WARNING! This story contains romance of the lesbian/shoujo-ai/femslash/ insert-random-descriptor-here variety. This story will also contain copious amounts of violence, gore, and things that some may find discomforting. Turn back if any of that ain't your cup of tea. Leave a review if it is.

This story was an IS that accepted characters from a different website. I do not claim ownership of the majority of the characters. I do claim ownership of this story as a cohesive whole and the plot. If you have a problem with this, do me a favor and stick a penny in an outlet. The world will thank you for it.

Enjoy.

Spanish-French Border
December 17th, 2012

His Most Excellent Lord Juan Herrera walked through the forest, noticing that the sun was beginning to set. He was confident that negotiations would go through without any major hitches. It seemed to be a cakewalk of a mission when he was briefed; he and a group of associates would meet up with ‘Catalan extremists’ and come to a non-violent agreement about their mayor’s ‘rhetoric’. Lord Herrera looked to the first figure on his right, noticing that his eldest son appeared anxious. “Why so serious, Tiberio?”

Tiberio looked at his father and sighed. “I dunno, Dad. Something about this just doesn’t feel right.”

“Anything’s possible,” Lord Herrera admitted, “when you deal with these kinds of monsters.”

“Agreed,” the man to Herrera’s left said, the cigarette in his hand being stomped beneath his boot. “The sooner we get there, the sooner we can let them fuck their bitches and get the fuck out.”

Tiberio resisted the urge to lash out and merely bit his tongue; Ralph wasn’t the most open-minded man on the planet, but he was good at his job. “Alright. Let’s just get this over with and-” But he stopped talking as he noticed smoke rising to the sky.

“Bumsen,” Karl cursed. “Looks like the mission parameters’ve changed.”

“No kidding,” Lord Herrera admitted. “Lock and load. Don’t jack around, people- this is the real deal.”

The four men went forward as quietly as they could, approaching the source of the smoke. What they saw did not shock them to their core, but was none the less surprising. The town they had been planning to meet at was set aflame, and bodies of countless people littered the ground. Karl ran forth to the first body he could find. He was sure the little girl was already dead, but what caught his interest was the inflammation and discoloration around the bullet wounds the girl had taken.

Ralph took the forceps out of Karl’s pack and handed them to the group’s medic. Karl removed the bullet from the girl’s fallen corpse and shook his head. “Silver. Whoever was here knew what they were doing.”

Lord Herrera sighed as he dialed a familiar number on his cell phone and put his other hand over his earpiece. Five rings, then- “Big House Pizza, would you like to try out our new Heart-Clogger Special?”

Herrera smiled a little at the geeky sounding voice, responding, “This is Ace, Big House. Authorization code number six-niner-three-niner-oh.”

There was a pause, then a clicking noise. “Roger that, Ace. What is your status, over?”

“Mission failure, Big House. I repeat, mission failure.”

“Did not copy that, Ace.” The man on the other end sounded confused. “I may have heard you wrong.”

“Mission failure,” Herrera repeated. “Someone beat us to the punch and had a big party. Fireworks and nice silverware.”

“Confirmed, Ace. Referring this information to the Missions chief now.” The man continued, “He’s not gonna be happy about this.”

Herrera grunted at that. “That makes two of us.”

“Alright, the ch- -f wants y- -fa-“ A large amount of static went over the line.

“Did not copy that, Big House, did not copy that. Something’s wrong with the signal.” The phone beeped, and Herrera cursed as he read ‘Signal lost’ on his phone. “Alright, people. We’re bugging out. This isn’t supposed to be a dead zone.”

Two seconds later, a gunshot rang out, and Ralph fell to the ground. His brains had been blown out, courtesy of an assassin’s bullet. The three remaining men could see a figure on top of one of the buildings, a sniper rifle in the person’s hands. They could also see various men and women streaming out of the alleyways, and by the way they were brandishing their pistols, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what they had been there for.

“FALL BACK!” Herrera was barking madly at his two remaining teammates. It took Karl a moment to get up from the position he’d been caught in, and the sniper took a second life.

Herrera and Tiberio continued to flee, taking evasive maneuvers to avoid sniper fire. Luckily for them both, their pursuers appeared to be not used to running. Despite being weighed down by their packs, the two remaining men appeared to be escaping the mob.

