The Caress of Gamaliel

The white limousine with it's white leather seats cruised through the city. The windshield wipers danced their repetitive steps back and forth, clearing the window of the heavy droplets as the car cruised through the city streets. Street lights and headlights reflected their colors on the many rain drops that dripped down the car.



The limo turned left, passed an advert displaying the latest horror flick. The Driver smiled to himself (herself?) as a pedestrian stared at their own horrific reflection in the advertisement.

"If only you knew..."the Driver said in a rich and seductive voice.



The Driver continues through the city until it pulls up to an expensive building in the business sector. Standing just outside the building under an umbrella is a man in a suit. A man of power and influence.



The limo stopped directly in front of the man, and the Driver got out of the car. The Driver is tall and dark skinned; androgynous and attractive in a slightly disturbing way. They wear a black suit and have nails to die for. A lot cigarette hangs from their mouth, and burned despite the rain dropping on it.



"Good evening, Bishop Saint-Clair," they said in a sultry voice. "I shall be your driver tonight. May I take your umbrella?"

The Driver walked around the car to open the door for the bishop. The smoke wafting from the cigarette seemed to almost hang in the air, dancing around th droplets as they fell.

"I knooowww," they continue, "You didn't order a limo. Consider it... A free upgrade. If you will. We know how important you are, Bishop Saint-Clair, and we thought a limo would be better for you."

"A limo... ", the Bishop checks his silver antique watch. The time is around 8:00, and the rain is now pouring harder. He noticed that the driver is so eager to have him enter the limo. He looks at the Driver and held something in his pocket. "How did you know my name?", the Bishop stared at the Driver intensely. "Depending on your answer, I will have to decline. It's better to be wet in the rain than to be confined into a stranger's limo."

The Bishop mumbled something, low enough to be drowned by the rain.

"Ah, Mr. Saint-Clair, suspicious as always," the driver says with their smooth voice. "I am here on behalf of Loretta. You did want to speak to her, yes? Please, enter the link and I shall take you to see her."

The Bishop eyes lit up and fixes his tie. "Ah, why didn't you say so earlier? I had to stand here, drenched and tired." He adjusted his dark green umbrella and walks near the Driver. "Do you have any beverages in here? Warm water will be fine.", he whispered.

The limousine has two rows of seats in the back, facing each other. It’s all white leather and luxury. The minibar has an impressive assortment of alcohol, as well as some snacks and an orange medicine bottle filled with an assortment of opioids and antidepressants.

Smoking is encouraged.

The door closes behind you and ty driver makes his way around the limo and back to the driver's seat.

Iggy Pop’s "The Passenger" plays softly through the sound system, just faint enough to provide background ambiance, but not loud enough to be a distraction.

Beside the contents of the mini bar there are three objects in the back of the limousine.

◊ A battery powered power drill.

◊ A high-quality black leather collar with some rhinestones on it. You think they may spell something out, but you'd have to go grab it to get a better look.

◊ A two-liter dark brown glass-vial full of a clear liquid. It is labeled "sulphuric acid 98%"

The limo lurches into motion, and the driver says, "How did the meeting go? Will the city council fund the new church?

I think you will. Especially since Morgana Masters now supports you. Morgana Masters; you know some people call her The Monster? That old Monster loves you, doesn't she, Bishop? Is it your stance against abortions that does it for her, or your piety? Or perhaps it's your strict, yet still handsome looks? What do you think?"

"That old hag still doesn't get it.", the bishop crossed his arms as he sat in one of the seats, on the right side of the limo. "It doesn't matter what her stances are and what the city council's decision is, as long as my family is... unaffected.", he looks around for a beverage, but only found a dark brown glass with a suspicious label and some alcohol. He lets out a sigh and stared at the dark window.

"I rarely spend some time with my daughter, that's why I was thinking of leaving the church behind, but the congregation will be lost in the process, so I was also pondering of giving this role to some qualified priest.", he mumbled softly.

The driver continues to speak, but it doesn't feel as if they are speaking to you anymore. Instead, they seem to be speaking to some sort of audience, as if there are other people listening in to your conversation.

"The Bishop is thinking of leaving the church! Well, won't THAT be an interesting turn of events. Perhaps it is because the bishop wants to take care of his illegitimate daughter, or maybe it's because of the blackmail.

Oh yes, the blackmail. Our dear bishop has been keeping that quiet, hasn't he? What do you suppose he will say about that? Let's find out."

And then their voice changes, and it is once again clear that the driver is speaking to you:

"We can ignore the Old Monster for now, my dear Bishop. Although it may become problematic later; weren't you supposed to attend a gala with her tonight? And instead you're here on your way to visit Loretta.

But enough about that. Let us discuss your problems, shall we? You have two problems right now, don't you Bishop?

The first is the blackmail. Someone has sent you pictures, Bishop Saint-Clair. Someone has sent some rather high definition photographs of you and your lover, Laurent. These pictures leave little to the imagination.

Oh, I know what you're going to say, and it does not matter how I know about these photos. What I find touching is just how much you care for Laurent. You love him very much, don't you, Bishop?"

The flat screen TV in the back of the limo suddenly turns on, and the high definition pictures start to appear on the screen. Pictures of you and your lover embracing each other. The photographs are taken from an angle that suggests someone was near you during your secret meetings with Laurent, or perhaps they had a camera drone nearby, silently hovering as it recorded your secret love.

The drivers voice shifts again, and once again it seems as if they're talking to someone else, to someone not in the car - to an audience:

"The blackmailer has not yet stated what he wants, but he has explained that the Bishop needs to follow his orders or the pictures will be shown to the world, 'in all their carnal ugliness.' "

And then again their voice shifts so it is clear they are speaking to you once again:

"What would Morgana the Monster say about that? She is one of those people who believes 'any such crimes against nature' should be cured with electrical shocks and 'conversion therapy.' "

The bishop reaches for his pocket and held something in his pocket tightly, maintaining his composure. "I must admit... this one is a serious conundrum.", he smiles at the photos and breathes in. "So, why should I care? That is clearly not me. In this day and age, everyone can be anyone. Although I was indeed thinking of leaving the church, I'm still Yves Saint-Claire, the Bishop of Saint Jude of Lost Causes, and I will not be deterred by this slander.", he spoke with such a commanding voice.

He proceeds to reveal a silver medal from his pocket and held it in his chest. "St. Jude, Patron of Lost Causes, I come to you in this moment of difficulty and uncertainty. I ask for your intercession and guidance as I face this blasphemy before me. Grant me strength to overcome adversity, wisdom to make the right decisions, and courage to stand true to my convictions. May your divine light illuminate my path, bringing hope and resolution to this situation. Amen.", he prayed in his head. After that, he hid the silver medal in his pocket.

"Oh Bishop," The driver says, their voice as sultry as ever, "Lying is a Cardinal Sin. You of all people should know that. You do, after all..."

And suddenly the drivers voice becomes deep and harsh, like that of rocks grinding deep underground, or like the voices emerging from the deep pits of hellish nightmares, "...know that you are a sinner."

The Driver's voice shifts, back to the audience, "Perhaps our dear Bishop has become too familiar with sin, based upon his internet search history. Shall we take a gander upon what the bishop has been searching in the late hours of the night?"

The flat screen TV stops showing the photographs of your intimate nights with Laurent, and switch over to a pornographic video of two men having graphic sex. The video is instantly familiar - it's a video you have watched in the privacy of your own home.

