Way back when, years before current day...

A man, knelt down in front of a church, both his hands in the air, sweat beading on his forehead, "I- I- I don't know!! I don't know I don't know I don't know!! Please! Please, I don't know, I don't know what you're looking for," he cried, ramblings and then... "please, please please just let me go-" silence, as quickly as it came.

Smoke flies. A casing, brass, hot, fall to the ground. The Director looked on in silence as the Armored held on to the corpse. Tears, a wetness staining the cheeks, she glared. The Director looked, hand falling as the cold steel of the weapon met her side, holstered, tucked underneath an overcoat.

A voice, meek and quiet, came from the Armored, "why?" she asked, "why?"

The Director turned and entered the church. The doors swung open, people lined the pews, heads down, hands together, they're praying. The pastor stood atop the altar, staring down at the Director with disdain, yet never acknowledging her presence, "understand, my children, that suffering should not be the necessity," he grasped his hands together, eyes closed as his clothes rustle in the wind coming from the open door, "to live is to suffer, to deny yourself from the graces of the ones beyond. Do you, any of you, wish to continue on when all's already been destroyed?"

"No." the crowd echoed.

"To me, and to all of you, life is treacherous, dangerous, impertinent and disgraceful to them, and to us as people as well," the pastor opened his eyes, brown eyes reflected off round glasses as he stared at the Director, "for when you breathe your last here in this mortal coil, you shall breathe your first in the lands of the divine."

The pastor straightened, arms open wide, "for when you leave, the hands of those who came before shall guide you towards the stars, and the people shall be lead, and be brought upon the lands of the divines atop chariots of glistening gold," he breathed, "for too long have we been fettered by the burdens of consciousness, and for too long have we let others control us, now we take back control. Now we take presence."

Silence.

Pandemonium.

The crowd now lay dead, their heads missing and separated from their body as blood stained the pews. The Director stood in the thick of it, blood pooled to her feet, the pastor is slumped over in his altar, the stump of his neck laid bare to the world. The Director turned and walked out of the church.

The Armored still cried, little hands holding onto a body too heavy for her to move. The Director walked out and grabbed her, taking the Armored away from the body.

The church remained for another twenty years.

On the twenty first anniversary of the 'massacre' as the press put it, the Director returned with the Armored.

The bodies were now vacated, removed, police tape marred the scene as dried up blood stains cover the ground. The Armored said nothing, merely scratching an itch under her helmet. The Director walked through the tapes, pushing them to the side as she entered the church.

Dried blood litter the pews, other than that, no bodies, no corpses.

The Director moved to the front and sat down on one of the pews. She patted the place next to her, beckoning the Armored to be seated with her.

The Armored nodded, sitting down next to the Director.

"I never knew..." the Armored started, taking off her helmet, a scarred face exposed to the open air, it stung, "I... I never understood... any of it... all of it..."

"You couldn't have," the Armored looked at the Director, in bewilderment, maybe, "and maybe you never should've."

"Yeah..." the Armored placed her helmet next to her, hands rubbing the dried blood, flaking it, "maybe I shouldn't have."

The two sat in silence, the only sounds being the rustling of the police tape.

"Sometimes I wonder..." the Director leaned back on the pew, eyes looking up towards the roof of the church, "should I have taken you with me all those years ago... or not."

The Armored looked tired, the Director continued, "but it doesn't matter now. Whether or not you'll be different depended on my actions some twenty years ago. Maybe things would've changed if I had just left you there, but right now's the present," the Director sighed, "people get so fixated on the past they forget to look at the now."

"'Cause thinking about it wouldn't change anything," the Armored sighed, grabbing her helmet and keeping it close to her chest, "no matter how much I wanted it to..."

"The only thing we can change is the future," the Director stood up, the Armored did too, the two began leaving the dilapidated church, "and, by proxy, ourselves."

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The two exited the church, the Director checked her watch, "the police is stretched too thin currently to worry about this place," the Armored nodded, readjusting her helmet as they walked away from the holy site, "I made sure that this place will remain unchanged for the foreseeable future."

"Maybe we'll get Dunn to visit too," the Armored suggested, maybe the Luckless might enjoy some quiet time too, "he'd enjoy the quiet."

"Do as you wish."

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Now...

"Here we are!" Arma and I both dragged the bodies to a... church? "home sweet memories."

"What is this place?" I asked as Arma dragged the body into the church, police tape littered the ground now, maybe they were once held up? "how'd you know of this place?"

"The Director picked me up here when I was a kid," Arma grunted as she propped the unconscious bodies up on one of the pews, "holds a lot of memories too," she sniffled dramatically and wiped a fake tear from outside of her helmet, "I've finally returned home!!"

I did the same to the other unconscious body, positioning them to be seated on one of the pews, "you came from this dilapidated looking church?"

