I lit a cigarette and dragged deeply, packing up what few possessions I had. Whatever this war had been started over, I wanted no part of it. The fallacy that there was a fetus God had already spilled too much blood. As for the man who had organized this manhunt, Steven Brandoneo, he was guilty of worse crimes than the Cultists themselves. He was a bloodthirsty animal, intent on destroying anything and everything that stood in the way of his organization's success. I could still remember the day my family's property had been seized eight years ago. First, there had been a letter with Brandoneo's signature at the bottom demanding that we vacate the premises. Then came the thugs to physically throw us out of our own home. He had taken our land by force, never paying us a dime for it. We'd protested. Had stood up to him, demanding that he return to us what was not, nor ever had been, his. But our words had fallen on deaf ears. No one had cared. I could still remember the look in his eyes - that cold, calculating, murderous rage he wished to unleash upon us for having had the audacity to challenge him. He'd wanted us dead then, and he wanted us dead now. Those who had ever stood up to Brandoneo usually did end up dead. How many had he killed by now? A thousand? Ten? More? And these people who worked for him, why did they blindly follow a leader so hell-bent on death and destruction? Were they not decent, upstanding individuals in their everyday lives? Did they not see the value in refusing to kill others for his sick, twisted pleasure? Or was it all about money? The almighty dollar. Were they only thinking about all the things they would be afforded if they simply followed orders and killed the cultists? There was no way to know. But this place, this insane asylum of corruption and mindless greed, was not where I wanted to be. After loading up my truck, I set off, leaving the war torn area behind. The sunset as my companion, I drove on into the night, never stopping or looking back. Somewhere ahead was a safe place, a place I could call my own, a place where I would not be terrorized by those who had already taken everything from me.
I didn’t sign up for this, Quentin thought as he quickly reloaded his rifle. Gunshots pinged off the metal of the rusting car he was taking cover behind. Reaching the storehouses had been a hard-fought battle. Any ideas he had about this being ‘make-believe’ went out the window the moment real bullets started whizzing past his head. The cultists were armed and they were pissed. He had dealt with enough extremists and fanatics to know they weren’t going to surrender or back down. Their belief was too strong and their numbers too great. He peeked out and delivered a quick three-round burst to the chest of a cultist firing from a nearby rooftop. If he had to kill them, he would at least try to make it quick and clean. The poor soul toppled from the ledge and hit the muddy ground with a dull splat. It’s kill or be killed, Quentin thought to himself as he rushed to the next spot of cover. He didn’t like this --he never did-- but he didn’t have any tricks to get out of this without taking lives. Not without losing his own in the process. He hunkered down behind the rusting remains of a pickup truck, half-sunken in the muck, and took a moment to get his bearings, with bullets and fireballs flying all above him. A fireball struck the hood of the truck, sending a wave of flames cascading within an inch of his head. This place was far worse than any battlefield he’d ever seen. It was madness. Worst of all, he’d lost Evangeline. He had a mission, a simple mission: protect her. Now he didn’t know what to do other than stay alive and hope she wasn’t as deep in shit as he was. She was supposed to take the other path, but he completely lost sight of her after leaving the bowling alley. Was she with Clayton or chasing down the detective she seemed to hate so much? Can’t worry about that now. Gotta stay focused on- “Arggghhh!” someone roared in anger and Quentin turned around just in time to find himself staring down the twin barrels of a shotgun. The cultist at the other end squeezed the trigger, just as Quentin gripped the end of the barrel and squeezed, flattening it. The gun exploded, throwing him back and leaving his ears ringing, but the cultist got the worst of it. The gun’s wooden stock shattered, leaving the shooter with a face full of splinters and a wooden stake lodged in his skull. Dead. Quentin groaned and dropped what was left of the broken shotgun. His head was spinning. The skin on the palm of his left hand was gone, revealing shiny metal. He heard a snarl and turned around to see a vampire charging at him, wielding an enormous sword… well, it was like a sword. It seemed to be a shard of rusty metal, sharpened and fashioned into a crude butcher’s knife, big enough to cleave a man in two. “Fuckin’ hell,” Quentin wheezed, still trying to catch his breath from the last psycho who’d attacked him. He switched his rifle to full auto and dumped half a clip into the vamp, who dodged and weaved through the hail of bullets. The vamp shrugged off the few shots that actually landed and closed the distance waaaay too quickly. Quentin ducked under the first swing and parried a second strike using his bare hands. There was a flash of sparks and a metallic clang every time he swatted the vampire’s sword away. But the vampire caught on quick and delivered a swift kick to Quentin’s gut that sent him sprawling in the mud. The vampire reached him before he could stand, hefted the huge blade over his head, and Quentin knew this was it: this is how I die. Suddenly a bowling ball came flying past. It was such a blur, Quentin almost didn’t realize what it was. There was a loud ‘whump’ and blood mist where the vampire’s head had been a moment ago. Quentin barely had time to roll out of the way as the enormous blade crashed to the ground and the headless vamp collapsed atop him. The bowling ball picked up speed and curved into the air, before arcing back down and ripping another cultist in half. As Quentin looked around, he realized there were more of them, a dozen at least, flying all across the battlefield. A cultist shooting from the trees took one to the chest and was knocked into the air so high Quentin lost sight of him until the man’s body came back down many seconds later. Another, hiding around the corner of a building, was suddenly ripped in half when a ball came crashing through the wall and struck him in the torso. The top half of his body cartwheeled through the air, connected to the lower half only by a cord of unraveling intestines. “These people are insane,” Quentin muttered to himself as he readied his gun and rejoined the fight, feeling an odd mixture of relief and horror. He was glad for the support, yet sickened that someone would do this to another human being. "What is the world coming to?"
