this_fire_burns:

Matt Walker's office is in the upstairs portion of a two-story building near Chicago's South Side, which isn't in the best repair. Still, he calls this place his home away from home and the place where the work he does to finance his /real/ job is done.

He gets inside and takes off his duster, draping it over the back of the chair before sitting down heavily. Still no word on Austin Caine, still no leads, and Matt was reasonably sure that whatever those cultist had summoned was going to make its move soon. He considered calling Ian for advice, or Doctor Strange, but decided he wouldn't. He had to help put this together and then stop it.

He picked up the phone and called the rest of the team, asking them to come to his office.
 

nextgen_misc:

Fifteen hours after the Chicago PD responded to an incident at a warehouse on the pier, Detective Lynch is contacted by Seargeant Griswold, who ended up working overtime and was the first to respond when the call came in.

( Read more... )

nextgen_misc:

 

( Read if you dare )

small_but_tough:

It had been a few weeks since her strange encounter and it was still bothering Karen. She really didn't know what to make of it.

So she called a few people who might know to see if they had time to talk.

seenitall:

After leaving the hospital, Anselm found a grimy room in a rundown motel. It was like every other room he'd ever stayed in, just enough for his immediate needs and nothing more. He made arrangements to have it for the next two weeks. Surely the doctor's police friend could figure out what was mugging old men in the city in that length of time. If she hadn't pressed him to talk to the officer, he would've been on his way out of town already.

Once the room situation was settled, he took two painkillers, bolted the door and tried to get some sleep. The bed was lumpy, his backpack made a hard pillow, and it was still better than some of the places he'd slept in over the centuries.

After dark, he ventured out to get some dinner. The tiny room didn't even have a hot plate although the argument could be made for an outdoor icebox to keep something cold. If the window hadn't been painted shut years ago. Then again, the room itself was cold enough to store meat.

ng_independent:

He walks into Chicago General Hospital in a sharp gray suit custom-tailored to his six-foot-four inch frame, looking as though he'd stepped straight off the pages of GQ Magazine and into real life. Both male and female heads turn as he walks in off the street, making his way straight to Nurses' Station. He flashes a pristine smile at the nurse on duty, who happens to be sipping a cup of coffee when he arrives.

Her coffee ends up all over her and her keyboard, and she leaps out of her chair, though she doesn't immediatley bother to clean herself, or her workstation, up.

"M-may I help you, sir?" the nurse asks haltingly.

"Yes, you can." he says, his voice a mixture of smoke, silk and honey. Again, he flashes that pristine smile. "I'm hoping to see Doctor Shelly Drumm. Is she in today?" 

"Um, I think she'll be back in her office shortly." the nurse says.

"I know where it is." he says. "I'll wait."

With that, he walks away from the Nurses' Station and heads toward the elevator, pretending not to notice when one of the candy-stripers runs her cart of meds headlong into a pillar because she's so distracted.

Soon enough, Anvarael waits inside Shelly's office, looking around at her various personal items. Plaques, pictures and certificates adorn the walls and he finds himself once again enthralled with humanity. They are such beautiful creatures, even if they /are/ trying their level best to kill themselves in this century.

It's always hardest to save those who will not save themselves.
 

nextgen_holiday:

The beginning of a New Year, a time for new hopes, new experiences to come. A time to reflect on times past, remembering fond memories happily and trying to put less pleasant thoughts and experiences in the past.

It is a time of renewal, a time of rebirth. And for much of the world, it is a time of celebration. This is no less true for the super hero set as anyone else. If anything, they just have that much bigger of things to look forward to.

nextgen_holiday:

There's a piece of paper and a pen attached to a bulletin board. Across the top is written:

New Year's Resolutions
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
+

Anonymous entries accepted.

nextgen_holiday:

Christmas. Yule. Saturnalia. Dies Natalis Solis Invicti. Many cultures have celebrated and still celebrate a winter festival. There have been many names for it over the millennia. No matter the name it is a time to come together and celebrate with feasts and gifts with friends and loved ones.

Each culture has a legendary figure who would deliver gifts to children during this time. In Russia and some Slavic cultures he is known as Ded Moroz, Grandfather Frost, and comes not on Christmas but on New Year’s along with his granddaughter Snegurochka, or ‘”Snow Maiden”. In the United Kingdom and other parts of Europe he is known as Father Christmas. In the Netherlands and Belgium he is known as Saint Nicholas or “Sinterklaas” and in France he is known as Père Noël. In the United States we know him as Santa Claus.

No matter the name or who is delivering gifts, it is the season of peace, joy and togetherness. It is the season for thinking about loved ones, friends and those less fortunate. It is a time to witness the goodness and generosity the human race is capable of. It is a time for peace on Earth and goodwill toward man.

nextgen_baddie:

When you lived for centuries, patience and waiting came easy. He had waited and watched the Price boys for awhile before making his move. The Price boys were unique, even for werewolves, and the situation had to be handed delicately.

The Price boys were predictable and it made planning easier for Dracula.

