Yuri sat with his feet up on a stump, smoking a cigar and watching the fishing pole do nothing. Footsteps approached him. He peered back and rolled his eyes to see Rowan making his way down to the stream, the old church in the background behind morning fog.

  “Anything biting?” Rowan asked.

  “Potentially me if you disturb my alone time. I had a rough night.” Yuri replied.

  “Yes, I heard. It makes so much sense now, actually. I met Nadja once for a 2-second eye contact before she tried to shoot me, and for some reason I can’t stop thinking about her. I don’t know if I want to fuck her or kill her. How could any man work for her as long as you did, and not have some remaining loyalty? You never even attempted to make a move on Tanner, either. I should have predicted it. What was his name, Nicolai?” Rowan smiled as the click of a hammer drawing back got his attention. “Relax, we’re friends, I just spy on everyone, especially if I think they’re defecting sides. Don’t take it personally.”

  “You will tell no one of Nicolai.” Yuri insisted. “And we are not friends.”

  “I'm mildly insulted. After all those chats, and working together, I see now we’re not even competition as men with needs. I have no intentions of telling anyone your secret, that would surely get your lover killed, or at the least prevent you from going home. That would be stupid of me to anger you and have no means of leverage to keep you from killing me. Ah, except that I have of course written it down in detail, on a phone with a password encryption. If I were to just go missing, a colleague of mine with the password might simply… post it.”

  “You’re bluffing. You are not computer wizard.”

  “I have many skills actually, most that you don’t know and never will, so it really comes down to how well you play poker and are willing to bet that I’m bluffing. Now since we’re friends and friends keep secrets and do each other favors, if you were to do me some favors, that wouldn’t make us friends. Why on earth would I be inclined to ruin your life, that would make us enemies. Neither of us wants that. Friends are so much more valuable.” Rowan grinned.

  “What favor do you want, someone killed you don’t have the balls to kill yourself?” Yuri breathed angrily.

  “No, nothing so sinister. I do seem to be running low in my personal refrigerator. I don’t exactly have access to the morgue anymore, and I would truly hate to resort to murder for my addiction. You, on the other hand, have connections you won’t tell anyone about, surely you could find bodies freshly dead, simply break into or buy into somewhere that has them. I bet you even have disposal sites.”

  “You want dead bodies.” Yuri cringed.

  “Even just parts would be fine, they have to be cut up and stored regardless. Preferably female, early to late 30s would be sublime. I would of course pay you well for the service, I’m not trying to con you, just encourage a service I can’t get elsewhere. The others find my little culinary escapades rather revolting, which seems hypocritical of people willing to slash a live human to pieces for fun, or principal, or whatever. But somehow they seem to still be squeamish and stingy with who they kill on the side, and how you dispose of them.”

  “And you think I don’t find you revolting?” Yuri asked.

  “Let’s be honest friends here, I don’t give a shit if you do. But you’re a man who gets things done, and I have leverage. I have nothing on Alexander or Tanner, and they are both rather incompetent hunters.” Rowan sighed.

  “Says the man who cannot hunt at all.”

  “I never said I was a hunter, hence my dilemma, I’m not a killer, my connections have been compromised, and all I have is a lot of money and information you want quiet. I like bodies. Don’t you like money and silence? You have your needs, I have mine.”

  “Understand. If you speak a word of this, your leverage is gone and, as you say, I am killer and you are not. We are not friends, we are just making deal, and if you don’t honor this deal, I will dispose of your body as well, understood?” Yuri asked coldly.

  “Very clearly.” He said holding out a hand to shake, and being left hanging.

  “Then I will provide you your…treats, and you will silently pay me.” He said decocking the 9mm up where he could see it. Rowan made his way back to the church as Yuri picked up his phone and peered holes in his back, imagining where the bullets might go. “Yes Nadja. I’m sorry to bother, but I would like to take more initiative, and an opportunity has come up to learn more information. I would like to volunteer for cleanup and body disposal. Perfect. That will give us time to discuss details in person, while Mike is away.” He said

  The oddly cult-like room of a completely unrelated church filled with candles and pews and golden shrines, echoed with the footsteps of a few people, and Mike strolling in the front door to find a spot to pray, until the place cleared out better. He locked the door as he made his way to the confession booth. He sat in the ironically public side of it, as the priest awaited his confession.

