Arthur and his partner for the evening, Judith, both sat outside of the cult’s hideout in Judith’s parked SUV. In the late afternoon sunlight, with the front door locked and the window blinds lowered, most people would walk past it with little mind as it sat unremarkably between two other identical buildings.

"Are you going to tell me why we're here, or... am I supposed to guess?" He asked her.

The two worked by commission for the Paranormal Investigators of New Haven (or Pin, as a shorthand), and jobs like this often took the form of a hunch and a surprising amount of unlawful entry. Of course, there was never a gradient with paranormal instances; they were either absolute nonsense based on pure speculation or existentially terrifying threats that threatened the foundation of mankind with no in-between. The stress of such a job was apparent in Arthur's graying strands that were, thankfully, not too visible in his auburn hair.

Judith groaned. "Don't start guessing. I hate it when you guess things. It's creepy."

Arthur shrank a bit. He always had a hidden intuition when it came to knowing the truths to a nearly supernatural degree. He remembered with embarrassment when he'd exposed Judith's wife's affair just by asking questions he reasonably shouldn't have been asking to begin with. All he’d done was point out how Vivian came home four hours later than was usual for her book club, despite Judith never mentioning any book club to him before. An absurd intuition for knowing the truth of others and his own natural curiosity made for a poor combination. What Judith was about to tell him was likely not too hard to explain, but it was still the principle to not drag it out of her. She’d never quite opened up to him as much as she used to after that.

Judith didn't answer right away. She brought down her window and blew out puffs of her cigarette smoke. Arthur assumed she did it as a courtesy to him specifically, considering the smell of tobacco and ash from the car. She offered up the carton to Arthur. He took a sip from his reusable water bottle and held a hand up to decline, and she pocketed it along with her lighter.

Judith pulled out her wallet, and Arthur caught a glimpse of a photo of her ex. He winced, almost wanting to ask about how the divorce proceedings were going, but held back. He had no doubts that a conversation along those lines would go over horribly.

"Some kind of cult or something called the Red Talons," she said after exhaling. "According to Socket, they're a bunch of nutcases but managed to get their hands on something they shouldn't have."

"What is it? And... why do they want it?" He felt the answer just out of reach but held back.

"No clue what they're holding onto so tightly. It's been passed between around four different gangs so far," Judith reclined as she finished her cigarette and flicked it out the window. Arthur flinched at the littering but held his tongue as she continued. She held up her fingers as she counted. "First, the Infidels found it in an old basement, then during a turf war, the Guidance Council found it and auctioned it off, which is how Socket found out about it to begin with, then they sold it to the Broncos, who lost it to the Talons when they were all killed in that battle last year, and the Talons have had it ever since for the past four months. Any intel about it just details that whatever the fuck is so important, it's kept in a coffin-sized metal container with a bunch of locks and a bunch of guys guarding it."

"Coffin-shaped? That's... ominous."

"Well, whatever they've got, it either-"

"Holds some kind of power that makes it valuable, or - or it's got some level of psychic influence over the people who want it,"Arthur interrupted. "Maybe it's got... hypnotic qualities or something? It's brainwashing everyone who gets their hands on it, like the One Ring or something."

He looked over to gauge her response, but Judith only gave Arthur an icy glare, and what he had just done dawned on him. "Oh. Sorry."

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Doesn't matter, you're right. I've got no clue what's in that box, but just in case, let's avoid getting too handsy with it if that can be avoided. I'd rather not find out the hard way and get brainwashed. Again."

And so the plan was set into motion. The pair managed to make their way to the back of the building. Arthur made a token attempt to pick the lock before, ultimately, Judith simply kicked it in two with her steel-toed boots. From there was a hallway, and Arthur did his best to keep his footsteps as quiet as possible as they walked along the linoleum floor. The sickly fluorescent lights illuminated the entrance into another room, which was the only light source in the otherwise dark, dingy area. The duo stood just beyond the edge of the door frame as they cautiously peeked inside.

Arthur watched Judith's fingers dance impatiently along the doorframe, and he quietly held a finger or his lips, hoping to instill some form of caution. He received a middle finger in return. He could only hope she knew what she was doing: she'd been at this job far longer than him, after all, and hadn’t died yet.

The wider room had two tables alongside the opposite walls, each stacked with books and papers and with candles lit on the ends, offering some warmth in the otherwise cold and decrepit-looking office space that likely hadn't been used in years.

In the center of the room was the most fascinating part; three rows of chairs faced the front of the room, and in each one sat a figure adorned in a red robe.

At the front of the room stood the only figure in white, his hood lowered so his face was visible. He was an older man, his cheeks rosy and his eyes twinkling as he spoke to the crowd. Arthur couldn't help but recall memories of his dear grandfather and absently noted that he could understand why someone would join a cult if their leader seemed so pleasant. However, underneath the gentle paternal exterior, Arthur could see the truth of such a man, and the truth told him that he was not one to be trifled with.

Next to the man was the infamous metal, coffin-sized capsule with a broken lock. Arthur gulped.

The Old Man spoke. "Brothers and sisters! Tell me, what is a god?"

The crowd did not answer. He continued, "When you think of a God, you may think of mainstream religion. Some Gods are benevolent, some are cruel, and no matter who you ask, if they believe in a God, they believe that their God must be feared, respected, and obeyed only because of its power over us—over our reality."

Some heads nodded. His smile dropped. "But Gods are not people. They are tools. Tools used by people to control other people."

He held out his hands defensively. "Now, don't get me wrong, I don't see that as a bad thing. Not at all. Which is why we've decided to take our destiny into our own hands, isn't that right?"

This time, the crowd spoke, a chorus of agreement. The Old Man's smile returned. "We are meant for much more than this, aren't we?!"

The cheering grew louder. Judith took the chance to whisper to Arthur. "That old bastard is either scamming them out of money or wants to make their daughters into some child brides."

"Shh! Shut up!"
"Or both," she said, quieter this time, "Probably both."

The Old Man opened his arms wider. "Don't we as humans have the right to forge our own destiny?! Don't we as humans have the right to forge our own God?! Only through me can we step out of the shadow of the universe and rise to our true potential! This is our time! This is our apotheosis!"

The crowd continued to cheer. Arthur only got a passing glimpse at Judith before she stood up straight. She gritted her teeth. "Fuck it."

She raised her arm, displaying her baton, and whistled loudly. Much to Arthur's horror, the room immediately swiveled their heads in their direction. "We're from the Pin, nobody moves! We're here to confiscate any illegal and potentially paranormal contraband."