“So much for our stealth infiltration” mumbled Hikaru as chaos ensured. Gunfire and several spells covered the place, their location compromised and their presence discovered. I kinda prefer it that way… From within her robe, Hikaru produced several small plates made of several materials wood, metal… even soap, it didn’t matter, the symbols carved in each one were the real magic. She noticed how her right index was numb and pale as soon as she picked a plate. I used it all…. I guess. The girl moved fast yet not careless, as soon as she could she took cover and threw one of the small plates to a group of cultist. They couldn’t understand what was going on when their weapons were drawn to the small plate. A talisman enchanted with a magnetic charge, it pulled the weapons or more likely, it attracted the metal within the weapons in a small 3-meter radius, enough to distract a few of them. Then her figure dashed, making sure to not reveal her face by covering herself with the hooded robe. A back kick to the neck of one, an elbow smash to the face of another and finally a dirty kick in the crotch of the third. Each one followed by a hit strong enough to knock them out, Hikaru powered the last attack with a vector enchantment to make sure they wouldn’t get up. That’s three down, a whole lotta more to come. However her objective wasn’t the soldiers, but to clear out the way to one of the warehouses. I wish I knew a enchantment to make this robe invisible. Thought as she had to cover herself once again. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Before any aid could arrive, Aeon was surrounded by armed cultist who didn’t waste time to load out their ammo on him. Gunfire echoed and the place was covered by bullets and dust. A few moment laters, the aid of Clayton, Quentin and Evangeline would arrive, but what was of Aeon? A pile of dirt, the figure of Aeon was nowhere to be seen once the dust cleared yet a pile of dirt appeared out of the blue. The man had effectively created the illusion of vanishment by using his Schism magic to disarm the ground below him and rearm him above, hiding himself beneath the ground. Aeon waited patiently until the sound of battle indicated him that the team showed up. Then he pressed the ground. Disarm… thought followed by a sudden splitting of the small portion of ground, sending debris and small stones against the cultists in the place. “Damn I totally look like Pam now” Thought at the realization of being completely dirty and stinky. “Rearm” mumbled while pressing the metal plates that covered his clothes, the same he made by disarming the five barreled giant shotgun he got from Maniacles. And thus, the metal took its original form. “Finally a chance to play with Isabella” Exclaimed while quickly aiming the heavy gun and pressing the trigger. The recoil was pure violence yet nothing compared with the mess it made of two cultists in front of him. Fuck, that hurt, no wonder why no one uses this thing Thought the man with the dumb smile
"Rue, you know I can see it perfectly well." I chuckled softly, looking at the night sky just below us. For me, it flickered unnaturally... but I knew that the illusion was holding up just fine for everyone else. I quickly placed several glyphs in front of us, stepping stones leading to the church's roof. "Let's go." I ran up them quickly, stepping onto the rooftop carefully. I could see a few holes from here... it should be simple to get in. But, probably not as easy getting out... I stepped to the nearest hole and peered inside. I could see about three men inside, watching the doors and windows cautiously. I slipped into the hole and landed on one of the rafters, it creaked under my weight, but the cultists thankfully didn't notice it, or it was a normal sound for this church. I reached into my leather pouch and pulled out a small metallic cylinder. I pulled the pin from the top and tossed it down below, the cultists were attracted to the strange metallic clinking sound as it landed on the floorboards below. It soon began hissing softly and releasing a cloud of white gas, the cultists had gotten close enough to the canister that they began coughing due to the cloud of smoke and then soon slumped over unconscious. "Nighty night." I chuckled and waited for the gas to dissipate, waiting for Rue.
