The Massacre At Mechanic Falls ============================== The Rather Long Prologue: ========================= <1999> Driving snow...semi darkness...vehicle headlights cutting through the gloom... A hand on the dial of a car radio...bland pop music...a stream of Italian... A car interior...the sound of sports coverage...some light classical... ....bland pop music...a hand gesturing in frustration...a click as the radio is turned off... A screech of tyres...a muffled curse...hands gesturing in anger...ignition key turning...engine dying...a car door opening...booted feet walking through snow... Car headlights piercing the gloom...two figures silhouetted in the snow...one prone...the other kneeling by it's side... A bloodied, frostbitten face...tears streaming from staring eyes...cracked lips attempt to speak... "Brander....Michael Brander....please....take me home...." A hand clenching a jacket...the figure attempts to rise...dragging the other closer... "Take me home...please...Schenk...take me home...Adam Schenk...." The hand relaxes...the figure collapses... Bare feet dragging through snow...a car door opening...muffled cursing.... The sound of a car engine starting... Eyes reflecting in a rear-view mirror...a figure sprawled in the rear seat... A bloodied frost-bitten face...eyes closed...an almost imperceptible muttering.... *yoggsodddoth.....nebld....sssin* Car headlights cutting through driving snow...a sign, illuminated.... <2001> "Morning Basil!" "Ah...morning George...er don't come in just yet there's a good chap..." "Morning George!" "Morning Basil!" "Just received the post old boy...you remember that Dobson fellow we met a few months back...?" "The chappy in the rather cheap suit and dark glasses...the uneccesarily cryptic gentleman?" "The very same! Well it appears he's sent us five thousand US dollars...each...!" "Splendid! Always said he was a good sort! Er...why exactly...?" "Invoice says 'for services rendered'...perhaps it's related to the strange case of that musician chappy...and poor Mr Travers little adventure in Sweden?" "Do they pay us for things like that now George?" "It appears they do old scout" "Splendid! Is $5000 then a lot of money?" "It would buy quite a lot of G&Ts Basil" "Excellent!" "Or we could...I suppose...invest it...or pay a little towards our upkeep here...these Bureau fellows do seem to be looking after us rather well..." "Or we could...just..." "...spend..." "....it....?" HUZZAH! HUZZAH! Elsewhere :- Elegant, manicured hands counting out a bundle of notes... "$5000 exactly...I'll put your receipt in the bag sir...thank you for shopping at Versace...and might I say what a pleasure it is to meet a man who really *cares* about what he puts next to his skin..." "Oh *behave* baby!" Elsewhere :- A ferociously bearded man wearing a deeply puzzled expression...surrounded by packaging...a laptop computer...in one hand he holds the mouse...in the other a power cable... "Hmmm....?" Elsewhere :- An elderly woman of Hispanic origin...her shoulders shaking with uncontrollable grief...a photo frame cradled gently in her hands...tears falling on the photograph of a young man in military fatigues... Elsewhere :- "Greetings well-met fellow hail!" "Sorry bud?" "Good morning my good man...I'd like to replace one of these with something a little more modern" "What the hell's that?" "This, dear fellow, is a Derringer!" "This ain't an antique store buddy!" "This is a Derringer! With which the British Empire turned half the bloody world map a fetching shade of pink!!!" "In Bob's Home Security and Shooter Store...it's worth $10..." "$10!!! I held out at Emboto Gorge for three days and nights armed with only this and a small knife for peeling fruit!" "$20 tops. Or maybe...if you want to trade in...$100...against one of these...." "Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm....." "....or one of these...." "Ooooooh!" Elsewhere :- A telephone directory...a finger tracing down the page...an advert..."Shamed by your mistakes in Computing? Stranded on the Hard Shoulder of the Information Superhighway? Call us now" A hand clutching a telephone... "Ah good morning. My name is Professor George Arbuthnot, Fellow of the Royal Society...and I think you may be able to help me..." Elsewhere :- A robed figure striding through the snowy streets of Boston....skid row...urban depression and poverty everywhere...a down and out, in filthy ragged clothes, scavenges through an upturned trashcan... A hand, holding an envelope, reaches down... A puzzled expression on the face of the old soak...gnarled fingers tear at the envelope...a bundle of notes....$5000...! He looks up with joy...but the expression turns to puzzlement...there is only the swirl of a cassock, vanishing around a corner... Heavenly music plays... "Agent Fox" "Fox...this is Agent Skinner..." "Hello sir!" "Good morning Agent Fox...I trust things are well?" "Very well indeed sir...a bit quiet at the moment perhaps?" "Things are about to liven up Agent Fox...something big is coming..." "Oh *behave* baby!" "Fox?" "Yes sir?" "You're not spending too much time with Mr Travers are you?" "Er no sir...sorry sir..." "This is a big case Fox...remember the case of the guy who thought he was a frog?" "Yes sir" "Even bigger than that Agent Fox!" "Wow!" "Round up the rest of your motley little crew...it appears they'll be needed as well..." "Really sir?" "Yes really...in fact our friends in the UK have made a point of requesting their involvement" "Wow!" "I said it was big Agent Fox..." "Indeed sir" "No dead musicians involved this time though...I trust that won't be a problem?" "Not at all sir...you're not still angry about the dead heavy metal singer are you?" "I'm a country & western kinda guy Agent Fox...you can do what you like to those members of the death metal genre who violate international law..." "Thank you sir!" "Mrs Skinner is still very angry at the opera closing for two months though..." "Sorry sir" "Still, it saved me from having to sit through 20 minutes of decent tunes buried in 15 hours of gods shouting at each other I suppose..." "Excellent sir!" "...this is not to be taken as an invitation to shoot any more members of the musical profession Agent Fox..." "Of course not sir" "We 'll meet in three hours time then." ............................................................................... Parte 2 ------- <3 hours later> A grim faced assemblage of people, around a circular table. Agent Skinner speaks. "Gentlemen...Agent Scuzzi...I'll not waste time on introductions...you already know Mr Colin Dobson here..." He gestures to a man in a cheap dark suit, selfconsciously wearing sunglasses... "Mr Dobson represents Universal Export, a US-based operation which...facilitates...the activities of E-branch - a division of British intelligence services somewhat analogous to the X-Files. Represented here today by Basil Exposition..." A figure on a video screen waves cheerily. "Hello boys...Ms Scuzzi...everyone well I trust?" "Hello Bazzers!" "Tippity-Top old boy!" "Jolly good...how are things boys...21st Century treating you well I trust?" "Splendid Mr Exposition...couldn't be better" "Good, excellent...just one small point...as E-branch are picking up your expenses at the moment...could you just be aware that Channel 34 is actually pay-per-view...?" "Er...I think there's something wrong with the set actually...we keep trying to find the Discovery channel but it keeps switching over..." "Of course...Mr Dobson will speak to the hotel...just be aware that when you see the message 'You have chosen to watch 'Bangkok Chick Boys' $10 will be added to your bill'...just press the 'NO' button...and everything will be fine..." "Ah the 'NO' button!" "Harrumph! Of course...the 'NO' button..." "What arses we've been!" "Harrumph...'NO' button...silly us..." "All clear Basil?" "Clear as a bell George!" "'NO' button...of course..." Agent Skinner raises his head from his hands. "Moving on then...Mr Dobson...?" The video screen divides vertically. Next to Basil Exposition is now displayed a picture of an elderly man, painfully gaunt. "This man is Adam Schenk. A senior operative of E-branch. Recently in New York. We have received no communication from him for 3 days...Gentlemen...Mr Schenk is vital to E-branch. We *must* have him back...at all costs...we must have him back" "He looks a little old...shouldn't he have retired by now...?" "Mr Schenk's talent is such, Dr Macnamara, that E-branch wish him to remain an operative for as long as possible..." "Talent?" "Mr Schenk...is unique, doctor...he is a seer. He predicts things..." "Impressive...such as...?" "Many things vital to the somewhat murky area in which E-branch operates...on a wider scale, he also foresaw the assassination of John F Kennedy...the fall of the Soviet Union...the murder of John Lennon..." "WHAT!!!!" "Mr Travers?" "John Lennon's dead???? When? How?" "Mr Travers, now is really not the time...I'm sure your friends will explain later..." "Bastard! He owes me a tenner as well...!" "Please Mr Travers...my last communication from Schenk was 3 days ago...from the Hotel Manhattan, New York...he spoke of a 'great adventure beginning'...and he mentioned a name..." "...I introduced him to this Japanese chick you know..." "MR TRAVERS!" Colin opens a briefcase and passes a photograph around... "...nice girl...hit over the head with the ugly stick mind you..." "MR...TRAVERS....!!!! " Colin indicates the photograph, evidently shot with a wide-angle lens... "This is Dr Elizabeth Lewis. Professor of Ancient History at the University of Boston..." Nathan picks up the photograph, and nods in recognition... "And her involvement is...?" "We don't know...Schenk mentioned her name...said it was vital to try and keep her alive...that she was 'significant'...and that there was a 77.24% chance of her death in the forthcoming days..." "Wow!" "Wow indeed...Agent Fox, you will be in charge of this operation. Locate Dr Lewis as soon as possible...keep her safe...but above all else, you must bring Adam Schenk back to us...alive..." Skinner clears his throat. "In addition Mr Dobson, might I add that this needs to be a discrete operation...Mr Schenk's presence in the United States is ...could be...embarrassing to us" "Embarrassing?" "During World War 2, Mr Schenk was a member of the SS..." "Ahhhhhhh..." "The SS?" "He has avoided detection thus far by not ticking the box on the immigration form that asks 'Were you a member of the SS'" "Ahhhhhhh..." "Smooth operator baby!" "The SS?" "I was going to tell you about them the other night Basil...some documentary about them on the Discovery channel...but then there was all that business with the 'NO' button..." "Ah yes...'NO' button..." "'NO' button..exactly..." "'NO' button...' Basil Exposition smiles. "Good...so we're all settled then...good luck everyone...cheerie-bye Colin...don't worry Agent Skinner, I'm sure this will all be sorted out as discretely and quickly as possible...it's just a local matter after all...not as if these fellows are flying to the other side of the world or anything! Bye-bye!" Agent Skinner raises his head from his hands. "As Mr Exposition says...good luck everyone..." Colin closes his briefcase. Everyone makes to leave. Sebastian picks up the photograph of Dr Lewis, and looks at Nathan. "Don't fancy yours much Nathan baby!!!" ****************************************** And so our heroes divide into two teams, in order to fulfill the 'Locate Dr Lewis' part of the mission :- Team University : Scuzzi, Nathan, Seb Team Dr Lewis' House : Fox, Seamus, George, Basil Dr Lewis puts here tazer on to charge, adjusts her kaftan, settles back into her swivel chair and drinks deeply of a cup of peppermint tea. 'Manuel and the Music of the Mountains' plays on a small CD player. Her gaze travels 'round the room...mementos of a life spent 'in the field'...masks of ancient demon-gods from Borneo...fragments of pottery from deep within the Javanese jungle...and a picture of herself in combat fatigues, a submachine gun slung across her shoulders, standing atop a jeep with a couple of Israeli soldiers...ahhh....she thinks...those were the days... A knock at the door. "Some people to see you Dr Lewis" Outside a suburban house in Boston. 