text: Scared to risk stuttering more and screwing things up, you take the WT and make sure Kelso holds it. He looks at you with contempt before speaking into it.
  
  "Indeed." He seethes, his voice threatening and just... Cold. Kelso doesn't even need to try to get his voice that way, it just is, even if it sounds grandfather-like when he scolds you, "I have him. It's amazing how the Church has destroyed what's left of this Earth. Only desert left aside from your little colony and houses buried in sand. But believe me, this 'Sebastian' isn't the first human who I've caught." Kelso pauses, and releases the button to see if she responds.
  
  She doesn't.
  
  He finishes. "And he won't be the last."
  
  Click
  
  And it's off.
  
  "Master, wasn't that too dramatic? We don't want them to send more than we can handle..."
  
  "Kid, you never force a person into a conversation he didn't start. You'd think you'd still remember proper manners. Let's just hope to heaven they don't bring every damn one of the king's men."
  
  ---
  
  Kelso and yourself find several mounds to hide behind. There are only several clusters of areas around the big City that have the half-buried houses, which means that the religious troupe will likely find them there, at some point. You keep your sights on the city. Every once in a while you'll see moving lights across the landscape, which are subsequently turned off. Then on. And off again...
  
  "Those are the soldiers." Kelso points out to you. A good deal of them too, and approaching quickly on more than one side. The lights seem to travel in groups. You count... Eight groups of five. You wonder how many you can take, and in turn how much more Kelso could.
  
  "So, what's the plan?"
  
  "We capture one and hightail it out of here. This... Is going to be challenging."
  
  Your mentor stands up, watching the approaching mob of Zealots. Two or three are way off, lighting up the opposite direction, but the rest are surrounding your vicinity, though you're uncertain if that's on purpose or not. Kelso motions you to come closer to him, to listen. "This is where we split up. They're trying to flank us, but that won't work when they're spread out like this. We're, funnily enough, a straight, though long line away from the city. The lights are moving toward us, and with other groups closing in from the two sides; a circle. I go one way, you go the other."
  
  "Like we trained, I hit hared and fast."
  
  He nods. "Let's get to it then. Good luck, kid." He begins jogging to the left. It's when he breaks out into a run when you only begin moving leftwards. For the first time since you escaped the Facility, you're scared. You sprint across the sand with your head down, maintaining balance and stealth even with your heavy armor. You ready yourself, the lights shining brighter and brighter until... You see them. Tall, thick, dark; the words that come to mind. Shining Crosses on ebony metal that covers the entire body, down to the legs. His helmet's visor is like a medieval knight's, only more techy. Not only that, but their rifles are huge, with tusks at the end. You wonder what caliber that behemoth could hold...
  
  Still, you have the element of surprise, if only because you aren't a lightbulb shaped a like freaking cross.
  
  You leap up, letting a gust of wind propel you, making a cross of your own in the night-sky, Your body finds itself right above the ringleader, who dumbly looks up when your feet, disguised as sneakers, land on his  helmet. A heavy clunking sound is made before you hear a snap (his neck), which you use for momentum, jumping at another, this time with your fists. Refined rage, like Kelso taught you.
  
  It was going fine until bullets came into the picture. After the second clunk the last three of the group turn and point their bayonets-on-crack rifles at you. What comes out isn't a bullet, more like... Lightning?
  
  It bursts out at you with a mighty roar, and you feel your skin ripping, only to regenerate. Three more blasts, you make another swipe, hitting viciously through the armor of one, finishing him off with blood. Three (who were shooting at you) to go.
  
  They reload, which thankfully takes enough time. One of them doesn't bother, however, and stick the tusks of his rifle into you. Some of your blood spills, and even more of his bursts out when you push his rifle from inside you to inside of him, his armor nothing when your rage takes over. With blood squirting into your eyes, the rest are easy work. You claw at the armored figures, their lightning-shots hurting you but not overcoming you until... You're done. Five of them were killed, and you don't even remember how the last one went down. You lay on the sand, too stunned to move.
  
  More of the Crosses come over to belt you over the head with what must be a bible, because damn was it heavy.
  
  ---
  
  Even more bright lights (a recurring theme, you tell yourself), and you find yourself strapped onto a chair. The room is all blue, but your chair is white. For whatever reason, the colors seem pleasant, and calming to you. You wonder what happened to Kelso...
  
