Closed Umbrella Quest #2 - I Memorized Fireball Today

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>>1356542
"Desecrating the shrine is a consolation prize," Stephanie explains. "Reversing the calling would send the demon back to where it came from, but we can't do that. Destroying the shrine and altar from which it comes removes a lot of its summoner's control and prevents her from easily calling it back. After that, we have to kill it."

"No wonder they like human sacrifice," you mutter. You check your pistol; you brought both of your spare clips (you don't shoot a lot of people in your day-to-day) and still have four shots in this one, thank God. "Exorcisms?"

"I mean, if you know one."

"...I do know one. If it comes up I'll let you know."

Stephanie gives you a serious look. "It isn't something you can just say, Rich. Magic's not like that. The ritual is for you. If you don't believe it, if you can't put your will behind it, you'll die like an idiot. If you go for it, you need to be sure."

"Noted," you tell her, quietly. And then the two of you get out of the car, and go dashing for the dubious shelter of the side of the frat house. People look out from windows. They don't normally look down from them. And sure enough, no alarm sounds, no shouting, no assholes with baseball bats. So far, so good.

The windows into the basement are boarded over from the inside. Stephanie puts her ear to one, then nods at you; together, the two of you put your asses on the wet grass and press your feet against the boards and push. Wood groans, and then they pop off, clattering to the floor below.

You slide in as fast as you can. There's no way that went unnoticed.

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>>1356559
This place is a lot less overtly sinister than you might have expected. The basement shrine smells mainly of disinfectant, and is dominated by a low granite altar with grooves in it. An array of obsidian blades in varying lengths and styles lines it, gleaming in the low light from outside.

Rainwater trickles in the open windows.

Stephanie lights a match that you can't see until she hands it to you, then pops one for herself, holding it high.Sanitized meat cutting tools provide a disquieting suggestion for what happens to the remains of sacrifices down here; next to them is a large pegboard, from which you can see dangling nametags, necklaces, rings. Mementos.

"Bathories usually keep trophies," Stephanie says quietly. "...I don't like this. The demon should be here. If it's not here, where is it?"

"Upstairs, waiting out the rain?" you hazard. You hand Steph two of the molotovs. "...Could put it between us and the exit."

> Proceed with the plan; torch the shrine and run upstairs
> Check the upstairs door first
> Investigate the basement itself further

>>1356565
>Proceed with the plan; torch the shrine and run upstairs

>>1356565
> Investigate the basement itself further

What we don't know will get us killed.

>>1356565
> torch the shrine and climb back out the window
Not sure why we are even considering running up into their waiting arms. Probably would have been smarter to chuck a Molotov or something through the window and not even bother coming inside where we apparently expected a demon to be.

>>1356678
seconding

>>1356565
>Investigate the basement itself further

>>1356565
If we look around and find a cup or bowl or something of that nature, put it outside for a bit while we continue looking around. Collect rainwater. Might be a handy thing to throw in beastie's face.

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You decide to spend a few more minutes checking out this shrine before torching the whole place. Using Stephanie's very handy hidden match to light your way as you investigate. First you look over the granite altar, inspecting the grooves to see if it creates some sort of pattern. It takes you a few moments of waving your light source over the altar top, but when you finally see that the rutted grooves are in the shape of a pentagram you can't help but inwardly cringe at how juvenile it seems. Something about it just reeks of stupid, bored teenagers messing around with a Ouija board on a particularly uneventful Saturday night.

The only thing separating that hypothetical situation from the harsh reality staring you in the face is the nearby stone cup, the interior of which is absolutely caked with crusty flakes of rust-red blood. Like with the last pair, it seems they clean the blades but not the containers. If you had to take a shot in the dark, the professor and her boytoy would probably slit an important artery of their victim with one of the obsidian blades, let the blood pool in the cup and then pour the substance directly into the grooves upon the altar. All of it most likely accompanied with creepy cultish chanting and post-sacrifice cupcakes. Taking the cup, you hand it over to Stephanie, quietly asking her to let it collect rainwater while you continue your search.

Next, you move on to the mementos. Looking over them for a moment, you count out the number of separate trophies. Six in all. Most of the jewelry is cheap, except for one wedding ring still rocking a shiny, bright diamond. The two name-tags are from different establishments, one clearly belonging to a Walmart while the other looks like something a waiter would wear at a sit-down restaurant. The names strike you as being very familiar.