Rue shrugged quietly. "Hey I forget things sometimes." She whispers as she follows across the runes behind Joe. Once they had gotten to the roof safely she lets the illusion go and cautiously peeks in after Joe. "Well it looks like you got that part covered." She says carefully going through the hole to one of the rafters. Rue shudders as the beam creaks. "Jeez the roof going to come down on us while we're in here?" She mutters. "So let me guess. Wait till the smoke is gone then go?"
"But the heathens have a god, oh yes, but he is weak..." A faint voice could be heard. Someone preaching. It came from somewhere close by to Joe and Rue, however the church was small. One of those where you open the door and are met with pews. This church hadn't been used for the worship of any Jesus in decades, most likely. No Christian religion existed in this hellish town. No religion other than this cult. The preaching carried on, and another bit could be heard. "We are powerless before this evil being, but never fear, for as we must sleep, so too must he..." Meanwhile Clayton immediately let off a shot, without a second thought, as a German soldier charged him. He felt no remorse as that soldier slumped to the ground, but he blinked. 'Gotta stay focused' Clayton thought, as the flashback faded and the German soldier was actually another lunatic cultist. To think he was still having these problems after all the years since WW1. His flashbacks were sure to keep at bay, however, when he noticed various sharp rusted metal tools and scrap pieces come flying at him. It was a close cut, but effortless, for Clayton to dive out of the way, sliding in the mud a little, but then he was back on his feet soon enough to fire a few rounds, with deadly precision, into the heads, eyes, and necks, of several insane riflemen. They needed a strategy. Thanks to Aeons amazing idea to make the biggest scene of taking out the guards, crazy cultists were now rushing them in droves. Who knew how many there were? And they would have a hard time taking the aglophoetis vials while these crazy rednecks were shooting at them. Two emaciated men, mages, Buff mages bolted up to Clayton out of nowhere. Okay then. Clayton always liked a good scrap. What followed was lesz than a minute, though to Clayton it seemed to last an hour, of punches being thrown with the power of mortar shells, and at a speed too quick to imagine. It would be a blur to look back on, but it ended with Clayton's thumbs in the eyes of some cultist as he pushed his other fingers through the skull, slowly removing the bone and flesh. But the cultist didn't scream once. Just lay there chanting quietly to his last breath. As he stood up once more he immediately had the pleasant surprise of bullets ramming through his back and out his chest and stomach, creating more blood gushing holes. Lovely. But despite this, he couldn't help but notice in the distance Aeon, standing nearby one of the warehouses and firing the ridiculously large shotgun. Another round slammed into Clayton, this time his kidney. At least they merc group wouldn't be split up soon enough. Clayton turned to the woods, where the cultist reinforcements were attacking from, and fired angrily.
In the dark of night I didn't see the spike strips lying across the road until it was too late. Slamming the brakes, tires screaming across pavement, I did my best to avoid the inevitable before dozens of steel teeth did their job and took out all four tires. Skidding to a stop, the smell of burnt rubber hung in the air as a dwindling hiss told me my brand new tires were no more. I should have expected this. I should have known he'd never let me get away. Before I could even try to run, two black-masked men wielding assault rifles approached. "Get out," one said, opening the door. "Go get the car," he said to his companion. "If you want to kill me, kill me now!" I spat at him. "No. Brandoneo wants you alive." "Why? So he can torment me before he puts a bullet in my head?" The butt of the man's gun came down upon my head so hard that the world went black. When I came to, I was tied to a chair in a small room, the smell of piss and sweat lingering in the air. The man who had knocked me out was standing with his gun in his hands, staring down at me. Brandoneo will be here in a few." "What can I say? I'm thrilled. Maybe I'll offer to give him a kiss. You think that would be in order, all things considered? Or should I just hang my head in shame and wait to be killed?" "Shut your mouth." "Say, you got a cigarette? 'Cause before you decided to fuck up my day I was about to have one. And if I've got to deal with an asshole like him, I'm gonna need something to calm my nerves." "No. I don't smoke." "Figures." The door to the cellar opened then and a thin man with dark hair appeared. "Manuel, leave us," Brandoneo said curtly. In an instant, my captive disappeared and I was finally left alone with the man who wanted me dead.
