alistairmather

'lo all. another stupid double shift at the office this week. on the plus side, i only have a week more at this soul sucking job and then i am free... for a moment. which leads me to a warning for all our friendly Ohio members. it seems i have managed to get myself transferred to Ohio State, which means that i will be bringing my disease addled body to the wonderful city of Columbus. to everyone there: make sure you're up to date on your vacinations and seriously reconsider re-legalising lynching... you're probably gonna need both after dealing with me for a couple of weeks.

with that said, let me present to you this weeks exciting installment of The Adventures of Hunter Cartwright. in this episode we finally meet that sage of sages and hero of heros Professor Hunter Cartwright. read on, dear subscriber, and be awed by the greatest adventurer of any age.


Five

I am sure the boy would appreciate it if you pointed your weapon elsewhere, Miss Brennar.
There is laughter behind that voice. A sound that seems to imply there is humor in everything it addresses, even if its audience will never see it. A sound that supporters point to as a sign of confidence and good nature. A sound that what few detractors there are claim shows signs of hubris and disdain.
And it is a sound I have only heard once before, four years prior when I first enrolled at the prestigious Miskatonic University. A sound that rang through the words of a speech delivered to my freshmen class mates and I on our first day at university. A sound and a voice that has never left me.
I barely notice the goddess next to me lowering her gun, as I rise quickly and shakily to my feet. She may be the single most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on, but the man at the top of the stairs is a living legend. The most prominent figure of our times. Perhaps of all times.
I pointlessly try to straighten my torn coat, run a filth covered hand back through my disheveled hair, and begin to stutter out a speech I had been running through my head for the past week in preparation of this moment.
P...P...Professor Car... Cartwright... sir. I... I... its an hon... an hon...
He waves his hand as he lithely makes his way down the few steps.
No need for all that now. Its just Hunter, and we have a bit more pressing matters to attend to at the moment then formal greetings, wouldnt you say?
He smiles as he says this, thin pale lips tugged upward at the corners in an easy grin. His whole face is pale, seeming more so beneath the shocking red hair that is parted neatly away from his high, broad forehead. His eyes are green, but a dark green. The green of a forest seen at twilight.
There is something else about his eyes. Like his easy smile and his humor laced voice, there is a laughter that dances behind those piercing green orbs, but there is something else deeper then that. Something old. Something cold. Something... alien.
And then he is right beside me, long pale fingers light on my shoulder, and I am struck with amazement that I, I of all people, am standing with the great Prof. Cartwright at my side.
No! Not Prof. Cartwright. Hunter. He said to call him Hunter.
A boyish grin spreads across my round face, and I stare like an adoring puppy up into the eyes of my idol.
Hunter gives a brief squeeze to my shoulder, and then quickly kneels beside the partially headless corpse that so recently was astride me. A shudder runs through me at the thought, part in remembered horror, part in shame for my craven actions.
Hunter removes a pair of white cotton gloves from the inside pocket of his black suit coat, and pulls them deftly onto hands that are only slightly less pale. His long, lean fingers seem to dance over the body, poking here, prodding there, raising some tiny piece up to the light for a better examination. He then paws through the mess of spattered gray tissue and broken porcelain that was once the head of my assailant. Another shudder runs through me, but I refuse to turn away from this gruesome examination.
Another moments search, and then there is a faint sigh.
Stacia dear, I do so wish you were not such the shot you are. I really could have used one of the mask units intact.
I tried just taking out the limbs, she casually points with her gun, now held loosely in her right hand and still looking much too large for such a tiny, delicate limb, back to the top of the stairs. For the first time I notice that there is another one of the headless corpses sprawled across the landing, though this one also appears to be missing its right arm.
...it didnt seem to slow them down much. Why dont you check one of the ones you left Victor to take care of?
Hunter gives her a blank look. There wont be anything to examine when Victor is finished.
What does tha..., she starts to ask.
Victor is very thorough. he answers from over his shoulder. He is already working his way back up the stairs towards the ruined door.
Stacia Brennar, the vision of beauty to whom I have already given my heart, makes a frustrated noise in the back of her throat. The gun is gone now, I notice, though I have no idea where. She is dressed in a skirt that is scandalously short, being cut just above the knee, and a provocatively tight coat, the top buttons of which are open to reveal an expanse of ivory, softly curved flesh. My impression of her wavers for a moment. She is dressed as only a cabaret singer or a... a working girl would be. And then the moment is past, and I am once again enthralled by those magnificent eyes that have deigned to turn my way again.
She smiles prettily at me, soft pink lips curving delicately, and my heart beats faster.
Sorry about the gun. You must be the Professors latest protg. Come on then, lets try and clean you up some.
She gently takes me by the shoulder, perfect, blue nailed fingers seeming out of place on my filthy, brown coat. An electric charge runs through me at the touch, and I feel myself blush, as she guides me up the steps. Together, we walk through the gaping doorway and into the home of Professor Hunter Cartwright.
Behind us, the night fills with the screeching cries of frenzied whippoorwills.