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Blake's Ghost Hunters and the Web of Madness: Part One
- Blake's Ghost Hunters and the Web of Madness: Part One -
The machine buzzed with a strange kind of energy, of a sort the world had never seen tapped into in this way before. The energy was forced into an electrical current, which piggybacked it and changed the color of the electricity into hues the human eye was never meant to behold. To onlookers at the testing of this machine, the electricity appeared to change and shift colors, so that all the colors of the veritable rainbow were represented before the eye, all blended together in a single arcing bolt of force. The man who was testing this machine wore a white lab coat. He was middle aged, with glassed, and was gray and balding, very much the typical scientist type that most people imagine when they think about your average scientist. The tubes of the machine were linked to a man who was strapped to a table nearby, his arms and legs held fast by restraints. The man was big, burly, a prisoner formerly on death row who was chosen for this experiment as an alternative to execution by way of the electric chair. The tubes... along with countless wires and other such links... were inserted into every hole of the man's body and also into many of his veins. The man was screaming as his body was dying, whilst his spiritual energy was being literally ripped from him and secured within the nearby machine. The scientist explained the entire process with detached, clinical, and somewhat sadistic dispassion as he told the men and women who had an invested interest in this new technology that what they were witnessing was the man's spirit for lack of a better world being removed from its' prison of flesh in order to dwell in the prison of the machine into which it was being dragged. “This is, ladies and gentlemen, the world's very fist prototype spiritual containment unit, designed to hold the spiritual essence of living things. Now that we have the means of identifying this essence through its' specific energy frequencies... and there are several, which run through this reality and into several others beyond our limited human experience... we can begin to study this previously unknown energy and in time find the means to actually transfer it. Imagine, if you will, being able to take the spirit of a dying old man and place it into a fresh young body so that he can continue living without fear of death, a body perhaps cloned from the original but a much younger and healthier version than that which is originally inhabited. Or, if cloning is not possible, we could transfer the energy into a mechanical body designed to simulate human sensations so that the man might in this way become effectively immortal, at least so long as the mechanical body is maintained and kept in top working condition. The possibilities are limitless!” And then, one of the women in the audience, who was a wealthy businesswomen with a mind set on potential ways of making a profit for her clients... the woman thus described asked the scientist a question that made him feel like hitting his head against a wall or perhaps simply slapping his right palm across his own face in exasperation. She asked him: “So, does this mean we could identify the frequency of ghostly energy and be able to trap annoying ghosts in a containment system like we've seen in certain movies?” The scientist said, his lower lip trembling a bit as he did so: “Well, yes... yes, of course you could do that also. But... why would you want to waste this groundbreaking technology on something so cruel? I mean... these are human spirits, these ghosts of which you speak! Should we deny them the opportunity to eventually cross over into the next life or into their destined afterlife, simply because we find their antics occasionally annoying? You are talking about essentially busting troublesome spirits and holding them like common criminals, disrupting the ordained plan for their ultimate fate, and this raises some important questions. Such as... how long do you think they should be held in containment for, and what sentence should be passed on ghosts whom you feel have broken the laws of the living? Tell me that, if you can! On top of all that... I intended to keep only a portion of this man's spirit for study, prior to letting the rest of it go, so it can proceed to its' destined place in the greater scheme of things.” The prisoner was dead by this point, his body limp and no longer breathing, his spirit now held fast within the machine that had become his prison. “Ah! Right on cue, it seems.” the scientist remarked, noticing this. The woman then replied: “We wouldn't keep the ghosts forever, naturally, we'd think of a system that works and is well within all existing human laws.”
Punishing lawbreaking ghosts in order to protect the living from being preyed upon by them. That in the end was the premise the businesswoman at that meeting thought up and decided to run with. Laws were drawn up that paralleled existing criminal laws, so that sentences would be passed on only those most troublesome of spirits, none of which would exceed a single human lifetime in length. In the fully grand scheme of things, it was a slap on the wrist in the face of the fact that spirits exist eternally. None of the spiritual or religious implications of this new technology for spectral containment were thought through fully, because those put in charge of it were scientists whose minds were grounded in logic and rational thinking, rather than the supernatural. That first scientist who had conducted the initial test had been the only one to have considered the morality or immorality behind doing this sort of thing. But his words of warning went unheeded for the most part by the companies and governments who jumped at the chance of wedding this new technology to law enforcement for the purpose of establishing what in the end would amount to “ghost police” in every major town and city starting in in the United States of America with an eye for the new system becoming a worldwide one should it prove successful. It did... it proved successful beyond all reason, actually, and private bounty hunters now had a new quarry to go after. Ghostly quarry! They sometimes worked hand in hand with the police, yet sometimes they did it their own way, used their own containment systems, and got into trouble with law enforcement because of it. What was to stop ghost vigilantes from pursuing vendettas or revenge beyond the death of those they had gone after whilst the person still lived, and trapping them in containment for far longer than it was deemed humane to do so? These were some of the new challenges faced by this technology coming into the forefront of human endeavor. Naturally, religious leaders all condemned this technology as evil and an affront to God's will... and, there were demonstrations outside of every prison that happened to have within its' walls a spiritual containment unit. Civil rights activists also demonstrated outside of the prisons, insisting that it was wrong and violation of everything that it means to be human to punish a person beyond the span of their natural life for crimes committed after that life had come to an end. Which legal experts would respond to by saying that crimes are crimes, and all crimes need to therefore be punished. Several containment units got breached during prison riots from time to time, causing the ghosts contained within them to go free, many of which were traumatized by their imprisonment and now in search of vengeance upon those who had locked them away. The scientist who had invented the first prototype spiritual containment unite committed suicide, feeling he had caused a great injustice by allowing people the means to punish others after their deaths. His own spirit... did not rest very easily. This was the state of society and the world into which this story begins, several decades after the events that have just been related. By then, things were even worse! Rogue military groups sometimes killed prisoners of war and trapped their spirits, keeping them thus imprisoned until the wars they fought in were over. All as a means of not having to worry about taking care of prisoners during wartime. Some criminals, particularly in organized crime families, would kidnap people and kill them so they could hold their spirits in containment for ransom, forcing their families to pay ridiculous fees should they ever wish to see their loved ones' spirits released. These were dubbed spiritual crimes, and spiritual war crimes, and it was obvious that the human capacity for abusing the latest technologies for nefarious or downright wicked purposes had reared its' ugly head. The worst was the rumors that contained spirits were having their energy used to power energy weapons of highly destructive power. The world became a far more dangerous and unstable place, whilst that eventually forgotten scientist's dream of providing a means of securing immortality and staving off death was abandoned entirely. Though they were odd rumors that experiments were being conducted in secret laboratories sponsored by shadow governments in order to see the dead scientist's vision become a reality. The news reports of this new and frightening era were surreal, to say the least, and in a world where even death was no certain refuge... something in the end had to give, to change, so that things could finally get to the way that they once had of old been.
When the largest spiritual containment unit in the country was damaged during the biggest prison riot in recent history... the spirits within were so vengeful that instead of escaping right away they sent their energy through the wiring so that they eventually hit the reactor that powered the containment unit itself and this in turn caused a massive explosion that caused a smoking crater to appear where the prison had once stood. The crater was filled with such a powerful concentration of spiritual energy, added to by the spirits of all those who had died in the explosion of the reactor and thence the immediate destruction of the prison... that it became a tear in reality, a portal to another dimension. And it was only the first! All over the world, at prisons everywhere... other ghosts copied this maneuver until finally it was no longer possible to keep them contained. And these portals, caused things to enter into this reality of a sort that had been unimaginable to human thinking previously. Containment units at police stations were next to go, and finally only those kept and maintained in the private sector remained operational. And that, due to the fact that they did not contain enough spirits most of the time for this sort of an explosion to take place even if the unit holding them was damaged. This caused people more and more to turn to those in the private sector for help when ghosts and other spiritual entities became too troublesome. Those with a mind to turn a profit created their own businesses to provide this very service, and in a world that had become lawless due to the destruction of every major prison and police station on the planet... this was yet another way in which a new normal had become established. It was dark time to be alive, but for the dead it was a time for revenge. The only protection against such vengeance was now those who still had the means to contain spiritual menaces. One such group operated out of Salem, Massachusetts and was a small group of five dedicated members. Three men, and two women. Two were brothers, who had at first opened up the business out of their garage, prior to gaining enough money through various jobs to purchase a factory out by Boston to house their spiritual containment unit, or SCU as it was also called. The elder brother's name was William Blake, and he was named after the famous philosophical writer, painter, and poet who was such a fixture of English history. His younger brother's name was Johnathan Blake, and the two women in the group were their wives Marcia and Tiffany. The fifth member of the group was William's and Marcia's son, Bruce, who was a hotheaded teenager who liked to do things his own way half the time. They technically lived in Salem, but for business purposes they traveled to and did their most lucrative work in the big city, in Boston itself. Most of their work was funded and paid for by William's former publisher from back when he was a successful writer of paranormal and occult books, a man by the interesting name of Alvin Crowley, who was said to be a direct descendant of the infamous occultist Aleister Crowley by way of an all but forgotten and strangely nameless mistress of his. William used to meet with Alvin regularly back when he was still writing, but since starting up his own ghost containment business he almost never saw the man anymore. However, Alvin still helped to keep the bills paid in the lean times when clients were more scarce, and he kept their equipment up to specifications and well within acceptable safety standards... so this didn't really bother William much. On this particular day, a Friday the thirteenth of all days, William's receptionist June got a call from a prestigious college in Boston where the person on the other end of the telephone claimed that there was a major haunting underway there, and that the students were in serious danger because of it. June was a mousy looking young woman who liked to wear loose fitting pantsuits with eyeglasses so fashionable that they would have looked downright flamboyant on anybody else. She was sitting in that deliberately provocative way she always did whenever Bruce was around... mostly because she thought he was cute and she always hoped he'd notice her interest in him. He never did, so she was starting to believe he had no interest in women whatsoever. But in any case, she was sitting at the desk in the front office, of the home office in Salem which was run out of the Blake family's house. Mansion, actually, given the size of the place and the quaint splendor of its' interior. They had a secondary office at the factory in Boston but nobody was there at present except for the security guards who kept watch over it and its' grounds.
