Anime Addventure: Judas Priest: Dust til Dust [127552]

Rain poured down from the sky, making the dirt path muddy and difficult to move through, but she could only keep moving, away from the church. She couldn't even think of going into the deeper woods; he would find her there, she knew, and the only thing she could do is try to get as far away as possible. The trees lining the path seemed to reach out at her, as if grasping at her and trying to slow her down, but she didn't know if it was because they were reaching for her or if she was falling towards them as she tried to run.

Subject was acquired in the Rhône-Saône river valley near Valence by a detachment of Hospitallers, engaged in a class-4 suppression action against cultists of the . The subject is female, of young age (no birth records were found after extensive search), of abnormal hair and eye coloration for individuals of the region (blue and red, respectively). The reason for her presence in the area was not conclusively determined, and given the modus operandi of the , she was determined to be under small but significant risk of capture by pagan individuals. Until such time as new information is received, as precedent dictates, the subject has been transferred to the authority of the Holy See for protection and further observation.

"How is she?"

"The girl is fine, Father Anderson. Physically, anyway. The Hospitallers are performing cleanup as we speak. We'll have a report once they've swept the place for any holdouts."

"Aye, good work. Let me take a look at 'er."

The veteran of Section XIII stooped as he entered the small tent erected as a field hospital. Outside, the distant sound of screams and gunshots echoed through the canyon as the Knights of the Hospital of St. John of Jeruselum performed their duties. Inside, the atmosphere was far more calm and settled, as there were only a few injured, and they didn't believe in carrying on about their pain.

In a quiet corner, a tiny blue-haired girl sat on a stool, a dirty blanket gathered around her shoulders, flanked by two men in the customary trenchcoat and cross of the Iscariots. Anderson nodded to them, then squatted down in front of the girl, looking her in the eye. The girl looked back curiously.

"She dunnt seem too bother by all this," Anderson muttered to himself. "Hey there lass. Ya got a name?"

The girl didn't seem to hear the question. Instead she started to poke his cross pendant.

"Ah'll take that fer a 'no', fer now." Anderson turned toward one of the nuns nursing the wounded. "Sister, we'll be takin' this girl back ta Vatican City fer observation while we figure out wha' the pagans be up to here."

The nun nodded. Anderson rose, giving the girl a soft pat on the head. "Ah'll be back in a while ta pick 'er up. Keep an eye on 'er fer me, will ya?"

With that, he left the tent, back into the screams and gunshots again. The girl watched him go with wide, innocent eyes.

That priest, he was one of them. One of the people who had raised and sheltered her. Who had taken her away from the poverty and strangeness she knew before and had given her a new, better life.

After a short period of time, the Hospitallers have reported success in suppressing the major pagan elements in the Rhône-Saône valley region. Various objects and texts have been seized during the action; a selection has been sent to Vatican City for the archivists to dispose as they see fit; the rest have been summarily destroyed.

After discussion, the Hospitallers have concluded that the girl found in the region, now under the study of the Vatican, was meant to be a part of some unspecified pagan ritual. The purpose of the ritual, and to what extent the girl has been affected by it, is unknown. With this in mind, the Hospitallers have determined that the girl may be a threat to the general public and thus cannot be freely released into society. Regular examinations to detect abnormalities in her condition is strongly recommended, until more information regarding the actions of the pagans is found.

"WHERE IS THAT GIRL!?" roared Father Anderson.

"Calm down, Father, all that screaming won't be good for your health, you know," Sister Dorothy called from further down the hall.

A blue-haired little girl hid smirking in a closet as the priest she was avoiding raged his way outside, snarling all the while. That's what he gets for punishing them all with his terrible cooking, after all. Giggling, she scampered away in the opposite direction, only to run full-tilt into the Matron, who had somehow appeared from nowhere.

She tried looking contrite. The elderly nun just gave her a look of exasperation. "Please Mater, please let me go! You know the Father won't-"

"Now listen child, Father Anderson will find you, later if not sooner. You can't keep antagonizing him like this." The Matron patted her on the head. "Even if his cooking isn't so good."

She sighed a great big sigh. "I know Mater. I'll try not to be bad."

"But it's just too tempting, right? You know, resisting temptation is important! Now do your best and try to endure the Father's meal. A strong will and tolerance will be helpful later in life."

The girl looked down in shame.

