Chapter 2:


    The Preacher’s Gospel


    Vivian’s shower was long. She scrubbed every part of her body that she could reach, and tried extra hard to scrub the parts she couldn’t. She has never been a fan of dirt and filth, thanks to her parents. The last time she ever made a mess was when she was two, her mother caught her smearing her arms and legs in mud outside while she tended to their garden. Even at that young age, she could never forget the look on her mother’s face, utter disgust. She wouldn’t allow Vivian inside the house after that, saying things like, “What a disgraceful child, rubbing herself in mud,” or “No daughter of mine is going to play in the mud like a homeless bum”. Eventually, she ordered one of the maids to spray her off with a hose outside, then to bathe her until her skin turned red. Vivian has always carried her hygiene up to those standards since that day.


    Her hair is still wet from her earlier shower. She’s been showering for the past hour or so, unlike her companion. Peter’s been dozing away for the past couple minutes, unable to fully keep himself awake. The events from today weighed heavy on his mind, and took a toll on his body. Vivian walks into the motel room and spots him leaning against the dusty, old chair. She snaps her fingers in front of Peter’s face, which forces him to wake up, startling him.


    “I didn’t expect you to take so long, I was trying to keep watch while you showered,” he yawns in between his little rant, "Can we finally send our update to the higher-ups before I fall asleep again?” Vivian shifts where she stands, deciding if she should sit on the eroding bed and risk dirtying her clothes again, or to stand. “First, we need to discuss something, what’s the fastest bird you can make right now?”


    “Fastest? I don’t know, I’ve only ever made blue jays and so far one crow. Why does that matter, anyway?” He says groggily.


    “If you use one of your regular birds to try and make the trip, it’ll take weeks to get to the organization and back, and we don’t have that kind of time. So can’t you try and summon anything that flies faster than a pigeon?” Peter begins to think to himself, then shrugs his shoulders.


    “I’ll try, but don''t expect too much, my brother only started teaching me, like, two months ago.” Peter stretches out both of his hands with his palms facing outwards, and he closes his eyes in concentration, and pulls some of his consciousness forward and merges them together. It starts to fold into itself, stacking on top of each other, creating layers until it takes the form of a small falcon with luminescent blue feathers. He opens his eyes and frowns, he gathers more of his mind and closes his eyes once again, shaping the falcon again, it doubles in its size. He asks Vivian to read to him any information she wrote down earlier, and as she does that, he infuses the bird with all the information he hears and remembers, along with the message to send reinforcements. Peter’s face is filled with sweat and discomfort, and he grabs his head, mumbling something about a migraine. He looks like he’s on the verge of collapsing. His head lulls back, and his body sways, he stumbles forward slightly, trying to sit back down in his seat, but misses the chair by an inch. He tumbles forward, planting onto the ground. Vivian grabs Peter’s arm and lifts his body up before he fully reaches the floor. She slides her arm under his shoulders, her other arm finding its way under the bend of his knees, she stands up, carrying his slim figure to the bed, laying him down to rest.


    “You can sleep now, I’ll do the rest. Just lay in the bed for tonight, I’ll take the chair.” Peter doesn’t manage to hear any of this.


    She walks up to the window and in a quick motion, opens the blinds along with the window. The falcon immediately knows what to do and flies out into the night and into the starry sky. Vivian closes the glass behind it and the blinds too. She doesn’t immediately go to bed, instead deciding to stay awake for a while longer to make sure there’s no interment danger. Once she’s sure, she sits down onto the chair, leaning her tense body back as far as the chair will allow, and closes her eyes.


    The falcon freely flies through the sky, its mind focused on only one mission. It flies over the entire town full of possessed townsfolk, not minding it at all, despite all the demons roaming the town, engaging in horrendous acts with the bodies they now possess. The demons prowl within the dark alleyways, trying to find one of the many mangy cats and dogs within the towns so that they may feast upon their flea ridden bodies. They ferociously hunt them down and pierce their fingers into their skins to rip them apart and feast upon their blood, bones, and flesh. Their cries fall upon deaf ears. No one is able to save them from their certain death. Their captors haven’t even a slight hint of mercy in their eyes, instead a crooked smile of satisfaction.  Some of the demons turn their gazes towards the glowing bird flying overhead. Instinctively, they try to lunge for it, however their efforts are in vain as not only are they far too slow, but the falcon is too high above for them to be of any threat to it.


