ink cartridges and rituals shouldn't be mixed

3 0 0
                                    

~ * * * ~

An absence of the harsh morning sun should have been the brothers first indicator of the day ahead of them. They did, however, see it as a sign that perhaps indoor research may be best. The next should have been the studio head's occult past times, along with the many, many rumours and allegations of unsafe working conditions befitting more for a prison yard rather than an animation studio founded in the early days of the 1920's and cruel almost tyrannic treatment of employees.

Joey Drew was into a lot of fucked up things.

"I think I found something: 'recent accounts from ex-employees at Drew Studio's reveal that the head of the company was into some rather dark pastimes. Mr Drew could apparently be seen often flipping through one of the many occultic books he kept within his office. One employee went on record to state that he wanted us to donate a lil somethin from our workstations to be left in the break room. He said that it would 'appease the gods' or whatever, any more like that an' I'm outta here.

After that we were unable to contact him further, when we sent one of our journalists to check in with him the home seemed to have been abandoned for quite some time. Curiously he, apart from studio co-founder Henry Stein – who has declined comment- was the only person we were able to reach out to, with others tied to the studio seeming to have vanished in a string of unrelated of accidents and missing persons cases'" Dean read aloud, his brother seeming more concerned with each word. "And this was from, like what the 40's? That can't be our guy; you find anything on that Henry guy yet? Maybe he was in on it"

"Yeah I found something on him, just let me... " a series of increasingly loud clicks insued, as he tried to find the elusive tab. "Hey listen to this: 'according to sources from within the animation studio it is believed that Mr. Drew was working on some form of mechanical endeavour as several employee's state that large pumps were placed all around the studio. The contents to what these pumps held is unknown as an NDA was required to be signed to continue employment after instalment. It is, however, believed to have carried a special type of ink as, upon visiting, a thick black substance was seen dripping from these pipes-"

"The hell would a studio need that much ink for? Isn't that stuff 'spose to be in, little cartridges?" Dean interrupts, having taken a break from his own research to get what could have once been a burger but has since mutated from their shared fridge-much to Sam's dismay.

"How can you even-? "Sam, cutting short his question in order to preserve his sense of smell, asks disgust and annoyance dripping from each word. He stands, moving to open the window weaving through their combined possessions discarded on the floor in the fit of exhaustion the previous night. Sam returned to his laptop to search for the right tab – it was hard work when the screen had the same number of tabs open as the population of several small islands. "Found it! It says here that Henry left in the 30's and was drafted, Drew blamed him for leaving and there wasn't anything connecting Stein to Drew after until-"

*click, click, click*

"-uh 1964 when he received a letter from Drew and that was the last anybody saw of him. Apparently, he left behind a wife and daughter when he 'went missing' there wasn't even much investigation around his death, it was like he just vanished into thin air. Dean I don't think this'll be a small hunt, its way bigger than Bobby said."

Dean sighed - he already knew that, it was hard not to with just how many websites and newsletters with no online copies he'd just crumbled through- "well do we have any leads; with a story like that there's no way that Stein guy isn't involved, 'specialy since I can't find anything else on Drew, he's gotta be dead by now right?" "Well, it says here that Henry's daughter, Linda, is still alive and... renting an apartment in New York." Came Sam's reply as he closed over the device standing up with a stretch wincing slightly

"Yeah let's get something to eat first, I can't sit in that thing for another six hours" His brother stood to do the same, pocketing the keys that had sat calling to him since a few minutes after he sat down. The two moved to collect the books and any stray sheets floating away in a crazed bid for escape. It took a while – why did they have to borrow so damn many? - but finally they were ready.

With a rush of wind, the two – now three – left for the open road.

Hunteri HeroiciWhere stories live. Discover now