Move your ass, man. They'll catch up to you.
Go, you prick!
Down the street. Turn the corner. Pass that useless streetlight.
Wipe the rain from your eyes.
Look.
Wipe the blood from your eyes.
Look, dammit! There it is.

With a loud, splashing sort of noise, one of the two large wooden doors of an old church swung open forcefully, although the tall, burly man standing in its threshold seemed to have barely touched it. He was much too busy leaning on its partner for support, while his hand clamped over what looked like a nasty gash on the left side of his torso. Through the gaps of his long fingers the wound was visible: red and angry and charred, even smoking around the edges, as if it had just been pulled out of a fire.

Raindrops like bullets pelted him as he paused there, almost egging him to get a move on. But compared to what he had just dealt with, they felt like feathers, merely tickling the back of his neck as they slid down the tips of his brown hair. He was relishing in the sensation, letting his body weight sink tiredly against the varnished wood until his stubbled cheek was pressed against it. How nice it would have been to close his eyes and just drift off right then and there? He was right on his way to doing so, too, until he was interrupted.

Hey buddy, wanna go inside, maybe?

An irritated groan escaped the male’s lips as he pushed himself off of the door and finally limped into the building. I don't know about you, but I don't think you'd be up for another round if they do decide to come and check to see if you're really dead. "Shut up," he growled in reply as he struggled towards the wall, lifting his hand and waving it weakly as he went. In response, the growing puddle of water that had been idle at the entrance rose like a small wave, reaching out to the opened door and pushing it closed before collapsing back into its unanimated itself. “You're half the reason I'm even like this…” There was the click of the metal lock, and then only the sounds of the pouring rain outside and the man’s slow trek to the altar could be heard.

The inside of the church was dark, damp, and somewhat eerie. Dried leaves crunched underneath his dragging feet as he moved, and by the way the pews were all askew, it was obvious that this place had not been used in a long while.

He couldn't have gone more than halfway from the entry before he emitted a heavy hiss and gave up, letting his body slip down slowly to sit on the dirtied cobblestone floor. With his back against the wall he could see the trail of blood he’d left along it, a dark red traitorous trail that would lead his predators straight to him.

“Those arrogant fucks...” he muttered hotly, smarting as he tried to straighten his legs out from beneath him, “Thinking they know best... Pfft… Think they've got... Ultimate plan, my ass-” A bout of violent coughs followed, each punctuated by low groans of agony. The man clutched at the damage on his side as if that would stop the fit, but it only reminded him of just how painful the damned thing was. After another moment or two, the outburst died down, and he was able to catch his breath. Then suddenly he pounded his fist against the floor and shook his head a little, mumbling incoherently to himself under his breath. "Foolish… They'll never… All wrong..."

He was so very... The list went on and on, it seemed. Tired? Hurt? Ashamed? Abandoned? Yes, abandoned... His head drifted backward until it too was resting against the wall, his pale face disturbing the line of crimson behind him. The rain had washed off nearly all the blood that was caked onto the side of his face from a laceration in his scalp, allowing him to lift his pale grey eyes to the ceiling. “They don’t know what they’re doing.” It was as simple - and as complicated - as that. "They don't know…"

Those assholes are going to ruin everything. Everything we've worked for...

The male pushed out a sigh that almost hinted at resignation. His irises seemed to be losing focus as they roamed towards the alter, scaling up the Christ figure with an air of detachment, before the hand laying limply on the cobblestone beside him twitched a finger. Flames erupted from wicks of candles that hadn't been used in who knew how long, illuminating the front of the church and only just reaching him. Bathed in the familiar warmth, he allowed the lids of his eyes to droop closed, his face calm but for the slight furrowing of his brow.

Damn. Really wish we had some wine, eh?

Arlo scoffed, but he really wouldn't have minded a glass. It was all he could do to keep his mind off the pain and just wait for the beginning of the end.

#

Rain was a stereotypical thing indeed. It often prefaced events of cliched origins and it had no problems living up to societal expectations in regards to its many different functions. In literature, rain was often indicative of a tragic scene either occurring or just about to do so. In film and television, rain was often used for more powerful, hard-hitting scenes that required the kind of visceral, visually impressive editing and transition that brought the term "award-winning" to many a creative work. In this case however, it was the reality of the situation that stood out. On this particular night, the rain that pummeled the five bodies beneath the sky was going to be unique. This was the night that the myth of the Guardians was finally going to graduate from whispering rumors to an absolute truth. Varrina Terry, at the least, was going to make sure of that.

A stone cold expression on her face, Varrina ignored the pelting of water drops and trudged through knee-high blades of wilted grass. Nothing so insignificant as rain was going to ruin this moment now. Too many years had been invested into this journey to let a little mud force an unnecessary lull. Besides, she had been prepared for a day like this. Old denim jeans stuffed themselves into solid-colored hiking boots under a white t-shirt which hid under a lightweight, black jacket which hid under a heavier purple hoodie. With her hood pulled up over a mess of soaked hair and contacts in place of glasses, Varrina's focus remained tight on the old church building that grew ever closer. It was a thing of irony for the truth of the world to lay hidden in that kind of building, but those thoughts weren't worth thinking at the moment.

As the group finally managed to reach the underside of the canopied wooden doors, Varrina pulled off her hood and immediately remembered the heft in the small of her back. She wasn't personally a fan of weaponry, but at least one person had to live to tell this tale to the public, right? Not even turning to face the group, eccentric tendencies kicked in and Varrina began quickly etching notes into a small black journal. "The moment is here.... O-our time is now." She said outloud. This was her way of addressing the group as a whole when she got excited. It had happened many times before, but this was a much more subdued excitement than in the past. The truth was that fear had gripped the heart of the dedicated cultist, even in the seconds before all her ramblings, speeches, and declarations would be backed up.

Breathing deeply for a moment, Varrina pushed open the doors and immediately stepped inside along with the rest of the group. A musky smell filled the air and an incomplete darkness curled around a trail of deep crimson, eventually leading to a slumped figure against the wall. It looked like the shape of a human from afar, but Varrina didn't give that any thought. She knew what she had come here for, regardless of the rest of the group. Her giddy nature began to take over and she started losing herself in a moment that slowly engulfed her entire mentality. Instinctively, she reached for and brandished the .22 caliber pistol she'd been provided with earlier that day. She held the weight at her side, her arm loose and enslaved to the power of the heft in her right hand. Eyes glazed over and a slight smirk twisting onto her face, Varrina began an excruciatingly slow drag towards the figure.

It would take the another member of the group to stop her impulsive behavior, as it often did, but in this moment of victory, Varrina had only one thought in mind.

It was time to begin the chaos.

David shivered, despite the hooded rain jacket he wore.

