The radio attempts its hand at lifting the mood, but its efforts are likely wasted. If Frank Sinatra is not to one’s liking then the rain provides an alternative form of sound for the ears. If not rain then the sounds of wheels grinding against the asphalt can be quite entertaining for some. If audible enjoyment is not fun enough then the windows can provide great visual entertainment. Whatever the case may be, the journey from the motel to the Castilian household is not exactly the most exciting or eventful. The driver himself is also not helping either, but that is not a fault of his own. He is just here to do one thing: to drive from point A to point B. The matters at hand are quite serious, and the atmosphere is very stone-faced. From time to time, the driver would state the miles traveled and how much more is there left to travel. The road towards the Castilian household has been very straight. No turns, no bends, nothing. It might be that the road is, in fact, just very straight and was built in such a manner as that. Another explanation is that the local area is bending to the realities of demonic forces, causing much fuckery on Earth. Likewise, the moon has not moved a single inch at all from the time that the car got close to the Castilian household. The surrounding areas also are strange. Walls of tree lines fully encompass the outside. Each tree is also extremely similar to one and other. It is not a matter that each tree is similar, as seen in nature, but that the trees have the same branches and leaf placement pattern.

The rain has gotten heavier as well over the past few minutes. What were storms of small balls of water droplets has turned into golf-ball-sized droplets that smash against the car frame and window. The sound created almost drowns out any form of audible sound within the car. The thunder in the background is becoming more and more frequent. To the normal person, this would have scared anyone and caused the poor soul to simply go back. Who knows, this might be the purpose of the current situation - scare off any would-be person from going near the household. To add to the situation, the Chevelle’s headlights can barely pierce the darkness ahead. Only a few inches can be seen ahead as the night becomes darker and darker. Things are...starting to get weird.


A tall, Korean man, peppered with more than his fair share of scars was inspecting his gun. Any passenger that met his eyes was given a warm, affectionate smile in return. Jin Dak-Ho normally would have acquainted himself with others but he postponed his greetings in the motel as he felt that everyone seemed to have something weighing on their mind.

”It seems that we’ve yet to acquaint ourselves with each other,” Jin began softly, his english was impeccable, ”Even in South Korea, I’ve heard of all of you through your works, brothers and sister. Impressive, to say the least.”

”It’s very likely that you haven’t heard of me, however, excuse my impertinence,” Jin continued, his smile never so much as wavered, ”I am Jin Dak-Ho, a Protestant Priest. Pleased to meet such notable figures.”

It had been nearly thirty years since she had been known as Yefreytor Tasiko of the Red Army. A member of the Assault Engineer Brigades in some of the worst battles of the war she would spend her nights before an engagement silently shivering in fear. Despite the best efforts of her commissars, she saw nothing noble or righteous about the struggle. There was no glory to be found, just the depths of hell risen up to take shape on Earth.

Then she had learned that no mortal conflict compared to the true Hell, no man a fraction as demented as its denizens. Her battles as Sister Ekaterine had been righteous, not weighed down by a worthless rank or petty fear. After finding salvation in the Lord's strength she leaped at the chance to extend it to others across the steppes. But her early career as a demon hunter, while noble, was flawed. She had doubted herself and God by proxy, unsure of whether she was truly up to the task she had been assigned.

But now Stavrophore Ekaterine's work was truly righteous. She was not merely a vessel for the Lord's mercy but an extension of his divine fury! Where once had been a soldier was now a tool, a weapon directed at the impure so that the operator could remove their stain. God was the shooter, Ekaterine was merely the rifle. And there was nothing more satisfying than that.

It was the reason why she was smiling from ear to ear while checking the cloth stoppers on her bottles, the Mother humming snatches of hymns while she prepared herself for the trials ahead. "Please Pastor, you aggrandize us!" She chuckled as she finished her inspection, moving to adjust her cassock so that it fits nicely over the armor underneath. "And yet at the same time you downplay your own works. I'm glad to have you here with us.

The Stavrophore cast her gaze towards the rear mirror so as to look at her companions. From her position in the passenger's seat, she could cast an approving eye over each one of them. Despite denomination differences, they were all her comrades in the fight against the Serpent and so were all deserving of respect.

"The same to you Father Alistair, Pastor Yu. I look forward to working with you again."

As the car drove down the dirt road, Alistair couldn’t help but enjoy the moment. Even with the grim task before him, the priest enjoyed the sights of the country, the sounds of the radio, and the company of his fellow exorcists. Though they may be of different faiths, they all knew how to handle themselves, and each one would play a critical role in the job ahead.

”Likewise, Mother Ekaterine.” The bespectacled priest responded. ”It’s been quite some time since we’ve last seen each other. It seems the years have been kind to you.” He appended with a polite smile as he pushed up his glasses. ”...and your skills with medicine will be quite the boon for us as well, Pastor Yu.”

The priest looked out the window for a moment, before turning to the only member among them (driver notwithstanding) that had yet to meet any of the three of them before. It seemed Mother Ekatherine and Pastor Yu had met before, and Alistair had personally met them both at different points of his career.

”And it is a pleasure to meet you as well, Pastor Jin.” The priest said. ”I’ve heard of your works from within the Vatican-- there aren’t many exorcists in South Korea who are capable of what you can do. I have the utmost faith in your abilities.” He smiled, not unkindly.

”And I, you, Father Alistair,” Jin replied, ”To be recognized in any capacity is a surprise. It is I that is truly blessed to be working with exorcists of your calibers- perhaps I’ll be able to learn a few things and earn fewer scars.” The Korean followed this with a short chuckle as he closed the chamber of his gun.

Yu wore a formal expression as the religious leaders began to introduce themselves. Two pale hands rested on Jieru - a thumb carefully grazing over the intricate carvings of the thurible as its handler listened in earnest.

Subconsciously, he leaned back so as to not obstruct the flow of conversation between the people in front and on either side of him. Kind words were exchanged, and Yu nodded in acknowledgment of their claims.