Father Anderson sneaked up behind her, grabbed her, and dragged her shrieking back to the mess hall.

One of those who had found the piece of darkness placed within her so long ago and tried to excise it.

The subject, having been under the eye of the Vatican for close to three years, has not shown any indictation of abnormal behavior or spiritual contamination beyond the aforementioned peculiarity in hair and eye coloration. Her primary caretakers report a certain precociousness in her mental maturity and ability to learn, which is above the norm for her apparent age. However, it has been concluded that this difference is not significant enough to warrant a change in policy; she is still to be examined regularly and not to be released into general society. The Vatican still has not found any birth records or any traces of her parentage.

The subject, having been under the eye of the Vatican for close to four years, has begun to show abnormal behavioral patterns, usually involving severe but temporary personality changes. In-depth examinations by Vatican exorcists have begun, the results were . It has been determined that due to this finding, measures will be taken in hopes of rehabilitating the child.

"Why are we going there, Father?"

Anderson glanced down at the child he was leading to the exorcists' chamber. "We're gonna try to help ya out, girl. Some friends are there, and we'll do our best ta drive out the demon in ya."

They entered the room, a wide expanse of stone and metal, lightly decorated with holy symbols and Latin scrawled across the floor and ceiling. Rich tapestries depicting biblical scenes hung from the walls. At the sides, unidentifiable figures stood guard. Father Nathan approached the pair.

"Hello again, child. I'm glad you've been well since the last time I saw you."

"Is it really true that I have a demon in me?" the girl asked.

Father Nathan nodded. "But like Father Anderson has probably already told you, we will try to exorcise it. It won't be pleasant, but..." he smiled kindly. "We will try."

Father Anderson ruffled the little girl's hair for a second, before exiting the room.

But they failed. They weren't able to do it, and she had run away from them. And they had chased her. Whenever they could find her, they tried to catch her. And she knew, there was no doubt, what they would do if they caught her.

It comes as a shame to say that our efforts have been unsuccessful at curing the child of her afflictions. It was due to one such effort, the last, that whatever dormant power lied within her reacted against us, and the safeguard, which we were in the process of placing to restrain this power, failed. Whether this is God's will or not is beyond my ability to judge. In any case, during the event, the girl's body, which until this time has stayed at a constant apparent age of around four or five years old, increased dramatically to the age of a teenager, approximately fourteen to sixteen. She also manifested a tail and two wings; most likely physically signifying the possession she was under, although the appearance of one wing gives hope that our safeguard had some sort of effect. Alas, during this last attempt, she escaped the confinement of our chamber with powers beyond our ability to contain, and it is with a heavy heart that I, as chief exorcist during the attempt, must declare these efforts to be a failure and authorize my compatriots to execute the girl as a threat. ~Nathan

The outer wall of the enclosure exploded, and a winged figure streaked away from the compound. It flew in wild spurts of speed in some random direction through the night sky, until many hours later, it came to a crashing stop in a field in the Italian countryside. It laid there for some time, until at last it stirred.

The teenaged girl pushed stray strands of her long blue hair away from her eyes. She panted in exhaustion and pain, trying mightily to push herself up.

The sound of steps approached, crunching against the dry grass. With a burst of strength, she jerked upright.

The Paladin stood a few steps away, and the moonlight shined down, framing the huge man's silhouette. With a *shing* of metal across metal, he drew a pair of giant blades from the depths of his trenchcoat. Shadows covered his body, leaving only the round lenses of his spectacles and the shape of the cross pendant on his chest plainly visible.

She uttered a strangled sob as her legs gave out again.

"Pl-please Father! Please don't hurt me! Father Anderson please!"

The Paladin didn't respond. Only stepped forward and raised a blade.

"NO!!!"

There was a brilliant burst of flame.

Dizzy tripped and fell on the uneven ground, splattering mud all over herself, while the rain kept coming down above her. Her back burned with pain, and she could still vividly feel the touch of the boy's fingers where they traveled down her back.

She was so tired of running. She couldn't do it anymore. She just wanted to lie down and sleep like she used to on the lawn of the orphanage, and leave caring about the next day's meal to the Matron. Instead of foraging for food everyday, stealing clothes, and sleeping in dark corners.

