Lesser Edale, England:
04:00 AM:
We left Tommy at the Spice of Life with a certain level of trepidation. For those of us that had been in The Forest in 1918 it was like we were going over the top again.
Joseph, the professional soldier, gave nothing away; he merely cleaned his guns, packed his kit and took a nap like he was preparing for a camping holiday or a night away from home.
Greg was more thoughtful. He nervously wrote out his will. Then, unable to keep still, walked over to a general store to buy ropes and last minute provisions. He needed to be sharp so, despite feeling an almost overwhelming urge to lose himself in his needles, refused to do so. He ensured all his money was left to the group, that his small holding in New England was to be sold to pay for the remainder of Lucy’s course at Harvard and that any and all medical expenses incurred by Janey were provided for via the sale of his other properties in Poland.
So much guilt, so many victims. This had to stop. This time he would be able to make a difference, this time with the help of his comrades he would shut down an evil cult that had committed multiple murders in London just as the same group had shut down all the activities of the Cult of the Bloody Tongue just one week earlier.
The non military types must have known something was in the air. The way Joseph didn’t want to talk. The way Greg was even more taciturn than usual. All were lost in their own thoughts.
Trent wished he had served. Yes he had tried to prove himself on many occasions with the investigators, but somehow he had always felt he was found wanting. Combat did not come naturally to him. He hadn’t had the training the others had.
The others packed their things, ate or rested. Few spoke.
Then it was 9pm, time to head off to meet “Captain Davey”.
We took two large cars. There were several sizeable bags inside both. Greg had all his webbing inside his greatcoat. He carried his huge Greener Farr killer hunting Shotgun, a Mondragon rifle as well as a variety of handguns, grenades and large packs of dynamite. His ever present doctor’s bag seemed incongruous in such company. Surely the Hippocratic Oath was useless here.
He barely fitted through the car door. Then he loaded the belt fed water-cooled machine gun on to the back seat. Wesley brought out the Flamethrower. Also placed on the back seat, it sat ominously next to the machine gun. Wesley’s hunting rifle dwarfing the M16 nestling on his shoulder.
Trent came out, again with a variety of handguns, a Tommy gun, a Trench Gun and a Mondragon.
This was not a fire-fight at which they planned to be outgunned. Outnumbered hugely maybe, but never outgunned.
Everyone carried at least three weapons. Everyone wore military style boots, greatcoats and bullet proof vests. They had also all cast the spell Skin of Sedefkar to give additional protection against the first wound at least.
Meeting Captain Davey And Making A Trip Down river:
10:18 PM:
Making sure that they were not followed they took a slightly indirect route to Wapping, where they unloaded swiftly onto the .
Captain Davey’s eyes widened at the amount of military hardware on display but he could hardly refuse the investigators now, for all he knew they might kill him.
He was even more worried as Greg insisted on setting up the tripod mounted machine in the aft of the boat, “Just in Case”. “Just in case” of what? He wondered. The Kaiserschlacht was finished in 1918 for goodness sake! Just what on earth were these New York hoodlums attempting?
We had the tide and headed down the Thames at a fair pace. Light was quite good with a near full moon above us, despite the cloud.
In less than 4 hours we had arrived at Walton-on-the-Naze. For all his nervousness Captain Davey was good to his word and guided us safely through the sandbanks. He also provided two big row boats which were surprisingly robust.
As we loaded our equipment including the machine gun, into the two boats, then we got on board ourselves, a fine drizzle began to fall. Trent, Natalja, Joseph and Gupta took the lead boat; Greg, Simon, Trixie and Wesley the second.
Look To The Heavens:
02:00 AM
The four in the first boat concentrated on their approach. They needed to find a good place on the north side of the island to beach their boats. This allowed the second boat time to look at their surroundings as they could just follow their comrades.
Greg took advantage of this situation to scan the heavens. He noticed some shooting stars. On their own, these were considered a bad omen by the Chinese. This was much worse. The shooting stars veered off course. Instead of streaking across the sky in a single trajectory they turned sharply to land somewhere on the island. Clearly not normal astronomical phenomena.
