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.

My Arkham Weekend

It was Friday, and despite the promising whiffs of deliciousness flowing out from Mrs. O'Flaherty's kitchen, it was decided to investigate the building collapse on East Derby Street as well as the rumors of a "scantily clad man" running from the building. Was this just sensationalism on behalf of the press or something substantial? It was pleasant, if overcast, spring evening, and the intrepid investigators decided to take a brisk walk to the site. The house, which seemed do date from the first half of the 19th century, was in bad shape after an oddly symmetrical hole or opening had appeared in the back of the building. The police had cordoned off the building, and the two families that lived there had been evacuated, so there was not much more to see. Also, the thought of Mrs. O'Flaherty's cooking made Mackie's stomach growl, so it was tome to return to Jules Pollack's comfortable house. Diana Spinoza was still around, and although still in a saddened state, she did join the investigators for a great dinner full of inspired banter and the occasional crude remark.

Saturday turned out to be a gorgeous day.  Moira Baker went out early to visit the Arkham PD and inquire further about the collapse of the house. She was greeted by an officer Alex Jones, but for whatever reason, he was not interested in helping the public, and a frustrated Moira Baker stormed out of the police station. Meanwhile, Jules Pollack went out to purchase some office supplies in form of a knuckle duster before returning to studying the books that the late Dr. Spinoza had checked out from the Miskatonic University Library. It seemed as if Dr. Spinoza had spent quite some time studying the Himalayas and the southern extension of the Rocky Mountains, and there were numerous notes scribbled in the margins as well as a newspaper clipping wedged in between the pages of the 1908 National Geological Survey:

ARKHAM ADVERTISER

September 1, 1924

MINERAL FINDS IN NEW MEXICO BAFFLE BOFFINS

Geologists at the The New Mexico Institute of Mining and Technology claim to have discovered several types of new minerals and possibly even rare earth elements in Lincoln County, New Mexico. The exact location remains undisclosed, as there are concerns of unapproved prospecting as well as issues with the Bureau of Indian Affairs.  

Irwin Bowers decided to go out to do his own investigations, and brandishing his press card for the LA Times, he managed to meet with Corinne Hill, the journalist (and suffragette, and political activist) who he met in Martin's Beach a few months earlier. They decided to have lunch on Tuesday, and it struck Bowers that although Ms. Hill was fun and great to talk to, she was also a commensurate professional. Any information would have to be bartered for.

Corinne Hill

As the intrepid investigators gathered for cocktail hour, an enormous explosion rocked Arkham, with an echo that seemed to rumble across the narrow streets and alleyways. A pillar of smoke could be seen somewhere southeast of J. Pollack Fine Antiques. As on queue, the investigators dashed into Pollack's Ford, and avoiding pushing Dr. Brown's three buttons, they dashed to the site of the explosion. Howard Lake was becoming increasingly anxious as they approached the smoke cloud, and his worst fears did indeed materialize in front of him. Where Lakeview Books used to be, there was only smoldering debris! And what about Melissa and Violet, his mother and sister, who worked in the book store? It took several frenzied minutes before Lake found them amongst the concerned spectators. They were uninjured, but aghast at the destruction. 

As Moira Baker walked around the gathering of Arkhamites, she managed to talk to both the Arkham Fire Chief, Marshal Burke, and Lake's landlady, Mrs. D'Agosto. Burke was obviously quite busy, but Mrs. D'Agosto mentioned that a man had been looking for Howard Lake at Lake's apartment, and that he said that he's be back later. Moira Baker instantly made a plan: tomorrow she'd be staking out Lake's building from the restaurant of the Natural History Museum across the street.

Sunday was another fantastic spring day, but Arkham was a town in shock. Houses collapsing, houses exploding, a retiree being gunned down by a presumed mobster. What next? Mayor Bryce called Governor Fuller to discuss mobilizing the National Guard. Howard Lake, on the other hand, decided to lay low and ship off Melissa and Violet to Martin's Beach. Joe Zumwalt of the Most Enlightened Fellowship of the Star of the Sea was contacted to make sure that the Lakes were taken care of. Howard Lake and Irwin Bowers concocted a cunning plan so that the Lakes wouldn't be spotted as they left Arkham, and this seemed to work quite well. But what was going on? Why were the Lakes of Arkham targeted?

