Writing Prompt: A child actress turned cult leader feels her power slipping and she needs to gain control over her following again.

Title: Don't Walk Behind a Strange Cult

Characters: Mark Beaks and others that aren't as important

Word Count: Approx. 3200

It was on a Monday when the leaders of the Children of the Underneath League Training group approached Mark Beaks. Normally Mark Beaks would never remember what day of the week it was since it wasn't like he actually worked—ew—and it was only because he went to pick up a package from the post office—an important package that had some imported shirts for him—that he found out it was closed due to Columbus Day—What the duck? Is that really a holiday?—so it was closed that Monday.

So it was a Monday, and Mark Beaks decided to go in to the office at Waddle Inc just because he was super miserable and if he was paying his employees money, then they were going to be as miserable as he was.

"Sir, there is a…group of people here to see you," his secretary—he thought her name was Janice?—said over the phone system. "They will not tell me why and they don't have an appointment, but they insist upon seeing you."

"I don't want to see them," Beaks whined, spinning in his chair. "I want to see Richard from HR. Richard's a good guy. Is Richard there?"

"There is no Richard in HR," Janice said.

"What's his name? He's a big guy. A polar bear or something. Has pictures of all his…uh…family around his desk. Has an accent," Beaks described.

"You mean Julio?" Janice asked.

"Yeah, that's the guy. I call him Richard," Beaks said. "He loves it. Is he at his desk? Send him over to me."

"Julio went home sick," Janice said. "In fact, a lot of people are feeling sick. I think there's some sort of flu going on."

"Urg," Beaks growled in frustration. "So, everyone's going home?"

"Most of everyone, sir," Janice said.

"Fine. Send in the strangers," Beaks relented.

"Okay, sir," Janice said.

"Thanks Janice," Beaks said.

"It's Susan," Susan said.

Beaks sighed. Names were hard, okay. How was he expected to remember so many people's names? It's not like they're important information or else he would be posting everyone's names on Twitter. And their phone numbers. And addresses. A lot of people got very angry. That'll show him for being helpful.

The door to his office opened up and three men—or women, he couldn't tell at that moment—walked inside. They wore long, dark grey robes that covered them from head to toe. Other than their noses and mouths, he couldn't see any distinguishing features—thus why he couldn't tell their genders. He wasn't being insensitive. For once.

"How can I help you gentle….people?" Beaks asked, slumping over his desk. If he had hope that these strangers could cheer him up, those hopes fell faster than Waddle stocks after the one incident with Gizmoduck. Party people usually didn't wear long, woolen robes as if they were monks. Perhaps they were monks.

Oh, feathers. Were they a non-profit organization asking for money? That was even worse than party-poopers.

"We are the leaders to an organization called Children of the Underneath League Training, and are seeking your help for—"

"I'm gonna cut you off there, pal," Beaks said, opening up one of his gaming apps and started playing. "Don't tell anyone, but Waddle is going bankrupt. We can't afford to pay our employees let alone donate to your little 'cause'."

"What!?"

That's when Mark Beaks realized that the phone speaker system was still on.

"It's okay, Janice. That was a lie to quickly get rid of these jokers," Beaks said into the speaker. "No offense, okay guys."

The three people in the robes looked confused.

Over the speaker came a four-letter word, then a three-letter one, a couple more four-letter, a seven letter and then a few that Beaks wasn't sure how to spell.

"I think you have the 'flu', Janice," Beaks said. "Take the day off."

"Again, it's still Susan."

"I sign your paycheck," Beaks finished before making sure the speaker was off this time. He looked up at the robed figures. "You're still here. Go away. I'm not giving you any money."

"Uh…we're not here to ask for a donation," the one in front said, his voice deep and chilling. "We'd actually like to hire you."

"Hire? I'm totally a billionaire—or at least I was but that's not the point—so I doubt your pitiful organization could afford me," Mark Beaks said, turning his chair around. Then something very heavy landed on his desk. Curiosity got the better of him. He glanced around his chair. There was a brick of gold now sitting on his desk.