Just over the horizon, the father and son could see the car they’d arrived in. They were home free! As they got closer to the car, it was all beginning to become a matter of starting up the car and getting back to safety.

A shout of pain rang through Tiberio’s ears, and he cried out as his father fell to the ground, a knife in his back. ‘Not now,’ Tiberio thought frantically, “Not like this, not when we’re so close!”

“Son! I’m ordering you to leave me behind!” Tiberio looked at his father, appalled that he’d even suggested such an act. “Someone’s gotta debrief the chief and figure out what happened. It’s up to you.” He rolled onto his back and stared at his handgun. “I’ll try to hold them off as long as I can.” He grimaced as two figures came from the direction they’d run from. As another knife barely missed hitting Tiberio’s chest, Lord Herrera screamed, “GO! DO IT NOW!”

Tiberio swallowed his pride as he took the keys out of his father’s pocket, took the second knife with him, and made a break for the car, managing to make it to safety and began driving away at full speed.

As he heard the car speed away, Lord Herrera ignored the pain in his back as he stared at the two approaching figures. One he recognized as the assassin from the rooftop, though the man’s face was obscured by his full body armor, ski mask, gas mask, and goggles. The other man he remembered from a fuzzy memory; the gaunt man would’ve almost been mistaken for a walking skeleton were it not for his sunken eyes and his patched-up clothes.

“You’ve done well to survive this long, old man.” The assassin’s voice was being altered; Herrera couldn’t recognize it. “But this is where it ends.”

“You’re sure this is alright?” the gaunt man asked. “This isn’t some shmuck that no one’ll miss, this is a Spanish nobleman.”

“It’ll be fine. It’s not like they’ll believe him.” The assassin seemed sure that nothing would go wrong. “I managed to save one of those subhuman pieces of shit. We’ll pin the blame. You get a free meal, and the greatest monster slayer becomes no more.”

Lord Herrera finally recognized the near-skeletal figure, and his heart sank. Now he knew that he was a goner. He stared at the gun in his hand and quickly aimed it at his brain, knowing that he didn’t want to be alive when the Ravenous Hunger began eating his flesh.

In the Darkest of times, after the fall of Rome…

A council of great men and monsters alike met in the Holy Land.

For the safety of all, the monsters and men agreed to make a vow.

That all creatures would go into hiding, for their safety and for their fellow man’s.

Many were angered by this. ‘What have we to hide,’ cried most of the monsters.

‘And why must we tolerate these abominations to God,’ asked many of the men.

Nonetheless, that vow was made.

And to this very day, the groups that assembled that day and their ilk still keep watch.

AdventFalls Presents:

Some seek to finish what their predecessors started, and destroy the heathens.

Alongside the ideas and love of many individuals

And others try to keep the status quo, such as….

The Brotherhood

An Interactive Story, by AdventFalls

Book One: The End of the World

Chapter One: A Sign

London, England
December 19th, 2012

A single light from a flashlight moved around the dark hall as the facility remained almost completely barren of doctors or interns. The man who turned the lights on sighed as he walked down the hall alone, carrying a small green backpack. He sighed as he blinked his blue eyes and unlocked the door to his office.

The good doctor turned on the lights in his office as he closed the door behind him. He practically lived and breathed his job. If there was one thing he didn’t like, it was the constant name-calling. His fellow doctors had a habit of calling him ‘Doogie Howser’, or ‘whippersnapper’. It wasn’t HIS fault he was so smart. He looked at himself in the mirror- his blonde hair was getting a bit long. He’d have to go to the barber shop soon.

He opened up his green pack and took out a bottle of pills, then took a pistol out of his lab coat. Taking a Dixie cup from the dispenser, he got some water and stared at the pills.

“You know that taking those pills isn’t going to solve anything,” a soft voice said. Eduardo stared at his reflection in the mirror as he drank the water.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” Ed replied. “I have to keep in control.”

He heard the door behind him close. Someone else was in the room! He quickly took the firearm and aimed it at the figure, who appeared to be a foreigner. She definitely looked like a foreigner; her light brown skin and almond-shaped brown eyes clued him in to this. The woman merely looked like a run of the mill tourist at first glance with her shirt emblazoned with the Union Jack, except for the fact that she had a sword at her side.

