Deadlands Noir: Chicago Nights

Session Recap 1: Black Christmas
Chicago Tribune extra December 24th, 1926

Chicago tribune logo black

Tribune extra December 24th, 1926


Four dead, one missing and one severly injured from shootout at night of December 23rd. Families, , police and gangsters under fire at Union Station, Chicago.

Yesterdays cold evening and strong wind set a harrowing scene as gunfire rattled at the station tunnel. Two assassins opened fire killing two; a writer named Michael Shannon and an 8 year old boy Billy McCaskey. Witnesses state that gunmen were assisted by two burly men, high as heaven from some sort of drug. Still some justice was served quickly as Detective Martin Miller and some brave bystanders interrupted their grim work by killing two of the attackers and capturing one for questioning to end this horrific event.

Billy’s father Richard McCaskey was also ravaged by shotgun blasts and by miracle alone is lying in coma, fighting for his survival and his wife Joanne McCaskey was taken as hostage by her child’s murderer that managed to escape from the scene. Some eyewitnesses say that Richard seemed to recognize his killer, but it is in the hands of Lord to wake him from his sleep to point finger to this spawn of evil. Police is offering a reward for tips that lead to remaining assassins’ location and capture. The names of the attackers killed or taken to custody have not been revealed to press.

As for now it is not known who the gunmen were after. Shannon was well known for dwelling in money troubles and debts, but the political afflictions of Richard McCaskey’s father Henry McCaskey might have been motive for this grim deed. Henry McCaskey is one of the biggest supporters of Mayor Eoin Burke and a long line democrat.

Jake Lingle

Session Recap 2: False Faces of White City park
Diary & Notes of Alexander Orton

PCs on the scene: Alex Orton and Edgar Yardland

Chicago, what can I say about this city. Stuffy air, gansters, corruption. I could leave anytime I want but something keeps me here…

I have been here just a few days. Trying to write my biography which seen impossible to me. Well I’m 25 years old, how could anyone write enough story in this age. Lots of things have happend to me in short time but still. There is so much more to come.

After few painful hours more I noticed something, my door was open. I could see and hear that flickering light from the stairway. Stories what I have heard from Chicago flowed through my thoughts. This is it, few days in this city and my life is going to end. I shut the door and then I lost my vision. Arms where front of my eyes. Person behind me whispered to me and I regonized who she was. She was my beautiful Ash. Girl that I met back in Harvard, women of my life.

She asked me out for this winter evening and I could say no to her. Ash wanted us to go skating with her brother Richard, Richard’s son and his wife. Well anyone could dream about this. Skating with your beautiful girlfriend, with this beautiful evening. Snow falling slowly to the ground, weather is bit cold but not too cold. I have forgot my writing for a moment and I could be more happier. We had a little snow wrestle with Ash and I heard familiar voice behind me. I turn around and I was suprised.
Michael Shannon from the Harvard. He was a ”shooting star”. One book sold other didn’t, but that one what sold, good for him. After few minutes of catching up what have happend in few years he asked us do we want to try Ferris wheel in Whitecity park, second largest amusement park in Chicago. He had friend who works there and he could open the gates for us. I hesitate a moment, but Ash wanted to go so I said yes.

Shannon arrived there with his friend mister Smith. He took us to the Ferris wheel and started it up. Chicago, winter, still raining snow a little bit and you got your girl right next to you. All those light clowed and Chicago looked like sea of fireflies. Suddendly wheel stopped spinning. I thought it was Michaels joke so I let it be. I saw a man walking in the park with his flashlight. I wasn’t Mr. Smith or Michael. It was someone else. He looked terrified us and I looked outside. I saw, well I wasn’t sure what that was. It looked like a clown from the children nightmares but weird thing was that it was elastic. It was getting closer and closer and mysterious stranger told us to jump. Drop was only few yards and we jumped down.

I landed well but Ash didn’t. Her angle cracked and I had to carry her out of here. There were few more these things and we start running away from them. Mysterious stranger shot few shots to there bastards but they didn’t seem to stop at all. I guess one of them fell, but I wasn’t sure. And why in the name of god I forgot my own colt .45 to my bedside table. Well, I wasnät expecting this at all.

