You don't fuck around with the infinite.
-Mean Streets, a film by Martin Scorsese

How can I promise you forever
When I can't even promise the rest of the day
All I know is we started this journey together
And hopefully we can make it the rest of the way
-Goodie MOb, "Inshallah"

My feathers and flames are one skin
Hallowed be Thy name
In the beginning there was *no* sin
-Vast Aire Kramer, "Scream Phoenix"

===============
[September 30, 2001.  8:15 a.m. The Oval Office.]

"Mister President?"

Silence.

"Pardon me, sir, but you need to hear this."

"Go away, general."

"Sir, please. This is important."

A long pause. "Fine, tell me."

"We... well..."

"Spit it out!"

"New Haven is inaccessible."

A longer pause. "What?"

"New Haven is blocked off from all contact. Communication cannot get in 
or out. Our men stationed near there say that there is some form of 
barrier blocking entry to the city."

"What?"

"Sir, entry to and from New Haven is impossible. Some form of shield 
sprang up around the town at-" shuffling of papers, "about four thirty. 
The guards around the town were able to pass through the barrier into 
the city, but then were not able to return. Apparently, the barrier 
allowed access in, but restricted exit. The soldiers on our side of the 
barrier were watched helplessly as our men were devoured by some form 
of monster."

A sigh. "You're kidding. What kind of monster?"

"We're not entirely sure, sir. The only concrete fact that we have is 
that it is very large." Shuffling again. "I quote, 'The monsters seemed 
to melt out of the ground.' Afterwards, the barrier solidified and cut 
off all access at..." More shuffling. "Seven. From that point on, there 
has been no entry. One of our soldiers tried to push through the 
barrier, but had no luck. There appears to be no adverse effects from 
touching it."

"Why didn't our men shoot the beasts?"

"Apparently, even before it solidified, the barrier blocked access to 
any form of weapons fire. Men could pass freely, but bullets did not. 
They just seemed to... hang on, I've an account somewhere..." Papers 
shuffling. "Here it is. 'The bullets dropped to the ground just in 
front of the barrier, rusted.' That's from the General we have in 
charge at New Haven. He also said that they tried to send a helicopter 
in for a rescue, but when it contacted the barrier it exploded."

Pause. "Will the nukes still be effective?"

"Sir?"

"Can we still wipe New Haven off the map?"

"That is highly doubtful, sir. The barrier has resisted all small-arms 
fire, according to our reports."

A sigh. "Small arms fire is not a nuclear warhead, general."

"I realize that sir, but-"

"No buts. We launch at one o'clock today."

"Sir, there are people still in the town! Some of our soldiers might 
have survived!"

"Then may God have mercy on their souls."

 =====================================
 New Haven
 -------------------------------------
 there are two things in life.
 fact... and belief.

 Scene 1-5: On Earth As It Is...

 by David 'black dub' Brothers
 =====================================

The small town of New Haven was not your stereotypical New England 
city. Even before the disastrous events of September 29, 2001, the city 
had its odd little vagaries. Occasionally a wandering transient or a 
young child would go missing, never to be found. Prized possessions 
would disappear without a trace from homes. A study of statistics over 
the more than two hundred years of the town's existence would show 
nothing overly unusual, however, as every town has its little problems.

Some things, however, are not recorded in the histories. Some things 
are only passed down from barely remembered traditions. It is 
impossible find out everything about New Haven by reading a book, 
instead, New Haven must be experienced. The traditional story was that 
the founder of New Haven died in the mountains of Appalachia. The 
traditional story was wrong.

Stephan Carroll went insane and died in a mental hospital.

New Haven was to be built in the same manner that Savannah, Georgia was 
constructed. It was to be highly structured and planned. Corners must 
be aligned just *so*, the size of each city block *must* be a factor of 
a certain number. New Haven was to be a paragon of geometric beauty.

Somewhere along the line, that plan went horribly wrong.

Carroll was a widower. He had lost his wife back in his native 
Manchester in a hunting accident. In that same accident, Carroll lost 
the use of his left hand. Grief-stricken, he immersed himself in his 
studies. He published several papers on non-traditional mathematics and 
become known for his unorthodox ideas.

