4 Necropolis: Scene 4: The Figure in the Room

The city of Gologthicia is not all about, preserving the rich dead and the insane, it’s about the preservation of the soul and memory for everyone. But, it's hard to believe but this small island nation has a few industries outside the funeral business... But, most of these industries have gone bankrupt during some forgotten global recession or depression. And, it's in one of these forgotten districts, a place that could be easily mistaken for Old Detroit in its worst of times dwells a Darkness that abides. Among the monolithic smokestacks, rusted hulks of ancient machines, and ruins of a post industrial age, there are scattered homes, that were designed to house the workers of these great industries like a dead beast during a better age. Some of these are burned out, near falling down homes hold a merger spark of life. Most of these dwellers are drug heads, vamps, lupins or street gangs. Only in the slightly newer areas that were built right before the bottom fell out, still have families clinging on due to the cheap rent or have paid off their mortgages and refuse to move. But, it's among the burned-out, gang-infested areas, that we find a particular house, not completely falling down, but not looking like anyone lives there. Even though there looks to be some upkeep, but it's hard to tell. Not that anyone would want to study the house too close. The human vermin here don’t take kindly to gawkers. But in this house, something or someone dwells, that the gangs, drug dealers try to avoid, but then again they are all fools. Evil knows evil and the Darkness knows them all. There is someone who dwells here now, this someone, their mere presence makes you step away with a shiver. Someone whose own shadow feels like it is watching you. If you look in this particular place you will see a lone figure seated in a vacant room thinking, plotting, pondering. The only lights in the darkroom is thunderstorm gray light diffused through dark dirty curtains. However, if you look closely and let your eyes adjust, you can make a glowing mini cathode ray tube attached to a difference engine, a small electric comp-processor connected to the internetix. Strange for a rundown place don’t you think? One is hard-pressed to find any machine running on electric, let alone connected to the world. The person seated at the machine is no ordinary man. This man wants the world to match his broken decayed soul. His face is underlit by the eerie RGB flow of the small cathode ray tube. His huge bulk is backlit by the dirty storm grey light “Good news my lord.” Stated the electronic flat voice. “Sigh!, For the hundredth time, Reidic doesn’t call me “Lord”. Please. I may be wanting to recreate creation but I not a god, yet.” Stated the figure with an undertone of distance. A voice like a growl echoing in an ancient tomb kept alive by electrics. “Sorry, My Lor- um- Aaran, with all due respect, sir.” Stammered a tiny electric voice. “Anyway, We have located the next part to the Machine. It’s in the keeping of a noted mortician whose family were originally arcologies for the states before they moved here.” Continued the electronic voice. “Move, here, why would anyone in their right mind want to move to this godforsaken place?” Interrupted Aaran. His voice trailed off in a thoughtful growl. “Humm, not sure, sir,” Piped up the small speaker on the desk, “all I know is that he, this, you know, a Mr. Jefferson Van Derhaws, I mean, grew up stateside, studied history, and after his mother died decided to move here to take up the body trade.” there was a pause as the mirthless voice chuckled quietly, darkly to itself. Aaron chimed in. “Do go on!” “He seems to be a rather odd fellow.” Continued the small crackly voice. “but is one of the cities states more decorated morticians. He is retired now, his wife dead and daughter a member of the local constabulary.” After a long pause from the figure in shadows. Aaron, states; “Well, that is interesting, maybe useful intel, but as for the Mech Part, are you able to acquire it?” “Humm, no my, I mean, sir, the Van Derhaws are not known to sale their, family heirlooms so willingly.” “Sigh” Aaron breathed out. “Very well kill him, apply my classic MO. I want Nero to start getting a clue. If he does not all ready not have one” “Aaran, shall I go ahead and kill him too? He may bring all this down. He is unpredictable.” “NO!” Aaron almost shouted. Which died out in fits of coughing. “I want his downfall to be savored like a fine wine or a classic movie. He took everything from me. I only started to pay him back those 5 years past. But, he came to this place out of my reach, and now I have a plan to seek revenge on all who have transgressed me, but his death is the one I will most savor” “But, sir,” Reidic interrupted, “he is very wily and may bring all this to ahead faster than you want.” “Ahaa, Yes, maybe, but all will be ready.” “I am enlisting some extra special help to take care of him.” intoned Arran, “He will be stark raving mad, before the end of all this or dead!” “What!” It was Reidic turn to raise his voice. “We of the Minions have served you well! You are our lord and master….” “Oh, will you stop for christ's sake!” Coughed the shadow,“You all have been fine servants, and true, you almost took care of my protagonist.” “But… those new to this game are of a different nature to help deal with him. I need you to focus on a different task” “What about our pay?” Reidic almost sounded like a whiny little mouse hiding behind the speaker grill. “Yes, yes my dear Reidic your Minions will be handsomely rewarded” “But for right now….” Aaron's was cut off in mid-stride, as a knocking came to the front door. “Did I hear someone knock?” “Yes you did, what is your ETA?” “Five minutes sir.” A “Good, looks like we have some trick or treaters…” Arron talks with a minion about finding the machine part, about how he wants revenge on Nero, about the introduction of another helper of a mystical nature to help in his ultimate plan, and how he will drive Nero insane. The conversation is cut short by know at the door. Aaron goes to answer. It’s the local street gang some five-member stand-out side. One draws a knife and puts it to Aaron though. Aaron talk to them like children, calling them trick or treaters, they want to

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