Plotlogs
Call Of The Void Sr Aristotle 240717
In the desolate outskirts of Boston, a trio comprising Ryan, Harriet, and their contact Aristotle embark on a dangerous undertaking at an abandoned warehouse, drawn by ominous leads related to cult murders. As they make their way into the foreboding structure, littered with remnants of nefarious rituals and decaying bodies, they encounter sinister forces far beyond their expectation.
Ryan, with his laid-back demeanor and penchant for surfboard chats, and Harriet, with her ever-vigilant presence and quick wits, dive headfirst into the mystery alongside Aristotle, their guiding beacon through the gloom. Despite the heavy air of decay and a haunting sense of presence, the group presses forward, urged by the very real danger posed to victims and the disappearance of one of Aristotle's deputies.
The silence of the warehouse is shattered by the fall of a door, stirred by Harriet's decisive cutting through the overgrowth, heralding the chaos to come. The trio is soon engulfed in a battle for their lives against a horde of cloaked cultists, leading to a stricken Aristotle and a desperate, blindsided fight for survival. Harriet's prowess in combat and Ryan's resourceful, if somewhat bumbling, attempts to confuse and delay their adversaries prove vital, yet the odds seem insurmountable.
Amidst the melee, a dark ritual reaches its climactic horror as Aristotle, betrayed by his blindness from a vicious assault, is laid upon an altar as a sacrificial lamb. His blood fuels a nightmarish summoning, as the very air becomes a void, threatening to unleash an unspeakable terror upon the world.
Harriet, infused with a grim resolve and driven by the intense suffering around her, fires with deadly accuracy, cutting down the cultists in a desperate effort to halt the ritual. Ryan, fueled by rage and desperation, fights to free Aristotle, even as he faces the cultists' relentless onslaught. Together, they grapple with the physical and emotional toll of their harrowing ordeal, spurred by the dire implications of their foe's intent to bring forth a void that could consume all.
In a final, frantic effort, Ryan and Haritat manage to extricate Aristotle, grievously wounded but alive, from the grasp of the encroaching darkness. With their limited resources and the looming threat of the void's hunger, they make a desperate escape, leaving behind the echoing screams of a creature denied its entry into their world.
As they drive away, a heavy silence descends once more, punctuated only by the pings of their orderite devices signaling delayed reinforcements. Aristotle, though fading, ponders the chilling encounter, vowing a return not just for his forgotten car but to confront the mysterious horror that nearly claimed their lives.
Their harrowing escape marks not an end but a grim beginning, as the trio is left to ponder the dark implications of their encounter. The battle against the cultists may be over, but the war against the consuming void and its acolytes has only just begun.
(Call of the Void(SRAristotle):SRAristotle)
[Tue Jul 16 2024]
On An abandoned Warehouse on the Outskirts of Boston
An abandoned warehouse looming before its onlookers, a monolithic relic of a bygone era. Its once robust brick walls are now crumbling, overtaken by creeping ivy and graffiti that tell stories of neglect. Broken windows, like hollow eyes, peer into the desolate interior, allowing slivers of moonlight to pierce the suffocating darkness within. Inside, the air is thick with dust and the lingering scent of mildew and blood. Rusting machinery stands like ancient sentinels, their purpose long forgotten. The floor is littered with the detritus of timedecayed wooden pallets, shattered glass, and remnants of forgotten lives. And even worse, bodies. Shadows dance ominously in the flickering light from a nearby street lamp, creating the illusion of movement where there should be none. Eerie silence fills the space, broken only by the occasional scurrying of rodents or the creaking of old beams settling and a deep, quiet chanting from the depths. In the far corners, puddles of stagnant water reflect the ghostly outlines of the warehouse's skeletal structure.
It is after dusk, about 96F(35C) degrees, There is a waxing gibbous moon.
Nightfall blankets a section of Boston so far removed it can't help but be neglected. It is impossibly quiet, and the ambiance makes it feel unsettling. Were it during the day, it would be tolerable. At night? It is ominous. The road stretches both east and west with nothing to offer pleasantry of other life. No other cars can be seen approaching. No distant lights of the city. The only thing one would notice as they pull up is a lone squad car, and even then it's a bit out of the way. Those having taken an interest in the ongoings of these murders and the potential occult workings behind them where notified of the findings and of a trail that led to the outskirts of Boston - away from the safety of Haven's Sanctuary. Both Ryan and Harriet, when they arrive, would notice their contact, Aristotle Wilson, waiting at his squad car and looking less than enthused about the entirety of this situation.
OOC: Feel free to emote your arrivals, and we'll get this show on the road :)
Driving up in a 1977 Dodge Van with a beach mural, Ryan is chattering on to Harriet about surfboards and the summer travels he's had around the coast, a couple of surfboards in the back of the van alongside his duffel bag of weapons, books, and ritual equipment. "I mean there's totes some gnarly tubes to thrash up off the coast of Canada, and with this heat wave, it's really cooler than the hundred degrees we have here. Plus all of those storms and the hurricane? Nah, miss me with that, my dude!"
Seated in the passenger side of Ryan's van is Harriet, and she's listening all the while, head moving back and forth to view the surfer dude, the road, and the sidelines, always on alert. "That sounds a tad terrifying," she confesses about the Canadian coasts quote 'gnarly waves.' "You still have to teach me to surf out in the bay, though. I'm not going to allow you to forget. We can use Viktorin as my surf board. He can likely float, right?" is asked, probably teasingly.
The lights of the van are the only things providing a bit of illumination on the road where the pair of them drive down. The only building there that either would see in their approach, is a run-down, abandoned warehouse, dilapidated. Everything else on the road and surrounding area is dark and empty.
Laughing, Ryan reaches up to brush his fingers through his long, shaggy beach blonde hair, "Totes. Dude is a regular wet board for sure! So there's the 5-0." he says as he points with that hand out the window towards the lone squad car as he pulls up, rolling down the window as he upnods to Aristotle, "Sup, bacon bro, this the place?"
"I'll let the terrible florist know he has a future as a long, narrow streamlined board for aquatic sports," Harriet states, looking over at Ryan as she nods her head to confirm this fact a little more. Next, though, she's cringing when Ryan calls Aristotle 'bacon bro,' and all she can do is mouth a silent, 'I'm so sorry' towards the Wilson.
The upnod that Aristotle is given is returned with a wave. "Three Muskateers back together again, eh? Go a-- wait," He says, pausing a bit before managing a small chuckle. "Bacon bro? Dude." He speaks in a semi-hushed tone before requesting, "Park and kill the lights."
Settling the car into park and killing the lights, Ryan slides out of the car and hauls open the back door, pulling out a duffel bag of weapons and ritual equipment as he nods to Aristotle, hushing quietly as he says, "Yeah, totes. So I hear there's a bunch of dead people and maybe it's like a cult or something? We've seen these symbols in some of the nightmare battles, I think."
Harriet unbuckles herself in the passenger seat, once again peering about their surroundings through the van's windows before she exits the vehicle and quietly closes the door behind herself. She moves as silently as she can to join Ryan and Aristotle, listening to the conversation that has begun wilst still being ever alert, ensuring there is no immediate danger approaching.
The only thing that would suggest any form of danger from where the trio find themselves outside, is the heaviness in the air that seems to stem from the warehouse. While there's nothing tangible to see or even feel thus far, it seems to be intuitive. "Yeah." Aristotle says, nodding at Ryan once both he and Harriet depart their van. "Honestly, we'd still be doing a shit ton of investigating trying to narrow this shit out and find this place if it weren't for one of the other deputies disappearing." He explains. "But, the gist is like you said. Victims, Occult symbols, probably a cult and given the proximity to Haven not a good one."
"Damn." Ryan replies as he checks the bullets in his rifle and makes sure the parts of his staff are put together as he pulls them out of his duffel bag. "Is it someone we know? How long ago was it, and do we think they're still kidnapped? If they suspect we'd run after them, then I don't know if we should go in guns blazing, maybe we should totes sneak in and take a look around."
Harriet's lips thin and then they form a prominent frown as she takes in Aristotle's response to Ryan. Her head offers up a slow, thoughtful nod as she considers what has been said. "I'm simply hopeful we won't run into another one of those fiery creaturs," she murmurs. As Ryan inquires further, she stands quietly, but her gaze wanders towards the warehouse as she waits patiently.
"No, no one you guys would know." Aristotle says, shaking his head as he steps away from his cruiser to move closer towards the pair. "As far as how long ago? It's been twenty-four hours. Maybe forty-eight." He explains. "She actually recognized one of the victims as a cousin, and gps on his phone pinged close to... well, not actually close to here, but from where the signal went dead this is the only building in a ten-mile radius." He explains further. "And this deputy didn't tell anyone considering it's a conflict given it's family, but she told me. I was going to accompany her here monday, but I didn't hear from her at all Sunday to prepare and it led me to think she went solo."
"I know there's a shit ton of protocol that actually has to be done to do this properly and by the books with backup and things, but I wasn't actually worried about getting hurt." Aristotle admits with a little shrug, not explaining his reasoning for it. "But I also didn't think she'd go by herself. And, if these symbols are actually associated with the group we think they are, then a lot of people would be well in over their heads.... us included, actually, so... hope everyone has their wills ready."
"Well, all my shit goes to my wife, so she'll just have the apartment in Haven and the businesses." Ryan notes with a shrug. "I figure The Order will find someone to take over Book Boy duties, but..." he motions to Harriet, "We def can't lose Miss Harry, she's totes important."
Harriet makes a small sound that expresses her dismay and slight surprise over the other deputy's decision to apparently head off alone. "That's unfortunate," she utters towards Aristotle about the entire situation at hand. "The warehouse does seem like the obvious place, though," get commented as she shifts her view back to the building. A nod of her head is given to Aristotle. "Sam told me she would kill me if I ever died, so my will is ready -- and I am ready to be double tapped." She nods some more, this time to Ryan. "I would rather prefer to live. I would not complain."
"No, yeah, I'm kind of a fan of living, too." Aristotle states with a quiet little chuckle. His eyes leave the pair to settle on the building properly, now. "I also don't think I have a will set up. So..." He takes a few steps closer towards the building's entrance, if the broken, ivy-covered door can even be called that, and he motions towards Harriet and Ryan. "If you're ready." He stays quiet for a moment as he waits for them to lead.
"Yup. All ready here, my dude!" Ryan notes as he checks his rifle again and puts on his vest, ready to enact some violence on some possibly suspecting cultists. "I'm going to sneak up to the warehouse and see if I can see in any of the windows, if it has any. Hopefully we don't get any like...tripwires or traps laying around."
Harriet glances between Ryan and Aristotle, and then she's heading towards the broken, vine embraced door. She's already got her vest on, and the case on her back has her heavier weapons, but she is retrieving a revolver from her handbag, not bringing out the big guns just yet. "Be careful, Ryan," is said as she assesses the area and the overgrown entrance.