He quickly became known as an eccentric. He had the house that he and 
his wife had shared for twenty years torn down and rebuilt according to 
his new plans. The new house seemed to *twist* the vision of an 
observer, causing phantom pain in nearly all who gazed upon its dark 
facade.

It burned down roughly six months after it was built.

Carroll's focus had changed from a hunger for math to a lust for the 
secret of life. The thought of his wife haunted his dreams, causing him 
to sleep perhaps two hours a night. Carroll slowly became more 
eccentric. He often received visitors in the dead of night, or so his 
neighbors said. The strange part was that no one was seen coming or 
going. Ever. His house burned down during the time when Carroll had 
received one of these visitors.

A wealthy nobleman built a new home for Carroll. Carroll felt that he 
owed the nobleman a favor, so he offered to create a town made of 
mathematical perfection. The nobleman, being of a playful sort, agreed. 
He sent Carroll to the Colonies, and told him to build the town on the 
land that the nobleman already owned.

Within eight months, New Haven was born.

It was a lively town and a large center of business for quite a while. 
Then the rumors started. Ten years after the town was built, people 
began to talk of the man who lived in the house at the edge of town. A 
local woman claimed that she saw him walking through the streets at 
night, naked and mumbling to himself. The few who knew who the man was 
were not surprised. Stephan Carroll had a reputation for eccentricity. 
Now, in his old age, it had developed into senility. There were always 
the naysayers, however. Some said that he had made a deal with the 
Devil. Others said that he had sold his soul to something far, far 
worse.

Just as in England, people soon began to see night visitors at 
Carroll's home. This time, however, they were much more obvious. Though 
their form was cloaked in shadow, the townspeople still broke out in 
goosebumps whenever the visitors were spotted around town. One night, 
there were the sounds of a raucous party coming from Carroll's house. 
The young village girl, who served as his maid, came to town the next 
day for supplies. She was pelted with questions. What was going on? 
What has he done? Is it true that--?

The girl simply replied that nothing had happened, there was no party, 
and that they should mind their own business. All of the villagers, 
however, noticed the haunted look in her eyes. The next time she came 
to town, her eyes were devoid of any emotion at all. Within two weeks, 
she was found dead in Carroll's bathroom. She had hung herself with 
strips from her own dress.

The girl was Michelle Kramer. She left two sons and an infant daughter 
behind her. Custody of the children was given to the town of New Haven.

The years began to pass quickly. The villagers were terrified of the 
house, and of the nearly ancient Carroll as well. He had fired all of 
the help one spring morning, so his house was filthy and lawn was 
growing out of control. He became even more of a recluse, only coming 
to town to buy supplies, use the services of the brothel, or to pick up 
packages. The packages were invariably book-shaped, some larger than 
others.

The years had not been kind to him. Carroll, once a tall, proud man, 
was now bitterly weak. His left arm seemed to be paralyzed, and his 
heavy limp showed how far he had fallen from grace. His face was newly 
scarred. Someone, or something, had carved a jagged vertical line 
beginning on his forehead and ended just above his lip. No one, having 
looked at his face, could decide on what exactly the scar resembled. 
Some said it was a cross, others a sword. Still others said that it was 
a woman. The villagers put up with him however. He was quite old, and 
should die soon.

Sadly, that was not to be the case.

Everything came to a head nineteen years after the construction of New 
Haven, and twenty-two years after the death of his wife. Over a period 
of three months, October, November, and December, everything grew to a 
wild crescendo and then came to a screeching halt.

In middle October, Children began to disappear at an alarming rate. By 
mid-November, no less than two dozen were gone. Often, small articles 
from the children would be found on the outskirts of New Haven. Toys, 
shoes, hats, even clothes sometimes. By mid-December, adults began to 
disappear as well. Some may have left the town due to fear, but there 
is no way to tell.

None of the bodies were ever found.

