Chapter 27

An entry from the diary of Damien Slayer,

Prometheus held my gaze for what seemed like an eternity as he slowly closed his jaws. Those agonizing moments stretched on, his razor-sharp teeth gradually biting into my flesh. Blood began to seep out as the pressure increased, my heart pounding in my chest as the pain grew more intense.

Yet, just before any of my fingers were severed, a sudden and tremendous unseen impact struck Prometheus, sending him sprawling across the room with a yelp. In that instant, the mingling of relief and terror washed over me, leaving me breathless and trembling.

Still shaken from the psychic torture, I tried to comprehend what had just happened, frantically scanning the room for an explanation. My gaze settled on the intimidating figure of Stryker, his bulging muscles straining against the fabric of his black shirt and priest collar. An entire wooden pew rested on his shoulder like a baseball bat, revealing the staggering extent of his strength.

Prometheus recovered from the powerful blow, scrabbling to regain his footing on the tips of his weirdly elongated legs while his tail thrashed angrily.

I stammered, "Stryker... why? How? Where did you come from?"

Stryker replied, "I told you, you were biting off more than you could chew. We'll deal with the questions in a minute. First, I'm gonna skin myself a lizard."

Prometheus snarled, "You're the one biting off more than you can chew. Got the better of me before, but it wasn't a fair fight. You, the blonde bitch, and the jungle freak... it was three against two. You won't have so much luck this time. The legendary Stryker meets his match today."

Stryker seemed utterly unconcerned, casually hefting his monstrous bat. The proportions of the massive piece of furniture seemed all wrong to be held so easily, as if defying the laws of physics.

Attempting to contribute, I chimed in, "Well, I'm here too, so it's still two against one."

Stryker sniggered, a bit unkindly, I thought, at my input. Prometheus barely deigned to sneer at me, his attention focused solely on Stryker as they prepared for their intense confrontation.

The air crackled with tension as Stryker and Prometheus squared off, their eyes locked in a relentless stare. In an instant, the room erupted into chaos, as the superhuman enforcer collided with the lizard creature in a whirlwind of raw power and agility.

Stryker swung his massive makeshift bat, the wooden pew slicing through the air with terrifying force. Prometheus, with his lightning-quick reflexes, narrowly evaded the crushing blow, darting to the side before launching himself at his opponent, claws outstretched.

The two combatants exchanged a flurry of strikes and counter-strikes, each blow landing with the intensity of a small explosion. Stryker utilized his brute strength, aiming to crush and break his reptilian adversary, while Prometheus relied on his agility and cunning, seeking to exploit any weaknesses he could find in his foe.

Throughout the frenzied clash, I attempted to draw a bead on Prometheus with my pistol, desperate to assist Stryker. Yet the speed of the fight, coupled with my trembling hands as a result of the psychic torture I'd endured, made it impossible to keep my aim steady.

Stryker managed to land a devastating punch, sending Prometheus reeling backward. However, the lizard creature's flexible tail whipped out like a whip, catching Stryker in the midsection and sending him crashing into a nearby wall. Shaking off the impact, he charged back into the fray, his fury only growing by the second.

Prometheus, undeterred by Stryker's relentless offense, countered with swift and precise strikes of his own. His claws sliced through the air, narrowly missing Stryker and leaving deep gashes in the surrounding walls, a testament to their lethal sharpness.

The battle raged on, each combatant displaying formidable resilience and determination. Stryker's muscular form absorbed blow after blow, yet he remained an unstoppable force. At times it seemed as though Prometheus' cunning and agility would give him the upper hand, but Stryker would surge back into the fight, refusing to be bested.

Blood began to stain the battleground, as Stryker's powerful strikes left gashes in Prometheus' scaled hide, and Prometheus' razor-sharp talons drew crimson lines across Stryker's flesh. Yet, torn and bruised as they were, neither showed any signs of relenting.

As the minutes raced by and the struggle continued unabated, it became evident that the tide of the battle would not easily shift in favor of either supernatural warrior. Prometheus, though injured and drenched in sweat, displayed his ferocious cunning and speed, while Stryker, his clothes torn and bloodied, stood as an unyielding bastion of sheer strength and determination.

The fight roared on, with Prometheus gradually gaining the upper hand. In an intense culmination, the lizard whipped its tail at Stryker, seeking to strike a debilitating blow. But Stryker, displaying his raw power, caught the tail in his iron grip.

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With a primal snarl, he began to swing Prometheus around, smashing the lizard's body into the floor, walls, and furniture with resounding force. The terrible violence of each impact resounded with sickening snaps and cracks of Prometheus' bones. The creature screamed in pain, the sound echoing through the space.

Somehow, despite the severity of the assault, Prometheus broke free. He flew through the air and tumbled over the altar, his body visibly contorted and aching from his injuries. Stryker, breathing heavily but still eager for the fight, approached the wounded creature.