We arrived at the island unmolested. Then we pulled our boats into the gorse above the water line and unloaded our equipment. Finding a hollow a little way away we set up the machine gun on its tripod. We thought that this position would make a good redoubt from which we could cover our retreat if need be.
Scouting ahead, Gupta makes out rhythmic chanting and strange discordant piping music. Sounds like an occult ritual.
Into The Dragon’s Den:
02:20 AM:
Both groups of four move forward towards the chanting in a pair of small skirmish lines. As we move inland a posh English voice echoes across the island:
“Thank you great Daoghash (J to confirm deity name), for your gift of seed. Some day you may be progenitors of the great new race. Our mirror has revealed our enemies. Behold they approach as I speak. Send forth your creatures to kill them!”
The games afoot! Cry havoc and let slip, the dogs of War!
Both groups continue running. They see a fearful sight ahead of them. Close to 80 cultists centred on an Egyptian style obelisk chained to which are three women. Two are screaming but the third seems to be enraptured.
Elsewhere around them several nameless beasts from the deepest pits of hell writhe and gibber in infernal bestiality. A great Chitinous insectoid thing has a huge black winged serpentine Hunting Horror in attendance.
Next to it an amorphous blob of primordial evil is waited upon by a Shantak bird. The same beast that we have encountered on Easter Island, New York and Honduras. Named a bird but this no avian, it is winged but that is it’s only similarity with terrestrial birds.
Next to this is a large bluish red flame. A cone of fire approximately twenty feet long and ten feet wide at its longest point. No gas flare this, we have come across sentient flames before. It is some evil manifestation of the fire being Cthugha. Near it are two smaller balls of fire, each about the size of a football.
Fire Vampires:
Also present is a vile monstrosity with a toad like body and an octopus like head with multiple tentacles. Greg realises that this is a Servitor of the Outer Gods. It is the source of the awful piping. For in its tentacular appendages it has a pipe which emits an insane cacophonic music to which the infernal God Azathoth can dance, from its lair at the centre of the universe.
Standing amongst these beasts is a man in white robes with an inverted ankh and a staff. Is this man Gavigan? Most probably. Time for him to die!
All the investigators are momentarily shocked by what they see but steel themselves. They press on.
Natalja begins to chant an incantation. Maybe she can conjure a foul beast of her own to combat these monstrous fiends.
As the investigators advance, the Hunting Horror and Shantak bird take to the air, no doubt to assault us from the skies. Some of the larger creatures, the Chitinous insect and the blue cone of flame disappear.
Surveying the area we also see a second figure in a white robe. Near him is a low tree upon which is a small mirror with a brass frame. It is about two feet square, just the same size as the space left on the wall of Tewfik’s apartment in Soho. Is this device how they found us?
Attack, Attack, Attack:
02:22 AM
The piping creature is the most dangerous foe of all. It must be eliminated quickly. Time for the dynamite. Trent sees Gaidar’s look of revulsion and readies his bundle of four sticks of dynamite. Quite a size but he was a quarterback. He is made to do this. If ever there was a need for a Hail Mary throw, it was then.
Wanting to coordinate the attack Joseph waits for the dynamite to be lit and thrown.
Gupta does the same as Trent making ready to hurl his own similar deadly package in the midst of the evil gathering.
The throw is good. Trent’s dynamite lands right upon the Servitor. The blast is huge. Trent is caught in the back draught. When the smoke clears, lots of Cultists lie slain upon the ground. Gavigan is floored but still alive. Unfortunately so is the piping beast. The Shantak bird screams but manages to fly away from the bulk of the explosion. The other priest standing by the mirror also falls.
Gupta chooses to hurl his large pack of dynamite at the amorphous blob. His throw is true. The beast erupts in a screaming fireball that envelopes the fleeing Shantak bird and a third priest.