We were almost out of park and one of these things grappled me. I told Ash to get out and she did. Luckily for me, Mysterious stranger blew this thing out of my back. We all get out of there and I took Ash to my apartment. Mysterious man didn’t even tell his name or any name for him. Who this man was, what was he doing in there?

Next morning I woke up early to make some breakfeast for Ash and me. I gave her some first aid last night and her angle was getting better only distension, nothing broken. Suddendly someone knocked my door. This mysterious stranger from last night, he was dressed like a cop. He started asking question from last night but he denied that he was there last night and told me that some gasses mixed to my head and what we saw last night was hallucinations. I told detective Yardland everything about last night and he said that he will be in touch later on.
Hallucinations? This man wasn’t there last night?

If I would be smart I’ve stopped my own investigations to this and if I would be even smarter I would have take my colt .45 with me this time.

There I was, standing near that gate to Whitecity park. Without fire power, stupidity is my sin… Detective Yardland and his two goon had entered here resently. I have asked them what they were doing here and Yardland wasn’t detective anymore. He was someone from gas company and those goon where too. Three same looking guys in this small event. Something stink really bad and yeah, those goon where carrying grenades. I had to continue my investigations on this, maybe I could use this to write new novel.

Their car trunks lock was broken so I could managed to get shotgun out of there. Two shots, perfect and I start follow their footsteps to this creepy amusement park. I found goons, they were standing near the edge of park. They had rope with them and I guess Yardland was down there somewhere. Goons got attacked by these things and I tried to save one of them but it was too late. His friend started yelling and shooting these things but he was killed too.
Now I was alone here with these things. One shotgun shell left on my right hand and ice skate on my another. I tried to fight but these things were strong. I was givin up all the hope and then this thing let me got. I saw Michael with plank of wood. There were Yardland and mr. Smith too. We ran out of the park again as fast as we could.

We were save but this thing still haunt my mind. What the hell is happening in Chicago?
Yardland told me to never spoke this to anyone, but few days later I had to… I got invited to dinner. With Al Capone… Well he told me same thing. Keep your mouth shut about what happend in Whitecity park, or you will sleep with the fishes…

Alexander Orton

Session Recap 3: Writers, gumshoes and missing granma

PCs on the scene: Alex Orton, Raymond “Rusty” Parker and John Beggart

It’s a somewhat formal looking report, mostly written with a typewriter. There are lots of handwritten “notes” around the paper.

Case file #16
Parker & Irons PI Agency
Investigator: Raymond Parker (and Alexander Orton)

“The client in the case was John Beggart’s lady friend, whose grandmother had gone missing on her way to home from church. I was assisted by John Beggart himself and Alexander Orton, a writer (Claims to be famous, never heard of him though. He also wanted information on the train station shootout. Says that he’ll mention our agency on his next book if he gets to follow me around. Couldn’t really say no, because free advertising). We were hired because CPD wasn’t doing anything (No surprise there) to find the old lady. We began our investigation by interrogating Beggart’s lady friend. She told us that she had no idea why someone would kidnap her grandmother. According to her, she had no enemies or anything of value that made her worth kidnapping. We really couldn’t get anything really useful out of her. Next, we headed towards the church. St. Patrick’s church is a small catholic church, that the old lady frequented. The two men of cloth that were present (The verger and a priest) didn’t take us kindly for snooping around. They said that they had gone over the whole situation with the police for several times already. After a little chat, the priest agreed to meet us in a coffee shop in an hour. Meantime, investigated a couple of other suspects, but came to the conclusion that they had nothing to do with the case.

The priest told us that he couldn’t talk to us in the church because the verger was present. He told us that somebody had come in a couple of days earlier and gave the verger an envelope full of money and told him to send the old lady to an alley near the church, because “Bugs” Moran wanted to have a chat with her. Because they are a small and somewhat poor parish, the verger agreed. The criminals and the grandma then drove away in a green Buick Master Six. It was time to pay the verger a little visit.

