What is written here is NOT my opinion nor religion, but rather the theme of the movie (it is really good and is called Heretic, I recommend you watch it!) So don't come after me, this is all what Mr. Reed implies. Have fun!

Deadbolts. Lack of wife. Metal in the walls. Candle.

That sounds like the life of either an insane man or the aftermath of doomed yuri. But unfortunately, it's the first option for you. The insane man in question being Mr. Reed. Although he looks charming, tone smooth and brain too sharp for your liking. He knew a little too much about religion for a man who claimed to be unintelligent on the topic.

You warned them. Told them. Begged on Sister Barnes' sleeve to turn back now and come back with an Elder. Sister Paxton and Barnes didn't listen, despite your intuition being one of the greatest mysteries to ever walk the earth alongside the Bible in their opinion.

To exit the house, you went down to Mr. Reed for help, assuming he was getting his wife like you asked. Sister Paxton was getting teary-eyed and Sister Barnes' breath was turning ragged and heavy. They couldn't leave. No coat. No key. No way out. You followed down the hall into a room that looked like a chapel. There were shelves of books, papers strewn across the desk in front of you. Board games stacked on the shelves alongside many old books of various religions, pictures of each mythical god for each religion littered the walls. Two dark green doors at the end. The walls were a very dull blue. Or blue-ish grey. Dark wooden beams that stood every couple of meters for depth.

Mr. Reed went on a sort of rant. Iteration. A copy of a copy of a copy of a copy of the original. Monopoly. The Landlord's Game. Newer second most popular edition of Monopoly—another gamemode. All the same. A copy from an early time feminist which then caused the most popular edition to rise. Why is that relevant? That was what Barnes thought, her eyes making their way back to you. Her throat bobbed, lips parting in another deep breath.

The Hollies. Radiohead. Lana Del Ray. A rhythm within songs that was remotely the same to each which caused lawsuits and failed court sessions. Mr. Reed grinned as he played "The Air The I Breathe" by The Hollies once again, the record scratching. He placed three books down by the Monopoly copies. Christianity, i.e the most popular edition. Judaism, i.e the original edition. Islam, i.e the second most popular edition. And finally, Mormonism, i.e the spin-off edition.

Same as the Monopoly. The songs. The religions.

"These are all iterations of the same source material. These share many of the same characters in history albeit showing different takes and perspectives on their time." he chuckled, a head bob of a gesture towards the pictures of gods and biblical verses on the walls near the top of the room.

Sister Barnes grabbed your hand, her eyes glued to the dark wooden floor. Paxton was trying her very hardest to remain respectful, despite the fact that she was technically held hostage here, and rolling back on forth on her feet while a bead of sweat rolled down the temple of her forehead.

"Iterations. Diluting the message and obscuring the original." Mr. Reed tapped his finger against the book of Judaism. "Judiasm is the "og" monotheistic religion. And should vary a wipe percent of the world's population but only covers around nought point two percentage. Why is that?" He inquired. "Why is the original less popular than the iteration? Does it make it any less true?"

"Are we talking about— about board games, music or religion?" Barnes asked, her voice uncharacteristically shaky with either emotion or fear. Mr. Reed grinned—the answer, the question he had been awaiting all along.

"Yes." He answered. "It is less popular because it doesn't have people like you three trying to advertise it or market it. Going door-to-door promising a better life, a better board game, a batter song. You ever think of that? Missionaries are just salespeople?"