Chapter 52: 48. Hood Crusader (II)

“Oh, bless your heart,” replied a mocking drawl that reached past the din of gunfire and destruction. “I was fixin’ to give you good ol’ boys and girls a chance to repent. But now I’m certain my every strike will be righteous.”

The Senior Knife gaped as half his team finished a magazine and scored no vital damage.

They’d torn up a random overgrown lawn. They’d shredded an old kiddie playground set and busted a dog house. The fence on the other side had fallen to pieces, and so did the fence behind that.

But the target was presumably peachy fine behind her big wooden tower shield and the white, pulsating glow it gave off. Something about that glow made the Senior Knife sick to his stomach. As if he hadn’t done the chores like his old man wanted back in the day and feared the oncoming of the belt.

“Shoot and split!” the Senior Knife ordered.

Simple tactic, but an essential one for these moments. By separating into small units with two to four members, the target couldn’t blast them all with whatever mumbo-jumbo she cooked up. Then they could take potshots at her from different angles. Since half of the team was finishing a hasty reload, the other half could help cover the others as they separated and reformed.

“Now, why y’all running away?” The target crooned. “I only showed one-half of my first Skill. Don’t y’all wanna see the other half of [Shield and Smite]?”

The white pulsating glow covering the shield consolidated into a shining beacon at the center. Then it fired off sparkling mini-missiles of magic that looped and sizzled above their heads before dropping down on the initial shooters.

The Senior Knife took his finger off the trigger as the kid rocking the dual Berettas took a bogey to the chest. Most of his torso disappeared in a white flash of instant immolation. But instead of smelling the horrid scent of burnt flesh as expected, the Senior Knife smelled something much worse.

It smelled like a pleasant spring day with a field of flowers blooming.

“Don’t shoot unless you can clear her shield!” The Senior Knife ordered as his remaining eight Knife Warriors scattered into pairs.

The Senior Knife ran off alone, hauling his light machine gun with one arm while calling for drone support through his encrypted headset. Those were given out sparingly since the footage on those devices would do harm if recovered by their enemies. They were equipped to self-destruct, but that might not always work.

The Senior Knife was willing to take the risk as he slid to a stop in a dirty alley. A light patter of rain started to fall. He knelt behind some smelly garbage, but it was not pungent enough to remove the scent from Beretta boy being turned into an air freshener.

The Senior Knife shook off the disturbing memory, pulled up a small monitor with simple input buttons, and got a visual through the mostly silent drone hanging above. The target was gone. The bodies of eight slaughtered Knife Warriors remained strewn about. The Senior Knife had the drone scan the area further. The results of his search turned more grisly.

Knife Warrior One and Five lay with their heads smashed like melons in a dirt lot. Another pair of Knives had met the same fate in a narrow alley.

Senior Knife surmised the crazy girl was hunting them down and bludgeoning them with her shield. Perhaps she didn’t have any other tricks unless someone attacked her. But to get around that shield required an ambush, and she wasn’t allowing it.

Movement on the monitor caught the Senior Knife’s attention. Two of his Knife Warriors were running desperately as the monstrous target sprinted after them faster than Usain Bolt. It was like being chased by a damn super soldier.

Knife Warrior Sixteen whirled around with her grenade launcher and shot it close to point-blank with a suicidal grin. Pride bloomed in the Senior Knife’s chest for a brief moment until the target angled her shield and deflected the grenade away. The explosive detonated uselessly in an abandoned lot.

The target didn’t even use overt magic that time. She had the reaction time and physical capability to make a grenade launcher a non-issue. All the willpower trained into Warrior Knife Sixteen drained out of her as she collapsed to her knees and started pleading for her life.

The target stopped and seemed to consider the woman’s fate. Seeing a grown woman–a trained killer–beg at a teenage girl’s feet was humiliating.