Then, the owner of a local brothel claimed that one of her girls was 
last seen with Carroll. The girl was found just outside of Carroll's 
home, horribly mutilated. When the local police stormed his house, they 
found him sitting in his bathtub, covered in blood and staring off into 
space, babbling nonsense to himself. The arresting officers refused to 
repeat what was said. Some of the blood was Carroll's. He was bleeding 
from the ears and eyes, and there were long cuts over his chest. But, 
there was too much blood for only one person. There had to be another 
source. Obscure equations were written on the floors and walls of the 
bathroom in blood, as well as many incomprehensible groupings of 
letters.

The letters never did really wash out. They just seemed to fade over 
time.

Stephan Carroll had finally gone insane. He was removed from his home 
and placed in a mental hospital, where he spent the last of his days.

But, Carroll's 'gift' to the city of New Haven remained. It lasted over 
the years, wholly undetected. Undetected, that is, until September 30, 
2001, when it awakened.

===============

Viewed from above, the very design of New Haven would seem to twist the 
eye in much the same manner that Carroll's house in Manchester, England 
did. Something about the town would just tickle at the back of a man's 
mind. Perhaps the fact that the town expanded in a very logical manner 
caused this. Every new road, every new district conformed to Carroll's 
original idea of the town. Perfection was absolute.

In truth, the angles of the town would just not look right. A grouping 
of roads that should have formed a triangle would have more than 180 
degrees. Nowhere was this more apparent than in Carroll's old home. 
That entire city block was a puzzle of non-Euclidian measurements. What 
made it worse was that it was the Historic District, meaning that all 
the houses were carefully preserved. It also meant that it was 
deserted. No one could live there for fear of damaging the relics.

Those who tried to live there moved away within a very short period of 
time.

On September 30, 2001, at 4:20 a.m., the strange stains on the wall of 
Stephan Carroll's old bathroom glowed a bright red. It was so bright 
that it would have been visible from the outside, had anyone been 
around to witness it. The house seemed to bulge outwards and then 
winked out of existence. In its place stood a small grey sphere, which 
soon dissolved into a fine mist. This mist quickly traveled from the 
former house to the outskirts of town. From there, it grew rapidly, 
covering the town in a grey bubble. All of the plants within three feet 
of it on both sides turned old, brittle, and finally to dust. Then, the 
bubble began to solidify. By 7:00 a.m., the grey mist had progressed 
from bubble to barrier. The barrier glowed a dark purple and pulsed in 
a steady rhythm, as if it was the beating of a dark heart. Those who 
had the privilege of observing the barrier from a safe distance would 
note that the barrier did not impede sight at all, indeed, it seemd to 
draw the eye into the town.

You see, Stephan Carroll knew that there was no way that he could live 
forever. Human beings simply do not have the mental equipment to handle 
eternity. Instead, Carroll gave his life's work the gift of 
immortality.

Immortality is not just about living forever. Immortality is remaining 
the same. Eternal agelessness. Immortality is maintaining a static 
state when all else around you decays.

Nothing would be permitted entry or exit that would disturb the careful 
balance that existed in New Haven.

New Haven was now immortal.

New Haven was now protected from the rest of the world. The only things 
that could harm New Haven now were the ravages of Time... and New Haven 
itself.

===============
[September 30, 2001. 3:55 a.m. Near City Hall.]

The Vatican Operations Group had set up shop two blocks from City Hall 
at about three a.m. God played by His own rules, and Evil was forced to 
abide by them. Tradition stated that evil tends to set up where it can 
easily access the faithful. In New Haven, this must mean the center of 
town.

Archbishop Luccini, Father Gregory Bruno, and Father Johnathan Edgewood 
were going over one last weapons check when City Hall exploded. They 
rushed from their van just in time to see a fanged creature run by 
them, screeching in an inhuman voice and bleeding from a gaping hole in 
its stomach.

Then the wailing began.

Barely visible in the night sky was a living shadow. It screamed and 
screamed as it flew over the wrecked City Hall. Its scream gradually 
quieted and turned to a sickly laughter. It was the laughter of 
children.

