Overkill 5

Overkill 5

****

The Defense of St. Patrick's Cathedral was one of the most monumental events that turned the tide of battle from losing into a decisive one. Mangled corpses of Void Slasher and Psychic Titan Demons laid on gutters, their blood drained by the streets' drainage. The pavement was either covered in green thick liquid or dark crimson fluids. Spent ammunition and discarded weapons were also scattered throughout, along with limbs belonging from Priests and Soldiers of the Order of Saint Patrick.

Outside of the Cathedral, guards in pairs patrolled on foot, looking out for any threats that might attack. Dawn drew near and in the horizon, the guards only saw their fellow Remnant Soldiers marching towards the Cathedral with renewed vigors as another day comes.

Inside, Blackshot tapped the shoulder of the radio operator and commended him. He had the troops recalled back to the Cathedral so that they could mount an assault against the Hellkaiser that started all of this.

The pews around them gathered dust due to inactivity. The marble pulpit and the altar displayed slight cracks due to age and wear. The statue of the crucified Jesus Christ stared down at them with crystal eyes, His face was slightly faded. Blackshot banged his fist against his chest and inclined his head in a bow as a salute before turning, bowing, and walked towards the approaching Father Guetta and his aides.

"Thank you for delivering us from the enemy's hands." He spoke his gratitude with reverence.

"Don't. God willed it that the Cathedral stood so we could strike back." He replied smugly. "Reverend-Commander, tell me what happened here?"

"They came and leveled the city to ruination, as usual, for no reason at all unless we have one to believe why."

"Yeah," Blackshot replied. "You're right. My mistake for asking that."

"No worries." Father Guetta replied. "What brings you here aside from intercession? I'm pretty sure you were not part of any Relief Forces sent here because we hadn't received any notifications from the Remnant Church for reinforcements."

"You're right, I came here in my own accord. I was part of a Protectorate Strike Team providing assistance in a tactical retreat conducted by the Order of Saint Michael from Chicago."

"You came from a very far place. Were you lost?"

"Hell's Forces brought aerial units with them; we were chest and ended up in the wrong side of the globe while the rest of the forces headed the other way. It doesn't matter. The Archangel Michael would redirect me back in the right direction. What matters most was that this accident was a miracle to you and your people." Blackshot replied. "Now, I have recalled all of your scatted forces. Some, I'm afraid, have been routed to various regions of the country and they were presumably lost because the fighting in the other cities was violent."

"How many do we have left?" Father Guetta asked as he glanced behind him. The Medic Corps of St. Patrick's Order tended to the wounded left in the Western Doors.

"So far, we have almost three hundred able-bodied Remnants functioning. Two hundred more were reportedly moving to return back. That might be enough to assault the Hellkaiser."

"Forgive my ignorance, venerable Protectorate." Guetta inclined his head in a bow. "But what is a Hellkaiser?"

"Brothers!" Blackshot called the Mark IIs gathering around the statue of the Virgin Mary. They stood in a disciplined manner and moved towards him. Blackshot glanced back at the Reverend-Commander. "A Hellkaiser is a gigantic, cerebral, cancerous, tissue that had taken root inside a large structure. It was a hive mind, controlling Demons within its 1-mile radius and sending them in packs in murderous carnage." Blackshot noticed the worry emanating from the Priest's aura. Even if his face was obscured, he could still taste his fear. He continued. "When it comes in battles like these, we were rather besieged by a Hellkaiser than a Baron because if it was the latter, you're considered lost already."

"Why? And who were they?"

"Demons from the Baron caste were military tacticians, Father. They were capable of combat and strategy at the same time, not to mention their arcane prowess was second to none. Unlike Hellkaisers, they weren't dumbasses." Blackshot raised his left bracer and pressed a couple of icons on the screen. "The Hellkaiser designated as 'Grunwald' and 'Wilhelm' by the Watchtower was located not far from here. To our luck, they were just beside one another. One of our disadvantages, however, is that our lack of mechanized infantry. Unless, by some miracle, 56th Armored was still alive."

"They were," one of Father Guetta's assistant Priest interjected. "They have established contact three hours ago."

"How come?" Alacrity asked. "I've seen one of their Command Squads got overwhelmed."

"Well apparently, they were still alive, venerable Protectorate. Not in unified force, no, but in ragtag teams, yes." The Priest replied back.

"What's your name?" Alacrity asked.

"Ignatius, sire." The Priest replied.

"I like you, you'll be coming with us." Alacrity said as he turned and walked away. Blackshot ignored the Tier-4.

"Father Ignatius, I need you to tell the radio operators to coordinate the remnants of 56th to attack the Hellkaisers. We will provide cover so that we could preserve them." Blackshot assured. "If they failed to carry out this task then I'm afraid, we might have to kill the tumors with our bare hands. Anyway, let us not waste time."

****

Hellkaisers Grunwald and Wilhelm were infused together with the twin skyscrapers erected as a symbol of New Belfast's prosperity and wealth in the days of the Riots. Its shiny facades were now coated with saliva and semen. Underneath it was sinews of muscles where threads of black veins bulged out, throbbing in rapid succession as blood and sustenance traveled from the ground below to the titanic stalked eyeballs attached in the very roof of the twin buildings. Tentacles made out of Human faces wrapped itself around the building, connected to the eyestalks. The faces itself were screaming, causing distress to the nearby Humans were still fighting for their dear lives. A smaller version of these tentacles occasionally appeared to engage the Humans in combat, striking from the ground and impaling them. Humans were helpless against it.

Grunwald and Wilhelm were surrounded by numerous Demons and Hellspawns. To their advantage, Hell has also deployed four Dukes: hunched muscular creatures capable of withstanding punishments, and Apprentices, and a Hellraiser, a mechanized vehicular Demon armed with dangerous armaments. From afar, the Demon Legionnaires and their masters looked like ants, taking all the hopes of winning away from the disheartened Humans. It seemed pretty unlikely that they would win this. Sounds emanating from Hell's soldiers were loud enough to lower the morale of St. Patrick's Order.

"What do we do now, brother?" Bladesaw asked as he walked with Blackshot.

"In these hard times, all we could do was to pray," Blackshot replied back. "Killing those two things seemed impossible but our God is far bigger than them."

"I agree," Bladesaw said.

"I should have assisted the Black Squadron SAS in Sector-45 but their life signs ceased showing up in my radars. They were dead already." Blackshot whispered to no one, which was answered by Bladesaw.

"Like what you said, brother, hope, and prayer."