Upon a Pale Horse pt. 5

It was not the smell, the sounds, or the sights that made him flashback it was the image of a girl and her dog stuck in his mind. He could not place where he had seen it but when he started thinking about it more and more other memories came flooding back. First a search and destroy mission in Cambodia. The jungle was nice that day as it burned around the traitors. Then the scene London only a few years prior, he was stationed their to study SAS techniques, modify, and implement them in the new guard training. Then to a cold day in the year of 1988, he was only eighteen. Trained from a young age, an orphan chosen for what they said would become a true hero. He was given control of Celestial, the special ops in control of hostage situations for Traxis. A week prior the President of the Nation was kidnapped.

The CIA, FBI, and military could not do anything about it. Their hands were tied by recent sanctions in the country in which the president was held. Traxis could do it. No one knew who they were. Few if any even knew they existed but someone did and paid them highly for it. This was how Traxis made money hostage rescue situations. A country as big as the US happily would pay a quarter billion for the return of almost any of the upper echelon of the government. Today Traxis got half a billion. It was the president after all. Agent Messiah and Agent Savior had the most experience and were more than happy to follow Zaphiel in this mission. They recognized skills and leadership qualities. He had both. They had been dropped on shore of the small island nation only hours before.

Storming the citadel was almost too easy. They had been monitoring the channels of the guards. They knew the routes better than the guards did. Ten guards in thirty minutes, they could get off this island before sun up. Zaphiel finally picked up the main communications. He stopped for a quick second realizing the voices were those of Americans. His skin began to crawl at the thought of fellow Americans being behind this. He promised to himself he would bring swift justice upon them. They had reached the inner sanctum without a word. As they stormed in they stumbled upon a site only imagined. Bloodied bodies everywhere in the middle behind the president stood one lone man. His body clad in armor all to similar to their own. He kicked the president out the chair. Zaphiel motioned for Messiah and Savior to move forward and get the president. They did and slowly backed out with him. Zaphiel told them to leave he would take care of this unfinished business. As soon as they were out of sight the hooded figure pulled his pistol aiming it at Zaphiel while pulling off his hood. The face staring back was a sick twisted version of his.

It was the face of the Jackal. He was head of Hellion. Hellion was a tactical swat group created to eliminate terrorist threats at their base by infiltration and then destroy them with suicide if need be. Why was he here Zaphiel quickly thought to himself.

Jackal read Zaphiel like a book, "I kidnapped the president to save him. Or did you not know Traxis does this all the time. That's how we make our money. We wait till we are needed then make DAMN sure we are needed. The president would have died at the peace conference. A group of terrorist bombed it just today. But you were traveling so you didn't know all the world leaders their perished except our president. Now wipe that look of disgust off your face. Your ethics will get you killed one day Zaphiel that I guarantee. It was for the Nation's best. The president was merely a figurehead for the ideals we serve. His pain is a price we are willing to pain. Do you understand? HIS PAIN IS EXCEPTABLE"

Jackal turned and began to walk away. He stopped hearing a gun being readied to fire. He turned back to Zaphiel and mouthed the words, "you won’t shoot me cause you know I am right." Jackal spun and walked away. Zaphiel swore he stared at him down the barrel of the rifle for hours just trying to pull the trigger but never could. Jackal just walked away slowly and confidently. This time though the memory brought back something not noticed. As jackal walked a small girl with a dog joined him. She walked hand in hand with him. What did it mean? Could it be? Could the Virgin have been there? Could she have known about this all along? If so what was her place in all this. The more and more Zaphiel thought the harder and harder it became to continue on. His god was crumbling before him. A trial of faith was upon him.

Upon a Pale Horse pt. 4

It had been six hours since the injections. Zaphiel wondered how long it would take. He had promised the agent known as Satan that if he could scream he would release him and give him the antidote. He never mentioned he injected him with a muscle relaxant making him unable of speaking. He called it his just revenge. This agent at one time he thought was the only one he could trust. It seemed every action Satan took counteracted Traxis. He had seen him break rules and defy authority for years. Tonight he realized it was all a ruse. The agent was merely doing these things to test other agents. He was helping make Traxis stronger by getting rid of the questioners and doubters. Zaphiel could almost guess Satan was probably Traxis most loyal agent. Shame Traxis never embedded its agents with the antidote to one of its most potent viruses. Sure it told them how to respond to it. Move quickly, contact teammates, and continue moving for as long as you can keep the blood flowing.

