Current Work in progress

[Sabe 2,444]

Several of you will remember the teaser of the story most currently on my plate, and others still, will remember that I gave you all a time frame that it would be completed in if I had no major hang ups...Well...I've been hung solid for about a week now, so I thought that I'd post the rough first chapter...Mind you all that it is ROUGH so there are still spelling mistakes, continuity mistakes, and prob'ly grammer and a few others.

I wanted to give everyone a more solid taste of what they can expect, but to also say that as soon as I finish the last of my research, I will be posting the whole complete thing! Until then, though...here is Chapter 1 of: Endevours!!!

There was a man that was one of the most renowned psychics in his field; he was a spirit hunter. His job was to go from haunting to haunting, prove or deny its authenticity, and then, if real, drain the spirit of its wrath, and send it to where it is supposed to be. His travels were varied, ranging from town to town within a state he’s visiting, to international travels. The assignment that he was returning from had been one of his most harrowing.

He found himself deep in the forests of Japan, investigating the reports of a spirit that was attacking travelers that were venturing from village to village. It was believed to be the residue of a ceremony to honor the dead: a ceremony that had gone horribly wrong. As the festivities were opening, several villagers from the west inquired about the particular dead that they were appeasing. His brothers from the east looked at him solemnly, and told him that it was supposedly the body of a Yeti that had been slain by the errant arrow of one of his comrades, but there had been something wrong with the creature. It was overly large, almost 36 Hands tall, with large talons, longer fur, huge, yellow eyes that gleamed in the sun and what appeared to be the remains of horns.

The man from the west looked at the men in horror, and asked them if what they said was true. Told that it was, he fled the place screaming at the top of his lungs. The word he was calling meant nothing to the easterners, but his comrades from the west followed his, also screaming in terror. The ceremony went wrong soon after. A strange call was heard by the remaining villagers, and many left, fearing that what they had taken for terror, was really a call to an attack. Those that remained to fight, were never heard from again.

However, it would have been better if they had never been seen again, also. Their remains were found the next day, by a brave young man who wanted to see why none of the other men had returned. There was a terror filled scream several hours later, and he was seen running into the village later on. When he was found under the bed of his beloved by the wives of several of the missing, he was found uttering a single word over and over, in a piteous voice: "Akuma".

The women of the village went to the area the ceremony was to be held, and were met by carnage.

There was blood staining the ground a deep black, and made much of the area a bog. There was also blood spatters on almost every tree in the range of 200 feet. The men’s bodies were torn to shreds, and it appeared to have been done by a huge sword. The cuts were clean, but deep, and savage. At first, the villagers thought that it may have been done by a crazed villager, but then one of the others found tracks...They lead away from the area, where trees were seen to have gashes in them at a height that no man could reach...36 hands up. The tracks them selves were an anomaly. They were human-ish in their structure, but the toes were seemingly ended in ragged talons, and as they went, they seemed to fade, not because they went so far, but because the culprit seemed to get lighter as it walked away.

The women sent the last strong man to the city in their only vehicle to get the authorities. When he got there, he was almost laughed out of the police station. To placate the man, they sent an officer back with him to see what the trouble really was. Not an hour after he should’ve arrived, there was a call in to the stations radio, "Chief, you need to get out here...Bring as many men as we can spare, and bring some really big guns..." The radio attendant was about to radio the officer to get a grip, and calm down, but everyone head the raw edge of his voice: it was all that he could do not to scream in fear.

The Chief, along with nearly 200 men, most armed with either shotguns, or grenade launchers(several men, both) drove to the scene as fast as possible. Upon their arrival, they found the first officer in a local garment. When asked why his simple, albeit embarrassing, answer was that first he threw up, then after he looked about some more, he "washed his trousers". When the rest of the force went to the scene-proper, their reactions varied from outright terror, to cold indifference. Those that felt nothing had a good reason though: they were so overloaded, that their emotional responses were shut down, to preserve their minds. The Chief knew little what was going on, so he went to interview several of the inhabitants of the west village upon hearing the accounts of those in the east village; mostly, his goal was to see what they had been screaming as they fled.

Most of them refused to say what the word meant, for fear of bringing a curse upon their village too. The headman of the village told the officer that he would write it down, but only under the condition that the officer didn’t open the note and read its contents until he was out of the village. He agreed, if only to appease the man and get the information that he needed. As he was leaving the village, he saw numerous people give him a warding sign, as if he was an evil spirit. He then realized that he held in his hand, what could be the key to danger...

When he was out of the village and on his way back to the crime scene, he opened the paper to reveal one word: WENDIGO. At first, the man didn’t understand what the word meant, until he realized that it was in English, not Japanese. When he made the connection, he had to stop and balance himself against a tree, because he knew what it meant. As a boy, he had been an exchange student to Canada. While there, he learned a great deal of mythology, and knew that there was no creature more fearsome than the Wendigo. It was a monestrous demon created by one of great evil who is physically transformed to reflect the hunger in his heart.

The original human is one that ate the flesh of another man to survive, instead of facing his death with bravery. When this creature didn’t kill, his sightings were said to bring horrible pestilence upon the one who saw it. If he sank his claws into the soil, it would be tainted with his evil aura and never allow another thing to live there. If the ground was sacred, however, his touch was worse. If the grounds were used for burial, the later entombed bodies were said to rise up, hungering for the flesh of the living, and if one was caught and allowed to speak, it would speak of only the evils you had done in your life; if you were pure of heart, he would corrupt your soul, and turn you against those you loved, if only to laugh at your soul when he was returned to the Underworld.. No matter what the Sacred reasons that surrounded the grounds, it would turn evil, and reverse the role is had before it’s corruption.