He didn't know if there was some sort of higher power in the universe, or if the Guardians were that higher power, or if God was pissed at them for hunting these Guardians, or what, but he didn't understand why it had to be raining on tonight of all nights. Why did it have to be the night that David would be able to justify throwing his life off track and chasing myths? Why did it have to be the night that he would be able to validate ending a relationship that had brought him so much joy?

Oh, well. It wasn't as if he even disliked the rain. It was just cold was all, and it was raining way more heavily than he would have preferred. He cast his gaze about him. What kind of people had he even fallen in with?

First was their "fearless leader", a very tiny, itsy bitsy woman named Varrina. Slightly cute in her skinniness. However, David was pretty sure he could break her with one hand if he wanted to, and that that same hand could wrap all the way around her waist. She was a lot like David, in that she was clearly gifted with intelligence, yet she spent it in ways that society didn't approve of. If anything, she was way more intelligent than David himself, who knew he was quite bright. She unnerved him, with her impulsive and odd behavior.

Next was Amis. Not exactly a looker, but not too bad. He had a bit of a gothic look going on that David liked. However, the man was kinda bonkers. He seemed to see himself as some sort of "hero of truth" or something similarly inane. He was aggressively anti-religious, too, as far as David was concerned, which irritated him to an extent even if he wasn't religious himself.

Thirdly was Elli. He liked Elli. She was pretty, not too bad of a person, and seemed to be a little more well-adjusted than most of the group. He didn't mind her religion, and actually wanted to see if she was willing to debate. She seemed smart, and he looked forward to the chance to understand her views better.

Last, was Malcolm. Malcolm was horribly unhealthy looking, to the point that David swore to himself that he had to start cooking for the man. Malcolm unnerved him just like Varrina did, but for vastly different reasons. Varrina unnerved him because they were so different. Malcolm unnerved him because they were so similar. David had been planning a life much like Malcolm's was ending up like, but they had both been derailed, ironically enough, by their studies and the burning questions they brought. Every time David looked at Malcolm, he just shuddered and thought about how that could have been him.

David heard Varrina spoke, and nodded. He could understand her excitement. Tonight was the night.

Tonight was the night!

David couldn't help but grin. He would NOT end up like Malcolm. He was getting his validation, and he would put his life back on track and fix things. They would find the Guardians and prove their myth, and maybe fix whatever was wrong(whether it was "good" or not) with humanity. Tonight was a good night. Things were going to be okay.

David saw a figure in the distance, and his heart pounded. A thousand questions burned in his mind, and when he saw Varrina aim her gun, only one remained.

What the hell!?

David lanced out, grabbing her shoulder and pushing it down, eyes wide and jaw dropped.

"What the hell!?" he whispered, "It could be some random innocent person!"

The rain sucked. Not because it made everything cold and wet, but because it made the atmosphere tense and dramatic. That may have been a good thing except for the fact that Elli was literally moments away from discovering truth and history, not to mention one of the world's biggest secrets... and secretly, the Florida native was a sucker for secrets. The nervousness and excitement was so thick in the air that it was almost tangible, like she could reach out and grab some just to toss it in the faces of her companions: Varrina, David, Amis and Malcolm. They weren't friends... not really. Just acquaintances, all different, but sharing a common goal: to uncover the truth behind the myths of the Guardians. Of course they all had different reasons for doing so, but as long as they shared that common goal, it was enough to bring them together on a trek through some muddy grass under a heavy downpour of rain.

Elli Fitch kept her gaze downward in an attempt to avoid the splatter of large water droplets on her face. Only donned in black compression capris, a basic white t-shirt, a navy blue, over-sized hooded coat, and an old pair of mud-stained Nikes, she reminded herself that everything would be worth it once they reached the church up ahead. At least, she hoped so. Although she had been part of the group for only almost three years, she too had experienced the bitter taste of false hope and defeat, and she prayed to the good Lord that this day would not be another repeat of those past failures. Adjusting her gun sling that held a .22 handgun, she followed the others and trudged on until Varrina led them to the entrance of an old church.

From the outside, it was obvious that the building had been abandoned for many years now, and it was in a state of deterioration. Various windows were haphazardly boarded up with wood beams that were now beginning to rot, and vines littered the walls, giving a dirty appearance to the former house of worship.
"The moment is here.... O-our time is now," the eldest girl said, voice shaky with either nervousness, excitement or anticipation... or perhaps all three. But Elli didn't respond. She and the others had heard this statement more than once before, and there was nothing she could say that was appropriate to follow up to the girl's declaration of victory. So she offered a small, unseen smile and followed Varrina across the threshold to victory. Their victory.

The inside proved to be no better as the air was dingy, the floors were dirty, and darkness swallowed up the far end of the church, leaving nothing but shadows and silhouettes of church decor and a cross near what would have been the altar. But through the crooked arrangement of the pews and the stained-glass windows stained with dirt and grime, it was also obvious that the church had seen much better days and had even been, at one point, beautiful. Her sharp grey eyes roamed the place, finally falling on the figure of a man curled up on the far wall. And right in front of her, Varrina had an arm raised to shoot him.

David was there before she could intervene, but Elli walked over in quiet motion anyway, placing her index and middle finger on the front sight of the gun, pushing down lightly on the barrel, eyes flicking downward in a quick glance to make sure the safety was still on. "V, we don't even know who that is. Let's not jump the gun here... literally. Besides, this is a sacred place, and I'm sure none of us would enjoy knowing we let you kill an innocent man." She took a couple experimental steps forward and wiped some wet, blonde strands of hair away from her face, confused on what exactly they were supposed to do. "Should we talk to him or...?"

Mal shook the rain off his umbrella as he stepped into the porch of the small church. He felt strangely out of place, as if he were a young child again. He hadn't been to church for what, 12 years? more? He patted the gun at his side. Strange how quickly it had become familiar- strange how much reassurance it provided. He wasn't nervous. This type of call-out... there'd been enough false leads that he shouldn't regard it as anything other than routine. There was nothing to be nervous about. Whatever they were looking for, it was long gone by now. They were here to investigate, find clues, consolidate information. He wasn't nervous.

"The moment is here.... O-our time is now."

Mal nodded at the weak little attempt at a speech. He should try to reinforce Varinna's authority; what little she had. Someone like her... he couldn't see her as a natural leader in any way. There didn't seem to be a better option though, or any pressing need for one. Best to let things lie.

Mal followed the others into the church, leaving his umbrella propped against the doorway first. He saw David grab Varinna's arm- then saw her gun out and immediatly went for his own in a confident but unpractised motion.

"What the hell!?" David whispered, "It could be some random innocent person!"