June had her jacket slung over the back of her chair, and she was unbuttoning enough of the buttons of the blouse-like part of her pantsuit so that her ample cleavage was visible, as she hung up the phone on the desk and said to Bruce in no uncertain terms: “Yeah, this sounds bad. Real bad! You want to kiss me before you go? Seriously, you might want to this time, kid.” She had a strong New York accent, and a no nonsense attitude that honestly many men would have found seriously attractive. Her black hair was tired back in a high ponytail, her eyes big and dark and mysterious looking. But she was not the mysterious type, she was down to earth and she tended to wear her heart on her sleeve most of the time. Bruce was staring at her cleavage, his mouth practically watering as he stammered a bit before saying to her: “Yeah, real boobs... I mean, real bad! Real bad... I should go. I should go get ready for the mission. Let dad and uncle John know it's time to get moving.” June sighed as Bruce scurried off in a hurry, as she muttered half under her breath: “I told the client that you'd take the case... thank me later, William.” But the older man wasn't there to hear her say that, and Bruce was already making sure they were hot on the case. June took out a pocket vibrator shaped like a penis and decided that whilst the cats were away she'd take some time to play with herself. She would picture Bruce the whole time and only ever Bruce. In the meantime, the five ghost hunters sped off in their van, their equipment stored in the back of it as they made their way to the haunted college after June sent the full details to William's android phone. It was raining, because of course it was... why would it not be on a night such as this! William was in the back of the van checking all of the equipment whilst his wife Marcia supervised. John was driving, and sitting next to him was his wife Tiffany. Bruce was in the back with his parents, trying but never quite succeeding at being helpful. William was bald, blue eyed, and burly, he looked like he'd have been at home being a construction worker. You'd never have thought him a scientist, philosopher, and occultist. He was about fifty years old, and his wife Marcia was in her early thirties, with dyed blonde hair that had dark roots practically always showing. Her eyes were also blue, and she was slender and athletic, a bundle of energy most days. Bruce was about sixteen years old, still not quite of age but that did not stop June from having a serious crush... or perhaps obsession... regarding him all the same. Bruce had his mother's naturally dark brown hair, and his parents' blue eyes, and he wore glasses and looked a bit like a handsome gamer nerd, if that was the right word for his appearance and style. He had curly hair like his mother, and was skinny but not unhealthily so. John was the tallest of the group, about six feet tall, practically towering over his brother and everyone else except for June who was five foot nine in her height. Bruce suspected June might actually be a transgender woman, but he never said anything out loud just in case he was wrong, so she would not get mad at him for it. John was lean, muscular, and the type of man that women consider a hunk. His eyes were as blue as the rest of his family's. His wife Tiffany was eighteen years old, of perfectly legal age for marrying even though everybody teased John all the time that his wife was “barely legal”. John was forty years old, exactly ten years younger than his brother. Tiffany was bubbly, silly, quirky and downright strange sometimes. She had curly fiery red hair that was totally natural, sparkling green eyes, and a freckled face that looked practically on the childish side sometimes. Bruce thought she was hot, but never said so out loud for fear his uncle John would punch him for saying something like that about his wife. For her part, Tiffany had a great set of tits and a nice ass, and she was the primary reason why Bruce never paid much attention to June despite him finding June attractive anyway. Such was this unusual family and their dynamics. John complained the whole way about the weather: “This is shit weather, guys! Like, seriously shit. Of all the nights we get a business call, it has to be on a night like tonight.” Tiffany wasn't listening, her ears covered by her headphones, which were attached to her android phone, which was playing music. She was banging her head up and down to the beat of the music, and John sighed with irritation that no one heard what he had just said. He shook his head, kept his eyes on the road, and said to himself: “Lucky me! I get a nice piece of ass for a wife, and she's dumber than a pile of bricks.” Tiffany then said: “Hey... I heard that!”
The college grounds were almost entirely obscured by fog, and by the time the Blake family got there the place looked practically otherworldly. It was well past midnight by then, and that was the worst time aside from after two in the morning, for negative spiritual activity to be taking place. It was in the dark hours like those, when the worst things tended to happen. The five were all wearing loose fitting black jumpsuits fitted with backpacks containing various gadgets and essential equipment that included small power supplies and temporary portable containment units big enough to contain only one spirit each. So on average, they could catch up to a total of five ghosts per mission. In their hands, each of them were carrying what looked like a cattle prod, but the object could shoot out of the tips an energy on a similar enough wavelength to spiritual energy that it could be effectively used to prod a spirit into going in a desired direction. Each prod could be adjusted to also discharge energy on a frequency that acted like a taser gun does on living people, except that it only affected ghosts. This was standard equipment for this line of work, nothing too fancy and only the very basics of the business. Among their equipment were small portable meters for detecting changes in local energy fields, which allowed them to be able to tell when a ghost was nearby. William said: “Why isn't anybody here to meet us? Usually, the client meets us at location to brief us when we arrive. This is fucking weird, I don't like it.” They waited for a good twenty minutes to a half hour, and nobody showed up. “Fuck it, we're going in!” William said at last, and motioned for everyone to come with him, which they did. Suddenly, the sound of a motorcycle could be hard across the parking lot from where the Blake family's van was parked. “Hey, wait! That's got to be the client, let's hold off on going inside for the moment.” and just as they were about to enter the nearest building, the main administration building for the college, they stopped and waited to see who it was that was pulling up on the bike. Soon, they saw, to their utmost horror! It was a black bike with red flames painted on the sides of it, and upon it was a rider dressed all in black and wearing over his head a black helmet with a black visor. “Hey...we're those ghost hunters from Blake's Containment Services. I'm Bill Blake... you here to meet with us, or what? If you are, you're pretty damn late to the party!” To which the rider replied: “Party!” in a dry, hissing voice that sounded like nothing living. The rider then removed its' helmet, revealing a horrible skeletal face with long stringy hair and an equally stringy looking beard. There were two flame-like lights where its' eyes should have been had it been a living person with flesh still on its' bones. “Oh shit! It's one of them!” shouted john, who rushed over towards the skeletal biker to tray and taser it with his prod. The biker got off the motorcycle and was strong enough to push John out of the way, which irritated the man to no end. “Fuck! Why you have to do this the hard way, man?” But all the ghostly biker said in response to that was: “Party!” with what sounded like a sinister chuckle. “I guess this is what we're here to take care of.” Marcia said, as she and William rushed forward to help John out. Bruce screamed at the sight of the biker, and Tiffany just was standing there saying: “Oh my God! That... is so... fucked up. I've never seen one like that before. Like, seriously!” Bruce turned back and said to Tiffany: “Come on, Tiff! Don't just stand there, we need you.” To which she said: “Okay, okay! Let's do this.” and that snapped her into action. The biker shot fire out of its' eye sockets, which John dodged out of the way of just in time. The fire was too close to the bike, and it ignited the gas tank, causing the motorcycle to explode. Everybody was well out of the way of it when this happened, and John screamed at the sight saying: “Oh, fuck! This is bullshit! They never do that... fucking making shit go boom, that's cheating. That's cheating! You hear me ghost boy? You're a dirty, dirty cheater!” But the ghostly biker, who was covered in flames after the explosion, could only laugh and once more the horrible apparition said only: “Party!” To which William said to John: “Looks like our boy here's not much of a talker. Fine with us, right? Let's get that hotheaded prick.” Marcia did then say to William and John, having caught up to them: “Right! So make sure your prods are set for a longer distance discharge... we don't want to get to close to him now that we know what he can do. You hear that, Bruce? Tiffany? Long distance discharge only!” and everybody so set their prods accordingly.
“One... two... three... now!” shouted William, as he shot out a beam from his prod towards the biker, which had the desired effect of temporarily immobilizing the specter. Everybody did the same, and soon the biker was trapped in place. John then pulled out his portable containment unit from his backpack and threw it unto the ground, where it opened with the impact. John then used the push setting on his prod to shove the biker towards it, after having tossed the remote control pad for the containment unit over to Bruce. He then said to the young man: “Bruce! When I say to... press the button on that pad. But do not do it one minute too soon or too late. You got me?” To which the teenager replied: “This is far from my first mission, uncle... I've seen Tiffany do this before, I can do it this time.” It was Bruce's first time on the trigger for the containment unit, so the capture of the ghost was up to him. There was a very narrow window of time to act within, otherwise the unit would close and the ghost could remain free. Then, they'd have to deploy another unit and reset the one that had failed to be activated in time. As it is, they could only hold the ghost for so long before the prods overloaded, so they had to act quickly. John had pushed the incapacitated biker close enough to the open unit that it could be trapped properly. He yellowed out: “Okay, Bruce! Do it now, kid! Now! Right now!” and Bruce hit the correct button on the control pad, which caused an explosion of light to erupt from the open unit on the ground. That was enough to do the trick! Everybody averted their eyes and turned their prods off to prevent overloading. When the light subsided, the unit was closed and the indicator light on it showed that it was occupied. The biker was no longer there, because he was within the unit now. “Excellent work, my boy!” said William to his son, who appeared to be very proud of himself at this accomplishment. “See, uncle? I told you I could do this!” Bruce said. Tiffany then rushed over to kiss Bruce on the cheek and say: “My hero!” to which the young man was obviously blushing, and feeling a bit of a stirring in his pants at the unexpected kiss. He hoped John or Tiffany wouldn't notice his sudden erection, and thankfully neither of them did. “Hey! My pleasure, cutie.” he muttered half under his breath. William then called up June to tell her how things went, but after he told her everything that had just happened... June then told him something that made him go pale. She said to him: “I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but Bill... that wasn't the ghost that you were supposed to catch. The one that's been troubling the college is a floating vapor made of ectoplasm that can full-on possess people, not some fire shooting reject from Night of the Living Dead!” He hung up, muttering “What the hell did we just catch, then?” and got straight to explaining the situation to his family. “So there's another one here somewhere? This is going to be a really long night!” said Marcia, and John explained: “Look... how the hell are we supposed to find one single vaporous entity when this place is literally covered in fog? This is like looking for a needle in a haystack, over worse because at least you can still see a needle.” To which Tiffany answered: “Hello! It's what these gadgets are for.” and she got out her portable handheld energy meter, which was literally displaying all manner of readings that were literally off of the normal scale and into quite ridiculously impossible territory. “Holy shit! Guys, guys, guys... take a look at your meters, this is insane!” William did so, and then he said in a surprised tone of voice: “I've never, ever seen anything like this before... it's totally off the scale, these numbers are all just plain impossible, whether scientifically or otherwise. The arrows are even spinning in circles rather than pointing to anything readable on my scanner. It's as if we're in some kind of a vortex where normal readings can't be taken.” John chuckled, saying: “You say a vortex? That's not good! It means the laws of the natural world won't apply here. That's probably why we encountered bonehead, before.” Suddenly, the fog that was all around them converged into one of the nearby dormitories, where it funneled through an open window and literally filled the building. Tiffany said: “I think it's safe to say, that's where the vapor we're looking for is hiding out.” John then told everybody: “Okay, we go in carefully and deploy a containment unit in the center of the structure or a close to the center as we can get one. Then, we pop it and bag our pesky specter. Simple! Right?” and everybody nodded their heads in agreement. “Lets go... and try not to get possessed.” he then said.