Sunbae-nim” He spoke in a low voice towards Jin, “Your work has not gone unnoticed. Rest assured, work for the Lord is work worth recognizing.”

The pastor looked back to give Mother Ekaterine and Alistair a small smile. ”...it is a blessing to be in both your companies once again. Your strength and utmost dedication will carry us swiftly through this operation.”

“AFTER THEM. CORPSE THE FUCKERS. I WANT THEIR BODIES NOW!”

The scream is deafening. The voice, certainly not belonging to a human, is quite chaotic. Its tone shifts from the deepest to the highest of pitches. The words are mixed between a female and male, with words being said as if it was a female, and then the next word became that of a male speaker. Accents are added and then removed. Certain letters are silenced while others are expressed upon for no apparent reasons. The linguistics of this creature is quite impressive, to say the least.

The driver, a man who has yet to speak a single word or give a name, shifts his eyes to the rearview mirror. The Chevelle’s backlights, while barely able to shine light in the dark, showcases a being of the most unholy nature. The monster is an ungodly combination of human and horse. Of course, it is not exactly a human and a horse stitched together. Instead, it appears to be a construction of rotting flesh and bone. Even in its decayed state, its speed is extremely threatening. The thing is just barely able to tag behind the car as it tries to grab onto the rear-end of the Chevelle with its long arms. Thinking fast, the driver stops the car abruptly. In a few short moments, the horse-thing finds its legs and lower body utterly crushed by the laws of motion as it runs full speed into the backend of the black car. A loud crack and crunch are heard, a result of the bones shattering. Whether it was killed or not, the driver presses the pedal to the metal and pushes the Chevelle to its uppermost limit of speed.

Only a few seconds passes and more of these horse-things are coming from the woodworks. From just a quick countdown, the driver finds ten more tailing the car from behind. One of the horsemen speeds ahead of the rest and maintains the speed at the window of the driver. Digging into his coat with one hand, the driver pulls forth a Smith & Wesson Model 27. The fucker of a monster breaks the driver’s side-glass window with a quick thrust of its claws, as the driver steers the car away from the horse-man. Extending his revolver forward out of the shattered window, the driver skullfucks the horseman with a single well-placed bullet into the brain. The horseperson's body then becomes lifeless and disappears into the darkness, as the car drives forward.

Even with the current speed of the car, 162 miles per hour, the horse-things are still catching up. A heavy breeze is felt throughout the car because of the recently broken window. It is quite nice actually, but the moment is ruined by a horseman jumping onto the car with a large THUMP. Its claws quickly dig into the upper hood and start to tear apart a small hole for all to see its face and body. Another horseman, going up to the driver's side, attempts its hand at crippling the driver like the last fucker that tried it. This time, the horse-thing has a sledgehammer. A few shots are aimed at the thing, but the driver finds his bullets unable to connect. Both driving and attempting to maintain aim are quite hard. In turn, the horse-thing frees a hand and rips off the driver’s door. Gripping its hammer with both hands, the horse-thing produces a heavy swing and perfectly times its hit and manages to slam the hammer into the driver’s left shoulder. A hefty crunch is heard as the driver’s left shoulder-blade is broken or worse.

“FUCK!” the driver screams. The first word produced by the driver.

The cars start to become unstable as the driver is forced to deal with an injured arm, plus the horse-things causing issues as well. Only nine left one, with one being shot to the head by the driver. One horseman is on top of the damn car. Another is still trying to turn the driver into a pile of crushed bones and meat on the left side. There are five more behind the car, attempting to latch their claws into the back-end of the car and slow the thing down. To the right side is a horde of three. Those shits are ramming the car itself. With each ram, the car curves, and drifts, with the driver having to correct the car’s direction or else.

---

After some pleasant introductions, the group sat in silence for a while. Alistair in particular simply leaned against the back of his seat in an effort to enjoy the music on the radio. As he looked out the window, he thought of Célia and the Castilla family. The young priest silently prayed for their safety, observing the pitter-patter of the rain all the while. As he wished for the Lord's protection, that he may deliver the family of their evils, he heard an ear-splitting scream.

This too was a test. If they fell here, they would not have the strength to face the trials ahead.

And so it began. The demons, detestable as they were, took the form of a horse and its rider. With inhuman speed, the horse-thing caught up to the car, but the driver's quick thinking dispatched of it soon enough. With ten more riders in pursuit and one speeding ahead, the driver-side window was broken by one of the demons. The offending hellspawn was put to rest efficiently, a single headshot sending the thing back to hell.

Perhaps this nameless driver was more skilled than it would seem.

There was little time to ponder this, however. One of the demons leapt onto the sedan's roof, busting a hole in the center. Another attacked the driver, causing the car to swerve from side to side as the driver attempted to stabilize the vehicle. Meanwhile, three more riders began to ram the car from the right, as the remaining five attempted to slow the car from behind. For a moment, Alistair wondered if it would be better to stop the car and fight them on foot, but he realized that these demons, with their superior speed, would be difficult to fight on an open field.

As difficult as it was, they would simply have to fight from within the car-- something Alistair could do, in spite of his lack of ranged weapons.

One of the demons on the right smashed the window the priest was sitting next to, prompting the man to shield his eyes from the shards of glass. The rider quickly disengaged, before attempting another ram.

This time, however, Alistair was prepared.

As the demon drew close, the man slammed his fist into the rider's face in a vicious left hook, before dragging the now-dazed demon by the neck through the broken window and onto his lap. In a single swift motion, the priest procured the ritual dagger from his satchel and stabbed at the hellspawn several times; once in the neck, once between the side of its ribs, and once in the gut.

The demon on his lap went limp, the horse-thing now simply being dragged along for the ride. With more than a bit of disdain, the man lifted the rider away, letting the demon fall to the side of the road as the chase continued. Although his cassock, hands, and glasses were now stained with the blood of the enemies of the Lord, Alistair looked rather unperturbed, turning to his comrades.

