Meeting Otto Argo

The intrepid investigators were exhausted as they turned in at the Pawtuxet Hotel. It was too late to head for Martin's Beach, and they all collapsed in their respective beds. Jules Pollack didn't even have time for a single lurid thought about Diana Spinoza before he was out cold. The night was uneventful for a change, or so it seemed to the investigators. While for example Howard Lake was resting with his Luger under his pillow, Mrs. O'Flaherty saw a horrifying sight as she went to the rest room in the middle of the night. While rising from her sojourn on the commode, a dreadfully burned face gazed in at her with two eyes seemingly made out of white-hot coal. She shrieked, and the creature left, but it seemed that malevolent forced were still searching for Howard Lake. Mrs. O'Flaherty spent the rest quietly sobbing in her kitchen together with Burlington Jones and Diana Spinoza before calling Jules Pollack.

 

That Saturday morning also saw a new visitor call on J. Pollack Fine Antiques: Johnny Schwartz, a journalist from Great Britain representing "The Engineer" of 33 Norfolk Street, The Strand, London. Mrs. O'Flaherty once again called Jules Pollack, and a meeting was set up at Richard's Bakery on West Armitage. Irwin Bowers managed to slip into the meeting as well, and Schwartz turned out to be a charming British person who was investigating the new technology of the Topsfield Power Plant for readers overseas. A couple of well-placed telephone calls from Bowers did establish Schwartz as a journalist for "The Engineer". Schwartz was also quite curious about the other undertakings of Jules Pollack and his friends, and they spent several hours sharing fantastic stories with Schwartz.

Meanwhile, Moira Baker, "Mackie" MacNamara and Howard Lake went to visit Doc Brown for a number of reason, one being to retrieve Lake's automobile. That was not possible, since according to Doc Brown there had been some separation between the engine and the chassis. The disappointed Lake had to make do with an older Model T, not unlike Pollack's. It was promptly packed with dynamite around the fuel tank, and Doc Brown even had a small slab of a new kind of plastic explosive from Washington. It was split up between the investigators, with Mackie rolling ten small marbles of the explosive and stashing them in her brassiere. Moira placed a couple of slices in her handbag, and other slices were distributed amongst the investigators. Doc Brown did remind the investigators that the explosive was sensitive to impacts and electricity, and a not insignificant detonation when a hammer hit a piece of the explosive back at the Pawtuxet did destroy a low table and cause a fire.

Despite all the misgivings, it was decided to accept the invitation from Otto Argo to visit the Topsfield Power Plant. However, Lake and Bowers were to be backup, cleverly disguised as bird watchers on a he rainy and chilly April Sunday. They were armed and ready to light the fuse in their automobile and assault the power plants if something went wrong. That is, if they could find out that something had gone wrong. 

Otto Argo

Entering the Topsfield Power Plant on Sunday morning required a quick search of MacNamara, Pollack and Baker, but they had some firepower cleverly concealed in the vehicle. They were met in the spacious and futuristic lobby by a cheerful Bogislav Klimnik. They all went up to the top floor of the research building, and after a remarkably lengthy ride in an  enormous elevator, they stepped into an enormous but dimly lit room with a desk in front of three giant pillars at the end of the room. At once they noticed the strange humming sound that the investigators had noticed before: varied in pitch and tempo, almost sounding like disembodied voices, and leaving Baker, Pollack and MacNamara light-headed and with difficulties to focus and concentrate. MacNamara would have nothing of this, and she discreetly plugged her ears with two of the plastic explosive pellets. The man behind the desk greeted them: 

"I am Otto Argo. Please forgive the dark room, but I am suffering from a rare skin disorder, and I cannot bear intense light". Mackie promptly lit a cigarette, leading to an irritated "Do you not hear what I say? Put out the light!"

Mr. Otto Argo continued to outline his proposal to the three investigators. It was a travel proposal. Deeming that the investigators had seen and experienced such strange, wondrous and fantastic things, Otto Argo was now willing to transport MacNamara, Pollack and Baker to a celestial body called Yuggoth. This place was described in a fantastic, yet rather weird way, and despite promises of unknown and arcane knowledge as well as amazing sights, the investigators were not convinced. Otto Argo pointed out three cylinders labelled "MacNamara", "Pollack" and "Baker" which would enable the investigators to travel to Yuggoth. The would-be travelers now definitely opted out from such a journey.

