Karin Fan Fiction ❯ Karin: The Inquisition ❯ Chapter 25

Chapter 25

 

As soon as Patrick was settled in, Jean-Claude got on the horn, and called Richard, asking him to put Vincent on the line. When he came to the phone, Jean-Claude explained everything that had happened. “What happened to the other three?”

“Despite all the chances for mercy we gave them,” answered Jean-Claude, “They remained hateful and as spiteful as they ever had been.”

“They did this, despite you having told the whole story?” queried Vincent.

“Some people are like cement,” answered Jean-Claude, “They are thoroughly mixed up and permanently set!”

“Then what happened,” said Vincent.

“We could have just wiped their memories, I realize,” said Jean-Claude, “However, they still would have gone back and told that there was something to watch for, and they would have been ready for us, even if they would not have not known who `us' was. We would have had to `slick the hard drive' so to speak, and that would have been as bad as death. Since they would have more than likely died anyway, we did what we had to.”

“What was that?”

“They got a good look at the bottom of the Charles River, and maybe even Boston Harbor. If they were lucky, they may have had a chance at finding some preserved tea before they went.”

“Aren't you worried about the bodies washing up?”

“They were bound and belted into the car when we chucked it into the current. It could be decades before they're found, if at all.”

“That seems pretty cruel.”

“What would they have done to my wife and sister had they caught them?”

There was a pause on the other side, and Vincent answered, “You have a valid point. Oh, by the way, can you patch me through to Anjou?”

“Oh, I can do that! I'll just…” and Jean-Claude stopped, and said, “Hey! What's this all about?”

Vincent hemmed and hawed about it, and Jean-Claude said, “You know, I could not help but notice that you two have been a bit of an item lately!”

“She is a great person!”

“Don't I know it! Hey, it's cool. She needs someone right now. However, if you two become an item, I may not be able to let you operate on the same team, unless we can't help it.”

“Why not?”

“Well, it's a tactical reason,” assured Jean-Claude, “If anything were to happen to one of you, one would rush to the other, effectively taking the both of you out of the attack, and maybe even make the one of you that is not wounded a target. That cannot be risked, especially if the mission calls for us to press on no matter what we face.”

“I see your point,” reasoned Vincent, “We can talk about that, and try to be sure that we understand that this could happen.”

“I'll patch you through,” said Jean-Claude, and Vincent said that A-team would be there before sunrise. Once this was acknowledged, and after Jean-Claude asked for his mission clothes to be brought, Jean-Claude transferred Vincent into Anjou's room, and hung up. He hit the sack, knowing that a tough game against Notre Dame the next afternoon was coming, as well as watching Anjou in the singles final, and then the mission. It was going to be a long day, and he needed the rest. However, as these day's events were taking place, another interesting meeting was taking place.

 

The walk through the cloistered halls of the church headquarters was silent and swift, the echo of their footfalls on the tiled floors both leading and pursuing Antonio and the monsignor on the path to their destination. Further on, Antonio began to hear other sounds, metallic clicking and scraping noises coming from a room ahead on the right, its open door allowing light to spill out into the hallway. It was into this room that the monsignor led Antonio, and the friar barely had entered through the door when he drew up short. He had seen the members of the Clan preparing for their inevitable conflict with the bokor, but what he saw here challenged even that. Inside were eleven men and women, a mix of nationalities but mostly Japanese, and from the amount of equipment accompanying them, it looked as though they were preparing to knock over a small country. The eleven men and women wore black-colored tactical combat armor with visible plates of a plastic-looking metal covering torsos, arms, and legs, most of them not wearing the full ensemble as they were not yet going into battle. Each one carried around a full, face-enclosing helmet with a midnight blue visor clipped to the small of their backs by their utility belts. The helmets and protective armor reminded Antonio of the `Land Warrior' program under development by the United States. Scattered about the room were enough weapons to outfit a military unit twice or even three times their size. Stacked pyramids of sleek black marksman rifles were placed in different locations, numbering a grand total of six three-rifle stacks, with the stacks placed so that none of the armored group was more than two steps away from a weapon. Another half-dozen of the weapons were laid out in various states of disassembly on a long folding table, with one of the troopers seated at the table cleaning them. Leaning against the left wall were a number of large carrying cases labeled “SPNKr.” A standing weapon crate with its front and rear panels removed bore a dozen gunmetal-colored automatic rifles on one side and half a dozen pump-action combat shotguns on the other.

