Edward Cooper.

England, 1963.
Charlie leaned against the hummer, breathing hard, a fresh cut on his arm sent gushes of hot, sticky blood rolling down  to the ground.  He threw an empty bullet cartridge aside and slapped in a new one.  Charlie peeked around the hummer; scanning the graveyard for any more zombies, he could hear them not far off.  Suddenly, Edward came bursting out of some bushes, gun blazing, whooping in excitement.
"Zombies don't like when you shoot at them!"  Cooper called to Charlie, who groaned.
Charlie tied his wound with some gauze from the hummer as Edward ecstaticly mowed down the horde of zombies.  Probably waking up all of Ipswich.  Edward finally came behind the hummer, reloading his gun.
"Aw, they scratch you?"  He said to Charlie.
"Only a little."
Edward gulped down some water from his canteen and wiped the sweat from his eyes.
"Ipswich shouldn't be bothered anymore by by night-time bogeymen anymore."  He said, surveying the dismembered corpses strewn about the graveyard.
"Now, let's find the witch or sorcerer who's responsible for this."  Charlie said, straightening and cocking his gun.
"No witch was responsible for this."  Said a chill, cruel voice.
Edward and Charlie whipped around guns ready to the sound of the voice.  A vampire stood atop a mausoleum, black robe flowing in the wind, sword in hand.  Edward inspected the vampire's face, he recognized the network of scars and the short, stocky build.
"Klaus, right?"  Edward said shakily, he had heard the stories about Klaus.
"I am he, and you must be Night Shift goons by the look of your uniforms."  Klaus leaped off the mausoleum and strode across the corpse-covered grass to stand only a few feet away from Charlie and Edward.  Klaus stared at both of them, licking his pale lips making his white fangs visible.  A cloud moved away from the full moon, casting eerie shadows with it's silvery light.   A wolf howled not far of.  Klaus listened carefully then whistled a sharp high whistle; the howling ceased and Edward could here something coming through the wood.  What that something was was a werewolf; huge and grey, with red eyes and two rows of fangs.  Then shaggy wolf turned into shaggy man who loped over to Klaus.
"Yes, master?"
"Them."  Klaus pointed with his sword.
The werewolf turned and growled at Edward and Charlie, his gnarled hands ready to crush the life out of either of them.
"Now, Edmund, I'm hungry, how about you?"  Klaus strode over to Edward, who had slipped a stake off his belt, a starved expression on his chalk-white face.
"Now..."
And Klaus lunged at Edward, mouth agape, fangs gleaming.
Edward thrust with his stake, but Klaus was ready for that and parried the blow.  Charlie unslung a cross bow aiming for Klaus's back; but Edmund leaped in front of the Night Shift agent, taking the crossbow in his massive hands and broke it like a child's toy.  Charlie gulped.
Klaus grabbed Edward's fighting arm in a death grip attempting to break it.  Edward tried to resist the steel grip, yelling in the effort, and slowly was able to shake the vampire off.
"Your strong,"  Klaus glanced at Edward's name tag, "Cooper.  But not that strong."  Klaus pulled back his fist.  Edward threw himself to the ground not a second to soon; a crater was left in the side of the hummer where, moments before, his chest had been.  Charlie went flying over the hummer, hit by Edmund like a volleyball, crash landing on top of the mausoleum, Edward and Klaus both stared for a moment then resumed their fight.  Edmund came lumbering over, hands ready to strangle the prone agent, he picked up Charlie as easily if he were a child and wrapped a grizzled hand around his comparably smaller throat.  Charlie limply raised his arm, a loaded revolver in his hand.  He fired thrice.  Edmund stood on wobbling legs, then keeled backwards crashing down on a grave stone, reducing it to rubble.
The sound of tires on gravel reached Klaus's and Edward's ears, two hummers spotlights on, came around the corner, Night Shift agents jumping out rushing over to Edward.
"Edmund!"  Klaus was already at the edge of the trees.
The werewolf stumbled to his feet and limped after his fleeing master, off into the night.
Edward hurried over, kneeling next to Charlie.
"You alright?"
Charlie smiled propping himself up on his elbows, "It's only a scratch."
Edward looked back at the forest; there was no sign of Klaus and his grunt.
A cloud drifted in front of the waxed moon, blocking it's baleful rays.                  

Child of Tomorrow.

