's an asshole, pure and simple.
His personality bordered on something out a comic book: the swagger, the "me against the world" agenda. He didn't seem real.
But perhaps you didn't even bother to understand him at all.
Salina looked ruefully in the mirror at herself. There was a time, last year, when she had apparently had a chance to glimpse the real man behind Andrew...
It started as a simple case: a call out to the posh manor of wealthy Philadelphia socialite Walter Ruffin. His home had, apparently been seiged by a gang of disgruntled (and as Andrew was able to deduce, horny) werewolves, looking to satisfy their hunger with some of the guests that Ruffin was entertaining at his home that evening. Andrew had been the only member on active duty at the time; Salina had come down the stairs to see if he wanted some of the curry she was about to make as a midnight snack. Instead of letting him go by himself, Salina tagged along as backup. She had a fair to middling knowledge of lycanthropy, and thought she might be able to help.
"Suit yourself", Andrew had said, grabbing his proton pack and hopping in the driver's seat of the ECTO-1M. "Just watch your back cause I won't be able to protect you and fight the beasties."
"I can handle myself thank you very much", retorted Salina. The case proved a little more difficult than originally anticipated. The Wolves had basically caused several casualties, mostly staff as Ruffin and his guests found refuge in the ballroom, but it would not be for long. The Wolves were already breaking through. Thanks to information gathered at the Dalton case, CJ and Rob were able to calibrate the the proton packs to match the D.N.A. of a lycan. Although not ectoplasmic by nature, the protons would negatae their powers for a brief period of time, while Andrew did what he had to do with them.
It turned out that there were twenty-two of them; six were outside standing guard. Andrew was impressed with how organized they were, but it didn't last long. Salina's neutron beams neutralized them, laying each one on the ground within the span of less than a minute. Andrew wasted no time in relieving the poor humans within of their lycan husks. Inside, Andrew and Salina faced a remaining eleven on the way towards the main ballroom.
Salina was caught off-guard when she saw Andrew fall on his back. A wolf had punched him in the face, causing him to lose his concentration. Attempting to go over to help him, she felt a powerful hand grab her and lift her off the floor. Turning to face her captor, it was a Siberian Grey Wolf-hybrid. He smelt of blood and sweat. For a lingering few seconds (which seemed longer as Salina found herself paralyzed with fear--the wolf had removed her pack) they looked at each other face to face, the wolf snarling hungirly at her. Suddenly, Salina felt a swift wind cut across her face. The next second she looked, the wolf's head was gone, having rolled across the floor. The death grip still tight around her, she wriggled herself free, only to see Andrew breathing heavily, blood pouring from both of his nostrils, in a swordsman position she had only seen in Kurosawa/Mifune samurai films.
"I thought you weren't going to help me", she had said. She almost wished she hadn't, instead wanting to say something more grateful like "Thank you."
"Yeah, well...be careful next time. You're too good to be one of them." Before continuing on, Andrew made sure that the wolf had not scratched her in any way, noting the virus that courses through a wolf's body can be transferred through it's claws. Satisfied, he sheathed his sword and continued in the direction of the ballroom. Since that time, Salina had been regarding Andrew keenly, trying to figure out what he was. He had proven himself yet again months later when the GBDP faced a horde of ghoulish frogs at Upper Darby Middle School, saving a little girl from being crushed under some concrete. Those two instances showed who the real Andrew was...and the man he tried to be.
God, has it really been that long, she thought, still looking deep in the mirror. He's an enigma, I'll say that much for him. One minute he's all psycho-badass, then he saves my life. It would have been alright if he said "What are friends for?". But he said "You're too good to be one of them."
"Salina. I need to talk to you." Andrew stood in front of the Ladies bathroom door, his eyes staring down at his black combat boots. He breathed slowly, his breath blowing the strands of dark hair in his face listlessly.
No answer.
He knocked again.
"What do you want?" Salina answered, her voice muffled from behind the door.
