Forgive Me, Father... (Notte and BWA)

The smell of decaying flesh and dark magic that floated into the nostrils of Justicar Maxwell Jordan gave him even more incentive to kick the large, wooden cathedral door in.

The year was 2130. Humanity has suffered the events of St. Peter's Revelations. However, for every sinner taken, power was gained. The humans that remained were given new technologies and were finally in communication with the forces of Heaven, all for the reconstruction of their race. However, agents of Hell had managed to infiltrate the human world and have begun corrupting innocent people left, right and center. To cleanse this taint, Heavem appointed a group of priests, monks and other holy men to take arms and fight the scourge of Hell. They are known as Exodus, and Justicar Jordan was one of them.

There was no force alive that could stop him kicking the door off the hinges, draw his holy pistols and unleash round after round into the heads and hearts of the zombified horde. He had became Death, destroyer of worlds, by holy rite and the word of the Lord Himself. If a fool stood in his path, then they would remain in Purgatory, to come face-to-face with their own stupidity.

As he continued shooting, killing, maiming and crushing, from under his helmet came his voice, echoing a prayer of battle. "By His Holy Word, I cleanse the dark. By His Honorable Blessing, I spill their blood... may God forgive me for my sins and send these demons back into the hell from whence they came... Amen..."

Ten years ago

The battle had been waged for centuries, slowly but surly evil had infiltrated the world and God had sent Angels down from heaven to fight. Seraphina Zekiel was one such angel, yet each soul that she had to take carved at her heart and the war no longer made sense to her, but she would not give up on her Lord God, knowing that she was here in his name made her strong.

The night was dark, the wind howling, and the rain came down like daggers muting the sound of clashing swords. Her long white hair slapped in her face as she parried and danced away from the demons blade. The body of the soul that had cried out lay lifeless on the ground and Seraphina tripped over it while trying to dodge another strike. When she feel, an arrow pierced through one of her pure white wings and she screamed, the feathers staining red with blood. A net was cast over her and she was unable to cut free from it. The demon stood over her and laughed at her pain, relishing in it, as she watched another demon came forth and another and another until she was completely surrounded. The harder she fought to free herself, the more tangled and tight the net became around her. A sharp pain to her scalp and then she felt nothing.

When next she woke, she was chained down to an alter, a Cross of her Lord hanging upside down and she cringed at the image. The buzz of laughter started in her head and she looked away from the image that would be burned into her mind forever. Such evil. The sight that greeted her had her pulling on her bonds, demons and damned souls watched her with wicked looks of both lust and murderous intent. Some whispering to others what they would like to do to her. When the temple doors opened, Asmodeus, one of the seven Princes of Hell walked in and the silence in the temple was almost deafening. As he walked towards the alter, Seraphina fought harder against the bonds and started to say the Lord's prayer. Calling out to him for Divine assistance. When Asmodeus got to the alter, he laughed at her, "Do you really think that your God will save you? He has abandoned you."

In one swift move, Asmodeus ripped her angels cloak off with a roar as it burnt his hand. "I will take that Holiness from you and soil it in Lucifer's name." Her body lay bare before him and still prayer after prayer fell from her lips, yet she would let no tear fall from her eyes. Asmodeus climbed on top of the alter between her legs and started touching her innocent virginal flesh, a foreign sensation crawled threw her awareness and she knew that he was more powerful than she. Still, she did not give up as his fingers invaded her sheath. Moving his hands gripped her hips and he lifted her up to him, so that his erection was positioned at her opening. One quick thrust and a scream was torn from her throat as her purity and virginity were taken with brutality. She looked down in morbid fascination as the blood from her barrier started to leak down onto his shaft when he started to move. He played her body as if she were an instrument, having had millennium of fornication and promiscuity, she was no match to him and against her will, her body gave over and flooded with desire. When her first orgasm ripped threw her, she cried out and thrashed against him, but he kept on going until he spilled his seed both inside and outside of her womb.

Exhausted, tainted, bruised, and violated, Seraphina had floated in a world that was in between worlds, her once white wings now clipped and painted red for the sin that she had committed against God. At the moment when his Holy presents left her, she fell into slumber...


Present day

The world was dark and she couldn't see, but a voice sounded and drowned out the screams. A prayer from one who hunted evil, although entombed, she had heard the whispers of hunters who called themselves Exodus. At hearing his prayer, her ears started to bleed, but she welcomed it as long as she could hear the words of her Lord, even if she had now fallen, cast from Heaven by His hand while she was sent to fight and failed. When he finished saying his prayer, she screamed "AMEN!" The word burned in her mouth, for she had sinned against him, and her repentance had not been enough for she was no longer pure. The pain had been excruciating and her clipped wings burned, she feel into darkness, praying that this man would end her existence and send her back into the arms of her Lord God.

