Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
( volume ii, chapter xi )
a melting pot of misery
In Riverdale, everyone wears a mask, not just the Black Hood.
But every so often the mask slips and our true selves our laid bare for all the world to see. So, we scramble to put it back on, like a kid in a cheap Halloween costume, but its too late. People have already seen whats underneath . . .
HOUSE OF THE DEAD
DECEMBER 1ST, 2017
SOUTHSIDE RIVERDALE
Punk music was like nails on a chalkboard to Mia. She grimaced at the first sound of it as her and Jughead descended the borderline hazardous wooden staircase into the House of the Dead. It felt like they were walking the plank, about to collapse into a sea of sharks. That wasn't far from the truth — the son and daughter of FP Jones entering Ghoulie headquarters was a ticking time bomb, which Tall Boy should've realised sooner rather than later.
''Sit down, kids,'' he ordered, ''business to discuss.''
''Tall Boy, what the hell is this? Where are we?''
''You're in my house,'' a deep voice spoke out inches from Mia, causing her to practically jump out of her own skin and stand beside it, ''it's the House of the Dead.''
''Well, I'm sorry, who the hell are you?''
''Take it easy, Jughead,'' the older Serpent advised, ''Malachai speaks for the Ghoulies.''
''Malachai is also a prophet from the Old Testament,'' Mia pointed out, ''you'll have to be more specific.''
In hindsight, this may have been a mistake. Every single pair of eyes swiveled to her, yet the could feel the heaviest ones weighing her down, almost as deep as the voice of the person they belonged to. She averted her gaze to the multitude of candlesticks illuminating the wooden walls, a Union Jack plastered on the one she stood nearest to.