"I want to talk to you."
Salina leaned with her back against the door. Her arms were folded. "So?" she said. Andrew grunted.
"So?" he repeated, his voice a little harsh. "Just open the door."
"Why should I?" Salina said. "So you can make fun of me some more?"
"No, cause I think the only other woman in this joint just downed one too many Red Bulls and she's gonna need this in about five minutes. Maybe four."
"You always got jokes don't you?"
"I'm just full of 'em." There was a silent beat for a few moments.
"So what do you want?" Salina said finally. "You haven't said that yet."
Andrew hesistated. Salina heard through the door a pounding sound, and grinned for a moment.
"I..." Andrew began. Somehow, he was finding difficulty conveying what he wanted to say in words properly.
"I didn't mean the way I acted earlier", he said. "I'm...I'm sorry if I made you feel..."
"Dirty?"
"I don't know about that, but I am honestly, and geniunely sorry. And if you please open the door, I'll... (more hesistation) We'll go out to that new 80's dance rink tomorrow night. I hear they've got Simon LeBon deejaying."
He heard the door slowly unlock. Salina cracked it open and peeked her head outside.
"I thought you hated Duran", she said. Andrew shrugged as he tried to supress his laughter. For some reason, being around Salina all this time, he forgot all about the promise he had made years earlier. Staring deep into her dark eyes, he felt, for the first time in a long time, human.
"Andy? Andrew?"
He snapped back into reality.
"What's with you?"
Andrew grinned.
"It's nothing", he said. "Nothing at all."
The final customers that this particular bar would have that evening (or ever have again for that matter) looked like this:
There were sixty of them in all, each one varying in height, possibly weight as well. Each one wore glasses so darkly dense, it was impossible to see the eyes beyond the lens.
The customers were dreses in matching camoflogue uniforms, with a black bulletproof breastplate covering their chests, giving off the impression to the other patrons that they may have been part of the R.O.T.C. war games going on at Camp Bailey. Their helmets were also covered in green camo. They lumbered up towards the bar, shuffling their feet a bit on the floor. The sole woman Andrew spoke of earlier, between slight bouts of sobriety, pointed at them and laughed.
"What'll ya be having?" the bartender with the walrus mustache asked as one of the Camos sauntered up to the bar. He did not answer. Through the sunglasses, he stared at the bartender with cold eyes that looked as if they were boring into his soul. The bartender squinted his own eyes to see his own reflection.
"Hey, Gomer Pyle! I'm talking to you!" the bartender repeated, this time reaching for the sunglasses, preparing to yank them off his face. He wavered for a few moments as he felt the hot stench of the soldier's breath upon the hairs on the back of his hand. He'd done this hundered of times before with drunks, and knew what spoiled air felt like. But this...this was different.
Suddenly, the man opened his mouth, revealing many rotten teeth. He lunged forward towards the bartender. Startled, the barkeep blocked with his right hand. The man wrapped his teeth around the flesh of the bartender, taking a bite out of it. The bartender screamed as the man crawled forward behind the bar, taking the bartender down to the floor with him. The only sound in the bar except Bruce Dickinson wailing "The Trooper" from the jukebox were the screams of the bartender. Then they ended just as quickly as they had begun.
Vinny and Bondo stared up at the scene with disbelief, Vinny's unlit cigarette falling from his mouth. They were not the only ones to watch the soldier rise from behind the bar, his uniform and mouth covered in blood. There was a bit of fat hanging from the side of his mouth. He raised something up to his mouth. From a distance, it looked like a chicken bone.
"Holy Helen of Troy!" someone shouted. "That guy's eating Brody!"
"You think Carl?" said his companion scrambling out of his chair, turning over the table in the process. "Let's get the fuck out of here!"
It seemed as though this was the cue for the soldiers. The bar patrons were panicking, attempting to get out of the bar as the undead soldiers swooped down upon them, like vultures.