The Senior Knife felt a deep level of shame. He didn’t want to blame KW Sixteen for giving up, but he couldn’t help but look down on her. They all knew the risks. She should fight to the end. So, he started inputting the kill codes for Sixteen since he’d be damned if the target captured–

The target’s shield arm moved with superhuman speed and strength. She cracked Sixteen’s head open with one pass of her shield. It was almost movie-like, especially from how effortless the target made it look.

Wasn’t she supposed to be the fucking healer?

Only four team members remained: the Senior Knife and three deeply scared subordinates.

The Senior Knife was doing his best to keep his cool. He refused to let this damn girl scare him. She hadn’t worked for her power. She shouldn’t have the right to place a finger on the world and change it to her whims.

It wouldn’t be her alone, of course. But at this point, Britney Williams was the entirety of the Champions rolled into one.

To the Senior Knife, she was some spunky teenage brat with power that could do untold damage just because she believed herself to be in the right. She would be more dangerous than a nuke if given a chance to grow.

“I have to kill her before that happens,” the Senior Knife said, feeling determined. He glared at the screen, watching Britney saunter like she was on a pleasant stroll. Then she stopped and looked up at the drone.

For a split second, the Senior Knife felt like she was looking at him directly.

Eye to eye.

As if she was letting him hide to prolong her fun of being the big bad predator. Making him prey.

She winked, and the Senior Knife felt fear crawl up his spine.

***

Brit found it a little amusing that a bunch of loud and trigger-happy assassins had played cat and mouse with her. All because she’d used one Skill.

It was a damn good Skill. Probably the worst thing for the kill squad to face. But it was almost surprising how quickly she broke them.

She hadn’t come out unscathed, of course. There were lacerations, cuts, rips, and holes all over her body. The biggest injury was to her right thigh, where something lodged deep and tore a muscle. Ricochets and shrapnel were more effective than accurate shots, which had her Health down some.

Fortunately for her, all she needed was one incantation and her Skill [Incantation Proficiency] to fix that:

“At the tree bordering divinity’s sea lies a quiet place to kneel, where one reveals all their aches and wounds and hurts they feel, then all that remains is for you to wait in peace and have belief, Heal.”

A flash of white and soothingly warm light covered her body and wiped away her little owies. Then the light faded with and left her as good as new. It didn’t even cost her much.

From an outsider’s perspective, they would barely catch what she had said. Her [Incantation Proficiency] improved her incantation speed, which made her sound like she was competing with Twista for the fastest rapper. The Skill would gradually help her learn more Incantations at a faster rate, which was further boosted by [Elephant Boon]. The Talent liked to learn supportive things or enhance her Resilience and Poise when in defense of herself or others.

This seemed like nonsense back when she started pouring over old, ratty, and alien-looking religious pamphlets from YoAnna’s corner dedicated to [Mediums] at the outer mansion. Four incantations had been waiting for her to absorb and digest in those yellowed pages.

They’d barely worked half the time when she started using them, too. It took her a while to understand what made incantations viable compared to Skills since incantations required more setup and could be finicky with Chance.

But she then realized she could swap around incantations like spiritual trading cards. She hadn’t tried any new ones yet, but the variety of support options sounded mighty swell.

Just like how [Fighters] could use different battle techniques or weapons with their Skills, a [Medium] could use both Skills and incantations to support their team. Or themselves, at least.

“Ugh,” grunted the assassin leader. He was half buried in a rotten shed she kicked him into a few minutes ago.

This one with the big ol’ machine gun was a squirrely guy. She wanted him to wake up before she finished things.

She was both happy and ashamed that she came across him as the last assassin. She’d given big bonks to the last three in rapid succession so she could find this one, too.

She wanted to take her time with him and let him get scared a bit. He’d said things that crossed her even though she shouldn’t be so vindictive.

It was uncomely.

“You weren’t supposed to be this strong,” he groaned.

Brit swung her shield and smashed debris out of the way. She stood over the man, her body emitting a soft white glow. She looked him in the eyes for a long time. She let the weight of her presence sink in, tormenting a proud man by having him submerge in his feebleness.

