“Slow down, Amy!” Her shout echoed in the damp basement as I fought my way further in. My heavy breathing was just barely drowned out by the careful creeping of my boots as I advanced, ready to face the next construct. 

 

Admittedly I went a little wild. How could I not? I had been worried we’d be stuck doing an annoying stealthy room-clearing in an underground lair. That seemed like it would have been absolute hell, trying not to make too much noise that’d alert the authorities. Admittedly I probably could have gotten away with my current grenade-happy approach in the less pleasant areas of Philly, but this level of explosions might have brought the cops down on us even in the worst areas. 

 

You know, if we had a little more leeway we could have gotten the Philly PD in on this. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve used an unreasonable amount of explosives on a house in the city, though it might be difficult to air-drop it on the place in an alternate dimension.  And in this case it would arguably actually be justifiable. But since we’re somehow in another world, it seems this is all just speculation. Speculation I really don’t have time for because I’m being attacked again.

 

Before I could shoot the new automaton that appeared at the doorway a blur rushed by me, knocking the clattering brass mannequin to the ground. Just to be safe I popped a round into the fallen things head.

 

“Thanks, Sandra.”

 

Realizing fast that there was no way I was going to give up the momentum we had started with, Sandra had taken a bit of time to summon what I can only assume is some sort of guardian angel. It’d been surprisingly useful, especially since I should have been saving my grenades for when they’re really needed. I should have, but I really didn’t like the thought of something I missed sneaking up behind me.

 

A dark, dank basement does tend to give off horror game vibes. Unlike that night in the woods there’s no monsters, but this is the sort of musty gloom you’d expect to find a vampire resting in. Or an immortal alchemist surrounded by arcane labware. Maybe even a witch at a cauldron. But there was nothing but automatons. Oh, and some arcane labware. Too bad it was too heavy to loo- appropriate for personal use.

 

There was still no sign of the comte de st. Germaine yet, but I was starting to suspect he was on the top floor. It’s always the topmost or bottommost floor for this sort of thing, though admittedly my experience was limited to books and tv shows. The basement, I was realizing, was a dead end, the only thing in this room being the destroyed figure and stacks of books and papers. 

 

“Quickly, grab what looks most valuable!” I ordered. As much as a clear-cut government hit job as this was in practice, we still couldn’t forget that we were nominally here to retrieve grimoires and related documents. 

 

“Finally, some that aren’t full of shrapnel holes” Liah muttered. 

 

“I like books just as much as the next-”

 

“More.” Liah corrected. 

 

“Yes, more than the next person, but it’s really not worth risking our lives over them. They’re still mostly readable”

 

“You realize you put a hole straight through a lost account of the Elusinian mysteries, right?” Sandra said, waving around a slightly perforated papyrus scroll. 

 

I winced. I hadn’t noticed that. 

 

“Wait, how’d you know what that scroll was?”

 

“I brushed up on my Koine beforehand.”

 

At times Sandra’s power level was a bit frightening. I can barely tell Alpha from Epsilon, much less learn a whole new language. Most of my Latin knowledge, thank goodness that alphabet is mostly similar to the modern one, was from guessing at cognates, and any other foreign language knowledge was picked up through an interest in history and previously working with linguists. It really says a lot about the differences in types of magic used that Sandra was learning Greek. Ceremonial magic must require a bit more book work than my more folksy witchcraft. 

 

“Well, anyways, grab what you can and let's go.” I suggest, giving one last glance over the room, dropping a few parcels in the corners to make room for presumably valuable lost manuscripts.

 

While not as hectic, we still rushed back through the dungeon-like basement, weapon lights glinting off brass instruments, copper kettles, and manacles hanging ominously from the walls. Did I say dungeon-like? I misspoke. It was set up like a literal dungeon with multiple sets of chains and manacles.  At least there weren’t many cobwebs, though the lack of rust and webs on the manacles was even more concerning. 

 

“Hold up. There’s something at the top of the stairs!” Liah warned. 

 

“Got this!” I replied. My throwing arm isn’t the best, but I could at least get a grenade up that high. 

 

WUMP

 

A clattering noise presumably followed. The thing about grenades is that they’re loud, and although the ear protection we use is noise-gated it takes a little bit of time to kick back in.  Not that I’d have enough time to listen anyways; My boots were already thumping up the rough wooden stairs.

