Call of Cthulhu

Chapter 3: O' Brother of mine

After a small but imperative performance of 'genuine' care, I pace myself. My brother owns this place. I am not Lady Alice Edwards here, I am unwanted and I must act as so. 

Slipping past the thankful drunkards is going to be a solitary task: so many dirtied hands reach out, attempting to grasp mine in a show of gratitude. I am pleased that this sorrowful lot are out of wits, too lost to the drinks they chug, to understand that my smile is in fact a cringe. That is when I see him. One hand draped across a worn weapon and the other, supporting his weight. Both an illusion to the power he actually possesses: the hand that seems so carelessly placed is sitting a top a Browning Superposed, a shotgun already listed as one of the most deadliest of weaponry; the hand of support is the grandest of acting since if one must look closely to understand that is it in fact a fist of meaty power, one is already feeling its might. I look up to meet Christopher's gaze in an attempt to show submission and understanding that he holds the reigns here. 

"O' sweet brother of mine," a spike of fear and small rage rides a fierce wave inside of my stomach when glancing at my brother. It is clear that parental rejection has seeped foul things into his mind, no light heartedness here, "I must speak with you."

A low predatory growl pushes its way out of his throat, "No. You want to speak with me. And I am not your father, you don't just get what you want." 

I shake my head in disdain at this childish jealousy. I have come for much greater concerns. It is possible I have arrived at such a selfish destination: I longed for a love, for an innocence that has obviously been long lost to hatred. Should I have just continued without him?

"Brother. Grow up," his fist tightens  on the gun,"I am here because I need your help." He loosens his hold on the beast but does not let go, I can now see the softer side - concern for his customers no doubt, no concern left for me. I reluctantly traipse to a table (command of Christopher) nearer the front window where upon arrival, my Traveller comes to view. He grows a little impatient, I see. I must hurry this meeting along. 

Whilst gazing, I hadn't noticed the arrival of another. A deliberate cough gains my sought after attention. "I'm Gunther, Gunther Hemsworth," He's a young, broad lad, my guess is around 18. Handsome too, borderline devilish. His welcoming grin half distracts myself from his extended hand, to which I have already taken into possession of my own. I withdraw hastily. 

"I-I must apologize, my mind is elsewhere this morning. Can I help you...?"

"Gunther, it's Gunther," I nod apologies at my forgetfulness. My mother might've fainted at the disrespect. "I'm a student at the academy. Well I'm soon to graduate anyhow. And yet one must wonder what to expect in this path that I have chosen...I came to this place hoping to find answers from the experienced. Unfortunately, I found drunks." His eyes turn from our conversation and face a worry many hunters have shared. I sit a comforting hand upon his, bringing him back to this reality. 

"What is it that makes you worry so? This life can have it's downfalls but if you have the right education, you can choose another path-" he cuts me off, shaking his hands defensively at my mistake.

"No no, you have it wrong. Last night...I dreamt something awful. It sounds rather silly now but I assure you, our goodman Gherman tried to kill me"  A small laugh is the last thing that makes it's way into my hearing. His voice trails off into a distant reality that is beyond my consciousness, as I stand rigid in fear. How many shared my dream? Is it exclusive to hunters? If so, then is it a threat from a future Infected? But I have not seen such a powerful One, only read about them. 

"Are you...quite alright?" Confusion wraps Gunther's face in a polite concern. 

Without meeting his eyes, I nod forcefully, "Quite", and bolt from my table searching for my brother.

 No time no time, I must leave. Until I hear a clattering of glass and turn to face Christopher, I shake my head and he knows. He may hate me, but he is my brother and he just knows. He nods, a strange affection, clearly a reaction to my haphazard state and begins to  chase me through the door, yelling orders to close the place immediately all the way. I hardly even noticed the Shotgun attached to his back when joining him to climb upon Traveller (he was always faster than me, the git).  I hardly even noticed the figure following close behind either...