The Ritual

It was dark when you arrived at the steel mill, and in the cloud-obscured moonlight the place had transformed into some kind of mechanical castle, with rising towers and and looming structures. You stared up at it and felt in your bones that something evil was stirring within its belly.

The three of you had dressed dark, with scarves to obscure your faces and good shoes to run if it came to that. Tina held within her hand an aluminium bat, while Marcus had a golf club. You had brought an old wrench, though your true weapon was on your finger.

Laying on the ground between you all was some old coke bottles filled with gasoline, a lighter and some cloth. You would have find the right place to start the fire, but otherwise you were confident you could get the whole thing up in flames.

“Ready to kick ass and commit some arson?” Tina asked, her voice muffled by her eyes shining.

You smiled back. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

There were only a couple of cars in the parking lot, but one of them was a van which you assumed was used in the transportation of the cult’s next victim. That pushed to move faster. Tina pointed out one of the cameras, and dug into the pocket of her hoodie. She produced a can of spray paint, crouched low beneath the camera, then blasted the lens until it was fully obscured. With that out of the way you approached one of the doors, noted the lock, and slammed your wrench down hard until it came off and the door creaked open.

Your heart was racing as you lead the way inside, but to your surprise there was no alarm, no security that came running. But what relief you might have felt was short lived as you heard the distant, but persistent chanting coming from deep into the factory.

Exchange glances with the others, you all crept forward through the office segment and into the factory proper. The floor was empty, but the chanting grew louder as you approached the stairwell. It was dark, and the sense of evil was overwhelming, but you had to go on.

Within the basement was an entire chamber, ancient and made out of stonework that itched with various symbols you couldn’t read. Along the walls were shelves containing dozens of yellowed, curled scrolls that must have contained hundreds of dark spells passed down through time. It looked like something plucked from another age, and it was filled with cloaked figures, bowing in circle over a large symbol carved into the ground. Above it hung what looked to be a mummified corpse latched to the end of a chain. A central figure stood up on an elevated platform, arms raised high and leading the procession. Though he wore hooded cloak and a mask like the others, you knew that it was Mayor Chapman and that something horrible was about to happen.

In the corner of the room, in what looked to be repurposed dog kennels, you saw not one, but three naked women trapped in cages, waiting to be sacrificed.

“What do we do?” Tina asked.

You glanced around, took note of the shelves, the ancient paper lining them. The cultists were locked into their ritual, their attention only on their dark devotions to the incubus. Your eyes went to the girls, terror writ across their faces. With a grim determination you pulled out one of the gasoline bottles and handed it to Tina.

“You guys douse those shelves and create a distraction,” you looked back at the girls, “I’ll bust the girls out…”