"This is just your sign-on bonus," the man in the robe said, looking smug. "We can talk salary later."

"Uh…oh…what…is it that you want me to do?" Beaks said, trying not to stare—or for that matter, drool—at the brick of gold.

"We want you to promote our 'organization'," the main robe-wearer said. He used the air quotes very strangely. Something about it felt sinister.

"Promote?" Beaks tried to pick up the gold. His wimpy, little phone-pressing muscles weren't capable.

"On the social media."

Beaks perked up. "Well, you came to the right bird. What you aiming for? Facebook? Twitter? Instagram? Snapchat? Tumblr? Pinterest? Twitch?—"

"Uh, are all of these social media?" It was said with the tone of someone over forty who had no idea what the Internet was capable of.

"I'm not done yet," Beaks said. "WhatsApp? Linkedln? Youtube? TikTok? Reddit? Quora? Or are you looking for something less domestic because I'm also familiar with a few apps from other countries."

The three robed strangers looked startled then the leader laughed. "It seems we came to the right person. We'd like to be on as many of these social medias as we can."

"Good choice," Beaks said, brushing any of his instincts that told him he was bad news. Especially that guy's laugh. Chilling. But, hey, he wasn't one to judge. "Looking for donations? Helping out…children, I guess?"

"Actually, we're more looking for recruits," the robed man said. "Our numbers have…dwindled over the centuries, and we need to bring in some new blood. We have a special guest coming for the convergence and we don't want to disappoint him."

"Alright, a convention," Beaks said.

"No, the conver—" one of the other robed figures started to correct but their companion stopped them in mid-sentence.

"Let's get you set up. First I'll need your email—you dudes have email, right?—and we're going to get you a new phone, because we're going to need all the memory for all those apps," Beaks said. "This is going to turn out great."

At first, it did not. It turned out that despite the word "children" being in their name, the Children of the Underneath League Training was only a bunch of old people in robes who went on nature hikes, collected dried plants, and read ancient books. At least they had some cool tattoos and some interesting gothic art. But that wasn't going to be enough to draw the in-crowd.

It took Beaks a few weeks to get the Children to understand what exactly cool was. And although the members all wore those weird robes, Beaks managed to work around that. It just took a few pictures with some local celebrities, persuading the Children to perform a few Internet challenges and a lot of work on his part, and soon, the Children of the Underneath was trending.

Things went it a blur after that. Not only was Beaks in charge of organizing parties several times a week all over the country, but he had to post several times a day just to keep up with the demand from all the followers. On top of that, but the Children of the Underneath's member numbers multiplied over a hundred times.

"We've never had so many members," the leader of the Children said with tears in his hooded eyes. "Our special Eldritch guest will be so happy when he comes to the convergence."

"Ah, not more old people," Beaks muttered under his breath. There was nothing harder than trying to sell wrinkles, liver spots, and the smell of Bengay as cool. But he was Mark Beaks, and he did just that.

"I've been told that all the hotels in the city are filled to the brim by our new recruits. This convergence will be the best ever," the leader said. "We'll have so much of an offering that no doubt our Master will be able to stay…forever."

"Look, I've told you, that creepy, mysterious voice may work when it's Halloween and we're doing spooky postings, but try to keep it low-key, okay?" Beaks said. "And now that you mentioned that convention thingy, you still haven't told me anything about it. We have a date and time, and I know it's here in Duckburg, but you haven't shown me the venue. Are there going to be vendors? Entertainment? Food trucks? How much are you charging for tickets? Is this for members only or are you opening it up to the public?"

The leader looked nervous. "The convergence is for the Children only. We will not allow outsiders to witness our sacred rituals."

Beaks had often wondered if the Children were a religious group and he never quite figured that out. On one hand, they had sacred rituals and secret texts and old fashion quotes with words that ended with "eth" and such. But on the other, they didn't seem all that concerned about making money.

