The Most High! (Supernatural Hunter Quest)

"You know, Felix?" he said. "I'll be back, so you don't have to worry."

The old man. He has almost no hair, but he has a bushy, white beard. Numerous wrinkles painted his face and a pair of glasses sat on his nose, allowing him to see. He wore a flannel shirt and a pair of baggy shorts while looking at you from his chair. You believe him. He is a magician. The old man gave you a warm smile.

The old man, your grandfather, coughs a few times. The cough is as nasty as it is raspy, you could tell it was draining him of his life-force even despite your lack of a concept of life and death when you were six. He was suffering at that very moment, but kept smiling for you.

"You're awesome, grandpa!" Your parents told you that grandpa would have to go away in a few months because of some animal called 'cancer' but you had no idea how a weird, armored, red thingy can stop your grandpa from being cool. He's larger than any kind of crab, or whatever these things are!

And so...

~~~

You were sitting in the left row of the pews, at the very edge. Your mother was to your left, sobbing quietly, her face covered with a black veil. In front of the altar stood a priest, reading excerpts from the Bible and telling everyone how your grandpa "will be missed." You had no idea what the priest was talking about -- grandpa already said he'd come back! Why miss him? He'd be back sooner than anyone else thought. And so, you were starting to get bored with the sermon that, to you, made no sense.

You've taken only one look back and you saw a man sitting in the very back, corner pew of the church, where no one else was. You quickly recognized him. A flannel shirt, baggy pants, white beard! He was back!

You turned around to your left. "Mom! Mom! Look, grandpa's here!" You tugged the woman by her black coat.

She looked at you, terrified momentarily, then shook her head. "It's okay... it's okay, Felix... it's okay," tears streamed down her eyes as she hugged you. You didn't understand why she was crying. Was she sad that grandfather was back? Did she not believe you? Well, you couldn't blame her -- grandpa wasn't in the pew the next moment that you looked back, almost as if he teleported. Grandfather and his magic tricks, he was just like that!

Only as you returned to the car did you understand. While you waited in the seat, your parents talked outside about what you 'saw,' and a month later, mom signed you up for therapy, thinking you were "going insane from grief."

That. That was your first encounter with a ghost. A year after this happened, you understood it at last. And so, you became freakishly obsessed with the paranormal. Anything from werewolves, to ghosts, to slasher movies. Everything creepy, scary, or otherwise not understood by nature, the very existence of which is doubtful in the first place. That's what you were interested in.

But that's the past, so, how about now? How about you wake up?

How about you...

~~~

"Felix... WAKE. UP!" A feminine yell reaches you.

Your body is shaken. Your eyes open. Your mom is calling you from downstairs.

"Ah...." Your torso rises and you gently press the button on your phone to stop it from ringing. Clearly, its task has failed. It was your mother that helped you awaken with her yells. You were always a heavy sleeper. Still, you need to get up. It's school today. Speaking of which, what day is it? You take your phone in your hand and quickly check the date and time; 2012-09-25. Wednesday. And right now, it is 7:05 in the morning. Chill out.


You slide out of the bed, only to scroll your hands across your face, rubbing it strenuously. You move to your mirror and stare at yourself. Short, blonde hair and blue eyes, like a pair of lakes. A rather meek figure - you don't look too strong or imposing at first glance and you aren't that tall either, at least for your age, that is. You're not particularly handsome, but it could be worse.

"Felix!"

"I'm already up, mom!" You yell back, a bit annoyed, facing the hallway.

You complete the typical morning routine; refreshen in the bathroom, eat breakfast, put some clothes on, pack up your stuff, watch some reality TV, get yelled at for watching reality TV, go to school. Mom packed you some lunch. She's a good mom. The day is looking rather decent, even if it's the beginning of the week. In addition, you have only a few classes today. You'll be out of that social prison by 14:25. 13:35 if Ms. Thatcher isn't present again. The only concerns you have is to not get picked on and stick to yourself. Your reputation is already like a broken mirror - the last thing you need is to scatter the pieces and make it impossible to assemble it.