As soon as they entered the dormitory, it was impossible to see anything at all thanks to the vapor that filled the interior of the building. It was like walking into a wall of fog. “How the hell are we going to find the fucking center with everything like this?” Bruce shouted, and Tiffany answered: “Just... try to remember where we came in, keep moving forward, and if we hit the back wall we went too far. Try to figure out the middle from there, I guess.” At first it was slow going, and it seemed as if everyone was going to be lost in the fog forever... but then, once Tiffany reached the exact center of the dormitory's ground floor, within that three floor structure, all of the fog converged upon her. She screamed, and as soon as her mouth opened the fog entered into her body, the entity that had taken the form of the fog now possessing her. Her eyes became milky gray as a result, all color vanishing from them. Bruce was the first to come running when he saw her kneeling on the floor clutching her face in her hands. “Are you alright, Tiff... what happened?” he asked, and suddenly she withdrew her hands and her teeth were fangs rather than normal teeth. He noticed her eyes then, and knew she has become possessed. “Oh shit! Dad, Mom, Uncle John! You better come and see this... Tiff''s not exactly herself right now.” And then, unnaturally swiftly, Tiffany grabbed Bruce by her neck and hissed at him: “Tiff, is it? Why do you call me Tiff, when you should be calling me Aunt Tiffany, or Aunt Tiff, or just plain Auntie! Hello! Aren't I married to your uncle? Tell me, Bruce! Tell me why you got horny when I kissed you before.” And he was blushing at the same time that he was struggling to breathe. “Dad! Mom! Help me!” and that was followed by gurgling noises, as his hands tried to pry Tiffany's away from his throat. Her grip was like a vise, however, and his eyes were beginning to feel as if they might bulge any minute. He was going to die, he realized, at the hand of a girl he always fantasized over, who now mocked him for it. “It isn't her in there right now, it isn't Tiff. It's... whatever was in that fog.” he reminded himself in his mind, but it was getting difficult to differentiate the victim from the thing inside of her the more she kept squeezing his neck like she was doing. John arrived first, and managed to get Tiffany to let go of Bruce, who fell to the floor gasping for breath whilst coughing and gagging pitifully. John asked Tiffany what was the matter, and she said to him evilly: “Hey, asshole! You always say such rude things about me when you think I can't hear you talking... well, maybe I should let Bruce fuck me hard while you watch. He wants to, you know! Oh, how he always wants to! And guess what, moron... he's more of gentleman than you could ever be. So, just you wait right there!” and with a wave of her hand, John was unable to move a muscle. He could only watch in horror as his young wife crawled over to Bruce and began to get on top of the teenager. She began to unzip his jumpsuit with one hand, as with her other she was stroking his cock through his jumpsuit and underwear. “Oh! Hey, looks like you're getting excited again Bruce. See? I knew you wanted to fuck me. I knew it, I knew it I knew it!” And she was giggling like a child by that point. Bruce was flat on his back, his eyes wide, words failing him as he realized part of him wanted to let Tiffany have her way with him. He could let her get him hard, and he could fuck the hell out of her, he could blame the entity possessing her for it. He'd get the lay of his dreams out of it, and he'd be the one seen as the victim. Were those thoughts his own? Suddenly, the entity fled from Tiffany and poured into Bruce's suddenly open mouth. It's malevolence was fueling his desires, and Tiffany was now once again herself. She was screaming, as Bruce sat up... pushing her unto her back, whilst unzipping her jumpsuit and molesting her whilst keeping his weight upon her so that she could not escape him. He was abnormally strong with the entity now inside of him, and it wanted him to rape Tiffany. “You want it, Tiff! You've always wanted it from me.” he said to her, and his voice was demonic sounding now. John was screaming... he'd been screaming all throughout this whole twisted drama unfolding before him, but it was much worse now. William and Marcia arrived on the scene just then, and they tried to get Bruce off of Tiffany once they noticed what he was doing and saw that he was possessed. “This is not good! This is not good at all.” William said, to which Tiffany shrieked: “Tell me about it! Come on, he's trying to fucking rape me. You all going to just let it happen?” And they could not get Bruce off her.
He motioned with his hand and they too were frozen in place, as he continued to remove Tiffany's jumpsuit and backpack. It was a bit of a struggle, but she was stripped down to her bra and panties after a bit, and then Bruce struck her violently with his hand so that she was stunned a bit whilst he removed his own clothes after discarding his backpack first. He did all of this in order to have his way with the girl of his dreams. Nothing was going to stop him, he was going to do her good and she'd have to live with the memory it for the rest of her life, for the rest of her marriage to John. And John would always know that Bruce had taken her, and that she liked it when he did it to her. “You want me Tiff, and I've always wanted you! Time to get the lay of your life.” and he ripped her bra off, exposing her perky tits even as he pulled her underwear aside after spreading her legs. He was between them, his dick was out of his underwear and inside her... and he wasn't going to stop. With the rest of his family watching, he raped his aunt, Tiffany, with all his heart. And his heart was fully in it, the darkest part of his deepest and darkest of secret desires. The young girl was screaming, her nephew heaving on top of her, even as her body betrayed her in its' enjoyment of this savage act. John was in tears, crying, his mind filling up with thoughts of how he wanted to kill Bruce, all the while reminding himself that this was not Bruce any longer, it was the same horror that had been inside of Tiffany only moments before. He was telling William and Marcia what he had witnessed, and Bruce's parents were pleading with him to stop, but he was not able to hear them. Once he had finished thoroughly raping Tiffany, after he cam shot his cum up inside of her, he remarked: “Now that was a juicy cunt! I can see why you like her so much, uncle.” Tiffany had reached orgasm during her rape, and she hated herself for it, felt unfaithful to her husband. She was crying, whimpering, no longer screaming, her mind trying its' hardest to dissociate from this disturbing situation. Bruce kicked off his underwear, then danced around the room naked whilst saying he was going to rape his mother next. “Two for the price of one!” he cackled, and his will... or rather, the wicked entity's perverse will... faltered for a brief moment as it allowed itself to become distracted by how it was going to get Bruce sexually excited enough to attack his mother next. It caused him to begin masturbating whilst looking at Marcia, and sure enough Bruce was getting hard again before too much longer. His heart was no longer in it though, every fiber of his being was crying out against this, resisting it. Tiffany was one thing, but this... this would be the woman who gave birth to him, and that was a step too far even for the darkest part of his being. This resistance caused the entity to focus more on trying to exert its' hold over Bruce, which cause John to be released from the entity's unseen grasp. Tiffany was slumped over on her side, her mind seemingly gone as she cried and sobbed. John ran over to Bruce and jolted him with his prod. The jolt would only affect the entity, and sure enough it pushed the terrible thing out of the teenage boy, who immediately slumped the floor and went unconscious. The thin was now visibly manifested, and it looked like a floating blob of green flesh with four long and muscular arms. It had a face the features of which kept shifting and changing, becoming some kind of approximations of different people that John did not recognize. It's voice was inhuman, it's sounds all terrible to hear. It was no longer in a fully vaporous form, it was somewhat solid now and could not possess anybody in this state. John grabbed a portable containment unit out of Tiffany's backpack and threw it unto the floor near to the entity. It opened, and John jolted the terrible specter with his prod set to taser mode. He pushed it towards the unit, then pressed the button the control pad for it. There was the expected explosion of light, and everybody closed their eyes when it happened. After it was over, then at last the entity was contained and the danger was over. However, neither Bruce nor Tiffany did seem in any shape to be simply walking away from this situation unaffected by what had happened to them... what had happened between them. They were both victims, but Bruce was going to have to live with the memory of what he did to Tiffany whilst under the entity's influence. And that was going to make him feel like a monster, no matter what. The meters were all working again, the vortex was now closed. It had been the entity that was opening one. It was going to be a long ride home... the longest.