The time to make the first move came when the boys had just returned to Gregory's apartment. Dracula let himself in and surprised the two. They shifted into werewolf form of course, but Dracula used his hypnotic powers on them. Within a few moments the Price boys were under Dracula's control.

Now it was time to use them against these foolish mortals who had dared to interrupt his plans.

"It is time to go," he told the two werewolves.

They both howled.

Dracula would lead them into the streets and to a popular night club. There he unleashed the two werewolves upon the club-goers.

Sirens blared in the night as police responded to the disturbance.

nextgen_baddie:

Dracula had spent quite some time in the Windy City, longer than he had originally planned. Sure he had plans elsewhere in the world, but for now Chicago had his attention. If he was going to stay longer, he would need information. He did not like being in one place where he didn't know as much as he could. It had taken some time to set up a network. Minions had to be created and sent out. Then information had to be gathered and processed.

Dracula did not like that there were other vampires in the city. Old ones, older than he was, and ones he couldn't control. It was unsettling, but he knew they would leave him be. He was Lord of the Vampires and they would not challenge him. He in turn would not bother them.

Another interesting thing he learned was that there were werewolves in the city. Not just any werewolves. Members of the accursed Russoff line. Two of them were here in Chicago. This caused him some concern. Dracula wasn't one to let old offenses go unpunished. He remembered quite clearly the Russoff who had dared to rescue a woman slated to be one of Dracula's brides.

Thing were going to have to be done. Dracula could see the benefits of having werewolves in his service.

fullmoonfever:

Greg didn't know Shelly that well, so he opted with the tried and true gift. Chocolate and a gift card with three hundred dollars on it. He delivered them to her place and left them along with a card outside of her door when she didn't answer.

blackmagicwoman:

Shelly was curious by nature.  It had gotten her into a ton of trouble as a kid especially when she turned her curiosity on her little brother, Dante.  Jericho had sent them both to pocket dimensions for time out and that should have broken her of her curiousness, but it hadn't.  Instead it taught her to be more stealthy about it which was why when she unleashed the ritual to sniff out Matt's birthday she expected a nice quiet result that she could then take to do gleefully naughty things with.  What she got was far different.

"You have got to be kidding me."  The ritual results ended up telling her the birthdays of everyone she'd been in close proximity to (save for her patients, she had a ward for that.)  Greg, Michelle, and Matt were all Halloween babies.  She actually facepalmed.

"Okay.  Fine.  Three birthdays.  Three cakes.  Then we all go to Mac's."  She'd have to find a more appropriate costume for this since it was going to be more than just Matt, but she could do that.  She could pull it all off.

***

Three hours later, there were three cakes, an assortment of beers, and some light snacks (and some special things for Michelle if she needed them) spread out in the expansive dining area of Shelly's penthouse.  Simultaneously, magical invitations alerted the members of the team to a pre-party at Shelly's.  Now all she had to do was sit back and wait.

nextgen_holiday:

All Hallow's Eve, or Halloween as it has been come to be called, is a popular holiday with children and adults alike. It is a holiday that had its roots in the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain or Summer's End. Samhain celebrated the end of the "lighter half" of the year and the beginning of the "darker half".

On this evening the barriers between this world and the Otherworld were believed to be thin and the spirits, good and bad, of the dead could pass through. The spirits of the family's ancestors were welcomed in while evil and bad spirits were warded off by the wearing of masks and costumes. The costumes and masks disguised one as a harmful spirit and avoided harm from others.

It was also a harvest celebration and time to take stock of food stores for the winter. Livestock were slaughtered and the meat prepared for storage. It was the final harvest of the year and the crops were then stored for the winter. Celebrations included bonfires and tales of the family's ancestors.

It was a celebration of the dead and of the harvest.

Today we dress up in scary and not so scary costumes and masks and go door to door for candy or attend costume parties. It is a night for revelry, pranks and fun.

fullmoonfever:

Greg had thought about going back to LA for the holiday weekend to see his family, but a gig came up at the last moment and decided that playing music was much better than dealing with family. The gig was Sunday night and on Monday Greg found himself in his favorite club, putting back beers and listening to jazz music. It was his idea of a perfect holiday.

fullmoonfever:

Greg stepped off the small stage and headed for the bar. The final set was over and he had the rest of the night free. A friend of his had called earlier in the evening and asked if he wanted to sit in on drums for a friend of his. Greg was getting known as the go to guy when a band member bailed at the last second.

Greg didn't mind. He liked playing and when he wasn't playing he sat in clubs and watched others play. The extra cash didn't hurt at all, but cash wasn't something that Greg paid much attention to. Music had become his life's passion and thankfully he had the means to pursue it.

Mac's was was pretty full, Greg managed to find an empty bar stool and slid onto it. He motioned to the bartender and a moment later a glass of Scotch was set in front of it. He wanted a smoke, but the stupid city had banned smoking in all bars and restaurants. After his drink he'd go outside to have a quick smoke.

fullmoonfever:

Greg woke up the morning after the events at Vitae in the woods...somewhere, naked and disoriented. He sat there for awhile trying to remember what happened and how he got out here, but for the life of him he couldn't remember. There was the club and the group of them going in, but then nothing. There had to have been black magic involved and his uncontrolled werewolf state took over, but how the fuck did he end up in the middle of the woods in the middle of nowhere? He had been expecting to wake up in an alley somewhere as had been the case on a number of occasions.