Prometheus snarled, "One day I'll feast on you, Stryker. Your strength will be mine, and I'll gnaw on your bones."

Stalking forward, Stryker replied with a grin, "You won't live for 'one day,' lizard. I'm going to make a new pair of boots out of you."

The creature hissed, its rage flaring but its body askew from damage. With a flourish of its tail, Prometheus skittered up the wall like a gecko and smashed through a high window. Stryker leaped after him, covering the distance to the window almost 30 feet away and 20 feet above the ground in a single powerful bound before disappearing into after the monster.

And just like that, I was alone in the devasted room, struggling to process the violent and whirlwind battle that had just unfolded before my eyes.

As the psychic cloud began to dissipate, I realized that Prometheus must have been getting further away. Looking around at the destruction – smashed benches, pews, crumbling plaster, and cracks in the stonework – it was as if two gods had done battle within these walls.

I tried to rise, feeling Prometheus' presence continuing to fade. I deduced that Stryker had probably lost him; if he had caught the lizard, the sensation would have either stopped fading or disappeared suddenly and entirely. Steadying myself on the altar, I glanced towards the sacristy.

I startled as the main doors slammed open behind me, only to relax when I saw it was merely Stryker returning. Observing him, I noted his demeanor: like a dog on the hunt, bloodlust coursing through him, eager for more violence. His shirt hung in shreds, his body smeared with blood.

As he strode closer, I saw that his bleeding had already ceased – a testament to his unnatural body and its capacity for healing far beyond any normal human's. I couldn't be sure, but it seemed as if his wounds were lessening right before my eyes.

Stryker came to me, putting an arm around me to steady me. It seemed almost ridiculous that he would be steadying me, considering I only had a few bleeding claw marks on my back and a bloodied finger, while his clothes were in ribbons, bearing the scars of a battle with a monster. Looking again, I was nearly certain that some of the lacerations had already vanished from his skin.

Stryker chuckled, still hot and hungry for more fighting, but sated for now.

"Told you, didn't I? You might know your way around the mysteries, buddy, but you gotta believe things have gotten hotter since Homer and Ardia joined the scene. Christ, I remember when the Golem was the weirdest thing I'd ever seen, and now fighting psycho-saurus back there is starting to feel like the status quo."

I muttered, "Thank you, Stryker. I'd be meat in his guts by now if you hadn't shown up."

He replied, "And don't you forget it. Next time I tell you to bring backup, maybe you'll pay attention. Now let's make like a tree and get the fuck out of here. Someone could show up any minute."

I tugged him towards the sacristy, saying, "Just another minute. I came here for information, and Prometheus said some really curious things."

He questioned, "Like what?"

As we entered the sacristy, I explained, "He was asking about Jules Verne and The Rib of Marduk. I think he'd peeled some thoughts from the priest's mind before he killed him."

Stryker asked, "What priest?"

Then, as I revealed the corpse, he added, "Oh, that priest. Poor fucker."

Stryker nudged the corpse with his toe, then knelt to inspect it more closely. He pointed to a tattoo visible through the dead man's ripped clothes – an image of a wolf's head mounted on a spear – and said, "He was one of u... I mean, he was with the Order." Stryker, raised since birth in The Secret Order of Saint Jean Chastel, clearly hadn't fully divorced himself from that allegiance in his mind.

I knelt alongside him, saying, "I just need to check if he had anything on him. I don't think Prometheus would have looked; he looks with his mind. There might be something here, something about Jules Verne, The Rib of Marduk."

Stryker, poking through the man's pockets, said, "Dunno what Jules Verne would have to do with anything, but I know a little something about that rib."

I looked at him, excited and expectant. He said, "I said a little, and it can fucking wait. Let's get this shit done and get gone."

I pulled a wallet from a pocket and flicked through it. Stryker stood up and started roughly searching the room. He said, "Wonder how that scaly freak knew to come here. What was he doing with you anyway? Why didn't he just kill you?"

Flicking through the cards in the wallet, I said, "Glad he had a reason not to, obviously. He was interrogating me, trying to get information from me that might explain the snippets he snatched from this man's mind. He wanted to be able to report to his master, the one he called Father."

Stryker sniffed, "That'd be Troy then if I got all my cards lined up right. The one that's meant to have made me and set the ball rolling that made most of the characters in our special little freak show story."

I didn't answer him. I was staring with excitement at the back of a business card I had pulled from the wallet, one I had nearly dismissed. The side now facing away from me bore the logo and details of a construction contractor, but here on the back was an email address, handwritten shakily in pen. I looked at Stryker and said, "I think we got what we need."

He leaned in, and I turned the card for him to see. He said, "An email address?"

I said, "Yes, and look at the username, julesvernethetruthisoutthere."