If the physical body of a Wendigo was killed(usually only under the absence of a moon), it’s essence would remain, and nightly kill anyone who dwelled upon the lands. There were only a few ways to remove the evil where it’s essence rooted; most were so unpleasant that the areas were, more often than not, abandoned, and marked off from travel.

Uncontrollable shakes continued to wrack the body of the Chief, as all the lore flooded into his mind. The thing that truly terrified the man, was that the descriptions that were always given to the demons was the same one that one of the villagers had given him as the best that they were holding the ceremony for, because it had been killed by an errant arrow. He knew what it could mean for the villagers if they were right, especially if it had dug its claws into the soil as it had died.

He got back to the village as night fall was nearing, and told his men, under no uncertain terms, that if they weren’t back into the city before night fall, all of them would be busted. At first, no one moved, because to hear such a comment coming from their Chief was unheard of. When he said it again, adding the phrase,"Listen here, damn it..."they moved. On the road, he got on the open channel within the vehicles, and told them everything he knew. After he spilled it all, one of his men said only a name: Drake Masters.

There was silence on the radio, as the entire force thought about the varied stories that they had head about the men. One remembered reading an article in which he had helped prove that Dragons had once walked on, and flown over(and breathed fire upon) the earth; another man thought of a tabloid he’d read that said his works were only able to be done because he was the Devil incarnate; another had heard just the opposite. Even the Chief had heard stories about the man, but he was the only one that had ever met the truth behind the legends.

All in all, the Chief wouldn’t have believed he was who he was had he not seen the tattoos on his wrists: On the left was the Kanji ten-meaning heaven. On the right was the Kanji-chi meaning earth. Later on after a few drinks, Drake finished convincing the Chief of his identity when he showed him the kanji on his chest: Hito- meaning personality. Drake said that it was a reference to part of the Bushido- the Samurai code of ethics, which the Chief had verified; over all, though, Drake was only about 6' tall, and weighed in at 225 lbs. He looked like your typical American skater kid, except for his muscular frame, and the scars.

He had a set of two on either side of his face, the set on the left set went from the orbital bone and back into his side burns; the set on the right also started at the orbital bone but followed the curve of his face to end at his jaw line. The odd thing about them, was the fact that both sets were about two centimeters apart. When the Chief asked him about the scars, Drake rubbed the right ones thoughtfully.

"Well, Chief, it was about two years ago...I was researching a case about a slasher that had been found dead in an alley behind a local cemetery. I wasn’t usually called in for murder cases, so I knew that there had to be something more to it. However, when I got to the scene, it looked like the place had been cleaned up, and everyone had scrammed already. I then began to notice movement...it was then that I realized that I was having a postcognitive vision; I was seeing what had lead to the slashers death.

"As everything commenced, I saw that one of the graves was pulsing with a powerful aura. It wasn’t evil per-say, but it was definitely after the slasher. I watched the scene closely, and found out that the spirit was one of his former victims. She possessed the body of a large man in the area, and used his hand to kill the slasher. However, it seemed that the slasher had other ideas..."

Drake stopped and took a long pull on his beer. Gathering his thoughts again, he continued his story.

"When I emerged from the vision, I had been standing at the scene telling everything as it happened. The man that had killed the slasher was later released due to my findings. I dare say that it was one of my more interesting cases."

The Chief looked at Drake. "I will admit that it is an amazing story, but it didn’t explain the scars."

Drake looked at the man, and then began to blush like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar. "You’re right, that was the point, huh?" Laughing, he re-continued his story. "I was told by witnesses later on, that the slasher had been seen in the area causing mayhem. Knowing that he was dead, I decided to say in the area to observe.

"After a good few hours of distanced watching, I ventured closer to see if there was really anything amiss, or if it was locals that had gotten too much to drink. When I got to the area that he’d been killed, I instantly knew that there was something horribly wrong. There was an energy in the air that was very dangerous, trying to lash out at anyone that could feel it. The moment that I came into its range, it was after me.

"With no real way to protect myself, since I hadn’t been prepared for an attack, I would have to do with the limited spiritual techniques that I had at the time. I took the blows to the left side of my face as I tripped over a fallen trash can. Using a barrier technique, I got my footing and began trying to find out what I was up against. As I focused, I could see the energy of the slasher. It seemed that the priest that gave him the last rights forgot to leave a rosary by the man’s head as he did it, to help calm his soul, and send it to the other side.

"I knew how to send his soul over, but I didn’t have the supplies I needed. Seeing that the cemetery was sitting right next to the local church, I hoped that there was at least an alter boy still on the grounds. Luck was with me, and a light came on after only yelling twice. Cutting through the cemetery, he was at the fence beside me within a minute. I told him what I needed and he ran to fetch them, because he could see that I was up against something, he just refused to believe what.

"When he got back with everything, I told him to begin reading the prayers for the Last Rights, sprinkling Holy Water after every four words. This was the spiritual help that I needed to help send him over. I took the second rosary from his pocket, and held it in one hand as I thrust it into the slashers spirit. As, the gates opened, he took two more final swipes with his razor, giving me the scars here on the right."

