Children of the Ordo Chapter 1

(06-23-2005)

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In the confines of the Cathedral of Saint Charbel, a small room was housed. It was only accesible to the Archbishop of the Church and some higher ranking Priests in the Diocese as well as those who were members of the Sancte Ordo Excorcista. They were the only ones who knew of its existence and its purpose. The hallway that led to the room was decorated with paintings of various Saints; mostly military saints depicted killing Demons and other forms of supernatural beings. The floor was carpeted with red, and the walls, cream white. It matched the Order's Coat of Arms.

Part of the Church's secretive Ordo Militae, they acted as the guardians between humanity and evil. The Grand Master of the Excorsist Order was trained by the Archangel Michael himself, until he decreed his apprentice to spread the knowledge he learned to a few picked ones. Outside the Order, there are other Exorcists who were not ordained priests, but rather faithful ministers trained to deal with all kinds of supernatural beings.

The Order was formed before the Reformation of the Church. They follow only the Vatican I, strictly adhering to most of the laws written by it. When a spike in demonic activity was detected after the Second World War, the Church formed the Order to help expel the Demons that roam the Earth. Alongside with the creation of the Protectorates, they acted as the first line of defense against the Gates of Hell.

Father Paul Wakefield walked across the hallway that will lead to the small room. He didn't paid any attention to the paintings that hung lifelessly on the wall. His sight was locked on to the wooden door at the end of the corridor. The lights flickered as he walked past by but that didn't make him lose his focus to his objective. His black clerical attire remained clean and neat despite of the day's activities. On his left hand was a thick black Bible that contained both the Old and New Testaments. His right hand remained free so that in case anything goes south, he might be able to draw the Sanctified Dagger hidden just in the back of his bastoned slacks.

He stood in front of the door and adjusted the collar of his attire. He cleared his throat and lifted his chin slightly, as if he was adjusting the tightness of his outfit. He lifted his right hand and knocked three times. He paused before knocking the fourth, then fifth time and muttered the word, "Krazium," which is the Enochian word for "Open."

He heard three locks being turned before the knob finally rotated. The door opened, allowing Father Wakefield to walk inside. He stepped in and was greeted by a deacon in the same attire as his.

"This way, Father." The Deacon said as he led him to the corridor to the right.

Father Wakefield was a Caucasian man in his late thirties. His head was shaven clean that shines when light hits it. His green eyes showed both mercy and fury to those who gaze upon it, pointed nose and a flat-line mouth that rarely smiles when confronted with danger. He and the Deacon walked in silence across the identical hallway. Nothing changed except the absence of the paintings on the wall. Both men stopped in front of double doors that seemed to look out of place. Both doors were opened by two figures in camouflaged tactical gears.

When fully opened, Father Wakefield caught sight of the guards on the door. They wore khaki shirts underneath the kevlar vests, cargo pants rigged with knee platings and hard materials, and combat boots. An MP5 Submachine Gun was strapped on each of their chests. Father Wakefield recognized the men on combat gear; Father Coulson and Father Keyes.

"May the Lord shine upon your faces." Father Wakefield said with a nod. Both priests returned the nod before becoming motionless once more in their motionless parade stance.

The deacon led Father Wakefield a few steps further before he stopped in front of another door. He knocked the same way as Father Wakefield did earlier, before uttering the word, "Krazium." It opened, revealing a three more men in combat gears, feeding ammunition inside guns and other weaponries.

The room was an armory. On the left side of the corner were racks of rifle that were polished. Beside it were green crates of ammos, military grade. On the right side of the room were various sacramentals; holy water, silver cross, blessed statues of Saints alongside holy oil. In the center of the room was a map illuminated by the lamp that hung on the roof above them.

"Father Wakefield," One of the men in combat gears greeted and approached the priest with an extended hand.

"Father Johnson," Wakefield greeted back and took the hand of Father Johnson. He gently shook it.

"I believe you've been sent here by the Diocese of St. Patrick's Cathedral."

"I am."

"Well," He gestured at the other priest nearby. "That's Father Atkinson," And then to the other one, "And that's Father Anderson." Both men nodded at him emotionlessly before returning their focus to what they were doing.

"What's the status?"

"Bad," Father Johnson replied. "The Cult of the Devil's Horns has managed to rendezvous with their other reinforcements. They were inside New York at this very moment and judging by the previous destruction we have dealt against them, our scouts has reported that they have hired guards to protect them."

"Guns."

"Pardon?"

"They've hired guns."

Father Johnson fell silent as he walked across the room towards the map of the table. Meanwhile, Wakefield approached the lockers at the back of the room. He opened one of the beige lockers and removed his attire. He unbuttoned each buttons that held his attire together, then finally liberated his body from the black attire. He placed his discarded clothing and replaced it with a combat vest, wore it with white shirt underneath. He removed both his slacks and black shoes and replaced it with cargo pants and combat boots. He placed the clothings inside the locker and slammed it shut.

"Father Anderson," Johnson called as Father Wakefield started to arm himself with weapons.

"Yes, Father?" Anderson asked back.

"Who are these new 'allies' of our enemies."

"They weren't 'allies' of some sort." Wakefield interrupted. "They were simply gangsters hired to do some bodyguarding. I've read the files and it seems like the Blood Seven Crips didn't know what they were getting into."

"Why is that?" Johnson asked.

"Because for starters," Wakefield let out a grunt as he hefted the heavy P90 Submachine gun. "They were an upstart gang that was formed three months ago."

"How'd you know?" Atkinson asked as he finally joined Johnson on the table. Wakefield glanced back and saw that the three of them had congregated.

"I worked with juvenile detentions before our Diocese transferred me here. I've talked to one of their members. They were children."

"But now it's not." Johnson replied.

"I know." Wakefield replied as he glanced at Johnson with pistol at hand. He cocked the slide backwards before placing it in his holster. "What's the objective?"

Johnson turned at the map behind him. He cleared his throat and begun. Father Wakefield saw red and blue lines outlining the surface of the map with arrows and circles on it.

"The Cult of the Devil's Horns were conducting a black mass in this location. They aimed to summon a Demon Legionnaire. You know that we cannot handle such mess if it was to happen so our mission is simple. We will interrupt the black mass and purify the area with holy grenades." He said and held a white fragmentation grenade with a gold cross painted on it. "We will throw it in the middle of their ceremonial grounds."

"What else?" Wakefield asked.

"We extract in this position." He said as he pointed at the far end of the map.

"Are there any reinforcements available?" Father Anderson asked.

"I'm afraid, it would be just the four of us." Father Johnson replied. "But in case you have forgotten, a Protectorate was watching over us though he cannot interfere."

"Why?" Atkinson asked.

"It's an order from the Archangel. So, we should not question it."

"If that's the case," Wakefield interrupted. "Let's roll."