“It’s not exactly healthy to talk to yourself,” the newcomer said.

“It’s not exactly healthy to sneak up on people, Miss…”

"Doctor," she told Eduardo. "Doctor Parisa Hataria."

“Ah, Doctor. My mistake.”

Parisa seemed confused as she scratched her head. “You’re Doctor Herrera? You seem a bit... young.”

“I’m fully aware of that,” he replied with a hint of annoyance. Ed finished off the contents of his cup before throwing it into the trash. “Nice ring,” he said. “Is that the Seal of Solomon on that thing?”

The swordswoman nodded as she stared at the insignia. “It is.”

Ed smiled for a brief moment before asking, “Alright. I know you’re not here for a check-up, and I’m fairly sure you’re not here to kill me. So why are you here?”

Parisa immediately replied, “I’m here on behalf of the Brotherhood.”

The younger doctor froze up for a second. “How long have you been working with them, Doctor Hataria?”

“...I think a couple of months,” Parisa admitted.

“I see. And just why does the Brotherhood feel that I should come back?”

Parisa licked her lips. “It’s your father, he-”

“Let me be perfectly blunt,” Ed interrupted. “My father is the reason I left, and I couldn’t give a flying fuck what he thinks.”

The older doctor appeared confused again. “You haven’t heard, have you.”

That remark got Ed’s attention. “I haven’t read the paper recently, and they only just fixed the TV in here.”

Parisa turned the boob tube on, managing to find the news channel after a minute or so.

The screen was divided in half, between two fairly clean-cut news reporters. “...consumer confidence is still shaky, Rick,” the one on the right said.

“People are being a bit superstitious, I suppose. Do people actually believe in that Mayan hocus pocus, Ryan?” The one on the left seemed miffed that this could be possible.

“I’m afraid so, Rick.”

“Well, thanks for the update, Ryan.” The screen became one again, focused on Rick. “In other news today, the family of reclusive Lord Juan Herrera is gathering in Madrid to mourn his passing. Autopsy reports have not been released, but officials tell us that he was attacked by wolves.”

Ed turned off the TV using the remote. “That’s a cover-up. Wolves don’t attack unless they’re provoked. “

“True,” Parisa conceded. “Our guys at the morgue are saying that it was murder.”

Ed stared at the blank TV set. “The old man’s gone.” He looked at Parisa, asking, “You get along with your old man?”

“Dad was a philosopher,” Parisa said. “He brought us up pretty well.”

“My old man was a prick,” Ed frowned. “Look, if trying to bring me back into the fold is all you’re here for, you can tell them that I’ll be in town for the funeral. “

“No, I’ve also got a job to do while I’m here with a devil hunter and a friend or two.” She also added, “You were also named in the will.”

“Probably so Dad could give me some last-minute advice on living my life. Thanks for the news,” Ed said. “Now get out of my office. I’ve got paperwork to do, and I’d like to be alone.”

After she did so, Ed could hear that voice again. “That wasn’t very nice of you.”

“Shut the hell up,” Ed yelled at his reflection in the mirror. “This is my life, not yours.”

“Last time I checked,” the voice said as Ed fell to the floor in spasms, “this was our life.”

Ed’s mouth opened, but no scream came out. The pills were still sitting on the sink, out of his reach.

----

Outside the hospital, Parisa walked to the car she’d arrived in and climbed in the passenger’s seat. “They should’ve warned me that he’d be such an ass,” Parisa complained to the red-head in the driver’s seat. “Sorry if I seem to run off at the mouth,” she continued as the car lurched forward. “I just get a little nervous if people aren’t talking.”

“Understandable,” Ayane admitted. “For someone so inexperienced, I would expect such a trait.” Ayane was slightly shorter than Parisa, but they both had roughly the same hair style- shoulder-length and free flowing. Her eyes were very unusual though- they were silver, and the eyes were slanted enough to show her Japanese heiritage, but not enough to hide her German grandfather. And Parisa could notice the beginning of an almost vertical scar at the top of her collared vest.

Snapping back to reality, Parisa returned to the task at hand. “Anyway, our target’s been sighted near Stonehenge.”

“Five people dead,” Ayane added. “Your people suspected magic.”