"Good God," breathed Father Edgewood, gazing upward. "It's real. It's 
all real." He looked at his compatriots guiltily, wondering if they had 
detected his lapse of faith. The look on their faces said that they had 
not. They were in as much awe as Edgewood.

"We must be about His business," said Luccini. Bruno nodded and crossed 
himself. They began walking back to their Econoline. Unseen by the two 
of them, Edgewood slipped a small silver flask out of his inside pocket 
and took a long pull. He grimaced, put the flask away and returned to 
the van.

===============
[September 30, 2001. Approximately 4:00 a.m. Karen Hopewell's abandoned 
car.]

Casey was confused.

He had found the master's shiny metal thing, but it was surrounded by 
odd little men. Some were looking inside the metal thing, while others 
had opened the top of it and poking around. The men stood at about 
Casey's height and they all looked the same to Casey. Each one had huge 
ears, similar to the foxes that Casey sometimes hunted, and a large 
tooth filled mouth. They were also dressed in the same type of clothes 
that the male master wore when he opened the top of the shiny metal 
thing and shouted at the large-sounding animal that lived inside it.

They seemed to be singing and dancing around the metal thing. Their 
voices grated on Casey's sensitive ears, so he barked to tell them to 
be quiet and back away from the metal thing. This spooked them and they 
all ran off in a different direction. To Casey, this was no different 
than when the male master took him along in the bigger shiny metal 
thing with loud noises and the bad humans all ran away. Casey gave 
chase, but soon tired of the game. The little men were too fast to 
catch, and the one that he did catch had a horrible taste. Casey 
returned to the car and sniffed around. He finally caught the scent of 
his masters walking off in another direction. Casey gave the local tree 
a visit and trotted off.

===============
[September 30, 2001. 4:16 a.m. Basement of New Haven Hospital.]

Harlukia was nauseous.

He had returned from City Hall about an hour and a half ago with his 
two female charges. Alicia remained unconscious, while the other woman 
would most likely not awaken for a long time. He had placed them both 
on cots in the morgue and sat down to relax. He popped open a bag of 
Type O blood to sip on while he tried to doze off.

However, the nausea was bothering him mentally. Though he was a 
vampire, a few human traits still remained alive and well in him. 
Nausea, however, was not one of them. Shortly after returning to the 
morgue, Harlukia became so nauseous that he could barely stand. It 
passed after a moment, but it was still strange.

With a start, Harlukia realized the problem. He had only drank a little 
of the man's blood before he realized that it was type AB. Perhaps that 
small amount of AB blood was affecting him in this manner. But, this 
had never happened before. Harlukia should have been invincible.

As Harlukia was contemplating this, he began to itch. At first, he 
passed it off as a reaction to all the magical and psychic forces 
bouncing about in New Haven. After a moment, it was already too painful 
to ignore. The itch was all over his body, and burned like fire. He 
pulled up his sleeves and looked at his arms. His pale skin was covered 
in hives.

Then, he began to itch below the belt.

He began scratching like mad, his thoughts only on ridding himself of 
this ignoble pain. His consort and revenge could wait. This was 
important.

The woman he had found in City Hall suddenly sat up across the room. 
She looked around and saw only Harlukia scratching his unmentionables. 
"Harlukia?!" she screamed. Harlukia looked up in shock. How did she 
know his name? Who was she? What was she--

Before he could question her properly, Harlukia was knocked off his 
feet by an unseen force. He slammed into the hard metal wall of the 
morgue and lost consciousness. The woman was thrown off her cot and 
onto the ground. With a sudden mental flash, she realized that she 
could *feel* the magical power active in the town. The force didn't 
affect the woman as it had Harlukia. Instead of blasting her across the 
room, it gave her just enough of a jolt to knock her off her cot. She 
slowly stood and began walking over to Harlukia. Was it really him?

Just before she got there, she was hit by what felt disturbingly like a 
bed pan to the head and passed out as well.

Behind her, Alicia grinned before attempting to leave the room. There 
was a bit of a problem with that, however. The doors were locked. 
Alicia screamed the scream of the frustrated.

