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The fight ended as abruptly as it began, the devils shredded by lead and mulched under car tires as they deserved. The sights, the sounds the sheer rush of adrenaline always lifted Ekaterine's spirits and this time was no different. She hummed to her herself as the car pulled up to the Castillian mansion, fingers working shells into her shotgun to replace the ones she had spent. Three blasts fired meant that she had fifty-seven more to go. Would it be enough to see her through this next test? Perhaps it would and perhaps it wouldn't. There were still her pistol, bottles and boots after that, each a more than serviceable weapon against Hell's legions.

Father Alistair returned the Abbess's Makarov and Ekaterine took it with a smile, nodding as he complimented the weapon. [color=thistle]"You used it well. It might be worth looking into acquiring a firearm of your own, I'm sure the Holy See has something it's arsenal."[/color] There was no way the Papal Guards still only used halberds right? 

The plan was simple enough, no different from the house-to-house fighting she had taken part in during the battle for Stalingrad. Go in, shoot every last monster they found and then leave to lick their wounds and let someone else handle the cleanup. The CIA spooks and FBI men in black were cold-hearted imperialists but at least they had the budget for burn crews.

It felt to the Mother to deal with the door and she did in her usual no nonsense way. Alien geometry and intricate ivory carvings meant little when one could simply kick it in. The interior of the structure was almost baffling in its ostentatiousness, thick rugs and ornate furniture that would have been unthinkable to a girl growing up on a Georgian farm. There had been some truth then to the Soviet's propaganda if Americans could live fill their homes with so much useless stuff while their countrymen starved.

The song being played had a name but whatever it was passed through one ear and out the other. It was information totally superfluous to the work at the hand. They were at the door to the dining room and whoever or whatever was inside it needed to die. Ekaterine took her shotgun in hand and kicked in yet another door.