The Devils Debt is Due -RPG

Laying motionless wrapped up in the covers of his bed the crimson Knightfall begins to twitch his hands clawing at some invisible specter in his mind. Calling out into the night his mumbled cries for help as he wrestles with the duvet and the demon in the dark. Sitting up as he woke he could hear the last words of his dream still lingering at the back of his mind as he repeated them over and over

"We are coming"

Walking over to the mirror Cassius looks at his face, it was the face of a man who needed more sleep. But since that day he "died" he wasn't sleeping well his mind was drowning in a sea of thoughts, visions of ghostly retributions trying to claim his soul. His dreams a mix of torturous assaults on his body and attacks on that which he held most dear his newly found family. A slideshow flashing these horrific sights across his waking eyes as his vision begins to clear and the dreams fade back into the darkest corners of his mind.

Walking to the kitchen Cassius pours himself a tea and reaches for his phone his hand hovering over the button to call for a second due to the nature of the hour.

It rings, and again "Quintus its Cassius we need to talk. It sounds messed up but i think we are being targeted well that or i am going mad. Been having these dreams since i came back. Dark dreams and they concern the family. You free to meet?"

@cassuis_slay_knightfall:

Rolling his wrist in a cultivation of raw power and speed Quintus frantically executed a never ending stream of repetitive rolling wrist strikes as he practiced. Parrying, contorting, and twisting, with methodical maneuvering adopting unique angles in his pursuit of a new Wing Chun adaptation. Practicing against a traditional Mu ren zhuang wooden dummy, the resurrected Knightfall's mind was flooded with repressed memories of his time in Hell. Fending off hoards of flesh devouring demons for what seemed like an eternity. Sweat drenched and exhausted he finished up with a disturbingly frantic flurry of frustration before collapsing into a seated position. His eyes fixed in a trance like state only to be broken by the continuous ringing of his cell. "Cassius?"

Several hours later - Central Park:

The collar of his double-face cashmere Joseph Abboud peacoat was flipped up adding a level of defense against the unusually crisp evening air of New York. One hand was comfortable tucked in his pocket while the other doled out sparing handfulls of seeds for the parks birds. Hours earlier a distress call from his brother, Cassius, had alluded to a potentially dangerous situation prompting a rare meeting between the two.

@quintus_knightfall:

The air was bitter and even wrapped in several layers the crimson Knightfall could still feel the icy edge to the breeze like it was passing right through him. Spotting his estranged sibling at the last second feeding the pigeons. Handing his brother a coffee rather than shaking hands he began to speak

" I don't know what you have so its the same as mine its got a double shot of espresso in it. Do you mind if we walk and talk?."

The two Knightfalls began to stroll through the early morning bitterness coffee in hand "Ok so first things first, are you having nightmares , hearing voices from your dreams, flashes of things in your vision?. I know this sounds crazy but i think we are connected in this, either in this case by blood or by circumstance something may ave happened that ties us both together." aware that he sounded mad Cassius paused sipping his coffee "Look i know how this sounds but i think there is something after me, perhaps after us"

@cassuis_slay_knightfall: @quintus_knightfall:

While never truly having been a victim of literal death, Andres' ill-prepared immersion into the unforgiving depths of Hell during his out of character conflict with the Hellfire Club has unknowingly rendered him somewhat sensitive to spiritual phenomenon. Unaware of the impending deadliness of his unapparent predicament, aristocratic Andres immerses himself in a favored pastime, oil painting. Having previously embarked on his obsessively driven pursuit of martial arts perfection, the educated Spaniard's more artistic aspects have abruptly seized conscious dominance. Entitled 'Paraiso', an artistic work representing his final familial memories pertaining a memorable outing with both his mother and father, the Cultured Catalan meticulously employs the use of full strokes, beautifully enhancing light and color, flawlessly causing ares to blend together while boasting no harsh outlines, perfectly emulating Leonardo Da Vinci's difficult, customized Sfumato technique. Masterfully implementing another of the four canonical Renaissance painting models, Unione, Andres methodically retains the shadowing quality of sfumato while introducing vibrant color.

Upon commencing the addition of the Chiaroscuro model for prominent dark and light contrasting, affecting the entire composition as well as achieving a degree of apparent volume in modeling three dimensional objects, an unanticipated halt occurs. What appeared to have been an eerie unholy apparition very briefly crept into the beauty of his painting, manifesting itself as a white, elongated, faceless entity, looming over the appearing shadows of both his brothers, Quintus and Cassius. Momentarily stunned, Don Andres opts to resume his occupation, dismissing the occurrence as the emergence of a repressed mental image. Focusing on perfectly registering human emotion, expressions, figurative composition, and gestures with his resumed painting techniques, he is soon stopped once more, this time however, by a disembodied, demonically amalgamated voice, claiming ownership over the souls of both Cassius and Quintus. Startlingly dropping his brush at the unforeseen revelation, Andres attempts to compose himself, relying on ancient Taoist mental practices. Upon retaining his poise, he relentlessly works to locate both his siblings before pinpointing their location to New York's Central Park. Departing to meet with his brothers, the Armani Aristocrat travels to the United States for a much needed family meeting.

@cassuis_slay_knightfall: Sipping the revitalizing beverage as his brother disclosed the meaning behind his impromptu social visit Quintus' eyes subtle surveyed his surroundings. Understanding completely what the red dawn Knightfall had been experiencing having undergone similar unexplainable visions. His glance fixated upon the gargoyle status posted atop a looming church on the opposite side of the street, their heads eerily twisting and returning his stare. Just one example of the horrific supernatural torments that had plagued his re-gifted life. However the methodically closed off Knightfall simply replied with, "I've been having trouble sleeping as well." But in truth he had not felt the same since his return. The World of the supernatural had been made visible as if a sheath had been removed from his consciousness. "We cheated Death Cass, it would be foolish to believe he will not come to collect."

@quintus_knightfall:

"Death is the debt all man must pay brother, it appears we maybe overdrawn. But who will come to claim it?." his own sentence sending a shiver down through his spine as the visions of the faceless men clawing their way towards him once again. The fringes of the dream world bleeding through into the waking as the nightmares of the dark torment him once more.

Shaking his head and trying to get back on track Cassius looked focused on his brothers face "If we are really have spirits, specters demons or even death himself on our tails what can we do?, i doubt either us is gonna find redemption any time soon and its not like this is something easily researched I don't remember an idiots guide to cheating death going on sale."

