Brothers of the Light

A mild drizzle fell from the blackened clouds foreboding worse weather on inward bound. Inquisitor Christopher Williams and his companion, inquisitor Marcus Franklin, stood on the sidewalk, scouting the area with keen eyes. Their prey had yet again managed to confuse them enough to escape in the narrow and winding corridors that personified this part of town. Even though Christopher knew that Marcus would be like his shadow during this mission he glanced over his shoulder to make sure that that was the case. Marcus was educated in the Art of Kinetics, which reflected his personality as a warrior, and would have lost track of the heretic many blocks ago if it wouldn't have been for Christopher�s ability to track down apostates. The two of them were the perfect enforcer team, Christopher being the tracker and Marcus the executioner.

Christopher closed his eyes and started gathering the force from within once again, he toyed with it, shaped it and finally released it as so many times before. A feeling of the heretics most recent choice of turns appeared in Christopher's subconscious. He started to move, first slowly as if he had to be certain that this was the right way, then he increased the pace more and more until he finally ran. He navigated through the alleyways as if he had been born and raised there almost outrunning Marcus.

The people on the sidewalk stepped aside as the two inquisitors in their red shining armors and flapping mantles came running down the street, no one wants to stand in the way of the Brotherhood. That sort of thing could be considered an act of treason against the human race, which would make that person a heretic. A heretic that had to be executed on sight, either by the hand of Christopher or Marcus.

The feeling was almost gone as Christopher and his companion turned another corner and found themselves in a cobbled alleyway no more than three meters wide. Straight ahead was a high wooden planking. The stench from a pile of garbage managed to penetrate the inquisitors air-filters. But both Christopher�s and Marcus' attention was directed to the small group of men stand in the other corner. They were all dressed similar to the man they where chasing, so it was possible that the heretic was among them. Marcus took a step ahead and placed himself alongside Christopher.

Christopher looked at Marcus who had already detached his sidearm, the notorious Punisher pistol which is the standard issue armament for the inquisition. Christopher was just about to do the same as one of the men looked over his shoulder. "The Brotherhood!" he screamed as he drew a gun out of his shoulder holster. But he didn't get the chance to fire it as a bullet from Marcus' Punisher found its way to the mans forehead. At once the whole alley hopped to life, everybody going for their weapons. "Feeble heretics, drop your guns!" Christopher screamed, his voice distorted by the helmet making him sound more like a roaring demon then a human. Marcus, true to the his warrior spirit, didn't wait for anyone to return the fire. The heretics literally fell apart as he emptied his entire clip into the small crowd.

Marcus moved forward still with the smoking Punisher in one hand and started to search the bodies. The blood from their fallen enemies found it's way around the cobbled alley stones and down the cesspool. Marcus turned towards Christopher and said "He got away, again.". "Check the planking.", commanded Christopher. Marcus slowly faced the blood splattered planking as if it was challenging him. Then he took one step backwards just to fly forward with incredible speed and crushed several planks with one well performed kick. The effort turned out to be a waste of energy as the alley ended with a night black river. To swim in one of those could prove fatal.

The yellowish streetlights witnessed that the night was approaching. Christopher started to investigate the alleys last escape route, the cesspool. Carefully be removed the iron cover to the cesspool but didn't get it more than half open as he saw a muzzle flash from down below, instinctively be threw himself backwards but it was in vain. The bullet struck the shoulder pad of his armor and tossed him around so that he ended up on all four, fortunately the armor took most of the blast. Behind him could he hear how Marcus' Punisher started to sound and then a splashing sound as the heretic ran further into the sewage system. Christopher forced himself to his knees, his head still spinning when Marcus helped him to his feet. "Are you OK?" "Sure, the armor took the blast, one certain heretic will not be as lucky when I get my hands on him."

Christopher holstered his Punisher and drew his Avenger sword. "Let's move.", he said with a firm tone. He went back to the cesspool opening and took a glance, a rusty ladder on one side led down in the darkness. The ladder ended at the bottom of a big sewage pipe, ankle deep water fought its way towards the river. Christopher turn his head to the other end of the pipe. About thirty feet away at the far end a flickering light reveled a larger room. A splashing sound told them the heretic wasn't going to wait for his followers to catch up. Christopher and Marcus quickly advanced through the pipe and into the room.

