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The air was as tense as it was dusty. Safe passage through the void was long compromised, so the Cabal had agreed to arrange for temporary and ever-changing meeting points. The current de facto conference room was hidden somewhere within the long forgotten basement of an enormous library.
Incandescent lights dotted the labyrinthine shelves and narrow passages barely illuminating an arms length ahead. The Necromancer quietly toed down between rows of stale books, occasionally checking the hastily drawn map in his hand. Sixty more paces then a left. Twenty-five paces, right. Ten paces. Left. Second door.
The Necromancer stopped. A figure already stood before the featureless door just outside the dim glow of the light above. Instinctively his pulse quickened as he hastened to quiet his breathing. He watched carefully as the figure's head ducked down briefly to inspect something before rapping on the door.
A second passed, the door opened slightly, and the figure was admitted. The Necromancer released the breath he found himself holding and moved to repeat the actions he witnessed.
Admission to the impromptu meeting secured, he gazed around at the assembled members. Each bore a similar nervous strain emphasized by the eerie shadows dancing at the edges of the dusty storage room. A simple metal table before them was bare and not a chair could be found.
A short head count confirmed all were present and business could be attended to. A large map found its way onto the table as the Cabal first discussed the details of their next meeting and changes to their agreed forms of safe contact with one another. Keys, both physical and cryptographic, were distributed.
Ledgers were read and approved. Trade strategies were drafted and approved. Money exchanged hands. All with an air of urgency and anxiety as shadows seemed to creep in from the corners of the room and their thoughts.
Until a knock at the door.
The air froze. Eyes flicked from one member to another, to the door, and back. Reapers produced their blades and inched to either side of the frame. The Necromancer, last to arrive, was naturally closest. Another measured knock came.
The Reapers nodded lightly to him. Mechanically, the Necromancer reached for the knob and turned it. The door cracked open to reveal a familiar silhouette. The Investigator stood meekly in the incandescent glow.
After a hesitant exchange of glances and a nod from the Priestess, the Investigator was allowed in. The Reapers relaxed, the Necromancer turned back to the table, and the Investigator slid behind him while shutting the door.
No sooner did the door latch shut than did a shot ring out. The Necromancer stumbled slightly into the table as a red spray painted the metal surface. His body slumped limply to its edge revealing the smoking barrel of the gun in the Investigator's strangely mechanized hand, barely gleaming in the ambient glow.
Both Reapers sprung into action, immediately cleaving the figure into thirds. The pieces met the ground with mechanical clangs. The others around the table rushed to the Necromancer's side. Barely clinging to life, he put on a strained smile.
"It's ironic..." He coughed and drew a long rattling breath. "But now I know for sure how it feels. I shall return."
After another shuddering breath, he closed his eyes and relaxed. His heart beat its last.
The Priestess stood and rushed past to the segmented body of the faux-Investigator. He gripped the fake blonde hair of the heavy skull and lifted it to his eyes.
It wore an unnatural smile as gears, springs, and other scraps of metal trickled down to the floor. The other segmented body parts shuddered and writhed as if gripped by insane laughter.
The mouth opened revealing a small piece of paper. The sneer in the glassy eyes beckoned the Priestess to take it. After deftly retrieving it, the head was unceremoniously dropped to the floor.
Shaking fingers peeled open the yellowed note. In precise printed letters it read:
"Come and save the Princess."