Finishing his coffee and putting the plastic cup in the nearest bin Cass watched as it tumbled into the opening "That cup could very well be us, tumbling into the abyss. I have had enough of this crap the visions are pushing me to the edge Quintus. I cant look at anything anymore for more than a few minutes before my mind begins to wander and its not going any place nice"

@quintus_knightfall: @cassuis_slay_knightfall:

Setting foot on American soil, Andres' impending arrival in the congested city of New York had occurred. Armed with an apparent spiritual indication that his brothers' souls had been selected as targets by enigmatic, malevolent forces, the Martial Arts Don relentlessly seeks out both Cassius and Quintus. With the hope that they were still conversing in Central Park, the charismatic aristocrat is quick to head towards their previously determined location. And as fortunate sided with him, his heightened electrical sensory perception enabled him to detect the distinct muscularly generated electric fields from his brothers' bodies. While visibly composed and boasting a posture of poise, his usually mesmeric eyes projected an aura of altruistic concern, even fear for what could potentially envelop their family. "He is right Quintus", Andres spoke, pausing mere feet from his troubled siblings. Arms regally folded behind his back, flawlessly mirroring the aristocratic mannerisms of his late father, "That could be both of you", briefly directing ocular attention towards the thrown cup. "I fear for both of you. Earlier today, a voice, a disembodied one, spoke about both of you. That I could not even detect its source means it is possibly spiritual. The voice spoke about owning both your souls", pausing momentarily, "It seems death has not given up on either of you. Mi hermanos, I've come to help, and do what I can. But it should not be just me. We may need Ellie as well".

The grey mists of the foreboding morning fogged over the walkways and woods of the lauded Central Park as a singular mysterious figure made her way through. Known to few and a myth to many, the woman known as Renegade had become one of Ellie Knightfall's closest friends and confidantes. Acting as her agent when situation or tactical advantage made it the smart move for Ellie to not be there in person, she had added another layer of mystery to her persona.

Wanted in 23 countries under 37 different aliases, her real name was lost in the ether. All that remained was the unpredictable redhead fireball. Master of disguise, master of innovation and as elusive as the fog that clouded the air. Heeled leather knee high boots that sat over skintight black pants strode across the stone of the walking path. Where they should have made noise, no sound was heart, part of Ren's finely honed gift. The top of the black bustier corset top she wore beneath the trench coat loosely belted around her waist peeked out of the open collar.

She looked every inch the femme fatale that she was, an image that she was happy to cultivate in this endeavor. It had served her well throughout the years, allowing others to judge her on looks and be surprised by her skill. Everything she wore and had on her served one purpose or another.

Stylishly curled red hair billowed behind her as she walked into the enclosure with a sense of self-entitlement. This was a woman who had never questioned her place in the world. Andras would recognize her, Quintus may know her face, Cassius would not. Knowing full well that each man would be on edge as she walked up, her own senses were on high alert.

"Good morning, gentleman." Laying the silver titanium encased briefcase that she had with her on the back of a bench. Inside of it were three comms, the brethren to the ones that Ren already had in her ear. Courtesy of Ellie, they would give the Knightfalls a direct line to the SEER systems and to their sister, who had been furiously researching in the past 24 hours. "Your sister sends her regards."

@ren_: @morte_knightfall: @cassuis_slay_knightfall:

Elevating his well defined chin with a decisive head nod welcoming the late arriving Spaniard, Quintus' subtle gesture of acknowledgement was however lacking any further facial endearment. Securing his hands in the pockets of his peacoat while slightly adjusting his shoulders as if weighted down by unseen forces. The impromptu family reunion more closely resembling a wake then a reunion, was gifted with a finally unexpected participant diverting the brothers charismatic gazes. Their sister, Ellie, having sent a skillful and equally deadly representative in her stead instantly triggered a disapproving head shake from the Aristocratic Arashikage. "Typical." he scuffed, rocking up on his heals while looking off at the leafless tree tops of the park. Fully expecting a quick witted response the Knightfall Polymath seized the opportunity. "There is something I think you all need to see." purposely turning his back on Ren before peering over his shoulder, "You as well, Note-taker."

After having hailed a cab and endured the never-ending sea of traffic the Knightfalls arrived at the prestigious Weill Cornell Medical College. There, on the third floor in room 999, lay the dilapidated remains of the family patriarch Jayden Knightfall. Dark purple rings permeated under his eyes from sleep deprivation as massive sections of his hair had gone missing while an unavoidable white strip ran down the center of what remained. He displayed no visible signs of life as his mouth remained agape and his index finger continually twitched. Slowly Quintus walked over looming over the once proud assassin before kissing his own fingers and placing them on the former killers forehead. "When I returned I did not do so alone. As you can see. However shortly afterwards he started to, what I believed at the time, lose his mind." his attention purely focused on the skeleton like figure. Gently running his finger along his fathers trademark cow-lick. "He should be so lucky."Holding back an understandable influx of emotion he looked up towards the collective. "I did not pull myself from the depths of Hell simply to suffer a far greater fate. Perhaps a visit to Rome is in order, no? Surely their Vatican archives hold some sort of defense against the supernatural...."

A chill ran over his bare arms, over his entire body. Tiny bumps cover his exposed skin, pulling taught from the wet cold rain. A shudder palpates his heart, mildly convulsing his arms and chest. For miles and miles this thunderstorm poured out blessings of water, but for Atticus, it was a sign. A gust of wind brushed against him, as he waited for his moment. Really, honestly, he could have started an entire day prior, but it had not been right. As sick as it sounded, the drama of dark clouds and lightning strikes and parading thunder, it was all necessary.

Clinging to the pire of a tall building, the silent shinobi prepared himself mentally for what he had to do. In the instant dance of lightning he was gone as it left the skies stage. His mind focused on the words that drove him.

He didn't wish to be seen like this. Like a lowly assassin, bein paid, no honor in his work. But desperation had an uncanny way of bending the strongest steel. He was faceless in the crowds, a lone body in a sea of black umbrellas. His drenched body, ready to collect on a promise.

Imprinted in his mind, their faces, their names, Atticus was to kill two Knightfalls. Apparently they were both a part of a lineage that had greatness sewn in its hems. But none of that mattered, they were going to die by his hands. Someone or something, reached out to him, admittedly at a very low and vulnerable point in his life. The task handed down to him by an unseen player, but it did t matter. He had the power to send Atticus home, and that was more than enough to take the bargain.