Poor Satan could no longer move and could not contact help. He was stuck in this chair tied down. He was weak to begin with but he is even worse now. He had felt his blood begin to harden in his bloodstream hours ago. He managed through power of mind to force it through his system. For six hours he had fought the inevitable. If he was going to die he would make Zaphiel's existence a living hell. He began to try and speak. He lifted his head noticing the damned soul had left the room. He tried to speak. Slowly words began to form easier and easier. He felt his heart beginning to slow in its beating. Soon the toxin would reach his heart and he would die, but before that happened he had something to say. He knew the secret, the holy grail of Traxis.

Zaphiel walked in holding his pistol at Satan at all times. He mentally noted how long it took to kill this one. Next time he would have to raise the dose. If there was a next time, he could barely find any more vials of the virus in this facility. It was a small one of course, but he knew somewhere there was more. He leaned close to Satan and smiled his sickly smile his silver eyes glinting.

"Tell me Satan ready to scream?" Zaphiel watched as the agent's head dropped finally. He began to walk away when the sounds of words stopped him in his tracks. He spun to hear what was being said.

"S...s... she lives. The pure walks. The Virgin is untainted. Hurry or the jackal will have his prey", the body's color turned pale instantly as the veins under the skin raised as if filled with some hard substance. Zaphiel snarled and unloaded all the rounds of the Desert Eagle into the body. The bastard had fought the virus till its end just to tease him with riddles. He had heard of The Virgin Mary. It was a rumor to him. It was Traxis darkest secret. Some said it was the first cure all ever created. Others said it was a monster created in those damn bio-labs that could wipe out all humanity. Now though it was a complication, Jackal could never be allowed to get his hands on it. For Zaphiel knew one thing, it was the pure and pure must be protected.

Upon a Pale Horse pt. 3

Freedom Haven, California was as serene a place as any. This is why Traxis Corp had chosen it for their western corporate headquarters. Today it would receive a visit from a servitor of God. A hand made being of pure justice. The man was born out of the necessity for a true freedom fighter. He was created to preserve America no matter what the cost. Yet the people that created him never realized he would not stand for their America but his own. On this soil a true American would find many others just like him.

The dry air and cool breeze was a long way off from the chilling drizzle of the east coast. Zaphiel deciding his identity was safe rented a plane and flew cross-country. He could not take another road trip with the backbone of America. If not for his strong beliefs he would have decided his mission was useless. Freedom Haven was basically a high-rise building in the middle of the desert. Employees were shuttled out to the place to keep its route secret. Zaphiel just waited and boarded the bus with everyone else. He so easily assumed his place amongst others. His golden eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. His brand covered by a turtleneck t-shirt. He had planned it perfectly. He would have the entire building wiped out by noon. He could leave and move on to his next destination. He knew better than any that the heads of this supposed multimedia conglomerate would not be found here. As the shuttle emptied he made his way to a storage building off to the right. He opened his briefcase and the package he had delivered here the day before. He loaded both his pistols placing them in their holsters. He then proceeded to put together an assault rifle. A few flash bangs for confusion factor were taken too.

He headed off towards the buildings preparing for a simple cleanup. His first seconds in the empty front corridor quickly led to several deaths. All the men here were responsible for wiping out a small village of women and children in Central America. The first one never saw it coming, but the others weren't so lucky. They tried to fight but were subdued with such ease Zaphiel for a few seconds wondered if it was the same men. Each were forced to their knees and watched as a bullet was placed directly between their eyes. Zaphiel sprayed out a star around the bodies. He headed to an elevator. He took the top floor and within only a few minutes had completed his list of worst offenders. As he moved down he noticed most floors were empty and were mainly storage. He reached the second story. As he moved through the offices he seemed to be losing focus he thought. All were good and pure. They had committed no crimes against their nation. These were the people he was protecting, but how could this be. How could the pure work for the Beast? All could the din of sinners have the faithful in it. They must have fallen but had their histories cleared. No they just did not know the truth for which they worked. For this they should not be slaughtered. They should be spared. He walked onto the elevator and pressed the button heading for the lobby. As the doors opened his synapse quickly sprung into action as he raised an assault rifle at a middle-aged woman. He smiled this one was guilty. She was a criminal. He knew of her kidnapping children. She screamed and shoved the two small children behind her. The young girl though peaked out. Zaphiel stopped lowering his rifle looking at the child. The eyes were caring and warm. These were the eyes of the loved. He realized that this woman probably saved these children from some horrid place. Her crime was a crime of love. How could he pass judgment on someone who knew true feelings? The little girl spoke up, "Please mister don't kill mommy. She didn't mean to tear the tag off her mattress." Zaphiel closed his eyes spinning away. He quickly spun running past her. He turned back, "Forgive me for I have sinned. Forgive me for I knew not what I had done. You are the children of heaven." He ran out the door and stopped abruptly. Something had cut on inside him. He turned to see a well-dressed man walking towards the building. He raised his rifle and fired. The now lifeless body dropped instantly. Zaphiel walked over and fired into the head one more time.