The walls where green of algae and rust, the floor was covered by a knee deep layer of black, filthy water. One of the corners had fallen in and there was huge rusty pipes and a whole lot of junk sticking up out of the water. The ceiling was decorated with one small, lit gas lamp that didn't manage to chase the darkness away from more then the center of the room. The only sensible exit was placed diagonally across the room, without wasting as much as a second they started advancing towards it. Marcus was about to jump down from what looked like a car wreckage he just crossed as something came flying through the room and hit him in the chest. The thing wasn't larger than a hand grenade but it had a much more frightening effect. Sparks flew from the inquisitor's battle suit followed by a deafening explosion that threw him several twenty feet back, the lamp didn't survive the blast wave�everything in the room got concealed by a sudden veil of darkness.

The night scouting equipment in the helmet had been damaged so Christopher took it off and threw it away. He focused and used the Art to help him with his poor night seeing. When the darkness was swept away from his eyes he could se how Marcus had managed to get up on his feet again, he held an arm over his stomach. The grenade had torn a big hole in his chest armor from which a stream of blood was flowing. Marcus took a couple of stumbling step forward and breathed heavily. Then a second thing came flying from across the room, it was a disk, spinning such speed that it made a high-pitched noise. "Get down!", Christopher shouted. Marcus dropped upon Christopher�s command into the water, the disc barely missing him.

Christopher spun around just in time to get his own sword up and block a throwing-sword that would have hit him in the back. There was no hesitation any more, Christopher knew that his enemy was a Callistonian Intruder, an assassin. He had to act fast as the Art wouldn't stand him by forever. As a call from beyond the Intruder appeared just feet away. It held its sword in one hand and its Kratach in the other. Christopher covered his face with his arm as the Kratach started to send out projectiles against him. The bullets ricochet of his armor and damaged the Intruder more than the inquisitor. Seemly enraged by his mistake the Intruder attacked Christopher with its sword. Christopher parried the attack with ease and counterattack by letting his blade carve a deep wound over the chest of the Intruders. It sank down on its knees as if it was dying, but Christopher knew better, in a minute it would be as fit for combat as ever. He raised his sword and split the creatures head in two, it would never bother mankind again. "Not built for direct confrontation." he quoted one of his old schoolbooks.

Christopher turned to Marcus. "Are you alright?", directly regretting asking the question as he could see the blood still flowing from his chest. "I'm � fine.", Marcus panted "You go ahead � get the � heretic ... I'll wait here." "Always willing and ready to die for every mission." Christopher thought as he turned towards opening where the heretic had disappeared. It was now barricaded by a wooden door. He took out his Punisher. Carefully he pointed the muzzle towards the lock on the door. *BLAM BLAM BLAM* The door didn't last long as the Punisher methodically blew away both lock and hinges. When the battered door fell inwards he kept the smoking Punisher aimed at the opening.

A female head peeked through the opening, *BLAM*, the bullet buried itself right between the eyes of the unfortunate. "How long are you gonna keep this up?", Christopher asked out loud, "How long will it take before you understand that there is no hope?". How many more would have to be sacrificed before mankind was safe once again. "You couldn't run, you couldn't hide and the demon warrior out here has been vanquished." He didn't care, they would keep on fighting as long as it was needed. "Your time has come." With the adrenaline pumping through his body and his Punisher and Avenger ready these souls would be cleansed no matter what.

He didn't notice how small the room really was until he was in it, it couldn't have been more than ten feet in each direction accept for the ceiling that was twice the height of a full grown man. Behind a ragged bed that had been raised up to provide cower a familiar face, twisted by fear, peered out. *BLAM BLAM BLAM* Christopher made the Punisher tear several large holes in the bed before the thump of a body hitting the floor was heard. Without a second's delay he dropped the Punisher, gripped the Avenger firmly and sliced the bed in two with a powerful cut. Behind the bed laid the heretic he had chased the last hour or two and a little girl that couldn't have been more than ten years old. The apostate had smoking bullet holes over his chest and arms. Christopher made his lips form a stiff smile, then he turned to the little girl. Her hand was still cowered her ears, tears were not far away. Her hair was unmanaged and her clothes was nothing more than rags. Christopher search her mind with the Art, his face got stern when he found was he had hoped he wouldn't find.

He took one step forward towards the little girl and declared in a peremptory tone as he raised his sword "It is written; thy shall not spare the life of a heretic..."