Die and let live (IC)

[Supercape]

GM

June 29th, 2011

Mr and Mrs Richards sat outside McInider hospital, mortified with grief. Their only daughter, Lori, had cancer. And it was not looking hopeful.

Mr Richards desperately tried to console his distraught and weeping wife, whilst fighting back his own tears. There were, it occurred to him, simply not the words. How could life be so cruel to a brave little 10 year old girl?

How?

They were interrupted by a man in a brown suit, brown tie, and brown hat. He looked grey faced, and both spoke and moved slowly.

"Are you the parents of Lori...Richards...?" he intoned, pausing even longer and emphasising the surname, as though it was alien.

"Yes, what of it?" replied Mr. Richards.

"I understand Lori has a serious illness. I wonder if I can help..." he spoke, rather slowly and clumsily. "I know of somebody who may be able to....keep Lori well..." he said.

Normally the parents would have told the man to take a hike, but people often believe what they want to believe. And here was a lifeline. And one they jumped on, questioning the man.

The man was indeed familiar with death and dying.

He was, after all, dead himself.

[Dr Archeville]

Deep in the basement of McNider Memorial Hospital, in its morgue, another dead man stirred, though the condition of this one was known to Jacob Agopsowicz, the hospital's chief medical examiner. Agopowicz kept Dead Head's visits secret from most of his staff, but especially from chief of staff Dr. Randolph Collins, who viewed costumed heroes and other superhumans as a nuisance at best. Agopowicz did this in part out of not liking Collins' overly reserved nature, in part out of "professional courtesy": he himself had had a short run as a costumed adventurer, back in the late 60s/early 70s.

Dead Head had been coming around the morgues a lot lately, what with the massive multi-pronged attack from a week ago. But this evening was a more relaxed one: for the moment, there were no bodies awaiting examination, so Agopowicz got to enjoy a leisurely lunch before something inevitably came to interrupt. When Dead Head hit the morgue up during his patrol, the M.E. invited the young zombie to sit for a bit and swap stories of adventures with one another.

"... so the goon's laughin' at me, 'cuz he thought I'd missed, but really I'd hit the tank of anesthetic behind him! So before he knew it, he was out like a light!"

"Oh, man, Jake, that's a great one!," Dead Head said between laughs. "But what about the gal on the table?"

"Oh, she was fine, I'd gotten to her before they'd even started cutting, so- Dead Head?" Jacob had paused when he saw his conversational partner suddenly turned to his left and began staring up at the ceiling. "Dead Head, what's wrong?"

"There's somethin' comin'.... somethin' undead." He rose, "I'd best go check it out! See ya 'round, Jake!" And at that, Dead Head ran off upstairs, towards the Richards and the mysterious grey man in the brown suit.

[Supercape]

GM

Mr. Brown, as he called himself, was in discussion with the Richards'

"Dr. Gorsky" he was saying. "Dr. Victor Gorsky. He is a Russian expert who came to this country when the cold war ended. I regret to say, he is not licensed to practice here. He has unfortunate ties with the KGB back in Russia. "

The Richhards were naturally cautious, but with the prospect of help for their only daughter dangled before them, they could not dismiss Mr. Brown and his strange offer.

"Dr. Gorsky works here, as head of maintenance. It has given him access to the facilities, and he continues his research quietly. He has come to know of your daughter's case, and feels he may help. "

Mr. Brown's grey face tried to smile. It was weak, and tepid.

But hope dispelled any doubts about Mr. Browns strange behaviour and the stranger offer.

The Richards followed Mr. Brown to Victor Gorsky's office, intrigued to see what the old man had to say. Mr. Brown showed them into the office, and, his mission completed, strode off out of the Hospital.

[Dr Archeville]

Dead Head snuck around as best he could, contorting through air vents and scrabbling along, most likely giving people worries about rats in the walls. True, he could use his necromantic gifts to take on the appearance of some dead person, but he was not always able to control who he turned into; often it was someone close to any living people about -- he developed the trick to spook crooks who'd murdered relatives for inheritances, appearing as the person they'd killed to force a confession -- but doing that here would at best cause no small amount of confusion.

Eventually he made it outside, popping out of an external vent, and spotted the drab figure moving on.

Looks corporeal, no it's no haunt. Best find out what it is.

Dead Head ran after the figure, "hey, buddy! I think ya dropped somethin' back here!"

[Supercape]

GM

Mr. Brown turned, rather slowly, to face Dead Head. His lack of reaction to the undead hero's appearance was, in itself, noteworthy.

