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Nadir

Page history last edited by Milbunk 12 years ago

Nadir

(tl;dr version: Burial Agency hunting a famous DAA)

 

 

“Please allow me to introduce myself

I am a man of wealth and taste.

I’ve been around for a long, long year.

Stole many a man’s soul and faith.”

 

“Could you please turn that off? I have enough trouble with the heat already…” said the red haired woman with a slight French accent. Indeed, it was not a convenient journey, driving through the desert in the midst of summer, neither for her nor for her two “co-workers” but they had no choice in the matter.


After all, they were sent here because they had a mission to fulfill.

 

“I am afraid that I cannot grant that wish of yours, ma’am. You see, the heat affects me too, and I am afraid that this CD is the only thing that keeps me attentive enough to not cause any accidents or involuntary off-road expeditions.” replied the grey haired, bespectacled man who occupied the driver’s seat in a calm fashion.

 

Contrary to her, who already got rid of her “uniform” and was now sitting in the cabin of the awe-inspiring 16-wheeled truck with nothing more than a tank top and shorts she wore underneath, the man still wore his blue robes and a shining golden cross which was dangling down his neck, identifying him as a Christian believer. To her astonishment he was barely sweating despite this fact, but the heat still seemed to affect him, even if it was less obvious. She almost expected him to start panting like a dog.

 

“Dawn, drop the ma’am, formality does not bring us anywhere. If you really dislike Claw’s name that much you can call her sister instead.” said the blonde girl who sat next to the woman known as Claw.

She didn’t know if Dawn even knew her real name, or the name of the boss, but in their business this was pointless trivia. “Also, please Dawn, I won’t tell you to turn it off but could you please turn down the volume a bit? I have trouble concentrating…” said the boss, holding up the rosary in her hands. The boss, or “Narbareck” as she was called, continued to pray the rosary, murmuring faintly as her voice was drowned out by the music which was now coming out of the speakers in a slightly lower volume.

 

Narbareck’s features were less feminine than Claw’s. Of course, Narbareck was younger, appearing to be in her late teenage years, but she still had an almost androgynous quality to her, her bust being smaller than Claw’s average size, her face being covered in long blonde, almost silver hair, and her body overall being smaller and thinner than Claw’s toned and trained physique. Also, not a single scar could be found on her arms or face, contrary to Claw’s high number of various healed cuts and even gunshot wounds, not to mention that Claw’s left arm was completely wrapped in red bandages, though her fingers were wrapped individually.

 

Seemingly finished the blonde girl now wore the rosary like a necklace. “I don’t recall ever seeing you pray before, Narbareck” said the red haired woman, still looking like she would keel over from the heat in a second.

 

“Oh, I do. After all I am a good Christian.” she gave the redhead one of her trademark smirks “This is no ordinary rosary though. It’s a present for this hunt by our highly-valued superior and friend, the Pope himself.”

 

With slight surprise Claw answered “Oh, so everyone but our errand boy here got some new toys…they really want this to go over smoothly…so why did you bring the newbie?”

 

“He needs to learn what it means to be a member of this organization. Besides, he is still a tentative member…also, do I hear slight doubt in my skill in there, Claw?” replied Narbareck with a teasing voice.

 

Claw froze. “Ee-eets not like that!”

 

“Your accent is coming through again…how adorable. I assume your efforts at starting a conversation with me were a result of boredom, so how about we just go over the details of our little plan again?”

Narbareck leaned forward, reaching for the glove box and took a small file out of it.

 

“Our target is number 24 of the Dead Apostle Ancestors, Mister “El-Nahat”, a former member of the middle-eastern association, so expect curses. We have no pictures of his appearance, not that it would matter with a Dead Apostle Ancestor anyway, and only a small number of speculations about his skillset. The last encounter the Church had with him was in Syria, 50 years ago, he was encountered exactly 5 times until now. A curious thing about his modus operandi is that, once he gets cornered, he apparently resorts to some sort of suicide technique, which leaves no traces of his victims, but instead notable quantities of his own blood. If we manage to trigger this technique and survive, we got him, though I’d prefer the conventional method…” She took a small black-and-white photograph out of the file and showed it to her two subordinates. It depicted a puddle of blood and some piles of ash. “This is the first time we got him directly after a location change, so he is probably still weakened and trying to adjust to the new spiritual land, though it is quite close to his home…”

 

Dawn interrupted Narbareck’s briefing with a question:

 

“Excuse me, but how do we even know that it is him and not just a regular Dead Apostle, or even another Dead Apostle Ancestor?”

 

The girl answered in her usual relaxed tone.

 

“Dead Apostle Ancestors have a distinctive…”handwriting” when they set up a new Lair. He takes over a whole town and uses authorities to his advantage to make it inaccessible for the general public, then slowly drains it for years until we find him. Considering that this method seems to be used this time, and considering that he is close to home, also factoring in the scale of his operation we can be quite sure that it is him. This time he was quite unlucky...”

 

“And why’s that?” Dawn’s eyes were still fixed on the road. “We should arrive in 5 minutes; I can already see a few houses in the distance…”

 

“Well, the town we go to now is a small Christian community, though openly practicing is forbidden by the law in this country. They get most of their supplies from the town our acquaintance occupies right now. Our contact can tell you the exact story; he is an Exorcist the church sent to investigate a day before our arrival…”

 

“Oh, an Exorcist, he’s working in the branch of the Church you should belong to, Dawn.” Claw’s comment was unmistakably an insult towards the man and his qualifications. But before he could reply Narbareck stepped in.

 

“Claw, is there anything you want to tell me? Do you want to suggest that my procedure of selecting individuals for my Agency is flawed?” there was a certain sharpness to her tone as she spoke the words with a smirk on her face.

 

“N-no, b-but…” Claw took a deep breath before continuing without stuttering her answer, her French accent becoming heavier and heavier the more she went on. “He is not a fighter. He is an Exorcist. I read his dossier, a very impressive feat I must say, but his usefulness for this Agency is limited. If you want Exorcists, why not just request them? And a mechanic or a driver…really? In the Agency?”