The time was 4:20 a.m.

===============
[September 30, 2001. 3:57 a.m. Entrance to Coltrane Park.]

"Er," began Johnny Basquain, "guys?" Karen and Charlie Hopewell looked 
from the enormous spider hanging above them to the man standing next to 
them. The sheer fear in their eyes told Johnny enough. "I suggest that 
we run." With that, Johnny took off, dashing under the spider. It took 
Karen and Charlie no time at all to follow him. The spider dropped down 
from the tree and gave chase.

They ran for what seemed like ages. As they ran farther and farther 
into the park, the light dimmed to nearly nothing. They finally stopped 
to regroup. Karen and Charlie, used to a rigorous workout regimen, had 
nearly no trouble at all with the dash. Johnny, on the other hand, 
couldn't seem to catch his breath.

"Johnny?" Karen asked.

"Yeah?" Johnny managed to gasp out. "What?"

"Didn't you say that you ran track in high school?"

Shit, Johnny thought. *Damn* her memory. "Yeah, but that was years ago. 
I must have gotten out of shape or something." He laughed nervously 
while Karen looked at him suspiciously. Something wasn't adding up. 
Before she could say anything, Johnny spoke up.

"Guys?" asked Johnny. "Did Coltrane Park always have these ferns?" 
Johnny pointed at a fern that was roughly six feet tall. Charlie and 
Karen looked at each and shrugged. The park around them was an image 
directly out of the Amazon rain forest. Tall trees formed a canopy over 
their heads, monkeys moved about in the tops of trees, and various 
forms of small snakes crawled over the ground.

"When I went jogging last weekend," said Karen, "none of this was here. 
In fact, there should have been a footpath directly in front of the 
entrance." She shivered slightly. "I know for *sure* that there were no 
giant spiders. I *hate* those." Charlie walked over and rubbed her arm 
affectionately.

"Hey sis," he said, "it's okay. Remember that time when you were 
fifteen and we had all those spiders in the house? That was pretty 
funny," he chuckled.

If looks could kill, Karen would have been guilty of first degree 
murder. "No that wasn't," she said. "That was horrible."

"I remember when you woke up one morning and there was a spider on your 
bed and you screamed *so* loud and-"

"Charlie! C'mon. Now is not the time for this. We can reminisce later 
on-"

"And that one time when you walked around for nearly a day with a 
spider in your-"

"Charlie! Look, stop that!" said Karen. Charlie just continued on, 
reminiscing madly. She looked to Johnny for help, but he simply grinned 
and shrugged.

"Remember that one day I put that rubber spider down your shirt?"

"Chuck, stop it! We're in a jungle that appeared out of *nowhere*, 
we're surrounded by *spiders*, Alicia has been kidnapped by some 
Renaissance Fair *reject* and you're remembering the *good* *times*?"

"Come to think of it," mused Johnny, "that's not such a bad idea."

"You be quiet!" said Karen.

Unseen by them all, a pair of yellow eyes watched this exchange. Cold 
malice shone brightly, along with something... more.

===============
[September 30, 2001. 4:25 a.m. Main Street New Haven Metro]

The Vatican Operations Group was traveling along the streets of New 
Haven in the dead of night. They were following the strange shadow that 
had appeared over City Hall. Suddenly, the shadow made an abrupt dive 
for the earth and disappeared below ground. The van screeched to a 
halt. The three priests stepped out. Father Bruno grabbed the trunk 
holding their weapons and dragged it out of the back of the van.

"Well," said Father Edgewood. "Now what?" Archbishop Luccini simply 
pointed down the road at a sign. The sign read 'New Haven Metro.' "Oh." 
The V.O.G. began walking towards the metro. "That... that thing that 
came out of City Hall? What was it, Archbishop Luccini?" asked 
Edgewood.

Luccini coughed wetly and spat. "That was a geistenkinder. The spirit 
children. There are certain magic spells that can lock the souls of 
human beings in buildings. When they are released-"

"Magic doesn't exist," interrupted Edgewood. "It's against God's Will."

