The group decided a full-scale stake-out of this Elfrith Alley apartment was in order. There was a bunch of whores hanging around the entrance to the "2nd Street" subway station, mainly black girls, so Ebony mingled with them. There was much jostling and shoving as they viewed her as competition, but when she made it clear she wasn't looking for their business, they stopped. Or maybe it was because Sledge started throwing around Grants (Ulysses S Grant, $50 bills).
Mort IDed one of the hos as a vampire, so he stayed well clear of the solicitation (collective noun for whores), just in case she happened to be one of Oberon's.
Theo was still working in the Penitentiary, and Juan was back at his work (Khyber Pass Bar & Grill). Vince? Well, Vince hadn't been seen since the morning, when they were in the Old Fireman's Hall. He always was an elusive fellow.
Mort and Sledge's phones both suddenly rang, almost to the second.
"Hello" they both said simultaneously.
"It's the Coroner," said Mort.
"It's Lieutenant Prospero," said Sledge.
"I have to go down to the Thomas Jefferson morgue," they both said in unison. "There's been another killing."
So they both left together, in Mort's hearse, leaving Ebony and the hos.
At the morgue, they were both ushered in to the slab by Lieutenant Prospero and the Coroner. Naked, and blooded, lying there, was the body of Vince. Well, pieces of the body of Vince; he had been ripped apart.
"That is Vince," Sledge and Mort both said in harmony, voices a third apart.
The coroner had been busy: "He is missing several organs: the liver, bladder and gall bladder. He's only been dead for three hours."
"So he is dead then?" observed Sledge.
Mort checked under the nails. Sure enough: traces of fibre.
 |
| Lt. Harold Prospero |
Prospero beckoned them away: "Come with me."
They left the morgue, and he escorted them to the Police station. Here, he took them to an office, and sat them both down. There was another man and a woman in the room too.
"This is Detective Trisha Noble," the lieutenant said, gesturing to the woman; the rather attractive young woman.
She nodded. Sledge just stared at her substantial chest.
"And this is Jacob Bradshaw," he gestured at the other man. "A Scientist from Penn State."
 |
| Det. Trisha Noble |
Mort acknowledged Jacob, but Sledge was too busy staring at the detective.
"Are you married?" he asked.
The lieutenant continued: "I think it is time that we reveal ...all. Detective Noble, Mister Bradshaw
and I know about the Veil. We know of the supernatural, the Supernatural and the forces of darkness. Though, as far as we can ascertain, we are the only three in the Philadelphia Police Department who do..."
"It IS a mummy" squeaked Mort, excitedly.
"Yes, we gathered this. And we plan to use your group, and your somewhat unconventional investigative techniques, to continue the hunt for it."
Mort and Sledge were already on their phones to Ebony, Juan and Theo. Though, for some reason, they couldn't get a signal: "No service".
"We belong to a group called..." continued the lieutenant, then he paused, hand on heart, and looked off into the far distance: "STRIKE FORCE."
"It is a large organization," he carried on. "And we have top men in most cities of the States." He added with the best Peter Griffin side-ways glance, "Top men. And many in other parts of the world."
He paused, and said dramatically with the infinity stare "STRIKE FORCE... has resources, and endowments, that members may use..."
"Can we join?!" squeaked Sledge.
"Yes, we wish you to pledge," said Prospero. "And I also want to embed Mister Bradshaw, here, into your group."
[ Ian, having retired Vince character, rejoins the party ]
"Yes yes," said Sledge, impatiently. "But I want to join Strike Force..."
"You must say it with a pause," interrupted the Lieutenant. "Raise your chin and focus your eyes to the horizon before you say it. Right palm on your heart. Then say the words, chest forward, 'with authority and resonance'."
He stared to the distance and intoned: "STRIKE FORCE."
Sledge repeated: "STRIKE FORCE."
Mort tried too: "STRIKE FORCE."
Jacob too: "STRIKE FORCE."
Trisha did too, which was impressive when she out-thrust her chest: "STRIKE FORCE."
[ In WoD terms, STRIKE FORCE is a Tier-three organization, also known as a "Conspiracy" ]
"What happens if you don't say it right?" asked Mort.
"Bad things happen," said the lieutenant. "Bad things. I have heard whispered tales of dread 'minus one dice on all rolls for the rest of the Chapter' whatever that means."
"Do you have a constitution?" asked Mort.
"We sure do," said Prospero. He handed Mort a hard-bound book, the size of a church bible, with 6-point type printed on wafer thin rice paper. It was full of 1800s archaic legalese; with its quadruple-nested subordinate clauses, complex and ambiguous prepositional phrases, regular and obscure latin quotes (exempli gratia, in fide scientiam, coque natibus, purificatus non consumptus, pedicabo et in equitibus, et cetera), and archaic phrases like 'the party of the first part hereafter referred to as' and 'excepting in cases where hither-to unforeseen circumstances ameliorate the intent of the parties' providence'.
