[url=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZXT3v1Ngyo]
The Den[/url]
The Grim Reaper leaned forward in his wheelchair.
"The dates aren't the only match here. The locations of the gathering Lost also match." Although his eyes themselves couldn't be seen by his subordinates, he could vividly see theirs. From underneath the black sheet that shrouded him, he stared deep into Chris, Tekil, and Julie's eyes. They would no doubt feel the shrewd gaze of the Pale Rider. Mya clicked a button on her remote, in accordance, the image on the screen behind her changed. The new image was of Babylon, and several marked points on the map.
"These two patterns allow us to trace the spikes, and retaliate. We may not know what is causing the attacks, but we do know now where they'll occur." Mya began, “The location for this one is--”
“Warehouse Thirteen, in the Industrial District.” Alan Darkmare’s voice cut like a dagger through Mya’s speech. “This is the only place that makes sense.” Face full of dolor, he nodded for Ms. Deng to approach the floor again.
“The strike team for this operation is larger than normal with four members total,” Mya looked at the vacant fourth spot, of course
he wasn’t here, “Tekil, you will be tasked as the leader for this mission. You and I will be in direct contact here. Julie, Christopher, and Mr. Fairchild, whenever he decides to arrive, will be your support. Make the neccessary preparations and leave at once. We’re not exactly sure what is behind the sudden growth in Lost, take the necessary caution as you proceed.” Mya was as cold as she was calculated when she spoke; her telling to to ‘take the necessary caution’ was her purest form of empathy. With her eyes averting to the Grim Reaper, she bowed. “Father?”
“That is all. If what I feel is any indication, I believe you will have many questions when you return, and I will answer every single one of them.”
Mya grasped the handles at the top of her master’s chair, and with one final glance at the team, took her leave.
Warehouse 13 The spirits around him had multiplied. There were dozens of them now, some looked like workers, others were more...familiar. Dressed in patterns similar to the cloth that hung from his belt, with eyes of gleaming gold, they were without a doubt Maori. Pushed against the rusty end of a stalled conveyor belt Quest was a fucking mess. His entire body was shaking, he couldn’t even move. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen ghosts, he grew up with them even. But something like this, these tortured, screaming spirits. And what’s more
they looked like him. Men, women, children. Some of them looked identical to cousins he’d met with just a few months ago.
“What the
fuck is going on!” He hollered, “Vince, what is this!” He was hollering at the director. As if he really believed this was some kind of special effect meant to boost ratings. He wanted to believe that it was, but Quest knew this was real. There was no faking the cries. The cast and crew tried to calm him, but Viola too, who heard everything over the tape recorder was paralyzed.
There was a bigger chill in the air. Quest felt his very soul tremble under something. The entire warehouse shook.
It killed Viola first. Using one long blade-like arm, it stabbed her clean through her chest. Her innards sprayed wildly across the area behind her. The entire crew ran, without even trying to help the ‘ghost hunter’.
He tried to scream, but nothing would come out.