The beast falls in an eruption of flame. However the winged serpent has got away. Joseph calls out to the rest of the investigators to be ready for it.
The piping creature advances menacingly towards the investigators. Joseph takes careful aim and empties an entire clip from his BAR into the beast. But alas this thing is non-terrene so the bullets have no effect. Greg realises that Gavigan has summoned it. “Use the Dust of Suleiman” he yells. We had found a quantity of this in Gavigan’s lair at the Penhew Foundation Building only yesterday. Oft it is said that Evil Will Evil Mar. So it proved as we used our enemies own weapons against them.
Natalja completes her incantation. A foul hairless clawed apelike beast appears out of the air in front of her, a Dimensional Shambler. She commands it to attack Gavigan, the man in the white robes.
Trent having used his dynamite hears Greg’s shouted warning and hurls his Dust of Suleiman at the piping creature. It is but a glancing blow, not enough to stay its approach. Joseph dropping his gun throws his pouch of dust too. He hits the creatures full in its face making it mewl with pain. It drops its flute on the ground as it recoils as if struck with highly corrosive acid.
Gupta has heard the cry also. He throws his dust of Suleiman hitting the very same place as Joseph. The creature drops, melting out of existence in a pool of putrescence.
Greg Trixie Simon and Wesley move up to flank the cultists. Looking above him, Greg hears the flapping of the Hunting Horrors wings just in time and shoots up at it with his hunting shotgun. The blast shears off the serpents pointed tail before it can skewer Greg like a stuck pig. However the sight of it causes Greg to go into shock.
Having fired in blind instinct he then faints dead away.
Both Trixie and Wesley fire their futuristic M16s at the beast and their combined firepower kills it. Gavigan meanwhile has somehow got to his feet. He loads an impressive looking Shotgun as the Dimensional Shambler attacks him from behind. Sadly its flailing claws miss and Gavigan is able to spin round and shoot it. The shotgun wounds the Shambler but doesn’t kill it.
With Gavigan distracted, Joseph and Trent advance on him.
Meanwhile Gupta throws a single dynamite stick into the remaining crowd of cultists. 2 stagger near collapse, 1 falls dead and two retreat bleeding. This clears the way for Trent and Joseph.
Trent empties an entire drum from his Tommy gun into Gavigan. The first few bullets bounce off; repelled by a magical barrier but then it is worn down. The rest of the volley riddles Gavigan as his head explodes in a deluge of .45 calibre ammunition.
Dark shapes move up on our flank but Trixie spots them. She throws a grenade in their direction. Joseph sweeps around, having seen Gavigan die. He shoots two other cultists dead with a controlled burst. That way he can still cover Trent while he reloads. Out of the sky swoop two flaming shapes. They attack Natalja. Looking around, Simon spies a cultist directing the fire vampires and shoots him dead. The opposite of fire is ice; Gupta swings a strange mi-Go gas weapon off his shoulder and fires a freezing cloud of near liquid Argon at the fire vampires. The ice cloud envelopes one destroying it utterly. Natalja dives to the ground to avoid frostbite.
As the remaining fire vampire attacks Natalja, Trent throws down his empty Tommy gun then pulls out the serpent man death ray. He fires, killing the beast before it can harm his comrade. For once he is having a good day. Still time to ruin things though.
Greg’s Strange Dream:
02:24 AM:
Lying out cold, Greg has a strange dream. The location is the same but different. He is not the same person he was before. He is a skinny oily cadaverous weasel of a man. He reeks of garlic. He thinks in Italian. Joe is his name, no wait, that’s not right it’s Giuseppe. A large burly Irishman with a shock of red hair wearing a suit Lou Lid would be proud of, approaches. “I saw it all”, he declares cheerfully in lilting Irish tones. “Every beastie they summoned without flinching!” So what! So did we, so big deal. Max is such a braggart. He runs off firing a Tommy gun. As he runs, I see that his trademark chair leg club is still strapped to his left leg.
