View Full Version : Original Fiction: The Freak Show: Chapter 1, A-reel.

10-15-2006, 09:16 PM

Prometheus tapped his hands on the steering wheel of his car, looking out the windows for a specific church. “Saint Possenti*? Did I miss where the NRA won?” He thought. He wasn’t familiar with this city, and this was the only safe church in the town.

On the CD player of his car, one of his favorite bands was finishing up the chorus of the song:

“Before I make my final run,
I will stay with you, decay with you.”

“Decay, right…” He muttered as he finally saw it. It was an old church, surprisingly. Nestled between two buildings, there it was. A small sign in the front read “Saint Possenti’s Catholic Church. Mass: 10:45.”

The afternoon sun touched upon his yellow-pale skin, and his dull cream eyes absorbed the sun when he took his sunglasses off. Prometheus sighed, and pulled an empty duffel back out of the passenger seat and walked up to the door.

“Brother Johanson? He called as he entered the chapel.

A janitor dusting the pews turned to him and furiously signed “Father Johanson is in confessional. Please wait, sir.”

In an all too knowing nod, Prometheus replied, “I’m sorry. I’ll wait for him then.”

Prometheus sat down on the front pew and waited. He didn’t try to listen to the murmuring voices coming from the confessional booth, he had some respect for privacy.

Not too long afterwards, a girl, maybe early 20’s stepped out of the booth and looked around the nearly deserted chapel. She didn’t hide her reaction when she saw Prometheus. It’s not everyday that you see a ghastly pale, seven foot, one and a half inch tall man. Oh, and his disfigured face and egg-white eyes were probably disgusting too.

But she turned, hugged the Father, said her goodbyes, and quickly walked out of the church. All the better.

“Brother Prometheus, welcome.” Johanson said to his guest as they shook hands. “You do arrive right on time.”

“No better time. Fake confessional booth?” Prometheus said with a grin.

“Is there a better kind?” the priest said as he exposed a number pad cunningly hidden in the wood work and quickly typed a series of numbers in. There was a sliding noise from the confessional booth, and Johanson motioned for Prometheus to enter.

It was a tight fit, but Prometheus managed to crawl into the booth and out the back, which had slid away to reveal a large workshop. In the corner was large communications terminal. The center displayed a long counter stacked with guns, bullets, crucifixes, silver, and other assorted monster-hunting implements.

“So, any more explanation of what I’m supposed to clean up here, Father?” Prometheus said as he took a chair from the counter and started to examine a crossbow.

“We’ve got one Lycan, a few vampires, and a couple of unknowns. And put that down.” Johanson said. The man was getting along in years, and some old-age crankiness had started into manner. Also, some of these things would explode, if given the right circumstance.

“Unknowns? How so?” Unknowns were rare, since new Freaks were extremely rare, or just known Freaks disguising themselves.

“We’ve got one unidentified female, and another presence that we don’t have a better description for. Could be nothing. Could be everything. You know the business.” Johanson said as he handed Prometheus a printout and started rummaging through the counter.

“That’s the Lycan’s address. Here, you’ll want these.” The Father said as he handed his guest a tranquilizer gun, standard Vatican-issue Crossgun ammo (silver lined), the crossbow Prometheus had been fidgeting with earlier, and a bottle of holy water.

“Thanks, Father.” Prometheus said as he took the weapons and shoved them into the duffle bag. He slung the bag over his shoulder, and said “See you one way or another. Good hunting,” in the traditional Freak Show farewell.

“One way or the other. Good hunting.” Father Johanson echoed, and gave Prometheus a firm handshake before the tall stranger left.

*Gabriel Possenti was a 19th century Catholic priest who was proposed to be the patron saint of gun owners. The request was denied.


Lysander Cyric Korvein
10-17-2006, 04:54 PM
Interesting setting, time, but the plot seems hidden to me. I wonder whats on the other...-reads the next reel-