Tiberius Hill weaved his way among the twisting pipes, wriggling his nine-year-old body through the tight spaces.  It was pitch black, but he could see as well as if it were day, in fact he could see a lot.  He could see the tiny particles of rust on the metal pipes, he could see the individual drops of moisture on the metal ground, and such miniscule detail.  He froze, then slipped like a shadow behind a pipe as a Sweeper's spotlight swept the area, a momentary ray of white light in the smoggy night.  The beam scanned the pipes, then the Sweeper moved on, down the alleyway.  Tiberius continued his way through the pipes, the looming walls of the steel foundry on either side.  He came to the tracks for the supply train for the factory.  On the other side of the rails was clear of pipes; just clear metaled alley, away from the foundry.  Tiberius scurried across the tracks, wary of watchmen on the compound wall.  On the other side of the railway, away from the steel foundry compound, Tiberius straitened and wiped the grease from his oversized, ratty leather jacket.  He continued away, deep into the twisting alleys of the Bronx, where most wouldn't wander.  But Tiberius went where he pleased and none payed any attention to him.  Except the Sector; they'll chase him anywhere.  He went past dark, towering glass and steel towers, to his home; a derelict, abandoned, storage building.  Not far from an old apartment duplex.  Tiberius settled down in the trash-filled nook that was his bed and slept.    

Lance DeMoi and the Call from the Deep.

Lance was startled to awareness by the ringing of his telephone.  He blindly fumbled about in the dark for his phone, he finally found it and put the phone to his ear..

"You better have a good reason for calling at three in the morning."  He mumbled into the phone.

"I do.  Come to Massachusetts, Essex Bay."

Lance recognized the husky voice as Spark Roberts, a freelance paranormal investigator.
"Now?"  Lance grumbled.
"Yes.  Now."
Lance stumbled out of bed over to his dresser.  He dressed and put on his black leather jacket, brushed his teeth, contemplated his life for a few minutes, and fed Wallace.  His turtle sleepily poked his head out from under his shell as Lance went out the door.  Lance locked his house, though the locals know better than to break in, got on his motorcycle and drove to Little A'Le'Inn.  He parked his motorcycle and walked in, out of the freezing night.  Sid, tall a collage-aged boy, was asleep behind the bar, Lance walked over and rang the attendance bell.  Sid jumped a foot in the air, drool flying off his chin. He blinked, wiping the saliva of his chin with the back of his hand.
"Oh, Mr. DeMoi, it's you.  Would you…uh…like something?"
"Coffee and an Alien Burger.  Make it fast."  Lance slapped some money on the table then leaned back in the stool.  Sid shuffled back into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.  Lance looked up the glowering werewolf head mounted on the wall above the bar, it's glass eyes staring down at the inhabitants of the bar.  Lance heard snoring; he looked and saw Ernie and Bernie passed out on a table in one corner of the restaurant.  Sid came out of the kitchen, a steaming styraphome cup of coffee in one hand, and a plate with the burger on it in the other.  Lance wolfed down the burger, sipping his coffee while he ate.
"So, where off to now, Mr. DeMoi?"  Sid asked, taking the empty plate, his sleeves were rolled up so, his dragon tattoo was visible on his left arm.
"Massachusetts, of all places."  Lance grumbled, "not even sure why.  Well, I'll be seein ya."
Sid waved goodbye as Lance left the little bar.  He mounted his motorcycle and drove through the chill morning to Alamo.  He rode to the Landing Field and got off his bike and looked around for Quincy.  Quincy was a friend of Lance's and a pilot.  Lance found his friend dozing in a storage room, he roused his friend.  Quincy snorted and opened his eyes.
"Well, Mr. DeMoi, what kin I do ya fer?"
"I need you to fire up your plane.  I have a quick trip to make to Boston."
Soon Lance was in Quincy's custom-made jet, going faster than a commercial airline.  In seven hours, Lance was standing on the sunlit hill, overlooking the Atlantic.  Spark Roberts, suddenly and soundlessly, was standing next to Lance.  He still wasn't quite used to that.
"Roberts,"  Lance said.
"DeMoi," said the other.
"Why'd you want me to come here, Spark,"
"Where we stand is the site of Innsmouth, a town not fully in this reality, it looks into the ocean, where, an ancient, lost, civilization rests.  Stare into the Bay's waters, Lance."
Lance grumbled about wasted time and sleep, but he peered deep into the blue-green water of the Bay.  He saw something move, then; blackness.
Lance awoke in his little house back in Rachel, he gasped, cold sweat running down his face; vague images of madness and tentacles slithering to the back of his mind.                     

