Wrath of Rudy

"Enough!"

The voice boomed throughout the densely packed lounge, cutting through the tension and silencing Requiem's outburst. All the Crusaders bowed their heads as the heavy steps echoed between them. Emerging from the crowd of vampires held at the mercy of the Monster-killers came a figure cloaked in ivory.

From head to toe, the broad man gleamed with the holy spite of silver plates sewn into his intricate white robe. His cloak, scarlet and inlaid with elegant gold, formed a cross, and as his silver plates clinked and gleamed with each deliberate step, his helmet depicted multilayered silver rings, with many-sided gleaming white wings splayed from the flat visor.

He halted in front of you, and while the other Noxium hissed and recoiled from this man's mere presence, you tilted your head, absorbing the sight of this Michelangelo-esque figure.

Lacrimosa swiftly dropped to one knee. "Father Angelus—Your Grace. Forgive us—"

The Father raised a silencing hand and spoke in his booming voice, almost operatic in timbre. "You took the Lord's name in vain."

"What can I say? I am a born sinner," you professed.

"Not you," Father Angelus spoke in a hard tone as he turned to Requiem. "On your knees," he commanded.

Requiem’s shoulders fell as he faltered. "Your Grace… I—"

"On your fucking knees, boy." Angelus pushed the growing words through clenched teeth. The huge knight in silver plate fumbled, and his fellow crusaders seemed frozen as Requiem fell to one knee.

"You are as deaf as you are stupid, boy. I said get on your knees, not one knee. Chop-chop. Now, I have spent my days enriching your soul—all of your souls—with the grace of the Lord in Heaven. And while gumption is a sin, I do not disapprove of this entirely unapproved operation.

"But I believe that despite the corruption of this house of sodomites, this house was once one devoted to delivering darkness to justice. Even if it was backwater justice."

You mused over Requiem, now knelt with his helm pressed deep into your cum-stained carpet.

"Surely they can’t really buy into this discount preacher bullshit?" you thought. Even awestruck as you were, they were caught lacking. You could, in theory, strike while they were occupied. But something in your gut—and something high up in the rafters—gave you the impression that the time was almost upon you. Just a little while longer, and the perfect opportunity would come.

Angelus continued. "We are Crusaders, and we will not condemn our souls in the eyes of God by lowering ourselves to the level of these creatures…" His gloved palm opened wide to display the Nox, as if you were chimpanzees in a zoo.

His Grace continued his sermon, kneeling down to grasp the shining pauldrons of Requiem. "You will pray, boy. Repent your blasphemy before this unholy monster and his ilk. You will seek forgiveness, or retribution will be called down upon you. Do you understand?"

Requiem didn’t speak. But his head dipped in a slow, bitter nod, and a muffled prayer echoed within his helm.

"Father Angelus, we sought only to complete the mission. For too long have we waited," Lacrimosa started, but the High-Father Angelus silenced her once again with a mere flick of his hand.

That is when the esteemed Father Angelus finally turned to you.

"I am Angelus. High-Father of the Parish," he said.

"Yup, gathered that."

You had not stirred from your kneeling position, but he urged you to stand.

"Come, Charles, stand. I apologise for your treatment at the hands of my subordinates."

Slowly, carefully, you arose to your feet. Angelus swept in so close that you could see the dark brown of his intense eyes nestled in the eye-holes of his ringed mask.

"Your reputation precedes you, Lord Nox."

"That’s funny, because your lackeys are the ones who preceded you."

"Yes, well, a shepherd can lead his flock in the right direction…"

Your eyes hummed with a subtle red glow of fury. Even naked and scarred, you were poised to rip this man to pieces if your people’s necks were on the line.

“My first experience of this world, this wicked world of monsters and killers—do you know what it was? It was your little group of choir boys attacking my sister as I ran for my life. And now here you all are, in my home, at my family’s throats? I think you have some repentance due yourself."

"You dare insult the most holy!?" one of the Crusaders cried, his grip tightening around Naomi’s throat. As she squeaked in fear, your body tensed and the whole room seemed swayed toward a violent end.

"Shut up. Shut up, all of you. Not another word! You will say nothing and do nothing, so help you God. Am I understood!?"

The Crusaders agreed shakily. You cast your eyes to Cleo, Naomi, Hughie, and Moonie… even Belle. There was a resonance amongst them, an understanding that if they had to die in order to strike first, then so be it.

"Not a chance in hell."

Father Angelus snatched Requiem by the hem of his surcoat.

"Get your men under control, you fool."