The two men are grunting and moaning as one thrusts into the other.

The screen them switches to a different pornographic video, again of two men engaged in hardcore gay sex. Another video you have watched.

How did they get your search history? Perhaps they hacked your computer?

This time, you can outwardly deny it, but deep down you know that they know this little dark secret of yours.

How do you react?

The bishop was clearly startled, not only because of what he's witnessing but also because he knew about those videos. He had subscribed in nearly 13 different websites that hosts gay pornographic material and supported most of the actors using the charity money he got from his followers. "What in God's name is this? This is disgusting...", he stares at the dark window for a moment. "That's it, drop me off. Right now."

"Oh, Mr. Saint-Clair, this is not a good place for us to stop," the driver says.

As you look outside, you can see they are correct; you are currently driving through one of the most dangerous parts of the city. This part of the city is practically lawless; a place where even the police fear to tread.

"Besides, we have only a few more questions to ask. Shall we move on to your second Problem?

Loretta. Loretta the Porn Producer.

You still wish to see her, yes? We shall go there soon.

You have discovered that Loretta has signed a deal with a demon of lust, known as Gamaliel. Loretta claims she has sold her soul and there are reports of strange things going on in her studios.

Do you believe in demons, bishop? Or is it bad enough that Laurent is in Loretta's crosshairs?"

The bishop takes out his silver medal, which is actually a medal of St. Jude of Lost Causes, and looks at it. "If angels exist, so too are demons."

He lied his head on the dark window and smiled, "I once met an angel while I was on my way to the cathedral. I was terrified at first, her suddenly appearing before me on the busy sidewalk. The people around me didn't seem to see her, which made me think that I was hallucinating. While I was pondering that possibility, she mentioned that she obliterated a sinner and made a huge oversight. The sinner had a daughter. Maybe it was my compassion, or just morbid curiosity, I followed her instructions. I was led into a dark alleyway, filled with drifters and beggars. There, I met my child, full of death in her eyes. The nearby beggars told me that her mother just suddenly passed away yesterday and had her corpse on a nearby landfill, which was not that far from here. Before they start begging me for money, I took her immediately and head towards a hospital to get her healed for possible injuries or diseases."

The bishop's gentle smile turned into a frown, "That's when I realized something, what was the angel's intention for leading me there in the first place? So I tried finding her again and there she was, above my resting child. She told me that this girl will become a future sinner, and I should end her now before it was too late. I tried to reason with her but it was futile, but the angel just left after that. Before leaving, she left this silver medal. Maybe it was a business card, I'm not entirely sure but..."

The bishop puts his medal back into his pocket sighs. "I believe that not all angels are benevolent, so that means not all demons are malicious. If they can be reasoned with, there might be a chance. That's why I'm heading to Loretta to hopefully persuade her into letting my daughter go. If she doesn't, I'll have to find a way to dismantle her operations, forcing my daughter to leave." He had his head turn towards the driver. "As for Laurent, I'm sure he can take care of himself and not be tempted by her."

The driver turns down another road, and as they do, they speak to the mysterious audience, "Our bishop seems to be living a life of delusions. He believes that Loretta has enthralled or captured his daughter and his lover, rather than the two of them willingly working with her. Let's turn on another show, shall we?"

The flat screen them starts showing a new pornography, Grinder Gods III. It has muscular biker types.

The driver directs his voice back to you, "You have watched this one many times, Bishop. It shows up on your search history many times. Do you watch it simply because you enjoy it, or did you search it out because it was Laurent who filmed it?

Laurent is masterful here. He is good. Almost so good it doesn’t seem like staged porn anymore. 'Art must challenge our perceptions,' as Laurent likes to say."

Just at that moment, your cell phone rings. It's Morgana Masters. You were supposed to go with her to the reception tonight. You'll have to navigate this conversation carefully if you wish to keep yourself in your good graces. How will you explain why you left her? How will you convince her that you'll still be at the reception time (in about an hour from now)?

Or do you just let it ring?

Gringer Gods III continues to play in the background, and there's no buttons on the screen to turn it off or turn it down.

The bishop ignored the driver's comment and immediately answered the phone. He stares and gestures at the driver, telling them to shut up. "Hello Morgana, are you still there?", the bishop said in a suave tone. Morgana's voice can be heard audibly, mentioning that he should've been at the reception two hours earlier. He was flabbergasted at her response, "The reception isn't even starting yet, are you that excited? Nevermind that, how about I'll let you have me for tonight after the reception and we can discuss this further." Her voice can't be heard now, probably whispering to him. "Yes, I'll explain the details later, just forgive me this time." Morgana hangs up the call.

The bishop turns to the driver, "If you keep giving me these questions, I'll give you a low rating if I can. Just keep driving." He then picks up a brown vial and inspects it, "How is this even a beverage? Well, better to keep that in mind.". He returns it to its place.

As you talk on the phone with the far right Christian extremist that Morgana Masters is, the volume of the porn increases, and the sounds of moaning men reverberate through the call.

You end the call quickly, before she has a chance to say anything.

The program on the flat screen them changes to a heterosexual pornography, with a man and a woman fornicating - her moans growing in intensity.

You recognize the woman.

It is your daughter.

"Here is another film that our dear Bishop has watched before. This one has only shown up on his search history. Once."

The driver turns their attention back to you, and says, "She is one of the top erotic actresses right now, and she’s thrown her lot in with Loretta. One hot little thing, don’t you think?"

Before giving the bishop the chance to answer, the television:s volume drops down to the point where it's barely audible, an undercurrent of pornographic aounds below the noises of the vehicle as it drives along the roads.

"It's ok, bishop, you do not have to answer. Instead, I have another question for you. If you could kill anyone, anyone in the world, who would it be?"

The bishop stared at the driver intensely and sighs, "Take a long guess.". He then turns to look at the dark window and counts the amount of streetlights that were moving in past him, irritated by this conversation and trying to distract himself.

The driver chuckles at the bishop's comment, "Ha ha ha. Yes, of course you might want me to die. But I'm surprised, Bishop, that you'd let a moment of anger override your senses. Are there not other worthy targets of your ire? What about Loretta? Without her, surely your daughter would be free of her contract and obligations to the porn studio.

Or what of the blackmailer? That one who so subverts and reduces your pure love of Lauret into carnal ugliness."

You are suddenly reminded of the three objects in the back of the car. You had handled the bottle of sulfuric acid, but what if the drill? That could easily be used as a weapon.

But before your thoughts drift into violence, the driver speaks again:

"What about these two coming up?" they say. "Let’s say the car loses control. Should I aim for the woman with the stroller, or the drunk in the gutter? These heavy limos are harder to control than people think."

Out the windshield, you can see two people that could, theoretically, be hit by the limousine were it to lose control. One is a woman, a young mother touching a baby in a stroller. The other is a middle aged man sitting in the gutter, obviously drunk as he takes another swig from a bottle in a brown bag.

Suddenly, it seems as if time slows down; your perception of the world almost feels like it comes to a pause, as if waiting for your decision.

As you are forced to make a choice, the driver let's go of the wheel and the limousine starts to drift towards the pedestrians.

The bishop closes his eyes, "If I would pick one, I would choose neither of them and just let the Saint carry out her judgement for me as I crash into some wall." He then smiled, "But I'm not currently the one behind the wheel, so my choice really doesn't matter."

