Disclaimer: I do not own Chip n Dale's Rescue Rangers. Chip n Dale's Rescue Rangers is owned by Disney.

The Case of the Calamitous Cult

It was an exceptionally quiet day at Ranger Headquarters. Monterey Jack and Zipper were off visiting some old friends, leaving only Chip, Dale, and Gadget to hold down the fort. Despite Dale begging for them to use this as an opportunity to take a vacation themselves, Chip had insisted that they stayed open for business, stating that "Crime doesn't take a vacation." But until a case actually presented itself, the trio was free to unwind in whatever way they liked. Naturally Gadget was holed up in her workshop, working on another one of her brilliant, if a little volatile, inventions. Dale had chosen to simply watch TV, while Chip immersed himself in a detective novel.

Their relative tranquility was suddenly interrupted though, by a frantic knocking at their front door. Chip was the first to respond, answering the door to find a very distraught looking squirrel, who he recognized as Tammy's mother.

"Thank goodness you're home! You have to help me!" the bushy tailed rodent blurted out.

Chip was a bit taken aback by the outburst, but quickly regained his composure "What seems to be the problem, mam?"

"It's Tammy... She's gone missing!" the frantic mother replied.

"Tammy? Hey Chip, isn't that that squirrel who was absolutely crazy about you?" Dale interjected, he and Gadget joining in to see what the commotion was about.

"Gee, I sure hope she's alright." the genius mouse added with concern.

"Please! You have to find her!" Mrs Squirrel continued to implore them.

"Don't worry mam, the Rescue Rangers are on the case." Chip stated confidently "We'll start looking immediately."

"Ooh, eager to find your girlfriend?" Dale teased him, puckering his lips and placing them uncomfortably close to Chip's face "Mwa Mwa Mwa"

Chip responded with a swift conk to the noggin "Knock it off you blockhead! This is serious! Tammy could be in real danger!"

Mrs Squirrel grew visibly more worried at that remark.

"But we won't let anything happen to her." Chip quickly tacked on to alleviate the squirrel's worries "Now where is that last place you saw her?"

"It was at home. I had gone to pick up some groceries, and left Tammy behind to babysit Bink. But when I got back, Tammy was nowhere to be found!" Mrs Squirrel explained.

"Then that's where we'll start." Chip declared "Rescue Rangers away!"

A short trip in the Ranger Wing later they arrived at the Squirrels' humble abode. The house was tidy and there didn't seem to be any signs of a struggle.

"Okay, let's split up and look for clues." Chip instructed.

Each Ranger took a separate room of the house. Dale immediately headed for the kitchen, while Chip searched the living room, and Gadget went to Tammy's room.

A short time later, Dale emerged back into the living room, clearly snacking on something he had taken from the kitchen "Welp, no sign of Tammy in there." he reported.

"No clues in here either." Chip observed.

"Golly!" Gadget's voice called from Tammy's room "Guys, you might want to come see this!"

The two chipmunks rushed to Tammy's room, colliding and struggling to squeeze through the door together as they arrived. They found Gadget staring into the squirrel's closet with fascination, and when they looked, they understood why. Hidden behind a rack of clothing was a large piece of cork-board covered in various hand written notes. It was like something you would see in a detective's office or in a conspiracy theorist's basement.

"What... is all this?" Chip asked in disbelief.

"It looks like Tammy was aspiring to become a Rescue Ranger." Gadget observed.

"Or maybe she just wanted to impress ole Chipper here." Dale joked, earning an annoyed glance from his partner.

"It seems like she was investigating reports of other rodents that had gone missing, most of them young women." Gadget elaborated "Some of these accounts mention sightings of suspicious figures in a certain part of town."

Of particular note on the board was a piece torn from a human map of the city with a red circle and a '?' marking a specific area.

"It looks like this marks the location of their suspected hide out." Chip noted.

"Do you think she went after them?" Dale asked.

"Hmm, or did they come after her?" Chip wondered, stroking his chin "Either way, this is the only lead we've come across. I say we go and check it out."

With that, the Rangers said their goodbyes to Mrs Squirrel. They decided to leave out the details of what they found for fear of worrying her further. They just let her know that they had a lead, and would bring back her daughter safely.

Another trip in the Ranger Wing and the gang arrived at the location indicated on the map. As they suspected, it was in the seedier part of town, full of dark alleys and rough looking characters. They landed the plane on the roof of a nearby building in hopes of avoiding it being stolen. On top of that, Gadget enabled a few additional security measures to deter any greedy paws. After descending an old fire escape which was in desperate need of maintenance, they finally reached the mean streets below.

"So, what do we do now?" Dale wondered.

"Just be on the look out for anything suspicious, and try not to draw too much attention to yourselves." Chip instructed.

But that was easier said than done. Between Dale's Hawaiian shirt, Chip's detective getup, and Gadget's jumpsuit, the oddly dressed rodents stood out like a sore thumb. Fortunately the local denizens still didn't seem to pay them much mind, most simply shooting them glances of suspicion before returning to their own business. The Rangers spent over an hour investigating the neighborhood, yet they still did not turn up any clues that would help them find their missing person. But just when things were starting to look hopeless, Dale spotted a shady figure out of the corner of his eye. He paused for a moment to look more intently in the suspicious individual's direction. What he saw was a seemingly normal mouse, but there was something strange about his behavior. He seemed much more nervous than the confident thugs that roamed these streets, and he was constantly looking over his shoulder as if to make sure no one was following him. Something in Dale's gut told him that this mouse had something important to hide.

"Hey guys, look over there!" he shouted with a bit too much excitement, pointing in the direction of the suspicious rodent.

"Yipe!" realizing he had been spotted, the mouse darted into a nearby alley.

"After him!" Chip commanded, a bit annoyed that Dale gave them away.

The Ranger's gave chase to the fleeing rodent, slowly gaining ground due to being in better shape.

"Leave me alone!" the mouse yelled behind him as he ran.

"We just want to ask you a few questions!" Chip tried to assure him.

"I swear, I don't know anything about the disappearances!" the mouse insisted, only making him sound all the more guilty. After all, they hadn't said anything about "disappearances".

The mouse vanished around another corner, trying to shake his pursuers. The Rangers were hot on his tail, but the moment they rounded the corner, they found themselves face to face with a dead end, and their quarry was nowhere in sight.

"Everyone look for clues. He couldn't have gotten far." Chip directed.

They spread out and searched the back alley for any sign of the escaped rodent. It wasn't long before Chip spotted a nearby sewer grate, his intuition telling him this was just the kind of thing a fleeing criminal would seek. His suspicions were confirmed when upon closer inspection he found that someone had tied a strand of thread to the grate that disappeared into the sewer below. "Over here guys. I think I found something."

