PRIES
Paranormal Research Investigation & Eradication Specialists
Mission 1: A Dark Angel
St. Anthony’s Church of the Holy Flame: Friday, Dec. 14, 2117 - 7:15 P.M.
The church was alive with the song of praise. The congregation stood with traditional hymn books parted in their hands, singing aloud to the guiding hum of a pipe organ. There were no electronic, handheld libraries or fancy sound systems where the pastor could have easily downloaded the tune to play for him. St. Anthony’s Church was traditional because it believed that humanity has forsaken the old ways. Electronics were discouraged, but still children could be seen, sitting while their parents faithfully stood, button-mashing on their mini game systems.
Michael stood to blend in with other servants of the Holy Flame. His amber eyes were upon the lyrics, but he wasn’t reading them. He wasn’t singing either. He was nervously thinking about the mission. The ALPHA virus within him was causing every hair to stand on his body as it sensed the other virus in the room. It had caught the organization’s attention and it had called for several operatives—not just him—to be present in the church. They were all dressed in shirts and ties, and some of the wiser, female operatives chose not to wear a skirt and panty-hoes but slacks in the case they needed to make a swift exit.
Michael was sporting a solid-black dress-shirt, grey tie, and grey khaki pants. He had shaved for the occasion, touching up on his sideburns, and having had raked a comb through his black hair a few times. He had to look his best for Christ—hopefully that hadn’t been a death wish. There was no doubt that the User suspected their presence. Just as they felt him, he felt them.
What am I doing here? Michael thought uncomfortably.
This hadn’t been the mission he was hoping for. There were so many innocent civilians, and unlike the other rookies on this mission, Michael didn’t think his virus was easy to conceal. He had expressed his concerns with Special Ops Supervisor Bill Hadley, but all Bill had to say was, “You’ll get used to it.”
What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Michael frowned softly just thinking about it, and just as the wave of his musings slowed, the moment of worship had concluded.
Please, take your seats.
Michael closed the hymn book and deposited it back into the holder before he settled down within the pew. He had been sitting on the right side of the room, and once everyone had sat, the pastor became visible. He stood in white and red robes with his hands grasping the edges of a podium. His blond hair bore a soft glow and his blue eyes twinkled beneath the ceiling lamps. His whole being radiated with joy as he swept the room with his eyes, a long and excited smile stretched across his lips.
If it wasn’t for his ALPHA virus, Michael would have never seen the pastor as a threat. The man looked his part, and while he appeared friendly, he didn’t feel that way. Michael lowered his eyes before the pastor’s attention motioned to his side of the room. His hands nervously fondled each other as he tried to keep his cool. The good thing about there being too many people in the room was that the pastor couldn’t discern who exactly his enemy was, but he knew where his enemy sat.
“May the Lord be with you!” the pastor spoke.
“And also with you!” the congregation returned.
“Let us pray!”
The church fell into silence, people bowing their heads as the pastor began to pray. Michael couldn’t stop thinking about the current objective. The briefing had said nothing about attending the entire service.
As the prayer concluded, the pastor clapped his hands together and greeted, “Good Evening!”
Good Evening!
“Well, I am glad to see that our guests from last week have returned and that we also have some new faces in here tonight. The-”
“Pastor Goodfellow!” a woman cried.
The pastor gazed down the aisle at a mother, holding the wrists of her video game-addicted children.
“Forgive me, pastor, but my children are new to this church, and I have heard of your healing hands. Please, save them from the technology that teaches them to rebel against their own mother and neglect their studies. I fear my babies may be expelled if this continues!” the mother exclaimed.
Michael arched a brow in disbelief. Was this lady serious? He thought that he was sitting in a church but now it seemed more like a theater. All she had to do was take away their games and give the brats a good old-fashioned spanking.
Pastor Goodfellow laughed softly and spread his arms, beckoning cheerfully with his hands. “I hadn’t expected to start the healing session so soon, but the Lord is never too early to work nor too late! Come, bring your children here.”
The mother towed her pouting sons down the aisle to the altar as the pastor stepped from behind the podium to stand before the two boys. He bent over to rest his hands upon his knees as he looked from the oldest to the youngest.
“And what are your names?” the pastor questioned.
The oldest son glanced briefly up at the pastor. His bottom lip was poked out and brows pinched in anger to have been torn away from his game for this. Without saying a word, he returned his eyes to the floor, and the pastor glanced to the youngest who crossed his arms before his chest and dismissively turned his head. The mother took a knee behind her sons, keeping her hands firmly upon their shoulders as she shook them in a light scold.