A huge piping beast, another one, or the same one, somewhere else or in some other existence, swats a woman to the ground. It’s my friend Louise Hollands. Multiple appendages ooze out of the beasts body smashing mercilessly into poor Louise. The force of the impact smashes her into some trees but some kind of magic barrier protects her.
A large man, my comrade Howard McTaggart, in a very smart tweed suit and hat confronts Gavigan. He seethes with power as he unleashes a blast of great magical force into the cultist.
Mike Warren, a grizzled stocky man yells incoherently whilst shooting at Tewfik with an outsize handgun only slightly smaller than a howitzer.
No-one is attending to poor Louise. Gavigan conveniently commands the piping beast to attack Howard clearing my approach. Despite having all the morals of a sewer rat I grab my chance. In my slow, unfit, oily way I approach Louise. I’m very selfish making me very good at avoiding danger.
The fights ebb and flow around me. I am of so little consequence that I am ignored by all. I reach Louise, pick her up and part carry part drag her back towards Garrard Azimuth our resident mortician.
The dream fades.
Maybe the world is repetitive. Maybe time does flow in a circle. Maybe you do get second chances. But each time it’s different. The same life can be enjoyed again in different ways by the same lost souls that populated the cosmos in times before. Things are the same but different. I am Greg again. Is this what they call an insane insight? Such an incongruous collection of mismatched individuals are scarcely credible. I must have banged my head as I fell.
The shock of seeing the Hunting Horror wears off; Greg rises groggily, mechanically reloading his hunting shotgun.
Aftermath:
02:26 AM:
All around the Obelisk are dead and dying cultists. The survivors flee away from us towards what we believe to be Misr House, Gavigan’s residence. Trixie and Wes shoot at them. Wes has the better aim. He kills one.
The three women chained to the Obelisk have been eviscerated. Everywhere there is the charnel house stench of death. The peace of the night is punctuated by the agonised screams of the dying. Bodies or bits of bodies, lie everywhere. The crows and worms will feast well tonight.
Joseph gets everyone to sound off. All the investigators are still up. Joseph fires a flare into the sky. With that additional illumination we can see that the Shambler summoned by Natalja is wreaking havoc amongst the fleeing cultists. Simon worries that the flare may alert the coastguard but too late now, it already been fired.
We walk over to what is left of the tree. The mirror is shattered. Only shards remain. The image of an inverted Ankh remains on one of the larger shards drawn in a strange red liquid. This red viscous liquid is also on the ground. It is very similar to that found in Tewfik’s Soho apartment. We examine a body in white garb lying face down nearby. Wesley, the only one of our group to have met him, confirms that it is Tewfik. Also scattered near his body is a strange black powder.
Looking over Gavigan’s body we find a variant of a white shepherds crook together with an inverted Ankh. There is no time to waste so we leave it all where it lies for later examination.
Assault On Misr House Proper:
02:55 AM:
We all approach the great house. From a treetop we can see that lights on in the ground floor windows but the upper floors remain dark.
As Trixie advances on one flank a stumbling cultist attacks her from a gorse bush. His attack is feeble allowing her to shoot him dead, whilst hardly breaking stride.
Continuing towards the mansion we see more bodies rent by shamble claws. Natalja’s beast has continued its rampage. Through the forest we make out sporadic gunfire. It is scattered. Uncoordinated. That is good. The cultists are still rattled. Hopefully they have lost their command structure too. It’s a good time to press home our assault.
After walking for a quarter of a mile or so we exit the forest. We can see the approach road. It runs in a circle in front of the main entrance to the house with approximately seven parked cars and trucks on it.
The door to the house is open. A body lies face down in the doorway in a pool of blood. Nearby a pool of slime shows us that the Shamblers rampage has come to an end. What a shame. That beast had more nobility than all the cultists put together.
