All the News That's Fit to Kill
26 May 2020Today’s prompt: “Death of a journalist”
This is going to be such a big scoop.
Through a combination of public records requests, gumption and shoe leather, you’ve tracked down the cultists who’ve been running this city from the shadows. This should be their headquarters, here, in this nondescript building in the warehouse district. You tuck your long, narrow notebook into your bag and pull out your camera (the newspaper’s sole photog was out on a different assignment, but you’re pretty good with a 30mm). You hang the camera strap around your neck, grab a rain gutter, and hoist yourself onto the lid of the trash can next to the high window as quietly as you can. Beautiful – you’ve got a bird’s eye view on the action.
Below you, men and women in creepy hooded robes bustle to and fro. A couple of them are painting some kind of symbol on the floor. One of your sources has told you this is a “sigil.” Tomorrow, you’ll see if you can get an expert on cult phenomena to interpret it for you. You take off the lens cap and focus on the sigil. Click. Click.
Over there in the corner, chained up, is that Marie Watkins? Yes, it looks like her. She was reported missing by her parents last week. They’d reported suspicious activity in the neighborhood. They called it gang activity, but you knew better. Gangs use spray paint, not blood, and those symbols – sigils – didn’t look like any tags you’d ever seen before. You’d been hearing whispers of cults worshipping the “Great Old Ones.” You’d heard rumors of human sacrifices.
And over there, milling about with the other cultists in robes, isn’t that the mayor? And wait – over there – isn’t that the governor?
Click. Click. Click. This. Is going to be such. A big. Scoop.
You hear a crackle behind you, and turn your head slowly, not wanting to lose your balance on the trash can. Behind you are three men in creepy hooded robes.