'Nope. Definitely no-one at home' 'You quite sure old boy?' 'No-one at home. She must be at the university...come on...' 'But she could be lying injured, unable to reach the door?' 'Or held captive by some unspeakable monstrosity' 'Yeah ok...lemme have a look around...mebbe there's a window ajar or something...' 'There's a brick down here...' 'Never been that good at lockpicking...still, it's worth a go...' 'One good heft and...' 'Father?' 'Mouldyman! Sebbers here on the rap-rod...we've found the chick...yeah she's fine...and she's got this absolutely enormous....aaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrgggggghhhhhhhhhnnnnnn' 'Sebastian?' '...ggnnnnnnnnnnnnn.........' 'Put Scuzzi on the line!' 'Mouldy? Just a moment...I'm sorry Dr Lewis...yes, he's always like that...no...no...of course you don't...of course it doesn't...you look very nice, honestly...Mouldy...yes, she's fine....really...we'll bring her over now.' 'Good. And Scuzzi?' 'Yes?' 'Do you know a good emergency glazier?' ********************************************** A Brief Explanation of What is Going On Nathan heads off to Miskatonic University for a natter with Dr Armitage, and an investigation of Herr Schenk's war record. He finds that Schenk was based in Leipzig for much of the war, until being sent to the small Italian village of Bolzano in 1944, as part of something called 'Operation Lighthouse'. Records reveal the other members of the team never returned from Bolzano. After the German surrender, Schenk was placed on the fast-track to de-nazification and thereafter seemingly vanishes. The rest of the team, however, make their way to New York. Seb's request for his personalised jumbo jet to be placed at his disposal has met with only partial success, in that he has been given the use of a Lear Jet previously used by Barry White. Regrettably, there has been no time to remove the mural of a large black man dressed only in a tinfoil loincloth from the the fuselage. The pilot is a Ms Natasha Schwing, who has been told that Sebastian Travers finds danger...strangely...stimulating...and so decides the best way to his heart is to pretend to put the plane into a fatal dive... Sebastian asks for her phone number anyway. Once in New York, the team find the following. - Schenk met for dinner with a man called Michael Brander, an ex E-branch agent who went missing in the Dolomite Mountains in 1999, and returned 6 months later claiming to have been abducted by aliens. He was judged to be psychologically unstable, and pensioned off. - Brander had spent some time at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, looking at a painting called 'Gli Altoparlanti Nella Nerezza' or 'The Whisperers in Darkness' by the 16th C Italian painter Alessandro Merisi. - Merisi was a minor painter, originally from the village of Bolzano in the Dolomites, who spent some time in Milan. His only known painting, 'The Whisperers' fell foul of Borromeo, the Milanese cardinal responsible amongst other things for the setting up of an Inquisition, the Vatican Index of Forbidden Books, and the commissioning of a work entitled 'On Sacred and Profane Images in Art'. Father o'Patrick nods approvingly. - After falling out with Borromeo, nothing more is heard of Merisi. Historians assume he fled to Bolzano for his own safety. The only other work known by him is a book called 'The Yuggoth Codex'. - The book and the painting were taken to the USA after the war by Dan Ringval, an American serviceman. The painting, at the Met, depicts what might be seen as a cautionary image of the damned in hell, except that the demons are shown as crustacean-like creatures with long, elegant gossamer wings. Otherwise it's fairly traditional, the fire, brimstone, nasty long pointy sticks etc. etc. The upper half of the painting, where we might expect to see images of the saved, and the saints looking down in sorrow upon the damned, is merely an image of the Sun, and the Nine planets. 'Nine planets? In the 16th Century?' queries an incredulous Dr Lewis. (PhilJ nods assertively, to reassure the players that he has thought this through properly and not cocked this up). - A phone call to Dan Ringval reveals that he sold the Yuggoth Codex to a Mr Brander for $20000 a few days previously. (The team relax slightly. In a parallel universe, this gentleman would have been murdered horribly, but in this universe he gets to live out the remainder oh his days in comfort. Ahhhhh...) - Brother Belcher, of the Reformed Church of St Quentin the Slayer has translated parts of the Yuggoth Codex. It describes how Merisi summoned strange, crustacean-like demons from the Ninth Planet, Yuggoth, who worship an entity known as Yog-Sothoth, a being coterminous with all time and space. The incantation 'Yog-Sothoth Neblod Zin' is repeated throughout. - Investigations reveal that Michael Brander has made use of a nearby internet cafe, searching for information on 'The Pharos Project'. Based at Portland University, New England, the 3 members of the team set up the project after the SETI project was wound down in the mid 1990s. They are monitoring and recording sporadic low-band signals from Pluto. - Dr Lewis explains how she came across a man called Michael Brander whilst on a dig in the Dolomite Mountains in 1999. He was barely coherent, badly frostbitten, so she dragged him into her car and drove him to a Doctor, a Signor Antonioni in the nearest town of Bolzano. He was muttering something about 'wanting to go home'...but she can't be sure if the words 'Schenk' or 'Yog-Sothoth Neblod Zin' were ever used... What is to be Done (I)? 'So this Merisi fellow was from Bolzano eh? And then these German chappies travelled through there...and, of course, Miss Lewis had her little encounter over there as well?' 'Do you think...' 'Certainly do old boy...I think it's Italy for us!' 'Huzzah!' 'Huzzah!' 'We're not going to Italy' 'Italian chicks baby, yeah, count me in!' 'We're not going to Italy!' 'I've always wanted to go to Rome...hey...I could go to the Vatican...is that nearby?' 'We're not going to Italy!!!! There is no reason for us to go to Italy!!!! Even if we did have to go to Italy...which we don't....and we're not...there is NO way that I am taking all four of you along...so we're NOT repeat NOT going to Italy' 'Five first-class tickets to Milan please.' What is to be Done (II)?? 'Three tickets to Portland please.' At the Mountains of Madness The team are met at Milan airport, by Leonardo, a minor E-branch employee who will be their driver. Three hours later, they arrive in the snowy mountain town of Bolzano. Enquiries reveal that Dottore Antonioni is sadly dead, but his son has taken over the practice. He will be delighted to help them in any way he can over the next few days. He also introduces them to his daughter, Artemisia. 'Helll....oh!!!!' 'Piacere, signor Travers!' 'Cor!' Antonioni doesn't know much about the case of Brander, beyond the fact that the area he was found is a holy shrine to the memory of St Keith. 'St Keith?' 'St Keet' 'St Keith?' 'No signor...St Keet!' 'St Keith????' 'No, no...like zees...St Keeeeett' 'Ah...St Keeettt?' 'Si signor' He explains that St Keith went into the mountains to exorcise the demons that lurked there. He returned in triumph, but had lost both his hands in the struggle. Leonardo drives the team to the Place of St Keith. Up a narrow, snowy path, they come to a widened, almost circular area. Rocks have a blasted, glassy sheen, as if exposed to incredibly high temperature. Little else is found, beyond a small fragment of light, polished metal, a little like aluminium. Antonioni explains that many of these have been found by local children...indeed, a particularly large fragment was in the possession of his father...it might almost be said it looked like a rifle of some kind....a long shiny, aluminium-like device... 'More beer George?' 'No thanks Basil, about time I was turning in I think' 'How about you Mr Fox?' 'No thanks. We've got a busy day tomorrow. You know, I might have wrong about this...it seems this little detour might be productive after all' 'More beer Sebastian?' 'Er...no thanks Baz...listen...could I ask you a favour?' 'Of course, dear boy' 'Basil?' 'Yes George?' 'Why did Mr Travers want to borrow your lockpicks?' 'Well, I didn't really like to ask...I expect he's just lost the keys to his suitcase.' Artemisia Antonioni sleeps uneasily, her dreams are curious, disturbing, and yet somewhat arousing ones of a strange man in a crushed blue velvet suit.... All of a sudden, she awakes, and sits bolt upright in bed...in the darkness, she can see the door of her room...the handle slowly turning... ...the door opens...slowly... ...the candle flickers and blows out... ...footsteps... 'Artemisia Baby!!!' 'Oh...signor Travers....!!!!' 'Cor!!!!' It's So Lonely in the State of Maine Scuzzi, Nathan and Liz arrive at Portland University, and meet with the three members of the Pharos Project : Kurt Hedland, a big bluff, beardy and beery type, who may possibly based on Kurt Russell in The Thing. Carl Vern, short, bald and cerebral. And Jessica Steen, an attractive woman in her early thirties. Dr Vern explains that shortly before the NASA Targeted Search was wound up in 1993, narrow-band signals were detected from Pluto, lasting up to several minutes. However, Vern, Hedland and Steen all lost their jobs as part of the congressional cost-cutting exercise. The Pharos Project was set up at Portland in the late 90s. Vern has spoken with Brander by email and telephone several times. He believes he's a harmless nut...'Chances of anything coming from Pluto are a million-to-one I said...'. The three believe that the signals are an interesting natural phenomenon worth investigation, but nothing more... Hedland suggests the six go out for a bite to eat and some brew. Over the next few hours :- - Hedland and Scuzzi eye each other up, before disappearing into the night together. - Nathan and Steen make polite conversation...Nathan leaves with her phone number. - Vern and Liz discuss the Pharos project, the number of signals received, when they received them etc. etc. It transpires that a large number of signals were received in the first quarter of 1999...and several signals have been received recently! However, all attempts at decoding them have been fruitless. - Liz mentions the 'Yog-Sothoth Neblod Zin' mantra, and suggests this could be a possible key, in a similar mantra to the Rosetta stone...(In a parallel universe, PhilJ smiles, scribbles furiously, and mentally thanks PhilM for resolving an unresolved plot point he hadn't been able to get around...) About Last Night... Sebastian awakes to a clear, crisp winter morning. Stretching like a contented cat, he makes his way to the window, and pulls wide the curtains. Sunlight streams in. Sebastian yawns, as his eyes take in the stunning vista of fresh snow gleaming in the sunshine, the magnificent Dolomites stretching into the distance. A small boy, playing in the snow, waves cheerily at him. A good-humoured smile stretches across his face as he waves back. An old woman scurries across and drags the small child away...Sebastian gives her a cheery wave...she crosses herself and looks away in disgust. Sebastian shrugs his shoulder in bemusement as he struggles into his underpants....strange woman... Opening the door with infinite care, he pads downstairs...the door in sight...with cat-like reflexes, he makes his way silently across the hall... 'Sebastian!' Oh arse. He turns to see the figure of Artemisia, beaming radiantly, hugging her father... Doctor Antonioni beams a broad grin... 'My Son!' <15 minutes later> 'You've got to what????' 'Er...get married MouldyMan...seems it's a point of honour...' 