Definitions
Shin’ai Agency - An agency originally introduced in Battle Moon Wars. Its agents use a higher amount of technology compared to the Magus Association or the Church. Although headquartered in Japan, their agents travel internationally to pursue threats that may have fled the country's’ borders.
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The door from the inn rammed open and a man, barely past his twenties, barreled into the dark alley. The man tripped and stumbled into the soft snow on the ground; leaving red blotches on the canvass of white. On his back he wore a deep dark blue coat with an ornate embroidery of silver that made a cross.
Panting in fear, he glanced at the door behind before forcing himself up once more. Bright crimson flowed flowed through his fingers as his left hand tried to stem the blood that leaked from the hole in his steel breastplate. In his other hand was clutched a fine longsword, blood still fresh from another kill. He hobbled forwards despite the pain; the fear of what was behind him propelled him forward. Forcing himself step by step forward, he stuttered through the near knee deep snow.
Inhuman shrieks emanated from the building he’d just left and echoed into the pitch black night sky. He turned a corner which he hope led to the streets and nearly screamed, only stopped from the fact that he knew anymore noise would attract more of the things. He collapsed to the ground.
In front of him, between him and the open streets, stood an unsettling beauty. Clad in only moonlight and air, the naked blonde’s ruby red eyes stared transfixed upon him. His entire body stood frozen in fear at the creature before him. Steam rose from her body and a shiny sheen of slime seemed to cover her entire body. She lifted her arm towards him, as if to pick him up from the ground.
“Join us, Conner,” came a voice from the wind. Although the woman’s mouth hadn’t moved, he knew the woman had spoken. A chill of fear shot up his spine.
He could feel his heart hammering out of control. Despite the hell that might have lay behind him, he gladly scrambled backwards into the darkness. Whatever this thing was, he knew deep inside him that his soul would be damned if he stayed there.
“Join us...”
With everything he had left, he ran. His heart felt as if it would fail and his feet and arms burned in pain from the near constant run but he kept running.
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Prologue: The Meet
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The old wooden door creaked open and winter’s chill once again permeated the warm interior of the bar. Two cloaked figures entered from the door, their hoods drawn up and close around their head to protect against the bitter chill. Looking through the door, one could see the winter landscape behind them with white covering every single exposed surface; the snow piling several feet high. The door finally closed, and the bar patrons breathed a quiet sigh of relief from the cold.
The bar wasn’t particularly full tonight, most likely due to the storm warnings that were currently blaring from the old CRT TVs that hung from the walls. Old green and red checkerboard windows lined the building’s sides and offered a reprieve of sunlight to add to the building’s dim lighting. The bald bartender simply gave his new arrivals a silent nod before returning to washing the mugs in the nearby sink. One of the cloaked figures stepped forward and motioned for her other companion to follow. She had found their target.
Their cloaks swung low and dragged against the old oak flooring. Several of the bar patrons looked up to admire the ornate crosses embroidered upon the back of their cloaks. Even as they walked, the snow that accumulated on the tops of their shoulders and hood began to melt within the inn’s warmer atmosphere.
The pair approached one of the tables with a lone figure nursing a drink while looking idly reading a novel. Unlike the other locals that sat dispersed amongst the bar’s stools or tables, this individual only wore a thin polyester winter jacket. Adequate for winters closer to the equator but a death sentence in a city this far North. Even in this lighting anyone could tell he wasn’t one of the locals from the area. Underneath the coal black jacket she saw a tie and the start of a business suit collar.
“Agent McNab?” said the group leader.
“The name does sound familiar,” said the man. The dark haired man took off the pair of shades he had been wearing and his brown eyes stared back towards her, “Knight Stridberg?”
The woman pulled back her hood, revealing her young face with her catching long grey hair pulled back in a ponytail. Curiously, two locks of her shale grey hair had eluded her hair band and sprung from the top of her head like two antennas. McNab could easily tell she was young for this mission; twenty years old if even that. It was almost unheard of for a knight this young to be commanding her own squad. Whether it was from merit or nepotism, he’d have to wait and see.
Tossing the novel to the side, the Shin’ai agent rose to his feet before offering a hand to Riesbyfe, “The Agency appreciates the Church’s continued cooperation with this matter.”
“The feeling is mutual,” replied Riesbyfe as she took his hand and gave a firm shake. McNab felt the calluses on the knight’s hand; most likely a result from repeated practice and drill with her melee weapon. Her rough hands weren’t ones that were made from shuffling papers and pushing pencils behind a desk. Perhaps her promotion was actually from merit...
He waited for the pair to seat themselves before saying, “I must say, Shin’ai intel should update their information on you next time. Our intelligence photos on you aren’t nearly as flattering as meeting you in person, Riesbyfe.”
It was nearly unnoticeable but the knight’s cheeks tinged a slight crimson even as her companion gave a muffled chuckle from behind. The smaller hooded figure revealed a grin past the shadows covering her face.