Your eyes flicked back up to the rafters. The shadow lurking above seemed to be fidgeting with something. The magenta orbs flashed as if in haste.

Just a little longer… just a tad more goading.

Cleo shouted against the gun to her head, "Truly, I have never seen a more organized and disciplined military **** in all my un-life. Yes, go on, Tsun-Tsu, control your men!"

Octavia cackled. "It’s like watching The Room all over again. 'I did not blaspheme. It’s not true. I did not blaspheme. I did naaaaaaaught. Oh hi Mark!'"

Her strangely ambiguous Eastern European accent made your fellows burst into a booming laugh that echoed throughout the whole lounge.

The tensions had inflated tenfold. Blades drew closer to pierce the jugulars of your friends. The click of gun hammers resounded, and Requiem had to scramble to calm his bloodthirsty men.

"You heard His Grace! Get a hold of yourselves already! You are supposed to be Crusaders! The hell did I spend all that time training you for!?" Requiem screamed, shoving one of his acolytes forcefully.

"Since you’re feeling so courteous, and this was a house once devoted to justice as you say—tell me one thing, before you inevitably rip off our heads and shit down our necks or whatever-the-fuck. Why are you here? You’ve had plenty of opportunity to kill me. Hell, you have killed me once. But the preaching and ceremony—why now?" you asked earnestly.

Just… a little… longer.

Angelus swept back his scarlet cape, fluttering behind him like the feathers of a crimson peacock. Dark eyes peered from the shadowed holes of the ringed visor.

"You have had enough of my courtesies, Monster. You and that wretched creature you call a sister will bleed for us. You and your ilk will tell us—in detail—of every other abomination infesting this once holy place. You will be stripped of your squalid flesh down to the bone, layer after layer, until we understand the very nature of your core… and only then, will you be granted entry into the fires of hell."

"HEAR YE, HEAR YE, MAN, MONSTER, AND MICE IN SILVER PLATE!!!"

The panic and shock at the voice thundering from above struck hard like the lick of a lightning bolt. The light of the Crusader’s cross seemed dulled by the shadows, which began to rise up, to evolve and grow, swallowing the room whole until little was visible save for the gleam of magenta eyes sparkling with lust from above.

"The fuck is—" one of the Crusaders started.

"Doesn’t matter. Just shoot it, asshole!" Requiem commanded.

A submachine gun slipped out from under the robes of one of the holy warriors, and a violent flash of orange filled the unnatural darkness. The stink of gun-smoke and the splinters from the rafters rained from above.

"HAHAHAHAHA! YOU THINK A FEW BULLETS AND FANCY KNIVES CAN STOP US!? YOU GREAT SUPINE PROTOPLASMIC JELLIES!? WE ARE THE NOX, AND AS LONG AS I HAVE TITS ON MY CHEST AND FLESH STUCK BETWEEN MY TEETH, NO MORTAL MAY CHALLENGE US HERE!!!!!"

"Show yourself, demon! You cannot hide in the shadows forever!" Angelus roared, although a twinge of nervousness could be felt even in his tone.

"BITCH. WE. ARE. THE SHADOWS!!!"

Silence… unsettling, anticipating. And then a sharp click… of a lighter, and the hiss of a magnesium fuse catching light.

Your eyes widened in manic joy. Time seemed to slow to a crawl.

Leaping out from the shadows above, a figure streaked down from the high ceiling in little but her fragrant teal panties, her dirty blonde hair flowing like a river of honey behind her, eyes flashing opals. Reeled back, ready to strike in her powerful hands was the biggest, most impractical thing you had ever seen.

The war hammer’s long haft ended in a humongous head, like a barrel forged of heavy metals, hollowed out to house what appeared to be a bundle of explosives. Its tail-like fuse hissed in the wind as it hurtled toward you all.

The Parish were petrified in the milliseconds where Rudy spelled out their doom. But you were ready.

"OVERDRIVE!"

In an almost serpentine, fluid motion, you flew faster and smoother than ever before to both the corpse of Vicky and the headless cadaver of Diana. You swept them into your arms, shielding them with your own bare flesh while screaming, "BRACE!"

"YOU CAME TO THE WRONG HOUSE, FOOL!" Rudy proclaimed as her feet crashed through the floorboards and her hammer caved deep into the foundations.

As the head of her hammer knocked on something buried deep below, a ripple of sound so violent and quick ripped through your eardrums, followed by a flash of blinding white… accompanied by an ungodly wave of heat that devoured you, the Nox, and the Crusaders alike.

All were baptized as equals in the Wrath of Rudy.