"I didn't drop anything" he replied with a deadpan face and deadpan demeanour.

He looked Deadhead up and down. The man seemed to operate in slow motion. As if he wasn't thinking clearly, or was up to his eyeballs in drugs.

"You dont appear to be living..." he commented, slowly.

"What a co-incidence..." he added, with a thin smile, the edges of his mouth rising in slow motion.

"...curious. Unhelpful. Inconsequential. Complication?" it muttered, his head jerking slightly as if suffering myoclonic siezures. "Yes!" he concluded, his head jerking up. "What can I do for you?" he asked finally, his mouth curling into a skull like smile.

[Dr Archeville]

"Nah, ya didn't," Dead Head admitted to his lie, "jes' figured that'd be the best way t'get yer attention."

Definitely corporeal, and responsive, if a bit stilted. Some pow'rful ju-ju went into makin' 'im.

Dead Head chuckled, "funny you should ask that, friend, I was jes' about to ask you the same thing! Whatcha doin' 'round these parts? Ain't often I see corporeal types 'round here, not unless they's a vampire lookin' fer a quick nip, or some sawbones snapped and started Frankensteinin' folks. But you don't seem either type, so what gives? You a messenger? Or jes' a stubborn ol' soul who ain't realized what's happened?" He looked 'Mr. Brown' over, trying to figure out how he'd met his mortal end, or any other distinguishing marks, which might give a hint as to why he was here, or who sent him.

Cain't help shake th' feelin' I's seen this guy before. But where?

[Supercape]

GM

"I am but a servant of the Ba..." he stopped suddenly, his head jerking to one side. "...but no, I must not speak..." he said mechanically.

He body contorted slightly, as though something had hit a "reset" button. "Suffice...to say...." he continued, more slowly and cautiously, "that I am somebody who may point you towards a powerful ally and vast power. Someone who has mastered the mysteries of death, and commands them. "

His dead, black eyes looked at Dead Head impassively.

"Join us?" he asked softly and slowly.

[Dr Archeville]

"Okay, see, I got a bit of a problem with what ya almost said right there," Dead Head said, eyes narrowing as he crouched a bit into a defensive stance. "Ya said yer a servant of 'Ba,' which, way I sees it, could be one of two things. Ba is one part of the ancient Egyptian concept'a the soul, it's everythin' what makes an individual unique. So maybe you's workin' fer some mummy; wouldn't mind seein' one'a them, assumin' he ain't out doin' nothin' nasty. But," he cocked his head slightly, "when ya said 'Ba,' you stopped yerself sudden-like, so's I'm thinkin' ya did so 'fore ya could say 'ron Samedi.' Now, you wouldn't be workin' fer that ol' snake, wouldja? 'Cuz if so, well, I's jes' gonna have t'oppose ya, on principle."

[Supercape]

GM

Mr. Brown seemed unable to contain himself at the name of Baron Samedi.

"That ignorant fool? He has no right to call himself a Baron in the first place, and is a mere insect compared to..."

He caught himself again, his hold body jerking before he spoke any more. Mr. Brown seemed to act almost independently, but someone was definitely pulling the strings and overseeing him.

"...ah...ahaha...you taunt me, Sir! you taunt me!" he mumbled, foam frothing from his mouth and onto his brown suit.

"But I see now that you are in no mood to embrace the power of the dark arts, but oppose it. Whilst your efforts may be appreciated if directed elsewhere, I fancy they may interfere with my plan here. So, I must therefore crush you like the pitiful corpse you are..."

With that, Mr. Brown lurched forward, his arms reaching out to strangle Dead Head...

[Dr Archeville]

Personable as this one is, he's still little more than a run-of-the-grainmill zombie. He cain't do a thing to me.

"Hunh, so yer not workin' with the Baron," Dead Head remarked rather nonchalantly, moving only to straighten up out of his defensive posture. He did nothing to stop Mr. Brown from wrapping his cold hands around his own cold throat, but what was strangulation to one who did not breath? What was a broken neck to one whose reliance on mortal biology ended over a decade ago? "If not him, though, then who?"

Deep in concentration, he barely notice the dead man's fists raining down on him. Mr. Brown was, after all, only one zombie, and one zombie is rarely a threat. They weren't much stronger than they were in life, their biggest advantage was their indefatigable nature. you need someone to turn a big wheel to mill grain into flour, a zombie was your man. One-on-one combat, though, you'd be better served by a ghoul.

