Knock Three Times

25. Into the Catacombs

                    AN OMINOUS AND HAUNTING ambience hung in the stuffy air of a historic basement, where countless props and boxes full of wardrobe attire and outdated stage equipment sat for many years untouched and covered with thick layers of dust. Marc Richot stood nervously at the Empire Theatre's entrance to the catacombs, hidden beneath a set of stairs lined with the same strange markings found at all nine points of entry. Chief Saunders seemed increasingly apprehensive as he could hear the gears turning within the foundations, a mechanism built over a century ago, inside the historic walls of the fieldstone foundation.

    Each member of the team took a deep breath, swallowing their fears before stepping into the tunnel, being sure to crack and shake their glow sticks before moving into the darkness. As the last police officer crossed the threshold, the entranceway clanked shut behind them, and a foreboding silence enveloped them for a moment which lingered much longer than expected. The space was wide enough for two to walk side-by-side, and tall enough to allow Marc a three foot clearance of head space, who was about six feet tall. The walls matched the fieldstone foundation of the theatre until about twenty feet in, but then changed to that of a clay-like texture.

    'Impressive, but alarming how well concealed these tunnels truly are.' said Timothy Saunders, looking back to his Masonic brethren who seemed equally apprehensive as they moved forth. 'I can't believe no one on the force had any knowledge of these tunnels. There are a whole lot of closed investigations that are about to be blown wide open based on this newly discovered information. I just wish you would have come forward earlier, Marc.'

    'And face certain death or the destruction of my reputation . . . yeah right.' the owner of the building scoffed. 'You just keep my name off your official paperwork wherever possible, Chief.'

    'How would this revelation impact your reputation, exactly?'

    'These . . . people have quite the unique set of talents, if you haven't noticed. By morning, I wouldn't be shocked if someone "found" some questionable material on my personal computer—or something of the like. Once you betray these assholes, they'll pull every dirty trick imaginable to compromise your public stature, including hacking accounts and inserting false documents or doctored imagery.'

    'Photoshop has really gummed up the works in the modern era, I'll admit. Luckily we have professionals who can tell when an image has been altered.' he assured him.

    'You don't get it, Chief? They have shape-shifters at their disposal. Who's to stop these . . . creatures from taking on your own personal likeness in a compromising pose? You've seen what these things can do with your own eyes—witnessed the uncanny resemblance first hand. Hell, I could be a shape-shifter, right here and now, and you wouldn't be the wiser.'

    Saunders thought of it for a moment, just how complicated a homicide case would become when you throw an ability such as shape-shifting into the mix.

    'Yes, I . . . see your point.' his eyes lowered, now knowing the power this secret group had possessed before Belleville was even built, before the country was even claimed. Just then he thought of all the criminals he had put away throughout his career, curious if any were actually innocent as many claim to be; cases based on photographical or video evidence that could have very well been a set-up. If there was to be law and order in the land, these strange creatures cannot be allowed to roam free and unchecked amongst the population, he was convinced.

    'Are there many out there with this type of ability?'

    'From what I've seen, we've only scratched the surface of what they can do.' Richot replied as they stepped aside and let their assigned Templar lead the way. Their personal knight led the charge in full garb; his inscribed sword grasped tight in his hand as he lifted his glow stick and peered into the darkness. Two volunteer Freemasons and a handful of police officers followed in stride, on edge for anything that went bump in the night.