"Can I at least take a look at the venue?" Beaks said. "I've gotten a lot of messages from your new members asking where you're going to meet for the convention. There are not many places in Duckburg that can handle that many people."

"I suppose we must divulge the location of the convergence and ritual," the leader said. "It is in the woods at this latitude and longitude." The leader gave him a neon pink sticky note.

"The woods?" Beaks said, skeptical. "Oh, so this is like a camping thing. You're going to bond with all your members in nature. That's cool. That kind of thing was trending a few years back, but I think it can make a great return." His fingers raced across the phone, typing out the series of new messages. "Your members are going to have a great time. Make sure you take a lot of pictures and send them to me so I can post them."

"You're not coming?" For once, the leader sounded frantic.

"Yeah, me and nature, we don't mix well," Beaks said. "So it ain't gonna happen."

"But we need you."

"You'll do great without me," Beaks said with a pat on the man's shoulder.

"But we need you for the ritual," the leader said. "You must come. You're the key to the Summoning. If we must use another, the Master will not be as pleased."

"Oh, come on. There must be someone else who can take my place," Beaks said, feeling irritated. Never had the Children acted so needy.

"It must be you, for you reek of selfishness and arrogance, the seasoning that is needed to sate our master's hunger…I mean, our guest has been looking forward to meeting you." The man's tone changed so quickly, he could get a job as a voice actor.

"Then let's schedule a dinner date," Beaks said, feeling as if this conversation was getting stale.

"We'll pay you. Three times your sign-on price," the leader said urgently.

Beaks didn't have to think about it. For that much gold, he could handle a bit of roughing it.

After shaking hands, Beaks headed out of the Children of the Underneath League Training's office while typing on his phone. He had been making so many social media posts that he was starting to get carpal tunnel syndrome in both hands and he had visited his chiropractor several times because he was always bowed over the phone. It was for this reason that he wasn't looking where he was going and tripped over something and fell to the floor. The phone went flying and landed in a fish tank that was in the front foyer.

"Oh, man. It's going to be a pain to get another phone prepped with all those apps," Beaks said, looking morosely at the phone sinking to the bottom.

A tentacle reached out and snatched the phone, pulling it into a dark niche within the tank.

"Huh, I didn't know they had an octopus in this thing," Beaks said, taking a look at the tank. Now that he mentioned it, he hadn't taken a really good look at the office at all. He was always so busy with his phone that he never looked up.

And then he took in the décor with unfiltered eyes, no distractions, no phones, no talking. And he gasped.

"Oh Hell," he whispered because that's where he might as well be.

Darkness and torture instruments were everywhere. Depictions of long, thick tentacles reaching out of a dark abyss were everywhere. Paintings of tentacles grabbing people and pulling them to a waiting maw full of razor-sharp teeth covered most of the walls. And the largest and center-piece was a painting of him, standing with his arms spread apart with a serene look on his face and a glowing phone in one hand. Behind him was a throat filled with teeth spiraling down to the stomach. A tentacle was beginning to wrap around his waist.

"Oh, Hell," he said again and fled.

When Beaks finished his story, he collapsed on the bottom bunk, feeling a cold sweat make him shiver.

"Why are we even talking to this guy?" Louie demanded. "He's a bad guy. He tried to destroy Gizmoduck several times, and steal Scrooge's money. Let's kick him to the curb. He can figure out how to get out of his own problems."
"I might concur except for the fact that if we don't do something, thousands of innocent people might be killed," Huey said. "This is bad. This is really bad."

"Really? We're actually going to believe that there's a monster living underneath Duckburg?" Louie asked.

"I always knew there was something under Duckburg," Dewey added.

"After all we've seen, I'm not going to doubt anything," Huey said. "But what kind of monster did you say it was?"

"Uh…I donno. It was an elderly one," Beaks said. "I know that totally doesn't sound scary, but you should have seen the pictures."

"Do you mean an Eldritch?" Huey guessed.

