The agency of doors

by Mr Ignorable

Rating: everyone
Tags: Adventure, Dark, Alternate Universe, Human
Length: 4543

Unusual solutions to unusual problems.

When there's no one to turn to. When the witching hour approaches and the hounds of hell call for your very soul, when the cackles of abominations that would drive grown men into weeping whisper your name.

When no one believes in you.

Just remember, we're always open for business.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-09-12 18:24:02 UTC

Pilot

In my time on this world. As a soldier, mortician, doctor, priest, and preacher, I have come to realize that monsters do exist. But where there are monsters, there are those who hunt them. And to be honest, I do not know which to fear more.

-Dr. Fairchild

~~~

"Help! Somepony! Anypony!" His calls went unanswered as the ran through the narrow cobbled streets. Fear of his life drove him now as he galloped madly into the starless night. The only light coming from the occasional Box-lanterns. Passing shop after shop after shop he ran, a smell like burning gas filled the air as he took off into the night.

Behind him, it screeched. A long, abjectly horrifying screech. The thing was upon him. In a burst of panic, he shot forward, making a left, only belatedly noticing that he was running into the dockyards. Ships of all sizes, from small skimmers to massive Frigates lined the yards. Some partially disassembled, others simply sitting quiet, waiting for morning. A morning that would never come to him.

"Where are they?! They swore to protect me!" He roared in his mind as his faceless hunter approached.

He was wheezing now, his heart threatening to burst from his chest as he forced his legs forward. Fire raced up his outer thighs from the overworked muscles as he pulled forward, foam and spittle flying from his burning mouth as he struggled to breath.

The wind began picking up. He knew it was close.

"There it is gents! After it!"

A quick instant of confusion overtook his brain before he tripped, falling head over heels before coming to a stop.

"After it! Quickly now! Quickly! We can't let it get away!"

He could feel it, another shriek.

"Jean my good lady! Corral it! Keep it away from the Monsieur!" The peppy voice came again, interrupting his flight, and his thoughts.

Out of the shadows leapt a massive wolf, howling with ferocity as it landed into a flying sprint. Gracefully jumping over his splay form before barking at his pursuer.

"That's a good girl! Christopher! Help me with this old boy would you?" The english accented voice came again. Loosening his reviere as yet another figure jumped down from a disassembled streamliner.

And as he sat in the dirt, he couldn't help but look up at his rescuer.

"Are you alright my good man?" Asked the second figure as he offered a hand.

Long and gaunt was he, with a moth-eaten frock coat and a frayed and splintered Gibus sitting atop his head. A sleek curved ebony cane hung by his legs as the man helped him to his hooves.

But what chilled him most, was his eyes.

Backlit and bright with the savagery of the hunt did the man's two globes reflect.

"It's true what me mum said. Ya really can tell a man's soul from his eyes." Thought the stallion briefly before being hefted onto the man's shoulders.

"I'm sorry about this old boy, but this is no place for mortals!" He shouted aloud. Behind him, the dog thing continued snarling and arching it's back, trying to intimidate that which chased him. It in turn howled that godawful noise as it swiped at the hound, hissing and snarling right back.

"Mortals?! What are you, some type of god?!" He shouted as the man passed him off to another, this one was a tall gentlemen who took him from the lean man with care. He had dancing silver eyes and cyclonic rich black hair that seemed to nearly shine in the dirty moonlight.

"No." Replied the first man, turning back to answer his question.

"I am merely his butcher."

~~~

Grimm turned back to the task at hand as Jean kept the thing at bay. Already she was hurt, blood pooled and oozed through her fur along her outer back legs and along her snout. Still, she persisted, jawlines raised in a throaty growl as the two combatants circled each other.

"GRIMM! A bit of assistance wouldn't hurt!"

"I know my dear, but spare an old man his theatrics would you?"

"Theatrics- would you hurry up?"

'As the lady wishes."

~~

With long misericord like nails and skin so taught one could observe her every muscle fiber taut and loosen within their folds, she was a sight to behold. With white hair seemingly petrified and eyes wide and hellfire blue, she was truly a monster. But this was only her true form. She lured men into bed with pretty disguises, then revealed herself as she rode them, before sucking out their souls through their manhood. "Well well well well well! Zaiya! Fifth daughter sired by king Gilgamesh and mothered by Agrat Bat Mahlat! What brings you to down to these parts?" His chipper voice broke through the two fighters' concentration.