 

“Value, my beloved colleague, is not limited to combat proficiency.” Narbareck was obviously amused at this conversation, drawing pleasure from Claw’s visible nervousness. “All I can say is that the more independent this agency becomes from the main branch, the better. Also, he is ensuring the cooperation of his…spouse.” Suddenly Narbareck’s expression turned serious: “Critique is something I endorse, Claw. Moaning and complaining are a one-way trip to missions with a questionable chance of survival. I hope I made myself clear.” Nervousness turned into fear.

 

“Y-yes ma’am”

 

With that acknowledgement, she once again adopted her trademark smirk. “Oh, what did I tell you about formality? We are all brothers and sisters here...”

 

Dawn halted the monstrous vehicle “You should get out and get dressed now, we can walk the rest.”

 

“In that heat and those clothes? Are you crazy?” Claw’s complaint at Dawn was more of a rhetoric one, since she grabbed her crumpled nun habit and her headdress, which were lazily thrown over her seat as she slowly climbed out of the truck. “Get my gun and my vest, no way I am going to talk to that…thing again.” Dawn raised an eyebrow as he opened the door next to him and walked behind his giant vehicle, carefully opening the doors of the container. He quickly closed them behind him to not get any sand inside of it. He didn’t want to anger her.

 

“Good morning! We have arrived. I am just going to fetch a few things and then you can go to sleep again…” Inside of the container reigned absolute darkness. Fortunately Dawn knew where to look for the equipment. As he faced the left wall he heard dripping sounds, and cloth chafing against cloth. The lady turned towards him.

 

“Thank God. I got bored already. Do you have time to talk, Dawn?” It was a sweet and charming voice, though her exhaustion was audible.

 

“I am afraid not. Miss Claw is quite the bothersome woman, and she seems to be very stressed.” Dawn was unable to suppress a slight chuckle.

 

“Ahhh…what a pity. This land and its dry heat are taking its toll on me. Also, I hunger…”

She seemed to have turned on her back again.

 

“I am afraid that feeding is out of the question here. We are after a vampire. A special one apparently, one of the twenty-seven…” He carefully lifted a strange object out of a wall mounting and picked up a bag that was under it on the floor and slung it over his left shoulder.

 

“Oh, really? It seems that their trust towards you increased quite a bit, Dawn. They are taking you to such special missions…” Ignoring the slight teasing in her tone he moved to the back of the container, picking up a bulletproof vest and a second bag which he threw over his right shoulder.

 

“It is a great honor for me, yes. I got everything I need, maybe we can converse again once this mission is over?”

 

“That would be wonderful…good luck on your task.”

 

Dawn gave the malformed lady a smile before he opened the doors with great difficulty.

 

“Thank you. Good night.”

 

=================

 

“There you are, what took you so long?” The red haired woman stood in front of the container, holding her habit and headdress with her bandaged arm.

 

“Gimme the vest first…” Claw’s mood did not seem to lighten up even after getting fresh air it seemed.

 

Narbareck was already standing there, fully clothed in a male priest’s uniform.

 

“Your…”new toy”, Claw.”

 

 Dawn handed the woman the strange looking object. It had a trigger and place for a magazine in front of it, but there was no visible hammer, no iron sights and it seemed to be made out of one single piece, impossible to disassemble.  It looked more like a handheld vacuum cleaner than a rifle. Under its barrel there was a strange bayonet, looking like some sort of horn. On the side Dawn could read the manufacturing company “ATLASIA INDUSTRIES”.

 

“Here’s hoping that our little side-trip paid off…”

 

Claw opened the bag Dawn brought her. Inside there were neatly sorted magazines, one of which she shoved into her strange looking gun. The rest she tried to hide in various compartments of her robe. She also took a small, holstered pistol out of the bag and handed it to Dawn. “You will need that, combat training or not.”

 

The priest just gave her a gentle smile. “I will not fire a weapon. Didn’t Narbareck tell you?”

 

“Well, I assumed being close to a town full of undead vampire slaves might change your mind…just take it.” She prodded him with it.

 

“Oh no, I won’t need it, thank you for your consideration!” the faintest hint of annoyance could be heard in his voice.

 

“Just take it you moron. You can throw it at someone if you really need to.” Claw became visibly annoyed.

 

“Fine, fine, I’ll take it.” Dawn did not want any conflict with his team members after all.

Meanwhile Narbareck had finished hiding the Black Key hilts which were in the second bag in her uniform. Once both of them finished their preparations they walked the last few meters towards the small gathering of houses.

 

“Greetings! You must be Mr. Narbareck?” a tall, Arabic looking man with short brown hair and a well-groomed beard greeted the three newcomers, extending his hand towards Dawn. He wore a priest’s uniform with a white surplice over it, identifying him as an Executor. “I am afraid not. This over here is Miss Narbareck…” Dawn smiled in amusement.

 

“Oh, I am terribly sorry…” he looked at the blonde girl, this time not offering his hand “…my name is Mahmut al-Askari, I am from the Exorcists’ order in Egypt. I take that you have been informed about what has been going on here?” He turned around, walking towards one of the flat-roofed houses. All other inhabitants of the village seemed to have retreated inside their own homes, making the small village look like a ghost town in the desert. Out of the corner of her eye Narbareck could spot a kid spying through the curtains of her house.

 

“I have instructed the people to stay inside their houses for their own safety. You see, five days ago a member of this community went to a nearby town to buy necessities, food for the animals, the usual…” The group halted before the house. “…apparently the whole town was declared a restricted area by the military, now surrounded by tall fences and guards. Even stranger, the day after the whole place was abandoned. Not a single soldier guarding the perimeter. We don’t know what happened afterwards, but apparently the poor guy got bitten while trying to sneak into the town…he came back yesterday, more dead than alive. The people here thought he might be possessed, they were instructed to capture him and not get bitten. Apparently the strongest men in the village could restrain him with a rope and locked him in his home. I was sent here to exorcise the possession. But it was not a corpse eating demon like the villagers assumed…do you know how they call those here?”

 

Narbareck answered in an instant: “Ghul

 

“Exactly. So I guess you know with what you have to deal here? I couldn’t overwhelm this beast, but I think for trained Executors like you it should not be a problem…”

 

He took a key out of his pocket, turning it in the lock. “Careful now.” As he opened the door, rumbling could be heard, followed by moaning. Then Narbareck saw him in the corridor. A Ghoul, devoid of rationality, emotions, pain and soul…it tried to jump outside, tried to attack the people who stood in front of the precipice to its door with magnificent speed and strength, exceeding human limits. But considering his opposition it was futile. In a flash, Narbareck pulled out a Black Key from her robe, throwing it at the undead. Blubbering noises emerged its now penetrated throat as it turned to ashes.

