Creeping Death

Humanity brought with them new ideas, beliefs, and culture as they rose to be a spacefaring species. The worlds they settled, before coming into contact with the Galactic Community, mirrored the urban and rural settings of Earth with all sights of antiquity. Sprawling cityscapes being surrounded by a suburban population base, being the most common, a colony founded upon an archipelago, using waterways as its main source of transportation. Many thought of conflict as wasteful with so much potential for growth and peace reigned, for a time.

Then these buildings were brought down on the day of submission. Deemed wasteful as humanity no longer needed to worship false gods and admire inferior art and décor. Nothing mattered except the harsh march towards assimilation, to think what they think and love what they love.

Hub cities became bland and uniform. Every building serves a necessary process to keep the city running, devoid of any human influence. Soon its founding species would see itself as a minority.

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Death spied from above inside the belfry. The people of the town gathered together outside the doors to the church, praising their leader for capturing Strife. Now it was confirmed, everyone must die. He checks his pistol and knife again, feeling a bit under armed to perform this task, it might take him a while to complete it.

Up above them, in the shadow of the belfry, the boy plans. His eyes piercing through the darkness that shrouded his presence from the mob below. He was prepared to strike at a moment's notice but Strife had called him off and another plan of attack was decided, inside the church.

He felt foolish. The quiet town, the peeking eyes, and no signs of any activity. The entire town was the target and they fell right into their trap. No excuses could justify his carelessness, especially after he swore he would take this slower and not screw up. Now that things were escalating poorly, he breathed in deeply to center himself and prepared to infiltrate. So he watched them escort her inside, and the crowd stayed. The chanting of "Crucifix!" didn't bode well in his mind, it sounded like a form of execution. This would need to be fast and silent, one mistake and the crowd might rush inside.

First step was to get inside, so he slid down the ladder that led up to the belfry and took out his knife. As soon as he drew the knife a wretched, rotting, odor violated his senses. It was a familiar scent, something he grew accustomed too on the battlefield. Then he noticed the men guarding the upper floors. What could pass as soldiers made this place their base, it was easy to see with weapons leaning up against the walls on the second floor.

His wound ached, the bandages felt damp, and he was sure it opened during his movements around town, but he didn't have the time to check. He could still move, and he can still fight. Assault carbines, heavy explosive ordnance, crates of ammunition, and whatever they have smuggled into their town made their armory a very vulnerable target for him, especially with the sad excuses for soldiers they had. Men and women equipped with bare basic flak jackets, olive green helmets from the early years of human colonization, and absolutely no discipline. Each one he saw lazed around as he listened to Strife being dragged inside, despite knowing there was a second infiltrator somewhere in their village. They were prey unworthy of his skills, but he would have to make an exception.

As Death snuck through the shadows of the upper level, the railings let him look down below and he could see the priest walk towards his podium. Lighting below was dim and had shadows in the areas the group were not standing guard but you could see everyone in plain view, but perhaps not someone who knew how to remain hidden. Behind it were boards nailed into crosses, with some of them having bodies nailed to them by their hands and feet. Four of them looked to be mercenaries, probably with contracts to complete this job before them, they were already long dead. He guesses this is where the odor was coming from. Then a body in the center, an alien with a long neck and beak, with short blue feathers all down its bloodied body. A Tycian, from the looks of it a prepubescent. Its body had puncture wounds all along its abdomen, now dried seeing nothing dripping from it.

"Now my lost child, tell me where the other one is." The priest's voice can be heard from the second floor as it echoes around the building.

In front of Death was a single soldier, looking down at the performance below, with his gun leaning on the railing.

"What other one?" Strife answers back before a loud crack silences her.

Death didn't see it, but he knew they struck her for lying. He worked faster as he snuck behind, jumped up, and wrapped his legs around his abdomen before he sunk his knife into the soldier's lower jaw and up into his skull. The man didn't make a sound as Death helped him to the ground. Setting his foot on the railing and holding the man by his embedded knife, slowly dropping him down as he let himself down from the railing.

"We know there is one more skulking around our fair town. He came before you and vanished. We want you to tell him to surrender, and we will show you God's mercy." His arrogance over a decisive victory oozed from his words.

Death moved along the rest of the floor, staying out of the light with only a fierce hunter's gaze shining from the occasional glimmer from below.

"Who? I was being paid to come find some guy's kid, maybe-" Another crack for lying. 

Death found two more soldiers, one with his gun leaning over and a woman sitting against the railing. She laughed as the people below beat on Strife, for a second, and stopped shortly with a knife embedded in her forehead. The other soldier barely had a chance to look before Death had jumped on his shoulders and twisted his neck, and fell with a quiet thud.

"God does not give his favor to the liars of his flock! Tell me child, to whom do you serve? Man or the Beast!" His overly dramatic speech seemed like a signal towards a finale, the man can't hear the quiet dragging of bodies over his own voice. 