He started walking and eventually came to a small town. Thankfully it was summer and some people still hung laundry out to dry. The wash line was relieved of a few items and Greg made his way to a phone. He called a friend of his in Chicago to come and get him. He sat on a bench in a park until his friend arrived.

When he got back to Chicago he went back to his place and got drunk beyond coherent thought. He spent the next few days drinking and smoking and not giving a shit about anything else.

When he needed fresh air again, he ventured out to park himself on a bar stool in a jazz club.

this_fire_burns:

Matt had recovered quickly from the battle at Vitae, though he hadn't spoken to the others since then. He'd been meaning to check on Greg and Michelle, and call Lynch to see how they were all doing, but he'd been sidetracked by his own ailing, meeting a new ally,  Dracula's revelation, and Shelly's injury.

Matt Walker entered Chicago Memorial and, as he'd done for the past four days, gone directly to Shelly Drumm's room to check on her.  The first day, he'd been greeted by a man that looked to be Shelly's father. Jericho Drumm was known in every mystic circle in one fashion or another, as easily as Matt's own mentor, Ian McNee, was. Matt had also been hesitant to call Ian, because he was certain he might blow up at his mentor for not telling him about...

No, there was no time to think about that.

He walks into Shelly's room, expecting to see her still unconscious from the damage done to her by Dracula. How they were going to explain the marks her neck was anyone's guess.

How Matt planned to make Dracula pay for what he'd done wasn't.

blackmagicwoman:

Portals, teleportation spells and ways are useful but when it comes to getting down to a suspicious club in the darker neighborhoods of Chicago, SUV was more efficient.  It would also trigger fewer magical sensors so if Vitae was tuned to such things, arriving by car would give them a few moments advantage over the shadowy figures suspected to be murderers for Dracula.

Shelly couldn't help but think of Charlie Manson as she turned the last corner and parked her SUV in the darkness down the street from the club.  A maniacal leader, brainwashed followers carrying out horrific deeds for master. 

"Okay.  Yeah.  This place gives me the creeps.  Let's go see if we can get in.  The website said it was a private club, right?  Most of those are pretty strict.  There's this place, The Mercury in Seattle...definitely not stranger friendly.  Grab your equipment folks."

Shelly herself took a deep breath and said a few quick prayers to the loa before getting out of the car and heading up to the door.  There was a guard there, pale and creepy looking as all of the rest of the cultists they'd encountered had been but instead of stopping them, the man smiled darkly and opened the door without a word.  In fact no words were exchanged at all, just that creepy smile.

Shelly's blood ran cold.  This...wasn't good.

living_mummy:

Egypt is not all uninhabited desert. Along the Nile, the land is lush. There are large cities, such as Cairo and Alexandria. There is much more to the land than simply yellow sand and pyramids.

This is not one of those places.

The sun is blisteringly hot, pounding down on the sandy earth. Stuck in the middle of nowhere, this pyramid is easy to overlook. It is not especially pursued by archeologists. It is not easily accessible to tourists. It is, in short, an excellent place for someone to hide out. One would practically need the coordinates of the site just to locate it.

Coordinates which are now in the hands of a small group of people investigating an evil cult...

notquiteright:

In a darker area of Chicago, there's an apartment building that has seen better days. It's still livable but doesn't look nice at all. And it has one resident, the man that owns it. Gene Kalso, aka The Breaker. To the untrained eye the building is normal. But to those with the right abilities, the building has some pretty good mystic defenses. There are some security cameras cleverly hidden outside too.

He's in the lobby tonight, watching a TV and eating some pizza. The lobby is pretty nice and fixed up and the casually dressed Gene's got his feet propped up on the desk. A security camera overhead watches the door but Gene knows some of his contacts are coming and bringing him something interesting. Something about a body and a laptop. Gene wasn't paying attention to the phone call. But he's still waiting.

"Man, these Mythbusters losers are just jokes," Gene laughs as he takes a swig of the beer he's got with him.

small_but_tough:

Lynch was celebrating her birthday the same way she usually did, she was going out to a bar to do some drinking. She was going to a local bar within walking distance of where she was living that she had been to a couple times before. It was nice and could get a little bit busy which she liked.

When she got to the bar she order herself a beer and sat down at the bar.

nextgen_misc:

( Cut for occult violence )

fullmoonfever:

Gregory Price slipped out of the Kingston Mines club and out into the mostly empty streets of Chicago. The night air was crisp as it tended to be during the early spring. The wind blew, which is Chicago was totally not a surprise, and Greg wrapped the trench coat he normally wore around him.

He bowed his head and started walking back toward his apartment.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he stopped walking. Something was not right. Greg looked around, but didn't see anything or anyone. He didn't like the feeling of this.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking again.