[b][u]October, 1956
Boston, New England[/u][/b]

It was late. So very, very late.

Her mother would be upset, Susan knew. She would take a switch to her for not coming home by her curfew. But she didn’t care. It was better than being back home. She hated it there.

The clouds overhead obscured the evening sunlight, a faint blue lingering in the sky just before the twilight.

She could just barely see the blacktop in front of her, but the chalk outlines of the hopscotch drawing were still clear enough for her to play. Throwing her hacky sack onto the third square, she began to hop her way to the end of the small series of squares. She was the best hopscotch player in her class. She hoped she could one day become the champion of the National Hopscotch League.

That existed, right? She didn’t just make that up?

Regardless! This eight year old would much rather play by herself here any day than return to her mean ol’ mom and her stupid rules.

Reaching the eighth square, Susan quickly turned and set her eyes on the hacky sack. With barely a pause she began skipping her way back to it with only one foot. She hadn’t needed two in ages. Only a hopscotch amateur needed two.

When she at last reached the 4th square, she easily leaned over to pick the hacky sack up. As she began to rise, she heard…[i]something.[/i]

A scratching sound, like nails against the pavement but [i]louder[/i]. So much louder. Another flash of chalk-like white caught her eye, and her jaw slowly dropped as she stared down at the message writing itself into the blacktop.

She began to tremble. She wanted to run, but…but her mom would be so very angry at her! She didn’t want to get switched. 

“There once was a young girl,” she slowly read the message aloud. “S-she enjoyed playing hopscotch. She enjoyed playing it a lot…”

The chalk continued to etch itself into the blacktop, and even as she could barely stand straight due to her quivering, Susan continued to read. It felt like she couldn’t move now. “B-but the girl’s grades in East Boston High School weren’t very good, and she liked to disobey her mother. She likes to stay out far, [i]far[/i] too late…”

Susan froze when it named her high school. She could hardly even breathe now, much less think of running.

“Her p-parents,” She choked out, “Rachel and Henry, were often so upset at l-l-little Susan’s disobedience that they would strike her with a switch, over and over again, sometimes until she bled.”

The warmth of tears running down her face did little to soothe the biting chill working its way up her back. The words continued, scratched into the blacktop by…by [i]something.[/i] “B-but then someone started watching little Susan...watching her at school. Watching her [i]sleep[/i].”

The warmth of liquid now worked its way down her leg as she struggled not to collapse under her own weight. “W-w-watching her...disobey her mother and p-play h-h-hopscotch…”

As the message continued to be ripped into the black asphalt, Susan found herself no longer able to speak to read the final part. Her lip trembling, all she could do was slowly look behind her as those bright blue eyes grew wide.

…

“SUSAN!” Rachel screamed, searching for her daughter, a flashlight tightly clutched in her hand. Night had fallen, and she hadn’t come home. It wasn’t the first time the girl had stayed out past her curfew, but never before had she remained out after it became completely dark.

She’d already looked all over their neighborhood, and so the school blacktop was the only place where she could imagine that she might be.

Sweeping the flashlight across the black surface, Rachel’s eyes finally settle on the hopscotch drawing where her and the other children often played. Unfortunately, her daughter wasn’t here, either, just…

A hacky sack. ...And a single shoe. Susan’s shoe.

“S-Susan…?” Rachel muttered, her eyes growing moist, the light continuing to drift over the blacktop until it at last fell over...a message.

[i]There once was a young girl.
She enjoyed playing hopscotch.
She enjoyed playing it a lot.
But the girl’s grades in East Boston High School weren’t very good, and she liked to disobey her mother.
She likes to stay out far, far too late.
Her parents, Rachel and Henry, were often so upset at little Susan’s disobedience that they would strike her with a switch over and over again, sometimes until she bled.
But then someone started watching little Susan...watching her at school. Watching her sleep.
Watching her disobey her mother and play hopscotch.
And then, at last, he caught her all alone one night.
Don’t turn around, Susan McKenzie.
KINDERFRESSER[/i]

Dropping her flashlight to blacktop beneath her, Rachel fell onto her knees in horror as a tearful scream ripped its way past her throat.

She would call the police immediately...but they never found any trace of her daughter.

