Going for a walk outside, To see what I can find; No reflections in the windows I pass by. It feels hotter in the shade; Water's running up the drain; Something's going on. Conversations with a mime; Stared at by the blind; Imagination must be working overtime. The world is upside down; Everything is turned around. - Stranger by the Day [September 31, 2001. 1:30 a.m. Coltrane Park.] Nearly an hour has passed since Coltrane Park became the location of a massive meeting between several groups, both supernatural and otherwise. After Sapphia Ashtoreth departed with Legion and Jebdorn to fulfill their "revenge" on humanity in general, the site, where once stood the proud monument of Stephan Carroll, was now deserted, only a thin line of blood that trailed out of the park was all that remained of the encounter. Well, almost deserted. Were anyone present before had been more observant, they would have noticed a faintly glowing ring of roman numerals around the empty pedestal once occupied with the statue of New Haven's eccentric founder and architect. The more observant ones with keen hearing would have also noted the faint constant ticking and clicking sounds from somewhere at the base of the pedestal, reminiscent of antique grandfather clocks of centuries yore. The source of the sound was definitely not from an old mechanical timepiece; for one thing, the device was far older than any other chronometer that currently existed. The best place to hide something is in plain sight, and nobody at the previous gathering noticed the Antikythera Mechanism lying there at the very base of the pedestal. Well, almost nobody. There was a faint bluish glow above the ground where the Antikythera Mechanism lay, which slowly reformed into the barely-visible form of the Geistkinder who called himself Rache. If there were anybody else present to observe him, they would have noticed the suffering and agony on what should be his facial features. "Rache," a barely-audible moan could be heard, were there anybody present to hear it. And on the ground around the pedestal, the circle briefly flared to life. After a moment, it faded to a dim glow, but not before another number added itself to the circle. The number thirteen. ===================================== New Haven ------------------------------------- a taste of what happens when [G_O_D] takes a break Scene 1-13a: The Thirteenth Side A: When the Cats are Away, the Mice shall Play. Started by Thomas Wilde and James Howard ===================================== [September 31, 2001. 4:30 a.m. The Oval Office.] "Mister President?" "What the hell is it now?" "Eh, funny you should mention that, sir." ======== Had anyone looked up at the sky sometime after the red-golden light that shot through the silent night, they would have seen a hole approximately thirty-five feet wide on the protective sphere that enveloped New Haven. Except that the opening was definitely no longer thirty-five feet wide. Whether it was the result of the nuclear ash that settled on the mystic bubble, or the fact that the stasis field was not designed to contain a mystical burst of energy of an unprecedented magnitude, the result was no less readily apparent. Slowly but surely, the hole widened. Several of the new denizens that now populated the hellmouth also known as New Haven took notice. Slowly, shyly, they spread their wings, those that are either feathered, leathered, and otherwise have the capability for flight, and took to the air. ======== [September 31, 2001. 2:00 a.m. Underneath New Haven.] It's not here. Marty looked again, growing more frantic with every passing moment. His search still turned up the same way, nothing. No control orb, no missing Jaws Of Death. The other JODs milled about, forming a protective circle around their master. Were they possessed of independent thought and action, they would have remarked on the absence of the military digging machine that brought them here in the first place, or the absence of the carnivorous proto-hominids that swarmed the Mole, which forced Marty to flee in the first place. Then again, considering the situation, having the JODs lacking intelligence could be a good thing. ======== [September 31, 2001. 