The windows of this warehouse are broken shells of what they once were. From the outside, they are terribly dusted and peering into it really only has it acting as a mirror. It's hard for Ryan to see anything other than his reflection unless he break the one he's looking into. As for a few other ones - some of the windows are broken but peering inside there is only darkness. The closer anyone gets to the building, the more they're able to scent the place. It's reeks of rot, and it's difficult to see through given the lack of lighting in the surrounding area or inside the building.
Gagging quietly as he brings his sleeve up to cover his face, Ryan shakes his head back to Aristotle and Harriet as he murmurs quietly to them, "Can't see anything. It's dark as fuck in there, dudes. Smells like total ass, though." he squints into the darkness and can't see anything deeper as he meanders around to see if he can find any other way in or any sort of electrical lines denoting where the lights or a light switch would be inside the building.
Harriet watches as Ryan returns and shares his report. The last comment has her blinking a bit. "That does not sound pleasant at all," she remarks about the aroma that is reported. She continues towards the ivy-covered, broken door.
Ryan nods as he follows along with Harriet as he looks at the door and murmurs to Aristotle and Harriet, "Do we just like...slide in the door and look for some lights and cover? Seems like nobody's home."
As Ryan meanders around, he notes a few other access points, but they're largely broken, jagged-windows. Strangely, no electrical lines seem to be attached to the building, but from some electrical lines nearby, it can be seen that they aren't attached to eachother. Perhaps at some point they were fixed to the building, but are that way no longer.
"I suppose we do run the risk that this is the wrong building." Aristotle says, musing the thought for a moment but not feeling happy to have said it. He moves towards the 'excuse of a door' and peers inside to no avail. Ryan's suggestion has him starting to gently tear at the vines that trap the door. "We can try roof access, if that's something this place might have."
"Yeah, I mean you want to climb up a ladder or something, but with the windows all broken and the electrical lines cut, I'm pretty sure this building isn't up to code, dude. Hope you don't fall through the ceiling or whatever, but if there's anything nasty in here, a high vantage point would give us some good sight lines for shooting if they're hostile." Ryan replies.
Harriet pulls a knife from her handbag, and she begins to cut away at the vines, looking over at Ryan and then listening to Aristotle as they discuss the potential for an entrance. Her eyes and ears are ever alert, constantly checking on the trio's surroundings, like she's expecting to be ambushed at any given moment.
With Harriet pulling a knife, Aristotle steps aside to let her free the door of the vines much more efficiently than what his hands could. "Guess we're going in the front." He says aside to Ryan as he lets Harriet work. As she does, he sets his eyes briefly towards the interior that he can see into. "I'm wary of bringing a flashlight inside since it'd pinpoint exactly where we are, but... wandering in the dark probably isn't the best idea."
The vines come through easily as Harriet cuts at them, and when they're snapped and clear, it reveals the strength of them were the only things holding the door together. It starts to fall inward into the warehouse, collapsing onto the floor with a loud, echoing thud. Given the silence of the place previously, it's very noticeable.
Frantically waving his hands to shoo Aristotle and Harriet away from the door, Ryan quickly exclaims, "Ah fuck! I dropped my camera. Now I'll never get pictures of the haunted ghosts here!" he reaches into his bag and turns on a headlamp, sliding it across the floor as if it was attached to the imaginary camera he talked about, and then he takes cover on the side of the doorframe with his gun out and ready as he listens.
If there were a chance that perhaps the door didn't alert anyone inside, should there even be anyone inside, that goes out the window when Ryan makes his exclamation. His voice echoes along the walls of the warehouse along with the fading thuds of the door. And, when his headlamp comes on and is slid across the door, it cuts through the darkness like a knife in butter. It doesn't offer full illumination, though, just glimpses of its area as it slides through. Old, ancient machinery is revealed in a flash before the light leaves it. Mildew, fungus, and rot can be see reflected in the light. Bodies strewn on the walls - also in sight for a moment until the headlamp ceases its slide. Where it stops, the light points up to the ceiling and faintly, -faintly- illuminates the area for both Aristotle and Ryan.
It's almost in slow motion for Harriet as she watches the heavy door slam against the floor of the seemingly abandoned warehouse. She hisses in a deep inhale through clenched teeth, and then nods some to Aristotle about the front entry being the choice one at the moment. "Well..." But then Ryan is cursing and she glances over her shoulder at the surfer dude. "Are we ghost hunting? Are spirits photogenic?" gets wondered next. Her knife is slipped back into her handbag, and the revolver is once again her tool of choice. Her well developed eyes see incredibly well in the darkness, and he mildew and fungus each earn a displeasure filled sound, but the bodies cause her to fall entirely silent.
shaking his head back at Harriet, Ryan whispers back, "Nah, we're looking for cult guys, but if they think this place is haunted then maybe they'll get a little bit scared. But it doesn't look like they shot back at anything, so I think we're maybe okay to walk in? I figure ghost hunters get into weird shit like this all the time, so it's a good cover."
"...You... you think if the cult guys who are killing people think this place is haunted they'll get scared?" Aristotle asks, a bit of disbelief in his words as he looks over Ryan's way. He tugs out a flashlight from his holster, flicking it on and adding his own light to the headlight. The rest of the room is further illuminated, and as it trails along the room, the corpses that were teased at get seen more clearly. Each carved into them a flame-wreathed globe. "I think this is the place."
"I mean, if they killed a lot of people, they'd be pretty wicked scared if they made a lot of ghosts, right?" Ryan says with a shrug.
"....Ryan..." Is all Aristotle can muster, and it's... quietly exasperated.
Harriet is barely taking in what Ryan is claiming about the murderers, still staring ahead at the corpses. She cautiously heads inside of the warehouse, trying to be as quiet as possible while Aristotle is semi-scolding the surfer in a way. She sees something move ahead, and she pauses, hushing herself even further. Her eyes trail after the movement, and then she's raising her revolver, crouching and heading towards some equipment to try and take her own cover.
Something clanks from up ahead, the sound of metal against metal. Something perhaps had fallen, or was accidentally bumped against. There's no other noise that accompanies it.
"What the fuck, dude?" Ryan says as he blinks, looking around the room finally at the ancient machinery, corpses, and wet mold and mildew. As he hears something clank, he quickly ducks behind the nearest cover and raises his rifle, scanning the dim light for any movement, "Miss Harry you see anything?" he asks in a quiet murmur as he glances towards her and Aristotle.
The clanking from up ahead has Aristotle crouching low and flicking off his flashlight. In the event someone is here with them, the light already reveals them, but he still cloaks the trio in darkness as he tugs out a pistol from his holster. Ryan's question to Harriet is echoed in a hushed, hushed whisper. "Harry?"
Hearing the clanking, Harriet is hunched some and next to Ryan, and then to Aristotle as well. Her hazel eyes are narrowed as she spots more movement up ahead. She shakes her head slowly from right to left, as if in warning, holding up he revolver and using it to point out where she can obviously see several who-knows-what moving in the distance. Hopefully humans. As quiet as she possibly can, she's whispering, "There are more of them... they are coming up... some stairs."
The room is quiet for only a few moments after Harriet makes her whisper, and soon, something covers up the headlamp that was slid in the inside the warehouse. The room is covered in darkness again, and once it is, the sound of running and shuffling footsteps can be heard approaching the trio, rather quickly.
Harriet shakes her head a little more, slipping the revolver back into her handbag. After that, she's pulling the case from her back, and quickly and silently as she possibly can, she's pulling out her rifle. Lifting it, she peers through the scope, taking aim at something that is heading towards them. Then she pulls the trigger, and long, heavy bullet is fired off, and trying to hit one of the strangers in the face.
"Fuck it, they're coming!" Ryan says as he starts to fire towards where the light was, hoping to catch one of them with a stray bullet as he sends a few shots downrange where Harriet is firing.
A heavy bullet fires, and the flash illuminates the room for the briefest of moments. Those same corpses are illuminated in the room, but they likely aren't the things pulling focus. Instead, the flash of light illuminate cloaked figures charging the trio. They're silent, move quickly and quietly. Harriet's bullet rings true and strikes at one, and he proves to be another body that joins the graveyard here.
Aristotle raises his pistol, called to action as a gunshot from Harriet rings out. He fires, and the light of his own gun adds to the brief illumination. It provides a strobe effect, and more and more individuals fill the space they're in. If one is quick to count, they're overwhelmed. Ryan's gunfire joins the fray, striking one in the thigh. A body toppling onto the floor is heard, and soon the wounded is scrambling up to continue the advance.
Harriet holds her breath as she fires off another shot, intent on taking out each approaching, obviously hostile, targets. She is fairly calm and collected for the situation that is unfolding before her, and she's shooting one bullet after the other, always trying to aim for the face.
Continuing to fire as well, Ryan keeps chambering rounds and blasting as more and more of the cult members rush them, "I don't know if we can hold them off for long, we should run away before we get overrun or we'll have to fight them hand to hand, and I don't know how much we want to get stabbed by a buncha weirdos!"
It seems for each one that is shot, more and more take their place. It feels like an endless supply that come up. Logically, one knows it's not - but in the hail of gunfire and strobe light effect and how quickly they move and approach, it feels endless.
Struggling, Ryan attempts to reach for his weapon, but his staff on his back is probably cumbersome in these close quarters, so he reaches for a Taser and attempts to shock one of the people attempting to manhandle him.
The hail of gunfire loses a third of its momentum as the bullets hailing from Aristotle's gun come to a cease. The sounds of grappling struggle can be heard on his end, but it's difficult to visually make out what's occurring given the lack of lighting.
Oops, only have rank 2, so Ryan attempts to pepper spray the person.
Harriet is suddenly overrun by four of the attackers, and as they grab at her rifle, she is using her hand to hand combat training rather than trying to fight for her gun. She's pivoting her body, trying to use momentum against the cloaked figures. She executes each of her moves precisely, twisting arms and using her elbows while trying to simultaneously redirect the attackers into harming each other more than harming her. Forceful knee movements are attempted to hit one in the midsection, and then to another, she tries a palm heel to a nose, hoping to advance in this fight rather than be taken down so quickly.
The pepper spray is something Ryan is able to tug out with some difficulty, but he struggles enough against the hands on his person to pull it out. Limbs twist against his in this grapple, and as he attempts to spray one, he's met with an intense, blinding pain in his eyes. A twist of a wrist - someone forcing his hand in a redirection, has Ryan's own defense used against him, and the stinging spreads through his eyes with the spray in the air causing him to cough.
"Aah dammit! These fuckers!" Ryan claims as he thrashes about, flailing as he drops to a knee and starts to punch out blindly, one hand swinging as the other wipes at his eyes, choking and spitting as he blinks away tears, then he switches to his other hand, throwing a wild punch as he wipes his other eye with his sleeve.
Getting overrun and out muscled, Ryan gets knocked out from behind as they take him down.
There's a thwack that can be heard as Ryan continues to struggle and punch out against his attackers. If Harriet spares a glance his way, she'd see that the thwacking came from one of them hitting him in the head with an object. They don't seem to wait to see if it has rendered him unconscious or not before they turn to advance on Harriet. She's a bit more able to fend for herself than the boys were - her strength and martial prowess coming to her defense as she's redirecting some blows and defensively lashing out. But, others continue to move towards her and after a moment it runs the risk of turning into a dog pile as the cultists wail on her from every angle that they surround her. Head, body, legs, ankle - each trying to incapacitate her.
