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World of Darkness: In Pursuit of the Wicked


Umbra

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I call this a World of Darkness story simply because that's what inspired it; a world much like our own, but filled with dark secrets resting just outside of the mortal reach. In Pursuit of the Wicked takes us to the small town of Hannibal, Kansas, where a most tragic event has just taken place, and the government has sent in their finest to take care of the mess. However, they might be facing more than they handle.

 

Fair warning; That PG-16 tag is there for a reason. Nothing too harsh in my opinion.

 

[spoiler="Chapter One"]

 

After working at Sunglass Grocery for a good ten years, Mack Kelly had seen a lot of s***. Back in '06, two kids had burst into the store wearing ski masks and waving handguns like they didn't know which side made the boom. Just last year, an old woman had fallen asleep at the wheel, flying off the street and onto the parking lot, crashing into two cars before finally coming to. No one'd been seriously hurt yet, thank the Lord, but Mack thought it was only a matter of time. They'd been lucky so far, very lucky.

 

That luck persisted until June 24th, 2012. It seemed an ordinary day, as regular as days could be at Sunglass. The owners, an elderly couple by the names of Joanna and Hamilton Sunglass, had come for their monthly visit, just checking in on everyone to see that business was going ”smooth as sunwater”. Hamilton's own wording, which spouted from his mouth at least once every five minutes. Working at Sunglass, you either grew to hate or love that phrase; Mack had found himself in the former category. Nonetheless, it was a solid job in spite of everything, so he kept his mouth shut. They were one of the few local stores left in town, with the big corporate chains slowly making their way and buying up whatever market shares they can find. So far, Sunglass had endured.

 

After the events of that day though, that didn't seem to certain anymore. The customers had been milling about, as they are wont to do, and Mack had been manning the security cameras, as they paid him to do. For the longest time, they'd only had four of them in the store; less than half of what Mack would've liked, what with all the shoplifting that'd been going on recently. Sweets and chocolate from the kids, cheap beer and cider with the teens, all of that was carefully watched over. Rest of the store might as well have been on the moon as far as he could tell. It was only very recently that he'd managed to convince Hamilton – after a long and painful discussion – to install two more cameras, and that was final. It was on one of these new cameras that he'd seen him first.

 

 

The agent raised an eyebrow.

”Young kid, you said. What, fifteen or sixteen?”

Mack Kelly looked up at him, and shook his head. Three days had gone by since the explosion, but he'd be carrying that boy's face in his memories for the rest of his life. Feels like half an eternity away already. This little ”questioning” session with the feds hadn't changed that a bit.

”More like eight or nine. He didn't have any parents with him, which is what got me worried.”

The agent nodded at his co-worker. To tell the truth, Mack wasn't completely sure these two were agents in the first place, but their badges seemed real enough. They were both standing on the other side of the desk; the two chairs on their side had gone mostly unused. They didn't look like your typical agents; not that he'd met any until now, but still. Fairly young; less than thirty-five, with the one who'd talked to him being significantly older than the other. Mack pegged the younger at about twenty, twenty-two. The older man turned his eyes back to him.

”And what exactly made you think he was something out of the ordinary? I mean, a kid lost in a supermarket isn't exactly uncommon.”

Mack shook his head.

”Yeah, I know that well enough. This kid wasn't like that. Most of them start crying you know, running about and bawling their eyes out, looking for mommy or daddy to pick them up. This one was completely still. He was looking right at the camera, eyes wide open and locked right into the lens.”

The old man paused for a second, thinking back to what he had seen. I should tell them. I don't think they'll believe me, but I should tell them.

”His eyes were burning, agent Phillips. Fire and smoke, pouring out of his sockets like the Devil himself was resting inside.”

 

The agents didn't appear surprised, nor unsettled in any way, shape or form. The younger looked at the older, who only nodded back; first in response back at him, then at the door. The younger agent, pulling out his phone from the pocket of his coat, excused himself and left. Finally sitting down, agent Phillips took his place across from him.

”And this happened just before the fire started?”

Mack nodded.

”Just before, yes. I've talked to some of the others about him, the kid I mean. They say they haven't seen him at all, flaming eyes or no.”

He paused, looking down at the table.

”Poor Jimmy was so terrified, I had to calm him down. Kid's got a good heart, but he's a bit clumsy sometimes. He thought he'd forgotten to turn something off first, that it was his fault.”

The agent, completely unphased, simply nodded.

”You brought the tape, I assume.”

Mack nodded back, and picked up the plastic bag at his feet.

”Indeed, agent Phillips. It's not really tape anymore though.The CD in there should have all the footage from the last couple of days.”

He laughed.

”Technology, huh? Keeps pushing forward and doesn't stop moving no matter how much you tell it to.”

