Chapter 54: Gloria

James barely read the text. With death about to fall upon them all, he instinctively chose Heaven’s Assault.

The text faded.

Awareness arose within him as to the Benediction’s nature: by expending a significant amount of his divine power reserve, as determined by his Arete, he could drop a blast of divine fire upon his enemies from above.

Time seemed to slow. Even with the noise-canceling headphones the roar of countless guns was overwhelming. Nem2’s were falling upon them all, arm-blades extended wide, some being torn apart by the guns as they descended, but too few were being killed, far too few.

Yadriel had stepped forward, palm extended, his lips drawn back in a snarl, to siphon black smoke from the wave falling upon them. The Shields were yelling, their hands also extended, shimmering walls of force striving to hold back the horde.

Heaven’s Assault.

It was already empowered by Gloria, whatever the fuck that was, but James couldn’t risk it being insufficient: he tapped an Aeviternum and poured that righteous might into the Benediction as well.

With a hoarse cry, James unleashed the first Heaven’s Assault ever deployed across the whole planet and felt the Aeviternum empower the blast instead of half of his well of divine power. The Aeviternum funneled through him like a river of white fire, and he unleashed his new Benediction.

A bolt of lightning fell from the overcast skies, as thick as an ancient oak tree, a writhing mass of resplendent silver shot through with scintillating gold that James understood instinctively was the gloria. For a moment everything was reduced to shocking white and stark black shadows as thick as ink, and then a blast of power exploded out from the lightning blast, washing over the entire block, pouring over the tank, Crimson Hydra, the Rangers, the cars, the buildings.

Every Nem2 within the blast radius was instantly reduced to the finest ash.

The thunderous roar echoed off down the avenue, the light vanished, and James blinked, his whole body shaking from the expenditure of power.

Every Nem2 within a square block was gone. Even the one’s about to overwhelm Ebon Hydra, all gone but for fine smudges hanging in the air.

“Holy shitballs,” said Serenity, turning to stare at him. “Was that you?” Then she blinked and stared off into the distance.

“I need a new gun!” shouted Becca, voice harsh. “More incoming and mine’s too hot!”

Everybody was staring at James, though, who was feeling plenty stunned himself. Nobody was hurt. The Heavenly Assault hadn’t affected anything but the Nem2’s.

But Becca was right. Even though James had just nuked - what - several hundred of them all at once? Even more were coming at them.

“All right,” said Serenity, her grin shaky. “Now this Benediction I can live with.” She holstered the Sig, reached down and lifted the Ma Deuce, and aimed it from the hip again.

“I need to load it!” said the Ranger who’d been helping her.

“No longer necessary, hon.” Serenity leaned back, cocked her hip, and opened fire.

The Ma Deuce erupted, white bolts of pure Smite hurtling through the air in an unending stream. They tore through the ranks of the Nem2’s, hitting just as hard if not harder than the 50 Cals, and she raised and wove the gun back and forth, spraying the walls with the ammo.

Which didn’t end.

James just stared, transfixed, until his radio squawked to life again. “Kelly! You there, man?” Star Boy sounded frantic. “33rd and Broadway is fucked!”

“On it,” said James, and ran back toward the Rangers.

But in the confusion of battle he ran before their line of fire. Most put up their guns in exasperation, but a couple of rounds buzzed past his head and he felt something punch him in the arm.

“Jesus Christ!’ shouted their burly sergeant. “Look where the fuck you’re going!”

James stared at his arm. The bullet had punched clean through his bicep. The pain was dull and distant. He grimaced and burned Aeviternum. White fire sluiced over him, the pain disappeared, the bullet hole sealed over, and he immediately felt refreshed.

The Rangers gaped.

“I need transport!”

For a second the closest Rangers continued to just stare at him, then one blinked and pointed to where three matt black motorbikes stood. “Take a Zero!”

James ran over to the bikes. They had a dirt bike look to them, no exhaust pipes, the tires massively treaded. He threw a leg over, pushed the bike upright and thumbed the red power switch.

The bike didn’t rumble or cough or anything. It thrummed, sure, but that was it. The thing was quiet.

James twisted the throttle and the bike burst forward. He leaned forward and eased up the acceleration. The bike shot down 33rd Street, silent as a whisper, the air plastering James’s beard against his chest, the old thrill of riding a bike coming roaring back. James squinted at the distant intersection. It felt like riding along the base of a slot canyon, weaving between the cars, the bike responding smoothly to his every command.

He was getting himself one of these.

Toward the end of the huge block his felt his Blessings fade away.

Guess there was a range to them after all.

The position up ahead was overrun. Soldiers were firing their M4’s frantically at the Nem2’s that were all around them, screaming as they went down. Crimson Griffin and Ivory Hydra were meant to be holding this spot, but James couldn’t see them - just swarming demons.

“Fuck,” he hissed, and rode the Zero right into the maelstrom.

There was nothing for it. Even as the Nem2’s turned toward, reacting smoothly to his intrusion, he summoned another Heavenly Assault and sank a second Aeviternum into the blast.