"Now... would any of you happen to have a spare weapon for me?" The priest asked casually as he pulled at his gloves. "I"m afraid my sword just won't cut it in a situation like this."

The sound of demons was perhaps unexpected but it certainly wasn't unwelcome. If the devils were already seeking to throw themselves in the path of God's executioners then she would not begrudge the chance to die violently. As hellish shrieks howled out in the night Ekaterine answered with one of her own, a fury filled roar that made her sound more beast than woman. This was not the time for love nor mercy, she would embody only the virtue of hateful justice.

"Now is the time for action my brothers! Now is the time to unleash the Lord's wrath! Drive them into the ground so that their rotten entrails maybe swallowed by the earth!" The zeal in her soul and fire in her belly was evident for all to see, the usually serene look she wore replaced by a feral grin. This was what she was good at! This was her calling! This was righteous.

As the driver shot one rider and Alistair grappled with another Ekaterine pumped her shotgun and kicked the passenger door open to deal with the creatures attempting to ram them off the road. The first blast split one of their heads into foul chunks, splattering the road with its lifeforce as it flopped over like a bag of wet cement. The second hit the other "centaur" square in the chest, the holy load burning a hole through its blackened heart and out through its back.

A good first effort but the fight was not over yet. The crunch of metal above meant that one of the creatures had made its way up top while the crack of bone warned her that the driver was in danger. As any compassionate soul would do she prioritized the human over the car, racking her 12 gauge and firing behind the headrest. The spray of blessed buckshot tore off the demon's arm at the elbow before ripping into cursed tendons and muscle. Whatever twisted organs it had in the "human" part of its torso had been reduced to smoking shreds, the pounding of its hooves become erratic as it bled to death standing up.

"Back to Lucifer! Dabrundit tkvens dats’q’evlil sameposhi!"

The slip into her mother tongue was a natural part of the hate Ekaterine felt flowing through her, the higher level functions needed for speaking English temporarily superseded by the duty to slaughter. They hadn't even made it to their destination and already she had three kills to her name? Such a productive hunt made her spirit sing with mad joy.

The request for a firearm shook her out of total mindlessness however, the Mother dropping her shotgun to pull something out of her bag.
"Here Father, eight rounds. Make them count and please be careful with it. It holds a special value to me."

She held extended the Makarov butt first, trusting Alistair to do what was needed with it.

---

Yu was shaken out of his attempt at sleep as a chorus of gunshots and howls sounded from both outside and inside the vehicle. The scene unfolded before him faster than he could comprehend but showed no signs of hesitation as he hurriedly began stuffing his censer. Meanwhile, the sound of Mother Ekaterine's voice rung enthusiastically through the air as the pastor finally caught sight of their assailants.

They were unimpressive at best. A look of indifference stayed plastered on his face, even still as bits of glass flew at him from his right. Looking past Father Alistair who blocked most of the shards, he leaned forward to see the window there had been furiously but carelessly rammed into - in which the second attempt proved that the creature was too lax in its endeavor. In mere seconds, the blonde priest made short work of the ugly thing and didn't look the least bit bothered as he disposed of the corpse.

A moment later, Jieru was successfully filled to the brim.

Suddenly, the car shook violently as a thud landed heavily on the car, nearly causing him to spill its contents. The pastor's eyes glanced up at the roof, expression unreadable. The addition of oil-infused resin were new ingredients he procured specially for its ability to slowly and painfully incinerate unholy beings from the inside. With this in mind, he was more than willing to test its potency before their mission really began. At the same time, the unmistakable sound of cracking bones resounded inside the car. Concern washed over his face - he looked to the front and realized the driver had been heavily injured, and the pastor thought for a good moment about how he had managed to keep his composure steady enough to drive...

Mother Ekaterine dominated the front seats extremely well, gun barrel steaming angrily, and her enthusiasm threatened to rub off on them. Would that be a bad thing? He silently approved of the underlying bloodlust this devout group of followers displayed. The strength granted to them by their Creator always proved to be insurmountable, and their driver was ultimately kept safe because of it. Blessed be.

A second later, the roof was soon torn through as the creature's hooved leg retracted itself back up to regain balance. It was through this man-sized opening that Yu was given the chance to finally meet eyes (or what was left of them) with this brave soul. Slowly, the pastor traced his hand along Jiuzai and inwardly dared the rider with his eyes - a gaze asking nicely for the creature to come closer.

In a moment of self-proclaimed triumph, the predator looked down at its prey, who sat helpless and unmoving. Saliva seeped from both its mouths as it grinned, its rider half inching closer to the hole. Soon its head was far past the boundary of the opening, and at this point, the pastor had grown impatient.

With a click of his tongue he sat forward again and jerked his hand upward, tossing half a vial's worth of liquid at the rider's face - resulting in a satisfying sizzle. A frantic withdrawal of its head ensued and suddenly found the pastor had come along with it. Standing halfway through the hole, this man of God proceeded to bury the sharp end of his weapon's hilt into the rider's eye crevice. Not a moment was wasted as he pulled it back out and gripped it properly.

Yu raised his whip with core and arm muscles taut and swiveled his body in the direction of the rotting one. Iron spokes flew through the air with enough momentum to wrap around it once, eagerly digging into its flesh. With a step back, the pastor used his entire upper body to retract the whip and release its victim, spinning it out of balance from the roof and never to be seen again.

At the edge of the roof's hole, the pastor sat up and glared at the demons still at their tail. With an exasperated sigh, he began lighting his censer.

"Your maker does not care the least bit about you lot and it shows." he clicked his tongue at them. "Useless things."

Holy smoke billowed from the top of the speeding car, effectively slowing down the monsters and decreasing their rate of erratic movements. Yu bent down slightly and spoke to the group.

"My Brothers, Mother - the power of our Lord wills them not to move forward any longer. Grant them mercy through your aim."

