Black Gun

There were only a few people at the Second Circulation Desk in the library:

Professor Armitage, Jack Cobert, Professor Rice, and Wilbur Whateley.

The staff at the lending desk had already left for the day.

Jack clutched the slightly worn Necronomicon, while Wilbur held his great-grandfather Oliver's skull.

The two professors and Wilbur shared a kerosene lamp, with Jack a little further away, about ten meters away from them.

This blond young man with a scar on his cheek sat alone in the darkness; it was here that he made that phone call.

Professor Armitage sat two meters away from Wilbur, the goat-headed man rolling his eyes and refusing to let the professor get any closer.

"I thought you'd go to the Old Kingdom," Professor Armitage said to Wilbur. "The large museums there might have what you need, and if you want a complete edition, the deluxe edition there would certainly be better."

The Goat Head shook his head. "I originally wanted to go, but after thinking about it, I think it's best not to be away from home for too long. After all, I'm worried about my family."

So you came back?

"So I came back."

The bald Professor Rice leaned forward. "But Mr. Wilbur, this is not the time for the Phillips Library to welcome guests, and you did not enter through proper channels."

The Goat Head grinned, clutching the skull in his arms even tighter, his eyes fixed on Jack in the darkness, trying to make out the outline of the enormous book.

He said, "Yes, Professor Rice. But what can you do about it?"

He gently tapped the skull's eye socket. "Look at this thing. Maybe it will break apart on its own tomorrow, but at least it can keep me safe today."

"And all I need is tonight."

Neither professor understood the meaning of the second half of his sentence, and they ultimately ignored it.

"Seriously, professors," Wilbur continued, "I'm curious, why do you suddenly want to take the Necronomicon and this bone with you? Wouldn't it be safer to leave them in the library?"

No one answered his question.

Oliver's skull could only avert his unfavorable fate, but it couldn't get the professors at Miskatonic University to cooperate with him.

He shrugged helplessly.

"What did you do to Nancy?" Professor Armitage asked.

Wilbur shook his head. "I refuse to answer that question, just as you refuse to answer mine."

He looked at Jack in the darkness again and said loudly, "Hey, I'll ask you one more time, can you give me the book?"

"I'm sorry," Jack replied.

The goat-faced man grinned, but this time it wasn't a smile; his face twisted into a grotesque grimace, making his already ugly features resemble a demon.

The two professors sitting in front of him both frowned.

"Please wait a moment, Mr. Wilbur," Jack said.

Jack wasn't exactly thin to begin with, and in the darkness, his figure appeared rather robust.

He continued, "Professors, please come over here. We need to discuss this with each other."

The professors exchanged a glance, looked apologetically at Wilbur, indicating that they had to neglect their guest, and then got up to leave.

Professor Armitage reassured Wilbur, saying, "Please don't be too hasty; after all, this is a serious matter. Give us some time."

As the two professors drew closer, Jack suddenly stood up.

No one knew what he wanted to do, so the two professors paused in their approach.

Jack raised his hand and pointed at Wilbur.

It took Wilbur a while to make out the hand pointing at him in the darkness.

He tilted his head back unhappily. "What are you doing?"

"Professors, please step aside," Jack said calmly.

Professor Armitage and Professor Rice spread out to the left and right respectively.

Wilbur sat there, confronting him.

"Damn it," Wilbur said, "What exactly do you want?"

"I don't want to do anything," Jack replied.

Wilbur was panting heavily. His intuition had indeed given him no warning of danger. Unless the other person was someone like his brother, someone who couldn't be sensed by his intuition, then the other person certainly didn't have any malicious intent.

But this made him even angrier, because if there was no malice, the gesture might have been an expression of contempt.

His tone made no attempt to hide his anger: "And look at you now—"

"Bang!"

The loud noise, which shouldn't have happened in the library, interrupted Wilbur.

A brilliant burst of light suddenly shone from beneath Jack's raised hand.

The flames were extinguished in an instant, like a flash of lightning.

But everyone watching Jack still managed to see what was under his hand through that sliver of light:

A revolver that was almost brand new.

In the light of the kerosene lamp, a red splash of water erupted on Wilbur's right side.

"Ugh!"

The goat-faced man let out a Affliction groan, frantically turning to protect his skull, while simultaneously letting out a furious roar, "Hope!"

The sound didn't resemble a human voice; it sounded more like a lion's roar, only mimicking the pronunciation of "Hope."

"You guessed right," Hope replied.

He stood quietly behind Jack, and when Jack raised his arm, his arm holding the revolver was underneath Jack's arm.

Using the darkness as cover, Hope quietly approached Jack from behind.

In fact, they had been whispering to each other for a while.

Jack Cobert:

Self-Being: 1.68, Spirit Body: 1.55, Self-Sense: 1.10, Inspiration: 0.53

A mage with increased agility.

The light from the kerosene lamp wasn't entirely obscured, but Jack's continuously active spell deepened the darkness and blocked out some sounds.

Interestingly, Wilbur was unaware that Jack had used a spell, because Jack had been maintaining the spell for a full half hour.

It started when he couldn't find Oliver at the Skull Museum.

That was before he met Wilbur.

"I want to know where Wilbur's thigh is," Hope said to Jack.

"Of course," Jack replied.

He then grabbed Hope's hand and pointed in a direction. "Right here."

"Bang!"

Wilbur jumped up from the chair; a bullet shattered one of the chair legs.

"Damn Hope," Wilbur muttered, clutching his wound and looking around before fixing his gaze on the stairs on the other side.

"It's off-center," Jack said.

"I'm not used to this yet," Hope replied. "Show me again, I won't do it again next time."

"Or the thigh?"

"Yes, either one is fine."

"Professors, please don't interfere!" Jack shouted, pulling Hope's arm. "This is Hope and Wilbur's family matter; let them resolve it themselves."

"Bang!"

The third bullet.

But even before the gunshots rang out, Wilbur began chanting a spell.

The bullet failed to splash red water again; the sound seemed to have hit wood.

"It's crooked again?" Hope asked.

"No, not this time," Jack replied. "It was accurate, but he dodged it with a spell."

Jack began chanting the syllables of the incantation, and the surrounding darkness deepened.

Hope sensed something arrive, but then vanished in an instant.

Jack shrugged, the scar at the corner of his mouth curving into a smile, "I blocked his second spell for you."

"Thank you," Hope said.

He released his grip and threw the revolver away.

"Three bullets left," Jack reminded him.

"No need."

Hope said, taking a step back so that Jack couldn't feel his presence.