Live Evil: Prologue
You want to play a new game
You put on this blindfold
You do what we tell you
You do as you're told
--Meet Your Master by Nine Inch Nails
LLANGORSE, WALES— Night blanketed the tiny village of Llangorse as they finally arrived.
"I sent a camera crew here," explained Cornwell, decked out in full combat gear complete with a tactical vest, shotgun shells draped over one shoulder, an Uzi, and a belt of grenades. "They never reported back."
"A camera crew?" asked Jim-Bean. "You own a television station?"
"I got a lotta contacts," said Cornwell. "They were supposed to be filmin' a documentary about the place. I do it all the time, send in reporters to scope the opposition out."
Hammer drove down the tiny and twisting main street. "And send innocents into danger."
Patches of fog crept across the light from their headlamps, no doubt sweeping in from the nearby lake. Its pale curtain enshrouded the village, giving it a ghostly death like quality, an impression not helped by the lack of activity.
"I've never sent a man to his death that didn't deserve it," said Cornwell. "The gangs won't off a journalist – most of 'em would welcome the publicity. But these kooks – they don't play by any rules. 'sides, this may well be a rescue mission too. If they're still alive."
Archive looked out the passenger side window. "I don't think there's much life here."
Indeed, the only activity seemed to be a few stragglers making their way to and from the village pub, which was lit by the only streetlight in the village.
"Maiden Manor is the place they were investigatin', the place I thought was the cult's lair."
As they reached the other end of the village, the large, dark silhouette of Maiden Manor loomed. There was no sign of life – there were no lights on.
Leaving the road, and pulling into the driveway, their headlamps illuminated the Tudor facade of the manor house. The darkness in the windows confirmed the impression of complete inactivity.
The 4x4 came to rest by the cement steps leading up to the grand oaken front door. When Hammer switch the engine off the encroaching fog muffled all sound, leaving only the deathly quiet of the Welsh countryside. The subdued light from the rising moon cresting distant hills added to the isolation.
Jim-Bean got out of the 4x4 and stretched his legs. "Okay Cornwell, have you dealt with the supernatural before?"
Cornwell snorted, checking his shotgun. "I'm from Brichester. I know how to deal with it. Why?"
Jim-Bean's voice echoed in all their heads. "Because you're going to deal with it right now."
Cornwell blinked. "Blimey! That's a neat trick. Better'n headsets that's for sure."
Jim-Bean grinned. It was refreshing to meet someone who didn't scream or shoot at psychic phenomena. "I think we'll get along just fine."
"Speaking of your abilities, can you scan the house Jimmy?" Hammer spoke out loud out of habit.
"Scan the house?" asked Cornwell.
Jim-Bean nodded and turned to face the house. He put one hand to his temple and stretched the other towards the front of the manor house, scanning each room as if he were holding a laser microphone.
After a few minutes he shook his head. "Static. There's definitely some psychic phenomena in there."
Hammer cracked his knuckles. "Looks like we're going in. Be ready for anything."
Cornwell clutched his shotgun a little tighter.