Once again the skies were torn asunder by that insane blast of lighting, a twister of burning silver and gold which slammed down right outside the fortification and sent a spiritual shockwave tearing through the demons.

James slammed on the break, turning at the last to bring the rear wheel sliding around as he came to a stop. Ash hung in the air for another square block, the area completely cleared, men and women blinking in shock as they quit shooting.

“What - what the fuck was that?” Colton Wright, the leader of Crimson Griffin, kipped up from the ground, his massive, curly fro undulating. James hadn’t had much of a chance to interact with the guy, but Colton was crazy distinctive, with his Three Musketeers mustache and goatee, slender athletic frame and handsome, almost delicate features. “James? You just drop a bomb?”

“Something like that. You got this?”

Colton looked around. Members of his crew were being enveloped by the silver light of Aeviternum healing and climbing to their feet, but several lay still, the damage they’d taken so overwhelming and sudden that there was no coming back from it.

Colton’s expression turned hard. “Fuck, yeah, I guess we got no choice.”

Broadway angled in to intersect with 6th Ave right where 33rd crossed, and the intersection was something of an outdoor space, with planters, a broad median, and lots of trees planted between the two avenues. Cafe tables and chairs had been tossed aside, and Crimson Griffin had been tasked with watching this broad and awkward expanse. Which meant Esmeralda and Ivory Hydra were watching where 33rd Street speared farther west toward 7th Ave.

James gunned the Zero, navigated the sandbags and badly mauled Bradley, and reached the far side of the fortification. “Esme! Where you at?”

Esme was kneeling beside the body of a Blue Lighter. The man was dead, his head burst open, and Esme was hyperventilating, her hands gleaming crimson where she’d maybe tried to push his head together in a futile attempt to help.

James parked beside her, leaped off the bike, saw more Nem2’s coming their way along 33rd. “Guns up! Here they come, get those Ma Deuce’s going!”

He dropped to a knee beside Esme. Her long black hair, lustrous and dense, had mostly fallen free of its ponytail, and her oval face was pale, her eyes wide, her whole-body shivering.

Shock, but she wasn’t hurt.

“Hey, Esme, it’s James.” He took both her hands in his own, closed his fingers about her gore-smeared palms. Pulled her gently away from the sight of the dead man. Had his name been Luca? James had a vague memory of Esme and him dancing together just the night before. “Hey. You with me?”

Esme blinked, her gaze glassy, and gave a jerky nod.

James inhaled and forced himself to grow still. To not rush. To just give her this one, single moment of undivided attention. Esme was Ivory Hydra’s leader because she’d manifested Circle of Protection. They needed that if this corner was to hold.

“Listen to me, Esme.” James’s voice deepened, and he felt his presence grow, his power. She locked her gaze with him. “We grieve later. But now we fight. Your team needs you. They need you, Esme. You going to be there for them?”

Gun fire was erupting again. A chopper roared overhead but didn’t open fire.

“Yes.” Her voice was shaky.

He squeezed her hands. “You have to protect them. Everything you’re feeling, put it away. For now, we need to fight. You with me?”

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“I - yes.” She nodded, reached up to curl her black hair back, and left a shockingly vivid smear of red across her raised cheekbone. Hadn’t she been a model visiting from Hawaii or something? James had chatted with her just once. She was only eighteen, for Chrissakes, and now she needed to act like a fucking veteran.

“Good.” James stood and pulled her up. The leading edge of the Nem2’s were almost upon them. “Let’s get that circle up.”

She shuddered, hunched her shoulders, and then with obvious, extreme effort, turned to face down 33rd. Chin tucked down, she raised a hand, and all about them a burning circle of mystical white light appeared, rising up and forming a complete barrier about Ivory Hydra’s position.

The leading Nem2’s crashed into it a second later, and then were torn apart by Smite-enhanced gunfire.

James swung his leg back over the Zero and thumbed on his radio. “Star Boy, this is Kelly. 33rd and Broadway is secured. Heading back to my team, over.”

“What the fuck you do?” demanded Star Boy. “Check that, I don’t care. Go team!”

James thumbed the Zero back on, was momentarily confused by how silent it was all over again, and realized: oh, it’s electric.

Eased forward, seeking a path back, and saw that Griffin’s position was terrible. The melding of Broadway and Sixth made for a double-wide avenue, a mess of obstacles that his team had to cover.

James scowled and checked in with himself. Pumping Aeviternum into the Heavenly Assaults had resulted in his divine power pool not being expended. He’d two points left, alone with his slightly depleted power pool.

He was still in this fight.

One way back to his squad involved angling wide behind the Rangers. Safe, fast, easy.

The second meant swinging out wide through the Nem2’s.

Which wouldn’t be the smartest.

But he’d never claimed to be a clever man, and fuck, he had his Iron aura to defend him if necessary.

James leaned out to the right, the Zero cut out wide, and he twisted the throttle.

The military bike complied, and he shot into the demons.

