There had been no time to celebrate after Pete and Duke had returned with Professor Rice to Pete's friend, Professor Armitage: Pete was immediately sent out by his elderly friend to find Dr. Francis Morgan. "If Professor Rice was in trouble then Dr. Morgan is definitely in trouble", was what Prof. Armitage with a bit of a sniff. Prof. Rice was known for frequenting shady locales, particularly The Clover Club.
Professor Rice, grateful for being saved from the slaughter at Miskatonic University, had volunteered to go with Pete and Duke, to help however he could. He had been the only person to survive the wholesale killing from that night, including Georgia. Georgia was a student at the Miskatonic University. She had tried to help Pete find Prof. Rice, only to leave to go fight that... thing... that had escaped from the Science Department. There had been no hesitation, no fear, on Georgia's part. Pete wished he could have said the same. Had he avoided the fight with the monstrosity on the campus out of pure cowardice? Had he really been focused on getting to Prof. Rice as much as he said he had? Pete had asked himself that question then, although he refused to acknowledge it. But when they'd left campus Pete had seen her... what was was left of the pieces of Georgia, scattered about the ground. And all because Pete hadn't gone with her.
Duke growled, but Pete didn't hear him. All he saw was the door to the Clover Club. A man in a pinstripe suit watched them with the sneer of the mob.
The growl turned to a bark.
The sneer turned to terror.
There was a skittering up Pete's leg, little pins in his calf. One yelp and a shake later revealed an enormous rat. Pete stomped and immediately wished he hadn't; the guts of the creature stuck in the holes of his shoes. He heard the skittering and squeaking behind him and felt ice water in his veins. Duke, on the other hand, charged the oncoming horde, snarling, rending, throwing rat corpses the size of terriers aside like they were so many torn paper bags. The horde fled, vanishing into the darkness with their squeaks of rage and impotence.
The pinstripe suit was trembling. ".... again... not again.. I can't stand those... Can't. Can't. Mamma couldn't..."
The only thing Pete could see was Georgia's mangled pieces. There were flies crawling out what was left of her mouth. Already. Things rot so fast.
All of a sudden Pete was back with the man in the suit. "These... these aren't the first?" he asked with a shudder. The suit shook his head. "How... how bad is it?"
The suit looked up. "We've lost a lot of customers. It's been this way the last few weeks. Whole hordes of vermin.... and I know worse? But I just hate rats."
The thing had ripped her scalp off; blood pooled behind her head.
"Duke and I can help with the rats. And... and whatever else."
Professor Rice started. "That's not why we're here. We came to-"
"Shut up. Duke and I. We got this."
Duke was bristling. Pete knelt next to him, stroking his fur, shushing him, whispering sweet nothings into those long and floppy ears. Slowly Duke stopped bristling. And then they all walked into the Clover Club.
A man in a solid midnight suit was on them like white on rice. "Excuse me, the mutt-"
"- can help us with our pest problem, boss" chimed the pin-striped suit. "He made real good work of another one of those mobs."
"Oh," he stared at Pete and Duke "You're here to help with our... problem?"
Pete held out a hand. "Yessir. I'm Aschan Pete. I manage for Duke over there." Duke, slobbering and panting, looked over at the barren tables.
The midnight suit shook Pete's hand. "Jimmy. Pleased to make yours and Duke's acquaintance." Pete nodded. "Knock yourselves out," Jimmy said, handing Pete a fire axe. "Just in case."
Nothing else seemed amiss in the lounge, apart from it being almost completely empty. So Pete went to the bar. As if on cue, the squeaks and swarming started. Pete and Duke scattered them after a few minutes of swings and bites. Pete was happy he had the axe; no more rat guts in his shoes! There was a glass of whisky on one of the tables. Pete drained it in a gulp, swallowing around the incoming fire. Duke was happily breaking a dead rat's back, whipping it from side to side in his jaws.
There was a skittering in the room just beyond, followed by screams. Sighing, Pete grabbed the axe and rushed into the adjoining card room. Duke charged ahead of him. Squeals, screams, barks, and the falling of an axe followed shortly thereafter. Exhausted, Pete slumped back against a table. A blackjack dealer was cowering atop it, shaking like a leaf. There was another glass of whisky next to the shaky dealer. Downing the fire, Pete poked the shaking boy; he fell off the table with a yelp. "I'd like to play a round, if that's arright with you, Pete slurred. Trembling, the dealer leaned against the table and stood up.
10.
"Hit me"
3
"Hit me"
King
"DAMNIT!! Pete roared and hit the table, causing the poor boy to jump. "That never works for me!"
Screams were heard from the lounge. Duke had begun to move a split second before that.
A looming white monstrosity was coming out of a hole in the floor; there were no breaks in the floorboards, which looked dissolved. Duke lunged; he squealed as he was batted aside like a ragdoll, trashing a nearby table, sending chairs flying into the nearby walls. Jimmy came running up and was dragged back down into the hole, screams echoing in the ears of the survivors. Pulling back into the bar with everyone else, Pete hid next to the door. a few minutes later the pale thing looked in, cautiously.
The world lost all color. Warmth. All that moved. And began to swirl around something... else. Duke squared up, growling, at the roiling colors and warmth, oblivious to the black and white world he was in.
Pete buried his axe into the white thing's head.
He saw Georgia's face a second before the axe buried itself in it. Pete fell backwards, screaming into the world of black and white and grey and cold.
A few barks and growls and the world went back to warmth and color. Pete grabbed a random glass nearby and chugged. "GAH! VODKA! Blech!"
After a minute Pete and Duke went back into the lounge. The yawning abyss stared back up at them. "You ready boy?" Duke whined. There was no color in the tunnel Pete found in the abyss. Duke sniffed in the black and white and grey gloom.
The color was back up above, in the- around - more spheres. One of the men charged in at them, at whatever it was. Pete and Duke charged up and out, ripping and hacking the thing apart. Color returned to the world.
The man who had swung at the color draining spheres clapped Pete on the shoulder. "I'm Peter Clover, owner of the club you trashed." Pete's face fell. Peter Clover laughed. "Oh c'mon, I'm just joking! You saved my life! I could never begin to repay you for that."
Dr. Francis Morgan was nowhere to be found, try as they might. He was gone.
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