“Something to that effect.” The car ride was uncomfortable for Parisa, though Ayane couldn’t care less. Things began to take a turn for the strange as they left the confines of the city and encountered a car flashing its emergency lights on the side of the road. “What are you doing?!?” Parisa looked at the driver. “We don’t have time for this!”

“We have time,” Ayane responded. “I can tell the guy’s one of ‘us’, so to speak. Plus, I think Rache wants to do this.” As the car came to a complete stop, she added, “Go see what’s wrong with that car. I’m gonna get some fresh air.”

Parisa looked confused at the devil hunter’s logic, but followed her directions regardless. The man who appeared to be the driver of the stopped car was leaning against his vehicle. “Excuse me,” Parisa asked, “is something wrong?”

She froze for a moment as she looked at the krayvin. His dark brown skin had a sort of orange tint to it in the dark, and what looked like a small goatee at first actually turned out to be horns. His face was sharp, and there was a scar on his left cheek. Clearly, this man was a krayvin; the victim of a demonic parasite. “No, I just decided to park my car on the side of the road, turn on the emergency lights, and see how many people would stop. Of course something’s wrong.”

“Sheesh,” Parisa groaned. “I’m just trying to help.”

Maliphis shook his head and smiled a little, cupping his chin with his hand. Parisa was caught off guard for a moment by his teeth; they looked more like they belonged to a shark than a person. “My apologies, Miss. I’m just in a bit of a bad mood. And it looks like your friend isn’t having the best of times, either.”

Parisa turned around to find a demon with spiky black hair and small horns protruding from her temples. Her skin was paler; her hands and feet appeared to be made of metal now. The center of her body seemed to glow slightly, the orange light reflecting slightly off her bat-like wings. “Relax,” the demon said. “I’m Rache. Ayane’s half sister, so to speak.” When pressed on the issue of where Ayane went, Rache said, “Just chill, alright? She’s me. I’m her. It’s complicated.”

“Life is complicated,” Mal agreed. “But I’ve seen more unusual occurrences.”

The three women turned to the road and saw yet another car pulling over to the side of the road. Mal loaded a pistol just in case, but Rache told him, “I’m pretty sure that this car isn’t going to be a problem.”

“I prefer to be safe than dead,” Mal deadpanned.

Out of the car came two women, one of them having long blonde hair and a lab coat, the other a wavy, brownish-red ponytail and glasses. The woman with the ponytail appeared a little lopsided; her right arm was shorter than her left, and she had two scars on her rosy left cheek. “Pariza!” The bespectacled woman held her arms out and hugged her friend.

“Grumpy-butt!”

The red-haired woman groaned as her student called her by a friendly nickname. “They no need to hear,” she complained.

“I’m sorry,” Parisa apologized, “but it’s just been so long!”

“I’m going to take a wild guess and say that they know each other,” Mal said.

“Da,” Anya grinned. “My name is Anastasia Natasha Kabulov. Pariza learn how to use sword of hers at one of my fencing classez.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that you found one of your friends,” the blonde woman smiled. “Didn’t think that the person we were looking for would be the same person.”

“Ah right,” Anya remembered. She pointed at the blonde, saying, “This iz Halie Joyce, she helped me find cheap gas. She said she knew you, Parisa.”

Parisa looked at Halie, shaking her head. “You’re not ringing any bells.”

“No, I understand,” Halie replied, blinking her green eyes. “But I’m thankful that you’re not too angry at me for telling you to get the hell out of my office.” She smiled as she continued, “I decided that my paperwork could go fuck itself.”

The look on Parisa’s face was, for Halie, priceless. “D-Doctor Herrera?”

“At your service,” Halie nodded. “I’m sorry about Ed, he really can be a bit of a social reject.”

“Now I’ve seen everything,” Mal sneered. “A cross-dressing doctor?”

“It’s stranger than that,” Halie admitted.

“As much as I’m enjoying the reunions and whatnot, can we get a move on?” Rache was smiling, but it was clear she was losing her patience.

“Hm... well this IS merely a rent-a-car,” Mal commented. “I’ll call a tow truck in the morning.”

“Come on,” Parisa said as she opened the door to one of the working cars. “We’re going to Stonehenge, Anya.”

----

It ended up that Maliphis ended up going into the car with Parisa and Rache, while Anya and Halie stayed in their vehicle, following them to the ancient monument known as Stonehenge.