The agent did not respond. It's a joke, Mack thought to himself. Smile a little, at least.

”The tape, Mr. Kelly.”

Mack sighed, and handed him the disc. There was a small TV on a shelf behind them; Phillips inserted the disc, and within moments the screen buzzed to life.

 

 

Back in the store. Dairy section, late afternoon on June 24th. Not that crowded, as usual. People pushing half-filled shopping carts around, loading them with jugs of milk and cream. Kids pulling at their parents' shirts, asking for that special juice or chocolate milk they wanted. Chatting with friends, filling their bags, and moving on. During the fifteen minutes – fast-forwarded, of course – of footage that they played through, not a single one of them paid any mind to the kid sitting on top of the egg shelf. Like Mack had said, he didn't make a sound; just wiggling his legs a bit while staring right into the camera from the two infernal pits that might have been eyes on an ordinary person. Someone even reached in underneath him to grab a packet of eggs, seemingly moving their head to avoid the dangling feet, without taking any note of him at all.

 

At exactly six fifty-three PM, down to the second, hell broke loose. The child started laughing, a piercing shrill that reminded Mack of a dying bird more than anything else. Even the agent had twitched ever so slightly, cracking at the hard facade he'd been holding up. The child had started pulsating, shimmering with a feint red light, barely visible in the store as it was. Then came the flash, the sudden wave passing through the store. Mack didn't need the camera to tell him what it had been like. Charred bodies throughout the isles, shelves reduced to little more than ash and twisted metal. It had happened so quickly, breaking and killing everything in its way.

 

Five seconds after the explosion, the camera feed cut out, with the equipment burnt to shreds. Only the black screen of the TV greeted them now. Mack was pale as a ghost. The agent, slightly reclined in his seat, cleared his throat.

”Thank you for your co-operation, mr. Kelly. That'll be it for today.”

Mack got out of his chair, now drenched in sweat.

”There's something else you should know, agent Phillips. That camera was made strictly for surveillance; it shows us everything that's going on, lets us know if there's anyone stealing s*** from the store. It sees everything in front of it.”

He gulped.

”It doesn't record sound, though. That scream... it shouldn't be there. It can't.”

 

 

Steven Phillips escorted the elderly man out of the interrogation room. Neither he nor his younger colleague had actually suspected him or any of his coworkers from the start; it wasn't an interrogation as much as it had been a gathering of information, trying to build some sort of a case. The tape he'd brought in was everything they'd needed to confirm their theory. To the nation, the tragedy at Sunglass was an act of terrorism; a bomber from some rogue organization, a threat that must be eliminated. Indeed, someone had already stepped forward, no less than three days after the fact; some al-Qaida offshoot that had broken off after bin Ladin's death. Indubitably a complete fabrication by the Bureau; Steven had long since stopped questioning that particular method of his superiors.

His coworker was still on the phone with Central when Mack Kelly left, only casting a casual glance in their direction. Steven kept his eyes on him as he walked toward the others, the remaining six who had survived the attack. They huddled together, crying and pretending to be stronger than they were. Around them, the police were more busy than they'd ever been, Phillips imagined; something of this caliber doesn't happen in a small town like Hannibal, Kansas very often. With less than a thousand people here, and at least sixty dead inside, he had a hard time thinking there was anyone in town who didn't know one of them. Tragedy, for sure. Something a town really can't recover from. Very unfortunate.

 

The younger man hung up, and Phillips looked at him. Luke Kennedy – no relation to the Kennedys, as far as he knew – had been partnered up with him for two years now, straight out of the academy. Phillips had been with the Bureau for six years by then, but had already earned a bit of a reputation in their department. Witchhunter, they called him, after his inquisitorial nature and his persistence. All in good spirits, of course; working in their field for any longer amount of time came with a certain sense of humor. The Department of Paranormal Affairs was a very inclusive group, only called in on very special occasions, and only rarely hired someone straight out of school.

 

Luke Kennedy was a very particular case. Straight-A kid out of high school, accepted early to college at sixteen. Finished by nineteen, applied to the Academy after that. Done in a year, broke the record for earliest agency by a good two years. Much like many of their agents, Phillips included, he had popped up on their radar before, in a much earlier case. A slasher had surfaced in his hometown, some fifteen years earlier. The guy had holed himself up in the highschool basement, snatching teenagers and doing all sorts of godforsaken things to them. It was gruesome, even for their line of work.

One of them, the only one who got out alive, was Nicholas Kennedy, Luke's older brother. He was sixteen; Luke himself had just turned eight. About a year after he and Phillips had partnered up, Luke told him that Nicholas had killed himself about two months after they'd gotten him out.