Joseph signals to the group to stop. He listens, hearing an engine starting in one of the lorries. As the vehicle starts to move Simon shoots at it. The lorry crashes into a car in front of it. Some shots are fired from the house but hit the ground some feet from Simon. They are not like us. That is wildfire. Rushed. We hit what we aim at.
Scanning the rest of the approach road Greg sees the phone cable leading from the house. He cuts the cable.
In a flanking manoeuvre Greg, Natalja, Gupta and Joseph approach the side of the house while the other four cover the front door.
Through a glass door Joseph sees a wounded man with the light of his miner’s lamp. The man yells out once then dies as Joseph shoots him.
The room is a kitchen. The four enter. Gupta walks in carrying his Tommy gun. Through one kitchen doorway he can see stairs down. Natalja and Joseph follow up. 2 parallel corridors exit the kitchen. One is on the right, the other on the left. As Gupta listens he hears movement in the right hand corridor. Joe and Greg stop moving but can hear nothing.
At the front of the house Trent sees movement in the cab of the lorry so he shoots into it. A silhouetted body slumps against the windscreen. Simon creeps up to the front door, which is locked. As he does so, a man appears at one of the upper windows. He leans out pointing a shotgun. Wes is covering so he shoots the man dead before the cultist can take proper aim.
Simon unpins a smoke grenade but seeing no one around in the dining room he returns it to the grenade instead of setting it off. He hears the telltale snick of a bolt sliding back on a rifle from above, but Wes remains alert and shoots this cultist also.
07:00 PM:
“The Spice Of Life” Public House, London, Merry Old England:
The meeting with Tommy Hayes now concluded the investigators consider their options but there can be no escaping the task that now lies ahead: Misr House. We need to be at the docks in Wapping by 10pm to rendezvous with Captain Davey and his boat, which leaves little time to prepare. Those who can use the “Skin of Sedefkar” incantation for protection, while our full repertoire of armour and weaponry is readied and packed. Including the flamethrower and the mounted heavy machine gun.
The 10pm time slot isn’t just selected as an opportunity to leave us as vulnerable as possible to Deep Ones, cultists or just about whatever else might want to ambush us but because it ties in with the changing tide to speed our journey to the island in Essex. ETA is sometime just after midnight.
Captain Davey looks somewhat surprised at the amount of equipment.
“Now just ‘old on a minute, this stuff ‘ere weighs a ton. Just what kind of ‘untin’ trip is this, eh?”
Some additional pound notes placate him just enough to end his line of questioning but not the expression of concern etched across his weathered face.
The boat pushes off and is instantly swallowed in the dark flow of the acrid River Thames. Some few lights still twinkle along the banks, their bobbing and dipping reflections contributing to the hypnotic effect of our silent progress through the lapping waters. If it wasn’t for the unbearable stench of raw sewage, many of the investigators could easily have drifted into an exhausted sleep. As the boat leaves London in its wake, it is swallowed in a billowing, forbidding mist. A passer-by, perhaps spotting this shadowy form gliding through the fog, might question himself as to whether or not he had seen a ghost. In a few hours time, the answer to that question may well be that, he had indeed seen a party of ghosts.
Gupta Singh’s thoughts are entirely occupied by the fear that Deep Ones are about to launch themselves up out of the black waters and drag the occupants of Captain Davey’s boat to their watery graves below. A glance at his companions and the way their eyes strain to penetrate the darkness tells him that he is not alone with these thoughts.
An old Ordnance Survey map of the area and some sketchy descriptions of the house and the island’s terrain formed the basis of the investigators hasty strategic planning before departure. A landing point was identified to the north-eastern corner of the island and the team of investigators will split into two groups according to their strengths and weaknesses.
The team of commandos to seize a bridgehead on the island before advancing towards Misr House is to consist of Trent, Natalja, Joseph and Gupta. They are to be covered by a sniping team of Trixie, Wesley, Yegor and Simon.