A moment later, they were shimmying down the thread one by one. Come to think of it, the very existence of the thread was suspicious. There was no way the fleeing mouse would have had time to set it up before they caught up to him. Which could only mean that it was already there. Did the mouse know this was here? Was this a route that was regularly traveled? If so, then it would seem to indicate that they were growing closer to their goal. It would make sense to hide an evil lair in a sewer, far away from prying eyes.

The Rangers followed the sewer passage for several minutes before they started to hear voices echoing through the tunnels. They opted to sneak forward from this point. They had no idea what they were getting into, and they didn't want to get caught sticking their noses where they didn't belong. Eventually the passage opened into another room, the voices sounding very close now. The Rangers peeked inside to find a much larger chamber, and standing in the back were two imposing figures, covered head to toe in dark hooded robes. They seemed to be guarding some kind of hand-basket with a series of ropes and pulleys attached to the handle. The design intrigued Gadget, as it appeared to be some kind of makeshift elevator. At that moment, about a dozen more hooded figures approached the guards. There was a swift exchange of words before they bowed to each other and the group entered the basket to be lowered into the depths below.

Another set of voices soon grabbed the Ranger's attention. At the far end of the room was another group of rodents, most of them in normal street cloths. Among them was the mouse they had been pursuing. The crowd was filing into another room, and later emerging out the other side wearing the same hooded robes as the previous group. Judging by the fact that none of them appeared to be carrying anything on entry, it would stand to reason that the robes were being provided and likely left here. On the one paw, this seemed like a wise approach for an organization that wished to remain hidden, as members would never be caught with the garments on their person or in their home. But on the other paw, it also provided the Rangers with the perfect avenue of infiltration. That is, as long as they could reach the room undetected.

Fortunately the sewer was filled with pipes and dark corners to hide in, and this wasn't their first time sneaking around a pair of guards. They waited for the current group to greet the sentries before making their move, skillfully slipping across the room while the others were distracted. They managed to make it into the adjacent chamber without being spotted, and as they had suspected the room was filled with robes and spaces to store clothing. After a short search, they each managed to find a robe in their size. Chip and Dale were able to change easily as they never wore pants to begin with, but Gadget insisted that they look away while she slipped into her new attire. They made sure to hide their old clothes where they felt others wouldn't see them, in the off chance someone would recognize them.

Now that they looked the part, they just needed to blend in with the next group that arrived. Luckily it wasn't too long before they heard another set of voices approaching. The incognito rodents hid just outside the exit and waited for the others to emerge before slipping in behind them. They followed the crowd up to the guards, hoping that the hooded figures wouldn't notice that anything was amiss.

"Greetings brothers." the member at the head of the pack said to the sentinels.

"Greetings brothers." the hooded figures replied in return.

"May his will be done." the group said, bowing in unison. The Rangers quickly mimicked the motion, but hoped no one had noticed they hadn't spoken the phrase.

Their fears were alleviated when the guards stepped aside, allowing the group onto hand-basket without further question. Though they had passed the first hurdle, the ride down the makeshift elevator was a tense one. Being in such close proximity to others, they feared someone would recognize them. Fortunately the others seemed to have little interest in chatting. In fact, the whole group remained silent and stoic all the way to the bottom. It was sort of disturbing.

Upon getting off, the Rangers continued to follow the group of hooded figures. The guards down here were more numerous, so breaking away did not seem like a viable option at the moment. They navigated down various corridors, the depths of the lair feeling akin to a massive labyrinth. But just as the Rangers began to feel they were becoming hopelessly lost, the group entered into a huge chamber packed with other robe wearing figures just like them. It reminded them a bit of the time they encountered that Cola Cult. But whereas those members had merely been rodents in search of a place to belong, something about these cultists felt more... sinister.

The number of members was astounding, and quite frankly, frightening. Who knew there was such a massive cult brewing just under the city's surface? And those numbers only grew as time went on, with more and more groups pouring into the room. But what were they gathering for? Based on the rising excitement of the crowd, it seemed like they would get their answer soon. Most of the cultists were congregating in front of a raised section of the room, which appeared to be some sort of stage. As anticipation continued to grow, excited murmurs began to spread among the group. The Rangers remained in the back, trying to draw as little attention to themselves as possible.

After a few more minutes of waiting, the commotion died down as a single robed figure took the stage. Though most of his features were hidden by his hood, his snout stuck out, revealing him to be a rat. He stood before the crowd, then raised his arms in reverence.

"Brothers and sisters, we have gathered you here on this days, so that we may pay tribute to our great and glorious lord." the rat spoke with authority. It seemed that he was the leader of this band of cultists.

"May his will be done." the crowd said in unison, just like at the elevator.

"And a most blessed day it is. For on this day we have obtained not one, but two offering to make to our marvelous lord." the priest continued.

At that moment, a pairs of hooded figures entered the chamber, escorting a rather reluctant squirrel up onto the stage.

"Hey! Let me go! You won't get away with this!" the squirrel demanded, struggling to pull free from the sentinels forcing her forward.

"Tammy?!" the Rangers all gasped under their breaths, shocked to see her in such a state. The poor girl had been stripped naked, and fitted with pairs of shackles on her wrists and ankles.

Another pair of cultists soon entered, dragging along a pink bat who the Rangers also happened to recognize.

"Foxglove?!" Dale gasped in surprise.

Unlike Tammy, the bat had never worn any cloths, and yet somehow the addition of manacles made her appear more naked than ever.

Tammy tried to look strong as she was presented to the crowd, but she couldn't completely hide the growing fear within her. Foxglove, on the other paw, was more visibly shaken, the terrified bat averting her gaze from the sea of hoods staring back at her.

"May these offerings please our lord, and deliver his favor unto us." the leader continued his speech "Now, let us pray unto his greatness, so that he may hear our praises."

With that, the congregation all bowed their heads and began muttering something in an unintelligible tongue. The Rangers took the opportunity to huddle together while the others seem distracted.

"Golly, what are we going to do now?" Gadget asked.

"There are too many of them to overpower. We need to come up with a plan, and fast." Chip pointed out.

"Oh I know! This is just like Justice Munk, issue 666. All we need is ten gallons of tapioca pudding and..." Dale started to suggest.

"That's stupid! Where are we supposed to get ten gallons of tapioca pudding?" Chip shot back.

"Oh yeah?! I don't hear you coming up with anything!" Dale retaliated.

"Um, guys..." Gadget tried to interject, but was ignored by the arguing chipmunks.

"That's because I actually think before I speak!" Chip retorted.

"Guys..." again the mouse was ignored.

"Hey! I think... sometimes." Dale insisted.

"Guys!" Gadget shouted, finally breaking the two from their squabble.

It was then that the chipmunks noticed that all the eyes in the room were on them.

