Fools With Guns

Under the cloak of night in a forgotten town, an abandoned building, steeped in dust and shadow, came alive with an ominous glow. 

Besides the broken tube lights and bulbs, fire torches mounted on the walls cast flickered light across the dusty hall, revealing twenty-five figures draped in dark brown cloaks. 

Seated on the worn floor, they formed a circle, their heads bowed, hoods obscuring their faces as they chanted in unison. 

At the heart of their gathering, a ritualistic circle pulsed with an eerie dark orange light, its glow casting sinister shadows on the walls.

"Keep praying to our Master so that his demonic power will keep flowing through us and allow us to reach new heights!" The leader's voice, fervent with zeal, cut through the rhythmic drone of the chant, urging his followers to deepen their devotion.