"Do you think they'll work?" Asks a tall, dark-skinned man as the heavy rain pelted his afro. His stuffy dark green jacket barely kept him in a state of dryness, but was clearly wavering the longer they stayed in the forest clearing.
"Shut the fuck up. It'll work. Just don't harsh its vibe." Replied his companion, who was lighter of skin. In the person's hand was a long ivory tusk, cracks snaked its way across its rough surface. "Take out the instructions."
The tall dark-skinned man nodded, producing a yellowed parchment from his pocket and began to read from it. "Uh, f-fill the hollowed tusk with a miracle of god. That's rainwater, I think."
His companion agreed, turning the tusk and letting its hollow center continuously be filled. "Next."
"Uh, chant the spell and think of the person with whom you wish to curse."
His companion then brought the water-filled tusk to his forehead, speaking the arcane language they had memorized on the way over. 'Elaine Grimsby. Elaine Grimsby. Elaine Grimsby.'
"I, uh, I think it's not working, Derek." said the tall dark man. "C'mon, man. So we lost a few hundred Gs, it's alright." Worry tinging his tone as he pulled up his coat's hood, readying himself to leave the place if need be.
"Shut up!" Derek lashed out, anger beset by his eyes. "I don't fucking care about the money. We need to get her out of there." Pausing his chanting to move towards the other man, his fingers pointedly jabbing at the other's shoulder.
"I fucking know!" His companion too raised his voice. "But we ain't going to fucking risk our lives for some--" He waved towards Derek's hand, which, now that he had time to see, were empty. "Derek. where the fuck is the tusk?"
"What? I had it in my hands." Derek was confused, now noticing his rather light hands, which no longer had the tusk in hand. "Fuck, must've thrown it. Look for it, we're not gonna waste 800 bucks for nothing."
The two set about to find their missing item, hunched and crouching amidst the sea of wet grass in the forest clearing. Intent on not losing their money, Derek removed his jacket and used it as a makeshift net to find or, at least, sound out any particularly large item.
The two men ran around the clearing as the rain pelted their figures, intensifying by the minute. The sound of falling rain masking the ever-so light thump within the bounds of the tree line.
"Fuck it, Markus. Let's just go." Derek cursed, lashing out on a nearby fallen branch.
"Wait, wait, wait. I think I found it." Came Markus' reply, joy on his tone as his body traced a familiar texture under the dirt and grass. "Found it." He said, producing the tusk before it began to thrum in power. Purple light glowed within the very cracks on the surface of the item, startling both men as Markus dropped it in fear.
Before the two could react further, the thumps within the treeline grew louder and louder with Derek. startled from the weird tusk, turned towards the bounds of the clearing.
A menagerie of ashen elephants ran circles around the treeline, thumping around and forming a storm of dirt and grass. Their thick tusks felling every tree in their way as they made their way closer and closer towards the forest clearing.
"What the hell?" He rubbed his eyes as astonishment set in his expression, but was quickly washed away by fear.
The elephants grew nearer Derek as he tried to run, scattering in the other direction, forgetting his brother's presence in the moment of fear, yet he still found himself trapped amongst a bevy of collapsing trees and stampeding elephants.
True fear had set in, eyes wide, heart beating in a frenzy, that is, until a sharp sting elicited a helpless groan out of him. He looked down to see the same tusk, still glowing with unforeseen power, embedded deep within his chest as blood flew down his body and into the ground.
His last moments as he fell to the ground, convulsing from the pain, was his brother standing before him with the same tusk piercing his heart.
●●●Hyde Park, Chicago●●●
"We're here."
Pulling up at the curb of the Chicago Police Department, Irwin unlocked the glove box and took out a thick brown paper envelope. Within it were two FBI badges, two Glock 21 with two magazines of .45 ACPs, and two ray-ban sunglasses.
"Alright. Here's your ID. Your Special Agent Michael Crawford and I'm Special Agent James Bryce from the Counterterrorism Division. Washington sent us here after an anonymous call told us of an animal attack in the inner city. We think it's a home-grown domestic terrorist using the victim as some sort of prototype attack or a serial killer with a really weird fetish. You got all that?" Irwin told Garth of their new persona as he loaded the magazine into the Glock and equipped the sunglass.