 

“Yup definitely a Ghoul. Dawn, Claw, ask the gentleman over there for something to eat, then rest for a bit. We will get to that town once the sun has set. He knows that we are here now, but he won’t suspect an attack under the full moon, during the night. His new lair should be too valuable for abandonment…at least for now.” The Exorcist looked at Narbareck, still shocked from her display of speed and precision.

 

“You want to attack him during the night? Are you crazy? While he full moon shines? Do you plan to die? By all due respect, at least wait until tomorrow…”

 

“Mr. Al-Askari, this is not my first time dealing with Dead Apostle Ancestors under such circumstances. Please leave this to us.” The trademark smirk appeared on her face. “Now go get some rest you two.”

 

=================

 

“Do you want anything to drink, my friends?” The Egyptian exorcist stood in the kitchen of the small house, looking into the fridge of the deceased “We have some Leben 'ayrân, Mineral Water, some sort of orange soda and if you’re really serious about attacking this vampire tonight there is also some communion wine to drown out the fear…”

 

Claw pouted at that statement. “I am not afraid of some stupid vampire, especially not when I am going in with two other people. Well, let’s say one and a half. Oh, and please give me some mineral water, I don’t like sugary drinks. Or salty drinks.”

 

“She surely is a complicated woman. Please give me some of this soda, with a bit of water.” said Dawn with a gentle teasing smile.

 

“Shut up. Besides, if there is anything to fear on this mission it’s certainly not the vampires, but our boss.” Claw took a huge sip out of the glass she was served. “Is it okay that we use the house and drinks of the guy Narbareck just killed?”

 

Mahmut shrugged. “It’s not like they were planning on doing something with this house in the near future anyway. In this community they apparently share all their possessions and income to ensure a stable life for all members. They are good Christians, and very nice and caring people. Also they are happy about the Church caring for their well-being and wiping out a major threat to their village”

 

Claw tilted her head slightly in confusion. “Then why were they giving us so suspicious looks seconds ago? Doesn’t seem like they trust us. And it’s not like the Church kills vampires to be nice to random villagers”

 

“Well, you are wearing church robes in a country where Christianity is not really tolerated. I had quite the stress at the border…how were your experiences until now?”

 

Dawn answered that question. “Except for receiving a few curious looks, nothing too important. The Vatican was nice enough to give us diplomatic passports. It makes dealing with people trying to inspect my vehicle a lot easier.”

 

Slight jealousy could be seen in Mahmut’s expression. “Excuse me, but this does not seem to be standard practice for Executors. Also you appear here without Knights backing you up, with only three people, trying to wipe out the nest of a dangerous vampire. So tell me please, what exactly are you?”

 

Before Claw could blurt out an inappropriate answer Dawn interrupted her with something less profane and more diplomatic: “Very good at our job.”

 

“Ah, I see, the Church still doesn’t like telling their hard working priests what they want to know…such a shame.” Mahmut spoke with slight amusement in his tone. “Where is your leader, Miss Narbareck?”

 

Claw answered after finishing her glass. “She’s probably…I guess you could call it meditating? She gets awfully excited the closer she gets to a target so she needs to calm down a bit and get a grip.”

 

Mahmut replied as he poured Claw another glass “So zealous? I am surprised”

 

“It’s less zeal and more loving to kill. Enemy of the Church or not is probably a secondary concern to her…damn, now I am blabbering, let’s ignore that I brought up this topic please.”

 

“Oh, please continue. It is very interesting, don’t you agree Dawn?”

 

The priest was torn between wanting to know more about his superior and the orders to not compromise probably classified information. And the disparaging way she talked about Narbareck wasn’t helping that. But in the end he settled for “Please continue.”

 

“Well, the Church keeps her in her confinement room until they absolutely want something dead. Calling it a cell would be the wrong word, it’s more like a bureau she can’t leave. Nice furniture, lots of books to read, and she is allowed to train with fellow executors, though that is avoided when she is more excited. Sometimes she is even just sent out to kill a low priority target to calm her down before a dangerous mission. Quite the fearsome woman, but she brought the Church decisive victories. She already sealed two Dead Apostle Ancestors for example, once even emerging as the sole survivor of her team.”

 

“…so you say that she defeated the last one by herself?” The black-haired man seemed to be quite interested in the story, leaning forward on the table the three of them sat around.

 

‘Maybe he wished to be an Executor’ pondered Dawn.

 

“Not only him, but also 3 of his vampire lieutenants and roughly twenty of those brainless things. There was an ambush that wiped out everyone who accompanied her beforehand. The strange thing was that she probably drew her own comrades into that trap, just because she likes to surprise her prey by coming out of such situations alive…” It seemed that this anecdote made Mahmut slightly uncomfortable. “Don’t be afraid, Mister Al-Askari. She won’t hurt you. Can’t say the same for us two though…”

 

Apparently not only Mahmut felt unpleasantly surprised by such a story. “Excuse me, I will go take a nap. The driving exhausted me, and apparently I should stay vigilant during the operation tonight if Miss Claw is to be believed.”

 

“Well, I should say goodbye then. I will chat some more with your charming colleague, but I should return home to Egypt, it’s not exactly a short trip with my car.” He stood up, offering the man his hand.

 

“It was a pleasure to meet you.” After shaking the man’s hand, Dawn looked for the bedroom in the small house, still hearing lively chatter between the two.

 

‘What a quirky fellow...’ thought the man as he laid down on the bed, trying to relax before the battle began.

 

=================

 

It would not take much longer. She would get her hunt.

 

Trying to hide her inner tension, she tried to ask her two teammates, who were seated in the truck with her another pointless question:

 

“Did the Exorcist leave before us? I didn’t notice him driving off, but his car was already gone.”

 

“Yeah, he already left. He could have shown us the way at least…”

 

“That would be useless Dawn. Right now he should have wrapped the whole village in multiple bounded fields already, so if we simply follow his guidance we would only end up eternally circling that town. But we have our little handy gimmick here…” She pointed at something that looked like a compass, only that its needle constantly rotated above a strange set of gears other mechanical parts that were uncovered for some reason. “…so him throwing us off with strong magic is like trying to distract a bloodhound by cutting yourself.”

