Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions-Chapter 327: Deathracer—I Am Perdition

• 2400 HOURS, Vallon-de-Grâce

The bushes off the main Cathedral were high enough to hide out a chimpanzee. Rafel did hear curious monkeys scratching in the hanging vines about and more than once he had caught pairs of inquisitive black eyes staring from the boughs. ’Who is this yellow-eyed tresspasser?’ he guessed their timid thoughts. Their gifted limbs—branch-hopping, helped him pass the time. In mere seconds he would wreak havoc on this sacred grounds.

A sin. But a necessary sin.

Moira Kane had named it Operation Perdition because—in her words—"it signifies the swift end of the corrupted holy ones. Trust me, sir," she had said, "you would be doing Paradise and the saints a great service."

"I do not care for the saints, neither the love of heaven, Agent Kane." He’d replied her, twenty six minutes ago. And even now he did not give a shit what the angels thought. If he cared for the divine he wouldn’t be a devil now, would he? He was doing this for his little Raven. Perhaps the one angel he truly cared about.

Caw! Caw! C-Caw!

Crows called on the high tops of Birches. "Howdy, friends." Rafel sinisterly regarded the black birds and their omen. He was completely ignoring the zealous monkeys. Desperados, the lot of them. But the crows he rather liked. For one, their feathers matched his clothes. His skin was softer in the moonlight hue that poured into the light woods: snowy. Ethereal. The moon on high was blue. Blue as the sparkling of cold river.

As the saying went, once in a blue moon, he was about to make this night even more unforgettable. As for those in the candlelit chapel, eight hundred yards from his darkness, they would never guess what hit them. Moira had put forward such an excellent plan in tackling the Blood Mother’s new spiritual disciples, with the public being none the wiser of course. Midnight. The perfect minute in the perfect hour. And with the color of the moon tonight, only the crows and monkeys were awake. In the cold bushes, Rafel’s amber eyes twinkled. Even with the current heatwave flushing the Capital, deep mist blew out his nostrils—a dragon’s breath. "Agent Kane, tell me when."

A swift female voice immediately sounded out a floating pentagram glyph; the auditory rune hovered at the spot behind his left ear, connecting him to the other camouflage in the bushes: a ten-foot across van full of [C.S.A] Agents—forty yards from his own position. Moira was in that van. It was her voice that called back in his ear, "Copy, Deathracer. Yet hold your position. Eagle-mother detects two mice absconded from area of captivity. The arbitrants are now moving back into cage. Please wait for confirmation."

"Roger that, Eagle-mother." Rafel smiled in his place. "—standing by."

His smile was a lush spread of his pink lips, that would make even Lilith just about wet her panties. He admitted he rather liked the sting. Earth people had lovable customs. And he was enjoying the fuck out of staking out his targets. Those he would murder on this blue midnight.

Hehehehe!

He could smell them. Their oils and incense of their praying balms. He could see them: humanoid infrared signatures wandering about obliviously. He didn’t even need equip [Cyclops Eye] for this one. Gone were the days! At his [Fifth Hel Circle] dominion, his own Ocus were well evolved to cut even through the harden stone of Vallon-de-Grâce’s ecclesiastical centuries-old church. His amber eyes leveled on the people roaming within. Monks and such. He counted sixteen. Moira was right.

Two fuckers were missing!

In her own van half-mile away, the Special Agent regarded the others with her in the comfy cab, waiting patiently in a shroud of forest. Aya had been explicitly denied from coming along—by her Dominus of course. Ordered to wait with the Empress, Aya Naamah sulked but did not hate it; Ravenna too was wonderful company. The both of them stayed back at the Castle as Rafel sped out into the belly of the night—Moira and Corazón with him, and a carriage of husky agents. At the moment, Moira met Cora’s eyes. The Agent could see the tension in the Lieutenant General’s shoulders: Cora was worried for Rafel. Even though Moira’s plan was foolproof, this was Eldoria.

Shit went bad, all the motherfucking time.

"Moira, you know maybe we should—" Cora started.

"It’ll be fine, General." Moira quickly interrupted her with easy eyes. "Just a few more minutes now." To make Cora smile and ease some pressure in the space she added, "relax, Eagle-mother knows what she’s doing."

It worked. Cora surprised herself when she shared a tiny grin with the female Agent. The smile shadowed out when a younger lad drew near to Moira; he handed the superior officer a long one-view binocular. Moira put it to her eyes, squinting, adjusting with expert fingers, her lips began stretching; and before the smile fully formed, Cora knew what was coming. "It’s go time." Moira said. "Turner," she called, "—rune!"

Cora beat the young magus to it. But where the boy would normally raise his hands to put up her [Coms]—short for Communication Spell—Cora merely snapped her two fingers and the golden rune went up behind Moira’s ear.

The young magus gawped.