@quintus_knightfall: @ren_@morte_knightfall

Looking over the elderly Knightfall Cassius felt himself propelled to speak "How quickly did he get to this stage?, where there any symptoms before he got this bad other than what we already have?. Has Ellie looked into possible medication they may help suppress the syptoms? " Fixing his gaze on Quintus "If we aren't ourselves we could harm innocents. I am armed it would be irresponsible of me to go to a crowded place when at any moment i could start shooting at the things i can see." Turning towards the window Cassius could see the storm clouds rolling in as the first crack of lightning illuminated the white framed glass.

The glass reflecting the Knightfalls face fringed by lapping flames as a black hand slowly placed itself across his shoulder. A noticeable flinch as instinct took over, grabbing its wrist and spinning away holding the hand up high and drawing his pistol. Pivoting and rotating to come face to face with the demon in the glass.

Eye to eye with his brother Morte he found himself, his hands trembling as he realized it was once again gone. Putting his gun back into his holster in a moment of stunned realization his face a reflection of the crestfallen feeling in his heart "I'am so sorry Morte, i ... I am not safe. I think i should check myself in."

Placing his weapons down at the end of Jayden's bed Cassius walks out of the door and sits alone i corridor his head in his hands.

@ren_: @quintus_knightfall: @cassuis_slay_knightfall:

Whilst conversing with his troubled siblings, a truly unforeseen occurrence had taken place. A familiar voice addressed the familial trio simultaneously. Turning round to confirm his intuition, aesthetically captivating eyes widened with genuine surprise. Catching the sight of a strongly familiar redhead, he instinctively retains characteristic composure, though recalling once flirtatiously conversing with her at a high-society bar in London. Her name however, was lost to him. Her apparent relationship with Ellie was instantaneously taken into account, diffusing, yet not entirely eliminating, Don Andres' cautious suspicion. To her greeting, he responded with a customarily polite nod of acknowledgement, "How unexpected", the Artistic Aristocrat admitted.

Briefly examining the presented communicators stored in the Renegade's briefcase, the Stylish Savant while appreciative of Ellie's attempted aid and respectful of his sister's technological mastery, found the physical presence of a comm to be obsolete. Instead, he exploited the comm's real-time uplink to the SEER system by intricately webbing into the comm's SEER connection via his eternally accessible M.D.D.S. Fitting the communicator into one of his pockets, the Martial Arts Don was quick to utilize the internally implanted, zepto-technological components of the M.D.D.S. to reach Ellie. "So, you sent her", the electro-chemical impulses neurally transmitted across his nervous system quickly experiencing instantaneous conversion into vocal-sound format sent to Ellie's SEER system. Afterwards, upon following Quintus to unexpectedly see a man he hoped he would never have to lay eyes upon, Andres was quick to blanket himself in a demeanor of aloofness regarding their biological father.

He did not have Quintus' emotional attachment to Jayden. "And this could happen to both of you", calmly pointing out a possibility that both his brothers were undoubtedly aware of. Acknowledging the usefulness of Quintus' suggested trip to Rome, he nods in agreement, he however, would not be there with them. "Hermano, tis a smart idea. But let us be versatile in our approach. You may all go to Rome and search in the Vatican archives", pausing, "And I will search for an alternative source of helpful information elsewhere. I know of a place", his true intentions however, were to return to Malaga and retrieve the enigmatic, La Palabra de Dios, a documented collection of the entirety of Andres' elusive knowledge. An undeniable source of esotericism and supernatural information, among other disciplines, he hopes to find helpful information. Hoping that neither his siblings, nor especially the Renegade would offer to accompany him, maintaining the secrecy of the text was a priority, second only to saving his family from an impending danger.

@ren_: @quintus_knightfall: @cassuis_slay_knightfall: @morte_knightfall:

His grey hued eyes unnoticeable shifted from the pages of the old testament over towards the plexiglass partition separating the children's terminal ward and the hospital's hallway, as the Knightfall collective made their way towards Jayden's room. The Rosary beads hanging off his white gloved hand intrinsically maintaining a level of attention grabbing submission for the dilapidated circle of sickly looking children. Ceremoniously draped in the Lords black clerical robes and white collar, his attire naturally granted him a level of prestige and respect. Turning his attention back towards his adolescent flock he smiled, "Mors est semper timenda filii dei gratia vobis et animam, ut in regnum receptus es."*(Death is nothing to be feared my children for Gods grace shall always be with you, with your soul, as you are welcomed into his kingdom.) The thickness of his European accent and Latin verbiage causing the children to giggle. Even initiating a slight chuckle from the on call Nurse as she smirked, "Oh I'm sorry father but they dont understand what you're saying." Closing his bible and folding his hands in his lap the Last Sin Eater simply titled his head to the side, "Oh?" pausing as he looked back at the group, "Last anno hanc mulierem ingressusque est ad eam partem ubi multa consumpta diaboli exilr. Et inde, et domum cucurrit, et interfecit in profugo. Sed non impedire, non dicam auxilio nullo putat commodo."*(Last year this woman went to a party where she consumed to much of the devil's elixir. And as a result, on her way home, she ran over and killed a homeless man. But she didnt stop, she didnt call for help, she thought nobody was watching.) Immediately the small wonders simultaneously turned their hate-filled gaze towards the nurse. Their pupils inexplicably gone replaced by a sheath of cotton white lenses "But God was watching."switching his dialect to broken English. Sending the nurse screaming out into the halls before collapsing, blood draining from her eyes as her body uncontrollably convulsed.

"Deum nemo sit extra positum. Nec Knightfall."*(No one is beyond Gods reach. Not even a Knightfall) he smiled while suddenly standing next to the distressed Cassius as he sat in the hall. Looming over him he placed a hand on the Knightfall's shoulder. "Tis dis a....bad time my son? Perhaps you would like to confess your sins, no?

* = translated from Latin

@the_vatican_assassin:

Moving away from the touch of the cleric Cassius looked up at the stranger "Forgive me father, but my faith in the ministers of the church has been shaken of late. As for my sins, you cant offer me absolution because every sin that stains me i did in the name of the church and your superiors at the Vatican. My judgement will go hand in hand with theirs." His eyes raising to meet the man standing before him "Long story short only one being has the right to judge me and offer me salvation and he isnt in this room. But i thank you for trying father"

Feeling a cold breeze across the back of his hand suddenly the crimson Knightfall pulled it from his side and gazed at it, the skin twitching as the color faded a small spot of black at its center spreading out expanding rapidly to the size of a coin. Flashes of a childhood memory suddenly firing in his mind "The mark of evil, a black burn roughly the size of a piece of silver, said to mark those who would soon see the ferry man" shaking his head and double taking his hand once again the mark remained, he had be touched by death. "You Father, what order are you from?, what saint is your patron?"