[hr]

[b]8:48 PM, October 26th, 2020
Brooklyn, New York[/b]

“And that’s all he was doing, Mr. Williams? Playing ‘Grand Theft Auto 6’ online?” Agent Curtis Cruller questioned the father of Travis Williams, age fourteen.

The middle-aged man slowly nodded. “Yes sir. I came in to tell him supper was ready, and...and all I find was his headset laying there on the floor.”

Nodding to the parents of the missing teen, Curtis pressed the red square on his smartphone to end the recording of their interview. “Thank you for answering my questions, Mr. and Mrs. Williams. If you’ll excuse me.”

Stepping away from the clearly frightened parents, Curtis wasted no time in stepping through the open door of Travis’ room. Swarming with police officers as they combed over every inch of it in search of [i]some[/i] kind of forensic evidence to clue them into what had happened, they paid him little mind.

Shifting his eyes over the headset as the police continued their forensic work, Cruller slowly approached it. “You’ve taken your pictures already, right?”

“Of course,” Lieutenant Armstrong replied rather tersely. “We know how to do our jobs, believe it or not.”

Ignoring the woman’s tone of voice, he reached down to pick the abandoned gaming accessory up with his hands, the plastic gloves that he had stretched over them upon entering the room protecting them from contamination.

They were cheaply made, and slightly bent. If he had to guess, it was the sudden impact with the floor that did this to them. It was just like the other disappearances. No trace of the victim, beyond perhaps an overturned chair or microphone.

“I suspect we won’t find any DNA evidence this time, either,” Curtis muttered under his breath.

It was beyond frustrating. In all his years in the FBI, he had never encountered a case like this before. This was seventh incident that had occurred in the past week, and the third he had been called in for. But he hadn’t had any more luck than the NYPD.

Honestly, he was at the end of his tether. Kids were disappearing at their computers without a trace, and he didn’t know how to stop it. The only connection he could identify was that they had been playing online games at the time.

His partner, David Ramsey, hadn’t had any more luck than him.

There was only one individual that could [i]possibly[/i] be skilled enough to pull these abductions off in Brooklyn, and he was in the hospital right now, as his partner was in the process of confirming…

[hr]

[b]9:22 PM
Brooklyn Hospital Center[/b]

“I’m not certain if you’ve been keeping up with the news, Mr. Hayes, but there has been a series of child abductions plaguing the Brooklyn area this past week,” Agent David Ramsey explained, leaning forward in the hospital chair beside the bedridden boxer.

Easing back, the well-dressed agent folded his arms. “Adolescents and teenagers alike, disappearing without a trace at their computers as they play online video games. Forensic investigations have yielded no trace of a kidnapper. It is unlike anything we’ve ever seen.”

“There are few who could have accomplished such a feat in Brooklyn,” David’s eyes narrowed on the injured man, his lips set into a modest frown. “In all of New York, in fact. Many suspect a certain masked vigilante of being behind these abductions, though I wonder…”

His eyes swept over the bandages that were clearly visible beneath Marvin’s hospital gown.

Moving was anguish. His right arm was in a sling, and his left served as the catalyst for transmission of IV fluids into the rest of his maimed body. He was grateful the shooters missed his spine and that he could afford to position his head enough to face Ramsey’s direction. Marvin’s eyes once more fell on the news report and with the aid of the visual before him, Marvin fought the cloud wearing over his mind and reserved the remainder of his mental faculties to parse what Ramsey said. Abductions? In [i]his[/i] city? Cowards. None of these dopes would try anything like that if he were on the streets. Unbeknownst to Marvin, what the FBI--and now he, himself--were dealing with was not human at all.

