Excerpt of Winston Winchester

WHEN WINSTON GOT TO MEET MANUEL, in hindsight, Winston thought that Manuel’s issues were insignificant, as his experience had weirder stories compared to his California life, although you, the reader, shall be the judge. 

It may be very interesting to note that the Winchesters were examples of people who combined flamboyancy and subtlety. Despite their occupations as investigative journalists, these individuals were quite different. When catching the story, they were men that didn’t even take the time to actually hide themselves, for their suits were filled with embroidered colors that were contrary to black and white. There must be an explanation for why their clothing is so flamboyant, yet unnecessary. If the goal was to be subtle, then why not blend in? Well, Winston Winchester, the head of the Iron League, would have a lot of words to say about that. 

Winston’s top hat, a hat with a ‘W’ scrawled on the front of it, was Abe Lincoln-like. A gorget encircled his neck. Fluffy, white powder sprawled on his face with two black triangles located right below his two, black eyes. The black circle drawn on the tip of his nose was the cherry on top, and this didn’t include his snazzy, black suit with blue stripes coming from the shoulder to the bottom hem. His pants had to sprawl red and black stripes, with the shoes having those golden polka dots that didn’t seem to coincide with the pants. Winston, however, was happy with his attire as if all of this was what an average human benign would wear. 

A couple of months before Winston met Manuel, a meeting was hosted at least once a week to discuss the weird mysteries around the town of Gorbet, a place that seemed to have the weirdest of all dilemmas. Quentin Winchester, the man who was sitting at a corner of the black, rectangular table, had his hands together, contemplating while he looked down. Winston Winchester was sitting on the opposite corner, with the other buddies, Wendell, Robert, and Marcus, all sitting adjacent to him. All four were waiting for their task, but the secretary, unfortunately, was a bit late, which meant that the documents in the manila folder were not delivered yet. This was shocking news, as it was not normal that the secretary, punctual in the usual fashion, would be absent in this occasion. The five only suspected that maybe, just maybe, the secretary was experiencing the Gorbet Flu today, which was becoming ever so common—especially considering the fact that news corporations have been signifying an increase number of cases. 

“Well, this is quite eventful.” Quentin wore a ‘Q’ on his Abe Lincoln-like top hat. He was smug, now having his arms crossed in front of his chest. “She is testing my patience. I know that Secretary Haines is better than this. Professor Solstice!” A wrinkled man came in from a door that was just right next to Robert; he was now the star of the room, everyone placing their eyes on the man that seemed to come out of nowhere. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Do you know, by any means, where Secretary Haines is?” 

“Um . . . not so, Mr.Quentin. I’m afraid that—” The doorknob miraculously turned, but the source wasn’t supernatural; a woman with a lavender suit with nerdy glasses, twice the size as her eyes, came forth with a scrunchy bun that gave her an academic vibe. She was holding a manila folder on her left arm, relatively thick considering the curvature of the top half of the manila folder. 

“Sorry for being a bit late, Quentin. I have been running a bit of errands before I came here.” 

“Interesting. Well, you are only a minute late, but next time though—”

“I understand. Here is the assignment though. Enjoy.” As if nothing even happened, she scattered off with her tail between her two legs, having all limbs stayed intact. She turned the doorknob and there she was off to go back to her desk office. 

Quentin opened the manila folder, skimming through each word line by line. He scattered them a little bit to make sure that he didn’t miss a hidden detail that would lose his job. “Hmm, this is quite unprecedented.” Winston was a man of expertise in the field of undercover—he was like the Fred of the group, but more intelligent. 

“Guys, you all have a very important mission.” Standing up, he handed out four documents, one to each Winchester that goes over the summary of the task. This was the moment where all of their eyes rose, exaggerating the black triangles. “It turns out that twenty kids are locked in a school and they can’t get out. It is up to all of you to figure out what is going on.”

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