The Vatican Historical Museum

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Anthony was thrown to the floor by this unholy sphere, curse it all! He had even debated blocking out sorcery in this area for that very reason. Though, he had not expected whatever devilry this vampire conjured through black arts to be able to stop his transportation through scripture. That had never happened before, and it was cause for serious alarm.

The pages flattened, their warm scintillating light fading with their flight. Even the light that Anthony had been granted by these pages which had followed him in to this battle flickered out of existence with barely a fight against this new ability.

He had moments, but precious few grans of sand in his timer to act and escape from this. He imagined this was just the beginning of the vampires plans for him. He would not be here to see the rest of them.

This sphere struck Anthony from up high, though not directly on his head. This, might very well have crushed him to death, but luckily for him as he was thrown to the floor by the supernatural repulsion of the sphere his body was not quite directly underneath it. It was so that his head and his shoulders would not be crushed by this. But that really didn't matter, a crushed chest cavity would kill him just as efficiently as crushed skull.

The cockiness of vampires was never really thought of to lead to their defeat. Sure they're overconfidence maybe, but generally they could be as cocky as they liked and so long as  they were smart make out of their current predicament. This time, the vampire before him had gone one step too far.

Body thrown to the floor Anthony's first rational thought would have been to dispel the sorcery on his own terms, shooting a knife in to the sphere to distract the creature as he paged himself away and back out the door. That would have been a rational calculated attack, a genius move perhaps, given how little time he had. But as he struck the ground the only thing apparent to him were the words on the sphere. Written in shameless red. Appeared the words.

God is dead.

The only thoughts running through Anthony's mind now were not rational, they were not peaceful, they were not controlled or orderly. They were pure bitter fury. The very existence of the orb expanding down upon Anthony even after it had thrown him to the floor set a fire in Anthony's heart, at the moment it was not just a fiery passion for his Christ in heaven, but it was a darker fire. It was a wrathful raging inferno. That drove out all other thoughts besides kill, kill whatever had created such a desecration against his lord, in his city, near his family, near his Holy father, near everything that was ever dear to Anthony's heart.

A blade was in Anthony's right sleeve, a gun was in his hand, he did not use either. He dropped the gun even. He wanted to tear this abominations throat out with his bare hands.

A roar of ultimate anger and defiance resounded in the air as Anthony cocked his right arm which lay on the floor stretched out beyond his head and swung wildly putting all of his anger, all of his rage and hatred in to this hammer fist blow against those words, those damned words!

Pain, pain echoed throughout the entirety of Anthony's arm, the likes of which he had never felt before. This cold and merciless feeling did not bring just agony however, it brought something else that he had lost for but a moment. Clarity.

the blow struck against the orb took only a moment to happen after he was thrown to the ground. As Anthony struck against the orb while being underneath it he inadvertently used the orb's destructive powers against itself for his benefit. For his arm and even his body were blown backwards by the massive concussive force that radiated off the sphere when it came in to contact with a faithful soul. There were few men that had lived more faithful than Anthony.

Anthony was thrown back out  through the doors behind him that he had entered from. Away from the sphere and away from the creature. But, in to the wall. Anthony had already received trauma to his shoulders, his back, and now, completely irreparable damage to his right arm. He knew with his regained sense of clarity that he couldn't take much more.

The last of Anthony's pages of scripture exploded behind him cushioning his impact against the wall, as these pages rebounded off the wall during impact, he wrapped them around him like one would a blanket that is around the back of their shoulders. He saw the glimpses of small lights to his left, just down the hallway, on the left wall was the door to get out. In one fluid motion he was carried away by these pages into the night's sky and out of the museum. He needed to find the others, he had alerted Head Quarters, they should be mobilized by now. He prayed that he had at least held off the creature long enough to stop a rampage through the holy city.

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Eyes widening along with his almost manic smile, Almos brought the full force of Angra Mainyu, his rage incarnate, down upon the hapless priest beneath him.  The collision with the polished marble floor alone must have been tremendous but the extent of the damage was yet unknown to the former monk.  On the other hand, the self-inflicted injury to the priest's arm was clear as day.  Whether it was desperation, madness, or sheer blind rage that drove the paladin to such a course of action was beyond Lorand but regardless of the motivation, the sight of the clergyman's right arm snapping like dry kindling was glorious.  