"Do you have something to share with us?" the leader eyed them expectantly, like a teacher having caught their students passing notes.

"Um, nope. We were just leaving." Dale tried to play it off casually as they made their way towards the exit.

"Leaving? In our finest hour?" the priest's gaze narrowed.

The cultists began to advance on them, blocking their path of escape and slowly backing them into a corner. There was nowhere for them to run, and soon they found themselves being manhandled through the crowd and up on stage, where a set of particularly burly cultists came up behind them and forced the Rangers to their knees.

"Hmm, I don't believe I've seen you three among our ranks before." the leader said, pacing in front of them, observing each of them as he passed "New members? Or perhaps... spies!" he turned to point an accusing finger at them.

The burly cultists pulled down the Rangers' hoods, revealing their true identities to the crowd. There was a collective gasp from the congregation, but even more shocked, were the two captive females.

"Chip?!" Tammy blurted in surprise.

"Dale!" Foxglove sounded relieved "Oh I just knew you would come to save me."

"Um, yep, that's right. I'm here to save you." Dale improvised, not wanting to admit that he didn't even know she was missing.

Upon hearing those names, a small commotion erupted among the cultists. "Where have I heard those names before?" "I think I recognize them." "Aren't they those Rescue Ranger I've heard about." "What are they doing here?" "Are they trying to take our offerings?"

"Brothers and sisters, hear me!" the priest spoke above the crowd to quell their unrest "These heathens have infiltrated our ranks and attempted to steal our offerings. But their ruse has been revealed, and now we have been gifted with yet three more offerings. Is this not proof that our lord has graced us?"

The cultists seemed pleased by their leader's words, their anxious chatter transforming into an exultant chant "Praise him... Praise him..."

With the crowd seemingly in a trance, the priest walked up behind Gadget before addressing the disciples next to him "Take the others to the offering chamber." he instructed "I will prepare this one personally."

There was a host of protests from the captured rodents as they were lead off stage and back into the labyrinth of underground tunnels. If only Monterey and Zipper were with them, then they might have had a chance of overpower the guards. But as is stood, two chipmunks, a squirrel, and a bat were no match for the four rats ushering them along. Chip thought about the possibility of running. He even kept an eye out for potential routes of escape. But with Tammy and Foxglove in chains, they would never be able to keep up. He couldn't just leave them to whatever sick plans these cultists had for them.

After a few minutes of walking, they finally arrived at their destination. Stepping through the doorway, the Rangers found themselves in large, yet dimly lit room. The so called offering chamber was more like a medieval torture chamber, filled with wicked looking device specialized in the art of causing pain. Considering that everything had to be scaled down for rodents, the craftsmanship would have been remarkable, if it weren't so horrifying. The distinct stench of blood hung heavily in the air, and red splotches could be seen scattered across the room, some still looking fresh.

"The time has come for you four to make your offerings." one of the rats announced.

"So what does this lord of yours like? Gold? Jewels?" Dale asked, not really sure that he wanted to know the answer.

"Oh, our lord has no interest in such mundane worldly possessions." the cultists all grinned and chuckled evilly, causing the red nosed chipmunk to gulp.

A rat suddenly grabbed Dale and roughly yanked the robe from his body, leaving the chipmunk as naked as the two females. Dale felt compelled to cover his shame, a cartoonish gesture since he never wore pants anyway. The cultist simply snatched the embarrassed chipmunk and dragged him over to one of the nearby devices, whose simple design belied its sinister nature. No spikes or blades, just a wooden table with shackles for his wrists and ankles. Dale resisted the rat's attempts to lay him on the table, but the small chipmunk stood no chance against the larger rodent. Once the first cuff was in place, his fate was sealed, and the rest soon followed. As small as his chances were of overpowering his captor, he had even less of a chance of escaping the cold iron restraints.

"Comfortable?" the rat asked casually.

"Uh, not especially." Dale replied.

"Well, let me see if I can help with that." the rat grinned wickedly, beginning to turn a crank on the side of the table.

Gears grinded, chains rattled, and soon the terrifying nature of the device was revealed. With each turn of the crank, the shackles restraining Dale's limbs slowly pulled further and further apart, stretching the chipmunk until his body was taut. It reminded Dale a bit of his time as Rubber Bando. But the cultist didn't stop there; the chains continued to pull, their cuffs digging into Dale's wrists and ankles. With nowhere else to go, the chipmunk's limbs began to stretch beyond their limits.

The discomfort Dale felt moments ago, quickly intensified into a ripping pain "H-Hey! What are you...! GAH! Stop!" He was wrong! This wasn't at all like the time he was Rubber Bando! This HURT! "YEOOWW!"

"Dale!" the other's shouted at the sight of seeing their friend tortured.

Chip tried to rush forward to help, but another rat held him back and swiftly disrobed the startled munk "Don't worry, we haven't forgotten the rest of you." he grinned wickedly "There is still plenty of fun to go around."

The cultist forced Chip over to another table. At first the chipmunk feared he would receive the same treatment as his partner, but this table did not appear to have a crank on it, and the restraints consisted of a pair of wooden stocks instead of iron shackles. Like Dale, Chip struggled against his captor, but his struggles were equally as fruitless, and it was only a matter of time before his limbs were firmly secured in the stocks.

The rat moved out of sight for a moment and returned with a pair of coal filled braziers, which he promptly placed below the chipmunk's trapped paws. Chip could feel the heat radiating against his sensitive soles, causing him to squirm as he attempted to escape the relentless roasting. But this was only the beginning of his torment. The rat disappeared again, only to reappear with a sharpened metal poker. He plunged the instrument into the burning coals until the tip was searing hot. The cultist chuckled wickedly as he removed the poker, showing his victim the red hot tip. Chip was sweating profusely, both from the intense heat and overwhelming fear. He wanted to be strong, but seeing that glowing point and hearing Dale's cries of anguish was causing his courage to falter. In all the perils the Rangers had faced in their adventures, Chip had never felt so helpless as he did now.

The cultist wasted no more time, jabbing the hot poker into the defenseless chipmunk's chest. "AAAHHHH!" Chip screamed, searing pain erupting from the point of impact. The smell of scorched fur filled the air as the cultist held the rod in place, searing flesh and fur alike. It felt like an eternity to Chip before the scorching iron was finally removed, leaving the poor chipmunk gasping for breath while he tried to endure the lingering pain of his severe burn. It wasn't long though before the cruel prod pressed against his flesh once more, ripping another cry of agony from the tortured rodent.

"No! Chip!" this time it was Tammy who attempted to rush forward, but was immediately stopped by her own sentry. "Let him go!" she demanded.

"Forget about him. You should be more concerned about making your own offering." the rat said, pulling her towards a different torture device.