'I've got to submit the most outrageous expense claim I've ever put in, and you tell me you'd like to extend your sojourn here in order to get married?' 'Calm down MouldyBabes...I'll have a talk with him...long engagement and all that...tell him I'll return from the States some day when my business is concluded' 'I knew this would go wrong...tell you what, why don't we just head on back to Boston and shoot some more frigging musicians?' 'I think he's hyperventilating George' 'Steady old son...just breathe easily...there we go...Basil could I just borrow some of your...er...snuff...? There we go Mr Fox...just inhale deeply now...' 'Don't worry Mouldy...I'll just go and sort it out...trust me, in 10 minutes he'll have forgotten the whole thing...' 'Everything sorted then?' 'Er...not exactly...' 'Not...exactly?' 'Erm...no. Turns out tomorrow's the Feast Day of St Keith. He thinks it'll bring extra luck if we get married then...' 'Oh Christ! Father...' 'My son?' 'Can't you have a word with him? Hit him with some Catholic thing? Get him to change his mind?' 'You mean "...for verily it is spoken that a nuptial on the Feast Day of St Keith is an insult to heaven"?' 'Just the thing...wow, where's that from then?' 'Well...it's in the New Revised version...of the New Revised version...of the Gospel according to St Quentin the Slayer' The priest raises his eyes to the heavens...last time Lord...I promise... 'So he told you that the presence of a Holy Man from a far-off land...on the Feast Day of St Keith...will bring Even More Luck to the newlyweds...' 'Er...yes.' 'Wow. This guy's good.' 'Yep' 'It sounds very exciting though...apparently they parade the severed hands of St Keith through the streets...for good luck...' Mouldy sighs. 'Anyone else got any ideas?' Basil clears his throat... 'George...' 'Yes Basil' 'Did you happen to bring any empty flask...spherical retort sort of thingy with you...' 'I did old boy...stroke of luck what?' 'Stroke of luck indeed...tripod stand and some sort of clamp thingy...?' 'Of course!' 'Rubber hose?' 'Absolutely!' 'Bunsen Burner?' 'Never leave home without it...' 'Good man...now all I need is some bicarbonate of soda...this...' (at this point Basil extracts a small phial from his pocket), '...and a small donkey...' 'More Grappa!' 'Perhaps some of Mr Rathbone's...special Grappa...anyone????' 'Hah-Hah!' 'My Son!' 'Hah-Hah!' 'More Grappa!' 'Are you alright Father?' 'Oh he'll be fine, he's just not used to anything more than a quick gulp of the communion wine...' 'I should prop him in the recovery position though old boy...just in case...' 'More Grappa!' 'Hah-Hah!' 'My Son!' 'You not joining in the Hah-Hahs then Mouldy?' 'hah-hah....' 'That's the spirit!' 'More Grappa!' 'George?' 'Another one down old boy...' 'More Grappa!' 'More Grappa!' 'Thank Christ for that...I thought he'd never keel over...' 'Sebastian old fruit...do you think perhaps we ought to be...' 'Going...' 'Going...!' 'We're gone baby!' 'Give me a hand with George' 'Righty-ho. What about the Father?' 'Oh, leave him.' 'What?' 'Yeah, he'll be fine...' 'You sure?' 'Yeah...listen, when Signor wakes up to find that the man who has violated his daughter has abandoned her...on her wedding day...on the most sacred Feast Day of Saint Keith...what better man to be there than a priest?' 'OK...I'm convinced...' 'We're going...?' '...going...' 'Gone baby, yeah!!!!!' ............................................................................... Parte x ------- In a small hotel in the heart of the Dolomite Mountains :- BASTARDO!!!! *crash* BASTARDO!!! *smash* BASTARDO!!! *kerrrunch tinkle tinkle* "Er, yes my son...still, forgive and forget eh...?" BASTARDO!!! "Yes...quite..." BASTARDO!!! "Absolutely! And I'll make a special point of praying for his repentance. Look, I don't suppose you could call me a cab?" BASTARDO!!! "...it's just that I think I need to be heading back to the US...right now..." BASTARDO!!! "...although actually I suppose I could just pick one up in the street...?" BASTARDO!!! "...yep...ok...well nice to meet you Signor...uhhh...look on the bright side and all that..." "Why are you looking at me like that?" BASTARDO!!! BASTARDO!!! BASTARDO!!! "Er..my friend says he'd like to go to the airport please?" BASTARDO!!! "Sorry..I don't suppose you speak Latin...Greek perhaps...? Never mind...we go airoporto Milano...per favore...?" BASTARDO BASTARDO BASTARDO!!! "...very quickly...please...?" Meanwhile, in a luxurious first class cabin, on a flight from Milan to New York :- "Sebbers old boy.....?" "Yes?" MWARRRRRRRHEEEEEUUUUUURRGGHHHHHHHH "Do you think we really ought to have left him there?" MWARRRRRRRHEEEEEUUUUUURRGGHHHHHHHH "He's a priest Bazzers...when the going gets tough...the tough run like bastards and leave the clergy to sort things out..." MWARRRRRRRHEEEEEUUUUUURRGGHHHHHHHH "Er...stewardess...?" MWARRRRRRRHEEEEEUUUUUURRGGHHHHHHHH "Yes Mr Fox?" MWARRRRRRRHEEEEEUUUUUURRGGHHHHHHHH "Could we have another bag for Professor Arbuthnot please?" MWARRRRRRRHEEEEEUUUUUURRGGHHHHHHHH "And could I perhaps move to another seat as well?" Meanwhile, at Milan Malpensa airport :- BASTARDO!!! "My friend says he would like two tickets to New York please..." BASTARDO BASTARDO BASTARDO!!!! "Very good my son...now can I just leave you here for a moment...I need to make an urgent phone call..." BASTARDO! "Bless you my son..." Meanwhile, in a 4x4 headed north, along wintry and treachorous roads... "Nathan Macnamara speaking...hello Father...where are you? Still in Milan...on your own?...I'm sorry could you speak up, there seems to be someone shouting in the background...Mr Travers' has got married!!!??? He *hasn't* got married? And that's a problem why exactly? Father...Father...are you there Father...? Ah, there we are... ...a dreadful oath of blood vengeance...he is a Bastardo..you said...you have to kill him where he stands? Yes...yes... bastardo...no, you don't deserve such disrespect...yes...I'm sorry...bastardo, yes..., could you put the Father back on please...? Thank you...hello Father...yes, I think I understand your problem...it's just we're on our way to a place called Mechanic Falls to confront ultimate cosmic evil...call the Feds they'll arrange a chopper...no I DON'T think you should bring him along..." "Everything in order Professor?" "Just fine Agent Scuzzi..." "Good...just between you and me, and Dr Lewis here...I'm kinda glad we're rid of those clowns at the moment...just glad nobody's been killed yet...this is going to be a tightly-knit professional operation...no distractions...no excessive use of force...hey, is that a hitcher up ahead?" Meanwhile, at a helicopter pad, a short distance from JFK airport :- MWARRRR "Better now George?" "Much better old boy...still, perhaps next time...a little more of the anaesthetic...and a little less of the emetic maybe?" "Righty-ho!" "Oh and Basil?" "Yes old boy?" "That replacement for the Derringer that you bought..." "Yes?" "Did you ever find out why it cost $5000?" "No idea old scout...chap just said something about it being very easy to keep clean...ah Mr Fox..." "OK guys, I've checked things out...the Feds have arranged a military pilot for us...we should be at Mechanic Falls in a couple of hours. Thank God...the only other pilot was some old lush...you'd have to be insane to get in a chopper with him" Meanwhile, in a 4x4 headed north, along wintry and treacherous roads... "Gee thanks...My names Ralph...Ralph Nader...no, that's just a coincidence...I'm on my way to the Falls to see the lights...the UFOs... two women huh...? With only one man for protection...on a lonely country road...just pickin' up strangers...where you never know...just WHO you might be pickin'up .... MWAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!!!!" Meanwhile, at a helicopter pad, a short distance from JFK airport :- BASTARDO! "Ah...good morning...my name is Father Seamus o'Patrick...I believe you have some transportation arranged for me..." BASTARDO! "...and my friend..." "Shure thing padre......just lemme finish this......and we'll be ready to go..." Meanwhile, at the town of Caribou, some hours drive from Mechanic Falls "Sorry guys, it's bad news...we'll have to take a 4x4 from here...the pilot says it's too dangerous to carry on...only a complete lunatic or habitual drunk with psychological problems would even consider flying" Meanwhile, in a 4x4 headed north, along wintry and treacherous roads... "C'mon folks a jokes a joke...just let me outta these cuffs...!" "Shaddap and just be grateful you've still only got the one asshole...!" "I still think you should have let me use my tazer..." "It wouldn't have helped Dr Lewis...just trust me...it wouldn't have helped..." "C'mon folks..I'm sorry...it was a joke..." "D'you see anybody laughing 'Ralph'?" "I just...I just thought it might make me more interesting..." "Very good...you're officially interesting...now shut up..." "Did I just hear 'Hit me Baby One More Time'?" "Nathan here...uh huh...hmmmm...too bad...ok, I guess we'll be there before you...hahaha! Yeah right...lucky escape huh? See ya..." "That was Fox...seems the chopper pilot landed at Caribou...too dangerous to carry on...apparently only a complete drunk with a history of mental instability and psychological problems who only managed to hold on to his license thru some kind of bizarre administrational oversight would even consider making the flight..." "Lucky escape huh?" "Yep!" "These seats sure are uncomfortable..." "Sorry Dr Lewis...just do the best you can...now hold on...the roads are getting pretty rough...good thing the Bureau trained me to deal with adverse driving conditions..." Meanwhile, in a helicopter, somewhere between the town of Caribou and Mechanic Falls :- BASTARDO! ThwoppaThwoppaThwoppaThwoppaThwoppaThwoppa DAKKADOOM DAKKADOOOOOOOOOM DAKKADOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM "Er...excuse me sir...but the weather looks a little inclement...are you sure it's safe to carry on...?" "Safe as Fort Knox padre...hell...this ain't too bad...last time I flew thru a storm like this...hell everyone *walked* away from the chopper...not like Bedford Falls '74...told me it couldn't be done...told me I was crazy...siz months in traction I was......just need a little something.......keep the ol' hands steady...." ThwoppaThwoppaThwoppaThwoppaThwoppaThwoppa DAKKADOOM DAKKADOOOOOOOOOM DAKKADOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM Meanwhile, in a 4x4 headed north, along wintry and treacherous roads... "Somewhat hazardous driving conditions, eh, Mr Fox?" "Yep...fortunately the Bureau train us to deal with adverse driving conditions..." "I expect Ms Scuzzi, Professor Nathan and the large lady will already be there" "With a quick stiffener awaiting them at the bar no doubt!" "Oh behave baby..." "He means a restorative G&T Mr Travers..." "Hey...is that a 4x4 in a ditch up ahead?" Meanwhile, in a helicopter, somewhere between the town of Caribou and Mechanic Falls :- ThwoppaThwoppaThwoppaThwoppaThwoppaThwoppa DAKKADOOM DAKKADOOOOOOOOOM DAKKADOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM BASTARDO! "Hail Mary full of grace..." "Mechanic Falls huh...you know my daddy was at Mechanic Falls...during the Big One...mining engineer...managanese...for the A-Bomb..." "The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want..." "...Two hundred men went into Mechanic Falls...just 27 came out..." "....He leadeth me beside the still waters..." BASTARDO! "...two hundred men in the hills...these things came out of the mountain...so all the men would start a-hollerin' and a-screamin'..." BASTARDO! "...sometimes these things would go away...'n' sometimes they wouldn't..." "Yea, though I walk in the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil..." ".........'n' these things had cold eyes...dead eyes...like a doll's eyes..." BASTARDO! "...for thou art with me..." "...then the helicopters came in...pick up the survivors...my daddy said that's when he was the most scared..." BASTARDO! "...Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me..." "...Gennlemen...right ahead..Mechanic Falls...strap yersells in...'s gonna be ......a bumpy landing...keep yer eyes tight shut...I kinda think it helps..." BASTARDO! "Hail Mary full of grace...hail Mary full of grace...hail Mary...." ThwoppaThwoppaThwoppaThwoppaThwoppaThwoppa DAKKADOOM DAKKADOOOOOOOOOM DAKKADOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM Meanwhile, in a cramped 4x4 headed north, along wintry and treacherous roads... "Bit of good fortune us chaps arriving like this eh Ms Scuzzi..." "Shut Up!" "Sort of like the cavalry arriving in the proverbial nick eh?" "Shut Up!" "Or good old St George arriving to rescue the fair damsel..." "Shut Up Shut Up Shut Up!" "Could you move over a bit Dr Lewis?" "I AM moved over Mr Arbuthnot!!!" "Hey...Mechanic Falls dead ahead...!" Meanwhile, in The Ass and Hammers, the only public bar and hotel in the sleepy hamlet of Mechanic Falls :- "Ah, hello everyone...my name's Father Seamus o'Patrick..." BASTARDO!!! "...and this is my friend, Signor Antonioni..." BASTARDO! "...could I perhaps have a glass of water and a small brandy please..." BASTARDO! "...and a cup of coffee for my friend...?" BASTARDO! "...actually, better make that decaff..." "Are these people friends of yours Father...Father...Father where are you...?" A hand reaches up from behind the bar, and drags the barman to the floor. "In the name of God, keep still...!!!" The remainder of the party enter The Ass and Hammers. Signor Antonioni stares at Sebastian. Sebastian stares at Sr Antonioni. Sr Antonioni smashes a glass on the bar. The British Agent's lightning-quick mind goes into overdrive. He bounds towards Sr Antonioni, an expression of great joy on his face, and opens his arms in welcome... "Daddy! You've arrived at last!" BASTARDO! The two wrestle on the floor, in a frenzied melee of fists, glass, and irrevocably bloodstained Versace clothing. All stand as if amazed, save for the two eminent Victorians. Basil reaches for his bag... "Time for Old Painless methinks, George" "Are you quite sure, old boy? You've never used it before" "Just like the faithful old Derringer I'm sure...remember Limehouse...old 'Fingers' McGee...shot that dagger straight out of his hand..." "Quite so...quite so...later known as 'One-Fingered' McGee I believe." Sebastian lies prone, as the blood-crazed Italian towers over him, his arm primed for a killing blow, as he pauses only to lick Traver's blood from the edge of the broken glass... "Yooooor blood is sweet, dog...but it will taste sweeter from yoooor black heart....BASTARRRRDDDDOOOO!!!!" The glass begins it's deadly descent towards Sebastian's throat, protected only by the merest whisp of a designer Italian cravat... Basil's eyes narrow...the gun...the hand...the glass...the gun...the hand...the glass.... DAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKA BASTARDOOOOAAARRRGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.... "Was that you Basil?" "It seems it was George...damned thing seems to fire more than one at a time...I mean, I just pressed the bally trigger...and all this..." Basil waves the weapon nonchalantly in the air. Everyone in the bar drops to the floor. "Do you think it's supposed to do that?" "Couldn't say George...maybe it's stuck or something...?" "Could be...could be...now let's have a look at this chappy shall we...hmmmm...very nasty...barkeep...is there perhaps a cottage hospital or suchlike in the area...there is...? Splendid...any chance of a lift...still the chance I might be able to save this chappies hand...actually where *is* it...?" "Over here George" "Well what the hell's it doing over there?" "Don't know old son...I think it bounced off the ceiling and landed in this gentleman's beer..." "Well take it out at once...it's probably very unhygienic...oh and Basil...?" "Yes George" "As this was all your doing, I think the very least you can do is buy these good people a restorative stiffener." "Stiffeners all round barkeep!" "Good man. Must dash everyone...toodle pip..." The patrons of The Ass and Hammers slowly raise themselves off the floor. Agent Fox makes his way to the bar, broken glass and smashed furniture crunching under his feet. "Hi there...we'd like three twin rooms and two singles for the night please." "En-suite sir?" "That'll be fine" ............................................................................... The Massacre at Mechanic Falls: =============================== Parte 1 ------- So the team bed down for the night. The only hotel in Mechanic Falls offers 1 star accomodation but with plenty of rooms. The two Victorian gentlemen retire to a double room in good cheer, with Basil lovingly stroking the barrel of this new Desert Eagle 0.50 pistol... 'You little beauty...*kiss*..you showed that Itie eh?' purrs Basil as the pair slip into their spartan room and close the door. 'Rather..' replies George, 'that'll teach the greasy wop to mess with one of her Majesty's Secret Servicemen....fine fellows......tea dear boy?' 'With a touch of brandy and dare I say a little opium?' 'Splendid!' * * * Fox and Sebastian take another double room opposite to the the one where Basil & George are now busy cleaning and oiling their growing collection of powerful, yet legally held firearms. * * * Professor McNamara and Farder O'Patrick, bed down in yet another doubleroom, this one being adjacent to the one shared by the two Victorian gents. The professor carefully flicks the page on his weighty 'Military History of the 20th Century' tome and continues his studies of bloody and gruesome warfare in the age of reason. Fader O'Patrick is deep into his evening prayars kneeling next to the only other bed in this room. * * * ...and push it...and push it...and push...and twist it..and twist it.. * * * '...child soldiers eh?...youngsters killed in the name of some cause...will the madness never end...what drives these insane people!' laments the historian. 'Yes' agrees the Priest, rising slowly from the wooden floor, 'there is much evil in the world..so many forces that corrupt the young so early in life' continues the father as he moves to the wash basin to clean up. * * * Agent Scuzzi tossed and turned between the now sweat soaked sheets. Slumber had come quickly to the FBI special agent, perhaps in part to the frantic pace of the last few days....no 3 days of relaxation in the Dolomites for her, no...the relentless chase after Mr Brander & Mr Schenk her only burning desire... * * * ..and pump it..and pump it..and pump..and pump..and pump...work that ass ladies!.... * * * The professor shakes his head sorrowfully and puts down the book. 'I'd glad we live in more enlightened times now' states the Historian as he settles into sleep. 'Indeed' replies Farder O'Patrick as he dries his hands, 'it was only because the Roman Catholic Church took me in at such a tender age that my head isn't filled with such idealistic rubbish...and this is what allows me to follow the one true faith'..... * * * Agent Scuzzi's eyes began to flicker wildy..a bad dream?.. * * * 'Quite'. With that the priest flicks the lights and also settles into his bed for a good nights sleep. * * * ...and rest....the 8 Minute Tush vid finished and the auto rewind on the vcr kicked in. Miss Lewis wiped the sweat from her brow with a towel and moved unsteadily, painfully towards the bathroom.... * * * Agent Scuzzi eyes opened wide, a large gruesome claw had lifted the window across from her bed. She wanted to scream, she need to scream, but instead she lay there in a frozen silence....a grotesque thing entered her bedroom...violating her space with it's monstrous form.. .2 large claws..crablike...bat-like wings...horns...a mouth filled with daggar-like sharp teeth... * * * 'So?..you've never had a girlfriend Agent Fox?' * * * ...one of the creature's claws grasped her blanket and started to slowly sunder it in two...snip snip snip...like a pair of gigantic dissecting scissors. The blanket parted above her and the night's frigid air struck Agent Scuzzi's naked, supple body with the force of an icy blizzard.... * * * So..Mouldyman..does that mean your still a virgin? * * * The claw gently touched Agent Scuzzi's chin as she stared wide-eyed and breathless into the creature's shark-like black eyes...the monster's arm descended slowly...the claw caressing the white, unblemished skin between Scuzzi's immaculate breasts....the claw's touch, sharp yet gentle..... * * * So...Mr Fox...are you gay?...I mean, this is the new millenium man.. ..it's ok to be a "homosexual" you know.....Agentman...? * * * Agent Scuzzi's pulse quickened..raw adrenline pumped into her veins, her breath came in short violent pants...the caressing, tender claw continued to descend... * * * CCCCCCRRRRAAAAAAASSH!!!!!!!!!!!!! * * * Agent Scuzzi awoke from her nightmare with a jolt. She scanned the room quickly, her mind instantly alert. Glass shards lay scattered on her bedroom floor and a frigid cold wind blew in thru the remains of the bedroom window....a gruesome claw appeared.... * * * 'AAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!' * * * FBI Special Agent Fox's tears stopped immediately, he gathered his senses and moved away from Sebastian's brotherly hug. He quickly unholstered his pistol and flicked on his trusty flashlight in text book FBI fashion. * * * Parte 2 ------- Agent Scuzzi tore her gun out of its holster and aimed it in the direction of the creature. The gun felt slippery in her sweaty palm as she pulled the trigger frantically... BANG!..BANG!..BANG!...BANG!... The roar from the gun deafened the female agent, her arm shuddered as the bullets exploded out from the end of the gun barrel, an empty glass on her bedside dresser shattered from the sonic assault... ...small fountains of green blood erupt from the scaly skin of the monster as it's mis-shapen mouth brings forth an unhuman scream... * * * The sound of gunfire and a unearthly schreech stops the tinkering of the 2 Victorian gentlemen (I leave it to Gray & Rich to decide/explain what this statement *really* means). A wide-eyed Basil, eyebrows raised and mouth open in a big 'O' looks into an almost mirror-like expression on the face of George Artbuthnot. Basil makes the 'sign' and the two surviving sons of the once proud British Empire rise purposefully to their feet. * * * Gulp!...splutter!...cough! cough! cough! The head of Ms Lewis re-surfaces above the bath water as she coughs loudly...The female scholar gulps in air in great mouthfuls and climbed unsteadily out of the now raging bath. Water splashed mightily onto the bathroom floor, as the Boston historian stands dripping, coughing, trying desparately to expel the liquid that she'd inadvertently swallowed during the shock caused from the initial thunderous assault of gunfire. Her head whips around as the glass in her bedroom window shatters. * * * ...Are you sure Father?...Mother O'Patrick always told me that sodomy was illegal in the eyes of God....*mmmmggff*..what?... what's going on?, exclaimed Farder O'Patrick as he is roused from his nightly slumber.. 