June contacted the client, and arranged for payment to be transferred from the client to William's bank account, as was the usual procedure for these cases. Banks, at least, were still fully operational despite the sorry state that the world was in overall. June could expect to get her cut, and that pleased her. But the joy she felt at being paid was bittersweet this time, once Marcia explained to her what happened to Bruce and Tiffany. She wondered, if she had been there... if maybe the entity would have possessed her and drove her to force herself upon Bruce, given her strong feelings for him. “Sounds like it takes what you hide deep inside you and twists it to make you do something evil.” June remarked, and Marcia said that was how William explained it to her when he had some time during the ride home to think about it. Things would never be the same again between Bruce and Tiffany, and John felt like he needed to put some distance between himself and them now. But... he knew that feeling was wrong, that Tiffany was going to need him now more than ever before. And he reminded himself once again, that it had not been them, not fully... it had been the entity feeding off of their own darkest innermost desires. “I'm going to need serious fucking therapy, after all that happened back at that collage.” he explained to William as the two men talked in William's study for a bit whilst Marcia and June spent time counseling Bruce and Tiffany. The two women had full degrees in psychiatry, as well as other things, and had in the past both been fairly decent therapists prior to taking on their present careers. Marcia counseled her son, and June counseled Tiffany, and it was going to be the beginning of a long recovery for both of the two victims. William was watching some news reports on television, and writing down notes in a journal whilst John was talking to him about how powerless he felt to do anything to help his wife and William's son. “I wanted to murder the boy, Bill. I wanted to fucking rip his throat out or gouge his eyes out when he started raping my wife. Sorry... I mean when the entity did that. Not Bruce! But I don't know how I feel about working with them after that happened. Knowing that both of them had hidden feelings for each other that I never imagined they might've had. Those feelings made it possible for the entity to possess them, to make them do... what they did. I know they were resisting all the way towards the end, but in the beginning it looked like the entity had something to work with there. Something I never considered. It's like my wife cheated on me with my own nephew, and I'm supposed to just deal with it, suck it up. But Bill, bro... I'm a man! It isn't that easy a thing for a man to just suck up. If there were no entity that was involved, I'd divorce Tiffany and leave our little club to strike off on my own at this point. But, you told me repeatedly that they're the victims in all this... and I need time to process that, to deal with it. To get my anger out of the picture so I can think clearly again. How am I going to do, that Bill?” and after hearing his brother say all of that, William said to him: “John we're soon going to have bigger problems to deal with... not just us, but the whole human race. Look, have some sessions with Marcia or June to help you deal with the psychological fallout from what happened with that entity. It'll do you a world of good, John, honestly! But in the meantime... these news reports are talking about vortexes popping up all over the world, in every major city, in all kinds of places. Some of our rivals in the ghost hunting business have had their hands full dealing with what's been coming through those vortexes. See, these vortexes are like lesser portals through which some pretty nasty but mostly low level entities can come through. Things like what we dealt with at the college, sorry to bring it up. In all these reports, that isn't the language they're using but it's what is going on all the same! That means paranormal activity is now beginning to increase like never before. We've all had to live with those portals at the sites of all those former prisons and police stations... and that's been hard enough for people. But now! Now, something is trying to bring greater numbers of low level entities into this world, probably as a distraction. But, as a distraction from what? I don't think we want to know. It's using entities capable of opening them to do its' dirty work, whatever it is... and it is no accident or coincidence that so many vortexes are popping up all at the same exact time. It's never happened before! Just like when the very first prison blew up when its' containment unit was compromised, and pretty soon... it was happening everywhere. Jesus!”
John remarked to his brother on being reminded of the explosions at the prisons and police stations: “Jesus indeed! Remember back when people used to have faith, Bill? Bet the only ones who are really religious now are the ones saying they were right about Judgment Day because these days we have the dead walking around all the time, among other things. If somebody or something is doing this shit with the vortexes, deliberately... you think maybe it might be God, that God might be trying to bring about the end of the world or something? I mean, we all know the spirits blew the containment units in all those places way back deliberately, in an effort to actually create those portals. What if that was just the beginning? And this... this is to distract us from the endgame. The thought of that scares me, big time.” William took a drink from a bottle of scotch he had nearby, and then remarked: “It scares me too, John. It scares me too! I think we should pay a visit to Alvin sometime next week and see what he has to say about all this, he knows way, way more about the occult than even me, and I'm an expert in the field. If anyone has a clue about where all of this is headed, it'll be our dear Mister Crowley.” John then did a bit of a slight chuckle, as he sat down in the comfortable chair opposite from William's desk, and he then looked his brother intently in the eyes as he admitted: “Bro, I'm sure Alvin's a genius and all that, but I have to be honest here, the old boy scares the hell out of me. There's something really off about him, if you know what I mean. Ever wonder if maybe he's not possessed by something himself?” Which made William laugh a bit before saying: “Come on, John! You know Alvin... I'd more worry that he might be in league with whatever is behind all of this. He's got a darkness in him, sure, but he's in control of it too much to be easily possessed by anything. Do I trust him? Never! But I understand him, at least to a certain degree... as much as anyone can claim to understand him. We'll just have to see what he has to say about all of this before we can judge him one or or another about things like this. Best case is that he'll be able to fill us in on what's going on and let us know how we can help, if we can help at all.” It was not much to go on, and yet it was a great deal to understand. Bruce and Tiffany were going to be a mess for a long time to come, but if push came to shove they'd be needed should things take a turn for the worse. Tiffany was, interestingly, mentally stronger than Bruce, and her recovery was going better than his. At worst, she would be back on the team before long even if Bruce had to be out of action a bit longer than expected. June planned to look after Bruce once Tiffany was back on the team so that if that should be how things transpired Marcia could also rejoin the team with no worries regarding her son. It was a rough situation for everybody, but they were going to get through it... no matter how rough it got. In the meantime, William... a few days later... called up Alvin Crowley on the phone to ask him if he'd not mind scheduling a sudden appointment for him so he and John could come by to have a talk with him. “It's just business related, Al... nothing you won't be able to help us with, believe me.” William so told him, and the soft, somewhat sinister voice of Alvin replied: “Of course it is, Bill... it's never not a matter of business when you call me. I understand completely! I've plenty of free time at present, so I'll have you come in to see me next Monday, since that is the most convenient day for me. Come in at any time that day, and I will be there, fear not. In fact, I daresay I am looking forward to it! It will break up the monotony of the work week for me.” And that was the extent of their conversation, short and to the point as it always was between them during such phone calls. John felt a sense of foreboding about the upcoming appointment, but he kept his nervousness to himself. William and Alvin went way back, and if there was something to fret about then surely his brother would tell him. The two had never kept any secrets from each other, after all. There was a missing decade of William's life that only Marcia knew all the details of, but John had always assumed it had something to do with a job William had been off doing that required a bit of secrecy or discretion. That was before they were all in the ghost hunting job that they were involved up to their necks in now, and people don't always talk about their old jobs once they take on new ones. But all the same, Alvin never failed to creep John out in ways nobody else he had ever known in his life ever could. And that, made John sometimes wonder what he was all about.
Alvin Crowley was a pale man with sharp, predatory features and dark blue eyes that stood out due to his habit of intensely staring at people during conversations. He kept his head shaved completely... save for a ponytail that he wore high upon his head and which cascaded down his back. He had a cultivated, effeminate manner to him which was deliberate and sometimes exaggerated on his part due to a secret hatred of men that he harbored deep inside due to childhood abuse he had suffered at his father's hands. He sometimes wished that he had been born a woman rather than a man, and yet he was comfortable in expressing himself in a masculine way during sexual encounters. He saw himself as above other men... and as better than them. He never judged others outright, but he felt society was sick and in need of a changing due to the deeds of wicked men throughout history. It was why he first turned to the occult, in part to honor his illustrious ancestor but mostly to try and find a way to change the world and break the cycle of war, aggression, violence and destruction that he noticed had become a horrid historic pattern. He stood in his workroom, which was what he called his occult practice chambers, and in which he had a shrine set up to his patron god, a being incomprehensible to human knowing but which had reached out to him during his youth. He was standing in the middle of a hexagram drawn with a single line that was unbroken upon the floor in the center of the room. It was drawn with human blood, of which due to the efforts of his procurers was always in supply for him to use for such rites and rituals. A black candle was set up at each outer point of the star, burning as the wax melted and dripped down. The room was otherwise pitch black at present, and only the shapes and shadows of what it contained could be seen. Alvin wore his ceremonial black robes which were as ornate and exquisite as his tastes, with long puffy sleeves gathered at the wrists and flowing skirts that ended at his ankles. Around his neck was a silver necklace from which hung an inverted pentagram of the same color and material. He had done all of the dance-like movements with the utmost precision, and although he appeared to be somewhat nebulously old, it was impossible for anyone to determine precisely how old he truly was. For he had a strength, a vitality, a youthfulness to him even at his present age that was not natural. He called out, as loud as he could, the names of his patron deity in the ancient tongue of the Sumerians, and a voice spoke unto him from out of the shadows surrounding him: “When, my disciple, will you return my child to me?” And the sorcerer said unto the being from beyond: “When I have been granted physical youth to match the youthful energy you have already bestowed unto me, and not a moment sooner!” Alvin was arrogant in his wording of what he said, and the being knew that its' disciple was not acting respectfully towards it any longer. It spoke once more, its' voice low and guttural and frightening to hear: “You shall keep her locked away no longer than the span that I shall dictate to you! So long as you keep her confined, I will continue to open more and more vortexes, all around this earthly world, and when they become just so numerous enough I shall merge them into portals that will mesh into a great web that will cover all of the Earth until it shall be that your reality is indistinguishable from what lies beyond. Then, where shall it be safe for your kind to dwell? At that point, I shall enter your world physically and claim my child as is my right. How do you think you could stop me? And yet, you claim to continue to serve me and my interests! You are a deceptive servant, and yet without you as my living focus in the world I would not be able to act with the force and power that I have thus far been able to. But once I am there, I shall be mindful of your arrogance and punish it accordingly! Whilst, I realize it was not you who tore my child from her rightful place, and that it was you who rescued her from those who had done so. But you will not hold her hostage to make further demands upon me!” To which Alvin reminded his patron: “But I must remind you, oh terrible one... that you made these promises to me when I agreed to liberate your daughter for you. I have kept my end of the bargain and wait only upon you to keep your end of our tiny bargain. You have three promises to fulfill! I await the fulfillment of the second, and then the third will need to be delivered upon. Then, I shall remove the binding wards upon your daughter and she will be free to return to your plane of existence, and thus your side.” The dark god sighed, realizing it was true.