"Possibly, but who cares? After what we've been through, a roof crushing us seems like the last thing that'll be able take us down." I shrugged and hopped off of the rafter, landing on a glyph a few feet below. I leaped off of that one and landed on the ground beneath me, the smoke had finally dissipated. Then, I heard the chanting. "I was correct." I looked at the three unconscious bodies scattered around me. "Hm..." I grabbed two of them and began dragging them to the back of the church, leaving the last one for Rue once she comes down. If their buddies outside decided to peek in, they wouldn't discover their bodies right away. Besides, I couldn't see an illusion or any obvious signs of a hidden entrance, yet. Though, the chanting seemed to get a bit louder as I made my way back. I set the two in an old storage room and began searching the back of the church. Eventually, I noticed something strange about a set of floorboards. They appeared to be bolted down, however, none of the other floorboards were like this. "Well, let's see what this is." I experimentally tried to pull the bolted floorboards off, and they came off with ease. "Huh, that was easy." Beneath the floorboards, there was a hidden trapdoor, I could clearly hear the chanting coming from beneath. "Well, we've struck gold! Er... bloody crazy gold, but gold nonetheless."
Rue glances down and hangs off the rafter to get lower before dropping down to the floor. "W-woah...phew. Nailed it." She chuckles before glancing at the last unconscious guy. "Welp that worked well." She says picking him up and dragging him over to the store room as well. "There we go. All hid up." She glances back at Joe looking at the trapdoor he uncovered. "Wow good eye. And yeeaah." She mutter. "Definitely crazy. Agreed."
Hikaru took her chance to enter through the warehouse. She didn’t had that precious invisible robe, yet that didn’t stop her, it was in fact more simpler though risky. She just covered her face with the cultist robe and entered. Low ranked soldiers wouldn’t dare to question a “hooded” cultist. That was easy, nice Hikaru! Despite being inside a warehouse, she wasn’t precisely out of danger, the only thing that separated her from the violence outside was a thick wall, and even that wouldn’t be enough to stop the assault of her allies, after all, a man was sliced in half by a floating bowling ball and a bunch were buried under a tree missile, stuff like that would easily break the walls of the building. So, she had to act fast. There were several crates apparently organized but in real the place was a complete mess. It gave an ominous vibe, it felt like the kind of cold and dark place were a murder could perfectly had happened and could perfectly be filled with a heinous smell; luckily for Hikaru that wasn’t the case and the place didn’t stank like rottenness yet the stuff contained within the crates escaped her comprehension. Several tubes containing different kind of substances, a few contained funny colored dust. Others were seemingly empty but once the girl picked one to check, the gas inside became of a purple color; there were tubes containing even what seemed to be organic tissue. All the elements shared a common feeling, the practice of dark magic and its close relation to death, a feeling that disgusted Hikaru deeply, it made her feel sick but what bothered her more was how close was herself to all that practice. I’m a vessel of pure dark magic after all… Thought the girl. She contemplated her hands, they looked so vivid and perfectly normal human hands, but she knew, the hands were dead as her whole body was. It could be said, that her mind, or more likely, her essence, was the only thing “alive” within her. She shook her head, trying to push the disturbing thoughts away and resumed her investigation. I can’t lose more time here…. She checked each crate, slowly getting more nervous as the fighting outside pierced her ears until she found what she was looking for. A metal crate filled with several vials containing red liquid. That is, the aoglopoetis. It was impossible for her to drag the crate, even if she were to reduce its weight to less than a feather using an enchantment, it would be still difficult to move through the whole battlefield. She denied to herself with her head and instead chose to pick as much vials as she could. Luckily, the hooded robes used by the cultists were large enough to held from five to ten vials with ease within the inner pockets. All right, now to get out of here…. She contemplated her options; the place was surrounded though she could easily disguise as a cultist, but who knows how much would that work and what if her “allies” try to actually attack her? Besides, she already got what she needed, all the friendly play was over. The best scenario would be to escape without being noticed by both, her enemies and her allies. “Sigh… it will be really, really noisy…” She lifted her left hand revealing a crimson ring. “Doppelganger, I need your help now, don’t be a nice girl ok?” A few seconds later a burst of fire erupted from the warehouse’s entrance taking down anyone standing close to it. All was led by a figure that resembled Hikaru, or more likely, it was a exact copy of her appearance, however, the Doppelganger was a spirit imbued with fire that once in the past was a hindrance to Hikaru and her classmates yet within the time she learned to contain. It can exist in this world only for a few minutes, but that’s enough for me to escape Thought Hikaru while running away from the warehouse, taking the distraction made by the burst of fire as advantage. Will any of you…. Grant me freedom?” Asked the ethereal figure with a spectral voice. Then her whole being expanded and covered a small radius with fire, without wasting time the trees were already burning. The place where the first warehouse was located was now completely covered by fire.
"Yep." I clapped my hands together and grinned. "Let's get going." I threw the trapdoor open and grabbed onto the ladder. "Do be careful, a fight is likely to break out once we bust in." I then slid down the ladder, ready for whatever may be waiting for us below... If that man was down there, then I'd have to act quickly.