---

As the battle raged on around them, Alistair merely let out a faint smile. Mother Ekaterine was as lively as ever, having blasted two with her her shotgun, before removing a third on the left side. Pastor Yu had dealt with the one on the roof, and let the blessed incense within his censer do its work. Meanwhile Pastor Jin had managed to fell three more-- two with holy water, and one with bullets.

Surprisingly (or perhaps unsurprisingly so-- Mother Ekaterine would be the one to carry a sidearm), the nun from the Eastern Orthodoxy was the one who had broken free from her battle-frenzy to pass him a spare gun. She told him of how many rounds was in the pistol, and how it was precious to her.

If she was trusing him with this, then how could he do anything but oblige her?

"Thank you. I will put it to good use." The priest said with a gentle, but resolute smile.

Alistair gave the pistol a once-over. It was a Makarov Pistol-- semi-automatic, blowback operation, with eight rounds. There was a story to this pistol, and it was likely that the weapon may have been older than he was. Judging by the weight, it was fully-loaded, though a round still needed to be chambered. The priest operated the slide to chamber the first round, and flicked the safety off.

He took a deep breath, and then swung the door open. Taking hold of the car's interior roof handle in his right hand, Alistair went from a sitting position to a standing one, his feet on the car floor while he leaned out of the car. With the wind at his back and the rain in his eyes, he took aim. Gun in his left hand, he took a moment to line up a shot at the two remaining riders, who were now lagging behind somewhat.

If he decided not to do anything, these demons would not be able to catch up. Strictly speaking, if all they needed to accomplish was the mission, these ones didn't have to die.

But it was not enough that the exorcists would live. The demons had to die.

And so they would.

The priest fired once, narrowly missing a demon by mere inches. The next bullet tore through the rider's chest, and the one after that pierced the horse-thing's neck. With one down, Alistair turned his attention to the sole surviving demon. Without a shred of emotion, the man fired one last time, this bullet splattering skull and brain matter alike. The demon fell to the ground, lifeless.

With four more bullets to spare, Alistair took a moment to survey the surroundings. Finding that the threat had passed, even for a moment, meant that a bit of respite was in order. He let out a sigh, swinging back into the car's interior to get out of the rain. He then closed the door, raindrops still falling through the broken window.

"...I believe that was the last of them." The priest said, a bit of satisfaction in his tone. "Excellent work, everyone."

“We’re here,” states the driver as he removes the keys from the ignition. The driver uses his unharmed right arm and points to the Castilian household. From the looks of it, the house is less of a normal family house and more of a massive mansion. Surprisingly, the mansion itself is not dilapidated as the Church suggests. Everything is cleaned and extremely polished with no signs of dirt visible on its structure. Compared to the current state of the outside, the Castilian household is a pillar of upper-class fashion and richness with its elegance of the architecture and clear glass windows. No doubt, it is the work of Satanists at hand. Compared to media portrayal, Satanists are quite proper and classy in their mannerisms and appearance as reflected in their current housing.

“You’re gonna need a map,” the driver notes, getting out of the car with a limp-left arm. The injury created during the car chase appears not to affect the man as much as one would expect. The trunk of the Chevelle resists the first few attempts by the driver to open it. The opening maneuver done by the driver bent the whole trunk inwards, causing the mechanisms to be somewhat jammed in the process. A few minutes pass and the driver, by the process of pure brutal strength, pops open the trunk with a single hand. Searching the trunk, the driver grabs the handle of a suitcase. The man opens the case and pulls forth a folded piece of a map. From there, the man signals everyone to follow him at the front of the car. Once in front, the driver opens the map and lays down the directions onto the car-hood. The rain still continues to pour hard, likely soaking everyone but the map itself. It appears that the Church had the forethought of making the map waterproof.

“Let us go over the plan again. Célia,” a name spoken in perfect Spanish by the driver, “is within the upper levels of the house and in her bedroom. Once into the house, you’ll arrive at the main lobby.” The driver points to the first square after the door entrance named the main lobby. “From there, you’ll see the stairs. Go up and take a right into the hallway. In the end, you should find a door. This will lead to the dining room.” The driver, by the usage of his index finger, directs the pathway that the group should head as said by his oral directions. “Once in the dining room, take the front door. You will be in another hallway and you should find the room of Célia among the other rooms.” The driver finishes off his directions by leading his index to the right of the dining room and into a hallway in which he then points up in the middle of the said hallway, where the room of Célia is.

“Don’t mind the layout. We have bigger issues to deal with than crappy house design,” the driver notes as he rolls up the map and hands it off to Jin.

“I’ll stay here. Don’t worry about me. The mission takes first priority, Godspeed.” the driver says as he points the group towards the door. Like the mansion itself, the door is equally as elegant - if not more beautifully crafted. If one would use the doorknob, then the shape of it perfectly fits into anyone’s hands. Compared to other door-knobs, its shape also gives away to comfortable turning and twisting along with smooth mechanisms that greatly assist in quick openings with a short flick of one’s wrist. The surface is quite smooth as well with no bumps to be felt or seen. The entirety of the doorknob is, from the look of it, made out of pure ivory. The whole door is also made from pure ivory upon further inspection. The door morphs and bends, creating different versions of itself as per the mind of the viewers that stares at it. One second, it is that design, and the next is a wholly different design.

An outburst of music echoes from the house. A piano plays, recreating great wonders of music from days past. For this very special occasion, Nocturne op.9 No.2 is being played. The sounds produced are beautiful. The fine-toning of the piano itself is unbeatable. It is unreal to hear such notes. With each press of the keys, there is a certain deliberation and methodology to it. No one key is just played as seen on the music sheet but perfectly crafted to create the emotions and beauty of the song. For all intent and purposes, it is heaven to the ears.