@cassuis_slay_knightfall: "I am one of dee last remaining Carolingians. And our patron Saint tis....well, let us say, unconventional." he cryptically replied. His heavily influenced French accent carrying a degree of nurtured pedigree. Suddenly his face flashed, transformed, into an all white canvas absent his eyes, mouth, and nose, before a voice cascading from the ceiling and walls rumbled, "You are an abomination, a walking contradiction of the Lord and you shall forfeit your soul because of it. You and your family will never again know peaaaace...." it echoed as it trailed off into the atmosphere. "Son, are you, are you okay?" the priest asked seemingly confused. However the religiously cloaked father was anything but concerned. In reality he had come to claim the soul of the crippled patriarch laying helpless in the next room. But with so many Knightfalls gathered in one area the rate of success seemed less then optimal forcing him to revisit his initial strategy. Rising to his feat to take his leave, he left the cursed Knightfall with a final word of absolution. "God is always watching my son."

@_sojourn_: @ren_: @morte_knightfall: @cassuis_slay_knightfall:

The Stylish Spaniard's decision to pursue another avenue of privileged resources in hopes of obtaining a more universal understanding of the occult and supernatural was naturally agreed upon. Cassius, having excused himself, remained in the hall as Quintus said his goodbye to what remained of their father. Joining his brother shortly there after narrowly stealing a glance of the exiting perpetrator of faith before concentrating on his apprehensive half-brother. "Cassius..." he politely interrupted while the former red masked assassin seemed pre-occupied with his hand. "Mortimer has arranged for our travel. Its time to go."

Sometime later, Rome.

Casually attired in a black kingdom point collar Robert Graham button down and jeans illustrating his effortlessly supreme predilection for fashion, Quintus had taken it upon himself to seek out one of Europe's foremost experts on the Morningstar, Lucifer. A modest man of simple means, Anastasio Bartolo owned a small inconspicuous book repository in one of the cities oldest areas. Purposely camouflaged in amongst the faltering architecture of timeless beauty, his collection never the less was one of, if not thee, most significantly expansive gathering of literary works anywhere in the World exclusively dealing with the Fallen One. Over time he had donated several authenticated masterpieces to the Knightfall Museum helping it achieve much of its fabled prestige and in the process striking up a strong friendship with the Knightfall heir.

Pushing open the old wooden door causing its upper border to ring the small bronze bell hanging from the ceiling he was surprised his old friend had not immediately come out and greeted him like so many times before. Quintus' first step was about to brake the threshold before the bone chilling squawk of a peculiarly large crow situated atop the shops outside sign caused him to pause. Its jerky head motions and continual gaze was some how noticeably abnormal and oddly out of place. Noting it, but proceeding anyway, Quintus began to investigate the shop. Dust covered compendiums with elaborate engravings were systematically lined on either side of the room displaying the man's obsessive dedication to the art of collecting.

All around the resurrected Knightfall could feel something was watching him as if the shadows themselves were spying on him for the Devil. Suddenly the splash of something tricking down his face offered some answers, horrifying is they may be. Looking up Quintus jumped back as the throat slit body of his friend dangled from the ceiling upside down in a mimicked crucified pose visually mocking the crucifixion of Christ. Slowly backing out of the store and into the cobblestone streets he soon found himself surrounded by Crows and Ravens, his mind racing aimlessly as comprehension of the scene was all but impossible. And as the shadows began to shift and subtly thunder with disturbing reverberation the Knightfall Polymath slid his feet into a defensive posture awaiting whatever darkforce of nature was preparing to descend upon him.

The perfectly crafted knee high Italian black leather boots that Ren was wearing tapped against the cobblestone of the sidestreet cafe positioned conveniently across the street from the bookstore that Quintus had entered. On lookout duty, eyes peeling for trouble, she initiated contact with Ellie while her sharp gaze took in everything.

Information and coordinates were streamed to her and the specialized contact lenses that had been inserted for this operation. An agent, and above all, a friend, of Ellie's for years now, Renegade was an unknown factor to the rest of the Knightfall clan. Rubbed the wrong way by Quintus from the get-go, she had no intention of being more forthcoming than life and death situations called for.

The rumble of thunder in the sky caught her attention as a foreboding air settled over the small area. Never one to put any measure of faith in the portents of doom that some so readily bought into, Mackenzie couldn't ignore the feeling of pure, numbing cold that settled into her bones.

Beneath the black flared Alexander McQueen coat that hit her mid-thigh was a sword strapped to her back. Hidden in the boots were knifes and beneath the coat were her favored guns. Host to her own armory of non-weaponed gifts, Mackenzie didn't do anything in half-measures, particularly visits having to do with some form of occult religious nonsense.

It was an instinctive reaction for her to quickly move to her feet as Quintus spilled out onto the street. For one moment their eyes made contact and what was in his sent a shiver down her spine. In that one moment, it was pure, unabated fear before he swiftly shoved it down and transitioned into his perpetual fighting state of mind.

Thunder boomed, lightning cracked and the dark clouds rolled fully in, blocking out the sun in a matter of seconds. The street went dark, nearly as dark as the inky depths of the witching hour and the sense of evil permeated the air. Mac had never been one to put her faith in anything resembling religion, but you'd have to be blind to denounce the presence of evil in the world.

"Well, shit." There was what appeared to be a writing, corporeal mass in the center of the darkness, one that Quintus was about to encounter. The rabid birds flocked, adding to the chaos and darkness of the sky and it was at that point that Renegade kicked into action.

Sliding the guns from the holsters on her thighs, she opened her eyes wide and focused using telescopic vision that made her literally the perfect shot. It was a calculated series of shots fired constantly and without fail. Birds fell from the sky like confetti at a party. Feathered, bloody, macabre confetti.