"Someone what hates the Baron, but ain't above usin' undead. Hrm... Malador? Or maybe a Mayombe gone rogue? C'mon, brother," he looked straight at Mr. Brown, just as a fist came along and knocked him hard enough to dislocate his jaw, "it ain't 'otta be like this -- 'alk 'a me!"

[Supercape]

GM

Mr. Brown launched a couple of powerful windmill blows at Dead Head, knocking the hero's flesh this way and that. It was true that technically speaking, he was inflicting serious damage... at one point sinking his fist into Dead Head's chest up to his wrist.

For what that was worth.

He may as well have been kneading bread.

"Well this appears pointless..." he said, with what actually appeared to be a toothy grin. "...and, I see, attention seeking..."

Indeed the sight of an undead brawl outside a hospital was drawing a few onlookers, and one or two photographers.

"...it would appear this corpse has served it's purpose. So I bid you farewell!" he finished, ceasing his brawling and running off down the street.

[Dr Archeville]

Dead Head leaped to action, moving at a constant sprinter's pace thanks to muscles which were no longer slowed by the buildup of lactic acid and other fatigue compounds. In moments he not only caught up with but passed Mr. Brown, stopping suddenly in front of him.

I don't think I'm jawin' with the body's spirit anymore; I think that's whoever raised 'im up.

"'Served its purpose'? But yer just runnin' off? Any halfway-skilled necromancer'd just sever the connection and have the corpse drop where it was! What, are ya runnin' short on bodies? Or are ya just a neat freak?"

If I just punch this body, the animatin' force'd prob'ly be disrupted and it'd fall, but if I can get whoever's pullin' his strings to pull back on his own, I might be able to trace it back to the source.

[Supercape]

GM

"Curse you...sir..." drawled Mr. Brown.

"Well, you probably have been cursed a thousandfold already" he added, his shoulder jerking at an improbable angle.

"Still, you don't look appear the brightest spark in the underworld, perhaps too much brain rot. A simple peasant like you should pose no threat. "

The wind seemed to escape from Mr. Brown, and Dead Head could see the necromantic energies and ties evaporating in front of him.

"As this body cannot harm you, or evade you, I must bit you adieu et avoir une belle mort*" it wheezed with its final breath, as the body collapsed onto the road, now a shrivelled grey corpse.

*Farewell and have a good death!

[Dr Archeville]

"Aww, don't leave so soon!," Dead Head called out to he air while holding the now-inert corpse in one hand, "we wuz jes' startin' t'have fun!"

Gotta move fast, don't know what this guy's already done. But cain't risk a shadow-walk; even if I could get them to work reliably, that'd scatter the trails.

The animate corpse slung the inanimate one over its shoulder, and made a mad dash for Lantern Hill, covering the four and a half miles from McNider Memorial Hospital in Midtown to St. Stephen's Church & Lantern Hill Cemetery (going mostly through alleys, subway tunnels, and a few less pleasant routes) in a little under ten minutes.

"Hey, Mutt!," he called out as soon as he got to the Hill, "where are ya, boy? I gots a job fer ya!"

Moments later, an invisible form bounded towards Dead Head, which quickly faded into view. "Hey Dead Head! Hey! Ooh, who's that? Who? Who?," the spirit-dog barked as he leaped up on the revenant.

"Well," he said as he laid the corpse down, then bega rifling through the pockets, "that's what I'm gonna need you ta help me figure out, boy. Someone else was pullin' 'his strings, I need t'find out who. You get a good whiff of 'im, boy, I'll need you to track down where 'e's been. I gotta head back to McNider's an' figure out what 'e's already done."

[Supercape]

GM

The pockets were largely empty. A couple of loose change that had fallen through a tear in the jacket, a smudged and tattered ticket stub to a charity ball for disabled policemen wounded in action (from what Dead Head could see), a small bronze crucifix (that had clearly afforded no protection), and a parking permit for the hospital site that was all but disintegrated. The only thing that really stood out was a handkerchief with "C.C" stitched on it.

Mr. Brown (which surely was not his name, from the needlework) smelled of formaldyde and other chemicals, one that even Dead Head could make out as belonging in a Morgue. The Scent lead to right back to the Hospital, and to the Morgue where Dead Head had started out!

But Mutt could make out additional scents, permeating the clothes and flesh of Mr. Brown. With enough time, the faithful hound could track the bodies movements, both before and after his sad demise.

[Dr Archeville]

"Oooh, ooh, ooh!," Mutt howled as he sniffed all over the corpse of 'Mr. Brown.' "I have his scents! I can track him for you!"

