Fandom Island Gazette Building, Sunday
[The part of Carl Kolchak, forty-something investigative reporter of direct Polish descent from 1974, is now being played by a thirty-something Irish actor, born in the seventies.]
It had been a long trip from L.A. (as evidenced by a whole episode without him in it due really to contract re-negotiations) and Carl had fallen into bed as soon as he'd arrived. Now he didn't want to get up, the quiet of the small village he'd found himself in reminded him of his wife and that reminded him of her murder and how he had been blamed for it.
He rubbed a hand over his chiseled face. He only had a few days, he knew, before Perri figured out he wasn't really out sick and tracked him down. And that wouldn't do. His informant had been reluctant to give him this information, but Carl was sure it was connected to his wife's murder. There were clues here on this small island, and he was going to find them. Scare them out of the dark...
"Bawooooooooo."
But first he was going to have to feed Buster, the dog he'd saved from drowning during his trip East, and who'd subsequently saved him from a pack of zombies in the dessert and a cannibal family in the mountains.
"Come on, boy." Carl swung his legs over the bed and tried to smile at the dog. It didn't work, but the dog understood and jumped enough to rest its front legs and head on Carl's knee. Carl let his hand, the hand with the mysterious mark that Carl had no memory of getting and that the camera zoomed in to focus on, rest on Buster's head and turned to stare out the bedroom window. Another day without her. Another day of fighting the powers of darkness and hoping to find anything that could explain... well, the plot anything.
[No OCD. No paper today, cause he's just arrived zomg and needs at least an episode to be emo! Feel free to bug him, cause he's only got this one scene for now.]
It had been a long trip from L.A. (as evidenced by a whole episode without him in it due really to contract re-negotiations) and Carl had fallen into bed as soon as he'd arrived. Now he didn't want to get up, the quiet of the small village he'd found himself in reminded him of his wife and that reminded him of her murder and how he had been blamed for it.
He rubbed a hand over his chiseled face. He only had a few days, he knew, before Perri figured out he wasn't really out sick and tracked him down. And that wouldn't do. His informant had been reluctant to give him this information, but Carl was sure it was connected to his wife's murder. There were clues here on this small island, and he was going to find them. Scare them out of the dark...
"Bawooooooooo."
But first he was going to have to feed Buster, the dog he'd saved from drowning during his trip East, and who'd subsequently saved him from a pack of zombies in the dessert and a cannibal family in the mountains.
"Come on, boy." Carl swung his legs over the bed and tried to smile at the dog. It didn't work, but the dog understood and jumped enough to rest its front legs and head on Carl's knee. Carl let his hand, the hand with the mysterious mark that Carl had no memory of getting and that the camera zoomed in to focus on, rest on Buster's head and turned to stare out the bedroom window. Another day without her. Another day of fighting the powers of darkness and hoping to find anything that could explain... well, the plot anything.
[No OCD. No paper today, cause he's just arrived zomg and needs at least an episode to be emo! Feel free to bug him, cause he's only got this one scene for now.]