Several armed guards in civilian garb now forcibly escorted the three investigators downstairs, where a curious operating theater was set up. Strange machines hummed and whined, while two of the revolting flying beings previously encountered hovered at the end of the steel gurneys, each one of them facing a set of weird surgical instruments that matched the ones found at Meadow Hill. Pollack and Baker were now almost entirely subdued by the weird humming sounds and strapped down to their respective gurney, but MacNamara pulled out the Pocket Knife of Doom with a deft move. She completely surprised the thug to her left, stabbing him straight through the eyeball. He fell down to his knees, blood spurting out of his ruined eye socket, as Mackie spun around and jammed the pocket knife into the kidney of another thug. But now, what was that explosion?

Armed Flying Horror

Moira Baker:

I am so thrilled to finally cross the great void, to finally fly across the great cosmic vistas, and to gain understanding of what we have experienced, as so many before us - and ahead of us. I have been promised to see the dark towers of Yuggoth as they stretch up above the great river of K'nai across the sunless plain lit only by the eternal stars. The earthly feelings are subsiding as I stretch out towards the abyss, to a higher knowledge, and to all the secrets hidden from ordinary mortals. The soul-singers of Ommon praising the lords of the elder ones, the mighty elementals treading between the burning stars beyond Andromeda, the blind servitors piping mindlessly at the apex of creation... all this shall be mine! Iä! 

But what is this? I am not going to fabled Yuggoth? My soul! My mind! My soul! Suspended in Stygian night, encapsulated between the planets for eternities!? What is that explosion?

Jules Pollack:

It is eerie not to remember my Christian name. Am I going or am I being reborn? It is very lonely, very cold, and the darkness is coming alive with unholy entities. They stare at me, they snarl, and I hear how they whisper about Yuggoth while licking their lips with barbed tongues. This place is horrifying, and the living darkness is turning into a color that I cannot name. I blinds me and burns me, and it feels like my flesh is slowly being stripped from my limbs and torso. I cannot bear it! My mortal self is akin to a speck of slowly dying dust, a pathetic ember that is going to be extinguished by the void... but what is that explosion?

By now, Lake and Bowers had rammed the building with a car filled with dynamite after having seen the two flying horrors descending upon the power plant. Bowers rolled around, a bottle of nitrous oxide in one hand and a pump action shotgun in the other, while Lake pulled out his Luger out of a ripped jacket. A secondary explosion shook the Topsfield Power Plant and silhouetted Lake and Bowers as they entered the building.

Quadruple Impressionism

It was Saturday, January 10, and the lengthy investigations by the U.S. Marshals were finally over. The Marshals had been polite, but very formal, and quite thorough. It was obvious that they had a very difficult time figuring out what really transpired at the Mitscher Ranch, but they also seemed to have a leaning to more natural explanations than the encounters that McCloud, Cannon and Ashford had experienced. There had also been the issue of establishing themselves in the Mitscher Ranch, renovating the building, and thinking of future business endeavors. Fortunately, help arrived in the shape of Harris Tweed, a mining engineer who preferred the name "Harry". He seemed skilled, albeit rather rough around the edges, and more than willing to tell off the lazy and inept. Esteban was also hired as a security guard and general assistant, while nurse Pettenkoffer was hired to keep future miners in good health. The three books that the investigators found in the Mitscher Ranch posed a particular challenge, as they were found to be deteriorating, slowly but surely. Lotus Ashford decided to look around the county for a photographer, and he founds a certain Joseph Mulroney, a sensitive young man who worked as a photographer to support his ambitious artistic endeavors. He attempted to photograph the pages, but the writing did not leave any imprint whatsoever on the plates, so it was decided to hire Mulroney to copy the texts by hand. Joseph Mulroney was more than eager to take on the job. 

Joseph Mulroney

It was now decided to scout the mountain that seemed to have been housing those flying monstrosities that had caused such mayhem. It was quite stiff hike to get up the mountainside, and much to their dismay, McCloud, Ashford, Cannon and Pettenkoffer only found a quite significant landslide. Judging from the lack of vegetation, it seemed to have occurred fairly recently, and the intrepid investigators could only speculate as to what might be hidden beneath the tons and tons of rocks and gravel.

  

Harris "Harry" Tweed

The investigators came back to the Mitscher Ranch just before sunset, and they were more than ready for a hearty dinner. As Lotus Ashford took the first bite of Harry Tweed's hearty but bland dishes, he made a note to himself regarding hiring a decent cook for the ranch. However, Harry also had some news, as a young lady had called upon the ranch looking for Frank Cannon. She left a calling card bearing the name of "Anna Gnospelius", and not much more. She had apparently inquired about an issue of transportation. It was agreed to seek out Anna next morning.  

