Chapter I


Amelia walked through the path that she was instructed to take. She felt her an almost aerodynamic effect as the strong wind hit her robe. Looking at the the surrounding trees she thought to herself that she felt like Little Red Riding Hood and laughed. it would be good to see all her friends at the Winter Solstice celebration, if only it were a shorter walk from her car. The moon barely provided enough light but the instructions were very specific as to not use artificial light as to avoid detection from the authorities and be mistaken for Satanists. It was a sacrilege to be mistaken for those who drew power from such dark, evil energies. White Magic shall light my way, she thought.

Trisha squirmed in the underbrush. “It’s fuckin’ freezing. Why couldn’t you try to get Initiated during Litha, you dumb fuck?” Trisha asked Eric, the Acception’s newest prospect.

“Shhh. Someone’s coming.” Eric said coldly. He did his best impression of an owl. Upon hearing this, Jim, waiting in the underbrush on the opposite end of the path also did his best impression of an owl and roused Lisa lying prone next to him, almost falling asleep.

“We have a winner.” whispered Trisha. “Damn, she’s still got about half a mile to the rest of the witches. This’ll teach her a thing or two about being on time.” Eric looked at Trisha. He was afraid, but aroused at the same time. “Now!”

Amelia heard the owls and then laughed to herself. Then she heard a female’s voice and then footsteps running on either side of her. Amelia tried to run forward but fell to the ground as Lisa tackled her. Jim then dragged Amelia by her shoulders as Lisa and Trisha each took one leg apiece and carried Amelia to the underbrush where Eric was already unbuckling his belt.

Amelia felt hands ripping her robe and the tight leggings that she was wearing underneath. Before she could even scream, someone had already duct-taped her mouth in the darkness with smooth precision in the struggle. She then felt someone straddling her knees and then she was naked from the waist down. Then Eric entered her. Amelia sobbed as Eric pushed and pulled his member inside her with force as she was crucified spread-eagle on the cold hard earth.

After about two minutes, Lisa felt Amelia’s inner thigh. She held her hand up to the moonlight and saw that her hand was red. “We’re done, Lamar.” Lisa said to Eric.

“Almost…” Eric answered. Then he pulled his penis from Amelia and ejaculated on the ground right below where her buttocks were. “Now.” Eric said with a gasp. The four disappeared into the woods as quickly as they emerged only 2 minutes earlier. She tore off the duct tape quickly and winced with pain. Amelia then wrapped herself in her tattered robe and began to cry.


Chapter II.255px-Usdollar100front

Trisha, Eric, Jim and Lisa got off the 7 Train at Grand Central Station the next day. Even though the station was crowded at rush hour, the cold air similar to the night of the Blood Opfering in Alley Pond Park penetrated through the profane crowds. The four split up in the abyss of the train station and began to look for vendors and musicians.

Jim approached a Hispanic man selling churos and stood next to him. He then covertly put the gun to the vendor’s side and demanded the day’s take. The vendor handed Jim a fistful of crumpled bills and began to cry. Jim then disappeared into the crowd. “Cabron..” The churo seller spit.

Lisa went upstairs and walked toward  loud rap music. She then saw a crowd gathered watching 3 black teenagers breakdancing. When the music was done, the smallest and presumably youngest of the three take off his baseball cap and proceed to circle the crowd in the hopes of getting paid for the performance. Lisa then stuck her hands between two men standing in front of her and  stuck the gun in front in plain view of the collecting dancer. The youth froze at the site of the gun while he watched Lisa’s left hand snatch whatever bills the cap held. The teen never looked up. He wasn’t stupid. Once his head made a move in the slightest upward tilt, it would get blown off by Lisa’s .22 at close range. Lisa disappeared walked back stealthily into the rush hour crowd.

Trisha spotted the fat balding man in a powder blue uniform as he stuck a key into the Metrocard dispenser and open it. She also noticed the old wood handle pistol on his right side. She then walked behind him and yanked the dispenser door towards them to obscure the crowd’s view of them and stuck the gun to the balding man’s back. The man put his hands up and began shaking. “I got kids.” He pleaded.  She then without a word removed the ancient gun from his holster and stuck it in the waistband of her jeans. She then reached into the duffle bag and pulled out whatever bills that she could hold in her hand.  She then walked off casually into the crowd and didn’t look back.

The guitar player on the E-Train platform was really good. People were visibly weeping after his rendition of Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven” and he had a decent voice too. Eric almost started to regret that he had to take the performer’s money but the thoughts soon dissapated when he saw the amount of bills that were strewn in the guitar case. The train was pulling into the station and the guitarist’s adoring public began to walk towards the edge of the platform. Eric then approached the guitarist from behind and put the gun into the small of the subway performer’s back. “Loan me some money and I won’t hurt you. You don’t even have to give me all of it.” Eric whispered in his ear as the crowd’s attention was on the incoming train. The guitarist bent over and gathered up some bills from the guitar case. He then put his full hand behind his back palm up and Eric snatched the money and ran into the E-train before the doors closed. About 45 seconds later, Eric ran out of the train at the 47th Street Station and slowed down to a quick pace up the stairs and into the street.


