Habitually reinforced eyes picked up the trigger pulling, but before she could try to block the bullets with her Keys, she felt an arm like a truck ram into her side, and she found herself flying through the alley - being pulled out of the way, she realized. Adrenaline drained from her mind as it slowed down to be replaced by pain - howling, screaming, rending-flesh-from-bone pain - as her vision ran red.

Somebody said something, but she couldn’t tell over the mist of pain. Angela! This wasn’t how she worked. A breath, then a pulse of Prana into the depths of her brain to pump out some endorphins. She’d need at least some mild analgesic to keep herself moving. As her thoughts cleared, she looked around. She was on the street-side, stunningly barren despite the busy hour. First things first: triage. Chest pain, leg pain, and shoulder pain. A glance at her leg was the clearest to understand - the skin was torn off; bullet wound, probably hit a minor artery. Missed her Achilles, thank the Lord.

Shoulder? Felt disloacated. Eternal Lord, but she was familiar with the sensation. Shelley Boot Camp - also known as the Vatican tossing Executor hopefuls in the Mediterranean with nothing but a water-suit and a crucifix around their neck - was an excellent introduction to practicals in shoulder dislocation. That was easy enough to solve, then. Reaching up with arms weaker than she would like to admit, she pulled her cloak up to bite down on. Wouldn’t want to shatter her teeth. She then reached up to the dislocated shoulder, and - with a boost of strength from reinforcing the arm - wrenched her humerus back into its socket.

Her world erupted in pain again; no amount of endorphins could deal with relocating a shoulder. But the pain faded quickly, and her vision soon cleared. Now, why did that happen? Probably, when she reinforced her arm to prepare to block the bullets, she didn’t do so completely before getting pulled away, and so it simply became a weight that the arm socket wasn’t meant to withstand. And the chest pain? She felt around, wincing, and determined it was probably a broken rib bone. She’d heal.

But - and the gravity of the situation came back like a rushing wave - not with a madman nearby. After scrambling to her feet, she sprinted back over to the alleyway and looked inside. A flash of battle seared itself onto her retinas; the prosethic-boy collapsed, and the DHO boy with a knife against the clear Magus with a gun. A thought like fall’s last leaf brushed against her mind, and she knew her task. Arms moving at speeds no normal human could match, she reached behind her back and untied the cloth she kept tied around her waist at all times.

She had been given an honor for her service by the Vatican; something to acknowledge her taking up the burden her family had taken up since her distant ancestor had taken up arms beside the Maid of Orléans in the battle that gave her that title. The Holy Shroud of Jeanne. It wasn’t often that the Eighth Sacrement gave out what they were supposed to protect, but the Shroud was something special. It was a trade; suffering for power to help others.

She tucked the key the Father had given her, which had a tag with the address she sorely hoped they would notice, into a pocket on her front, then ripped one of the pockets of her coat, letting the key-hilts tumble free towards the unforgiving stone below. In the same movement, she wrapped the Shroud around her shoulders, and felt flames licking around her feet.

That was the suffering of the Shroud of Jeanne, and the mighty honor it gave - to feel what the Maid felt in her last moments. Indeed, while she could picture the skin of her legs charring off under the flames she felt - flames that she knew, intellectually, weren’t there - she also felt the steadfast faith and courage and love of Jeanne.

Instead of using mediaries like the Keys to interact with the Church’s Thaumaturgical Foundation, she blasted through to it with sheer force of will, power, and faith. Blades of all Rites - the Rites of Flame, of Ice, of Air, and of many more that Angela couldn’t quite even fully understand herself - materialized as the hilts froze in midair. And of course, many normal ones for the man’s shadow. With a thought, many darted through the air to form a mesh before the two boys, a shield to give them a few seconds if things went awry. God willing, they wouldn’t.

Some distant part of her recognized all this as happening in a fraction of a second.

The rest of the blades hurdled like hail at the man, some aiming for him while others aiming to keep him from coming closer. She wasn’t going to try to kill him; though he’d shot her, she hadn’t seen any kills by him, and he at least deserved to be interrogated first. Not to mention, she’d be in no state to keep him captured after this. Instead, she gave him a path of least resistance - an escape up and away from the alleyway. As the blades flew, she closed her eyes. She didn’t see whether he got hit and pinned or not. Her task had been done as much as she could, and she let the flames engulf her head.