The walk from the hospital to the car, the car to the airport, the plane to Italy all passing Cassius by as the sleeplessness of his mind begins to take its tole. Minutes/hours/days all blending into one only broken by the flashes of cold sweat horrors invading on his reality from the dark. It had been hours since his outburst pulling a gun on Morte and he still hadn't touched his weapons. Quintus having laid them out in front of the crimson Knightfall on the table, Cassius wondered if his brother had even removed the bullets in case of another outburst. The thought dawning that Quintus would certainly not like his brother to go shooting up his jet. The mental image of the blood stained cabin as the world below rushed towards the falling metal cage bursting into flames in his mind.

Picking up his weapons and securing them in his holsters Cassius his brother and his sisters agent stepped out of the plane and within minutes where in the beauty but hauntingly unnerving streets of a quaint Italian village. Coming to a stop outside what easily could of been misunderstood as an abandoned store the three of them stood the sudden ending of their footsteps showing just how creepily quiet this place was. The sound of wind and the coming storm that seemed to be following them the only audible sounds. Not even insects or pets could be heard and not a soul had been seen in their journey, a troubling and unnatural occurrence like nature itself had abandoned the location in which they now stood leaving only the sense of dread that weighed down on them.

Quintus walked into the store as Cassius and Ellie's good friend ( who's name he couldn't remember and now wasn't the time to ask) stood sentry at the door. Mere second passed before Quintus returned his face appearing much whiter than normal his eyes trying to regain their usual composure. Whatever his brother had seen it was certainly something he was thankful he didn't.

Opening his mouth to speak the silence shattered with the flurry of fluttering wings and the squarks of the the black birds. The second fragment of a childhood rhyme coming to Cassius as a string of words floating across his mind "On black wings he rides, the murder of crows his sign that someone will die"

"Something is here, i can feel it. My hand is burning" Cassius gripping his pistols his eyes shifting looking for a target as the rain of blood and feathers cascades around him.

Once again on his lonesome, the Stylish Spanish Savant was immediate in ensuring his departure from American soil. With his following destination remaining a tantalizing mystery, the classy Caballero instantaneously utilized iconic speed to commence his inevitable journey. Moments following his departure from the congested city of New York, the Martial Arts Don next sets foot in the northern Portuguese city of Porto. With no opportune period of rest or comfort, the obsessively driven Catalan is quick to resume his search for an answer to his death-defying brothers' supernatural dilemma. Instinctively seeking out a close friend of his late father, Ricardo, composed steps pause before the Baroque church, Igreja dos Clérigos, meticulously constructed by 18th century Italian architect, Nicolau Nasoni. Awarding himself a brief artistically appreciative moment of the church's architectural aestheticism, the Aristocratic Artist resumes his silent steps, cautiously entering the religious structure.

Inside, the methodical Spaniard issued a polite request, to meet with an old friend of his deceased father, a robust yet physically weathered priest by the name of Frederico Ramalho. Respectfully allowed his request, a poised Andres was pointed towards the candlelit altar, before which, a knelt man prayed. An appreciative nod was offered as his show of gratitude prior to approaching the religiously immersed priest. Pausing his steps a mere foot from Frederico, ever the polite individual, Andres waited, arms regally folded behind his back, mirroring the smug mannerisms of past martial arts instructor, Impero Ishin. "Andres? Eu não esperava te ver aqui, hoje. O que se passa?"(Andres? I did not expect to see you here, today. What is wrong?), a genuinely concerned expression overcoming Frederico's fading facial features as he stood to his full height, turning round to face the Charismatic Catalan. "Padre Ramalho, estou aqui para of meu caderno. Os meus irmãos estão em perigo"(Priest Ramalaho, I am here for my notebook. My brothers are in danger), a sigh of quasi-frustration escaping him, "E é algo que tem haver com espiritos e tal"(And it is something that has to do with spirits and such). With a comprehensive nod, Frederico momentarily departs, soon returning with Andres' cryptic notebook, La Palabra de Dios.

Handing the notebook over to its rightful owner, Frederico, in an attempt to perhaps diffuse the seriousness of the situation, jested, "O teu Português melhoro muito. Da ultima vez, lembro-me que misturavas com Espanhol"(Your Portuguese has improved a lot. The last time, I remember you would add some Spanish). A slight smile, appreciative of the attempted humor, temporarily surfaced on the charming gentleman's facial features. "Hehe, obrigado"(Hehe, thank you), before retaining his previous seriousness, "Preciso da tua ajuda. O meu caderno tem informação sobre estas coisas mas eu preciso de mais. Sabes como combater as forças da morte? E a unica maneira de salvar os meus irmãos. A teoria sei, mas a prática não"(I need your help. My notebook has information about these things but I need more. You know how to fight the forces of death? Its the only way to help my brothers. The theory, I know, but not the practical). With an agreeing nod, Frederico answered, "Sim, posso te ajudar. Vem comigo, tenho que te mostrar uma coisa que a tua mãe deixo comigo"(Yes, I can help you. Come with me, I have to show you something that your mother left with me).

In the very short time Atticus had been on the plain of reality, he'd seen much of the world. His secular exploits usually leading somewhere different, somewhere where getting used to a new environment was necessary. The thunderstorm was intensely dark now, filled with a curse for the Knightfall three. Each drop of water ready to break a poison on them all. It was a gift for Atticus the Son of Atropos, but the guillotine for the brothers.

The unforeseen was to be expected, as for there departure and his pursuit, one of the brothers broke away from the pack. It would surely prolong his efforts in killing them, but as for now there were still two leading him to a place called Rome.

Within the cities standing antiquity they followed a heart known path to a hidden bookstore. Three days prior, Atticus had been sent there, to prepare a message for them. The one who shall be known as Reaper, showed him this place, a notable threat in his scheme, and so the owner was disposed. Atticus killed him, directly resembling a dirty of this culture named Jesus Christ. Using a jutsu known as "Water Style: Imerial Mucas" he was able to mix his blood with water to crest the effects of glue. Normally it was used to cauterize a wound but I this case it was used as a devilish message.