"Uh, yeah. Wow! You know, usually, I go with singer personas 'cause it's fun that way." He remarked, taking both the gun and badge from his partner.
"Yeah, well, it's all fun and games until a sufficiently sensible man with no respect to authority figures out your ruse because of that stupid fucking name." Irwin turned it down immediately. "But maybe we can do it next time."
"Alright. Although last question."
Irwin sighed. "Yeah?"
"Why are we not in our suits? I don't look good in it, but it's better than looking like a camp counselor in camp something." Garth waved to his partner's drab buttoned shirt under a silk jacket and denim jeans.
"First of all, Brad Pitt wore this for Ocean's Twelve and, second, all federal agents have to wear civilian attire when on the field. Alright." Retorted Irwin, offended at the camp counselor comment. Dressing up for a 2006 fashion was harder than he thought, much more for a person whose fashion sense ended on the day he wore croc sandals on his highschool prom, so he had to go with the old tactic of going through fashion magazine and hoping celebrity outfits treats him as much as they treat the actors. "Just be cool and follow me. If I mess up, then back me up."
Jet-lagged and tired from the 21-hour flight and 7-hour drive, Garth merely sighed and agreed with a nod before exiting the car in his low-top white sneaker, JNCO jeans, and red plaid shirt over a denim jacket. "You're the boss."
●●●●●●
Throngs of busy-bodies filled the entrance to the police precinct near Hyde Park. An olive-skin, bald beat cop held a hand-cuffed dark-skinned prostitute in her arm, a nervous middle-age woman held a manila folder walked towards the front desk Sergeant, and an off-duty cop smoking amidst the litany of trees that surrounded the precinct.
The desk sergeant in duty, a dark-skinned female officer, dutifully directed the nervous woman towards the nearby waiting area.
Seeing it was their turn, Irwin turned on the charm, or whatever it was that made his vessel likable. "Good morning, Ma'am. I'm Special Agent Gr-Bryce. Sorry, been hotboxed with cigarette since Washington." He laughed over his mistake, evidently still nervous about his first hunt. "Special Agent Bryce. FBI."
Fishing out his fake badge with as much gusto as he can manage, Irwin nodded at his partner to do the same which, to their surprise, were completely unnecessary.
"Oh, yeah. FBI guys for that freak attack in the motel, right?" She asked, to which they responded with a nod. "Take a left there, then a right. When you bump into the coffee machine, find the Gang Unit and Detective Murphy will meet you there."
She said, taking out two laced plastic visitor's badges and hurrying them to the western halls of the precinct.
The two passed by quite a lot of interesting personages, criminals and officers alike, as they traversed the halls of the precinct until reaching the busy coffee machine.
"Uh, excuse me. We're looking for Detective Murphy." Irwin asked the bleary-eyed men huddled around the coffee machine, their bellies meeting him before their faces.
"Oh, that's me. Michael Murphy." A light-skinned middle-aged man, a five o'clock shadow on his face, freshly laundered tet crumpled shirt, and wearing a round-rimmed dark glass greeted them, holding a piping cup of coffee. "You must be the Feds."
Yes, we are. If we could hurry up and discuss the matters regarding the, uh, peculiar attacks in the inner city." He hurried Murphy along, taking out his own manila folder from within his suit jacket. "I apologize for not arriving sooner, but is it possible to revisit the crime scene and the witnesses?"
"Whoa, ok, slow your roll, bud." Detective Murphy, taking another sip of his coffee. "I have a few files on my desk, but, uh, the scene at the motel's been cleaned. Boss' orders ruled it as gang violence." Shrugging all the while, he led Irwin towards his desk and gave him a much larger binder full of evidence and files.
Irwin nodded, passing it all to Garth. "Alright, shit. What about the witnesses? Anybody saw anything?"
"Uh, no. The clerk didn't see shit. No cameras nearby either. In fact, no screams, wails, no anything suspicious or otherwise criminal was heard or seen other than the guy being shifty and bringing in a head of a deer." He answered.