"Oh, yeah. I guess that's it," Beaks said. "Is that a really, really, really old monster?"

"He's not wrong," Dewey said.

"Try older-than-humankind old," Huey said. "This is really, really bad."

"This sounds so cool," Dewey said. "We should see if Webby wants to help us."
"We may need more help than that," Huey said. "This doesn't sound like a job for three kids. It sounds like a job for Gizmoduck."

"Oh, I already tried him," Beaks said with a sigh. "His mom yelled at me. In English and Spanish. I—I've never been more scared in my entire life."

Huey was rubbing his head. "How did you get yourself in this this situation?"

"They offered me a lot of money. Who could say no?" Beaks said with a shrug.

Louie nodded in understanding.

"I wouldn't have worked for them if I had known they were a cult," Beaks said.

"They're the Children of the Underneath League Training," Huey said, his voice turning agitated. "Their names acronym is literally CULT."

"Look, we can point fingers later. You have got to save me. They're going to sacrifice me to bring this monster here, and I really don't want to die," Beaks said. "I'm sure they'll find me. You have got to do something."

Huey had been typing on his computer. "Okay, I found a wiki on this group. Apparently the Eldritch demon they worship is called Gnom-Gnom, and he is powered by the sheer numbers of his worshippers. The more people that appear to his summoning, the larger and more powerful he becomes. The summoning ritual includes a sacrifice that is filled with greed and selfishness. Well, that's you Beaks."

"So you're going to hide me until this convention thing is over, right?" Beaks said, huddling on the bed.

"Yeah, sure, but that won't fix the problem. They'll be able to find another sacrifice that's just as greedy and selfish as Beaks," Huey said.

"I can name several just inside Duckburg," Louie said with a smirk.

"Probably the easiest way to solve the problem is to make sure nobody goes to the convergence," Huey said. "We need to warn everyone. Tell them what's going on."

"And that won't do anything," Louie said with a roll of his eyes. "Here, allow me. I know exactly how to fix this." He dabbled with his phone for a minute before telling his brother. "Dewey, I'm sending you a link. Share it everywhere."

"Okay," Dewey said. Then he smirked. "You posted a YELP review for a cult?"

"Oh, yeah," Louie said. "I have several accounts for YELP, most to bring up my reviews for Louie Inc, so I used one to tell the world that the Children of the Underneath League Training invited my family over for a sacred ritual where they stole every cent I had as well as my dog and cat, and they touched my child inappropriately."

"Wouldn't it be better to tell the truth?" Huey asked.

"No. The truth often gets overlooked, but a sensational lie catches people's attention," Louie said. "Now that Dewey shared my YELP review, I'll share Dewey's post on my account, and I'll bring up all my troll accounts and share it as well."

"Troll accounts?" Dewey asked. "Hey, are you the one commenting on my Youtube videos and telling me I stink?"

Louie shrugged. "Huey, I know you have Facebook. Share Dewey's posting there. Beaks, why aren't you doing anything. As the king of frivolous posts, you should be helping."

"Oh, right," Beaks said, remembering he had his personal phone on him. When was the last time he had used it? He had been so busy promoting a cult that he hadn't been able to post about himself in a long time. He was tempted to make a post about how he was feeling with a selfie right there, but his life was more important.

He found Louie's social media pages and shared the new post.

"And now we sit back and watch," Louie said, holding out his phone. His eyes widened. "Whoa, that was fast. I haven't seen someone lose so many follows so quickly. I wonder how many blocks the cult is getting."

"This is amazing," Huey said. "You did it, Louie. You adverted disaster. At this rate, the Children will only have enough members to summon a demon the size of a goldfish."

"All in a day's work," Louie said. Then he turned to Beaks. "Now, I hope you learned a valuable lesson."

"Oh, I did," Beaks said. "From now on, I'm only going to use social media for good." Then he took a quick selfie. "Hey, peeps. I'm back. I know ya missed me. Hashtag Mark Beaks is the best."

"He'll never change," the triplets said together.