The victims all had two things in common. One, they had all died in or around Central Park. Two, they were all alive. Each and every one of the six serial killer victims had risen and left the morgue when no one was around. They’d just got up and walked out. Security cameras had captured them in action. It should be noted that they got up and left. Not a one wore a stitch, other than the one left by their own autopsy. There was no grabbing clothing in that list of actions.

MRC has been investigating the series of murders. They’d been investigating them because Halloween was coming, and that brought out all the crazies who grew fangs and suddenly thought they were mutant sex gods, the immortal reincarnation of the vampire Lestat. The victims had had fang marks on their necks. Guess that made three things in common, not just two. Either the serial killer had decided to pretend he was a vampire, and used a tool to make his mark... or else, he was a bit more batty than that.

Amelia had decided to team up for the investigation. She wasn’t a detective. MRC detectives had called point. Despite her best intentions, jurisdictional procedure had placed a road block in her path. Working covertly with SUPER, she could get around that. Because that was her job, too. Handling dangerous mutants. And if they were morgue zombies, well... it certainly wasn’t her first zombie rodeo.

You know what? Forgot the phrase zombie rodeo. Unless it was a t-Rex, she was not interested in riding a zombie at all. She was, however, familiar with showing them the business end of a shotgun. The lack of clothes mentioned in the report was the only thing that worries her. But surely they would have procured some pants once they were free.

Amelia had relayed all relevant information about the zombie rodeo to SUPER higher ups, and they had paired her with another SUPER agent to get the job done.

It was going to be odd, meeting the woman who had been in the background of the televised announcement of SUPERs existence to the mundane world. On the one hand, she hated SUPER with a fiery passion stoked by personal experiences in their labs and prison cells. On the other, she was working for them, and they caught violent mutants. They served a purpose. A terrible purpose, and one that made her conflicted. On another hand, they were trying to distance themselves from the shady lab crap, or at least had stated as much, and on yet another hand... She was running out of hands

Her memories told Amelia she should trust SUPER. She had worked with them before, and even recently. They’d been professional and cold. Also her memories? Never trust. Infiltrate their ranks and burn them, burn it to the ground. Her memories had problems, clearly, but they told her nothing about the woman she’d been paired with, Sabine. In all the fleeting memories she had from her other self, none had been of working with her. They didn’t know each other well. Amelia thought that was both for the best, and also utterly unfair. All she had would be her impressions of the woman, as-seen-on-TV, and her first impressions, IRL. Because she had nothing to work with, Amelia decided to treat the woman as if she were a blank slate. She’d give her the benefit of the doubt, and let Sabine fill in the blank space.

They met in a briefing room at SUPER HQ. It was a long room, with a similarly long table surrounded by uncomfortable-looking ergonomic plastic chairs. Amelia wore blue jeans and a dark green Carhart hoodie that screamed “I’m casual, don’t look at me!” Her hair was up in a professional ponytail. Leaning against the wall behind her, there was a red golf bag with bronze-colored zippers.

When Sabine entered the room, Amelia stepped forward and extended her hand with a smile. “Nice to finally meet you,” she said. “The higher ups told me I’d be working with a pro. My name is Amelia Mellitus. I hope you like zombies and vampires.”

So much of Sabine’s life felt like filler. The things that did not warrant on-screen time. Paperwork, strategy meetings, personal management. Even her occasional appearances dealing with the press were just another part of the role. She wore a mask and played a role through it all, but unlike covert work, the mask had to be Sabine Sang. It was inconvenient, though if pressed to divulge who the actual Sabine Sang was, she would not have a concrete answer anyway. She was what she needed to be to do her job. In this case, that meant being an efficient member of management and public relations.

It was still a relief when she could find an excuse to get out in the field. With the department still short-handed, those opportunities sprang up sometimes. Occasionally, one of the jobs that crossed her desk drew her eye. Her job was serious, but she was still dealing with mutants. In the field, you could run across something wholly new, and there was excitement to that.

When “δ-9: Vampires? Zombies?” crossed her plate, she bit, (no pun intended.) Agent Mellitus was an interesting asset, filling roles left by her doppelganger which connected her to the MRC and tangentially to the X-Men. Very useful. Her doppelganger was also unaccounted for, so she was a risk. It was a tenuous balance: she was very well-positioned, but she could not be intrinsically trusted given the doppelganger’s escape.

That was a good enough excuse for Sabine herself to respond to a call for backup. She was able to change out of her business attire and prepare for the field, which she had not done in ages. Black pants, boots, and gloves. A sleeveless black top and a sleeveless red undershirt. Fabric bunched up around her neck looking like almost like a scarf. Grabbing her sidearm and a telescoping baton, she felt nostalgic. It was a return to form and a nice break from her day-to-day life.

Who was she out in the field? Effective. Analytic. But maybe she could have a little fun with it. What was wrong with a little fun? It was easier to pull off chasing monsters than it was behind a desk.