She got to her feet again, and looked up. There, blocking the path, was a group of men, carrying weapons and tools. She recognized them, and apparently they recognized her too. The men who had come to the church that day, this time with more numbers and better armed. They pointed at her and shouted something, but she couldn't hear them over the pounding rain and her own gasping breaths.

Dizzy turned, and fled up the path. She had gone only a few steps before falling again, the pain of her back flaring.

And he was there. Clothed in the white cloak and the glittering cross (how did it glitter in this light, this rain?), just like Father Anderson was so long ago. Not bothered by the water drenching him.

"Didn't I say not to cry?" he asked. "It won't help at all. It never has, and it never will."

Sighing, the priest dropped to one knee before her, and folded his hands again. The warm aura that surrounded his hands was so calming and serene, and she could feel it even without looking at it. The priest brought one hand close to her head, and she could only stare into his eyes through her tears as the rain kept coming down, as he moved his hand closer and closer....

In confusion, she looked up at the hand, still glowing, still touching her crown through her wet and disheveled blue hair.

Ranma ran his fingers over the top of the girl's head for a moment, smoothing her hair, before standing up again, the gentle glow slowly fading away. The girl regarded him with a look of such confusion that he couldn't help but smirk.

He didn't reply, but rather faced the motley little assembly of villagers, armed with the odd club, hammer, or staff.

One of the men came forward. Shouting to be heard over the rain, he said: "WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING PRIEST?!"

Ranma didn't move, but only shook his head. The girl watched him with wide eyes. Did she think he was protecting her?

"I SAID MOVE, PRIEST!" The man, holding a wood axe, stepped forward and tried to shove him out of the way, but he stood firm; the man could not budge him.

The man stared in surprise. "YOU'RE TRYING TO GET HURT AGAIN?! GET OUT OF THE DAMN WAY!"

The man tried to bash him with the butt of the axe, but Ranma idly caught the handle. With a casual push, he drove the man stumbling back to his line.

The man, pulled up to his feet in the mud by his companions, reached for another weapon from those behind him. He faced the boy again, but before he could say a thing, the boy spoke.

"You might think this is about me getting in the way of killing this," Ranma pointed to the girl, still drenched and on her knees on the wet ground, "monster, as you would put it, but that's not really the reason. It's actually more about you all."

He stopped and looked thoughtfully down at the axe in his hand for a moment. "Anyway, in my studies I've come across a particularly interesting question. I haven't been able to figure out the answer on my own, and I've been hoping that you all could help me, since you'd have a different perspective."

Dizzy watched in horror as the axe left the boy's hand and embedded itself into the chest of one of the villagers.

The others cried out in shock as one of their own fell, but the priest was already among them, and the terrible sound of bone cracking somehow rang out above the sound of the rain. It was surreal, the detached way she watched as he ripped a primitive meat cleaver from the hands of one of the men and drove the blade into the man's face, only to jerk it out again with a spray of red and burying it in the throat of someone nearby. The way she watched as he threw a man, far bigger and brawnier than he was, to the ground and snapped his spinal column by stomping on his back. The way he then kicked the man in the side hard enough, more than just to break his ribs, but to send the body crashing into another man trying to escape the scene.

She couldn't even understand what she was seeing as he piled struggling bodies on top of each other and skewered them all into the ground with one tall, bamboo walking stick, so firmly that the men, still alive, couldn't even fall out of the pile as their blood ran across the ground.

Or how he shattered the knees of yet another man with his own club and threw him through a tree, a thick evergreen. The tree fell upon the men pinned by the staff, but she couldn't really understand what was happening, not even as she saw it.

Or how he ran down a fleeing man and split his skull open with one blow from a hammer picked up from the muddy ground.

Or how he ripped another man's back wide open with the jagged teeth of a rusty rake.

Or how he sliced yet another man's hand off and broke his legs so that he couldn't run, but would just bleed to death lying on the path.

And it continued on and on, as if it would never end, as she watched men die in the freezing November night, the rain still falling on her shivering body. Was it the cold that kept her so numb? It couldn't only be that, she knew. But she still could only watch in stunned horror.

Until at last she, in her mind, heard the screaming. There was screaming, so much of it, that she could only cover her ears in a desperate attempt to block out the horrible sound.

But she wasn't able to block them out, and they kept coming even as she fell into unconsciousness.

らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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Judas Priest: Dust til Dust [Episode 127552]

by KLSymph