The Watchtower Affair: Bridgette's Back In The Lab

Part 9
The Watchtower Affair - Now You See It, Now You Don't


Bridgette's Diary
13 February, 1925 (cont...)

            Belle declared that we ladies needed to go have a decent lunch and that she knew just the café. Linking arms with Keira and myself, she headed out the door and down to hail a taxi. As we left the building, I realized that she was indeed on the mark. I was suddenly starving and tired. All of that adrenalin and stress earlier was finally catching up with me. Hopefully a good meal would perk me back up in order to focus on my research. Keira stated that she too could make do with some luncheon.

            We took the taxi to a corner café closer to the heart of the city, Maison Rouge. It was a bit classier than what I’m used to, but the staff inside were very nice and welcoming. Somehow I think part of thatwass because we were with Belle. Something about her seems to demand good service. Maybe it’s the fact that she is wealthy just seems to exude from her very person. She’s a wonderfully nice person, but it’s also obvious that she comes from money and is used to a certain standard where regular everyday interactions are concerned.  At the same time, I could totally see her working on her plane if needed. It’s just one of those things and an interesting part of her personality.

            I see that I’ve started to seriously digressed yet again. To return to the original topic of Maison Rouge, the food was absolutely delicious, although truth be told, I was also quite famished by that point. Upon Belle’s suggestion, I tried their beef tips with noodles and gravy and finished it off with a piece of lemon cream pie that was just heavenly. I hope we can eat here again sometime before I leave to return home. Keira shared that her meal was just as tasty. I wondered what the gentlemen found to eat, since we left them to their own devices.

            After the meal it was off to Northwestern. Belle needed to stop by her friend’s office to find out where we were going, which took a good few minutes. Apparently they hadn’t seen each other in several weeks. He was a very nice older gentleman, a professor in the archaeology department. Even though our fields don’t necessarily cross over, I did recognize his name, since Dr. Mortimer Jones is nearly as notorious as he is well regarded in his field. Once I got over my surprise at Belle’s education in archaeology, it really wasn’t a surprise that she knew Dr. Jones. And really, he’s quite charming in person, with a certain intensity about him when it comes to his work. He was also a little shy, which one wouldn’t deduce from his reputed exploits.

            After we finally reached the lab I immediate set to work. First I need to find the chemistry library and look up a few references and interactions. While the analysis a few months ago, of the fluid in the living tunnels, had brought back much of my experimental technique, I was still a bit rusty at coming with formulae from whole cloth. Fortunately it all came back to me rather quickly. I was a bit worried that it might not.

            After the chemistry library, I set up shop in the lab, thankful for the blackboards since it let me write out formula in one spot without having to switch back and forth between pages of my journal. It was also easier to make adjustments as I went. Once I hit the first couple of chemical interactions, the whole thing started to take shape rather quickly, although I did need to make one more trip to the library.

            There was also the oddest distraction as I tried to work. Every hour, at exactly the same time as my encounter with Pathos in the stair well, I would feel the strangest sensation in my hand – the same hand he had bitten. Inevitably, it would leave my entire body tingling in response. Often I would begin to absentminded rub the back of that hand while I worked and every so often I would need to drag my thoughts away from the handsome vampire and focus back on the work at hand. It was quite maddening, but also more than a little pleasurable and left me feeling a wee bit out of sorts and disoriented. And there wasn’t a person present that I felt I could confide in. Keira found the existence of vampires most unnatural and rather distasteful. I suspect she felt that the dead should stay dead and really I agreed with her, at least in theory. In practice, it was now becoming a little harder to maintain that stance. After all, she hadn’t met the vampire in question. And I could tell that there was no love lost over the vampires by Belle. I had yet to find out why, but there was an extreme anger directed from her to Pathos, and to Labana before. A part of me was quite curious, since it was obvious she had already known Mr. Smith and Mr. Wilde before we joined the merry adventuring gang. As for the men, well, even if any of them had been present, it wasn’t quite the sort of thing I would feel comfortable in sharing with the opposite sex. 

            And so I continued to work, getting caught up in the dance of potential chemical reactions and their hoped for outcome and every so often I found myself bothered and distracted by thoughts of Pathos. As for Belle and Keira, they both appointed themselves my caretakers and brought me a steady stream of food and drink during the hours I labored. I was grateful for their care, knowing how distracted I can get while doing research. Often I’ve suddenly found myself famished and dying of thirst because I didn’t realize that I’d been at it for hours upon hours. And they helped me discover the most amazing soft drink, Coke Cola. It certainly helps add some pep to your work!

The Watchtower Affair: The Building Get's Its Wish...For Now

Part 8
The Watchtower Affair - Now You See It, Now You Don't

Bridgette's Diary
13 February, 1925 (cont...)

            Taking a deep breath to shake off the remaining affects of my “other sight” I crawled over to take a look at Mr. Long’s ankle. It didn’t appear to be injured too badly. The bullet had lost power after bouncing off of Pathos, plus the angle with which it struck him was slight enough to not cause serious damage. It was really more of a grazing wound. While bandaging it, I made sure to comment on how lucky he was that it wasn’t worse. He’d have a slight limp for a little while, but would be fine in just a few days.