However three other soldiers seemed to have heard the sound from Death's latest kills and moved around the corner to investigate. The boy was out of sight before they found the bodies.

The man in front opened his mouth to a radio and stopped as two more thuds from behind startled him. He swung his gun around to find his friends on the ground and bleeding, with their skulls cracked open. The assailant was nowhere to be seen and he went for his radio again, before a hand grabbed it and shoved it into his mouth. He gargled something towards the demon child in front of him before being silenced by an elbow crushing his nose inwards.

"Ok fine, you have a bounty on you and I came to collect. That person you saw is my competition. I couldn't tell you where he was even if I knew." There wasn't another strike against her. Death had slinked away into the darkness again, dragging the body of the man whose nose had been caved in. The man whimpered as the little demon took him away.

"You see child, the truth doesn't hurt, for it shall set you free. Like the ones that came before you, you shall be freed from your sins!" The priest boasted over his trophies behind him. Gesturing grandly towards the bodies nailed to the crosses. Just as he waved his hand over to the corpse of the young Tycian the body of the man that had been taken was thrown from the railing above, a rope snapping his neck, with the words "Death" etched into his forehead. His expression was one of pain and terror with the radio still stuffed into his mouth.

The scare was enough to distract the priest and the five men that came in with him, it was even enough to shock Strife into silence. hey stood gawking at the man who hung silently over them, with a drip of blood about to drop from his chin.

Then Death jumped, mimicking the avian of this world as he swoops down on his prey. He fell, twisted himself midair to fall backwards, and down on the man furthest away from the podium, landing with his hand pulling his hair back and a knee on the back of his neck, snapping it instantly. Death threw his knife and sliced open the second man's neck on the right. The dead soldier gurgled before hitting the floor and everyone looked back to find nothing and the drip of blood finally hit the floor.

"What is this!? Fan out! Look for the beast!" The priest kept his cool but could feel a cold sweat build up as he bellowed orders. The three remaining men were on high alert now. Chanting for the "Crucifix" outside deafened the crowd to the priests shouting. The remaining soldiers could see their fallen companions from the aisles between the two sections of pews, a look of surprise and fright frozen on their faces. They took their time searching each section with flashlights illuminating empty seats.

Death waited for them to reach his aisle and vanished beneath the seats. All the while Strife sat, sweating bullets, and stared straight at the priest, who wasn't as composed as her. He gripped the podium and started hyperventilating as his men searched. Just then a dark shadow darted past behind the priest with little footsteps causing the priest to panic and knocked his podium over to run away, screaming.

"It's here! The beast is here!" He pointed towards the place the shadow ran too but saw nothing. Even Strife had started to feel unnerved by this. She thought about her plan to kill him and felt stupid, he would have destroyed her ten times over in a fight of stealth even with an injured arm. The only time she could spot him was when he wanted to be seen or heard.

The soldiers ran forward to find the unknown attacker and narrowed their search to the corner nearest to the podiums right. One had walked in between two sets of pews and stood as over watch while the other two moved around and forward.

Nerves were fraying in all of them, as Death made his move from under the pew next to the one that stayed behind and broke the man's leg, the other two swung around and riddled the soldier's body with bullets as the man yelled out in pain. The chanting outside started to quiet down as gunfire rang out.

No one made a sound. The pitter patter of footsteps echoed around them as Death weaved under each of the pews in search of his knife. Eyes darted all around the darkened church, trying to follow the sounds of the tiny footsteps. Each step sounding closer and closer to everyone, like a devil dancing to the tune of destruction. Then the footsteps stopped but no one dared to move. They stood, stock still, where they were for what seemed to be forever, eyes darting back and forth looking for the assassin. No one could find him, except for Strife.

A gentle hand touched her back. The cold chill of the reaper was upon her. Goosebumps grew on her skin as her breath was stolen away. The boy was behind her. She felt the knife's cold edge near her arm before they cut her restraints and the steel of a gun was placed in her hands. "Wait." A faint airy whisper from behind sent a chill through her soul, but brought her courage back. He is on her side, even after their horrible first impression, and she could fight back but not now, she had to wait, the boy would signal her somehow. The faint sounds of his breathing disappearing told her he was gone.

"Bring the others inside! We will find him with numbers and kill the girl!" Crowley ordered in an almost hysteric panic. Strife wanted to attack right there, her nerves were about to break and she could feel herself jerk her hand up to start shooting but in this moment, where a desperate situation was turned on its head, she needed to see what else this kid could do.

The two remaining soldiers were reluctant to move forward at first. They turned their heads to each other, both gulping down their fear and summoning up what remaining courage that hadn't been taken away, and stepped slowly to the church's entrance. They walked past Strife, still thinking she is tied up, and never give her a second glance with their attention completely on the shadows of the room. She held her breath and waited for some sort of signal. The two soldiers were too far apart for a single hunter to kill together, at least without alerting the other and people outside.