So when she finally entered the briefing room, she saw the junior agent and smiled. She was not in any kind of uniform, but that was fine; they were heading out into New York. Uniforms would just make them conspicuous. ”Hello, Delta-Nine.” She met the woman’s hand and nodded. Her smile was almost a grin when she mentioned the meat and potatoes of their mission. ”Yes, it certainly seems like you are bringing me into a seasonally appropriate monster mystery.”

She released Amelia’s hand and looked the woman over. She was shorter than Sabine by a few inches, but Sabine was not going to underestimate an agent for their stature, particularly a Delta. She was sure Amelia could hold her own. ”I’ve read the transcripts from your call, but I’m sure there’s more details you could brief me on before we head into the Hellmouth?”

Delta 9. Yes, she recalled that as having been her code name. The other 8 deltas before her must have failed pretty hard to have them on the ninth iteration. Or was that not how that worked?

Seasonally appropriate villain was right. Was there anything else Amelia had to clue her in on, for the Buffy referencing woman who had everything?

“That’s pretty much the bulk of our information, unfortunately. The only people to have encountered the theorized serial killer are dead. And not dead. I’ve taken to mentally referring to the killer as Schrodinger.” She said wryly. “But that’s just me.”

“Most of the bodies were found around Central Park. Some were found in the outlying areas around it. So if we need a defined area.” Amelia paused. “For our hellmouth. Then Central Park is probably as good a place as any to start our hunt.”

“Were beyond the pale for weirdness with this, so we should prepare accordingly.” She noted. “Exploit any hypothetical weaknesses the bodies have. I doubt they’re still alive. Definitely no longer human. And they’re exploiting my weakness so—“

Amelia gestured behind herself, at the red golf bag with the bronze zippers. “I want to make sure my preparations are authorized before we go out. A girls gotta be prepared. And before you ask, yes.” She offered Sabine a small smile. “I brought enough to share.”

Preparation was important. Preparation kept great agents ahead of the game and good agents alive. Sabine had no data for how preparation helped mediocre agents, because they were the ones who never took the time to properly prepare. D9 did her prep work and brought enough to share, making sure Sabine was not in the dark. The senior agent appreciated going into the field with someone who did not strike her as mediocre; there were enough of them around already.

Sabine smirked. ”If Zombies were more widely considered in Schrodinger’s time, it could have unraveled his whole theory,” she muttered, thumbing through the last of the reports.

They were investigating Central Park at night to chase down monsters. It sounded ridiculous, but from what Sabine read about this universe, Central Park was accustomed to hosting peculiar events and creatures.

Sighing, Sabine pulled out her sidearm and ejected the magazine, inspecting it. ”I’m willing to try anything that theoretically might work. With that in mind, I’m requisitioning incendiary rounds. You’re welcome to claim some with my sign-off. Depending on the variety of spooky we’re dealing with, some aren’t fans of fire.” Sabine rolled her eyes. ”Sadly, I don’t think we keep silver bullets in stock and dear God, I can’t believe that’s a thing I seriously considered.” This job was unpredictable and hard to believe sometimes.

”Alright, let’s gear up and move out. We’ve got vamps to hunt.”

Amelia donned a wolffish smile.

“Incendiary rounds,” she said. “I’ve got some of those requisitioned already. In the golf bag. Dragon rounds for a bunch of shotguns. On the same theory you mentioned. And I’ve had luck with shotguns versus zombies in the past.”

Could they check if her AV self had that in her history? Because Amelia certainly had it in her own personal, “not-an-evil-secret-agent-life-stealer” past. She briefly tried to remember if she had twice the memories of the event that heralded the activation of her mutation, but if she did, there was no way to notice it.

“Shotguns, a few other things. Extending batons to keep enemies at a distance. With a three prong forked end add-on.” She said. “And a couple of machetes.”

Yeah maybe she had taken way too many ideas from books she had read. But many of those ideas were practical applications of common sense against otherworldly foes. There’s nothing wrong with getting good ideas from B movies and goofy magic wizard novels. You could learn a lot from fiction. Like Second Breakfast. Silver bullets, though?

“Didn’t pack any silver bullets.” She noted wryly. “Or blessed water. Or garlic. Figured I’d stick with the options that work even if the myth is wrong. So we aren’t stuck with pizza toppings and bottles of sacred Evian.”

>>”Alright, let’s gear up and move out.” Sabine said. “We’ve got vamps to hunt.”

“Thunder cats are go,” Amelia reaffirmed sagely. Then, she grabbed her gear and they got moving.


—

since it was her case, Amelia drove them to the park. They carpooled in her white Ford Focus, both for the environments sake, and because it was low profile and comfortable. The radio was set to a jazz station. She was never letting her brother borrow her car again. It had a good beat, though, so Amelia let it stand.

They parked in a good place, though there weren’t many vehicles around to mask their presence. It being nighttime and all.

Amelia pulled the golf bag out of the back, and swung it over one shoulder. She clicked the button on the key ring and locked up. Then she looked around.

“I guess we’ll stake the park out and watch for anything unusual.” She said. A cold fall breeze swept past her, stirring Amelia’s hair. She glanced at the sky. “Maybe under some cover. It may rain.”