"I knew ya could, boy," Dead Head replied, giving the dog a few good pats on the back. "Now, you go track down where he was -- 'specially if you smell 'im mingled with anythin' a necromancer'd use." Dead Head pocketed the handkerchief, then stood and looked back to the direction of McNider Memorial. "But don't go gettin' into trouble, y'hear? You find anythin', you come tell me, got it?"

"Yes!," Mutt barked, then began sniffing along, fading from sight and corporeality as he went.

"Right, now I's gotta get back to McNider. Been ten minutes already, who knows what I've missed. And I ain't gonna miss another ten, sooo..."

[Dr Archeville]

Dead Head walked up to the nearest grave marker, laid the body down gently, then concentrated, reaching out with his own innate necromystical power, as Nick Cimitiere and Phantom had been teaching him. He sought out the invisible threads that connected the dead, just as there were so many such threads connecting the living. He found them, tracing a path from the resident of Lantern Hill Cemetery to the temporary guests at McNider Memorial's morgue. "Alright, now jes' a little tug, an' it should pull me innnnnnnnn"

Dead Head vanished in a flash of green light, appearing almost instantaneously in one of the cadaver drawers of McNider Memorial's morgue with the same flash of green light. He found himself face-down, atop a very young woman who'd died from a Zoom overdose. "Ah, my apologies, ma'am, I'm sorta new to this," he said as he fumbled for the door.

[bg=#000000]No problem, but you're going to owe me, Dead Boy. Mmmm...[/bg]

"Ah, well, of course, ma'am, I-"

[bg=#000000]'Ma'am'? Do I look that old to you?[/bg]

"Oh, no, no! I... look, I am in a bit of a rush -- dang, this door's stuck somethin' fierce -- ah, so mebe I can... call on ya later?"

[bg=#000000]Hrm, well, I guess I'm not really going anywhere, so sure. But you better come back -- I wound up here because of a fella who promised he'd call me back![/bg]

"Oh, Dead Head's word is his bond, ma' - er, miss!," he assured her. The drawer finally popped open, allowing Dead Head to crawl out. "Soon as this's done, I'll be right back t'help ya! I-"

Dead Head tuned and saw Agopowicz standing there, coffee cup in one hand. "Lonely night, hrm?"

"What can I say, I'm popular," he said with a grin. He fished 'Mr. Brown's' handkerchief from his pocket, "tell me, this look familiar? I think it belonged to one a yer recent tenants."

[Supercape]

GM

"C.C..." muttered Agopowicz "C.C...let me think..."

After a few minutes, he smacked his forehead.

"It can't be...but it must! Dr Charles Cartwright! Poor man, he was a cardiologist here, relatively junior, not a star, but competent enough, finishing off his training. The poor man, got shot in a hit and run only a week ago. Terrible tragedy. His wife is a detective on the force, so suspicions of a revenge attack and all that, it hit her hard. No kids - I don't know if that is a blessing or a curse to be honest. It hit us all pretty hard..."

Agopowicz actually sat down in shock.

"Where did you get it? The body was being stored here...for forensic evidence, you understand...hold on..." he rushed over to one of the draws, and, predictably, it was empty.

Once again, Agopowicz sat down in shock.

"Oh no!" he wailed. "This is terrible! body snatching too, his wife...its going to drive her mad...this is appalling...who would do this? what's going on? I'm going to have to call this in...poor Cartwright..."

[Dr Archeville]

"I don't know who, Jake," he said, patting the M.E. on the shoulder, "but I got my best guy on the trail. But now I got a time frame, so that'll help me considerable for my next step."

"What's that?"

"The step where I go check out the hospital's security cameras fer the past week, an' see if anyone came in ta see Dr. Cartwright. Heh... cart-wight," he chuckled to himself, "ah, right, so the security office's still down the hall, up one level, two lefts, then a right?"

"Yeah, but - hey, where are you going? You can't go out like that!," Agopowicz protested. "I know you, sure, a handful of others, but I don't think any of the guards do."

"Ah, y'ain't seen my new trick, have ya?," he said, grinning.

[Dr Archeville]

"Well, not a new trick, really -- I've done it a few times before, but never with any level of control. But, y'know what they say, practice makes perfect. Y'see, when I've tacked down graverobbers an' murderers before," he said as his body began to shimmer with a soft emerald light, and his appearance began to shift, "sometimes the restless spirit'd, well, possess me, briefly, an' my body'd take on the appearance they had in life, or in the moment right after their death."

