Carl, keeping one ear on the news, was hoping to find the latest comatose patient before the authorities had gotten involved. This was not to be, however; police cars were already ahead of him.
Undaunted, Carl parked on one of the streets and proceeded the rest of the way on foot. There, in the alley, he could see the patient being carried onto a stretcher. And a man Carl recognized as Captain Rausch of the Chicago Police was questioning two oddly-dressed civilians—obviously the ones who had found the man.
Carl had run afoul of Rausch several times before; keen on avoiding this to happen again, the reporter crept forward, hoping to be unobserved while listening to the civilians' report.
"That's really all there is to it, I'm afraid," the first civilian—a shabbily-dressed man said. "My companion and I were merely walking here and found the poor fellow, completely unresponsive."
"And you found no trace of a weapon or a struggle?" Rausch asked. "No sort of clues whatsoever?"
"I say, isn't that your job, to be looking for clues?" the man asked.
"Ye can hire us t' look for clues!" the other civilian said, in a Scottish accent. "We have a private detective agency: Smith and McCrimmon Investigative Services, Limited—" He was cut off with a yelp as the other man gently gave him a nudge with his elbow.
"We are on holiday, Sir," the first man stated, as the Scot stood in a silent pout. "And we wish to return to our self-guided tour of this city posthaste. We've told you everything we possibly know about the matter."
"Yes, I see that neither of you will have anything further of use to say," Rausch said. "You gentlemen may go on your way."
The captain turned, freezing as he saw Carl. The reporter hastily turned around and moved to run.
"Carl Kolchak!" Rausch bellowed, going in pursuit of him. "You are interfering with a police investigation!"
"I didn't even do anything!" the reporter quipped over his shoulder.
This, however, caught the Doctor's interest.
"Carl Kolchak? So that's him?" the Gallifreyan said, with a smile. "Oh my word, I never thought I'd actually cross paths with him!"
"But ye didnae cross paths," Jamie pointed out. "He's retreated before yer paths could cross!"
"Yes, pity about that…" the Doctor sighed. "Well, maybe we'll meet again."
"Who is this chappie ye admire so much, anyway?" Jamie inquired. "Ye ne'er mentioned him before."
"Well, he was never relevant to our conversations," the Doctor said. "But Carl Kolchak does a lot of the things that we do—on a much smaller scale, of course."
"He's a time-traveler?"
"No, no—I mean about defending the Earth. Well, he mainly restricts himself to defending the United States against the various creatures that invade it."
"Oh aye—he's a beastie hunter!"
"Exactly, Jamie!" the Doctor said, still watching as Rausch pursued Kolchak down the alley. "He's even got the attention of my people—he managed that when he slew the vampire Janos Skorzeny. And you know how much we Gallifreyans detest vampires…"
"I'm nae so fond of them myself," Jamie pointed out.
"Well, I should hope not. But Rassilon decreed that it was the duty of every Time Lord to deal with every vampire we encountered. Now, you know me, Jamie—I choose to be discretionary when it comes to things like that; I would like to give any creature a chance before I condemn it."
"Aye, I know…"
"The other Time Lords don't quite believe in that," the Doctor finished. "So when we heard about Janos Skorzeny causing a stir in Las Vegas, some members of the Celestial Intervention Agency were heading there to deal with him. But by the time they got there, the vampire had already been slain by Mr. Kolchak."
"And so the Time Lords hold him in high regard?" Jamie asked.
"Well… as highly as they'll ever regard a human, I suppose," the Doctor sighed. "At any rate, he did our work for us—he even slew another vampire in Los Angeles some years later. And he's been spending a lot of time in Chicago, dealing with various other 'beasties,' as you like to call them—werewolves, malevolent creatures, aliens—"
"Aliens!?" Jamie exclaimed. "Och, Doctor, we'd better get oot of here."
"Oh, but Jamie—"
"He's killed aliens, ye said! And in case ye forgot, ye are one!"
"Oh, Jamie, I hardly think that he means me any harm; we're on the same side, after all, especially when it comes to the vampires—oh, my word!"
Jamie was practically dragging the Doctor down the alley in the opposite direction that Carl had run off to.
"Oh, very well, if it'll satisfy you…" the Doctor said, rolling his eyes. "But I do think that Mr. Kolchak will have his hands full without having to concern himself with me. He's obviously trying to learn about those coma patients. And I fear that he may find himself in quite a bit of danger from the source."
"Ye know what's causing it?" Jamie asked.
"At first I didn't, but based on what I've seen with that man we found, I have a guess," the Doctor said. "Did you not think it strange that a person in a coma has a normal heartrate and normal brain activity?"
"How do ye know aboot his brain activity?"
"Touch telepathy," the Doctor reminded him. "He had the brain activity of a conscious man, Jamie. And yet, he was completely unresponsive."
"So… what does that mean?" Jamie asked, still baffled about the whole thing.
"I believe there's some sort of mental parasite involved," the Doctor said. "And an unbelievable strong one, at that. While we were waiting for the police to arrive, I attempted to use my telepathic manipulation to try to bring the poor fellow to awareness. Something was actively resting me—not only was it blocking me, but it pushed me back!"
"Och, that is too bad."
"My dear Jamie, I do believe you aren't fully understanding the implications of this. My people are among the strongest telepaths in the galaxy; our mental skills are supposed to be legendary! If something is able to block me from awakening that man, then whatever it is has stronger mental powers than a Gallifreyan!"
"…Oh," Jamie said, now looking worried.
