PapaOso
Skai
Crimson Flame
washcloth
PatientBean
Izurich
Melissa
5341Ace
Fading Memory
Achronum
Christ the Redeemer Church, Granville, Kansas - One Month Ago
Issue 1.01.01: Knockin' on Heaven's Door
Interaction(s): None
Previously: None
”Forgive me father… for I have sinned. I have had to do the Lord’s work in culling those who violate his laws. My hands are stained red with the blood of sinners, father. I know that God wills it, but doing what the Lord requires is so difficult, father. I beg for his forgiveness.”
The confessionals were cramped, and a thin screen divided the two small chambers so that neither individual could get a good look at the other. The confessor hadn’t even bothered to remove his gear, still wearing a ballistic vest with camouflage military fatigues and a sidearm strapped to his belt. On the other side of the screen, the priest simply nodded his head slowly as he pondered his next move. After a deep breath, the priest’s words lacked any hint of emotion. ”You are not forgiven.”
The confessor tilted his head slightly as he saw movement on the other side of the screen. ”I don’t think this is how confessi-“
Before he could even finish his statement, two gunshots rang out in the entirety of the church. The confessor slumped over in his confessional, while a red-haired man dressed in priestly garb kicked the door of his confessional open and began opening fire on the militia that had gathered inside the Church. The vigilante soldiers barely had time to react as the priest fired with expert aim, bullets piercing the skulls of various soldiers before they could even clutch at their own weapons. The priest briskly approached the stone altar as he fired, ducking behind it just as the seven militia men left standing had turned the safeties off their automatic rifles and began firing.
The priest quickly stripped off his outer robe, revealing a ballistic vest decked out with magazines and grenades over the traditional black button up shirt and white collar. Roy reloaded his two sidearms as the sounds of gunfire and bullets penetrating the altar behind him pierced his ear drums. He had grown accustomed to the noise at this point, though it was never a sound that he had grown to enjoy. After a few moments, Roy smiled as he heard the familiar sound of empty clips. He sprung back up, and fired six shots. Six of the seven remaining hostiles fell to the ground dead. The final one simply drew his own sidearms quickly and pointed them at Roy.
This last man standing was dressed slightly differently from his fellow soldiers. Unlike the, he wore a white mask that was designed to resemble a cross between a dog and a hockey mask. He had more firearms on his person, along with a machete and a metal baseball bat. The two men kept their guns trained on each other, refusing to even turn their gazes away or blink. After what felt like a small eternity, Roy’s target spoke. ”You walk into our territory, dress yourself up like a priest, shoot my boys and you think you can just kill me and walk out of here? You must be a whole new breed of stupid, boy.”
Roy gave a small smile as he slowly inched around the altar to get closer, his guns always locked in his target’s direction. ”Stupid, not really. Borderline psychotic and pissed off to no end, absolutely. You see, you killed someone I cared about more than life itself, Jack Wheeler. So I’m going to put you and your little group of Watchdogs down like the animals you are.”
Time seemed to move in slow motion as Roy’s grip on his sidearms loosened. He let them go and reached his hands towards his vest, managing to clutch on to two grenades with pins hooked on to his clothing. As he yanked on the explosives, he instinctively ducked to his right. He gave two quick tosses of the grenades just as he felt the first bullet impact against the ballistic vest over his left pectoral. Another protected hit was felt against his gut, and then another in his leg. Roy didn’t have much time to process the pain as he managed to nimbly catch the gun he had dropped in mid-air with his left hand. With an aim that seemed almost inhuman, Roy tracked one of the grenades with the sidearm’s barrel until it got within a few feet of the Wild Dog. A single pull of the trigger, and time returned back to normal.
The combined explosion of both grenades sent a shockwave of force and shrapnel ripping through the pews of the rural church. Roy felt wood splinter into exposed parts of his skin as he was sent rolling backwards towards the altar again, coughing and wheezing. The pain was excruciating as he fought back waves of nausea and a splitting headache to try and focus his vision on his former opponent. Roy saw a mangled body writhing in pain in the center of the church, and began approaching the injured target while hobbling along on his feet. Around the edges of the impact area, flames from the incendiary grenade’s detonation began to light on the pews of the rural church.
The Wild Dog’s mask had been blown open in part, revealing the terrified eyes of a man who seemed to be about Roy’s age. The terrorist was breathing ragged breaths, trying to gurgle out some words through his blood-filled mouth that Roy couldn’t comprehend. The vigilante had little room for empathy as he lowered the barrel of his firearm towards his target’s now-exposed forehead, gritting his teeth in both anger and an effort to cope with his pain. ”This is for Toni, you son of a bitch.” One final gunshot rang out from the Church, and Roy’s work was done.
Roy Harper slowly hobbled out of the Church’s open front doors, ripping off the ballistic vest after stuffing the sidearm into the back of his pants. He tossed the vest into the back of a partially-rusted pick-up truck lazily parked along a gravel parking section near the Church’s entrance. The vigilante lazily opened the unlocked door and hoisted himself up into the truck’s driver’s seat. The truck’s keys had graciously been left in the ignition, providing Roy the opportunity to start the truck and begin peeling away from the now burning church.