He now had the appearance of a young man with a 1950s Greaser hair and clothing, but severely torn face and torso, "drag race accident." He shifted again, to a high school girl in a prom dress with a broken neck, "poor gal hung herself after one too many cruel jokes."

He shifted a third time, now to an elderly man in a hospital security guard's outfit. "This here's Patrick O'Hagen. He was actually a guard over at Trinity Hospital, but the uniform's is pretty much the same. Poor Patrick here died of a heart attack about two months ago, while on the job; I helped his spirit pass on some final words to the granddaughter he never got to meet, an' now he lets me use his shape when I needs to check hospital security. Kinda risky if any of the guards here knew him in life, went to his funeral, or even jes' saw his pic in the obituaries, but it's better'n showin' up in my usual handsome self," he said with a grin. "Wish me luck, Jake!," he said as he headed towards the security office.

[Supercape]

GM

"Good luck!" said Jake, still sitting, still shocked.

"And find out who did this to Cartwright!" he yelled as Dead-Head ran off.

A bit later, at the Security Office...

"Hey, bit early, man" nodded the young, and rather fat security guard, whose nametag read "Longwind". The way he had jolted when Dead Head barged in looked suspiciously like he had been asleep, or at least nodding off.

Longwind looked at the clock. 7:45 pm.

"I still got 15 minutes on shift here, he said. But hey, I'm not complaining. Someone keen wants to take over early, suits me" he joked, not sure whether to take up the offer or not. "I'm new, still learning the ropes. Walkie talky.." he pointed at the clunky device on the desk "cameras..." he pointed at the row of screens in front of him..."Donughts..." he pointed at the offending articles. "I think I get the basics" he smiled, his face not devoid of enthusiasm.

[Dr Archeville]

'Patrick' nodded, "yeah, I got it form here, kid. Go on an' do... whatever it is you young kids do nowadays," he added with a dismissive wave.

Once alone, Dead!Patrick began going through the security logs, looking for anything out of the ordinary the guards had noticed and written in. "Jeez, I thought my handwritin' was sloppy! Mebe it ain't jes' doctors what got lousy penmanship, it's anyone what works at a hospital fer a length'a time." Not finding much of use in the logs, he began going through the security footage from the past week. "Alright, there's Doc Cartwright doin' his rounds, the night 'fore he was killed... there's him leavin'... him bein' wheeled in after the hit-'n'-run... wheeled into the morgue... medical examiners goin' in an' out..."

As Dead Head studied the tapes intently, he was unaware of the figure approaching from behind.

[Supercape]

GM

"What are you doing here? I thought windy was up..." said the Guard behind, whose nametag said "Pavlov".

"Holey Maloney!" he shouted, his face grey, and his half eaten donut dropping to floor along with his steaming hot Coffee. "Patrick O'Hagen! what the blazes are you doing here! you are dead man!"

Pavlov took a few steps backward, one hand scrabbling for the door of the office, and the other reaching for his taser.

"What are you, some kind of ghost or banshee?..." he gibbered, shaking with fear.

[Dr Archeville]

Alright, so Doc Cartwright shambled out today. That Gorsky fella was there, too, but he is the pathologist, so he'd have every reason to be there... which is why it'd be a good cover fer a necromancer. Best check up on him nex-

Uh oh.

"Oh, I'm no banshee," 'Patrick' said as he put his hands up and slowly rose from his chair. He turned slowly to face the two, "banshees are feminine critters, either spirits or faeries, an' I am none of those. What I am..."

'Patrick O'Hagen' brought his hands down and gripped the sides of his head, then tugged up, pulling his head clean off! Worse, as he brought his head down to hold it in front of his chest, his whole body began to shift, rotting at an unearthly rate, so fast and thoroughly that soon all traces of his living face were gone! When next the hideous apparition spoke, a supernatural chill filed the air, and its voice echoed and reverberated, as if coming from deep within some deep, dank crypt.

[bg=#000000]"is a dead man walking'! Deeeaaad mmmmaaannn waaalkinnn'! DEEEAAADDD MMMMAAANNNN WAAALLLKIIINNN'!!!"[/bg]

[Supercape]

GM

"aaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEE!" screamed Pavlov, at the very top of his lungs.

His scrabbling hand pulled up his taser and fired it, the metal prong hitting Dead Head straight between the eyes. The still screaming guard did not wait for Dead Heads reaction. Instead, he flung open the door and started to run as fast as his legs would carry him, still screaming, through the Hospital.