Far from being a simple compliment, it was a way to gauge the knight’s personality. He had worked with the Church under different circumstances before. Their men and women were as varied as the countries the Church inhabited. If he was going to be working with these people then he wanted to know what they were like.
Riesbyfe’s companion spoke up, causing both of them to turn towards her, “Watch yourself, Agent McNab. I will not allow an uncouth commoner like you address Sister Stridberg as such.”
The agent raised an eyebrow in curiosity at the formerly silent companion, “and you would be, Ma’am?”
The petite girl pulled back her hood to reveal a freckled face framed at the top with long crimson hair that flowed past her shoulder blades and behind her back. From what he could tell of the petite girl, she seemed about the same age as Riesbyfe. Her green eyes narrowed against McNab as she willed the Agent towards self-combustion.
“I am Knight Linnel of the Assembly of the 8th Sacrament. And in the future, you will address the sister as Knight-Lieutenant Stridberg,” said Linnel.
“Lin, please,” said Riesbyfe with a cheerful smile, “I don’t mind compliments. Especially when they’re true. Keep talking, McNab. Tell us what has happened in DuPont so far. Where are Knights Rimes and MacReady?” The senior knight’s relaxed reaction, however, only seemed to infuriate Linnel even further.
McNab normally neutral expression changed to worry as his mind returned to the topic at hand. He brought out and opened a briefcase from underneath the table, revealing several folders. On top of the pile was a single picture of the Dead Apostle they had been hunting. The man’s face was gaunt and pale with his razor sharp fangs bared and metal rending claws at the ready. Dreemus, the most recent Dead Apostle to escape from the Church and Shin’ai. The Dead Apostle had eluded the closing noose both organisations had set in Japan and had escaped north west to a little town in the north.
“The main reason we’re even here is due to the reports of increased Dead Apostle activity in the town of DuPont. It includes the usual reports: friends and family gone missing, reports of paranormal activity, the Dead walking the streets... I’m sure you’re aware of the signs. Your men arrived here several days ago and set off almost immediately for DuPont on the same day.”
The red-haired knight pushed her chair back and stood up suddenly, “And you left them there!? You just let them go while you hid here like a coward? They wouldn’t be in this ...” Riesbyfe calmly laid one of her hands on Linnel’s arm and urged her to sit down. The small knight collapsed back into the seat with the metallic clink of her armor. Though she stayed silent, he could still see the resentment within her eyes.
There was something behind Linnel’s outburst... It wasn’t just anger... but he couldn’t quite place his finger on it.
“Continue, please,” said Riesbyfe.
The agent took a sip from his hot cider. Smoke floated and disappeared into the air as exhaled a breath in the chilly bar air before continuing his tale. “I asked for an army from the Church. I asked for more agents and equipment from Shin’ai. What I received was a wide eyed intern and a drunken Irishman for knights. You’ll have to forgive my discretion to not immediately start charging at the castle walls.”
McNab pulled out a stack of photos from another folder; each page displaying a dozen pictures of the village at a distance. “Your two men decided to station in the village to gather intel. Three days ago, when the storm died down, I lost all communications with them. No warning or any indication of an attack. In fact, your Knight Rimes said the place even seemed... normal. ”
“And these pictures are supposed to be?” asked Linnel as she idly looked through the stack.
“Shin’ai was luckily able to get a Global Hawk sent from Reykjavik before the storm picked up again. These photos are the results of a flyover yesterday with IR imaging,” said the agent.
Riesbyfe paused. She shuffled through the large pile of images before tossing the inch thick stack across the table.
“That’s impossible,” said Riesbyfe, “theres no heat blooms... no heat signatures. The entire area is cold. At those temperatures, anyone alive would freeze to death within the hour.”
“Exactly,” replied McNab, “if these photos are correct... then everything in that town is already dead.”
“So...” whispered Linnel, still looking down at the photos, “then we’re going to be searching through a graveyard?”
“Looks like it,” said Riesbyfe. She took a sip from her cider.
“What?!“ said McNab, “Are you two nuts? Whatever killed that village might still be out there...”
“Which means, we have to find it and then kill it. To do anything else would be to let it escape and repeat what happened there,” said Riesbyfe
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…that was our original mission. But it was impossible for us to realize the horrors we would face. I’m going to try and hide this tape when I’m finished. If none of us make it... at least there’ll be some kind of record. The storm’s been hitting us hard for the past 24 hours and we’ve still got nothing to go on.....
(static)
… Nobody trusts anyone anymore, and we’re all tired... very tired. There’s nothing more I can do... except wait. Just wait... This is Shield Knight Riesbyfe Stridberg with the Chivalric Order of the Church, DaPont Castle.
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Author's Notes: Well, I enjoyed having some extra free time these last two weekends. Looks like this'll be a oneshot unless people enjoy the premise.
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