It was when Maxwell finished the prayer that the holy sigils and inscriptions tattooed to his tanned, muscular skin began to burn at his nerves, warning him. It meant only one thing in this world, and it was definitely something far more worse than a necromancer's deathborne hordes. Realising his left hand's weapon was empty, he primed a holy detonator within the pistol, throwing it into the crowd of approaching undead and drawing his short sword. The weapon was more than just tempered steel, however; running along the core of the blade was a line of gold, with ancient blessings moulded into the design. It was, by the account of the one who forged it, one of the seven Swords of Samson.

Each Sword was forged from a broken piece of Samson's own holy weapon and could only be wielded by a Exodus member that the sword itself chooses. Maxwell was one of the seven and he proved his right to the blade, cleaving through neck after neck and skull after skull of the deathborne, his voice raising in volume to further empower the words of his prayers. Again, upon finishing, the sigils burned. What could be causing this?

Suddenly, within three minutes, Maxwell heard nothing but silence. He remained still, covered head to toe in blood, his ears searching for any sound, anything to expose his target. Then he heard it, the ripple of robes. Spinning on the spot, he raised his pistol and fired his last round, the holy bullet piercing a nearby banner. A moment passed before a spray of blood erupted from behind it, followed by the burning corpse of the necromancer himself. As the foul knave burned, the Justicar uttered a final prayer.

"Though justice was dealt and evil was cleansed, let the Lord bless me to remain vigil..." He paused. Looking around, he wandered towards the desecrated altar, sword at the ready. Whatever was setting off his wards still remained in the cathedral. Five agonising paces later, he spoke again in the vain attempt to draw whatever it was out into the light of God. "Amen."

"Amen. Amen. Amen. Amen. AMEN!" She screamed it over and over until the taste of blood filled her mouth and until her ears started to bleed. For ten years she had been trapped in this tomb, the blood still coating her thighs from when her virginity was taken. She couldn't move, except to flex her hands which crusted when she did so, sending dirty to the ground. She knew that she was filthy, coated in dust and grime. Although, there were no bugs crawling around in the tomb with her. She wanted to fight and to move, but it was just to tight. The only thing that she could do was keep on screaming, even if it hurt.

Maxwell was now certain of the source, his sigils pulsing as if the taint was entombed underneath the altar. He stood there, pondering his course of action; yes, there was still evil here. But due to the current state it was in, there was no risk to anything holy becoming corrupted. If anything, the Justicar could just leave it to die within it's tomb. However, if the cathedral was knocked down in the place of a new one, or if Hell ever discovered it, then the potential for a Second War would arise.

Gripping the handle of his sword tightly, Maxwell weighed these options. Leave it to rot or free it to kill it. After what seemed like a minute, he decided to be safe than sorry. Sheathing his sword, Maxwell approached the altar, cracking his knuckles. "Dear Lord, grant me the strength to clear the way, so that justice may be brought to whatever darkness resides beneath..." Breathing deeply, he began to concentrate, continuing the prayer under his breath. He was about to strike when he heard the coughing gasp of the still alive and burning necromancer.

"Gak! H... hehehe.... g-go ahead and open the t-tomb, foolish slave! Y-you only br-bring yourself closer to de... aggh... death..."

Maxwell, growling, drew his pistol and fired in the general direction of the necromancer, hearing the gory explosion of a headshot ring through the cathedral. Holstering his weapon, the Justicar resumed his Prayer of Eternal Strength, returning to his earlier stance. Then, in one solid push, the altar tilted off the ground and slammed back down, exposing a deep, square hole within the floor.

That was when Maxwell heard the rustle of feathers...

Seraphina gave a very feminine cry of pain when the light first touched her eyes, not having seen anything other than darkness in the decade that she had been imprisoned. She coughed as dust stirred the air around her and unable to get breath she tried to sit up, her body weak. While lifting up one small but elegant dirty hand to place on the side of the tomb, the rattling of chains could be heard as she sat up. Her vision blurry as she tried to look around, noticing only shapes and nothing else. She couldn't tell were Maxwell was or even what he was, fearing that there were Demon's around, she started to pray, even though it pained her to do so. "PATER noster, qui es in cœlis; sanctificatur nomen tuum: Adveniat regnum tuum; fiat voluntas tua, sicut in cœlo, et in terra. Panem nostrum cotidianum da nobis hodie: Et dimitte nobis debita nostra, sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris: et ne nos inducas in tentationem: sed libera nos a malo. Quia tuum est regnum, et potestas, et Gloria, in saecula. Amen. In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti."