The voice once again boomed, but was this time much more audible. "Sleep now, great one! Shut your powerful, terrible eyes. Rest your bones, exhausted from eons of your work!" The preaching turned to eerie, excited yelling. The leader stood in the center of the room, as cultists encircled him, all bowing in perfect unison. The room was lit with various candles, set on the ground on a couple tables and crates. Every cult member had their eyes shut, even the leader, who was grinning in a blissful, yet malevolent way. Leaning against the wall of the opposite room was a coffin, housing the corpse of a young man whos eyes and mouth were sewn shut. His head was shaven and his body was bulked with muscle. He must have been a Maniacles Mercenary. --------------------------------- Clayton sighed with irritation when he saw how one warehouse had been set ablaze, by what looked like Joseph's friend, Hikaru. On an up note, the heat of the battle was dying down. While before there seemed to be a steady supply of gunshot noises, now only one or two shots could be heard followed by short silences. In the light from the flames, one could see that corpses littered the area around the storehouses. Clayton though surely a few of his allies must have died.
The barrels of Serra's gatling gun slowed to a stop, a bit of smoke still rising off the end, as the combat seemed to wind down. Serra and Keenan had used the distraction to sneak through the main part of the fighting for some of the storehouses, going into one on the fringes of the area where they found some cultists messing with Serra's armor, they made short work of the few there so the she could reclaim the armor, tossing Joe's trenchcoat onto a nearby table so it wouldn't snag on the armor. Once she was in an explosion took out part of the small storehouse, throwing them both straight into the combat until it wound down. With most of the combat settled Serra looked over the area again, a few sensors of her suits hud playing over the enviroment, as Keenan walked over to Clayton "well, with all that out of the way, what's the plan from here?"
“Shit. Shit, shit, shit…” the cultist muttered under his breath as he watched his comrades die all around him. He was new here. He had just joined a few weeks ago. He dropped out of college to ‘find himself’ and found this place instead. Young and stupid. The sacrifices had been… strange, but he got used to it. A little cutting here and some bloodletting there. No big deal. After a few days, this place felt like home. These people were his brothers, and sisters. His family. This is where he belonged. It felt so right… until these fucking psychos showed up and started murdering everyone. Now he was cowering in a corner, with a loaded hunting rifle clutched to his chest, whimpering for his momma. He had watched Steve get ripped in half by a bowling ball. He’d watched Jane get impaled by a tree. And someone blew Rick’s head clean off. “I just wanna go home. I just wanna go home. I just wanna go home. I just- aghhgghg!” The cultist suddenly found himself being dragged across the ground. An invisible force gripped his body and yanked him away. He tried to scream, but that same force tightened on his windpipe, strangling him from the inside. He tried to hold the gun, but it was ripped from his hands, dismantled in midair, and the pieces sent flying away like dust in the wind. Was this god’s punishment for his cowardice? He was pulled away from the battlefield to a leaning shack a short walk away from the town. The door blew open. There was only darkness inside. His god was dragging him to hell. A trail of piss and tears followed him. Once he was inside, the shadows swallowed him up and the door slammed shut loudly, like the bang of an executioner’s axe on the chopping block. But there was no god here. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he found only a woman in white, staring down at him with a gentle smile. A condescending smile. “Good day, Kyle,” she said, cheerfully. “How are you doing?” He stared blankly at her. “M-my name’s not Kyle…” The smile suddenly disappeared. “Let me explain to you how this works, James,” she said coldly. He was dragged across the floor until his head hit the wall, then up the wall and onto the ceiling, where he was pinned with his arms and legs spread. “Your name is whatever the hell I tell you it is, Rob. Do you understand?” He tried to nod, but couldn’t move his head. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” she said and he was suddenly thrown to the floor again. She smiled. “Yes, I like you much better down there… beneath me… where you belong.” Some planks from the wall broke free and assembled themselves into a chair. She took a seat, crossed her legs, and clasped her hands in her lap. “Now, let’s talk about your friends, Walter. Let’s talk about your god.” “Y-you don’t wanna do this,” he stammered. “You’re not like them. That’s why you’re here, instead of out there. You don’t have to kill me. I-I’ll leave. I’ll go. And so can you. Just, please, don’t-” “Trying to appeal to my better nature? Oh, dear boy, stop it.” She laughed. “The begging, the pleading… it’s useless.” She leaned in closer and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I am out there. You see, there’s this thing called multitasking. Do you honestly think you’re worthy of my undivided attention, Gregory… or Fred, or Tom, or whoever the fuck you are? “I can feel them. Every last one of them,” she said. “Every move they make. Every bullet that flies. Every drop of blood.” She grinned. “Was that one of your friends I ripped in half with the bowling ball? Did you know him?” “His name was-” “Bitch. That’s his name,” she said. “He’s my bitch. Whatever he was before that, is irrelevant. I made him my bitch. And I’m going to do the same to you… but slower…” The pressure pinning his legs down slowly began to increase. He groaned in pain and tried to struggle, but couldn’t move. Until, finally… CRACK! “Agghghghg!” the cultist cried out in pain as his legs twisted at unnatural angles. The broken bones poked through his tortured flesh. The woman in white stood and gleefully applauded herself. “I was going to start with the fingers, but this is so much more satisfying,” she said as she returned to her seat. “What next? The eyes? No, they are the windows to the soul… and I want to know the precise moment your soul breaks. I’ll take them last, after you tell me everything.” Nothing happened for a few seconds. He thought she was giving him a break or maybe giving him a moment to recover, lest he pass out from more pain. But, after the pause, she sighed and stood up. “They let her get away? Honestly, don’t these morons know the first thing about dealing with double agents: keep your eyes on them at all times! Why must I babysit these fools!?” she said as the door of the shack opened and she stepped outside before levitating up and into the night sky.
