You both turn and watch the door for a moment, waiting awkwardly as you expect Gail to reemerge from the hallway on the other side. But nothing happens. There’s just one knock and then a long pause and nothing else. You glance down at the doorknob but before you notice it move, there’s a sudden, terrible pain in your right forearm!

“Arrrgh!” you shout and reach for the source of the shock. Your left hand strikes against something small and metallic that is seemingly stuck to your body. The moment you touch it however, your body shivers with another blast of shearing pain. Your eyes snap away from the door and refocus.

“Oh fuck, what the—” you blurt out. Looking down, you see the backside of a small black pocket knife with white marble inlays protruding from your right forearm. The blade of which has been plunged through your flesh on one side and broken through the skin on the other. Your arm twitches erratically, forcing the fingers on your right hand to tighten and extend uncontrollably.

You begin to look up when the Reverend’s hand suddenly reaches out and grasps the knife in your arm.

“Arrrgh!”

A fresh pang of intense, burning pain races through your whole body.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

“Hell?” The Reverend answers as he leans toward you and twists the knife slightly inside your arm. You can feel the dull grind of the metal scraping across the surface of your bones. Your whole body shakes. Your teeth chatter with panic. You look around desperately for a way out.

“Arrrgh!”

You scream as the Reverend twists the knife even further.

“Listen up, you little pissant,”

The Reverend’s mouth is close enough to your face that you feel his coffee-soaked spittle splatter your cheeks when he speaks.

“Your Hell, mister Vulture, is just beginning.”

Then, with his eyes wide and burning with fire, he yanks the knife from your arm.

“Arrrgh!”

You cry out and stumble back, grasping the wound in your left hand as your blood begins to spray from both holes in your arm. You fall into the side of the bed, but catch enough of yourself on the mattress to keep from crashing all the way onto the floor. Blood spills through your fingers and you feel any icy chill begin to creep into the fingers of your right hand. Swallowing back the urge to vomit, you look up and watch the Reverend produce a small, black handkerchief from the inside pocket of his coat.

“Father!” A voice bursts into the room. You shift your eyes away from the Reverend and back across your shoulder. Standing there, beside the open bedroom door, is a short, young woman with large breasts and long dark hair. She’s wrapped in the same white towels that Gail was wearing earlier.

It’s Claire. She has one hand held over her mouth and there are already tears dripping from her eyes.

“Father, what is going on here?”

Continue here.

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The Vulture Revolver Owner's Manual ©2009-2022 RVR Games
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Recommended for Mature Audiences Only | Credits