It was a large triangular block of wood propped up by four legs, a devious instrument known as a wooden horse. Only this one have been modified to cause even further torment by adding a layer of spike covered steel over the top. The rat looked over the device with what seemed like admiration, while Tammy could only stare in wide eyed horror. She flinched away as the cultist approached her, but was surprised when he began to undo her shackles. She didn't care what his reasoning was, the moment her feet were free, she made a mad dash towards the exit. But she hardly made it two steps before a paw gripped tightly around her bushy tail, causing her to yelp from the sudden jolt of pain.

"Ah, ah, ah!" the cultist scolded her "Looks like you still have some fight in you. That's good. The feisty ones are always more fun to break."

His words sent a chill down the squirrel's spine "You're sick!" she shouted, still trying to scramble away despite the pain in her tail.

But she was no match for the burly rat, who quickly overpowered her and lifted her above the wooden horse. The reason he had removed her shackles seemed so obvious now. He would not have been able to set her down on the device with those chains in the way.

"You might want to open your legs." he advised "It will only hurt worse if you don't."

Of course she wasn't going to listen to anything he said to her. She would resist him until the very end. A decision she would soon regret as the cultist began to lower her onto the device. The spikes raked at her inner thighs, leaving nasty bleeding gashes in their wake. "AAAHHHH!" she screamed, feeling as if some predator was cruelly clawing at her legs. Her anguish only intensified as she settled down on the metal wedge, her body weight causing the sharp edge to bite into her crotch. "AARRGG!" another cry of agony escaped her.

"Please! Stop this!" Foxglove wept, the kindhearted bat unable to handle the sounds of her suffering friends, especially Dale.

"Oh but their screams are so exquisite. Surely their suffering will please our lord... as will yours." the rat smiled with glee as he dragged the sniveling bat over to yet another torture device.

This one was like a large iron casket, standing to shoulder height, with an opening for someone's head to poke out. The front was wide open like a pair of doors inviting one in. But what lied within was not inviting at all. Sharp metal spikes lined the interior of the casket, ensuring anyone sealed inside would be skewered from every angle. Foxglove had heard about such devices during her time with Winifred; an open faced iron maiden.

"No! No! Please!" the bat pleaded, trying to pull away.

But the rat just yanked her back, giving her another sadistic grin. Like with Tammy, he removed the bat's shackles to ensure they wouldn't get in the way, and without even giving her a chance to escape, he shoved the poor chiropteran into the casket. "YIPE!" Foxglove yelped as the sharp spines pricked her back, making her try to move forward and away from the source of pain.

But the rat moved in to block her path "Now be a good little offering and fold in your wings. Otherwise I'll throw your red nosed friend in one of these once my partner is done with him."

Foxglove whimpering meekly at the choice she had been given. She was terrified of what this device would do to her. But she also did not want to see Dale suffer anymore. Mustering all the courage she could, the frightened bat shakily tucked in her wings.

"That's a good girl." the cultist commended her as one would an obedient pet.

Foxglove tried to brace herself, tried to focus on how this was for Dale. But nothing could prepare her for what awaited when the rat slammed the iron maiden closed.

"AAAAHHHHH!" the poor bat wailed in agony as the spikes bit fully into her flesh. They were specifically designed to be just long enough cause incredible pain, without being deep enough to cause internal injuries. Though that wouldn't stop them from piercing her wings, damaging the membrane enough so that she might never fly again. In a cruel sense of irony, the casket had been decorated to appear like a pair of bat wings swaddling their victim. Foxglove's first reaction was to struggle, her flight response desperate to escape the intense pain. But any move she made only worsened her torment as the spikes dug around in her wounds. So she fought back her instincts and tried to stand as still as possible. Though she succeeded in avoiding any major movements, she could not stop the intense trembling of her body or the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. These minor motions were just enough to keep her plagued by stinging jolts of pain. She tried not to think about, to focus on something else. But the only other thing for her to focus on, were the screams of her dear friends suffering their own horrendous tortures. It was particularly hard to tune out Dale. To hear the chipmunk that she loved in so much anguish was a torture all its own.

The cultist torturing Dale was deliberately slow in his ministrations, ensuring that Dale felt every single fiber of his muscles tearing apart. Each turn of the crank sent rippling waves of agony down the poor chipmunk's body as more and more of his tendons gave out under the ever increasing strain. The iron cuffs bit sharply into his wrists and ankles, deep enough to draw blood. But as bad as it was, Dale feared that something even worse was coming, like the pain was building towards some kind of climax. With his body pushed well beyond its limits, something would have to give. Another turn of the crank, and there was a sickening pop as one of the munk's shoulders was pulled from its socket, then a second pop as the other shoulder followed. An intense surge of pain shot down Dale's spine, the agony so great he couldn't even form a coherent plea for mercy. He could only scream and sob, praying for this terrible nightmare to end. He didn't even realize that the rat had already stopped turning the crank, allowing the tortured chipmunk to simply wallow in anguish. After all, the sadist didn't want to end the chipmunk's life too soon. Their lord would be disappointed if such a delicious banquette of suffering were to end so quickly.

Chip had lost track of the number of times he was branded. His chest was riddled with third degree burns, wounds that would never heal properly, even if he somehow escaped this hell. The only rests that he got were when his torturer had to reheat the poker, and even then, it was tough to relax with endless heat of the braziers constantly assaulting his paws. Finally the rat seemed satisfied with the damage he had caused, and paused for a moment to admire his work. Chip dared to hope that this meant his torment was over. But this proved to be a mistake. The cultist thrust the searing rod forward once, only this time for it to come to rest against the chipmunks sensitive soles. "YEOWWWW!" the chipmunk cried at the sudden burst of pain from his paws. It hurt even more than the burns on his chest. He desperately tried to move his paws away from the scorching pain, but the stocks left them nowhere to flee. He was completely helpless and at his tormentor's mercy, of which there was none. Just like with his chest, the rat took great pleasure in toying with every inch of Chip's vulnerable paws. From his toes to his soles, painful blisters bubbled up wherever the scorching rod touched his tender flesh. Fresh tears run down Chip's cheeks, not only from the intense agony, but from the very real fear that he may never be able to walk again.

Tammy was too wrapped up in her own predicament to focus on Chip anymore. It felt like someone was holding a knife right against her groin and that even the slightest move would slice her open. But even if she managed to remain perfectly still, her tormentor would not let her get off so easily. The rat picked up a nearby set of shackles, only these were different than the previous pair Tammy had been forced to wear. Rather than being connected together to restrain a prisoner's limbs, each shackle had a hook on the other end for something else to be attached. The cultist attached one to each of Tammy's ankles, allowing the hooks to dangle below her paws. But it was the next thing the rat grabbed that made the squirrel's eyes grow wide with terror. A group of heavy iron weights, each with a small ring on top, perfect for fitting a hook through.