It has been seven days since everything stopped.  The people vanished.  All of them, everyone in the world.  I haven't met another soul in all this time.  I collected as much food as I could in towns, along with ammunition, but I had to know what the world was like outside of my city sanctuary, so I left.  I was originally from Manchester, New Hampshire, I was an accountant for Cyberus Co., a computer company.  One day I woke up, and looked out the window; no one was outside.  No paper boy; just a bike and sack on the curb.  No Mr. Johnson sipping his coffee and watering the yard; a cracked coffee mug and running water hose sat idly on his front step.  Cars sat idle in the street, dog houses were vacant, trees were empty of bird-song.  The city proper was pretty bad; the streets were packed with cars, still running, so I walked to the Cyberus building.  It was empty to.  All the computers were still on.  I soon gathered up as many belongings I needed in my big back pack, took a gun from Brockman's Firearms and went off into the unknown.  In the seven days since I left, I've traveled to the northern border of Massachusetts.  Though I haven't seen any form of life, I think I see smoke in the distance, it could be a wild fire, though it's rather small.  Oh well.  And though I'm alone, sometimes at night when I'm huddled around my campfire, I think I hear things off in the woods.  Good thing I at least now how to shoot a gun.  Well that's all for now, I guess.

Recording of Jeffery Westroad, seven days after the Blackout.        

Quest

From  your little cottage, head down the north path.
Stop by the well at the top of the green hill and make a wish.
Keep going north until you reach the crone in the wagon.
Give what she asks for, she will give you a watch; then go northwest to the gnome's burrow.
Do not give the gnome what he wants, throw him down the river.
Take the gnome's compass and follow the north road.
You will reach a gate, you must lie to the guard to get by.
Go to the castle to the north.
Enter the main hall; there are three doors guarded by three owls.
One lies, one tells the truth, and one carries away the questioner (hint: it is not the middle one or his brother).
Once past the owls through the correct door; go down the east passage.
You will meet cooks and beggars, asking for help; only give it to the wall-eyed, one-legged one.
He will give you an iron key; go up the northern stairs to the top and open the door with the key.
Once in the tower; a djinn will try to tempt you; do not fall for it, take the djinn's daimond belt.
Count to five and jump out the only window to the west; a flying carpet will catch you.
Fly the carpet to the tree with three trunks; get off and travel south along the dirty brook.
A fairy will come from the brook and ask you to help her clean the river; do so.
She will give you a clam for your efforts; do not open it, go south.
You will reach a fork, the wind will tell you to go a certain direction; go the opposite of what it tells you.
You will come to two huts; a witch lives in one and a sage in the other, enter the one with the sage in it.
He will ask for the belt; give it to him.
The sage will give you a book in return; read only the 700th page, do what it says.
You will come to a tower guarded by four ogres; give the western ogre the compass, he will leave, enter the door.
Four bottles sit before you in a room ringed with fire; one is poisoned, one summons a demon, one returns you home, and one cancels the flames, drink this last one. (it is not the one to the left or middle)
Go up the white staircase.
Five doors are at the top; enter the middle one.
The princess held captive in the room will ask you to stay with her; you must refuse.
Press upon her the importance of your mission.
She will give you a rope, a mirror, and a potion; do not drink the potion.
Use the rope to climb down the tower, use the mirror to direct sunlight on the ogre, it will turn to stone.
The princess will follow you; lead her down the western path.
It is getting dark; you must keep going though.
Continue down the path to the ferry; give the ferryman the clam, he will take you across the river.
Take the torch from the pile of hay; light it and take the two horses waiting for you, take the middle path.
A man will tell you he is a guide; do not look at him or talk to him.
You will come to the foot of the dragon's mountain; drink the potion.
Take the sword and slay the dragon; take none of his treasure except a ruby necklace.
Go down the other side of the mountain; a sphinx will be waiting.
It will ask a riddle; answer correctly. (the answer: A key, a rabbit, and a pot.)
Be warned; once you turn your back on the sphinx it will attack you.
Tell the sphinx the riddle read from the 700th page from the book; it will fail and eat itself.
You will come to a mountain pass that splits in two; take the one that the falcon flies over.
Follow the falcon; do not look around, only at the falcon.
You will come to a river; a fox offers to take people across, do not except.
Use the mirror to show the fox it's reflection; it will attack, run across the ford to the north.
Follow the runestones through the field, you will arrive at a dwarf's house; rest there for the night.
In the morning, the dwarf will tell you where to go, give him the watch or he will follow you.
You will find yourself in the Great Wood; search for the fairy ring with the purple toadstool, be wary elves will be watching.
A fairy will appear and demand why you are here; giver the ruby necklace.
She will tell you the way to the king's castle and a water skin, go there.
Give the princess to the king, he will tell you the way to the Garden and give you a sword.
Follow the path north.
You will find a great river; a bridge crosses the river.
A troll will come up and try to eat you; slay him with your sword.
Follow the path east to the giant cliff, climb it with your rope.
The Garden is at the top; a riddle is inscribed on the gate.
The badger knows the answer, find his burrow.
Give him the mirror, he will tell you the answer.
Take one and only one apple from the tree; then flee.
The warlock will chase after you.
Run to the cliff, throw the water from your water skin at him.
The warlock will melt.
Do not eat the apple; return home.
And rest...

