The town of Dunwich is situated in a rural section of Connecticut and is home to more arcane oddities and things that go bump in the night than most of the normal residents could imagine, and they imagine quite a few. To those from an Earth that has or at one point had a particularly noted author of the eldritch kind, it should be clarified that this is not his Dunwich, though perhaps it is possible the name was something he heard echoing through the space between dimensions.
If you ever find yourself out dimension-hopping and wind up coming across one of the towns of Dunwich, you will instantly know which dimension you are in if you see a large gray walled prison-like structure with the acronym A.S.I.M.I. written on it in large blood-red letters.
Archangel Systems Internment Management Incorporated, a division of Archangel International, owns the sole government contract for the detainment and study of lycanthropic aberrations or what one impassioned senator dubbed "the sub-human werewolf menace." It may not be much of a surprise that this particular senator owned a sizeable percentage of ASIMI's stock or that their campaign's primary super-PAC is set up by AI's founder and CEO Lucian Gorgan.
This mammoth edifice of imprisonment circles several dozen acres and houses nearly two hundred confirmed werewolves, give or take, depending on the needs of the company. There has been a consistent fight among various special interests as to the status of werewolves. 'Are they even still people,' is the most common question asked, and sadly the nation is split on the answer. For now, though, minimal human rights have been secured for the werewolves, though what goes on behind the walls of an ASIMI facility may or may not meet the standards.
Not all sections of the enclosure consist of the reinforced concrete walls. Building constraints based on topography versus cost left a few areas bereft of such dense coverage. Instead, several layers of anti-werewolf measures over traditional imprisonment standards were instated to secure the facility.
Sections of multi-layered heavy-gauge fencing with a reactive pressure-sensitive high-voltage charge and wolfsbane laced silver-coated razor wire covered the non-walled areas. The grounds immediately surrounding the wall are lined with mistletoe and monkshood. A veritable forest of ash and rowan trees are present in neat rows that have been planted within the camp. Guards armed with tranquilizers and silver nitrate rounds patrol from the top of the thirty-foot walls. All measures designed to contain and weaken those within.
On the wrong side of these fences, a young man who has never been outside the enclosure sat and watched with amber eyes, a world he has never walked in. Even with the intense suppression of the plants and other oppressive effects bearing down on him, his senses were still vastly superior to a human's, and he used those senses to observe the world and the townsfolk as they wake up to start their day. A shift of the wind brought a breeze through the fence-line, and his pupils dilated as he caught the scent of something that was both familiar and not.
About a mile down the road is a small forest known for hiking trails and bird watching. As long as the birds you're watching for are crows and the trails you enjoy hiking resemble something out of the movie 'Slaughter Camp 5,' you will have found your ideal site. If you aren't familiar with the Slaughter Camp movies or they don't exist on your particular Earth, don't worry, you aren't missing anything.
At the edge of this picturesque wood where the trees grow sparse, and the underbrush grows thick, close to one of the more malodorous bovine containment fields, the rising sun slowly burns off the curtain of early morning fog and dew to reveal crimson globules of flesh, blood, and viscera strewn in the haphazard manner reminiscent of the aforementioned B rated horror film of a bygone era. Flies gather for their feast, and the prime breeding ground of exposed innards as their hum and buzz around a messy death greets the day. All unbeknownst to the nearby sleepy, yet perpetually anxious, townsfolk.
The town of Dunwich, Connecticut, is known for very few things, and the residents agree that this is for the best. Still, two things that may stand out to the common man once they enter the area are the local college, Nutmeg State University, which houses its own disaster... er, distinguished academics, and the local business owners ungodly obsession with pun-based naming schemes.
There is the popular Baba Yoga and Ballet run by a lovely Russian couple who, it is rumored, may or may not be in hiding from the Russian mafia. Then there is the local ice cream cum donut shop No Cones About It. Clever really. They serve various specialty flavors of soft-serve ice cream injected into freshly made donuts. Some of the more popular favorites include Apple of My Pie and their giant birthday cake called the Dunwich Horror boasting three dozen donuts stuffed with soft-serve and loaded with sauces and toppings enough to make a diabetic convulse at ten paces.
Most germane to the topic at hand is the local pizza parlor cum Greek diner, Edible Rex, which proudly proclaims to be the "best pizza in Dunwich" as determined by the Dun Dun Dunwich Inquisitor. The fact of the matter is that Edible Rex is the only pizza in Dunwich, and also the Dun Dun Dunwich Inquisitor is run by the owner of Edible Rex's mother.
