The League of Obscure 90’s TV Characters
Alan Moore’s Black Dossier inspired this homage. However, instead of literary classics I use 90’s American Television as my launching pad.
The following takes place between October 10th and 11th, 1998…
Agent Bauer’s fingers shuffle down a row of dusty book spines, then another, then another. Finally, he snatches a thick tome from its forgotten perch. The binding cracks open like arthritic knuckles and reveals faded, Italian script inside. How such a valuable book ended up hidden in a high school library is of immediate interest to the CIA Agent.
Bauer emerges from the classics section just as his hostage, the Librarian, regains consciousness.”Where did you get this?” Bauer deadpans.
“PTA Donation Drive.” He barely finishes before Bauer cracks him on the jaw with the ancient book.
“You’re lying. Who are you?” Bauer hoists the bookworm up by his collar, “Who are you?” But it’s no use - he’s out again.
Suddenly, voices approach in the distance - kids - maybe 3 or 4. “Does anyone at this school ever go home?”
Priceless text in hand, Bauer ducks out out an emergency exit to avoid a delay. He boosts a Hummer parked in the student lot and speeds East out of Sunnydale, California.
* * *
“May I have one of those?” President Bartlett thinks a Morley might keep his hands from shaking.
The cigarette smoking man at the other end of the room happily obliges and even provides the light. “They don’t like me smoking in the Oval but, hey, it’s one of those nights.” He takes a deep drag and leans back. “I’m not sure how much I like all this ‘top-top-secret’ business. Syndicates, Sections and Initiatives… Am I to assume all these subversive organizations are staffed with men just like you?”
“Men like me?” A thick smoke creeps out from the corners of his mouth.
“Hired thugs.” A soft beep from the President’s desk interrupts them. It’s Bauer from a pay phone on the I-Five. The book is secure and he’s headed for the desert - this is the last they’ll hear from him until he reaches the lab.
Everything is proceeding as planed. Despite his unease with the whole situation the President enjoys a moment of relief. He instructs the smoking man to get this mess squared away tonight.
The smoking man excuses himself. Before leaving he reminds the President, “You’re here maybe 8 years… but the Syndicate is forever.”
* * *
Johns Hopkins University rests in stark contrast with the modern Baltimore landscape. This is a place where new ideas and old ghosts intermingle freely. Here; Detective Frank Pembleton expects to solve a murder.
“I don’t have any telepathic abilities myself. I can’t do your job for you.” Dr. Spengler points to the ‘Paranormal Psychology’ plaque on his door. His blond pompadour framed by an obnoxious pair of red glasses makes Frank grind his teeth.
“How about an educated guess then?” Frank lays out crime scene photos of a woman wrapped up in plastic and washed up on the Patapsco River. “She used to be on that news show out of DC; the one with the single mother and the two dollar Dan Rather.”
“I don’t watch TV.”
“You know what? I don’t think you can help me, I’m sorry to have wasted your time.” Frank hastily gathers up the photos. “I’m Catholic, I don’t buy this crap, anyway.”
“Are you trying to bait me, Detective?” Spengler shows him to the door.
“I’m losing my god damn mind. I had a dream that told me to come here.” Frank laughs at himself as he turns to leave. “A little man in a red suit said you would have answers.”
Spengler reaches out and grabs Frank’s arm. There’s something familiar about the dream. “What else did he say?”
“He… introduced me to a man named Artemus. He said Artemus would kill again.” Frank is embarrassed and pulls away.
“Wait, Detective.” Spengler strokes his chin and bites his lip. “I may be able to help you after all.”
To Be Continued…
