The words “strike two” pause in the cultists’ mouths as you pick up the stray morsels and pop them in your mouth. The man in the pinstripe suit makes eye contact and nods his approval.
He gestures to an empty space the eight cultists have made in the circle.
You shove your handful of Cracker Jacks into your mouth and carelessly drop a few pieces onto the floor in the process. As you’re enjoying your sweet, salty snack, you realize that the nudists are all staring at the pieces that you’ve dropped. You start to get the suspicion that you might have just offended them.
You’re in a damp concrete hallway, quiet except for the soft buzzing of the bare fluorescent lights. As you walk down the gentle slope you come across a nondescript steel door. You linger for a second until you hear a loud scream on the other side.
Cow Tools is a pretty high bar to clear, tbh
That might be fun. I’ve been wanting to reread it for a little while now.