He said he could still hear the guy, him and those chains of his. He'd wake up every night, screaming in terror. One day, he decided he'd had enough. That bastard got Nick, even after you – we – killed him.

Phillips hadn't responded much. That sort of trauma was common after facing a slasher first-hand, especially after being chained up and locked in a cage for who knows how long. Phillips hadn't been on the case himself, it was long before his time, but he had looked into the case files after having Kennedy assigned to him. Over the four years he and Luke Kennedy had worked together, they had discussed it a few times, but more than anything he seemed to want to put it behind him.

 

He put the phone back in his pocket, and shook his head.

”Landon isn't sending anyone else. Says a ghost shouldn't need more than two.”

Phillips turned away, cursing under his breath.

”Landon doesn't understand. This isn't some ordinary ghost, Luke. This is a high-priority case, it doesn't matter what Landon says about it. I'll see if I can get Liz to work her magic.”

He sighed. Phillips hadn't seen eye to eye with Thomas Landon at the central for many years now, and that wasn't about to change. Younger than Phillips by two years, he definitely wasn't qualified for the position, but he'd gotten it anyway. The Bureau had convinced themselves he was the better choice than a more experienced agent.

They want a young one, Steve. It looks better on the outside.

That was what Greg Johnson had said when he'd told Phillips he was being reallocated. He wasn't even in the department anymore now; worked somewhere higher up in the Bureau. At the time, Phillips had thought Greg was talking about him. Now, he obviously knew better.

 

Luke turned away, his eyes on the small group of survivors.

”He tell you anything interesting?”

Phillips nodded.

”He showed more than he told, to be fair. They're making copies of the tapes they could salvage. We'll have at least two months' worth of footage to dig through, see if there's any pattern to this thing. A spirit with this kind of numina doesn't just suddenly appear. We're talking incredible pyrokinesis, Hindenburg-level. Most probably possession, disruption, telekinesis, the whole psychic arsenal.”

He sighed. This is definitely above our paygrade. Even Landon has to see that.

”Alright, this is what we'll do. You get out on the town and start sweeping, Luke. See if you can find a lead on this kid, if anyone knows who he is. I'll get working on the abjuration, buy us some time. Call me if something comes up.”

Luke nodded.

”You too, Steve. I'll head over to the hospital, check on the owner. See you at the motel around eight, if nothing else.”

Phillips nodded back, and the two separated.

 

The road was quiet, eerily so. Driving down what passed as Hannibal's Main Street, Luke Kennedy couldn't stop himself from noticing the empty streets and completely deserted shops. This town was in mourning, that much was obvious, and for good reason. The fallout from this sort of thing struck hard, in more than one way. Even after this ghost was taken care of, they'd have to stick around for a while. Sixty casualties means sixty angry spirits, which could mean sixty cases.

Even in a best care scenario, we'll be here for a long time.

They had talked to the six people who had come out more or less unscathed, with Mack Kelly being the last. While they had been able to get some useful information out of them, he still had absolutely no idea where to take the case just yet. Luckily, they weren't out of witnesses. Joanna Sunglass might be pushing seventy, a frail old woman that looked like she'd fall over if the wind was blowing too hard. Covered in second- and third-degree burns, Luke was very surprised to hear that she was alive. Miracle, the doctors had called it, and had Luke not worked in this field, he would have been inclined to agree. A ghost like this usually only comes back for one reason; vengeance. As the owner of the store, Joanna and her husband could easily have been its primary target. If that was the case, it might go after the hospital next, and Luke really didn't want to think about that.

This town has seen enough destruction, it doesn't need any more.

 

That was when he felt it. That chill, the familiar taste of metal in his mouth. The scent of blood and fear in the air. The dangling of chains, the images of dead eyes staring from behind that blank-white mask. He shook his head.

”Does it always have to be this way, Nick?”

His brother was staring emptily through the side window. Trying to keep his eyes on the road, Luke couldn't stop staring at the cut on his throat, and the blood trickling down his chest. He was wearing the blue hospital gown, same as always.

”So we've got a pretty big case here, Nick. Some sort of angry spirit who has all sorts of mojo attached to him. Killed a lot of people.”

He paused. The ghost said and did nothing.

”You're not going to be like that, are you? You're not going to snap on me, turn into some murderous ghost we're going to have to banish? Of course not. You're better than that, Nick. You're good. You wouldn't kill anyone.”

The ghost only shook his head, still staring out the window. In the fourteen years that had passed since his death, Nick hadn't said a single word to him. Luke wasn't sure he even could, with his throat being what it was. He doesn't have to. I have him, and that's what matters.

”Get ready, Nick. We have a ghost to kill.”

 

EDITOR'S NOTE: Edited on 31/1. 

