"He's watching us..." the heavily tattooed man slid the curtain shut, looking back nervously. "He knows."
"Ignore him." The man in the red hood replied curtly. "He knows nothing."
"The bald man..." Tattoos whispered cautiously. "He almost saw inside yesterday."
"So?" Red Hood continued to arrange the candles on the floor, unconcerned. "He would have seen a hallway. Nothing more."
"But what if he..." Tattoos crept forward, nervous. "What if he works for...?"
Red Hood turned his gaze on him, glaring through shadowed eyes. "Put him out of your thoughts. The master approaches."
"Of course, of course." Tattoos bowed penitently, kneeling and moving to the edge of the chalk circle.
Using an ornate golden lighter, Red Hood ignited the candles. The small, dingy apartment glowed ominously red, firelight reflecting off of the many hellish draperies. Reaching into a pouch, Red Hood took a handful of silver dust and cast it into the circle. Shimmering flakes turned, spiraling upward as they rose from the floor.
In the midst of them, draped across the wood slats lay a crumpled grey cloth made of tattered wool. Darkness swirled under the cloth, a shadow taking shape as it rose up, the cloth forming into a cloak. Hovering like a phantom, the darkness peered through the head of the cloak, its face becoming a great red eye.
"Lord Calumox..." Red Hood knelt, bowing his head.
"My brother Gorfinax stirs..." the phantom spoke, eye staring outward at the world beyond the walls. "The Meat Wheel turns, and his time to rise approaches."
"We have done all we can, my lord," Red Hood spoke apologetically. "We have stricken his name from the libraries of the world. His time cannot come if none are able to hear."
"His name is known," Calumox replied flatly. "Even now it is spoken of across the world."
"How is this so...?" Red Hood shook his head, befuddled.
"Why can this abode not access the World Wide Web?" Calumox glowered.
Red Hood pressed his face to the floor. "My lord, we were unable to pay the internet service provider. Our dedication to cult worship leaves little room for paying jobs..."
"Enough." Calumox's voice boomed. "Travel to the library once more. Seek out the program known as 'Word Funk.' Listen to their many crimes, and then obliterate them." The grey cloth descended, falling empty to the floor.
"My brother must never be allowed to return..."
The candles snuffed out, leaving the room in total darkness.
After a while, the tattooed man spoke. "I shall do as our lord commands, and find these interlopers."
"Yes..." Red Hood replied, his voice stripped of confidence. "Yes, do so quickly."