The she-demon cringed while the wolf merely cocked her head. Grimm smiled whole-heartedly, eyes glittering with excitement as he clapped his hands and stretched his arms in greeting.

"You, man in black. How is it you know my name?" Her raspy voice came through like a whisper. Almost like a ghost's cough.

"Oh it's simple really, fifth daughter of good old Batty, the one cast from the harem of her sisters. The "forsaken one" as they call you. Erased from the memory of man for your kindness in sparing him. All it takes is a bit of elbow grease and research!" He smiled unfalteringly as she stared, openly appraising him. "She whose true form is only revealed upon the bed, she who hides her true form from mortal eyes by appearing as a young girl. Quite the make-up ey?" He joked readily, ignoring her assessments. "But the question is my dear" his eyes lost their merry twinkle as his face became stoic and impassive. Reaching down, he took the black ebony cane by it's handle and held it upright. Putting both hands on top of the handle as he stare evenly at the she-demon. "What are you doing here?" Stunned by the sudden switch, Zaiya held her tongue.

"Cast into the void by your mother and wrapped in the chains of man's unquenchable ambition, forever waiting for the day that he be sated." His voice came flatly, almost as if he was reciting fact. "It is said that those who see Zaiya are those whose ambition burns the brightest. For it is they that make her writhe in agony. Cutting all the fancy speech out, you go after those who hurt you the most. Astro projecting into the nearest body you see fit and using it as a gateway to form a basis of power which you then use to seduce the men responsible and kill them, sucking out their souls for nourishment. Now, my question still stands, what are you doing here?" Again his voice slipped, this time taking a hard edge that seemed almost to glint in the faint streetlight.

"I am impressed mortal, but your knowledge of succubus is a bit inaccurate. When I take a host, I open a gateway to my very being. Using whoever I have taken as a doorway, not a gateway." She smiled, rows upon rows of razor sharp teeth shined in a cheshire grin.

"No." He replied simply.

"No?" Repeated the voice in his head, the wolf whined once, signaling confusion.

"No." He repeated, taking his pinkie finger from his left hand off of the cane. "And here's why. I know you're lying. Now how I know that, I will not answer, but my conviction still stands." He said plaintively, taking a single striding step forward. Zaiya  hopped back, curiosity turning to indignation.

"And what might you have to prove otherwise?" She asked cockily.

"I have no proof on me, but what I do have, are a set of five educated guesses, and in order I shall list them. Guess number one, to escape the eternal pit of ambition, a demon must be summoned. Plain and simple. The chains that bind them in the fire are to powerful for them to break by themselves and most are too preoccupied by the burning to even attempt escape, this leads me to believe that you were summoned because a summon is to a demon what the school bell is to children. It calls you and gives you enough energy to attempt Ingressu mundorum, the stepping of worlds. Guess number two, WHEN you are called, because of your particular nature, you take the form of the closest thing, preferably a virgin girl since virgins give act as unhinged doorways." He began walking closer and closer, instantly Zaiya felt the streets chill as the hairs on the back of her neck prickled and goose-bumped. There was something old with them, something old and agitated. "Guess number three, to call a demon with a circumstance as tricky as yours, one must have a near infinite stream of magic or chi or whatever you call it since you are locked several dimensions and time periods away from this world and time. Guess number four, there is no one human, demon, or thing in this world powerful enough as of yet to call you back to this world leading me to believe that it was a joint effort, and a massive one at that. Guess number four, you were called for a very particular reason; to inspire fear. That his what you do, and that is why they call you "The Banshee" your screams terrify men and supernaturals alike, so your summoners must have wanted that. They must have wanted you to run around old London town. And since it took quite an effort to even summon you in the first place, they wanted to cause a ruckus of legendary proportions. And finally, and this is what set me off; guess number five you were chasing around a simple farmer from the countryside in town on holiday to visit his grandmother who was passing on. And you don't readily reveal true form, so what is it hmm? What's the big secret?"

He was now but a nose-length from her as the two stared, regarding one another with stony eyes. Secretly however, Zaiya was terrified. Nobody but one of the old gods could have ever known her history, and as extensively as that he did too. On top of that, he smelled. Terribly. Like the cold musk of mausoleums opened after years of slumber. Like the sharp, acrid stench of corpses dug up from their graves. And she could hear them, voices that surrounded him, oozed from him was him. She could see it too, the darkness that seemed to stretch and shimmer behind him, the yawning abyss in his eyes so cold that for one moment, she wished herself back into the pit. She could feel it, complete and utter immobilizing terror grip her as she stood, rock solid in his predatory sights. She felt it burning at her stomach and setting her mind on fire as it licked and ate at her rational thoughts. And she remembered feeling this fear only once before. And even then it was during her banishment.