“The oldest is David, and the youngest Zack,” the mother told the pastor.
Pastor Goodfellow smiled, hardly affected by the boys’ rebellious natures. “Well, David; Zack; my name is Pastor Todd Goodfellow, and I’m here to steer your souls back onto the path of righteousness. If you’ll be so kind to hold still, and Mom, please join me in healing these boys.”
The boys’ mother raised her hands from their shoulders to rest her palms against the back of their heads. The pastor then laid his hands upon the boys’ crowns, raking his fingers back through their brown hair so that they were closest to their scalps. The pastor then began to pray and what looked like purple roots began branching down the sides of the boys’ skulls. The branches stretched past their temples to their cheekbones and the boy’s eyes became wide and distant.
Suddenly, Michael could feel his virus sending him warnings again, and it wasn’t just the pastor that it was warning him about, but now the little boys. Michael observed the healing in shock. What the hell was he doing to those kids?
“Are you seeing this?” Michael quietly spoke into the communicator hidden within his tie.
So that’s how the son of a bitch is doin’ it! the supervisor spoke into the ears of all the operatives within the church. You can bet that the whole congregation is infected with that virus he’s passing around. He seems to be using his hosts to bring him new hosts, but the virus he’s spreadin’ ain’t the same kind he’s infected with. I’m sure Dr. Whatshisface could explain the science behind it to ya, but plain and simple, we kill him, then we free all his slaves. Yes, you heard me boys and girls, we’re not apprehendin’ this one. The Director has given the order to dust his ass.
Michael watched as the strange branches began to retract from beneath the boys’ flesh. The pastor lifted his hands and the wide-eyed children suddenly began smiling. Their mouths were stretched wide with shining rows of teeth as they chorused, “We feel great!”
They then turned to their mother and apologized, “We’re sorry Mama.”
They threw their arms about their mother as she embraced them warmly with tears rolling down her eyes. The congregation became noisy with applause and praise. Michael reluctantly joined in, feeling disturbed by how quick the children’s personalities had changed and how the entire church was their enemy.
Paranormal Research Investigation & Eradication Specialists
Mission 1: A Dark Angel
St. Anthony’s Church of the Holy Flame: Friday, Dec. 14, 2117 - 7:15 P.M.
The church was alive with the song of praise. The congregation stood with traditional hymn books parted in their hands, singing aloud to the guiding hum of a pipe organ. There were no electronic, handheld libraries or fancy sound systems where the pastor could have easily downloaded the tune to play for him. St. Anthony’s Church was traditional because it believed that humanity has forsaken the old ways. Electronics were discouraged, but still children could be seen, sitting while their parents faithfully stood, button-mashing on their mini game systems.
Michael stood to blend in with other servants of the Holy Flame. His amber eyes were upon the lyrics, but he wasn’t reading them. He wasn’t singing either. He was nervously thinking about the mission. The ALPHA virus within him was causing every hair to stand on his body as it sensed the other virus in the room. It had caught the organization’s attention and it had called for several operatives—not just him—to be present in the church. They were all dressed in shirts and ties, and some of the wiser, female operatives chose not to wear a skirt and panty-hoes but slacks in the case they needed to make a swift exit.
Michael was sporting a solid-black dress-shirt, grey tie, and grey khaki pants. He had shaved for the occasion, touching up on his sideburns, and having had raked a comb through his black hair a few times. He had to look his best for Christ—hopefully that hadn’t been a death wish. There was no doubt that the User suspected their presence. Just as they felt him, he felt them.
What am I doing here? Michael thought uncomfortably.
This hadn’t been the mission he was hoping for. There were so many innocent civilians, and unlike the other rookies on this mission, Michael didn’t think his virus was easy to conceal. He had expressed his concerns with Special Ops Supervisor Bill Hadley, but all Bill had to say was, “You’ll get used to it.”
What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Michael frowned softly just thinking about it, and just as the wave of his musings slowed, the moment of worship had concluded.
Please, take your seats.
Michael closed the hymn book and deposited it back into the holder before he settled down within the pew. He had been sitting on the right side of the room, and once everyone had sat, the pastor became visible. He stood in white and red robes with his hands grasping the edges of a podium. His blond hair bore a soft glow and his blue eyes twinkled beneath the ceiling lamps. His whole being radiated with joy as he swept the room with his eyes, a long and excited smile stretched across his lips.