Even a threat of power has power. After I had a little heart-to-heart with the verger, he made a generous donation to my retirement fund, and told us whose car that green Buick was. Turns out that it was the car of one Nate “Wheels” Czernik, and Beggart knew just where to find Nate. Didn’t take long before we found Nate and his buddies. They were having a good time in a pub called the “Green Dragon”. I decided to join in on their fun. Nate was almost instantly suspicious of me, but the others accepted me to their little group quickly. Things would have gone real smoothly, if one of Nate’s friends wouldn’t have recognized me. Then it turned real ugly real quick. For them. I broke one of Nate’s friends jaw and Beggart tackled and disarmed Nate. Then me and Mr. Czernik made a deal: he would take my car in exchange of his (Remember to get the proper paperwork for the Buick)and give us the information regarding the lost grandma, and then he would get out of the city or I would break both of his legs.

Nate told us that they were keeping her in an auto repair shop, wouldn’t really say why. So under the cover of darkness (And my new car) we drove up to the repair shop, and sent Beggart to tell the Irish bastards inside that their hideout had been endangered and we were here to move the old lady immediately. They fell for it (Probably because of Nate’s car, could have also been because of Beggart’s convincing acting). While they torched the repair shop, we drove away with the grandma. They noticed that we tricked them, but then it was too late for them to do anything.

The old lady was delirious. She had no idea where she was and kept babbling about the “Blackline”, which is an old urban legend about a train stop of death or something. Anyway, the old bat was mostly okay, not counting a few bumps and bruises (And her apparent dementia). The next day she still was babbling on about Blackline and how she sold someone to something or someone. Orton wanted to hit the library to see if he could find anything about this Blackline. Later, he called me and demanded that I take two old coins as a payment, because apparently, they have something to do with this whole train stop of death shebang. Anyway, case closed as far as I’m concerned."

-Raymond Parker

Session Recap 4: New partners and loose ends

PCs on the scene: Martin Miller, Rex McLean, John Beggart and Edgar Yardland

From private records of Martin Miller:

“After such a grimm holidays I have to say it’s kinda nice to have a partner. Only that problems start to pileup right of the bat when he is young, arrogant and seems to neglect the little things because he has something better to do.

Anyways I’m drifting away from the real point of this private log.

Happenstance, what a crazy random thing, I was just doing normal investigative duty with my partner Edgar Yardland, the new kid mentioned earlier, and we were going to get some details from John Beggart regardin black christmas incident. When closing on his home address heard gun shots in broad daylight and saw some mook running, Yardland who was on drivers seat dropped me at the sight of the shooting and went after the runner by car, capturing him with ease thou it ment a few dents to my car. I was dropped to a parking lot surrounded by garrages of near by blocks. There were few peekers already showing up on balconies trying to figure out what had happened. You could say I was more than suprised that on sight there were not only one but to of the people I was ment to look for that day, John Beggart and Rex “bull” McLean. It wasn’t them or the buick that caught my eye but a man laying on the ground lifeless, red stain gatherin underneath him, another forming on his chest by a gun wound, I hurried to him trying to help the man and I was able to stabilize him enough for him to survive to another day. As I was helping the victim I had a moment to talk with these two trouble magnets and it seemed that Beggart was renovateing a buick for another man involved in my case, Rusty, and Mr. McLean was here because he had to get a car from Beggart that belonged to yet another man involved in the Trainstation incident, now deceased writer Mr. Shannon one of the victims, however I couldn’t give the car to McLean ‘cause I had to take it in as possible holder for evidence, a fact that made him angrier than I had though.
I let Yardland to do the paperworks, this was his big day as a new detective thou and what’s common with all new detectives? They like to wiggle their tale and go chase every single little thing and can’t keep their minds on it. So I wasn’t highly surprised to find out that by the time it took for me to give Beggart a ride to hardware store and back to his place, I promised that ’cause I had earlier taken his wheels, Yardlands desk was empty and raports unfinnished.

At this point I have to give some credit to Yardland, that kid has a good eyes at least, he noticed that something was off with the buick and after some discussion with Beggart he told us about his little adventures with Rusty trying to find a missing person, grandmother or a mother I don’t care either way one of Beggarts friend’s. They had found her in a abandonned warehouse hold-up by some weird folk. They got her out but trauma must have been to hard for such an old lady ‘cause she had lost it. She couldn’t do more than babble something about “The Black Line”.