Chapter III.


Eric watched as Trisha walked into the yuppy faux-pizza place across the street from Madison Square Garden on 36th Street, the pre-arranged rendezvous. He watched as the flourescent lighting illuminated her olive Filipino skin and her perfect lips formed a smile as she saw him. He didn’t know yet if he loved her or lusted after her but he knew that he wanted her. She was the last one arriving as Eric, Lisa and Jim were seated around a table in the back.  

Everyone reached into their pockets and presented their earnings to Trisha, the appointed leader of  almost all undertaken ABC Rites by the Temple Priestess, Shawna. Trisha is a Mistress and already in the Acception for 6 years but always wanted to lead ABC Rites because of her insatiable lust for excitement in what she perceived to be a mundane existence that humankind lived. She was 27 years old but longed for the free spiritedness of her teen years. She preferred to let the Initiate plan the ABC Rite and never planned it, as it should be.

“You guys did great.” Trisha announced with a smile. The place was almost empty with pop music playing in the background so the four Satanists talked as freely as they desired. “Fuckin’ $750! That’s a new fuckin’ record! You guys want to go to the bar?”

“Nah.” Lisa said. “I’ve still got to go to work tomorrow. I’ve got lunch with some buyers.”

“And I’ve got a deadline. Such is life in the Profane as they say.” Jim added.

“Okay, I’ll call you guys.” Trisha said as she kissed them goodbye.

“Later, Eric.” Jim said as they playfully punched each other.

Lisa gave Eric a hug and walked away.

“I guess it’s just you and me, big boy. Where to?” Trisha looked at Eric.

“The Lounge?” Eric suggested and asked at the same time.

“But we’re in the city! You want to go back to Queens? There’s all these places to hang out!” Trisha exclaimed.

“Yeah, but the Lounge’s jukebox has the best drinking music on it.” Eric said. “And a pool table that I haven’t lost on yet!”

Trisha smiled. “Okay, but I’m not taking the train back.”

They laughed as they both walked out and into the cold night.


Chapter IV.


 The colonial-style house in Bayside, Queens was almost palacial on the inside, which consisted of marble floors and furniture and brass everywhere. The owner was an overweight 40-something man in blue silk pajamas and slick pushed back hair. He was duct taped back to back with his wife in the kitchen. The wife was considerably younger looking at 25 and was dressed in black neglige. Jim looked at her through his ski mask with lust, but did not think twice about jeapordizing the mission for a few minutes of lust. Trisha was about to put duct tape around the man’s mouth when he said, “Do you know who the fuck I am? You’re fuckin’ dead. Your families are dead. Your pets. Dead.”  Trisha laughed and taped his mouth.  “Hey, fuhgedaboutit.”

Eric walked into the kitchen and displayed a shiny uzi machine gun. “I think that this will do very nicely.”

“Nice!’ said Jim.

“Let’s go. Take it easy Vinnie, ay yo!” Trisha giggled.

The next day, Eric sold the weapon for a bargain basement price of $100. The buyer Frank, the local street pharmacist asked him, “Dis fuckin’ shit is brand new. You wearing a wire?”

“Just consider it an after Christmas sale.” Eric said coolly.

Shawna smiled at Trisha as she entered her spacious 3 bedroom apartment.

“Hey pinay, looking sexy as always.” Shawna said as they kissed. Shawna looked over Trisha up and down. Trisha was wearing a tight black T-shirt and thongs.

“Fuck, Shawna!” Trisha excalimed as she examined Shawna, who had taken off her long black trenchcoat exposing a tight black miniskirt and black halter top with six-inch heels. Shawna tossed her long blonde hair over her right shoulder as she kissed Trisha as a lover would.

“I heard that you guys broke into Don DiGiovanni’s home and tactically acquired an uzi.” Shawna said as she took Trisha’s hand and placed it under her skirt. She didn’t like to wear underwear.

“Ooooh, yeah…Um wait…who else knows?” asked Trisha.

“No one. The word is that Don DiGiovanni has no idea who the fuck it is. One certain urban businessman Frank Baldwin bought an uzi from a certain mutual friend for $100 and that’s the only way I fingered you. Speaking of fingering…” Trisha took the hint and caressed Shawna’s clitoris with her right forefinger. They kissed as they walked to Trisha’s master bedroom. 


 Chapter V.


The bank was crowded, as expected. The four, clad with white bandanas covering their faces ran inside and Trisha fired her .22 into the ceiling. She shouted quickly, “Everyone on the floor, facedown! Now, now!” Then she shoved a man to to the ground to accentuate her point. People gasped and screamed and fell to the floor.