    The falcon continues on its journey, exiting the deserted place with eagerness. Its new line of vision is filled with green lushness, the forest surrounding the bird, almost like the intention is to swaddle it. But the bird is untouchable, any leaves and branches trying to impale it just brush past its body, the speed from its wings creating a hard exterior, adjacent to a shield.


    The trees seemed almost never ending, hours passed by before the concrete skyline came into view. The falcon finally made it into the city. Buildings stack on top of each other, reaching a point higher than the bird. Power lines wrapped the structures together, cluttering the fresh air with unnecessary wires. Unlike the place it left, the city rumbled with nonstop noise, just utter chaos. Dodging random windows, wood, and metal, the falcon squeezes between two buildings, exiting into a street lined with cars, beyond that was a building about eight stories high. Across the front of the structure laid the words, Purification Organization. The sly bird follows a person through a set of double doors and into the lobby. A couple of people raise their eyebrows at the big glimmery falcon, but the majority of them ignore the intrusion, finding that it must belong to one of their coworkers. It hovers in place at the entrance of an elevator, when the mechanical doors open, it flutters in, and presses a floor number with its beak. When other people fill the space, it gently lands on the ground, standing side by side with tired office workers.


    Paradise wasn’t shocked by the giant bird standing on his trash filled desk, he was more bothered by the fact it landed on his sandwich. All the condiments ooze out the side of it, onto paperwork that might’ve been important if he wasn’t using it as a plate. He sighs in despair, but speaks to the bird regardless, “Did you really have to land on my second lunch? Oh well, let’s see what lil Petey sent.” the bird waddles off of the squished bread, and tilts its head back before opening its beak widely.


    “Kawh–,” the office fills with shrieks from the bird, sounding like a squeaky swing. Paradise nods in between bites of his food, he listens intently to whatever the creature has to say. Once the bird finishes, he takes his turn to speak,


    “Wow, they had an exciting first day. I kinda wish I went now, it would’ve been fun.” He says as he finishes off the rest of his sandwich and licks the residuals off his fingers, then rubbing his hands dry on his mustard stained, and stretched out tank top. “Hope that poem I wrote helped out some, I spent my entire trip trying to decipher it. Dang, mysterious god doesn’t make it easy.  Aye lil buddy, I can talk to the head and get ya some help, but Imma need about,” he scratches his peach fuzz, “two hours. Boss is usually busy, but I’ll make sure she clears up some time for me, but don’t tell Vivian about that. She’ll disappear for another year if she knows I get special treatment.”


    The falcon stares into Paradise’s eyes. Supposedly recording all his words for his master to experience later on. It walks off of his desk and onto his office chair, which is barely holding onto life. The chair looks as if it was pulled from the back of a garbage truck, and if no one knew any better, they would assume Paradise lived in there with it. It’s littered with stains which are impossible to remove, and it’s being held together with several layers of duct tape. The falcon squabbles at the wiggle the chair gave under its weight. Paradise’s droopy eyes narrow slightly,


    “Hey, when was Little Peter Piper able to summon a big bird like you,” he leans closer to the bird and rubs the back of his hand along its spine, “a big ole’ falcon, must’ve been something Vivi taught him.” Paradise stands fully, his body towering over his desk while he stretches. His back makes popping sounds the further he leans back and moves. When the noise ceases, he grins, “Guess it’s time to make my appointment.”


    His lanky figure is decorated with nothing that resembles work attire, a denim jacket, dirty tank top, and a baggy pair of loose fitting cotton pants. His toes hang out of his sandals, clearly either not wearing them correctly, or needing a bigger size. His trip to the Preacher’s office didn’t take him that long, he had squeezed past someone heading for the elevator, apologizing unapologetically when the door closed before they could reach, then pressing the top floor. There were only two doors in this hallway, one that he knows is a restroom from prior usage, and the other the founder’s office. Clearly, the Preacher was busy, voices rang loudly in the hallway from whatever discussion happening, and clearly Paradise didn’t even hesitate to care, because he opens the heavy door, popping a casual response,


    “What’s happenin’,” immediately conversation ceases, the figures turning to look at the intruder in shock, but a loud grunt is heard somewhere seated behind the crowd.