Marvin tried to inhale, the bloat of pain too fat for him to complete his attempt. Halfway through the intake, his chest decompressed and he let out what oxygen he was able to take in before he spoke,

[color=lightsteelblue]”Guess the jig up, huh? Errbody know n--”[/color] it slipped his mind that he wasn’t in action right now, Marvin did away with the common speech he used when conversing with the people of his neighborhood while he was unmasked. He opted instead for the level of speech used when the mask was on,

[color=lightsteelblue]”I guess everyone knows now, huh? You think you have everything figured out… then you don’t.”[/color] Marvin shifted as much as he could in order to get comfortable, an inescapable contortion brought about by the prohibited change in level along the bed forced the next few words from Marvin’s mouth through gritted teeth,

[color=lightsteelblue]”You know who I am, Mr. Ramsey, so you know well I would not spend my time, money, and resources kidnapping the children I aim to protect. I think your friends at the bureau and those beat cops you all have been sending to my neighborhood know that as well. So yes, Mr. Ramsey, you are right to wonder; just don’t be irrational when you do it, huh?”[/color] A strong return, perhaps too strong a reply for one who was only trying to help him. Marvin, nor Tiger, were never enemies of the badge unlike some of his fellow commonmen and vigilantes. 

The light in the room was particularly bright, the sound of the television an increasing irritant. Another slight shift, and he clutched the hanging remote from the side of the bedrail and used it to cease the sounds. His senses were going haywire.

David’s brow furrowed in irritation at the condescending tone he received from the hospitalized vigilante. He seemed to think himself to be in a far better position than he was, but at the moment such a thing did not matter. He wasn’t here to have a dick-measuring contest with the other man, he just wanted to find out what happened to those kids.

“Mr. Hayes, we know your persona - ‘The Tiger’, yes? - has been active for almost a year at this point,” he revealed, feeling it was necessary to lay at least some of their cards on the table in order to accomplish the task at hand. “In that time, have you encountered anyone capable of snatching these kids from their homes without leaving a trace? Perhaps another vigilante?”

The FBI was aware that they had gathered in New York back in March during the riots. Whether or not that had continued to associate with one another since then, however, was a mystery. If they had, perhaps they could at last identify a likely suspect. One other did come to mind, in fact.

“And on that note, have you had any interactions with the individual calling himself ‘Superman’?” David leaned forward slightly, awaiting his answer.

Ramsey was direct, he had some swagger. Marvin respected that. If he didn’t dread the tinge of pain awaiting him if he smiled, he would have--instead, he softened his countenance and voiced the internalized appreciation,

[color=lightsteelblue]”Between you and I, Mr. Ramsey, I spent most of my time dealing with footsoldiers; I haven’t had a [i]real[/i] fight since the last time I was in the ring. One day the bums stopped showing up after I had cracked their heads a couple times and left a few of them on your doorstep. None of those idiots are smart enough to make kids disappear without a trace. I’m sure you know that I know that you know I have tabs on everything that happens in Brooklyn, so I would have known if some half decent wannabe started snatchin’ my kids up off the street. Which leads me to believe that whatever you’ve been looking for isn’t something you--or me, for that matter--are going to find if we think we’re looking for some normal dreg. Hell, all the shit I’ve been through in the past couple months, whatever we are supposed to be looking for might not even be of this world.”[/color]

Marvin had grown weary of magic, truly. He [i]hoped[/i] whatever this new threat was had a beating heart, breathed oxygen and walked on two legs. Even with his penchant for preparation against human threats, not even the reputed Tiger was prepared for the otherworldly.

[color=lightsteelblue]”You have no leads at all?[/color] the question about Superman he circumvented. Marvin had seen clips of what Superman did to those two thugs, and Marvin nor Tiger would enjoy a visit from him, healthy or otherwise.

David was quick to note that Hayes had skillfully dodged his question, but chose to ignore it. He likely wouldn’t gain a satisfactory answer even if he tried to press the issue. Instead, the agent simply shook his head in frustration. “No DNA evidence, no strands of clothing, no trace of the victim. All we have is the pattern.”

In truth, he had already considered the possibility that they might not be dealing with something even remotely human, but...well, he didn’t truly wish to think about it. The FBI simply were not equipped to deal with something like that, not yet. He hoped somebody higher up than he was had some plan on how to deal with this insane world they were now living in, because he sure as hell didn’t.

“If it [i]was[/i] an ‘otherworldly’ threat,” David looked the other man directly in the eye, “how would you approach it? What method would you employ to track, capture or if necessary, destroy it?”

Silence.

