With the door opened, the stairway into the abyss had been revealed. As the team peered down the staircase, light from the outside seemed to be swallowed up by the impenetrable blackness of the basement. Not even the shade rats of Devora's making escaped upon scurrying into the dark. As they rushed down the stairs the shadowy conjurations squeaked and squealed as they descended only for their sounds to be silence almost instantly after a series of clanking and clattering noises from within. Daza had been moving about the ground floor, inspecting the scene when she noticed the void the team stood before. Without a word she cast a simple candlelight spell on all of them, conjuring up a small but powerful ball of light over each of their shoulders. She did not need to speak, the intention would be understood. 

And so they ventured forth, four souls down into what felt like the coldest level of hell. The smell as they went down grew from a faint stink of decay to the overwhelming stench of death, blood, bile, and rot. The stairs were of crumbling concrete; old and deteriorating, with signs of them becoming unusable at any moment as each step took with it a small chunk of the steps. The handrail was rusted worse than the door and broken in segments, with it being the only barrier between the team and what felt like a massive chasm beneath the earth. Despite, the light of the spell, despite the door to the surface being open. The investigators could only see each other, the dilapidated wall to their left, and the stairs beneath them. Beyond that, the room could have been as big as a shopping container or a stadium, they couldn't tell the difference.

Finally, they arrived at the bottom. The thick blackness suddenly gave way to a more gentler and forgiving dark as the room slowly allowed light to fill it. The building groaned from within its walls, as if it were alive and grumbling in anticipation of it latest meal. As the light enveloped the room, illumination gave way to clear perception. It was an old boiler room. The room itself being the size of the standard home car garage able to fit two SUVs. The boiler sat beneath the stairs, ancient and unattended as it slowly was eaten away by the elements. A corpse of an older time. The basement was cluttered, assorted broken furniture, goods, odd trinkets, stacked and scattered across the floor. This must have been a squatter's home for a time as trash, dirty clothing, and even dirtier needles laid about the floor. At the foot of the stairs laid a bloodied dagger, its blade warped and twisted with a bright coat of crimson covering much of it with a small puddle beneath where it lay.

The shadows that the candlelights cast, flickered about as the team dispersed. Twisted forms were made as the dark fought against the light, creating almost humanlike forms in the shadows that would appear and disappear in and instant. Throughout it all, there was silence. The deafening silence that seemed to stifle the air, making it thick and every breath sound like a desperate gasp for life. The kind of silence that left a slight ringing that you could hear but doubt if the sound was actually there. Footsteps sounded like stomping, the broken glass cracked harshly, the dust being blown off like a sandstorm. 

Beneath all the filth, the trash, and the dirt, more engravings and blood symbols. These were different. The engravings were black unlike the ones outside which were simply scratches into the wall. These etchings were deep, dark, and almost like their surface was of obsidian. At the center of the room, amidst a clearing of the garbage, was a figurine. It was that of a cloaked, monolithic figure, its robe made from a piece of yellow cloth. From beneath it, lines of blood flowed, almost like tendrils as they reached out across the room weaving its way beneath the clutter. Lodged within a pile of stacked antiques was a wax statue, clothed in a curious robe. It was yellow, like the cultists at The Beacon Hotel, but tattered and old. It stood firm against the refuse, most likely a forgotten possession of a squatter at some point. At the far side of the room, a metal cabinet stood against the wall. It was old but not in such a state of deterioration as the door and environment around it. Scratch marks could be seen at its bottom, the lines forming a curve away from the wall. Accompanying it was a thin layer of dust, less than the amount around it and forming a path from the stairs to the idol to the cabinet.
[hr]

[b][u]At The Monolith...[/u][/b]
Douglas pulled his car off to the side of the intersection, noticing Issac's car had gotten here first. He flashed his badge to the police officer as he got out of his car, opening the trunk for his forensic kit, and slowly walking off towards the scene. He bypassed whatever crowds had gathered outside the Theater, ducking under the police tape, and making his way inside just in time to see Issac crouching over the body of one of the victims. Douglas called out to the man.