For a brief moment, the shroud of mist that has engulfed Captain Davey’s boat is lifted, and the pale face of a near-full moon leers through the suddenly clear night sky. Clusters of cold glittering stars flicker indifferently across the voids of time and space. All eyes instantly focus on the flashing tails of several shooting stars that break the bleak and icy heavens. To our horror, there is a sudden and deliberate change in direction of the glowing objects as they veer in absolute unified formation towards us, hurtling earthwards at a speed that freezes our blood in its veins.
To brighten our mood, we can be in no doubt that whatever they are, they are heading to Misr House and that sooner or later we will have to face them. Does this mean they are expecting us? How could they know? Wesley’s thoughts return to the ranged assault on him back in London that morning. Something is not right.
There is a sudden thud and the resonance of woodcutting through sand. The boat comes to a stop with just the sound of water lapping against the sides and waves gently reaching the sandbank. Through the occasional break in the rolling mist, the wind-warped and tortured forms of trees can be seen, bent and crouching like lurking figures preparing to pounce on unsuspecting victims as they loom above fields of unwelcoming thorny gorse.
Through gritted teeth, Davey hisses: “We’ve reached the north shore of the island as agreed. Now I’ve done my part of the deal and you can go about your business hunting or fishing or whatever the hell it is.”
One after the other, the commando part of the team jumps onto the sandy surface of the island and sneak up towards a cluster of twisted trees. Forming a skirmish line, Trent, Natalja, Joseph and Gupta head forwards in the darkness. They are followed shortly after by the team of Trixie, Yegor, Simon and Wesley.
Every shadow, every plant and every sound becomes a sudden ambush in the feverish minds of the investigators. Gupta, on the extreme right of the skirmish line inexplicably places both hands over his ears, removes them and shakes his head again. Moving closer to Joseph, he murmurs: “I think I may have lost my mind again! I can hear music! It sounds like the wonderful singing of the Sikhs in Amritsar: But it is filled with some evil I cannot explain. Please tell me you can hear it too: You must listen! Can you hear it?”
Joseph’s eyes narrow, exploring Gupta’s expression in the darkness for some clear sign that the thin thread of his sanity has once again snapped. Beyond the hideous scarring and wild starring, fear-filled and dilated eyes of his companion he cannot identify anything out of place. Then he too suddenly hears it: A lilting alien ululating song, with voices that are simultaneously strange and beautiful yet sinister and malevolent, many voices invoking some timeless evil.
“It sounds like a summoning! Let’s get a fecking move on! There is no time to lose!”
Continuing through the soft boggy ground towards the rhythmic voices a group of trees can be seen looming out of the darkness. The song appears to be emanating from within. A single voice can be heard rising above the others and leading the chanting more clearly now. Unpleasant and unnatural screaming and grunting noises accompany it. The discordant piping music comes to an abrupt end.
“Thank you, Yagash!”
It is the unmistakable cold and calculating upper-class accent of Gavigan. “The gift of your seed will guarantee the future of a master race built on the sacrifices of these filthy wretches! They will dance at the great court of the future! However, this is not the only purpose you have been summoned here today! Oh Great One! There are enemies and non-believers here on:
“THIS VERY ISLAND RIGHT NOW! GREAT GODS OF THE VOID: CLAIM YOUR VICTIMS NOW! LET THE HUNT BEGIN!”
Moonlight and the flickering orange hue of torches illuminate the clearing in the copse for a brief glimpse through the trees onto a scene of madness: A huge crowd of cultists surround a pillar to which are tied some terrified and badly injured sacrificial victims amongst others who are already dead. Reflecting the light is a large mirror, smeared with viscous substances: Perhaps the object missing from the wall of Tewfik’s spice shop. Nevertheless, most terrifying of all are several hideous alien monsters, their forms breaking the bounds of human imagination, crushing it and sending the shattered fragments into the abyss of lunacy. A bizarre horse-headed winged abomination in the foreground moves itself insect-like into an attacking position, whipping its coiling tail above it in the clinging and freezing February mist. Other forms have already risen into the night sky to begin the hunt for the investigators.