One by one the torturer added the weights to the dangling hooks, slowly increasing the tension on Tammy's ankles. To an extent, it was similar to the treatment Dale was getting, with her legs starting to feel the strain of being stretched to an unnatural degree. But the difference was where the other end of that force was applied. The weights pulled her crotch down onto the sharp edge of the wooden horse, and her inner thighs deeper into the spikes along its sides, gradually amplifying the pain from each of them. Tammy tried her best to endure, but she was not prepared for when the rat suddenly added a larger weight to her right ankle. "AH!" the surge of pain was enough to make her yelp in surprised anguish. "GAH!" a second cry escaped her as the same was done to her left ankle. After a few more of these heavy weights, the cultist finally stopped, giving the poor squirrel a moment to wallow in her newfound misery.

Tammy was in incredible pain. It felt like the metallic wedge was splitting her in half. Her leg muscles were sore, and the shackles were digging into her ankles. But just when it seemed like it couldn't get any worse, the rat grabbed the chains dangling from her manacles and gave them a good sideways swing. "YEEEOOW!" the squirrel screamed as the force of the weights dragged her legs back and forth like a pendulum. The constant motion caused her groin to saw into the horse's sharp tip, while her inner thighs were forced to rock against the razor sharp spikes. Fresh tears marred her cheeks, while fresh blood soaked her legs. Why did she go sticking her nose where it didn't belong?! She didn't want to become a Rescue Ranger anymore. She didn't even care about impressing Chip anymore. All she wanted was to go home. Oh what she wouldn't give for this nightmare to end, and for her to be back with her mother and sister.

Compared to the others, Foxglove's torture seemed relatively inert. With most of her body trapped inside the iron maiden, there wasn't much more the cultist could do to her. And yet something still didn't feel right. Despite her best efforts to remain still, the pain from her wounds continued to grow. She grit her teeth in an effort to endure the anguish, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by the rat guarding her.

"I see you've discovered this contraption's little secret." the cultist was practically giddy with excitement "Those spikes are coated in a special slow acting toxin." he revealed "Don't worry, it isn't potent enough to kill you. But it will leave you as weak as a newborn, and the pain will be excruciating."

It was true, Foxglove could feel the pain spreading and growing, like a wildfire burning through her bloodstream. Her anguish slowly mounted, making the bat whine and groan until she finally couldn't take it anymore. She cried out in anguish, blood oozing from her nose as the vile toxin ravaged her body. It was a horrible feeling, both painful and exhausting, like her very lifeforce was bleeding out through the wounds covering her form. Yet like the cultist said, she did not die. There was only more weakness, more agony, enough to draw out continuous screams from the poor poisoned bat. Why was this happening to her?! Was this some kind of karmic backlash for the time she had spent serving Winifred? But that had been only because she was naive; she had never meant to hurt anyone. Surely she didn't deserve THIS! None of them did!

A chorus of screams filled the dungeon as the Rangers endured their various forms of torture. It was like music to the cultist's ears, and they each took great pleasure in playing their instruments to the fullest. But as much as they would have loved to just play the day away with their new toys, there was other work to be done, and they needed their victims alive for it.

Dale was the first to be released, his cultist freeing him from his shackles, finally giving the tortured chipmunk the slightest bit of relief. But this respite was short lived as the rat set to popping Dale's dislocated joints painfully back into place. Though his shoulders were back in their proper spots, the damage was already done. Dale could hardly manage the strength to move a muscle, and what little motion he could muster was shaky and excruciating. Chip's torturer was also satisfied with the level of torment he had wrought, finally moving the braziers away, and opening the roasted chipmunk's stocks. But Chip was still in too much pain to move. Even with the braziers removed, his paws still felt nothing but blistering agony. Meanwhile Tammy's tormentor set to removing her weights one by one, before finally taking off her shackles. But the squirrel still didn't dare to move for fear of aggravating her injuries further. Lastly, Foxglove's torturer opened the iron maiden, allowing the wounded bat to collapse to the ground, where she immediately coughed up a fair amount of blood from the toxin coursing through her veins. Her body was riddled with puncture wound, with trails of blood staining her pink coat a deep crimson. Like the others, she could not bring herself to move, the pain and poison rendering her too weak to do anything other than lie there and shiver.

"Excellent, you have all proven yourselves to be worthy offerings." one of the rat's announced.

"Yes, our lord is surely elated by your performance." another agreed.

"With his blessing, we can move to the next stage of the ritual." a final one announced.

It was a statement that filled their victims with dread. "No..." "Please..." "No more..." they groaned weakly. But their pleas for mercy only made the cultists more eager to resume their suffering. The rats all turned their gaze to a set of posts across the room, the location where they would carry out their next heinous act. With Dale's torn muscles, Chip's burnt paws, Tammy's injured legs, and Foxglove's envenomation, it was a trip none of the victims had the strength to make. But that did nothing to deter the torturers, who simply dragged the weakened rodent across the floor, eliciting more cries and groans of pain from their prisoners.

Upon reaching their destination, each victim was forced to their feet and made to face their own personal post. Though none of them had the strength to stand on their own, the cultists tied their wrists tightly to the tops of the posts, forcing the joints to bear the weight of their broken bodies. With the prisoners secured, the rats retreated for a moment, their victims left to dread their fate.

"Chip, Chip... It hurts..." Dale wept, trembling against his post as his muscles struggled to support him. There was no remnant of the goofy fun-loving chipmunk that Chip knew, only a pitiable shell of a rodent remained.

"S-Stay strong Dale. We'll find a way out of this somehow." Chip tried his best to encourage his broken partner. Though honestly, he wasn't sure he believed that himself. Still, he had to keep hope alive. It was the only thing left to cling to in this hell hole.

He also looked to Tammy and Foxglove. They were both in similar shape as Dale. With fresh tears running down their cheeks, they already looked so defeated. Chip could only hope they would be able to endure the trial that lied ahead. Especially when he did not yet know what that trial would be.

It wasn't long before they could hear multiple sets of footsteps approaching, accompanied by menacing snickers. The rats had returned, and were prepared to administer the next phase of their torment. Chip and Tammy turned their heads to find the cultists standing behind them, each holding a multi-headed flogging whip. Their pupils shrank in terror at the sight of the wicked instrument. Long thin strands, adorned with shape spines and bone fragments designed to rip apart flesh.

"No! You can't!" Tammy struggled to pull away from her post.

"You'll pay for this, you sick freaks!" Chip threatened.

"We wouldn't expect heathens like you to understand the honor you have been given." One of the rats replied.

"Yeah, you should be grateful for the opportunity to serve our lord." another one agreed.

"Your lord can go suck a nut!" Chip shot back defiantly.