Almos landed in a squatting position with one hand bracing himself against the floor while the True Cross operative was catapulted out into the hallway.  However, those damnable pages of his were in motion almost immediately, congealing together in order to soften the most recent blow for the clergyman.  After crippling his opponent with his opening move, Lorand had no intention of allowing the momentum to swing back in the priest's favor.  While he may have been outmatched against the last paladin in close quarters, this new arrival appeared to be better suited to medium or long range engagements which meant the best place for Almos to be was right on top of him.  

Calling on his newfound vampiric strength, Lorand launched himself headlong after the True Cross warrior like a sprinter shooting forth from the starting block, the marble tiles beneath his feet shattering from the force as his rush.  Above all else, he could not allow his newest opponent to escape this place alive.  He'd not only seen Lorand's face, but a glimpse of his Naether abilities as well.  If this man made it back to his sanctuary he risked destroying the element of surprise so tightly bound to Lorand's arsenal.  

Arms stretched forward, the vampire aimed to crash into his prey with a three point tackle.  His right hand lashed out to grab the priest's usable left hand holding the knife before squeezing the small finger bones into a fine powder.  His left hand held a far more gruesome purpose, intent on spearing through the clergyman's right pectoral to puncture a lung.  Lorand's left knee was the final point of the assault as the vampire came rushing forth to drive it into the Catholic's stomach.  

"Leaving, padre?  Pool's open, water's fine!" the vampire exclaimed, his fox-like features warped with glee and a joyful rage.  His smile was no longer that of a hunter, nor was it the look of a wild predator.  It had gone beyond the realm of happiness and instinct, and mocked all that was humane and human.  It was a cruel smile, a monster's smile.  

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Death. Anthony wouldn't have minded it. But being killed? By this thing? No deal. The way the monster was positioned to attack him...in the small amount of time he had he felt like if things had gone just right, those pages scattered all over the floor would have been able to make that shield null and void, that creature moved so fast, he didn't even need to rely on his own speed, and his right arm would appear as nothing useful, the scripture covering him could have served as the distraction.

But Anthony would have died. Would have had to have sacrificed his life just for the chance. Not even the kill, just the chance. He couldn't do that. If he failed, then this creature would get away entirely from here, with whatever he had wanted, a few deaths, and the head of the order himself. Anthony knew that his duties lie with, and for his children. They needed to be warned.

The pressing matter, of how exactly that would happen, was still an issue however. He had nothing in his ability short of that suicidal attempt to kill this creature that could stop him. In his ability. But then again, was he ever truly alone?

Anthony looked this monster in the eye, calmly, coldly, and without hate or fear. Just mere confidence. He heard his remarks. Twice now, he had gotten too cocky.  Twice now, Anthony would wriggle just out from under his grasp.

The vampire cracked the floor as he made a sprint for Anthony, but as this floor cracked the pages that had failed when struck with the sphere and scattered because of this same sphere rose up off the ground and formed a wall between the vampire and Anthony. This wall would impede his attack short of Anthony, but close enough for him to see clearly in to it's eyes, and close enough to hear his words.

"Leaving, padre?  Pool's open, water's fine!"

Anthony's eyes for the first time this fight showed signs of surprise. They grew wide as the wall formed and the creature stopped, he hadn't known what exactly was going to happen until this point, but he knew, he knew that something would indeed happen.

The pages themselves radiated the wall itself, not comprised it, thus it was translucent, mainly. There were a few discernible features on the wall however. The first, was the glowing blue cross that read "Hail the Risen King in Heaven." Above it. Underneath the cross was an inscription written in what seemed to be blood. Stamped below it, signed almost, with the hoof of a lamb. This said.

"Romans 12:19 - Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord."

These words glared directly into the face of the vampire as he was stopped at the wall, this wall wove it's way around the entire open door way in a half circle that seemed to reach from the floor and the ceiling, to maybe beyond both.