1:30 a.m. New Haven Docks.] The Marines, comprised of the cream of the crop of the United States military, landed on New Haven without incident. This was surprising since previous reconnaissance missions were usually met with fierce resistance from the new inhabitants. The moment the Armored Personnel Carriers touched the docks, the platoons mobilized and took positions to secure the area. This, too, was met with negative resistance. The first encounter occurred nearly half an hour later, at around 2:01 a.m. There was a distinctively low trembling, and then several strangely-misshapen chickens burst through the makeshift barricade set up by the soldiers earlier. The platoon assigned to guard the area managed to dispose of most of the undead chickens, yet several managed to reach the harbor, where they jumped right into the murky waters below. While the majority of the Marines puzzled over this inexplicable behavior, the trembling noise increased. Several soldiers looked up just in time to see what the chickens were fleeing from. At the moment the shooting started, several other humongous shapes suddenly emerged from the shores surrounding the dock. They were apparently bigger relatives of the scaly newcomer, and, after easily dispatching several APCs, most certainly just as hostile. ======== The group of survivors trudged through the swamp Remarkably enough, they encountered nothing irregular in the marsh. Other than wading in knee-deep muck, the walk was uneventful. "It looks like the worse is over for now," Charlie remarked the obvious as he led the group to dry land, in a vain attempt to comfort Alicia who was leaning on his shoulder for support. "Everything's all clear from here." "It's clear all right. like a calm before the storm," Karen grumbled, falling in step behind her brother. "Woof!" Casey, at the heels of his master, helpfully supplied. "Hey, don't be so pessimistic," Johnny, who was nursing a sore head, spoke up. "It can't get any worse..." Thunder boomed. "You just had to say that, didn't you," Michael, who was nursing a sore wrist, said flatly. Johnny weakly grinned back in apology. The finally reached dry land. "See? What did I say," Charlie said. "Now let's head back to Kramer's place." "I still think we should hightail it to the highway and out of the city," Johnny said as he pointed towards another direction, where several vehicles were involved in a head-on collision, including a delivery truck that somehow managed to flip over upside down right in the middle and atop a BMW. "We'd be risking the military patrols guarding the surrounding areas, but I'm sure we'll find a way." "How'd you know all that?" Karen asked Johnny suspiciously. "Well, I... What was that?" "Don't change the subject," Karen said, waving the butt of her pistol in a threatening manner. "No..." Johnny waved in protest. "There it is again." "What is it?" Everyone paused and looked around. Even Casey began to scan the surrounding area, sniffing cautiously at the wind. There was a sudden rumbling sensation at their feet. "I can feel it too..." Alicia squeaked. The rumbling became more pronounced. Casey whined. Michael widened his eyes. "Quickly! Run towards that truck!" Right after he spoke, he made a run for it. Moments after he spoke, the ground around them burst upwards, spilling handfuls of earth in the air. The rest of the group didn't need any more prompting, and followed after Michael. Surprisingly, it was Alicia who got to the overturned DHL truck first. She nimbly clambered atop it in seconds, and reached back with a hand. "Charlie, come on!" Charlie blinked several times at his fiancee's sudden remarkable display of agility, then shook his head ruefully and gratefully took her hand. "How'd you learn to do that?" He wondered admiringly at her. "High school gym class," Alicia replied as she helped Karen up. They then heard a yelp of protest. "Ohmygod! Casey!" Karen screamed. "Don't worry!" Johnny called back, a protesting Casey in his harms. "I got him! Help me up!" Charlie reached down to take Casey, while Michael offered a hand for Johnny. Johnny took Michael's hand, and pulled himself up, with barely seconds to spare before the ground underneath him burst open, revealing a huge wicked-looking mouth with several rows of long sharp, pointed teeth. Right then, Disaster struck, demonstrating his 1337 |\/|/-\|) \/\/1|\||) |\|1|\|j/-\ 5|<331z to Catastrophe, who was paying rapt attention. "Ow! My hand!" Michael wailed, letting go. "Ohshitohshitohshit." Johnny babbled as he fell right into the gaping maw of the creature. Or rather, his foot landed into the oversized worm's mouth, since it was only slightly larger than a man's leg in diameter. "Damn," Charlie cursed, leaning over. "Grab my hand!" Johnny did so as he tried to shake the monster free from his leg. "Ohshitohshitohshit." he continued to babble. The ground around him opened up, disgorging even more of the gigantic worm-like creatures. "Charlie!" Karen managed to grab at Charlie's leg right before Charlie was pulled overboard. "Help me!" Alicia grabbed at Charlie's other leg, and with all their might they barely managed to pull up the two men atop the truck. Unfortunately, in doing so Johnny's shoe was pulled free. They all lay panting for several minutes on the truck. Alicia managed to catch her breath first. "What are those things?" "Tremblers," Michael replied, going into reporter mode. "The publication I'm working on once did a feature article on them. They're sort of like giant earthworms, only not quite. They're omnivores, although they prefer fresh meat above all else. Most importantly, they live in dry areas like Arizona or