The Goon Cabal
The day had been going as normal as was expected for the Goon Squad. A quiet start with tea, coffee, and toast. Followed of course by a world threatening event by some idiot who had happened to get their hands on an actual magic book. Rather then destroy the cursed thing after discovering it contained world destroying power, the idiot put into motion a plan that would grant them great power at no personal sacrifice. Just the small price of ever living soul in the greater Manchester area.
Talos was, as usual, absent. Off doing whatever Talos does when he was not with the Goon Squad. A mystery that was, according to Ian, fit for the ages.
With any luck they would be done with plenty of time for lunch, before starting on their incident reports. Nadiya wanted to stop at the new Indian restaurant that had opened near the Goon Base. Gilbert wanted Thai.
Really, everything was perfectly standard as far as the Goon Squad was concerned. The perp was little more then a boy, and not even a proper witch. There was an odd bit when a blonde man holding a teacup and saucer appeared in the middle of the warehouse, along with a nondescript wooden box. It didn't effect the fight, which actualy added to the oddness.
The day had been proceeding as normal for Johannes Cabal. He had spent the night researching and shortly before dawn endured his brother Horst’s insistence that Johannes take time to eat something and rest a bit before he worked himself to death. After Johannes had promised to take a break from his work, Horst had gone down to the cellar to sleep through the day, away from the light of the sun that would leave him an untidy pile of ash.
From there, Johannes Cabal’s morning proceed as normal. He postponed his breakfast in favor of his work until his stomach made it know that he was hungry through a series of loud complaints that made it difficult to concentrate.
With reluctance, Cabal made his way to the kitchen for an early lunch.
After appeasing his appetite Cabal, with tea in hand, made his way back to his study. He was just passing the deep shelf with the boxes (two singing and one silent thanks to the gag on the thing inside) when Cabal’s morning went from normal to slightly abnormal.
It started when the silent box began to fall from the shelf. With his free hand, Cabal reached out to catch the falling box. If Cabal had been a little more rested, thinking a little more at his usual speed, Cabal might have noticed that the box was not falling off the shelf, but through it. Before he was able to properly act in response to the information being processed by his mind, information that was warning him away from his current course of action, Cabal was assaulted by a wave of vertigo. As the feeling passed, Cabal took the time to properly take in the sight before him.
Cabal was no longer in his home. He was in what appeared to be a warehouse, witness to a fight between werewolf, a mummified corpse, and a mime against a teenager in the black robes of a cliche cultist. A quick look around the room revealed a circle of sigils, written in chalk, in a dead language. A dead language that was one of many that Cabal had taken the time to learn. The only word in this particular circle that Cabal needed to know to understand the situation he had found himself in was ‘Ereshkigal’. Cabal lip curled. He did not have time for this.
Turning on his heel, Cabal vanished from the warehouse.
By the time the fight had finished the blonde man was gone. In his place, Nadiya found a canister of kerosene, a box of matches, and a note. Ian and Gilbert were in the process of securing the perp as Nadiya unfolded and read aloud the note. “Burn it all and shoot the idiot. Signed an expert in necromancy.” Ian and Gilbert were looking at her as she held up the note. “What do you think?”
“It would be destruction of evidence.” Answered Gilbert
“Hmm, maybe.” Replied Ian. “But if it’s the expert’s advice…”