---

Both the priests took only a few minutes to finish off the remaining five creatures. This chase proved a couple of things to Yu: that the Korean priest was more than capable despite his first time in the state, and that Mother Ekaterine and Father Alistair had only gotten better since the last time they met. In the hands of a capable team, he allowed himself a moment to breathe and think of other things. The remaining ashes from the censer were packed into a small pouch - they would be useful. More than anything else, when the time came, he hoped to rely only on this little sack of powder. But whenever he wished for this, the outcome always ended in more blood and bodies to dispose of. He was completely familiar with the passage of death, but unfortunately, still struggled with hardening his heart.

After the smoke dispersed, he scrunched his nose as the scent of rust rode through the air. Why did demons and mortals’ blood have to smell the same?

A quiet sigh floated down from the car’s roof as the mansion soon came into view. The pastor followed suit as the four exited first. From the looks of the manor, it was well-kept and in pristine condition. The residence towered over them and seemed overly dressed, almost as if trying to compensate for something. And yet, even though he knew about the kind of humans that lived here, it was clear to him that he would not resonate well with this mission - by the grace of God or not. Immediately after, the pastor adjusted his collar and aligned himself. The thought was quickly dismissed.

Never mind, this was just another mission.

With this, Yu turned away and listened to the driver. The man's battered arm caught his attention, and Yu felt like he had woken up a second time. A force of habit had him reach for ointment but was soon told not to worry. Just what kind of experience shaped the strength of this man? In the past, his medical care was greeted with screams from even the most battle-hardened figures. With a glance and tinge of concern, the pastor gave the rest of the three a once-over for any sign of injuries. They seemed perfectly fine (save for being soaked in blood) and for that, Yu was glad.

At the doorknob’s unwillingness to be handled, Mother Ekaterine wasted no time in getting the door open with a swift kick. Upon heading inside the priest looked around from behind the group with his eyebrows knit together. Evidence of the owner’s tendency to overindulge was laid bare at every turn they took. Everything that littered the halls they walked through looked to be able to feed about twenty small villages, should monetary value be considered. Yu could not care any less for such superficial displays of importance, but it was truly such a waste in the end. A lot of things would be going to waste tonight, but it would be for the best.

"Priest Yu, you earlier you referred to me as Sunbae. Were you familiar with Korean terms?"

The priest in question was caught off-guard by Jin's attempt at idle chatter. Instead of simply nodding in response, he tried to return Jin's smile with a small one of his own.

“I learned while I was deployed in Korea that it is important to address your seniors in this way.”

During that time, he had caught wind of another charity worker. A Korean citizen who happened to be involved in the same line of work as him. It was rather strange, considering Christianity was not fully recognized in the region yet. After Yu left, the man's name stuck with him. There were a few times he found himself wondering about how that exorcist was doing. Who knew he'd turn up here? There must have been a good reason for him to attend to the Lord's work with no peers to turn to. Then again, he could also say the same for the rest of the group tonight.

"Please Father Yu, address me more casually... Jin is alright. We're all equal in the eyes of the Lord, after all."

Yu politely nodded in return; the sentiment easily understood. A kind man. At the end of their exchange, the four found themselves by the door. The group listened as the calm and gentle piano notes served to heighten the heaviness of the air. Backed by irony and a sense of foreboding, the contrast created an unsettling atmosphere. His body tensed in response to Jin’s question, as though urging him to answer in accordance to it. The pastor calmly rejected the impulse as his hand gripped the small bag of ash and moved closer to the door. Face solemn, he stood facing the group.

“...from this point on, should any of you get hurt, or need assistance, call for me immediately.”

The pastor hoped to himself that they wouldn’t need to resort to that. Slowly, he unfastened Jiuzai with one hand and readied the ash with the other.

---

The Castillan household was in remarkably good shape, which was contrary to the initial information given to them. Still, even as rain fell all around them, and even as the night sky was as dark as ever, the mansion almost seemed welcoming.

Almost.

Temptations like these were not uncommon amongst Satanists and their ilk. Having fallen prey to their earthly desires, they do not have much in the way of... modesty. Still, even as an agent of the faith, Alistair couldn't help but appreciate the aesthetic beauty of the place. He was certain that before these Satanists had arrived, this place was even more beautiful than what stands before him now.

The priest opened the car door, shards of glass and drops of blood falling loose from their position. Alistair let out a deep sigh and took a moment to dust himself off, before turning to Mother Ekaterine.

"Four rounds left." He presented the gun to her, grip first. "...It's an excellent weapon. Thank you for entrusting me with it."

Alistair walked over to the Chevelle's trunk and retrieved the longsword that had been bequeathed onto him by the Vatican. Despite its gaudiness, it was a fine weapon that was excellently balanced. Although this was not a holy weapon used by the Saints, this sanctified nameless blade was still more than enough to dispatch the enemies of the Lord.

The priest then turned to the others, who were discussing the plan once more. He had already committed the plan to memory, but it was good to get a refresher. Jin was also given a map, depicting blueprints of the mansion's layout. It would come in handy, in case the plan goes awry.

"You have our thanks, Signore." Alistair said, tipping his hat. "If all goes well, we'll be finished come sunrise..."

There was a pregnant silence in the air. He did not have to give the driver instructions in case they had failed. The standard operating procedure meant that the ferryman was to drive back to base and call for an immediate Purification of the household. The nuclear option, so to speak.

Even so, however, Alistair had nothing but the utmost faith that the Lord would show them the right path.

As the four priests walked through the house and sauntered up to the door, the sound of music could be heard. "Nocturne op.9 No.2." Alistair commented. "One of Chopin's most famous pieces-- a beautiful rendition of that song." The man then shook his head.

"It seems our quarry has some... refinement when it comes to their choice of music." He looked towards the door a faint smirk on his face. "...At least the last thing they'll hear is something pleasant before they're sent to be with the Being they love so very much."

Resting the longsword against his arm like one would with a rifle, the priest gave the rest of the group a nod. Whatever lay beyond that door would not compare to four of the Lord's exorcists.

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. "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." 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.