Those not in combat with Harriet in their attempt to subdue her, turn sights on both Aristotle and Ryan. Gripped by the ankles, the boys are dragged deeper into the warehouse.
Harriet is a stubborn one, even with a likely fate of being dog piled. She's not giving up, and it only enrages her, and her demon blood is burning in her veins, putting her into berserker mode. She understands that a conventional fight won't favour her against the odds here, and she's opting for a strategic retreat, even if it may not be possible. Each lunge is met with a counter attack of her own, defensive and trying to regain control, using targeted strikes, low kicks, trying to incapacitate anyone she can whilst focusing on vital points -- knees, throats, even groins.
The strategic retreat seems to have a desirable effect. Moreso for Harriet than it does the boys as both Ryan and Aristotle get dragged deeper into the warehouse until they're at the staircase. And of course, they're dragged down. When they awake, it'll be to a massive headache considering their heads will thud on each step on the way down as they disappear into the warehouse. Harriet, fighting on the defensive, finds herself in a fight that is pushed towards the entrance of the warehouse. Her targeted strikes hit, but each one sees herself victim of two others. Her hits are harder, but their hits are more numerous. She's only one girl, afterall - despite being a very, very powerful one. The odds of her falling unconscious will be slim, given that rage now fuels her veins. Still, the cultists push her further and she'll soon find herself separated from her group.
First and foremost, Harriet remains highly aware of her surroundings, trying to predict and counter as many of the attacks coming her way as she can. Her movements are wide and sweeping, trying to block incoming strikes from different angles, using arms to deflect and try to gain control because she really is that stubborn. Defensive and offensive maneuvers are hand in hand, blocking an attacking with one hand, while delivering a strike with the other, aiming for vulnerable areas every single time. Eyeballs are a favourite at the moment, it seems. She attempts to keep moving, still wanting to retreat, even if it is pulling her away from the other two.
"Ugh, my head." Ryan says as he squints, rubbing his head and neck if he can, waking up slowly and groggily with the headache of a lifetime. "The fuck is up, bros? I'm just trying to Ghost Hunt here, my dudes."
As Harriet continues moving towards her retreat, the cultist that accost her seem to direct it in such a way that it is certain further away from the other two. They start to tire, though, but seem relentless - fighting as if something terribly important is on the line. Once the fight takes them to the threshold of the warehouse, they let off. Each of someone' sweeping attacks would find their mark, and certainly does well to slow down the assault, but it leaves both the group on her and herself perhaps a touch haggard. The moment Harriet is at the door to the outside, the fight breaks off. It seems the cultists aren't aware her eyes are attuned to the darkness - any other person would perceive them to have vanished, but for Harriet, she can see they they've merely taken a step back to recoup. The stand cloaked in shadows, guarding the entrance as if to prevent her from entering again. At least from that point of access.
As Harriet continues moving towards her retreat, the cultist that accost her seem to direct it in such a way that it is certain further away from the other two. They start to tire, though, but seem relentless - fighting as if something terribly important is on the line. Once the fight takes them to the threshold of the warehouse, they let off. Each of Harriet's sweeping attacks would find their mark, and certainly does well to slow down the assault, but it leaves both the group on her and herself perhaps a touch haggard. The moment Harriet is at the door to the outside, the fight breaks off. It seems the cultists aren't aware her eyes are attuned to the darkness - any other person would perceive them to have vanished, but for Harriet, she can see they they've merely taken a step back to recoup. The stand cloaked in shadows, guarding the entrance as if to prevent her from entering again. At least from that point of access.
Pain is the first thing Ryan can feel, and it stems from his eyes. His vision is blurry, and his eyes feel dry and stung. It'll be terribly hard to see anything, but he's not enveloped in darkness. There is light where he is, deeper in the warehouse. His head is the next source of pain. A hand to the back of his head would reveal something wet. He's bleeding a touch. There's a body beside him, and should he feel on it or squint close enough, he'd note it to be Aristotle. They seem to have been dragged into a cage, from what Ryan can gather.
Although Harriet is breathing heavily, she is jacked up on adrenaline, and while the group is recovering, she's pulling her revolver back out. She can see them easily, and without a thought, she's blasting off rounds at them. One after the other, stanced and looking like she wants nothing more than to make them suffer -- and for those who do suffer, if they get hit and not killed instantly, she's soaking it up just like a demon sponge, and it's making her glow. Figuratively. She doesn't actually glow in the dark -- she's no angelborn.
Reaching up to rub some of the sting out of his eyes, Ryan forces himself to cry some more to attempt to wash out the pepper spray, spitting a few times to let the saliva in his mouth clean the stinging substance, a hand reaching up to touch the back of his head as he winces, the throbbing pain and the blurry red of his hand coming back tells him that he may be in some trouble from blood loss. Head wounds are pretty bad. He reaches over and shakes Aristotle a little seeing if he can wake the man.
Now that the blows have ceased for now, Harriet can see there were only five of them. And while they recover, it's clear they've not figured she can see them clearly. As such, they're unprepared for a revolver firing at them. The first bullet rings into the warehouse, striking one. Then the second, third - depending on how quickly Harriet can fire, she can get a clean sweep, and if she's quick, she does. The startling fear before nothing... intoxicating.
It takes a bit, but Aristotle finds himself shaken awake. A groan leaves him, proving he still lives. And, when his eyes open, he sets them first onto Ryan. Then, about himself to the cage they find themselves in. Then, outside the cage. His first question is a quiet, "Where's Harry?" And he's starting to sit himself up. "...Where the fuck are we?" Is the second question. And then he's patting a hand at his holster as if to check that it is still there.
Harriet moves forward, back towards the entrance as she's firing away, attempting to kill every single one of her attackers. The sudden lack of suffering is like having to try and quit smoking cold turkey, though. It felt so incredible one moment, getting bathed in it all... and then... it's gone. Her eyelids are partaking in a whole lot of blinking, but her lips still have a radiant smile, still high on that sort of afterglow of it all.
From what the boys can make out from where they're trapped, it is not lit by electricity, but by torches. Certainly a fire hazard considering the rest of the warehouse is upstairs. There's a stone altar in the center, a body upon it - Aristotle can see it more clearly than Ryan, as the latter is trying to tend to his eyesight. A woman, deceased. Three other cultists surround it, chanting, and neither of them seem to care that the boys have stirred themselves awake yet.
"Well, I think she's still fighting but it went cold and black for me and..." Ryan shows the blood on his hand, "I'm bleeding something gnarly from my brains, my dude." he keeps looking around as his eyes start to adjust and says, "We're in some kind of cage, probably down those stairs." he listens for any signs of struggle up above as he pats himself down for any of his weapons and armor.
Harriet finds the approach much easier this time, with much less resistance. She's managed to silence her assailants permanently. It would have been a different story had they'd known she could see them. The cultists lay dead on the ground. They're faces and frames covered by their loose-fitting cloaks. There's certainly more deeper in the warehouse, but there's no way of Harriet to know how many.
Only now does Harriet seem to be aware that she has killed all of these people. Her innate nature took over and she lost her self control, and the reality of that is quite heavy. Still holding the revolver, which only has one round left in that six-shooter, but her hands are shaking some -- both from the insane amount of adrenaline that is pumping through her lithe form, and te fact that she just took out living beings in the flesh -- not in a nightmare battle. Seeking to refocus, she heads over to her weapons case and she picks her rifle back up, checking it over and reloading it. Next, she's heading towards the stairs, trying to be quiet.
As they cant, a darkness begins to ripple in the air above the corpse. It brings with it a coldness that bites, but it's much too small to be satisfactory. One of the cultists stop - this one distinguished by a headpiece he wears of flame-wreathed globe. He motions towards the cage where the boys are held. "Pull one of them." He commands of the other cultists in the room. "Strap them to the altar and prepare the next sacrifice."
Ryan patting himself down for weaponry would reveal that he's unarmed. They've stripped the both of them of obvious weaponry. The cultist start to approach the cage, fiddling with the lock. It doesn't seem they've decided who the lucky one will be.
As Harriet leaves behind the corpses of the cultists and their loose-fitting cloaks behind, she approaches the staircase with ease. The obstacles there would be much more detrimental if she were blind, but her eyes are darkness-keen. There's a light she can see from further down the staircase, and some quiet chanting as well.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, bro. I've sold my soul to a Demon and you don't want that smoke my dude. The Inevitable Maw of Gluttony is going to come for you all if you sacrifice me to some god, and I'm totes not a virgin!" Ryan says as he thumbs upwards, "But I know a few, you want me to get a replacement?"
Harriet holds up her rifle as she moves along, stealthy and graceful with each and every movement as she moves down one step at a time, cautious and prepared. She does her best to not think about what she's just done upstairs, and focuses instead on Ryan and Aristotle -- wanting to get them safe. There's likely an inward pep talk going on.
As the cultists approach, Aristotle falls silent. He's looking past them towards the altar, and his face falls. "...Fuck, that's her..." There's little time to grieve, though as the cultists open the cage. They move for Ryan, but his pleas... or lies, seem to work. The pivot from him and instead start to drag Aristotle out. He resists, naturally, but one of the cultists take out the pepper spray they've claimed from Ryan and spray Aristotle with it. He howls in pain, wanting to shield his eyes, but with his hands gripped, he's tugged out of the cage. It seems he's the lucky one.
The howling that comes from downstairs, masks Harriet's approach - footsteps on the stone covered completely by pained screams that give her a dose of euphoria. Her focus may be on her comrades, but it seems for now, no one notices her approach. However, the introduction of light in the room she's embarking in, is casting a shadow.
"He's a cop, dudes! You don't want to mess with the 5-0! Make sure you check for his beeper, I'm pretty sure he's wearing a wire and SWAT is on it's way. I just want to make sure you all don't die in one of those Waco deals, you know? We're total bros now, maybe give me one of those sweet robes and I can help with whatever you got going on here." Ryan bluffs as he tries to buy time.
That bluff is met with the slamming of a cage door. It seems they don't mind killing police, because the missing deputy mentioned earlier is unceremoniously pushed off of the altar, and Aristotle is set and then strapped on. He's still wincing from the pain to his vision from being pepper sprayed - certainly something he wasn't expecting. "Fuckfuckfuck that fuckin' stings," he spits out. He's shaking his head, trying now to spare his vision some relief, but there's nothing he can wipe to his eyes.
Whatever Harriet was thinking about before, she's now giggling. It's faint, but it is sickly gleeful, and followed by a pleased sigh as she's awash with euphoric suffering again. She notes her shadow, and she's pausing to reach for her phone, hitting the emegency button on its screen that is set up to alert the Order of her whereabouts, letting her location ping on their devices should she end up not being found later. The phone gets dropped right back into her bag, and the rifle is re-raised. With that shadow betraying her, she's moving briskly now, tying to get to a place where she can start trying to take head shots.