Family. The word stuck in my mind as I closed my eyes. I didn't want to see Brandoneo. Did not want to see the gun that was surely going to be pressed against my temple. Family. Never forget who your family is. "Open your eyes." No. No. A thousand times, no. Thoughts ran through my mind at warp speed. My life, my upbringing, my family. My beliefs. I'd bet on a way out of here. But I'd bet on the wrong horse. I'd made the worst mistake of my life thinking I could escape. Now there was no escape. My life was in Brandoneo's hands. "I said, open your fucking eyes. I don't want to hurt you, but I will if I have to." Darkness became light then and I drank in his appearance. He was a handsome man. Even in older age, he probably had a million maniacle girls sniffing for tidbits of his affection. And who could blame them? Whatever he'd been born with, it was magic so powerful that it could enchant whole societies. His power could pull worlds out of orbit and send moons spinning off into outer space. Fear electrified my body, and a sense of impending doom washed over me as I stared into his eyes. Family, I thought again. We are family.
I thought of home again. Of all the happiness and joy I'd had. I thought of the long walks with my father, the days spent playing in the front yard with my sister. "I could continue killing you off one by one until every last cultist is dead. But I'm not going to do that. Well, not unless you make me." "What do you mean?" "You have something I want. Something I need." He was talking, of course, about the ancient stones. "They're not here." "But you know where they are. Bring them to me and I will stop the killing. Don't bring them," He paused to look me in the eye. "And you'll be next." A sick feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. This couldn't be happening. But it was. Oh, it was. And now I had no choice but to do what he said. Using a knife, he cut the ropes binding me to the chair. "Go back to your city and get them. Bring them to me and this will all end. Oh, and don't try to run or things will only get worse."
I'd bring him the stones. But before I did, there was one call I needed to make. Quickly, I dialed my brother's number--Family--and waited for an answer. Please pick up, Luigi. Please. Please. This was maybe the most important call I would ever make in my life. After two rings, he finally answered. "Hey sis, what's up?" "I'm about to die is what's up." "What?" "You heard me right. I'm about to die. That motherfucker, Brandoneo, is going to kill me." It was no joke. Even though he'd already taken everything from us, he wanted more. He wanted our deaths. He wanted us to feel like dogs that were waiting for the gas chamber, animals slated for death inside an animal shelter. "If he's out to get me, he's out to get me. There's nothing I can do except ask one favor from you." "Name it." "If he kills me, kill him. After all he's done to us, after all the dead bodies he's left in his wake, after all this maniacal BULLSHIT, you know he deserves it. And YOU, of all people, know how to get revenge. I love you. I love you with all my heart and soul. Never doubt that because it's the truest thing I've ever said or felt in my life."
When Joe's feet hit the ground, none of the cultists seemed even bothered by his appearance with Rue. They were too deep in prayer. All had there head down as they stood around an odd symbol on the ground... _____________________(___(______________________ A boot stomped down on the head of a dying cultist, with enough force to crush thd skull and spurt blood. This was Clayton's boot. It was now truly the aftermath of the battle, as the few cultists who hadn't fought to the death had ran. This left only the mercenaries to regroup. And of course, some of these mercs to ask Clayton, the unofficial, and somewhat reluctant leader, to ask what to do next. "We search what remains of the warehouses for the aglophoetis. Assuming they weren't fucking destroyed." He said with a sigh, rushing over to the one that was burning.