'Wake Up Father!' urged Professor McNamara, 'you were talking in your sleep...wake up...there is sound of gunfire in the hotel!' * * * CHUNK! CHUNK! KER-CHUCK! KER-CHUCK! *squeaky door sound* * * * 'Click...' Agent Scuzzi's gun clicked empty. A few seconds went by as she watched the wispy smoke issue from the end of the hot gun barrel. The FBI agent slipped out slowly from between the bed sheets and then peered carefully around the side of the bed to see what remained of the foul creature... ..the monstrous form lay prone against the wooden floor, rivers of green liquid poured from numerous holes on its scaly hide... ...the monster twitched!.. Agent Scuzzi gave a yelp! and dashed out of her room, grabbing her FBI issused Flak vest and a spare clip as she went.. She scampered down the stairs to the 2nd floor, quickly donning the vest and popping in the new clip in the process. She arrived in the corridor of the 2nd floor just in time to hear the sound of a glass window shattering at its far end... * * * Agent Fox deftly open the door to his room as Sebastian arrived, gun in hand, by his side. Before Agent Fox could peer out he noticed a large shadow fall against the door...the FBI agent immediately shut it and then took up a firing stance. Seb did likewise, albeit in a more photogenic & artistic fashion. * * * Basil strode out of his room, the chrome clad Desert Eagle 0.50 pistol acting as his deadly vanguard. With a twitch of his bushy moustache, the Victorian detective stood and surveyed the scene..All the other doors on this floor were still closed...Agent Scuzzi stood in the corridor by the stairs dressed only in a blue vest and... GOOD GOD! The moustache adorning the face of Basil Rathbone gave several violent twitches...Agent Fox's secretary appeared not to be wearing any undergarments at all...the colour rose in Basil's cheeks and his opium laden blood began to boil...... *twitch* *twitch* .....da-dom..da-dom..Da-dom...DA-dom..DA-DOM...! A shattering of glass and the sound of a UZI 9 millimetre sub-machine gun bought the Victorian back to his senses....a claw appeared thru the window frame at the far end of the corridor..thus explaining the sound of shattering glass, the sound of automatic fire came from inside Ms Lewis's room...and the strange chanting from downstairs...wait..the Chanting? Yog-Sothoth Neblod Zin! Yog-Sothoth Neblod ZIN! Yog-Sothoth NEBLOD ZIN! Basil heard a squeak on the stairs that lead from the bar below.... * * * Ms Lewis smoothly changed the clip on her Boston University issued 9mm Uzi with grenade launcher attachment..there was something wrong with the gun...she'd emptied an entire clip at the foul creature whom had recently entered through the remains of her bedroom window.. ...but the creature looked unscathed...what foul evil was this? Yog-SothOTH NEBLOD ZIN! She backed away as the monster lunged in her direction, her hand frantically turning the handle on her bedroom door and then wrenching the door wide open... Yog-SOTHOTH NEBLOD ZIN! ..she backed out of the room and into the corridor...all the while spraying the creature with short controlled bursts from the Uzi... * * * The gaunt figure of Basil Rathbone reached the landing where the stairs from the bar terminated. The chanting from below had become louder and increased in urgency... YOG-SOTHOTH NEBLOD ZIN! YOG-SOTHOTH NEBLOD ZIN! A man appeared on the foot of the stairs, he moved like an automaton, his legs carrying him slowly yet assuredly up each carpeted step.... Basil looked into his eyes, he looked into those pale white eyes and watched the rabid froth dribble from the zombie's twisted mouth...all the while the chanting... YOG-SOTHOTH NEBLOD ZIN! YOG-SOTHOTH NEBLOD ZIN! Basil raised his chrome gun...a shadow fell across the face of the ascending man... Cue: Slow motion ON Basil's eyes, pupils opening wide...the slide on the Desert Eagle shuddering backwards..Basil's arm shaking....the empty bullet casing ejecting from the exposed breech...Basil's lips forming a smile....the metal jacket glittering in the corridor light... .saliva on Basil's teeth...the empty shell tumbling rotating falling...a hint of tongue...the Eagle's mighty bolt returning to the firing position...the spent cartridge bouncing on the wooden floor.....Basil's finger coiling around the trigger once more...the shiny tube shell gradually lying still on the corridor floor.... Cue: Slow motion OFF The man's head explodes like a ripe melon, gouts of blood & gore strike each wall with a sickening sound, the beheaded body teeters and then falls backwards. It tumbles down to the base of the stairs and lies there like a broken mannequin... ..and this was only the beginning... * * * Parte 3 ------- Farder O'Patrick & Professor McNamara listen to the thunderous gunfire for a few moments before bursting into action. Both men move to their respective travel bags and bring forth the 'tools of the CoC trade'... The priest stood and then turned to face the Historian. He pulled the velcro straps on his cassock, the burlap material fell away to reveal the 'Holy Daggers of Saint Quentin the Slayer' arrayed magnificently on a leather bandolier belt... 'Ready' uttered the Priest thru gritted teeth. KER-CHUCK! Prof McNamara held his Boston University issued FRANCHI SPAS 12 combat assault shotgun tightly in both hands...the academic looked grimly at the bladed priest and whispered... 'I like to keep this handy....for close encounters...' * * * Basil's eye looked down the sight of his weapon of death and straight into the pale misty eyes of another member of the Mechanic Falls walking dead.... ...the gun shuddered in his hand before he could even remember pulling the trigger...wait...did I hear it moan?...it was then that Basil discovered he couldn't hear anything...his gruesome work..played out in an eerie silence.... ...the victim's head exploded, bits of skull and gore splattered the stair walls once more, the remains of the victim's neck spraying blood like a macabre fountain...the body falling...silently...and then another pair of pale white eyes appeared in Basil's gun sight.... * * * Agent Fox decided that no one was going to enter this room and from the torrent of automatic fire from beyond the door, it seemed like that's where all the action was taking place. The FBI Agent and the E Branch Operative return to stand beside the door once more...Agent Fox opens it a tad and sees the bathrobed, generous (sorry PhilM) figure of Ms Lewis backing her way down the corridor. In her hands a bucking, vibrating sub-machine gun spitting fire in all directions...the wooden door frame beside Agent Fox's head splinters suddenly as a stray bullet finds home.... 'JESUS FECKING CHRIST!' shouts Mouldy rubbing his ear furiously. 'WILL YOU PLEASE DESIST MADAM!' continued the FBI agent. The staccato drone stopped (you like using 'staccato' don't you Sukh? ..*shrug*..as if I know what it means fules!), Agent Fox, still nursing his pin cushion ear steps out into the corridor and sends a sneering look in Ms Lewis direction...for which she has the good grace to looked suitably embarassed... 'Thank you' states Fox sarcastically. 'Sorry' comes back her timid reply. 'And you're shooting at what exactly?' continued Mr Fox. 'RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!' 'I see' * * * Nathan the 'Shotgun' and Seamus the 'Knife' emerge into the now busy 2nd floor corridor. Nathan looks down at the gibbering, quivering form of Professor George Arbuthnot... Nathan looks at Farder O'Patrick...'Failed SAN check' he states. 'Yeah..big time' agrees the Priest. Then the Professor's eardrums nearly explode as Basil Rathbone launches another Point Five Calibre slug into unprotected human flesh somewhere on the stairway... Slinging his shotgun over his shoulder and then covering his ears, the Historian makes his way towards Basil to see what he's shooting at... YOG-SOTHOTH NEBLOD ZIN! YOG-SOTHOTH NEBLOD ZIN! Farder O'Patrick heads in the opposite direction and watches Agent Fox coolly turn and then pump 4 slugs into a winged demon from 2 hand pistols.. Cool. A female scream echos down the corridor..alas...another demon has Agent Scuzzi in its clutches...and she's not even wearing any underwear! 8-) The Farder immediately sees where his services are most urgently required.. .he strides purposely past Ms Lewis, Agent Fox and Sebastian Travers, his eyes only have room for the lustre white skin of the ensnared FBI agent.. ...the priest smoothly unsheaths 2 sharp, stiletto blades from his custom built bandolier and then gradually, ever so gradually, breaks into a sprint.. ..his wrathful charge captured perfectly..in slow motion.... * * * SPLOGG! SPLOOOOOOGHHHH! SPRAY! TUMBLE! NASTY BONE CRUNCHING SOUNDS! Another decapitated corpse joins the Mechanic Falls "Don't Bring a Head" party at the foot of the bloody stairs....Gawd thinks Basil...this is even better than that time at Emboto Gorge!..these guys are not even carrying any sharp pieces of mango! The Victorian gent coolly replaces his spent Desert Eagle 15 ROUND clip and quickly slaps in another.... 'Good job I bought 10 spare ones eh?...' he shouts to Prof McNamara who appears at his side, the historian's hands clasped firmly to the sides of his head. Nathan McNamara gingerly peers down the bloody flight of stairs and then turns away...his expression says it all... YOG-SOTHOTH NEBLOD ZIN! 'Fancy some spaghetti Nathan old Boy?' laughs Basil, as slow rivulets of blood make there way down the sides of his face from his ear regions. The Military Historian gags and starts to take deep breaths.. YOG-SOTHOTH NEBLOD ZIN! With a cheerful laugh Basil looks away from the Professor to continue his bloody vigil, he spies another shadow down by the foot of the stairs... ..this one seems strangely distorted...for a moment his mind sees the image of PhilJ the CoC DM pushing and urging a little girl in a frilly white dress to go up the stairs...Basil shakes the sweat from his eyes and looks again... YOG-SOTHOTH NEBLOD ZIN! A little girl in a frilly Persil white dress is slowly ascending the stairs of death...Basil hesitates for a moment and then stares into her milky white eyes...possessed eyes..Nathan looks down at the little girl and then back at Basil....the Victorian sets his jaw and brings the chrome gun down... YOG-SOTHOTH NEBLOD ZIN! ..a shadow falls across the face of the little girl in the frilly white dress... YOG-SOTHOTH NEBLOD ZIN! Nathan looks at Basil, then at the chrome gun and then clasps his hands firmly against his ears.. YOG-SOTHOTH NEBLOD ZIN! The barrel of the Desert Eagle begins to tremble ever so slightly...the little girl in the frilly white dress continues his slow journey up the red stairway... YOG-SOTHOTH NEBLOD ZIN! Nathan looks down at the girl and back at Basil...sweat is dripping from the brow of the Victorian...he continuously aims the gun at the little girl and then lowers it...the man is fighting a battle within himself...what foul evil is this! YOG-SOTHOTH NEBLOD ZIN! The little girl in the frilly white dress has almost reached the landing, her little arms arc forward and then lunge for the Victorian... YOG-SOTHOTH NEBLOD ZIN! Nathan watchs the tense body of Basil Rathbone relax suddenly and hears the detective utter a single, pleading word... 'Lucy'.. YOG-SOTHOTH NEBLOD ZIN! Nathan McNamara breaks the spell, slinging his shotgun once more the University professor (you taking notes Kell?) launches himself at the little girl in the frilly white dress...he contacts with her frail little body with a thud..his footing gives on the blood saturated stair carpeting and the pair tumble down to the bottom in a deadly embrace... YOG-SOTHOTH NEBLOD ZIN! 