"Your loss, bros!" he exclaims as Ryan checks his watch as he talks into it, "Sting compromised, HQ. Send in the Cavalry and make it quick. They've got Delta Lead and I have eyes on the victims, ready for violent extraction."
Ryan's bluff to by time, along with the slamming of the cage door, and Aristotle's hissing, do more than pull attention away from Harriet. It doesn't seem she'll be seen until she wants to be. With Aristotle strapped on the altar, the cultist begin their chanting again. One of which brandishing a -used- sacrificial dagger. Poor Aristotle can't really see it, given his recently acquired blindness from a pepper-spray. He's wincing, and that pain washes over Harriet. The darkness rippling in the air above the altar begins to spark as if unstable as they continue to prepare for their sacrifice. Harriet is able to reposition herself to a place where she can take fire - though it takes a moment or two further to get set up. Ryan voices his distress call, but there's no confirmation if he's heard or not - the same goes for Harriet's signaling. Once she's in position, though, Ryan is able to see her.
But the cultists waste no time, though. They've murdered a lot so far, and this evening, three new flies walked into their web. The -used-, bloody sacrificial dagger is raised high, and Aristotle never sees it coming before it's plunged into his chest. A startled, pained gasp leaves his lips as his eyes widen. The cold pain of being stabbed turns into a burning hot that blends in with the stinging sharpness of his eyes still covered in pepper spray.
There's a bit of static from Ryan's watch after he speaks into it, as if something is responding from the other side. It's unclear what they're saying, but it sparks hope that his extraction requests was heard, now.
"No," comes out past Harriet's lips as she witnesses the knife finding its way into Aristotle's chest, and with her rifle held up and ready, she exhales and pulls the trigger. Time stands still for a moment -- or at least it seems to, for her -- and she is shooting with the intent to kill again, aiming at the knife wielder's head.
"Nooooo!" Ryan screams out as he rattles the cage, helpless to prevent the sacrifice as he makes a ruckus, trying to make us much noise as possible to give coverage for Harriet.
Harriet's bullet finds its mark. The cultist whom plunged the blade into Aristotle's chest collapses to the ground as brain matter stains his cloak. It stops the chanting from the other two, but it seems the damage has been done. The blade protrudes from Aristotle's chest, and he struggles in his bindings, as if it were a death jerk. He bleeds, and the rippling darkness above the altar responds in kind. His blood rises, and so too does the cultist that was killed via headshot. Like rain, the blood droplets fall upwards into the rippling darkness, and the mass of darkness writhes and expands. It sends a freezing air into the room, but it doesn't move through, it just... exists. As if the room was turning into a vacuum. Something gurgles from within it, as if something sentient behind that darkness is starting to push its way out.
As Ryan rattles the cage, he'd find himself falling out of it. It seems the cultists slammed the cage door shot, but didn't relock it again. It makes quite a bit of noise, his screaming, rattling, and then falling, but in trying to give coverage for Harriet, it's too late. A gunshot is loud, and it pulls everyone's attention. The main cultist - the one weilding the headress of the flame-wreathed earth, looks up to them. His face still obscured by the cloak. He laughs. "You're too late... this world will be consumed by the nothingness of the void and start anew... you're too late!" He says. Nothing has crawled through, yet, so maybe there's still time to disrupt... anything.
There's only two cultists in the room - the one speaking, and another silent one that stands beside him. The third, who plunged a dagger into the not-yet-dead but probably-actively-dying Aristotle's chest, is collapsed onto the floor beside the altar.
Charging towards the altar, Ryan attempts to run past the two of them and grab the dagger out of Aristotle's chest, screaming as he is in a blind rage in anger and despair, looking to take the bloody ritual dagger and attack the cultists. "You sons of bitches! You'll never bring the void into this world, we'll be there every step of the way to stop you, you maniacs!"
Another exhale and another shot is fired off, trying to take out the next cultist. It seems Harriet does not care if it it too late or not, she's not going to let Ryan and Aristotle die at the hands of these people. She's definitely careful so as to not accidentally shoot the rage-filled Ryan who... just pulled a knife out of Aristotle's chest... but this tall brunette didn't take that part in -- she is trying to get a bullet into one of the bad guys's brains.
With the blade yanked out of Aristotle's chest, the blood flows freely now. Upwards, splattering into the rippling darkness that continues to expand, as if consuming the liquid life from both Aristotle's person, and the dead cultist. Harriet's gunfire misses its target as Ryan steps in front of her line of sight. Ryan, with the blade in hand, lunges at one of the cultists, but he does so at a disadvantage due to his probable concussion and pained-eyes. The cultist sidesteps his assault and lobs a punch at his chins. The other cultist, the head one, doesn't give the pair any continued time of day. Despite his own life being on the line, he looks up to the void of darkness that grows, and he raises his hands towards it as if in worship. "Yes! Come through! Consume this world!" he exclaims. He is nothing but glee in this moment, despite likely never seeing what the outcome would be. Aristotle is still strapped to the altar, bleeding out. He hasn't lost consciousness yet, but Harriet can take note that the pain is exquisite. "What's happening?!" He calls out, weakly, temporarily completely blinded due to the sprayed injury to his eye.
As the rippling darkness grows larger, consuming the nearby blood, something from it begins to push out. It's darkness. Shaped, but pure - were there something there to be seen clearly, not even Harriet's eyes could notice. It's the sort of darkness that sucks in some of the light in the room. Something is coming.
Despite all that is going on, Harriet is helplessly producing a soft, but very pleasureable moan. She's entirely intoxicated, and it's difficult to focus on the task at hand, although she is still trying to. Her rifle is raised, and she's trying to line up her next shot so as to not hit a friendly, but only an insane cultist.
Reeling from the punch and spitting blood, Ryan stumbles against the altar and tries to slice the ropes away from Aristotle to get him free, "We gotta get outta here before this fuckin..." he spits some blood as his teeth run crimson, blinking his bloodshot eyes as he glances up at the void thing, "Whatever does it's thing." he feverishly tries to cut Aristotle free.
Harriet's raised rifle aims towards the head cultist, and her bullet fires out and strikes him in the face. He recoils backwards with a stumble before falling back onto the ground. His blood pools around him, but isn't absorbed by the rippling mass. Perhaps his is too far from the altar. The blood from the first corpse is consumed to its last drop. The blood from Ryan's lip where he was punched, and back of his head where his injury is starts to pool towards the rippling mass, adding to its ever hungered consumption. Aristotle's blood continues to flow from him, and it seems like quite a bit has left him - he's paled, but not lost consciousness yet for some reason. When Ryan cuts at his binds, Aristotle flails and wriggles himself free as the other cultist tries to lunge for Ryan. Aristotle rolls to his side, hand gripping his chest wound as he collapses to the ground and tries to scramble away a bleeding mess.
More of a shadowed darkness leaves the rippling darkness. The room grows dim as the lighting in the room from the torches find themselves dimming like dying candles. Visually, it's becoming much harder to see now, even for Harriet as this creature expands. What looks like an arm, dark, shadowy, and long, stems from the rippling cold darkness. It continues to crawl through.
"Nope, Nope, Nope!" Ryan says as he wildly swings the dagger at the lunging cultist, trying to keep them away as he reaches a hand to help Aristotle stumble forward towards Harriet, so she can cover their escape. "Shoot the fucker, Harry! This shit is insane!"
Harriet is a powerhouse when it comes to combat, but dealing with the supernatural in general -- like Void beings brought into this world through spilled blood -- is out of her league. She is rushing to defend and protect Ryan, using the butt of her rifle as her weapon against the last cultist, trying to attack him.
Ryan's wild swing cuts at the cultist, drawing blood from a face beneath the hood. It too, is consumed by the beast from the portal. Ryan's retreat to cover Aristotle is met with a grateful grunt from Aristotle as he's aided in his stumbling towards Harriet. Once he's far enough away, his blood falls towards the ground instead of towards the void beast. The cultist takes a blow to the face from Harriet's rifle butt, and he stumbles backwards into the loving arm of this void beast. Death would have been a blissful end for him otherwise. The moment contact is made, the cultist screams. And it's... a scream no mortal being should be capable of producing. An overwhelming fear and a pain that even the most unempathic person can feel extends from him. His death is nothing but pain. Cold, cold pain, and he finds the entirety of his being consumed. It lengthens the portal. More of the beast comes out, but given Ryan and Aristotle are further away and Harriet likely isn't bleeding, there's nothing further for it to consume. The darkness begins to shrink.
"We gotta get some ritualists down here to banish or contain whatever the fuck that thing is, my dudes." Ryan says as he puts an arm around Aristotle to help him up, ripping off a sleeve of his shirt to pack his wound as he tries to staunch the bleeding a little at least. "We shoulda came in with a lot more people...or like...a rocket launcher."
Harriet shudders as she watches the death take place before her. She's loving it, basking in it, and horrified by it all at once. She stumbles backwards, like a drunk, as she is inebriated with all of the suffering she absorbed tonight. Reality semi-settles in, and she turns looking to Ryan and Aristotle, and then she's rushing to assist with the bleeding. "We need to get him out of here."
"Yeah, to a hospital ASAP." Ryan says as he heads towards the car, "My phone's in the car, and we can GPS it. I think there's one here up the road, or at least a Veterinarian we can break into and find a first aid kit to keep him from bleeding out until we get there. We got any backup from The Order coming to help clean this up? There's going to be a lot of questions about the dead HSD lady."
"this is the worst pain," Aristotle quietly exclaims through gritted teeth as Ryan packs at his wound with a bit of his sleeve. The screaming, pained death of the cultist causes him to wince, but he settles more on himself than he does the other cultist. He's taken a fatal stab wound to the chest like a champ, though, and his free hand, bloodied of course, goes to press at his eyes as he tries to stall the pain from being pepper sprayed. When the topic of him leaving the area is mentioned, he makes no complaint. "Please, lets get out of here." He says.
The mass of darkness continues to shrink now that it's starved of blood, and the void hand whips about as it tries to grab anything it can use to expand itself. Ryan, Harriet, and Aristotle, as well as the head cultist now dead, all out of reach. There is a rage that can be felt, cold and biting, as this creature is pulled back into the cold darkness of the void. It doesn't leave willingly, and it makes it known.
Harriet helps Ryan get Aristotle to the van, and she glances back to see the mass of darkness shrinking. She exhales out heavily, saying, "We're going to have to find out what that is, exactly," to Ryan. "And stop it from entering this world." Her body is still trembling with adrenaline and bit of shock.
Taking a glance behind him as he shudders, shaken to his core, Ryan grits his teeth and nods to Harriet, "Yeah. Fuck that thing. That's terrifying."
There is no resistance to stop them from making their way towards the van and settling inside of it. Once they're out of the building, both Ryan's and Harriet's orderite devices begin to ping with notifications. It seems help was on the way, afterall - though light-sucking creatures from the void likely interfere with signals in that proximity. There is an angry shriek from inside the warehouse - otherworldly. And then, silence. That same silence that met them when they arrived seem to meet them as they leave. Whatever that thing is will likely find its way back again the next time this group tries again, but for now, they're safe in the van. Aristotle continues bleeding out, but he doesn't lose consciousness - pale as hell from bloodloss, though. His eyes turn towards the warehouse, and he quietly mutters, "I'll come back for the car later..." he says, pained as he still presses dressings to his wound. "What... what was that thing out there?" He asks.