                                                    

Governor Fuller

Moira Baker was drinking her third cup of coffee at the Museum of Natural History when she saw a tall and broad-shouldered man enter the foyer of Lake's building at 110 West Curwen Street. She downed her coffee and proceeded cross the street and up the stairs. The man turned around as Baker was almost at the top of the staircase, and he was brandishing a Tommy gun in each hand! Moira Baker bolted down the stairs as the man fired off a lengthy burst above Moira's head. He followed Moira down the stairs, and a police officer, namely the aforementioned Alex Jones, that happened to be walking by yelled at the man to drop his Tommy guns. Officer Jones fired two revolver rounds at the man, who simply replied by another long burst from his two guns. Officer Jones was torn into shreds before his inert body hit the sidewalk. Moira Baker was fortunate to have avoided a similar fate, and she was quite out of breath when she ran in through the back entrance of J. Pollack Fine Antiques.

That Monday, April 6, was the day of Irwin Bower's appointment with Mr. Bogislav Klimnik at the  Topsfield Power Plant. The intrepid investigators had been up late the previous evening to work on their equipment, which included a Geiger counter and various cameras as well as cover stories for all except Howard lake, who'd remain at J. Pollack Fine Antiques, since he anticipated that the machine gunner might turn to other book dealers and antiquarians to find the whereabouts of Howard Lake, or any Lake, for that matter. Bower was going to play the part of the LA Times journalist, Mackie McNamara was the designated photographer, Jules Pollack the driver and Moira Baker the technical assistant.

The Topsfield Power Plant

Bower, Baker, McNamara and Pollack rolled up to the Topsfield Power Plant just before 9 AM. It was an odd location for a power plant, being built in a marshy area away from major roads and with a small canal feeding the waters of the Miskatonic to the turbines. Lots of photographs were taken, although functions of the vast array of cables, transformers and isolators were way beyond the expertise of the investigators turned journalists.

Bogislav Klimnik

The security of the plant was impressive, and the guards of a security company searched the party thoroughly. The investigators entered a very modern power plant, the paint still fresh on the walls, and with works of modern art adorning the office annex. Mr. Bogislav Klimnik was utterly charming, a tall and thin man who spoke passionately about the power plant and the future of Arkham with a warm and resonant voice. He also showed the investigators some of the schematics for the plant, and he was done after exactly 30 minutes. When asking for a tour of the facilities, Baker, Bower, McNamara and Pollack were escorted by one of the engineers, Mr. Samuel Moss, Everything looked fantastic, but there was one spot that did register on the Geiger counter. What was going on in the Topsfield Power Plant?  

Klimnik's office

Meanwhile, a menacing figure entered J. Pollack Fine Antiques, and he towered above Burlington Jones while Howard Lake took a stealthy look from the upper floor. The man pretended to look around the store for a bit before asking if Jones knew of a Mr. Lake. Burlington Jones assured the stranger that he did not, to which the stranger replied that he might return later. As the stranger left the store, Howard Lake slid out to follow him.

*

A conversation in the car going back from the Topsfield Power plant. Jules Pollack's Ford is bulging with equipment, including cameras, flashes, and the odd Geiger counter.

"Jules, darling, hop on the pedal. I am getting snackish." Mackie McNamara was rifling through her kit to find something to satiate her appetite. The breakfast had worn off, but she could only find a half-full tin of breath mints. Quite disappointing, but she nevertheless made a point of handing each of of her friends a single breath mint.

"Well, that was an interesting visit. Positively Buck Rogers like, or to the moon and back. I wonder if we'll ever be able to to into space?" Jules Pollack sucked at the breath mint, hoping that this wasn't one of Doc Brown's reconstituted products.

