His Holiness Pope Bush I Defender of Humanity

[Clibanarius]

For the record I am apolitical and happen to like George W Bush and this is for entertainment only (inspired by the picture and a really weird alternate timeline I once read).




Chapter One.

His Holiness Pope George Bush I sat at his desk and pondered the nature of God.

Truly I am blessed. He thought.

He'd always been a devout man of God and he'd entered the Church at an early age, but he'd also had a desire to serve his Country. So the Pope had fought for his country in Vietnam before joining NASA. And then he came back to his first love.

He'd continued his studies and by the Grace of the Almighty had risen quickly through the Ranks. And now here he was, the Ceremony had only been a few weeks ago. Truly the ways of God were marvelous, he'd been given everything he'd ever dreamed of.

Bush finished the latest peace of Paperwork and leaned back in his chair letting out a small sigh contentment at how it supported his back in all the right spots. At 57 Pope Bush was in excellent health and kept up a daily regimen of intense exercize and under his vestments he still had a physique that would have done Conan the Barbarian proud. But there was no denying that he was no longer a young man and he liked his comforts.

He closed his eyes and a small smile spread over his features, turning his normally serious expression into that of a grandfatherly old man.

However, under his half-closed lids his eyes moved ceaselessly and there was a hint of reckless excitement in his smile.

There was a slight rustle in the curtains near the Pope's window, no normal man would have detected it and even men trained to detect movement like that would have had a hard time of iut.

But Pope Bush was no ordinary man. He would have been Pope much sooner except that he had chosen to serve several years in the secret Military Order of the Catholic Church, the Knights Templar, whose sacred duty was to seek out and eliminate those agents of The Enemy who would harm humanity.

Almost anyone else would have died in that Chair, and horribly.

But this was Pope Bush.

With a ulating battle cry he sprang over his desk, Holy Desert Eagle .50 AE and Crucifix in one hand and mighty Greatsword in the other, the blade glowed with a fierce golden that lit up the entire room. For the Pope wielded none other than Excalibur.

His foe, a horrific Daemon, sprang from its hiding place with a cry of hatred that would have frozen the blood of normal men, Pope Bush didn't even blink.

The Daemon lobbed massive fireballs at him and the Pope dodged with the ease of a consummate professional.

Pope Bush closed with his hated foe and thrust for its scaly chest, the Daemon produced a black blade of its own and parried with frantic haste.

Sparks rang off the blades as the Pope and Daemon went back and forth, spinning, dodging, slashing, kicking, punching. The Pope was in the air more often than not. He ran up and down walls, flipping through the air to deliever devestating blows and all the while he calmly and quietly chanted an Excorsism.

The Daemon was gasping for air while its smoking blood cascaded from dozens of gaping wounds. Pope Bush for his part had several tears in his Vestments and was breathing hard while sweat cascaded down his face.

The Daemon lunged again, and that was its undoing.

Pope Bush grinned and dodged its clumsy and desperate attack, he pressed his Holy Pistol to its head at it went by and pulled the trigger, there was a concussive roar, the Pistol bucked in the Pope's hand, dust flew from the shelves and the windows rattled.

Black gore sprayed across the room and the Daemon's corpse continued its headlong rush until it fetched up against the wall, cracking the Panels.

The Pope got his breath back, muttered a prayer of thanks and crossed himself. The doors to his study burst open and he whirled to see Knights Templar, his Cardinals, his Secretary and several Swiss Guard.

"Your Holiness, are you alright?"

Pope Bush smiled slightly. "Yes, by the Grace of God, in his wisdom he gave me the victory over the foul creature."

They followed the splatters of Daemonic gore to the far wall and saw the thing's mangled remains. Many of them began praying silently while others crossed themselves and began going over their rosaries.

"Your Holiness, what is the meaning of this?" Said one of his Cardinals.

The Pope's smile faded. "I fear that we, humanity, are being invaded. And until they are all destroyed our enemy will not stop."

Pope Bush was right. And he wished with all his heart that he wasn't.

[Clibanarius]

". . . In conclusion, we need to form a great Army of light to prepare for the coming invasion, it will contain normal people who have a high calling and who fight for something honorable and noble." Said the Pope.

"But your Holiness, that army is already taken."

"I am sure that we can persuade the US government to share with us."

A few hours later Pope Bush sat on the steps of the White House, the President's mocking laughter still ringing in his ears.