Ryan, with his laid-back demeanor and penchant for surfboard chats, and Harriet, with her ever-vigilant presence and quick wits, dive headfirst into the mystery alongside Aristotle, their guiding beacon through the gloom. Despite the heavy air of decay and a haunting sense of presence, the group presses forward, urged by the very real danger posed to victims and the disappearance of one of Aristotle's deputies.
The silence of the warehouse is shattered by the fall of a door, stirred by Harriet's decisive cutting through the overgrowth, heralding the chaos to come. The trio is soon engulfed in a battle for their lives against a horde of cloaked cultists, leading to a stricken Aristotle and a desperate, blindsided fight for survival. Harriet's prowess in combat and Ryan's resourceful, if somewhat bumbling, attempts to confuse and delay their adversaries prove vital, yet the odds seem insurmountable.
Amidst the melee, a dark ritual reaches its climactic horror as Aristotle, betrayed by his blindness from a vicious assault, is laid upon an altar as a sacrificial lamb. His blood fuels a nightmarish summoning, as the very air becomes a void, threatening to unleash an unspeakable terror upon the world.
Harriet, infused with a grim resolve and driven by the intense suffering around her, fires with deadly accuracy, cutting down the cultists in a desperate effort to halt the ritual. Ryan, fueled by rage and desperation, fights to free Aristotle, even as he faces the cultists' relentless onslaught. Together, they grapple with the physical and emotional toll of their harrowing ordeal, spurred by the dire implications of their foe's intent to bring forth a void that could consume all.
In a final, frantic effort, Ryan and Haritat manage to extricate Aristotle, grievously wounded but alive, from the grasp of the encroaching darkness. With their limited resources and the looming threat of the void's hunger, they make a desperate escape, leaving behind the echoing screams of a creature denied its entry into their world.
As they drive away, a heavy silence descends once more, punctuated only by the pings of their orderite devices signaling delayed reinforcements. Aristotle, though fading, ponders the chilling encounter, vowing a return not just for his forgotten car but to confront the mysterious horror that nearly claimed their lives.
Their harrowing escape marks not an end but a grim beginning, as the trio is left to ponder the dark implications of their encounter. The battle against the cultists may be over, but the war against the consuming void and its acolytes has only just begun.
(Call of the Void(SRAristotle):SRAristotle)
[Tue Jul 16 2024]
On An abandoned Warehouse on the Outskirts of Boston
An abandoned warehouse looming before its onlookers, a monolithic relic of a bygone era. Its once robust brick walls are now crumbling, overtaken by creeping ivy and graffiti that tell stories of neglect. Broken windows, like hollow eyes, peer into the desolate interior, allowing slivers of moonlight to pierce the suffocating darkness within. Inside, the air is thick with dust and the lingering scent of mildew and blood. Rusting machinery stands like ancient sentinels, their purpose long forgotten. The floor is littered with the detritus of timedecayed wooden pallets, shattered glass, and remnants of forgotten lives. And even worse, bodies. Shadows dance ominously in the flickering light from a nearby street lamp, creating the illusion of movement where there should be none. Eerie silence fills the space, broken only by the occasional scurrying of rodents or the creaking of old beams settling and a deep, quiet chanting from the depths. In the far corners, puddles of stagnant water reflect the ghostly outlines of the warehouse's skeletal structure.
It is after dusk, about 96F(35C) degrees, There is a waxing gibbous moon.
Nightfall blankets a section of Boston so far removed it can't help but be neglected. It is impossibly quiet, and the ambiance makes it feel unsettling. Were it during the day, it would be tolerable. At night? It is ominous. The road stretches both east and west with nothing to offer pleasantry of other life. No other cars can be seen approaching. No distant lights of the city. The only thing one would notice as they pull up is a lone squad car, and even then it's a bit out of the way. Those having taken an interest in the ongoings of these murders and the potential occult workings behind them where notified of the findings and of a trail that led to the outskirts of Boston - away from the safety of Haven's Sanctuary. Both Ryan and Harriet, when they arrive, would notice their contact, Aristotle Wilson, waiting at his squad car and looking less than enthused about the entirety of this situation.
OOC: Feel free to emote your arrivals, and we'll get this show on the road :)
Driving up in a 1977 Dodge Van with a beach mural, Ryan is chattering on to Harriet about surfboards and the summer travels he's had around the coast, a couple of surfboards in the back of the van alongside his duffel bag of weapons, books, and ritual equipment. "I mean there's totes some gnarly tubes to thrash up off the coast of Canada, and with this heat wave, it's really cooler than the hundred degrees we have here. Plus all of those storms and the hurricane? Nah, miss me with that, my dude!"
Seated in the passenger side of Ryan's van is Harriet, and she's listening all the while, head moving back and forth to view the surfer dude, the road, and the sidelines, always on alert. "That sounds a tad terrifying," she confesses about the Canadian coasts quote 'gnarly waves.' "You still have to teach me to surf out in the bay, though. I'm not going to allow you to forget. We can use Viktorin as my surf board. He can likely float, right?" is asked, probably teasingly.
The lights of the van are the only things providing a bit of illumination on the road where the pair of them drive down. The only building there that either would see in their approach, is a run-down, abandoned warehouse, dilapidated. Everything else on the road and surrounding area is dark and empty.
Laughing, Ryan reaches up to brush his fingers through his long, shaggy beach blonde hair, "Totes. Dude is a regular wet board for sure! So there's the 5-0." he says as he points with that hand out the window towards the lone squad car as he pulls up, rolling down the window as he upnods to Aristotle, "Sup, bacon bro, this the place?"
"I'll let the terrible florist know he has a future as a long, narrow streamlined board for aquatic sports," Harriet states, looking over at Ryan as she nods her head to confirm this fact a little more. Next, though, she's cringing when Ryan calls Aristotle 'bacon bro,' and all she can do is mouth a silent, 'I'm so sorry' towards the Wilson.
The upnod that Aristotle is given is returned with a wave. "Three Muskateers back together again, eh? Go a-- wait," He says, pausing a bit before managing a small chuckle. "Bacon bro? Dude." He speaks in a semi-hushed tone before requesting, "Park and kill the lights."
Settling the car into park and killing the lights, Ryan slides out of the car and hauls open the back door, pulling out a duffel bag of weapons and ritual equipment as he nods to Aristotle, hushing quietly as he says, "Yeah, totes. So I hear there's a bunch of dead people and maybe it's like a cult or something? We've seen these symbols in some of the nightmare battles, I think."
Harriet unbuckles herself in the passenger seat, once again peering about their surroundings through the van's windows before she exits the vehicle and quietly closes the door behind herself. She moves as silently as she can to join Ryan and Aristotle, listening to the conversation that has begun wilst still being ever alert, ensuring there is no immediate danger approaching.
The only thing that would suggest any form of danger from where the trio find themselves outside, is the heaviness in the air that seems to stem from the warehouse. While there's nothing tangible to see or even feel thus far, it seems to be intuitive. "Yeah." Aristotle says, nodding at Ryan once both he and Harriet depart their van. "Honestly, we'd still be doing a shit ton of investigating trying to narrow this shit out and find this place if it weren't for one of the other deputies disappearing." He explains. "But, the gist is like you said. Victims, Occult symbols, probably a cult and given the proximity to Haven not a good one."
"Damn." Ryan replies as he checks the bullets in his rifle and makes sure the parts of his staff are put together as he pulls them out of his duffel bag. "Is it someone we know? How long ago was it, and do we think they're still kidnapped? If they suspect we'd run after them, then I don't know if we should go in guns blazing, maybe we should totes sneak in and take a look around."
Harriet's lips thin and then they form a prominent frown as she takes in Aristotle's response to Ryan. Her head offers up a slow, thoughtful nod as she considers what has been said. "I'm simply hopeful we won't run into another one of those fiery creaturs," she murmurs. As Ryan inquires further, she stands quietly, but her gaze wanders towards the warehouse as she waits patiently.
"No, no one you guys would know." Aristotle says, shaking his head as he steps away from his cruiser to move closer towards the pair. "As far as how long ago? It's been twenty-four hours. Maybe forty-eight." He explains. "She actually recognized one of the victims as a cousin, and gps on his phone pinged close to... well, not actually close to here, but from where the signal went dead this is the only building in a ten-mile radius." He explains further. "And this deputy didn't tell anyone considering it's a conflict given it's family, but she told me. I was going to accompany her here monday, but I didn't hear from her at all Sunday to prepare and it led me to think she went solo."
"I know there's a shit ton of protocol that actually has to be done to do this properly and by the books with backup and things, but I wasn't actually worried about getting hurt." Aristotle admits with a little shrug, not explaining his reasoning for it. "But I also didn't think she'd go by herself. And, if these symbols are actually associated with the group we think they are, then a lot of people would be well in over their heads.... us included, actually, so... hope everyone has their wills ready."
"Well, all my shit goes to my wife, so she'll just have the apartment in Haven and the businesses." Ryan notes with a shrug. "I figure The Order will find someone to take over Book Boy duties, but..." he motions to Harriet, "We def can't lose Miss Harry, she's totes important."
Harriet makes a small sound that expresses her dismay and slight surprise over the other deputy's decision to apparently head off alone. "That's unfortunate," she utters towards Aristotle about the entire situation at hand. "The warehouse does seem like the obvious place, though," get commented as she shifts her view back to the building. A nod of her head is given to Aristotle. "Sam told me she would kill me if I ever died, so my will is ready -- and I am ready to be double tapped." She nods some more, this time to Ryan. "I would rather prefer to live. I would not complain."
"No, yeah, I'm kind of a fan of living, too." Aristotle states with a quiet little chuckle. His eyes leave the pair to settle on the building properly, now. "I also don't think I have a will set up. So..." He takes a few steps closer towards the building's entrance, if the broken, ivy-covered door can even be called that, and he motions towards Harriet and Ryan. "If you're ready." He stays quiet for a moment as he waits for them to lead.
"Yup. All ready here, my dude!" Ryan notes as he checks his rifle again and puts on his vest, ready to enact some violence on some possibly suspecting cultists. "I'm going to sneak up to the warehouse and see if I can see in any of the windows, if it has any. Hopefully we don't get any like...tripwires or traps laying around."
Harriet glances between Ryan and Aristotle, and then she's heading towards the broken, vine embraced door. She's already got her vest on, and the case on her back has her heavier weapons, but she is retrieving a revolver from her handbag, not bringing out the big guns just yet. "Be careful, Ryan," is said as she assesses the area and the overgrown entrance.
The windows of this warehouse are broken shells of what they once were. From the outside, they are terribly dusted and peering into it really only has it acting as a mirror. It's hard for Ryan to see anything other than his reflection unless he break the one he's looking into. As for a few other ones - some of the windows are broken but peering inside there is only darkness. The closer anyone gets to the building, the more they're able to scent the place. It's reeks of rot, and it's difficult to see through given the lack of lighting in the surrounding area or inside the building.
