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Stumbling drunk uphill battle.

"This is an organization, international, swimming in money and resources no doubt. We've really pissed off some powerful people. They have to be military, maybe it's some kind of CIA black site, those guys are always messing with weird shit like astral projection and mind control. Or maybe it's the Illuminati, some kind of global conspiracy that has a monopoly on summoning. Either way there's nothing we can do about it. Look at this place," he sighed as he leaned closer to examine the winding passages. "We'd need an army just to get in there, and that's if we could even reach it. Antarctica is one of the most remote and inhospitable places on the planet. We can't just buy a plane ticket."

"We only need to eliminate one person," Nahash said, planting her hands on her wide hips as she joined him in scrutinizing the tunnels. "The most pressing danger is Haures, and the only way to stop him is to annul his contract with this Carlisle person. If we kill Carlisle, then Haures no longer has any reason to come after you."

"But it's not just Carlisle," Ryan replied, "this is an organization that kills summoners. I'm not a Watcher or a Nephilim, I'm not a demon, I'm just...some guy. All it takes to permanently kill me is an especially hard punch. Even if Haures is out of the picture, there's still an army of corrupt cops out for my blood, and whoever else might be on their payroll. Just who the hell are these people?"
Gamori saw fit to answer his question, more letters and shapes forming from the sand to create a new word.

"Freemasons?" Ryan asked, his brow furrowing as he examined the floating text.

"Do you know what that is?" Nahash asked.

"It rings a bell," he replied. "I must have heard them mentioned in passing, or maybe read about them somewhere, they're some kind of secret organization I think. I thought it was just a conspiracy theory. Great, so the New World Order has it out for me..."

He sat abruptly in the triangle, running his hands through his hair in exasperation. He came across a leaf that was tangled in it, fumbling with it as he struggled to pull it free. His frustration coming to a head, he crumpled it up and threw it as hard as he could, the leaf fluttering to the grass almost as if it was mocking him. Tears of anger welled in his eyes, as he crossed his arms over his knees, staring at his shoes.

"That's enough, Gamori," he mumbled. "I have what I need."

The sand once again fell to the grass in a heap, the spinning hurricane slowing until he could make out the demon as she sat atop her camel. She watched him curiously, seeming interested by his outburst. Nahash no doubt sensed his emotions, but she elected to leave him alone, letting him work through it.

"You know what the most fucked up part about all of this is?" he asked, Nahash shaking her head. "I just wanted a fucking job. That's all I wanted. I should have just swallowed my pride and got a gig flipping burgers. Now I'm going to get black bagged by some kind of...Bohemian Grove motherfuckers."

She gave him a minute to compose himself, then crouched beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He closed his hand over hers, squeezing it.

"I didn't mean that," he muttered. "If I had never summoned Orobas, then I never would have met you. I just...figured I'd live a lot longer than this."

"Then the choice has been made for you."

He looked up at her, drying his eyes with the back of his sleeve.

"What do you mean?"

"If you believe that your death is inevitable, then you are free to act. Failure has the same outcome as doing nothing, and so there is no reason not to try. You cannot just live in the grove for the rest of your days, the magick of the Seirim is finite. We would not be able to keep you fed for very long."

"So...what? You think I should go out in a blaze of glory?"

"I think you should try to find a solution," she said, "you have nothing more to lose.

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