 

Some of the room's occupants glanced up at Antonio and the monsignor as they entered, but the majority continued with what they had been doing. There was an air of relaxed professionalism in the room that calmed the friar as he watched the men and women perform weapons checks, inspect one another's armor, and observe a bank of monitors which were displaying some sort of video feed of one or more of them, fully-armored, storming a mock building. The three figures crowding the monitors, two women and one man, watched a video of the eleventh of the group, the only one who did not have armor that matched the others. The video showed this person, an Asian woman of some European descent, dash through the corridors of the mock building, carrying, of all things, a European long sword, using it to cleave targets with a speed that Antonio would not have believed had he not seen vampires in action before. “So Hiryuu-san has the best time for the course, huh?” the shorter of the women, an obvious radio set on her back, asked, her head tilted to the side.

Antonio wasn't surprised that the conversation was in Japanese. “Yeah, barely beat out Akashi-gunsou,” the man answered as the video displayed Hiryuu kicking down a door and entering, then leaving less than a second later.

That room contained three targets, and another monitor showed she had cleaved them all asunder with a single swipe.

“She's not even part of the squad, so her time shouldn't count,” the taller woman complained.

“Careful, Yamazaki,” the man said. He nodded to the corner of the room, where Hiryuu sat devouring a bowl of noodles as though she were starving to death. “You know Hiryuu-san can hear you from there, and besides, it's not good to talk bad about Akashi-gunsou's girl.”

Yamazaki crossed her arms and half-heartedly pouted. “Even so, Sato-kun, I'm right, am I not, Reiko-chan?”

Reiko, the radio operator, shrugged and kept her attention on the video replay. “She does have a point. It undermines discipline for an outsider, even Akashi-gunsou's ministra, to have her score counted as the squad best.”

Sato scratched his nose. “Yeah, I guess so, but it's not like this squad is known for its great discipline.”

The monsignor noted the expression on Antonio's face, and offered a small smile of amusement. “We can't be seen to be actively aiding vampires, even in the name of quashing the Inquisition, so we put out a few feelers in our allied magic associations, and got a hit from the Arlington Magic Society. It seems one of their on-again, off-again agents happen to be in charge of a paramilitary defense force at Mahora Academy in Japan, and they agreed to loan us this team of specialists to assist in our actions against the Inquisition.”

Antonio nodded as he took in the occupants of the room. “And they're prepared and equipped to deal with the special training of the Inquisition?” the friar asked.

One of the armored men, an American-looking man, overheard the question and turned toward the friar and the monsignor. “The Inquisition thinks they can outsmart Cleric Team,” he said with an obviously-false Slavic accent.

He shrugged. “Maybe so; But I've yet to meet one who can outsmart bullet.” The man held up a large, armor-piercing round to underscore his point, then turned and called out, “Oi, Master Guns!”

From the corner of the room, where Hiryuu sat devouring her noodles, an armored figure stood up and approached the doorway. As this person approached, Antonio took note that the figure was a young woman in her early twenties, with her brown hair pulled into a ponytail on the left side of her head and an open, honest expression on her face. “What's up, Sarge?” Her voice carried the tone of one who lived every day to its fullest and would back down from no challenge.

The monsignor gestured toward the young woman. “Friar, might I introduce Master Gunnery Sergeant Yuuna Akashi, leader of the `Cleric Team' you see before you.”

He then gestured to Antonio. “Sergeant Akashi, this is Friar Antonio, whom I informed you that you would be working with.”

“It is my honor to meet you,” Yuuna said, bowing toward Antonio. Though she was fluent in English, her lack of practice with the language meant that she still had a heavy accent when she spoke it.

Antonio smiled. “We can speak in your language, if that would be easier for you, Akashi-gunsou,” he told her in her own language.

The young woman grinned. It seemed to be her default facial expression. “My team will much appreciate that, Buraazaa Antonio.”

Unlearned in the Japanese language, the monsignor was shifting slightly at the conversation before him. “Sergeant Akashi, is your team ready for briefing?”

She nodded, speaking again in her accented English, “Yes, we stand ready to go on your order.”