Gagging quietly as he brings his sleeve up to cover his face, Ryan shakes his head back to Aristotle and Harriet as he murmurs quietly to them, "Can't see anything. It's dark as fuck in there, dudes. Smells like total ass, though." he squints into the darkness and can't see anything deeper as he meanders around to see if he can find any other way in or any sort of electrical lines denoting where the lights or a light switch would be inside the building.
Harriet watches as Ryan returns and shares his report. The last comment has her blinking a bit. "That does not sound pleasant at all," she remarks about the aroma that is reported. She continues towards the ivy-covered, broken door.
Ryan nods as he follows along with Harriet as he looks at the door and murmurs to Aristotle and Harriet, "Do we just like...slide in the door and look for some lights and cover? Seems like nobody's home."
As Ryan meanders around, he notes a few other access points, but they're largely broken, jagged-windows. Strangely, no electrical lines seem to be attached to the building, but from some electrical lines nearby, it can be seen that they aren't attached to eachother. Perhaps at some point they were fixed to the building, but are that way no longer.
"I suppose we do run the risk that this is the wrong building." Aristotle says, musing the thought for a moment but not feeling happy to have said it. He moves towards the 'excuse of a door' and peers inside to no avail. Ryan's suggestion has him starting to gently tear at the vines that trap the door. "We can try roof access, if that's something this place might have."
"Yeah, I mean you want to climb up a ladder or something, but with the windows all broken and the electrical lines cut, I'm pretty sure this building isn't up to code, dude. Hope you don't fall through the ceiling or whatever, but if there's anything nasty in here, a high vantage point would give us some good sight lines for shooting if they're hostile." Ryan replies.
Harriet pulls a knife from her handbag, and she begins to cut away at the vines, looking over at Ryan and then listening to Aristotle as they discuss the potential for an entrance. Her eyes and ears are ever alert, constantly checking on the trio's surroundings, like she's expecting to be ambushed at any given moment.
With Harriet pulling a knife, Aristotle steps aside to let her free the door of the vines much more efficiently than what his hands could. "Guess we're going in the front." He says aside to Ryan as he lets Harriet work. As she does, he sets his eyes briefly towards the interior that he can see into. "I'm wary of bringing a flashlight inside since it'd pinpoint exactly where we are, but... wandering in the dark probably isn't the best idea."
The vines come through easily as Harriet cuts at them, and when they're snapped and clear, it reveals the strength of them were the only things holding the door together. It starts to fall inward into the warehouse, collapsing onto the floor with a loud, echoing thud. Given the silence of the place previously, it's very noticeable.
Frantically waving his hands to shoo Aristotle and Harriet away from the door, Ryan quickly exclaims, "Ah fuck! I dropped my camera. Now I'll never get pictures of the haunted ghosts here!" he reaches into his bag and turns on a headlamp, sliding it across the floor as if it was attached to the imaginary camera he talked about, and then he takes cover on the side of the doorframe with his gun out and ready as he listens.
If there were a chance that perhaps the door didn't alert anyone inside, should there even be anyone inside, that goes out the window when Ryan makes his exclamation. His voice echoes along the walls of the warehouse along with the fading thuds of the door. And, when his headlamp comes on and is slid across the door, it cuts through the darkness like a knife in butter. It doesn't offer full illumination, though, just glimpses of its area as it slides through. Old, ancient machinery is revealed in a flash before the light leaves it. Mildew, fungus, and rot can be see reflected in the light. Bodies strewn on the walls - also in sight for a moment until the headlamp ceases its slide. Where it stops, the light points up to the ceiling and faintly, -faintly- illuminates the area for both Aristotle and Ryan.
It's almost in slow motion for Harriet as she watches the heavy door slam against the floor of the seemingly abandoned warehouse. She hisses in a deep inhale through clenched teeth, and then nods some to Aristotle about the front entry being the choice one at the moment. "Well..." But then Ryan is cursing and she glances over her shoulder at the surfer dude. "Are we ghost hunting? Are spirits photogenic?" gets wondered next. Her knife is slipped back into her handbag, and the revolver is once again her tool of choice. Her well developed eyes see incredibly well in the darkness, and he mildew and fungus each earn a displeasure filled sound, but the bodies cause her to fall entirely silent.
shaking his head back at Harriet, Ryan whispers back, "Nah, we're looking for cult guys, but if they think this place is haunted then maybe they'll get a little bit scared. But it doesn't look like they shot back at anything, so I think we're maybe okay to walk in? I figure ghost hunters get into weird shit like this all the time, so it's a good cover."
"...You... you think if the cult guys who are killing people think this place is haunted they'll get scared?" Aristotle asks, a bit of disbelief in his words as he looks over Ryan's way. He tugs out a flashlight from his holster, flicking it on and adding his own light to the headlight. The rest of the room is further illuminated, and as it trails along the room, the corpses that were teased at get seen more clearly. Each carved into them a flame-wreathed globe. "I think this is the place."
"I mean, if they killed a lot of people, they'd be pretty wicked scared if they made a lot of ghosts, right?" Ryan says with a shrug.
"....Ryan..." Is all Aristotle can muster, and it's... quietly exasperated.
Harriet is barely taking in what Ryan is claiming about the murderers, still staring ahead at the corpses. She cautiously heads inside of the warehouse, trying to be as quiet as possible while Aristotle is semi-scolding the surfer in a way. She sees something move ahead, and she pauses, hushing herself even further. Her eyes trail after the movement, and then she's raising her revolver, crouching and heading towards some equipment to try and take her own cover.
Something clanks from up ahead, the sound of metal against metal. Something perhaps had fallen, or was accidentally bumped against. There's no other noise that accompanies it.
"What the fuck, dude?" Ryan says as he blinks, looking around the room finally at the ancient machinery, corpses, and wet mold and mildew. As he hears something clank, he quickly ducks behind the nearest cover and raises his rifle, scanning the dim light for any movement, "Miss Harry you see anything?" he asks in a quiet murmur as he glances towards her and Aristotle.
The clanking from up ahead has Aristotle crouching low and flicking off his flashlight. In the event someone is here with them, the light already reveals them, but he still cloaks the trio in darkness as he tugs out a pistol from his holster. Ryan's question to Harriet is echoed in a hushed, hushed whisper. "Harry?"
Hearing the clanking, Harriet is hunched some and next to Ryan, and then to Aristotle as well. Her hazel eyes are narrowed as she spots more movement up ahead. She shakes her head slowly from right to left, as if in warning, holding up he revolver and using it to point out where she can obviously see several who-knows-what moving in the distance. Hopefully humans. As quiet as she possibly can, she's whispering, "There are more of them... they are coming up... some stairs."
The room is quiet for only a few moments after Harriet makes her whisper, and soon, something covers up the headlamp that was slid in the inside the warehouse. The room is covered in darkness again, and once it is, the sound of running and shuffling footsteps can be heard approaching the trio, rather quickly.
Harriet shakes her head a little more, slipping the revolver back into her handbag. After that, she's pulling the case from her back, and quickly and silently as she possibly can, she's pulling out her rifle. Lifting it, she peers through the scope, taking aim at something that is heading towards them. Then she pulls the trigger, and long, heavy bullet is fired off, and trying to hit one of the strangers in the face.
"Fuck it, they're coming!" Ryan says as he starts to fire towards where the light was, hoping to catch one of them with a stray bullet as he sends a few shots downrange where Harriet is firing.
A heavy bullet fires, and the flash illuminates the room for the briefest of moments. Those same corpses are illuminated in the room, but they likely aren't the things pulling focus. Instead, the flash of light illuminate cloaked figures charging the trio. They're silent, move quickly and quietly. Harriet's bullet rings true and strikes at one, and he proves to be another body that joins the graveyard here.
Aristotle raises his pistol, called to action as a gunshot from Harriet rings out. He fires, and the light of his own gun adds to the brief illumination. It provides a strobe effect, and more and more individuals fill the space they're in. If one is quick to count, they're overwhelmed. Ryan's gunfire joins the fray, striking one in the thigh. A body toppling onto the floor is heard, and soon the wounded is scrambling up to continue the advance.
Harriet holds her breath as she fires off another shot, intent on taking out each approaching, obviously hostile, targets. She is fairly calm and collected for the situation that is unfolding before her, and she's shooting one bullet after the other, always trying to aim for the face.
Continuing to fire as well, Ryan keeps chambering rounds and blasting as more and more of the cult members rush them, "I don't know if we can hold them off for long, we should run away before we get overrun or we'll have to fight them hand to hand, and I don't know how much we want to get stabbed by a buncha weirdos!"
It seems for each one that is shot, more and more take their place. It feels like an endless supply that come up. Logically, one knows it's not - but in the hail of gunfire and strobe light effect and how quickly they move and approach, it feels endless.
Struggling, Ryan attempts to reach for his weapon, but his staff on his back is probably cumbersome in these close quarters, so he reaches for a Taser and attempts to shock one of the people attempting to manhandle him.
The hail of gunfire loses a third of its momentum as the bullets hailing from Aristotle's gun come to a cease. The sounds of grappling struggle can be heard on his end, but it's difficult to visually make out what's occurring given the lack of lighting.
Oops, only have rank 2, so Ryan attempts to pepper spray the person.
Harriet is suddenly overrun by four of the attackers, and as they grab at her rifle, she is using her hand to hand combat training rather than trying to fight for her gun. She's pivoting her body, trying to use momentum against the cloaked figures. She executes each of her moves precisely, twisting arms and using her elbows while trying to simultaneously redirect the attackers into harming each other more than harming her. Forceful knee movements are attempted to hit one in the midsection, and then to another, she tries a palm heel to a nose, hoping to advance in this fight rather than be taken down so quickly.
The pepper spray is something Ryan is able to tug out with some difficulty, but he struggles enough against the hands on his person to pull it out. Limbs twist against his in this grapple, and as he attempts to spray one, he's met with an intense, blinding pain in his eyes. A twist of a wrist - someone forcing his hand in a redirection, has Ryan's own defense used against him, and the stinging spreads through his eyes with the spray in the air causing him to cough.
"Aah dammit! These fuckers!" Ryan claims as he thrashes about, flailing as he drops to a knee and starts to punch out blindly, one hand swinging as the other wipes at his eyes, choking and spitting as he blinks away tears, then he switches to his other hand, throwing a wild punch as he wipes his other eye with his sleeve.
Getting overrun and out muscled, Ryan gets knocked out from behind as they take him down.
There's a thwack that can be heard as Ryan continues to struggle and punch out against his attackers. If Harriet spares a glance his way, she'd see that the thwacking came from one of them hitting him in the head with an object. They don't seem to wait to see if it has rendered him unconscious or not before they turn to advance on Harriet. She's a bit more able to fend for herself than the boys were - her strength and martial prowess coming to her defense as she's redirecting some blows and defensively lashing out. But, others continue to move towards her and after a moment it runs the risk of turning into a dog pile as the cultists wail on her from every angle that they surround her. Head, body, legs, ankle - each trying to incapacitate her.
