Death sucked! That was a fact Rick Deckard had quickly realized. But in his line of work, it was a common occurrence and truth be told, there was a lot of money to be made because of death. Sometime that was just this, a job. Other times, it was a bit more personal; like this job that took him in the heart of Europe. See, death was one thing, but when it involved young kids, Deckard found it despicable.
So when he was called from London to find the murderer of a young boy, he didn't hesitate; with the new talents he had recently developed, his skills had become a hot commodity. Little did he know, he had stepped into the case of a serial crime.
And here he was in the driving seat of a rented Renault car, parked not far from a chill-giving gothic church, waiting for the police or corp security or whatever they were to leave the premise. Apparently, another kid had been found dead inside. From the tip he got, it had been a horrifying scene. But for Deckard, it was most and foremost a fresh scene. All he had to do was wait for the last cop to leave, make his way inside and let the place 'talk' to him. A mental check confirmed the entity he had summoned earlier was ready for his call not far in the Astral world. They - the authorities - had been quite efficient at keeping all those murders away from the media. He could understand why. Knowing someone was after your kid would scare the shit out of any parents, and scared parents tend to become vocal very fast. All he had to do was wait.
Rick Deckard opened his eyes and a moment of panic surged inside him, making him wide awake automatically, Drek! he must have dozed off while waiting on the police to get the hell out. It was now dark everywhere, the full moon lighting the old buildings and the church with an eerie blue shade. The silence too felt sinister. Was Deckard just feeling the remnant energy of the events that perspired inside the church or the thousand years of history that had occurred in this city? Everyone had left, and traffic was sparse at best. Time to get in.
The two doors that led inside were sealed with police tags. His chaotic nature was telling him to just not bother and get inside, but until he could at least identify the murderer, he preferred to stay low key. Yet, thanks to his wife, he had come prepared. He turned on his AR and with a few key motions a trid projection of an old blueprint-alike map appeared as an ARO. Even so far apart - his wife had had to stay in London for a job - she had managed to give him a hand by digging some old archives in an architecture library. If it was correct, the gothic church lead to some sort of catacombs underneath and according to the map, there should be another entrance to it, entrance which could be accessed from... Deckard spotted the heavy plate securing a sewer hole down the alley adjacent to the Church and grinned at his genius... of marrying such an intelligent woman.
He approached the sewer access point, extended his hand and the old and rusty heavy plate was no match for his psychokinetic abilities. It slowly lifted off and slided to the side as a gust of putrid air escaped from the now opened hole. Deckard drew his gun to use the flashlight attached to it and leaned over the hole, rethinking about the whole idea, then shrugged. He had wasted enough time snoozing. He had to get inside.
To his pleasant surprise the sewer weren't that bad. Sure the odor was terrible, but only a thin stream of liquidish elements ran in a well conceived irrigation tunnel, the side of it pretty dry and allowing a couple human size persons to walk in a remain clean and dry. With the map on, he quickly found an old metallic door; the other entrance to the Church's catacombs. Interestingly, it didn't have any lock on, rather not anymore. Running the light source on the edges of the door and the pavements in front, it made no doubt to his investigative mind: the door had been used not long ago. He tried to open it but struggled. Whoever had managed to use it was strong... or had help, like he did. Once more he reached with his mind to feel and touch the mana energy surrounding him. With an invisible hand much stronger than his own he pulled on the door which gave way and opened up.
The catabombs had given Deckard the chills, but the map had been perfectly accurate. A stairway led up to a thin entrance way blocked by a wall of well carved stones. When he pressed on the stones a mechanism inside
made the whole wall slide. The luminescence from inside the church, created by tonight's beautiful full moon, came bathing the deep dark stairway. Deckard had made it. He turned off his flashlight, and softly stepped inside the ancient and cold building, his revolver still comfortingly held by his side.
There had been absolute and utter silence within the old Gothic church. Only the agile and quiet acrobatics of a cat burglar wannabe had disturbed it so far, so it wasn't hard for ISaint not to notice the creaking of a heavy statue of the Virgin Mary sliding to reveal a passage way hidden in the wall and the shadowy figure stepping discreetly out of it.