There was a collective gasp among the cultists "You dare to speak ill of our great lord? You will pay dearly for your insolence. But first, the time for your second offering has come. May the chorus of your cries and the bounty of your blood serve as atonement for your sins." the rats all raised their whips, readying themselves to strike.

Chip and Tammy braced themselves for the oncoming onslaught. Dale and Foxglove followed suit, taking cues from what they had heard, that pain imminent.

Crack!

There was a deathly silence following the first strike, the flash of sheer agony stealing the Rangers' voices away.

Crack!

"YEOOOW!" and just like that, their voices returned, screaming their anguish to the heavens.

The cultists wasted no more time and started to flog their victims in earnest, the wicked tools digging into their skin, tearing apart fur and flesh alike. To make matters worse, each strike made the prisoners jerk on reflex, aggravating the wounds they had already received. The dungeon was filled with the sounds of whips, wailing, and pleading as the rats mercilessly shredded their victims' backs to ribbons. The torture dragged on for several excruciating minutes, which felt like hours to the poor defenseless Rangers, until finally they were given a moment to catch their breaths.

They were left taking shaky gasps for air, their bodies drenched in cold sweat and cheeks stained with tears. They could feel a sickening warmth oozing down their backs, a frightening sign of just how much damage had been done. While the prisoners didn't even want to think about the sorry state of their backsides, the rats had a perfect view to admire their work. Each one had been reduced to a bloody mess of matted fur and mangled flesh, like the worlds most terrifying form of abstract art. Yet there was still room for even more punishment and the wicked rats knew just how to administer it.

"So blasphemer, are you ready to repent?" the cultists congregated around Chip.

He grit his teeth, mustering all his strength and courage to speak "Go to hell..."

"It seems you still have not learned your manners." one rat remarked.

"Then we will just have to continue teaching you." another said with a grin.

The cultists raised their whips once more, each laying into the defiant chipmunk, one after another, ensure that there was no rest between strikes. Chip's screams were now the only ones filling the chamber. The pain was indescribably, stripping away at his willpower just like it stripped away his flesh. Yet he still managed to hold on to his resolve, his stubborn nature pushing him to endure the ruthless treatment. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing him break.

After another minute of relentless flogging, the cultists paused their assault. "What say you now, heathen?"

"N-N-Never" Chip uttered through gasping breaths. Despite the unspeakable agony he was in, he remained defiant.

Seeing that their victim would likely die before giving into torture himself, the rats hatched another nefarious scheme to garner his cooperation.

Crack! "WAHHH!" Chips ears perked up as heard Dale's scream.
Crack! "AAAHHH!" this time it was Tammy's cry that rang out.
Crack! "GAAHH!" Foxglove shrieked as fresh pain wracked her.

"Since you refuse to renounce your sins, your friends shall pay the price for your stubbornness." one rat spoke into Chip's ear.

"YEOWW!" "IT HURTS!" "OWWW!"

Chip tried to shut out the screams of his friends, knowing the cultists wanted him to crack under the weight of his guilt.

"NO MORE!" "MERCY!" "MAKE IT STOP!"

But with each plea for mercy, Chip felt his guilt growing. Was his pride really worth making his friends suffer?

"HELP!" "SAVE US!" "CHIP! PLEASE!"

It was too much to bear! He couldn't take it anymore!

"I'M SORRY!" he cried out, causing the cultists to stop their cruel assault "I'm sorry I insulted your lord, and I... beg for his forgiveness." even if he didn't mean it, every word made him want to retch. He couldn't believe he had been reduced to this, begging like a pathetic helpless child.

"It is okay heathen, you are forgiven." one of rats patronized him, as if he was some kind of priest absolving Chip of his sins.

The cultists put down their whips and untied their respective victims, allowing them to collapse to the floor.

"Another successful offering." one rat observed.

"Surely our lord is beyond delighted. It has been too long since we have been able to provide him with such a plentiful bounty of suffering." another added with glee.

"We must prepare the final phase of the ritual while the offerings are still fresh." a third one noted.

The cultists simply left their victims on the floor, knowing none of them had the strength to escape at this point. It was the only chance the Rangers got to rest since they had entered this god forsaken chamber. Dale, Tammy, and Foxglove curled into fetal positions, trembling and sobbing from the lingering anguish of their torture. Chip tried to keep a level head, frantically thinking about ways they could possibly escape from this hell. He was supposed to be the leader, the one others could turn to for guidance. But as he looked at the others' mangled backsides, it felt like all of his previous successes meant nothing. He had failed to protect the innocent, he had failed to protect his team. Some leader he had turned out to be. All he could do was pray that Gadget had fared better at escaping her own predicament. She was their only hope now.

It was some time before the cultists finally returned, much to the dismay of the tortured Rangers.

"You must forgive us for taking so long." the rat chuckled as if he had just told a funny joke "We were not expecting to receive extra offerings today."

"The time for the final phase of the ritual is neigh." another one said excitedly.

"You will be given the honor of making the ultimate sacrifice for our lord." a third cultist declared.

That statement made the group's blood run cold. Deep down they had all known this would be the likely outcome, but to actually hear it said aloud was gut-wrenching.

"No, I don't want to die!" Foxglove wept.

"Please, no more." Dale pleaded.

"Y-You can't do this." Tammy protested weakly.

"You... are monsters." was the only insult Chip could muster now.

Like before, the rats paid little mind to their victim's objections, each moving in to pick up their respective quarry. Weakened cries and groans escaped the tortured Rangers as their moment of rest was interrupted, reawakening the pain that had just started to dull. The only consolation was that this time the cultist's had actually opted to carry them, saving them from another harsh dragging along the unforgiving floor. However the reason for this courtesy soon became clear. The Rangers were finally taken away from that accursed dungeon, and after a short trip through the cultist's lair, found themselves in an equally disturbing chamber.

The room was circular with a single stone alter at its center. Surrounding the alter were dozens upon dozens of blood red candles, all lit, with wax dripping onto the floor. The similarly blood red stains marring the alter's surface left no doubt as to its use. For a brief moment, this is where the Rangers thought that they would meet their end, but another detail about the chamber caught their attention and only served to further heighten their fears. Lying on the ground, equally spaced around the room were four 't' shaped wooden posts, and sitting next to each, a set of hammer and nails. It wasn't hard to see where this was going. Four crosses, four victims. They were going to be crucified!

The Rangers squirmed feebly in their captors' grasps, desperation pushing them to make one final attempt to resist. But their bodies were far too broken to put up any real fight. Each cultist took their respective prisoner and layed them upon a crucifix. They each grabbed a nail and hammer, using their body weight to keep their victims' arm steady while they lined the nail up with their wrist.

