Log in

Kolchak's Notes

It Couldn't Happen Here

31 October
External Services:
My name's Carl Kolchak. I've been an Investigative Journalist for a while now. I would not want to do anything else. On the job, I've ran into many things like zombies, vampires, headless bikers, werewolves and on and on. It never seems to end.

Some call me a 'has-been big-city reporter', but I'm just a guy out to find the truth. With the Fourth Estate, I'm a journalist who works for the Independent News Service (INS) in Chicago. I feel it's the job of the press to find the truth and then tell the public about it. Trust me, that hadn't made me many friends before my first bizarre case, and that made me even fewer after. Here's how things got me where I am today...

I was once working for a newspaper in Las Vegas, under editor Tony Vincenzo. I was assigned to look into a series of violent night time murders of local women, and quickly came to the conclusion that, no matter how insane it seemed, the killer was a genuine vampire. Just my luck though, the local authorities refused to acknowledge this, and were desperate to sweep the story under the rug. Finally, I had no choice but to take matters into my own hands. I stalked the vampire, Janos Skorzeny, and for my life saving efforts, I was run out of town under threat of a murder charge if I tried to tell my side of the story.

I next went to Seattle, where I bummed around a bit, until I ran into my old boss Vincenzo. Thanks to my old boss feeling guilty for what happened to me back in Las Vegas, he hired me on at the newspaper he had back then. And wouldn't you know it, my first story was about the supernatural. This time it was an ancient alchemist killing women to steal their blood for a formula to keep him young. Things followed a familiar pattern - by being prepared to accept the facts for what they were, I was able to track down the truth behind the serial killer, while the police were hamstrung by the insistence of various elected officials that they treat the murderer as a regular lunatic, since to admit otherwise might be bad for business. I located the hideout of the alchemist, Richard Malcolm, and destroyed his serum, causing him to age to death. However, I was once again ran out of town by the authorities - only this time they kicked Vincenzo out, too.

Both of us then went to INS out of it's Chicago office. Now that my eyes have been opened to the supernatural, time and again I am finding myself dealing with cases of it, facing werewolves on cruise ships, Native American spirits up skyscrapers, politicians in league with the devil, and even an immortal, youth stealing, Helen of Troy. However, I seem to win the day through persistence, wits and dumb luck.