Her world went black, and she let the darkness overwhelm her. She trusted God to make sure the two boys would get themselves and her to safety.
 
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What happens now?

Does this psychopath put a bullet in me or just stand there and mock me? Either way, I'm in no position to rush him, being flat on my back and staring down the barrel of a gun. However, before whatever conclusion he had planned comes to pass, a familiar box cutter plants itself in his arm as a blur swoops towards me.

As Nanaya attempts to help me up, something even crazier happens. An enormous light now fills the alleyway that was approaching darkness just a moment ago. I can barely see a thing and the air is burning even hotter than when the sister entered.

Wait...is that her? Is she insane? Before I can figure out what the hell is even going on, dozens of blades materialize around her, raining down in all directions as far as I can tell.



In the midst of all this madness, something in me shudders...

Like a distant memory...

...just recently forgotten.


ᵃ ʳᵉᴰ ˢᴷʸ ᴬᴺᵈ ᵃ ʷᴴᵒˡᴱ ⁱᴺ ᴹʸ ᶜʰᴱˢᵀ


I snap out of it as everything becomes clear again.

A sudden coolness hitting me as the temperature returns to normal, as though nothing ever happened. The alleyway is now empty, save for us. Even the gunman has disappeared and I honestly don't know if he escaped or was simply annihilated in all that mess

...

No...

Even magecraft isn't capable of destroying someone that completely; he's still out there.

Hmm? That sound...

I look over to see Angela slumped on the ground and immediately scramble to my feet, the feeling finally rushing back to my body. As I make it over to her, it becomes clear that she's out cold. I turn to look for Nanaya, but stop when I see a key laying on the ground with a tag. After picking it up, I toss it over in Ninja Boy's direction.

"Can you make out what that says? My eyes are still adjusting."

As soon as our destination is clear, I lift up the young woman bridal style and carry her there.
 
Takashi Nanaya

As Takashi attempted to lift up banfield he felt an intense heat coming from behind him. He turns around an sees the nun get engulfed in flames. "holy Shit!" He said as he continued running. The man that attacked them was distracted by the blade in his arm and didn't notice until it was to late the nun hit him with everything she had and when the dust cleared he was gone. Did she kill him? no she couldn't have, there's no body and there was still a slight chill running down his spine. He let Banfield down since he seemed like he was doing better. "what, who... Why the hell?" Just a ton of things started running through his head as Banfield rushed to the sister's side. Takashi walked up to the two with his eyes open looking to the rooftops to make sure that he wasn't waiting for them to let their guard down.

Banfield tossed a key to Takashi and in confussion he just accepted it without thinking. Banfield proceeded to pick up the sister princess carry style and start look at him. "oh yeah the key?" he looked at the key and proceeded to read, "lets see this says Aida Church." he looked at Banfield. "Aida church, isnt' that the church in Misaki? Maybe we should take her there so that the other sisters can fix her."
 
Angela blinked herself awake. The first thing she realized after she figured out where she was - a bed, probably at the church - was that there was a blunt pain in her chest. She winced. Rib was probably still broken. Didn’t feel critical, but she’d be feeling that for a while. With a wince, she pulled herself up into a sitting position, and looked around. Mr. Prosthetic was half (or fully) asleep on a chair at the side of the bed, something she found mildly uncomfortable.

Anyway. She opened her mouth to try to get someone’s attention - she’d need to bandage her chest up before she was going anywhere - and coughed violently. She was afraid that would happen. No blood, but she also barely put any weight on her lungs; she would have to be careful. Instead, she grabbed the boy next to her by the shoulder - being careful not to twist her body - and shook him slightly to get his attention.
 
Along time ago...Something happened, I'm not sure what really. It was something I couldn't wrap my head around. Or maybe...I'm not supposed to?

I was just a kid back then, but I remember some of it. Her long, red hair flowing behind her in the wind, matching the sky. The numbness I felt spreading from my chest and the pulverized organ sitting exposed inside it. The almost playful tone in her voice as she bargained with a dying boy for his life.

"So what'll it be?" She asked, unlatching a briefcase on the ground next to me, where she sat knelt. "You can live or you can die. Not an unreasonable choice, in my opinion. And in your case, either choice might hold equal value." The only response I could give was to raise one of the mutilated, necrotic remains of my arms up towards her, a quickening to the gasping coming from my throat. Her grin broadened.