After I finnished the raports I went to do one last thing on that night. When I was searching those two men trying to steal a buick I found a note on them pointing to Shannons place. Knowing his status as a outfits snitch I wanted to check his apartment as soon as possible for any evidence of his betrayal if there were any. When I got there I saw that someone had broken into it, slowly I entered the apartment to see a mess inside thou it wasn’t a mess made by fighting but rather a mess made by once own frustration. As I searched the apartment I found a grude writing made by hand on a paper in the typewriter " JACK SAYS HI! ". That was weird, there was only one face in my head that this name could fit to Jack “Machine gun” McGurn. Impossible I thought. My contacts near the outfit were more than sure that they had done nothing to Shannon, they wanted their money back for lending it to a no-good writer of course but it’s hard to squees them out of a dead guy so I made a few calls and learned the true meaning behind this note, so I put it to the “lost evidences box” if it ever were one ’cause I was first of the force in sight, someimes I hate inefficiency of CPD but that night I loved it… and would hate it more than anything at the same.

When I finally was able to get my flat I got on the phone to call home and told them that I might not be able to come in new years eve for all the work. After that I starter to once again assemble the pieces of black christmass when suddenly my work was cut of by a ring of the phone, I raised it to my ear and after a moment of silence I hears a cold raspy voice saying " Christmass is over, but don’t worry Santa there is allways room on a Black list." after that there was nothing but silence. He didn’t have to say his name ’cause I had heard that very same voice shouting my name full of anger and sadistic joy in the Railway station, a voice belonging to Shane Black."

Session ReCap 5: ...And a fiery New Year!

As he watched the house burn, Edgar Yardland was grasping to find leads to the source of the mysterious drink that transformed regular birds into monsters with a demon’s strenght. The Demon’s Rum, if you will.

The previous night his lead, Shane Black, had escaped from Chicago Central Hospital leaving behind a stormed room and a few dead coppers. While investigating his disappearance, the gumshoe lucked out: a private dick called Irons called. He wanted to talk to detective Miller, Yardland’s partner, but as soon as he mentioned that the hinky Shane Black had been to their office that very night, Yardland left the CPD Station and drove into the night.

”Parker & Irons, Private Detectives” it was called. The office that located atop of Café Noire. Our hero helped himself in through the unlocked front door. The place was a mess. Well, at least half of it was. Parker’s side was just fine, but Irons’ door had been smashed in by a desk. As the pieces were still falling into their places, Yardland had no idea Black could be strong enough to commit such a feat. Gat in his hand, he entered the Parker’s side of the office. As soon as he stepped into the room, he heard an all-too-familiar click of a tri-barreled shotgun beside him.
”Lowe-er yor weap’nnn” the man said. The boozehound of a shamus was as lit as they come. Yardland didn’t like the situation, not one bit.
”CPD, lower your weapon.” he answered while having the shotgun leveled on his noodle.
”You first” the man demanted.
”CPD, lower your weapon and I won’t have to send you over to the big house for drinking.” Yardland stood his ground .

Eventually, the man lowered his iron and asked to see the gumshoe’s buzzer. After short introductions, Yardland finally got into investigating. He learned that Black had attacked the office for unknown reasons, although he might have been after Parker, who had tailed him in the past. Yardland learned of The Rum. Black had drank something which had given him monstrous abilities of enchanced size and strenght, while growing his fingernails into deadly claws.. The dick’s tale reminded Yardland of a book he had read years ago called Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, in which the title character transforms into a beast of a man, free of conscience. Black had drank his “serum” and turned his Jekyll to Mr. Hyde, albeit literally a monster. Yardland told Parker that Black had been drunk and sporting his old “fighting claws” he got while pitfighting in Salt Lake City. Even if he had history in the law, Yardland couldn’t risk Parker knowing the terrifying truth of the drink. If there’ something this town doesn’t need it’s a shamus telling a tale of monsters, Hydes he dubbed them, and spreading The Fear.

To Be Cont.

Session recap 6: X Marks the Brawl
What might have been forgotten...