Texas." "My shoe..." Johnny muttered. "...We're not in Arizona OR Texas," Karen pointed out. "How come they're here?" Michael nodded. "Hey, I didn't do the report on them. Something must have happened to disrupt their local habitats, that's probably why they ended up here." After a moment, he exclaimed. "This is great! Everything so far's been going wonderfully! I'll make front page material for sure!" He thumped his fist on the palm of his hand, wincing as he remembered too late that he was using the sore wrist. "If we get out of here alive." Alicia muttered. "My shoe..." "Look if you want your shoe so bad you can go back down and get it," Karen growled. Below them the Tremblers started playing catch with Johnny's shoe. "Um, no thanks." ======== [September 31, 2001. 2:59 a.m. Coltrane Park.] The glowing circle of numbers still lay around the pedestal where the Antikythera Mechanism lay. However, a few changes could now be observed. Two of the thirteen roman numerals are no longer present. As the time approached the hour, the roman numeral for three glowed brightly. At the moment the clock reached three o'clock, the glowing number shone brightly as if determined not to cease to exist, then sputtered out and died. Now there were ten numbers left. ======== [September 31, 2001. 4:40 a.m. The Oval Office.] "...And so that's that." A short pause. "You mean to tell me -- us -- that the barrier- thingy that surrounded New Haven is now gone?" "Eh, not really, sir. However, that's what we assumed what would happen in a couple of hours, tops." "General," said the President's stern voice. "We don't assume things in this business here, especially when said things are this seriously fucked-up as it is right now." "...I'm sorry, Mister President, sir. What I mean to say is that after that long burst of golden-red energy that was expelled to parts unknown, there's now a slowly widening gap on top of the barrier, which is slowly expanding in size as time goes on." "You're new at this game, aren't you?" "Yah, Mister President. The previous Chief resigned from his position at approximately," a pause, "six hours ago." "You're holding up pretty well." "Eh, I manage. I've brought myself up-to-date on the current situation as it stands these past few hours." "So..." Another pause, a longer one this time. "Let's nuke the damned city and get it over with." "But, Mister President, I must protest. We shouldn't be too hasty like the last time." "Any other suggestions then, General Niemann?" A very long pause. "...None, sir." "Good. Send out word to the boys. Time for this farce to end." ======== ======== Oh no, not me, I've never lost control, You're face, to face, With the man who sold the world. - Kurt Cobain, "The Man Who Sold The World." [September 31, 2001. 4:59 a.m. Coltrane Park.] The circle of spectral numbers still continued their silent vigil, counting down the time. At 5 o'clock, the fifth number ceased its glow and vanished into the ether along with the previous four numbers. Only eight numbers were left. ===================================== New Haven ------------------------------------- when Armageddon comes, right on schedule Scene 1-13b: The Thirteenth Side B: Things Get Worse, As Usual. Started by Thomas Wilde and James Howard ===================================== [Hidden Bug #13204 Transmission] PATSY: So what do you think of the new guy? [Short pause.] R.E.D. INK: Well, he's trustworthy, obedient, open-minded, meticulous, polite, resourceful, and ingenious. A model soldier if you ask me. PATSY: In short, he's a goddamn boy scout. R.E.D. INK: He also has a remarkable service record - He's participated in past operations in The Middle East, South America, Europe, Southeast Asia... [A pause.] STILLETTO: He's very squeaky clean. It's too suspicious. R.E.D. INK: ...I don't trust him, either. GRAUSWEIN: What, is the new guy making you all uncomfortable? STILLETTO: You could say that. He makes us all look bad. [A sound here... something like someone slamming the table with their fist.] PATSY: If that's the case, why didn't you jerks make HIM President instead of me? R.E.D. INK: That's the thing. we didn't even know people like Niemann existed before the things that went down in New Haven. If we had, we would have used him a long time ago. PATSY: A hearty "fuck you" for that inspiring vote of confidence, Ink. STILLETTO: I thought you hated the job. PATSY: Yeah, well it's the principle of the thing, Stilletto. I'm stuck with the damn job, might as well enjoy pressing the red buttons while I can. GRAUSWEIN: Besides, he's a random factor, a variable not under our sphere of influence, so to speak. We wouldn't know what he might do if ever he learned of the truth. STILLETTO: I believe it's for the best if we watch him and see where his loyalties lie for now. R.E.D. INK: What about Jaques? GRAUSWEIN: Let him stay. The best way to thwart the French intelligence is if we feed their spies