“Fuck!” he screamed as he plowed into them, hand raised, and unleashed a Sacred Strike.

The blast of white fire blossomed before him, moving faster even than the Zero, and the Nem2’s melted like candles tossed into the heart of a volcano. He swung his arm out to face down Broadway and unleashed a second Sacred Strike.

Another slew of Nem2’s died.

Guns roared, someone was shouting, and shields appeared around him, shimmering and keeping pace, then three Blessings dropped on him, boosting his stats by +15 each.

If he survived this madness he was going to buy Crimson Griffin a chocolate cake.

He’d always been decent on a motorbike, but now with his Agility hopped up to 20 he felt like a Motocross champion. He twisted the handlebars, tapped the breaks, accelerated around a planter, and unleashed a third Sacred Strike.

Another six or seven Nem2’s withered in his burning light, several ashed as they hurled themselves upon his aura, and looking back over his shoulder he saw that he’d blunted the overwhelming assault once more.

“Good luck!” he roared to Griffin as he angled the Zero back down 33rd, and saw the man raise his fist into the sky.

James opened up the throttle and tore back down the narrow street, enjoying the Agility 20 while it lasted and navigating the obstacles like a motherfucker, everything clear and simple and easy.

His home intersection was still standing. Even as he emerged from the street into the intersection a Killer Egg came buzzing down into view to strafe 33rd Street beyond 5th, alleviating the pressure on Ebon Hydra.

James slowed, the Ivory Hydra blessings fading, and came to a stop.

Serenity was still going to town, just raking her Ma Deuce back and forth, the sinews in her forearms standing out like pylons, endless burning bullets roaring forth from the six-foot gun to mow down the Nem2’s over and over again.

James raised an eyebrow. The Rangers were watching, practically gaping, and even Becca’s scowl had faded to one of wide-eyed awe.

“She been doing this since I left?” James asked Joanna, who stood with her hands on her hips, her black singlet putting her impressive musculature on display.

“I don’t think there’s any stopping her,” said Joanna. “Maybe we should head over to Ebon Hydra?”

James looked across the intersection. Ebon was still going at it, both Ma Deuces roaring, but the pressure on them seemed to be lightening.

Bjørn walked over. “Hey, where’s Yadriel?”

“Fuck,” said James, scanning the crowd. “You serious?”

“The kid’s a liability. We don’t understand his power, and each time he uses it he goes haywire.” Bjørn scowled. “We should put out a warning about this Benediction. Feels like more of a curse than anything else.”

Jason drew closer, his eyes still trained on the fight raging down 5th Ave. “I saw him take off. He drew in that black mist, and then he must have leveled because he turned into a demon and ran into the fight.”

James, Joanna, and Bjørn all turned to stare at him.

“He turned into a demon,” said James flatly.

The Abrams jerked, revolved in place, and its machines guns opened fire, their barrels burning with Smite.

“Yeah,” said Jason, frowning defensively. “What could I do? He ran down the avenue that way, turned on 34th. He was hard to track. Kept disappearing into shadows.”

“Well shit,” said James. “I dropped the ball there. But we need him for our synergy. And…” James recalled their conversation the night before. “There’s got to be a reason for this. We have to trust the system.”

“The system that started a demon apocalypse?” asked Joanna, sounding halfway amused. “Interesting choice.”

All around them the gunfire was starting to ease off.

“Woo!” shouted Serenity, raising the Ma Deuce’s barrel to a forty-five degree and easing off at last. “Now that’s a kick!”

“Hold on,” said Bjørn. “I just leveled. Novitiate 1. Terrify, Arete Boost, and Zeal. Huh.”

“Terrify?” Joanna looked him up and down. “We sure that’ll work on the demons and not us?”

“I’m going to hold off for now,” said Bjørn. “With the fight ending - it does look like it’s ending - I’m going to wait for others to make choices first and see what each Benediction does.”

Olaf strode up, his axe propped over his shoulder, its blade gleaming and clean. “I was going to complain about this only being a gun fight, but - watch.” And he extended his arm, spread his fingers, and a burning white circle of protection seared itself into existence, easily eight yards in diameter. “I like it!”

“Finally,” said Joanna. “I’d missed that thing.”

James thumbed his radio on. “Star Boy, this is Kelly. Looks like the assault on our position has come to a close.”

“Kelly, this is Star Boy. First, I love you. Second, I’m getting similar reports from all quarters. Not all of it is good news, though. Looks like we’ve lost some good people today. Four symbols were completely overrun. We’ve managed to extract folks, but it’s not looking good.”

Everybody around James tensed up, stared at him. “Star Boy, which teams did we lose?”

“Intel isn’t 100% yet, but two of the symbols were army, and two were ours. Looks like we may have lost Manticore, Yeti, and Wraith, along with the support squads, with only Ivory Yeti having gotten out.”

James just stood there, allowing that to sink home. Eight teams. Seventy-two good people.

Gone.

“Fuck,” he whispered, and raised his gaze to meet that of his shocked companions. “Fuck.”

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