"What about that blackout the day this occurred?" Garth asked as he perused the files in his hands. "Anything fishy about that? Smell like sulfur or spoiled eggs, maybe?"
Bewildered look ran around the office space as those nearby heard Gath's words, but Detective Murphy answered nonetheless. "Well, uh, no on the egg thing. But, uh, blackouts like that tend to happen in the inner city- especially in mid-summer."
"Well, alright. Let's see the deer and all the evidence you have. Then, can you phone in the morgue? Tell 'em we're coming in." Garth said, nudging along Irwin, who was knee deep into his files.
Detective Murphy nodded, striding out of the room and going further north of the building with the two following in suit.
As Detective Murphy passed by his colleagues near the coffee machines, another officer with the same look as him told him: "Oh, hey Mikey. Got a call from the missus, turns out the auction left town last night. Might come around next year, though."
The detective pointedly lamented the missed event, thanking his colleague for the tip before continuing on his way towards a celled chamber, automatic door and electronic locks used for its security. Using his badge and signing a form from the desk near the chambers, Detective Murphy led Irwin and Garth inside, taking out two grey boxes- one filled to the brim with papered files and the other a large deer's head enveloped by a clear plastic bag.
"Alright. Box 1, over here is the deer we piercing Erik Armitage's, the victim's, heart. About five inches deep inside of him, eyes wide like it was fucking surprised. It's been taxedermied, cleaned out of all its blood... but... we found traces of the victim's blood inside of its eyeballs."
Sliding pictures after pictures of the grotesque crime scene, Detective Murphy studied the reactions of both men before him. He could not, for the love of his mother, figure out why two federal agents went out of their way to personally investigate a suspected gang attack, much less someone from the bureau's counterterrorism department.
Irwin mixed and matched the photos, gluing his gaze to every detail trapped within the polaroid parchments. This is his first case and he could screw it up, so he had to bring his A-game. "Do you have the toxicology report?"
"Ah, not yet in full, but the morgue technician told me that nothing was in his blood in the past 72 hours, except maybe insulin." Detective Murphy answered. "Also, uh, we found a note, but it's just some instructions."
Irwin took the bag that contained the note, reading it through the plastic. "Attach the skull at the top of the hour where the sun shines. Pray to your enemies. Sleep." He finished, passing along the note to Garth as he whispered. "Maybe this is some kind of demon reneging on deals because of a loophole."
Garth merely shrugged. "Isn't stupid to go all exorcists on the guy, waste all that blood? To prove what point exactly?"
"Yeah, that's what I'm thinking, too. Even if we don't find the demon, John fucking Winchester might still be alive or something." Irwin muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose before remembering an important note. "Unless he's dead and we're fucked."
"Who's John Winchester?" Garth asked, familiar with the name yet blanking on why.
"Old hunter, good at hunting demons." He answered in a low tone before training his attention towards the detective. "What about the victim? What's his deal?"
"Uh, well, Erik Armitage, 58 years old, divorced, two kids, lives on welfare. Vietnam war veteran. Went missing in his old folk's home and was reported missing by his daughter, Diana Armitage, a few days later." Detective Murphy recounted the victim's details. "Now, I know what ya'll thinking: it doesn't sound like he's in a gang, but he might've been in the crossfire or something. Figured they thought that he was involved somehow since he was holed up in that motel for five days."
"Thanks for this, Detective. Can we take out this evidence, particularly the deer's head? There's a bureau office in the Loop, we could use their lab." Irwin suggested, taking piling up the files into the box.
"Yeah, we've already bagged and catalogued them. I'd be great if you could find anything in your database." Detective Murphy assented, his entire demeanor taking a more relaxed stance. "But, uh, out of curiosity, do you think this is some terrorist plot? Or a murder spree?"
Irwin chuckled. "We'll get out of your way now, Detective. We'll head towards the morgue and check the body. If we can't find anything, then we'll call you and, uh, confirm the gang attack."
Irwin packed up the two boxes, giving one to Garth before walking out of the evidence's room.