With little hope in finding whatever the Reaper didn't want them finding, Atticus watched, unknown to them and ready to strike. He himself was surprised at anothe trap set by his employer. A feathered cadre of crows fluttered around the first to enter. The Reaper was one for histrionics. The women who had joined them began to shoot them effortlessly from the swarm, one by one they fell. But this show would not end so easily. As the clouds rolled in, he weaved a mixture of hand signal, and cast a jutsu. "Water Clone Jutsu" his chakra expenditure was minuscule but he managed to create ten copies of himself. It began to rain, and lightning flashed. The blinding speed of his jutsu matched its furiocity. Watching from atop the adjacent building, it's crumbling roof barely able to withstand the rain, Atticus closed in surrounding them all with his clones. In formation, they attacked, three for the man standing off to the side, two for the women and two for the man occupied by the murder. Each assigned to attack using taijutsu. A flurry of masterfully placed kicks and punches all in order to distract them from the main goal. The other three clones began weaving an intricate and costly jutsu. "Water Style: Bullet Rain Jutsu" calling down the rain each clone melted into a puddle, only to have the rain take their places in deadly assault. Each drop of rain would carry the speed and strength of a bullet being fired from a .22.

@ren_: @cassuis_slay_knightfall: @_sojourn_:

A crescendo of cascading violence fully immersed the antediluvian side street with mixture of blood, bullets, and bad intentions. The pistol dueling artistry of the quick drawing Renegade methodically sniped winged death one after the other with pinpoint accuracy while the Vatican Vigilante, Cassius, reached for his own carefully crafted weapons fending off the calcine sensation in his hand. The converging shadows quickly taken form, manifesting into the unknown visage of the Silent Shinobi, Atticus. An unknown variable in the Knightfall's race against death, demons, and the devil. But answers pertaining to his identity as well as his participation would have to wait as his esoterically contrived representatives attacked. Disciplined and highly skilled, Quintus never the less found their initially onrush lacking in determination. Confidently leaving his arms folded behind his back while parrying with subtle evasion and acrobatic dexterity.

Suddenly the ricocheting reverberations of the clones manipulated water assault rang out like a Baghdad firefight. Ripping through the abandoned street shattering glass, bouncing off the venerable brick, and unleashing a chain-gun like effect that even the pioneering speedster himself could to avoid. Shot instantly through the shoulder, forearm, and the palm of his left hand, Quintus dropped to a knee before erecting a shadow manipulated shield buying himself enough time to launch himself backwards through the bookstore window. Without hesitation the injured Knightfall proceeded to flip the antique Linon Titian console table over revealing a small handle latch concealed with the graffiti styled pentagram drawn along the floor. Underneath its cobweb infested staircase descended into the dark passages underneath the living encyclopedic that was Rome. "This WAY!"

@quintus_knightfall: @ren_@_sojourn_

The blood of the crows fell cascading the pavement in a macbre-mache like layer. As the flurry of bullets and wings continued whilst the storm advanced on the of them the sound of thunder breaking over the rooftops beyond the murder. As the first flashes of lighting erupted illuminating the gloom of the rooftops Cassius spotted the form of a man looking down his sudden glimpse vanishing with the next flash. Reloading his pistols the Crimson Knightfall watched as the crows suddenly parted and two people advanced on him quickly. Their advance implying a possible lack of range paired with hostile intent.

Firing at the advancing the targets Cassius watched as they erupted as the projectiles passed through them, their forms warping drastically before they sprung back like elastic as they continued to advance. His firearms appearing useless the former assassin re-sheathed them and produced his knife instead. Ducking weaving parrying as much as he could the relentless combination of strikes rained down upon him from the two attackers. The odd sensation of water running down the handle of his blade confusing the Knightfall as he was surely gonna be shortly battered to death.

The skies opened and the rain tore through the street like a firing squad, each rain drop hitting like a pistol slug sending debris in every direction as the assault riddled everything in sight. The Knightfall's armor slowing the impact but paired with blunt force trauma of the physical attack the plates began to crack and the bruises from the strikes would eventually become much more serious. Erupting pain from his bicep, thigh and abdomen as the rain broke through the gaps in the plates the impact of the strikes sending Cassius over and through the window of the shop behind him.

Hitting the ground and broken glass Cassius rolled back to a knee throwing a grenade out into the street towards his two attackers. His brothers Yell alerting him to a possible escape Cassius moved as fast as his broken body could carry him, making sure his sisters agent made it ahead of him before slamming the trap door shut.

"What the hell was that ? demons don't control water. There wouldn't be any hell surely?. We have an acolyte after us an ally of the dark. Things just get worse"

@_sojourn_: @quintus_knightfall: @cassuis_slay_knightfall:

At first it appeared to just be water. An essential element. A giver of life. But also the fury of Mother Earth. In reality, they quickly learned that it was something so much more damaging than that. The barrage fell down upon their heads, breaking bodies and cracking bones. Up until that point, the combatants who had served as distraction were in the process of being easily dispatched through a series of well learned moves and enhanced senses.

That all changed as the cobblestone of the streets and the armor of men began to crack beneath what could only be described as bullets of water. Utilizing her boosted speed and the pure flexibility and maneuverability of her body, she was able to dance between the bullets of the barrage. Until she wasn't. One cracked down upon her shoulder, the next hit her on the rib cage as she attempted to twist out of the way of the unavoidable attack.

Avoiding hits and strikes, even bullets, was one thing. Each of the above had a calculated trajectory that allowed her to compensate for with superhuman senses. Water that fell from above did not. Not a sound of pain was made as bones cracked and splintered. Mackenzie had learned long ago that it was of no use to make noise when in pain. It just signaled everybody else to where the wounded, weak and easily preyed upon was.

Her jaw gritted in an attempt not to make noise and out of pure frustration. The revered Renegade was going to quite literally be broken if she didn't find full cover soon. Who the hell had this sort of power, this sort of drive, this sort of malice? As somebody who put no faith in higher powers, there had to be some other explanation.

She flitted through the streets, as graceful as any ballerina on stage, but in a much deadlier arena. There was no avoiding at this point, just withstanding as she made it to some form of cover and they could regroup. The explosion from Cassius and the yell from Quintus couldn't have come at a more opportune time.

Her booted foot hit the ground and she lunged, propelling herself through the air. Another bullet drop cracked down on her back as she lunged through the window, executing a near flawless tuck and roll despite her injuries. It was quick work from there to make it through the trap down from where Quintus beckoned.

As soon as Cassius was behind her and the door was blocked off, she took a deep breath. Bracing one hand against the rocky wall, she took a deep breath and shifted her own dislocated shoulder back into place. A small whimper escaped from her lips as she did so, but there was no other clue as to her injuries aside from the blood that slowly dripped from the arm of her jacket.

"Somebody please tell me we have a weapons stash somewhere and any idea of what the hell is going on."