"Yes, quite," the Doctor said. "The last times I had to struggle with another entity's mental skills were the Great Intelligence and the Master Brain of the Land of Fiction. And you know what happened then."
"Ye beat the Master Brain," Jamie pointed out. He winced, going red. "...And ye would've beaten the Great Intelligence if I hadnae ruined e'erything…"
"But I nearly lost!" the Doctor pointed out. "I ended up being stronger in the end, yes. But if this new entity is stronger than I am…"
"Aye, then that's further reason for us t' go back t' the TARDIS and go somewhere else!" Jamie said. "We don' need the risk of something taking over yer mind. Besides, if this Carl Kolchak chappie is as good a beastie hunter as ye say he is, he can deal with this thing and we can be on our way."
"Now, Jamie, you know that isn't how we deal with injustice in the galaxy," the Doctor chided him. "For one thing, a human's mental willpower will not be as strong as a Gallifreyan's—you saw how easily the Master Brain controlled that poor author, but couldn't control me that easily. Mr. Kolchak will be needing my help in this matter, whether he realizes it or not. And besides that, I am certain that you cannot, in good conscience, abandon Chicago to the will of whatever monster is behind these comas—no more than I could. Isn't that right, Jamie?"
"…Aye," the piper sighed. "But is there a way ye can do all this withoot getting too close to Mr. Kolchak?"
"But, Jamie—"
"Och, if he finds oot that ye're an alien with telepathic powers, he might think ye're the one putting people into comas in the first place!" Jamie pointed out. "He might be after ye if that happened!"
"Are you really that worried about it?" the Doctor queried. "Oh, I suppose I can try to distance myself from him, if you're that worried. But there may come a time very quickly when we shall be forced to work with him; you shall have to be willing to do that."
"Only as a last resort," Jamie agreed. "Aye, now that we've settled that, what do we do now?"
"We shall try to pinpoint where this creature is," the Doctor said. "And, if we can, observe and find out what exactly it is."
"How will we do that?" Jamie queried.
"I shall try to concentrate my telepathic abilities to see where I am getting the most resistance from," the Doctor said, closing his eyes.
"Can I help?" the Scot asked.
"Yes," the Doctor said, and he grabbed ahold of Jamie's wrist. "Concentrate and serve as my amplifier."
The piper sighed and did as he was told, hoping that this wasn't going to end up being too much for them to handle.
Carl had managed to avoid Captain Rausch, but it came at the price of being driven away from the alley. All evidence would've been catalogued and removed by now—and those two witnesses would have likely left.
Tired and disappointed, he called up Tony.
"Hey, Tony? I'm sorry for running out on you like that—"
"Carl, where have you been!? If you've been arrested again—"
"Tony, will you relax? Nothing happened!" He sighed. That was half the problem.
"I am very glad to hear that," Tony said. "Now get back here right away—before you don't have a desk to return to!"
"Tony, you don't mean that, do you!?" Carl said, in mock horror.
There was a beat of silence.
"Just get back here, huh? Please?"
"Don't you worry, Tony; I'm on my way back right…" Carl trailed off as he spotted a man dressed in an odd, purple robe, darting past the alley he was in. "Actually, Tony, hold that thought; I'll get back to you in a little bit."
He ended the call as Tony protested, put the phone on silent, and took off after the robed man.
The robed man slipped into the back door of an abandoned warehouse; Kolchak wanted to follow him, but knew it would be too foolish. Instead, he opted for standing on an old packing crate near the opening of a ventilation shaft. He held up his voice recorder and listened.
"What did you find out?" he heard a voice hiss.
"We still need to go back to the museum to confirm that we have found the exact keys we are looking for," a male voice answered.
"How is the new host, Lord Sutekh?" a female voice now asked.
"Weak, as all humans are," the first voice hissed. "But he will last me until the return of my own body. And you must not fail me—you will find out exactly as to whether or not that museum houses what we need."
"When do you wish us to go, Lord Sutekh?" the woman asked.
"Tonight," Sutekh insisted.
"Closing time is at 5:00," the other male voice said. "We'll go after that."
"No," Sutekh said. "Wait until nightfall—move under cover of dark. Should anyone be there aside from us, we will deal with them."
"You're sending the mummies with us?" the male voice asked.
"No, Fool—I will be with you through this puppet," Sutekh spat. "I tire of delays; my presence, I am sure, will significantly quicken the pace of things so that we will be on schedule for the full moon."
"If that is what Lord Sutekh wishes, then we shall agree," the woman said.
"It is what I wish, and you are not agreeing," Sutekh snarled. "This is my will—my order. You will not defy me, or else you will be the next one found comatose."
Carl froze, trying to lean further towards the ventilator shaft.
"I had no intention of defying you, Lord Sutekh," the woman insisted. "We are here to serve you and see to your triumphant return. And we know better than to cross you; we know of your power."
Other voices now spoke up in agreement; Carl wasn't sure how many people were in that room, but it was, clearly, a significant amount. And whoever this "Lord Sutekh" was, he clearly had a significant amount of power over them—and was somehow the one behind the mysterious coma patients. In addition, Sutekh wanted something from these people—something from the museum. But what? And why?
Before Carl could attempt to work this out, the packing crate he had been standing on emitted a loud creak—just before it splintered, sending his foot going right through the top of the crate.
Not stopping to determine if the people inside had heard him, Carl turned around and ran, the crate still on his foot, hoping to escape before he became the next coma patient.