Chapter One: Who Needs A Job?

“You are going to have to get a job.”
The words hit Theodore Hunt where it would hurt the most-his laziness. It was a large laziness, well-nurtured by a diet of pizza, television and freeloading, and it didn’t like being hurt in such a way.
He directed a pained look at the person who had committed this injury, even managing to twist round in his chair to get a better angle.
“Mum,” he said. “Why do I have to get a job?”
“Because you’re a lazy freeloader who does nothing but sit around and play those ridiculous roleplaying videogames,” said his mother, accurately. “You promised that you’d use this year out before university to get some life experience. And pay your own way.”
Darting a somewhat guilty glance towards the television screen, currently displaying the title screen of a certain popular fantasy roleplaying videogame, Theo got out of his chair and assumed a dramatic posture.
“Mother, I swear to you on my dying breath that I will get a job. A proper job, where they give you money for doing it, and possibly even a snazzy costume.”
His mother looked at him, raised an eyebrow, and then produced the local newspaper.
“All right then. Start right now.”
“…What?”
“I said start now. Take this paper, and look in it. There are ‘jobs available’ in the back. I want you to have phoned at least five of them by this afternoon and have acquired at least three interviews. I’ve ringed the ones I think would suit you.”
And with that she dropped the paper on his chair and walked out, leaving her son with his mouth hanging open in sheer shock.
The paper sat on the chair, looking accusing.
“It’s no good looking at me like that,” Theo accused, pointing at it. “This is all your fault.”
The newspaper remained silent.
“I bet you’re filled with jobs at Burger King and Matalan and, and…” he flailed around a bit, looking for the most boring job he could think of. “…toll booths!”
Once again the newspaper declined to comment.
“Well, I’m not looking at you until I’ve at least finished the first bit of this game. It’s new.”
Although the paper still said nothing, its air of reproach intensified. Theo narrowed his eyes at it, and they engaged in a rather one-sided staring match until eventually the young man’s conscience and sense of self-preservation overwhelmed his laziness and he picked it up, sat down, and opened it.
He immediately got an inkling of what sort of skills his mother believed he possessed.
“Cleaning? Supermarkets? Fast-food outlets? I’m going to uni to study history, not, not…shopping…”
Flicking rapidly through the five pages of ads, he discovered that every single ringed job was similarly uninspiring. And the ones that weren’t circled tended to either be even worse or require a first-class degree from Oxbridge and about twenty years of experience in the field.
“What a bloody gyp.”
Entirely discouraged, he mumbled rude words to himself and turned to the last page, which consisted entirely of one advertisement with lots of bold text and starbursts.
And it proved to be a lot more interesting than the others.
“’Do you want some excitement in your life?’” he read, somewhat incredulously. “’Something that’s unlike anything you’ve done before?’ Please. ‘Do you want to get into the outdoor life?’ Well, no, but mum would like it if I did…‘Do you want to dive into a fantastic adventure?’”
He paused, and looked up at the television, where a pixelated face stared at him in implacable resolve, posing in a manly way all ready to start his fantastic adventure. He was much the same as many brave, strong heroes that Theo had played over the years and secretly longed to be more like.
Theodore Hunt grinned.
“Hell yes,” he said, and dialled the number.
He was answered by a gruff male voice that demanded to know what he wanted. Slightly intimidated, he cleared his throat nervously.
“Um, I, uh, saw your advert in the paper? For, the…” he checked hastily, having not before read the name of the organisation. “…the MyHunt Society?”
“Oh yes, did you now? And why are you phoning? Want to join, do you?”
“Um…kind of, yeah.”
“Kind of? Do you want to or not? This isn’t a society for weaklings or people who can’t make their minds up. Are you a weakling?”
Stung by this blunt question, Theo straightened up and scowled at the phone.
“No I’m not! I’m Theodore Hunt and I want to join your Society!”
The voice at the other end laughed, a deep growling noise that seemed more like some kind of large aggressive animal getting angry.
“Now you show some backbone! Hmm…Hunt, is it?”
“Yessir,” Theo said smartly.
“Hunt…yes. Definitely come along. Can you make four o’clock?”
“Yes,” Theo said without hesitation, looking at the clock. It read half-past three, but then it had for the last six years. “What’s the address?”
“Come to Paddington Station. Someone will meet you there.”
And with an abrupt click, the line cut off.
“Paddington Station? Why Paddington Station?” Theo mused, replacing the handset. “Seems like an odd sort of place to run an organisation…”