"I found Mr. Klimnik to be quite informative. He really seems to know what he's doing. Just imagine that we'll  have electricity in all of Arkham County with surroundings in a bit more than a year. Why, we should perhaps consider an electric sign for Jules's store!" Irwin Bowers was clearly enthused about these ideas, to which Pollack replied with a curt "nonsense."

Mackie was still going over her many cases of film and handing them to Moira Baker, one after the other. "What am I going to do with a bunch of photos depicting a power plant on a Monday morning?"

"A Futurist exhibition perhaps, although the hoi polloi apparently do not consider mere photographs real art." Moira Baker was however thinking about one of her favorite art spaces, the Mütter museum in Philadelphia. Perhaps it was time to plan a summer vacation? Beach and morbidities?

"We really should write a nice thank you note to Mr. Klimnik for being so accommodating". 

"Sure, we can do that". Jules replied to Irwin. "I have some nice cards in my office".

"But first, lunch!" Mackie insisted. "Then, I want to develop the photographs and get it over and done with. Also, what shall we tell Diana Spinoza? Everything seems darb with the Topsfield Power Plant."

                          

*

ARKHAM ADVERTISER

Sunday, April 5, Evening Edition

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TOWN IN TERROR

With Arkham reeling from mob violence, including the brutal killing of Officer Alex Jones as well as random explosions, Governor Fuller has decided to deploy National Guard units to Arkham. Lieutenant Gorman, who is commanding of one of the units, stated that his men are well trained and ready to act on any threat: "This will go smooth, and by the numbers". The Arkham Police Department will continue to investigate the current violence in Arkham. According to Mayor Bryce, there will be arrests within the next 24 to 48 hours.

Striking Miners Clash with Workers

This Saturday, a massive brawl erupted as the Barrow and Locke Mining Company brought in laborers from West Virginia to reopen the mining operations in the Halliburton Hills southwest of Newburyport that have been closed since March 18. The striking miners are once again reminding the Arkham Advertiser about the hazardous working conditions and that several miners have developed a variety of ailments after having worked shifts in certain parts of the mine complex.

Nefertiti Studios Panning to Expand in New York  

Famed fashion feature Mr. Patrice Montague, who has been the talk of the town in Paris and London, is planning an opening in New York for his Nefertiti Studio House of Fashion. His inspired fashion design has seen the twentieth century joined with images of antiquity, be it from Ancient Greece or Egypt of the Pharaohs. The couture of Mr. Montague is being torn off the rack at exorbitant prices, and New York is eagerly awaiting his next event.

A Nefertiti Studios dress for the Spring salon.

Field Marshal Hindenburg to Run for President

The retired Field Marshal Paul von Hindenburg, age 77, will be a candidate for the presidency of Germany. Field Marshal Hindenburg had originally retired in 1911 and subsequently in 1919, but he is now re-entering the political scene as an icon of both the Great war and German patriotism. The elections will be held on April 26, and Field Marshal von Hindenburg claims that he is devoted to "social justice, religious equality, genuine peace at home and abroad." 

Mines & Monsters!

The three amigos eventually decided to leave the abandoned Seventh Adventist's church they'd spent Christmas Day in, and they proceeded to follow tracks from the gruesome monstrosity that stalked the ghost town of White Oaks. Ashford, Cannon and McCloud were all feeling the ill effects of a disturbed night's sleep, and the stark sunlight seemed unnaturally bright. They stabled McCloud's horse, grabbed necessary equipment, and then walked cautiously towards the Broken Toe Mine. The investigators were not the only early birds in the mountains, though: a dozen brutish-looking cattle hands were surveying a mass of destroyed mining equipment. Not a single item seemed to have avoided denting, crushing or shredding. The leader of the roughnecks stepped forward, and after a brief "howdy", he asked the three investigators what they might be up to on a fine Friday morning. The conversation was far from warm and including, but it was clear that the hoodlums were looking for whoever might have killed their companions and destroyed much precious equipment. "Whoever" soon turned out to be the Antahueca Apache, although the thugs used more derogatory language. Frank Cannon flashed his P.I. badge, and insisted that the trio were stalking a dangerous killer that had fled into the mine. Boss Martin and his gang - for this was indeed Boss Martin - paid scant attention to the investigators, as they had their eyes set on a different prize. They rode off to meet up with Sheriff Donahue while Ashford, Cannon and McCloud entered the mine with the latter taking point.