That said a lot about the Lt. General. ’No wonder she’s S-rank,’ Agent Turner thought to himself, ’She’s so awesome.’ He was still gushing. Meanwhile Cora was utterly naive of the boy. She was immersed in following Moira’s every move, every thing that would ensure the mission success of Operation Perdition—and most importantly, that Rafel would be kept alive. Moira fingered the binoculars as she talked, "This is Eagle-mother to Deathracer! Do you copy?"

—tchtttath!

There was static at the other end and a heavy pause—where Cora’s heart beat like a motherfucker—then a deep, deep baritone funneled through:

"This is Deathracer. Copy!"

Whew! One could almost hear the collective sigh of relief inside the great carriage. Corazón was particularly excited and annoyed at the same time – ’why did it take him so long to reply?’ She scooted closer to Moira to listen clearer. "All the mice are in the building, Deathracer," the Agent gave back, "Operation Perdition is a go! Repeat! This is Eagle-mother to Deathracer: Operation Perdition is a go!!!"

"Roger that, Eagle-mother." Rafel’s brick voice husked out. "—Deathracer is on the move."

All the Agents in the secret van gathered their ears about them and settled into the silence of compadres. Since they had no vision on ground, the audio relays had to do. They heard the telltale rustling of foliage. And Cora gripped the leather of her seat tighter.

In his position, Rafel whispered to the crow that had perched on his shoulder, "I must take my leave, my friend."

CAAAW!

The black bird tweeted like she understood and then hopped onto a close branch. She was never too far away as he drove forward. Rafel ignored the rather bothersome monkeys conducting acrobats after him. "EIGHTEEN, Eagle-mother! I count eighteen rats." He strode for the stout spire in the near distance. The proud steeples of the Cathedral rose nicely against the oval blue of the moon. Its highest cross slashed starkly against the luminous shine, protruding from a plutonic dome that could easily seat fifty thousand. All the windows were dark—except in the sanctum.

Praise Nyx and Desmonae! Rafel smiled to himself. The gods of the Abyss must be helping him out.

All eighteen ’rats’ were in one room. He wouldn’t need to stray far to MURDER them all!

He had to be the most favored Hitman to exist.

"—mice, Deathracer," Moira radioed him.

"Eh! Mice? Rats? What’s the difference?"

He wasn’t there in the buggy with them but he could clearly see Cora cut icy eyes at Moira. It caused him more joy. His demonic smile turned sly. He wouldn’t refuse correction, especially not from a hot girl.

"I’m at the east end parsonage now. Eagle-mother?"

"Yes, Deathracer," Moira’s small voice clicked in again. "Eagle Nest copy!"

"Going in," Rafel said and began briefing them on his forward movements. "I see a small chapel cut off from the main Cathedral. I clearly see the heat signatures of the eighteen ra—mice. But I’m also equipping [Owls Candor] to be sure. There are gray steps leading down... it seems to be a basement." In the van, Moira exchanged looks with her Agent. What kind of chapel was built below the earth? She wondered if Intel had leaked. She scanned her Agents—nothing. Even if there was a mole her confidence in Rafel was steadfast. "Be careful," Cora wanted to voice out but she held her tongue.

Sounds of clashing boots emptied into the quiet van as Agents pulled their ears taut. Rafel was now moving down the steps. Cora could already smell the wet stone.

"I’m in," his bass pronounced.

The Agents even breather heavier than he—who was doing the murdering.

Just as quickly as Rafel told them he was underground, there was a loud womanly shriek and a ruckus of voices. Moira heard a bitter squelch—a skull-crushing sound, because indeed Rafel had crushed a skull—his closed fist popping right through the neck.

"WHAT THE SHIIIIIT?!" A yell from the other end filled [Coms].

Moira, Cora, Turner, and the rest of the other Agents heard a lot of following squelches and thuds, and very fearsome blows landing. At one point, they heard Rafel spit, "this is no Sanctum. This is no holy place. This is a den of sin."

One squeaky voice said, "w-who are you?"

"DEATHRACER, motherfucker. Meet your Perdition."

SLLAAAGCCKKKK!

A ripping sound—shredding skin, tearing flesh, hurtling body parts.

And then nothing.

—static.

Cora held her breath and waited ten seconds. "My Lord." She broke the code of the Operation, by using his real title. But fuck it. "M’lord?"

Nothing. "M’LORD!?"

VROOM!

The door of the van swept open. Rafel stood at the threshold. He was leaking blood—but not his. His clothes were drenched. He was a scarlet devil. "Uh?" Moira lost her voice. Rafel marched in. He stayed quiet and fumed, till Cora drew near and touched his red forearm. "Dominus?" He growled at her soft eyes. "Those cunts were fucking themselves."

"An orgy?"

He nodded.

"The bitch wasn’t there then?"

Rafel shook his head, and drooped. Cora held him. She tipped her head to Moira. "Let’s go."

The source of this c𝐨ntent is fre𝒆w(e)bn(o)vel