"No, don't!" "Please, stop!" "No, no, no, no..." various pleas escaped the terrified Rangers. But nothing they could say or do would stop what was coming. The cultists all raised their hammers in unison...

CLANK!

"AAAHHH!" wails of anguish echoed through the chamber as nails bit into flesh, muscle, and bone. An agony that was only amplified by the fact that it took multiple strikes to drive the stakes through their wrists and secure them to the wood underneath. Even Foxglove, who had already suffered through the iron maiden, was not prepared for just how excruciating one little nail could be. And this was only the first one...

The chamber filled with screams, sobs, and incoherent pleas as the cultists carried out their dark work, securing their victims' other wrists and ankles to the wooden crosses. Though such sounds would turn a normal person's insides, to the twisted rats it was like the most beautiful symphony in the world. They could only hope that their there lord was enjoying it as much as they were.

By the time they were finished, their poor victims were left shivering and panting for breath, their exhausted minds struggling to cope with the new level of pain they were forced to endure. But they hardly had any time to rest before each of the cultist pulled a wicked looking dagger from their robes. The Rangers' eyes widened in terror, their fear reflected back to them on the surface of the blades. They had no strength left to beg, and could only watch in horror as the knifes were lowered towards their stomachs. The prisoners found their voices as cold steel cut into their skin, once again crying out in untold agony. Unlike previous tortures, the cultists were quite meticulous with their work this time, slowly working the blades with practiced precision. A circle with a five pointed star inside, the pentagrams were carved into their victims' very flesh. Though the wounds were largely superficial, they left behind a sharp sting that added yet another layer of anguish to the Rangers' fragile mental state. Only one step remained to complete their victims' torment. Each rat used their impressive strength to lift the crosses upright, fitting them into special notches on the floor so they would stand on their own.

There was a collective groan among the crucified victims as their wrists and ankles were forced to bear the brunt of their body weight. The poor Rangers were on the brink of mental collapse. The last hour had been a living hell, filled with more pain and suffering than most people would experience in an entire lifetime. Their backs ached, their stomachs stung, and they were each still suffering the effects of their individual tortures. Even if by some miracle they escaped now, this experience would deeply scar them for the rest of their lives.

But there was still one more metaphorical nail left to be driven into their hearts. Like the candles and alter, they were only one part of the ritual. The thing that was still missing... was the sacrifice.

"Let me go!" a familiar voice echoed from a nearby hall "My friends will rescue me, and then you'll be sorry!"

From the hallway emerged the same rat priest they had encountered in the main auditorium, and in front of him, struggling to escape his grasp, was Gadget, naked but otherwise unharmed.

"Do you mean these friends?" the priest inquired, causing Gadget to cease her struggles for moment to focus on the room in front of her.

GASP! "Guys!" the mouse was completely at a loss for words to describe the horror she saw before her. Despite all the perils they had faced in their adventures, never in her worst nightmares had she ever imagines her friends in such a miserable state. She felt weak in the knees and bile rose in her stomach. This... This couldn't be real.

There was a chaotic mix of emotions among the crucified Rangers as they saw their friend enter the chamber. There was relief and a bit of envy at seeing her unharmed. But also a deep sense of dread for what her presence here meant for both them and her. Their last hope of escape was gone, and if they were right about where things were headed, soon the poor mouse would be joining them.

"Gadget... no..." Dale groaned in despair.

"Please... run..." Chip urged her with all the strength he could muster.

But Gadget was frozen in horror, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks as she heard her friends' pitiful pleas.

A hand placed on her shoulder shook the mouse from her stupor. She turned on the priest, shouting hysterically "You monsters! What have you done to them!"

Despite the fury being directed at him, the rat maintained his calm demeanor "We have merely given them the honor of serving our great lord. But even their sacrifices will pale in comparison to the honor you shall receive." his simple reply once again stunned Gadget into silence. She simply couldn't understand how these fiends were able to commit such acts of cruelty so nonchalantly. Her fit of rage started to subside, and fear crept in to replace it. The priest took advantage of the mouse's hesitation, grabbing her by the wrist and twirling her back against him so that she was once more forced to witness the grizzly scene before her. With his prisoner secured, the rat directed his attention to his awaiting disciples "The time is upon us! Let the final stage of the ritual begin!"

As if possessed, the disciples all began to mutter in some incoherent language. They each held up their right paw, and used their daggers to slit their palms without even a flinch. They turned to their respective prisoners and rubbed their bleeding paws through the pentagrams they had etching into their victims. The crucified Rangers whined and groaned as those grubby paws explored their flesh, agitating the fresh wounds on their stomachs. Eventually the cultists withdrew their hands, the paws now drenched in a mix of their victims' blood and their own. In unison the rats approached the central alter, where they set their bloodied paws upon the stone slab. They began to circle the alter, their paws leaving trails of blood in their wake. After two full revolutions, they backed away from the alter, revealing another pentagram painted in blood.

All the while, the priest was running his paws through Gadget's fur, exploring her naked body. It made the mouse shiver in disgust. Though his probing was not quite sexual in nature, there was still something very wrong about it. It was like he was reveling in her purity of her form, and anticipating its utter destruction. When the disciples finally finished their formality, the rat leaned in close and whispered into her ear "It is time for you to fulfill your destiny."

"No!" Gadget tried to struggle again as she was led up to the foreboding alter. But the priest was stronger than he looked, easily keeping her in line until they reached the stone slab. The disciples joined in, restraining the flailing mouse's arms and legs, and laying her spread eagle on her back. From there they bound her limbs in manacles, filling the chamber with the sounds of rattling chains as Gadget fought to free herself from the iron bindings. But it was a futile endeavor, only leaving her sweating and panting from exhaustion. With her struggles at an end, she finally became acutely aware that something warm and sticky was soaking into the fur on her back. Her psyche nearly shattered as the realization hit her; she was literally lying in a smear of her best friends' blood.

But the horrors didn't stop there. The disciples returned to the crucified Rangers, where they once again ran their paws through their victims' weeping wounds, drenching them in a fresh coat of blood and earning a fresh round of sobs from the tortured souls. The cultists returned to the alter, this time placing their bloodied digits directly upon Gadget's exposed belly. Like before they drew with meticulous care, painting another pentagram onto her chest made from her friends' blood. It was an utterly horrific experience, with the only silver lining being that it did not take too long to cover her relatively small stomach.

Though she soon found herself wishing it had lasted longer. As the disciples backed away, the priest moved up, now holding a ritual dagger of his own. The cultists all raised there arms and looked upwards in a sign of reverence "To our glorious lord, let your gaze fall upon us as we offer these lost souls to your greatness." the priest proclaimed, the disciples starting a chant in the background "May their broken bodies please your eyes and their tortured cried serenade your ears. May their bountiful blood slake your endless thirst. And through this ritual, may their souls be bound to you, where they will writhe in agony for all eternity."