He then rests his head on the dark window and clenches the silver medal inside his pocket. "Dear Saint of Lost Causes, in this moment of turmoil, I humbly ask for your holy judgement soon. May your light shine upon me and guide me through the result of this predicament. Amen."

As he sat there, trapped in frozen state, he felt a heavy weight pressing upon him. The gravity of the situation was palpable, and he knew he had to make a decision that would shape their lives, and perhaps even their futures, because the driver forced him to. The urgency of the repeated words echoing in his mind only intensified the pressure. Even though all of their lives should be spared, in this hopeless situation, he chose the child, not the woman specifically.

The bishop rose up in his seat and walked towards the front, staring at the stroller. "All adults have a responsibility to protect the young. If you can at least avoid the stroller, do that, no matter if you hit the woman or the man."

By the sidewalk stands a pretty, young woman. Wearing a little black dress and a fancy cardigan. Her immensely high heels make her look way taller than her actual 5'2". She eyes the limo arriving in the distance and smiles as it stops to let her in.

At least the taxi company knows who they are dealing with. she thinks to herself with a happy smile. Quite the fancy limo. While she had just ordered for a taxi. She approaches it slowly. Looking around, to see if they are any bystanders noticing her and the fancy car. Great stuff!

And then she enters it, ready to sit down when she realizes that she is not alone in the limo.

"Dad!" she says in a first moment of first shock.
And then instantly recovers herself. She voice changes from shocked to sweet.
"Daddy! Hi!" she approaches him for a kiss on the cheek, but it's actually one of those where you kiss the empty air besides the cheek.
"What brings you here? This is the taxi isn't it?"

Keep it Together. With a +2, this is a pass with consequences.

Player has chosen: Angry (-1 Stability)

Note: I will be making the next post for the Bishop, as the player is currently not in an area with good reception and cannot load the website.

After that situation unfolded, the driver's words just went over his head. His mind was filled with unfiltered rage and just boiled up inside. After that, he just went blank because no matter what he said, he killed someone. He knew that after he completes his mission and retire as a bishop, he must find the driver and do what he must to prevent more victims. For now, he can just stare at the driver, dumbfounded.


After Sanora enters the vehicle:

He smiles painfully at her and stares intensely at the driver. "What is the meaning of this? You actually dared to...", he then turns to his daughter. The bishop gripped her shoulders tightly and was clearly furious. "And you... Why did you enter? Didn't I tell you to not enter any suspicious vehicles!", he then sighs and drops his head. "I'm sorry, my angel... I really am... Don't worry, daddy will protect you, no matter what it takes."

Sanora smiles "Come on, daddy. This is not a sus vehicle. You're in it too, and I did order a cab. The guys at the taxi company knows what kind of ride a girl needs. But why are you here? It is quite a coincidence."

She looks curiously at the objects at the minibar for a moment.
"What's up with those things?" she asks.
But then her attention immediatelly shifts to the minibar itself.
"May I?" she asks to the driver, but before she has an answer she has already opened it for some alcoholic beverage.

"Please help yourself. There are also some prerolled cigarettes and joints. Please, help yourself." Their voice is smooth and sultry, a voice you're intimately familiar with in your line of work, Sanora.

As you converse, the vehicle leaves the neighborhood and heads out onto the streets once more. Outside, the rain continues to pour.

"Welcome to The Ride, Sanora. Please excuse your father, we have had quite the conversation, and he is a bit shaken from it. Secrets have been tumbling out. Would you care to join in? You love secrets, juicy little secrets, don't you Sanora? Or should we call you Anette Saint-Clair?

"Tell us, is your real name something you've intentionally kept hidden to protect your father, or did it just naturally switch once you made the decision to sign on with Loretta?"

The driver's voice then shifts, as if he's no longer talking to you, but instead to someone else listening in - almost as if there was an audience. "Yes, Sanora has made a deal with Loretta for six films! Six! She certainly is eager, isn't she?

Loretta is known for making films that transcend traditional pornography. She wants them to showcase a whole new genre of adult films - she wants them to feel as real and alive as possible, as if the viewer could completely believe that such a situation could happen naturally. No scripts, just pure emotional connections."

Their voice then shifts back, talking to you again, "Tell us, Sanora, is that real-ness the reason why you made a deal with Loretta?

Or did you give her a lock of your hair because she promised to handle your stalker? Oh yes, we know about that lock of hair. How Loretta joked and said it was a token of your submission."

"Bishop? What do you think? Do you happen to have some juicy and secret knowledge on Loretta?"

"Oh no thank you" Sarona says. "Drinks are cool, but I don't smoke. Terrible for the bright white shiny teeth."
She rejects the cigarettes and joints, but does take the drink.

"My name it's just because to protect my privacy..." Sarona starts to answer but then lowers her drink and frowns. "Wait a moment. You do know an awefully lot about me, don't you? How is that so?" she demands, feeling freaked out a bit now. Is that insufferable stalked behind the wheel? If so, she could be in trouble, a lot of it.

But she feels the need to defend herself anyway.

"Six movies. Yeah. So what? It's good money you know. And it's fun... and what lock... wait... that lock... I already forgot. It doesn't really mean anything now, does it?"

She had just given it. If her new manager wanted a lock of her hair? Sure. It was a weird request, but why deny it? She had never thought much about it.

She shakes her head. Already greatly annoyed with this driver. Is it the stalker or...

"Daddy?" she asks, trying to not sound suspicious about him. "Was he like this to you to?" she asks, but she actually tries to figure out if her dad might be pulling some kind of intervention on her right now.

(Copied from Discord)

The bishop already fed up to all of this, just stared at her dejected. "Oh, it's... If I can describe it, I wouldn't be able to."

He rested his head on the window and said, "Ever since I entered, I would rather go to that hag's side than this.". He checked his watch. "I can't believe it's been almost an hour of this... nightmare. Just try your best to dismiss the driver's questions, if you can that is..." He stares at the driver intensely.

He facepalms, "It doesn't matter now, I just hope it'll end with no more casualties."

"Oh, the stalker," the driver says, as if reading your mind. "Yes, let's talk about that stalker, shall we? There’s a stalker, didn’t the Bishop know? You two must talk a bit more often."

"The two of you should discussion what the stalker has done to Sanora.

Do you remember, Sanora? Bishop, the stalker sent her a jar full of semen. It was labeled 'I have so much love for you.'

How did that make you feel, Sanora? What did you do with it?"

"Casualties, daddy?" Sanora says. Her eyes are wide open in shock for a moment. "Surely, that is a figurative speech, isn't it?"

She is a annoyed at the mentioning of her stalker at first, but when the jar is mentioned again she is grossed out. Her face twists at the thought of that horrid memory.

"Disgusting. Why do you bring it.... hey! Wait a moment!" she sits up straight and on edge. "How do you know about this? You are him, aren't you? Pull over and let us out right now!" she demands. "And just know that your so called gift was thrown in the trashbin within the minute!"

"Ha ha ha!" The Driver laughs softly, yet genuinely. "She thinks I am the stalker!"

"No, my dear, I am not your stalker. I am just a driver, employed by... But that does not matter just now. We can speak on that later.

For now, we have another question for you. As you know, there were two more items your stalker gave you.

The second item, or items I should say, was a collection of photographs. Photos of your luggage in a hotel room; of going through your personal items. Photos of you in the hotel shower.

And it came with a note, did it not? It read, 'being near you this way thrills me to my core.'