You give mom a goodbye kiss before leaving.

~~~

You walk down Hampshire St. It's the fastest route to school. The district itself is very poor. The 2-story buildings are white in color, but most of the cheap paint is slowly peeling off even though you're confident they've been doing renovations no longer than a year ago. The houses are also very close to each other, with almost no garden to speak of anywhere, but a few dark alleys being ominously ever-present and giving you the feeling that there is a large, urban labyrinth surrounding you. There's plenty of windows on the walls of houses too, giving the place the unpleasant aura of being watched and surrounded. At least it's safe. As far as you know, crime is rare in these parts of town.

You keep walking...

...

"Hey, Felix!" You hear a voice you wish you weren't hearing. "What's up? You still drawing zombies, or whatever?" A trio of laughs hits you like a sledgehammer in the back of the head. Anxiety washes over you like a coat. You don't know what to say. You just wish they left you alone.

Your response is to turn around and reply calmly. "Piss off, okay?"

"That's not an answer to my question, freak. You don't answer a question with a question. Didn't they teach you that?"

James Clarke. You wish you could say he was your archnemesis, but life isn't a comic book where you can beat up every person bullying you, nor can you call them your archnemesis without getting laughed at. James is larger than you. He's a burly upperclassman. He's already given you a beating once after the two of you had an argument, so you tend to avoid him, but it becomes difficult when he's the one looking for trouble. He has black, messy hair and he's slowly growing a few hairs above his lips, indicating he will have a mustache in a couple of years. His eyes are brown and his stare is mean.

James stares at you expectantly. His friends are less assholes than him. They don't directly bully you, but they're always with him to share the laugh.

"I don't draw 'zombies.' Leave me alone!" You walk off in the opposite direction as quickly as you can.

"Hey, hey. Calm down! Why are you so aggressive?" The sound of feet marching onward makes it clear that they're slowly walking after you. Unless you change direction, which you probably can't, you won't be free of their bullshit until you arrive in school.

"Because you're following me!" You don't even turn around to say that to him.

"I have no idea what you're on about! I'm just going to school," sarcasm drips from his words like lingering poison. And you can feel just how much he intended for you to know he was sarcastic. Your face scrunches up reflexively, knowing he'll never leave you alone.

"Don't speak to me!" You pick up the tempo.

"Get a load of this guy," the three laugh again.

...

One turn left later, in the direction of your school, you take a look back. The three of them laugh as they walk away in the opposite direction of the crossing, probably to go to a nearby shop to buy cigarettes. You hate the three of them with passionate, fiery anger. Ever since you showed what you always sketched in your diary to a 'friend' you thought you had, you were laughed at, but these three... they take the top.

