[i]It is absolutely necessary, for the peace and safety of mankind, that some of earth's dark, dead corners and unplumbed depths be left alone; lest sleeping abnormalities wake to resurgent life, and blasphemously surviving nightmares squirm and splash out of their black lairs to newer and wider conquests. -- H.P. Lovecraft[/i] -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Night fell across Chicago like a blanket, covering the city in cool darkness, accented by the glittering lights of a sleeping city. The sky was clear and cradled a pregnant moon surrounded by a host of stars, otherworldly watches that surveyed the city below in contempt, unmoved by the events that would change the world and pluck them asunder from their celestial resting place. A foreboding quiet swept through the darkened marble hallways of the Field Museum of Natural History. Security Officer Harlan Morgan liked it that way. There was nothing but him, the displays and silence. It gave him the opportunity to catch up on episodes of [i]This American Life[/i]. The portly, moustached security guard jiggled merrily down the hallways of the museum, a single earbud plugged firmly in his left ear. His black wingtips squeaked noisily as he paced. A smile spread across his face as the voice of Ira Glass filled his head. He loved this job. More than he loved food. More than he loved his mother. And more than he loved his cat Mr Bittowitz. There was nothing like-- Harlan stopped for a moment. [i]What was that noise?[/i], he thought to himself. He snatched the earbud out of his ear and listened. There it was again. A [i]crackle[/i], followed by a [i]woosh[/i] and the distinct sound of sneakers against marble. "Wh-who is that?" he stammered. Harlan shook his head. [i]You can't be scared now, dude! This is your chance to be badass! What would Bruce Willis do?[/i] He reached for his flashlight and snapped it on. [i]Crackle.[/i][i]Woosh.[/i][i]Squeak.[/i] "Hey!" he shouted again. "Who's there!" He flashed his light back and forth and frantically jiggled up and down the hallways as quickly as his girth would allow him. He'd never had to confront someone like his before. Sure, he's chased away kids grabbing the boobs of the Athena bust in the Greek mythology exhibit--a popular one for middle school boys for obvious reasons. But this? This was something new. Maybe he'd get a promotion from it! [i]Crackle.[/i][i]Woosh.[/i][i]Squeak.[/i] The Greek mythology exhibit. That's where they were coming from. What a coincidence. Harlan made his way towards that direction. His heart raced in his chest. Sweat dotted his forehead. "I gotta lose some weight," he wheezed as he skidded towards the entrance of the exhibit. Great Corinthian columns wrapped in silk guarded the entrance to the exhibit. "All right, you son of a bitch," Harlan growled in his best Bruce Willis. Albeit a huffing, puffing and severely out of shape Bruce Willis. "You better come out with your hands up or," he thought for a moment for the most intimidating thing to say. "Or I'll make scrambled eggs with your head all over the walls." [i]There you go, Harlan. Put the fear of God in them. And in this museum, YOU are God.[/i] Now, Harlan didn't have a gun. He wasn't allowed to happen after what he did in Springfield. But the intruder didn't know that. He still thought he sounded like a badass. Darkness extended throughout the exhibit, but Harlan had patrolled these halls for so long now he knew where the displays were located. Depictions of ancient battles, artistry, pottery, weapons and Greek heroes lined the walls and dotted the exhibition room. A great stone depiction of the pantheon of gods, headed by Zeus himself loomed high and mighty over the rest of the displays in all of its splendour. Harlan crept around the exhibit, one foot over the other as his flashlight danced across the exhibit. Someone was here. He could feel it. His Bruce Willi senses were tingling. He combed over the walls and the room and he saw nothing. Empty. Was he hearing things? He patrolled the room one more time, keeping his flashlight moving. It landed on someone facing the Medusa display. The figure had his back to Harlan and acted and didn't acknowledge the guard's presence. Dressed in all black--black jeans, boots, a black leather jacket emblazoned with a symbol he'd never seen before, pierced by a broadsword and a hood pulled over its head. The figure was glowing. Iridescent blue light bristled around its body. "What the--" The figure turned it's head ever so slightly. It [i]flickered[/i] then disappeared. Before he could speak again something slammed into Harlan and sent him flying up through the air. The guard screamed as he sailed upwards for a brief moment then landed on the ground with a sickening crunch. Harlan groaned softly as he tried to get back up. A bolt of pain shot down his leg and he howled. Harlan looked down at his leg. He screamed again in pain and horror. Bloody white bone tore through the fabric of his slacks. Through watery eyes, he turned his gaze towards the display again. The figure was standing there again, casting an eerie sapphire light around the surrounding displays. "I don't think rent-a-cops can take another hit like that," the figure spoke, its voice warbled. Harlan tried to speak, but the pain in his leg was unbearable. "Try not to--ahh, there you go. Come to papa," the figure's voice was tinged with triumph. He turned around, holding the head of the Medusa bust in its hands. The figure flickered again and popped into existence in front of Harlan. The figure kneeled and put its finger to Harlan's lips, shushing him gently. "There, there. Don't worry. It'll all be over soon enough. Long ride the Witch Knights." The figure held the Medusa bust directly in front of Harlan's face. The hair on Harlan's arms erected. A sound like a breeze in a tunnel rushed through his ears. The air around him crackled and his body buzzed with the feeling of pinpricks--as if he'd fallen asleep on a limp, woken up and blood began circulating through that limb. His ears popped. The figure spoke one last time. Harlan didn't know what the figure said. He didn't even recognise the language but it was a single word. The bust...twitched. Cracks spiderwebbed across the expensive art piece as the bust twitched again. The coils of serpents that clustered the bust's cranium shuddered. They twisted and hissed in agitation. Flakes fell from the bust and dusted across the floor as the eyes snapped open--twin yellow lights that poured outpoured rage and hatred. The bust screamed. Harlan screamed. The figure began to sob. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Now remember," Captain Wolf Montgomery said as he turned the ignition to the squad car off. "Detective Damocles can get a little bit..." he trailed off, looking for the right words. "Weird." Captain Wolf Montgomery was a mountain of a man. African-American. Massive arms, broad shoulders, and hands like a side of meat and potatoes. He wore a blue suit and red tie, his badge gleaming brightly against his belt. To the normal eyes, it looked like a normal, Chicago Police Department issue badge. But to [i]special eyes[/i], it was a LIBRA Thirteenth Precinct badge. LIBRA was a secret organisation of men and women that policed the world of magic, monsters and mayhem. Whatever went bump in the night, they bumped back, and always with a bigger gun. The Captain looked over at his passenger, then beyond her. Several squad cars surrounded the Field Museum of Natural History, the entrance sectioned off by police tape. The press and curious bystanders alike swarmed around the tape, their voices a cacophony of questions and inquiries. Thank goodness for alchemic tape--a fancy little trick that the Thirteenth Precinct had up its sleeves. Normal people would see regular, yellow police tape. Only special people could see the spells inscribed on the tape that prevented prying eyes. "But, I think working with him would be good for you." The captain smiled at his passenger, "So go in there and show them how it's done. And Ellen? Play nice with the other kids, okay?"