exactly what they wanted to hear, which is also exactly what we wanted to let them know. PATSY: ...I don't know exactly what you meant by that, but as long as Jaques gets to stick around and get me the good shit and other fine stuff, it's all good with me. [A sound here... something like someone slapping their forehead.] STILLETTO: Have we gotten word from the GRU yet, Ink? R.E.D. INK: Even as we speak, the GRU commander is having their experts in Russia analyzing the situation based on the information we supplied to them, and depending on the situation, they might send over some of their specialists to help deal with the situation. PATSY: In other words, they're sitting on their oversized thumbs doing absolutely squat until something drastic happens. R.E.D. INK: In not exactly that choice of terms, yes. PATSY: Oh, great... More grubby immigrants. It's bad enough we have to deal with those sneaky Canadians at the borders... [A sound here... something like a strong feminine hand slapping the table.] STILLETTO: That's it! PATSY: ...What the fuck are you on? STILLETTO: The new guy! His parents are Canadian, which makes him one, too! [A very, very long pause.] GRAUSWEIN: This... is very, very serious. [End of Transmission] ======== Marty grumbled as he and his escorts trudged on. The Jaws Of Death, mistaking his indignation for an order, proceeded to lay waste at the surrounding areas while keeping a tight protective formation around their master. He decided that if he can't find the orb, he'll just have to give that one up for a lost cause. Much like most of New Haven is right now. ======== [September 31, 2001. 5:20 a.m. The Skies of New Haven.] The early light of dawn was yet to come in half an hour, yet high above New Haven, the skies were buzzing with activity. A squadron of F-16's flew in formation above the now-quarantined city, piloted by the best of the best the Air Force had to offer. They were there mainly to patrol the skies for any abnormalities, and to report them to headquarters in preparation for the upcoming bombing run by the squadron of B-2 bombers waiting in the wings. Considering the events that occurred in New Haven these past few days, this mild order could very well be an understatement. "G-G-George," one of the F-16's pilots stuttered out to his partner. "You've got to see this." "What is it now, Paxton?" The aforementioned George asked his co-pilot. "T-there's s-s-something on our w-wing." "You're imagining things," George said. "The radar's not picking up anything." "B-but George, s-something's out t-t-there. Honest!" "Have you been drinking again? Dammit Paxton, you know you shouldn't be drinking while on duty." "I haven't t-t-touched alcohol f-for a week! P-please George, f-f- for the love of GOD, l-look out t-the window!" The fighter plane shuddered all of a sudden. Piqued, George finally looked out - and saw the evilly grinning visage of a pasty-faced imp perched on their wing. The imp gleefully waved at them in return. Out of reflex, George pulled the ejection lever. This did not go unnoticed by the rest of the squadron. "Bill, what the hell's happening?" "I don't know, but I think we've just stumbled into the hornet's nest, Smith," Bill replied to his wingman, while thumbing the controls to hail headquarters. "This is Maple Squadron to base. We are now engaging enemy hostiles, repeat, we are now--" He faltered at the sight of hundreds of assorted flying monsters, too small to be picked up by conventional radar, that appeared out of nowhere and were now approaching them with visibly malevolent intent. The two pilots who ejected earlier watched the aerial battle quickly erupting around them. "See, I told you," Paxton said. "Shut up," George snapped back right when a cluster of imps swarmed around them. Meanwhile, their plane continued its deadly descent. The F-16 crashed not into New Haven, but right into the military camp of the detachment that was assigned to cordon off the city. It skidded on the ground for nearly half a kilometer, overturning tents and running over people, right before ending up where the troop vehicles were parked, which was located right next to their ammunitions depot. The resulting collision set off a massive chain reaction of explosions that quickly consumed the camp. Boom. Catastrophe wondered for the very briefest of moments if she was overdoing it, and shrugged dismissively as she went on with her work. ======== "Hey there." Ned looked up with the demonic equivalent of eyes bloodshot from drinking too much hard stuff. If he was any sober he would have run up screaming at the sight of the newcomer. "Hi, 'Gio. Care for a drink?" "Thank you. Don't mind if I do," Legion grinned as he entered the remains of Kramer's shop. [End of Part] ---------- Author's Skribulous: I have to cut things short. Too busy in RL. Thanks to Mark Poa and Jae for prereading. Sorry for the delay. -Signus Megido Herald Of The Last Army On Earth