    “Well, nice to meet ya’,” Paradise hovers around the important people, forcing handshakes on every single one of them, his handshake turns into a sleazy hug when he spots a woman, “ Especially, nice to meet you.” The woman blushes shyly, but quickly leaves the hug after remembering the place she is at.


    “Paradise, is there a reason in particular that caused you to interrupt my meeting, and before you say anything, it better be urgent, and no I don’t want a hug,” the woman seated behind a shiny, large mahogany desk waves the group of people out of her office. The woman looks to be triple his age, her features no longer tight and young, but soft and creased. Her hair is speckled gray and white, but kept into a shoulder-length bob with curled ends. Her attire screamed business. “God, I wish Ms. Vivian would return from her mission soon, she seemed to be the only one who could make you respect the uniform policy.” She looks his form up and down and sighs, “And the company policy.”


    “Chill, Ms. Boss lady, I got important news from Vivi and PetePete. Said the place they’re at is wicked. They need backup like asap. Place is swarmed with negative energy.” He no longer stands, instead, his body slouches into the plush seat in front of the desk, legs agape, not caring for proper etiquette with his employer. “Paradise, you are on thin ice, and this time I mean it, close your legs, sit up straight, and tell me the location of their mission.” The Preacher’s eyes bulge slightly, annoyed with the display presented before her.


    He ignores her first few remarks, “It was some place called, uhhhh,” he scratches his head, “Frankford? No, it was Foodford. Actually– no, wait, it was Fordfield.” Paradise didn’t have time to guess another name, the woman gasped quietly, her eyes no longer annoyed, but filled with something else, something that caught the full attention of his. The Preacher asks in a harsh voice, “Do you mean FieldFord?” Paradise comically snaps his fingers, “Oh yeah, that’s what it was. Said the place has been infested with the lil critters for about fifty-something years.”


    “Tell them to abort the mission.” Her voice was calm, and her face was stoic.


    “Ion know if that’s a good idea. From what they reported, the demons are fusing with the town folks'' spirit energy. Couldn’t convince Vivi to abandon the mission anyway, not in her blood.”


    She pursed her lips together, “This is not to be discussed, this is a direct order from me, tell them to immediately retreat. Do you understand?” She picks up a pen, writing some kind of paperwork, keeping her hands busy. Paradise raises a brow, and continues,


    “If it’s about us not having enough people to send, it’s no worries, I can catch a ride with Petey’s falcon and be there within a few.”


    “Paradise, do not make me repeat myself, this is an executive order.”


    Silence falls between the two, tension thick in the air. Nothing but deep exhales can be heard from the women, on the other hand, Paradise was silent, which is quite unusual. “Unrespectfully, your order is bullshit. I’m going whether you like it or not. Your executive order can kiss my ass.” He stands, towering his body over the petite lady, he stares for a second, straight-faced. The first one to break eye contact was Paradise, he opted to take his leave, ignoring the person who employed him. Before he could open the double doors to leave out the way he came, the Preacher speaks again, this time with a soft and gentle tone.


    “Stop right there, young man. Listen, this is my final warning, you will tell them to retreat,” her voice grows more serious as she realizes he isn’t listening, “You will tell Peter Lavinski and Vivian Smith to retreat, you will not send them help, you will forget about that town, and you will return to your desk, amen.”


    “Amen.” Paradise silently leaves the office, the Preacher hides a smirk behind her hand, she uses her power, The Preachers Gospel .


