CHAPTER 1: The Call and Past Reflection

January 23rd 2010 Mission City

The murky night sky loomed large casting it's insidious influence over the city, fended off only by the incandescence of a million electric lights. Such lights never did exhibit over the baser nature of humanity the same influence of the sun and during the star fueled night the criminal element held sway.

It was on this this chill winter's morn I was awoken at the ungodly hour of one o'clock by the ringing of my cellular phone. Duty it would seem called regardless of my sleep cycle's preferences. Fortunately after who knows how many calls like this one, waking up was more done by rote than conscious effort. The extreme cold of the winter's night and the fact I had just retired from an evening of study an hour before thus meant little. I merely showered, dressed, retrieved my revolver, and headed out the door.

My apartment building was not an altogether unpleasant place to live. To the residents of the city it was considered to be the low rent district, despite at one time being home to many of the rich and famous. As such it had many the modern amenity such as an elevator that I used to descend to the lobby; in order to avoid disturbing other residents with the creaking steps. I made a note to put in a request about the noisesome steps when I returned. I entered my car in the lot beneath the building and drove off into the silver strewn darkness that engulfed the streets of Mission City.

I do my part for the city, though I could have retired long ago on my investments and savings alone. To be idle though is to invite boredom. Boredom in turn is deaths hand made material in ones own mind slowly dragging one down into the pits of hell. I consult for the police on bizarre cases which would otherwise go unsolved; mostly homicides.

The reasons for the oddities of my cases are mostly mundane in the end. Though there have been a few notable exceptions to the rule over the years of my employment. However, in the role of consultant I am justice and I derive a sense of personal satisfaction from it. It is this role which I would play that night.

I also consult with a private mercenary company Black Hand. When it's missions go wrong I recreate the scene of the failure so that lessons may be learned and if needed, or possible, locate survivors who may be found. In this role I feel both a sense of duty, danger, and gratitude to a friend to whom I owe much.

Finally I am a researcher and finder of antiquities still. Though this role is a more private endeavor in it I find enjoyment, wonder, and occasionally terror beyond description.