 

Despite the compass and other artifacts the Church provided being quite useful, she despised magecraft in all of its forms. It was a tool she had to use for improving her physical performance, as well for piercing defenses and finding troublesome opponents like this one. For her, it was just a corrupting influence in the act of fighting and killing a worthy enemy. Even the Baptism Rite was something that she would rather avoid, but in a fight against immortals compromises have to be made, and the conflict she longed for had to be tainted. But in exchange, they provided the most entertaining targets for her. The act of bringing down one of only twenty-seven Dead Apostle Ancestors was probably the only thing she had that came close to a real religious experience. Not that she did not believe, but her zeal and faith would normally not be considered suitable for her high position in the ranks of the Church.

 

‘Well, a true believer would not be able to lead a squad of monsters into battle.’ Thought Narbareck as she looked at the small compass again.

 

“Turn left Dawn. Claw, tighten the Shroud, you are giving off interferences…”

 

“It should not matter. Just drive.” An unusual seriousness filled her tone.

 

‘Huh, she became a bit bolder. It must be the proximity to the Dead Apostle Ancestor…’ reasoned the girl. Though her behavior had been slightly strange since their departure.

 

The tires of the truck suddenly screeched to a halt. Before their eyes a big fence with barbed wire on top and various warning signs attached to it appeared out of nowhere. Part of it was a huge gate, locked with chains and padlocks.

 

‘Apparently we entered a vision-concealing bounded field.’

 

Genuinely surprised Dawn commented on the situation “Most impressive. He can hide things this big?”

 

“He’s a Dead Apostle Ancestor, Dawn. That’s like a party trick for them.” Replied Claw in a sharp tone.

 

‘Bravery or just annoyance? Hard to tell, hard to tell. Well, at least I won’t get bored…’ analyzing her teammates was one of the more interesting parts of her job. She liked to surround herself with interesting individuals, their real use in combat being only a second concern.

 

“He is most likely aware of our presence now, but since we are only three…”

 

Dawn corrected her four, Miss Narbareck”

 

“Stop calling me “Miss”…four people then. He hopefully won’t panic and flee now. If he does, this trip will get quite a bit longer, but fear not, they are quite easy to find once they start running, since their need for blood leaves easy tracks for us to follow. And he’d also be quite weakened…”

 

“So he will probably try to settle this here?”

 

‘These rookie questions are starting to grate on my nerves.’ She hoped that Dawn would not eventually lose his appeal in her eyes. She disliked giving up a chance to tease Claw.

 

“He has a defensive advantage in here. If he flees he is nothing more than an animal on the run. Not that would help him either…Dawn, get something to weld that open. If they are enchanted I’ll try to dispel it…”

 

=================

 

As they opened the gate, another surprise struck them.

 

A flat roofed house in the color of sandstone, two stories tall. Not an uncommon sight in the slightest, after all, the whole city consisted of houses that only varied slightly from this type, mostly by having awnings or various signs identifying them as houses of various merchants, butchers or markets. The emptiness of the town, combined with the moonlight immersing the streets in a faint silver light would have made any normal person uncomfortable.

 

But every single house seemed empty, not even the Dead, Ghouls or Vampires could be seen.

Except for the one before them.

 

Mahmut al-Askari, now a lifeless puppet of El-Nahat, was nailed to the house’s wall with thick iron nails, hammered through his arms, his torso and his legs, and was groaning and panting under pain, his rational mind eliminated due to the vampire’s bite.

 

Above him there was a short scribble in crimson-colored paint. Presumably Mahmut’s own blood:

 

WELCOME #1

 

“You think they got the village?” Claw looked at Narbareck, nervously fumbling around on her strange looking gun. “Why the hell does he know that you are here?”

 

“It does not concern us. The knights can clean that up afterwards. Our target remains El-Nahat.” She casually threw a Black Key at the restrained undead, putting it out of its misery and turning it to ashes.

 

Her voice seemed full of repressed anger. She tried to hold on to her rationality as a commander in field, but she couldn’t. El-Nahat committed an unforgiveable act.

 

The vampire had desecrated this hunt. He expects her. For him, this was not a life-and-death scenario, just a little game to play to quench his immortal boredom.

 

“He…probably did not really get the weight of this situation…” Narbareck tried to calm herself down with slow and steady breathing.

 

“I decided that we will help our brothers and sisters from the chivalric orders a bit. After we disposed of him, we will wipe out every single remaining undead in this city.”

 

“But that takes quite a while, and without a leader they won’t go anywhere anyway…”

 

Narbareck turned around to face Claw, no longer containing her anger.

 

“So you are not motivated enough, huh? How about a little game then? For every single one of them that gets away and killed by the Knights, I’ll break one of your fingers.” She turned around, ignoring Claw’s shocked expression while taking out the compass from before. “He will be in the center, probably in that mosque; judging from his need for the dramatic and the way the city is shaped…cover my back and stay on guard.” She pointed towards a small minaret and pulled out six Black Keys, three for each hand.

 

The two women slowly advanced down a small street, carefully watching their step as they stood back to back. Except for their steps nothing could be heard in the whole city. And Narbareck liked it that way, after all conversation was not something she needed during her hunt. It was unnerving to her, especially when her target would not give her the satisfaction of feeling true fear before her, preferring to play with her. It would just desecrate it further.

 

They arrived at a crossing, still without any sign of any vampire activity.

 

‘Maybe he already went on the run?’ this thought annoyed Narbareck, but it was a distinct possibility.

 

To her left there was a butchery, behind her a small house, probably a family home to her right something that seemed like it was a shop of assorted pottery wares and another one seemed to sell hand-crafted carpets. As far as Narbareck could see in the darkness, most of the wares were still intact, the only sign of destruction being their doors being broken to pieces.

 

A tapping sound disturbed the silence. She saw a small motion on the floor, through the glass front of the butchery. She moved closer, trying to identify what it was that moved.

 

“There is something…”

 

Corpses. On the floor of the butchery there were neatly sorted corpses lying next to each other. Remaining spaces that were too small for an adult were filled with children. Apparently the vampire made sure that he concentrated as much of these corpses in one area as possible. Which would mean this crossing was a trap.