Although most of the evidence the police had collected did not corroborate his theory that a demon nor any supernatural entity was behind this attack, Irwin knew that he was merely on the first leg of his journey. To get actual evidence, he needed to see the body.
●●●City Morgue●●●
"Trade Shop."
[Trade Shop]
[Please Select And Specify The Item You Wish To Trade]
■■
Irwin slyly lifted the lid of the box and touched the damp fur of the mounted skull. "Mounted skull."
■■
[Trade Accepted]
[Trade List Incoming...]
■■
The window of the list appeared before his very eyes, cascading downwards to show its contents. "Mostly low-quality stuff. Eye of a vampire? I could get that easily, well, not easily. Damn. Show me the stat for, uh, the mounted skull." He ordered the system to no avail.
Irwin tried a few more times, even going as far as to ask for the attention of the Entity Beyond Human Comprehension, yet no answer came upon him.
"Shit. I'm on my own, huh?"
Before he could further contemplate on whether to trade the very surprisingly tradable item for small craps on the list, Garth arrived as he opened the swinging doors to the morgue.
"Hey, so got the whole toxicology report." He said, waving around a set of papers. "Nothing new here. He was super drunk though when he died, even signs of alcohol poisoning in his liver and kidney."
"Ugh. Anything else the doctor could've mention? Like something unusual he ate or anything that would raise an eyebrow." Irwin ask, taking the greasy brown paper bag from his side and giving it to Garth. "Uh, double cheeseburger and curly fries. I can't believe you can still eat that after seeing a dead body."
"And I can't believe you won't even go inside. Dude, you're the whole reason we're here." Garth retorted, taking a bite of his burger.
Irwin merely shook his head. Frankly, it was a rare instance for him to see or even be near a dead body in both of his life. Sure, it was stupid to refrain from seeing dead bodies now that he was training to become a hunter, but being afraid and not being comfortable with them were two very different things. Any worries of the dead reviving and subsequently reaching for his brains were nullified by the Monster Banishing Sigil, or at least that was what he hoped.
■■
▪︎Monster Banishing Sigil▪︎
Type: Consumable, Special
Target Classification: Monstrosities
Range: Earth
Usage: Forcefully teleports |Monstrosity| to any random place on Earth
Desc: This yellowed standard-sized playing card stolen from Merlin's mystical deck is enchanted by the Nymphs of the Banished Court. The back of the card shows three concentric circles perpendicular to each other, which oscillate to a hypnotic pattern. The face of the card has been an etched with a basic banishing sigil from an ancient Goidelic grimoire. Its sheer power, however, comes from the sliver of cosmic essence embedded deep within the grooves of its aesthetically pleasing border.
Automatic Use:
(1) Aim at the target
(2) Call the item's name with the intent to use
■■
"The doctor did mention there being like a bunch of bay leaves in the victim's stomach." Garth's words brought Irwin back to his swaying thoughts.
"Did he eat take-outs in the motels?" Irwin wore a perplexed expression on his face, diving towards the other box and finding the pictures detailing the crime scene. "No boxes, paper bags, and even a styrofoam in this. He didn't seem the type to spend money on food like that."
"Even if- there should be other types of similar food in there. It's just bay leaves and booze and nothing else." Garth said, taking a seat next to him after moving all the boxes aside. "Like he ate it separately."
"Alright, that's something. Bay leaves, our first clue." Irwin smiled, relaxing his back onto the wooden bench they were sitting on. "We'll go to Iowa next and check the murder site there."
As Irwin began packing up the boxes, Garth released a sigh before asking him a question. "Do you still think this is a demon we're looking for?"
Irwin halted his work, standing straight, and looking up at the sunless sky of Chicago. The smile on his face twitch ever so slightly as he, too, released a sigh. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just, you know, taking things a little too seriously. Looking at every piece of the puzzle was some sort of important clue or shit like that. I don't know if it's truly demons, but I'm not gonna stop until I figure this out. Because this is a case, Garth, my very first case, to boot. I'm not gonna stop."
Garth smiled, looking at his partner's face for a long while before chomping down on his burger. "Good enough for me."