What followed went almost exactly as Sister Mary described. Gardening was canceled for the simple and rather obvious reason—it was Winter. Normally, such inconveniences wouldn’t bother the sisters, but Sister Mary decided their time was better spent helping others than breaking ice. So the morning was spent visiting orphanages.

Afternoon, nuns moved to a shelter and helped cook meals for the homeless, often receiving thanks and refusing even the smallest of payments. At that point Evans was so fed up with all the goodness around him, that he decided to stay outside the shelter and smoke a few. Possibly hoping a few puppies would wander by so he could kick them to, at least somewhat, balance his karma.

Luckily for him, the nuns had no more goodness-spreading scheduled for the day and happily returned for an evening prayer. Evans, rather disturbed by the fact that today, he was called ‘dear’ more times than in his entire childhood, returned to Sister Mary’s office—also known as the church’s CEO headquarters.

Utterly exhausted, Evans collapsed onto the sofa next to the equally tired cameraman. Sister Mary, on the other hand, happily drank her tea, smiling after the day’s work.

After a few minutes, a cup of tea and all of the remaining cookies, Evans cleared his glasses, wondering how he could possibly spin this boredom into an entertainment modern audiences expect. Then it hit him—the last straw he could cling to. He cleared his throat, winked at the cameraman and turned to Sister Mary. “If you don’t mind, Miss Abbess… I have one more question.”

“Oh, not at all, dear. Please.” Sister Mary smiled, folding her hands in her lap. Evans took a deep breath and continued. “We’ve heard that your order rejects body augmentations. Is that true?

“Indeed, it is, darling.”

“What about mental enhancements? Chips? Or at least stimulants? Anything!?”

“Neither, I am afraid.”

“Unbelievable!” Evans said, throwing a dramatic eye roll at the camera. “How about body-strength enhancements? Dopamine hitters? Don’t tell me you avoid those too!”

“We do. Truly.” A smile never left Sister Mary’s lips, as she answered Evan’s silly questions.

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“I just can’t understand it!” Evans said. “Why would you refuse such helpful technology?”

“Well,” Sister said, setting down her tea. “I am glad you asked.” She paused, tapping her chin before standing up. “Please, follow me, darlings. It will be easier to show you.” The two men exchanged a confused look, but quickly followed after her.

She stopped by a massive bell in the center of the dining hall and struck it three times. The sound echoed throughout the church, bouncing from wall to wall, reaching even the furthest corners. Then, barely a second after the last ring, the church burst into life. The nuns filled the dining hall and, as if trained, formed four rows of exactly ten. To Evans, they no longer looked like nuns. They were more like… soldiers; they were so quiet, so strict… It felt like a battalion of elite soldiers filled the room, rather than lovely nuns that spend their whole day helping people.

Abbess, drawing Evans’ attention, pressed the hidden button on the wall and a secret entrance opened. Row by row, sisters marched inside and began picking up… guns? Evans turned to Sister Mary stammering: “I- I don’t understand.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, darling.” She said, giving him another motherly smile. “It’s a bit earlier than we expected, but today is as good a day as any. It’s Saturday after all.” She laughed lightly and entered the armory.

Evans followed soon after, waving his colleague to keep recording. The cameraman moved closer to take in the weapons; these weren’t ordinary guns you’d find on the street—most had religious insignia and icons all over them. There were shotguns, looking closer to crossbows with a long body and split barrel forming the shape of a cross. Machine guns, with repainted sides, each engraved with ‘Gospel Gun’ on the side. The boxes of grenades didn’t have any iconography, instead they featured a huge text ‘commandments’. There were even flamethrowers, their tanks sprayed with the word ‘Retribution’ in bold, fiery letters.

The weapons were oiled and cleaned making one thing clear; the nuns knew what they were doing. One look at them handling this arsenal was enough to make you feel like you watched war veterans with decades of experience.

Evans, tagging the cameraman to follow, asked Sister Mary about it: “Oh, of course,” she smiled in a reply. “I suppose I didn’t mention it, but most evenings the sisters dedicate themselves to practicing combat in the Lord’s name.”

“But why?” Evans practically yelled. “What are you planning to do?”

“Oh dear,” Sister Mary said, patting him on the shoulder. “Patience, child, you will see soon enough.” Then, Sister Mary—seeing the rest of the sisters finished their preparation—rang the bell one more time. The sisters knelt, and for several minutes, not a sound could be heard. Nuns occupied by the prayer and news crew occupied by being utterly terrified.

After the brief prayer, nuns exchanged a resolute nod and stormed the streets.

And what happens next?!

How does it end?!

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