Dzhon Piter Nabokov

The priest had been sent to investigate an infestation of demons, he wondered why the organization would send him alone. He surmised that he was more experienced then some of the other operatives. Driving his vehicle towards the location, he had the radio on, his car was radiated with the sounds of Marty Robbins singing about an outlaw falling in love with a Mexican woman. The older man was tapping his finger on the steering wheel singing softly to the music. Stopping his car in front of the building he was supposed to investigate, he slowly got out of his car. A bad feeling washed throughout his body, he said a quick pray to help with protecting him. Walking over towards the truck of his car and grabbing his weapons.

Letting out another loud sigh before walking towards the building. Slowly opening the door there was an eerie silence, only being interrupted by the sound of water droplets hitting the floor. “Chert voz'mi, eto mesto vyzyvayet u menya murashki po kozhe.” (Translation-damn it, this place gives me the creeps.) The priest slowly made his way down a hallway keeping his guns aimed and his wits up. Years of being in a soldier had taught him to be aware of your surroundings. While walking down the hallway he was occasionally checking the rooms in the hallway. The only thing he could find nothing of use, nothing that could indicate what had happened here. He stopped in one of the rooms down the hallway, Finding only deserted chairs, tables and other items telling him that people were here. Moving out of the room he stopped where he was when he noticed something running passed him. He aimed his gun down the hallway expecting that figure was going to run back down the hall. “No point in delaying the inevitable, come out and so we can get this over with.” The older man could see far down the hallway a shadow rushing towards him.

“Gotcha.” He started to fire his gun at the figure who was rushing towards him. The figure trying to dodge the incoming bullets. Some of his shots hit, causing splatters of blood to stain the walls. When the figure was close enough the priest quickly switched to his falchion. What he seemed to fail to notice was the other figures that were behind the one he was shooting at. There seemed to be more than he thought, clicking his tongue before starting to try and slice at the approaching demons. However he did not expect there to be more than forty coming towards him, this was much worse than he thought. He had cut down a couple of them before he was slowly overwhelmed. The last thing he remembered was a demon’s fist coming towards his face, and then everything suddenly went dark. When he came to, he was inside of a makeshift jail cell, He scanned the area noticing that he was in what looked like a storage room. The door was blocked off with something heavy, he was not going to be able to remove it by himself. Peeking through the keyhole of the door, he could vaguely see two demons guarding the door. He wondered why they did not just kill him instead of imprisoning him.

He worried that they were going to sacrifice him or he was going to be bait for some larger caught. All he knew was that he needed to get out of here.

The interior of the dining room, not surprisingly, is richly decorated and furnished as anywhere else in the house. To the left wall, a series of colossal clear-glass windows - embellished with golden ornaments - allows bright moonlight into the room, acting as the sole light source, and causes a blue hue to cover the whole space; a product from the moonlight shining in. To the right wall, a mural displays a modified Last Supper. Satan has taken over the middle-position of Jesus Christ on the table, and the apostles have been replaced with the lesser and greater demons of the Dark God. In the middle, a massive oval table stretches from one end of the room to the other end. Food of all kinds covers the whole table with no inch wasted: pies, cakes, meats, cheeses, fruits, vegetables, and more. Both floor and ceiling are also furnished with white marble.

Only two persons, one at the windows and one at the piano, can be seen. The man standing by the window holds a glass cup of red wine in his right hand. He appears to not acknowledge the existence of the Exorcists, especially Ekaterine, for the time being. The individual at the piano, playing the rendition of Nocturne op.9 No.2, is not so much a man but a suit of armor. A moment of silence fills the air as the satanist by the windows continues to drink his wine. Only with the last drop of his drink, does the man turn around and greets his guests. “You didn't have to kick open the door. It is quite rude to do so,” the satanist states with a smooth deep voice.

“Nevertheless, I welcome you to our humble mansion. Are any of you hungry? I have plenty of food prepared for all of you,” the satanist says with a big smile on his face. The apparel of the satanist, as with most servants of Satan, is overly fancy and proper. The suit and tie that the satanist currently adorns himself with, have no show of wear or tear, creases, dirt, or anything else that would spoil the richness of the black suit and the underlying blue waistcoat. For the actual man himself, the satanist is quite the beauty to behold. A very handsome man with a well-defined jawline, cheekbone, and smooth dark skin to boot.

“Let’s be civil for a few minutes. We can kill each other soon enough. Take a seat, have a drink, eat some food, or just rest for a good solid minute. We might even have a nice discussion before we start our fight,” the satanist notes as he walks towards an open chair and takes a seat. Grabbing a bottle of wine, the satanist pours another stream of wine into his glass.

---

Mother Ekaterine, as energetic as ever, had kicked down the door, just as she did last time. The priest would take her suggestion under consideration-- the Vatican would certainly back his desire to procure a firearm, if he so chose. It's not the weapon he was most skilled at, but in a situation like that, a gun may prove invaluable.

But there were more pressing matters at hand. Namely, the two figures currently in the dining room.

One was a man clad in armor. Perhaps they were not even a man at all-- however. Regardless, the armored figure sat at the nearby piano; how they were able to play the keys with such grace and precision, the priest did not know.

The other was a handsome man in a suit and tie. Physical beauty aside, he reeked of Satanism. He looked friendly enough, but Alistair had long since learned not to trust people like him.

The priest confidently strode into the dining room. If these Satanists were willing to talk, then perhaps they were willing to negotiate. The man in the suit and tie introduced himself as Ryan Chambers, and invited the group to dine with him. As one of the senior exorcists present, Alistair was one of the first to reply.

"My name is Alistair Ardizzone, representative of the Vatican Church." He introduced himself in turn, the tip of his sheathed longsword resting upon the ground, with both hands on the hilt. The priest paid little heed to the inordinate amounts of food on the table, though he viewed the sacrilegious painting on the wall with more than a little bit of disdain. "Ryan Chambers, you and your comrades are found guilty of the crime of heresy, demon summoning, and the murder of several innocent civilians."