Tell us how this made you feel, Sanora? Did it make you feel secure, knowing someone out there loves you this much? So you think your stalker loves you more, or less, than your 'daddy'?"

Sarona leans backwards in her seat and crosses her arm defiantly.
"Who ever is doing this is a freak. He doesn't love me," she says without really answering about daddy's love. "He can watch my movies all he likes, but besides that - leave me alone. I am still figuring out how they have been able to make those pictures. Or rather, my lawyer is."

For a moment she is silent.

"What I am more worried about is how you know about all this? You're asking questions but barely answering any. Who are you? What do you want?"

The Driver's voice seems to shift, as if he is no longer speaking to you, but rather to someone else - to someone not in the car. To someone listening in.

"She wants to know who I am, but unfortunately that is not an answer I am permitted to give. Fortunately, she has been a good sport so far, so we shall continue the line of questioning rather than drive this vehicle off of a cliff, killing us all.

Our final question about the stalker concerns his third gift to Sanora. He sent her a dash-cam shot of Sanora walking home. She was very dressed down and obviously trying to avoid public attention. Off-camera, the stalker goes on about abducting her and breaking her to make her prettier. That's a very important line - break her to make he prettier. We shall remember this, for it will come up again."

His voice shifts back, and he speaks once again to you, "Sanora, these are the three gifts you have received from your stalker. Tell me, how would you rate them and compare them? Which is the best and which is the worst?"

"You are even worse than the stalker..." Sarona says annoyed. "Yeah. I know about the pictures he has made. No need to remind me about those, thank you very much. It's horrid... In fact, they are worse than that disgusting jar he send me. Any creep can fill up a jar, but to make the pictures he'd actually have to be close." she shivers at the thought of it.

"Yes, good. See? I knew you could do it. Just open up. Think of me as your therapist, and open up all your feelings and emotions," the Driver says, smoothly.

"Now that we're all opening up here, tell me - if there was anyone, anyone in the world who you would like to have killed, who would it be? Would it be your stalker? Remember what he said?

'True love must challenge our perception of love.' "

"I am paying my actual therapist 200 dollars each hour. And now I finally start to understand why! She's doing a way better job than you do!" Sarona says. Her defiant position back in her chair has changed. She is sitting more on the edge of the chair now, quite fuming.

"You want to know my list of people I'd rather see gone in my life? Really. You are getting quite high on the list, you know. But yeah, I think you are in second place. After our stalker friend."

"Oh! This is so much fun! It almost challenges my perception of fun! Ha ha!

Yes, your father said quite a similar thing regarding me. Isn't it exhilarating knowing a priest would want someone to be killed? It's like a forbidden passion. Priests are not supposed to have forbidden passions, are they not?

I have but one more question for you, Sanora. You see those two men over there? The one with the grey suit and the one with the pinstripe suit. Regular Joes. Suppose I lost control over this heavy car. It might just happen since I’m distracted. Which one should I run over?"

And then, almost as if time itself comes to a pause, everything around you seems to freeze in place - or at least move to incredibly slow motion. Your father is frozen in place looking at you with a bit of apprehension and fear, as if he knew what was about to happen. The water droplet from the condensation on the outside of your glass drops ever so slowly, barely moving a millimeter in the very long seconds that have been stretched out before you.

You must make a decision. Who shall die? The man in the Grey Suit or the man in the Pinstripe Suit?

Sarona looks at the two men. Really... there isn't much to tell about them, she'd guess. Just their suits. And it's not like she'd really care all that much. She doesn't know these guys.

"Really? What sick game is this? I'd rather have you keep the car -with us in it I might add!- under control, thank you very much," Sarona says. "Sure, pinstripes are so out of fashion right now, so if that is all I would have to go by... sure... but I'd rather have you drive safely."

The limousine veers towards the Man in the Pinstripe Suit. His head shatters against the windshield.

The windshield seems unaffected by the trauma, despite the heavy "Thud" of the body and the blood that pours out and smeers across the window as it slides off the side of the car.

Time returns to normal.

Almost casually, the driver turns on the windshield wipers and spreads the blood back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, as it's slowly washed away by the rain.

(Let's have you make a Keep It Together roll, please).

Sarona looks in shock as the car is about to hit the guy and...

"Oh, that was a bloody one, wasn't it?" The Driver says with amusement in their voice.

"You know, I wish I could tell you that it mattered which one of the men that got run over, but no. They were both pretty normal people. Took care of their families, respected by their friends. Pinstripe’s favorite Sanora Black film was the 'XXX Game of Thrones' thing. Grey suit had no favorite as long as Sanora got it long and hard. Carnal ugliness and all that. In the grand scheme of things, the universe could not care less about them. Your 'Daddy' was not so fortunate."

You avert your gaze and look out the window. You're in a rundown inner-city area. Almost every house is abandoned or boarded up. Corner shops have metal grates on the windows. Strange things lie in the gutter. This is not a good neighborhood. This is the kind of neighborhood where if you stopped now, the car would get jacked.

The limousine comes to a stop regardless. Standing on the sidewalk is a gentleman with a camera bag slung across one shoulder.

Sanora vaguely recognizes him, and then it slowly dawns on her that this is one of the photographers that has worked several of her films with Loretta.

The Bishop also recognizes him - for it's Laurent, his own lover.

(Laurent, please introduce yourself, describe your character, and explain why you're entering this limousine when you had ordered a taxi. Remember, this is a bad and dangerous neighborhood).

Laurent is standing in the rain without an umbrella, nothing but his jacket and hood protecting him from getting too drenched. He keeps glancing at his phone, impatient for the taxi he ordered to finally get here and pick him up. To get out of this neighborhood. When a limousine stops in front of him instead, it gives him pause. He had ordered just a taxi, right? He makes eye contact with the driver, ignoring the... dirt? He doesn't want to think about it... that's smeared on the windshield, and points at himself, silently asking whether it really is here for him. When the driver confirms, Laurent decides to just accept it. Maybe it will fuck over his bank account later, but it's still better than waking up in a side alley without his kidney if he waits here any longer.

Laurent pulls open the side door and is just about to enter when his eyes land on a familiar face. He licks his lips. "Sanora? Did you upgrade me to a limo? Did you organize this for us?" Laurent is an attractive man, tall, broad-shouldered, masculine, with a slightly rugged appearance. He removes his hood as he climbs in and spots the second figure in the back, which gives him pause, his expression tinged with confusion. "Yves? What's going on here?" Despite his confusion, he settles into the seat right next to Sanora, though he then stays silent, waiting for some explanation as he looks back and forth between his two fellow passengers.

Yeah.... XXX Game of Thrones was fun... but... Sarona sat there being cool. It wasn't her fault the pinstripe suit got hit. It was the idiot of a driver, and she would happily testify against them if needed.

Her cool vanished a bit as the door opened and Laurent entered the limo.
"Oh, Laurent, hey," she says with a bit less cool, and sounding slightly aggresive. "I didn't organize it, and certainly not for you... Laurent, please meet my dad..." Then, as Laurent call her dad Yves, she looks confused for a moment. "Wait, you two know each other?"

"Your... dad?" Laurent asks. The words sound sour like they don't sit well with the photographer. With his eyes on the bishop, he asks, "How come you never mentioned that, Yves?"
He then leans over Sanora to get to the bar, his leg pressing against hers more than strictly necessary to reach it. He pours himself a glass of whiskey, his eyes briefly wandering over the stranger items on top of the minibar, in particular the collar, before he straightens up again. Somehow, in that movement, his hand ends up brushing Sanora's thigh as he takes a sip from his drink. "So, what's this all about then?"

