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Chapter 4: The Fax Machine of Doom
last update2025-08-11 21:39:45

Chapter 4: The Fax Machine of Doom

The garage at Bureau headquarters was quiet. Too quiet.

Theo stood by a row of parked, mostly functional vehicles, holding a cup of Bureau coffee (flavored like despair) and waiting for “Night Division” to show up.

The only sound was the occasional drip of something from the ceiling. He decided not to ask what.

Then, from the shadows, a tall figure emerged—sharp suit, pale skin, eyes like tired rubies.

“Crumble,” the figure said smoothly. “I am Agent Vespera Nightshade. Welcome to the graveyard shift.”

Theo blinked. “Are you a—”

“Yes. Vampire.”

“…You just say it like that? No dramatic buildup?”

“I’m unionized. Drama is unpaid labor.”

Night Division Orientation

The Night Division, it turned out, operated out of a converted parking level deep beneath the Bureau. The lighting was dim, the air smelled faintly of incense, and the staff consisted of:

Vespera – vampire, team lead, chronically unimpressed.

Frank – a ghost in a waistcoat who complained constantly about not having dental coverage.

Mothman Gary – tall, winged, mostly silent, loved Sudoku.

Theo Crumble – hero-by-typo, sleep-deprived.

Their first task of the night: investigate paranormal activity at the Old Birchfield Document Storage Facility, an abandoned warehouse where magical archives had been stored decades ago.

Vespera slid Theo a file. “We’ve had reports of… unusual transmissions from inside.”

Theo frowned. “Transmissions? Like… radio?”

Frank floated closer. “Like fax. Endless faxing. Middle of the night. To unknown numbers. Pages and pages of… something.”

Theo’s eyebrow twitched. “You dragged me here at midnight for a haunted fax machine?”

Vespera’s eyes narrowed. “Crumble, do not underestimate the fax. I lost three operatives to a possessed scanner in ‘09.”

The Warehouse

They arrived at Birchfield just after midnight. The place was huge, cavernous, and unnervingly still—except for the faint beep-whirrrrrr of a fax machine somewhere in the dark.

Stacks of old filing boxes towered around them like cardboard skyscrapers. The shadows seemed to lean closer with every step.

Theo muttered, “This feels like the start of a horror movie.”

Frank replied, “Don’t flatter yourself. Horror movies have budgets.”

The sound grew louder as they approached a small office at the far end. Inside, a lone fax machine sat on a dusty desk, plugged into nothing—no outlet, no phone line—yet it was printing continuously.

Theo picked up one of the fresh pages. His eyes widened.

“It’s… my face,” he said slowly. “Over and over again.”

Things Get Worse

The fax machine shuddered violently, its buttons glowing red. Paper began flying out faster, each sheet covered with Theo’s face screaming in progressively more panicked expressions.

Vespera hissed. “It knows you.”

“Knows me? I’ve never met a fax machine in my life!” Theo shouted.

The machine beeped once, then the cables slithered out from underneath like tentacles, whipping toward them.

Gary the Mothman dove in, batting away cords with his wings. Frank tried to phase through the machine, but yelped, “It’s warded!”

Theo, acting on pure adrenaline and poor judgment, grabbed the nearest weapon he could find: a heavy-duty stapler.

“Alright, you boxy little nightmare, let’s dance!”

The Showdown

Vespera moved in a blur, ripping one of the cords in half with her bare hands. Sparks flew. The fax machine let out a distorted modem scream.

Theo slammed the stapler down on the control panel. Paper shot everywhere—hundreds of screaming-paper-Theos spinning through the air like confetti.

Frank grabbed a bottle of Bureau-issued holy toner (because of course that existed) and dumped it over the machine.

With a final, mournful beep, the fax machine went still. The last sheet printed slowly, showing nothing but two words:

“Nice try.”

Aftermath

Back at Night Division HQ, Vespera filed her report. “Haunted object neutralized, minimal damage. One rookie traumatized.”

Theo sat in the corner, shivering slightly. “I don’t… I don’t even own a fax number.”

Frank floated by. “Kid, you never really own a fax number. It owns you.”

Before Theo could respond, Vespera tossed him another file.

“Next case: a ghost that thinks it’s a motivational speaker.”

Theo groaned. “I’m starting to think that breakfast demon wasn’t so bad.”

End of Chapter 4

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