"V, we don't even know who that is." Elli said. "Let's not jump the gun here... literally. Besides, this is a sacred place, and I'm sure none of us would enjoy knowing we let you kill an innocent man. Should we talk to him or...?"

Mal made himself breathe out. "Stay ready V. Could still be trouble." he said, aim steady on the bloody figure. "Amis, David- keep an eye out the door?"

Mal stepped slowly past Elli, floating in an icy clarity. The gun felt like paper in his hands. The ground was slightly sticky. Was there that much blood? He hadn't seen. He called out, his voice flat, and distant.

"Don't move. Don't try anything. We're armed. If you answer our questions, we can help you."

Amis hardly noticed the rain. At times of tension, moments in which futures are decided and the spectre of fate looms over proceedings, anything external seems to fade away. Skin becomes metal, unfeeling and cold, external stimuli lacking in effect compared to the broiling anxiety that lies in one's heart and consumes one's mind. On a night such as this, on which either all was to come to naught once more or they were to finally receive confirmation of their theories, Amis would not have noticed if he were shot.

Thus, the bullet-like rain barely penetrated his consciousness. He was too preoccupied with the trail of blood leading through the church doors, the weight of the gun in his jacket pocket, and with the twisted, delicious irony of potentially uncovering the ultimate truth in a fucking church. His lips were tugged almost unwillingly into a wry smile at the thought of that.

He glanced about at his companions and comrades. Though he knew little about them as individuals, and knew they saw him as little more than an acquaintance, he felt a fierce kinship with them all. He knew the many of them had suffered for their beliefs, as he had, and the flaming brand of persecution welds those men and women who resist together with stronger bonds than anything else. It didn't matter if he liked them, because they weren't his friends. It didn't even matter why they were in search of truths far greater and more profound than themselves or anything they could hope to experience. It simply mattered that they, too, searched. It was an abstract bond, but one he felt keenly.

And so, when Varrina spoke, he felt it more intensely than his companions. Tonight was the night, yes - and they, together, would be the ones to uncover this great truth. This one truth amongst the plethora of lies and secrets that lay as weaving threads in the very fabric of their society, their reality. They would prove themselves right, at long last. Validation would be theirs.

And they would take their first step towards deposing the Guardians from their false throne.

He only vaguely noticed the dilapidation inside the church. Another time it would have set his inquisitive, ever-musing mind a-wandering on some philosophical tangent regarding the fickleness of faith - and probably set off an argument with Elli - but he thirsted after the truth on this night, something concrete, the evidence for their claims, not for the abstraction of intellectual curiosity and debate. He was, therefore, drawn towards something that was all too real - the sticky trail of blood that continued towards the vague silhouette heaped on the far side of the room, an intense red that seemed to throb in the flickering candelight.

He was, in fact, so preoccupied with this trail, symbolic of the trail of clues they had followed to get here, that he hardly noticed Varrina's rogue actions, only noticing in time to have a brief moment of panic before the others intervened. He released the breath he had rapidly inhaled with palpable relief, restraining his urge to pass comment as the others dealt with the situation. He simply stayed quiet, and closed his eyes for a long moment, not wanting to make any similarly reckless mistakes in his excitement. I need to pay attention.

Varrina's overzealousness had only highlighted to him the need for caution - and so, to Malcolm's suggestion to watch the door, he nodded, not particularly liking Mal's presumption but acknowledging the sense in his words. As Mal stepped forward, Amis stepped back, near to the door with the rain just audible outside, straining every sense to hear the reply of the fallen figure who held the answers to the future and to the past, to the secrets of history, in his hands.

Clack clack clack! The sound was unmistakable; footsteps approaching, stopping just outside of the church. There were quite obviously more than one pair. It could only mean one thing.

Look alive, buddy… They’re here.

Arlo peeled the lids from his grey irises and rolled them warily towards the direction of the doors, where he could hear a female voice speaking. It had seemed only seconds ago that he had shut his eyes to rest, but it was more likely that he had been drifting in and out of sleep and that some amount of time had already passed since his arrival. But it was probably for the best, the fact that they had found him; he was already sitting in a small pool of his own blood. Best to get it over with, he supposed, instead of prolonging the wait. Oh, yes. It was starting to get a bit boring around here.

With another twitch of his finger the candles at the altar were extinguished, throwing the interior back into its usual darkness just as the wood was pushed and the intruders stepped over the threshold of his temporary sanctuary. Arlo let his head swing over, and despite the dim lighting from the street, he was able to clearly make out his new companions, five in total: three males and two females. Oi, these idiots are different... Uglier, don’t you think? The smaller of the two girls had left the others and was stalking towards him, holding what looked like a firearm at her side. Under normal circumstances, he might have chuckled at the sight of her, taking ridiculously slow steps straight to him with an intent to do some damage - a scene straight from a would-be horror film. But he merely watched, silent and somewhat curious, even as the others moved forward to stop her from doing anything rash.

"Don't move. Don't try anything. We're armed. If you answer our questions, we can help you."

A snort of laughter was his response as he began to slowly heave himself up from the floor, back pushing against the wall for support. A clear neglection of instructions, but he didn’t seem fazed by the threat in the slightest. He could only assume that they were here for answers, as they always were, and he wasn’t yet ready to give it to them. “You help me?" he chuckled with a little shake of his head, "I take it by your presences here that I am the one that can help you."

Once he had straightened up, the male gently stretched his neck to the left and let his gaze trail away from the group. "‘Armed’, are you?” he drawled in his rough English cadence, which was clear now that he was speaking to someone other than himself. Without looking back at the motley group he hobbled again towards the altar, still using the wall as a crutch.

At the same time, there was something strange happening within the church. With every step he took, it seemed as if the darkness was slithering around the group, creeping in on them, growing thicker, tangible even, forming a sort of semi-circle that was blocking their way to the doors. It was herding them together, pushing even Amis and David back towards the group, so that in a matter of few moments, they stood in a tidy troop directly across the chapel from where Arlo had stopped on the altar.

Though he was still clutching the wound at his side, his demeanor had changed completely, as if a fire had been reknindled. When he lifted his face again, they would have been startled to see - even through what little light there was now - that two black orbs had replaced his eyes, making him look more like a demon than anything. His expression was serious, but his tone sounded faintly amused as he continued, “Well… I suppose you might have guessed that I am, too.”

Suddenly there was what sounded like a rush of water just beyond the darkness, but instead of growing louder, its volume was becoming more and more muffled, like the church was being submerged underneath the rain. With a jerk of his chin, the barrier of shadows parted like the Red Sea and they could all see that a wall of water had lodged itself into the doorway, fluid and alive, held there as if by some imaginary glass like an aquarium. Atta boy. The corners of Arlo’s lips might have turned upwards for a second before he lifted a hand and beckoned. Without warning the imaginary glass disappeared, and in came crashing the built-up rain water, rushing over the team like a tidal wave that pushed even the wooden pews askew. It stopped just before the stairs leading up to where Arlo was standing, as if the imaginary glass had transported before him, urging the waters to drain out the way it had come and leaving the floor in puddles.