"I think you've stepped into Hell's limo," Sarona says. Looking at Laurent disgusted at the hand touches her leg. She repositions herself on the couch to create some more distance. "The driver is insane, and a muderer... And hell just got quite a bit worse." she glares at Laurent for a brief moment.

He turned to his lover first, a pained look on his face mixed with a scowl of surprise. "Laurent," he said. "What is this about?" He left the rhetorical question hang. He tries his best to uphold the facade or respectability, and yet the proximity between the two of them makes it crumble all too soon.
Jealousy? For whom?
"This is my daughter. I did not mention her because... it felt unnecessary." He said while staring at the girl, surprised by her reaction "Laurent is a... friend, a close one at that"
"I apologize for not telling you both sooner", he says, his shoulders sagging.

"Unnecessary or shameful, your Excellency?" Laurent asks in a voice that is on the surface teasing but carries some deeper weight behind it. He doesn't add on to the rhetorical question, but the implication hangs in the air, invoked by the use of the title. Don't you have vows to keep?

He then turns, appreciating Sanora's beautiful face in profile as she does not meet his eyes. "Well, as they say, like father, like daughter," he comments with an amused smile.

"Unrequired", he says with the finality of a tombstone. He loved Laurent, but sometimes he wished he could carve out that unnerving smile out of his face... with a knife.
He shuffles in his seat.

The Driver pulls away from the poverty-stricken and crime-ridden neighborhood and back into the flow of traffic. Rain continues to fall, though more gently. The lights of other cars shines through the windshield, though the side windows make it so you can see outside even though it's fairly well lit in the passenger compartment. It's as if the limousine refuses to be beholden to physics of light. Not that anyone would care.

The driver begins to speak, but he's not speaking to any of you. Instead, it seems as if he's talking to an audience listening in, "We welcome Laurent to The Ride. Previously on The Ride, we were discussing the deep dark secrets of The Bishop, Yves Saint-Clair, and his daughter, Anette Saint-Clair - or should I say the pornography actress Sanora Black.

Despite the questions of introduction, Bishop Saint-Clair has not properly introduced Laurent to Sanora. Yves has not yet explained to Sanora that he and Laurent are in love with each other, how they have spent several passionate nights together. One thing is clear, however, it was Laurent who came on to the Bishop."

The Driver's voice then shifts again, and it's obvious that he is once again talking to you. "Tell us, Bishop, did you feel lucky to have been singled out by someone so young and handsome?

And Laurent, what was it about the Bishop that attracted you? Was it his older, yet handsome looks? Or was it that he is a priest? You have a history with priests, do you not? Making them fall in love with you, and then breaking them. Did you break them to make them prettier, or just to get revenge?"

Laurent tears his eyes off the beautiful young woman next to him when the driver begins speaking. He listens to their strange voice and the more they say, the more his face hardens. Once they fall silent, expecting answers to their outrageous, deep-digging questions, he forces out a laugh. "What is this?" he asks, desperately trying to sound like this is all a joke. "Some kind of reality TV show? Confession Cab? Where's the hidden camera, man? Lady?" He runs a hand through his wet hair, glaring at the driver. Anger replaces false amusement as Laurent snarls, "Well, some things are taking it too fucking far for television, understood?"

"Ha ha!" The Driver laughs jovially. "No, you needn't worry about hidden cameras. Think of me instead as a therapist; I'll help you reveal your thrashed backsides and bring out those hidden truths you so desperately wish to keep buried. Isn't that right, Bishop?"

"Tell us, Laurent, does Mr. Saint-Clair know your history with priests? Does he know that he's not the first priest you've been with? That you have lured others into your clutches before, only to reveal their hypocrisy to the Church and force them to become excommunicated? Tell us Laurent, what is it that drives you to such actions? Did the priest who molested you as a child instill such hatred towards them? Or did it drive you to lust after them, and only afterwards did you hate yourself for it?"

The flat screen television turns on, with pictures of Yves and Laurent naked in bed, making passionate love. High definition pictures, from an angle that seems impossible for a person to take.

"Did you take these pictures, Laurent? Was it with your drone, capturing the images in high definition? Was it just like the other priests you've fucked before driving them out of their careers?"

"And tell us, Laurent, do the drugs help you forget, or do they make it all that much better?"

The Bishop has known Laurent for a while now, even though the driver's words might be making him question right now whether he ever actually knew the attractive younger man. But in the times they had spent together, between passionate lovemaking and gentle kisses, Yves has never seen Laurent cry. And yet, as the driver talks about Laurent's childhood, about the molestation he suffered as a boy, tears rise in the tall man's eyes, tears that don't fall down his cheeks just yet. "Fuck you," he curses at the mysterious person behind the wheel. "What the hell is wrong with you, thinking I have, what? Some kind of fetish of reliving what that monster did to me?"

His words sound certain, maybe certain enough to have been rehearsed, or repeated at his own face in the mirror night after night when the shame of his actions came to haunt Laurent, but in the back of his mind, a small voice keeps repeating the driver's accusation. You liked it. You liked what he did to you and you've been chasing that same thrill ever since!
It doesn't feel true, but Laurent also can't refute the accusation entirely, not even to himself.

He doesn't respond to what the driver is saying about Laurent's previous affairs. Or the way they ended. But he does watch Yves for his reaction.

When the driver points out the drugs, Laurent's eyes involuntarily dart to the bottle of opioids he had successfully ignored earlier. "I don't take that shit anymore," is his only response on that topic.

He felt his gorge rise, fiery anger build in his stream. At the same time, was the driver speaking the truth. Had Laurent been abused?
His gaze remains on Laurent, he wants to say something... but he blurts something else altogether.
"You're the one sending me these photos, aren't you?", he's ashamed. Annette is here, but at the same time, he must know.

Sarona's mouth drops open in shock, but she remains silent for a moment.
Wait. Really? She is just too flabbergasted to say anything at the moment.

But as the driver continues their speech, Sarona's jaw clenches and she glares at Laurent, even worse than before.
Surely... the driver might be a dangerous and homicidal freak, but Sarona has discovered one thing about them yet. They knew stuff. How? No idea... but this was some kind of weird, weird set up...
Sarona snaps back to reality, having heard these two men argue for a moment.
"What photo's are you talking about, Daddy?" she asks, already fearing the worst.

Laurent turns to the screen, watching as it cycles through the pictures. He licks his lips again. "I took those pictures," he admits, nodding at the scene of Yves on top of him, inside of him, as Laurent's head is turned for a passionate kiss. "But I haven't used them. Haven't decided if I will. I definitely didn't send them to you. Someone did?" His eyes meet the bishop's. "I've never done anything to hurt you, Yves."

Sarona looks at the screen which displays the pictures. Her eyes go big in amazement.
Surely that's a thing she didn't know about dad yet.

The iron itself incites deeds of violence.
Why take those shots if he didn't mean to use them? For someone as pragmatic as he is, Laurent's answers left a lot open.
He stares in horror as both his secret is being revealed.

His jaw is shut, the veins engorged with blood as the image he's always been trying to project is exposed for its hypocrisy. "What are you trying to do?", he demands of the chauffer, "Just, who are you?"

