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Fantasy Yesteryear
- Thread starter sspky
- Start date
sspky
ooof my bones
Boston, 1934
When Karl Becker was 19, he’d shipped off to fight in the Great War. He had earned himself a campaign bar at the Somme Defensive in 1918, along with disfigured right arm and enough nightmares to last a lifetime. Much of the 1920’s he’d spent in a haze of liquor and lithium. He was a beat cop for six years, institutionalized for nine months, and entered the 1930s with his own private eye license and a shoddy little office in Charlestown, Boston.
It was 1934, and Karl Becker had finally started to feel like he might have gotten his life together. He buried himself in the sort of case-work no one else would touch. Not because the work was particularly difficult or degrading, but because the local PD kept as far away from the more...esoteric cases as possible.
Karl wasn’t certain how this became is life, but sometime after he founded his Agency, he became the go-to man for the police when they uncovered anything certifiably supernatural. It all had it’s roots in the Kenderson Case, back in 1927, back when he was still a copper. He’d chased a perp through a warehouse, stumbled on a strange ritual, and was nearly sacrificed to a very dark, very terrible entity from the depths of the unknowable cosmos.
His mental breakdown followed soon after.
When he came out of the hospital, he’d almost convinced himself he’d imagined the entire affair. It had, naturally, been the product of a sick and exhausted mind, because Outer Gods did not exist, and monsters belonged in fairytales.
But he kept seeing things. Strange things that he couldn’t properly explain. Things that, for lack of a better phrase, went bump in the night.
His old partner, Mickey Mackleson, brought a case to his door. He’d been promoted to detective in the months following the Kenderson Case. And he’d deserved it too. After all, Mickey hadn’t had lost his marbles.
“It’s one of yours,” Mickey said
“One of mine?” Karl asked
“You know...a spooky one.”
The rest, as they say, was history.
Presently, Karl Becker was standing alone in a warehouse in the Back Bays.
Well, not quite alone. He hadn’t truly been alone since...a different incident that had occurred a month prior. An incident in which he’d foiled some sort of cult sacrifice, smashed a stupid little goat statue and picked up a rather unwelcome houseguest.
He tried not to worry about the Hitchhiker, turning his attention to the cleaned-up murder scene in the basement. The body -- one Miss Elaine Hill, age 25 -- had been moved on to the coroner’s office, but the police tape and buckets of gore remained for his viewing pleasure.
When Karl Becker was 19, he’d shipped off to fight in the Great War. He had earned himself a campaign bar at the Somme Defensive in 1918, along with disfigured right arm and enough nightmares to last a lifetime. Much of the 1920’s he’d spent in a haze of liquor and lithium. He was a beat cop for six years, institutionalized for nine months, and entered the 1930s with his own private eye license and a shoddy little office in Charlestown, Boston.
It was 1934, and Karl Becker had finally started to feel like he might have gotten his life together. He buried himself in the sort of case-work no one else would touch. Not because the work was particularly difficult or degrading, but because the local PD kept as far away from the more...esoteric cases as possible.
Karl wasn’t certain how this became is life, but sometime after he founded his Agency, he became the go-to man for the police when they uncovered anything certifiably supernatural. It all had it’s roots in the Kenderson Case, back in 1927, back when he was still a copper. He’d chased a perp through a warehouse, stumbled on a strange ritual, and was nearly sacrificed to a very dark, very terrible entity from the depths of the unknowable cosmos.
His mental breakdown followed soon after.
When he came out of the hospital, he’d almost convinced himself he’d imagined the entire affair. It had, naturally, been the product of a sick and exhausted mind, because Outer Gods did not exist, and monsters belonged in fairytales.
But he kept seeing things. Strange things that he couldn’t properly explain. Things that, for lack of a better phrase, went bump in the night.
His old partner, Mickey Mackleson, brought a case to his door. He’d been promoted to detective in the months following the Kenderson Case. And he’d deserved it too. After all, Mickey hadn’t had lost his marbles.
“It’s one of yours,” Mickey said
“One of mine?” Karl asked
“You know...a spooky one.”
The rest, as they say, was history.
Presently, Karl Becker was standing alone in a warehouse in the Back Bays.
Well, not quite alone. He hadn’t truly been alone since...a different incident that had occurred a month prior. An incident in which he’d foiled some sort of cult sacrifice, smashed a stupid little goat statue and picked up a rather unwelcome houseguest.
He tried not to worry about the Hitchhiker, turning his attention to the cleaned-up murder scene in the basement. The body -- one Miss Elaine Hill, age 25 -- had been moved on to the coroner’s office, but the police tape and buckets of gore remained for his viewing pleasure.