Optimistically following behind Frederico's lamely executed steps, curiosity was immediate in enveloping Don Andres' mind with the potential revelation that lay ahead. Unable to channel the necessary mental effort to silence himself, the cultured Catalan questioned, "O que é exatamente que a minha mãe deixo contigo?"(What exactly did my mother leave with you?). Responding with composed silence up until their approach to a light brown, wooden door, Frederico wearily rested his weathered palm atop the spotlessly polished door handle. "Aquilo que ela deixou comigo... foi ela mesma"(What she left with me... was herself), concluding his cryptically shocking words, the supernaturally knowledgeable priest opened the door to a dimly lit meditative chamber, the preferred location for his mother's resting periods in the Baroque church.

Rendered speechless by the unanticipated revelation, the Aristocratic Artist responded with but a simple, bemused glance as Frederico made his expected exit, softly closing the creaky door behind the Don. Diverting his ocular attention to the shadow-enveloped, hooded, meditative figure, Andres' mesmeric blue eyes squinted with cold focus, undoubtedly, this was his mother, the entirety of his escalated sensory perception alerted him of this. The electric fields generated from her minute muscular movement, the distinct pattern of her heartbeat, all too recognizable to the Stylish Spanish Savant. "Madre?"(Mother). He asked, "Usted debe estar muerta"(You should be dead). Standing to her full height, Luana, elegantly removing the concealing emerald hood from her head, turned round to face her arriving child. "Andres", an empathetic tone overtaking her voice, "Perdóname"(Forgive me), fully aware that her eldest son knew of her masterfully fabricated death. Her request however, was met with apathetic verbal nonexistence. "Es Cassius vivo?"(Is Cassius alive?), the Spanish Mamba asked, hesitant to eliminate the distance between them, this was not the reunion she had anticipated. "Sí. Pero no por mucho tiempo si no me ayudas"(Yes. But not for long if you don't help me), he continued, "Sacerdote Frederico dice que tiene algo para mí"(Priest Frederico said you have something for me). Nodding in response, the Spaniard's mother tossed over to him, a weathered scroll, instructing him to read the scroll's contents, assuring that it contained the informative details required to save his siblings from their supernatural dilemma.

In a show of gratitude, Andres respectfully inclined his head forward before turning to exit, and return to his brothers. With a tense silence infesting the uneasy atmosphere, this was undoubtedly not the time for a familial reunion between mother and son. Hurriedly exiting the Portuguese church, the Don informed himself of the scroll's contents, analytically reading the Latin literature populating its interior. Detailing a blood ritual involving the reciting of the described biblical passage in the scroll, Andres' remaining task was to taint the ancient text with the blood of his targeted brothers, and the blood or its equivalent of the entity relentlessly seeking to capture their souls. Armed with the scroll and its knowledge, the Catalan Knightfall made his departure from Porto, Portugal, embarking on a trip to Rome to reunite with the cabalistic Knightfalls and their uncanny companion, Renegade.

It only took seconds in the crypt beneath the ruined shop before the shadows began to shift and warp with the nightmarish forms of the Knightfall's nightmares. The pain shooting through Cassius causing the images in his mind to stutter as the pain brought the clarity or reality back into his sight. Holding himself up against the wall Cassius pulled a lighter from his jacket pocket.

"I don't know about you guys but i think we should get moving, We need to get clear and fix ourselves up. This was just a taste and the true forces behind this ordeal have yet to reveal themselves." Looking over to his brother "How come when ever we get together at least one of us gets shot" Cassius joked as the three comrades stumbled and limped away down the dark corridor coming to halt quickly at a door emblazoned with a golden seal its design oddly clockwork like its pieces could shift. The picture resembling a tree reaching to the heavens as a serpent laid beneath its branches.

"Quintus can you hold this" handing him his lighter as he continued to bark orders "Renegade was it? , watch our backs you see anything fire first" Cass reached out to the door gripping the seals edges between his fingers and trying to force it to shift. His bicep screaming out in pain as he tried to pry the thing to turn. His grip causing his punctured bicep to leak rapidly down his sleeve the flow of blood cascading down his wrist and onto the golden seal. Taking his pistol and slamming it repetitively on the fridges of the seal his blood continued to splatter over the ancient seal the flow causing the crimson Knightfall to feel light headed.

Stopping and turning to his allies Cassius slightly confused by the the now bloody door that stood between them and an escape. "I'am stumped, i cant open the blasted thing" CLANK WHIRRRRRRR the corridor suddenly bathed in the flicking light of fire, the light of Cassius zippo lost in the radiance of the dancing flames. Looking extremely confused Cassius limped through the open door his eyes spotting the unforgettable shape of a robbed man a monk perhaps "Come with me"

It would not be tolerated much longer. Running that was. Death, going in and coming back was a revolving door without an exit. One may only see witness the life they once had if they were close enough to the permanent veil that separates life and death. Was it so much evil of him to want them to wade into pool of souls, forgotten and not. Was it irresponsible of those returned to this world, for however long, to do so. What audacity, and what arrogance to see yourself unworthy of dead or staying that way. These Knightfalls, would fall, and they would be returned to the state destiny had chosen for them.

Atticus, released the chakra flow, ending the barrage of rain. His eyes surveyed the small corridors, and mostly the dark entrance into the little bookshop. Jumping down with effortless form, he landed like a feather on water, if it had been so, a single beautiful ripple would course through the clear blue pond. He entered, smelling the heavy scents of blood and decay. His eyes instantly adjusting to the lack of light. The carnal drippings of the Knightfall three lead to a point and stopped. No sign of them. It was not wonder how they all had managed to escape the clutches of the Lowest himself. Crying out, as if the passage they had undoubtedly escaped to would respond to him, the Son of Atropos ransacked the place. Cursing the air, swatting books from shelves, kicking over table and chairs, his intentions were very much indeed hostile. And with all of his rampage, nothing came of it.