 

“Back! To the middle of the crossing!”

 

Her barking of orders was almost drowned out by the sound of windows and intact doors breaking. In seconds the whole place filled with undead, either bursting out of the houses or climbing over the roofs of the small houses.

 

In the pale moonlight, surrounded by hordes of the undead the leader of the Burial Agency smiled for the first time since entering the lair of the vampire.

 

The prey was showing itself.

 

“Let’s cut a swath through them and run!”

 

“No. They all have to die. Duck.”

 

The red haired woman followed her orders immediately. Almost as if she wanted to perform a pirouette, Narbareck turned on the spot, using the momentum to propel her Black Keys. In the blink of an eye the throwing swords were lodged into six approaching undead skulls, each of them approaching from a different direction. Before they even turned to dust Narbareck already held six new keys in her hands, this time throwing them one by one to push the horde back in front of her.

 

“Full-auto. Let’s go.” Her last orders for this fight were spoken to her companion, who kept her calm even though this mission seemed like suicide.

 

But this trap was only made to tire them out.

 

Due to their limited manpower the Church always responded to threats with an equal amount of force.

 

The knights were soldiers, designated to fight soldiers.

 

Heretics were killed by heretics, the Executors.

 

And against real monsters one would logically send monsters themselves.

 

Among all of the monsters in the Burial Agency, Narbareck reigned supreme.

 

The vampire knew this. He knew that his undead would not stand a chance against them, which meant he was either foolish or desperate. This fact made the hunt worthwhile again in Narbareck’s eyes. It meant that her target would be an entertaining one, since it would not matter what his motivation for this attack was, he would be terrified after she came out of this predicament.

 

Because sending soldiers against a monster would only results in a massacre.

 

In a flash she closed the distance between her and two piles of ash a few meters in front of the butchery, picking up the two Black Keys which laid in them. The undead already formed a half-circle around her, coming out of both buildings mindlessly approaching her guided by their hidden master.  She charged forward in the wave emerging from the butchery of it, cleaving the first undead apart with her swords.

 

It felt wonderful.

 

Behind her the circle slowly closed, but she kept advancing, sticking her blades into the neighbors of her now pulverized opponent, flipping them in her hand and ramming the now reverse grip-held blades into two undead trying to approach from her dead spot out of the pottery.

 

The smile on her face just grew brighter.

 

The circle grew tighter. As she flipped the swords back into regular grip she found that six of the undead were now in arm’s reach of her, and managed to surround her.

 

 With a quick spinning motion she decapitated all of them.

 

She relished every moment of this fight.

 

Now she finally had room to act.

 

=================

 

Meanwhile, Claw held the line in the middle of the crossing ensuring a safe fallback position for Narbareck.

 

Claw’s physical abilities were not up to par with those of her boss, but she received training with small arms before joining the Burial Agency, making her ideal for using various ranged conceptual weapons. The one she carried right now, however, was not one of the scriptures of the church, at least not entirely. It was a composite conceptual weapon, a gift by alchemists to the Church for a small favor. It was optimized for vampire hunting, which meant it should not flash when fired, it should not make a sound, and it should hit beings who are able to dodge bullets.

 

An unsolvable issue for a normal engineer. But for the alchemists of ATLAS it was just another commission.

 

The pulling of the trigger and the zipping of the bullets were the only sounds that the weapon made while Claw fired at the Ghouls that threatened to isolate her from her superior by storming in on her, apparently considering her the more dangerous target.

 

Aiming felt awkward due to the lack of sights mounted on the sleek and strange looking gun. But it was not needed in the first place.

 

Every shot she gave off resulted in a clean headshot.

 

The weapon was a conceptual weapon built from different parts, each having a distinct conceptual effect. The suppressor completely eliminated muzzle flashing and sound with the conceptual effect of “absorption”, every single bullet was blessed with holy water, thus they were able to “purify” demonic or vampiric targets, the loading mechanism prevented jamming from ever occurring unless mishandled and the barrel was imbued with a simple but deadly effect: “tracking”.

 

Vampires could avoid point-based small arms attacks, Claw’s forte, and while using subsonic ammunition this feat was even easier for them. But once the bullet starts tracking them, following them, destined to hit the target unless it lost momentum, the vampire would get in serious trouble, since it meant point-based homing attacks from multiple directions. Even if it was not possible to kill him outright with the bullets, he was forced into a disadvantageous position, making him easy to get finished off by her partner, or even herself with the bayonet or her bandaged trump card.

 

Surprised by the ease in which the weapon made the Ghouls drop she turned around, focusing her fire on an approaching wave of undead, unleashing a precise hail of bullets before quickly changing the magazine. While the masses of the dead were only slowly pressing on, more agile ones climbed the roofs of the four buildings surrounding the pair.

 

‘El-Nahat only has access to a limited number of Ghouls, even if he devoured the whole town, as the incubation time takes too long for a sizeable army, so he tries to increase the pressure…too bad that that won’t work…’ this thought amused Narbareck greatly.

 

The Ghouls kept a small distance from Narbareck, keeping out of her reach to attack simultaneously whenever she impaled a new one with her Black Keys. In fluent motions she threw Black Keys in undead heads and torsos, jumped to her target, pulled them out before they hit the floor and launched the bloodstained sword into an undead vis-à-vis. It seemed almost as if she was juggling the Ghouls, preventing them from even touching her via the means of agile movement and aerial approaches, the smile she had since the start never leaving her now blood-stained face. She would love to see the vampire’s terrified expression as he realized that it was her who was after him, and that he would meet his end as soon as she would find him.

 

 As she made more and more room with her acrobatic killing method she decided that it was time to prevent the climbers from tilting the balance on this battlefield.

 

The two Black Keys hit the floor for the first time since she started the killing circle. Instead she drew six new ones from her robes, with a strange black mark on the side of the hilts to differentiate them from the rest. The usage of such equipment was something she liked to avoid, thinking that the vampire should always fear her, not her equipment, but it couldn’t be helped in this situation.

 

‘I need an elevated position…’ she realized that she had to improvise.

 

She ran up to one of the undead in Claw’s direction, ducked slightly and jumped. She landed with both of her knees next to the Ghoul’s head, who frantically tried to turn his locked head and keep balance at the same time.

 

Ashes to ashes…” the start of a simple incantation left her lips during this process and small amounts of prana started flowing through her circuits.