  A powerful voice speaks out, "Who are you?"
  > reply sarcastically.
  "A heathen, no doubt." You manage to spit out, angrily.
  
  "Not a heathen, an abomination. There is a difference." The voice is male, and older. "But I don't wish to quell your anger, as you are no doubt misguided. Worry not, we shall end your suffering."
  
  "Thanks, I wouldn't want to be a burden."
  
  He laughs. "You are a funny devil alright, but one who deserves an explanation, if he wants one." Gears grind, causing your ears to sting while a shaft opens up in the blue room. An old man in a priestly garb and a skullcap comes out, an inviting though intimidating aura around him. "Do you wish to know why you're here? What the Church's mission is?"
  
  You stare at the man. "What's the point if you're just going to kill me right after?"
  
  "Us antagonists like our monologs, do we not? You'd know, for I am only part of the lesser evil. So, if you please, allow me to explain why the verdict is so grim for one with such oratory abilities, like yourself."
  
  You nod to the bizarre old man, "Sure... But not before you tell me where my mentor is."
  
  "Hmm?"
  
  "Kelso."
  
  "Doesn't ring any bells. Can we go on?" He says, looking at his watch.
  
  He's not even wearing a watch! You sigh, "You really want to tell me the story then, huh."
  
  The pruned holy-man beams, "Why yes!"
  
  A long pause erupts. And you wait for the priest to tell you. He begins to cough, and cough... By now you're just irked, stuck in a room with a senile wackjob. It's surprising that he's your interrogator. "So."
  
  "Ah yes. On the first day," His large dark eyes twinkle, "of the new Era, the world began to sink. Horrible diseases and militant radicals swept through different parts of the globe. Coincidentally, this all began after marriage became void and immorality was embraced." He shakes his head, "Regardless, Simon Kurschner created his Program, with the government's support, and using the dead and dying as test subjects, he claimed that he wished to stop disease and create perfect soldiers as well. At the time, it sounded ludicrous; like a comic book. But the world governments were desperate, and he received the funding. The second day was much darker, with the disease spreading rapidly before Kurschner's lab was even finished. By the time it was done, he petitioned for less regulation, and that's when it began. There would be no stopping what he began to create. Worse than the viruses which wiped out humanity; a God's flood. This... you, are different, unnatural. Third day came and Simon sent a crew of his deathless zombies, which survived the disease under his care, to deal with military conflicts all over the world. The fact that it succeeded so well was a curse, as he gained more support. By the 4rth day he had thousands of Creations under his disposal. And who didn't trust him? The religious, the so-called 'supersticious' Church." He spits, getting emotional during his obviously summarized tale, "5th Day, his Creations began fighting against the world, rather than with them against evil. One experiment could take on hundreds of regular soldiers alone, and so they laid waste, all while Simon was living the good life. Then, what do you know, the diseases evolved, went airborn, killed everyone but the faithful, those who stayed in the First Chapel. The Earth was dying, as God didn't want it to continue as it did, and only two groups survived; the Zealots, and the Creations. The next day involved war. W wanting to e slowly began building society back up, getting stronger technology and a bigger community. But it was not enough, and the Creations spread us weak and thin. But we're growing, and the Creations are now on the run, no doubt split between wanting to kill us or the Professor, who got them into this mess. Everything with them is 'kill', for they are demon-spawn.''
  
  He notices your eyese rolling and then bends down to your level, "Look at you, boy, blood on his lips and unrelenting anger. This is mercy, to end your cursed life. As now, on the 7th day, we shall put all of the cursed to rest. They may resist, but we will go out of our way to end them."
  
  You take a deep breath, taking all of this in. There isn't that much to say, and you realize how much fragments you still don't know. There has to be more to this, though you're not sure why...
  
  "Dramatic, no?" He nods, continuing. "Which makes me wonder where you fit into all of this. You don't have a name do you?"
  
  "Uh, no, I can't remember anything from before my awakening."
  
  The Father frowned, "Hmm, you must have been one of the last experiments if you're so young. Very well then, good night, I'm afraid. May God have mercy on your soul..." He turns to leave.
  
  "Wait, you're killing me after all that?!? Come back here! I'm sentient, I'm human, just like YOU!" You yell, struggling at the immobile chair.
  
  He doesn't answer. A quick, firey death unexpectedly follows, your seat spewing out bursts of flame, charring through your body and burning your soul to a crisp. Red, then all black.
  
  You have died by the hands of the Church.