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".
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
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