 

With a forceful turning motion Narbareck broke its neck. Before it could fall over, Narbareck hopped, now more or less placing her feet on the still standing undead. As it keeled over Narbareck jumped with all her might.

 

What Claw saw next would be the most terrifying thing she ever witnessed.

 

Illuminated by the moonlight her partially blood stained hair seemed almost like a halo. The Black Keys in her hands reflected, giving of the impression of angelic wings.

 

In this moment she was nothing but an incarnation of divine wrath. An Angel, ready to eliminate every single one of these vile creatures who defy the will of the Lord.

 

“…dust to dust.”

 

She threw the Black Keys as she reached the peak of her jump, four of them hitting the flat roofs of the buildings surrounding them, two of them hitting the streets to the side of Claw’s position.

 

It did not even take a second for the incantation to take an effect. It was a simple enchantment of the Black Keys, standard in the repertoire of every magecraft-using Executor.

 

The incineration rite.

 

A field of flame erupted on the streets and on the roofs, instantly lighting the undead on fire. Screaming, moaning and cracking sounds filled the now illuminated streets. The attacking Ghouls were simply decimated without any chance of retaliation.

 

The everlasting smile on her face, she now ran to Claw, both of them standing back to back again.

 With their ranks thinned they now only had two ways from which they could attack, each covered by one Burial Agent. An assault with weak undead would be futile.

 

Narbareck simply could no longer contain her joy, a strangely girlish giggling escaping her lips.

 

=================

 

Individual undead attacked them on their way, probably sent out to track their position, not to harm them. The two agents steadily moved forward, finally arriving at the center of the small city and the presumed location of the Dead Apostle Ancestor, El-Nahat, a simple looking beige mosque.

 

As they stepped into the courtyard the stench of rotting bodies became more and more intense. The fountain in the middle of it was filled with reddish water, presumably from the decapitated corpse swimming in it. Several body parts were strewn across the floor, most of them relatively fresh looking.

 

“Looks like we were right…” said Claw as they both advanced towards the main entrance.

 

Inside the main hall the situation looked equally grim. Arms, legs and entrails were scattered everywhere. The supporting pillars and walls were smeared in blood. Some of the victims on the floor seemed to writhe in agony, still alive after being rid of essential body parts. Moaning and screams were filling the hall, defiling the sacred place.

 

And atop the minbar stood a man with a slender physique and pitch black hair, reaching his shoulders in a slightly wavy fashion, holding a small cup filled with red liquid. He was dressed in a fashionable suit, though he wore no tie and his shirt was unbuttoned at the top, giving off a casual aura unusual for a Dead Apostle Ancestor.

 

“Don’t be afraid, it’s not blood. I would not receive visitors on an empty stomach…”

 

Narbareck gave Claw a sign to lower her weapon. With a confused expression she followed her orders.

 

“I presume you know who I am, number twenty-four?” Narbarecks words were filled with disdain for the casual attitude of the vampire.

 

“Oh, I do, number one. And this charming woman must be number two?” he took another sip from his cup. “This number business does not really feel personal, doesn’t it?” He dropped his cup, jumping down the pulpit.

 

“Greetings, my name is El-Nahat. Did you have a pleasant journey, agents?” the man seemed incredibly entertained by his guests.

 

“It was most pleasant indeed. Greetings to you too, El-Nahat. My name is Narbareck, this is Claw, and we have a message from the Church…” Narbareck played his little game despite being visibly annoyed at the vampire not taking this seriously.

 

“To be honest, after doing this…” he moved his hand in a waving gesture “I’d rather have the Church find me than some Islamic order. They are learning from your little club, and with the local association trying to track me down it is hard to relax around here…” The vampire stretched his arms to illustrate his point.

 

“Well, this is the good part of our message. I quote:” Narbareck cleared her throat. “’The Dead Apostle Ancestor Number twenty four, El-Nahat, is to be sealed under any circumstances by the order of his holiness the Pope through his representative the Cardinal of…’ yadda yadda, you know how much they love their titles the higher they get…’and to be taken to the Vatican for further analysis, study and eventual extermination. Should this be impossible and the Dead Apostle Ancestor threatens to get away, execution is a preferred method, but disciplinary measures have to be taken. This also applies if the vampire escapes.’ Have no fear; they won’t get their hands on you in any case! So, I guess we had enough chatting for today? I am sure they’d let me talk to you once they have you on the operating table and try to get something worthwhile out of you, so you don’t have to be afraid.”

 

“Oh, that sounds unpleasant…” in an instant his eyes turned red and his hands took the form of hideous claws. “…let us hope that it won’t happen then?”

 

Claw tried to raise her weapon and fire at the Dead Apostle Ancestor, but he neutralized her attempts with a single word.

 

Naīr“

 

Her eyes turned completely black. It was a curse that was simple to shrug off for any magecraft user, unfortunately for Claw she was not one of them. At the same time the vampire’s irises took a darker shade of red. Apparently he was affected to some degree, though his magecraft experience allowed him to mitigate the effect.

 

“I can’t see shit!” screamed Claw in frustration pointing her rifle to the floor while slowly trying to find something to hold on to with her other hand.

 

For Narbareck this meant an exciting fight versus an interesting opponent without any intrusions.

 

Perfect.

 

She pulled two Black Keys out of her robes, this time a green marking was on the side of the hilt. These were imbued with a simple effect: they would dry the victim out when stabbed and left in the wound, making sealing easy without killing it outright. The effect had to be relatively weak, or it would turn the target to dust.

 

She charged towards him with incredible speed, but contrary to the Ghouls she had to fight before the man she was up against now would be able to react accordingly. He did not sidestep her, but instead tried slashing her face with his claws. Narbareck could almost feel them scarring her as she managed to pull her head back in the last moment. She retaliated by trying to stab the vampire stomach, an attack that was rendered ineffective by the vampire stepping to the side, carefully avoiding stepping on a cut off arm, resulting only in the infliction of a small cut.

 

‘Why is he so slow?’ she could feel the frustration welling up inside of her.

 

El-Nahat took jumped backwards, trying to circle Narbareck and attack from behind, but she could easily keep up with his speed, closing the gap between them once again. She feinted an attack with her right Black Key to his neck. As the man dodged slightly she delivered a powerful kick right to his stomach, smashing him into the blood smeared wall behind him.