Gupta Singh exhales a cloud of warm breath into the freezing air and contemplates how many more breaths he will draw on this night. The situation calls for drastic measures: Surprise and shock on a wide scale can only be caused with explosives. Shouldering his Thompson, he produces a prepared bundle of four sticks of dynamite. A glance to his left indicates that Trent is preparing something similar. Shouting and movement within the clearing indicates that our exact location has not yet been identified. Two quick flashes of light as the dynamite is ignited are not spotted as the deadly packages are launched into the midst of the cultists.
First one, and then a second blinding flash signal the detonation of both bundles of dynamite. The combined explosions transform a huge area of the cultists’ gathering into a whirlwind of flying dust, smoke, shattered bodies, clothes, stones and vegetation. Trent is caught on the edge of the blast, his Skin of Sedefkar invocation protecting him from serious injury. As the split-second of the explosion fades a scene of horrific carnage remains. A sea of limbs and body parts, the dead and the dying challenges the reason and sanity of the investigators who witness what they have done. Gavigan appears to be dead, the Shantak writhes and strains, huge areas of its hide, wings and limbs are peppered with holes and injuries from which evil smelling substances exude, before it too ceases to move and the process of dissolution intensifies.
In the brief moments that this has happened, Trixie La Belle has prepared an incantation to summon a monster of our own that will do our bidding: It is a dimensional shamble and she commands it to kill Gavigan and then his allies. The creature is soon on its way to fulfil its gruesome task.
As this transpires, another monster suddenly appears before Trent and Joseph Donelly: It is a Servitor of the Outer Gods, a hideous and bewildering conglomeration of Cyclopean frog’s head mixed with a singularly octopoid blur of tentacles. Too close for dynamite and probably immune to small arms, Joseph, Trent and Gupta almost simultaneously fling their packages of the Dust of Suleiman at the colossal monstrosity and watch it dissolve in a mind-numbingly glutinous and furious scene from the depths of Dante’s Inferno into a pool of its own ichorous goo.
As the hissing vapours of the disintegrating monster mingle with the chill mist and rise into oblivion, it is with great surprise that the investigators see the figure of Gavigan rise steadily from the carnage, first on one knee, then one leg and then producing a hunter’s shotgun from beneath his long winter coat. He suddenly screams and discharges a shell from his shotgun as Trixie’s Dimensional Shambler is upon him. Gavigan, however, does not stand alone as other cultist survivors of the initial assault have regrouped and advance menacingly towards the investigators with spiked clubs in their hands.
If the second line of defence thought that they might escape the mayhem, they were sadly mistaken as the chaotic form of a deranged Hunting Horror unexpectedly attacks Yegor who manages to fire off a single barrel from his shotgun which at practically point blank range liquefies a section of its long serpent-like tail, causing the rest to drop off to the floor. The beast unleashes a mind-shredding scream in its agonizing throes, the sheer volume and force of which cause Yegor to mercifully faint before his already dwindling sanity can take even more of a hammering. Trixie rushes to his aid, blasting the Horror with her rifle before Wesley unleashes a deadly volley from his M-16, ultimately dissecting the thing’s head and rendering it lifeless and harmless.
Meanwhile, with the range now more comfortable, Gupta throws a single stick of dynamite at the approaching cultists, killing three and injuring two. Trent expertly guns the survivors down with his Thompson before turning on Gavigan. For an instant, an instant containing at least one strange aeon of hatred, Gavigan’s eyes are fixed on Trent. Whatever words were being formed on his tongue are not given time to be voiced as a maelstrom of bullets from Trent’s sub-machine gun obliterate his head and neck, allowing the remaining headless carcass to collapse to its knees before falling forward and prostrating itself before its executioner.