GreedyBoy
Mind the gap.
An early morning mist crept in through the wide open door of the warehouse, coiling around the detective’s feet and the many shelves around the warehouse. A chill hung in the air, sudden and unwelcoming, just like the creature who caused it.
‘well that certainly is disgusting , even for me.’
The voice was much like the mist. Fading in and out, not enough to grab onto and when you finally did it slipped from your fingers before you could fully inspect it. However as it went on, the voice became more and more clear,
‘Ah well, at least she went out with a bang’
There was a pause,
‘or a splat from what I can tell.’
Within the blink of an eye, a dark figure appeared, leaning against the wall. The only thing that prevented this figure from being dismissed as a shadow was the glowing red light that came from the cigarette that was held in its teeth. The unusually red light illuminated the figure’s smirking face. It was a man, a young man, couldn’t have been a day over 20 or 21. However when his eyes opened, those piercing, glowing yellow eyes, they held an age that was not capable of a human to hold. The malice behind those eyes that flickered like hellfire tore into the detective.
There was another brief pause before he spoke again,
‘I wouldn’t be looking down detective, I’d be looking up.’
He punctuated this with a click of his fingers, which pointed to the catwalk above them.
‘Like I said. Out with a splat.’
‘well that certainly is disgusting , even for me.’
The voice was much like the mist. Fading in and out, not enough to grab onto and when you finally did it slipped from your fingers before you could fully inspect it. However as it went on, the voice became more and more clear,
‘Ah well, at least she went out with a bang’
There was a pause,
‘or a splat from what I can tell.’
Within the blink of an eye, a dark figure appeared, leaning against the wall. The only thing that prevented this figure from being dismissed as a shadow was the glowing red light that came from the cigarette that was held in its teeth. The unusually red light illuminated the figure’s smirking face. It was a man, a young man, couldn’t have been a day over 20 or 21. However when his eyes opened, those piercing, glowing yellow eyes, they held an age that was not capable of a human to hold. The malice behind those eyes that flickered like hellfire tore into the detective.
There was another brief pause before he spoke again,
‘I wouldn’t be looking down detective, I’d be looking up.’
He punctuated this with a click of his fingers, which pointed to the catwalk above them.
‘Like I said. Out with a splat.’
sspky
ooof my bones
Karl pulled a flashlight from the inner pocket of his long overcoat and scanned the light across the pulped remains splattered across the concrete. There were white specs among the fleshy chunks that he thought might have been bone. He traced the light up the wall, towards the ceiling, until he spotted a loft some 8 metres overhead.
“Hm. She fell.” he agreed, “But a fall doesn’t cause this sort of...splatter.”
Kneeling down, Karl brought the flashlight back to the ground and muttered - as much to himself as to his hitchhiker, “Thrown. At a great force?”
For a moment he was silent. He knew there was a patrolman somewhere at the perimeter of the crime scene, and he wouldn’t be surprised if, at any moment, someone came in to check on him, and so he was wary of talking directly to the strange entity in the room.
His former colleagues already thought he was completely batty. Talking the case over to himself was one thing, but addressing some being that was invisible to everyone but, apparently, himself? That would get him locked right up again, and quick.
Finally, he levelled the beam of light onto the shadowy spectre and said pointedly, “I should probably find a way up there.”
The flashlight lingered on the demon a moment, before drifting along the wall to the left. He wasn’t exactly certain how far away the demon could travel from him, or just how much control it had over objects in the physical world, but he was determined to find out.
“Hm. She fell.” he agreed, “But a fall doesn’t cause this sort of...splatter.”
Kneeling down, Karl brought the flashlight back to the ground and muttered - as much to himself as to his hitchhiker, “Thrown. At a great force?”
For a moment he was silent. He knew there was a patrolman somewhere at the perimeter of the crime scene, and he wouldn’t be surprised if, at any moment, someone came in to check on him, and so he was wary of talking directly to the strange entity in the room.
His former colleagues already thought he was completely batty. Talking the case over to himself was one thing, but addressing some being that was invisible to everyone but, apparently, himself? That would get him locked right up again, and quick.
Finally, he levelled the beam of light onto the shadowy spectre and said pointedly, “I should probably find a way up there.”
The flashlight lingered on the demon a moment, before drifting along the wall to the left. He wasn’t exactly certain how far away the demon could travel from him, or just how much control it had over objects in the physical world, but he was determined to find out.
GreedyBoy
Mind the gap.