Shocked still, Anthony had never seen anything like this and his mouth opened wide. But his pages, they still obeyed his earlier command which was no longer going to be interrupted. No longer, could it be interrupted. These pages would begin to carry Anthony away from the fight. But before they did, Anthony the look of astonishment leaving him looked back at the vampire through the wall that separated the two of them. And winked, a small smile playing on his face.

He was gone, safely wrapped in the scripture that he treasured so dearly, the scripture was the voice the almighty himself used to talk to Anthony. Truth be told, Anthony did not know if he had some part to play in that technique or not. He had never done anything like that before, and he doubted that he would ever be able to do anything like that again. But, if it hadn't been just a reaction on his part, like an adrenaline rush but for the spirit...if it hadn't....

Anthony would never know he supposed, not until the day he died, and spoke face to face with his father himself.  

Sailing out in to the night and towards his orders Head Quarters, he was strangely consoled, strangely at peace with himself. Stranger still given his wounds, which were sever to say the least.

But there was a certain feeling, a certain feeling that went beyond elation at being proven right. He wasn't surprised in any way. Sure, maybe the delivery had been more direct than he might have guessed. But still, no surprise that it happened. That his faith had been so great, as to not have needed this to bolster it one bit, that was his true elation. That was his true consolation.

----------> Auto success exit to HQ/Wherever the frik my useless troops are.

Spoiler:

Almos erupted forth, intent on unleashing his full underlying savagery upon the wounded priest before him. Simple death was no longer the objective. His rage had gone well beyond that and called to the vampire to drag this man into the true bowels of despair, to break him so completely that he would never rise again.

And then it all stopped.

Without warning, the former monk's outstretched hands collided with a spiritual barrier beyond anything he had ever seen, creating a shock wave that tore through the display room, shattering the class cased instantly and knocking the nearby painting from the walls they hung upon. The radiant wall of light pulsed with an incredible power, an inhuman power as the letters appeared in full view of the vampire. In the blink of an eye, his smoldering rage vanished and he could only look upon the holy construct in awe, barely registering the crippled clergyman escaping to the city beyond.

Standing before the barrier, Lorand gingerly extended his hand and laid it against the wall, ignoring the sizzling sensation as it burned his very flesh. There was no way the priest could have produced something like this in his state and there were no other exorcists here. It could only mean that he had received aid from another source. Had HE actually intervened in this fight? Had the vampire's campaign finally been deemed worthy enough of His divine intervention? Was Almos finally going to have the opportunity he'd waited so many decades for?

No.

Within moments of the priest's departure the barrier faded from existence, taking that otherwordly presence with it. Struck with the realization that he had once again been denied an audience with the creator above, Lorand's anger returned in full, his brands glowing with an unnatural power that seemed to radiate from the very core of his being.

"Come back!" the vampire roared, swiping his fist wildly to take a large chunk out of the nearby wall. Teeth clenching harshly, the former monk let out a low growl as his shoulders rose and fell with each breath. "After everything I've done, you come for him...why him! What makes him so special!?" Turning in place, Lorand reared back to continue with one sided conversation with the unseen sky above. "And why didn't you stay, damn it!? What more do I have to do to get your fucking attention!?" In his immense frustration, the former monk struck out again, splitting a display case in half with a wrathful kick.

Left with no reply and no one left alive to satiate his anger, Almos simply stood there in the silence of his own mind, considering what this most recent encounter meant. Little by little, his body began to relax and a small smirk appeared on his lips. A pale hand reached up and felt the presence of the letter in his breast pocket. There was his answer. Regardless of what importance that priest held, it was clear that he was getting closer to his final destination. The relic was indeed what he needed to make his dream come true.

Sighing in contentment, the vampire chuckled aloud and made his way towards the exit with his hands in his pockets once more. "It won't be long before I drag you down here kicking and screaming. The only question is how many of your servants I'll have to shatter before I get there." Exiting the museum, Almos Lorand sent a final smile skyward before disappearing from view to leave the Catholic city behind.

=====>Exit