The aforementioned morning was the opening act for yet another striking winter day in New Mexico. McCloud, Cannon and Ashford took their trusty bus into town to find out where Ms. Anna Gnospelius might be found. It turned out that she and her sisters were renting a ranch, more specifically the Pinetree Ranch just south of Lincoln. The ranch turned out to be freshly renovated, and it was painted white with pink and green details, all in a romantic New England-style that seemd very welcoming, yet out of place in New Mexico. The three sisters Gnospelius seemed equally out of place: gorgeous, well-mannered, oddly coordinated in speech and action, and very, very gregarious. The intrepis investigators were invited into the ranch house for tea, although McCloud decided to stay outddors while muttering something about "taking care of business". The circumstances did seem to bother Bill McCloud quite a bit, and it took him a good half hour before he decided to step into the ranch. 

Emily, Anna and Dorothy Gnospelius.

According to the sisters, they had rented the Pinetree Ranch for an art project. You see, they are all painters, and with the help of their manservant Benson, they were going to enjoy the winter in New Mexico by capturing the state, its inhabitants, and its stunning nature on canvas. As a matter of fact, a collector in Albuquerque, Mr. Wright, had already purchased four of their paintuings, and thay all wanted to know if Mr. Cannon might be able to drive the paintings to Albuquerque for a generous compensation? The impressionist paintings were done in thick layers of oil paint, and they depicted scenes from the Santo Domingo Gorge. This was a place name that made McCloud shudder. It was in that God-forsaken gorge that the Turner twins, Eliza and Mildred, disappeared, and McCloud had takein part in the search. Only Mildred was found, and she had lost her ability to speak, being entirely catatonic. Regardless, four sizeable paintings were placed in sturdy wooden containers and lifted into the bus. It was decided to depart next morning, January 12.

The bus was packed with a generous amount of supplies, and with Frank Cannon at the wheel, McCloud in the passengers' seat, and Ashford in the pack, the investigators drove down from the mountain range and onto the road to Albuqueque that would take them through the White Sands salt flats. After several hours on the road, the investigators noticed a thin layer of reddish sand in the vehicle, which irritated Frank more than a little. He preferred his vehicles clean, and in good shape. Frank Cannon stopped the vehicle and they all started looking where the sand might come from. It seemed as if the two shipping cretaes that contained the artwork also seemed to have included a small amount of sand, and it was decided to move the boxes to the roof of the bus.

By now, the sun was already low on the horizon, and it also seemed as if Frnk had left the road itself and driven out onto the salt flats. The intrepid investigators decided to set up camp for the evening, but also to mount a guard. As Lotus Ashford began his shift in the middle of the night, he couldn't help gazing up at the fantastic New Mexico night sky. After a couple of minutes, he also noticed a faint hissing sound, like sand flowing through an hour glass, or in this case, sand pouring out of the art boxes and onto the bus roof at a most alarming rate. Lotus really didn't know what to do, so he bolted down to wake up his compatriots. As Lotus scrambled down the skinny ladder, he saw movement in the passenger compartment amongst his sleeping friends. Were they experiencing a particularly restless bout of sleep? It seemed as if there was almost perpetual movement underneath their blankets.

Meanwhile, Frank Cannon was experiencing disturbing dreams of someone, or something, reaching for his thigh, and he reached down to brush off the unwelcome presence. He was horrified to abruptly wake up holding a thick white-ish snake in his right hand, fangs bared and ready to strike. His many years with venomous criminals paid off as he flung the writhing serpent into the driver's seat. He then immediately bolted out of the bus. McCloud woke up when Ashford staring telling about the snakes, snakes that seemed to be eveywhere, and with even more sliding down from the ceiling. Several of the venemous creatures were crawling on McCloud, and he pulled off his hunting knife, chopping the head off one of the serpents, but a second snale lunged and buried his sharp fangs in McCloud's lower left arm.

By now, all three of the investigators were outside the bus, and carrying lanterna and torches. The writhing mass of snakes seemed to shy away from the light, although McCloud did notice that the snakes did  not seem to be of any known North American variety. It came as no surprise that both snakes and sand seemed to emanate from the boxes containing the paintings, and Frank Cannon pulled them down as Ashford and McCloud kept the serpents at bay. McCloud was in some pain now, and feeling quite nauseous, despite the valiant attempts of his friends to treat the incision from the snake. Without further ceremony, the investigators torched both boxes and paintings, and within a minute there was a mighty fire, a fire that on occasion produced strange colors and sounds and the paintings were incinerated. Bill McCloud though for a second that he saw the face of Eliza Turner, the young girl that had diasappeared in the Santo Domingo Gorge last fall. By now, the snakes had crawled off into the night, avoiding the flames at all cost.

Several questions remained, though: what were these strange snakes (McCloud had kept a dead specimen for further study)? Who was this Mr. Wright, the art collector? What was going on with the Gnospelius sisters? Could an antidote be found to heal Bill McCloud's snake bite?

 

A Flying Abomination, and Irwin Bowers under Hypnosis.