The machine buzzed with a strange kind of energy, of a sort the world had never seen tapped into in this way before. The energy was forced into an electrical current, which piggybacked it and changed the color of the electricity into hues the human eye was never meant to behold. To onlookers at the testing of this machine, the electricity appeared to change and shift colors, so that all the colors of the veritable rainbow were represented before the eye, all blended together in a single arcing bolt of force. The man who was testing this machine wore a white lab coat. He was middle aged, with glassed, and was gray and balding, very much the typical scientist type that most people imagine when they think about your average scientist. The tubes of the machine were linked to a man who was strapped to a table nearby, his arms and legs held fast by restraints. The man was big, burly, a prisoner formerly on death row who was chosen for this experiment as an alternative to execution by way of the electric chair. The tubes... along with countless wires and other such links... were inserted into every hole of the man's body and also into many of his veins. The man was screaming as his body was dying, whilst his spiritual energy was being literally ripped from him and secured within the nearby machine. The scientist explained the entire process with detached, clinical, and somewhat sadistic dispassion as he told the men and women who had an invested interest in this new technology that what they were witnessing was the man's spirit for lack of a better world being removed from its' prison of flesh in order to dwell in the prison of the machine into which it was being dragged. “This is, ladies and gentlemen, the world's very fist prototype spiritual containment unit, designed to hold the spiritual essence of living things. Now that we have the means of identifying this essence through its' specific energy frequencies... and there are several, which run through this reality and into several others beyond our limited human experience... we can begin to study this previously unknown energy and in time find the means to actually transfer it. Imagine, if you will, being able to take the spirit of a dying old man and place it into a fresh young body so that he can continue living without fear of death, a body perhaps cloned from the original but a much younger and healthier version than that which is originally inhabited. Or, if cloning is not possible, we could transfer the energy into a mechanical body designed to simulate human sensations so that the man might in this way become effectively immortal, at least so long as the mechanical body is maintained and kept in top working condition. The possibilities are limitless!” And then, one of the women in the audience, who was a wealthy businesswomen with a mind set on potential ways of making a profit for her clients... the woman thus described asked the scientist a question that made him feel like hitting his head against a wall or perhaps simply slapping his right palm across his own face in exasperation. She asked him: “So, does this mean we could identify the frequency of ghostly energy and be able to trap annoying ghosts in a containment system like we've seen in certain movies?” The scientist said, his lower lip trembling a bit as he did so: “Well, yes... yes, of course you could do that also. But... why would you want to waste this groundbreaking technology on something so cruel? I mean... these are human spirits, these ghosts of which you speak! Should we deny them the opportunity to eventually cross over into the next life or into their destined afterlife, simply because we find their antics occasionally annoying? You are talking about essentially busting troublesome spirits and holding them like common criminals, disrupting the ordained plan for their ultimate fate, and this raises some important questions. Such as... how long do you think they should be held in containment for, and what sentence should be passed on ghosts whom you feel have broken the laws of the living? Tell me that, if you can! On top of all that... I intended to keep only a portion of this man's spirit for study, prior to letting the rest of it go, so it can proceed to its' destined place in the greater scheme of things.” The prisoner was dead by this point, his body limp and no longer breathing, his spirit now held fast within the machine that had become his prison. “Ah! Right on cue, it seems.” the scientist remarked, noticing this. The woman then replied: “We wouldn't keep the ghosts forever, naturally, we'd think of a system that works and is well within all existing human laws.”
Punishing lawbreaking ghosts in order to protect the living from being preyed upon by them. That in the end was the premise the businesswoman at that meeting thought up and decided to run with. Laws were drawn up that paralleled existing criminal laws, so that sentences would be passed on only those most troublesome of spirits, none of which would exceed a single human lifetime in length. In the fully grand scheme of things, it was a slap on the wrist in the face of the fact that spirits exist eternally. None of the spiritual or religious implications of this new technology for spectral containment were thought through fully, because those put in charge of it were scientists whose minds were grounded in logic and rational thinking, rather than the supernatural. That first scientist who had conducted the initial test had been the only one to have considered the morality or immorality behind doing this sort of thing. But his words of warning went unheeded for the most part by the companies and governments who jumped at the chance of wedding this new technology to law enforcement for the purpose of establishing what in the end would amount to “ghost police” in every major town and city starting in in the United States of America with an eye for the new system becoming a worldwide one should it prove successful. It did... it proved successful beyond all reason, actually, and private bounty hunters now had a new quarry to go after. Ghostly quarry! They sometimes worked hand in hand with the police, yet sometimes they did it their own way, used their own containment systems, and got into trouble with law enforcement because of it. What was to stop ghost vigilantes from pursuing vendettas or revenge beyond the death of those they had gone after whilst the person still lived, and trapping them in containment for far longer than it was deemed humane to do so? These were some of the new challenges faced by this technology coming into the forefront of human endeavor. Naturally, religious leaders all condemned this technology as evil and an affront to God's will... and, there were demonstrations outside of every prison that happened to have within its' walls a spiritual containment unit. Civil rights activists also demonstrated outside of the prisons, insisting that it was wrong and violation of everything that it means to be human to punish a person beyond the span of their natural life for crimes committed after that life had come to an end. Which legal experts would respond to by saying that crimes are crimes, and all crimes need to therefore be punished. Several containment units got breached during prison riots from time to time, causing the ghosts contained within them to go free, many of which were traumatized by their imprisonment and now in search of vengeance upon those who had locked them away. The scientist who had invented the first prototype spiritual containment unite committed suicide, feeling he had caused a great injustice by allowing people the means to punish others after their deaths. His own spirit... did not rest very easily. This was the state of society and the world into which this story begins, several decades after the events that have just been related. By then, things were even worse! Rogue military groups sometimes killed prisoners of war and trapped their spirits, keeping them thus imprisoned until the wars they fought in were over. All as a means of not having to worry about taking care of prisoners during wartime. Some criminals, particularly in organized crime families, would kidnap people and kill them so they could hold their spirits in containment for ransom, forcing their families to pay ridiculous fees should they ever wish to see their loved ones' spirits released. These were dubbed spiritual crimes, and spiritual war crimes, and it was obvious that the human capacity for abusing the latest technologies for nefarious or downright wicked purposes had reared its' ugly head. The worst was the rumors that contained spirits were having their energy used to power energy weapons of highly destructive power. The world became a far more dangerous and unstable place, whilst that eventually forgotten scientist's dream of providing a means of securing immortality and staving off death was abandoned entirely. Though they were odd rumors that experiments were being conducted in secret laboratories sponsored by shadow governments in order to see the dead scientist's vision become a reality. The news reports of this new and frightening era were surreal, to say the least, and in a world where even death was no certain refuge... something in the end had to give, to change, so that things could finally get to the way that they once had of old been.
When the largest spiritual containment unit in the country was damaged during the biggest prison riot in recent history... the spirits within were so vengeful that instead of escaping right away they sent their energy through the wiring so that they eventually hit the reactor that powered the containment unit itself and this in turn caused a massive explosion that caused a smoking crater to appear where the prison had once stood. The crater was filled with such a powerful concentration of spiritual energy, added to by the spirits of all those who had died in the explosion of the reactor and thence the immediate destruction of the prison... that it became a tear in reality, a portal to another dimension. And it was only the first! All over the world, at prisons everywhere... other ghosts copied this maneuver until finally it was no longer possible to keep them contained. And these portals, caused things to enter into this reality of a sort that had been unimaginable to human thinking previously. Containment units at police stations were next to go, and finally only those kept and maintained in the private sector remained operational. And that, due to the fact that they did not contain enough spirits most of the time for this sort of an explosion to take place even if the unit holding them was damaged. This caused people more and more to turn to those in the private sector for help when ghosts and other spiritual entities became too troublesome. Those with a mind to turn a profit created their own businesses to provide this very service, and in a world that had become lawless due to the destruction of every major prison and police station on the planet... this was yet another way in which a new normal had become established. It was dark time to be alive, but for the dead it was a time for revenge. The only protection against such vengeance was now those who still had the means to contain spiritual menaces. One such group operated out of Salem, Massachusetts and was a small group of five dedicated members. Three men, and two women. Two were brothers, who had at first opened up the business out of their garage, prior to gaining enough money through various jobs to purchase a factory out by Boston to house their spiritual containment unit, or SCU as it was also called. The elder brother's name was William Blake, and he was named after the famous philosophical writer, painter, and poet who was such a fixture of English history. His younger brother's name was Johnathan Blake, and the two women in the group were their wives Marcia and Tiffany. The fifth member of the group was William's and Marcia's son, Bruce, who was a hotheaded teenager who liked to do things his own way half the time. They technically lived in Salem, but for business purposes they traveled to and did their most lucrative work in the big city, in Boston itself. Most of their work was funded and paid for by William's former publisher from back when he was a successful writer of paranormal and occult books, a man by the interesting name of Alvin Crowley, who was said to be a direct descendant of the infamous occultist Aleister Crowley by way of an all but forgotten and strangely nameless mistress of his. William used to meet with Alvin regularly back when he was still writing, but since starting up his own ghost containment business he almost never saw the man anymore. However, Alvin still helped to keep the bills paid in the lean times when clients were more scarce, and he kept their equipment up to specifications and well within acceptable safety standards... so this didn't really bother William much. On this particular day, a Friday the thirteenth of all days, William's receptionist June got a call from a prestigious college in Boston where the person on the other end of the telephone claimed that there was a major haunting underway there, and that the students were in serious danger because of it. June was a mousy looking young woman who liked to wear loose fitting pantsuits with eyeglasses so fashionable that they would have looked downright flamboyant on anybody else. She was sitting in that deliberately provocative way she always did whenever Bruce was around... mostly because she thought he was cute and she always hoped he'd notice her interest in him. He never did, so she was starting to believe he had no interest in women whatsoever. But in any case, she was sitting at the desk in the front office, of the home office in Salem which was run out of the Blake family's house. Mansion, actually, given the size of the place and the quaint splendor of its' interior. They had a secondary office at the factory in Boston but nobody was there at present except for the security guards who kept watch over it and its' grounds.