Inhibition - such a dirty word. If there was anything Varrina didn't have and didn't care for, it was inhibition. You couldn't realistically have anything like that as a cultist. Individuals who followed their beliefs as hard as Varrina knew their actions would often need to be unrestricted. That was always a sign of the truly dedicated because there were people who claimed to be part of cults and groups, but they weren't willing to cross the line for the goals they sought. That line, that separation, was what had always put the slightly twisted girl in the purple hoodie into an entirely different class. And it was this same lack of inhibition that had caused the woman raise her weapon at the mere sight of the figure slumped over in the church. In her mind, this was all the proof she needed. A source told the group their truth was in the church and there it was, in the church. Murky visual confirmation was all that was necessary.

Just as she was making her way over to see the figure's face though, a hand landed hard on her shoulder and pushed the arm down. Varrina's head snapped around to the origin of restriction and was surprised to see David's fearful face. He whispered some nonsense as Varrina sighed and turned away. "Innocence.... That's a funny way to say guilty, " She said considerably louder than David had been. "These... These bastards are scum. And if an 'innocent' person dies, it was probably meant to be... " Varrina trailed and shook off David's hand. By that time, the others had begun to perk up.

Ellie wondered about speaking to the figure while also simultaneously echoing David's thoughts. As she referred to the church as "sacred" however, Varrina slightly rolled her eyes and immediately thought typical. In truth, Varrina was probably one of the few who didn't have a problem with - or better said, didn't care about - Ellie's religious tendencies. The two were closer to friends than anyone else in the group and even though Varrina didn't have a stance on religion, she had always respected Ellie's thoughts and beliefs. With the fruits of all her labor staring her right in the face though, Varrina didn't want to hear anything about innocence or sacred grounds. Who the hell cared about shit like that when the group was on the verge of proving that mythological beings did in fact exist and it was these beings who had influenced the world so heavily. That's when Mal spoke up.

In Varrina's eyes, Mal had always been an asset. He shared the fearlessness she had, but in a different sort of way. While Varrina was fearless in expressing her opinions and views, Mal just seemed to be courageous in most situations. He was probably the least "crazy" of the group as well. While not clear on his goal, it had always seemed like Malcolm wanted straight answers for the sake of them. To say that this was part of history and should be recorded like anything else. He helped out when needed, but Varrina had always wondered how dedicated he really was. Would he cross the line if necessary? No one knew yet, but he sure wasn't afraid of questioning a potentially powerful creature. Even issuing a threat of sorts. Of course, that threat was met with the proper response.

The figure laughed before stumbling to its feet and speaking. It was a man. It sounded like a man and even looked like a man. That is, until his eyes went completely black and the church began to respond to something he was doing. The darkness itself became thicker and rose from the ground, wrapping the group into one spot and acting as some sort of barrier. Varrina scoffed at the fact that she had been stopped from firing when she had the chance, but also looked on in awe as water filled the doorway. The liquid suspended itself in the shape of the door, but even with ideas of what was coming next, no one had time to react. The water suddenly crashed towards the group and washed over them, separating each member and throwing them into different parts of the church. Varrina didn't even time to scream as she was carried by the wave into a solid wall of the church before crashing through an old pew and into the cobbled ground.

Everything hurt. Her bones, her muscles, her skin, all of it was throbbing. It didn't help that Varrina's gun had been washed from her hand and was nowhere to be found for the moment. She decided to stay down for the moment. She figured if the thing thought she was dead, maybe she could get away alive after it left or something. In the back of her head though, excitement welled up and her heart jumped beats. They were real. The Guardians were real and she had just been attacked by one. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to die with the truth. Others in history had done so. With those thoughts, Varrina closed her eyes and awaited whatever would come next.

David stared in horror and amazement and awe at the man. Horror, because what he was witnessing was some freaky shit. This man - no, this thing - was herding them together with shadows that threatened to swallow them up. David stared, and saw two black orbs taking them all in, looking for all purposes like a cat with a mouse in its claws. There was a predatory, malicious satisfaction in its gaze.

And there was the awe. David had always thought humanity was supreme, but this thing clearly thought itself superior in every way. He could read it in its body language. When it spoke, it spoke as if to an inferior. It had nothing to fear from them, it thought. It had no reason to respect them, it thought. It had no reason to care about them, it thought. And so it gave them a cage of shadows, like the beasts they were.

And it tried to drown them.

David felt the crashing waves do what crashing waves do. Crash. Directly into him. He was carried with the torrent, turned head over heels in the water. He barely managed to prevent himself from gasping for breath, an action that would no doubt have spelled his death. He pinched his nose to keep it shut as he rode out the wave, eventually being tossed on the ground. He landed hard on his right arm, and slid. He came to a stop, and took note of his situation.

He was alive. That was the first thing he had to assume. It wasn't even worth it to check that. It would only be wasted milliseconds, milliseconds that could spell the death of him or Mal or Elli or everyone. Milliseconds that were more precious than gold.

His right arm hurt from him more or less landing on it, but he hadn't had much downward momentum anyways. He'd hurt it pretty good, but it was simply something he had to suffer through. However, he was no soldier, and so pain could disable him just as easily as an actual injury. Thus a precious second was wasted on suffering.

His left arm held his pistol in a death grip. His knuckles were white and pale as death himself, and more than ready to bring it.

David was a peaceful man(more of a boy, really). When he found a spider in his home, he just made sure its web wasn't in the way, and if it was a large or poisonous one he found a way to put it safely outside. At one point he'd had a burglar while he was still at home, and he'd convinced the man through simple words to just go away, with no threats of police or violence or anything. David was no warmonger. David was no soldier, warrior or killer.

But even David had his passions. And though murder was a black deed indeed, there was nothing darker and more vile than slavery. David didn't want to commit a murder, but god dammit that thing had enslaved a species. It thought it was doing the right thing, it thought there was no other way. It thought that this was the only thing it could do to make the world a better place.

David recognized that. He also recognized that he thought the same of his actions. Neither would back down, both were firm in their beliefs and David knew that and his soul cried out for it.

But in the end, he did not run. He did not parley. What he did was get up, raise his arms and wave them. He wanted to distract the Guardian from his frie-...from his allies, and keep that attention on himself. He was young and spry, and likely the quickest one of the group. He had serious doubts about his ability to avoid what it threw at him, but there was one simple thing that kept David confident in his plan's success.

He already knew it could bleed.