"Detective Hood! Prepping my crime scene for me, eh?"


"You know me Finn, eager as always to get started. I was hoping to give my partner a go at this one but it seems you beat her to it", Isaac looked for any sign of his pupil but to no avail. "Anyways shall we be begin? I noticed something under our victim's fingernails, seems to be a bit of skin, possibly from our perp. His throat was slit but not deep enough to kill him quickly so either the perp wanted him to suffer or this was part of some sort of ritual, maybe both", a sinking feeling in Isaac's chest grew in intensity as he thought about his next words. "Call it a hunch but I think whatever happened to our vic is linked to whats going on at The Beacon right now. What's more I think that connection is waiting for us inside the theatre. But, I think I've said enough, I'll let you get to work on this one here, I'll be by the entrance should you need me"


The body that lay before Douglas, at first glance, showed little else in terms of damage to the body side from the slit throat. However, upon further inspection, his shirt sleeves hid a strange discoloration. His pockets were bulging slightly, barely enough to be noticed. Too add to the mystery was the slight glinting of something metallic by his neck. 


Douglas examined the metallic item: a necklace. The symbol on the pendant matched no known religion. A series of lines leading to a slender, robed monolithic figure. He'd have to check for DNA back at the lab to determine it belonged to the victim or not. He placed it in an evidence bag from his kit.


Next, Douglas examined the discoloration of the wrists: bruising. The victim was bound with a rope, it's imprint still left on the skin. He was bound pretty tightly. Noticing his broken thumbs, Douglas surmised that he possibly escaped his bonds. He took a picture with his crime-scene camera for further investigation.


Finally, Douglas examined the victim's pockets: a single item, a holo-locket, was found. Douglas activated it, and a woman appeared in the projection. She backed away towards a couch, where two children were playfully fighting. She gathered thier attention and the three began to speak to the recorder:


"Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday, Dear Daddy, Happy Birthday to you!"


The three clapped and cheered, and the mother went back to the recorder and picked it up.


"Happy Birthday, Ben. We love you so, so much. Don't forget that."


The children behind her got in a few extra shouts of "I love you dad" and "Happy Birthday dad" before the projection ended. The thumbnail was the three of them sitting on the couch, the image reflecting off of Douglas's glasses as he looked at it. He turned it off, and put the holo-locket into evidence. No clues there.


After a few more bits of forensic magic, like determining the time of death and grabbing the skin cells from underneath the fingernails, Douglas packed up his kit and met with Issac by the entrance.


"Detective. Seems I've gotten all I could for now. I only know one thing so far: this man was likely an unwilling sacrifice for a new cult."


"I figured as much, this has Ronoth written all over it. I swear this city is slowly losing itself", Isaac's gaze turned back to the body which lay upon the cold wet intersection. As officers attempted to cover the body they were ambushed by a horde of photographers looking to catch a shot of what would soon be all over the evening news. 


Not a moment later did Isaac notice Darc approach from amidst the crowd. The demon stopped to take a look at the body before continuing on to the two at the entrance. ”Detective Hood. I got five dollars saying that the blood bath inside isn’t just going to be a scene of general carnage, but yet another blood ritual. Betting another five it’s demons", the casual tone in his voice irritated the detective slightly but he didn't show it. Despite all Isaac had seen, cult related cases always got under his skin and it seemed as though they were becoming more and more frequent. "Oh its demons alright, either demons or something along those lines. Our vic on the street was bound, escaped what was going on inside but died shortly after exiting. I was telling Douglas, its Ronoth all over again", as he spoke, Isaac's attention shifted to behind Darc as he watched a young woman approach past the body and towards them. It was Nova, the newbie assigned to him. In truth, he wasn't looking forward to a teaching position, especially not for this case. But he had a job to do and it would be done under his watch. 