While these famous stones were so famous, the site’s creation and former use continued to confound the general public. According to Geoffrey of Monmouth, Ambrosius Aurelianus, a fierce Roman general, and Uther Pendragon, the father of the legendary King Arthur, were both buried here. An English folk tale told the story of how Satan himself threw one of the stones at a friar and struck him on his heel. Neo-druids and pagans often sought out the stones as a place of pilgrimage, despite that the monument came before many druidic religions.

The five men and women left their cars, and Parisa hoped that the murderer was still in the area. Anya quietly remembered an old English folk tale about the Heelstone as the group walked past.

“Your man- or woman, perhaps- may have already fled,” Mal pointed out. “How can you be so certain that the perpetrator is still here?”

“You must like listening to yourself talk,” Halie stated.

“He’s got to be here,” Parisa said. “They told me it was a guy, he’s got to be here!”

“I don’t mean to be a downer,” Rache said, “but Mister Blabbermouth here’s got a point. How do we know he hasn’t left?”

“I think the eejit ye’re looking for is here.”

Everyone looked behind them. A woman was sitting atop another stone just to their right, speaking with a thick Irish accent. She glided down from the stone, her white hair and pale skin almost lit up by the moonlight. “Well, isn’t this a nice collection of bettys and lads,” Maeve said as Mal and Rache pointed various guns at her. “Ye’d wanta put yer pistols down. I’m not here to mess with ye.”

Rache put her pistols down, but Maliphis kept his up. “Maeve Carey. It’s been a while. But what in the name of the Archetype are you doing here?”

“Yer a cute one, Mal.” Maeve pointed her thumb to Stonehenge. “I’ve been following these gits for a good week. Mistoke ‘em they’re someone I’ve been looking fer.” She took out her batons, adding, “They’ve been up to somethin’ fishy, chanting some quare mess or other that I couldn’t understand.”

Parisa looked at the newcomer, unnerved slightly by her glowing green eyes and her attire- Maeve appeared to like wearing leather. “I was told there was just the one guy.”

“Well, ye’ve got something big on yer hands, ye do.” Maeve stared at the famous stones, adding, “I’ll be made up to help ye- need to blow off some steam.” She appeared a bit surprised as she looked at the rest of Parisa’s motley crew. “Anya! Haven’t seen ye in, what, near thirty year!”

“Twenty-seven, if you wanting specific,” Anya said. “It great to finally see you again podruga, but we are needing help- if more than one guy up there, that bad. More the merrier, da?”

The group of six finally came within eyesight of the monument and saw a fire in its center, and a circle of people prostrating themselves before the fire, chanting to some unknown deity. But there was no mistaking that within the fire laid human bones.

“Indeed,” Mal surmised. “I count fifteen of them or so. Our odds aren’t that bad.”

“Alright then.” Parisa looked at the cult before her. “We ambush them, and –”

“No!” Mal hissed. “No ambushes! Where’s the honor in that?”

“Thiz not about honor,” Anya argued. “Thiz about helping Pariza get job done!”

“But where’s the sport in it? There’s no fun in such foul play!”

“But there’s less a chance of us ending up dead,” Rache reasoned. She grit her teeth at what she perceived as the Krayvin’s sheer stupidity.

Maeve nodded at that assessment. “Honor’s got no place here, eejit. People’ve already bitten the big one.”

One of the cultists in the circle rose from the ground, and gave a command. It appeared that he was the leader, either because of the massive number of tattoos covering his body, or the fact that two of the cultists got up at his behest and retrieved a person who had been standing behind one of the pillars. The young woman had snow white hair that went down to her waist, her skin was almost as pale as her sundress.

“Hey mister! Thanks for giving me the nice candy! Are we gonna play a game now?” The cult leader stared at one of his subordinates, who appeared just as confused as the leader. The other standing cultish shrugged his shoulders as he took a sacrificial knife out of his belt and handed it to the leader.

Maeve felt a lump form in her throat and fidgeted uncomfortably in her leather outfit. “Jayzus, they’re gonna gut that poor kid!”

Mal grit his sharp teeth. “Goddamn, first the car, then I get dragged into this. This day just can’t get any better.”