Bacon sizzles on the flat iron as a bell rings out another order ready. Abby and Gail sit across from each other. Abby stared intently at the menu while Gail puzzled about why it's taking her daughter so long. In all the years they've been coming here, the oddly indecisive Abby has always ordered the same thing; waffles, extra butter, and real maple syrup with a double side of sausage, but now Abby's frown and rapidly tapping foot tells the ever-observant mother that something may be wrong with her darling newly-minted adult.
She rested her chin on her palm with her head tilted slightly and eyes narrowed. "What's wrong, sweetie?"
Abby's frown deepened, and her lips purse in evident frustration. "I don't know," she whined. "I want waffles. I love waffles, but for some reason, I keep turning back to the Titan Steak Breakfast."
Gail's frown turned incredulous. "You know that's like a twenty-something-ounce steak, right? Complete with half a dozen eggs and a pound of home fries. I mean, it's your birthday; get what you want, but don't make yourself sick."
Abby sighed. "Yeah, I know. I'm not sure why I'm so hungry," she said, shaking her head. "Arrg! Screw it. I'm going with my usual, but I'll add a double order of bacon. I really want some meat."
"Are you sure that's it?" Gail asked. An opportunity for mom-mode digging should never be missed. "You're not stressing about your senior year, are you? Or, I don't know, a boy perhaps?"
'Please, God, don't let it be a boy," Gail thought to herself.
Abby rolled her eyes. "No."
"Or a girl?"
'Please, God, no relationship stuff at all right now. I'm not ready.'
"What?! God, mom, no!" Abby exclaimed.
"Well, I don't know. I still haven't found where you hide your diary," Gail said, laughing to mask the nervousness.
"And you never will. Diaries are secret for a reason," Abby huffed.
'Also, I don't have one for the very reason that she might find it,' Abby thought.
Abby noticed Gail had an odd look on her face and instinctively crossed her arms. She narrowed her eyes and frowned a little. "What?" she asked.
Gail shrugged, and a small smirk blossomed on her pink lips. It was enough for Abby to have an inkling of what she was thinking.
"Oh my god, mom, yes, I like boys. No, I'm not into girls. My sex life is woefully pedestrian," she said with a flat voice while rolling her eyes.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who said anything about a 'sex life.' Your 'sex life' better be completely non-existent until you are at least eighteen," Gail said, putting air quotes around 'sex life.'
Abby looked at her mother with a disdainfully, bland expression. "First, I've never even had a boyfriend never-mind one serious enough to consider a 'sex life.' Most guys who meet me think I'm twelve since I didn't exactly inherit your height or giant tits," she said with just a hint of envy as she pointed out Gail's bountiful assets.
Gail exaggerated a shocked expression. "They're not that big."
In fact, they were that big.
It wasn't full-blown jealousy, but Abby did have a glint of green in her otherwise blue eyes when she compared her five-foot-two petite and flat-chested frame with her mother's much more formidable five-foot-ten and curves like a particularly well-developed lingerie model. Abby would think she was adopted if not for their matching fair bordering on pale skin, raven black hair, and blue eyes. Though even there, where Gail's eyes were a pale ice blue, Abby's were an electric blue so bright that she'd been accused of wearing colored contacts.
"Which brings me to number two," Abby continued. "I am, despite all appearances to the contrary, eighteen now. Remember, today is my birthday?"
"Well, happy birthday," a familiar masculine purr called out. "So, that's why your mom is playing hooky from work today, huh?"
Abby smiled. 'YES! Uncomfortable conversation reversal. Vengeance is mine. Take this, mom.'
"Hey, John! Why don't you come to sit with us," Abby said, with a mischievous glint in her eye.
John smiled, completely unaware of Abby's nefarious plan to use him to tease her mother mercilessly. It was no secret that John had the hots for Gail. Most men couldn't look at Gail and not feel the stirrings of a ravenousness beast in their loins, but Gail maintained a stance of polite disinterest. It made Abby wonder how she was even conceived if her mother held so little interest in the opposite sex.
"As much as I'd love to Abby, I'm on the clock. I just stopped in to pick up some coffees for the guys."
Gail frowned. "Shouldn't you be getting off shift now? Did someone call out?"
"Keeping tabs on me?" John asked, smiling.
"I did make the schedule, so, yes, I suppose I am."