"The punishment is death." The priest said, his voice cold. "However, if you surrender now, renounce your faith to Satan and his ilk, and assist with cleanup operations, then the Church may grant you leniency."

The keyword being 'may'. Only the truly repentant can have any hope of surviving the Church's punishments, and both of them knew it. Alistair stood there silently. Though calm, his body was tensed and ready to react to any sudden movement, his reflexes honed over his many years of service.

"What's it going to be?"

@Inertia@Hawthorne@Dog@Smike

Dzhon Piter Nabokov

Dzhon looked around the room for a way to escape. The only thing that could lead to his escape would be the window on the other end of the room. The older man walked over towards the window, checking if he could open it somehow. After a couple of moments of jiggling the window, he was finally able to open it after some effort. Holding the window open with a piece of piping from the wall, he popped his head out of the window looking for anywhere feasible to escape. He did notice there was a pipe near the window leading to the second floor. The only thing he saw was that he did not have his weapons and did not know where they were keeping them. So the second objective would be to find his weapons. He guessed that their boss would have it, or at the very least someone high on the hierarchy. He slowly and carefully got himself out of the window and reached over towards the drain pipe. From touching it he could tell it was a little wobbly, he needed to tread carefully while climbing the drain pipe. The climb itself was quite treacherous, Dzhon was worried that he was going to fall off and hurt himself. Luckily the drain pipe was sturdy enough to support his weight.

Once he got towards a second-story window, he started moving towards the nearby window. Breaking it open with his foot worrying if anyone heard the noise. Waiting a couple of minutes but noticing that no one came into the room. He was safe to go through the window and into the room. Quietly walking towards the door opening it slightly and peeking his head out. It was quiet without a demon in sight. Crouching and starting to move down the hallway trying to find his weapons. During his exploration he noticed two figures starting to walk past him, he quickly ducked into another room watching them walk past the room. As he kept moving down the hallway he noticed a lone demon having his back turned walking in front of him. The Russian man slowly made his way behind the demon, putting him into a chokehold, Bringing the demon into an empty room. “Hello sir, I was hoping you would be a good demon and help me get my weapons back.” Dhzon tightened his grip around the demon’s neck. “Why the hell would I help you human.” The demon gargled out trying to wiggle out of Dhzon’s grip. “If you don’t then you will be back in hell, having a pineapple shoved up your arse by Adolf Hitler. Now tell me where my weapons are being held.” Dhzon tightened his grip on the demon’s neck. With a couple of broken bones, he was told the location of where his weapons were. Breaking the demon’s neck as a reward, he sneaked out of the room.

From what he was told by the demon, his weapons were on the second floor. He felt quite lucky that his weapons were being stored on the floor he just arrived on. He was also lucky that there were not many demons patrolling this floor. Wondering if there was something distracting the other demons in the building. In one of the rooms, he found his weapons laying on top of a table, Dhzon scanned the area wondering if this was some sort of trap. The room seemed empty much like the other rooms in the building. Walking carefully towards the table picking up his weapons. Noticing from the corner of his eye two demons standing up from underneath a large table in the room. “Fell for our trap, now you're gonna pay like the rest of em humies.” One of the demons snickered. Dhzon raised an eyebrow thinking that perhaps his eyes were not as keen as he thought. “Glupyye ublyudki.” (Translation- stupid bastards).” Readying his falchion as one of the demons charged at him. Cutting off the charging demon in half, he pointed one of his pistols at the other demon. Firing a couple of shots at it causing it to stagger backward. Rushing towards the demon and cutting the second demon in half.

After this little encounter Dhzon walked out of the room, exploring more of the second floor he noticed a couple of cultists roaming the area. Engaging with them by firing his pistol at them, his presence is known to everyone on the floor. Soon finding himself getting into a fire fight with a bunch of cultists. Hiding out in what looked like a dining room, he notices a single cultist surrounded by a group of hunters like himself. “Izvinite, chto pomeshal, ya no znal, to eta komnata byla zanyata. ” (Translation- "Sorry for interrupting, I did not know that this room was taken.").

“Good to meet you two,” Ryan says quickly as he finishes up his drink of red wine. He shoots a quick glare over the whole group of four, especially towards Alistair Ardizzone and Jin Dak-Ho. There is not much time left before he has to leave. The tension is rising, and a fight is bound to happen within the next few minutes or even seconds. If anything, he could have just teleported now and let the boys handle the rest, but Ryan would rather just have a few more moments with his guests. Exorcists are very rare sights, and he would love to spend a few more minutes, but he understands that staying any longer is a bit risky with the current climate.

That is before Dzhon came in. The local shootout alarmed everyone within the local area. Surprised, Ryan stares at the Russian. “You must be late to the party. I see you also found some of our staff as well…,” he says, thinking upon his next set of actions. The Satanist did not plan for another Exorcist to join in, but that fact will not stop any of the plans that the servants of Satan had in store. The boys will just have to...deal with extra people then. He was sure that those Exorcists would be quickly dealt with. If anything, Ryan could call upon more bodies to swarm those shits. If the mansion has to be filled with piles of dead bodies then so be it.

“I’m sad that we can’t talk further, but I expected as much. I wish you the best of luck and a very happy Halloween to you all,” Ryan states with the biggest smile that anyone has seen today. With a snap of his fingers, he fades into nothing. Gone, poof, just like that. The suit of armor is still there, playing its tone of classical music. Of course, the quiet silence merely lasts for a few seconds. Following the vanishing of Ryan, groups of armor-clad Satanists teleport from out of nowhere into the dining room floor. Some wield spear and shield, some are duel-wielding, and others have close-ranged gunnery. If someone counted, one of the Exorcists likely would, there would be a headcount of ten men set for a good fight. For one reason or another, all of the Satanists were teleported onto one side, the other end from the Exorcists.

