113 - Benjamin Scott

113 - Benjamin Scott
Benjamin Scott

We walked down the corridor as if we were an elite squad of highly trained soldiers on a special mission. I felt like a Navy SEAL with Petter by my side, leading the way ahead of Henrique and his father, Augusto, just a few steps behind. The idea wasn’t to kill everyone inside. We didn’t know who was here, and judging by the laments we were hearing, there might not be that many people after all.

We needed to gather some information about Ralf, and killing everyone before extracting anything from them would make this whole operation pointless. I took slow steps, paying close attention to everything around us. Just because we were in a church didn’t mean the men here weren’t armed.

Quite the opposite. They had weapons far superior even to those of the U.S. military. As I had always heard the leader of the order say,

“There’s always someone willing to sell weapons, just as there’s always a need to buy them.”

“Do you hear that?” Henrique whispered behind me.

I nodded and looked toward the direction where I thought the sound was coming from. I figured the chapel walls must be made of stone with excellent acoustics because, with the screams we were starting to hear, it was impossible for the faithful outside not to notice.

We could hear someone groaning in pain, and another voice sounded quite angry about what had happened the previous night. What little we could understand indicated that the invasion hadn’t occurred last night but two nights ago.

This worsened my search, if Ralf had been here two days ago, he was likely far away by now, perhaps even back in Palma.

It seemed they hadn’t anticipated an invasion, as this was one of the houses whose location was known to very few. I knew about it because I was once considered becoming a Bishop of the order after Antony passed away. I thanked the heavens that Camilla had come into my life; otherwise, I might have been here hunting beings that were never a true threat to humanity.

I noticed Petter beside me was alert to every single movement around us. Just because they were only clerics didn’t mean they weren’t on high alert. On the contrary, the order was now on maximum alert, investigating what had really happened here.

I also knew that, after what had occurred, they wouldn’t stay silent. Retaliation was inevitable. The only question was where they would strike first.

Unfortunately, the order had the locations of many wolf packs scattered across the globe. We began hiding in the shadows cast around us, which brought back memories of Antony telling me about new wolf packs they had discovered. I had always hoped he’d one day tell me they’d found one near home so I could go and see those legendary wolves for myself.

That day, sadly, never came.

We walked a bit further, using the darkness of most of the place as cover in case someone was wandering around, a possibility I found unlikely. There were usually no more than two Bishops per residence, along with the priest overseeing the pastoral congregation.

We found the entrance to where we had been hearing groans of pain and pleas not to be left to die. Little did the poor soul know that his death would come by my hand, not by a wolf.

With my pistol in hand, I began descending the narrow staircase leading to a dimly lit basement. The voices that had been distant and almost unintelligible were now loud and demanding. I watched Petter make hand gestures, signaling us to slow down and proceed cautiously.

He had his pistol cocked and was already aiming at someone I couldn’t yet see. I took a deep breath, pushing my morality toward those who truly deserved it.

They were murderers, of children, of people who had never harmed anyone.

Despite not wanting to kill anyone who might suddenly appear in front of us and startle us, I knew hesitation could be fatal.

At the bottom of the staircase, I saw two men and three nuns standing around a stretcher in great commotion. The man lying on it was begging to live. My eyes focused on the large pool of blood on the floor. The nuns around the stretcher were desperately trying to stop the man’s bleeding.

“We need to stop this bleeding, Bishop...” one of the nuns’ voices caught my attention.

I was witnessing something I had never seen before, even as a mafioso who had done terrible things to instill fear in soldiers and command their respect. Now, seeing the state of this man and the number of people in this basement, I was certain that what had happened here had been exposed to more people than they had anticipated.

“ He can’t die; we need to know what that abomination told him…”

“I know that voice!”

Petter raises his hand, displaying five fingers, signaling the number of people present. I take a deep breath and step forward to confront the men desperate to save someone.

“Bishop Gianni Bergoglio!” I say, stepping out of the shadows and recognizing the voice’s owner.

An orphan like me, he was raised by the church to become a Bishop of the Sanctus Justitia, the deadliest and most loyal among all the Bishops in the order. I see him turn toward us, just as my companions position themselves to get a better angle on everyone down here.

“Bishop Scott?” he says, startled.

I keep my pistol aimed at his head, despite noticing he has no weapon nearby. Instead, he’s covered in blood, likely trying to keep the man on the stretcher from dying. There’s a hint of surprise in his voice, something I can’t decipher just from his gaze.

“I’m no longer a Bishop. I’ve returned home,” I announce, still taking in the chaotic scene before me.

“What are you doing here?”

His eyes narrow, clearly analyzing my posture, as well as Petter’s, who seems the most lethal of us all. I’m certain he’s assessing whether I pose a threat, perhaps wondering if something similar to tonight’s events could happen again.

“We’re looking for a friend. I believe you crossed paths with him tonight,” Henrique steps forward this time.

With his weapon pointed at everyone in the room, Henrique walks toward the stretcher. My curiosity about what Gianni is doing here consumes me, and I follow Henrique.

Gianni isn’t an ordinary Bishop. He leads incursions and is always searching for something, though only the order’s leaders know what it is. I approach the stretcher and see the priest everyone upstairs had been praying for.

His body is destroyed. One leg is missing, and the other is held together by a tourniquet, attached only at the femur. His chest bears deep wounds, whether from bites or scratches, I can’t tell.

“Quite the strange friendship you have…” Gianni’s sarcasm is evident.

“Friendship is friendship, Bishop; you should know that,” Henrique replies, glancing at Petter.

“Who came here and caused this mess?” I ask, noting something I’ve never seen before in Gianni’s expression, his eyes seem to darken.

I have no idea how he arrived so quickly. If something happened two nights ago, the Vatican would have been notified only yesterday afternoon, and a trip from there to here wouldn’t have been fast enough.

His expression shifts again, and I see a glimmer of hope in his eyes, as though he’s clinging to the idea that we might give him the location of whoever wreaked havoc in his territory.

“Better yet, what are you doing here in New York?” I ask, remembering he shouldn’t even be here.

Gianni should be in the Vatican, commanding all Bishop operations worldwide. He’s too valuable to the church to leave its walls for a mere lupine attack. Something has changed.

“That’s none of your business. You’re no longer one of us and have no reason to be here!” he says, lifting his chin as I lower my pistol.

“Gianni, I’m not your enemy. We were friends throughout our adolescence. Just tell me what happened here.”

I plead, ignoring that everyone is taking strategic positions in case the situation escalates. I watch as Gianni glances at the dying man beside him and exhales more heavily than I expected.

“A wolf came here…” he says, eyeing my companions. “I assume they already know?”

I nod, and Petter moves closer to the stretcher, inspecting the man’s wounds.

“Why did it do this to him?” Petter asks Gianni.

I see him sigh, and for the first time, I witness a moment of weakness in the man known as the exterminator of lupines. He leans against the stretcher, tightening the tourniquet.

“My mission is to find two of them, two very specific ones…”

“What are you talking about, Bishop Gianni?” the other Bishop asks.

And then, everything happens so quickly that I’m left frozen.

The Bishop standing in front of Gianni is dead, and now Gianni is pointing his gun at the nuns beside the stretcher.

What the hell just happened?