"Fair enough." John shrugged. "There's a mauled animal that Walt wants us to check out. Considering last night's moon and whatnot."
Gail's anxiety ratcheted up a notch. "One of ours?" she asked.
"All present and accounted for," John said. "I wouldn't worry about it. Probably a bear or coyote or something. We're just dotting the 'i's and crossing the 't's."
John was an attractive guy. Tall enough that he could look directly in Gail's eyes even when she wore heels, with an athletic build, broad in the shoulders and narrow in the waist, like a swimmer or more appropriately, like a surfer. John was a west coast transplant complete with sandy locks, a chiseled jawline, and a million-watt smile. His eyes were kind, and overall he was a genuinely good person.
"Yo, John, get your ass in gear."
Unlike his partner Richard who was genuinely an asshole. Abby's mood sunk immediately. While John's unrequited interest was cute and Dick was just a giant douche who would use any means necessary to get into any girl's pants. Disgustingly enough, he was overly successful at it too. Gail had seen him with more than a few NSU girls and would frequently use Dick as an example of what to look out for if Abby ever did start dating.
"Oh, now I see why you were taking so long," Richard said with a smarmy smile. "Hello, ladies."
Abby felt an urge to hurl but managed a condescending smile. "Hey, Dick."
He blinked, his smile becoming brittle. "It's Rick."
Abby just stared at him. Richard frowned.
"So, John says you guys are checking a scene," Gail interjected to diffuse Rick. His eyes immediately turning to her and scanning down to her chest.
"Yeah, just babysitting the egg-heads while they take their measurements and do their math, only to eventually have them tell us it was a bear all along," Rick said dismissively. "So, Gail, when are you gonna stop playing games and go out with me."
'When Hell freezes over, you douche/scumbag,' Abby and Gail thoughts nearly perfectly in sync.
Gail smiled blandly. "I don't date coworkers, and I'm not really in the market anyway. Besides, I'm way too old for your tastes."
'And you're way too gross,' Abby and Gail thought. How girls fell for this ass-clown was beyond Abby's understanding. Gail understood all too well that it usually involved an excess of alcohol and not knowing him. People frequently made bad decisions when they lacked information and worse ones when they are impaired.
Rick was about to respond with something that would probably force Abby to reject the idea of eating food for the rest of the morning, but her appetite was saved by John. "We need to head out to the scene. It was nice seeing you guys. Happy birthday Abby."
"Oh, it's your birthday," Rick said a John tried to pull him away. "Happy birthday, squirt. What are you like twelve or something?"
Abby wanted to respond but seeing her daughter's eyes narrow, Gail cut her off. "Good luck, guys. I hope it turns out to be a bear."
John waved while pushing Rick out the door. Abby ground her teeth. "Dick."
"He certainly is," Gail said in complete agreement with her daughter.
Abby looked at her mother. She hadn't forgotten about her revenge-teasing, and a slow smile spread across her face. "On the other hand, John is perfectly nice."
Gail frowned, sensing the direction this was taking. "Yes, he is," she said stiffly, eyes narrowing.
"Pretty good looking too," Abby added.
Gail started to say something, but Abby jumped in. "He's also totally into you."
Gail rolled her eyes. She knew this was coming. "He's more than a decade younger than me."
"So!" Abby exclaimed. She would point out that Gail looked like she was in her mid-twenties and not her mid-thirties, but that was obvious. "He's into MILFs or something."
Gail laughed. "Did you just call me a MILF?"
Abby just rolled her eyes. "From an outside, objective view, you are one. That's not the point, though. The point is, he's interested, and your sex life is as non-existent as mine, and no one is mistaking you for twelve. He's cute, nice, interested, and you haven't had a boyfriend since I've known you, which is literally my entire life," Abby spewed.
It was actually something that had bothered Abby for as long as she'd been cognizant of the fact that her mom didn't have anyone else besides Abby. Her life was comprised of work and Abby. She'd always avoided close connections, and Abby was positive that it wasn't healthy for an adult woman in her prime to have her teenage daughter as the only person they talk to. Abby also realized that she had tread onto some real issues and wasn't comfortable having this type of conversation in the local diner.
"... or girlfriend. I don't know. I haven't found your diary yet."
Abby and Gail looked at each other the tension was there, but Abby had left a way out. Finally, Gail smirked, and they both burst out laughing. Potential embarrassing public scene successfully thwarted, but they both knew that the seal on the issue had actually come loose this time.