“Fine, it's safe.”
A few massive reefs stood on the sandy shore. A voice drifted from the shadows of the rocks, ringing out with startling clarity across the silent beach.
With the sound, shadows shifted.
Huddled in the darkness were four ordinary people. They were all dressed in sturdy, coarse cloth trousers and jackets, cautiously lying prone on the sand. They faced the direction of the sea, their voices kept to a barely audible whisper.
It was a man's voice, not particularly old, carrying the thick, nasal accent characteristic of Lande, much like a local from Rhine.
“Then stay low. Don't be careless. They won't give us a second chance.” This time, the whisper came from a woman.
“Relax, it'll be fine,” another young man's voice replied. “But are those people really coming?”
“They definitely will. The intel is absolutely reliable,” the woman said with great intensity. “Remember, these people are terrifying. You must be extremely careful. You absolutely cannot be discovered, or we are finished.”
“There's not a soul out here. It's so late, how could anyone be wandering the beach just to catch the breeze? You're too tense,” the last man whispered. “There is no one else here. I don't believe anyone would just jump out of nowhere and shove my face into the sand... phhhpt.”
And so, the other three watched in horror as a foot suddenly appeared out of thin air, stomping heavily onto their companion's head, grinding his face into the sand and twisting the toe of the boot against his skull for good measure.
“Ah!”
The sharp, truncated scream was choked off before it could fully escape. By the faint moonlight, the other three realized with shock that a pitch-black gun barrel was aimed directly at them. Too terrified to help their companion still struggling in the sand, they simultaneously raised their hands, lying prone on the ground, not daring to move or make a sound.
However, the woman among them immediately lifted her head, staring at the figure who had appeared out of nowhere, and whispered in astonishment: “Mr. Lynch Levive? Why is it you?”
“Yes, I was wondering the same thing. Why is it you?” Lynch kicked the hip of the victim beneath his foot, sending him rolling a few times until he collided with his companions. Lynch then holstered his pistol and scanned the beach, confirming no other shadows were moving, before glaring down at the woman on the ground and huffing, “Did you find not dying last time so regrettable that you had to hurry back and try again? Do you only feel physically and mentally refreshed once you're dead for good, Miss Maya?”
Yes, one of the four figures hiding in the shadows was Maya, the journalist Lynch had saved not long ago.
Lynch had crept behind the rocks moments ago, intending to eavesdrop on their identities. The moment he heard the woman's voice, he recognized her and immediately realized he had likely stumbled into a misunderstanding. His head began to throb, and he had no choice but to double back, incidentally fulfilling the young man's lovely wish.
“The clothes you're wearing... so you're the ones people saw wandering the beach?” Lynch gritted his teeth in frustration. “I went through all the trouble of saving you, just so you could leave your bed in the middle of the night and come to the beach to scare me, is that it?”
“Shh, shh, it's not what you think, Detective. Let me explain,” the journalist waved her hands hurriedly, gesturing for Lynch to lie down and stay hidden. She then explained, “It was precisely because someone saw strange people that we dressed like this to stake out the area. That way, even if we were discovered, they might mistake us for their own accomplices and ignore us. We need to see with our own eyes what these people are doing so that our reporting has credibility.”
Are you people insane for the sake of a news story? Are you throwing your lives away?
A vein throbbed on Lynch's forehead. He felt that this group of journalists was a cure for low blood pressure. Gritting his teeth, he asked, “Do you even know what kind of things you're trying to report on, running out here in the middle of the night to stake out the place? You...”
“We know.”
“Hmm?” Lynch frowned.
The journalist lowered her voice and whispered mysteriously, “They are pirates.”
Tch, so you think they're pirates. No wonder you dared to come here and wait. Wait, no. Normal people wouldn't dare to interview pirates either.
“You're all in such a hurry to die. Little Martha is still waiting for you to find work for her little hoodlum friends. Who will help her if you're dead?”
Lynch gripped his cane, itching to swing it at them, especially Maya. He regretted not leaving her to her own devices. However, these journalists were likely just built this way. Lynch quickly calmed himself, activated the Telepathic Conch so Miss Valente on the other side could hear, and spoke in an irritated tone:
“Those things are likely far more terrifying than ordinary pirates, Miss Maya, especially you—you should know exactly what I'm talking about. I came here specifically for them. Now, explain to me clearly what is going on with you all.”
“In the last few days, a group of strange fishermen has been spotted frequently in this area. Near the estuary, someone even saw a giant octopus, so I volunteered to cover the story.” The journalist didn't guard herself against Lynch at all, her eyes shining with excitement as she explained, which made Lynch realize that the encounter half a month ago hadn't scared her in the slightest. “We received intel that this is a group of pirates. The Morale & Son merchant ship that sank in the nearby waters a few days ago might be related to them.”
Deep Ones acting as pirates? That seems unexpectedly appropriate. Lynch nodded thoughtfully. “Continue.”
“It's rumored that the Dockworkers’ Mutual Aid Association and the Sailors’ Union might have ties to them. They might even be the ones who brought them in. What passersby saw at night was these parties meeting up—there might even be cargo being transported.” The journalist lowered her voice, speaking with indignation. “Think about it: pirates hijacking our Rhine merchant ship and then transshipping the stolen goods to Rhine's official organizations—what a massive scandal that would be. This kind of thing cannot be tolerated. My source said they are likely meeting nearby, so we came ahead to wait.”
“Sigh, you really aren't afraid of death.”
“To get the big story, one must take risks.” Maya smiled nonchalantly. “Detective, are those things very dangerous, too? Just like Elder Nikolai and the others?”
“Mr. Lynch.” Miss Valente's voice suddenly came through the Telepathic Conch. “I have had dealings with this Dockworkers’ Mutual Aid Association.”
“Hmm?”
“They once approached me—or rather, they approached the Valente family—wanting to join forces to stop the railway project.”
Lynch recalled this. Miss Valente had mentioned it before. Could it be that because the Valente family refused their alliance, they brought in pirates for help?
If that were true, it wouldn't just be a matter of conflict between cultists. Bringing in foreign enemies to attack the city would be incredibly dangerous in any era.
But if they were bringing in foreign enemies, they shouldn't let the pirates be so flashy, and they certainly wouldn't be going into the city to harass the followers of the Yellow King. That would be too arrogant. Or could it be that they aren't here to attack the city, but have another purpose?
“Regardless, you must leave first. Those things are very dangerous. Your safety cannot be guaranteed if you stay here. I will see you out, you... hiss.”
Before he could finish, Lynch heard the sound of waves in the distance suddenly joined by the noise of water being parted. Then, a series of eerie, rhythmic chants drifted from the surface of the sea.
Countless voices merged together, carrying a power that induced confusion and madness, leaving anyone who heard them feeling a wave of terror and nausea.
“Father in the deep, we hallow thy name, may thy name be passed down through eons, may thy kingdom come, may thy will be done on earth, as it is in R'lyeh.”
“la, la, Cthulhu, fh tag nl.”
“la, la, Cthulhu, fh tag nl.”
Following the uniform and eerie chanting, several silhouettes stepped across the waves on the dark sea.
Damn it, we can't get away. Whatever. Since we are already here.
Rate on N.U.