She knew the time was short, she knew what he was doing, and that if she stayed he would get what he want. So she did the only thing available to her.

~~~~

Jean watched as the she-thing evaporated into thin air. "You win this once, but keep close eyes on the shadows black one, for one day they will come for you." The succumbs had called as her body faded like mist in the morning light. Breathing a sigh of relief, she felt her mind go back to the other place. The feral nature of the wolf receding as the human aspect came, with it's plethora of thoughts, emotions, questions, and actions.

"What in the name of the Almighty was that?" She after the transition had left her. The sensation of becoming human washing over her like a cold tidal wave, waking her up from her canine dreams. For a few minutes, Grimm didn't answer. He continued staring intently at the spot where Zaiya had been not half an hour ago. His eyes conveying the gears that now clanged and banged in his head as his mind turned over thought after thought.

"That, my dear Jean D'arc, was a relic of the past age. An old, old succubus, female temptress demon. Fifth and forgotten daughter of Batty, or rather Agrat Bat Mahlat; One of the four angels of Sacred Prostitution. Her mother and I.....we were very close once." His voice trailed off as he snapped to attention. "Jean, we must head back at once. Zaiya's appearance is a grave omen. It appears that the gates of the past are being opened."

She dusted off her petticoat, letting her naturally dark oakwood hair flowing in the chilly night air. "And what of Christopher and the pony? He sighed a contract Grimm, we can't just let him leave...well...alive that is." She finished. Grimm simply sighed deeply, closing his eyes as he let his breath go.

"I know, but I'd rather not take his soul. If we're careless with the disposal of the body, then Celestia's agents will no doubt find him. They've been on our tail for a while now. And I can't risk fulfilling a contract if it means angering the might of the sun." He finished solemnly, striding forward and down the empty street leaving Jean to run behind him.

"So what do we do?" She asked, panting from the tole the Wolverine curse had extracted. He turned as soon as she'd spoken, the merry twinkle returning to his eye.

"Why, we proceed with the case my dear! The Canterbury Caterwauls if I remember I remember. Such an odd name for such a serious case. But I'm willing to bet my bottom bit that Zaiya and her masters are behind this. So for now? We wait, we play their game. And when the time comes, we will go forth an consume them." He spoke with ferocity and mirth.

"For we are the Agency of Doors are we not? And I promised that stallion that we would get to the bottom of this." He grinned, the corners of his mouths pulled like drawstrings to reveal perfectly white teeth as he strode off into the night, leaving Jean to huff and puff as she tried, and failed to catch up.

"That man scares me." She mumbled to herself. Shuddering involuntarily as she said 'man'. Somehow, somewhere in the bottom of her heart, she knew that particular assumption to be wrong.

Case 1: The chase is on (1)

Fire and brimstone rained down as the world erupted in cataclysmic fervor. Creatures of fire did battle with creatures of fire as one poured from the earth while the other poured from heaven. Amidst the hell and misery and pain four warriors stood. They fought along side each other. Not for the ones bound to the earth, nor for the ones on high from the heavens. Mortals, yet not. Gods in their own right, yet belittled and scorned by their supernatural peers. They fought for one another, brothers in arms at the eve of the world. Fighting in a square so that each covered the other's back. One in particular stood out, a figured covered head to toe in black. He who swung his scythe. He who fought like a cornered beast. He was vicious. Swinging and cutting and loping and driving and stabbing and ravaging and killing. He and his brother, another clad all in shining bronze armor with two Xiphos' and a blood red plume atop his head broke from their two brothers and into the tide of bodies. Cutting and weaving. Ducking and launching. Snarling and spitting and killing and screaming and smiling and laughing savagely.

Eventually, the one in black bellowed as he summoned forth a column of darkness from the defiled ground. Thrusting his arms skyward, he drove the column into the bodies. Those of heaven and earth died as the darkness choked them and snuffed their lives. Turning fire to mere cinder.

**"LOOK UPON ME AND WEEP!""FOR I AM THE ONCOMING STORM. I AM THE HAND THAT BRINGS DOWN THE GREAT. I AM THE GREAT HUNTER. I AM INDOMITABLE!* "*

I

AM"-

~~~~

It was very early in the morning.

The mist rolled by like a silent serpent. Slithering through the undergrowth and through the waking city. Already she could hear the sound of merchants setting up shop, conversing with one another as they prepared themselves for the screaming, bargaining, and selling that came with daily life.

