I have wanted to write something like this for a while. An FBI series, but also a series about supernatural creatures. A bit of comedy, but also some serious creepy. I don’t know how much I will actually do, but here goes the rough.
He took a deep breath, and dropped the file on the cluttered desk.
“Special Agent Parker reporting in,” He said.
The middle aged man sitting behind the desk didn’t look up from his newspaper. They were at the end of a long hall in the Seattle branch office of the FBI. The door was open to the office, enough space for a few desks crowded together, every wall covered by cheap metallic bookshelves. The desk was just as cheap, a faded blue paint over what probably belonged to a teacher before.
Parker tried to maintain his calm. First impressions meant everything, and moving to a new state, moving into a branch office, there was a lot that could go wrong.
“Where are you from?” The man asked.
“Chicago,” Parker said, “Well, in the area.”
Parker tried to read the man, see if he could even sit down or relax. The man took a sip of his mug of coffee, pulled back his lips as he let out a sigh, and then turned the page of the paper.
The desk said his name was Unit Chief White. He looked calm and in control, but the dimple in his brow said he had the ability to get angry. As he sipped his coffee, Parker could see that he knew how to smile as well, from the crease at his cheeks. He had fought before, his build said he didn’t play sports before joining the force, same for the military.
“So they sent you all the way out here?” White said, his eyes looking up from the newspaper just long enough to meet Parker’s.
“Yes sir,” Parker said, straightening his suit.
White smiled, “You seem excited to be here, agent.”
Parker didn’t know how to respond to that. Sure, Seattle wasn’t his first choice. Seattle wasn’t exactly known for mob activity, or murders, hipsters and computer programmers weren’t your common investigation targets. Still, it was something.
“Let me guess,” White said, pulling his chair straight and putting his cup down, “High marks at Quantico, over achiever, studied for every test well in advance, asked to be assigned to the best units you could research. Maybe asked to be BAU, like that skinny kid on TV.”
Parker gritted his teeth, “Dr. Reid.”
“That’s him,” White said with a shake of his head, “Can’t believe they let that little prick carry a gun.”
“Was I right?”
He looked down at the floor, “I wouldn’t call it overachieving.”
White laughed so loud it made Parker freeze. He didn’t know if he should expect to get laughed out of the room, or laugh along. Who welcomed someone like this?
“Sir,” Parker said, “I’m still glad to-”
“Did they tell you what we do down here?” White interrupted, “did they explain that much at least?”
Parker opened his mouth, then closed it. It took a few minutes to even find an agent in the building that knew which direction to point him. This little office was off in the corner of the satellite office, down a creepy hallway, past the vending machine and across from the janitor’s closet.
“We’re the B.A.I.T.” White said, shrugging his shoulders.
When Parker didn’t immediately reply, White pointed to a framed sign on the wall. It read, ‘Bigfoot Anomaly Investigation and Tracking Unit.”
“Bigfoot?” Parker said, his eyes closing as he felt a wave of nausea coming over him.
“Sasquatch, gigantopithecus, yetis are different though, so don’t mix them up.”
“You hunt Bigfoot?”
White opened his newspaper and leaned back in his chair, “Hell no.”
Parker put a hand out, “Then… but…”
A whole FBI unit dedicated to bigfoot? Parker didn’t know why they would waste government resources on something like that. Not unless there was some big secret they were hiding.
“Did they make you do the thing, with the black box?” White asked out of nowhere.
Parker looked down at the unit chief, and the man’s eyes were focused, suddenly more serious than he had been the whole meeting.
“The black box?” Parker repeated.
“During training,” White said, “Near the end.”
Parker stood up straight, “Yeah, of course.”
“They didn’t tell you the result?”
Now Parker’s mouth felt dry. He felt like this conversation wasn’t about him anymore.
White relaxed again. Whatever the man wanted to know, he wasn’t going to get it out of Parker.
“We don’t look for Bigfoot,” White said, “We stop yokels and survivalists from looking for Bigfoot.”
“Sir?” Parker replied, “What do you mean?”
“When someone calls the police saying Bigfoot ate their mom, or a demon is possessing their mailbox, we get called in to prove its a hoax,” He dropped his paper, “As long as it’s a federal offense.”
Parker felt a knot in his stomach. If it wasn’t for his need to make a good impression, he would have splattered his lunch across the loose papers on White’s desk by now. He was assigned to the FBI version of ghost hunters. All of his hard work, all of his training, and the best he could hope for was to shoo off the Washington branch of UFO hunters.
“Ask me the next question,” White said.
His brow furrowed, and he thought what else he could possibly want to know.
“Is it always a hoax?” Parker asked.
White shrugged, “Pretty much.”
Meanwhile, in Ellensburg Washington.
“Oh that is just gross, man,” Special Agent Garcia said through his pinched nose.
Special Agent Nguyen scratched at the gray stubble on his chin, squatting over the pool of blood and bones behind a decaying wood shed.
“Maybe you better call White,” Nguyen said as he nudged a jaw bone in the dirt, “we might have something here.”