"A fine answer..." With that, she opened the briefcase and retrieved a human heart. Her heart. With a strange pulse, the organ came to life, beating in her hand. "This is going to hurt." She said apathetically before plunging the lump of flesh into the whole in my chest. My gurgling voice finally erupts into an outright cry of agony as the remains of my destroyed heart were dissolved, cannibalized by its replacement. "From this point on, you belong to me," She called over my screaming, the hearts vessels fusing with my own. "You will be my familiar, my creation." Before the process ended, I blacked out from pain and exhaustion.

"A pleasure working with you..."



I awake with a slight jump, the sister's hand on my shoulder.

"Oh...uh, hey there." I wipe the sleep out of my eyes and address the woman.

"We patched you up as well as we could, but I'm no doctor. How do you feel?"
 
Takashi Nanaya

Takashi assisted Banfield take the sister to her church. They didnt really ask what happened just showed them to a room where they helped patch her up. After a while the only thing they could do was watch her sleep. It was getting late so Takashi left leaving Banfield by her side. Takashi went home, laying in bed he just couldnt fall asleep. He couldnt help but think of everything that happened. He knew there was something off about Banfield but all those prostetic arms, that strength, the confidence to fight against that guy in a suit.

Takashi sat up. He yhen started thinking of the sister and her amazing power that caused her to collapse. 'Are there more sisters like that here? Do they know about me? Are they watching me?' Takashi jumped up and looked into his closet. He staryed rooting aroud looking for something. He found a box and took it to his bed, he popped open the box and looked inside. There was an old picture of his mother, a broach of hers, a letter that looked like it had been read hundreds of times, and a dagger. On the side of the scabbard was the family name Nanaya. He reached in and grabbed the dagger.

He removed the scabbard and starred into the blade. "Flash scabbard and flash dash." He took in a deep breath. "Pure eyes huh?" He wondered if he would be considered a powerful assassin. He put the knife back into the scabbard and tucked it under his pillow.

He woke up and got dressed. He was about to leave but grabbed the knife before leaving. He secured it to his belt and tucked it under his shirt. He left the house and headed tword the church. He was wondering if the Sister had woken up or if she was still out cold. He made it to the church and walked in, the rest of the clergy didnt really mind him walking in. He got to the sisters room and opened it slowly. "Hey, im coming in." Takashi walked in and the other two talking. "Hey, did i miss anything?" He said as he leaned up against the wall.
 
Angela glanced over at the boy who came through the open door. He probably should have knocked, but c’est la vie. “Glad...” she cut off, coughing. “Glad to see you’re both okay.” She was in the job of saving people; she’d be less than happy if somebody had died because she was unconscious. She paused, before pushing gently against her chest in several places. She winced as she pushed on the broken rib. Thankfully, it wasn’t a major one, or - God forbid - a sternum fracture. It only was making it hard to breathe because she was laying down. With a force of effort she didn’t quite feel, she pulled herself up against the back of the bed, into a sitting position. She’d probably need to bandage her chest up some, to hold the rib in place, but it wasn’t by any means critical.

Finally, she glanced down at herself. She was - to much relief, what with the fact that the only other people here were two teenage guys and a priest - still in the same slightly dirtied brown habit she had fought in. “Thank you for bringing me back to the rectory. I imagine it wasn’t easy to bring an unconscious girl through a city.” She smiled softly, hoping they’d get the joke.

“I don’t think I ever introduced myself. I’m Executor Angela du Moitier, of the Eighth Sacrament. I deal with Dead Apostles mostly, but it seems that isn’t what’s going on here. I presume you both live here in Misaki?”
 
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"Ah, don't worry about it," I tell her.

"Might as well use these things for something, yeah?" To be honest, its not an exaggeration. The main reason I quit the boxing club at school was that I couldn't really take any fights; too much risk when your arms can hold up too an elephant sitting on them. People in the club didn't appreciate me simply hitting a bag all day and I didn't want to be a drag on the others, so I never reapplied the next year.

"Yeah, I live here. Been close to two years, I think."

After looking around a bit earlier, I'm pretty sure there are other beds here. If I'm working with her, it probably doesn't make any sense for me to stay at the apartment. Not like there's a whole lot there for me anyway, as long as I grab the essentials and that.

