Seated in the back of a car, the blood of my former employer contained in a vase between me and the man who killed him, seemed a little silly. I mean I've been in a lot of weird situations, I've placed myself in places that are confusing, but this one, this one was the most awkward and at the same point insane. I mean this guy literally killed the guy I was working with, and then passively threatened me to come with him, and I didn't resist! Mostly because I was curious, and you know what happens with me and curiosity, it usually means it almost kills me, and yet I remain curious, proving that I truly never learn. Which is sad for someone who is hundreds of years old.
"I bet you're wondering whats going on." Winslow broke the silence and while it was nice, I was terrified of what we were going to talk about next.
"The thought had crossed my mind." The blood of Shobogon sloshing around next to me, also crossed my mind.
"We're on our way to a ritual, I'm bringing you as my guest." A guest at a blood ritual, how quaint. And terrifying. Suddenly I found myself tapping into my former masters long dormant memories. Instantly I knew exactly what ritual they were doing, and why they were doing it, most likely. To say I wasn't feeling safe after figuring it out, was an under gods damned statement.
"I'm not big on rituals, and I still have my luggage, perhaps I can make the next one." Winslow did not say anything in response, but the doors cars made a distinct kachunk sound that just said I was locked in. And so we traveled in silence. We left the city and made for the country, industry made way to farm fields and eventually a large barn, I did not like where this was going.
"Get out." The door was open other men in business suits were waiting around, they all had smiles like predators. Winslow grabbed the blood vase and walked behind me. I felt like a farm animal being lead to slaughter, probably because I was. When I stopped briefly before entering the barn Winslow stuck an implement into my back that was most certainly a pistol. Inside the barn were more men in suits, it looked like they came from all walks of life based on their hair, facial hair, and wrinkles, but this was just me judging.
"Mr. Winslow and guest, the last to arrive!" The lead speaker was a decrepit old woman, the rest of the people in attendance were men, just confirming the horrible ritual I had dredged up from bad memories.
"Well it was nice being here, but you know I must be going." Winslow spun me around, I realized I was in the middle of the a large circle and this is never a good place to be. I could see the pistol in his hand and heard the gunshot before I felt the impact (which is weird because bullets travel faster than the sound, but I guess up close its a bit of a chicken and the egg scenario) he shot me right above my right pectoral muscle and I hit the ground (because when you've been shot you tend to do what comes natural). I didn't die (I told you that humorous book came in handy) but I knew the best way to live here would be to fake being dead, which worked out better for me. One of the few times playing dead actually worked! Hooray! Don't try this with bears though, it does not work, TRUST ME!
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