If it wasn’t for his ALPHA virus, Michael would have never seen the pastor as a threat. The man looked his part, and while he appeared friendly, he didn’t feel that way. Michael lowered his eyes before the pastor’s attention motioned to his side of the room. His hands nervously fondled each other as he tried to keep his cool. The good thing about there being too many people in the room was that the pastor couldn’t discern who exactly his enemy was, but he knew where his enemy sat.
“May the Lord be with you!” the pastor spoke.
“And also with you!” the congregation returned.
“Let us pray!”
The church fell into silence, people bowing their heads as the pastor began to pray. Michael couldn’t stop thinking about the current objective. The briefing had said nothing about attending the entire service.
As the prayer concluded, the pastor clapped his hands together and greeted, “Good Evening!”
Good Evening!
“Well, I am glad to see that our guests from last week have returned and that we also have some new faces in here tonight. The-”
“Pastor Goodfellow!” a woman cried.
The pastor gazed down the aisle at a mother, holding the wrists of her video game-addicted children.
“Forgive me, pastor, but my children are new to this church, and I have heard of your healing hands. Please, save them from the technology that teaches them to rebel against their own mother and neglect their studies. I fear my babies may be expelled if this continues!” the mother exclaimed.
Michael arched a brow in disbelief. Was this lady serious? He thought that he was sitting in a church but now it seemed more like a theater. All she had to do was take away their games and give the brats a good old-fashioned spanking.
Pastor Goodfellow laughed softly and spread his arms, beckoning cheerfully with his hands. “I hadn’t expected to start the healing session so soon, but the Lord is never too early to work nor too late! Come, bring your children here.”
The mother towed her pouting sons down the aisle to the altar as the pastor stepped from behind the podium to stand before the two boys. He bent over to rest his hands upon his knees as he looked from the oldest to the youngest.
“And what are your names?” the pastor questioned.
The oldest son glanced briefly up at the pastor. His bottom lip was poked out and brows pinched in anger to have been torn away from his game for this. Without saying a word, he returned his eyes to the floor, and the pastor glanced to the youngest who crossed his arms before his chest and dismissively turned his head. The mother took a knee behind her sons, keeping her hands firmly upon their shoulders as she shook them in a light scold.
“The oldest is David, and the youngest Zack,” the mother told the pastor.
Pastor Goodfellow smiled, hardly affected by the boys’ rebellious natures. “Well, David; Zack; my name is Pastor Todd Goodfellow, and I’m here to steer your souls back onto the path of righteousness. If you’ll be so kind to hold still, and Mom, please join me in healing these boys.”
The boys’ mother raised her hands from their shoulders to rest her palms against the back of their heads. The pastor then laid his hands upon the boys’ crowns, raking his fingers back through their brown hair so that they were closest to their scalps. The pastor then began to pray and what looked like purple roots began branching down the sides of the boys’ skulls. The branches stretched past their temples to their cheekbones and the boy’s eyes became wide and distant.
Suddenly, Michael could feel his virus sending him warnings again, and it wasn’t just the pastor that it was warning him about, but now the little boys. Michael observed the healing in shock. What the hell was he doing to those kids?
“Are you seeing this?” Michael quietly spoke into the communicator hidden within his tie.
So that’s how the son of a bitch is doin’ it! the supervisor spoke into the ears of all the operatives within the church. You can bet that the whole congregation is infected with that virus he’s passing around. He seems to be using his hosts to bring him new hosts, but the virus he’s spreadin’ ain’t the same kind he’s infected with. I’m sure Dr. Whatshisface could explain the science behind it to ya, but plain and simple, we kill him, then we free all his slaves. Yes, you heard me boys and girls, we’re not apprehendin’ this one. The Director has given the order to dust his ass.
Michael watched as the strange branches began to retract from beneath the boys’ flesh. The pastor lifted his hands and the wide-eyed children suddenly began smiling. Their mouths were stretched wide with shining rows of teeth as they chorused, “We feel great!”
They then turned to their mother and apologized, “We’re sorry Mama.”
They threw their arms about their mother as she embraced them warmly with tears rolling down her eyes. The congregation became noisy with applause and praise. Michael reluctantly joined in, feeling disturbed by how quick the children’s personalities had changed and how the entire church was their enemy.