"Agent Messiah"

"For he shall be as pure as the driven snow. He shall save us all by sacrificing himself. He shall be the messiah to man."

"Yet this one is tainted by the black acid of humanity. He will save no one not even himself from death's judgment."

Zaphiel walked to the car of the agent and started it up. He drove away into the sun. He had not forsaken his mission. He had become stronger in his faith. The good and pure were real. Now he knew who he was sent to save.

Upon a Pale Horse pt. 2

It was those eyes. He knew them. The eyes cold, unfaithful, and burdened stared at him in the mist. Those were the eyes that hunted him for ages. Those eyes, of his brethren in religion, are hunting him again. For so long they had been dormant. He knew the jackal was stalking. He knew that at birth the jackal was for himself and served no god or man. They had been imbued with the passion to serve their god but the jackal showed no interest in god. He showed interest in becoming the antithesis of pure humanity. He would hunt all for he was their master. Yet, the jackal could never understand him. Zaphiel was the giver. At the dawn of their true natures Zaphiel gave death as a gift not as punishment. They said it made him a better killer. Now the pups would return to their old feeding grounds. Fully grown into terrifying wolves. They were hunting for the same thing, Peace.

Upon a Pale Horse

Four days, ten different people, and hours of mindless drivel would have probably driven him to rage if he wasn't already to the point of madness. He had arrived at CIA headquarters weak and weary from his trip. His pale flesh seeming to fade even more as his pristine silver eyes looked at the gate guard who now lay in a pool of his own urine. Death would have been easy for a man who only seconds before had screamed like a small child as the hand of the man gripped his throat. It wouldn't have had to happen that way if the man had cooperated but upon examination of the ID badge he turned into a raving lunatic.

Strange that thought the man who stepped into the now open gate and walked towards the building. The rain was falling at a steady clip, but it affected him not. He only smiled wider. He knew the layout to this place better than its designer probably. As an agent of Traxis he was trained to infiltrate this place as a beginner lesson. He took one step to the right, pushed his way through some shrubs, lifted an airway grate, dropped down, and began the war. He walked as if he knew the schedule of the guards. He didn't but his mind was more powerful than he knew. It told him when to step right, back, left, forward, and to double back. If he did by chance encounter guards he dispatched them so easily and not lethally it was if he was trained for it. He was not a lawgiver he was the bounty hunter. He was to bring them back alive no matter what. He reached an elevator shaft which in fact was a stair well hidden quite obviously in what was claimed to be a broken shaft which could never be used. He walked up it knowing where he was going, the heart of the beast. He was merely walking through its clogged, putrid artery now. He felt the ungodliness, the impurity, and the utter sacrilege to the god he served. He stepped into the waiting area for the most secret part of the CIA. The secretary looked up but soon there was no need for her eyes stopped functioning for without a brain there is nothing to receive the visions. These were not to be brought to justice by another, they would just buy someone off. They were to die. He looked at her said her names and listed her crimes. As he moved further and further through the offices death was dealt and sentences read. The wicked were chafe for the slaughtering.

He entered the main office to find it empty but one lone clerk who was cowering in the boss' chair. He looked toward and raised his pistol. He began in the voice of a preacher who was delivering a message of damnation to his wicked followers, "And death shall ride upon a pale horse. He shall wipe clean the wicked. Their blood shall flow freely staining him evermore. He shall cast them down and pass judgment for they are guilty. No trial shall be held and no sentence shall be read, but death shall be delivered. The impure of faith, the untrue to godliness, and the wicked by their greed shall bow to him. He shall carry upon his back the destroyed remains that represent his god. The red, white, and blue tattered cloth that screams for justice and death of the foolish warmongers, hate mongers, pride mongers, and lie mongers. It screams they should fall and repent or be cursed with eternal damnation for their own lack of piety. It will be in his shadow that they tear away their own flesh to grant him no peace, but as long as they are dead the god shall be happy. Deliver this message to the wicked. Tell them Death comes draped in the torn icon. Tell them I shall find them. Tell them I spared you for your righteousness so they may see you and repent. Tell them I still live. I am Death. I am Zaphiel. I am that which was left in hell. I am." The clerk ran out terrified his clothes stained with sweat and urine. He was the lucky one Zaphiel thought. He would never have to worry if the bloodstains ever were removed from his body or if his family could reconstruct his face. He was lucky for he was godly.