"Kalumnia nulla magis!" David cried as he aimed his pistol and fired. He was no world class marksman, and he had no doubt that despite the fact that it was not too far a distance that he had missed. Despite that, though, he had hopefully established himself as the threat to attack, and so he finished his warcry, "Volumus veritas!"

It was almost imperceptible, at first - with each step that the creature took, the shadows edged a millimetre, then an inch, then a foot closer. They seemed to pulse, blacker than black, as the trail of blood had been redder than red; it was inky velvet, darkness incarnate. Amis was not really sure whether those tendrils of shadow pushed him, insubstantial until they brushed him and then suddenly solidifying to shunt him, sentient, or if he simply cringed away from them on some primal instinct - but soon he found himself shoulder to shoulder with his companions. His eyes were inexorably drawn to the black-eyed creature before him, a myth brought to life, its power reverberating through his chest and gripping his heart. Anxiety took him. Here was destiny, the culmination of his entire life so far, the turning point in his search for the truth. Potentially here, also, was his death. The Guardian's darkening eyes spoke of depths of evil, to Amis. Distorted truth, the abuse of power, an arrogance beyond mortal comprehension... such confidence, no matter how evil its source, was compelling, even as it was repulsive.

And he could not tear his eyes away even as the darkness parted to reveal the rain, running in sheets down the nonexistent glass projected by the force of the Guardian's mind.

At moments like this, moments at which futures and pasts collide and the meaning of life changes, the external fades, fades. One's reactions are slower, their mind fixed inward. The rushing of rain outside, vaguely muffled, was obscured by the rush of Amis' caprizant heartbeat thumping in his ears. A Guardian. Finally, finally the truth was revealed, confirmed with his own eyes. Finally!

Distracted as he was, it was only for a split second that he heard a roaring, caught sight of the surge of water. His eyes opened wider, and he snatched a breat-

The world was chaos. Water and shadow waged war on one another and him, tossing him as easily as a giant would swat a fly. Internal and external merged at last, his primitive instincts suddenly screaming in the interests of survival, discarding the conscious and human part of him - the part that gave a shit about the philosophical and emotional repercussions of finding a Guardian. His suddenly hyper-alert body smashed into something hard; and again; once more; the unstoppable force of the water gave no heed to its unwilling passenger, and battered him against many an immovable object. Flashes of pain speared through him, spiking through his nerves and veins. In a moment, it was over, but it left him coughing, choking, water brutally forcing its way out of his lungs as aching pain blossomed through his body. He couldn't even see, blinded by rivulets of liquid - blood, rainwater, who knew - running into his eyes as he struggled to sit up.

Desperately, he wiped at his eyes, his vision bleary as he looked up. He heard the shot; ducked behind a pew, heartbeat spiking even higher, acting intuitively, feeling something soft against him; flickered a glance back up, an unfamiliar Latin chant echoing throughout the church. David's voice, somewhere behind him - Amis recognised it. He scrambled for his own pistol, the weight in his hand reassuring him as he glanced about him, trying to figure out what was going on - and realised the oddly still softness behind him was Varrina.

Her eyes were closed. She barely seemed to breathe. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Dumbfounded. He knew she had to get up. She had to. She couldn't be dead. None of them could be dead. They needed to either fight, or take to flight. Finally, after a moment of blank stupidity, he found his voice, his tone whiplike with a tone of command. A mind ruled by adrenaline deals only in imperatives.

"Shit... shit, Varrina... Varrina, open your eyes!" His shaking hands clasped the pistol, and, not waiting to see if she listened, he steeled himself - acting without thought, finding his mettle in this moment of life and death - and stood, aiming his gun at the Guardian. They had to fucking kill it, or wound it, or something - maybe they needed their questions answered, but dying would serve no purpose. He knew it would be distracted by David, the man still screaming in Latin - "volumus veritas!" The words, ones of truth, hardened Amis' nerves. Unable to breathe past the tension in his throat, the creature that had enslaved and controlled humanity, had defiled freedom and truth, standing before him, Amis took aim, careful, hoping beyond hope that the Guardian wouldn't notice him... and squeezed off a shot with a harsh, meaningless yell, no words finding their way into his angry, fearful mind, then another, the recoil surprising him, before dropping back behind the shelter of the pew, limbs quivering, his eyes wide. Now the creature either knew where he was, and had two targets - him and David - or hadn't seen him, and would be searching for its second attacker - and his seemingly-unconscious companion beside him - even now.

There were some things in this world that one couldn't unsee, and this man was one of them. Elli took a step back even before he unleashed the wispy black tendrils that encircled them, herding them together as if they were cattle, and she was suddenly aware of how afraid she was. Regret immediately hit her like a ton of bricks- why why why hadn't she just let Varrina kill the man when they entered the church? And those two dull black eyes... it was the sort of thing that appeared in low-budget horror films, an effect that she would usually laugh at because it just seemed so corny. But now? Those black eyes stared into her- no, burned into her- holding her gaze relentlessly as the mouth below spoke its words with such contempt that it was hard not to miss that the Guardian man obviously thought very little of them. Her mouth hung agape in an unvoiced scream as she stared back at him, unable to move her eyes away from the demonic gaze even though she wanted to. The moment drowned out everything else, including the muffled roar of water, until just the last minute when she turned around, eyes wide in surprise at the wall of water that came toward the group with such force that she knew it was very likely to be her cause of death.

Elli gripped Mal's arm just as the water hit her hard and strong, like she anticipated. But what she did not expect was the choking sensation that filled her lungs when the water ripped her away from the rest of her companions, causing her to panic as she realized that those people were all she had. She hadn't seen her own family in a little over two years since joining the cult, and their small group- as mismatched as it was- was like home. She scrunched her eyes tight and flailed her limbs hoping to rise to the surface and catch her breath, but the tumbling, angry liquid wouldn't allow for it. Just as she thought she was going to black out from the lack of oxygen, the water roughly deposited her body on the closest pew to the alter, slamming her backside against the solid wood. "Fucking shit," she tried to say, not caring for whatever dirty expletives she used, but the words came out as an ugly gargle instead while she coughed, racking her body in great heaves to empty itself of the water. Shakily, she attempted to stand and get her bearings, but another bout of heaving gripped her, this time ending with an unattractive vomit pile on the stone floor. Ew.

Two explosive sounds echoed throughout the building, sounds she recognized as gunshots, and she cowered behind the pew for just a moment, praying for the good Lord to grant all of them safety from the Guardian's unearthly powers. If there was any hope for them now, it would be by the grace of God. After all, it was his will to see the Guardians fall, and if they succeeded in bringing one of them down, it was still a victory for all of them- proof that they could bring all of them down. But with the way things were going now, it was easy to imagine them all dead, and that wouldn't do. No, it wouldn't do at all. Partially exposing herself from behind the pew, she, too pulled out her .22, undoing the safety and taking aim at the black-eyed monster who was conveniently feet from her, grateful for the distractions by David and Amis. "Breathe," she said quietly to herself, "1, 2, 3... release." She squeezed the trigger lightly, knowing that the first shot was probably all she would have time for.