[/spoiler]

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Hey Umbra. Been looking forward to reading this ever since it came out, and will try my best to review it to the same quality you do for me.

 

I... liked it, but for some reason found it difficult to read. I think in part this was due to there being a lot of jumping back and forth through time and location between the store disaster and the police station interviews, and I found it weirdly hard to keep track. Possibly because you don't indicate scene/location jumps with a .... or anything. Also found it difficult in places to get a grasp of perspective on the scene, particularly the start of Kelly's interview. At first I thought it was in his security office, given the build up about the camera's and all. Then there was a guy, then another guy, and I couldn't get my head round whose eyes I was looking through. If you see what I mean. At one point I thought it was looking at the empty chairs and there were two people in the room on the same side of the desk and I was keeping having to reread sections to make it go in. It might be because I'm tired, or inattentive, or just being blindly stupid or slow. I dunno. Just struggled to be honest. Sorry.

 

In the same way I found myself struggling to get my head around who was being referenced at times, particularly when Luke is introduced and it talks about this slasher case with his brother. "He had been marginally involved in a case much earlier; a slasher in his hometown, some fifteen years earlier." I was trying to do the math in my head and worked out he would have been eightish at the time, so why would he have been involved in something at a high school for teens, unless you just meant by assossiation to a (much?) older brother Nicolas? Or Phillips involved as an investigator, but then later it said he wasn't involved in it. Sorry I just feel like I'm being dense and trying to read too much/work stuff out when it's really simple, but I just found myself tripping up and having to reread stuff for some reason.

 

Actual content was really good though, and I enjoyed it. The chapter didn't really end on much of a hook if I'm honest in terms of "Here's a pipebomb to grab you by the gentleman's area and make you read chapter two", but there was enough steady intrigue throughout to make me want chapter two anyway. The atmosphere in the interview room was good, that sort of uncertain, quiet but doomy feel in the aftermath of such a scenario really came across well through Kelly, his character was done really well and was probably the highlight for me.

 

So... yeah... will give it more chapters before coming down on one side of the fence of the other tbh, but I'll sit firmly on it for now and read new chapters as and when I can with piqued curiosity, if not at present the same wild excitment if I'm brutally honest :mellow:

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1. Yes, the story does jump around a lot - unnecessarily so, perhaps. I'll try to ease the transitions in future chapters, if I end up using that style again. 

 

2. I was talking about how Luke's brother was one of the victims, yes. Eight to ten years isn't much older when it comes to siblings; my youngest sister and I are eighteen years apart. I don't think this is an unusual case. Luke's backstory is something that will be more fleshed out in future chapters; I wanted to post more in that section, to pad the chapter out and slow down the pace if nothing else, but at the same time I didn't want to linger on it for too long. 

 

3. Yeah, I didn't like the ending either. I had half a mind to end it on some violent cliffhanger - like the car blowing up - but I wasn't sure how effective that would be. The ending needs to be fixed, though; if you have any ideas, feel free to throw them at me.

 

Glad you liked it to some degree at least. The honesty is appreciated; a welcome difference from all the silence around here.

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2. I was talking about how Luke's brother was one of the victims, yes. Eight to ten years isn't much older when it comes to siblings; my youngest sister and I are eighteen years apart. I don't think this is an unusual case. Luke's backstory is something that will be more fleshed out in future chapters; I wanted to post more in that section, to pad the chapter out and slow down the pace if nothing else, but at the same time I didn't want to linger on it for too long. 

 

3. Yeah, I didn't like the ending either. I had half a mind to end it on some violent cliffhanger - like the car blowing up - but I wasn't sure how effective that would be. The ending needs to be fixed, though; if you have any ideas, feel free to throw them at me.

 

Glad you liked it to some degree at least. The honesty is appreciated; a welcome difference from all the silence around here.

 

Ah I see. Yeah I know, it's not a massive gap. I think I'm just trying to read too much into things that aren't that complex.

 

See, that's a thing, and again it's me being stupid, but you say car blows up as something that might happen. There's nothing in the chapter that says categorically he's in a car, other than 'the road was quiet' being the only real hint. Being a small town setting, I'd just assumed he was on foot =/ Possibly a little more 'idiot proof every detail text' could be of use, although that might just be me. And yes that would have been a more hooking end to the chapter, especially since, given it's you we're talking about here, there would have been absolutely no garuntee young chap would have survived, given there hasn't been enough to definitely dedicate him to 'yes I'm the lead protagonist here' and that role could easily be Phillips, and this guy have been another red shirt. So, yeah...

 

I did enjoy it, but I try to be honest and give you feedback on how I see it, since you make the effort for me. But I always enjoy your stuff as a reader.

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