Those not in combat with Harriet in their attempt to subdue her, turn sights on both Aristotle and Ryan. Gripped by the ankles, the boys are dragged deeper into the warehouse.
Harriet is a stubborn one, even with a likely fate of being dog piled. She's not giving up, and it only enrages her, and her demon blood is burning in her veins, putting her into berserker mode. She understands that a conventional fight won't favour her against the odds here, and she's opting for a strategic retreat, even if it may not be possible. Each lunge is met with a counter attack of her own, defensive and trying to regain control, using targeted strikes, low kicks, trying to incapacitate anyone she can whilst focusing on vital points -- knees, throats, even groins.
The strategic retreat seems to have a desirable effect. Moreso for Harriet than it does the boys as both Ryan and Aristotle get dragged deeper into the warehouse until they're at the staircase. And of course, they're dragged down. When they awake, it'll be to a massive headache considering their heads will thud on each step on the way down as they disappear into the warehouse. Harriet, fighting on the defensive, finds herself in a fight that is pushed towards the entrance of the warehouse. Her targeted strikes hit, but each one sees herself victim of two others. Her hits are harder, but their hits are more numerous. She's only one girl, afterall - despite being a very, very powerful one. The odds of her falling unconscious will be slim, given that rage now fuels her veins. Still, the cultists push her further and she'll soon find herself separated from her group.
First and foremost, Harriet remains highly aware of her surroundings, trying to predict and counter as many of the attacks coming her way as she can. Her movements are wide and sweeping, trying to block incoming strikes from different angles, using arms to deflect and try to gain control because she really is that stubborn. Defensive and offensive maneuvers are hand in hand, blocking an attacking with one hand, while delivering a strike with the other, aiming for vulnerable areas every single time. Eyeballs are a favourite at the moment, it seems. She attempts to keep moving, still wanting to retreat, even if it is pulling her away from the other two.
"Ugh, my head." Ryan says as he squints, rubbing his head and neck if he can, waking up slowly and groggily with the headache of a lifetime. "The fuck is up, bros? I'm just trying to Ghost Hunt here, my dudes."
As Harriet continues moving towards her retreat, the cultist that accost her seem to direct it in such a way that it is certain further away from the other two. They start to tire, though, but seem relentless - fighting as if something terribly important is on the line. Once the fight takes them to the threshold of the warehouse, they let off. Each of someone' sweeping attacks would find their mark, and certainly does well to slow down the assault, but it leaves both the group on her and herself perhaps a touch haggard. The moment Harriet is at the door to the outside, the fight breaks off. It seems the cultists aren't aware her eyes are attuned to the darkness - any other person would perceive them to have vanished, but for Harriet, she can see they they've merely taken a step back to recoup. The stand cloaked in shadows, guarding the entrance as if to prevent her from entering again. At least from that point of access.
As Harriet continues moving towards her retreat, the cultist that accost her seem to direct it in such a way that it is certain further away from the other two. They start to tire, though, but seem relentless - fighting as if something terribly important is on the line. Once the fight takes them to the threshold of the warehouse, they let off. Each of Harriet's sweeping attacks would find their mark, and certainly does well to slow down the assault, but it leaves both the group on her and herself perhaps a touch haggard. The moment Harriet is at the door to the outside, the fight breaks off. It seems the cultists aren't aware her eyes are attuned to the darkness - any other person would perceive them to have vanished, but for Harriet, she can see they they've merely taken a step back to recoup. The stand cloaked in shadows, guarding the entrance as if to prevent her from entering again. At least from that point of access.
Pain is the first thing Ryan can feel, and it stems from his eyes. His vision is blurry, and his eyes feel dry and stung. It'll be terribly hard to see anything, but he's not enveloped in darkness. There is light where he is, deeper in the warehouse. His head is the next source of pain. A hand to the back of his head would reveal something wet. He's bleeding a touch. There's a body beside him, and should he feel on it or squint close enough, he'd note it to be Aristotle. They seem to have been dragged into a cage, from what Ryan can gather.
Although Harriet is breathing heavily, she is jacked up on adrenaline, and while the group is recovering, she's pulling her revolver back out. She can see them easily, and without a thought, she's blasting off rounds at them. One after the other, stanced and looking like she wants nothing more than to make them suffer -- and for those who do suffer, if they get hit and not killed instantly, she's soaking it up just like a demon sponge, and it's making her glow. Figuratively. She doesn't actually glow in the dark -- she's no angelborn.
Reaching up to rub some of the sting out of his eyes, Ryan forces himself to cry some more to attempt to wash out the pepper spray, spitting a few times to let the saliva in his mouth clean the stinging substance, a hand reaching up to touch the back of his head as he winces, the throbbing pain and the blurry red of his hand coming back tells him that he may be in some trouble from blood loss. Head wounds are pretty bad. He reaches over and shakes Aristotle a little seeing if he can wake the man.
Now that the blows have ceased for now, Harriet can see there were only five of them. And while they recover, it's clear they've not figured she can see them clearly. As such, they're unprepared for a revolver firing at them. The first bullet rings into the warehouse, striking one. Then the second, third - depending on how quickly Harriet can fire, she can get a clean sweep, and if she's quick, she does. The startling fear before nothing... intoxicating.
It takes a bit, but Aristotle finds himself shaken awake. A groan leaves him, proving he still lives. And, when his eyes open, he sets them first onto Ryan. Then, about himself to the cage they find themselves in. Then, outside the cage. His first question is a quiet, "Where's Harry?" And he's starting to sit himself up. "...Where the fuck are we?" Is the second question. And then he's patting a hand at his holster as if to check that it is still there.
Harriet moves forward, back towards the entrance as she's firing away, attempting to kill every single one of her attackers. The sudden lack of suffering is like having to try and quit smoking cold turkey, though. It felt so incredible one moment, getting bathed in it all... and then... it's gone. Her eyelids are partaking in a whole lot of blinking, but her lips still have a radiant smile, still high on that sort of afterglow of it all.
From what the boys can make out from where they're trapped, it is not lit by electricity, but by torches. Certainly a fire hazard considering the rest of the warehouse is upstairs. There's a stone altar in the center, a body upon it - Aristotle can see it more clearly than Ryan, as the latter is trying to tend to his eyesight. A woman, deceased. Three other cultists surround it, chanting, and neither of them seem to care that the boys have stirred themselves awake yet.
"Well, I think she's still fighting but it went cold and black for me and..." Ryan shows the blood on his hand, "I'm bleeding something gnarly from my brains, my dude." he keeps looking around as his eyes start to adjust and says, "We're in some kind of cage, probably down those stairs." he listens for any signs of struggle up above as he pats himself down for any of his weapons and armor.
Harriet finds the approach much easier this time, with much less resistance. She's managed to silence her assailants permanently. It would have been a different story had they'd known she could see them. The cultists lay dead on the ground. They're faces and frames covered by their loose-fitting cloaks. There's certainly more deeper in the warehouse, but there's no way of Harriet to know how many.
Only now does Harriet seem to be aware that she has killed all of these people. Her innate nature took over and she lost her self control, and the reality of that is quite heavy. Still holding the revolver, which only has one round left in that six-shooter, but her hands are shaking some -- both from the insane amount of adrenaline that is pumping through her lithe form, and te fact that she just took out living beings in the flesh -- not in a nightmare battle. Seeking to refocus, she heads over to her weapons case and she picks her rifle back up, checking it over and reloading it. Next, she's heading towards the stairs, trying to be quiet.
As they cant, a darkness begins to ripple in the air above the corpse. It brings with it a coldness that bites, but it's much too small to be satisfactory. One of the cultists stop - this one distinguished by a headpiece he wears of flame-wreathed globe. He motions towards the cage where the boys are held. "Pull one of them." He commands of the other cultists in the room. "Strap them to the altar and prepare the next sacrifice."
Ryan patting himself down for weaponry would reveal that he's unarmed. They've stripped the both of them of obvious weaponry. The cultist start to approach the cage, fiddling with the lock. It doesn't seem they've decided who the lucky one will be.
As Harriet leaves behind the corpses of the cultists and their loose-fitting cloaks behind, she approaches the staircase with ease. The obstacles there would be much more detrimental if she were blind, but her eyes are darkness-keen. There's a light she can see from further down the staircase, and some quiet chanting as well.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, bro. I've sold my soul to a Demon and you don't want that smoke my dude. The Inevitable Maw of Gluttony is going to come for you all if you sacrifice me to some god, and I'm totes not a virgin!" Ryan says as he thumbs upwards, "But I know a few, you want me to get a replacement?"
Harriet holds up her rifle as she moves along, stealthy and graceful with each and every movement as she moves down one step at a time, cautious and prepared. She does her best to not think about what she's just done upstairs, and focuses instead on Ryan and Aristotle -- wanting to get them safe. There's likely an inward pep talk going on.
As the cultists approach, Aristotle falls silent. He's looking past them towards the altar, and his face falls. "...Fuck, that's her..." There's little time to grieve, though as the cultists open the cage. They move for Ryan, but his pleas... or lies, seem to work. The pivot from him and instead start to drag Aristotle out. He resists, naturally, but one of the cultists take out the pepper spray they've claimed from Ryan and spray Aristotle with it. He howls in pain, wanting to shield his eyes, but with his hands gripped, he's tugged out of the cage. It seems he's the lucky one.
The howling that comes from downstairs, masks Harriet's approach - footsteps on the stone covered completely by pained screams that give her a dose of euphoria. Her focus may be on her comrades, but it seems for now, no one notices her approach. However, the introduction of light in the room she's embarking in, is casting a shadow.
"He's a cop, dudes! You don't want to mess with the 5-0! Make sure you check for his beeper, I'm pretty sure he's wearing a wire and SWAT is on it's way. I just want to make sure you all don't die in one of those Waco deals, you know? We're total bros now, maybe give me one of those sweet robes and I can help with whatever you got going on here." Ryan bluffs as he tries to buy time.
That bluff is met with the slamming of a cage door. It seems they don't mind killing police, because the missing deputy mentioned earlier is unceremoniously pushed off of the altar, and Aristotle is set and then strapped on. He's still wincing from the pain to his vision from being pepper sprayed - certainly something he wasn't expecting. "Fuckfuckfuck that fuckin' stings," he spits out. He's shaking his head, trying now to spare his vision some relief, but there's nothing he can wipe to his eyes.
Whatever Harriet was thinking about before, she's now giggling. It's faint, but it is sickly gleeful, and followed by a pleased sigh as she's awash with euphoric suffering again. She notes her shadow, and she's pausing to reach for her phone, hitting the emegency button on its screen that is set up to alert the Order of her whereabouts, letting her location ping on their devices should she end up not being found later. The phone gets dropped right back into her bag, and the rifle is re-raised. With that shadow betraying her, she's moving briskly now, tying to get to a place where she can start trying to take head shots.
"Your loss, bros!" he exclaims as Ryan checks his watch as he talks into it, "Sting compromised, HQ. Send in the Cavalry and make it quick. They've got Delta Lead and I have eyes on the victims, ready for violent extraction."