June had her jacket slung over the back of her chair, and she was unbuttoning enough of the buttons of the blouse-like part of her pantsuit so that her ample cleavage was visible, as she hung up the phone on the desk and said to Bruce in no uncertain terms: “Yeah, this sounds bad. Real bad! You want to kiss me before you go? Seriously, you might want to this time, kid.” She had a strong New York accent, and a no nonsense attitude that honestly many men would have found seriously attractive. Her black hair was tired back in a high ponytail, her eyes big and dark and mysterious looking. But she was not the mysterious type, she was down to earth and she tended to wear her heart on her sleeve most of the time. Bruce was staring at her cleavage, his mouth practically watering as he stammered a bit before saying to her: “Yeah, real boobs... I mean, real bad! Real bad... I should go. I should go get ready for the mission. Let dad and uncle John know it's time to get moving.” June sighed as Bruce scurried off in a hurry, as she muttered half under her breath: “I told the client that you'd take the case... thank me later, William.” But the older man wasn't there to hear her say that, and Bruce was already making sure they were hot on the case. June took out a pocket vibrator shaped like a penis and decided that whilst the cats were away she'd take some time to play with herself. She would picture Bruce the whole time and only ever Bruce. In the meantime, the five ghost hunters sped off in their van, their equipment stored in the back of it as they made their way to the haunted college after June sent the full details to William's android phone. It was raining, because of course it was... why would it not be on a night such as this! William was in the back of the van checking all of the equipment whilst his wife Marcia supervised. John was driving, and sitting next to him was his wife Tiffany. Bruce was in the back with his parents, trying but never quite succeeding at being helpful. William was bald, blue eyed, and burly, he looked like he'd have been at home being a construction worker. You'd never have thought him a scientist, philosopher, and occultist. He was about fifty years old, and his wife Marcia was in her early thirties, with dyed blonde hair that had dark roots practically always showing. Her eyes were also blue, and she was slender and athletic, a bundle of energy most days. Bruce was about sixteen years old, still not quite of age but that did not stop June from having a serious crush... or perhaps obsession... regarding him all the same. Bruce had his mother's naturally dark brown hair, and his parents' blue eyes, and he wore glasses and looked a bit like a handsome gamer nerd, if that was the right word for his appearance and style. He had curly hair like his mother, and was skinny but not unhealthily so. John was the tallest of the group, about six feet tall, practically towering over his brother and everyone else except for June who was five foot nine in her height. Bruce suspected June might actually be a transgender woman, but he never said anything out loud just in case he was wrong, so she would not get mad at him for it. John was lean, muscular, and the type of man that women consider a hunk. His eyes were as blue as the rest of his family's. His wife Tiffany was eighteen years old, of perfectly legal age for marrying even though everybody teased John all the time that his wife was “barely legal”. John was forty years old, exactly ten years younger than his brother. Tiffany was bubbly, silly, quirky and downright strange sometimes. She had curly fiery red hair that was totally natural, sparkling green eyes, and a freckled face that looked practically on the childish side sometimes. Bruce thought she was hot, but never said so out loud for fear his uncle John would punch him for saying something like that about his wife. For her part, Tiffany had a great set of tits and a nice ass, and she was the primary reason why Bruce never paid much attention to June despite him finding June attractive anyway. Such was this unusual family and their dynamics. John complained the whole way about the weather: “This is shit weather, guys! Like, seriously shit. Of all the nights we get a business call, it has to be on a night like tonight.” Tiffany wasn't listening, her ears covered by her headphones, which were attached to her android phone, which was playing music. She was banging her head up and down to the beat of the music, and John sighed with irritation that no one heard what he had just said. He shook his head, kept his eyes on the road, and said to himself: “Lucky me! I get a nice piece of ass for a wife, and she's dumber than a pile of bricks.” Tiffany then said: “Hey... I heard that!”
The college grounds were almost entirely obscured by fog, and by the time the Blake family got there the place looked practically otherworldly. It was well past midnight by then, and that was the worst time aside from after two in the morning, for negative spiritual activity to be taking place. It was in the dark hours like those, when the worst things tended to happen. The five were all wearing loose fitting black jumpsuits fitted with backpacks containing various gadgets and essential equipment that included small power supplies and temporary portable containment units big enough to contain only one spirit each. So on average, they could catch up to a total of five ghosts per mission. In their hands, each of them were carrying what looked like a cattle prod, but the object could shoot out of the tips an energy on a similar enough wavelength to spiritual energy that it could be effectively used to prod a spirit into going in a desired direction. Each prod could be adjusted to also discharge energy on a frequency that acted like a taser gun does on living people, except that it only affected ghosts. This was standard equipment for this line of work, nothing too fancy and only the very basics of the business. Among their equipment were small portable meters for detecting changes in local energy fields, which allowed them to be able to tell when a ghost was nearby. William said: “Why isn't anybody here to meet us? Usually, the client meets us at location to brief us when we arrive. This is fucking weird, I don't like it.” They waited for a good twenty minutes to a half hour, and nobody showed up. “Fuck it, we're going in!” William said at last, and motioned for everyone to come with him, which they did. Suddenly, the sound of a motorcycle could be hard across the parking lot from where the Blake family's van was parked. “Hey, wait! That's got to be the client, let's hold off on going inside for the moment.” and just as they were about to enter the nearest building, the main administration building for the college, they stopped and waited to see who it was that was pulling up on the bike. Soon, they saw, to their utmost horror! It was a black bike with red flames painted on the sides of it, and upon it was a rider dressed all in black and wearing over his head a black helmet with a black visor. “Hey...we're those ghost hunters from Blake's Containment Services. I'm Bill Blake... you here to meet with us, or what? If you are, you're pretty damn late to the party!” To which the rider replied: “Party!” in a dry, hissing voice that sounded like nothing living. The rider then removed its' helmet, revealing a horrible skeletal face with long stringy hair and an equally stringy looking beard. There were two flame-like lights where its' eyes should have been had it been a living person with flesh still on its' bones. “Oh shit! It's one of them!” shouted john, who rushed over towards the skeletal biker to tray and taser it with his prod. The biker got off the motorcycle and was strong enough to push John out of the way, which irritated the man to no end. “Fuck! Why you have to do this the hard way, man?” But all the ghostly biker said in response to that was: “Party!” with what sounded like a sinister chuckle. “I guess this is what we're here to take care of.” Marcia said, as she and William rushed forward to help John out. Bruce screamed at the sight of the biker, and Tiffany just was standing there saying: “Oh my God! That... is so... fucked up. I've never seen one like that before. Like, seriously!” Bruce turned back and said to Tiffany: “Come on, Tiff! Don't just stand there, we need you.” To which she said: “Okay, okay! Let's do this.” and that snapped her into action. The biker shot fire out of its' eye sockets, which John dodged out of the way of just in time. The fire was too close to the bike, and it ignited the gas tank, causing the motorcycle to explode. Everybody was well out of the way of it when this happened, and John screamed at the sight saying: “Oh, fuck! This is bullshit! They never do that... fucking making shit go boom, that's cheating. That's cheating! You hear me ghost boy? You're a dirty, dirty cheater!” But the ghostly biker, who was covered in flames after the explosion, could only laugh and once more the horrible apparition said only: “Party!” To which William said to John: “Looks like our boy here's not much of a talker. Fine with us, right? Let's get that hotheaded prick.” Marcia did then say to William and John, having caught up to them: “Right! So make sure your prods are set for a longer distance discharge... we don't want to get to close to him now that we know what he can do. You hear that, Bruce? Tiffany? Long distance discharge only!” and everybody so set their prods accordingly.
“One... two... three... now!” shouted William, as he shot out a beam from his prod towards the biker, which had the desired effect of temporarily immobilizing the specter. Everybody did the same, and soon the biker was trapped in place. John then pulled out his portable containment unit from his backpack and threw it unto the ground, where it opened with the impact. John then used the push setting on his prod to shove the biker towards it, after having tossed the remote control pad for the containment unit over to Bruce. He then said to the young man: “Bruce! When I say to... press the button on that pad. But do not do it one minute too soon or too late. You got me?” To which the teenager replied: “This is far from my first mission, uncle... I've seen Tiffany do this before, I can do it this time.” It was Bruce's first time on the trigger for the containment unit, so the capture of the ghost was up to him. There was a very narrow window of time to act within, otherwise the unit would close and the ghost could remain free. Then, they'd have to deploy another unit and reset the one that had failed to be activated in time. As it is, they could only hold the ghost for so long before the prods overloaded, so they had to act quickly. John had pushed the incapacitated biker close enough to the open unit that it could be trapped properly. He yellowed out: “Okay, Bruce! Do it now, kid! Now! Right now!” and Bruce hit the correct button on the control pad, which caused an explosion of light to erupt from the open unit on the ground. That was enough to do the trick! Everybody averted their eyes and turned their prods off to prevent overloading. When the light subsided, the unit was closed and the indicator light on it showed that it was occupied. The biker was no longer there, because he was within the unit now. “Excellent work, my boy!” said William to his son, who appeared to be very proud of himself at this accomplishment. “See, uncle? I told you I could do this!” Bruce said. Tiffany then rushed over to kiss Bruce on the cheek and say: “My hero!” to which the young man was obviously blushing, and feeling a bit of a stirring in his pants at the unexpected kiss. He hoped John or Tiffany wouldn't notice his sudden erection, and thankfully neither of them did. “Hey! My pleasure, cutie.” he muttered half under his breath. William then called up June to tell her how things went, but after he told her everything that had just happened... June then told him something that made him go pale. She said to him: “I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but Bill... that wasn't the ghost that you were supposed to catch. The one that's been troubling the college is a floating vapor made of ectoplasm that can full-on possess people, not some fire shooting reject from Night of the Living Dead!” He hung up, muttering “What the hell did we just catch, then?” and got straight to explaining the situation to his family. “So there's another one here somewhere? This is going to be a really long night!” said Marcia, and John explained: “Look... how the hell are we supposed to find one single vaporous entity when this place is literally covered in fog? This is like looking for a needle in a haystack, over worse because at least you can still see a needle.” To which Tiffany answered: “Hello! It's what these gadgets are for.” and she got out her portable handheld energy meter, which was literally displaying all manner of readings that were literally off of the normal scale and into quite ridiculously impossible territory. “Holy shit! Guys, guys, guys... take a look at your meters, this is insane!” William did so, and then he said in a surprised tone of voice: “I've never, ever seen anything like this before... it's totally off the scale, these numbers are all just plain impossible, whether scientifically or otherwise. The arrows are even spinning in circles rather than pointing to anything readable on my scanner. It's as if we're in some kind of a vortex where normal readings can't be taken.” John chuckled, saying: “You say a vortex? That's not good! It means the laws of the natural world won't apply here. That's probably why we encountered bonehead, before.” Suddenly, the fog that was all around them converged into one of the nearby dormitories, where it funneled through an open window and literally filled the building. Tiffany said: “I think it's safe to say, that's where the vapor we're looking for is hiding out.” John then told everybody: “Okay, we go in carefully and deploy a containment unit in the center of the structure or a close to the center as we can get one. Then, we pop it and bag our pesky specter. Simple! Right?” and everybody nodded their heads in agreement. “Lets go... and try not to get possessed.” he then said.
