Darwin stood at his altar, eyes closed, hands outstretched, palms up. He was mumbling to himself—or perhaps to someone else. The room was lit only by the occasional flickering candle. The smell of smoke and blood hung thick in the air.

Lowering his head, Darwin opened his eyes. With his right hand, he picked up the knife resting on the altar and pressed its blade against his left palm, slicing it open. He held his bleeding hand over the altar and let the blood drip onto an old wooden cross. Then, with both hands, he lifted the cross high into the air, bowed his head, and began to mumble once again.

The door to the inner sanctum swung open.

Darwin placed the cross back onto the altar as he heard footsteps approaching. He glanced at the blood-soaked wood and smiled.

"High Priest Ross, they are ready for you," a man said.

"The Blood Lord is pleased. It is time," Darwin replied.

He picked up the bloody knife, wiped it clean with a cloth, and slid it into a sheath tucked into his waistband.

“From blood we see!” the cult member proclaimed.

“Through pain we follow,” Darwin responded, patting the man gently on the cheek before leaving the inner sanctum.

Darwin made his way through the temple toward the main hall. As he entered, he was surprised by the size of the crowd that had gathered. He was used to seeing only members of his holy order, but today was different. Men and women from across the country had assembled to hear the latest news from Los Angeles.

He stepped onto the stage and approached the podium, waving to the crowd as he did.

“Thank you all for coming. It means a great deal to me—and to the rest of our society—that you’ve taken time out of your hectic lives to hear us today. So, I’ll keep this brief.

“With the blessings of my dear friends Striphe Corelli, Spike, and a few others, I’ve been authorized to expand our reach into Pasadena, Los Angeles—where we will assume control of all underworld operations in the district.

“Let it be known: from this day forward, Pasadena shall be ruled by my cult—The Bleeding Cross Society.

“As High Priest of our order, I’m proud to announce that we are now selectively recruiting. If you are willing to spill your final drop of blood in the name of the Bloodfather, reach out to me or one of my Hands to find out if you have what it takes to become a Bloodied Acolyte.”

He paused, surveying the crowd with a knowing smile.

“I won’t hold you much longer—thank you again for coming. If you have the time, feel free to stick around. Food and drinks will be available at the buffet shortly, and I’ll be walking around answering any questions you might have.”