'CRACK!' YOG-SOTHOTH NEBLOD ZIN! Nathan McNamara shakes his head and looks up into the faces of 20 chanting humans ...20 pairs of pale white eyes stare in his direction ...the front row of figures then slowwly begin to move towards him...arms outstretched... YOG-SOTHOTH NEBLOD ZIN! The professor quickly gets up and then notices the body of the little girl in the frilly white dress lying motionless beneath him... cue: SLOW MOTION ON Hard close up on the little girl's eyes as the milky white color slowly disspates to reveal the sapphire blue beneath....the image of the girl's face begins to pan out and rotate slowly...it begins centred on the little girl's eyes...crystal blue eyes... angelic innocent face...the mouth in a gentle smile...the golden hair...the blue ribbon...the head at a strange 180 degree angle to the rest of her little body...blood beginning to trinkle from the sides of the girl's mouth...the little body lying in the stillness of death....the frilly white dress... cue: SLOW MOTION OFF Nathan McNamara cannot believe his eyes, his heads whips up and he screams a torturous 'NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!' A wail echoes through the sleepy town of Mechanic Falls.... YOG-SOTHOTH NEBLOD ZIN! * * * Parte 4 ------- Moudly Fox moves to the door of Ms Lewis's room (in the cool & professional way that all FBI agents can). He peers around the open doorway and into the bullet ridden bedroom... ...the creature lies there, bleeding, it's hideous form shuddering and it unearthly breathing coming in laborious wheezy noises... Agent Fox, the good man he is (or was? right readers 8-)) points his Glock 17 autopistol at the foul creature and decides to end it's misery and....perhaps....even improve his 'Shoot Pistol' skill a little... The FBI operative hesitates as Sebastian Travers and Ms Lewis gather just behind him...a nefarious thought enters the normally cool and professional FBI agent... '..this is hardly challenging is it?...this is the kinda thing that PhilM would do with relish..I thought you were the good man?....' Holding off Ms Lewis, Agent Fox raises his gun once more and then closes his eyes... [In another dimension] PhilJ: That'll half your Shoot skill...so make it 45% to hit.... Moudly lowers his gun once more..there are great groans from behind him as Sebastian and Ms Lewis voice their obvious disappointment.. Agent Fox turns around to stare at the troublesome duo, the pair back off a bit and look sheepish....Moudly then suddenly bends over and aims his pistol thru his legs and then closes his eyes.... [In another dimesion] PhilJ: ????...ok make it 30% to hit.... Sebastian Travers and Ms Lewis look at each other strangely and then look back at the jumping, bent over, shoot thru the legs & eyes closed figure of Agent Fox as his gun finally unleashes 3 bullets.... BANG!...THUD..expire...BANG!...ricochet sound...JAM...arse... * * * Meanwhile...further along the 2nd Floor Corridor of infinite length, the charging Farder Seamus O'Patrick has developed a good head of wrathful steam...the creature in his sights is now trying to leave the building via the broken window..with the struggling form of Agent Scuzzi fighting like a wildcat to escape it's evil clutches... The Father nears the would-be abducter and the would-be abductee, the creature finally acknowledges the priest's presence and lets out a beastly screech...it pins the female agent in one of it's mighty arms and then points a strange stick shaped object in Seamus's direction... cue: SLOW MOTION ON... Seamus mouth uttering "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!" but the sound distorted to match the slowed picture...so it sounds strangely bestial... ...the arm of the creature coming up, the strange stick pointing directly at the onrushing priest... ...The heroic priest leaving the corridor floor in an impressive, cassock a'twirling wrathful leap.... ..a violent arc of lightning leaving the tip of the strange stick and burning a black line on the spot recently vacated by the now airborne father... ..Seamus sailing through the air..daggers primed to strike...the sound distortion increasing as priestly wrath matches bestial screech... ...the creature dropping the strange stick and positioning the trapped figure of Agent Scuzzi in front of him... ...Agent Scuzzi's pleading face...the Father's eyebrows rising, the wrathful priestly wail dropping down to a more regretful tempo.... ...the deadly daggers of Saint Quentin the Slayer strike the blue protective kevlar vest of the female FBI agent...and daggers bite home betwixt the white, umblemished skin of Agent Scuzzi's immaculate breasts... ...Agent Scuzzi's head whipping up, her mouth opening wide to unleash a high pitched scream.. ...Farder O'Patrick howling 'NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!' ...the faces of Sebastian Travers and Ms Lewis winching... ...the creature's claw batting the Priest aside like an troublesome fly.. cue: SLOW MOTION OFF Seamus O'Patrick lands face down on the bloody corridor floor with a mighty thud... The Priest is clearly stunned and dazed as he lifts his head only to watch the creature crawl out of the window and then fly off into the night carrying the kicking & screaming form of Agent Scuzzi with it.... * * * Nathan stares down in anguish at the gruesome hand that fate has dealt him...his mind a seething whirlpool of painful emotions.. YOG-SOTHOTH NEBLOD ZIN! THACK! The historian is suddenly hit from behind and falls to floor...he shakes his head and turns to see a zombie carrying a raised chair towering over him... YOG-SOTHOTH NEBLOD ZIN! ..Nathan desperately tries to unsling his shotgun but too late..the zombie's arms are already coming down to smash the chair into his guilt ridden face....he stares helplessly into it's pale white eyes... YOG-SOTHOTH NEBLOD ZIN! A shadow falls across the face of the hapless Nathan McNamara..... BANG! His vision blurs to red and his mouth registers a strange liquidy taste... YOG-SOTHOTH NEBLOD ZIN! ..shaking his head to clear his eyes, the military scholar looks up into the headless corpse spraying blood above him...the dead body falls away... ..the Historian looks to the stairway and watches the sombre black dressed figure of Basil Rathbone make its way slowly down the blood stained staircase. In his sure hands are grasped two deadly pistols, and these fire constantly into the surrounding zombie throng... BOOM!....DAKA! DAKA! DAKA! YOG-SOTHOTH NEBLOD ZIN! Nathan stares down at this own body, he stares down at the red colour covering his arms and chest and realises what the strange liquidy taste is....blood...the headless man's blood... YOG-SOTHOTH NEBLOD ZIN! The Boston University academic is faced with a situation that would normally unhinge any ordinary man....but Nathan 'Child-Killer' McNamara is no ordinary man...he rises slowly to his blood-soaked feet and coolly unslings his shotgun... YOG-SOTHOTH NEBLOD ZIN! DOOOOOM!!!...KER-CHUCK...DOOOOOM!!!...KER-CHUCK...DOOOOOM!!!..KER-CHUCK... YOG-SOTHOTH NEBLOD zin! BOOM!....DAKA! DAKA! DAKA! YOG-SOTHOTH neblod zin! DOOOOOM!!!...KER-CHUCK...DOOOOOM!!!...KER-CHUCK...DOOOOOM!!!..KER-CHUCK... YOG-sothoth neblod zin! During this unpresented blood letting (sorry guys but no slow motion here...this would never get pass the censor), Nathan & Basil notice that Ralph Nader, the hitcher that Agent Scuzzi gave a lift too and then subsequently oppressed with extreme prejudice, is attacking the Mechanic Falls Possessed with a chair...he seems to be trying to knock them unconscious instead of killing them... DOOOOOM!!!...KER-CHUCK...DOOOOOM!!!...KER-CHUCK...DOOOOOM!!!..KER-CHUCK... yog-sothoth neblod zin! BOOM!....DAKA! DAKA! DAKA! yog..... "ROOOOOOAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRR", another winged demon bursts into the bar and sinks deadly claws into the back of Ralph Nader... DOOOOOM!!!...KER-CHUCK...DOOOOOM!!!...KER-CHUCK...DOOOOOM!!!..KER-CHUCK... BOOM!....DAKA! DAKA! DAKA! The winged creature sails out of the only unbroken window left in the bar and lands, torn and shattered, in the freshly fallen snow... ..the lifeless figure of Ralph 'Interesting' Nader falls to the wooden floor to take his place with the Mechanic Falls dead... The sound of gunfire ends.... This is followed by a short period of uneasy SILENCE.... The air begins to clear.......two metal thuds and KER-CHUCK sounds signal that once again Basil Rathbone has reloaded his weapons...Nathan McNamara stands covered from head to foot in blood and gore ...sounds of whimpering begin in various parts of blood drenched bar.. 'Lets see if any of them are still alive' issues Dr George Authbutnot from the foot of the stairs. The doctor obviously recovered from his recent bout of whimpering, quivering, I-want-my-mommy, sanity failure sets to work finding life within this field of death... * * * Parte 5 ------- Farder O'Patrick fingers the back of his mouth and feels the loose tooth..his digit returns covered in blood. He rises to his hands and knees with an effort, dazed from the vicious backhanded slap from the demon... ..it is then he hears the train...wait train? CLIK..CLAK..CLIK..CLAK..CLIKCLAK.CLIKCLAK.CLIKCLAKCLIKCLAKCLIK.... The sound gets louder and louder...and just when the dear priest is beginning to question his own faculties a hard cuban heel arrives on the small of this back, sending him crashing back onto the hard wooden floor. * * * Sebastian Travers flys out of the hotel corridor window in a impressive fashion using the kneeling Farder O'Patrick as a human spring board. The red crushed velvet suit looks magnificent against the bright moonlit snowy background... The E Branch agent raises his trusty WALTHER PPK while still airborne and takes aim at the retreating back of the winged creature...the last near futile throw of the dice to save Agent Scuzzi.... "OOOOOOOOOOOOOFFFFFFFFFFFFFHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" The magnificent red crushed velvet suited figure strikes a series of telephone cables and then bounces off in true cartoon fashion... BBBOOOOOOOINNNNNNNNNNNNNG! "ARRRHHH..AH..ARRHHHH..AH..ARRHHHH..AH...." The spinning figure of Sebastian Travers arcs towards the snow covered ground... [In another Dimension] 'Phew! Lucky Eh?' utters Sukh...'that I'm only on the 1st floor?' PhilJ the DM, in his frail, drunken dotage...agrees....8-) Sukh rolls fall damage...1D6..PAH!....for a 1 Point of Damage..HAH! cue: PhilM passing a note to the DM... 'Wait a moment Mr Atwal...I do believe that your on the second floor of the hotel' states the newly invigorated Mr Jones, 'after receiving some new information about this matter...' Sukh looks at PhilM and stares at him with venomous intent...after a few moments Sukh then scribbles something on his character sheet... Another 1D6 is rolled for fall damage...resulting in another 1 point of damage...HAH HAH! Sukh laughs in PhilM's direction...who now holds his head in his hands and begins to sob gently.... [End Dimensional Segment] The manly figure of Sebastian Travers rights himself just a few feet from the rapidly approaching ground and lands incredulously on the soles of his Italian shoes... He bounces slightly but then stands there smiling ..'Alright baby..' His self adulation is cut short by the sound of a 'THUD' from behind him and then followed by a blur of brown burlap material as Farder O'Patrick rushes past him..... 'Quick Sebastian....Lets get the CHOPPER up...' shouts the sprinting priest. 'Oh Behave Padre!'...replies Agent Travers with a sly smile... 'The Helicopter! you sex crazed fule..the HELICOPTER! roars Seamus, nearing the vehicle...'we can still catch that Spawn of Satan!' continues the galloping minister.... Sebastian digests this information and then rushes after Farder O'Patrick. * * * Doctor George Arbuthnot kneels by a man missing an arm and provides what succor Victorian era medicine can provide... ..the man struggles violently in his grasp and it is only thru the help of Nathan McNamara that allows the docter to continue with his ministrations... 'Are there any others alive Basil?' questions George during a respite in his patient's violent fits.. He hears the iron shod boots of Basil Rathbone walk around the wrecked bar.... 'Found one...' states Basil... 'Good...' begins Dr Arbuthnot..'could you..' BANG! tink..tink...tink... 'Pretending to be dead won't help you demon scum!' bellows the voice of Basil Rathbone... 'Basil?' 'Yes George?' 'I want you to find survivors in order...that we can question them..' 'By God...you're right...sorry...I'll see if I can find another' The Victorian doctor's current patient awakens once more and again his body spasms uncontrollably.. 'Hold him down Nathan..hold him down...it will be some time before the medicine kicks in...' 'My daughter...cries the man suddenly..'has anyone seen my beloved Lucilla?...is the joy of my life still alive?...' George Arbuthnot looks at Nathan and the historian returns the stare...George nods towards the stairs and Nathan understands the gesture. The Historian rises to his feet, he grabs a tablecloth and then moves to the staircase... 'George?' 'Yes Basil?' 