Each word that the priest spoke sent an ever rising tide of dread through the captured Rangers. Surely this was a hoax... Surely this terrible god of theirs did not actually exist, no matter how much they believed in him... But stranger things had happened to the Rangers. In their adventures, they had encountered ghosts, leprechauns, and even a genie (though they have no memory of the latter), so the existence of some sort of demonic god was not actually that far fetched. And it was that hint of doubt that thrust them into a sea of terror and despair. Would their torment truly never end?!

The priest clutched his dagger with both hands, raising it high over his head. Gadget's already active mind was sent into overdrive, desperately trying to calculate a way out of this. But no matter how many scenarios she ran through in that short moment, they all ended the same... she was doomed. The rat brought his dagger down, stabbing the blade deep into Gadget's upper abdomen.

"AAAHHH!" the mouse let out a blood curdling scream as pain unlike anything she had ever felt before erupted from her stomach. She tried to flail out of instinct, but her shackles held her tight. Her shrill cries were enough to make the crucified Rangers cringe, whereas the cultists seemed completely unphased by the ghastly scene.

And things only got worse from there. The priest started to drag the knife downward, the sharped steel easily parting the defenseless rodent's tender flesh. Gadget's shrieks rose in intensity, her back arching and her body quivering as she was gutted like a fish. It was an excruciating process that felt like an eternity to the poor mouse. By the time the dagger was removed, Gadget had already screamed her throat hoarse. She took heavy rasping breaths, desperately trying to feed oxygen to her panicking body, which was drenched in sweat, tears, and fresh blood.

The priest took a quick moment to inspect his work, a clean cut straight from her stomach down to her groin. Perfect. He set aside his dagger and reached in with eager paws. This was always the part he anticipated the most. He couldn't help but lick his lips just thinking about what awaited under that thin layer of flesh. It felt so symbolic, reaching inside the bloody pentagram; it was like he was ripping open a portal to hell.

And for Gadget, it might as well have been. She didn't think things could get any worse than the dagger, but to feel those paws actually root around inside her. It was a sensationshe couldn't even begin to describe. The poor mouse was struck by a sudden wave of pain and nausea as the rat took ahold of something within her. He yanked his paw out forcefully, pulling a strand of Gadget's intestines along with it. The moment he saw those guts, the priest's demeanor took a sudden turn. His usually calm manner dropped in an instant, and he became like a rodent possessed. He reached in again, digging out another chord of intestines, and then another, and another.

The freshly disemboweled mouse could do nothing but scream and sob as her innards were torn from her body. Every strand of intestines that he ripped from her felt like a hot knife trailing though her bowels. But things didn't stop there. With her intestinal tract out of the way, the rat set to removing other organs that were not immediately vital to her survival. Her womb, kidneys, liver, gall blabber, they were all torn from her and strewn about the alter. Gadget was left with an unsettling empty feeling within her gut, a void that was filled with nothing but agony. 

By this point, Gadget no longer had the strength to scream, only possessing enough energy to let out pitiful whimpers. Her body trembled violently from the shock, constantly rattling the chains keeping her bound in this hell. Dear lord, how was she still alive?! Was it the power of their dark god keeping her conscious? Or was that just a pain induced delusion? More likely it was the adrenaline surging through her system in a desperate, attempt to keep her failing body functioning.

But there was no saving her now. The damage done was far to extensive and she had lost too much blood. But any hopes she had of spending her final moments in relative peace were dashed as the cultist's paw plumbed her depths one final time. With her abdomen cleaned out, he was able to probe upwards into her rib-cage. There was a hitch in Gadget's breathing as his paw pressed against her diaphragm and lungs. No matter hard she panted for breath, it felt like she was suffocating. Was he planning to tear out her lungs too?! No, there was only one target the priest was interested in now, and with just a little more rooting around, he soon found the prize he so desperately sought.

There was a sudden sharp stab of pain in Gadget's chest, followed by a agonizing tightness that seemed to spread across her body. The rat pulled his paw from her stomach once more, only this time clutching something far more precious than anything he had taken from her gut. Whereas her other organs were largely still and lifeless, this one actively pulsed in his grasp, desperately clinging to life. He held up the still beating heart in triumph, the rest of the cultists cheering in excitement. Gadget couldn't believe her eyes. She was staring up at her own dying heart, the poor thing beating slower and slower. It was like with each pulse she could feel the life draining from her own body. Her vision grew darker with each passing second and her agony finally started to dull as the icy embrace of death overtook her. At long last the heart fell still and the mouse lied motionless on the alter.

The priest rose to his feet, his calm demeanor returning "The offering is complete. May we be blessed with your favor in the following days."

"Praise him... Praise him..." the disciples chanted in unison.

The cultists paraded out of the chamber, still chanting and holding up their hands in reverence. They paid no more heed to the eviscerated corpse or crucified Rangers they left behind. To them, the ritual was over, and the victims' souls belonged to their master now. It was the final act of cruelty for the poor Rangers. Gadget's death may have been unspeakably brutal and violent, but at least it was relatively quick. They, on the other paw, had been mercilessly tortured and could now only languish in utter misery as they waited for death to slowly claim them.

The seconds ticked by, stretching on into minutes, and maybe even hours. The remaining Rangers tried to keep their eyes shut as much as possible, the sight of Gadget's mutilated corpse and each others' broken bodies only adding to their suffering. But they could not block out their moans of anguish or sobs of grief. Nor could they avoid the smell of blood and death in the air. There mere existence had become a constant torture. There was a part of them that just wanted it to end, that begged for the sweet embrace of death. But the priest's haunting words still echoed in their minds, carrying with them the looming threat of eternal damnation. They could only pray that there was no truth behind those words. Though it would also mean that they had suffered and died for nothing. All the pain they had endured would serve no greater purpose than to entertain the delusional fantasies of madmen. No matter how they looked at it, their situation was hopelessly tragic.

The torch flames around the room began to flicker and dwindle, much like the Rangers' lifeforces. It was becoming difficult to breathe. The crucifixes were designed so that their victims would have to exert some effort in order to get a proper breath. But as their bodies weakened and the last of their strength left them, they simply could not keep it up, no matter how desperately their lungs burned for oxygen. With his damaged muscles, Dale was the first to go, his final moments filled with terror as he slowly succumbed to suffocation. Foxglove and Tammy soon followed, their panicked gasps dying out while their trembling bodies fell still. This left only Chip. Surrounded by the corpses of his closest friends, he was once again forced to reflect upon his failure. He would die filled with regrets, wondering if there was anything he could have done to avoid this outcome. And if the priests words proved to be true, he would have all of eternity to lament his mistakes.

With his last breath, he uttered his final words "Everyone... I'm sorry..."