From the diary of Moira Baker:

What a week! After the fateful encounter with that strange creature on Wednesday, we spent a rainy Thursday on Meadow Hill looking at what may have been the property of the mysterious Otto Argo. We found the ruins of what seemed to be an old mansion on top of the hill, but only the foundations and a basement remained. The doors to the basement were locked, but we managed to open up the old doors. It was pure luck that we found the weird instruments and that very peculiar notebook. It measures eight by eight inches, and although the notes are quite faint, they seem to be hand-written in old English and interspaced with diagrams, formulae, and some truly disturbing illustrations. The mind that came up with the creatures depicted in the text must be quite deranged, and I cannot look upon the unnatural and disturbing drawings without shivering. The pages themselves are also strange, and they seem to be made of a slightly moist or tacky, almost flesh-like material, although it does not display organic qualities. Is it some form of epoxy or something even more exotic?

From the diary of Mackie MacNamara:

It was a brilliant plan! We were to ambush whatever flying menace that had been showing quite some interest in both J. Pollack Fine Antiques and Doc Brown's laboratorium. The strange creature had left triangular marks all over the buildings, and they did not conform to any known species of bird.

For some reason that I rather not explain, I am the proud owner of a search light. It being kept in good repair, and the bulb is barely used. I rolled out the contraption into the Uptown Park, while Moira and Howard Lake on the roof. Initially, very little happened, and we were getting disheartened. However, all of a sudden there was just the slightest movement, and as I turned on the search light, the bright white light revealed a truly horrific being. It was a pinkish thing, about five feet long, with crustaceous bodies bearing vast pairs of dorsal fins or membraneous wings, and several sets of articulated limbs, and with a sort of convoluted ellipsoid, covered with multitudes of very short antennae where a head would ordinarily be.

Howard shrieked in utmost terror upon seeing this flying mass of limbs and antennae, and it was fortunate that he had a rope attached to his waist, or he might have fallen to his death or, at the very least, serious injury. The blasphemous being then tried to carry off Moira, and I could see several of her rifle rounds passing through the body of the flying monster with ripple-like effects. I think that we all managed to scare it off with our barrage of bullets and shot, and eventually it flew off like a mangled bat. But what was it? I have never in my life encountered such a horrible thing! 

A note from Dr. Emmett Brown, Miskatonic Univerity Department of Physics:

Dear Mr. Pollack,

I have examined the instruments that you brought me from your little expedition to Meadow Hill. The little pieces are indeed quite remarkable, by Jove! They seem to be made of a ceramic material, although not brittle, but actually revealing a strange mix of being both hard and plastic. It is also worth noting that upon examination in a microscope, the instruments reveal no wear and tear whatsoever: the surfaces are pristine!" Also, I have been doing some experiments on the milky liquid you claim came from the creature that caused so much destruction in Arkham this Wednesday. I have provided it with some amniotic fluids as well as very mild electric shots, and the cell-like structures in the liquid seem to recreate themselves very nicely. Oh, and tell Dr. MacNamara that I have some new cake recipes that I'll try out shortly. She always seems so fond of my little kitchen adventures.

All the very best,

Doc Brown.

Friday lunch. Jules Pollack is visiting Dr. Henrietta Queeg and her patient, Mr. Irwin Bowers:

"Mr. Bowers, is Bogislav Klimnik in the room with us now?" Dr. Queeg was gently swinging a pendulum in front of Irwin Bowers, who seemed to be half asleep on the chaise lounge.

"No, he is not, Dr. Queeg."

"Very good. Tell me know, what would you like to talk about now?"

"Eh... should we perhaps talk about makeup? As in makeup in the pictures? Or perhaps Jules's strange car?"

"That is also very good. Mr. Bowers, you are showing quite some progress. Just one more thing: Bogislav Klimnik!" Dr. Queeg uttered the name like if it was a curse.

"What about him? I thought we were going to discuss makeup. But then I just realized that Jules's car has some form of nitrous oxide boost. Dr. Queeg, did you know that nitrous oxide was used by a Humphry Davy to experiment with its psychotropic properties as early as the late 1790s?"

"As a matter of fact, I did, Mr. Bowers." Dr. Queeg turned to Jules Pollack.

"Mr. Pollack, Irwin Bowers has been inflicted by a form of post-hypnotic overlay, but I am quite certain that I have removed it from his psyche. However, let Mr. Bowers get plenty of rest, and keep him away from Mr. B.K....well, you know."

"Oh, you mean that I should keep him away from Bog...Mr. B.K? Absolutely!"

Very good, Mr. Pollack." Jules Pollack could not help notice her remarkable brooch. Did it depict a padlock surrounded by chains?

The horror on the rooftop.