  “Bless me father for I have been sinning…extensively.” He said, almost cracking a smirk.

  “We all sin, and many think what they have done is unforgivable.”

  “Oh I’m, confident mine is, actually.” He said, slashing a knife through the divider and pointing Rachel and a suppressor through the opening. “I’ve killed a lot of people and sold my soul to the devil, and I’m not proud to admit she’s the best lay I’ve ever had. I’m not sure what kind of monster that makes me, but it’s the kind that can see in the dark and doesn’t plan to stop killing. I intend to kill at least, 3 or 4 more people, minimum, probably far more as things go. I’m not here for forgiveness.” He sighed as the priest breathed heavily, hands up in surrender pose.

  “Then what do you want?”

  “Information. That’s all. The truth will release you, and lies will get you tortured, so it’s really up to you how we do this. I can torture you to death or just…release you.” Mike said softly, calm and oddly at peace.

  “I’m just a local priest, I don’t know anything you would want that you couldn’t find yourself, through prayer.”

  “That’s the kind of answer that gets you killed when you don’t know the question yet. I’m not expecting miracles, just hoping. You won’t be punished for not knowing, you will absolutely be dismembered for not being honest. No matter what the answer, I will forgive the truth and punish lies. So let’s begin this. Have you ever violated a child?” he asked.

  “Of course not. I know the reputation, but I assure you it’s a minority group I have nothing to do with.”

  “Shame. If you said yes or lied, I was going to cut you up for fun. I'm craving it. But you’re telling the truth. Now, this one is a little tricky. Do you believe in demons? Not as a metaphor for struggles and sins, but literal beings that can consciously stalk and possess someone.” Mike asked.

  “You sound skeptical, but yes, I do.” The priest nervously nodded.

  “Good, if you said no I’d have to start all over somewhere else. And I promise I’m not skeptical. I wasn’t joking when I said I was fucking one. My question is…how do you kill one?” Mike asked.

  “I…don’t know that they can be killed, necessarily. Banished, exercised from someone, but I’ve never heard of one dying. It tends to be an ongoing battle of willpower. Do you believe you are possessed and in need of cleansing?”

  “No, mine’s actually necessary in this fight, we’re in agreement on that. My demon is fine where he is. But we’re not even strong enough together to fight whatever SHE is. I don’t need an exorcism, I need a rapid lethal option. Blade or bullet would be very preferable. Is there a ritual, a prayer, a way to bless something or use something sacred. I’m very open-minded to this and if successful, the Mister Black killing stops, so if she dies, nobody else has to. You know who I am. Good chance to save a lot of people right now, Padre.” He whispered.

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  “My son, you are very lost and broken, but there is always hope. If you turn yourself in and stop killing, the laws of man will not forgive you, but God always can. Your soul is never truly lost if you have one remaining breath to confess.”

  “God’s in the parking lot, and the thing in me that kills, is the best hope we have here against the thing I’m fighting. There’s no metaphor, just a living, breathing thing I have killed several times now that doesn’t stay dead. She actually enjoys it, because it shows how powerless I really am. Darkens me further. The man who can kill anyone can’t keep her dead. I’ve shot her, bled her from the throat, cut her heart out. Brute force isn’t working, I need outside the box ideas. How do I kill a demon?” Mike asked.

  “I don’t know the answers you seek.” The priest nervously admitted.

  “Try an honest best guess. In your truthful opinion, what would be the best option for killing something unholy that comes back from shit that kills people…and I would know what kills people. It’s very easy to do. They never get back up. She does.”