Andrew felt stupid for letting his senses become so dull that he did not pick up the situation that was happening.
"Dammit", he said through gritted. Salina noticed that his attitude had changed too.
"What's wrong?" she asked, generally worried.
"Don't you hear it?" he said. Salina realized it too. They had both been in their own world, ignorant to the fact that there were screams rising from the bar. They inched carefully towards a corner, to survey the situation. Salina grabbed her mouth as the scene became real before her: there were zombies in the bar. She watched as one of the patrons (the one who had blown smoke in his face) get pulled down to the ground by one of the undead soldiers, his leg being wholly devoured. She tried to block out his peircing screams by closing her eyes.
She felt Andrew's hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll make it out of here", he said.
"We haven't any proton packs on us", Salina said.
"And I left my katana in the car outside", said Andrew. He felt like punching himself in the face for not being better prepared for an attack like this. He had only several daggers in his pocket, enough to neutralize some but not enough to lay them all down for good, which was the preferred method of dealing with these things But there was something familiar about the patters, as he observed them. It was like he had seen this before, in another place.
Reaching for his Wi-Fi communicator, he quickly hoped that either CJ or Rob were within range or even had theirs on.
"Come in Robert", he monotoned. No answer. There was nothing but static. He tried again, this time calling for CJ. Again no answer on either side. Turning to Salina, he said:
"Line's dead. It's like "
"Teriffic."
"We're not dead yet. We'll just have to do this the old-fashioned way. Ever see Evil Dead?"
"Not really."
"Just watch then and follow". Andrew walked from their hiding spot slowly, his boots echoing across the hall. There was murder, death, and chaos all around him.
He loved it.
At his feet he saw the bat the bartender had threatened him with, "The Moderator." Picking it up, he twirled it in his hands admiringly as he put it inside his coat.
Chapter 5: Standing in the Shadows of Darkness
Bondo felt a little bit sick as he punched one of these dead...things as he thought. Feels like hitting raw meat, he thought to himself.
"Tim! What the shit are these things!" Vinny yelled, defending himself with a broken pool cue. He stabbed one of the Inferi. in the eye, the cue itself going through the socket and out the other end of its head. It was no use. He had missed the brain by several inches.
"How the hell should I know!" Bondo shouted back, laying another one on the ground. He had placed a haymaker upon its chin, breaking its jaw. Bondo suddenly found himself surrounded by five of the things, all crawling and clawing at him. He kicked at one of them, knocking his boot into its face. He saw Vinny get overpowered by just as many himself, his friends screams of "HELP!" not going unnoticed. Vinny was a goner, Bondo knew, and he was going to end up zombie shit himself in a few moments if he didn't do something about it.
"Get off me you damn dirty...whatevers!" Bondo shouted, trying to crawl his way back up towards his feet. One of the Inferi had managed to crawl their way up to his face, it's mouth wide open.
::Spppplat!:
The blood of the Inferi hit Bondo's face as if it were water. Beside his head, he saw the wooden hilt of a Meiji era dagger embedded in the floor, as the Inferi fell to the ground in a lump. He noticed that the others were sliding off of them. Then he saw the guy with the dark hair who had walked in earlier, right before all this began. He saw the guy was smiling, as if he were enjoying. Producing a bat from his coat, he beat the closest one to his shoulder, knocking it's death out before using the blunt end to dent the zombie's skull in. The bat was just a minor tool to him, Bondo noticed. He used hand to hand combat to fend them off, picking one up off its feet and hurling it facefirst at the jukebox.
"Who the fuck are you?" he asked, sliding up towards his feet, after the guy had dispatched the last of the Inferi that had been on Bondo. He had done a sweeping motion with his hand, severing the Inferi's head from it's body.
"Andrew Williams", Andrew said. "Ghostbuster." He looked over in Vinny's direction. "Your friend's dead it looks like."
Bondo tried not to look, but had to remain tough. Straightening his jacket, he pulled out a switchblade from his pocket. "Right, so I know how to kill these things."