Doc Brown's Lab

Friday afternoon at J. Pollack Fine Antiques, and yet another conversation:

"Is this really a good idea? Heading straight into the lair of some irradiated madman?" Burlington Jones looked more than a little sceptic as he was rearranging the storefront of J. Pollack Fine Antiques. Now, should he place shrunken head of dear cousin Ziggy in the front of the window or mount it on the wall, next to the jackalope?"

"I am so tempted to go visit, though." Mackie MacNamara gestured towards the storefront. The shrunken head would not be noted next to the majestic jackalope.

"But think of what happened to Irwin! I had to grab his crotch after his last visit in Topsfield and his episode in the automobile, not to mention listening to Irwin ranting about that dreadful Bogislav Klimnik! And Mackie, you're wrong. Put all the taxidermy in one spot."

Howard Lake cleared his throat before chiming in: "Ladies and gentlemen, I think we should hurry up and get back to Martin's Beach and the Wavecrest Hotel. That weird being that we shot up and incinerated on Wednesday seems to still be around, and I have no interest in doing an encore with whatever that is. Also, the beds at the Wavecrest are quite comfy, and I feel like crab cakes".

  

Topsfield, April 9, 1925 

Dear Mr. Pollack, 

My name is Otto Argo, and you may, or may not, know me as the entrepreneur behind the Topsfield Power Plant, a project that aims to secure the future for the Miskatonic Valley as far as power and distribution is concerned, and we aim to be up and running by June this year. I have heard quite a bit about you, as well as your compatriots Ms. McNamara, Ph.D., and Ms. Baker. Your exploits have been the talk of the town, albeit at times in hushed voices. Egypt! California! What might be next? As a matter of fact, I have a proposition for all of you, and it does involve travel as well as exploration. The venture also has a good chance of being financially rewarding, to say the least. I would like to take the opportunity to discuss this particular issue with you in a not too distant future. Would Sunday, April 12, work for you, Ms. Baker and Ms. McNamara? 

Respectfully, 

Otto Argo 

Topsfield, Massachusetts

 The Lincoln Independent

Tuesday, December 30, 1924
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MITSCHER RANCH MAYHEM

U.S. Marshals have arrested four men, the survivors of a fierce gunfight that took place at the Mitscher Ranch on Sunday night, December 28. Another eight men were killed after abducting Mr. Lotus Ashford of Arkham, Massachusetts,  Mr. Frank Cannon, also of Arkham, and Mr. William McCloud of Silver City, New Mexico. The three gentlemen and apparently been unwillingly held by notorious hoodlum Mr. Salazar "Boss" Martin and his criminal gang after an argument concerning mining deeds. The miscreants were threatening to kill the three gentlemen, but with the help of Nurse Agatha Pettenkoffer of Carrizozo, they managed to break free and escape their confinement under dramatic circumstances. An unidentified Mexican was also killed during the tumultuous situation, and the owner of the Mitscher Ranch, Mr. Otto Argo, may have succumbed to a bullet wound, but this remains to be confirmed. U.S. Marshals will continue to investigate the case as more evidence surfaces.

Sheriff Donahue Arrested by Marshals

U.S. Marshals have arrested and charged former Sheriff Jared Donahue for illicitly receiving significant sums over the course of almost a year from Mr. Otto Argo, who is claimed to have been killed this Sunday.  The former Sheriff had apparently been paid off to ignore certain actions undertaken by notorious hoodlum "Boss" Martin against local Apache as well as against certain prospectors attempting to secure deeds to potential mining locations in the mountains north of Lincoln.

 The Lincoln Independent

Saturday, January 9, 1925
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Mitscher Ranch Sold to Foreigner

Mr. Lotus Ashford,  of Arkham, Canada, has become the new owner of the Mitscher Ranch as well the holder of mining and land use deeds associated with the property.  Mr. Ashford will move in after some repairs and renovations. Local concerns that Mr. Ashford will turn the ranch into a golf course have so far not been substantiated.

Boston, January 5, 1925 

Dear Lotus,

 I hope that this letter finds you in good spirits, despite the tragic and sad news regarding Cousin Jimmy. New Mexico is nevertheless supposedly a fantastic state, with great vistas and many opportunities, and I have spent some time considering such opportunities. You see, I have decided that it is more than time for you, Lotus, to become a fully responsible man, and not waste your time between the gambling table and the soirée. I have therefore decided to acquire a mine and mining rights in Lincoln County for you to peruse, and I have also made sure to purchase the Mitscher Ranch for you, since I understand the former owners may have abandoned it. I suggest you set up operations expediently, and report to the board when you are ready to commence. There may be more valuable compounds than mere gold and silver in the shafts, and I understand that there is an increasing demand for rare earth elements. 