Deceased SACorps agents.

Cmdr. Alexandre Sherman:
Sex: Male.
Age: 48.
Date of Death: August 24, 1917.  Munich, Germany.
Special attributes: Energy battery.
One of the first three members of the SACorps, and the only one to die.  Alexander died during World War 1.

Sgt. Peter Smimov:
Sex: Male.
Age: 57.
Date of Death: March 15, 1947.  Moscow, Russia.
Special attributes: Magician.
A skilled magician and former member of Antiochus's Carnival.  Peter was possessed by Nimue and was killed by Lance and Ariadne.

Capt. Sydney Thorne:
Sex: Female.
Age: 75.
Date of Death: September 2, 1996.  Concord, Mass.
Special attributes: Psychic.
The only member of the SACorps to die of old age.  She died peacefully in her home at Concord.

Col. Roslyn Addams:
Sex: Female.
Age: 36.
Date of Death: July 10, 1974.  Kansas City, Missouri.  
Special attributes: Extreme flexibility.
A former employee of Antiochus, Roslyn died during the Seven Days of Darkness.

Lt. Dr. Charles Swift:
Sex: Male.
Age: 44.
Date of Death: July 1, 1940. Iraq.  MIA.
Special attributes:  Physical animal qualities.
Charles went missing in Iraq below the Euphrates.

Cmdr. Ariadne Jones:
Sex: Female.
Age: 29.
Date of Death: October 30, 1948.  Mount Tai, China.
Special attributes: Mind control.
Died fighting the Dragon King.

Lt. Mandy:
Sex: Female.
Age: 32.
Date of Death: January 16, 1961.  Sub-Mediterranean.
Special attributes: Precognition.
Drowned in Atlantis, allowed Lance to escape.

Cmdr. Milo Smith:
Sex: Male.
Age: 40.
Date of Death: March 23, 1982.  Manhattan, NY.
Special attributes: Pyrokinesis.
Slain by occultists in New York subway.

Capt. Harley Green:
Sex: Male.
Age: 45.
Date of Death: February 25, 1985.  Carpathian Mountains, Romania.  
Special attributes: Werebear.
Killed by Dracula as Harely and Lance fled.

Col. Daniel Chun:
Sex: Male.
Age: 26.
Date of Death: September 3, 1968, Mt. Everest, Nepal.
Special attributes: Chi, martial arts expert.
Destroyed by the Mahatmas.

Lt. Kishba:
Sex: Female.
Age: 800.
Date of Death: November 19, 1956.  Tatra Mountains, Slovakia.
Special attribute: Slavic faerie.
Killed by Zeus.

Sgt. Rupert and James:
Sexes: Males.
Ages: 31.
Date of Deaths: December 4, 1945.  Tehran, Iran.
Special attributes: Mentally linked twins, psychtaxonomy.
Died fighting Fifth Star Cult.

Lance DeMoi and the Coven Covenant.