She shouldn’t make him suffer like this. But Brit couldn’t help but enjoy the power trip. The assassins challenged her and were found wanting. And this happened because they made the mistake of thinking she was weak.

“They fed me,” Brit said.

“What?”

“I didn’t amount to much other than support in the last dungeon,” Brit said, reining in her natural dialect and southern accent. “And I didn’t always see eye to eye with Lilith even if she had strong logical points. Her morals were lacking. But she and the boys went around and had me fed.”

Attribute crystals. Team Booty Bandits had pushed most of those crystals on Brit. It didn’t matter if Rick could use the extra Resilience or if Tim could use the extra Perception and Agility. Her teammates, which included Lilith despite her being an evil gremlin, had put Brit first. And there were a lot of crystals for them to plunder after Lilith orchestrated the slow and torturous extermination of an entire dungeon populace.

Honestly, being given so much for so little worried Brit a lot. Then she realized the logic behind it. Every antagonist out there wanted Brit dead. No ifs. No buts. They would find every opportunity to kill the one primary healer of the Champions.

Case and point tonight.

It was like having the pastor and his zealots out for her blood again. But this time, Brit would push the line and fight back, not her family. 

Thinking back to those horrible moments forcing her out of Alabama inflated the strange and intoxicating enjoyment of dominating the assassin.

“I oughta kill you now,” Brit said. “But please forgive me for stretching this out.” She watched how her tongue could lash the man’s pride into tatters. “I can’t shake this. A girl like me with divine powers. Men like you under my boot heel. It’s… righteous.”

The potato blubber and whine of motorbike engines caught Brit’s attention. She looked away briefly. But she was not so distracted to miss the assassin leader making one last desperate lunge.

He aimed his knife at her non-shield side.

She reached to grab his knife arm, a casual response that barely took him seriously.

The assassin jerked his knife up, turning a fake thrust into a slice. It nicked the bottom of Brit’s hand and damaged her some.

“I know my way around games,” the lead assassin said with a bloody smile. “Heal works on wounds. But you need something else if you get hit by something poisonous–”

“[Cleanse],” Brit said.

A white light faded in and out from under her skin.

Bye-bye poison.

“You are complete and utter bullshit.” The assassin leader’s knife hand shook as his manly bravado splintered further. “Why the fuck is it you that gets the magic powers?”

Brit shrugged. “A deity of the Multiverse gave me an offer, and I said yes. Nothing much to it, sugar.”

“You don’t deserve it!” he yelled.

Brit smiled softly. Her enjoyable sin of crushing this man’s pride was getting bigger and darker. A small part of her wanted to keep him alive. And let Lilith have him.

But that would stray from her set path. It would bring imbalance to Team Booty Bandits and the Champions.

Brit sighed, feeling shaky and unsure all of a sudden. She was power-tripping way too much for her own comfort. She should be more tranquil and unaffected, not savage. To kill the enemy didn’t require primal urges and sinful taint.

“Let’s end this,” she said softly.

She set her shield aside.

The assassin slashed at her again.

This time, she caught his arm properly with a crushing 25 Strength grip. She peeled his fingers open and took the weapon away like he was a mere boy.

She didn’t revel in his inadequacy this time. Brit pushed the knife into his heart, twisted it, and yanked it out. The Title [Omen Bearer of the Apocalypse] was a major presence helping her commit a good and merciless kill.

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“I pray in your next life you’ll be the great magic warrior you’ve always wanted,” Brit said earnestly.

She laid the assassin leader down gently. He looked at her in shock as if seeing her for the first time. A tear rolled down his face before his eyes closed forever.

She felt sorry for goading him and trampling on his pride now. She should be above that. He was a mere man with lots of faults. She was… more now.

This concluded the encounter, a seemingly easy one. But the System recognized it enough to give Brit her next [Medium] level up among other Skill level ups. And something new. The power bubbling under her skin since this craziness started had come forth.

Holy Affinity.

It had been there for a while, but it never became official on her profile until now.