Click. Fuck.

The gun jammed. Elli scowled, crouched down and angrily tossed the gun to the side, jumping slightly when she heard a third gunshot. Huh, maybe that's why her father told her never to drop a jammed gun... oops. In any case, the girl wasn't about to go down without a fight, and this was far from over. Looking around, she scanned the area around her for something, anything, she could use to bring down the demon before her. On her hands and knees, her fingers brushed something she hadn't noticed before: a broken metal crucifix, dull and tarnished with time, with a sharp, blade-like edge from where something had violently shredded the northern arm of the cross. Should she...? Yes, there was no question. This was a life or death choice, for all of them, and Elli was for damn sure that all of them would make it out alive.

"Forgive me, God," she sighed before putting her upper-body strength to use and throwing the crucifix directly at the Guardian, hoping her hand-eye coordination wouldn't fail her now.

"Shit... shit, Varrina... Varrina, open your eyes!"

It was unmistakable in pitch and inflection.

"volumus veritas!"

It really wasn't a dream. It was Amis and David, trying to rouse Varrina and shouting a victory line before firing off a glass shattering round of ammo that awoke the girl abruptly, even if she hadn't actually been asleep or unconscious. She quickly regained her senses and remembered the earlier events. The sentient darkness that had caged the group like it had a malevolent will of its own. The dancing wave of water that crashed into the team at the whim of a man who had evolved beyond human comprehension. The gun that had been washed from her hand because Varrina had been caught by complete surprise at being attacked with an element that was nowhere to be seen beforehand. That's when it hit her - the gun. It had indeed been washed away, along with any hope she'd had of possibly surviving the ordeal. That is, until she took a look around at the current situation.

Everyone had lobbied attacks at the inhuman assailant, but Ellie had strewn her weapon in favor of a crucifix she'd sent flying towards the enemy. And as luck would have it, the discarded weapon had slid right next Varrina's still shaking hand. She only gazed for a second before human instinct took over. She didn't want to die. That was the long and short of it. That was all there was to consciously think about. Death at this moment would have been about as untimely as a second period that month and there was no way neither one of those things was going to happen in Varrina's mind. Wildly grabbing the weapon, she hastily pulled back the slide, cocked the hammer, and squeezed hard twice as the second recoil caused a loss of grip strength and sent the gun flying backwards away from the still sprawled woman in the purple hoodie.

Varrina only hoped and prayed that her shots would hit their mark in some form or fashion. There was a good chance that everyone would be wiped out if not even one of the attacks were successful.

Arlo stood laughing quietly in the center of the altar as he watched the confusion unfolding before him. The blackness that had taken over his eyeballs began to recede, as did the palpable shadows of the church, leaving the interior considerably lighter than it was moments ago. With the floor of the place strewn with drenched pews, bodies, and paperback hymnals, the man dropped his hand with a satisfied exhale of air and swayed slightly in the spot. He corrected himself before he lost balance, but already he could see the multi-colored dots starting to swim within his field of vision. Too much blood lost, my friend. The Guardian only grunted in acknowledgement, trying to focus his gaze in order to look around and see where his makeshift flood had washed the group.

It didn’t take long for one of them to pop up. Soon enough, David stood from his hiding place and began shouting wildly in Latin before firing the pistol in his hand. Cheeky buggers, aren’t they? What d’you reckon: very brave or very stupid? I pick the latter. Arlo couldn’t help but agree, of course, though there was a part of him that respected these humans: courageous enough to come and find him, but foolish enough to think they could finish his own team with mere firearms. It was sort of touching, really, that they would go to such lengths just to uncover the truth about his kind. Still, Arlo had a job to do, and he was going to uphold his responsibility whether they liked it or not.

He watched the bullet come towards him as if in slow motion, spiraling through the air with the determination of one following orders. Instead of fearing it, however, the man welcomed it, merely holding up his hand as if he were going to wave to it. As he did so the bullet froze in midair, just inches away from its target, as if the imaginary glass wall had been erected once more. From somewhere to his right came another two shots, and Arlo swung his gaze over just in time to see Amis’s head duck back down behind the protection of a pew. These bullets too were halted just beside David’s, and after another moment all three were freed and clattered to the floor. Seeing that David was still holding the .22 on him, Arlo swept his hand to the right and the pistol was harshly torn from his hands. It hurled towards the far concrete wall, hitting it with such force that it shattered upon contact and fell to the cobblestone, just as the bullets had done.

Yet it seemed the audacity didn’t stop at the males of the group. With a cocked brow Arlo turned his attention to the left where he saw Elli hurling a broken piece of metal towards him. The bloody hell is that? Did she just chuck her gun at us? It was with a jolt of surprise and amusement that the man realized what it was, and with a disbelieving smirk he brought a hand up to sweep the crucifix away, not unlike what he’d done with David’s pistol.

But it was this moment of self indulgence that brought the final blows; he had been so distracted by Elli’s resourcefulness that he was late in registering the gun shots coming simultaneously from his right. Just as the crucifix smashed into the far wall, Varrina’s two bullets broke skin and pierced him in the shoulder and the hip, urging a startled gasp from his lips as he fell sideways and hit the ground with a hard thud.

More crimson blood rushed out to greet the fresh wounds until the man looked like a mere white canvas with splashes of red paint. He was bleeding out. This was it. Arlo could feel it. But he knew he couldn’t go just yet. There were so many doubts surrounding what he was about to do, but he had to try. Otherwise, the consequences would be far worse - for everyone. He had to hold on long enough to try and rally this crew to his cause, for surely if they’d felt enough heat towards just him, they’d feel it with the rest of the Guardians.

With a big gasp of air, he slowly and painfully turned his head so that he was facing the rest of the makeshift congregation. “You lot!” he wheezed, and even though his voice was weak, they could still make out the note of authority it held, “Come here! Quickly..!”

Whether they came or not, Arlo decided to continue, knowing he didn’t have much time. Already there seemed to be some sort of semi-tranlucent gray smoke oozing out from all of his injuries, surrounding him on the ground where he lay. He knew they were going to be hesitant about approaching him, but he also knew that they hadn’t come this far just to miss out on the information that could very well give them what they’ve come for.