“That ‘kid’”, Rache pointed out, “doesn’t look any younger than I do.” That tidbit of information didn’t stop Maeve, who grabbed the gun out of Mal’s hands and began shooting. However, she didn’t have very good aim, meaning that she missed four times before she finally hit one of the prostrate cultists.

The remaining men stood up, staring at the banshee, who had abandoned her hiding place. Their leader began yelling some form of threat at Maeve, and his men began unsheathing their knives. The last guy to ready his knife found himself getting shot, but not by Maeve. Maliphis walked up beside her. “I thought you said you didn’t want an ambush.”

“It’s not an ambush if you let them get ready,” Mal grinned as he pulled out another pistol and retrieved the one Maeve had taken from him. “Besides, as much as I’d enjoy watching you beat the snot out of these assholes, I could do with busting some heads.”

“Amen to that,” Rache agreed, stopping next to the two.

Finally, Parisa, Anya, and Halie joined them. “Well, so much for strategy,” Halie grinned, brandishing several knives. “But I still like our odds.”

The leader of the cult appeared surprised for a second before shouting at the top of his lungs. At his command, the men charged the six women and monsters. Four of the men never came within eight feet of the group; either shot through their hearts by Mal or having a knife thrown into their tracheas by Halie.

That left nine knife-wielding psychos coming straight at them. Rache, Anya, Maeve, and Parisa all charged. Maeve whacked two of the men in the face with two straightsticks, both aluminum batons hitting their marks at the fringe of their twenty-two inch lengths.

Parisa and Anya both had to duck in order to get out of the way of Rache’s zweihander, who managed with one swing to cut three men in half, leaving only five attackers.

After standing back up, Anya’s assault with her palash was almost like an art; she dodged her opponent’s strikes, slicing off arms as gracefully as a dancer. She took on three men at once, and easily managed to come out on top.

Parisa had a more difficult time, due to her relative inexperience. True, Anya had taught her the basics, but she hadn’t really gotten to use those lessons outside of the classroom. She managed to slice one of her attacker’s hands off, but she immediately found herself flanked by a second man. His knife cut her sword-wielding arm, causing her to drop her weapon. The man then tackled her to the ground and raised his knife above his head, ready to take at least one person down with him-

But his efforts were to no avail. Three gunshots rang out, and the final cultist fell on his side and off of Parisa. Mal and Rache both put their smoking guns down, and Anya helped her old student back on her feet.

The death of all his men infuriated the cult leader to no end, who now held Seraphina tight to his chest with one arm, and a knife in his second. It was obvious what the leader was trying to communicate.

“Put the guns down,” Halie warned.

Rache put her Desert Eagle away, but Mal’s weapon remained pointed at the last cultist. “Come on, I’ve got a clean shot.”

“Put the goddamn gun down,” Maeve shouted.

“It’s just one bullet, it won’t take long!”

“Do you really want to risk him slitting her throat on the way down,” Parisa fumed. “I don’t want anyone to die.”

Anya put her hand and gripped one of Mal’s arms tightly. “Put gun down or I slice fucking face off.”

Mal stared straight into the woman’s eyes, and handed his pistol over to her. “You’re all a bunch of bleeding hearts, the lot of you.”

The cult leader smiled for a second before Seraphina of all people spoke up. “What kind of weird game is this, mister?” The leader began yelling at Sera, who began to frown as a response. “Why are you being so mean?” He continued to scream, and Sera seemed to have enough of it. “Okay mister, stop yelling at me or you’ll be really sorry!”

Despite that threat, the cult leader continued to hold his sacrificial knife against her throat, yelling as he had been. He only stopped when he noticed an invisible force pushing against his knife. Harder and harder it pushed against his blade, until it was pushed away from Sera’s throat and out of his hand. He backed away from the childish woman, a look of terror spreading across his face.

“I warned you to stop being so mean to me,” Sera told him as she picked up the knife that had been flung from his hand. The cult leader seemed almost to be begging for his life until he noticed that Sera’s eyes had been drained of their normal light blue, now completely white. Time itself seemed to slow down as he began to scream in an unearthly pitch.

Sera took his head in her hands and opened her mouth. The cult leader’s skin began to pale as what appeared to be a blue mist-like ghost began issuing out of his mouth into hers, the scream becoming more distorted as more blue mist came out of him. More and more of the mist came out of him, until finally, what appeared to be a small face that was twisted with agony was removed from his mouth into hers.

