It was a cold night, the shimmers over the horizons had long gone. The trembling of the grounds and car had stopped. There was no one on the streets, at least no one good.

Very few lights could be seen as one passing thought, the one of a bar, the one of a strip and the one of a casino, what were people to do in such places at such hours? Who knows? Many departed to work from there, still half-drunk and sweet from yesterday “activities”.

People in this quarter were so broken that many barely had food to eat. That may bring someone to mercy for those unfortunate souls of destiny but one quickly finds out that they spend what little they have on futile things. A beer, a bottle of wine, a pack of cigarette and, so much desperate they had become that they paid for woman hugs.

Yet after all this drinking, talking and hugging one was left with a sense of emptiness the next dawn. Not unlike a pilgrim in a desert who, after having drunk water, see all mirage and illusion disappear with the wind of the sands.

And in that brief moment between the hangover and work, one, for how little, could glimpse at the whole picture. A sad picture of men played by things that they didn’t understand becoming slaves to things they thought could control.

While one walked he felt very little wind, or for that very little anything. The whole quarter seemed to be in some sort of hiatus until dawn. There were barely any rumours or movement.

Yet one had the distinct sensation that something was going on there that escaped the eyes. One person entered the sewers in the strangest of entrances, another exit with the strangest of clothes.

He was just one agent, what he was even supposed to do there? Even if he found traces of illegal activities what he would do then? “Hi, could you please put your hands up, yes all of...20 of you while we wait some hours for my colleagues?” That felt like a punishment! His boss wouldn’t hear his complaints about the work and the local police officer continued to rant about cultists and rats.

Whatever that meant.

He entered the sewers, the place was exactly as they had described it. A hellish mess that no authorities dared to fix. People of all sort lived there... no actually just one sort of people, the people that disliked living outside. The one who disliked society and everything that it stood for.

They could rant all they want about being “tortured souls” or “victim of fate” but in reality, those were not poets or artists. Those people were unable to take care of themself and to coupe with reality.

People looked strangely at him like one looks at a purple cow. But they were just relieved that for this time the police hadn’t come for them, just relieved that they were not being searched for something that they did.

“Hi,” a child said, “I could guide you for some coins agent.”

He looked at him. He knew how poor that child was, he hadn’t any shoes, his hairs were full of dust, his hands dirty, his teeth already falling. Yet he also knew that whatever money he gave to him wouldn’t really be him. Merciless people used childrens for their own purposes.

“I would like some help,” he said trying to look as kind as possible “here is your coin.”

The whole place was already a maze when it was first built, the fact that people continued to build and destroy parts made everything even worse. Maps were unreliable here. Even people who lived there were unsure about the latest changes, it was all ever-changing.

The child led him to a dark tunnel, it led even deeper into the sewers, that was where he was to go.

...

A shadow, a movement, a sound, anything but this silence. What even he was supposed to do? He turned a corner and look… nothing! This wandering was making him go crazy.

…

At a certain point, after hours, he saw a cloaked figure running throughout the tunnels. He followed it, then another and another. It was practically a procession at this point, they entered a room and started chanting.

When he was about to enter the room he paused, what he was trying to do at this point?

If those guys had reached such a place they must, at the very least, armed with pistol and knives. But what he was supposed to do? Turn back and report some suspect activities? On that matter what they were even doing? Was the best thing to-

He felt to the ground unconscious. While he was pondering those questions two cultists noticed him, looked at him, had a good laugh at the indecisive agent, sneak from behind and knock him down.

When he opened his eyes he was in the middle of the circle of cultists, they all looked at him.

“I was just thinking about a sacrifice,” a cultist with a deer skull said, “you just provide me with one.” Another cultist came closer, knell, and gave him a knife. “Now you have a choice” he continued “you can be a lamp to be sacrificed or a glorious messager of the gods, what you choose?” he looked a bit impatient when he said those words.

“You, all of you! Should be put in prison for practising such things!” he said, “aren’t you ashame?!?”

They all had a good laugh. “Dear agent,” one of the cultist said “we aren’t confused teenagers and you are not our parents. You say those things to people like you, people who think like you. When talking to cu-” he immediately stopped, the deer headed cultist was watching him.

Two cultists tied him and four others stood close, one with the knife was coming closer, as the cold knife touched his skin he was asked again.

“What is your answer?”

The knife stopped. His mind was screaming, but those screamings were not coherent. He didn’t want to betray his colleagues. But at the same time, there was a far ancient and more instinctive part of him that told him to accept the offer.

“I… I… hope that you all go to hell…”

“Good riddance, then.” said one of the cultist. He closed his eyes...

…

…

Nothing happened. He opened them and he saw the cultist starring at each other. Many of them in a corner talking between themself in a low tone of voice.

They removed their masks and clothes. Underneath them, they had police uniforms. Some of them were his colleagues, other he saw at other districts.

“Well, I guess that you passed the test.” One of them said “welcome to the team.”

He was very confused “wHat... Team?”

“The cultist’s investigation team.”