Natalja, meanwhile, has failed to notice that two so-called “Fire Vampires” are almost upon her: The same fire entities that we fought successfully against using fire extinguishers on the estate of J.P Morgan recently. But without fire extinguishers, these creatures are much harder to defeat and things look like they are about to get very hot for Natalja until Gupta remembers Wesley handed him the Mi-Go mist projector at the beginning of the mission (“More likely to be of use to someone at close range”). The Sikh fumbles the alien object in his hands, clearly not made for human use, but somehow manages to produce the right action to “press the trigger” and expel a cone of deadly freezing vapour towards the infernal creatures. His accuracy is not perfect, and but for her dexterous mobility in avoiding the ice blast, Natalja would also have been hit. One of the Fire Vampires, however, does take the full blast of the weapon and is vaporized instantly, while the other, although slightly damaged continues to attack her but Trent whips out his “Death Ray ©” gun and with a single lightning blast of the weapon dispatches the second of the creatures. Trent calls out to her:
“Natalja! Can you see anything?”
A rather curt
“No!”
Is her swift reply, her vision possible dazzled in the dark by the sudden bright flash of the “Death Ray ©”.
Any of the remaining cultists have by now seen enough and begin to flee the scene towards what we assume is Misr House. M16s and other weapons manage to take down one or two of the stragglers before an eerie silence descends on this battlefield of madness.
Trixie grabs Wesley by the arm:
“C’mon egghead, go see if you can see if Tewfik is here! You’re the only one of us to see what he looked like, and we sure don’t wanna meet him on a cold dark night in Limeyland!”
They pick their way through the carnage, a severe test to any man (or woman’s) sanity. Wesley has to check himself, as a strong desire to vomit and flee this abattoir possesses him. He overcomes it by reminding himself that they are in the front line of fighting a war. Not some pointless conflict over territory, resources or greedy expansionism. This is a war for humanity and existence, and the enemies are driven by a malignant alien will to enslave or exterminate humankind in the most barbaric and horrific manner possible. His thoughts go to the sacrificial prisoners, many of whom would have perished as a direct result of the dynamite attack, but his resolve remains unshaken: How many more had suffered before them? In addition, how many more would suffer in the future had they not acted?
Reaching the location where the mirror was hanging Wesley surveys the scene. The trunk and branches of the tree have been shattered and bludgeoned by the force of the blast. Splinters and slivers of the glass are all that remain of the mirror. A twisted and distorted body or mixture of bodies and body parts lies spread and scattered across the ground nearby to it. Wesley spots a Fez, still attached to the remains of a head, which is just about clinging to the remains of a robed body. He is able to lift the head to reveal Tewfik’s lifeless empty face, contorted into a vicious expression of fury and surprise. With so much devastation and destruction, Wesley is surprised to discover two sceptres, one with an inverted Ankh and the other a crook, still in one piece. Assuming some significance, he frees them from Tewfik’s clinging remains. Looking across the battlefield past the hieroglyphed column, Wesley sees that Trent has recovered two identical sceptres from Gavigan.
Still unable to truly comprehend their continued existence, the investigators realize that there is still work to be done, and set off in pursuit of the cultists fleeing to Misr House. The sound of motors revving in the driveway before the house can be heard and Simon Grand shoots a cultist in a truck.
A cry of “f*&%ing cowards” is suddenly heard from a window in the upper story of the building as two shots ring out.
Wesley returns fire from range but misses. Trent annihilates another cultist in a vehicle with his Thompson and is just about to break in to a window in the house and throw a grenade in when a cultist suddenly appears. He has no time to instigate his assault on Trent as a shot from Wesley’s M16 sends him stumbling back into the house with a large and crucial part of his head now missing. Simon Grand then leaps in through the window. Meanwhile Gupta and Joseph break windows and jump into what appears to be the kitchen. Gupta takes up a covering position behind the stove and tables in the cent er of the room while Yegor prepares to descend a staircase in the kitchen to the cellar below. Joseph advances down the corridor where he suddenly and somewhat unexpectedly encounters Simon Grand.
“Fish, you fecking’ fecker!”
“Spanners, old man,”
replies Grand casually, lowering his loaded and primed shotgun