Drake finished his beer, and stood to leave. The Chief asked him how, if he needed him, was he to contact him. Drake looked at him, grinned ear to ear, and said, "Don’t call me, I’ll call you..."

That was three years ago...almost to the day, the Chief realized. He laughed to himself, as he thought, "Well, Drake, if there was any other time that I need you, it would be now..." Then with the thought having barely left his head, the Chief screeched at his cell ringing. "Bullshit..." He muttered. When he answered he got the recording, "Will you accept a collect call from..." The Chief was in shock when the voice said, "I’ll be there in three days." He said that he’d accept the charges, but there was no one on the other end. He was left to his thoughts, for the rest of the ride to the Building.

Elsewhere, Drake was laughing at the guaranteed confusion of the Chief. He knew about the fact that the beast had gotten into Japan, the only question was how. He knew the magick that spirits were composed of in Japan, and the magick that composed the Wendigo were completely incompatible. If a Wendigo spirit were introduced into Japan, it would be corrupted by the native magick’s and turned into something different. No matter how many times he looked at the situation, it came up totally impossible. The only way that anything could’ve created a Wendigo in Japan, was if the magick itself had been corrupted; if that had happened, then the whole ecosystem of Japan could fall apart, and the island could be lifeless in the span of ten years.

Drake decided to call up an old friend of his that had experience with the traversing of one magick from its environment to another, alien, environment. When he finally answered, he told Drake that he knew why he was calling, and the books he needed would be waiting at his hotel room. Drake began to ask him what was up, but he hung up before he had a chance. Laughing, he knew that he would be in for an interesting read.

When he got to his apartment he prepared the things that he needed, he found that there were several packages waiting for him. One was from his brother in the Marines, the other three were from his mom, back in Dublin. For smaller packages, Drake was surprised at how heavy they were, but knowing his mother, she knew where he was heading and had packed a "care package". If she did, it meant that she knew what he was hunting, too...Drake grimaced, thinking of he loading the packages with all that stuff, with her bad shoulder...Sighing, Drake began to open the packages, expecting little and being nicely surprised.

He had been expecting winter clothes and non-perishable foods, but there was a major difference in all of it; most of it was from home. His mother usually bought stuff off the internet that would help him blend with the crowds where he was heading, but all the clothes were Irish goods. Wool jackets, hand knitted sweaters, and more home made deer jerky than he’d seen since his last trip home. The note on top fell to his feet as he was looking at stuff, and he picked it up to read it.

"Dear Son,

I know that you’re headed to that awful Japan, so I packed some things that you might need while you’re out in the forests. The paper that is under the next sweater you get will give you the package that is waiting for you in customs. Don’t even THINK of calling me and complaining, the magick will help you out. The books will also make things a bit easier.

Be careful and remember, even if you are surrounded in shadow, that just makes the light of your power that much brighter.

Love,

Mom"

Drake shook his head, finding it funny that everyone but him knew where he was staying when his plane landed. He figured that the Chief had arranged things, and everyone else knew that the packages would be sent to where his name was registered. He figured that, or they all KNEW, and just didn’t realize it, which felt like the real reason to him.

The only thing in any of the packages that didn’t make any sense to him, was a camera. He shrugged it off, though, because the alarm on his watch started to go off, telling him that he only had thirty minutes to get his ass to the airport. "Shit...Time to book!" he thought. Throwing his suitcases in his Jeep, along with the one that he put all the packages in, he got on his way to a new adventure.

At the airport, he found himself under the impression that it was still under construction, but he knew that it was impossible; he flew out of there all the time. His vision flashed, and he saw the airport as he should, and then, like a double exposure he could see the under construction version. Knowing that there was something he was supposed to find, he began paying close attention to the vision, blocking out the built terminal completely. He wandered back to where his plane was waiting, both because he needed to be there, and because that is where the pull of the vision was strongest.

When he got to his terminal, he could see a slight glow coming from under the tile by where the fire exit would’ve been. He shook the vision long enough to ask an employee if anyone had lost something important during the construction of the terminal.

"I don’t really know, sir, but if you ask Jane, she might know. She was one of the original stewardess’ when this building was built."

Drake thanked the woman, and approached Jane. "Miss? I need to ask you something."

The older woman looked at him with a smile. "Yes, what can I tell you?"

"Well, I saw that someone lost something important to them during the construction of this building. Would you happen to know who, and what it was?"

The old woman looked at Drake with confusion for a moment, and then realization hit her features.

"Oh, my! I lost my wedding ring during that time! But...how did you know?"

Drake looked at her and smiled. "Let’s just say that it is a talent I’ve always had. Who would I talk to so I could have part of the floor pulled up?"

The woman looked at Drake in astonishment. "You mean, you know where it is?! I’ll go get the manager!" The woman headed for a phone just as a man about her age stopped her. After some rushed whispering, Drake was sent two men, a wedge, a hammer, a bucket of water, and a warning. He was told if the ring wasn’t there, he would be held responsible for destruction of property, and be reported to the police.

With a grin on his face, Drake began to pull up a two foot section of the floor. After about three minutes, he reached into the crawlspace he had opened up. With a grimace, and the sound of squelching mud, he brought up his hand. Dropping the muddy contents into the bucket, he began to vigorously wash something off. With a flourish, he brought his closed hand out of the bucket, and motioned for Jane’s hand. With a wolfish grin, he dropped her long lost ring into her hand.