Ryan's bluff to by time, along with the slamming of the cage door, and Aristotle's hissing, do more than pull attention away from Harriet. It doesn't seem she'll be seen until she wants to be. With Aristotle strapped on the altar, the cultist begin their chanting again. One of which brandishing a -used- sacrificial dagger. Poor Aristotle can't really see it, given his recently acquired blindness from a pepper-spray. He's wincing, and that pain washes over Harriet. The darkness rippling in the air above the altar begins to spark as if unstable as they continue to prepare for their sacrifice. Harriet is able to reposition herself to a place where she can take fire - though it takes a moment or two further to get set up. Ryan voices his distress call, but there's no confirmation if he's heard or not - the same goes for Harriet's signaling. Once she's in position, though, Ryan is able to see her.
But the cultists waste no time, though. They've murdered a lot so far, and this evening, three new flies walked into their web. The -used-, bloody sacrificial dagger is raised high, and Aristotle never sees it coming before it's plunged into his chest. A startled, pained gasp leaves his lips as his eyes widen. The cold pain of being stabbed turns into a burning hot that blends in with the stinging sharpness of his eyes still covered in pepper spray.
There's a bit of static from Ryan's watch after he speaks into it, as if something is responding from the other side. It's unclear what they're saying, but it sparks hope that his extraction requests was heard, now.
"No," comes out past Harriet's lips as she witnesses the knife finding its way into Aristotle's chest, and with her rifle held up and ready, she exhales and pulls the trigger. Time stands still for a moment -- or at least it seems to, for her -- and she is shooting with the intent to kill again, aiming at the knife wielder's head.
"Nooooo!" Ryan screams out as he rattles the cage, helpless to prevent the sacrifice as he makes a ruckus, trying to make us much noise as possible to give coverage for Harriet.
Harriet's bullet finds its mark. The cultist whom plunged the blade into Aristotle's chest collapses to the ground as brain matter stains his cloak. It stops the chanting from the other two, but it seems the damage has been done. The blade protrudes from Aristotle's chest, and he struggles in his bindings, as if it were a death jerk. He bleeds, and the rippling darkness above the altar responds in kind. His blood rises, and so too does the cultist that was killed via headshot. Like rain, the blood droplets fall upwards into the rippling darkness, and the mass of darkness writhes and expands. It sends a freezing air into the room, but it doesn't move through, it just... exists. As if the room was turning into a vacuum. Something gurgles from within it, as if something sentient behind that darkness is starting to push its way out.
As Ryan rattles the cage, he'd find himself falling out of it. It seems the cultists slammed the cage door shot, but didn't relock it again. It makes quite a bit of noise, his screaming, rattling, and then falling, but in trying to give coverage for Harriet, it's too late. A gunshot is loud, and it pulls everyone's attention. The main cultist - the one weilding the headress of the flame-wreathed earth, looks up to them. His face still obscured by the cloak. He laughs. "You're too late... this world will be consumed by the nothingness of the void and start anew... you're too late!" He says. Nothing has crawled through, yet, so maybe there's still time to disrupt... anything.
There's only two cultists in the room - the one speaking, and another silent one that stands beside him. The third, who plunged a dagger into the not-yet-dead but probably-actively-dying Aristotle's chest, is collapsed onto the floor beside the altar.
Charging towards the altar, Ryan attempts to run past the two of them and grab the dagger out of Aristotle's chest, screaming as he is in a blind rage in anger and despair, looking to take the bloody ritual dagger and attack the cultists. "You sons of bitches! You'll never bring the void into this world, we'll be there every step of the way to stop you, you maniacs!"
Another exhale and another shot is fired off, trying to take out the next cultist. It seems Harriet does not care if it it too late or not, she's not going to let Ryan and Aristotle die at the hands of these people. She's definitely careful so as to not accidentally shoot the rage-filled Ryan who... just pulled a knife out of Aristotle's chest... but this tall brunette didn't take that part in -- she is trying to get a bullet into one of the bad guys's brains.
With the blade yanked out of Aristotle's chest, the blood flows freely now. Upwards, splattering into the rippling darkness that continues to expand, as if consuming the liquid life from both Aristotle's person, and the dead cultist. Harriet's gunfire misses its target as Ryan steps in front of her line of sight. Ryan, with the blade in hand, lunges at one of the cultists, but he does so at a disadvantage due to his probable concussion and pained-eyes. The cultist sidesteps his assault and lobs a punch at his chins. The other cultist, the head one, doesn't give the pair any continued time of day. Despite his own life being on the line, he looks up to the void of darkness that grows, and he raises his hands towards it as if in worship. "Yes! Come through! Consume this world!" he exclaims. He is nothing but glee in this moment, despite likely never seeing what the outcome would be. Aristotle is still strapped to the altar, bleeding out. He hasn't lost consciousness yet, but Harriet can take note that the pain is exquisite. "What's happening?!" He calls out, weakly, temporarily completely blinded due to the sprayed injury to his eye.
As the rippling darkness grows larger, consuming the nearby blood, something from it begins to push out. It's darkness. Shaped, but pure - were there something there to be seen clearly, not even Harriet's eyes could notice. It's the sort of darkness that sucks in some of the light in the room. Something is coming.
Despite all that is going on, Harriet is helplessly producing a soft, but very pleasureable moan. She's entirely intoxicated, and it's difficult to focus on the task at hand, although she is still trying to. Her rifle is raised, and she's trying to line up her next shot so as to not hit a friendly, but only an insane cultist.
Reeling from the punch and spitting blood, Ryan stumbles against the altar and tries to slice the ropes away from Aristotle to get him free, "We gotta get outta here before this fuckin..." he spits some blood as his teeth run crimson, blinking his bloodshot eyes as he glances up at the void thing, "Whatever does it's thing." he feverishly tries to cut Aristotle free.
Harriet's raised rifle aims towards the head cultist, and her bullet fires out and strikes him in the face. He recoils backwards with a stumble before falling back onto the ground. His blood pools around him, but isn't absorbed by the rippling mass. Perhaps his is too far from the altar. The blood from the first corpse is consumed to its last drop. The blood from Ryan's lip where he was punched, and back of his head where his injury is starts to pool towards the rippling mass, adding to its ever hungered consumption. Aristotle's blood continues to flow from him, and it seems like quite a bit has left him - he's paled, but not lost consciousness yet for some reason. When Ryan cuts at his binds, Aristotle flails and wriggles himself free as the other cultist tries to lunge for Ryan. Aristotle rolls to his side, hand gripping his chest wound as he collapses to the ground and tries to scramble away a bleeding mess.
More of a shadowed darkness leaves the rippling darkness. The room grows dim as the lighting in the room from the torches find themselves dimming like dying candles. Visually, it's becoming much harder to see now, even for Harriet as this creature expands. What looks like an arm, dark, shadowy, and long, stems from the rippling cold darkness. It continues to crawl through.
"Nope, Nope, Nope!" Ryan says as he wildly swings the dagger at the lunging cultist, trying to keep them away as he reaches a hand to help Aristotle stumble forward towards Harriet, so she can cover their escape. "Shoot the fucker, Harry! This shit is insane!"
Harriet is a powerhouse when it comes to combat, but dealing with the supernatural in general -- like Void beings brought into this world through spilled blood -- is out of her league. She is rushing to defend and protect Ryan, using the butt of her rifle as her weapon against the last cultist, trying to attack him.
Ryan's wild swing cuts at the cultist, drawing blood from a face beneath the hood. It too, is consumed by the beast from the portal. Ryan's retreat to cover Aristotle is met with a grateful grunt from Aristotle as he's aided in his stumbling towards Harriet. Once he's far enough away, his blood falls towards the ground instead of towards the void beast. The cultist takes a blow to the face from Harriet's rifle butt, and he stumbles backwards into the loving arm of this void beast. Death would have been a blissful end for him otherwise. The moment contact is made, the cultist screams. And it's... a scream no mortal being should be capable of producing. An overwhelming fear and a pain that even the most unempathic person can feel extends from him. His death is nothing but pain. Cold, cold pain, and he finds the entirety of his being consumed. It lengthens the portal. More of the beast comes out, but given Ryan and Aristotle are further away and Harriet likely isn't bleeding, there's nothing further for it to consume. The darkness begins to shrink.
"We gotta get some ritualists down here to banish or contain whatever the fuck that thing is, my dudes." Ryan says as he puts an arm around Aristotle to help him up, ripping off a sleeve of his shirt to pack his wound as he tries to staunch the bleeding a little at least. "We shoulda came in with a lot more people...or like...a rocket launcher."
Harriet shudders as she watches the death take place before her. She's loving it, basking in it, and horrified by it all at once. She stumbles backwards, like a drunk, as she is inebriated with all of the suffering she absorbed tonight. Reality semi-settles in, and she turns looking to Ryan and Aristotle, and then she's rushing to assist with the bleeding. "We need to get him out of here."
"Yeah, to a hospital ASAP." Ryan says as he heads towards the car, "My phone's in the car, and we can GPS it. I think there's one here up the road, or at least a Veterinarian we can break into and find a first aid kit to keep him from bleeding out until we get there. We got any backup from The Order coming to help clean this up? There's going to be a lot of questions about the dead HSD lady."
"this is the worst pain," Aristotle quietly exclaims through gritted teeth as Ryan packs at his wound with a bit of his sleeve. The screaming, pained death of the cultist causes him to wince, but he settles more on himself than he does the other cultist. He's taken a fatal stab wound to the chest like a champ, though, and his free hand, bloodied of course, goes to press at his eyes as he tries to stall the pain from being pepper sprayed. When the topic of him leaving the area is mentioned, he makes no complaint. "Please, lets get out of here." He says.
The mass of darkness continues to shrink now that it's starved of blood, and the void hand whips about as it tries to grab anything it can use to expand itself. Ryan, Harriet, and Aristotle, as well as the head cultist now dead, all out of reach. There is a rage that can be felt, cold and biting, as this creature is pulled back into the cold darkness of the void. It doesn't leave willingly, and it makes it known.
Harriet helps Ryan get Aristotle to the van, and she glances back to see the mass of darkness shrinking. She exhales out heavily, saying, "We're going to have to find out what that is, exactly," to Ryan. "And stop it from entering this world." Her body is still trembling with adrenaline and bit of shock.
Taking a glance behind him as he shudders, shaken to his core, Ryan grits his teeth and nods to Harriet, "Yeah. Fuck that thing. That's terrifying."
There is no resistance to stop them from making their way towards the van and settling inside of it. Once they're out of the building, both Ryan's and Harriet's orderite devices begin to ping with notifications. It seems help was on the way, afterall - though light-sucking creatures from the void likely interfere with signals in that proximity. There is an angry shriek from inside the warehouse - otherworldly. And then, silence. That same silence that met them when they arrived seem to meet them as they leave. Whatever that thing is will likely find its way back again the next time this group tries again, but for now, they're safe in the van. Aristotle continues bleeding out, but he doesn't lose consciousness - pale as hell from bloodloss, though. His eyes turn towards the warehouse, and he quietly mutters, "I'll come back for the car later..." he says, pained as he still presses dressings to his wound. "What... what was that thing out there?" He asks.