Respectfully, 

Lotus Ashford, your father

From the diary of Lotus Ashford:

It is indeed strange to ponder what had actually transpired. Why, if it hadn't been for the indomitable Nurse Pettenkoffer and Esteban the Vachero, we might have been on our way through the void and off to some as yet undiscovered planet, our brains separated from our bodies as we were swept through the aether on the wings of those strange, strange creatures. But what were they? Why did so many of them seem to evacuate the mountains and fly in a northeasterly direction? They were tough abominations, though. One of them took several blasts from a 12-gauge shotgun with little reaction before suddenly....well, almost dissolving in a totally unwholesome fashion. I can also not figure out that Argo character. He seemed otherworldly underneath his heavy coat and hat, a denizen of some strange realm unknown to us. Our shotguns took care of that, though, although the remnants of Argo were disturbing, to say the least.

It was quite fortunate that Frank Cannon was an experienced P.I., and quite inventive in his use of violence. Now, why Frank would have hidden a stick of dynamite in his underwear defies any natural explanation, but then, Frank is from New York. 

And then, what about the strange items left behind by Them. The "ray gun" does not seem to work that well anymore. I can light my cigarettes with it, but not much more. The three tomes are also quite strange. They measure some 8 by 8 inches, and they are bound between sheets of what seems to be particularly heavy cardboard, although much tougher, and yet worn and damaged. The volumes are each of some 150 pages of a strange, semi-transparent and tacky vellum. The pages were pristine when we found the books, but they are already deteriorating, albeit ever so slightly. The first volume deals with cosmology and astronomy. There is mention of what I think might be stars or galaxies, Aldebaran, Yuggoth, Andromeda, Azathoth and asteroid clouds beyond the edges of our solar system. The second volume is full of what looks like mathematical formulae as well as diagrams and drawings. I am not sufficiently skilled in mathematics to make neither head nor tail of the math, but some of the drawings are more than a little eerie. The third book is full of names, mostly of people who have passed on a long time ago, but ending with Otto Argo, Humphrey Dean and Gladys DesJardin. No death dates are given for these three individuals. All three books are written in antiquated English.  

Daniel fell victim to the alien creatures.

Cowboys and Cosmic Horrors!

A late-night conversation between Lotus Ashford, Frank Cannon, Bill McCloud, Nurse Agatha Pettenkoffer, as well as Daniel and Esteban, two Mexican vacheros. The party is approaching the Mitscher Ranch, a couple of miles North of Lincoln, New Mexico. A gibbous moon is hanging low over the mountains, and it is fairly chilly on very early Sunday, December 28, 1924.

                                        

Daniel and Esteban

"So what is the plan again, and why?" McCloud was looking at the two armed ranch hands standing on the wraparound porch of the Mitscher Ranch.

"Daniel is really good with them horses, and he should be just fine over at yonder copse". Nurse Pettenkoffer was referring to the fact that the horses had been left half a mile away with one of the vacheros when the party spotted a strange and oddly disturbing shape descending upon the Mitscher Ranch. But what were these strange and repulsive flying...things that caused so much distress with animals and left the compatriots with a feeling of unease, and even dread?

"I'll take point, Frank will follow and Lotus will be rear guard. We'll round the ranch and see if we can approach via the stables and back yard." Nurse Pettenkoffer and Daniel will remain here and cover the guards and the front yard of the ranch." Bill McCloud was relying on hos experiences from the Great War, but also making things up on the fly. Meanwhile, Frank Cannon was loading shells into his pump-action shotgun, one after one, while double-checking each and every shell for any flaws.

"We just do not know what we're facing here. This schmuck Otto Argo seems to be a major shady character over here, and his band of goons headed by Boss Martin did a real number on the poor injuns they visited last morning."

"Yes, indeed, what a barbaric way to treat such noble people. It is distressing to see how we treat the poor primitives. Why, we should introduce them to the qualities of our modern American culture, and not rely on brute force and oppression!" Lotus Ashford was letting everyone know that he was from New England, and his Puritan ancestry was shining through almost as much as his fantastic Western-style outfit. "And I am so grateful that we were provided with fine lodging and a chance to recuperate at the behest of Nurse Pettenkoffer in Carrizozo."

"Ma pleasure," Nurse Pettenkoffer replied "I just wonder still what the deal is with the Antahueca Apache and whatever y'all might have seen. The chief didn't seem to have too much to do with sucj things, and where was that Old Horse medicine man? He seemed to be up to nuthin' good, bein' out in nature an' all, an' all by himself."

"Okidoki, let's head out." McCloud cocked his carbine while Frank Cannon took a final look at the Mitscher Ranch through the binoculars. Lotus Ashford checked his attire twice, and Nurse Pettenkoffer and Esteban the vachero took up positions, gun in hand, to cover the ranch from 150 or so yards.