“Holy shit what the hell..”, mumbled Beggart while waking up in the hospital. “What the hell was that about?”, a shorter man sitting next to the bed grunted. Brian had some bruises of his own but he was in a decent shape. “Just tell me what.. what happened? I don’t remember what on earth happened yesterday..” Brian looked at John for a moment, took a deep breath and started talking. John noticed immediately that yes, Brian was indeed sober, for once.

“The guys run in, which was fine. But holy shit they were big. HUGE. And they start all yellin’ an’ shouting like: “Everybody remain calm, we are here for the money” or some shit. And fuck me, they had friggin’ guns. Guns I say. Then this Rexy or some Rexx..-guy starts being all nuts and stand like a totem over there. That guy is mad I say.. I tell that to him every time he doesn’t let me in to Greenmill. That’s my house, man! Anyway. A huge brawl breaks, you run in with a table of some sort and knock their leader out, but the giant-guy knocks you out with a table of his own. Rex is fighting the goons with the cash-machine like nothin’, what the fuck was that even?", he laughs and continues, " So this X-ray guy goes hiding with that cop and Rusty, bloody cow, that guy can shoot. He takes the high-ground by standing on the table and takes potshots on the idiots like a friggin’ boss. Shit, what a bloody-great guy. Always on. This mate of me would say like, “Wax on, wax off!!” Whatever that means. Anyway, so stuff happens and the goons get whacked in multiple fronts. I bailed your ass out from that table-guy and knocked him out easy, like the man I am, by the way. That fella’s ass hurts probably like, even tomorrow. Some serious whacking went down. You owe me atleast an evening-worth, if not more. Hell. So you wake up out there, people start cleaning the mess. This bartender tells that the shitdongs were from the South, but jolly who knows. You seemed fine but as soon as we get home, boy, you just went under. I had to drive you here by myself. Fuck, that makes two evenings. At least! And yes, I can drive. I just choose not to, usually!"

“Yeah sure… Whatever..”, Beggart snorted. Brian continued to describe his heroic “takedown” with detail but John’s thoughts were already elsewhere. Why were we there in the first place… Oh right, that X-thing guy. He got a price of some sorts? Maybe. All seemed blurry… Maybe someone else remembers more. I have to ask when the time is right. That’s what I’m going to do.
Session recap 7: Monsters are real

I thought this was going to be just a normal day. A few hours in the gym, few hours jogging or cycling, eat the cheapest meal I can get, go home, listen to the radio and sleep. Rinse & repeat.

I was in the gym when my brother and sister came. We thought we should see grandpa. I showered and went home to tidy up a bit. I took my “finest” suit. My only suit. Just to be sure, I took my brass knuckles and blackjack with me. You never know what might happen.

We drove to Stakehouse. The clerk was a foreigner and a bit irritating. We came to visit our mentally unstable grandpa, not casually talk about the weather.

Grandpa was clearly just as crazy as before. Still talking about monsters and abominations lurking in the darkness. His room was filled with wooden crosses.

After a while, the lights went out and the sun stopped shining. I went to check things downstairs. Someone was shouting at the front doors of the building. The clerks had retreated to their lounge with a few others. They were talking about vampires and other unholy things. It seemed like my grandpa was not the only crazy one here.

I went back to my grandpa, just in case if the other looneys in their rooms somehow got free. After a while John and Rusty came. We heard gunshots and thought we should go see what is the problem. I thought grandpa could use a little bit of action and took him with us. We made torches out of the wooden crosses and sheets.

We went back to first floor. First thing I saw was the clerk being attacked by a goddamn vampire, like they said before. I did not think it at the time. I just berserked. I lost my mind for a while and just attacked. They had fangs and looked a bit pale, like vampires should. I did not care. I just beated them with a friggin burning cross until they stopped moving.

The details of the battle are still a bit hazy. But after the battle, we regrouped and left the place. The next day Edgar invited us to Rustys office to explain the events that took place yesterday. He told us that vampires are real and there are abominations in the world.

It is a bit frightening to know that the horror stories of my childhood are real. But after this information sinked in, I noticed something. This does not change anything in my life. I still need money. Killing monsters is not a job.