Tears immediately began to flow from both Jane’s eyes, and the eyes of the manager that she brought with her.

Drake made the connection instantly; they were married, and that was the ring he gave her. He then saw that she wore no band on her finger, and Drake was compelled to ask.

Smiling the woman knelt in front of Drake, and kissed him, to emotional to talk. Her husband, told him the story. He had been one of the men on the construction team that built the building, and Jane had visited him often on the site. One day, after months of saving, Randy was able to get a ring, so he could properly propose. Which he was able to do the next day, much to Jane’s shock, and the encouraging hoots and hollers of his fellow workers.

However, Randy had partially overestimated the rings size, and it was slightly loose on Jane’s finger. She loved it though, and wasn’t going to say anything to Randy for fear of hurting his feelings. It was a mistake on Jane’s part, though, because she didn’t realize just how loose it was. Later on in the week she went to go see Randy, and walking over to where he was, she felt the ring slip. She began to look for it, but it fell in a patch of thin mud, and sank. She refused to get a new ring, because Randy had saved for months to get that one, and it was the only one she wanted. Even for just the wedding, she refused to have a temporary ring for the ceremony.

The couple thanked Drake endlessly, and pulled some strings and had him bumped to first class, as thanks. Knowing the expense of the gift he had been given, Drake told the couple to call him if they ever needed any help of any kind. Giving them one of his cards, he smiled, thanked them again, and went to catch his plane.

After he left, the couple looked at his card. It was bare of graphics, but it didn’t need any, his name was world renowned, it read simply, "Drake Masters, Psychic, Spirit Hunter" and his numbers. The old man turned sharply to look at the terminal he had disappeared into, ans said his name to feel if it was right. A feeling of doubtless confidence hit him; he knew that a world famous man, had just done a simple job, for which the old man could never really show his full thanks for. He thought, however, that his gratitude was enough for the young man; the upgrade was luck, or a lucky break. The man looked at his wife, smiled, and the two went to the lounge for coffee.

Upon entering the plane, Drake knew that he was out of his element. He was used to riding coach, since he had been doing it for so long on is travels. He wasn’t used to the extra leg room, or the better meal; on his lay over atSoekarno- Hatta International Airport in Indonesia he was re-downgrading, it was much too luxurious for his tastes. He supposed though, that maybe he shouldn’t, because if the old man somehow found out, he would be crushed by Drake rescinding his offer at the next stop. He decided that maybe the attention might do him a little good, because first class did have first class Scotch, after all...

-Just wanted to mention that I just finished the first half of my research, and if it all continues going this well, I'll be back to writing at the begining of next week! That means that you should all have the full story by the middle of next month!-

[Ladywriter 7,783]

ya know i love the scary/creept stuff

the main chara has a way of getting what he wants, pretty smoothly too. its as if those around him are somehow subdued by his "charm" (or maybe its just his confidence in his abilities and knowledge they are picking up on)

the mixing of the lore of the indigenoius N. Americans and the Japanese is pretty cool too. it will be interisting to see the final outcome of such a clash of cultures. I remember hearing stories about windego as a kid. my great gram on my da's side was a canadian mohawk. scary wrathful forrest spirit stories where the damn thing sure sounded to me like some uber werewolf and scared the crap out of me

I cant wait to learn more about Drake. I'll run out on dis limb here and guess we will be fed backstory by flashback?

Lookin forward to the next part!

[Pchan 5,162]

Read almost half the story, till Wendigo's character explanation. It's great so far, very well written.

[Sabe 2,444]

To answer your question, Lady, yes and no. I plan on dedicating most of a chapter to him not far from where I'm currently at. As for how he gets what he wants, its a little of both, actually.

The deal mixing both cultures was kinda more of a last minute idea, I wanted to do a story that delved into my world, but one that incorporated a large chunk of my studies, too. That's really how the idea as a whole came about.

And GG? Glad yer likin it man! THe wendigo explaination is one that I gleened for some of the lore, as well as one of my favorite sai-King books, Pet Cemetary. Well, look for more in the coming weeks, I'll post a chapter for every two I get done, so after I get a bit more done, and finish the overall editing of one thru four, I'll re-post one, and add two!

[Pchan 5,162]

Cshweeeet Sabe ... I like the way Drake lays down his pre-cog vision.

[Sabe 2,444]

:stress: :stress: SHYTE!!! NO!!! F-K ME FREDDY!!! BITE MY BAG!!! KISS MY BENDER!!!AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

Looks like you'll have to wait awhile for the next installment. My comp crashed lastnight, and I lost chapters 2-5. I have soft(untyped/unedited) copys of most of what's missing, so it is only a matter of re-typing/editing and minor altering(I use lots of abbreviations in my written stuff). So instead of the fixed chapter1 and all of 2 being posted this weekend(as I had planned) it will most likely not be for a week or two.

Sorry to all who were looking forward to part two. I just wanted to let you guys know, and rant a bit.

[Ladywriter 7,783]

dude, that sux. All that work... I know how it is. I've had stuff vanish too. Because of that I save the docs I'm working on every few. (paranoid)

they say there are no accidents, a second typin up might give ya some new ideas. we'll wait for ya

[Pchan 5,162]

Holy shit, sorry to hear that Sabe .... man, you must've lost out on a lot of moments in the story, but yeah, as Lady says, re-invent your characters in the new chapters . But dude, that comp crashing-data losing thing is just not done. It's wrong. You should be able to sue someone the next time that happens ! *nods*

[Sabe 2,444]

It came out a bit short(and is still unedited; I need some hard opinions on what I could do to add to this piece... ), but here is C2!