The demon’s ruby eyes flicked up to the catwalk, then back to the detective, ‘Well you could...I don’t know... maybe find a staircase?’
He sauntered over to Karl, as casual as a man going for a morning walk. He walked directly through all the...mess. Yet, no bloody footprints trailed him. Now he was fully in the weak light coming from the door, his horns were fully visible in all their demonic glory. They were curled like a ram and a chain dangled around one, swaying but never seeming to obscure his vision. The sound of the metal chain shifting and clinking was oddly contained, it didn’t echo at all in the massive warehouse. The light from his flashlight illuminated sharp teeth. If you ignored the horns and those teeth, there were more unsettling things wrong with the man’s face. It was a little bit too perfect, a little bit too shiny and clear. There were no blemishes or freckles of any sort. The demon looked like a porcelain doll, though not as delicate.
He stood by the detective, the smoke from the cigarette coiling around his head like some sort of malevolent, ghostly serpent, ‘or do I have to point you in the right direction yet again?’
All of a sudden, the detective violently spun around to face the opposite wall and raised his flash light, illuminating a staircase leading to the catwalk. This wouldn’t have been at all odd if it wasn’t for the fact that this was not of his own accord. Clearly the demon had more control of Karl than it initially seemed. The demon had a bemused look on his face and, as suddenly as he had appeared, the detective’s new roommate vanished.
The demon’s voice suddenly came from above him. He clearly didn’t wait up for the detective.
‘Well this certainly ain’t normal.’ His voice bounced around in the detective’s head instead of in the room.
He sauntered over to Karl, as casual as a man going for a morning walk. He walked directly through all the...mess. Yet, no bloody footprints trailed him. Now he was fully in the weak light coming from the door, his horns were fully visible in all their demonic glory. They were curled like a ram and a chain dangled around one, swaying but never seeming to obscure his vision. The sound of the metal chain shifting and clinking was oddly contained, it didn’t echo at all in the massive warehouse. The light from his flashlight illuminated sharp teeth. If you ignored the horns and those teeth, there were more unsettling things wrong with the man’s face. It was a little bit too perfect, a little bit too shiny and clear. There were no blemishes or freckles of any sort. The demon looked like a porcelain doll, though not as delicate.
He stood by the detective, the smoke from the cigarette coiling around his head like some sort of malevolent, ghostly serpent, ‘or do I have to point you in the right direction yet again?’
All of a sudden, the detective violently spun around to face the opposite wall and raised his flash light, illuminating a staircase leading to the catwalk. This wouldn’t have been at all odd if it wasn’t for the fact that this was not of his own accord. Clearly the demon had more control of Karl than it initially seemed. The demon had a bemused look on his face and, as suddenly as he had appeared, the detective’s new roommate vanished.
The demon’s voice suddenly came from above him. He clearly didn’t wait up for the detective.
‘Well this certainly ain’t normal.’ His voice bounced around in the detective’s head instead of in the room.
sspky
ooof my bones
Grimacing, Karl managed to unclench his jaw and seal away some of his rage. He made a silent point to continue pestering Father Grissim for that promised exorcism. It was apparently too much to ask that if the demon could not be useful, it could at least be non-disruptive.
“I told you never to do that in public,” he muttered, scanning the dim light of the warehouse and hoping no one had seen what had just transpired. He meant to delay his ascent up the stairs on stubborn principle, intent on scouring the crime scene instead, until he heard the demons voice in his head.
Rolling his eyes, Karl straightened his gray homburg and made his way up the stairs. By the time he made it up to the loft, there was a slight tinge in his right knee, which he was determined to completely ignore. While he was forced to reconcile the burns that scarred his right arm every time he removed his clothes, Karl made a point of denying the existence of any and all of his other old war injuries.
When he made it to the top of the stairs, he scanned the flashlight through the darkness, his gaze hawkish and pin-prick focused.
“I told you never to do that in public,” he muttered, scanning the dim light of the warehouse and hoping no one had seen what had just transpired. He meant to delay his ascent up the stairs on stubborn principle, intent on scouring the crime scene instead, until he heard the demons voice in his head.
Rolling his eyes, Karl straightened his gray homburg and made his way up the stairs. By the time he made it up to the loft, there was a slight tinge in his right knee, which he was determined to completely ignore. While he was forced to reconcile the burns that scarred his right arm every time he removed his clothes, Karl made a point of denying the existence of any and all of his other old war injuries.
When he made it to the top of the stairs, he scanned the flashlight through the darkness, his gaze hawkish and pin-prick focused.