"Me?" The Driver asks with mock innocence, "Why, you don't have to worry about me. But if it makes you feel better, I work for the same entity that Loretta works for." You can hear the smile in his voice as he says it, as if he's hunting at something one of you may know.

"But enough about that; I have some questions for Laurent. Laurent, my dear, can you tell me if you also gave up something to Loretta? Did you have to give her a lock of your hair like Sanora did, or perhaps she made you kiss something ugly and bitter tasting?"

"So it was Loretta who sent you to fetch us," Laurent says to the driver. "That explains sweet Sanora and me, but Yves?" He raises an eyebrow as he turns to his lover. "Don't tell me you're working for her as well. I know your whole profession is depraved and perverted, but I wouldn't have expected that. Maybe from some of the others, but not from you."

He then turns his attention back to the driver. "Come on, if you want to impress me, you need to do better than that. You already told us you work for Loretta. It's not a miracle that you would know what she told me to do." He's playing it cool but the memory still makes Laurent gag. Going down on all fours in front of the porn queen to kiss her boots as proof of loyalty hadn't been an expected demand but it had seemed like no big deal, compared to the contract Laurent would score in exchange. At least until he had tasted them. He still prays to the god he doesn't believe in that he would never have to find out what he had tasted on those boots. But rather than show those feelings, he makes himself laugh. "Come on, ask me something else. Something less obvious."

The Driver laughs, "Ha ha ha! Finally someone is getting into the spirit of things, and not acting like cowering little kittens."

The limousine turns into another street, and expensive houses pass by. "But to answer your question, yes, we are headed to Loretta's party. Each of you has a desire to see her, do you not? And speaking of Loretta, tell me my beautiful Laurent, do you believe in Loretta's goal of making porn so good that it is no longer porn? Porn so good that is is art? Can porn be art? Can art be porn?

Can porn challenge our perception of art?"

"Porn so good that it is no longer porn?" Laurent repeats. "You're acting like there's something wrong with porn. Might be you're in the wrong business." His hand runs over Sanora's thigh again and comes to rest near her knee. "I know porn can be art. I know I have created art for Loretta. Art, but not yet perfection." He licks his lips. "But I'm not done yet." He lets his eyes flicker to the screen, to the photos of him and Yves. They're beautiful, real in a way that his art isn't. But they're also mundane. A newspaper photo of a burning house compared to the Great Fire of London that is his real art. "But once I deliver my magnum opus, I'll make sure Loretta sends you a copy."

His fists curl up into balls, knuckles turning white as the medal in his hand leaves a mark. "My interest is to keep my daughter from doing any more stupid things", at the mention of porn as a form of art, he sneers.

"That is what we like to hear, Laurent," the driver says, and you can almost hear the smile in their voice.

The flat screen switches over to an opinion article on an entertainment news website. The article is instantly recognizable by Laurent - it's his own article that he wrote recently.

"This is a piece I particularly enjoyed, Laurent. It speaks of challenging our perceptions, and of destructive forces in art. It speaks of how things must be broken in order to be beautiful.

Sanora, my dear? How do you feel about that? Do those words seem familiar to you? Didn't your stalker also tell you that you must be broken in order to be made more beautiful? Do you think he wrote that before or after this article was published? Difficult to tell, is it not?"

"Excuse me daddy. I am not doing anything stupid at all. It's fun, but most of all, it's good money. Which I kinda need, since... well..."

Porn? Art? Who cared? As long as the movies paid for her living the easy way, she was happy enough to do them. Switch off emotion and feeling for an afternoon. Wasn't that like any job? Really, what was the difference compared to the lady at the clothing store, just lying everytime "no, madam, that dress doesn't make you look fat at all"?

Then the article flips up. Sarona reads the words. She recalls that the driver had mentioned them a few times earlier, also in connection to Laurent.

"Great..." she eyes Laurent again. "What's your deal really? All that screwing around with my dad, how did you even have enough left to fill up that jar?"

Laurent sighs at the driver's words. "Stalker is such a negative word," he says. "So derogatory. You don't call the man who goes into a museum every day to look at a specific painting a stalker. You call him an admirer." His hand is still on Sanora's thigh as he speaks. "Maybe a lover."

The actress' question makes him chuckle, though he doesn't actually answer it. "You liked my gift? I wonder what you did with it. Did you drink it?"

"Ah, yes, the jar of semen. Was that supposed to represent the same Carnal Ugliness as written in the article, Laurent? Did going through her clothing challenge the notion of nearness?

Speaking of nearness, suppose this limousine became too near one of these pedestrians. Say, the handsome older black man in a suit or the girl in a cheerleader’s outfit. Suppose this limousine challenged their notions of aliveness. Who should it challenge, Laurent? Who should it challenge?"

Then, almost beyond comprehension, everything seems to stand still in time, as the universe awaits for Laurent's answer.

Laurent turns to get a good look at the two people the driver is talking about. "What's going on?" he tries to ask as he realizes the strange stop in the flow of time, but he can't get the words out in this state. In the frozen movement of the world, he quickly realizes that this is more than just a hypothetical. That this might be a real decision he has to make, so his eyes take a long time to inspect the two potential victims of the car. He licks his lips as an idea plays in his head. The limousine colliding with the body of the young girl, breaking bones, smashing cartilage, moving on uncaringly and leaving her behind, broken but alive. Transformed. "You know my answer," he then says.

Time lurches forward again, almost leaving butterflies in Laurent's stomach as the limousine hits the young woman. Her body breaks with an audible crack that reverberates through the vehicle.

(Let's have a Keep it Together roll for Laurent, plus anyone else who feels it's appropriate).

"Ha ha ha!" The driver exclaims with honest joy, "That was so much fun it almost challenged my perception of fun!

"What an excellent choice, Laurent! She was a struggling single mom who worked three jobs and several side hustles to keep her kids fed and in school. The older man is wanted for things he did in the Rwandan Civil war, as well as sacrifices to Gamaliel and other horrible things."

The response to Laurent's words comes quickly and in the form of a loud cracking sound and a shake of the vehicle. Laurent licks his lips again. He turns to look back and tries to get a look at the woman's body. "If she needs money, maybe Loretta can employ her after this," he suggests, still hoping she survived the crash. "I would love to get a chance to work with her."

"Silence, you have no idea what you're talking about", he interrupts his child, "we taught you better than to be whore yourself for money".
He looks at Laurent, affection slowly turning into something else, something darker, but there's a name he catches upon. He silently mumurs a prayer, both for himself and the woman they just trampled, but a name interrupts his thoughts.
"Gamaliel? Who's that"

"Money?" Sarona says, frowning at her dad. "Maybe if you'd just give me the money which is actually mine, I wouldn't have to take jobs likes these..."

Then she looks at the car heading to the cheerleader...

"Holy shit! Stop it! You freak!" she yells that the driver in panic. "What did all these people ever do to you!?"

"Now we shall enter the part of the trip where you shall ask questions of me," The Driver announces.

The limousine turns again and you find yourself driving through some sprawling southeast Asian city. The traffic swerves violently, and the Driver slams on the horn. Faces press against the windows, trying to look into the car. "Driving must challenge our perception of driving." The Driver laughs.

"Gamaliel? Who's that" Yves inquires.

"Oh, I think you know who Gamaliel is, Yves. Why don't you explain that- The Driver starts, but their answer is interrupted by something banging loudly from the trunk.

THUMP. BANG. THUMP.