Brit felt confused. “Didn’t I sin and make this man suffer?” Was it okay for her to go on a power trip? Or did she achieve the affinity because she reigned herself toward the end?

There was no big bible to guide her regarding the divine powers of the Multiverse. The incantation pamphlets suggested wildly different things that had no central origin. It was almost scary. If YoAnna couldn’t provide a proper guide, then what would? How did people know what was right or wrong without prominent tenets that stood above all else in the Multiverse?

Was YoAnna the ultimate decider for Brit? YoAnna couldn’t be because the godling was under the rules of more extraordinary powers than her.

Who was the ultimate decider, then? How could the System deem Brit holy enough for the affinity after what she had done to the assassins?

“How am I considered holy after I’ve committed such evil?” Brit asked herself, feeling very troubled.

Because the taste of her dominance and absolute power over mortal men stayed with her. A part of her wanted more even though she was supposed to be a supportive healer.

The rain parted around her as if to wet her without permission was a great crime. With a flick of her hand, she guided the Holy energy to let the rain fall as normal on her.

Brit knelt next to the assassin leader for quite some time. Then she glanced over at Rick and Tim, who stood by waiting, their dirt bikes set against a fence.

The rainfall picked up a little more. Brit knew wearing a white tee wasn’t her best idea, but it was an old shirt she was willing to throw away. Especially now that it was all rags.

Oh well.

She didn’t mind the boys having a view. Modesty wasn’t her biggest concern, which was probably not very holy of her. But she was officially Holy, so maybe that was okay.

“You good?” Tim asked.

Brit shook her head. “I feel like I failed.”

“Poppycock,” Rick exclaimed humorously. “You took out, what, thirty to forty assassins on your own? That’s worth a celebration, love!”

Brit sighed at Rick’s exaggeration.

“I felt they were manipulating me through Papa. They attacked me the instant I revealed myself when I could’ve ambushed them. Then at that point, I started to enjoy the thrill of the chase and kills.” She paused, feeling queasy. “I was becoming more like Lilith.”

Power.

Dominance.

The holy judgment to decide life and death over mortals.

Brit shuddered.

“That ain’t always bad,” Tim said.

“To fight and kill is necessary,” Brit said. “The enemy is out in full force to target our friends and families. We can’t be merciful. But to pervert that could bring us closer to the thing.”

“The eldritch thing?” Rick asked carefully.

They’ve had this conversation a couple of times before.

“Maybe,” Brit said drearily.

She was still unsure what the eldritch thing stood for. 

It could be anything or nothing. It could even be a figment of imagination. But Brit felt wary nonetheless and figured further ranks would shed light on the mystery of the true enemy. At the same time, she might understand her Holy nature and what it meant in the Multiverse as she leveled up.

It also made her wonder about Jay. They hadn’t seen each other or made lasting impressions since the party. But the moment she heard about him coming down to the Junkyard gave Brit some complex sensations of great magnitude.

She needed to keep an eye on that [Freak].

Rick and Tim shared a look, having a silent conversation only twins could have. Then Tim walked off, tossing his bow up and down with one hand while using his phone. Rick cleaved his ax into the wet dirt and left it standing on its own. He dropped into a crouch next to Brit.

He poked the dead guy’s cheek.

“Stop that,” Brit muttered. “That’s disrespectful.”

Rick poked the dead cheek again.

“You hard-headed boy!” She reached over and bonked him lightly on the forehead with her hand. Even if she hit at full power, it wouldn’t hurt him too much. 

Rick existed to take a bruising now.

“Yuck, yuck, yuck!” Rick laughed like an old-school Hanna Barbera character. “Can’t crack this boy if you’re all moody toonooty.”

He flicked her nose.

The chase was on.

For about twenty feet, since she was faster than him. And she had on her best heavy-duty sports bra.

Bonk! Bonk! Bonk!

***

Lilith set aside her phone after reading a message from Tim updating her on the situation. Brit had succeeded against the assassins without much trouble, which was good. All of those attribute crystals would’ve gone to waste if Brit couldn’t obliterate an enemy lacking the proper preparation to face such a monstrous healer. The assassins targeting Brit first was well within Lilith’s predictions, too.