As soon as they entered the dormitory, it was impossible to see anything at all thanks to the vapor that filled the interior of the building. It was like walking into a wall of fog. “How the hell are we going to find the fucking center with everything like this?” Bruce shouted, and Tiffany answered: “Just... try to remember where we came in, keep moving forward, and if we hit the back wall we went too far. Try to figure out the middle from there, I guess.” At first it was slow going, and it seemed as if everyone was going to be lost in the fog forever... but then, once Tiffany reached the exact center of the dormitory's ground floor, within that three floor structure, all of the fog converged upon her. She screamed, and as soon as her mouth opened the fog entered into her body, the entity that had taken the form of the fog now possessing her. Her eyes became milky gray as a result, all color vanishing from them. Bruce was the first to come running when he saw her kneeling on the floor clutching her face in her hands. “Are you alright, Tiff... what happened?” he asked, and suddenly she withdrew her hands and her teeth were fangs rather than normal teeth. He noticed her eyes then, and knew she has become possessed. “Oh shit! Dad, Mom, Uncle John! You better come and see this... Tiff''s not exactly herself right now.” And then, unnaturally swiftly, Tiffany grabbed Bruce by her neck and hissed at him: “Tiff, is it? Why do you call me Tiff, when you should be calling me Aunt Tiffany, or Aunt Tiff, or just plain Auntie! Hello! Aren't I married to your uncle? Tell me, Bruce! Tell me why you got horny when I kissed you before.” And he was blushing at the same time that he was struggling to breathe. “Dad! Mom! Help me!” and that was followed by gurgling noises, as his hands tried to pry Tiffany's away from his throat. Her grip was like a vise, however, and his eyes were beginning to feel as if they might bulge any minute. He was going to die, he realized, at the hand of a girl he always fantasized over, who now mocked him for it. “It isn't her in there right now, it isn't Tiff. It's... whatever was in that fog.” he reminded himself in his mind, but it was getting difficult to differentiate the victim from the thing inside of her the more she kept squeezing his neck like she was doing. John arrived first, and managed to get Tiffany to let go of Bruce, who fell to the floor gasping for breath whilst coughing and gagging pitifully. John asked Tiffany what was the matter, and she said to him evilly: “Hey, asshole! You always say such rude things about me when you think I can't hear you talking... well, maybe I should let Bruce fuck me hard while you watch. He wants to, you know! Oh, how he always wants to! And guess what, moron... he's more of gentleman than you could ever be. So, just you wait right there!” and with a wave of her hand, John was unable to move a muscle. He could only watch in horror as his young wife crawled over to Bruce and began to get on top of the teenager. She began to unzip his jumpsuit with one hand, as with her other she was stroking his cock through his jumpsuit and underwear. “Oh! Hey, looks like you're getting excited again Bruce. See? I knew you wanted to fuck me. I knew it, I knew it I knew it!” And she was giggling like a child by that point. Bruce was flat on his back, his eyes wide, words failing him as he realized part of him wanted to let Tiffany have her way with him. He could let her get him hard, and he could fuck the hell out of her, he could blame the entity possessing her for it. He'd get the lay of his dreams out of it, and he'd be the one seen as the victim. Were those thoughts his own? Suddenly, the entity fled from Tiffany and poured into Bruce's suddenly open mouth. It's malevolence was fueling his desires, and Tiffany was now once again herself. She was screaming, as Bruce sat up... pushing her unto her back, whilst unzipping her jumpsuit and molesting her whilst keeping his weight upon her so that she could not escape him. He was abnormally strong with the entity now inside of him, and it wanted him to rape Tiffany. “You want it, Tiff! You've always wanted it from me.” he said to her, and his voice was demonic sounding now. John was screaming... he'd been screaming all throughout this whole twisted drama unfolding before him, but it was much worse now. William and Marcia arrived on the scene just then, and they tried to get Bruce off of Tiffany once they noticed what he was doing and saw that he was possessed. “This is not good! This is not good at all.” William said, to which Tiffany shrieked: “Tell me about it! Come on, he's trying to fucking rape me. You all going to just let it happen?” And they could not get Bruce off her.
He motioned with his hand and they too were frozen in place, as he continued to remove Tiffany's jumpsuit and backpack. It was a bit of a struggle, but she was stripped down to her bra and panties after a bit, and then Bruce struck her violently with his hand so that she was stunned a bit whilst he removed his own clothes after discarding his backpack first. He did all of this in order to have his way with the girl of his dreams. Nothing was going to stop him, he was going to do her good and she'd have to live with the memory it for the rest of her life, for the rest of her marriage to John. And John would always know that Bruce had taken her, and that she liked it when he did it to her. “You want me Tiff, and I've always wanted you! Time to get the lay of your life.” and he ripped her bra off, exposing her perky tits even as he pulled her underwear aside after spreading her legs. He was between them, his dick was out of his underwear and inside her... and he wasn't going to stop. With the rest of his family watching, he raped his aunt, Tiffany, with all his heart. And his heart was fully in it, the darkest part of his deepest and darkest of secret desires. The young girl was screaming, her nephew heaving on top of her, even as her body betrayed her in its' enjoyment of this savage act. John was in tears, crying, his mind filling up with thoughts of how he wanted to kill Bruce, all the while reminding himself that this was not Bruce any longer, it was the same horror that had been inside of Tiffany only moments before. He was telling William and Marcia what he had witnessed, and Bruce's parents were pleading with him to stop, but he was not able to hear them. Once he had finished thoroughly raping Tiffany, after he cam shot his cum up inside of her, he remarked: “Now that was a juicy cunt! I can see why you like her so much, uncle.” Tiffany had reached orgasm during her rape, and she hated herself for it, felt unfaithful to her husband. She was crying, whimpering, no longer screaming, her mind trying its' hardest to dissociate from this disturbing situation. Bruce kicked off his underwear, then danced around the room naked whilst saying he was going to rape his mother next. “Two for the price of one!” he cackled, and his will... or rather, the wicked entity's perverse will... faltered for a brief moment as it allowed itself to become distracted by how it was going to get Bruce sexually excited enough to attack his mother next. It caused him to begin masturbating whilst looking at Marcia, and sure enough Bruce was getting hard again before too much longer. His heart was no longer in it though, every fiber of his being was crying out against this, resisting it. Tiffany was one thing, but this... this would be the woman who gave birth to him, and that was a step too far even for the darkest part of his being. This resistance caused the entity to focus more on trying to exert its' hold over Bruce, which cause John to be released from the entity's unseen grasp. Tiffany was slumped over on her side, her mind seemingly gone as she cried and sobbed. John ran over to Bruce and jolted him with his prod. The jolt would only affect the entity, and sure enough it pushed the terrible thing out of the teenage boy, who immediately slumped the floor and went unconscious. The thin was now visibly manifested, and it looked like a floating blob of green flesh with four long and muscular arms. It had a face the features of which kept shifting and changing, becoming some kind of approximations of different people that John did not recognize. It's voice was inhuman, it's sounds all terrible to hear. It was no longer in a fully vaporous form, it was somewhat solid now and could not possess anybody in this state. John grabbed a portable containment unit out of Tiffany's backpack and threw it unto the floor near to the entity. It opened, and John jolted the terrible specter with his prod set to taser mode. He pushed it towards the unit, then pressed the button the control pad for it. There was the expected explosion of light, and everybody closed their eyes when it happened. After it was over, then at last the entity was contained and the danger was over. However, neither Bruce nor Tiffany did seem in any shape to be simply walking away from this situation unaffected by what had happened to them... what had happened between them. They were both victims, but Bruce was going to have to live with the memory of what he did to Tiffany whilst under the entity's influence. And that was going to make him feel like a monster, no matter what. The meters were all working again, the vortex was now closed. It had been the entity that was opening one. It was going to be a long ride home... the longest.