At his layover, Drake went to the gifts shop so he could send his mother something small. Her tastes were still for those tacky ceramic figurines, so he commenced his search for one or two. Just as they began calling his flight, he found some in one of the shops. They seemed...out of place, though. The little man looked as though he had seen a horrid tragedy, and was then frozen with the look if pure fear still on his face; the woman, however, sent shivers down Drakes spine. She reminded him of one of the three crones of Roman Mythology; one of the fates. That wasn’t what got him though, it was the...the look she had about her. Her black eyes seemed to pierce into him, and her smile was hate filled, but not stupid. Her hair, though carefully molded, seemed ragged, and horribly ratty. Her whole appearance seemed...dark, hateful, wrong. Drake suddenly had the same feeling that he did on a trip to Haiti; like there was a deep wellspring of darkness nearby. He all but ran from the store.

Back on the plane, Drake suddenly felt tired, as if he had walked for miles. As he asked a steward for a pillow, he also inquired about the little gift shop across from the café on the end. Looking at him oddly, the steward went and grabbed him a pillow. On his return, he told Drake exactly what he was hoping not to hear: The little shop hadn’t been in operation since the owner had been executed for Voodoo. Drake saw that this trip was going to be the one that put him in either a booby hatch, or a grave. He hoped for neither, but didn’t set his sights at coming out unscathed, either. Drake decided that he should get the sleep that he could so he would be ready to go after he landed at Haneda International at Tokyo. He knew that customs would take an hour or so, and then he’d have to wait for his luggage, and then find his contact. Though the first two wouldn’t be that bad, he knew that the third could be awful. Most of the time, he would meet his client directly, but the way this all was sounding, he was going to meet the Chief of Tokyo Police. He didn’t think that they would find him a security risk, but it was possible that out of those killed, one or more of them could’ve easily been researchers. With a mental shrug, Drake turned over on his side, and went to sleep.

"Falling...why do I feel like I’m falling? Is this a dream, or a vision?" Drake wondered this to himself, but could feel the words, like they were a pliable substance in the air. He only had this sensation in his dreams, so he thought that he would wake himself up. He couldn’t. "Great...the dream and the vision are tied together. I wonder who wants to talk to me." He got his answer almost before he could finish the thought. Fading in out of the darkness was a gigantic shape; like a life-size monster, the Wendigo was standing not twenty feet in front of Drake.

"So then...It seems that we meet, hunter..."

Drake knew the moment the beast began speaking that it was in another language. His mind heard it all in English, simply because that was what the beast wanted. The meant that the creature had something of importance to say to him. What it was, Drake couldn’t guess, but knew that he would be finding out soon enough.

"I come to you now, in peace, because I know that this is the only chance. I may be a being made of ‘evil’, but know this, hunter, even a creature such as I can be controlled."

Drake woke with a start, drenched in sweat, with a stewardess gently rubbing his shoulder to rouse him. He looked at her and smiled, she looked confused for a moment, but then she knew, not how she knew, but she knew nonetheless that the man under her hand knew why she was there. She then returned his smile, and walked away, obviously shaken.

Drake sat up, fixed his chair, and prepared for the landing. The way he felt at that exact moment, was as if he had just had a conversation with an old friend, not a demon that walked the plains of the land, and those of the mind. The idea of it being controlled, however, didn’t strike Drake as unplausible. In fact, it felt like the only thing that was making sense enough to say that, that was why the beast hadn’t been corrupted by the native magick of Japan. The power that would be needed to do it, though, was beyond Drakes grasp, because the power needed to control even a lesser demon was beyond the grasp of any living man. Well, he amended his thoughts, beyond any living man he knew of, anyway.

As his plane landed, Drake saw that he was expected. There were banners all along the strip that announced welcome to him, both in English and Japanese. He laughed, because this also meant that there were throngs of media groups waiting to get an official statement regarding his business in Japan. With another laugh, he got the mental image of hundreds of amateur Paranormalists that would want either his secrets, or his autograph.

He supposed that this was what it was like to be a celebrity, but knew that this much attention could lead to big problems. There would be so much confined chakra to make his senses reel, and if there was enough people, it could render him unconscious. From there, he couldn’t be responsible if his mind lashed out to defend him. He decided right then that he wasn’t going to be leaving by way of the terminal; he would use one of the crew exits that lead right to the parking lot, and would call the Chief from his waiting rental. He thought, though, that such a tactic may be expected, so it might be better yet to just hide his general appearance and go right to the streets, and grab a cab. Digging in his luggage, Drake found his hat and his cloak. The hat was more or less a beanie, but it looked like Link’s hat from OoT, and the cloak was much like those seen im paintings of Druids, with the deep hood, and long flowing cape. It was more of a joke between him and his brother, since the day Drake had played Merlin in the Renaissance Fair when he was 18. The cloak just kinda stick as an appearance thing, so he kept it for just such an occasion. He put on the hat, and then the cloak, leaving the hood down, and looked outside to see how lighted the area was. The major lights had been shut down, since the airport proper had shut down for the night, but the walkways, halls and the such were still bright. Taking his bag to the bathroom, he used a but of stage makeup to cover his scars temporarily, so he would seem less himself. When the time came, he spoke with the pilot, who realized what Drake was asking, and took him along with him. So far, Drake’s plan was working.

