The Louisiana Incident, pt. 1

( This is the first in a series of Lore posts that will provide additional background for the people, places, and events of King County. These were not roleplayed, but instead are just stories, and are entirely creations of my own (save for ChatGPT acting as my editor, that is.)¹ I hope you enjoy them. — Matney )

It was a late night at Shepherd’s Inn, the kind of place where closing was more a suggestion than a rule. The bar had been shut to outsiders hours ago, but Rudy was still “closing up,” nursing his fifth—or maybe seventh—drink of the night. Shepherd’s wasn’t much to look at: a cozy dive with scarred tables, dim lighting, an old jukebox, and a Twilight Zone pinball machine. It was the kind of bar that seemed to exist outside of time, tucked away in a forgotten part of King County, its walls dark with stories and cigarette smoke. The only light came from a bulb somewhere in the back, casting a faint glow over the tables and casting shadows that seemed to listen.

This was his bar. This was his home. And Rudy fit right in. To some, he was just part of the scenery—a rough-looking guy in his forties, hard lines on his face, the faint scent of cigarette smoke clinging to his leather jacket. A little worse for wear. Some folks said he was a ghost from some lost war; others called him just another worn-out vet with too many scars and stories he didn’t care to share. But for those who needed it, he was the guy who handled things. The things no one else would.

He made his way back from the taps with two fresh pints, setting one down across from him. He couldn’t make out the figure resting in the shadows on the other side of the booth, and that was just fine. The kind of story he had to tell didn’t need any interruptions.

With a sigh, Rudy leaned back, lighting a cigarette, the flame from his lighter briefly illuminating his face. 

There was no malice here, but the air was still heavy.  The kind of atmosphere that only too many drinks, intense emotion, and revealing all your secrets can create.

“I’d just moved to Baton Rouge,” Rudy began, his gaze drifting past his listener, eyes unfocused as he went back to that summer. “Fresh off losing both my parents, shoved into this quiet little suburb with my grandparents. It was nothing like where I’d come from, that’s for sure. Baton Rouge was all swamps and river air, with that thick, humid smell that clings to you like it’s never gonna let go. It had this… heavy feel, like you were walking through someone else’s memories, stuck in the past. I didn’t realize it back then, but that town had layers.”

He took a long drag, letting the smoke seep out slowly. “I was a kid with no parents, tossed into my grandparents’ little house… I figured I’d do the classic reinvention bit.  I found my dad’s old jacket in the closet, threw on his aviators, and figured I’d make myself look tough enough that no one would mess with me. You know how it goes. Other kids called me ‘Rude Rudy’ because I didn’t say much, just gave ‘em this glare like I didn’t care. But, the truth is, I didn’t even know what I was trying to be yet.”

“But that summer, I met this kid—Horace. He was one of the neighbors, round-faced, always grinning like he didn’t have a care in the world. We’d cross paths a lot; he’d come over to my yard, or we’d see each other at the corner store. Back then, he was just Horace. Nice kid, never asked too many questions, and we kinda got along. He never treated me like a stranger, and for some reason, I liked him for it.”

Rudy flicked the ash from his cigarette, eyes still distant. “I didn’t know what the other kids called him back then—‘Fat Kid.’ I heard it at school later on, and it pissed me off. But by that time, we were already friends.”

“Then, right when summer was ending – probably during the first week of school – Horace walked up to me with this half-excited, half-nervous look. ‘Rudy, I gotta tell you something,’ he said. ‘There’s this club. It’s stupid, maybe, but it’s cool too. We call it the Monster Club. It’s just me, Sean, and… well, you could join us if you wanted.’ He was bracing himself, like he was ready for me to laugh in his face.

Rudy paused, a faint smile creeping up as he remembered. “Monster Club… sounded dumb as hell. But here was Horace, nervous as anything, asking me to join. I think he expected me to laugh at him or something. Instead, I shrugged. ‘Yeah, sure. Monster Club, huh? Guess I’ll check it out.’ And that was that. Just like that, I went from lone wolf to hanging out with a bunch of kids who’d be my first, and only, real friends in that town.”

Rudy took a drag off his cigarette, staring into the shadows as he spoke, his voice low, softened by memory. . “So, picture this. I’m riding home from school, taking my time on this old banana-seat bike that used to be my dad’s. Horace is with me, and so is Sean. Now, Sean was the one running things—he’s the kid who thought up the Monster Club. For him, everything was big, bold, like he was on some grand adventure every day. He had ideas, wild ones, and he made us part of them without a second thought.”

He shook his head, a faint smile crossing his face. “We’d talk about movies, monsters, you name it. Sean was always dreaming up some wild plan, like sneaking into the old Silverstein place to look for ghost ‘evidence’ or watching bootleg horror flicks in his basement. He was fucking fearless… but then, I guess we all were. Or maybe just young enough to think we were invincible.”