"STRIKE FORCE ... was started by Abraham Lincoln himself, in 1863, during the Civil War." the lieutenant added. "The vampires were pro-slavery, you see, and they ran the big farms. So there was quite a bit of preternatural and unorthodox fighting going on in the background, which didn't make the papers. Hence, .... STRIKE FORCE."
While Mort was struggling with the heavy constitution, Detective Noble walked over to Sledge (who was still drinking her in, like a dehydrated man) holding an elaborate ornamental dagger. She took his left ring finger, and jabbed it with the pointy end of the knife, drawing blood.
"Ow!" yelped Sledge.
Trisha quickly placed his bleeding finger onto what looked like a red stamp-pad. It blotted the blood away, leaving no trace.
"Say 'I, your-name, do hereby pledge myself to, my all," she paused, and looked into the distance as she intoned. "STRIKE FORCE'."
Sledge was getting the hang of it now: "I, Sledge Hammer, do hereby pledge myself, my all, to," he did his best resonant voice so far: "STRIKE FORCE !"
He felt a tingle in his core, and then a jolt.
"You are now pledged," said Trisha. "Welcome to ... STRIKE FORCE !"
"So, I can date you now?"
She smiled thinly: "That is not part of the deal."
Mort rubbed the back of his neck.
"I can sense something in this room," he said. "Something magic or dangerous."
Lieutenant Prospero reached into a drawer of the desk, rummaged around a bit, and produced a ruby gem, the size of a marble. Mort's Sixth Sense hackles rose even more.
"This is a non-eavesdrop gem. It stops us being overheard in this room both magically and mundanely. This is why your phones don't work too."
"Is that an Endowment?" asked Mort.
"Aye," said the lieutenant. "We have some resources which are made available to members and pledges in the form of Endowments."
"I want a flame-thrower!" snapped Sledge.
"We must be careful with fire weapons. The Philly vampires do not approve, as fire is the bane of vampires too, and they try to control all sources. If they catch you with fire weapons, you'll be killed with extreme prejudice. They could well have ghouls, aka slaves of vampires, infiltrated in the police. Also, the mages don't appreciate fire neither, and, as you know, the mages control the Internet, so don't try to order this stuff online."
The talk drifted on. Prospero and Noble knew of the three different vampire clans in Philly: the leaders being Oberon, Mina and Defacto. There were also two packs of werewolves, one cabal of mages, some fae activity, some witches and a some demons. Plus the usual collection of ghosts and hauntings you'd expect in a big city. The recent mummy attacks was the first risen activity that they knew of - well, not counting ten years ago.
While they were there, Prospero used his police contacts to find out about the Elfrith Alley apartment, and whether he could find any evidence that would allow a police bust of this dwelling. There were two couples living in the ground floor apartment, both from Egypt and recently moved in: brother and sister Osiris and Safiya Runihura, and Dr Gahiji Khalfani and his wife Nailah. Dr Khalfani was an anesthetist at the Thomas Jefferson Hospital, and the only income earner for the apartment. They all had legit travel and work visas.
---
Sledge, Mort and Jacob arrived back at Elfrith Alley and updated Ebony about STRIKE FORCE. So far, only Sledge and Jacob were members, but Prospero wanted them all joined up.
"Besides," added Sledge with a leer. "You get endowments!"
They took turns watching the apartment as the night grew on.
One of the Egyptian women left. Ebony followed her. She went to a 7-11, and returned. But the rest of the night passed uneventfully.
Thursday Day, June 12
 |
| '72 Chevy Caprice |
Prospero reported that the car had, indeed, been stolen.
Thursday Evening, June 12
Sledge was on watch. Just after dark, a tall man in a hoody, left the building and walked quickly down the street. Sledge happened to be on watch, so he followed the chap, unseen, using his shadowing skills. The mark rounded a corner into a blind alley. Sledge snuck up, glanced in and saw the hooded figure scaling the walls, like a spider. Guessing that this was the creature, he quietly left it and returned to Elfrith Alley.
He phoned this in, and Mort straight-away phoned the Coroner.
"I bet there will be another killing tonight," Mort boasted.
Friday Morning, early, June 13
Around 1am, Ebony was on watch again. The "Mitsubishi Ferrari" pulled up in the alley, next to the apartment building. (It was a narrow street and, during daylight hours, this act would block traffic, though, at 1am, few were about.) Mister Fez got out, opened the trunk, got out a length of thick hose, fist-sized diameter, and fed it through the barred partial-window that led to the basement of the apartment. He then emptied the contents of whatever was in the trunk down the hose into the basement.
Then he packed up and drove off.
Ebony assumed he'd return the car to the parking building, so she went there, and sure enough, it was. She popped the trunk and found that it was full of plastic water containers, all empty, and coil of hose. There were still remnants of the liquid in them, so she took a sample and returned to the alley.
Jacob got woken, and he took the sample to analyze it with the police's gas chromatograph. It was water from the Nile.
The rest of the night passed uneventfully.
Friday Morning, June 13
Mort was awoken by his phone. It was the Coroner.
"You were right," he said. "A tramp, near Elfrith Alley, ripped apart. Missing eyeballs and, kidneys."
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