I looked around the room in silence. I felt utter disgust at what I saw before me. I could see old bloodstains around the room, an unpleasant smell of raw, decaying flesh and blood permeating the room. I looked at the corpse on the opposite side of the room, they desecrated that poor man's body, sewing his mouth and eyes shut. If I was correct, they were trying to put a god to sleep... if they were doing that, then undoubtedly this god must be one that is against their actions, against their true leader... I quickly pulled my scythe from my back, unfolding it, I needed to end this quickly! I charged forward, right toward the Sanders knock off... he hadn't noticed my presence yet, this was my only chance to take him out. I couldn't leave Rue to fight these cultists alone... and if I used that then she'd definitely be fighting alone until I was finished. I jumped in the air, pulling my scythe back, ready to strike out at the cultist's leader. Time seemed to slow down. It felt like an eternity as I flew through the air... long enough for one of the cultists to actually look up, and... they moved surprisingly fast, pointing at me and crying out. In fact they were all moving rather quickly. Then, I finally realized... time had only slowed for me. "Oh you've gotta be kidding me!" The next thing I knew, I felt something smash into my back, and time resumed. I was sent flying to the ground, my scythe leaving my hands and skidding off to the side of the room, the cultists moved out of the way and I landed before the leader's feet. I tried to get up, but I couldn't manage it. It felt like a few hundred pounds were pressing down on me. I tried to say something, anything, but I could barely breathe, I could barely concentrate... I couldn't manage to use my magic. "Rue, please, don't come down here...!" The cultists would be on high alert now that I was here... if someone came down here, their leader would surely paralyze them and strip them of their magic. A robed cultist walked forward, his hood drawn up. "Oh my, oh my, it's a heathen." He mocked, nudged me with his foot, roughly. He clapped his hands together, grinning widely. "Our god told me of this one's coming. This one is a rather tricky heathen. It'd be best if we deal with him now." He knelt down, tilting his head. "Hm... any last words? Think very carefully, won't you? You only have one chance." He stood up. I felt the pressure let off of me. That cultist's voice, I was sure that I heard it somewhere before... I slowly and shakily got onto my hands and knees. "Fine... I have something to stay." I got to my feet swaying slightly, looking at the leader. This was my only chance. A slight smile was on my face. "Your god is not worthy of worship." The cultists around us were blown back as blue words, "Your god is not worthy of worship", surrounded us, interlocking like chains. "Ah, I'm sorry, I omitted something from my first introduction." I bowed politely. "I'm Joseph Hikari Nobunaga, I'm the detective of this little story." I held my arm out as a scythe slowly materialized within my hand. "Let's begin, shall we?"
“Man, what a mess…” Mumbled Aeon after the battle finished… Lot of wounded people, dead bodies, the place was burning down and some asshole threw a tree in the middle on the ground…. Oh yeah… that was me… Clayton went on his own, on the meanwhile Aeon walked seemingly uninterested in checking the warehouses. As he moved, he occasionally would find a wounded cultist lying in the ground, sometimes conscious. Still, that wasn’t of importance to him, his job was clear. Retrieve the apogloetis and get rid of any menace in the way if needed. Aeon sighed before snapping the neck of the survivors or killing them in any other fashion, yet he didn’t worry to chase any man who escaped, not even to go finish those nearby. Aeon was just killing those that happened to be on the way of his lazy walk to the church. On his path, he carefully avoided the small fire caused by Hikaru’s Doppelganger who was nowhere to be seen, probably already vanished; but that was something unknown to Aeon as he didn’t notice the moment the girl set ablaze the place while running away. A man was slowly trying to get out of the place, dragging his wounded legs. Aeon took the bother to kick him into the fire. His face didn’t wear a smile, instead, it showed a face of boredom. By the moment he reached the church around five minutes had passed, he could hear the turmoil inside of it. Shall I check it or no? A few screams and a violent noise. I guess no… Then the man took a seat in the dirty ground and patiently waited.
Rue heard the sounds of fighting after Joe had gone down and frowned. "Well crap." She mutters pulling out her knife and quickly going down. Once she takes a look around and frowns. Joe seemed to be surrounded by cultists who looked surprised for some reason. Rue uses an illusion to blur herself to make it harder to hit her and rushes over to try and stab one of the closest cultists to her. "Not surprised you're already in the middle of a mess."