'I found another one and he's still breathing...funny really...you would think that missing a lung would have caused real problems....' 'Leave him to me, I'll be over there in a second' 'Right you are..' BANG! tink...tink...tink.... Silence 'Basil?' 'Yes George?' 'What did I tell you about questioning survivors?' 'Sorry George old man, but the gun just went off...it's got a mind of its own...' 'I see' 'Sorry' * * * Farder O'Patrick reaches the flying machine and gets in. The priest begins pressing buttons and flicking switches in a frantic, random fashion...with various results... Cue: Helicopter fog lights going on and off, obligatory single wipe of the windscreen wiper blades... As Sebastian Travers reaches the Helicopter, there is a miraculous whine from the engine and the rotors begins to slowly rotate... 'YES! YES! YES!' roars the priest...'God is on our side!..now... ...can you fly Mr Travers? asks the exultant priest... cue: Sukh looking at his character sheet and down at the figure of 01% next to 'FLY'.... 'Are you kidding baby?' replies Agent Travers, 'I put the "FL" into FLying baby yeah!.....' and with that Sebastian grabs the control stick and presses a button... THWANG! THUNK! GRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! cue: the whine from the helicopter's engine dying immediately, the rotors ceasing in their rotation and all the cockpit lights go out.... Silence... 'Seb?' 'Yes Farder?' 'What did you just press?' Sebastian peers closely at the button...'it reads EMERGENCY ENGINE SHUT DOWN AND LOCK OUT Farder...oh wait there's something coming up on the display...em...PLEASE ENTER LOCK OUT PIN CODE....???' finishes the premier E Branch Operative... Silence... 'Um...Sorry' 'God is not on our side as he hates idiots also...' laments Farder O'Patrick. * * * Unable to unjam one of his Glock 17 pistols, Agent Fox removes the clip from the weapon and rushes down to the end of the 2nd floor corridor to assess the situation.. Reaching the broken window frame and then quickly scanning the scene...the trained FBI quickly assesses the situation to be very bad.... He stares at the rapidly dwindling figure of the winged demon carrying the still struggling, near naked figure of Agent Scuzzi... 'Damn' issues Agent Fox, 'it's way out of range of my pistol now'.. 'But Agent Fox', begins Ms Lewis, 'Nathan & myself bought some Hunting Rifles when we hired our 4x4' she finishes. Agent Fox gives the female scholar a quick nod and the pair run down to the remains of Ms Lewis's bedroom. Ms Lewis quickly seaches her belongings and then throws a Class A Hunting rifle to the FBI Agent.. Moudly Fox expertly catches the rifle and then loads a round into the bolt action weapon. He then jogs back down the corridor to stand at the broken window once more... ...a airborne scream echos through the wintery night.... Agent Fox brings up the rifle and looks through the telescopic sight...the cross hairs focus in on the retreating form of the winged beast...the pale body of Agent Scuzzi now hanging limp in its hideous claws... cue: Ennio Morricone's Untouchables music..the piece where Eliott Ness is deciding whether to shoot the man in the white suit... 'TA TA DUM...TA DUM....TA TA DUM...TA DUM...' cue: Slow motion ON ..A long zooming shot of the silhouetted figure of Agent Fox holding a rifle, standing at the broken window... 'TA TA DUM...TA DUM....TA TA DUM...TA DUM...' [ Inside Agent Fox's head: "You must try and save Agent Scuzzi". ] ..finger tightening on trigger... ..Seb Travers pointing at the figure of Agent Fox standing at the 2nd floor window.... 'TA TA DUM...TA DUM....TA TA DUM...TA DUM...' ..The beast in the cross hairs... [ Inside Agent Fox's head: "You could kill Agent Scuzzi by accident" ] ..finger loosening on trigger... 'TA TA DUM...TA DUM....TA TA DUM...TA DUM...' ..A long zooming in shot of the silhouetted figure of Agent Fox holding a rifle, standing at the broken window... ..the sweat dripping off Moudly Fox's brow.... 'TA TA DUM...TA DUM....TA TA DUM...TA DUM...' [ Inside Agent Fox's head: "Even if you hit the creature, the fall will kill both of them!" ] ..finger loosening on trigger... ...Father O'Patrick looking at the figure of Agent Fox in the window... 'TA TA DUM...TA DUM....TA TA DUM...TA DUM...' ..The beast in the cross hairs... [ Inside Agent Fox's head: "You got to at least TRY and save her!". ] ..finger tightening on trigger... 'TA TA DUM...TA DUM....TA TA DUM...TA DUM...' ...A long zooming in shot of the silhouetted figure of Agent Fox holding a rifle, standing at the broken window... [ Inside Agent Fox's head: "But...she'll die either way!...." ] ..finger loosening on trigger... ..the sweat dripping off Moudly Fox's brow.... 'TA TA DUM...TA DUM....TA TA DUM...TA DUM...' ...Ms Lewis eyes looking at Agent Fox and then at the beast in the distance.... ..The beast in the cross hairs... [ Inside Agent Fox's head: "Better you kill her...than the beast!." ] ..finger tightening on trigger... ..the sweat dripping off Moudly Fox's brow.... 'TA TA DUM...TA DUM....TA TA DUM...TA DUM...' ...A long zooming in shot of the silhouetted figure of Agent Fox holding a rifle, standing at the broken window... ...the faces of Sebastian and Seamus looking up at the figure of Agent Fox in the window... [ Inside Agent Fox's head: 'Yeah..and it's only Rod's character...sheet he was the one who poo-pooed Escape from New York!...' ] ..finger tightening on trigger... ..The beast in the cross hairs... ..the sweat dripping off Moudly Fox's brow.... 'TA TA DUM...TA DUM....TA TA DUM...TA DUM...' ...A long zooming in shot of the silhouetted figure of Agent Fox holding a rifle, standing at the broken window... cue: Slow motion OFF Agent Fox lowers the rifle and unloads it...the winged beast disappears into the night..a final screech breaks the eerie night's silence as it echos around the sleepy town of Mechanic Falls... * * * ............................................................................... Agent Scuzzi opened her eyes. Must have passed out from the cold, she thought. She became aware of someone shouting. 'Fools! Imbeciles! Cretins! You brought the wrong one!!! YOU BROUGHT THE WRONG ONE!!!!' Ah. She tried to move her limbs, unsucessfully. Raising her head slightly, she became aware that she was manacled to a table, metallic straps covering what can only be described as her naughty bits. Something fluttered away into the darkness. At the side of the table stood a human figure, gaunt and unshaven. 'Michael Brander I presume?' He dragged unsteadily on a cigarette, and shrugged. 'The very same. I'm sorry about this Agent Scuzzi...it wasn't supposed to be this way...I still find it difficult to communicate with them...and we all look the same to them I suppose...' Scuzzi opened her mouth to speak, but Brander gave a weary wave of his hand and continued :- 'I was too weak you see...mentally...that's why they sent me back. But then I promised them Schenk' 'Schenk?' 'He's strong you see...useful to them...and he also had information they could use. So we have a deal. I'm afraid you'll have to be a part of that now as well' 'You sure you're up to it Michael...you look you me like you can barely stand.' 'It won't be long now. Just a few more hours.' He glanced upwards. 'It'll be day soon Agent Scuzzi...ASCENSION DAY!!!' ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Cue the sound of Beethoven's Pastoral as the weak winter light breaks upon the little town of Mechanic Falls. The fresh fall of overnight snow gently cloaks the streets like a baby's blanket; peaceful, white and unblemished. Except that is for the environs of the hotel, with its halo of blood, glass, wood, heavy calibre shell cases and damaged 4x4s. The panorama is pure Ansel Adams, the hotel is pure grisly Adams. Inside the helicopter parked beside the hotel two figures watch the rising sun. They sigh, climb out and trudge back towards the hotel. In the bar a smiling, moustachioed man licks a finger and touches it gingerly against the imposing barrel of his hand gun. It hisses. His Victorian compatriot and a blood stained academic stand over the body of a young girl, her serene form marred only by the unnatural angle of her head. "You're sure then?" asks the bloody man. "Yes old chap." "Definitely?" "Most definitely." "You don't think it's worth me asking for a second opinion then?" "I'm fairly certain." "Maybe she's got a double jointed neck." "I'm afraid it would be an anatomical anomaly never previously encountered in medical history to allow a neck to be at that angle old boy." "Ah. It could be a deep coma." "Unlikely." "But you could be wrong?" "I'm a little behind the times I'll grant you but I'm sure that breathing is common even in a vegetative state." "And she's not breathing?" "No." "Heartbeat?" "None." "There! She moved! She lives!" "You just pushed her with your foot." "Damn!" At the top of the stairs a man appears. His head and shoulders hung low. A long barrelled rifle drops from his limp fingers. "They've taken her." "What was that old chap?" "Scuzzy. She's gone. I ... I could have saved her." "I say! Shocking news." "Who took her Moudly?" "The aliens. Aliens have got my Scuzzy." An impressive moustache twitches and the owner coughs behind his hand. A short lady, generous of beam, dressed in a nighty and carrying a large gun steps up beside the forlorn FBI agent and places a hand on his shoulder. "There was nothing you could do Agent Fox. A shot at that range. You could have killed her." Agent Fox, doubles over with grief, placing his face in his hands. "It might have been a blessed release." He straightens, palms pressed to his temples. He strides about the landing. "What horrors is she undergoing now? What abominable tortures, what despicable invasions is she having to suffer?" He buries his face again. "Well according to my research on Channel 34 I would say ..." "Basil!" "What old chum?" "Perhaps another time eh old bean?" "Sorry George." "What repugnant, mind numbing horrors?". Fox places his hands on the banister and stares into the distance. "Endure my most trusted friend, endure for I shall come at great haste to ... what the hell happened here? It's a goddamn massacre!" "No time for that old boy. I'm sure it will admit of some explanation ... at a later date. Casualties of war and all that." "'Fraid so Mouldy me old lad. Not as bad as that time on the Cape though. Saw twenty of my best chaps taken down by a rampaging mob of Hottentots. Nasty little buggers. Ran out of ammo. Had to deal with the last two of them by battering the bleeders to death with the remains of an impala carcass." Looking askance Professor McNamara stands up and strides purposefully towards the exit. "Yes, action. Nothing we can do here. Guys, and most honoured woman..." She curtsies "... we have a rescue mission to undertake." Outside some of the residents of the former mining community begin to appear. Slightly dazed they approach the hotel. A cassocked figure and his velvet suited companion intercept them. "Sorry, sorry folks. Keep back. There's nothing to see here," says the Priest. "Who's that man in the blue clothes Mummy? Why are all the windows broken? Is Daddy still in there?" "I don't know my love." "Sorry, nothing here but a few broken windows", a cough from the British agent, "and things. Please keep away. The glass is dangerous." "We're wearing heavy walking boots." "Yes but some bits really are very sharp. Keep back there. Mind the vehicle." "What's going on? What's happened to the hotel ... Father?" "Nothing much. Can I help, my son?" "I'm supposed to be delivering this food and stuff to the hotel." "They're all immobile Mouldy," comes McNamara's voice from the motley collection of SUVs behind. "Ah great are those who provide bread to the needy." "Damn! We've got to get to the mine." "Yes, God will smile upon those who give succour." "Oh behave!" "The electrics are shot to pieces." "And as it says in Corinthians 14. 