~~~

You arrive at school. One boring geography lesson, then one boring math lesson, and several other, equally boring lessons. Ms. Thatcher doesn't seem to have returned yet, so your class was free to go home as biology was canceled, although this won't be the case tomorrow.

~~~

13:37. You leave through the main entrance of the school. Keeping to yourself, you go home.

As you're walking across Hampshire St, you see James. Alone. Without his friends. Still, you'd rather not interact with him even when he's alone. You hide around the corner and peek every now and then to make sure the coast is clear...

...

Now that you look again, he's talking to someone in an alleyway. A man taller than himself. They're too far away for you to know what the two of them are talking about...

...

"Oh, fuck!!! Help!!! Please, hel--" James suddenly calls for help. He tries to run away from the man in the alleyway, but...

Shivers run down your spine. As James runs away, he suddenly trips, then something; like an invisible force, drags him through the alleyway. You've seen it in movies before, but that actually happening on your eyes was chilling. The man that used to stand in the alleyway disappeared.

[] Move to the alleyway to investigate, but don't go inside.
[] Engage in pursuit.
[] Call 911.
-[] Say the truth. "He was dragged into an alleyway by telekinetic force!"
-[] Say you saw another student from your school get dragged into an alleyway while he was yelling for help.
[] Write-in.

You hate his guts. James Clarke bullied and harassed you for as long as your memory can reach, but he's still a human being. You need to help somehow! What to do? What to do...? That's right, you need to call 911! That's what you were told to always do in case of emergency. This seems like an emergency!

Your hand sinks into your pocket instantly. It drags the phone out and you quickly dial 911...

...

...

You put the phone close to your ear. Your hands were shaking. Whatever you saw right now -- it wasn't natural. It had no right to... be. To exist. It had about as much likelihood of happening as what happened to you six years ago, and you still aren't sure if you really saw your grandfather that day or if was your memory and childish imagination playing tricks.

"911 - operator, what's the emergency?" BOOP!

"911, how can I help?"

"I... uh... it's..."

... "What's your name?"

"Felix. Felix Kościuszko..."

"What's the problem?"

"I... saw another student from my school dragged into an alleyway. He was calling for help."

"Where are you calling from?"

"Around Hampshire Street..."

"I'll send in a patrol. Stay on the line until they arrive and tell me if you see anything else, okay?"

"... Okay."

"Sorry, who dragged him into the alleyway?"

"I didn't see. I think it was a man, an older one."

"And do you know the student?"

"Yes, his name is James Clarke."

"Okay."

You had to lie. You told the operator that someone dragged him. That some man dragged him. Well, definitely not. Whatever dragged him in there was no man. It was clearly paranormal in nature, but you lied because otherwise the operator wouldn't believe you and think that this is a prank. Who cares?! Who cares? This has nothing to do with you. Just wait here until the police arrive...

You hear a siren in the distance.

~

After showing the police officers where you saw James get dragged into, they went to investigate and you were free to go.

~~~

You return home, mildly traumatized. You don't speak to your mom, you only go upstairs to your room. You are quick to drop your bag beside your door and you quickly close it before running up to the window and looking through it to satisfy your paranoid thoughts and make sure you weren't followed by anyone or anything. You look, to the right, and then to the left. The rosebushes and short pine trees of your garden seem to be clear of anything esoteric. You look across the street. The rest of the neighborhood seems relatively clear. You move back from the window.

"What the hell was that? Is-is he dead?" You sit down at the bed and rub your temples. At this point, you'll most likely never know what attacked James Clarke, or if he even survived - unless he makes it to school tomorrow. But what if the policemen fail? What if that thing keeps on living? What if it keeps eating one person after another? Every thought, each like an individual train of anxiousness, race across your mind as if to reach the finish line that represents the absoluteness of your fear. Drops of sweat slide down your forehead and down your palms.

The question is - what should you do now? (Pick up to 4.)

[] The supernatural is real. You should start... what, cataloging them? Their abilities? Weaknesses? But you don't even have any idea what took James. All you know is it that it's telekinetic to some degree. Is it a ghost? Perhaps a psychic? Or a mage?! Better write down all the theories.
[] The top priority is to make sure you're safe. Go to the kitchen and get some salt, then make thin lines of it around the whole house, especially the bedrooms. Salt is an insulator against the supernatural often used by mages - your grandfather always told you that. Better listen to someone who had enough experience in what he did to come back as a ghost.
[] Arm yourself. Go get a crucifix and any other symbols of holy power you can find. And make a run for it to the local church to borrow some holy water from the priest. Maybe it won't fortify the house and ensure you're safe, but at least you'll be able to fight this thing if it even remotely knows you exist and you noticed its shenanigans.
[] Go to the attic to see if you can find anything to protect yourself from the supernatural. Maybe grandpa had some books on this kind of stuff? Also, perform a short tarot card reading to see what's about to happen while you're at it. Grandfather told you that tarot works if you "have the potential to make it work." Worth a try, right?
[] Prepare some mundane supplies; a flashlight, a camera, your old BB gun. Anything at all.
[] Get an ouija board and see if you can initiate some kind of ritual to speak to grandfather. Maybe you can ask him for advice?
[] Write-in.