"They're already dead, Brainchild", Andrew said sarcastically. He watched as Salina joined the fight. She had not been totally unprepared, having brought along her Proton Staff. She managed to rescue the drunk woman from before (that Andrew had mentioned) by scissor-kicking an Inferi to the ground, pinning him there with her staff.
"Hey, I ain't stupid smartass!" Bondo said, interrupting Andrew. "I know they're dead. But they can be killed again."
"Not like this", said Andrew in a low voice. It was almost guttural. He looked down at the ground. The Inferi were already reforming their lost limbs. These were regenerators.
Bondo noticed this too and stepped back a bit. "Holy shit!" was all he could say.
"How you doing over there Sal?" Andrew said, ramming another dagger into an Inferious soldier's face. Salina held up her staff as another zombie attempted to attack. It instead wrapped it's teeth around the staff as Salina kicked it in the abdomen.
"Just fine, but can you try CJ and Rob again?"
Andrew had a feeling that this was all to organized. Inferi were a different level of the Undead. They were still mindless drones, but, under the proper spell, can be used for any means or gain. And the fact that his Wi-Fi channel had been blocked was further proof that this was part of a much larger plan.
"Here", Andrew said, handing Bondo his dagger. "Mine's bigger."
"Fuck you", Bondo said, putting his switchblade in his pocket. Andrew jammed his boot through the chest of another Inferi. Damn, he thought. The more we put down, the more that seem to come up. Where is CJ and Rob? Getting a split second to free his hand, Andrew pressed a red button on his Wi-Fi. He was then grinning. It was a long shot, but it was worth the try.
"What's funny?" Bondo asked, slitting the throat of an Inferi.
"The calvalry should be joining us shortly", Andrew replied. I hope.
"Funny", Rob said. He was sitting alone at the table inside of General Tso's. CJ had gone off to indulge in the buffet or ogle the Asian waittress. Whichever one. Rob found both scenario's funny.
He was staring at what looked like an EMF dectector mixed with a shoe-polish remover at first glance. It was the Ghostbusters main mode of ghost detection, the Psycho-Kintetic Energy meter, PKE meter for short.
"What's that about?" CJ asked returning to his seat.
"Remember that case file I read where the meters can act as a sort of blood tracker for humans?" Rob said showing CJ.
"Yeah", replied the scientist, gnawing on a peice of Chinese rib. "Weaker readings though, less than 100. We ended up putting in our own D.N.A. patters in it, just in case something happened to us. Why you ask?"
"I've just picked up a reading. Heh, you'll never guess from who?"
"Elvis?"
"Andrew."
"That is surprising. He didn't even like the idea." Wiping his mouth, CJ picked up his Wi-FI from his belt. "Andrew, come in Andrew. What's the gag?" Nothing but static. "Come in Andrew, you poseur." Again, static. CJ and Rob looked at each other for a moment.
"He doesn't joke around you know", Rob said rising from his seat. "Where'd he say he and Salina were going?"
"To the bar next door", CJ replied. He looked around for a waittress. "Check please!"
Once outside, the two Ghostbusters made their way over to the bar, where Andrew's reading had been emitting from. Rob grabbed the handle. It was locked. "Whoever heard of a bar locking up this early?" he said.
"Hold it, did you hear someone screaming?" CJ said. Rob put his ear against the door.
"God almighty, it sounds like there's a massacre going on!"
"What's going on?" Rob and CJ turned to see Brian walking up towards them, his hands in his pocket. His friend, Riddle was behind him.
"We got a PKE reading from Andrew just now", Rob explained. "Something big's going down in there. And it doesn't sound good." Brian walked up closer to the door. He could already feel the evil aura the emanated from it.
"This whole building's been tainted with death", Riddle said. Everyone around him was surprised, not by the revelation but that he had come to that conclusion without getting close to the bar. "There's Inferi in there."
"What are those?" CJ asked.
