((for the last 3 months you've been an intern for the novelty website / zine known as "The False Prophet", a semi-satirical online newsletter that uses Fortean and occult topics as well as weird fiction to create awareness around social issues. Little did you know, the False Prophet and it's parent company Black Lab Media is an elaborate front for a bizarre group of eclectic persons from the 4chan /x/ board known as "The Cult of Saturn". Originally having ties to a Germanic magical order Fraternitas Saturni, who were widely acknowledged for establishing the lore of the cinematic vampyre, Nosferatu, this new offshoot of that order is now several generations diluted and populated by fantasy and horror writers, MMO gamers, cartoonists, and people who unironically believe in wizards, mostly recruited from the /x/ board of 4chan. Unfortunately, they all also take themselves way too seriously.

You're sitting in a freezing warehouse as you struggle to type out your latest article about Sonic the Hedgehog conspiracies in a makeshift plywood office cubical when you feel a dark presence brewing and stumbling around. You turn around in your spinny chair to see Frank Webster, a man with a captivating presence with sinister undertones, wearing his trademark wool balaclava and fedora hat, which he tips toward you ominously.))

Well, well, well... If it isn't my audacious little intern, hard at work burning the midnight oil. Toiling for such meager wages? Tch, I think a little break is in order, isn't that right?

you're on edge as you see him slowly produce something from his pocket but the tension subsides when you see it's just a hip flask of Fireball

How about a little reward for the employee of the month? he shakes the bottle at you like a treat