Chapter 35 - Albany Street: Part 1

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The waiter pulled him outside to the parking lot.

"Really?" Scarab remarked. "A parking lot? The most common place for a kidnapping. You dumb shit."

The waiter punched Scarab's stomach.

"Shut up." The waiter said, pointing to a van. "Get in."

Scarab did as he was told, and got in the back of the truck. The man tied him up and taped his mouth shut. He got in the drivers seat and started taking off like the wind. He sped down the highways and roads, and they came to halt in only twenty minutes. He parked right outside an old house in a rusty neighbourhood.

The man pulled Scarab out of the van and untied him. He ripped off the tape, in which Scarab screamed, so the mans natural response was to kick him.

The man was average height, wore a black leather jacket with a blue t-shirt underneath. He had blue jean matching his blue eyes. He barely had any hair, his head filled with stubble. He had no beard or moustache to go along.

He pushed Scarab into house number 92 of Albany Street, in which the door was unlocked, so he didn't need a key.

He then tied him to a chair in the middle of the empty living room. After it was all done, Scarab asked," Why do you want me?"

The man stared at him for a second.

"I'll explain."

"Good."

"You are a blasphemer!"

A million different thoughts scattered into Scarab's mind.

"You're the Void?" he ended up asking.

"The Void is a close friend of mine, but no. We are the Worshippers of the Dark Spirits, and you have killed them. You shall be killed for heresy."

"Really? If I have killed them, then they aren't really worth worshipping, are they?"

The man held up a book. On the cover it said, 'The Book of Souls' and Scarab guesses it was his religious book.

"And what's your name, then?"

"My name is Kryfan Ray. The founder of the Dark Society. And I will-" Scarab broke free and punched him in his face. He ran to his truck, still on, and drove until he was sure he lost the Dark Society or whatever they were called.

He drove and drove until the streets looked familiar.

He was going to escape death.

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