Fire, so much fire burned at her mouth, and her stained red wings felt as if they were on fire as well. To afraid of what may be coming, she forced her body to move, first placing one long dirty and delicate leg over the side of the tomb, before she pushed herself and fell over the side. A sharp cry passed her lips as her wrists were still shackled and they pulled above her, forever making her a prisoner, for she as sure that these demons wouldn't let her out. Wasn't sure if even God would let her free. With her arms held above her, her large rounded breasts were thrust out as her back arched forward. She moved her legs to get them under her, but when she raised up she fell back down, the disuse had made them unable to support her. The length of her hair was still in the tomb, having grown for ten years it would be past her feet if she stood, the white color of it had turned to a dirty matted grey from the dust and grime. When she thought she saw something move, she stretched the length of her red wings out and brought them around herself for what little protection that they could offer. "Father... help me." Tears of blood fell from her eyes as she dropped her head in defeat.

Maxwell had taken a step back when the angel's hand rose from the tomb, but upon seeing her struggle to rise from the depths, he couldn't help but gaze in wonder. After Heaven had given Humanity the technology, the angels that were sent to fight and cleanse the world of sin went back up into the skies, leaving humanity prepared to finish their work. Maxwell was born within sanctuary about twenty three years ago and was not allowed to leave so, for him, this moment was splended. Then he cringed. Despite being an angel, her wings were red. Blood weeped from her eyes and had, at one stage, poured from her mouth. The signs were clear and that caused the Justicar to unsheathe his sword.

"You are Excommunicate, one of the damned traitors! I have no intention to help you except to claim your head!" Maxwell proclaimed. He held the sword aloft, the angle perfect for decapitation. His sigils burned, his training was buzzing within his mind. The urge to slay her was rising instinctively. But, no matter what, he just couldn't do it. His arms quivered, his eyes gazing up and down her desecrated body, noticing the spatter of blood upon her thighs, displaying the taking of her sacred virginity. This... no. She is not a traitor angel... she was tainted against her will. That is why she is praying. Why she was screaming within her tomb. She is still faithful.

With these thoughts, the Justicar lowered his sword. It was not right to kill her. The Excommunicate was even bound in demon chains... she was innocent, even if her body had betrayed her. Raising his sword with new confidence, Maxwell swung the blade, cleaving through the chains and freeing her after Lord-knows-how-many years. Stepping back once more, to give her breathing room, Maxwell sheathed his sword, nodding to her.

"If our Lord God will not forgive you, then I will, for I see you are innocent from your sin... what is thy name?" Maxwell asked.

When she heard that he would take her head in the name of her Lord, she let her wings fall to the side, offering up her neck willingly. "May God bless my soul as thee send me to my death. I go willingly." Her voice was soft and horse from being parched. When she heard the whistle of the blade slicing through the air she tilted her head back and smiled, a single tear trailing down one cheek, "Finally I will reunite with you, my Lord." When the blade passed over her head, her eyebrows drew together in confusion upon hearing the cling of metal against metal and she fell forward now that the chains were cut. Landing on her face, she let out a groan as it scrapped against the floor and she tried to push herself back up, but she was just to weak. Her white hair finally slipped out of the tomb and landed around her in an almost circular pattern like a halo.

She took a deep breath and pushed herself onto her back and looked upwards, still not seeing anything but shadows. "Thy name is Seraphina Zekiel, why did thou not slay me, Justicar?" Her pale green eyes shifting to the spot where she thought he may be. She moved her arms to cover her breasts and her feminine mound, trying to hide her nakedness from his view. She may no longer be sacred and pure, but that was not of her doing, and she had never had anyone see her thously before her ruining, not even herself. A brief thought floated through her mind and she wondered what she looked like. She said a prayer for penitence, for she knew that vanity was a sin.

Maxwell nodded. "Seraphina... a suited name for one so beautiful." Watching her cover her breasts and sacred place, the Justicar removed the blood-stained outer cloak first, then removed the inner cloak he wore underneath and gave it to her. "Here... this should fit, somewhat. Also, the reason I did not slay you was because I believe in redemption without death... but that only applies to exceptional cases." The Justicar slowly replaced his outer cloak then sat with Seraphina upon the steps. He wanted to ask so much, to enquire her about what the Kingdom of Heaven was like... but he knew such subjects would not do well for her condition. The taint was still there and he had to do something about it.

Something beeped. Maxwell pulled back his sleeve, exposing a sigil that glowed bright with a holy shine and the wrist communicator, which was the source of the beeping. "Please, remain silent for a moment." He kindly said to Seraphina, waiting a moment before entering the reciever code. "Exalted Justicar Maxwell Jordan here... yes. The situation has been handled. No taint remains. May the Lord guide us home." Closing communications, he stood up to his full height and removed his holy mask, revealing a face that bore hazel eyes and a small tuft of brown hair.