"Selfish bastard." He muttered.

"And you said please too." Said Bob his personal Bodyguard.

Bush glanced at the Knight Templar to see if he was joking. He wasn't. The Pope wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to put up a notice on Facebook like everyone else."

"But your Holiness." Whined Bob.

The Pope raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"You can't mean that you're considering accepting anyone who wants to the join the Papal Army of Light, you might get. . . Protestants."

The Pope shuddered slightly and sighed. "My son, I fear that desperate times call for desperate, I only hope that the Almighty in his infinite wisdom and mercy can forgive me."

Bob looked like he might burst into tears as they left the White House for the Pope's personal transportation: The Popmobile. It could a plane, rocketship, sweet-looking Limo, extreme-weather-all-terrain vehicle or a submarine as needed.

Currently it was in sweet-looking Limo mode.

The Pope gathered up his Popely vestments and prepared to get in when all hell, literally, broke loose.

There was a familiar but unearthly howl of fury and a powerful arch-daemon came charging out onto the White House lawn, while it's fiery red face was distorted it was still recognizable as Michelle Obama and just beyond her outstretched talons, running for dear life, was her husband.

"Getawayfrommeeeeeee!" He frantically climbed a tree and Pope Bush came running to rescue.

"Avaunt, foul demonspawn of hell!" The Pope roared glowing with his holy power, massive Greatsword in hand.

But then more demons came running from all directions and as Joe Biden ran out onto the Lawn trying to avoid the demon in hot pursuit of him when another demon came running up and ate him.

Bob arrived seconds too late to save Biden and gaped in horror. "You. . . you, ate the Vice President."

The demon scratched its bulging belly and belched. "Big $*8^&%# deal."

". . . Was that a joke?"

"Yes." The demon scratched its belly again.

"Well it wasn't a very good one, in rather poor taste actually. . . in fact, it sucks."

"So?"

Bob shrugged and then charged the demon.

Meanwhile Pope Bush was fighting for his life, he swirled through the air dealing out mighty roundkicks that broke the sound barrier when they made contact. He went into dizzying figure eights through knots of leaping demons and their severed heads simultaneously bounced from their thickly muscled necks while their smoking entrails slid out of their stomachs

Blood and chunks of flesh spewed everywhere and the Secret Service Agents came pouring out of the White House, spraying the demons with automatic weapons fire and the demons bellowed in agony and as the rounds ripped through them and sent more gore flying across the once pristine lawn.

Special limos rushed VIPs away on thrilling high speed chases through DC, cars blew up for no reason and someone drove through a fruitstand, although what a fruitstand was doing on 1600 Pennsylvannia Avenue no one knew.

Pope Bush parried away a howling demonic runesword and fired with his holy pistol. It never ran out of ammo and the bullets struck with unerring accuracy even though the Pope never took his eyes off the sword-wielding demons around him.

And then the demons called up zombies. And the Pope looked at the rotting shambling corpses and said:

"Oh for- for Heaven's sake, can't you guys come up with a legitimate threat?"

One or two of the demons actually sniffled and one of the younger ones burst into tears, just before the Pope to lopped their heads off.

Then the outraged ghosts of the men and women buried at Arlington came streaking across the street and ripped into the demons who wailed and gnashed their teeth as they vanished in puffs of blood.

Then the Air Force arrived with F-22s and A-10s and proceeded to level the entire Avenue.

Bob gutted the demon who ate Joe Biden and made a tasteless joke about it, blood, mangled smoking guts, pieces of the former Vice President and shit flew everywhere and the demon sank to its knees and Bob jumped into the air and as he came down he clove the demon from crown to navel, the shattered chunks collapsed at Bob's feet and he whirled in time to see the Archdemon Michelle snatch the unfortunate Barack from the tree he'd climbed.

Bob saw that the Pope was occupied helping the Secret Service guys deal with the surviving demons and he couldn't hit her with his sword from this distance.

So he drew his pistol and shot her.

At last the battle was over, the lawn looked like something from the battle of the Somme and the ground was blanketed with mangled corpses while thick smoke billowed into the sky and the sound of approaching sirens filled the air.

"Not bad huh?" Said Bob to Bush.

The Pope wiped blood off his face and shook his head. "That was just the beginning, my son. A probing attack."

Bob paused. "Oh. . . well then. . . Hey, look on the bright side, at least we won't have trouble creating the Glorious Army of Light now."