“Good afternoon, detectives,” she began, and glanced at the second man next to her mentor. Was she supposed to know who he was? The thought was pushed away as she continued, “I received the debrief before arrival. May I ask what has been ascertained about this victim?”


"Afternoon Nova, what do you make of our vic back there?", Isaac heard her question but was more interested in hearing what she gathered from that quick glance on her way to them.A slight chill ran down her spine as she glanced back at the body, her eyes analyzing what she could from that angle. "If I had to guess, cause of death was the laceration to his throat. It does look deep throughout, If he came from the theatre and died here then perhaps one of his carotid arteries were cut?", she knew it was a test, and while there was a slight annoyance to the impromptu pop quiz, Nova was glad to show off her skills before her superiors. 


"Not bad. As I said with Douglas, the victim was a member of the cast performing her. They were killed sometime today during morning rehearsals. Our vic was bound by his hands, had his throat slit, broke his thumbs to escape, and died shortly after exiting. There was a necklace placed on him, most likely the cult's and part of the ritual", Isaac thought about lighting a cigarillo and joining the group in a moment but decided against it, the tension was getting to him. "Alright, shall we enter?"

Once inside, the real nightmare began. The bodies numbered around fifty. Each one having had their lips removed to create constant smiling macabre statues. Some of the bodies had been placed within the rows of seats, positioned as some sort of twisted still life of attendants at a play. The others were fixed upon the stage with rebar in poses to mimic a snapshot of some sort of demented play. Each corpse was outfitted in clothing reminiscent of medieval fantasy. At center stage stood a victim in a yellow cloak with a golden crown upon his head. His hands were bound with rope and throat slit. From the center stage and out towards the ends the other bodies posed as if it were a photograph of a royal procession, with the king in yellow at its center. What was strange was that every body, every last body was drained, not just of blood but any liquid that would be in the human body. They appeared almost mummified, dehydrated and stiff as if they'd been sitting in this theater for decades. In the middle of all of this horror, this [b]evil[/b], a slight humming could be heard coming from the king in yellow.
[hr]
[b][u]The Beacon Hotel[/u][/b]
The rear basement entrance was an unassuming metal door. From outside one wouldn't suspect anything out of the ordinary was occurring behind it. Once Minos and Katherine entered the reality of their situation was revealed. Whatever layout of the basement they were shown was not the case once they were inside. Beyond the door was a set of stairs going about two floors down into a deep blackness. No sound escaped but the smell rushed towards them like no other. The amalgamation of spoilt meat, blood, and animal excrement filled their noses and those of the second wave team outside. Once at stairs' end, it was as if the basement had been demolished in order for renovations to commence. Walls were broken down and support pillars damaged. Floors were dug up and pipes were exposed. In truth, the basement looked as if it had been ransacked by some sort of monster rather than subject to a demo. It was chaotic and obviously hazardous for anyone down here.

What was once a multi-room maze of wine cellars, freezer rooms, break areas, and other utilities had been reduced to a single large chamber. There were symbols, blood symbols written over the walls but many were scratched out by what looked like massive claw marks. Aside from the symbols were puddles of blood and excrement which grew in number the further they went into the basement. Something was down there with them. That was for sure. The signs of it were everywhere from the filth to the blood to the bones scattered about the floor. All the clues pointed towards something making the basement of The Beacon its home...something big. 

At the center of the room sat a strange idol, a monolithic figure covered in a yellow cloak. At its feet, black tendrils of some unidentifiable liquid flowed outwards towards every corner of the basement. Passing through the piles if blood, gore, fecal matter, and trash. Yet its placement and condition did not indicate it was abandoned there. Whoever or whatever placed the idol there was meticulous in its placement and care, leaving it practically untouched by it's current environment. At one corner of the basement was a large pile of what seemed to be torn flesh, animal fur, and destroyed articles of clothing.

Over in another area was what looked to be a man, curled up into the fetal position, rocking back and forth in silence facing a wall. He shook violently but did not make a sound. At the far side of the basement, light peaked through the darkness of the basement to reveal another set of stairs.