Chapter 29

An Entry from the Diary of Damien Slayer,

Stryker and I trudged through the damp, gray streets of suburban Seattle, the aftertaste of our battle with Prometheus still lingering. As we walked, we couldn't have looked more out of place - or more attention-drawing - if we had tried.

I was still ragged from the fight, my clothing torn and my body bruised and battered. The fresh claw marks visible on my back served as a visceral reminder of the danger we had just escaped. The only saving grace was that most people out at this hour were shrouded in darkness, preoccupied with their own lives.

But then, there was Stryker. The sheer size of the man would have been striking enough, his massive frame towering over me and everyone else. Yet it wasn't just his stature that made him so conspicuous. He was dressed in an alb, the long white linen tunic worn by clergy during religious services.

It was the only garment we could find on such short notice that would fit his enormous body, and it looked absurdly out of place in this modern setting. The funny thing about it was how it hung from his hulking frame, not quite reaching the ground, but not short enough to be considered fashionable either. If it weren't for the grim events that precipitated this attire, the scene could have been almost comical.

Our shoes echoed against the pavement as we passed the hollow cages of corporate coffee chains and the fluorescent-lit windows of run-down laundromats. The rain drizzled lazily from the overcast sky, threatening to pick up at any moment and undoubtedly draw even more gawkers to our bizarre appearance.

Stryker said, "We're gonna need to call a cab or something as soon as we can. It's only a matter of time before someone goes into the church. With the dead body, the wrecked place, and people remembering seeing a big, incredibly handsome guy walking the streets wearing stolen vestments, we'll draw attention pretty quickly."

Considering his wisdom, I replied, "Maybe we should ditch the alb. You walking around bare-chested won't draw any more attention than the way you are now. Besides, it won't actually link us to the murder scene."

He considered my point and said, "As much as I heal quickly, with the alb off, I'll look like I just survived a battle. That'll draw attention."

Looking at the alb, I noticed patches of red peeking through. "I think that might be too late as well," I pointed out.

Looking down at himself, he said with a grimace, "Ah, fuck. Well, now I look doubly ridiculous."

Ripping the alb off and casting it over a wall, he walked on, now looking like a battered escapee from some local bodybuilding competition.

I said, "This isn't great either, but it's better. There'll be a Walmart or something around that we can get you a shirt in."

Stryker pointed towards a nearby cemetery and suggested, "How about I hang low in there for a while, and you go find us some new clothes? You're not quite as conspicuous. Reckon you can manage that without getting yourself attacked or kidnapped by one of the creatures from 'The Island of Dr. Moreau'?"

I looked at him flatly, said nothing, and continued walking as he bounded over the wall to the graveyard. Resigning myself to the task at hand, I adjusted my path to find the nearest clothing store, hoping that Stryker's newly acquired hiding spot would suffice in keeping him out of trouble - at least for the moment.

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The darkness had fully enveloped suburban Seattle by the time I returned to the cemetery, a Walmart shopping bag containing a fresh set of clothes swinging from my hand. As I entered the graveyard, Stryker spotted me and laughed.

"Didn't you get anything for yourself? You look pretty fucking bad yourself," he remarked.

I responded, "Of course, I did, but I wasn't going to change in Walmart. As much as I stand out, if law enforcement does start looking, the scuffed-up, bloody guy who goes into Walmart in one set of clothes and comes out in another will be suspect number one. I'll change here as well, and maybe get some mileage from the new disguise."

Stryker chuckled, "You do know a little something about staying out of the hands of the law."

I sighed, "I've only been doing it, let's see, oh, all my adult life."

I handed him the largest Seahawks jersey I'd been able to find and began changing into a new t-shirt and a reversible jacket for myself. I also put on a new baseball cap, which I turned inside-out.

Stryker looked at the small pile of new clothes that still remained in the bag and said, "Thought you'd add a little to your collection while you were at it?"

I explained, "If the cops start looking, I will have drawn attention, and they can check what I bought. If all I bought was that red t-shirt and cap, then that's the description they can put out. This way, they can't guess what combo I'll have on."

Stryker nodded appreciatively. "Not gonna matter much. We'll get the fuck out of here, call a car, and get Raz to arrange some private air travel for us."

I shook my head. "I'm not done yet. I promised a friend I'd check something out upstate."

Stryker raised an eyebrow. "A friend?"

I clarified, "Well, the man who spent most of my life hunting me and planning to put a lump of lead in my brain. But he's had a change of heart in recent years, and I decided to do him a solid."

Stryker sighed heavily. "So now, I gotta choose if I'll abandon you to attract all the secret monsters of the world to you on your own, or if I should tag along in case you need more muscle."

I assured him, "Really, what happened at the church was a freak event. I got along fine for years on my own."

Stryker poked at me and said, "And Berlin, don't forget about Berlin."

I waved him away. "That was the same monster, so I really think they only count as one."

Stryker laughed heartily but quietly. "So, what's upstate that we need to care about so much?"

I explained, "There's a mental institution there. Somebody I met once was sent there after... something happened to her. My old enemy, now friend, Bill, wants me to check it out. He thinks I might be able to see something he can't."

Stryker nodded, "So, this isn't related to the overarching quest of our gang of misfits at all."

I was rueful. "Oh, no, quite the opposite. She was sent there after... well, she was sent there after she was attacked by something, the same something that killed my girlfriend in a previous life, Penny, and turned me into one of America's most wanted for most of my life."

Stryker raised an eyebrow and said, "She was one of Prowler – what's his name, Perseus'– victims? Homer's daddy got her?"

I replied, "Yeah, so she might be a link to him. As much as I'm down to play along with the big revenge story with Ardia and Homer as the main characters, Prowler is what I want. He's been my reason for breathing for decades. Any link I can find is something I have to follow."

Stryker tutted, "Boy, Homer'll be fucking mad if we nail his dad to the wall without him."

I said, "There's no chance we're going to find Prowler, but we might find something we can add to the trail."

Stryker chuckled as we started to leave the cemetery, "Bet you also thought there was no chance you were gonna get ambushed by a badly drawn ninja turtle either, so really anything's possible, isn't it?"