  “I don’t know… A silver cross of importance, something blessed by a pope, burning the demon, piercing the heart with something pure and sacred?” he desperately said as Mike opened the door and pulled him out at gunpoint.

  “That’s a start. What is the most sacred shit you have in this place?” Mike asked.

  "There’s an old bible in the upstairs office, said to be 400 years old, in a glass case. This cross I wear is solid silver, it was my father's that he carried his whole life, that he gave me when he died. Take it. There’s holy water for blessings, take your pick, please.”

  “All of them, I’ll also need a small sample of your blood. It won’t be painful. Take this.” He said, handing him one of the recluse revolvers.

  “A gun?” the priest asked, nervously taking it.

  “Unloaded, obviously. Bless that and me, whatever you believe is the best thing you could do to make both of us more deadly to something evil.” He said, getting down on his knees and assuming the prayer position. The priest dipped the gun into the holy water and with a look of disbelief and hesitation, he crossed Mike with anointing oil. And placed the gun in his praying hands.

  “Oh Lord, this man is fighting a battle I cannot understand, bless his new path and let him vanquish only evil, purge the doubt and the sin from his soul and let his aim be true, and only to the heart of the devil. Help him see the light and return to it, and let him kill the darkness and kill no more innocent lives. Bless this gun.” He said, cringing at the phrase. “And let it be a weapon to destroy the devil and his power, and nothing else. Allow his killing to end with one last bullet, and let it be a round to the spirit of sin, and not the mortal flesh, Amen.” He said, hoping he did it correctly, whatever it was he was doing with a feeling of true coldness.”

  “You did your best, let’s hope that is enough. I got a few more places to try that with, overlap your options, you know. You will never see me again; I will be gone as soon as I gather a few things. Do you honestly believe you have done everything you can or know to try, to vanquish evil here tonight?” Mike asked, looking up.

  “I believe so. I don’t understand what you fight, but I have done my best, and you should seek further help, my son. You are broken, but not beyond fixing. I don’t know what it will take, but everyone can be saved if they press on and believe.” He said.

  “Thank you for your honesty, one last question before I release you and gather what I need. If I let you go after this, can I trust that you will, you forget who I am and what I look like, and never speak of this to anyone?” Mike asked, peering up into his eyes from down on one knee.

  “Yes.” He replied, his dim glow in the dark slowly brightening as his heartbeat accelerated with fear.

  “That’s the first lie you’ve told me tonight. And here we were doing so well.” Mike sighed, grabbing the necklace and pulling him down to the suppressor, the puff of wet bone and smoke splattering upwards as it reached his chin and Mike stood up, taking out a small plastic vodka bottle to catch some of the dripping blood.

  “I release you…painlessly.” He said coldly, making a cross on the man’s forehead in his own blood and bowing respectfully, stretching and heading for the stairs.

  A large American flag draped for the backdrop, as the webcam began recording. Gabe strutted into view in full body armor, Colt M4 in his hands, and the Desert Camo punisher mask with the patriot lenses in front.

  “My fellow Americans, you have been threatened and attacked on American soil. Your rights and freedom spat upon by a terrorist and heretic insulting God and country, and the police are doing nothing to stop it. A Democracy is a sacred thing we hold dear, the right for every citizen, man or woman of any color to stand up and be heard, and choose what freedom is to us. This Mister Black wants you to be afraid. Afraid to leave your homes, afraid to vote, afraid to protest or speak out, to have your basic freedoms and live your lives in safety, and that control ends now. I have a message for the citizens of this country. We WILL vote, we WILL fight back, we WILL bare arms and defend our home against any threat, and leading the opposition will be some of the best men for the job. Patriots, heroes, men not afraid to lose their lives or take one, and we will be the law enforcement now. This is a temporary movement with permanent impacts. A counter-terror uprising that will last as long as the terrorists do, and dissolve when the threat is gone, so you are safe. But make no mistake, if another rises in place, we will rise again to match them.