At the rear exit of the airport, Drake was delighted to see a cab waiting for him. When he enquired about it, the pilot said that he had one of the crew radio ahead to have one waiting. Drake bowed, and then shook the man’s hand, covertly slipping Y1,000 into his pocket. Getting in the cab, the driver turned to him and asked Drake where he was going. Without thinking, Drake told the man to wait, so he could make a phone call. Dialing quickly, Drake got hold of the chief, and told him where he was. The chief said for Drake to go to HQ and wait for him there, so that they could discuss the case. Drake confirmed, and told the driver where he was headed. Five minutes later, Drake was standing in front of the Tokyo police station, waiting for the chief.

While waiting, Drake decided to call the customs agent, and have the packages waiting for him delivered to his hotel room. When the agent asked for his claim number, and Drake gave it to him. The agent laughed when he told Drake that he had already been ordered by the Chief of Police to do that already, and gave Drake the official address of where he was staying; it was one of the only Hilton Hotels in all of Japan. With a grimace, Drake thanked the man, and hung up.

"How on Earth am I supposed to afford this? I hope that someone else is picking up this tab..."

Not long after his phone call, the chief pulled up in one of the cruisers. The thing about it that Drake didn’t understand, was why he was in a suit and not his uniform. Then, with a shock, Drake realized that the Chief he had talked to those years ago, had become The Chief! He was the new head of Tokyo police that Drake had read about in the paper on the plane He was glad to see that the years had been kind to the Chief, because even their brief meeting had given Drake a lot of respect for the man. He hoped that the Chief would recognize him under all his hiding, and impulsively wiped off the makeup to be sure.

The man stopped and bowed to Drake. "Drake, we meet again. It is a pleasure to see you, I just wish that it were under better circumstances. Please, let us go to my office."

Drake returned his bow, and said, "The pleasure is mine. I am glad to see that you have progressed through the ranks of the force. I'm expecting to hear how it happened."

With a grin, the man told Drake that he would hear of that, if he wished."Although I would preferr to get the case out of the air first. It is a most troubling subject."

"Of course. This place is yours, so we will conduct this in a manner that is fitting for you."

The Chief laughed and showed Drake into the building, and then to his office, where they could share stories and discuss what needed to be said. On their way, though there was a few things that the Cheif wanted to speak with Drake about, including his call earlier in the week. It wasn't the call that he was interested in, though, as much as it was the timing of said call. He brought this fact up to Drake, who began to laugh outright.

"Aye, you'll have to forgive me, Cheif. I try to keep tabs on my contacts so that I'll have a heads up if there is trouble. I just happened to look in on you at the exact right time." Drake had been chuckling through out his explaination, but he stopped suddenly, as if humor itself had just been murdered. He began to look about the elevator car as if it had grown in size, and that is when the Cheif even registered that something was very, very wrong. He began to glance about the car, in hopes of seeing what Drake could not, but neither could he spot the exact center of the problem. He could feel it eminating from the very walls of the car, as if there was a great fan that was blowing fetid air directly into the car. Drake began to flush with anger, and the Cheif could feel an even more palpable force begin eminating from the large man beside him.

"Drake, what is it? Can you tell me what's wrong so that I might help?" he asked, hoping to calm the Irishman down. This sudden bout of anger that was welling out of Drake reminded the Cheif of one of the things that Drake had told him on the night they met: "If I ever seem to begin getting angered at a single place; if you can feel the very air itself; start to sing. One thing that I am not proud of is my temper; if it gets the better of me, I tend to lash out, physically as well as mentally. My mother refused to allow me to even come home if I was in a pet. She'd make me go walking on the moor so that I would destroy nothing but a few trees; in the house, I was likely to bring the very roof down on our heads."

The Cheif had no idea what to sing, so he began with one of his favorite Karaoke songs: When Irish Eyes are Smiling. He had only gotten past the third line when Drake suddenly stopped and looked at him. He was still very red, but his anger quickly abated into laughter. The Cheif, embarrassed, asked Drake what in the name of Buddah what was so funny. Drake looked at him, tears streaming down his face, and said, "I've heard many a man sing that song, but never had I heard it sung so well from anyone that wasn't kegged!" The Cheif blushed even deeper, knowing that Drake ment his comment as a compliment, and his blush made Drake laugh all the more. His laughter seemed to diminsh the force that was flowing around the car, and soon the Cheif was also laughing; not from humor, but for the simple release it brought.

When the elevator chimed their stop, Drake's laughter slowly ebbed into awe, as he found that the entire upper Suite was the Cheifs office. Taking in his surroundings, Dake wandered the room; the Cheif, however, took his customary seat behind his desk. Looking at the name plate Drake was finally given a name to address his companion by, insted of calling him "Cheif" as did his subbordinates.

"Cheif Tsu Aramai...a handsome name. Would I be too informal if I called you, Aramai-sama?"

"Drake...you honor me! Not only did you say my name properly, you knew the correct suffix in which to use! I am impressed!"

Drake laughed, and waved the compliment away. "Now, now...you needn't be so amazed. Did I not spend a week with you here on my last vacation? I called you 'Cheif' because it was the only name I heard you addressed by; I did some studying before I came. 'When in someone else's home, it is best not to complain of their cleaning.' Is that not how the saying goes?"

"Hai, but you have the saying out of context. I think you mean, 'When in Rome...'"