Now her next move depended on the World Knife’s actions.

Were they attacking the MPC from within, or was the MPC a front for the World Knife?

Were they going to attack every Champion and their most meaningful contacts?

How would this culminate under the system’s uncanny influence?

Should she risk herself to make sure Mike and his mom were okay?

How bad would the attack on Jay be since he was their most important target?

Many other questions were flitting through Lilith’s mind when a loud snort sounded in front of her. Her father blinked awake, his head swooning woozily as he slowly got his bearing. He tried to move but found rope competently and safely tied around his body, keeping him bound to a metal chair. The chair legs were soldered to a metal plate Lilith had bolted into the floor of an empty home on the market.

Her father tried to scream, but the silly business socks he liked to wear were stuffed into his mouth. Before he hyperventilated and harmed himself, Lilith snapped her fingers to pull his attention to her. Then she used her phone screen with the light set on low to illuminate part of her face.

“It’s okay, Papi,” she said in Spanish. “I have to do this for your protection. You’re so afraid for me, you’ll follow me to hell.”

If Brit were right about morality, Lilith would have a wonderful estate raised in her honor at the biggest and hottest circle of hell. Or whatever was the equivalent in the Multiverse. But superstition had less worth than crap to Lilith. At least crap could be used as fertilizer. And that could be used as bomb material.

Her father looked around. Or tried. She bound his head, too. The current hideout was an empty, specifically selected house that ran counter to Lilith’s taste that the diablos would undoubtedly have on her dossier. The hideout was in the often common Victorian style instead of her preferred Spanish style. And it was in a lower-income area further south.

It was the best way for her to ensure her father’s safety rather than leave him to an organization that was probably eating itself alive. Because how else would the World Knife strike so boldly? 

Lilith allowed herself a smidge of hope the arrangements worked out for the other Champions, though. She couldn’t reveal too much of her own plans until the enemy committed further. Though, she might break that rule for Mike. She had to make sure he kept living so she could drag him around and show him her latest magical killing ideas. Jay, too, but he was more likely to survive. Jay had that... specialness to him.

Meanwhile, she continued to take certain matters into her own hands. Such as scanning through the few phones she’d managed to hack with the limited time she had with other Champions.

She got nada from Team Divine.

Her team just won a skirmish over the assassins and had no new updates.

Team FAAHI seemed strangely undisturbed and…

Wait.

Why was Jay’s phone off the grid?

Lilith licked her teeth, ignoring her father’s frightened looks. He hated it when she did that. It made her look feral. It was a habit she picked up at daycare when she’d pulled wings off of butterflies or harnessed the sun with a magnifying glass to obliterate ants and get that wonderful popping sound.

“You’ve lost the initiative on the healer,” Lilith gloated with dark amusement. “But that’s to test the waters. Redirect us, perhaps? But what good are your assassins if our healer can fold them so easily?”

Lilith chuckled. “Jay is the strongest of us at this point. You’d need an army.”

Suddenly, her sympathetic system lit up. The hat-shaped glands sitting over her kidneys spritzed her bloodstream with epinephrine.

Adrenaline.

Lilith jerked forward, a vial of acid popping into her hand from seemingly thin air. She searched the abandoned house for danger. Her father tried to search around even though his head movement was limited. Neither would find anything. They were truly alone and secured. Lilith was sure of that.

She blinked and looked around a few more times. Then she met her father’s confused eyes.

Lilith frowned.

Hm.

That was dubious. That sensation. Very strange. She’d never felt it before. Was that the System responding to her?

Lilith groaned. “Why did I get a flight-and-fight response? Is Chance involved?”

She would need Mike’s help. He was more story savvy than Lilith, and Chance involved weird story logic Lilith didn’t quite understand yet. She could only assume the worst. She might’ve triggered the System to do something against the Champions, specifically Jay.

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