Summer, 1999
Somewhere over the Atlantic
'They have absolutely no f***ing clue of what they're messing with,' Matt Olsen's jagged, angular cursive sawed across the clean, featureless landscape of the first page of one his trademark notebooks. To the uninitiated, the text would be nearly illegible - nothing more than the disparate graphite scrawling of a cardiac monitor. To those that knew well the seasoned senior reporter of The Orbis Observer (the truth *IS* out there), they could see the utter panic underlying the text. 'Joseph should have listened to me, and left the artifact at Monte Albán. The inhabitants there will not be pleased.'
Matt paused to toss a half-hearted nod and smile towards the plain-looking stewardess; she handed him the Scotch he'd ordered with a smile that did not touch her hazel eyes. Matt tried to keep his hands from shaking as exchanged his credit card for the glass, which he downed in a quick gulp and passed the empty back before the wan-looking lady had even finished pocketing the card. Her recently plucked eyebrows tried to crawl back up into her hairline.
"Keep 'em comin'," he muttered and went back to his serrated notes.
'Mask of the Bat God, indeed. This mask is much more than that. It's the phylactery of a spirit of an ancient vampire marquis. The moment Joseph moved it from the chamber which held it, that spirit has slowly been restoring itself. Soon, it will draw them out--all of them.'
Matt downed the second Scotch and finally felt the kick of the first one. If he'd have been thinking clearly, he likely would not have written the next words out of sheer professional pride.
'--and all of Mexico City will be overrun with thousands of Zapotec vampires.'
- Story and Characters: (c)/by Brannon Hollingsworth
- Art Source
- Inspired by
- References: 1, 2, 3, 4