"Then why is it written, 'Suffer not a witch to live?'" Edgewood had no 
retort to that.

"How do you know all this, sir?" asked Father Bruno.

"There is more in my theology, kind Bruno," responded Luccini with a 
wry grin. "than exists in your Heaven and Earth." Bruno and Luccini 
chuckled.

"It's getting darker..." mumbled Father Edgewood. He looked up at the 
sky to gauge the moonlight, and shouted in shock. He pointed skyward at 
the slowly growing bubble. "What is *that*?!"

Both Bruno and Luccini looked upward. All three priests crossed 
themselves. "It's a sign," said Bruno. "A sign from God."

Luccini gave Bruno a withering stare. "Don't be foolish," he said. "God 
does not use darkness. He uses pillars of fire in the desert." Luccini 
pointed up. "*That* is clearly of evil origin."

Edgewood cleared his throat and said, "Well, didn't He create the earth 
out of darkness?"

"Quiet!" retorted Luccini. "That is irrelevant. Stop being so 
belligerent. You should feel privileged to be on this mission. This 
darkness-" An explosion cut off Luccini's sentence. All three turned 
around to see a shambler standing in the wreck of their ruined van. 
Before their very eyes, three more shamblers grew up from the shadow 
that the bubble cast. "What in-?"

Father Bruno reacted quickly and threw a vial of Holy Water at one. The 
shambler would have been offended if it could be said to have emotions. 
Instead, it was simply wet. It slowly trudged out of the wreckage and 
towards the priests. Luccini held a cross in his left hand and a gold-
plated gun in the other. He shot the first shambler three times, and 
had the decency to look surprised when nothing at all happened. "But," 
he said, "these bullets were blessed! What's going on?" He aimed again, 
but missed when Edgewood grabbed his arm.

"Run!" shouted Edgewood. He ran off towards the metro entrance, 
followed by Luccini. Bruno lagged slightly behind, carrying the weapons 
trunk.

"Rache," said a child's voice. "Rache!" There was a quiet laugh 
afterwards which quickly faded in the noise of the night. It was the 
laugh of a child.

===============
[September 30, 2001. 4:15 a.m. Coltrane Park.]

Karen, Charlie, and Johnny slowly trekked through the tangled jungle of 
Coltrane Park. They were certain that they were being followed by 
something, but the only clue was an odd tapping sound somewhere behind 
them. Johnny was a veritable hotbed of paranoia. Every couple of 
minutes he would stop the group and look around the area, searching for 
something. He would jump at every noise and he nearly blew the head off 
a raven that happened to cross their path.

"Johnny," said Charlie at one of these stops, "is there something 
wrong? You seem kind of... jumpy, I guess."

Johnny looked at Charlie in shock. "We're being chased by *giant* 
spiders, Charlie!" Karen jumped at the spider-image again. "Stop that 
Karen. Charlie, we're in a crisis situation here. We could *die* at any 
minute. There are monsters rampaging around town, who knows *what* 
following us, and I swear I saw a *damn* undead *chicken* somewhere 
back there! I have *ample* reason to be jumpy."

Charlie thought for a moment and said, "You weren't this jumpy near 
City Hall. Do you-"

"Charlie," interrupted Karen, "stop it. It doesn't matter. We just need 
to get to Kramer's and we can hash this all out."

So, the trio continued on their way.

After a couple more minutes of walking, Charlie spoke again. "Is it 
just me, or is it getting darker? I can barely see two feet in front of 
me." Almost as if to prove his point, Charlie walked directly into an 
eight foot tall stone man. He let out a 'yow!' of surprise as he fell 
to the ground. Johnny pulled his gun and shot the statue four times 
before he realized what it actually was.

"Dammit," said Johnny. "I'm wasting bullets. What the hell is that 
thing?"

"It looks like a statue of Stephan Carroll, founder of New Haven," said 
Karen. She stopped for a moment to help Charlie up. "But, if it's here, 
then Coltrane Park picnic area should be just ahead. It's hard to tell 
with all these plants. These most definitely were *not* here last 
weekend."