"Zombies of a lower class", Brian explained going over towards the ECTO-1M. Opening the back door, he pulled out a rack that revealed three proton packs. Attached to the rack was a sheath. "A reanimatinon spell brings them back to life, but the spellcaster can make the dead his slaves if he wanted to."
"Why would zombies be here? In this city?" CJ said strapping on his pack. "They usually infest New York."
"Got no time to wax philosophy", Rob said, charging his pack. "Heat em up."
"We gotta hurry though", Brian said. "Inferi have a real funny ability of pulling themselves together after they've been chopped."
This is insane, thought Salina as she rammed her bow into the skull of another undead Inferi. The atmosphere around her was thick with the stentch of death. She rescued one more barfly, a man named Zolf, who was crouched in a corner defending himself with a broken leg from a stool. Standing over the remains, she watched in disbelief as the Inferi (it's head had been severed from its body) gathered itself together by fusing the ruined columns of its spine back together again.
"What the hell...?" she said. She looked around her. What kind of a bar is this without any windows? she thought, thinking of a way to rescue the surviving patrons. Then her direction was turned towards the man Zolf, who had been sniveling in his corner, his arm covering his face so that he had not seen that he had been rescued. Salina noticed from his clothes that he was a detective. She also noticed he was armed.
Good thing he didn't realize he had a gun, God only knows what kind of panic he could have caused. Picking him up by his collar, she slung him over her shoulder. She looked over to the other side of the bar. Andrew seemed to have the situation under control for the most part, although she could see the frustration in his eyes at the fact these zombies refused to die again.
Andrew did not waste any time sitting in one spot. Moving to another end of the bar, he broke the nose of a zombie and gouged the eyes out of another one. Suddenly, Andrew felt everything around him explode; dust and wall and debris were scattering everywhere.
"This is a raid, everybody freeze!"
Andrew grinned, looking for Bondo.
"Backup?" was all Bondo said, slamming his fist into a zombie's face. Andrew nodded as he saw the first proton stream sail towards a group of the undead soldiers, neutralizing their brain activity, causing an automatic shut down of their faculties. They were dead again.
"Next time Andy Panda", retorted CJ as he handed Andrew his pack, "go to O'Kane's. The crowds a little more savory."
"Thanks for the advice", Andrew replied strapping on his pack. Over to the other side of the room, Brian surveyed the situation that surrounded them, then turned his forward attention toward Riddle. He remembered solmenly the conversation that they had had earlier in the Highrise: Riddle had been the most powerful mage in their group. And then suddenly it was all taken away from him. He often wondered what that might be like for his pride.
However, his attention was divereted back to the dead around them. He had thought, from prior experience, that an overload of the electrical impluses to the brain would cause a fatal stroke, killing the zombies. It had worked before, back in Dalton, after all. Here, he could not believe his eyes as the zombie rose again, smoke billowing from its nostrils.
As the members of the Doom Patrol went about their business, Riddle walked solmenly towards the middle of the room. The survivng patrons of the bar escaped through the hole that Rob had blasted. Before leaving, Bondo looked back at these Ghostbusters.
He honestly could not imagine people willing to end their own existence to save others. But then again he didn't really care as he ran over to his Harley. He was gonna get out of this city right now.
"You guys", Salina said as she trotted over to Rob, Andrew, and Riddle. "We can't let those things out into the city. Especially not since they've got a god-mode on their side."
"I might be able to do something about that", Riddle said taking off his gloves. His left hand was normal, if not paler than the rest of his body. But his right hand was, as Andrew had deduced, mechanical. Rather, he was moving it with the ability of a normal, fleshy hand.
Sensing that everyone was now seeing his deformed limb, he laughed. "You actually get used to it after a while." He looked over towards Brian. "Any chance you still know how to summon your chi into a protection shield?"
"Yeah, shouldn't be too hard."
"Good."