For once in his life, Marvin had no answers. Suits and gadgets were only effective against the corporeal, and Marvin’s attempts at harnessing magic were thus far ineffectual. No, no, there was always [i]some[/i] tether. Magic itself may be above nature’s routine, but it still needed a way into the world through some substance; this rule was a constant, an internal logical consistency. It was such for Arcana, it was such for Elysium, it was such for this.

“[color=lightsteelblue]You said something about video games? Now, this may only be coincidental, but I would investigate whatever patterns the disappearances share. Whatever this thing is, it has the same tendencies of a serial killer; they target one [i]type[/i] of victim, usually. I’d investigate your records for any cold cases, any old disappearances to see if there are any anomalies. See if any adults have been captured. If no adults have ever been targeted that you know of, find the similarities in the [i]kinds[/i] of kids who disappeared: are they troubled? Orphans? Rich? Poor? Of a certain ethnicity?” Being so long winded with broken ribs was never a pleasure, so when he ran out of breath it took him a moment and an audible expulsion of injury for him to begin again,

“And if that fails, then I have. . . other ideas.”[/color] these measures he would never divulge to Ramsey, one always needed leverage.

David listened quietly to the advice of Marvin Hayes, noting the wisdom in it. Yes, of course, if they were dealing with something not entirely - or even [i]remotely[/i] - human, then there was no reason to limit their investigation to the current year or even the current [i]decade[/i]. As for his other recommendations, they were already running extensive background checks on the kids who had been targeted.

“All of the victims had been troubled in one way or another,” David confessed, against his orders. He had been told to reveal only what was necessary to the vigilante - a criminal himself - about their investigation, so he had withheld this detail up until now, even when Marvin had asked if they any leads. “A lot of them had criminal charges. Alcohol, drug use, gang violence in some cases. Others were known to be troublemakers, even if they’d yet to be arrested.”

He noticed he was speaking of the kids in posthumous terms, and that alone sent a chill up his spine. Had he given up on them being alive? Admittedly, it did seem unlikely that whatever was doing this would have left them unharmed, but...who could really say? Logic had seemingly flown out the window a year ago.

[color=lightsteelblue]”Troubled kids. Makes sense that whatever it is snoops around my neighborhood then. The place is filled with them. Do you have kids, detective?”[/color]

David nodded once. “One, a boy. Nine years old. He likes gaming like these kids.”

Though he had never been in trouble before. He was a good kid, never even had a complaint from the teacher.

[color=lightsteelblue]”I only ask because once this thing knows we are after it--if it doesn’t already--it may come after your son. Who knows how far it can reach or how vindictive it is?”[/color]

Again his mind whirred, this time painted with a spurt of frustration. If he was going to face this threat, he had to get out of this hospital, and he had to do it before every child in Brooklyn disappeared. For now, he could only ask a favor--something he hated doing, as favors always require recompense. Owing a man is something Hayes’ father, minimal though he was, taught him never to do; it meant that so long as you were indebted to someone else you were, in a sense, beneath them. At least that was how his father explained it to him, but Marvin’s father was never the wisest man in the world, either.

[color=lightsteelblue]”Until I can get out of this hospital bed, detective, Brooklyn isn’t safe for anyone’s children. I don’t know how much manpower you have, but this thing knows it isn’t in danger so long as there is no one protecting the streets and it might become more aggressive as a result. Use whatever resources you can to protect those kids, detective.  If all else fails, I have one last contingency; a friend of mine, if you will. Ironic, if you think about it.”[/color]

David exhaled, his hand clasped together at this point with enough force to cause his tanned knuckles to turn white. “Well, Mr. Hayes, I do hope this contingency plan of yours is a damn good one, for the sake of those children. And mine.”

He would be lying if he claimed that he hadn’t considered the possibility of whoever - or whatever - was behind this coming after his son. He didn’t live in Brooklyn, but as Marvin had pointed out, that wasn’t necessarily any guarantee of safety. No, the only thing that would ensure that anyone’s children were safe would be if they stopped the perpetrator of these abductions.

Reaching into his suit coat, David produced a simple card and laid it on top of Marvin Hayes as he stood from his seat. “This is my number. If you have any new information, give me a call.”

[color=lightsteelblue]”How many buses do you have at your disposal?”[/color]