The Satanists at hand are all covered in metal from head to toe, masking any form of individual identity. Patches of spikes can be seen on the shoulder pads, head, and likewise. By the looks of it, from the armor to the ability to do rituals on the fly, these Satanists are quite more competent than your average demonic scum. In mere moments, the Satanists jump into action. They were prepared for this and found themselves to be the first to engage the Exorcists. Jin, the Korean protestant, is rushed by two of the Satanists. One wielded a great-heavy metal shield with an equally large spear to boot. He charges like a bull towards the Korean man with full force behind his steps. Meanwhile, the other Satanist is a bit more exotic in his choice of weaponry - if melee was not exotic enough. He had one blade in each hand, dual-wielding swords. The fighter also rushes Jin, but unlike his brother, the movement of the body is way more fancy and elegant with more involved footwork and responsiveness.

For Ekaterine, she also has Satanists on her tail. Two Satanists, both wielding two-handed bill-hooks, wastes no time in standing around. The two servants of Satan make full speed ahead towards the mother, managing to reach her in just a few seconds of sprinting. One of the Satanists attempts to take a quick stab at the Exorcist, thrusting forward the pointed end of the bill hook at the sides of Ekaterine. The other brother also attempts his hand at doing harm at the Exorcist, with the Satanist trying to use its hook on his pole-arm to grab onto the left leg of Ekaterine. The problems for Ekaterine do not end there. One more Satanist joins into the fun, holding a sawed-off double-barreled shotgun in hand. This one holds his fire, adjusting aim for just a few seconds before he shoots off his shells at the Russian.

Alistair faces a swarm of Satanists, five in total. All of them fully encircle the lonely Exorcist - sprinting to block off any form of exit and to create a circle around Alistair. They do not attack yet as all of them simply just stare down their prey. Alistair would quickly find out that every Satanist had a two-handed longsword in their hands, with each one holding their weapon in different ways and forms. In a speedy fashion, all of the Satanists attack at once. Some are going for a stab, some are planning to hit with a big slash, and some are just half-swording for some strange reason. Whatever the method of attack, almost none of them are amateur in their way of handling longswords. There is a certain elegance to their way of just simply swinging their swords and the way that they hold their handles. Alistair finds himself in the middle of a bloody bladestorm.

Yu, who has yet to face a single Satanist, might be feeling a bit lonely. Lucky for the lad, the suit of armor playing the piano gets up from its seat. Oddly, the keys are still playing and actually switch the song played. Moonlight Sonata is the new song being performed. For the suit of armor, a creature yet to be named, picks up his longsword from the floor and slowly walks towards Xiao. Its movements are slow. It is surely taking its time to get to Yu. If Yu wanted, he could easily just dodge the thing by walking around it. But there was one trick that Yu did not think of - teleporting. In a flash, the suit of armor disappears and reappears in front of Yu. Satanists do love their fuckery, able to cast rituals almost instantly. Now in range, the suit of armor forwards its pointed blade towards Yu.

As for Dzhon, he appears to be largely ignored. No one or thing is attacking or has plans to do harm against him. There was a suit of armor, but that thing was busy trying to kill Xiao. It appears that the others were in...trouble. With free hands, Dzhon likely has a lot of freedom on what to do and who to help.

From the moment she had kicked the door open Ekaterine had her shotgun trained on that abominable "Ryan" character, ready and waiting for the moment she could unload on the sly bastard. Her comrades from the other churches were soft, willing to give quarter when nothing but prompt destruction should have been offered. While it was true that there was goodness in offering tolerance to a foe in hopes that they surrendered intolerance was often the required trait. She had offered no quarter during her careers as a soldier of both God and the Red Army because her enemies had never deserved any.

But in the interest of preserving her relationship with her softer coworkers Ekaterine had restrained herself. She listened and scowled as the snake simpered and acted the part of the charmer, watched her brothers waste their breath on the scum in an effort everyone there knew would be futile. All the way that damned armor kept playing, profaning a fine instrument with its twisted touch.

Then a third party had burst in, a stranger babbling in Russian who had presumably been the one firing shots. He had come alone? An idiot then, soft in the skull and in need of a babysitter. "Yes he is." Her frown only deepened as she regarded the idiot in the cassock. Another Catholic, perhaps drunk on sacrificial wine. "Вы придурок! Ты пытаешься быть убитым?" There was little time for her fire off any other sort of rebuke, Ryan simply dematerializing before more of the Devil's minions rushed in.

The time for parley had ended, now was the moment of decisive action. As the Satanists charged Ekaterine simply howled, channeling all her fury into a scream that could match anything produced by man or demon. The sound was harsh, hateful, as hard on her throat as it was on the enemy's ears and as Satan's whores got closer to her with their overwrought gardening implements it died down into unhinged laughter.

They wore armor and so thought that they had an advantage but were sorely disappointed, the first hook slicing through her robe but bouncing harmlessly off the steel breastplate she wore underneath. Stepping back to avoid the second blow the Stravaphore raised her weapon and fired in one fluid motion, an explosion of holy powder blasting the fool who had swung for her chest.

He was injured but not out, the physical protection provide by his infernal armor not enough to defend him from the Lord's hate that the pellets had been imbued with. Ekaterine racked the pump and fired again, burning a hole through her victim before getting interrupted by yet another cultist. That attack too did little, the impact unpleasant in the extreme but causing her nothing more than bruises.

Defended by her faith she was free to press the advantage, swinging her weapon around to stab right through a chink in the billhook wielder's armor, his cry of pain drowned out by her triumphant shriek.

"Kill them slowly my brothers! Let them suffer on Earth before being kicked back to their master!"

Yu's incense was intoxicating, its smell as empowering to her as it was sickening to the enemy. It cloud all thoughts except those of violence, removed any words from her vocabulary except maim, smite and kill. Putting all her weight into the butt of her shotgun Ekaterine drove the Satanist into the ground, his dying gurgles much more beautiful to her ears than the concerto that had been playing earlier.