Zachary Williams, also known as "The Crowley Assassin". That scumbag has been on the loose for more than three years. A self-appointed agent of the antichrist and raving lunatic, he has been cutting the throats of little children for alleged satanic rituals. He has managed to elude capture countless times and made fun of police so much that differences were put aside, and through the INTERPOL, a joint police tasforce was created with the objective of putting an end to the terror. You were one of the people of the taskforce. At first, cooperation had been mixed at worst, but as time passed the joint effort paid off and you have managed to corner Zachary in the valley of Hinnom, Israel. Surrounded while being still bloodstained and around the corpses of three of his latest victims, you were about to finally apprehend him. But Zachary didn't care. He kept doing his sick routine of drawing strange circles with the blood of dead children, seemingly chanting in some kind of weird magic mojo. And then the earth was split open beneath your feet, and you fell yourself falling... ... You woke up in an eerie subterranean cave, with only the intermitent illumination of an old neon light. Your cellphones and communications are dead, and the oddly placed neon light has a rather strange message. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. The darkness was all encompassing. The only things that could be see nwas the ground of the crevice, ashen and dark, illuminated intermitently by the seemingly out of place neon light. And then, some friction sound was heard. Sparks flickered briefly before igniting a lighter. There was a bus driver, complete with bus, in the bottom of the crevice. The vehicle was black, with golden and white lines, much like the uniform of the driver. His appearance, besides the stylish suit and hat, was pretty much nondescript. "What a mess." The man said. "But let's not dilly dally, shall we? I do not have all day." He let a puff of smoke while eyeing each one of the assorted people who happened to fall. "Otone Greenburg." He mentioned as he browsed in a list. "Sean Finch". He scratched his head, cigarette in hand. "Your time's up. You're to come with me to your assigned place. Baal Ginyyr..." He checked twice, his eyes narrowing. "Who calls their kid like that? Anyway, doesn't matter. Your designed place is through that crevice with the pretty little neon." He didn't hesitate. "Same for you, Thomas Thompson. Your time's also up." The bus driver then finished his smoke with a long puff, before lighting the sign of the bus: Line 13- Afterlife
Sean brings up the rear, nervously fingering his new crucifix necklace.
“Not a promise, not an oath, or a malediction or a curse. Inevitable." - Taylor Hebert