            After I finished tying off the bandage, I picked myself up off the floor and tried the door once more. Blessedly, it was unlocked. Yanking it open, I strode through and headed for the front door. No, I didn’t look back to see if they followed, or if they headed to the elevators, or if they even stood around in the lobby. I wanted out of that building – now.

            Later, I learned that the rest of the gang had their own troubles on the elevator, getting into a fight in even more crowded confines than our stair landing. According to Keira, Mr. Rasicci tried to convince the “mob boys” with them that the person on the top floor was really an imposter whom they needed to kill. It seemed like a good idea and it might even have worked were it not for the mind control of whatever was up there. All of the gang, except for Mr. Wilde, dove for the floor to take cover. Mr. Wilde drew that amazing energy sword of his and cut all of the mob boys down where they stood. It sounds like the world’s shortest, least bloody fight. And for whatever reason, their elevator then returned to the first floor, where they all exited in a bit of confusion.

            Mr. Long had followed me through the lobby and out the door. Mr.Smith had started to follow before noticing the elevator returning to the lobby level. He decided to wait and see who would get off. It turned out to be the rest of our group. Together all of them headed for the door.

            I had stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, sinking down to sit on the rough cement and inhale several very deep breaths. To Mr. Long’s honor, he did stop near me and try to reassure me that everything would be fine. I’m not sure he fully realized why I was so upset, which is just as well, given his animosity towards Pathos. My apparently protectiveness, as well as my attraction to him, left me very puzzled and off kilter, although the vast majority of my discomfort did stem from the building itself. It was as though it was trying to protect itself from something, as though it feared we might find out its secrets, which it dearly wanted kept secret. And it was very, very good at protecting itself.

            It was a relief to see everyone else coming out of the building only a moment or two behind us. I continued to sit where I was, taking deep breathes and trying to calm my rampaging nerves. And then, well, the next thing I knew, I was down the sidewalk, past where our cars were parked. My cheek stung slightly from the slap that Mr. Smith had just delivered. Apparently the building was trying to get us to leave as quickly as possible, as everyone else, with the exception of Mr. Smith, had suddenly just started silently walking away from the building. We all had that vacant look to our faces. I’d barely time to give him a startled look before he continued on to Mr. Rasicci and slapped him as well. He was calculating just how hard he needed to hit everyone to snap them out of it.

            Shortly we were all piling back into the cars and returning to Mr. Rasicci’s office to regroup and figure out what to do next. For the moment, the building was getting its wish to see us gone. Unfortunately for it, most of us would be back. Whatever was inside causing all of this was going to be taken out. Somehow. Personally, I was for tearing the whole thing down and scattering the rubble to the proverbial far corners. And no, I didn’t wait until our return to Mr. Rasicci’s before knocking back a drink from my flask. Actually, I believe it took two swigs before I felt calmer. If I recall correctly, the flask was passed around to everyone in our car. Even Keira imbibed.

            Once situated in Mr. Rasicci’s office again, we ran through what we knew and discussed our options for how to tackle the new beastie. To start the discussion off,  Mr. Smith shared what he had recalled back in lobby. A few years ago, there had been a similar situation with some powerful supernatural creature atop Big Ben. The only real differences between the two cases were how strong this creature’s mind control abilities were proving to be and the fact that the building was invisible. Big Ben had remained in sight the entire time.

The biggest concern seemed to be the mind control. Whatever this “Watchtower” creature was, it was very powerful. So far it had had a field day taking control of us one by one. And at the end of our eventful visit, it had even taken control of all of us, but one, in an attempt to get us to leave. Mr. Smith was talking about the use of a tin foil hat to help protect one from being mind controlled, which sounded absolutely ridiculous to me, although I know it to be quite common in some esoteric circles. However, there was little evidence to support the theory so far, even in the parapsychological community.  Personally, I thought it just made the wearer look silly.

            Finally I had an inkling of an idea and spoke up. There was a possibility that I could make an elixir to protect one from the mind control. Perhaps boost up a person’s willpower enough that they could shrug off any attempt on the part of another to gain control over them. It was worth a shot if they could just get me into a lab somewhere.

            Belle spoke up that she knew someone at Northwestern, here in Chicago, and could maybe arrange it. After borrowing Mr. Rasicci’s telephone, we were good to go. As for removing the monster from the equation, we were all for blowing it up. Even though none of us had gotten a look at it, we were all fairly certain that it was of a good size, given its psychic powers. It was obviously pulling the strings on several people all at the same time, which was both frightening and impressive. This left us feeling that it was simply too large to make sure we could take it out with the usual handgun and also unlikely that a larger gun would do the trick. There was also the fact that we couldn’t see the danged thing either. That left explosives and we hoped we could limit the damage to just the upper part of the building, sparing any of the surroundings much damage. It was decided that while I was in the lab, working on the elixir, the men would be working to come up with a plan on how to proceed with the explosives. They would also figure out how to procure said explosives in a suitable quantity to do the job.

