The sound of the organ was deep and powerful, it was giving the Captain full body rushes. This was not unique as the plain wooden bench he was sitting on, the stained glass windows and cold stone floor all sang in the choir of intoxication that coursed through his body. Ensconced in a pulpit, a man of Medio lectured and droned. The words sounded like a series of dry coughs and wheezy grunts, this gave the Captain another body rush. Armies of goosebumps marched up and down his forearms making the hair on them stand to attention. He is tensing his jaw so much that for the next few days he will be unable to talk properly. He’s been in the same place for three hours, unaware of the coming and goings of the parishioners around him. They all assume he has some kind of brain damage. They are wrong; he has had too much adrenochrome. Why is the organ pink?
“It’s a holy colour Cap; always has been.” Aches voice, distant and muffled. Quite insignificant compared to the unearthly bellowing of the organ. Stead crawls from under a row of seats near the front of the church, grinning widely. After a few seconds of grinning in Aches general direction, he returns to the dusty darkness
“Pair of fucking druggies” exclaims Ache to the few remaining churchgoers whose faith outweighs their intimidation caused by the manic duo
The Captain found a way to become even tenser at the sound, gripping his knees tighter causing his knuckles to crack
A low tortured moaning came from beneath the row of seats at the front, Stead had heard the sound. The scrape of his metal legs against the stone floor was heard as he scurried to some unknown destination under the pews
The Captains eyes bulged dangerously, Stead gasped loudly. Ache removes the pager from his pocket and stares blankly at the message on its display
“Paul says we gotta go meet him at the docks, urgently. Got a nice surprise for us it says here” he addressed his companions “C’mon bitches! Lets go!”
Their poor twisted minds could not comprehend Aches commands or movements. They certainly couldn’t walk. Ache looked exasperated, then his face lifted as he had an idea reaching into his pocket he produced a bag of weed. He waved the bag around in the air, saying in a singsong voice “I got the weed, come get the shee-it!” turning around, he walked away. Someway, somehow they managed to struggle to their feet, put one in front of the other and follow him slowly outside.