"Shut up back there!" The Driver yells, anger clear in their voice.

"What did all these people ever do to you!?" Sanora screams.

"These people did not do anyth-" And again the driver is interrupted by something banging against the inside of the trunk.

BANG. THUMP. BANG.

"I SAID SHUT UP! The Driver screams.

"I'm sorry. He just gets so anxious sometimes. Are there any more questions?" The Driver says sweetly.

"Well," Laurent laughs. "One question should be fairly obvious. Who the fuck is that back there in the trunk?" He looks between his two fellow passengers, trying to come up with someone who might be connected to all of them - aside from Loretta - but he comes up empty. Then again, before he got into this car, he didn't even know his two lovers were father and daughter, so clearly, there are many things he does not know about them. "Also, what's in your pants? Not that I mind either way, but I just like to know. And I think we're past the point of politeness."

Sarona just sits, looking through the read window, in shock at the remains of the cheerleader as they fade from view with the car moving on.

"What games are you playing, driver? What do you want from all of us?" she tries to demand, but squeeks a bit as she sits up straight again.

He briefly turns back, startled by the loud noise, he whispers something, his fingers tight against the figurine. "Figure you wouldn't be against adding kidnapping on top of the murders", he looks at his daughter, then he speaks to the driver again.
"Gamaliel", he spat the name, "is the name of some historical demon. Loretta's patron from the looks of it"

"What games are you playing, driver? What do you want from all of us?" Sanora asks.

The Driver speaks to the audience, "She wants to know what we want from her, as if she doesn't already know in the flayed depths of her heart, in those twisted caverns of her morals. Should we tell her? Yes, I think we -"

THUMP! BANG! THUMP!

"STOP INTERRUPTING! YOU'LL GET YOUR TURN!"

"One question should be fairly obvious. Who the fuck is that back there in the trunk?" demands Laurent.

"Oh! That's just the Rage Thing. Fret not, my dear Photographer, you shall meet him. But not yet. Not yet."

"Also, what's in your pants? Not that I mind either way, but I just like to know. And I think we're past the point of politeness."

"Ha ha ha ha!" The Driver laughs, "Finally an interesting question! We are on our way to Loretta's villa. Shall we meet in private there? I can show you all sorts of -"

BANG! THUMP!

"IF YOU DONT SHUT UP, I'LL HAVE YOUR SKIN PEELED FROM YOUR FLESH!"

Finally the thumping and banging from the trunk stops, and the sounds of the limousine return to normal.

"As I was saying, we are on our way to Loretta's mountain villa. Sanora, you remember that place, do you not? The mansion in the mountains? I believe it was where 'Horny Home Invasion' was shot. Loretta invited you all in for the weekend and it turned into a movie."

"I think the erotic thriller genre ought to have died after Basic Instinct, but still. Porn to challenge the notion of porn and all that. Was it then that Loretta asked for that lock of hair?"

"I cannot believe you willingly gave her your hair. That shows an amazing lack of survival skills. A bit like your father, no?"

The limousine leaves the city and begins to drive up a curvy mountain road - a road familiar to both Laurent and Sanora.

"And Laurent? You were also involved in 'Horny Home Invasion,' right? You’ve been up to the mansion a lot, right? Loretta sure knows how to party. I’ve seen your pictures from up there."

"And the Bishop sure has read all about it. His search history suggests an almost unhealthy interest in Loretta’s parties."

"Sanora, can you guess which one of these two that has watched your parts in 'Horny Home Invasion' the most times? And how many times?"

They pause for Sanora's answer.

Even as the driver's comment about meeting at the villa is interrupted, it lingers in Laurent's mind for a moment longer. It is an intriguing proposal, though part of him tells him that this person might be a bit much even for him. He licks his lips and puts the thought off for the moment as the driver brings the topic around to 'Horny Home Invasion'. He thinks back to the film. It's an earlier work of his and not one of his best, intriguing as the premise of it was. He's certain he could do a much better job with it now.

Horney Home Invasion. Sarona remembered it. It was her big breakthrough, some said.
The mansion surely was a thing. Way better than some of the other sites she had worked at.

But it wasn't really her concern yet. The idea that her dad had been watching HHI made her spine shiver.
She had always considered the possibility that people she knew would see her movies, and she never really cared much about that.
But dad... that was a different thing. She'd never expected the Bishop to watch porn. Then again, she never expected him going all wild with Laurent either.

Still... Dad was dad and Laurent was a freaky stalker.
"Laurent for sure," Sarona answered. "And... I don't know? 10 times?"

"I'm just trying to see what has may daughter gotten into", the bishop remarks, lying to himself.

Laurent raises an eyebrow at Yves' words. Somehow, he doesn't sound quite convincing, which intrigues Laurent. "If we're not counting the times I viewed the footage or checked over it during the production, then I haven't watched this particular one all that much. It's not one of my better works," he says as he puts his arm around Sanora. "So Yves might actually win this competition." He licks his lips as he addresses the bishop. "Do you like to watch it for my craftsmanship or for her performance?"

"Ha ha ha!" The Driver laughs. "I guess Laurent might be technically correct. He has only watched the movie once, from beginning to end. Your father has only watched it once, as well.

But Laurent, you're a special boy, aren't you? I know you recognized that power drill back there. You know it quite well. It's the exact same power drill that was used to murder Sanora in the movie.

Sanora, he has watched that particular scene many times. He was watched and rewatched your gruesome, bloody murder over 200 times.

You're a sick boy, Laurent." You can hear the smile in the Driver's voice as they insult (compliment?) Laurent.

Suddenly a pale and inhumanly long arm breaks out from behind the back seat. A shrill voice screams "I WANT TO BE LOVED" The fleshy arm bends in unnatural ways, swiping back and forth as it tries to grab you. It was the Rage Thing that was pounding from the trunk, earlier.

You spy the power drill, bejeweled collar, and bottle labeled ""sulphuric acid 98%" still on display in the back.

Laurent, his arm still around Sanora, chuckles. "Well, I guess that part is true. I always enjoyed those 139 seconds."
He then jumps in surprise when the strange, inhuman arm pushes out from behind the back seat. He lets go of Sanora and faces it, readying himself to kick or swipe at the bending limb if it gets too close to him. "What the hell?" he shouts. "Why the fuck are you chauffeuring around a monster?" He glances at Yves, then gestures to the bar. "Get those fucking things from the bar. We don't need that thing to have a power drill." He then turns back to face the arm. "And get behind me. I won't let this fucker get you."

Sarona recalls the scene with the powerdrill. The special effects had made it go straight to her character's skull at exactly the right timing.

Yes, there was one, but she had never really cared much for the details of it. Or any tools really. All drills were about the same to her.
Was this the exact same one? If the driver said so, she wasn't too surprised that it actually was. She hadn't recognized it as such before.

What worried her more was how easily Laurent had watched it over 200 times and just as easily wrapped his arm around her.

She already put her hand on his, not because she wanted to hold him, but because she wanted to gently put back his arm where it belonged - anywhere but around her.

That that is when the other arm appeared. She instantly jumped and shoved aside.

"Forget the drill!" she yelled. "Kill it with acid!"

His body moves by instinct, animated by those Darwinian forces that allowed the survival of the species. The natural imperative "Protect your own offspring".

He puts himself between danger and his own loved ones, heedless of the consequences. The hand of a dark God falling precipitously on him.