    He didn’t remember walking back to his small desk, and he didn’t remember how he managed to send Peter’s bird back, he did notice his crystal necklace was no longer hanging around his neck, but he could always track where it went later. Paradise also remembered arguing with his boss like he had infinite chances at employment. He figured he could probably put the pieces together, but his thoughts were too scrambled, and he couldn’t seem to think much. Still, something didn’t sit right in his gut, and his mind told him that he needed to take another trip to speak to the Mysterious God. He pulls his desk drawer open, not caring for the sound it makes as it’s pulled past its capacity, somewhere inside was his half used blotter sheet. Originally, there were one hundred tabs, now, there’s barely forty. The missing square bits are a testament to his spiritual journeys to his Mysterious God. Each tab shows the same wording, “Eat me”. He pops eleven pieces off of the last used strip of the sheet, each tab containing one hundred micrograms of acid, he was starting to develop an immunity, so he slowly started upping the dosage ever since he joined the organization. Once he had all eleven pieces in his hand, he threw them into the back of his mouth one by one, swallowing after every single tab, but Paradise likes to call it Licking Lucy.


    His body slumped back into his chair, and he made the sober decision to put his dirty feet on his desk. To make the acid kick in faster, he closes his eyes. Around an hour later, he starts to feel a tingly sensation in his legs, almost like a thousand Daddy Long Legs found their way into his pant sleeves, it made him shudder. It’s as if he could feel all the blood flow from his heart, and into the veins in his twitching  legs, then the feeling started to spread to every part of his body. If he wasn’t musty before, he is now, the fast beating of his heart caused him to sweat profusely. Paradise was sweating like he ran a marathon in the Sahara desert. Finally, his vision started to change. He started to see things he could never imagine seeing while being sober. Although his eyes were still closed, he could see without them. It didn’t make any difference that he had his eyes closed, because everything he saw in front of him was clear.  Within the darkness, he started to see bright, inverted colors. Those colors started to form spirals and patterns, they dived in and out of each other, twisting any senses he had left. But if he hummed a tune, the patterns would start to change to follow his melody. He had gone through this several times before in order to reach the Mysterious God. He had to recall this specific pattern, his God only appeared if he hummed everything right. The pattern only appeared whenever he hummed or listened to this specific Foo Fighters song. Normal people would sing gospels about how powerful, or how much they appreciate and love their God, but for Paradise, he just hummed his favorite band, it seemed to please whatever that mysterious being was.


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    Like a surge of water, his mind was engulfed completely by this overpowering thought. If he squinted hard enough, he could make out what it was saying. “The bible lies. The Shepherd is misguiding its flock. The disciples follow like sheep. Don’t trust a word from the deceiver. They will only guide you towards self-destruction. Listen to the voices of the pasture, they see what others can’t.” Paradise’s God has appeared before him. Just as quick as its appearance was, its exit was the same. He repeats the prophecy his God blessed him with.  After communicating with his God, his high vanishes, and he’s completely sober and conscious again, he looks up at the clock on the wall and notices that it’s after office hours. He counts this as working overtime, he smirks.


    In his desk drawer, next to his sheet of acid, is a lavender journal, weathered down and scratched. The cover of it is engraved with a little pun of his name, “Love In Paradise”. Vivian had gifted this to him on his birthday a couple of years ago, she said it was so he would stop writing his poems on the back of important paperwork. She didn’t know how much he appreciated her gift, it was the first time he genuinely flirted with her with any type of actual attraction. Paradise smiles to himself, but returns back to his usual manners. Opening his used book up to a page that has seen better days, he finds a pen and writes the Mysterious God''s prophecy down in a poem-like format.


    “If you don’t wake up, I’m eating breakfast without you.” Her hands pose on her hips like an angry mother, her eyebrows were raised high, creasing her forehead. Compared to Peter, Vivian looked to be ready for today’s event. She was already dressed in her uniform, this time she wore an outfit that allowed for her to have extra movement. She wore dark-colored jeans, tennis shoes and a fitted black shirt. Her long hair was braided into two braids that ended slightly above the small of her back. Around her waist was a utility belt, different sized objects were strapped onto it, but what stood out the most were the actual handcuffs and the crystal blade with wood tied to it, acting as the handle.