Bill McCloud walked slowly and quietly through the moonlit forest, and he gave the Mitscher Ranch considerable wide berth without losing track of his progress. After a long hour, the three compatriots had reached the northern outskirts of the ranch. The stables were strangely devoid of horses, and apparently used for storage or just left empty. As Ashford, Cannon and McCloud were observing the ranch, an oddly repulsive red light started streaming out of two of the bottom windows. The compatriots also started noticing a strange humming noise not unlike the noise both Ashford and Cannon had noticed outside their hotel room windows back in Lincoln a couple of days ago. The noise was numbing, and it seemed to affect both concentration and even balance. Nevertheless, the compatriots crawled stealthily up towards the window, and peeking in to the dimly red-lit rooms, they beheld a gruesome sight: a strange insect- or crustacean- like creature had just finished sawing open the skull of Daniel , who had been taking care of their horses just about an hour ago. Nurse Pettenkoffer seemed to lie next to him, but where was Esteban? The sight was fearful to behold, but the despite a distinct feeling of dread and horror, Frank Cannon didn't hesitate. He pulled up his shotgun and fired.

  

Massachusetts Mayhem

As the intrepid investigators returned to Arkham that early Monday afternoon, they realized that the only one who might make heads or tails of the photographs was Dr. Emmett Brown, or simply "Doc Brown". Mackie called him on the telephone as the film was lying in vats of development fluid, and Doc Brown showed up within the hour. Using a magnifying glass, he looked closely over the photographs, and after quietly talking to himself for a quarter of an hour, he looked up, and stated dramatically that the Topsfield Power Plant simply wasn't connected to the power grid. It may very well produce power, considering the vast hydroelectric turbine, but it was not distributing a single Watt. It was indeed odd, and to get their thoughts off the matter a bit, Mackie and Jules decided to once and for all try out the three buttons that Doc Brown had installed in Jules' Ford. They drove out of Arkham, and found a long straight length of road to try out what might happen. Doc Brown had not even mentioned installing the buttons, and no one had thought of asking him. Jules pressed the first button, and the results were spectacular: Mackie was instantly and unceremoniously ejected from the passengers' seat through a hatch in the roof. She landed with a thud and an expletive, and the angry and battered Egyptologist reached into the car and pressed the yellow button. She barely managed to jerk back her arm as the Ford accelerated along the road at breakneck speed, Jules held on to the steering wheel for dear life, and he barely managed to keep the ford on the road. The experiment ended when a small sign popped up, saying "NO NOX". Clearly a useful feature, if one would be better prepared. The third button raised an armored shield at the back of the vehicle, and Jules felt rather pleased with his upgraded vehicle. 

Mrs. O'Flaherty's dinner was particularly good, and there was much to talk about between power plants, crazy car rides, and why someone was still looking for Howard Lake. The party retreated fairly late for a Monday, and Jules fitful sleep was interrupted by unrelenting knocking at his bedroom door. It was Diana Spinoza, and she was clearly distraught, claiming that something was clawing at her window, and it seemed big! Jules grabbed his trusty .38 revolver and went into Diana's bedroom. There were no unknown horrors lurking under the bed or in the closet, but the windowsill was covered in some very odd and disturbing form of prints, and there were scratch marks all around the window frame. Strange indeed, and Jules was not even distracted by Diana's flimsy negligee. Next evening would find the sultry widower in Jules' bedroom with quite different intentions, but then, these were strange - and lonely - times. 

Diana Spinoza is an old and special friend of Jules Pollack.

Next day, following a hearty breakfast,  Irwin and Mackie went to the Arkham city archives to do some research on the ownership and history of the Topsfield Power Plant. Howard, Jules and Moira headed north to the Barrow and Locke (B&L) mine in the Halliburton Hills. The clerk at the Arkham Town Records' Office was not really interested in cooperating, but when Mackie mentioned that they were chasing Communists, the clerk shone up and provided ample amounts of documentation, enough to keep Mackie busy for hours while Irwin carried stacks of documents back and forth between shelves and the Mackie's desk for the day. It was to be a most productive day.

Pleasantville

The B&L mine.

Unorganized Polish miners.