Lance leaned over Allison's shoulder.
"According to the Wicce Compendium, it's a witch symbol.  It looks like an upside down triangle with an X across it?  I think it is a symbol for war."  Napoleon said over the headset.  Lance swiped a bit of the nearest edges, he tasted it.  He spat.
"Tastes like lead, newt's eye, and nightshade."
"That's definately a witch formula.  And, Lance, there are other ways to test the components of witch symbols."
A Los Angeles detective, Clark, edged over.
"And what, uh, what department are you guys from again?"  He looked first at Lance then at the symbol on the brick wall.
"DPIR."  Lance flashed the officer his badge, "Cpt. Paranormal Investigator Lance DeMoi at your service.  And this is my partner, Sgt. King."  They shook hands.  The detective stared uneasily at Lance's right eye, which was green and glowed gently.
"May we see the victim, Detective?"  Allison asked.  He nodded and lead them to the ambulance.  Lance and Allison folded back the white covering: the dead actress was popular during her life.
"No signs of external or internal wounds or injuries, no poisons, or drugs it appears, I don'-"  The detective was saying, Lance cut him off.
"It was either a spell or a rare black magic poison.  We're dealing with a witch orchastrated murder here, Officer."
Clark pushed his glasses up his nose.
"A spell?  Really?  Chief wasn't lying, this murder is weird."
"Was the victim, the actress, involved in anything unusual?"  Asked Allison as they walked into the house.  The inspector thought for a moment.
"Yes, I think so.  Kimberly was involved in a large variety of clubs and organizations."
Lance and Allison surveyed the place where the body was found and any questionable items.
"Mind if we look about?"  Lance asked.  The detective glanced over to his superior, who nodded his consent.
"Yes, you may."  The three of them walked through the actress's mansion: past large, richly decorated lounges, an enormous kitchen, in which Kimberly's caretakers were being questioned by police, and other such gilded rooms.  Lance scanned the walls, floor and ceiling with his magic eye for any hidden doors or rooms.  He stopped outside her bedroom.
"In there.  There's a hidden trap door, it leads down into the basement."  They entered, passed the investigators searching the room and tried open the little door.  It was tightly sealed.  Lance brought his heel smashing down on the wood planks; the broken door fell down the shaft, he leapt down onto the ladder.  Bianca and Clark followed.  The ladder lead them down into a crawl space, separated from the rest of the mansion by thick, concrete walls.  Lance and Bianca looked around the room: it was filled with, large, leather bound books, cauldrons, voodoo dolls and bone implements.
"Looks like like little Miss Pretty was a bride of Satan."  Lance said, his right  eye scanning the chests and drawers.
Biance threw an arm in front of Clark and Lance.  "Wait.  I sense someone, or rather, something."
Clark whispered, "How?"  Bianca tapped her head with a finger.
"Telepath."
Bianca then motioned Lance toward a small door in the wall, they both drew guns loaded with silver bullets.  Lance kicked open the little door, gun at the ready.  A black shape flew out of the compartment beyond, but both Bianca and Lance fired.  The cat familiar flew against the wall as the force of the bullets hit it; Lance stopped over and picked the wounded animal off the ground.
"Name."  Lance demanded of the familiar.  The large black cat quivered, Lance shook it violently.
"Bartholemew!"  The demon whined.
"That's better.  So the famed actress Kimberly was witch.  Why?"
Bartholemew whimpered.
"She, my mistress, joined a club, the Five Star Nightclub.  After proving her devotion my mistress was allowed into the inner circles of the Five Stars. There, in a ritual, she was vested with eldritch powers from the Mistress.  But my master grew afraid of the Club, so she was going to talk to the authorities.  Now the Mistress couldn't allow that, so she had my master killed."
Lance nodded, "Good.  Now where are the headquarters of the Five Stars?"
The demon whimpered again.
"They're gone now, it's almost the Winter Solstice, they're going to the Witchmeet."
"Where is the Witchmeet?"  Bianca asked.  The DPIR had been searching for the site of the Witchmeet for years.
"Where the Wizendmeet is."  The demon managed a small sneer.  Lance smashed it upside the head with his gun.
"And where's the Wizendmeet?"
"Ireland!  It's at Ireland!  But first they'll be going to Salem"  Bartholemew gasped.
"Thank you."  Lance said politely.  He threw the demon against the opposite wall and shot it dead.
"All right then.  Bianca, call Richard, we're going to Salem."  Lance told Bianca as he holstered his gun and walked toward the ladder.