    Peter was still sound asleep, no care in the world. This man slept as if he wasn’t in the middle of nowhere, or in a town that tried to kill him. He loudly snored in response to her warning and continued his slumber. Vivian decided it was time to forcefully wake him, so she set her finger ablaze, carefully waving it in front of Peter’s nose. Still not getting a reaction from that, she continued on to a different approach, she pressed her heated finger against his nose, and his eyes immediately shot open. “Ouch, ouch, ouch,” Peter held onto his nose, rubbing it so hard that it made him have a sneezing fit. He glared at Vivian, pain and frustration clear on his face, “You couldn’t have woken me up normally?” Vivian shrugs in response. “I tried, you’re a heavy sleeper. Even worse than your brother.”


    He pauses, “How’d you know my brother was a heavy sleeper?” Her eyebrow raises slightly, grinning briefly, “You’re a big kid, Peter. I’m sure you know the answer to that.” He freezes before a loud, obnoxious sound fills the room, “Ewww, I wish I never asked.” Peter mimics the sound of barfing as he finally realizes the difference in Vivian. Her uniform was completely different from last night before he fainted. “When did you change?”


    “Earlier this morning, an hour or so ago. I let you sleep in a little longer since I know how much making that falcon drained you, but now’s not the time for resting. Put on your combat uniform so we can eat breakfast and move out.” He nods, standing with a big stretch. Vivian leaves briefly before returning with a bookbag in her hand. She throws it onto the ground, the contents almost spilling out. Peter recognizes that it was his. He mumbles a thanks as she leaves once again.


    Vivian insisted that she drove the car this time, not trusting Peter enough to get to their destination without detours. He frowns, but the gurgle in his stomach makes his little mood disappear, “Hey, I thought you said there was breakfast?” Vivian reaches into the back seat of the car, pulling out an old bag. She tosses it into his lap without warning. Peter excitedly unties the knot in the bag, happy to finally have something to eat, but his happiness quickly vanishes as he looks at the items inside.


    “This is just an already opened bag of trail mix, a pack of crackers, a candy bar wrapper, and this piece of beef jerky looks like it has a bite in it?” Vivian ignores his complaint, “Oh yeah, hand me that jerky. I’ll finish eating that.” Peter’s face looks gloomy as he passes her the only source of meat. “Why is our food so shitty?” Vivian gives him a snarky look.


    “This is what your brother packed when he was originally supposed to do this mission. Also, I think he stole that bag of trail mix off my desk two weeks ago.” He sighs, he forgot his brother was vegan. “Then why did he pack beef jerky?” Vivian shrugs. “He stole this off my desk too, it’s plant based beef jerky. No meat.” Peter groans. “It''ll make do for now. At least until our backup arrives. My falcon should be arriving soon, any minute now. I regret not telling it to bring back food.”


    The old car swerves away from the potholes in the road in fear of bursting its belly. It sputtered over gravel, trying to stay as close to the main road as possible, Vivian parked it at the entrance of a park. The park itself was in no shape to be visited. The grass there was by far too tall for anyone to enter. A chain fence protected the park from intruders, keeping its playground equipment safe. Vivian nods, it was the perfect place to teach someone how to fight when they can’t see their opponent. “Why are we here?” Peter surveys the surrounding area. Questioning the place Vivian chose to park. “We’re going to begin your combat training right here.” Peter’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Actual combat training? Don’t we have better things to do? Like, try and find the root of all this?” Vivian nods her head. “We do, but we can’t do them if I keep having to constantly save you every time you make a dumb mistake.” Peter blushes slightly in embarrassment.


    They both enter the weed filled playground, it seemed like it would’ve been a beautiful place if someone would’ve kept up with it over the years. Peter turns to talk to Vivian, but she is no longer beside him, she disappears. He stands on guard, one arm in front of him and the other outstretched in front, ready to defend himself. A breeze of air flies past his ear, and a soft thump is heard in the grass behind him. He turns his head enough to see what the object is, it’s a knife, a crystal knife. His eyes widened slightly, that looks like something his brother would make. That’s when Peter realizes his first mistake, losing focus on his target. A punch to his abdomen makes him regain his focus, but the pain from the impact makes him double over, making him wish he had eaten nothing because he couldn’t hold back the vile rising in his throat. But he forces himself to swallow, standing up as quickly as he can, a mocking voice rings through the tall grass. He grits his teeth, trying to figure out where it’s coming from.