"You could say it was my origin story," she laughed, "my evil super-villain lair!!"

"We should probably call the Director now," I suggested, nudging the unconscious body of the Counter as he began to tip a bit, "everything's set up, and they're restrained too," I pointed at the zip-ties attached to the wrists and ankles of the two priority targets, "I don't know where you got these ties but they're damn useful."

"What can I say? I'm a resourceful gal," Arma reached a hand under her helmet and pressed onto her earpiece, how convenient the wonders of modern technology, a shame that the Director still used landlines though, "Director," her voice then turned deadly serious, a strange juxtaposition to her usual demeanor outside of interacting with the Director, "we got the targets, location's at the old church."

Silence, a beat or two then went by before she said, "understood, standing by for your arrival," she then took off her helmet, "alright! Director's coming in a mo' so we should get these two awake now."

Arma's face was a mess of burn scars and disfigurement, a missing ear here and a fucked up lip there, makes me wonder about the story and how she got them, "yeah, we probably should, so what do we do? Just slap them around a bit?"

"Of course! Do you see any water around here that we can splash at them? That's right, you can't," Arma tightened her gauntlets, I can't imagine getting my face slapped by cold steel, "wakey wakey!"

She only really had to slap the Counter, as the high pitched yelp that that man gave out was enough to awaken the Librarian also, "wha-? What the fuck? Who are you people!!"

"Not important!" Arma laughed, slapping the man again, "what's important here is do YOU know why you're here?"

"N- no?" the Counter groaned, his cheek's turning red now, that must've hurt, "I- maybe because I'm working with her?" he motioned towards the Librarian, who was now glaring with the intensity of a dying star at the two, she still stayed silent though.

"Correct!" she slapped him again, "but not correct enough! There's another reason! Care to guess what it is?"

"N- no please..."

"Hmm," Arma then turned to the Librarian, "maybe this one might know something! Eh? Come on Dunn! Get in character now!!"

"Character? Like... good cop bad cop?" sometimes I wonder if Arma's alright in the head.

"Yes!! What else could it be?"

"Eh... I'll pass on this one, I was never good at acting anyways," that was true, I hated theater class, "maybe you can play both cops?"

"Hell no! Bad cop's the best!" she then proved her point by knocking the Librarian upside in the head, it's a wonder how she isn't knocked out completely yet, "see? I can get away with senseless violence whenever I wish!"

"Hey, woah there, cool it with the violence, what if you killed one of them?" Arma raised an eyebrow, "we need to keep them alive right?"

"Unfortunately," she sighed, grounding out the words through her teeth, "I need to even the scales after this Librarian bitch deceived my ass the last time!"

"Heh, how petty."

"Shut it! You know nothing about-" Arma's words died in her throat as the sound of footsteps echoed through the church. Like a switch, her demeanor changed the moment the Director came into play.

"Armored," the Director said, acknowledging the madwoman as she nodded, "Luckless," I nodded too, "I believe you have our guests with us?"

"Yes sir," Arma motioned towards the two people, both were bound and looking at the Director, one in fury and one in fear, "they're here, just like you ordered."

The Director cut an imposing figure, long black hair cascaded down her back, rounded glasses that seemed to reflect all light that comes into contact with the lenses, and a permanent cigarette always present on the edge of her mouth. She was dressed in an equally intimidating suit, dark black that seemed to mimic the void itself, with a clean white button up and an equally back tie. The Director looked at the two, but primarily focused on the Counter.

"Is he the one?" she then asked, taking another puff of her cigarette as she walked towards the Counter, "are you sure this... man is the correct one you collected?"

"Yes sir, he was following the Librarian and seemed to be helping her," Arma replied curtly, a stark contrast to the madwoman persona(?) that she exhibited before, "I've also searched the whole city, no traces of him until I found them in the plains."

"Good work," Arma nodded, the Director stopped in front of the Counter and looked at the Librarian, "it seemed that you have completed your secondary objective also."

The two of us nodded as we watched the Director just... stand there, observing the two targets, her intentions unreadable.

"Have a seat," the Director recommended, no, commanded and we followed, "look towards the altar, do not avert your eyes."

We nodded and sat down on the front pews, only then did I recognized the flakes coming off of the wood, it was blood, dried blood, lots of them, what happened here? I watched Arma at the corned of my eye, maybe she had something to do with this mess. We both sat there in silence, Arma and I both sat stock still, eyes locked towards the altar, as if any deviation could mean the death of us. It was silent, eerily so, none of us knew what the Director was doing, maybe we'll never know, and that's probably for the best.

We both sat there for what felt like hours.

"We're done here." the Director's voice came out, shattering the silence like a gunshot, we both whipped our heads towards her, only to find both of the targets gone.

"What happened to those two?" I asked, because gods know Arma wouldn't, "where are they?"

"Where they're supposed to be."