"So...Not to impose or anything, but we're working together now, right?"

Well, no time like the present and I don't want her to get the wrong idea, whatever that is.

"I should stay over here at the church while this crap is going on. You're not in the best shape and I don't exactly got anyone depending on me at my place. Better we stick together for the now."

(OOC: Sorry for the wait.))
 
Takashi

As Takashi watched the sister check herself for a busted rib he couldnt help but to get agitated. He was thinking how long it took him to jump in and help and how useless he was in the end. He clenched his fist at his own failure. He perked up when she finally introduced herself, he acknowledged her intro with a head nod. She went ahead and thanked them, takashi sneered looking away. "We didnt do anything, really. If it wasnt for you we'd be dead so dont worry about it."

Banfield started spouting off again about how it wasnt a problem. They then started talking about where they're from. "Ive been here for a while a few years."

His face whipped around to look at Banfield that offered to stay with Angela. "Im sure they dont need you Banfield. This is a church im sure they have some kind of barrier around this place. Not only that i bet they got a couple of capable executors hanging around." He was getting upset that no one was talking about the elephant in the room.

"Enough with the friendly talk!" He shouted. "Why arnt you guys talking about that psychopath?" He's out there killing people, using all sorts of fucking insane spells to summon monsters to kill more people. What the fuck ate we gonna do?" He was bright red, he was out of breath and a little embarresed at his outburst.
 
Angela stared down at her knees, her brows knit as she frowned at the boy’s outburst. “Please don’t mistake my...levity, for flippancy. You learn to embrace moments of peace when you find them. There is nothing I can do right now.” She sighed. “Giving up your life for a good cause is martyrdom; dying uselessly is stupidity.”

She shook her head, before smiling lightly. “Both of you are welcome, so long as it’s okay with Father - this is his house, after all. I imagine there’s plenty of space; there’s nobody here but him and I at the moment.”

She thought of something. “Do either of you have a cell phone I could borrow?”
 
A sigh escapes my lips.

"You don't have a lot of friends, do you?"

This guy really needs to learn to relax, especially after what happened last night. The sister's right after all, we aren't likely going to get a lot of chances to rest as things go on. We ought to take the time while we can.

Besides, I doubt that nut case or whoever he might be working with are going to pull anything in the middle of the day. I can probably use that to get some information later. First, I need to find the man Angelica spoke of.

"Here you go, don't mind the crack." I fish around in my pocket for my phone and hand it over at her request, then head for the door.

"I'm gonna go find that padre, maybe see if there's any coffee around here while I'm at it."







(OOC: Sorry for the wait. Think I'm gonna make this the last round for this thread and start a new one soon after its over.)
 
Takashi crossed his arms and held in his frustration. Is this what experienced Demon hunters were like? Was his father this way? He couldnt help but think of all the time he wasted keeping tabs on Banfield like it was a special mission preyending to be a demon hunter. This psycho was his first experience with Demons and it was freaking him out. He wished he had someone to turn to but...

He looked up at the two as they continued the conversation. The cocky Banfield asked if Takashi had friends, was he trying to pick a fight? Did he forget who saved him? His carefree attitude annoyed him so. He just ignored them both and sat up against the wall. Angela invited them to stay, "im fine, i can get here quickly if needed. Besides unlike Banfield i would inconvience a church with my carefree attitude."
 
Angela couldn’t help but smile at the two, but it was tinged with more sadness than she’d like to admit - they were in the Moonlit world. They still thought this was more like an adventure, like a story from the Age of Heroes. Give it a few years - or, at the rate things were going, a few weeks - and they’d have to face the music.

As she caught the phone, she thought about her Magus cousins. Is that what our world drives people to? Hardening their hearts, pursuing only knowledge? She sighed, before flipping it open and keying in the number for the Archdiocese of Tokyo.

“Catholic Church, Archdiocese of Tokyo. What can we do for you?”

“I need to speak to His Excellency.” Before the other person could object, she said, “Dei! Dei! In gloria Dei!” A passcode.

A click, and another voice. “Hello, Miss du Moitier. What do you need?”

“Shaping up to be an emergency. Can Rome send help?”

“The Vatican’s gearing up for war. Something about an Ancestor.”

Angela suppressed a curse, before thanking the man. “God save us all, then.” She snapped the phone closed, before handing it back. “Well, we’re on our own.”
 
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