In front of her, sitting on a stool, was her former student turned detective for hire.

"Any word on the manhunts around the Wharf or Quay districts?" Asked the monarch, delicately taking a sip of Ginseng tea as she enjoyed the feel of morning time. A soft wind blew threw the gargantuan windows of the throne room, cold enough to nip, yet not enough to truly chill. Sighing, Twilight levitated the Calabash pipe to take a sip of her rapidly cooling tea.

"It was reported that there had been a tussle down on Mackle Place near the docking and decommissioning yards." Responded Twilight, pausing as she gathered her thoughts. "There were no witnesses, but I did find trace amounts of blood around the Wharf." Twilight stiffened as she gave Celestia a level stare. "It was them again. I ran a recollection spell on those blood samples. They came from the woman, the Lou-Garou."

Celestia sighed deeply, letting the tension loose. "Celestia, they are not to be trifled with. This group of....thieves and liars, they may act good, they may do good. But when all is said and done, and your staring at what remains of your life, that's when they strike.

"And how do they strike?"

"By stealing your soul." Celestia's eyes widened fractionally at the grim news.

"How so?" She asked politely. Taking another sip of tea to stall any refocusing of issues. Twilight sighed so softly that it was barely audible as she got up and started pacing.

"Within every single being there is a residual energy that oozes out of their skin like oil. Now, it has no name because it is technically impossible. It's existence is technically a paradox. and revealing how, why, or what it is, could threaten your life. Therefore, we shall be using an alias for it; ectoplasm. Now, ectoplasm isn't in any book....well it is, but those are different books. The point is, no magical historian, archivist, magician, unicorn, warlock, or witch has ever written about it. But it's there. And anyone who even has a spark of magic in their vein can see it. Most learn to dampen it overtime until they only see it as a colored outline on a body. But no matter the case, it's always there." Twilight paused as Celestia quirked an eyebrow.

"So what does the 'ectoplasm' have anything to do with the recent rash of murders? And about this mysterious group you keep on about?" She asked, voice taking on a hint of sarcasm.

"In short? The bodies found at this 'mysterious group's last locations are missing any trace of it." Her voice fell flat as she gave the princess a plaintive stare.

"Couldn't the bodies have just been...oh I don't know...old? Couldn't the ectoplasm have evaporated naturally? The soul leaving the body so to speak?" She turned Twilight's flatness with her own joviality.

"No. It never does. This...thing..on the bodies of all biological things. It never leaves. Even when the person or pony or what have you dies, their bodies still contain a minuscule, yet visible amount of the stuff. I've carried out studies before, monitoring bodies in the morgue for upwards to a year to see if it fades or eventually vanishes. Nothing. Granted, the majority of the plasm does leave. But that trace outline remains. Glowing in whatever color it does." She stopped, staring at the princess expectantly.

"So....this means...what exactly?" The sovereign asked, confused as to the sudden conversational switch to the occult.

"This group, this...'Agency of Doors' as they call themselves. They showed up fifty years ago. And ever since then, the town's been different. Used to just be the small things. Reports of missing trinkets. Odds and ends. The occasional missing pet or upturned grave. I've been keeping track of them. All those reports and files and whatnots. I knew in my heart of hearts they were bad news. And I was right. Two months ago, a rash of murders began spreading from North New Vaudeville to the tip of the River Dames. And every single time. At all the crime scenes I've been too, I've either heard their names. Seen one or two of their members, or, at the worst of times, seen them actually touching the newly discovered body.  And it's been the case with every single incident. All the ponies and people found have died from lack of air. Yet there hasn't been any bruising to the neck, throat, lungs, heart, veins, and arteries. All of them have been found with their mouths hanging open in an 'O', almost as if they were sucking. And again, all of them are missing the background Ectoplasm."

Twilight finished, panting for breath.

"So. What do you want me to do about it?" Asked Celestia, returning Twilight's previous flat tone.