Dennis Maker and Bethany Leplay. It takes you a moment to mull over both of those names before you realize where you last heard of them. Missing persons, the both of them. Makes sense, considering what fate you figure befell the both of them. As a private investigator, it's simply in your professional interests to keep an eye on anyone you might end up getting paid to find in your near future.

Maker was roughly two weeks ago if you aren't mistaken and Leplay was . . . maybe three, four months ago? No, it was more like three. Two and half even.

. . . Huh.

You count the mementos again. 1 2 3 4 5 6. Six victims, symbolically pinned to the pegboard.

“Huh,” you add your voice to the thought this time.

“What?” Stephanie asks, returning from her task.

“Any of this stuff look particularly old to you?” you inquire, pointing to the various items on the pegboard. “Truly dated. Something you'd have expected to see a decade ago at least?”

She frowns as she looks over the jewelry. She shakes her head. “No. Why do you ask?”

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“I know for a fact that two of these people were killed less than half a year ago,” you point out, before crossing your arms across your chest. “Just trying to figure out a proper time-line to this whole thing. Why six people and why at least two of them this year? How many were killed to summon the demon and how many were killed to keep this professor youthful? Is there another pegboard somewhere else with more victims?”

Steph bites her lip. “Trevor wrote about a debtor having come calling. She likely made a deal with something sinister for eternal youth and misunderstood that eternal youth and eternal life are not one and the same.”

“Would that deal require human sacrifices?” you probe.

Your ex shrugs. “Depends on the deal.”

“If she was paying in human sacrifices, why would she have a debt collector coming after her?”

“Maybe she stopped,” Stephanie hypothesizes. “Maybe she never had to pay in the first place. What does it matter, Rich?”

You scratch your chin. “Just . . . trying to get into her head, that's all.” You sigh out. “Imagine spending seven decades in the prime of your life and then suddenly POOF! It's all going to end. And the only thing stopping you from realizing immortality is something you think you can get rid of. What /wouldn't/ you do?”

Your partner scoffs, shaking her head. “Not this.”

You nod along, absentmindedly agreeing. “Well, anyway there's something major missing from the trophy collection,” you speak, slipping a hand into your pocket. Steph cocks an eyebrow as you draw out the wallet you found in Trevor's room. Her face droops as she realizes what you're getting at. “If Veronica was sacrificed as well, why isn't her shit pinned to the board?"

The two of you share one long moment in silence before you burst into action. Quiet action but action nonetheless. Your search through the rest of the basement takes all of two minutes, before Steph alerts you to the fact that she has found the door to a utility closet towards the back of the basement. You come forward and keep watch from behind, gun at the ready as Stephanie gingerly opens the door.

Lying barely-conscious in a heap on the floor of the small space is your kidnapped barista. Stephanie squats down beside her and inspects the handcuffed and gagged victim. Lifting the girl up, Steph reveals a great, gaping, pus-filled wound in the girl's stomach, the broken needle at its center sticking out through the middle of a large hole in her shirt. That jellied gasoline substance coats the flesh around Veronica's stomach and seems to have spread out beneath the skin, causing it to distend in various, uneven lumps that threaten to burst open. You shiver at the sight while Steph seethes.

“This what I have to look forward to?”

“In two days, yes.”

“ . . . Fuck me.”

>Torch the shrine. Have Steph save Veronica. Fight the demon alone
>Torch the shrine. Neglect Veronica. Fight the demon together.

>>1358332
>Torch the shrine. Have Steph save Veronica. Fight the demon alone.

>>1358332
> Torch the shrine. Have Steph save Veronica. Fight the demon alone

Yay stupid heroism that may or may not get us killed!

>>1358332
>Torch the shrine. Have Steph save Veronica. Fight the demon alone.

>>1358332
>Torch the shrine. Neglect Veronica. Fight the demon together.

If we die fighting the demon, Veronica dies. If we beat the demon, Veronica has a chance.

Or Veronica has become a host, and she's dead anyway.

>>1359511
Veronica dying might give the demon something. It wants sacrifices for a reason, so we should prevent them from happening.

>>1358332
>Torch the shrine. Evacuate with Veronica. Leave the hungry and now uncontrollable demon with its summoners.

Called, writing.

It's gonna be a long week for me.

>>1360130
Nevermind, not gonna have time before work. Will try again tonight, after.

>>1360165
Take your time, what's important is the long run so it's okay if you miss once in a while.