Abominations or not, I’m screwed with or without them.

Session Recap 8 (part one): Family, Therapy, Grave

We have just witness that creatures from the books are real and Yardland kept us a little speech about what happend to the world and what will happen if someone doesn’t stop it, a Hell on Earth…

We all were confused about what Yardland told us. I have witness two paranormal things in here Chicago and still, I don’t know what to believe. This Halloran case still haunts my mind too. What is real? What can you believe today?

Me, PI Parker and Mr. Beggart started to going this case through. We started asking people near Lincoln Park and Clark street’s about Blackline, what happend to Mrs. Halloran fifty years ago and this fellow old gentleman told us intresting things. At the same spot where Mrs. Halloran’s young brother was disappeared, there where a train accident few years earlier and after that accident streets weren’t save anymore. Devil’s worshippers started moving there and kidnapped young people and after the Chicago fire, they build new city a top of the old one. There might be some old ruins under the street line and we desided to take a look, but not today cause it was late and even Rusty knowns that it isn’t save to go under Chicago at night, hell is that even save during day, I don’t know we’ll see.

At McCaskey’s Mansion Richard went to get some ”coffee” with Parker and Beggart. I have to talk someone about what happend back at asylum. Henry was my only option, I told him what happend and I hope that he had saw something strange about world at his journeys, but I’m not sure what he has been throught when he was young. He didn’t judge me though. Maybe he knows something cause he asked me to get Yardland here to talk these things and I promised I´ll try.

Then to my next problem. Recent events have messed up McCaskey’s family and my Ashley was started to drink heavily past days. I have to talk to her some sense that Richard needs all support and it doesn’t help if other start get anymore problems with something. I guess she understanded and she started to ask about me. I have been come here lately beaten up, or otherwise shoked and I couldn’t tell why ‘cause she started to worry too much. I don’t want lie to her, but these are things that I don’t want to tell her, not just yet…

Next day we went to investigate that place where they kept Mrs. Halloran few weeks back but there was nothing. After that we went to old Sofia – Clark crossing, we asumed it was near and this manhole was best chance to get under Chicago undetected. Parker and Beggart went down there and I kept watch.
Only few minutes ago I saw this Irish guy looking at us and started running when we passed by and near this spot is factory full of Irish goon’s with heavy arms and only God knowns what down there…

Alexander Orton

Session recap 8 (part two): Faster, Better, Stronger

After the monster newsflash, I went back home. Bills were piling up and my coat rack is falling apart. My apartment is not the prettiest or classiest place, but it is a home. Has four walls, ceiling and a bed. Small luxuries, like a bottle of whiskey and wine, if I happen to have guests. And the most expensive thing in there, a radio. I listened to the radio to relax, but then I heard some rich bastards shouting on the street. He went to the club next door. I thought, that maybe I should unwind properly and drink a beer or two.

I went there and saw a few people playing poker and thought: “Maybe I could rip a few bucks off them”. Well, that did not go as expected. I lost this months rent at the table. Another man from the table left with me from the game. We shared a beer or two, but then he started talking about his poker debts and how he needs to repay them fast. He had an 1917 model roadster for sale. And really cheap too! It was a good idea to buy it then, drunk as a skunk.

The next morning, I finally got a good look of the car. It was a rusty, broken piece of junk. Well, at least it was cheap. I called Beggart, drove and pushed the car to his place. Pushed, because the friggin junk almost exploded under me a few blocks before John’s place. The repairs might take a while. I need to get money for spare parts and fast. I spent all of my money on that scrap metal.

After that I had a few hours to spare before work, so I went to the gym. Last night and this morning had been horrible, so I had a bit of suppressed agression. I think I almost broke the punching bag.

The guys at the gym had been preparing for our coaches 50th birthday next friday. My job is to get a few barrels of firewater to the party.

The next day at the gym, coach wanted to talk with me. We went to his office and he lectured me about my upcoming match. The “british bulldozer” or “breaker” has ended a few boxing careers to a dead stop.Coach said he was getting old enough to retire. He wanted me to take this match dead serious, or my boxing career would end too.