As Sanora shoves away to get away from the unnaturally long arm, her father jumps in front of her to protect her. The arm reaches to slap him hard, but Laurent - for all the creepiness that he exudes - sacrifices himself to protect the father and daughter pair he loves (lusts?).

The arm then slithers back into the compartment where it was hiding.

The car is silent, except for the subtle sounds of driving on the road.

"What the fuck?" Laurent asks, glancing briefly in the direction of the driver. "What is that thing? And don't fucking dare say 'the Rage Thing'. I want an actual answer. And why is it in here with us? What does Loretta want with that kind of creature?" Suddenly, he has a thought that seems to unsettle even him and he feels his eyes dart to the bottle of opioids for a brief instant. "Please don't tell me it's what I think it is."

There is no city outside anymore. Just ruins. The car is going slightly uphill. Past cactuses. Past a man digging a hole in the ground in the darkness.

Anyhow. Loretta.

One of you has sworn to serve her. (Sandra. She has signed the papers and gave away that lock of hair.)

One of you has vowed to sacrifice to her. (Laurent. Though he might have not realized that yet.)

One of you has sworn to save a soul from her. (The Bishop. Either soul will do.)

"This is the deal," the Driver says, ignoring Laurent's demands. "When we leave Loretta’s tonight, there will only be two of you riding back home in the car -- apart from your new friend in the trunk, of course."

"One of you will be sacrificed, will be broken to make prettier. Reformed in a manner that Loretta wishes to help further her empire of porn and lust."

"Who shall it be? You must discuss and decide amongst yourselves. Let me know when you have an answer. Knock on the partition. This will be an interesting challenge for you all. Good luck."

The Driver then raises a partition between the front of the limousine and the back of the limousine, separating you completely from the driver.

There is a weight to the driver's words that makes Laurent hesitant to just call out the first quip or answer that comes to his mind. But of course, if someone needs to be sacrificed, or rather broken for Loretta's (and his?) art, there is only one real answer here. His eyes move between the two people here with him, trying to read their faces in the moment of silence that follows the driver's announcement. "The answer is obvious, isn't it?" he then asks.

"Do not even think about that", he says, his voice stormy and deep, his ragged breath still troubled by the monstrous encounter, the last fumes of adrenaline keeping him up. "She's pitting us one against another, can't you see?"

"Yeah? Well, she or he or it or whatever-the-fuck also stopped time earlier and is carrying around a monster in the trunk," Laurent says. He lets out a sigh, then reaches out for Yves' hand. "Fine, let's do it your way, daddy." It's not clear whether he's calling the man by a sexual nickname, mocking his profession or imitating Sanora. "What do you propose?"

Sarona screams in shock as her father takes the hit for her, but barely noticed Laurent coming to the rescue.
She listens to the driver explaining again.

"This sacrifice thing is quite vague... but... sacrifice sounds quite fatal. And if it is, and we really have to make a choice..."
she keeps quiet for a moment. "That should not be too difficult, I think."

She tries to turn away her gaze, but can't help giving Laurent an evil eye for a very brief moment.

The intercom crackles and the Driver's voice comes through, "Have we made a decision yet?" You can hear, in their voice, that they seem both amused at your conundrum and well aware that you have not come to a decision.

The back seat begins to shake and vibrate, and the mysterious entity in the trunk screams a muffled scream, "MOMMY! JESUS!" The Rage Thing is upset.

"You know, if a decision is not made soon, I might have to release the Rage Thing again. Perhaps both arms, this time. It wants to cuddle."

"Actually, I have a better idea. Why don't we put this to a secret vote?"

The partition drops down a fraction, and a notepad and some pencils fall through. It remains slightly open - just enough to slide the papers back if needed.

"Why don't we vote in secrecy, yes? Pencil in who shall be broken and slide the note back to me. This way, you won't have to fight each other to decide. Much more agreeable, don't you agree?"

"Jesus, man," Laurent exclaims. "Maybe give us a minute back here?"

He turns his eyes to the bishop again. "Yves," he says, placing his hand on Sanora's thigh again. "I love you. You know that. But this is about art." He licks his lips as his eyes wander appreciatively over Sanora's body. "We all know that if this is supposed to be worth it, if this is supposed to mean something, then I have to be behind the camera. And I'm sorry, but you can't be the subject, the one to be broken. It always had to be sweet Sanora."

St. Jude, give me your strength.

"Laurent I swear, if you don't shut your mouth", he shouts threateningly, anger taking the best of him.
His grip tightens around the medal, his expression turns pensive. He closes his eyes, biting his lips.
"You mentioned a contract earlier", he asks the driver. "Loretta has hired them, right. Employment contracts, demonic contracts, they are all the same. Words can bind, but they can also be unwoven. And it should be our right to demand to read the fineprint"

For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.

"Wait! Why me?" Sarona snaps in reply to Laurent instantly. "That is not going to work anyway. I am more valuable to Loretta with my pretty face intact." Sarona takes two pencils and rips a sheet of paper from the notepad, before handing her father the notepad and a pencil. "This shouldn't take too long, right?" she says, but doesn't write down a name yet.

"Sanora," Laurent tells her in a soft voice. "You're beautiful, lovely, talented. I love you and I know we could create many great pieces of art together still. Great, but not transcendent." He licks his lips as he comes ever closer to her. "But you read my article. You heard me on the video I gifted to you. True art comes not from framing something beautiful, but from destroying it, revealing it. When Banksy shredded his own painting, that only made it into something more unique and even more valuable." He tenderly brushes a hand through her hair. "Allow me to make you immortal, sweet Sanora. Write down your own name and become true art, remembered through the centuries." He licks his lips one more time, then leans in for a kiss.

Sarona tries to back away from Laurent as he tries to lean in for a kiss.

"Well, I ain't a little girl with a red baloon," Sarona says, refering to Banksy. "I have plans for the rest of my life you know. Money to spend. Fun to have... And I'd rather do so without your gifts."

Then she sighs loudly.
"Why am I wasting even any time with this?" she says as she scribbles down something on the piece of paper, folds it four ways and deposits through the opening in the partition.

"There... you know now what to do, right daddy?"

He shakes his head, still disbelieving Laurent's sudden mood shift.
But the die was cast, and so, even if hesitantly, he writes a name upon a piece of paper.
"Here you go", he says as he offers the note back to the driver.

Laurent takes the pen and the notepad from Yves and writes down something on the top piece of paper before ripping it off and folding it. He then leans over Sanora's lap and pushes the paper through the small gap towards the driver. Once he's properly leaned back in his seat again, he begins writing something on what is now the new top sheet of the notepad. When that's finished, he hands the pad and pen back to Yves without showing what he wrote to Sanora, then pours himself another drink. "Someone else want something?" he offers his fellow travelers. There is no concern about the outcome of this vote in his voice.

The limousine pulls up into an estate, a small mansion in the hills. The very same one that both Sanora and Laurent have been to before. Rich decor. Manicured lawns. All the dressings of the rich.

"Thank you," The Driver says after reading the notes. "Loretta will be pleased. And so will Gamaliel."

Fin.

---

Thank you for playing Kult: Divinity Lost's Hell is Other People. Thank you for going on a ride with me, a journey of discovery [of the game rules][of the inner depths and darkness of your character][of the depths and darkness of the world]. I hope you enjoyed this game.

If you wish to listen to the live-play podcast where I discovered this module, you can find the first episode here: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=k2HbMF1l65o