    “You need to be on guard at all times. You never know when an attack is coming. . .” Vivian appears behind Peter, she lands a kick into the bend of his knee, “… Or where it’s coming from.”


    Peter falls to the ground with his hands outstretched in front of him, but he quickly rolls to his side and grabs the knife out of the dirt, swinging haphazardly in front of him. “If you attack like that, you’ll never land a hit on me! You have to be more creative than this. Use your power to make up for your inexperience.” She kicks the blade out of his hand with great force, making the knife fly out of his view. His wrist throbs in pain as red welts appear where the shoe made contact.


    Peter yells in frustration, his hand in front of him, trying to form a bird. The bird morphs, a head appears, a beak, and– Vivian kicks the bird, it shatters into little pieces, never having the chance to fully form. Peter shrieks in pain, his hand gripping his head. “You gotta be quicker than that,” another kick lands at his side, “Do you think those demons will let you conjure up a bird that takes forever to appear!?” He groans in pain, rolling on to his back, crawling his body into the tall grass. He hears footsteps all around him, his mind gets disoriented. Peter struggles to calm his breathing, but when a hand reaches out in front of him, he finds a way quickly to hold his breath, stilling his shaking limbs. What could he do to form a bird faster? What did Vivian mean when she kicked him in the side? He was thinking too much, the grip around his ankle made that evident. His body is dragged out from its hiding place, Vivian sighing as she strips him from the safety of the tall grass. “I’ll give you a minute to recover, but after that we’re continuing.” Peter gathers his breath and begins to think. He thinks of any way he could summon his birds faster. He had no special technique, nor any talents, but he did have a slight idea of what he could do, the idea might’ve been stupid, but it was the only one he had. He thought to himself that he might as well give it a shot.


    Peter stands up, brushing the dirt off his pants, “I’m ready again.” He takes a defensive stance again, his mouth sealed shut. Vivian steps backwards, cracking her neck unfazed, drifting back into the tall grass. Peter knows that turning his back from her will result in the same beating from earlier, but to make his plan come true, he had no choice. He turns his back, acting as if he was searching for her footsteps, but in reality, he strained his mouth open wide, forcing out a gagging sound. A little bird shoots out, and then another, but before that third bird can escape alongside the two others, a tweet from the bird on his right warns him of Vivian’s presence. He turns back around, watching her fist reach for his face this time, but the little bird shields him. Vivian raises a brow, amused, but the look leaves her face when something splitting in her peripheral vision makes her take a couple steps backwards. The second bird splits into smaller birds. They swarm Vivian like sweat bees, flapping around her face, targeting her eyes and ears. They crash into her, their beaks breaking her skin, and as soon as they make contact with her flesh, they explode. It renders her defenseless for a couple of seconds, and she can’t help but feel slightly impressed. She swats any little bird that hasn’t landed on her yet, clearing her vision, Peter appears in front of her, his cheeks swelled up like he is holding in a breath of air, she goes to attack, but a punch in her gut makes her fall back slightly, she almost grimaces at the impact, but when she moves her gaze back up, another bird shoots out of Peter’s mouth, into her face directly.


    He couldn’t believe his eyes. Vivian lied on the ground, her hands covering her face. Peter couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride swell up in his chest. Not only did he return the punch to Vivian, but he also managed to create a new attack. The pride he felt consumed his face, making him break out into a big grin as he walked towards his wounded mentor. “Did I hurt you?” The tone of his voice made Vivian’s body twitch. If Peter was paying attention, he would’ve noticed something was wrong. “I didn’t think I could manage to knock you off–,” an uppercut engulfed in a thin veil of heat struck the bottom of his chin, knocking him unconscious. He didn’t even see it coming, Peter wouldn’t know what happened until he woke up later. He’s laying wildly on his back, skull to ground. Vivian almost felt bad for probably giving him a concussion, but the stinging in her eyes made whatever pity she had disappeared. He really pushed his luck, to think she was going easy on him.