"Tell me about this picnic area," said Johnny. "What's it like?"

"Well, it isn't so much a picnic area than a wide open area. There 
should be a clearing with tables and things, but considering how 
overgrown this part is now, I wouldn't be surprised if the picnic 
clearing is a jungle, too."

Johnny looked around the group for a minute, and then headed in the 
direction of the picnic area.

Behind them, the yellow eyes watched and waited.

Johnny finally pushed through to the picnic area, Karen and Charlie 
close behind him. What they stunned them.

The entire area was covered in thick, ropy vines. The vines covered the 
few apple trees that were in the park before the disaster and a few of 
those trees had already collapsed under the vines' weight. Butterflies 
as large as footballs fluttered around the clearing, feeding on flowers 
that cleared at least three feet. Huge foxes dashed about the clearing, 
chasing rabbits that were as big as small dogs. It was as if everything 
had grown in size overnight.

"Shit!" said Johnny. "This is wrong. This looks like-"

"Wow," interrupted Karen. "This is really different."

"Yeah," added Charlie. He turned around to gaze at the clearing in its 
entirety. "It's beautiful in its own apocalyptic, calm before the storm 
kind of way."

"Twisted, but still pretty," concluded Karen. "This place looks pretty 
safe. Let's find a place to rest." She began to walk around the 
clearing, searching for some place to sit. She ended up finding a small 
stone bench that was nearly with vines. Both Karen and Charlie sat down 
and took a breather, much to Johnny's chagrin. He looked around 
worriedly before hurrying over to the bench.

"No!" said Johnny. He unsucessfully tried to pull Charlie up from the 
bench. "No, no, no. We have to leave, now. This is the worst possible 
place to be. No matter where else we go, there is no worse place to be 
in all of New Haven."

"Johnny," said Charlie, "what's going on? I mean, look at this place. 
It's beautiful. What could possibly go wrong here?" Johnny simply 
facepalmed.

Disaster, it has been noted, has a hell of a sense of humor. Fortune, 
on the other hand, is a sadistic bastard.

As soon as Johnny finished his sentence, a large, overgrown spider 
crawled out of the forest about twenty feet in front of the group. To 
make matters worse, about fifteen more came crawling out behind it. 
Just to be sure that things were bad enough, Fortune added two Kodiak 
bears, three tigers, and a hairy man walking beside a rather large jet 
black panther.

"Well," said Johnny, "*shit*."

Fortune, pleased with itself, went off to have coffee with Disaster.

Karen and Charlie turned to run, only to find five more spiders 
standing behind them. Karen's scream was cut off when a spider shot her 
in the face with a bit of silky webbing. Her eyes went wide as the 
spider quickly wrapped her up. Karen let out a muffled scream of fright 
before fainting.

Karen *really* hated spiders.

Charlie, on the other hand, put up more of a fight. He managed to shoot 
one spider. The ichor that oozed from the spider's wound was a blackish 
green, and steamed slightly in the nighttime air. The spider screamed 
in a high-pitched vocie and stabbed a foreleg at Charlie. It missed him 
and hit a tree. The tree, already weakened by the weight of the vines 
covering it, fell. It fell with a resounding crash, and crushed three 
of the spiders in the process. However, before Charlie had time to 
realize his victory, he was webbed up and gagged by two other spiders.

Johnny, on the other hand, was otherwise occupied. The tigers and 
panther had him cornered and the furry man was slowly advancing on him.

The man was covered in a light grey fur. His eyes were shaped like 
snake's eyes and were a sickly shade of yellow. The eyes glowed with a 
pale light, making the man's face that much easier to see. His long 
fangs were bared between thin lips, and his facial hair was exactly 
that. Facial hair. His face was covered in the same fur that was all 
over the rest of his body. His hair was similar to a lion's mane, 
windswept backwards and very long. He flexed his hands and long silvery 
claws slipped out from the tips of his fingers. He leapt over the ring 
of cats surrounding Johnny and landed noiselessly. He stepped forward, 
getting directly into Johnny's face, sniffing wildly.