The cult leader fell to the ground as Sera let go off him. He lied still, and a look of anguish remained on his face. As for the six people who had come to stop the cult, most of them appeared completely shocked. “Well,” Mal said, his face seemingly made of stone, “now I actually have seen everything. ...But would someone like to explain what just happened?”

“Not really sure,” Parisa admitted. “Never seen anything like it.”

“I’ve heard rumors of beings that could feast on human souls,” Halie commented, “but I thought they were just horror stories that they told the rookies back in the Brotherhood.”

“I never heard THAT story.”

“That gave me the creepz,” Anya stated. “I’m feeling chill up backbone.”

Sera walked towards the six, and said, “Hi. My name’s Sera. It’s nice to meet you.”

Rache was uncharacteristically timid as she shook Sera’s hand. “Name’s Rache.”

“Maliphis. Don’t call me ‘Dad’.”

“Doctor Parisa Hataria.”

“Joyce. Halie Joyce.”

“Privet, minya zavut Anastasia. Sorry, but my English not so good.”

And then Sera went to Maeve. “Are you a nice lady?”

Maeve was speechless; this grown woman was acting like a kid! Just like... She got off that train of thought immediately and nodded her head. “S-sure. Name’s Maeve. Maeve Carey.”

“You act like a nice lady,” Sera smiled as she pulled Maeve into a hug. “I’m sure we’re gonna be great friends!”

Maeve appeared to be a bit nervous around the soul eater, because she patted the woman’s back. “Uh… yeah… friends.”

The rest of the group looked at the leader’s fallen corpse. “Those are some tattoos,” Mal remarked. “Was this guy going for the world record, or did he enjoy getting them that much?”

“I think I’ve seen those tattoos before,” Parisa remarked. “Back in college. One of my history classes. But I never really paid attention; the professor was pretty boring, and the tests were easy.”

“I think I recognize them as well,” Rache remarked. “Ayane had to do a report on some Native American people, and I remember her pulling up pictures with that kind of marking on them. Can’t really remember what they were called... Mayu? Miyan?”

“Mayan,” Halie corrected her. “These guys must’ve believed in that Mayan prophecy.”

Mal seemed to be shooting blanks on the subject, though. “I’m sure that makes sense to you Poindexters and whatnot, but could you explain what’s going on?”

Halie looked at the Krayvin and began to explain. “The Mayans were this great Native American society from over a thousand years ago, located in what’s now the southeastern part of Mexico. They were highly advanced, but their society collapsed for some reason before the Spanish came.”

Parisa added, “Now I remember. One of the Mayan’s biggest achievements was this really complex and intricate calendar.”

“Right,” Halie continued. “Supposedly, two days from now is supposed to be this really important date in that calendar, I really don’t remember the specifics. What I do know is that something really big is supposed to happen. A lot of people think it’ll be the end of the world as we know it… or even the actual end of the world. There’re some pretty crazy theories out there: people getting psychic powers, aliens coming to blow us up, they’re all over the board.”

Mal seemed unimpressed. “This is all a theory.”

“Prophecy,” Halie said. “And this is a pretty big one. We’ll probably be better off calling this one in.”

As if on cue, Parisa pulled out her cell phone. After a few moments- “This is Solomon, Big House. Authorization code number niner-eight-oh-two-one… Mission success, Big House, but there’s a bit of a hang-up.”

Almost everyone stared at Parisa as she talked on the phone, while Sera continued to be preoccupied with hugging Maeve. “Yeah, I think it might be a good idea to send some guys over to Mexico. …I see. I understand, but – Yes, I understand that you have seniority, but still – …Alright. Thank you.” She hung up the phone. “God effing damn it. Everyone’s too busy panicking about Lord Herrera being dead. They’re paranoid that they might be sending our people into a trap.”

“Wait,” Maeve said. “Juan’s dead?”

“But they did give me some good news,” Parisa continued. “We’ve still got an operative in the area, and Mission Control said that the Order of Eternal Eyes has some people on leave there.”

“Eternal Eyez? I hope your friendz know what they doing,” Anya cautioned her.

“It’s out of our hands now,” Halie said. “We’ve done our job.”