The cultists hadn't yet noticed Rue, they had rushed to the barrier, attacking it. They were more vested in trying to get to the mage using strange magic against their leader. Yet... nothing that they threw at the barrier would affect it. It bounced off every spell and attack without so much as showing some sign that it had indeed worked, the blue words seemingly taunting them. They hadn't yet noticed one of their numbers not joining in, his throat slit, bleeding out on the floor not but a few feet away from them, writhing and silently reaching out for them, begging for help as blood bubbled from his mouth. "Ah, everyone, stop this, it's clearly not working, let us pray, god shall allow us to break through this barrier!" The robed cultist exclaimed, bringing out a book. He began flipping through the pages as the other cultists looked on, clearly on the edge... Their backs to Rue and their fallen brother. Eventually the cultist stopped flipping through the book and scowled. "Geez... all of this is just crazy bullshit, how can you all be so stupid as to listen to this drivel?" The robed cultist's demeanor completely changed. The other members looked at him with complete shock, unsure of how to react to one of their highest members suddenly saying such things. "Well, I guess it wasn't that hard given how easily I fooled you all." The cultist began to throw off his robe, revealing several intricate black markings on his bare arms, the robe was still hanging off of his head. In one hand was a sharpie. "Just a few pretty little words and a sharpie, and you all fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. You really should have searched your prisoners a bit more thoroughly and not left them alone for so long. You're all a bunch of friggin' retards!" He mocked, laughing at them. He finally pulled the hood off revealing himself for everyone to see. Long straight blond hair, blue eyes, and a smile befitting the King of Bastards. "Alright, morons, let's go, shall we? I haven't gotten to let loose in a while!" Finally, the cultists snapped out of their shock and charged forward, thinking that they would be able to overpower him with strength alone. "Get the heretic! Kill him!" One shouted. Roy, he simply smirked at the cultists, then threw the marker and book at the same time, at two different cultists... instead of just hitting them like a normal object, causing at best, mild shock and pain... The marker gained massive momentum... it smashed right through one of the cultist's eyes and through the back of his skull, smashing against the wall behind the cultist, causing the stone to crack and the sharpie to splatter ink everywhere as it broke. The book meanwhile caught another cultist in the jaw, propelling him backwards against the far wall, the book smashed clean through his skull and embedded itself into the wall, pinning the upper half of his head there, while the rest of his body slumped down against the wall. Roy then snapped his fingers, a purple spark erupting from his fingers, just as the cultists were close... then, they all froze in whatever position they were in, still as statues... not just them... everything stopped moving, the flicker of the candles, the blood flowing from the bodies of the dead cultists... the only thing that appeared to continue moving was the constantly shifting blue worded barrier... "Ahahaha... Kill me? I'm on a whole other level, silly little boy." He easily slipped by the cultists, ensuring not to touch them, he walked over by Rue, glancing at her, frozen just like the rest of them. "Better be of some use, or else I'll be rather disappointed." He snapped his fingers once more, and the cultists resumed. For everyone, it appeared as though he had merely vanished, and then reappeared right behind them next to the other intruder they had neglected. "Hey, morons, behind you. Geez, can you not even keep track of one person? No wonder your getting your asses kicked." He shrugged, smirking easily.
"....Oh goody a new whacko? I'm not in the mindset to deal with this right now. Whatever, as long as I don't end up like those psychos on the floor." Rue smirked a moment before she realized what he had done. He had brought most of their attention on her as well. Rue gives a loud tch before shooting a glare at Roy. "You're a jerk , you know that?" She holds out her hand making illusionary knives appear in the air. There were one for each lower cultist facing her. She holds her own knife ready as the illusionary knives shot out at the cultists to take them by surprise. Using this she would charge up to another one of the cultists going to stab him.
"So what's this Aglophoetis?" Serra asked as she walked up behind Keenan and Clayton ran off, to which he only responded with a shrug "maybe we'll know when we see it?" The two started walking toward the storage houses, more intent on making sure they were clear rather than search, which the one they opened first was certainly not. The moment the door was opened they were met with gunfire which startled Serra, who raised one arm to block her unprotected face, bullets bouncing off the armor, the other brought up her minigun and sprayed into the room, shredding everything inside. When the hail of bullets finally stopped Keenan poked his head in to look at the devastation "well...it's not in here, or if it was, not anymore..."
When he came to the burning warehouse, Clayton sighed. The fires burned red hot. Parts of the warehouse were even melting, in addition to a couple abandoned cars and junk metal around the outside of the warehouse. Who had done this? Was it Aeon? Possibly, the guy seemed like a show off, even if it could cost them the mission. Or it could have been one of the newer people who showed up, but probably not the Cheshire cat. He simply didn't seem the destructive type. Probably not Rue or Joe, as what could some potion maker gain from setting them free? Then there was Hikaru... Obviously Joe knew Hikaru well and trusted her, but all based on knowing her in college. A lot could change in even one year, and Hikaru was a double agent by the looks of things. But before Clayton could try and figure out where Hikaru had gone, a deep, angry voice shook the air. "MEEEEEEAAAAAATTT!"