    A screech from the sky announces the arrival of the Falcon from last night. In its claw was a necklace, she recognized it as Paradise’s necklace. Something didn’t sit right in her mind. She outstretches her hand, motioning for the object, the bird obliges and then dives beak first back into its master’s head. He groans slightly, still not waking up, so Vivian opts to study the crystal. She rubs her thumb over its edges, lifting the rock up to her eye to peer better, a sensation rushes through her, why does her eyes feel better all of a sudden? Something twirls within the necklace, she tries to get a better look, but Peter interrupts her thoughts. “Paradise’s necklace? Is it the healing one? Can I use it?” She tosses it onto his body.


    “That move you did, how did you come up with it?” She folds her arm, motioning a finger to her mouth. Peter sucks in a breath of air, “I saw it in an old cartoon I use to watch, I figured that since it takes me a minute to make a normal-sized bird that it would be faster to create multiple small birds all at once,” He tries to stand, “And what you said earlier stood out to me, the part about Demons not waiting for me to make my attack. So I figured if I could hide the birds in my mouth, I could use it as a sneak attack.”


    Vivian nods, “That was smart. I admit, you really caught me off guard for a second. I wasn’t expecting you to land a hit on me at all today.” She takes a couple steps forward, Peter flinches a little out of instinct, but tries to play it off. “I see that I no longer need to go easy on you.” The way she said those words felt threatening, and the slight burn that marked his chin made him question if she was lying about going easy.


    She holds out her hand towards Peter, he grabs it, and she lifts him up. “Come on, let’s go back home and go over the information your bird sent back.” He takes her hand, leaning his weight onto her slightly. “But are you sure you went easy on me back there? I literally blacked out after you sucker punched me.” Vivian replies coolly, “Never celebrate too early, your enemy can be feigning defeat….plus, you really pissed me off.” Peter fell silent, he took a mental note to never make her mad again. They enter the car together, Vivian sticks the key into the ignition, starting the car up. She pulls out of the park and back to the road. The morning sky is now replaced with the sunlight of the afternoon. People walk the sidewalks aimlessly, knowing what they do now, the sight is just unsettling. The corner store where they were at yesterday comes into view, Vivian wonders if anyone has noticed the missing employee.


    Nothing seemed to be amiss back at the motel. Every room except for the tomb of the shopkeep was empty. The duo settles back into the room they slept in. “So what did they say? When is back up arriving?”


    “Well, it isn’t.” He said worried. “From my falcon’s memories, Paradise said ‘The Big Boss said to tell Vivian Smith and Peter Lavinski to abandon their mission and that no backup would be coming.’ but he said it weirdly? He didn’t sound like himself when he said it. Then he gave his necklace to the falcon and sent it off.” Peter’s face does not hide his distress. His hands fidget, but then his face scrunches up in disgust. “My falcon also remembers my brother eating a squished sandwich off his desk…”


    Vivian furrows her brows. “That last part wasn’t important. We’re just supposed to abandon the mission? Really? The Preacher really expects us to just leave for no reason? If they couldn’t afford to send any backup, I know for a fact Paradise would’ve volunteered to come! Something seems off.” She pulls out her notebook, jotting something down, then pauses, “Peter, that necklace, did your falcon mention anything about it?”


    “No, nothing. Paradise just seemed to regain his senses for a short moment and handed the falcon his necklace before he lost himself again.” Vivian glances at it, then she sits up straight as if she recalled something. “I just remembered that I saw him talking to that crystal in his office every now and then.”


    Peter pokes at the rock, scraping his nail against it. A shrill voice speaks from between the two, “Get your dirty fingers off of me! You’re almost just as bad as your brother.” Peter drops the necklace in shock, he looks at the ground, and then back up to Vivian. Shock was written across both of their faces. “For the love of– you, Vivi woman, please get me off this filthy floor! It reeks of death.” Vivian crouches down, scooping the necklace up, muttering out breathlessly, “I… I honestly thought Paradise was just crazier than he looked, but, well–,” she stutters out to the small voice. If anyone were to walk in on them, they would think she was insane.