In the secrecy of his endeavor, there was only one other that wanted to take the Knighfalls down. That would be, as Atticus referred to him as, the Lowest. A term sprouted from his vile nature and grotesque appearance. Rather than any gender specific defining features, it pranced around, with brash disgrace. It rode the details between lines, hiding in them, only revealing themselves to those who it wanted to take. So, Atticus began to stare at the wreckage of his maniac display. The thousands of hatch patterns, crisscrossing, overlapping, weaving a sinister pattern. Soon enough, the lines created an outline, the outline pulsed, the pulses reached out and sprang forward. "They have gotten away." Its cliche red eyes, only, windows to a world Atticus would not go just yet. It spoke to him, in forgotten tongues all strung together in a dissonance so criminal it would crawl into you and madden you. "This is to be expected. Your first encounter with them was pleasing to me. I want to taste their blood again. Bring me a taste on each finger." Atticus, in a trance of some sort, fell to his knees, and then flattened on his stomach. Like a child almost, he playfully spread his hands in the ruby mess. He slithered outside and did the same. Finally he stood before the squibble of lines, and held his fingers close. He could feel, the abrasive caress of the beasts tongue. "Who is the woman?" It paused. Atticus had no answers. "She is not of their blood. But she has committed to helping them. If she gets in your way, I want you to make deliver her to me." Its craving for a woman told of the beasts supposed gender. Atticus turned away, to venture on, but was grabbed by its invisible hands. "I will bring you to the other." And then sudden darkness fell. So thick, so cold, so uncomfortable. Just as quickly as the darkness fell, it was taken over by wetness. Being tossed about in the waves of the Port of Portugal, Atticus grabbed hold of the water, and stood upon it, rejecting the notion of imbalance. Chakra kept him afloat and balanced. One last message directed him towards a used up church. It smelled like them. Atticus knew one of them had been there.

He quickly dispatched of those who would not bring the words to their lips about other Knighfalls whereabouts. Until, the weak was in his hands. He could not speak in a language Atticus understood, but managed to utter the word gone. Gone? Gone! He was killed like the rest. But knowing that the last of the Knightfall three had come, likely recieved information pertaining to stopping the Lowest, and gone infuriated the Son of Atropos. But he tasted something, it tasted like blood. And he smelled something, it smelled like the scent of a man. It was pure intoxication at this point. There was something different about this one. Atticus' eyes twitched, and he implemented a jutsu that would allow him to at least follow the trail. "Water Style: Recognition Jutsu." It took a masterful display of hand signs and chakra control, but it allowed him to identify the specific signatures of bodies of water; lakes, trees, people etc. Without an exact match it would be difficult, but he tasted the mineral properties of the others, and it was enough.

@ren_: @cassuis_slay_knightfall: Through the catacombs somewhere beneath the city the injured trio had been ushered to safety by a clandestine monk as mysterious as the forces that plagued them. Undoubtedly his intervention had stalled death's pursuit at the hands of the Jutsu Juggernaut who had unleashed a devastating attack that had nearly succeeded in killing the Knightfall's and their companion in the streets of Rome. Only the acrobatic prowess perfectly executed by the small group had allowed them an opportunity to escape though they all understood they had simply prolonged the inevitable. Another meeting between them and the mysterious Atticus would be a necessity if they were to ever be ultimately free of their hell inspired curse.

Unsure of how long he had been unconscious, Quintus awoke in a small exiguous room of unassuming proportions lit only by a single candle. Wounds freshly dressed and clothes moderately stitched. Rotating his heavily bandage shoulder in a vein attempt to gauge mobility, the injured Knightfall grimmest before snagging his undershirt from the back of a nearby wooden chair and ascending from the room in search of the others.

@ren_: @cassuis_slay_knightfall: @quintus_knightfall:

Armed with an enigmatically conceived scroll of supernaturally cryptic knowledge, previously concealed by the characteristically cabalistic nature of the Igreja dos Clérigos's cryptically founded brotherhood, Don Andres' inevitable return to the historically symbolic city of Rome serves as a testament to his obsessive dedication in relentlessly protecting his treasured family. Initially relying on his esoterically developed electro-perception in the hopes of simultaneously detecting the muscularly generated electric fields of his familial comrades, Andres' unfruitful attempts indicated considerable distance. The entirety of his escalated sensory abilities proved unable to determine the location of his brothers and their acquired Renegade. Devoid of choice in the circumstantial matter, the Mercurial Michaelangelo utilized the technologically sound properties of the M.D.D.S. for aid.

With the involuntarily absorbed and analyzed psychic energies from the Living Weapon's psionic-signature, the Stylish Spanish Storm Shadow commenced a computerized search for the source of a similar signature. Speedily covering the architecturally brilliant city of Rome with iconic rapidity, an abruptly conjured combination of his sensory perception and M.D.D.S. identified the location of his martially gifted sibling. Subsequently confirming the nearby presence of Cassius as well, Andres immersed himself in the structurally ancient catacombs of Rome, moving closer to what was most likely the location of the Renegade, and his two brothers. Pausing his poised steps, the Armani Aristocrat introduced himself as his brother's Catalan counterpart with verbal Italian eloquence, hoping that he would be granted entry to a most cabalistic underground location.

@quintus_knightfall@morte_knightfall@ren_

Cassius looked at the bandages that bound his battered form together. The monk was certainly a skilled medic, the wounds where dressed and cleaned well. Unusually well for a man of the cloth as it certainly wasn't part of the training. His limbs though strapped and their wounds contained still felt heavy and weak as he tried to walk out of the small room in which he awoke. Hearing the sound of muffled chatter through a wooden door he began to limp towards it. Reaching out with his right hand towards the door knob the crimson Knightfall caught a glimpse of his hand the darkness had spread in his sleep. His hand almost unrecognizable as his own as the skin had hardened into a thick black like scale his nails protruding like claws from each finger.

With the door open Cassius could see Quintus Renegade and the monk sitting at a table in the midst of the dimly lit room their chatter oddly incoherent considering how close they sat. Limping to within arms reach of the group Cass placed his hand upon the table "We have a problem, i don't know how to stop this. Its consuming me i can feel it." Looking at the monk his face oddly blurred by the shadow from his hood "What kind of monk knows combat medic techniques?" silence feel for a second as the monk removed his hood. His face oddly familiar underneath the beard and the changes of time " I like you come from a line of knights. I represent the sword of the serpent, you saw our seal on the door. My brothers and i are the Vatican's occult and defense of the faith department as you would say. Your hand is known as the mark of Bealzibub. The text refers to it as being appointed to a position at the dark ones left side."

Across the room the creak of a slowly opening wooden door echoing faintly as it was followed by the faint glimmer of a torch two figures illuminated by the flames another monk and the unmistakable form of Morte the scent of his aftershave cutting through the damp air immediately . His brother sliding a metal case to Cass's feat "A little present" Cass smiled beckoning the two newcomers to seats at the table "Sit, the brother was just about to enlighten us with the story of why my hand looks like a prop from an 80's horror film."