To the amusement of Aramai-sama, Drake blushed, and nodded. Without adressing his correction, he asked Aramai-sama to fill him in on the last of the details that he was lacking. Drake knew about the fact that it was a Wedigo, there was an attack, and that it had its corpreal form destroyed. What he was looking for, though, was how many it killed, where they were killed, and if there had been an y suspicious packages, people or the such brought into the country before the attacks. In the back of his head, he thought that he had most, if not all, of the answers that he was looking for; he just wanted confirmations and further explainations on most.

Before starting, Aramai-sama asked Drake if he would like a cigar. Drake declined that, but when he was offered sake, he accepted with gusto.

"Well, Drake-san--"

"Just Drake, if you please. No offence, but the honorary suffixes sound like shit on my name."

"Of course! It is one thing when giving a man shit, but it is another if it injurs their name. Before I continue, I have to ask: Is your brouge thick than the last time we met?"

Drake laughed, "Aye, that it is. I spent most of six months back home on vacation. I guess that I got so used to Gaelic, that my English got a bit rusty. Now, if you don't mind me asking, has your English gotten better?"

Now it was Aramai-sama's turn to laugh, "Yes, actually, it has. My son is in California studying buisiness management, law, and police enforcement tactics. He chose your LA because he thought that they would offer him the best courses. Most of his letters come in English, so I had to be a quick study so that I could respond."

Both men shared a good laugh at that, and sat with their thought for a moment before carrying on with the topic at hand. Drake took another glass of sake, enjoying the warmth is spread through his body. "Better than Guinuss any day..." he thought, and returned his attention to the topics at hand.

As the night turned to morning, both men found themselves still in Aramai-sama's office talking. Both had talked family, friends, and other endevours, and as the sun rose, Drake became solemn. "You know, I think you told me just about everything there is for a one man to tell another. I think that it is high time that I tell someone my story. I'm sure that I told you some the last time we met," Aramai nodded. "Well then, here is my whole story. Just stop me if I lapse into Gaelic, I tend to do that when I'm drunk." Aramai said that he would, but he never needed to; Drake spoke directly to his mind.

[Guest Sapphire Bluu]

Very well writen, I like it the unique feel it has to it.

[Ladywriter 7,783]

I like how we're seeing more and more of the character pieced together. nice work

[Sabe 2,444]

Well, thanks everyone! I'm glad that this is going so well. I'm pickin along right now, but that is cause there are a few distractions around right now, but they won't last and you'll get a new chapter! I just have to finish what is going on right now(re-writing the full BG that would've followed where I just posted up to) give you that, and start to truckin along again!

Until then!

[Pchan 5,162]

Finished reading it last night, prrruuuutttyyyy good Sabe. I love the flow of your style, smooth.

[Fedic 916]

Hell of a way to end a chapter

[Sabe 2,444]

Heh...Thanks! That ending was actually a four in the morning splurge... I had been asleep since 10 that night, after finishing what I had(the old ending was standard shitz) and retyped it adding that...so... Yeah, I ran into a small snag(I forgot about work saturday ) but the next chapter will be up in about a day or two, so watch for it!

[Pchan 5,162]

Waits patiently .... *breaks into Sabe's home, picks up his laptop and runs off because he just had to read it asap*

[Sabe 2,444]

*psychotic cat attacks GG and retreives laptop* Sorry ma, you'll have to wait like everyone else. Gimme about another half a day.

[Fedic 916]

Who's a gal gotta be nice to around here to get more to read

[Sabe 2,444]

Who's a gal gotta be nice to around here to get more to read

Me! Here is the long overdue(WORK IS INVADING MY TIME!!! ) Chapter 4.5! (Lost a page, give you the rest ASAP... My comp is mean!)

"I was born and raised on the moors of Ireland. My father was in England looking for work, leaving my mother to raise the clann. I was rasied during the last years of one of the many potato famines to creep through our area. My athair would send us home money every week so that we could have food, but our letters never seemed to reach him, so we could tell him that what he was sending wasn't enough. My big brother, Russ; Cyruss his name is, but we mostly called him Russ, took a job at a neighboring farm at 13 to help back the money that our father was sending, and it really saved us. As a kid, things were pretty basic, sleep, wake, shower, eat, shit, sleep. Day in day out, that was my routine. Until me thirteenth birthday, that is..." Drake took a pause, to take a drink, and started again after he drained his glass. "That was the day you could say shit really hit the fan for me..." As Drake was talking, his mind began to wander back to those times with a vivid clarity that he could feel. He knew that this was a memory induced vision, and hoped that he didn't scare Aramai-sama too badly if he could see it too.

Drake had been wandering the moors as he did so often at those times. His bloody head would get to throbbing so badly it felt like it was going to pop like a grape under a boot. He had a method for getting rid of his headaches, but today it just want working. He thought that his headaches were caused by the constant hounding of the polterguist in their house, but he thought that some of it was stress, too. With his big brother at work on the neighbors farm, it was just him, his máthair and the new baby that had come after his athair visited last time. His headache was blocking most of his thoughts, but there was one that was constantly dogging him that week: On the coming saturday was his brothers 23 birthday, and he had no way to gut Russ a thing. "Cac!" he swore to himself. "Is there no way for me to get anything? I have to be able to get a job somewhere!" This thought train was his mantra of the week. After his brothers birthday, it would return to, "Fucking potatoes. Damn headaches. SHIT!" as was almost a common for his thoughts.