“Listen closely… I know what-” He was interrupted by a violent cough, which ended in a mouthful of blood. Spitting it out quickly, he continued. “I know what you’re here for… I can help you... I know you want answers... And you will find them…”

The arm that had not been shattered by Varrina’s bullet lifted slightly from the ground, his hand aiming towards the back of the church. With two fingers, he made a small circle in the air, then deliberately brought them through the middle of the shape he’d just made. As his fingers moved downward, there appeared a vertical line of very bright light, and it seemed as if some force was pulling the sight before them in half. Eventually, between two lines that were giving off a strong, pulsing golden glow, there appeared the image of a hallway that quite obviously did not belong to the church. “Through there. You’ll find what you seek through that portal.”

He paused, letting his hand drop back to the floor while he caught his breath. He was so tired… But there was no choice. He had to help them get to the others, or else his death would have been for naught. “I know you don’t trust me - and that’s all very well - but believe me when I say that... I am not the enemy.” Again, his finger twitched towards the still open portal. “The others… They’re- They’re not thinking. I was in the state you found me in because of them... They want-” Arlo spit out more blood that had pooled in the side of his mouth, “They wanted my powers, which are much stronger than theirs. And so the fuckers teamed up on me…”

Suddenly his tone took on one of pleading, and the weak look in his half-closed eyes was replaced by one of conviction. “I know this is a lot to swallow.. But if I’m right in guessing who you all are.. Then this is what you’ve been waiting for.” His expression was tinged with pain as he tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but just gave up and brought his attention back to the group. “They’ve… The other Guardians have lost their way… And they have to be taught a lesson.”

By now, the grey smoke had engulfed the entire church; there was no escaping it. The group was breathing it in involuntarily, and whether or not someone voiced reactions to its suspicious appearance, Arlo’s hand waved their troubled thoughts away dismissively. “Ah, yes, well… I couldn’t have let you all walk into our stronghold with just those flimsy pistols, could I? Don’t be afraid of it... It’s - Consider it a gift, for finishing the fight…”

The Guardian was visibly losing light, fading away with every second that slipped past. “You must find the others… And kill them,” he murmured, the lids of his eyes already slipping down without his control. “Please… It’s the only way…” He then gave his last breath and finally allowed his eyes to slip closed for the last time.

Elli watched as the Guardian easily dodged her attack by pulling the object of sanctity elsewhere, somehow changing its direction so it crashed against the west wall of the church, finally breaking the thing into multiple splinters of metal. What baffled her was exactly how he had done it- he had only made one flick of his wrist, then had full control over whatever it was that he focused on! Yet even as the cross crashed into the wall, two more gunshots filled the church with their sudden bang, and she snapped her head back to look at the now falling Guardian whose lips were parted in surprise, much like Elli's own reaction. It was only then that she noticed the black abyss of his eyes were gone, replaced by normal human irises and pupils that were filled with pain and vulnerability but also the same fire of pure will power. His life blood steadily seeped out from his wounds, yet he still found the strength somewhere to speak.

"You lot! Come here! Quickly..! Listen closely... I know what you’re here for… I can help you... I know you want answers... And you will find them…"

Curious as ever, Elli was the first to come forth, crawling out on hands and knees toward the altar, toward the fallen man as he drew a mysterious glowing symbol in the air, her eyes wide in amazement at the hallway that appeared before her. The bright light contrasted so heavily against the dark of the church that it made her squint and bring a hand up to partially shield her eyes, but she heard his voice clearly still, telling them that they would find answers through the portal. There were so many questions to ask, but they all seemed to catch in her throat as she stared on, still crawling forward but slower now out of caution and fear. Her limbs froze as the wispy gray smoke reached the edge of the steps leading to the altar, and she held her breath for just a moment before taking an evaluative breath. It hadn't reached her yet, but that didn't stop her from questioning the peculiar air.

"I know you don’t trust me - and that’s all very well - but believe me when I say that... I am not the enemy. The others… They’re- They’re not thinking. I was in the state you found me in because of them... They want- They wanted my powers, which are much stronger than theirs. And so the fuckers teamed up on me…"

Elli came to a full stop now, head perking up at the mention of 'others'...the other Guardians. Confusion was plainly written all over her face as he confessed his story to them, and her eyes desperately searched his face for any sign of lies and falsehoods, but it only held the innocence and slight anger of the truth. His tone changed then to a one of soft request, and his own eyes seemed to search them now, starting with the freckled blonde on the cobblestone floor, stripping them down to the core of their beliefs. It was a fierce questioning gaze, but also forceful in the sense that he held their attention, and Elli knew she wasn't alone in clinging onto his every word.

A sudden sadness and compassion mixed within her heart, and she realized that she and the others may possibly have killed an innocent man. She took pity on him, not because of his fatal state but because he had been betrayed by those he could have considered as his closest friends or possibly even family, and the thought hit home with her. As apathetic as she could sometimes be to sob stories, the girl sat up and cupped her mouth with both hands as hot tears sprung to her eyes, tears that threatened to spill over the edge. She was supposed to be stronger than this! What would Varrina and the others think of her?

“I know this is a lot to swallow.. But if I’m right in guessing who you all are.. Then this is what you’ve been waiting for. They’ve… The other Guardians have lost their way… And they have to be taught a lesson." The Guardian paused to reference the smoky substance that filled the air, putting Elli's question to rest before it could even leave her lips. "Ah, yes, well… I couldn’t have let you all walk into our stronghold with just those flimsy pistols, could I? Don’t be afraid of it... It’s - Consider it a gift, for finishing the fight…"

Had it not been for the coloration and slight warming sensation as she breathed it in, the gray puffs of air could have easily been mistaken for an odd vapor- it was odorless and tasteless but... a gift? How? "What kind of gift? What do you mean?" Elli finally whispered aloud, voice shaky and weak and throat aching from holding back tears. She knew it wasn't loud enough for anyone but herself to know what she said, but the question was more for herself anyway. Leaning forward once more, she inched on all fours to where the Guardian lay, barely missing his final words as she watched one last breath escape his lungs before he stilled.

Liquid streamed silently down her face now, dampening freckled cheeks while sympathy overrode any other emotion that she should have been feeling: victory, skepticism, or even disbelief. This was definitely not what she had expected, neither was it something she had prepared for, and the reality of it all fell upon her with such a heavy weight that if it were any heavier, she would be suffocating on nothing but emotion. She turned to face her companions unsure of what to say. "We did it," she murmured flatly, unable to look them in the eyes. "What do you think the gifts were? Those powers, you think?" A sniffle echoed across the room, making it obvious that she was probably the most distraught by the turn of events, and she wondered to herself whether she had been wrong all this time. Why would a Guardian readily give up his power to those that hunted him?