Howard, Jules and Moira spent several hours on the road, and they eventually reached a forlorn little mining village named Pleasantville, in addition to a Polish name seemingly only composed of the letters "s" and "z". The mine was guarded by B&L security thugs, while what seemed to be native American laborers were toiling in the mine itself. There was, of course, a Catholic church dedicated to St. Barbara in Pleasantville, and it was headed by father Wolfram, and he had a most difficult time tensing for his flock. Besides abject poverty, there were a handful cases of suspected radiation poisoning. Moira Baker had, of course, brought along her Geiger counter as well as her most sizeable doctor's bag, and she could indeed confirm the radiation. The sick were tended for as best as Moira could, and a pair of contaminated gloves were secured. B&L were clearly abusing the poor Polish miners, and Jules gave them some pertinent information regarding labor laws and unions. Jules and Howard also managed to find out that all the contaminated miners had been working in a "Shaft Z" and that the ore was transported from the B&L mine to the Topsfield Power Plant.

Father Wolfram

The fate of some Polish miners.

Meanwhile, Mackie had figured out that although the power plant had been built by General Electric, the money behind the operation came from a shady character named Otto Argo. She could not find a photograph of Mr. Argo, but records did indicate several odd and interesting facts about him, including that he had died several times, most recently in New Mexico. They also secured a copy of the news clippings that Lake's strange follower had ordered from the Arkham Advertiser, and by now, Mackie was quite fed up with living off coffee and cigarettes alone while enduring Irwin going on and on about that Bogislav Klimnik character. That evening, Doc Brown came over to analyze the radioactive dust on the gloves. It was, of course, Cobolttorium-G.

Wednesday, April 8, was to become a day that would live on in Arkham memory for decades. It all started at around ten o'clock, when a tall and broad-shouldered stranger walked up to J. Pollack Fine Antiques. It was indeed the man searching for Howard Lake, and since all the intrepid investigators were gathered in the back of the shop, they scrambled to fetch their firearms while Burlington Jones distracted the stranger. Moira headed out through the back door, followed by Mackie, while Jules and Lake guarded the store, with Lake taking up a firing position on the second floor. Irwin Bowers seemed to be more than a little confused, though, and he began looking at old books, finding a copy of Alexandre Dumas "Three Musketeers" in the original French to be particularly fascinating. The stranger said that he would return.

Beware of strangers with Tommy guns!

Moira and Mackie confronted the stranger outside Jules' store, but the stranger simply grabbed Mackie by the throat, choking her with enormous force. Moira let her Springfield rifle do the talking, and a round slammed into the chest of the stranger, followed by another one right into the side of the stranger's head. To her utter revulsion, the stranger seemed to ignore the impact of the rounds as a whitish-grey fluid and strange tubing seemed to pour out of the wounds as well as the mouth, nose and eyes. One eye rolled out of his socket and onto the cheek of the stranger, but he calmly popped back the eye into the socket while producing not one, but two Tommy guns. By now, Jules and Howrd had started firing at the stranger, but he answered by emptying his magazines of .45 rounds into J. Polack Fine Antiques. Jules and Burlington took cover, yelling to Mrs. O'Flaherty to get out or take cover.

Meanwhile, Mackie returned into the building, bolting upstairs with half a gallon of vodka, a rag, and a box of matches. This stranger, or strange creature, would require the McNamara treatment: firebombing! The strange creature started to reload his Tommy guns, while Jules loaded odds and ends into his real authentic replica Revolutionary War 4th of July Saluting Cannon. Moira finished off her magazine, hitting the creature repeatedly, but the rifle rounds seemed to provide mere distraction. However, that distraction was enough to enable Mackie to drop first a moose hunting trophy and then the lit firebomb at the creature. The crowning event was Jules Pollack firing off his cannon, and the monstrosity, now flaming and with multiple wounds, was seen running at an incredible speed out of Arkham. He left mayhem in his tracks, as well as several dead or injured national Guardsmen and police officers, in addition to a couple of small fires. 

All of this, and it was still before lunch...

Mackie's handiwork.

As one might expect, the rest of the day was spent dealing with everything from the Arkham PD and insurance companies to simply cleaning up. At one point, just before dinnertime, two Federal agents came into J. Pollack Fine Antiques, introducing themselves as Special Agent Corrigan and Special Agent Leiter. They said that they had been searching the room that "Mr. Smith", i.e. the stranger, rented, and they also said that he must have been quite the "Buck Rogers Fan". As Pollack and Lake looked at the Federal agents quizzically, they handed over a news article printed on a strange, oily sheet of what seemed to be some form of epoxy:

ARKHAM ADVERTISER

Friday, May 3, 1929, Evening Edition

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LAKE SENTENCED TO DEATH

Just before noon today, the Massachusetts State Court sentenced Mr. Lake to be executed by electric chair for the bomb plot against the Topsfield Power Plant. The bombing killed 22 innocent workers as well as Mr. Otto Argo, the prime financier of the power plant. Mr. Lake has been evaluated by Massachusetts' finest psychiatrists on repeated occasions, but he has been deemed to have been of good and intact mental health when he planned the bombing and planted the explosive charges at the power plant.