June contacted the client, and arranged for payment to be transferred from the client to William's bank account, as was the usual procedure for these cases. Banks, at least, were still fully operational despite the sorry state that the world was in overall. June could expect to get her cut, and that pleased her. But the joy she felt at being paid was bittersweet this time, once Marcia explained to her what happened to Bruce and Tiffany. She wondered, if she had been there... if maybe the entity would have possessed her and drove her to force herself upon Bruce, given her strong feelings for him. “Sounds like it takes what you hide deep inside you and twists it to make you do something evil.” June remarked, and Marcia said that was how William explained it to her when he had some time during the ride home to think about it. Things would never be the same again between Bruce and Tiffany, and John felt like he needed to put some distance between himself and them now. But... he knew that feeling was wrong, that Tiffany was going to need him now more than ever before. And he reminded himself once again, that it had not been them, not fully... it had been the entity feeding off of their own darkest innermost desires. “I'm going to need serious fucking therapy, after all that happened back at that collage.” he explained to William as the two men talked in William's study for a bit whilst Marcia and June spent time counseling Bruce and Tiffany. The two women had full degrees in psychiatry, as well as other things, and had in the past both been fairly decent therapists prior to taking on their present careers. Marcia counseled her son, and June counseled Tiffany, and it was going to be the beginning of a long recovery for both of the two victims. William was watching some news reports on television, and writing down notes in a journal whilst John was talking to him about how powerless he felt to do anything to help his wife and William's son. “I wanted to murder the boy, Bill. I wanted to fucking rip his throat out or gouge his eyes out when he started raping my wife. Sorry... I mean when the entity did that. Not Bruce! But I don't know how I feel about working with them after that happened. Knowing that both of them had hidden feelings for each other that I never imagined they might've had. Those feelings made it possible for the entity to possess them, to make them do... what they did. I know they were resisting all the way towards the end, but in the beginning it looked like the entity had something to work with there. Something I never considered. It's like my wife cheated on me with my own nephew, and I'm supposed to just deal with it, suck it up. But Bill, bro... I'm a man! It isn't that easy a thing for a man to just suck up. If there were no entity that was involved, I'd divorce Tiffany and leave our little club to strike off on my own at this point. But, you told me repeatedly that they're the victims in all this... and I need time to process that, to deal with it. To get my anger out of the picture so I can think clearly again. How am I going to do, that Bill?” and after hearing his brother say all of that, William said to him: “John we're soon going to have bigger problems to deal with... not just us, but the whole human race. Look, have some sessions with Marcia or June to help you deal with the psychological fallout from what happened with that entity. It'll do you a world of good, John, honestly! But in the meantime... these news reports are talking about vortexes popping up all over the world, in every major city, in all kinds of places. Some of our rivals in the ghost hunting business have had their hands full dealing with what's been coming through those vortexes. See, these vortexes are like lesser portals through which some pretty nasty but mostly low level entities can come through. Things like what we dealt with at the college, sorry to bring it up. In all these reports, that isn't the language they're using but it's what is going on all the same! That means paranormal activity is now beginning to increase like never before. We've all had to live with those portals at the sites of all those former prisons and police stations... and that's been hard enough for people. But now! Now, something is trying to bring greater numbers of low level entities into this world, probably as a distraction. But, as a distraction from what? I don't think we want to know. It's using entities capable of opening them to do its' dirty work, whatever it is... and it is no accident or coincidence that so many vortexes are popping up all at the same exact time. It's never happened before! Just like when the very first prison blew up when its' containment unit was compromised, and pretty soon... it was happening everywhere. Jesus!”
John remarked to his brother on being reminded of the explosions at the prisons and police stations: “Jesus indeed! Remember back when people used to have faith, Bill? Bet the only ones who are really religious now are the ones saying they were right about Judgment Day because these days we have the dead walking around all the time, among other things. If somebody or something is doing this shit with the vortexes, deliberately... you think maybe it might be God, that God might be trying to bring about the end of the world or something? I mean, we all know the spirits blew the containment units in all those places way back deliberately, in an effort to actually create those portals. What if that was just the beginning? And this... this is to distract us from the endgame. The thought of that scares me, big time.” William took a drink from a bottle of scotch he had nearby, and then remarked: “It scares me too, John. It scares me too! I think we should pay a visit to Alvin sometime next week and see what he has to say about all this, he knows way, way more about the occult than even me, and I'm an expert in the field. If anyone has a clue about where all of this is headed, it'll be our dear Mister Crowley.” John then did a bit of a slight chuckle, as he sat down in the comfortable chair opposite from William's desk, and he then looked his brother intently in the eyes as he admitted: “Bro, I'm sure Alvin's a genius and all that, but I have to be honest here, the old boy scares the hell out of me. There's something really off about him, if you know what I mean. Ever wonder if maybe he's not possessed by something himself?” Which made William laugh a bit before saying: “Come on, John! You know Alvin... I'd more worry that he might be in league with whatever is behind all of this. He's got a darkness in him, sure, but he's in control of it too much to be easily possessed by anything. Do I trust him? Never! But I understand him, at least to a certain degree... as much as anyone can claim to understand him. We'll just have to see what he has to say about all of this before we can judge him one or or another about things like this. Best case is that he'll be able to fill us in on what's going on and let us know how we can help, if we can help at all.” It was not much to go on, and yet it was a great deal to understand. Bruce and Tiffany were going to be a mess for a long time to come, but if push came to shove they'd be needed should things take a turn for the worse. Tiffany was, interestingly, mentally stronger than Bruce, and her recovery was going better than his. At worst, she would be back on the team before long even if Bruce had to be out of action a bit longer than expected. June planned to look after Bruce once Tiffany was back on the team so that if that should be how things transpired Marcia could also rejoin the team with no worries regarding her son. It was a rough situation for everybody, but they were going to get through it... no matter how rough it got. In the meantime, William... a few days later... called up Alvin Crowley on the phone to ask him if he'd not mind scheduling a sudden appointment for him so he and John could come by to have a talk with him. “It's just business related, Al... nothing you won't be able to help us with, believe me.” William so told him, and the soft, somewhat sinister voice of Alvin replied: “Of course it is, Bill... it's never not a matter of business when you call me. I understand completely! I've plenty of free time at present, so I'll have you come in to see me next Monday, since that is the most convenient day for me. Come in at any time that day, and I will be there, fear not. In fact, I daresay I am looking forward to it! It will break up the monotony of the work week for me.” And that was the extent of their conversation, short and to the point as it always was between them during such phone calls. John felt a sense of foreboding about the upcoming appointment, but he kept his nervousness to himself. William and Alvin went way back, and if there was something to fret about then surely his brother would tell him. The two had never kept any secrets from each other, after all. There was a missing decade of William's life that only Marcia knew all the details of, but John had always assumed it had something to do with a job William had been off doing that required a bit of secrecy or discretion. That was before they were all in the ghost hunting job that they were involved up to their necks in now, and people don't always talk about their old jobs once they take on new ones. But all the same, Alvin never failed to creep John out in ways nobody else he had ever known in his life ever could. And that, made John sometimes wonder what he was all about.
Alvin Crowley was a pale man with sharp, predatory features and dark blue eyes that stood out due to his habit of intensely staring at people during conversations. He kept his head shaved completely... save for a ponytail that he wore high upon his head and which cascaded down his back. He had a cultivated, effeminate manner to him which was deliberate and sometimes exaggerated on his part due to a secret hatred of men that he harbored deep inside due to childhood abuse he had suffered at his father's hands. He sometimes wished that he had been born a woman rather than a man, and yet he was comfortable in expressing himself in a masculine way during sexual encounters. He saw himself as above other men... and as better than them. He never judged others outright, but he felt society was sick and in need of a changing due to the deeds of wicked men throughout history. It was why he first turned to the occult, in part to honor his illustrious ancestor but mostly to try and find a way to change the world and break the cycle of war, aggression, violence and destruction that he noticed had become a horrid historic pattern. He stood in his workroom, which was what he called his occult practice chambers, and in which he had a shrine set up to his patron god, a being incomprehensible to human knowing but which had reached out to him during his youth. He was standing in the middle of a hexagram drawn with a single line that was unbroken upon the floor in the center of the room. It was drawn with human blood, of which due to the efforts of his procurers was always in supply for him to use for such rites and rituals. A black candle was set up at each outer point of the star, burning as the wax melted and dripped down. The room was otherwise pitch black at present, and only the shapes and shadows of what it contained could be seen. Alvin wore his ceremonial black robes which were as ornate and exquisite as his tastes, with long puffy sleeves gathered at the wrists and flowing skirts that ended at his ankles. Around his neck was a silver necklace from which hung an inverted pentagram of the same color and material. He had done all of the dance-like movements with the utmost precision, and although he appeared to be somewhat nebulously old, it was impossible for anyone to determine precisely how old he truly was. For he had a strength, a vitality, a youthfulness to him even at his present age that was not natural. He called out, as loud as he could, the names of his patron deity in the ancient tongue of the Sumerians, and a voice spoke unto him from out of the shadows surrounding him: “When, my disciple, will you return my child to me?” And the sorcerer said unto the being from beyond: “When I have been granted physical youth to match the youthful energy you have already bestowed unto me, and not a moment sooner!” Alvin was arrogant in his wording of what he said, and the being knew that its' disciple was not acting respectfully towards it any longer. It spoke once more, its' voice low and guttural and frightening to hear: “You shall keep her locked away no longer than the span that I shall dictate to you! So long as you keep her confined, I will continue to open more and more vortexes, all around this earthly world, and when they become just so numerous enough I shall merge them into portals that will mesh into a great web that will cover all of the Earth until it shall be that your reality is indistinguishable from what lies beyond. Then, where shall it be safe for your kind to dwell? At that point, I shall enter your world physically and claim my child as is my right. How do you think you could stop me? And yet, you claim to continue to serve me and my interests! You are a deceptive servant, and yet without you as my living focus in the world I would not be able to act with the force and power that I have thus far been able to. But once I am there, I shall be mindful of your arrogance and punish it accordingly! Whilst, I realize it was not you who tore my child from her rightful place, and that it was you who rescued her from those who had done so. But you will not hold her hostage to make further demands upon me!” To which Alvin reminded his patron: “But I must remind you, oh terrible one... that you made these promises to me when I agreed to liberate your daughter for you. I have kept my end of the bargain and wait only upon you to keep your end of our tiny bargain. You have three promises to fulfill! I await the fulfillment of the second, and then the third will need to be delivered upon. Then, I shall remove the binding wards upon your daughter and she will be free to return to your plane of existence, and thus your side.” The dark god sighed, realizing it was true.
Published 5th Dec 2024
Author's Note
This was my attempt to write a dark and gritty take on the concept of Ghostbusters, with all original characters and a totally original plot that contains elements familiar to fans of that franchise. It is not a comedy at all and is a straight up horror story with some only occasional moments of humor.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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