Boss Martin

Boss Martin had warned them from straying off the main passage, as the mine was old and there were deep shafts that were difficult to spot for the unwary. The mine was indeed forbidding, and there were still remnants of the old mining operations: boxes, crates, graffiti, and the odd broken implement. Lotus Ashford did notice something out of the ordinary, though: an empty box for a Geiger counter from MIT, including a partially destroyed user's manual. Another more disturbing discovery was a pile some three or four feet across with what seemed to be decayed human remains that somehow seemed to have been molted off something else, perhaps something bigger. More pieces of rotting flesh were found as the trio proceeded, one of them still sporting a tattooed blueish heart pierced by an arrow.

A partially collapsed floor forced the three amigos to attach themselves with ropes and carefully sidestep the lightless pit. However, disaster almost struck as Lotus Ashford lost his footing and started slipping into the abyss, leaving Frank Cannon mere inches from taking the plunge together with Lotus. McCloud acted quickly, as he used the old sleepers to brace himself, and after much cursing and flailing about, they managed to get out of a truly frightful situation, but only after causing the remaining floor around the pit to collapse in a cloud of fetid dust. Unperturbed, the trio proceeded forward, hoping to find a way back through some other passage. As they reached the end of the main passage, it branched out to two narrower passageways, the right at an acute angle downwards, and the left one straight and level. Ashford turned around, and he shuddered as the light from the entrance of the mine was blotted out for a fraction of a second. Was there someone between the investigators and the mine entrance or was his mind playing him tricks?

As McCloud proceeded down the left passageway, it split up again. McCloud first shone his lantern to the right, but it was when he turned to his left that he saw a new form of abomination. Almost surreal in its execution, this seemed to be a new amalgamation of body parts attached to each other in a most unholy fashion. The beast was wheezing like a deranged steam engine, and the enormous stitched together mouth tried to form word as slobber-like fluids dropped down the corner of the orifice: "muuuust, musst, destrooooooy...". Both McCloud and Cannon shrieked in panic, and dashed for the exit from the mine. Lotus Ashford was equally terrified, but he fired off several rounds from his revolver at the monstrosity. The rounds seemed to have effect, as ichor ran out of the horrendous wounds, but the creature proceeded to chase the investigators. With an abomination before them and a bottomless pit in front of them, the situation was dire indeed. Cannon and McCloud had cut off their ropes, and Frank Cannon was sprinting towards the exit while attempting to jump across the six- or seven-foot gap in the passage. He jumped with all of his strength, but to no avail, as his arms flailed to grab anything to hinder him from falling into the abyss. Fortunately, McCloud jumped after Cannon and after being helped up on his feet, Frank Cannon pulled out a dynamite stick from his rucksack. Meanwhile, Lotus Ashford emptied his revolver at the monstrosity, but it seemed as if the unnamable thing was preparing to jump after the investigators, stretching its rubber-like body in a gelatinous fashion. Frank Cannon fought his urge to just run out of the mine, and his trembling hands lite the fuse and threw the dynamite stick. It exploded just as the beast jumped, showering the three amigos with all kinds of body fragments and goo. 

The investigators were more than a little shaken as they emerged  from the darkness of the mine. In the real world, it was only about ten in the morning, but it felt like they had spent days down in the underworld. They were much in need of a clean-up a change of clothing. Fortunately, there was still a working well in White Oaks, and as they cleaned themselves, many questions surfaced. "What about the radioactivity?" "Are the Apache behind all of this freakish Frankenstein stuff after all?" Should we meet up with Boss Martin?" "What are those flying things?" "Why did Bill's horse not panic at these Frankenstein things, although the scratching things, whatever they are, seemed to terrify the poor horse?" Come to think of it, Bill McCloud realized that his friend Christobal Correira down in Carrizozo might know something about all of this. Correira was an avid and enthusiastic ethnographer and entomologist, but also somewhat of an eccentric.