Rudy let out a soft sigh, gaze drifting as he continued. “One day after school, we’re heading home, and Sean’s going on about our next Monster Club meeting when we hear this little voice calling after us. We look back, and it’s his little sister, Phoebe, trying to catch up. She’s this tiny thing, probably about six years old but she’s got this fire in her. Runs right up to us, clutching this ratty old book to her chest like it’s the Ark of the Covenant, and declares she’s joining the Monster Club.”

“Sean didn’t like that. Didn’t want his kid sister tagging along,” Rudy chuckled, though there was a sadness to it, as if it was a memory he hadn’t let himself revisit in a long time. “‘Go home, Phoebe,’ he says, but she ignored him. Didn’t even blink. Just kept following us, determined. She says, ‘I wanna be in the Monster Club too.’ Like she wasn’t asking permission, just letting us know.”

Rudy tapped ash from his cigarette, eyes distant. “Sean was getting pissed, but I thought it was funny. Told him, ‘Hey, let her stay. She’s cool. Maybe she’s tougher than you think.’ Sean wasn’t thrilled, but Phoebe didn’t care. She just kept walking with us, determined as ever.”

Rudy and the listener waited in silence for a moment, the smoke slowly curling up from the end of Rudy’s cigarette. “Anyway, as we’re passing the old corner house – yard’s a mess, windows shut tight like they’re keeping something out – Phoebe tugs at my sleeve and whispers, ‘That’s where he lives.’  I’d heard kids talk about it like it was haunted, like he was some kind of monster himself.”

“‘Scary German Guy,’ I ask. ‘Why do you call him that?’ And Sean just shrugs like it’s obvious. ‘Because he’s scary. And German.’ And that was all the explanation he thought I’d need.” Rudy let out a soft, bitter laugh. “He always was the leader.”

Rudy leaned back, taking a sip from his drink as he continued. “So, we’re passing Scary German Guy’s place, and Sean’s all hyped up, looking like he’s about to drop some huge revelation. He turns to us and says, ‘Did you guys hear what happened at the police station last night?’”

Rudy leaned back, the memory drawing a faint smirk to his lips. “Sean was always digging for secrets, always wanting to be the one in the know. So, of course, we’re all ears. And he says, ‘They shot some guy who busted in there, some maniac. But here’s the freaky part—the body went missing. Cops found the ambulance driver dead, and no one’s saying how it happened. Just… gone, like it up and walked away.’”

Rudy watched his listener’s reaction, as if letting the weight of it settle. “To us, it sounded like something right out of a horror flick. But Sean? He thought it was a sign. He was convinced we’d stumbled onto something huge. Something didn’t sit right with me, though. It felt… heavy, like we were being pulled into something we weren’t ready for. Still, you know how it is—back then, we figured we were untouchable.”

Rudy’s fingers tapped the table absently. “Sean was already talking about it like it was some supernatural thing, trying to connect it to monsters and curses. I told him he was just looking for trouble where there wasn’t any, but deep down? I could feel it too. Baton Rouge had always felt like it was hiding something. You could feel it in the air.”

He let the silence hang for a beat, as though remembering the chill he’d felt back then. “Sean’s dad was a cop, so he heard more than the rest of us. He didn’t say much, but you could tell he knew the story wasn’t over. He just wanted us curious, hungry for what came next. And, hell, he got us there.”

Rudy drained the last of his drink, the empty glass catching the dim glow from the kitchen light. Across the table, his listener’s glass was empty too, though he couldn’t remember seeing them take a single sip. He frowned for a moment, then shrugged it off, grabbing both glasses as he stood up.

He raised an eyebrow, muttering, “Looks like we’re in it for the long haul.” He rose from the booth with a grunt, gathering the empty glasses. “Be right back,” he said, his tone casual, but his eyes lingered on the figure in the shadows for a beat longer than necessary.

He made his way to the taps, the familiar sounds of the bar settling into a comfortable silence. The hum of the fridges, the ice machine rumbling now and again. There was something about the quiet of Shepherd’s Inn after hours that always felt a bit… haunted, with the faint glow from the kitchen casting long shadows across the empty tables and chairs.

As he poured, his mind drifted back to Baton Rouge. To the thick, hanging fog that rolled in from the bayou, and that strange, heavy feeling, always at the edge, like the whole town was holding its breath  Holding on to its secrets. Looking back now, it was almost obvious how much had been there all along, woven into the air they breathed, even if they hadn’t seen it back then.

When he returned to the booth, Rudy set a fresh drink in front of his listener and sat back down, not bothering to look up as he resumed his story.  “Where was I,” he asked, though he knew exactly where he’d left off.

“Sean thought we’d stumbled onto something huge,” he continued, his voice dropping to a murmur. “And he was right.”

1. Also — and it’s embarrassing to admit it — while Rudy feels like my original character, this is technically fanfiction.