Although religion constantly bombarded her with tales of how satanic the Guardians were, it was purely another experience to witness one and realize that maybe- just maybe- not all of them were bad. Arlo was definitely a force to be reckoned with, but even she was able to discern that he was not inherently evil. The church was eerily silent as she looked up to the roof, sighing as she studied a dirty, faded mural on the ceiling that depicted the ascension of Jesus into heaven after his resurrection on the third day of death, and an equally faded Bible verse that was painted underneath it. Many of the letters were completely gone, but she could still make the message out... It was, after all, the most famous one of all: For God so loved the world that he gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.

The woman sighed again. Was that not the central teaching of the Lord? To love like He loved the world? Were the Guardians any different? With the man's confession, she didn't know anymore. A whole new perspective was suddenly thrown at her, and she didn't know what to do with it. It was hard just to digest it, mere minutes after she had come close to receiving and giving death, and her head throbbed from both physical and mental struggle. Her face had been dry for some time now, and she shook her head slightly, disappointed that their trip here was met with a much deeper problem than they bargained for. And what of her? If that man had truly given them his powers, surely it didn't make any of them monsters or gods.

"So what now?" she asked her companions, stretching her legs out before her. "There's still that to consider." Elli nodded in the direction of the glowing portal, losing all thought momentarily before coming back to focus on her friends. And dammit, if anything defined friendship, it was sharing a near-death experience with each other.

David winced as he saw all of their attacks simply being knocked away by some unseen force. Even Elli's crucifix was just another bit of metal to be deflected away. David was afraid, but he still stood. He still made himself the obvious target, waving his arms around. He was going to fire again, when blood splashed from the Guardian and he was...

"You lot!"

The Guardian called them over, and David obeyed. He did not question. The reality of what was happening was catching up to him. He had SHOT at someone. He had fired a bullet to kill. And he'd thought he would miss, but at the moment he was hoping to place on directly between the man's eyes. His face was blank, blank of expression, thought or emotion. He felt as if his mind were some great machine powered by steam, yet the fires had gone out and the gears and water were rendered inert, allowing shadows to crawl into his brain. He listened to the Guardian speak, but only dully noted his words.

"I...wanted to kill you," David whispered, quietly enough that it was unlikely anyone else heard.

The Guardian spoke of slaying the other Guardians, and David gasped.

"No! We...we have to try diplomacy, see if they can...if they can be persuaded to..." David paused, "I mean...I know that it's unlikely. So very unlikely...but we have to try! We have to try peace!"

After a moment, David realized no one was fully listening to him. They were all staring at the Guardian. David stared as well.

The Guardian was now dead.

After a moment, David heard Elli speak, and he nodded.

"Yeah. I...think we have to see this through. We...should be careful though. I'll go in first. If it's a trap, and it traps or kills me, then I won't return and we'll all know not to go through the portal."

And so, a deity died. A false deity, one undeserving of the indirect worship afforded to them by the world, but a deity nonetheless - the sentient being who had born the weight of the world on their shoulders, an object of holy fear for almost all those Amis had ever met. He had been felled by a bullet, a piece of metal not that unlike a coin, or a watch, or a fountain pen, any of a plethora of other mundane and everyday objects. He had bled like a man would bleed, this Guardian who had ironically been no more of a protector of humanity than Satan or Hades or the Grim Reaper.

He was no different to them, really. Supernatural, but not infallible, and certainly not invincible. Trapped by the mortal coil. Capable of admitting his imperfection. Amis' elation and guilt clashed in a terrific maelstrom of confusion, and he wondered if the Guardian laying dead before him had ever felt as vulnerably human, as terrible uncertain, as he did right now.

He would never know. The Guardian was dead, and his last words implicated Amis and the others as murderers. They had stolen the life of a mortal being based purely on their beliefs and speculations - traded something concrete and inherently precious for something as fluid and changing as belief. Amis had not truly believed they would find a Guardian, or that they would be able to kill it, not in his heart - and he realised now that, in his own way, subconsciously, he had elevated them to Godhood in his mind to the same extent as those he had derided, discretely believing them invincible. And all of a sudden, his quick, sharp mind - a mind he wished now would simply stop thinking, stop, stop - came to terms with his own twisted hypocrisy: he had taken his beliefs as fact, forced his own truths on another, and the consequences were permanent. He was no better than the supernatural being who had just bled out before him.

His teeth and fists clenched alike, depriving him of any words he may have spoken or actions he may have taken, the power of speech and action taken from him as tension laced through his body and mind. His breaths were deep, deliberately repressing his tears of unwanted sadness and wild frustration. Of overwhelming, almost self-pitying guilt - a guilt that eclipsed even his pity for the bloodied body before him.

Amis took the easy way out. As many a weak man does, rather than facing his guilt and taking responsibility, he ran - his heart beating hard with adrenaline, almost as if to literally flee, he threw aside these feelings, denied them, cast them from his mind. He hid. And as he did, not even knowing he was doing it and not knowing the emotional consequences that would arise from the repressed emotion, his lips simply pressed into a hard, thin line: an expression that conveyed only that he did not know what to feel regarding the man - God? Deity? Man? Creature? - and resigned himself to that fact. He simply reached out a hand to Elli, his hand a light but hopefully reassuring touch on her still-slightly-shaking shoulder - the bond between all of them strengthened now, forged not only by a common goal and shared persecution, but by the experience they had just shared; one of survival; one that was religious and yet not; one that simultaneously confirmed and defeated all their previous convictions in ways their young and foolish hearts could never have foreseen.

He glanced at the portal as the others spoke of it, and slowly found a new emotion kindling in him - hatred for those who had betrayed the dead Guardian. Amis appeased his own guilt with feelings and thoughts of vengeance for the dead, a recompense for the mistakes he may well have made today - the one before him may have been an exception, but his words proved that the others were just as Amis had believed. Creatures which needed to be exterminated, for the sake of the human race. He clung to that belief with desperation; yes, yes, his murder of the Guardian as an honest mistake, and he could compensate by ending the menace the man had spoken of!

Elation once again laced through his heart, a passion rekindling him. A need for vengeance. Vigour and life returned to him, and unconsciously he squeezed Elli's shoulder as he spoke, his muscles needing to move and act.

"We go in together. We find these fucking bastards, and we end them." He gave in to his immediate feelings, never one to restrict his impulses, refusing to face reality and the pain of reconstructing his entire worldview. He took a deep breath, his lungs burning pleasantly from the grey smog, breathing in whatever gift they had been given. "You heard him. We have to stop these things."

His eyes shifted to the corpse, to the spreading pool of blood almost touching Elli's outstretched legs and the others' feet. His voice dark, he spoke straight to the body. His words were a pledge, made upon the blood now touching his boots, his eyes metal-grey and soul steely as the smog - the last miracle of a false God - entered his lungs.

"We'll kill you. We'll kill you all."