As the trio left the stable with aforementioned horse, a lone figure on horseback with a cradled carbine faced them, stating "I was gettin' just a trifle concerned" in a broad West Texas dialect. It was nurse Agatha Pettenkoffer, dressed in a riding outfit, but still with a medic's insignia around her left upper arm. Frank Cannon could only think of his deceased wife.

The Legend of Skin-Bob

It is said that he (for we think Skin-Bob may have been manfolk, but we're not entirely sure) has been sighted around dawn or dusk, standing at the side of the road and waitin' for a ride. Skin-Bob is typically wearin' a horseman's overcoat, a scarf and a hat, and he has a voice smooth as honey. He'll really want that ride, since he wants to know you real well. Real well...

Now, Skin-Bob wants somethin' besides the ride. He'll sweet-talk you for quite some time, never removin' his garments, and you'll just see his eyes and hear that voice. Skin-Bob's eyes seem to dee-fi descriptin, an those who survived meetin' Skin-Bob always remember them eyes, but not what they really look like. After listenin' to him for a while - some folk it's hours, some say even days - he'll reveal what he really wants, and you will barely notice as that short an' razor-sharp knife of his enters your body. Some folk says it's a claw, other that he's bitin' you, but I say it's a knife, a skinner's knife. You see, Skin-Bob wants just that your skin. That's the one item he's lackin' - skin. When he jumps out of that coat, he's flayed as a deer after huntin' season, and he needs new skin, since even if he has some form of life, his skin rots, and peels, and falls off in shreds and tatters. He will seek you out for a new skin-suit, and you'll eventually be left a skinless bloody thing at the side of the road, perhaps even livin' in real pain for some time until the hurtin' really does you in.

- Eliza Hawkins, Brattleboro, Massachusetts. Recorded in 1915. Recording kept at The Brooklyn Museum, New York. 

Robert Skinner was queer man, living by himself and minding his own business in a stately residence outside Worcester around the time of the Revolutionary War. He was a learned man, but some say that he also delved far into the arcane and the unwholesome, although he was more known for providing his community with many of the necessities others couldn't afford. Despite these endearing qualities, persistent rumors spoke of other things, especially strange visitors during Maundy Thursday and Walpurgis, visitors that seemed to leave unnatural footprints in the planters outside Skinner's mansion.

Robert Skinner was also a patriot, and he enlisted in the Massachusetts Militia under Colonel Wilkes as the war started. Skinner was given a captaincy in the regiment, and he attacked both Tories and the British with much ferocity during several of the early battle of the war. As rumors started spreading about his conduct, many of the New England Tories wanted to see him dead, and they eventually caught up with him outside Westfield. He was forcefully dragged out of the private library were he was temporarily residing. The Tories mocked him for his name, and decided to demonstrate their skills with the knife. Thus, Skinner was indeed flayed alive, and before succumbing to the gruesome treatment, he cursed the Tories and swore to make sure that none of the laughing miscreants were to see their next birthday. That was to be the case, and the offending Tories were said to be found in sad states of dismemberment during the week before their respective birthdays. This eventually grew into the legend of "Skin-Bob", who would hunt Tories, British and Hessians for their skin.

Robert Skinner being apprehended by Tories.

- E. F. Robinson. Macabre and Patriotic Tales of the Revolutionary War. Providence: Charterhouse Publishing, 1878.

...there are also indications that the legend of Skin-Bob may have its origins in Indian myth and legend that may have become part of the early colonial storytelling, perhaps as early as the mid-seventeenth century. Legends similar to the tale of Skin-Bob can be found in the lore of several Indian tribes, all the way from New England to the west and possibly as far as certain Apache and Navajo tribes in the southwestern territories of the United States, where the tales of the Skinwalker (yee naaldlooshii or yig naaldloshii) can be found. There are also similarities to the folklore surrounding the Flayed Lord in Aztec culture.

- Thomas D. Marcus. Indian Mythology. Arkham: Miskatonic University Publishing, 1911.