"Make them enemies of the public. Have a poster on every street corner, back alley, and window shop. Take every call related to them. Flush them out. And maybe then we can stop this murder spree."

~~~~~

The door burst open. On Saint Havrensburg Lane . In a small inconspicuous corner, a door burst open. "SANTIAGO! WE'RE HOME! AND WE HAVE THE SCENT! No offense Jean." A man wearing a black frock coat and tophat shouts into the humble abode. In the vestibule of the doorway, he's greeted by the sight of dozens upon dozens of books. All in rows upon rows of shelving. Trinkets, baubles, and everything in between is scattered all over the floors. Rolling and walking and chattering in all it's metallic entirety. Globes of the world spinning of their own accord. Two legged dipping birds jumping around and squawking. It was an impossible world of machinery of magic. Locked away in that little door on Saint Havrensburg Lane. But not one in the party of 4. The addition being one slumped and unconscious stallion paid the roaring man any mind as they stormed in. Their strides beset with purpose and each as each splintered off to their own works, peeling left and right, never forward as the man in frock went, they all turned away.

And in the man's eyes burned a backlit fire of hell. Stoked by curiosity and righteous fury..

"So have I." Resounded another voice. It came from straight ahead and slightly to the left. A single deadlocked door. A behemoth of steel and iron. As he strode, the monster opened and from it came the clipped inflections of another man. A man who could be found laughing, as jovial as he was fair. He was at the best of times a saint. But at the worst of times he was

"Alchemist!" Called the man in frock, running to the door and throwing the deadbolts, leaping down the stairs and into the lab below.

"I've triangulated the location! All the murders are happening between Morning Darrows and Mabel Streets!" Shouted Jean.

"EXCELLENT!" He remarked, grabbing the nearest vile from the shelf of viles filled with incandescent an iridescent liquids. Phosphorous, Sulfur, Mercury, Lead, Copper, Zinc, Iron and Steel all melded in a cacophony of brewing madness as the two worked, not a single order passed between them.

"Mister Hayfields isn't waking up!" Shouted Christoper.

"BOLLOCKS!" Retorted the man all in black, working hurriedly. "Santiago, I need a Phosphorous and Holy Water blend!" He shouted as the Alchemist poured the two into a small vile, putting a sliver of a cork in its wedge and throwing it to the raggedy man in black.

"Succubus?" Asked the Alchemist finally as the Man in black headed back up the staircase.

"No. Not A Succubus, The last succubus." He replied.

~~~~

The police station was ablaze with activity as officers scampered too and fro. Twilight watched grimly as they hastily prepared for the night's assault. The call to arms had come just after sunset, seven o'clock sharp. Twilight had been delegating with the Princess for nearly the whole day. Eventually, she had won, not due to conviction, but rather due to the Princess's weariness of the whole sordid affair. She had urged Twilight to take whatever course of action she had deemed necessary. And the mare made certain to use the Princess's approval's wisely. She had worked all day, coordinating with the local officers that patrolled near Saint Haverensburg Lane. She had made sure that tonight would be the night that the notorious "Agency" would be put down. Still, she felt the black tides of sleep washing at the beaches of her mind. Calling enticingly to the wearied and rusted thing that was her mind. But still she stayed, watching over her men and women. Mares and stallions as they gathered arms, coats, donned hats and carried messages. Cordoned sidewalks and cut off escape routes for the "Agency of Doors". She watched as they placed red dots on a map, slowly getting closer to pinpointing evidence that would put those men and women away behind bars for the rest of their natural lives.

"Ma'am!" A voice called from behind her as the doors to her office, letting the roaring insanity of a thousand voices all trying to speak to each other in. "I've just received word that the Agency is planning something. Whatever it is, the officers already at the scene report various shouts and yells accompanied with explosions. It appears they might be onto something as well." Finished the young cop. Twilight turned to him slowly, eyeing and appraising him. He was a young unicorn, barely out of his teens and already on the workforce. The large uniform seemed all the larger on his lanky blue frame and his breath came quickly, cheeks rosy due to exertion.

"Very well, tell them the force is near mobilized." She stated calmly, beginning to turn back to her desk. As she was turning, another messenger burst in, huffing and puffing due to his overly un-muscular physique.

"Ma'am...it's the *wheeze* Agency! They're *cough* on the move!" He shouted, doubling over to catch his breath as Twilight shot up out of her chair and pushed past him.

"Bugger bugger bugger bugger." She muttered under her breath. Stopping only once on her way to the door to pick up her coat. "ATTENTION! THOSE DAFT BASTARDS ARE ON THE MOVE! I WANT THIS SET UP AT THEIR HOUSING, AND I WANTED IT YESTERDAY! SO I SUGGEST YOU LOT SNAP TO UNLESS YOU WANT TO SEE THIS MURDERS LIVE FREE ANOTHER DAY!" She screeched above the noise, inspiring the troops as she exited into the cold and dreary night.

A soldier marching unto the breach.

TO BE CONTINUED