Her blind companion asked in shock “Are you alright, Narbareck?”

 

She was annoyed beyond measure, her smile having vanished and being replaced by a furious expression.

 

Why didn’t he give her her fight? Why didn’t he use bounded fields, reality marbles, rare conceptual equipment, long forgotten spells or the physical power that could be expected from a Dead Apostle Ancestor? Why did he mock her?

 

If he insisted on provoking her, then it was only natural for her to respond. As he readied both of his hands for a cross slash with his claws, probably to force her to jump back, Narbareck casually turned her outwards facing Black Keys so that the tips faced each other, cutting off both of the vampire’s hands. The vampire, still not realizing what had happened, continued to swing his stumps while she impaled his two hands in midair. With another swift motion she threw the Black Keys to the side where they stuck to the walls, the hands slowly drying out.

 

She grabbed one of the vampire’s stumps at the elbow with her left hand while simultaneously raising her right knee to draw a big military-grade knife out of her boot. As she smashed his arm against the wall behind him, she plunged the knife in her right arm through his bones, nailing him to the wall.

 

Panicking, the man tried to kick her while trying to loosen the knife by shaking and pulling on his arm. But Narbareck just took a step back, this time taking a knife out of her left boot into her right hand, moved to the left of the vampire and just casually stabbed through his arm again, immobilizing him completely.

 

His utterly frightened expression may have brought joy to her if he had not already desecrated her beloved hunt with his various antics.

 

“Worthless…” with a disgusted expression she pulled a new Black Key out of her robe, without any special markings. It would kill him for sure. His answer completely puzzled her:

 

Peace be upon you.

 

Suddenly she felt something rattling in a small compartment in her robe.

 

It was the compass. It reacted to something even she could feel. The vampire channeled massive amounts of prana.

 

It was another trap. And she walked right into it.

 

As fast as she could she dropped her Key and grabbed the rosary dangling down her neck between her hands.

 

‘Lord, protect me.’ Prayed the girl silently.

 

A golden aura enveloped her.

 

A deafening blast filled the room.

 

Hit by a very strong wave of pressure Narbareck was smashed through the wall on the other side of the exploded vampire. The protection the Scripture gave was strong enough to ward her from the shockwave, but as she hit the wall before it was blown apart it was already too weak to protect her completely from the hard impact on the already brittle wall.

 

She tried to sit up, trying to ignore the sharp pain she felt all over her body. Her left arm and shoulder were damaged the most, due to them being the first body parts to touch the wall. Looking at her forearm, she only now noticed that it had a slight bend in the middle of it. Apparently it broke. Her shoulder didn’t feel particularly good either but other than a severe bruise it was nothing to worry about.

 

Right now she had to grit her teeth and confirm the kill.

 

“Narbareck! You’re alive!” she could hear Claw shouting from somewhere. She must have forgotten her during the heat of the battle. It was a miracle that she survived the blast. She must have managed to get to the courtyard despite curse-inflicted blindness, a curse that wore off once the target was dead.

 

But still, Narbareck wanted to make sure. She had a hunch that there must have been some oversight, a little detail that she forgot. Even if his identity was confirmed by the usage of his presumed signature technique, she just felt that there was something wrong.

 

As she arrived at the rubble that was a wall just minutes ago she found pieces of the suit the black haired man had worn. Identifying him from body parts would have been a tedious task due to the abundance of them in the ruins, but she had to find something, after all El-Nahat somehow always managed to survive his suicide attacks.

 

What she found was more like red goo than anything even resembling intact body parts. There was not the slightest sign of regeneration in the body. Seeing that it was full moon it made the whole situation even weirder.

 

“Hah, we got him, great!” Claw had a winning smile on her face as she patted her superior on the intact shoulder.

 

Narbareck tried to piece this incident together, despite being slightly nauseous from the pain.

 

How did this weak vampire manage to kill five trained Executors?

 

Why would he even be on the list of Dead Apostle Ancestors, the elite of the elite?

 

At that moment she noticed a strange detail. The safety on Claw’s rifle was still off.

 

Just a small hunch. Narbareck stealthily procured a Black Key hilt from her robes, holding her hand behind her robes, filling it with prana.

 

“Hey Claw…what’s your first name?” Narbareck asked, sounding like she was honestly curious.

 

“Claire, didn’t you know that?”

 

With a swift motion she cleaved the rifle in half with the Black Key.

 

“What is wrong with you? You could have killed me!” shouted Claw, fear filling her expression.

 

Your god-damned name is not Claire, El-Nahat.”

 

It finally hit her.

 

The strange departure of their Exorcist colleague.

 

El-Nahat knowing of their arrival.

 

The Ghouls focusing their effort on her during the trap.

 

The weakness of the Dead Apostle Ancestor.

 

It was not a Dead Apostle Ancestor. It was just a regular vampire, a subordinate of the real El-Nahat, the “girl” that stood before her. He must have disposed of her as she was talking to her as “Mahmut” the real one probably killed before they even arrived, then taking her appearance. Unfortunately for “Mahmut” Claw would never give out her real name in casual conversation.

 

Claw smiled upon this accusation, and then suddenly seemed to disappear into thin air, though she could still see signs of his footsteps on the rubble.

 

Shapeshifting was a skill that was not unheard of, but it was mostly a long and tedious process, not really effective for such operations unless one were incredibly skilled at it. Especially with the curse of time restoration affecting one, the alteration of one’s physical body, removing its appearance further of the image of the soul via magical means took time, and it would have used higher amounts of prana she would have sensed. Hypnosis, to convince someone that one was in fact another person would be ineffective on her and a lot of Church members.

 

His trick was a lot simpler. He manipulated light itself, making the eye see what it’s not supposed to see, deceiving even those resistant to hypnosis, a trick that he used to turn himself invisible just now, a trick that would even offer protection against sunlight to some extent. A simple enchantment to alter ones voice on top of this, and one could pass for everyone, as long as one would avoid touch.

This entire time she was fooled. She ran into trap after trap, doing exactly what the old vampire wanted her to do. But the last step was averted.

 

This day would not be her last. But it would be El-Nahat’s last day as a free man.

 

With her leg slightly limping, she went towards the traces the vampire left. Like a fencer she used the key in her hand, trying to precisely stab where she presumed the shoulder of the vampire.

