Prelude to a Crescendo
JP with Jaxx, Redsword, Trustno1 and Cindy
The team descended into the bowels of the basement, the heat pressing down on them like the weight of an entire world on fire. The walls here were no longer just grotesque—they seemed alive, pulsating with a sickly, crimson glow. Veins of molten light crawled through the fleshy stone, writhing like worms in an open wound. Each step brought with it the oppressive stench of burning metal and sulfur, a choking haze that made every breath feel like swallowing ash.
At the heart of the boiler room, they found Robert Elias. He stood amidst the infernal machinery, his silhouette outlined by the fiery glow of the massive boilers that lined the walls. In his hands was the artifact, not a black diamond as they had assumed, but a jagged, obsidian flower—its petals shimmering with an oily iridescence. It pulsed faintly, as though it had a heartbeat of its own.
“You think you know horror,” Elias hissed, his voice cutting through the oppressive atmosphere. “But you know nothing.”
The team leveled their weapons at him, but he made no move to run. Instead, he raised the artifact higher, the glow from its surface casting eerie shadows across his face. His eyes burned with a zealot’s fervor as he began to speak.
“This is no mere relic. It is the Black Dahlia,” he said, his voice trembling with equal parts reverence and madness. “And it was not forged by human hands. It is a fragment of the Black Goat of the Woods herself—a gift, or perhaps a curse, to those foolish enough to touch it.”
He turned his gaze to the team, his expression a mask of unhinged righteousness. “Do you know the truth about Elizabeth Short? The Black Dahlia? She wasn’t just a victim of some sadistic human killer. She was a sacrifice. She stumbled upon a party she wasn’t supposed to—a gathering of the Black Goat of the Woods’ worshippers. She touched this,” he gestured to the artifact, “and it marked her. Claimed her. Her death wasn’t murder. It was consumption. The Black Goat of the Woods tore her apart, body and soul, leaving behind only a grisly warning for the rest of humanity.”
Alyssa’s grip on the Blade of Prudence and Remembrance tightened, her knuckles white. The weight of Elias’s words pressed down on her like the heat in the room, suffocating and undeniable.
“And now,” Elias continued, “she’s back. The Black Goat of the Woods has returned to our world. Can’t you see it? The signs are everywhere. The 2025 California wildfires—an inferno so vast it consumed entire cities. The endless storms tearing apart the coastlines. The whispers of madness spread through the masses. This is the end, the final chapter of humanity’s story.”
The boilers hissed and groaned as if responding to his words, steam and molten light spilling into the room. Elias turned toward the artifact, his voice growing softer, almost tender. “This is the key. The Black Dahlia will open the gate, and she will come, and she will devour—”
A deep, guttural roar erupted from the shadows, cutting him off. The sound was primal, elemental, a noise that seemed to come from the earth itself. The team’s weapons snapped toward the source of the sound as a massive shadow began to take shape.
The Infernal Maw emerged.
It was a nightmare given flesh and fire. Standing nearly three stories tall, its molten body radiated an unbearable heat, its every movement accompanied by the crackling of flames and the grinding of metal. Its vertical mouth, lined with jagged obsidian teeth, opened wide, emitting a spray of acidic ichor that hissed and sizzled as it hit the ground, melting the stone beneath it. Its sulfuric eyes burned with an intelligence as ancient as it was malevolent, their gaze locking onto the team.
Leathery wings, tipped with spined talons, unfurled behind it, dripping viscous black fluid that ignited the floor where it fell. The room itself seemed to warp and twist around the creature, the oppressive heat intensifying to a level that made every breath a struggle.
Elias turned to face the team one last time, a smile of pure madness splitting his face. “She sends her herald,” he whispered. “Your time is over.”
And with that, he plunged into the infernal depths of the boiler room, disappearing into the shadows as the Infernal Maw let out another roar, this one so loud it shook the very foundations of the earth.
“Open fire!” Sartre yelled, his voice barely audible over the cacophony. The team raised their weapons, But the Maw was undeterred,
The battle had begun, and the air was thick with the promise of annihilation.
Alyssa gripped the knife, her knife tighter, so tight that it was causing her knuckles to ache. One part of her mind urging her to throw it, again but the other part reminding the hacker of the horrors she had already seen.
Still, the guns seem to be having little effect on the creature. Did she take another chance - could she afford what it might cost her?
"Alyssa, I'm not sure we can handle this thing. Sartre rushed to take her hand. "Whatever happens we experience this together." He gripped her hand. "Use the damn thing! Throw prudence to the wind!" he said.
Alyssa seemed unsure for a moment but it came down to, if she didn't use it the outcome would likely be worse despite what it might cost her. She squeezed Peter's hand, and quickly kissed his cheek. "I am together- with you - but I need both hands for this." Also, Alyssa was trying to spare the man she loved from any residual effects of the knife- after all he was a profiler and she had no idea whether Peter would be affected by it.
Alyssa let go of Peter's hand, stood the way Sung had shown her, made sure everyone was out of her way and flung her knife at the creature.
Alyssa steadied her breath, her fingers tightening around Peter’s hand for what felt like both a moment and an eternity. She could feel his pulse, strong and steady, grounding her in the sweltering chaos of the boiler room. His sharp, worried eyes bore into hers, but she managed a fleeting smile. Then, with a kiss on his cheek, she murmured, “I am together—with you—but I need both hands for this.”
Her words held more meaning than he could know. She wasn’t just preparing for battle; she was protecting him. The Blade of Prudence and Remembrance was no ordinary weapon. Its power was insidious, seeping into the mind, whispering truths, half-truths, and visions that could unmake a person. Peter was a profiler—his mind was a delicate tapestry, finely attuned to human horrors. She couldn’t risk it fraying under the knife’s influence.
Alyssa let go of his hand, the loss of his touch leaving her momentarily untethered. But she found her center, standing as Sung had taught her: balanced, resolute. The world around her seemed to slow as she aimed, ensuring no one was in her path. The blade left her hand like a comet, spinning through the thick, acrid air.
As it plunged into the molten chest of the Infernal Maw, Alyssa felt the world fall away.
She was no longer in the boiler room.
The air around her shimmered with static, rippling like the surface of a disturbed pond. She stood in a space that was nowhere and everywhere—a cosmic limbo painted in hues of deep purple and silver. And there, leaning against an invisible wall with a smirk that screamed bad girl rebellion, was Prue Halliwell.