'And Jesus placed his hand upon the merchant and told him that God loves the humble tradesman who does freely give of his goods, especially those driving 4x4s with snow tyres'." "Eh?" The old track is covered in snow. The surrounding land is covered in snow. The trees are covered in snow. The rocks are covered in snow. This uniformity seems to be posing some problems for the driver of a fast moving 4x4 delivery van as it careens its way through the undefiled countryside, the light from a formerly ferocious, now rapidly dwindling array of headlamps reflecting like a myriad of diamonds in the pristine conditions. The driver, hands clamped on the wheel in concentration, stares intensely though the windscreen. A tear collects in the corner of his eye and then makes a bid for freedom down his cheek. "I'm a coming to get ya Scuzzy, I'm a coming to get ya. Hang on baby. Daddy's comin'" The passengers meanwhile enjoy the ride. "Aggghhhhh, we're all going to die!" "Where's the road? How the hell can you pick out the agghhhh. Bugger that was close. Shit! F'Christsake Mouldy. The tree!!!" "Sorry everyone but I think I might have to vomit again." "Not while we're going round the corner please Dr Arbuthnot. I've only just wiped off the last lot..." "Sorry old chap." "..and Mr Rathbone. Please don't play with the handgun. This is nerve wrackinnnnngggg. Sorry Liz. This is nerve wracking enough." "I won't be able to sit for a week." "That'll free up two chairs then." "OK, who said that? Come on!" "Please Liz. Please calm down." "Calm down Nathan? We're driving at 90 miles an hour in a goddamn delivery van up an ice covereagghhhh" "Now I know that I shouldn't be asking twice in as many days, and I'm very grateful about the helicopter, but if you could just be seeing your way to the safe delivery of this one servant, once more, I'd be eternally grateful. Amen. Sorry about the van bit and all. You know quoting you out of context as it were." "Jump!" "AGGHHHHHHHOOOOOFFFF" "Thank God we're wedged in by you know who." "Right that does it!" "Liz. Please put the tazer down." With a dramatic spray of snow the vehicle slides to a stop. The driver's door immediately opens and Agent Fox steps out and strides purposefully towards the disused mine, its corrugated winch house looking less than safe. The passenger door opens and Dr McNamara steps out, runs his fingers through his slightly dishevelled hair and sets off after Agent Fox. The rear doors open and the van disgorges the remaining occupants. "Bloody long way down." Seb picks up a stone and drops it into the dark depths. After a good few seconds a faint noise is heard. "That's a hell of a climb." "Perhaps we should take the lift." "Good thinking." It descends. Water drips from above and it descends. It creaks, groans and rattles and still it descends. The torches show little but hard hewn rock and it descends. It stops ... suddenly. "We're not at the bottom folks. About 20 feet up." "Damn thing is broken." "We'll have to climb the rest of the way. Its too far to jump." "Not if you've got something big and soft to land on." "Meaning what!?" "We can't stand here all day." Agent Fox opens the cage door, grabs one of the returning cables and steps out. It's still covered in grease. He descends. He accelerates. He descends. He stops ... suddenly. "Oww! Bugger!" George Arbuthnot follows. He wraps his belt around the cables for extra purchase and serenely glides to the floor below. "That's the ticket." One by one the lift is abandoned. An eerie, almost alienesque glow lights the corridor ahead. Agent Fox looks briefly to his left as Basil pulls out the Desert Eagle. The Victorian looks at Fox and grins. Enhanced by the strange lighting, it is not a pretty sight. Fox looks back to see Dr McNamara, shotgun in hand. The immaculately turned out Sebastian Travers with his trusty pistol. Dr Lewis with a rifle. Dr Arbuthnot testing the weight of his Glock automatic. Father O'Patrick, undoing the buckles on a roll of cloth. It unravels down his body to reveal 12 daggers carefully held inside. Fox shrugs, turns away and walks on. The corridor widens out to reveal a huge room with three further corridors leading off it. Fox looks up. The ceiling is missing. No wait, it was never there. The room is open to the sky. What manner of alien workmanship is this? In the centre stands an alien. It spots the group. The rest of the group spot it. Fox steps to one side as the not inconsiderable muzzle of the Desert Eagle appear on the edge of his vision. It goes off. The alien leaps on shimmering, gossamer wings. It meets a hail of munitions coming the other way, and drops, messily. 'To the left then?' 'I guess so.' The party proceed down the nearest corridor. A soft green light illuminates glass tanks lining the entire length of the corridor. Suspended within the tanks are dozens, perhaps hundreds of human heads, attached by needles to a cobweb of wire. The party gaze for a moment at ranks of mouths moving in endless, silent screams. George pauses for only a moment longer before unloading his Glock at the rows of tanks. Glass shatters, and the corridor floods to ankle height in a morass of thick, green ooze and severed human heads. Mouldy gags. 'Was that strictly necessary?' 'Kindest thing to do Mr Fox.' 'You ...errr...didn't.... recognise any of them did you?' 'Well actually one of them looked a bit like...' 'NO Basil...we didn't recognise anyone..did we?' 'Harrumph. 'Course not.' George stoops to take a sample of the green ooze. 'You think that's going to come in handy do you?' 'Waste not want not old scout.' The corridor emerges into an open space. The walls are metallic and lined with banks of electronic equipment. In the middle is a laboratory table, with an old and very naked man manacled to it. 'Mr Schenk?' 'Looks like him!' 'I sure hope you recognised him by his face!' 'Great, grab the trolley and let's haul ass out of here.' 'Tell you what...why don't you shoot those three thingies flying down the corridor towards us...and then we'll grab the trolley and haul ass out of here?' 'Righty-ho!' 'Ready George?' 'Absolutely! Remember the Crimea old boy?' 'Certainly do!' 'The good old Light Brigade?' 'Probably not the best analogy George.' A short but very bloody firefight ensues. Mouldy and Liz examine their smoking weapons with quiet satisfaction. George pulls his sword cane from the body of an alien. It makes a satisfying squelchy sound. Seb and Nathan stagger wearily to their feet. Both look in very bad physical shape. They wheel Schenk back down the corridor to the central hub, and then take the next corridor. It emerges into a smaller chamber, again, lined with banks of electronic equipment. In the centre, sits one of the alien creatures, strapped into a large metal chair. Wires emerge from the chair and connect directly into the creatures body. Behind it, stands Michael Brander, unsteady on his feet, shouting orders at the creature. 'Keep transmitting....just a few more minutes...a few more minutes...!' Seb raises his weapon and unloads it into the creature . It explodes in a welter of gore, and a shower of sparks. 'Shocking. Positively shocking...' Seb smiles and pauses to admire his reflection for a moment, as the rest of the party rush past him. Brander surveys five people all levelling extremely large weapons at him. He gives a wry smile and raises his hands. 'I surrender.' Mouldy walks forward. 'Where's Agent Scuzzi?' 'I don't know' Mouldy smiles. 'I thought you might say that.' BLAM Brander screams, and drops to the floor, clutching his shoulder. Mouldy slowly walks up to him, and places his foot on the wound. 'Where's Agent Scuzzi?' 'You'll never find her ...you can rot in hell...' Slowly, and with infinite patience, Mouldy presses down... 'AARRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHH. BASTARD!' 'Where's Agent Scuzzi?' 'BASTARD! If you have Schenk...then she must be in the next chamber...' 'Thank you.' He pauses for a moment...and then his foot stamps down once more. 'ARRRRHHHH' Brander collapses unconscious. 'Is there room on the trolley?' 'Yep' 'Well bring him along then.' The party run from the room. Behind them various electrical devices are starting to smoke and spark alarmingly... In the final chamber, Agent Scuzzi looks up at a crab-like appendage wielding a small circular saw. 'You really DON'T want to be doing this you know' Bzzzzzzzzt 'You wouldn't like me on Yuggoth...not at this time of the month anyway...' Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt The saw descends. 'Thank you Mouldy...any chance you can arrive before the nick of time in future?' 'Phwoar!' 'Shaddap Travers! Now can somebody get me out of these frickin manacles' 'Allow me Miss Scuzzi' 'Thank you' 'Phwoar!' 'SHUT...UP...!' 'Basil?' 'Yes George?' 'Why did you never think of unlocking the naked gentleman?' 'Just slipped my mind George.' George removes his coat. 'Er...Miss Scuzzi...perhaps you'd like this?' 'Killjoy!' 'SHUT.......UP!!!!!' 'Time we were going people.' Back at the bottom of the lift shaft. 'Shit. It's broken remember?' 'Anybody want to climb up?' Mouldy shins up the cable.... 'Nearly there...nearly there....woah...shit...that was close...ok...I'm in...' 'Great, now can you get the thing down.' 'No.' 'Shit. Anyone else want a go?' 'I will' 'I'm sorry Dr Lewis but it might be rather a tight squeeze don't you....ARRGGHHHH...kofkofkofkof....' 'Anyone else want to say anything...no...I didn't think so....' 'Oh for chrissakes let me have a look' Agent Scuzzi pushes everyone out of the way, pulls the cover off the lift control, yanks out a few wires and reconnects them....and the lift descends. 'Not difficult...see? Now everyone get in the friggin lift!' At the surface, the party make for for the van. The ground is now shaking beneath them. Wheels spinning, Mouldy hauls ass away from the summit, as a series of explosions erupt behind them. Everyone relaxes. Mouldy makes his way carefully down the mountainside. A wry chuckle or two, the comradely laying of hands on shoulders. Then a flash of electrical energy crackles through the air. Two savage claws sink through the soft yielding metal of the van. 'Sheee..ittt!' Slowly, the creature starts peeling back the metal roof. Mouldy stamps on the brakes. A ripping sound from above, and the creature catapults into the road ahead. It staggers to it's feet, disoriented for a minute, and then stands proud and defiant, readying itself for one final lunge. Basil's eyes glaze over slightly. He raises his two Desert Eagles to the windshield... The windshield erupts outwards, a torrent of lead and shattered glass. When the debris clears, the creature can be seen lying motionless. A cloud of steam rises from the hood of the van. 'Well done Mr Rathbone...I think you got it...' 'Do you think he ought to be dribbling like that?' 'Perfectly normal old son...it'll pass in a minute. It usually does.' 'Right, someone give us a hand with the van. All the electrics are gone.' 5 minutes later. 'Nah...it's knackered.' 'Yep' 'Long walk down isn't it?' 'Hmmm...yeah, let's take another look.' 5 minutes later. 'Definitely knackered.' 'Going to be a bit difficult getting Mr Schenk and Mr Brander down though isn't it?' 'Yeah. Alright, let's give it one more shot' 5 minutes later. 'Knackered. Definitely knack...' 'Oh for Chrissakes!!!!'. A very cold and very angry Agent Scuzzi stomps from the back of the van, rummages under the bonnet for 30 seconds, and the engine bursts back into life. 'Ah...' 'Well...we were almost there I guess...' The team arrive back at The Arse and Hammers. A small crowd has gathered. 'What's happening at the bar?' 'Oh, it's closed for the day' 'What's with all the broken glass and shit?' 'Ah, that's why it's closed...' Shrugging of shoulders, the crowd disperse. A distant THWOPPATHWOPPATHWOPPA sound can be heard. The camera switches to a long shot of the team standing in the snow, as the silhouettes of 3 helicopters can be seen against the noonday sun. Screen fades to black. Credits roll.