Riddle took a marker out his pocket and began drawing on the surface. What he drew was an odd circle with what looked like the Star of David in the center. "Could use that shield about now", he said, looking up. He saw the remaining horde of zombies beginning to descend upon the group. Brian closed his eyes as he muttered under his breath an incantation. A blue mist surrounded the six people.
"Make sure you transport everybody outside now B."
"Jay, what are you about to do?" Brian asked. Riddle grinned as he placed his hands on the circle. Suddenly, the building began to rumble, as the group was transported outside of the bar, the rafters collapsing upon the remaing zombies, trapping them inside
"I don't fucking believe what I'm seeing." Detective Wyatt Madison of the 7th Precinct stood on the side of the street, staring at what was once a large building. Now, where it had been, was a space between the two buildings. The ground where it stood was blackened. His partner, a young rookie named Keaton, got out of their squad car with him. "What do you think happened here?" he said, asking the senior detective.
Madison did not answer right away. He pulled out a cigarette and a lighter.
"You're new here right?"
"Yes sir."
"Then it's time you met the Ghostbusters." Keaton had a confused look on his face as Madison made his way towards an ambulance. He frowned when he saw the two Ectomobiles parked next to the ambulance. I could have been in the FBI or the CIA, he thought to himself as he approached the Ghostbusters Doom Patrol. Two of them, CJ and Salina, had their PKE's out, surveying around the site.
"Yeah, this place was defintely touched by a large paranormal entity", CJ said checking his readings. "The meter's bordering on 200 now!"
"A thing like that would have to be close to River of Slime levels", Rob said rubbing the back of his head.
"Not so much a thing, Rob", CJ said. "It could be a demon...or even a human under a profound magical influence."
"Evening boys", Madison strolling up to the team.
"Evening to you too detective", Rob said. "If you're wondering what the hell happened here..."
"Oh no", Madison said sarcastically. "I'll find out sooner or later. Since I'm out here though, I thought I might tell you guys something that might be interesting."
"What's that?"
"When I was called about 'zombie soldiers' in the area, I remembered that we'd gotten a call from Washington two weeks ago about the missing remains of over one hundred Gulf War vets who were on their way home for military burial."
"How does the Army lose that many corpses?" Salina asked.
"I don't know. If somehow these soldiers you encountered tonight were part of the missing group, then I suppose..." He never finished his sentence. A scream permeated the air. Keaton, the rookie, was on the ground near the smoldering remains of the bar. His feet had been gripped by two hands. Slowly, a burned corpse was crawling out from underneath the ashes. Half its face was burned off, the flesh melted and deformed. Andrew jumped into action: once the corpse had revealed itself, he brandished his blade and, with terrifying quickness, severed it's head from its body. Keaton backed away, frightened by the sight.
"What...who...how?"
"That only leaves 'when' and 'where'?" CJ joked. Walking over towards the body (Andrew held the head in his hands), he pulled the corpse out. The torso was all that remained. Keaton turned away, covering his mouth in sickness. "Stretcher please", he said, looking at the EMT's.
Brian stood away from the scene, standing with Riddle, who was enjoying a drink from a flask he had brought.
"How long have you been able to do alchemy?" Brian asked.
"Why? Surprised?"
"Not so much as I never thought you'd take it seriously enough to attempt to learn it."
"I may be impotent", Riddle said, "but my thirst for knowledge has never been diminished."
"Right."
(Brian)
Brian heard the voice in his head. He chanced a glimpse to look around with his eyes.
(Soon Brian. Soon.)
"Let's get back to the guys", Brian suggested. "Something looks interesting over there."
The Disciple licked his lips hungirly as he emerged from his shadowy hiding place. So that is where you disappeared to Riddle, he thought, pulling the brim of his hat down lower upon his face. Walking away from the scene, he did not need to interrupt the Ghostbusters Doom Patrol's rejoicing in their small victory. Today had been a test. It had proved two of his theories.
Tomorrow, Hell would reign.
TO BE CONTINUED...