Turning away, she raised her voice and called in Japanese, “Cleric Team: mission brief! Assemble on me!”

Without missing a beat, the nine other men and women all assembled around the squad leader and the obvious XO, including the unarmored woman, who hovered close, protectively, to Yuuna. From what Antonio had overheard from the trio watching the monitors, the woman was apparently Yuuna's ministra magi, her defensive and offensive combat partner. He was only marginally familiar with the traditions of Western magic, so he knew no other specifics. However, he didn't have time to speculate on that, since the squad was waiting for him to give the mission briefing. He cleared his throat, and began the briefing, in English, if only for the monsignor's sake. “As you are all Japanese nationals, you are likely aware of the events that have been taking place over the last eight to ten years in Japan.”

“The Clan,” the American-looking man said with a nod, which the other team members echoed, “A mixed group of humans and vampires, led by a Daywalker, who seek to peacefully unify the night and day worlds, and have stumbled upon a number of setbacks over the years.”

Antonio was taken slightly aback. This team, and through them the magic associations of Japan, seemed to be keenly aware of the events taking place in their midst. It was likely that, much like the Catholic Church, none of the groups in Japan could be seen to overtly assist vampires.

“We took a specific interest during the battle with the Bokor group, as the combat spilled over into the grounds of Mahora Academy,” the man continued, then gave a confident grin that seemed as though he'd learned it from Yuuna, “Surely you noticed the number of your foes beginning to mysteriously thin with no logical explanation?”

Antonio didn't remember any such event, but the fog of war was like that. Surely what he was saying was not incapable of having happened. Antonio was unaware that the shrine that the Clan had used as a headquarters and a fallback point in the fight was actually the group's academy. This fact was concealed from them, considering that they indeed wanted to know the intent of the Clan, and if they truly were seeking a peaceful coexistence, or if it were a front for a world takeover of some kind. The mysterious disappearances obviously were more than just the heavenly host that arrived. Some may have thought it strange that the Almighty would have allowed the intermixing of magic with what had been happening. Yet, as Friar Antonio had said before, “Necessity is the mother of strange bedfellows.”

Once Tony acknowledged what he had been told, he nodded, and then continued, “The gravest threat of all to the Clan has reared its head—the remnants of the Inquisition—which have remained underground since its dissolution in the late 1800s. The Clan has acquired a listing of all active facilities in use by the Inquisition, and has begun a divide-and-conquer strategy, hitting the facilities in sequence and closing the noose around the main Inquisition headquarters in France.”

The monsignor handed a manila envelope to Antonio, who opened it and began to pass out satellite surveillance images acquired by the Church's friends in Virginia, (more than likely assisted by the U.S. Naval Observatory in D.C.) showing what appeared to be a lone ranch in a desert the squad couldn't immediately identify.

“Your target is a confirmed Inquisition facility northeast of El Paso, Texas. We suspect that this facility may have been abandoned already by the Inquisition, as they are adopting a reactive tactic of falling back to more defensible locations and abandoning smaller facilities. Even if the Inquisition has abandoned the location, you're tasked to take and hold the site as a fallback point for other forces striking enemy locations in Mexico.”

Several of the troopers made a face; no soldier was happy with a `take-and-hold' mission, but they were professionals, and would accomplish their mission. Reiko, identified by the radio set on her back, spoke up in English that was, oddly-enough, tinged with a European accent, “Have we identified any anti-aircraft defenses around the target?”

A curious question, as Antonio assumed they would be attacking on the ground, but shook his head. “No, none of our intelligence indicates any static defenses of any kind.”

“Good,” the American said. Antonio took a close look at his armor and saw the name `HARTLEY' stenciled at the top of his chest plate. “That means we won't have to worry about getting shot out of the sky during insertion.”

Antonio tilted his head to the side. “You'll not be attacking by a ground route?”

Yuuna shook her head. “No, we'd be too easy to spot coming. Besides, you know what they call us, what we model ourselves on, right?”

The friar shook his head.

“We're `Helljumpers,'” she explained, accepting her helmet that was handed to her by Hiryuu. She lifted the helmet and sealed it to the neck of her bodysuit, and it was only then that Antonio saw the resemblance to a video game figure that was popular several years back. “They have been officially known as Orbital Drop Shock Troopers.”