Lisa and Jim broke to opposite sides of the bank and pointed their weapons indiscriminately at the prone bank goers. Eric then went to the teller. “Fill this fuckin’ bag up! Do it now!”

The teller reached for the bag that Eric gave her and pushed the code on the computer. The drawer below the screen opened and the teller proceeded to empty the drawer and then the next and the next.

While Eric was making the unauthorized withdrawal, Trisha was entertaining the crowd. “Your money is insured by the FDIC. We don’t want your money. You won’t lose anything. Nobody plays hero and nobody gets killed.”

Eric took the now full bags and nodded his head at Trisha. “Go, go!” she shouted. The four then ran out the door and in four different directions. As each turned corners, the running turned into walking while the white rags were removed. Again, the four disappeared as quickly as they emerged.

Trisha was first to the vehicle, a late model Honda Odyssey minivan with stolen plates parked at the municipal parking lot approximately 6 blocks from the bank.

Twenty minutes later, Lisa was the last into the vehicle and Trisha drove casually eastbound on Northern Boulevard.

“Holy shit, Eric! It fuckin’ worked!” Lisa shouted after looking around.

“Yeah, how the fuck did you come up with that?”

“Man, I was walking down that way trying to get a frozen yogurt and a chicken shishkabob and it took me about 45 minutes to get lunch. I said to myself that I could do some dirt and just blend in with that crowd. I hate fuckin’ crowds but they’re working out for us.” Eric answered.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I could use a beer or two or three.” Jim declared.

“Yeah, that sounds good. We’re headed the right way, towards Bell Boulevard.” Trisha said.

“Hell yeah. But let’s park far, the 111th Precinct has nothing better to do but hang out at the 7-11. Bunch of Queens Marines.” Lisa said.

“What’s a Queens Marine?” asked Eric.

“Those are the cops who work in the not-so-busy precincts in Queens so they actually have pressed uniforms and shiny boots.” answered Lisa.

“Dude, how the fuck do you know all this police business?” asked Trisha.

“It pays to keep your ears open, my friend. Let’s get wasted!” Lisa said.

They went to the least crowded bar on Bell Boulevard. It was sports-themed bar adjacent to the Long Island Railroad Station called First Edition. Jim and Eric intently watched the Mets and Phillies game and drank beer and ate microwaved “homemade” hot wings while Lisa and Trisha downed shots of Tequila and with beer chasers. There were two older men who were stealing glances at Trisha and Lisa.

“Holy shit.” Jim said. “You’re gunna get trashed before the 3rd inning! At least me and Eric are eating. Why don’t you guys eat?”

“Fuck no.” said Trisha. “I’m going to play some music.”

“No, no! The game!” exclaimed Jim.

“Fuck the game!” Trisha retorted. She then put on “Hey You” by Pink Floyd.

Eric downed his beer and ordered another from the attractive brunette bartender. He tried to covertly look at her cleavage as she leaned forward to retrieve something from under the bar. Trisha put the “Hey You” again. Eric started to think about the past, which made him drink even faster and heartier.

About 45 minutes later after slow dancing and public displays of affection, Lisa and Jim were walking out the door. Trisha and Eric were sitting at the bar, laughing.

“Where are the lovebirds going?” Trisha yelled to them. They paid no mind and kept walking.

Eric thought for a second. “Damn. Rape, armed robbery, grand larceny, burglary. Then Lisa and Jim get busted while she’s giving him a blowjob in some alleyway. Ironic.”

“So, why 352 Eric?” asked Trisha suddenly.

“Huh?” The question caught Eric off-guard.

“Answer the question.”

“Well, I fuckin’ loved all these Order of Nine Angles Manuscripts. But who knew if they’re even still around? Then, Jim tells me about 352 and their Tribalism and Primal Naturalism beliefs sprinkled with O9A MSS and I wanted in after that. A living breathing nexus of O9A? Fuck yeah. I might not be as classy and eloquent as Long or Myatt but fuck, I’ll do whatever it takes through practical real life shit.”

“How long did you know Jim?”

“About 5 years. We went to high school together. I never knew what his personal philosophies and beliefs were, though.”

“Interesting.” said Trisha.

“How about you?”

“My friend Shawna learned about it through the internet. We talked with these other Progressive Satanists from out west and  met up a few times, went through the ordeals, the ABC Rites, and the Rites of Initiation. Then we started our own nexus here. I’ve never felt so vital, so alive my whole life until now. Why Satanism?” 

“Long story. Yeah, I wake up in the morning looking forward to the day, what I’m going to do next. The history that’s being made.” Eric added.

“Hell yeah. Ready to go home dude? I know that you’re beat.”

“Yeah, keeping it real is fuckin’ exhausting.”

Eric looked at Trisha and thought that she was the most beautiful woman that he’d ever seen. They walked out of the bar arm-in-arm. Above them, the clouds converged and covered the full moon.


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