 

Effortlessly the invisible vampire knocked the weapon out of her hand before it could reach him. With incredible speed he tried to scratch her throat with his claws, but Narbareck did not have to rely on sight to evade this attack, ducking under it and punching the vampire with full force in the presumed location of his nose. She felt resistance and blood on her hand.

 

If she were in a better condition his skull would have been smashed by this blow. The man tried to create some space between them by taking quick backward steps, his position now given away by small blood droplets hitting the floor, ceasing after a second.

 

“It does not make a difference anyway, Ancestor. Show yourself.” Her voice was full of wrath at the scheming vampire.

 

“Very well.” A deep, booming voice answered, sounding like it would belong to a very old sage. ‘Apparently there is still some pride left in the man’ thought Narbareck as he revealed himself.

 

In front of her appeared a man with white hair, a dark brown skin tone, a clean shaven face, wearing a dark red one piece robe, covering his entire body, on the front there were a few buttons holding together the piece of clothing, making it seem more like a cloak than a robe if it were not for the thin material. Underneath it he wore a pair of black pants and simple leather shoes and for some reason no shirt. His mouth was covered by a black piece of cloth.

 

‘There was no enchantment for the voice…just a cheap mystic code…’ the thought of getting outsmarted by a piece of cloth nearly drove her insane. 

 

Together with his crimson red eyes and claws at his hands the man gave off an incredible aura of danger. He was, without a doubt, a Dead Apostle Ancestor.

 

“Why my subordinates did not manage to dispose of you pest is beyond me…” Disappointment was written all over his face. He did not intend to fight the Executor by himself. “Come, hunter. Let us finish this.”

 

Her mind focused on one single task. Killing the vampire. It did not matter to her if the church would penalize her for this. She just wanted the one who humiliated her to die. Her body seemed to demand that her consciousness would finally give in, to rest after the damage it sustained, but her mind kept it running on the pure contempt she felt for the being before her.

 

With empty hands she charged towards the vampire.

 

A grave mistake.

 

As she closed in on him she was suddenly blinded by incredibly bright light, coming from the vampire’s body. He used her disorientation to his advantage, uttering a single word.

 

Tābit“

 

Her movements were halted on the spot, what hit her was an easily breakable curse of immobilization. She activated her circuits, flushing the malignant prana out of her as fast as she could, even a second of standstill could mean her death in this battle after all.

 

Suddenly Narbareck felt little droplets of blood hitting her face. Nothing could prepare her for what she saw when she regained her sight.

 

The upper body of the vampire seemed as if it was burst open, revealing his innards, but there was something clearly wrong with his stomach.

 

It seemed to be open. And it seemed to rapidly expand, strangely reminding her of a parachute. Towards her, who still could not move freely. The strange mass of flesh was now centimeters before her, and she was able to peer inside.

 

Inside his own body, the Dead Apostle Ancestor El-Nahat had a permanently running reality marble, undisturbed by the world’s order. She had heard before of another vampire accomplishing this, number ten of the twenty seven. But his reality marble, Alien Stomach World, operated on another principle.

 

It seemed like a desert in which strangely murky rain seemed to fall, causing damping whenever a droplet hit the sand.

 

A simple concept was behind it. Everyone and everything that would be trapped inside would suffer from conceptual “digestion”. No matter how indestructible, how undefeatable and how flawless a piece of creation was once it entered this realm it would eventually die, given time.

 

And time was a commodity vampires had in abundance.

 

This would mean her death. She still was not freed from the curse, and in a second she would be enveloped in it, dying an agonizing death without a chance of escaping the otherworldly dimension.

 

But this was not what angered her the most. It was that even at the end of all this, the vampire once again managed to one-up her, to deceive and trick her, and make her beloved hunt a farce.

 

With anger in her heart Narbareck closed her eyes for the last time.

 

Then she heard something unexpected.

 

Gunshots. Not coordinated, not from a great distance, just a man frantically pulling a trigger without the slightest clue on what he was doing, hoping to hit the target.

 

Dawn had arrived.

 

The semiautomatic pistol managed to transmit enough energy to the target to make it fall over to the side, thus throwing off the “aim” of the rapidly expanding organ, which rapidly contract inside of the vampire again, having found nothing to devour.

 

Narbareck was finally free to move. It was over.

 

The Burial Agency had managed to once again finish off a Dead Apostle Ancestor.

 

“Get a coffin for that despicable creature, Dawn…”

 

=================

 

“He killed himself, ma’am. I was just shooting a corpse.” Dawn shrugged, taking place on the driver seat of the gigantic truck, turning the key in the lock.

 

“Drop the ma’am Dawn, we had that already. Also he is still alive.” Answered Narbareck, her arm wrapped crudely in some bandages with a splint. Dawn attempted to change the topic from his breach of pacifism.

 

“I can’t believe that she died…it seems impossible that such a capable and fearsome warrior can get murdered just like that by one of our enemies…”

 

“She was always prepared to find her end in combat. Before she became an associate of mine she was a GIGN, but then demonic possession struck the poor girl. I guess it was because of all the stress she experienced during training and deployment?” Narbareck did not seem to care if Dawn was listening or not, staring out of the window with a slightly distracted look in her eyes. “An exorcism was performed, but they just didn’t manage to get that thing out of her, so it incarnated in her arm, consuming the soul of the priest who tried to get it out. So we manage to seal it and make her work for us, after all the only alternative was death…”

 

“Our deployment is not always like this I presume?” serious concern was in his voice.

 

Intrigued she looked at him. “What do you mean?”

 

“Going up against beings that manage to bring even our best people down without much effort. That should not happen every time, right?” gripping the steering wheel with one hand he turned the CD radio on, though switching the volume very low to not disturb the conversation.

 

“Who knows…?”

 

“At least we are not deployed that often, right ma’am?” asked Dawn, the concern in his voice seeming almost atypical for the priest.

 

He did not receive an answer to his question. Instead Narbareck just turned the volume of the track up. Maybe it was an answer in itself when she started humming the song in a low volume as she closed her eyes.

 

Ooh, see the fire is sweepin'
Our very street today
Burns like a red coal carpet
Mad bull lost its way

War, children, it's just a shot away
It's just a shot away“
 

 

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