  We are here to uphold the American way until the laws can, and the corruption backs down, nothing more nothing less. We will not negotiate, we will not take innocent lives, No collateral death is acceptable. We will not force any citizen to bow or push our beliefs, because our beliefs are simple, and your beliefs too. Freedom, family, justice. The group of domestic terrorists are the only ones who should fear leaving their homes, because they will meet us on OUR terms, and there is no surrender, no apprehension, no trial, no bail, no lawyers. The only good terrorist is a dead one, and we intend to leave only those behind. The Archangels counter-terror organization is effective immediately, and we demand blood for blood.” He said as the Archangel banner lowered behind him and 7 other men in similar outfits, armed with ARs, shotguns and a belt-fed machine gun, all filed into a line. Gabe picked up a paper flag with the Red and Black symbol, and lit it on fire, holding it and stepping closer.

  “And I have a message for you, Mister Black. Two can play the game of intimidation and gunfire. How dare you display a cross, while slaughtering citizens and outspoken people, how dare you stand on the ground of this country that men have fought and died to protect, and call its people to rise up and cause anarchy. For that you will meet true divine punishment and justice. You wanted the streets to run red and the end of days, you have it. It’s coming for you, and the streets will run with your blood, and the end of your days is drawing near. You have one chance to turn yourself in and face the justice system, or the new justice system will hunt you down and we will not aim to incapacitate, we will not use non-lethal force or accept surrender. 24 hours. After that, we will not give you a trial and representation. We will give you a flood of lead and American pride, and leave the body for the police, so that they can do at least part of their job. You wanna fight something? Fight us. You want blood, we’re full of it in red white and blue, come and get it. You want American lives, man the fuck up and fight someone your own size, find us, or we’ll find you. You want a war, you have it. Fight a soldier, you cowardly piece of shit.” Gabe finished,

  President DuPont threw a newspaper violently at the TV screen, President Ivanova laughing at the childish rage.

  “What the red white and fuck is this? Are you playing with me?”

  “William, calm down. Is silly militia group playing soldiers. They are not mine, they are a convenient accident. Probably tired of playing call of Honor 3 online, so they bought some army surplus gear and superstore decals. They are a joke.” Ivanova chuckled.

  “I’m the joke. Have you seen social media? Half the people are rooting for Mister Black and Nadja, screaming ANARCHY from the roofs. The graffiti is worse, now people are saying I authorized a vigilante group to defend myself against the threat. I’m trying to make this country look good, and make myself look re-electable, now these assholes are riling people up to vote and acting like they support me? What’s that going to do? It’s going to make me look the kind of president that can’t take down the terrorists and farms it out to yocals in camo, OR it makes it all look like a setup to fluff my campaign. I don’t want people voting, because if they all lean towards voting Bloomberg, because they think I’m a joke, and he gets shot, and I survive and win the election, then it really looks like I planned this.” DuPont Huffed.

  “You didn’t.” President Ivanova chuckled. “It won’t matter, we both get what we want and you get re elected. Who cares what people think now? Do what you want for 4 more years; enjoy the wealth, the protection, the deal. The plan is to start a war, if it starts on your soil first, it is no different. You will represent America, I will say I will never back down; you intimidate and take action, and win. I back down. Russian media will show it as mercy and kindness, your media will show you as the victor, a hero, nobody will care about anything before this. Just be glad both sides are fighting for YOU, even if one is pretending to hunt you. You can’t even act brave when your own people rise up to support you when you know the villains are only putting on public show, and planning to kill your enemy. This is perfect. We get people in gold skulls and flags to show up to the debate, and when Bloomberg is shot, they will reveal themselves and declare victory. The real terrorists were Archangels the whole time. Radicals. Just go on public record, make speeches about how these vigilante groups are all the same and all breaking the laws. We can have some men arrested now and then, with both flags, to confuse and frighten the media. DuPont does not condone terrorism or vigilante justice, the broken system Bloomberg built is being fixed, and you will not tolerate more bloodshed on American soil. Save face, lie like you do already.” He shrugged.