I had taken it seriously. But not seriously enough I guess. I want to make sure this match goes well. I need to gamble everything on winning. If I lose this, it will not only end my career as a boxer, but my life too. Breaker has many battles behind him and more experience than me. A few weeks left before the match. I must train like my life depended on it. Actually, my life DOES depend on it. Many men has fought and fell to this “Bulldozer”.

But Breaker will not face a man in the ring. He will face a monster.

Session recap 8 (part three): Blackline
Raymond Parker & John Beggart

I have no idea where we are, and I’m not sure I even want to know. But I have a bad feeling that this is it. That we’re in Blackline, the last train stop before afterlife. After Yardland decided to ruin my and probably everyone else’s day by telling that monsters are real and the whole cult thing couple years back probably wasn’t some alcohol induced delirium, we (meaning me, Beggart and Orton) decided to reopen the case of the missing grandma out of some inexplicable sense of duty and morbid curiosity. Back in the Stakehouse, the old lady seemed like she was back in the land of the sane. She still talked about Blackline and how she had sold her brother to a man in red. She said that the man in the red suit appeared under a train crossing near the house of Sofia Clark. That was our first clue. We tracked down the place where the house was before it was demolished. The crossing obviously was long gone too. We asked the locals if they knew anything about the crossing, Halloran case or about Blackline. Most of them didn’t know squat about the case and dismissed Blackline as an urban legend. However, we did find out that in 1879, a train veered off the tracks and crushed a street car, killing dozens of people, near the place where Margaret’s brother disappeared. There were also rumors of a Satanic cult operating in the area back then, kidnapping people for sacrifice. Maybe they got the old lady’s brother too.

We found the place where the crossing used to be with relative ease. The only problem seemed to be that the Irish had a sizable operation going on in the area. Maybe that’s why they kidnapped Halloran. Maybe she was snooping around the area, trying to find Blackline to get her brother back, but the Irish thought that she was spying on them. Maybe the Micks don’t even know about Blackline, or they learned about it from Margaret. If that’s the case, I think I might have bitten off more than I can chew. Anyway, we thought that if the crossing and the train tracks still existed, they were below our feet, in the sewers. Me and Beggart descended into the darkness and Orton was left behind to guard the entrance (and my car) in case if the Irish fucks get too nosey.

After a while, things started to get strange. We heard noises, like a child talking. After God knows how long, we found something that probably shouldn’t be in the sewers in the first place. An old freight elevator and a sturdy vault door. Then we heard the footsteps. Shuffling, like someone with a lame leg. As we stepped around the corner, we saw them. Monsters. Human-like creatures with gray skin, pointed ears and sharp teeth and claws. There were at least six of them, so we decided to make a run for the vault door. Beggart jumped into the water, while I charged towards them, hoping to break through. They seemed to be afraid of the light from my flashlight. As I ran towards the door, I think I shot and killed one of them. We made it to the door and forced it open. Why the creatures didn’t follow us seeing they could move through walls and floors at will I do not know. Or maybe it’s because the monsters knew what was behind that door and were smart enough not to follow. As we closed the huge door, a loud screeching noise pierced my ears. There were people shouting, screaming, then a huge crashing sound. Then, more screaming. As an eerie silence set in, and we gathered ourselves, we noticed that our ears were bleeding. I think we just witnessed a train crushing a street car and it’s passengers. Or, at least a ghostly replay of it. We looked around, trying to figure where we had ended up, but no avail. It was a long tunnel, somewhat decrepit, but still it couldn’t be more than ten years old. We started walking deeper in to the tunnel and noticed that a cave-in had crushed a booth of some kind, maybe a guard booth. At the end of the tunnel, we turned left and there was an another vault door, but it was already open. As we stepped through, we saw dozens of people. No, not people, ghosts of people. Maybe the victims of the crash. They didn’t seem hostile, for now at least. There were also holding cells on the both side of this tunnel, and they were all open. There was a strange skeleton, laying on the tunnel floor, like a wolf-man of some sorts.

As I said, I have no idea where we have gotten ourselves into, and I think I’d rather not know. But I have strange feeling that we’re going to find out, whether we liked it or not…


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