The Watchtower Affair: Enemies Are Made

Part 6
The Watchtower Affair - Now You See It, Now You Don't
 

Bridgette's Diary
13 February, 1925 (cont...)

Meanwhile, back in the lobby, most of the group headed to the elevator following the mobsters who had just arrived. Mr. Smith and Mr. Long remained behind, having decided to take the stairs up to see “The Man”.

I met with Mr. Smith and Mr. Long just as I put my hand on the door to open it. They looked just as surprised to see me standing there as I was to see them. I’m sure I appeared a bit disheveled, just to make it even more interesting.
            “Oh,” I said. “What are the two of you doing?”

Mr. Smith brushed past and started for the first step. “We’re heading up to the top floor to confront whatever the fuck is there. The others are taking the elevator with those mob boys who showed up.” (As an aside, Mr. Smith certainly has some colorful vocabulary and doesn’t seem to pay any mind as to who’s within listening distance of him.)

“I wouldn’t take the stairs if I were you. I’m not sure you would be able to make it to the top.” That had his attention.

“What happened?” He turned those penetrating eyes on me and I glimpsed the intelligence behind the tough guy image. For some reason, this was a comfort. I no longer found him as frightening before, maybe because he reminded me a bit of my late father. He was intense, yes, and definitely focused, but not terrifying Of course, I had just been in the company of a metal vampire, which perhaps but things in a different perspective. This was a bit of a relief, letting me relax around him.

I filled them in on my misadventures since entering the stairwell, including my two encounters with Pathos and how he had saved me on the upper floor. I gave them most of the pertinent details, except for the bite on the back of my hand. I had no idea what it meant, but I was keeping that little occurrence to myself for now.

Mr. Smith’s face darkened at the mention of the vampire’s name and he started to ask me more questions about what had happened, especially questions concerning Pathos, when I once more heard that whirring sound and the man in question descended through the opening between the flights of stairs. He perched upside down to one side of where we stood and looked at the two men with me. Mr. Smith and Pathos begin conversing tersely. Mr. Smith was quite aggressive in talking to Pathos, almost like he was so angry at him that he couldn’t help but try to goad him into some sort of action. They aren’t very far into their conversation before Pathos learned of Labana’s death in Boston.

            Up until now, the exchange between the two had been angry and tense, but only verbal. As Pathos reeled slightly from the news of the female vampire’s death, Mr. Long stepped up and threw in his face the fact that he had killed her. It was as if Mr. Long had physically punched Pathos, such was his reaction. He reached out and slapped Mr. Long across the face, leaving a bright red hand-shaped print upon Mr. Long’s left cheek. Mr. Long retaliated by punching Pathos in the head as well, landing a blow strong enough to knock his head back slightly. Things became insane for the next few minutes. I have no idea what Mr. Long was thinking by provoking a fight with the vampire in such close quarters. Not only had he done nothing to really start the aggression in the first place, but the last vampire that Mr. Long had taken out exploded. We had nowhere to go if that were to happen here.

            Trying the door, I found it locked. Sighing deeply, I sank down in the corner and tried to stay out of the way. And for some silly reason, I decided to activate my “other sight” for a different perspective on what was happening. I’d hoped to learn something new about the energies interacting in the stairs and perhaps I could detect something interesting about the door and why it seemed locked. I mean, it had only been used mere minutes ago. Of course, it was no doubt whatever lived on the top floor that was behind it all, but I felt the desperate need to try something.

By the way, did I say silly? Actually it was more along the lines of stupid. When I looked at Mr. Hand and Pathos going at it hand to hand, what I saw was two cranes standing in the middle of a field fighting with their long legs. The whole image was overlaid onto stairwell.  When I looked anywhere in the stair well, that’s all I saw, this placid field with a breeze gently blowing the tops of the prairie grasses about. Mr. Long and Pathos were both funny looking, long legged cranes and Mr. Smith resembled an odd fox and behind it all the faint, fuzzy image of the actual reality.

            Just as I closed my eyes to block out the disorientation of the two images superimposed over one another, Mr. Smith pulled his big gun from wherever he keeps it. A shoulder holster perhaps? Clamping my eyelids tightly shut, I prayed that in the chaos someone would miss my small corner, because there was very little else I could do to protect myself. Getting around any of them probably would have precipitated my getting hurt.

            Since I couldn’t see anything, the sound of Mr. Smith’s gun going off made my entire body jump. I heard a grunt from Mr. Long and opened my eyes. I’m a bit embarrassed to admit my relief upon seeing Pathos unscathed. He had done very little to precipitate this fight. Mr. Long however… And it was indeed Mr. Long who was wounded. Somehow the bullet had ricocheted off Pathos and struck Mr. Long in the ankle.

            With a look of anger blazing in his eyes, Pathos took off once more up the stair well. It was quite obvious that things were far from over between Mr. Long and the vampire.