Jebdorn looked up at the night sky and howled, spraying spit all over 
Johnny's face.

Johnny just whimpered and nearly wet his pants.

===============
[September 30, 2001. 4:35 a.m.]

The Vatican Operations Group had stopped running about one hundred feet 
into the metro. The surroundings were remarkably different from what 
they were expecting. Instead of the polished, shiny tiling that most 
metro stations had, the walls were covered in a kind of porous stone 
substance that smelled of brimstone.

Even these walls were covered in graffiti. One inscription read 'H-A-S-
T-U-R! Say it outloud!' Another said 'What Would Samael Do?' Still 
another said 'Call Lilith for a fun time! 666-0000.'

The once technologically impressive ticket machines had been turned 
into alcohol dispenser. Most of the drinks had names like 'Sudden 
Death,' 'Bloody Mary,' and 'Beelzebubweiser.'

All in all, it was a thoroughly frightening place.

"What *is* this place?" said Father Bruno. "It reeks of Hell." Bruno 
crossed himself for what must have been the fifteenth time since 
entering the metro.

Father Edgewood merely looked around warily, muttering to himself. 
Luccini had opened an ancient Bible and was reading a few passages. Out 
of nowhere, a young kid tapped Edgewood on his shoulder.

Edgewood screamed like a little girl, causing the other to clergymen to 
scream as well. Eventually, they all calmed down and looked at the boy. 
He was wearing stained blue jeans, a white t-shirt with a Metallica 
logo. He couldn't have been more than eight years old.

"Heya, mister?" asked the kid. "Are you a priest?" Bruno and Edgewood 
both looked to Luccini for guidance. He simply nodded. "That's good," 
said the boy. "I think we need a priest."

Bruno knelt down next to the boy and rubbed his shoulder. "What's wrong 
child? How did you get down here?"

"We ran down here as soon as we got out."

"We? Who do you mean? Do you have any friends down here? And where did 
you get out from?"

"City Hall," said the kid. He grinned crazily. "And my friends are 
right behind me." Children of various ages stepped out of the shadows 
behind the kid. A few were dressed in the stereotypical pilgrim 
garments, while others wore little sailor suits. More wore modern 
clothes with various corporate logos emblazoned over the front of their 
shirts.

"No," said Father Bruno.

"Yes," said the kid. "Rache."

"GEISTENKINDER!" shouted Luccini. "Bruno, MOVE!"

===============
[September 30, 2001. 4:30 a.m. Basement of New Haven Hospital.]

Alicia sat in a corner, frustrated. She had locked the woman into a 
storage closet, and shut Harlukia into one of the drawers that held 
dead bodies.

The problem was, she still didn't know how to get out. The doors were 
locked, and everything that Alicia threw at them merely bounced back, 
bent or broken.

Then, the door to the drawer which Harlukia was locked in was knocked 
off the wall.

===============
[Author's Notes.]

Whew.

Never, *ever*, let me near a series that includes both horror and 
humor. It's always a bad idea.

Hopefully, this chapter didn't turn out too bad. It began really really 
dark, but I hope that it lightened up a bit.

Geistenkinder translates directly from the German as 'spirit children' 
and rache means 'revenge.'

Thanks to (no particular order):
Mark Poa- for pointing out the sheer lack humor in an earlier draft, 
suggestions, and prereading.
t.ogre- for prereading, suggestions, and a better name for the 
geistenkinder than what I had come up with.
Mr. Brad Smith- for prereading, even though he knows nothing about the 
series. He gave me a bit of a second opinion, an outsider's view.
A.o.D.- for info on all things Lovecraftian
King in Yellow- for info on all things Lovecraftian
Everyone else who replied to my message board thread about magic 
systems
Thomas Wilde and James Howard- for creating this series.

Well, that's that. Silent Hill plus The Lost Boys plus Land of the Lost 
equals New Haven Scene 1-5. Hope you like.

black dub the maladjusted.
blackdubtheworkerant@yahoo.com
fearofbloodtendstocreatefearfortheflesh.fearofbloodtendstocreatefear