He couldn't see her face through the dark visor, but her tone of voice indicated her grin. “Since we haven't gotten around to space travel yet, we sort of fake it by doing high-altitude low-opening parachute jumps.”

“I…see…” Antonio murmured. He was a bit skeptical of the ability of a group that modeled themselves off a video game, but he had seen stranger over the years, and besides, their combat record was exemplary. What he was not aware of was the fact that military simulators have used video game frameworks to recreate the reality of combat, and thus, to take such an idea from a video game should not have been unusual had Tony understood. He cleared his throat. “Very well, then. I wish you the best of luck in your mission, and may the grace and dignity of God be with you at every step. Are there any questions?”

The squad indicated to the negative. Antonio nodded. “Then ready yourselves and make whatever final preparations you need. The operation will begin in two hours.”

Yuuna turned and called out, her voice mechanically-amplified by the helmet, “Alright, Cleric Team, wrap everything up and get your battle rattle set!”

Hiryuu approached and handed a gun belt to Yuuna that carried twin pistols, and as the belt passed hands, Antonio noticed their hands lingered together slightly longer than was necessary.

“You know the music!” Hartley called out to his squad mates. “It's time to dance!”

 

In the meantime, A-team arrived in Boston, equipped and ready to go. They sun-proofed the room and talked to Patrick when he awoke. Since Jean-Claude had to keep up appearances, he could not scout out the information. Patrick went over the layout of the facility, but these things needed to be visualized in order to get a better feel of the approach they should take. He thought for a moment or two, and then asked the seven players in the know if they were willing to help Jean-Claude with a special favor. He showed them a digital camera, and said that he wanted pictures of specific location in the Boston Commons, close up if one of them could. They asked what it was about, and he said that it would be important to Clan business. He said that he could not risk one of them being recognized snooping around the area. Cream Cheese volunteered, and Jean-Claude told him to be discreet. He needed to make sure he was not obvious in what he did. He also needed to go into the subway areas that Patrick mentioned, and Jean-Claude told Cheese to wait until people were coming out of the trains to start photographing. As soon as he was done, he was told to be back at the hotel by noon, and then to prepare for the game later as normal. It was going to be an interesting evening.

 

When it had been the evening before in Boston, a large, high altitude military aircraft was winging its way across the Atlantic, and then over the North American continent in time for an evening assault. Being high above as they were; it would only be that satellites could detect the entrance of the craft into American airspace. Even then, contacts in NORAD were able to deflect any questions about the `invading aircraft' moving high and swift. By the time they were over the target, it was dark enough for the jump. HALO jumping is one of the most dangerous jumps that a trooper could make. It requires a jump from 30,000 at least or higher, (preferably higher,) so that the jump cannot be detected by anything on the ground until it is too late. They freefall as far as it is feasible before opening chutes, the whole object of the thing being getting to the ground as fast as possible without dying. The door opened into the blackened sky, the sound of the wind whipping by the opening. As soon as it was open enough, swiftly and without hesitation, they jumped in two groups within moments of each other, to insure that they landed at the proper locations. With their helmets on, the sound of the air rushing by was muffled, and it was almost silent as they fell into the black. As soon as they penetrated the cloud layer, the clear shape of El Paso and the nearby Air Force base became visible. Their target lay in the black area north of the city. As soon as they were close enough, everyone activated infrared viewers in their helmets, which was more preferable than night vision for this, because the only large warm bodies that would be found there were human, and they would stand out like a sore thumb in the cold, early November night of the desert. Thus, the heating of the facility would make it show as well and easy to spot, in order to stay on target. At the last possible moment, chutes opened, and then came the hard pull of the sudden slowing the chutes caused. With slight groans, they ignored it, and prepared to land.

 

They hit the ground on both sides of the facility virtually unnoticed. What little night vision gear the Inquisition had would be useless, because the cloth and armor they wore were specially designed by the U.S. military itself to not release body heat that could be seen in night vision. Because of the low hills around, and the moonless sky, Cleric Team landed as if they had been invisible. A-squad, located to the north, quickly heard the generators operating heat and power to the facility. For the briefest moment, there was a sense of pity for the 20 inside, because they knew they were not dealing with anything remotely near a military trained unit. They were the Inquisition, and trained to hunt vampires, obviously using that area from which to hunt. They had no idea that a war had been declared against them. They knew the foolish vampires were trying to systematically kill them, but they figured that vampires could never be all that organized to put up that kind of resistance. Thus, they made the fatal error of underestimating their foes. They had broken the very first rule that Sun Tzu had put in the first chapter of his book, The Art of War: know your enemy!