He wondered if any of the local farms needed someone to slop out the barns. It was a job that he hated, but if it would make him a few dollers for a gift for Russ, he thought that he could live with the fact. If there was something better he would take it, but he thought that shit work would be the only thing he would get. If he wouldn't have had to sell his bike, he could've rode to town to see if there were any of the shops that needed a cleaner, someone to unload the trucks, or something in that vien. But, he did sell his bike, and he couldn't ride into town, so it was off to one of the local farms to look for work. He thought that he should try to get on at the farm with Russ, but he was afraid that he would cause Russ to loose money if he did. "Off to MacLeod's stead...Damn but I hate that drunken bod."

Drake's dislike for Joeseph MacLeod stemmed from a fight that happened between him and Russ over the matter of $80. Joeseph blamed Russ for four of his pigs getting killed by a wolf that had gotten into the barn through an open door. After he beat the bejesus out of Russ and took the money, it was found later that Joeseph himself left the door open after a drinking run that ended with him in barn after his wife had kicked his "drunken useless ass" out for the night. While he never paid Russ back, when he showed up at MacLeod's shop he never allowed Russ to pay for anything related to the farm for the next several months. According to MacLeod, it was due to an overpay on the Masters farm tab; Drake and Russ knew it was him trying to ease his guilty heart.

Drake almost missed the path to MacLeod's home, being in a brown study as he was. With a shake of his head, mostly wondering if it was really such a good idea, he walked up to the front door. After knocking, he took a step away from the door, in case it swung out, like the one that brained him as a babe. As the door opened, "In..." Drake thought with an inner smile, he saw that it was one of MacLeod's daughters, Maura, that answered, instead of the Missus.He found that he had lapsed into thought over the fact when she asked him if he was, "going to stand there gaping or come in."

With a laugh, Drake walked into the foyer, as it were, and asked about Mr. MacLeod's whereabouts. "I could really give a high squat about where that addled fool is." was the response he got. Gape mouthed and lacking reply, the young woman continued. "My càpraid athair has been out on the moor for more than a day. We can hear the truck now and again as he comes to the barn for supplies, but he never sets foot in the house. Mother went to look for him this afternoon, but she hasn't come back yet...and I'm scared."

The sudden drop in her mood startled Drake, and his instant reaction was to try to comfort her. He shifted his weight and began to put an arm around her shouders, when she crumbled into his chest, crying. Startled, but not stupid, he put his arms around her and began to talk to her; much like his máthair did when his little sister was hurt. His words worked, though, and she calmed under his hands; soon her tears lessened to sniffling, which subsided to nothing. She pulled back a bit to look at him, and his head began to fill with heat, like when his migranes came. He apologised, and went outside to clear out his head. She followed him, felling that she should because he had helped her. Sitting next to him on the rail, she could feel a moderate heat radiating from his body, as if he was deep in fever. She knew he wasn't though, because the heat hadn't been there as he held her.

For Drake, her sitting so close mad the heat in his head worse, a phenomina that he had no explaination for. Suddenly, an unbidden thought shot into his mind. "It isn't me...it's her! I'm feeling her sudden want for me!" As soon as he gripped this thought, all of the heat left his head and traveled...south. They turned to each other at the same instant, and Drake then found himself lost in the heat of he kiss. His mind filled with thoughts, some of them from the stories his brother had told him about some of the women in town. The heat began to climb, when she suddenly took his hand and tugged him to the left of the house and he followed, curious. She led him, after a check of the path ahead, to the barn, and then to the hay-loft. He paused as she climbed, thinking, "Is this me? This beast of heat and lust?" He told the thoughts that he was, when her had appeared over the edge of the loft, her slip in hand. When he got to the top, he was struck by her scent(as his mind insisted it was, and would forever after), and then was lost in the heat of their renewed kiss...

Drake awoke sometime later to the yelling of Joeseph, and could initially not remember where he was. Then he saw Maura sleeping with her head on his chest, and both of their clothes in a pile beside them. The thought of what had transpired brought the heat back into his body, but he willed it away, knowing that Joeseph was prob'ly looking for his daughter.

"Damn it, girl! You was supposed to have dinner ready when I got here! If yer hidin from me you had best show yourself afore I get more angry than I am!"

Drake nudged Maura awake, and began to carefully move for his clothes in the same moment, when he heard Joeseph's yelled, "Got ya!', from below. Knowing that there was little chance for escape, Drake decided to take what he had coming, but kept running the thought, "Don't find us!" over and over. Joeseph got to the top and looked directly at both Drake and Maura, and then climbed back down! Hearing the man leave, Drake let his breath loose. "I don't know how he missed us, Maura, but he did." She grinned at him, much as she had earlier, and kissed Drake reaching down and helping the heat find where it was ment to be. They then enjoyed each other again, purely in celebration that they would live another day.

[Ladywriter 7,783]

oh my

[Fedic 916]

Naughty naughty

I wonder if the past will come back and bite him in the ass.

[Pchan 5,162]

I don't think it would, cos he's Drake and that's an uber cool name. *runs off saying this unjustified excuse*

[Dark's Angel 226]

I really like it so far. It's great so far, very well written and has that pull to it that makes you want to read more.

[lividsquirrel 12]

whoa! Goosebumps. Seriously. I found some of it very sad...but all compelling.

[D_Marx 604]

Sabe, yawesome story as usual. I'll write more later.