    “Trust me, he is. But that’s not important right now, that boss of yours brainwashed Paradise. He was completely out of it, but I managed to possess his body briefly before the bird left.” Peter steps forwards, leaning down to listen better, “I made him hand that stupid necklace of his over to that falcon to warn you all. He was going to come down here to this dreadful place, but was stopped. The most I can do for him is to help you all.” Peter reaches to grab the crystal once again, but the voice cuts him off, “No you don’t, you better not touch me with your germy hands.” Vivian stifles a laugh, “Better yet, are there any spare bodies lying around?” Both Peter and Vivian share a look with each other, Peter smirks, “Actually, you’re just in luck.”


    When the talking crystal necklace was placed on the dead body, it gagged, but delved into it nonetheless. Peter was almost petrified by the act of it rising to life once again, but seeing all the things he has so far, this wasn’t that extreme. The body had smelled bad, finally beginning the very first steps of rotting, but still intact. The shopkeeper''s body rises from the bed, cracking its bones sickly in a stretch, this was something straight out of a cheesy horror film from the 90s. They half expected a monotone voice from the body, but it came out in a now even pitch similar to the voice in the crystal.


    “This body reeks, it must’ve been possessed,” it glances down at its torso, “And what happened to its clothes?” Vivian and Peter share another long look with each other.


    “What is your name, why and how long were you in that necklace?” Peter asks the important questions out of curiosity, while Vivian adds the interesting bit, “And how do you know Paradise?”


    The spirit sighs, “Tara, that’s the name I was given when Paradise found me. I was originally a wandering spirit, but I was taken in by your brother several years ago, and now I practically do all his paperwork for him.” Vivian nods in acceptance. “That’s why his paperwork is halfway decent whenever he feels like submitting it.”


    The spirit nods, feeling seen. “Yes, he takes all the credit for my work and accepts all the compliments from everyone like I''m not even there. He literally lies about my work with me hanging right from his neck. I would strangle him if I could.”


    Vivian nods again, “To be fair, if Paradise told us that a ghost had finished all his paperwork for him, we wouldn’t have believed him anyway. But now that I know the truth, you really did a good job on your reports, I’ve always felt like they were well written.”


    “Thank you, but flattery aside. We’re really in over our heads here. There’s something in this town your boss doesn’t want anyone finding out about. Combined with the fact that we’re receiving no support, we have demons surrounding us-” Peter cuts them off. “And we have no food.” Tara stares deadpan at Peter before continuing. “And that too. I already know there''s nothing I can do or say to get you, Vivi, to leave. So I might as well join you two so we can exorcize this town and leave as soon as possible.”


    Peter stands there confused, but astonished. This was his first actual job besides fast food, and he honestly felt like he was in over his head. This was supposed to be a mostly easy mission for him and Vivian to do in order to show him the ropes. But now, he is surrounded in a place many people would describe as hell. He shudders at his thoughts. When Paradise asked him if he wanted to join this organization, he didn’t think much of it. He thought it would be an easy and fun job to do that paid him well. After he found out he could make these little animals when he concentrated, he told his older brother.


    “Can we just... leave?” Vivian raises a brow and gives him a stern look. “Yesterday, I thought you said you wanted to save these people. What happened to that hero mentality?”


    “Look, I know what I said, but that’s before I realized we were on our own. No backup, no food, and I’m not even trained well enough to handle any of this! I can’t even exorcize one demon by myself without almost getting killed, how do you expect me to want to stay in a town overrun with them?!”


    “Peter, if you want to leave, then leave. You can just go back, tell Paradise what’s going on here, and tell him to rush over here without the boss knowing. Once he’s here, we’ll finish the mission. Problem solved.”


    “I– you can’t possibly think of staying here by yourself, can you? I know you’re a veteran and all that, but come on! There’s over eight hundred demons in this town! Plus, you said it yourself, there’s a devil  leading them. Once they find out you’re alone, they’ll rush here and kill you!”


    Vivian reassures. “I won’t be alone, Peter, I’m keeping Tara here with me.” The spirit nods in acknowledgement. “Listen, Peter, I understand you’re afraid, but for me, I’d rather miserably die fighting than live as a noble coward. If you want to leave now, I’ll see you off.”