 

B-squad discovered that the power lines ran underground, so they were quickly traced and dug up, and then cut. Once the generators ceased sounding, A-squad moved in. Their weapons had suppressors, so that those on the perimeter only had enough time for their brains to register the “whiff” sounds before their lives ended. At this, both teams had switched from infrared to night vision, being that now it was the only thing really needed. The loss of power caused those inside to scramble, although they were now confused and disorganized. Those that had gone to the north found their comrades' corpses, and their deaths awaiting them as they ran smack into A-squad breaching their flimsy attempt at a barbed wire fence and making their way onto the compound. To the south, B-squad was beginning to engage the perimeter guards when one of the enemies called out, “GAS, GAS, GAS!”

Yuuna heard this, and spotted the man with the shoulder launcher. Before he could shoulder it, he found himself riddled with bullets. As he fell, he accidentally pulled the trigger, and the canister it launched exploded right there. Before they could completely dawn protective gear, they all hit the ground and started to cough and flop as the mustard gas took effect, made even worse by them being a ground zero when it went off. Their deaths would be quick, but painful. The monitors on all the equipment they were wearing warned them of the gas, and they quickly sealed off the outside, going off supplemental oxygen. “Mustard gas!” thought Yuuna, “Where did they get their hands on such ancient ordinance? Good thing it is not VX—that would have been a bit harder to negotiate, and then decon later on.”

Knowing that their time was limited, she sent through communications to Cleric Team, “Mustard gas to the south. Go to MOPP 4, (mission orientated protective posture,) and move quickly. Find their leader, and intelligence, and meet at the pre-designated rally point in 15 minutes—GO!”

B-squad barreled their way through the south side, considering that those inside on that side were retreating to the middle of the building to get away from the gas. A better description of chaos could not have been created. Within eight minutes, everyone was dead save their leader. In 13 minutes, all useful paperwork had been confiscated, and the leader taken as the met at the rally point. After going through decontamination drills, (and giving the leader an anti-gas hypodermic to prevent any chemicals on their clothing from affecting him,) they then began to interrogate their prisoner. Normally, Regan and Yuuna would have enacted their Neo-Pactio ability, but because this was not a huge operation, they balked, saving it for a bigger project. The one-in-three chance of this ability to go south was too much of a chance for a small operation like this. However, they were not unsuccessful in interrogating their foe. First, they were relieved that they had moved in so swiftly that no distress signal had been sent. Second, by the intelligence, and his own coerced confession, most of the Inquisition was being moved northeast. Nothing now remained in the south. They had a base in Boston, but the North American base was located in Quebec City. Now that they had this information, they would now have to find the Daywalker and share this information. They had wanted to act independently, but if the Clan had caught wind of this intelligence, then there could be a danger of blowing the mission because of two attacks occurring with each force not knowing about the other in the attack. They would have to work together and coordinate. This meant that they would have to find him, assess whether or not he were friend or foe, and, if friend, put it together. They were willing to take the chance under the premise of “the enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Once the information was gained, the leader was then executed. There was a question about burying the dead, but they, this night, would have to take a different approach. Because of the remnants of the gas soaking into the soil, and the bodies being covered in the residue, the base, and everything about five miles around it would have to be destroyed. They could not risk contaminating the soil by merely burying the bodies. Once the oxygen supplies were renewed, they set up another decon site, and then suited up to lay enough explosives to make it look like a daisy cutter had hit the area. They had to be sure that nothing remained, and that the soil was dissipated enough to prevent any innocents straying in and being harmed by the mustard gas. They deconed again, and cleared out far enough as the explosion went off. Even if anyone became curious enough to find out what caused the “boom” they had heard the night before, there would be nothing to find.

 

Later on, they poured over the information they had obtained, and found the information on the base in Quebec. They knew they would have had to take time to make a plan for that, and it could be that the Clan could find out about all this as well. Therefore, they would have to take time to find the Daywalker, and deal with things. They just wondered how they were going to find him.

 

They need not have worried!