They were almost to the door. One reached for its handle and a knife pierced it into place. A scream was stifled by the boy's tiny hand, before his head twisted backwards. It happened fast, too fast for the second soldier to respond in time before Strife had made her shot.

She only had a second to turn and shoot, but she wasn't a part of an elite mercenary company for no reason. A single bullet shot and the man dropped. All that was left was the priest.

The holy man had scrambled back against the wall, underneath the dead alien's crucified body. He was speechless, all of his men had been killed by these two demons, in human flesh.

"Unbelievable." He mumbles, trembling in his robes. "Why do you fight for the Beast? Why do you forsake your own kin?" Strife stands, brushes herself off, and whips her hair back to get it out of her face. Death steps out of the shadows, covered in blood on the front of his already dirty clothes, to stand at her side and stare the priest down. She looks at the man and takes aim.

"It pays." Then she fires and delivers the coup-de-grace. Father Crowley slumps down against the wall dead, along with all of his followers inside this sullied holy building. Strife takes a deep breath, relieved that they were able to get the leader so quickly. Her happy moment is abruptly interrupted by loud bangs at the church's door. The mob outside has had enough and wants in to see what was happening.

"Come in Famine! We need support now!" Strife yells over her collar radio. She checks her bullet count and backs away from the door while keeping a line of fire on it. Death grabs her by her arm and pulls her towards a staircase leading up. The radio crackles before coming back on, with the familiar voice of her sister, as they run up the steps.

"I hear you, who needs to be shot?" The background noise of a machine moving whirs. Strife snatches her arm away from the boy and runs alongside him, up to the second floor.

"It's the whole town! Bring down everything except the church, we're inside the church!" Death takes a sharp turn to the left when they reach the top. As Strife hits the corner too she can see why he brought her up there to hold the tide of angry pious followers.

"Got it. One landing pad coming right up." Famine takes this as business as usual, to an annoying degree by Strife's current standards. War seemed to know how to get them the worst jobs under the shittiest conditions, and her sister just seemed jaded to it.

Death was just able to put one of the heavy machine guns in place to cover the door from the opposite end and Strife moved three ammunition boxes next to him and a crate for him to stand on before the door was barged open.

The people had rushed in, paused to see their priest dead against the opposite end of the room, and roared in fury before the gun opened up on them. .50 Caliber bullets trailed up through the crowd, rendering them into red mist and chunks, until it reached the door. He kept up burst shots to hold them outside and conserve his own bullets. Strife found some of the more explosive weapons, and hurried to bring more firepower to the front. The one shot rockets flew out of the church's doors and splashed into the crowd outside before they dispersed in a panic. Then the first shot came from outside and the sounds of wood exploding and splintering accompanied more screams.

This battle was as good as won. No one dared to enter the church now and a M.A.S. was now tearing down their lives from long distances with a heavy rifle, all that was left was to wait while Famine did clean up.

Strife kept her eyes on the door and laughed. She thought she was dead for sure when she was caught, but somehow she is still here. The boy next to her proved he wasn't a complete waste of space, even with a bum arm.

Heavy sniper shots boomed in a quick rhythm as more screams rang out. Death could feel a wet feeling come from his wounded arm and the world was getting blurry. He leaned on the heavy machine gun and focused on his job. The vibrations of recoil faded away as the world came out of focus. Death's body slowly falling forward caught Strife's attention. Turning to look, she could see the front of the boy's clothes stained in an alarming amount of red. She watched as he started to fall off the gun and caught him before hitting the ground.

"Whoa there, kid! How'd you get hit?" She opened his robes and saw the bandages on his arms soaked in blood. His wound had reopened some time ago, he must have been hiding it until now. "Dumbass! I told you to stay on the ship!"

Sniper fire got closer and closer. A rhythm like a heartbeat, two quick shots tearing down the foundations of the homes around them and then another. To Death they seemed to be far away, echoes of a war he called home. The memories of the bloodstained dirt flood his mind. Men shouting in the distance, their words just as garbled as last time.

He could barely make out who was leaning over him. Her voice lost in the distance but familiar. His hand was heavy but he could reach her, she was warm. She shouts something but he can't hear it.

Siren. Words could not escape his lips as he mouths her name and darkness closes in. Her voice grows more and more distant, until it's gone.

They told him that he would feel cold when he died but he is not cold. There would be nothing but darkness but he dreamt.

He was back in his concrete cell. A blanket covered him as he sat in Siren's lap during a special morning that he remembers fondly. It was like this for a long time, they would keep each other warm like this for as long as they knew each other. Next he remembers the doors unlocking with a loud buzz, but nothing happens. Nobody says anything, only a low gentle hum of the familiar tune to celebrate a day she thought was special to him. She used to call it a birthday.

It was warm, comforting. He wished it would last forever, but he had things to do.