 

As I crested the top of the stairs I felt an impact. Something glanced off a patch of air in front of me, deflecting into the wall next to the entrance way. A figure, pockmarked with shrapnel but still standing, stood with an arm pointed in my direction.

 

Naturally I wasn’t going to take that lying down. My earlier concerns about taking these things down with .300 Blackout turned out to be unwarranted, at least with the AP rounds. Three rounds was all it took to put it down.

 

“Thanks for the save, Sandra!”

 

The adrenaline from the near miss surged through my body. Or was it the adrenaline from all the explosions? Who knows, but I was wired enough that any precision shooting was out the window. Thank the Goddess everything I was shooting at was relatively close-in.

 

Normally the “bad guy” would be either in the extreme bottom or top of the hide-out, but for the sake of thoroughness I figured it’d be best to sweep through the bottom floor. It’s best to dot my eyes and cross my t’s. Don’t want our escape cut off by more baddies after all. 

 

Several handfuls of grenades later, and we were done. I’ll try to avoid boring you with the details; a few grenades, a few shots, and another ruined pile of scrap metal. Itoesn’t make for an exciting report but I’d rather go with overkill than with one of us getting injured and killed. We found a few interesting books, and I dumped a few parcels in the various corners of the house to make room for the captured grimoires. 

 I love print media as much as the next person but it’s much easier to toss a few hard drives in an assault pack than dealing with the numerous scrolls, codices and papers we were finding. Some of them were in scripts none of us could recognize which was either very promising, immensely concerning, or just a sign that we need more education. Probably the later. We are technically just a group of college students working a part-time job. 

 

“So, what next?” Sandra asked.

 

“We go up. We still haven’t seen the man himself.”

 

“Is there anything more to the plan?”

 

“Keep your helper ready, and shoot anything bad before it gets you? The time to have asked this would have been before we started raiding the house.”

 

“You barely gave us a chance!”

 

“We did do all that training. I even got some of our DHS friends to help me out with the demolitions stuff, outside of the basics we did.”

 

“Oh, you mean Jeff and Gabe? They were nice. I thought you were just meeting with them to plan the next D&D campaign.” Liah said

 

“Multitasking is important, and our next game is going to be a Delta Green campaign, ironically. They really have been helpful. They’re not bad guys, despite being witch hunters.”

 

“Shouldn’t we get going?”

 

“Of course. The Count is bound to be on the top floor, and we don’t want to keep him waiting. How’s my make-up?”

 

“Honestly the fact that we did all this in fucking cosplay is absurd. And your make-up is covered in dust and soot.”

 

“Nothing a glamor can’t fix. I really wanna get a beer after all this bullshit.” I turned to head up the stairs.

 

There was no more noise in the house, and for once I moved silently. A pair of imposing double doors were there to greet me at the top. Pulling one of my last few remaining grenades out just in case, I tried the door. Locked, but you never know. 

 

“Time for more magic.” Det cord is a magic of its own after all. Immediately after a hole was blown in the door I tossed two grenades in.

 

WUMP WUMP 

 

I rushed in after the explosions, Liah and Sandra following. I had expected to be greeted by the sight of more wrecked automatons. Part of me even hoped I would be lucky enough to have gotten the Count. What I did now expect was the site that lay before me. 

 

In the dust and smoke from the blown up door and grenades, I could see corpses. You’d think that’d be a given, after all the room had been peppered by shrapnel. But there wasn’t a single sign that the corpses had even been touched by explosions; their throats had been slit, the blood pouring out onto an ominous looking magical circle.

 

As the dust cleared, I could see them more clearly. Clad in dirty linen, covered in dirt and looking malnourished. That would explain the manacles in the basement. This fuckjob was practicing human sacrifice. Well, partially. Now that I look closer I can see several of the sacrifices have unusual features. Pointed ears, unusual hair colors, one or two with unusual, shorter-looking builds. 

 

I’m sure this’ll give me nightmares, but at the moment my self-preservation instincts were drawing me to the bigger issue of the robed figures in front of me. I raised my rifle, with brass hitting the floor as I put rounds into them. But there was no effect. As the figures approach, a pair of screams echo behind me. I whirled around. Fuck.

 

There had been two robed figures behind me, and both had knives to my companion’s throats. I guess there’s a reason you’re supposed to pie corners when clearing rooms.