"Will thou be able to stand, milady? We have to be on our way if we want to avoid the Purification Teams."

Seraphina blushed, never having been called beautiful before as if it was actually meant. Even though she knew that all of God's children were beautiful. When she heard the rustling of clothing, she instinctively tried to move away from the fear of what would happen, even though he was a Holy man of God. The rape that she had lived through still fresh in her mind. When she felt material drape over her, she caught a whiff of his sent and shivered slightly. Slowly and painfully she sat up, turning her body away from him so that she could use her hands to pull the cloak on. "T-t-thank you." She put it on, but the thing felt almost painfully tight around her breasts and she knew without seeing that it molded too them, not hiding anything really that was hidden under the cloth.

She remained silent as he spoke, frowning a bit over his lie. When he finished speaking and stood up, she looked upwards, her vision still hazed by becoming clearer. If only she had something to wipe them with. What she wouldn't give to feel the rain beat down upon her upturned face or to feel the blessing of Gods earth beneath her feet. Before her mind could continue wondering, she spoke, "What may I call thee Justicar?"

At his question, she tried to get up, but her legs gave out once again beneath her. Having not used them in a decade, it was slightly painful. "No, Justicar, I do not believe I can stand. It is alright if you leave me here, I do not mind dying if it means seeing my Lord in Heaven again."

"Maxwell Jordan... and I won't leave thou to die here, amongst the corpses of demons and heretics." Making sure none of his movements were sudden, he gently picked Seraphina up off the ground, his eyes never journeying down to gaze upon her large breasts that strained against her lent clothing. Moving towards the side entrance, he kicked it open, exiting quickly and heading towards his transport. Awaiting them was a pair of horses; survivors of the apocalypse, only cybernetically enhanced with wings similar to an angel's, granting flight. Attached to them was a carriage, with enough room for one driver and two passengers behind him or her.

Placing Seraphina in the place behind him and making sure she was secure, Maxwell took the reins and flicked them. "Ya!" he cried, cueing the horses to activate. With several whines, they began to gallop away from the cathedral, building up speed before their wings began to rise and fall, lifting not only themselves, but the carriage into the air. Maxwell steered them around a bit, adjusting their direction before uttering a keyword, engaging the auto-pilot of the beasts, who maintained their current course.

Turning in his seat, the Justicar made sure Seraphina was fairing well. "I'm taking thee to a safehouse of mine. Exodus won't take kindly to me bringing thou to a sanctioned hideout, so this will do."

"But.... I - I am tainted in the eyes of the Lord, if this be my final resting spot, I am fine with that." She was so bewildered, not understanding, but perhaps this was the will of her Lord as well, so that she may earn her penance. "Although, I would be happy to accompany you on your noble quest doing God's work, after all idle hands are Devil's handiwork." She noticed and cringed how when she said God it burned, but when she said Devil nothing happened. When he picked her up, she gave a startled cry and wrapped her arms around his neck, the side of her breasts pressed into his chest. One wing wrapped around the back of him, so that it wouldn't get into his way, the other was in the front and resting over his arm, the end of her tainted feathers caressing his hand unknowingly.

When Maxwell set her down, she gave a sigh of relief, not used to being touched by anyone and now afraid to be touched by anything. "Th-thank you, Maxwell Jordan. You are a very kind man and I know that God is thankful for the work you do." She could see his shadow as he turned back to join her. "I understand that you risk much for me, I do thank thee." She brought her hands up to her face with the intention of trying to wipe away some of the grime, but it only helped to smear it more. With another soft sigh, she looked outside. "I hope we are blessed with rain soon, I need to get the feel of this taint off of me." She spoke it low, hoping that he could not hear, but her voice still carried. She did not just mean the grime and dust that coated her, she wanted to wash her thighs clean of her purity that had been stolen.

"I have a shower you can use. Not sure what to do about your wings, though."

After a few more minutes of flight, Maxwell landed upon a rooftop in the middle of a desolated city. Not a single building in the entire block was purely intact, so the Justicar had to make do, modifiying the living space he chose to be hidden from view. Stepping from the carriage, he deactivated the horses, watching their heads droop into stillness. Pushing aside thoughts of what the poor creatures once were in a past life, he retrieved Seraphina from the back, carrying her carefully once again.

"I found this abode not too long ago... did my best to repair and refurbish as much as I could." Max said to her, walking down a small flight of stairs before accessing a secret door, uttering the password for it to open before stepping in. The room was clean and had, by the current year, an antique aesthetic to it. Placing the angel down upon a sofa, he knelt beside her. "Now... would you like anything? I'm sure you are starving."