Disclaimer: Own nothing.
This is a seven or eight chapter story about the darkness in Abel's past. Occasional lighter moments though. :)
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Father Abel Nightroad's insides felt like jelly.
He scrambled back to his feet and found that his knees weren't in any better shape. "Unhgoooo" he moaned, bringing his hand to his head, trying to steady his spinning world. He had heard the airship approach from a distance but it had failed to register as threat. The whine of a Shephard missile above and the resulting explosion were unexpected to say the least. The priest stood, choking on dirt particles that muddied the air, trying to catch his breath. Gradually as the air cleared enough, he scanned the horizon. His eyes settled on the slim figure outlined in the dim moonlight on the crest of the gently sloping hill that lay before him.
She was standing hunched over, hands on her knees, turned slightly away from him. He could see that she too was trying to catch her breath. She must have been knocked down - the waistcoat of her Albion palace guard uniform was covered in dirt and badly stained.
Cautiously Abel ventured a step but his legs nearly buckled beneath him. Feeling stranded, he tried shouting but between the steady drone of the airship and the wind whipping about them, there was little chance she could hear him. Gathering what strength he had left, he staggered forward and kept shouting. His eyes stayed fixed on the slight woman, willing her to look at him.
"Miss...errr...Lieutenant...Just stay there! Please!"
To his surprise, she slowly turned her head in his direction, dark hair swinging into her face. Surely a gangly, silver haired priest waving his arms like a wild man was a hard thing miss on this barren seaside landscape. Yes, she was staring at him, he was almost sure of it.
"Just don't move! Don't move and they won't shoot! Aaagghhuum...again! They won't shoot again!"
Abel wasn't in the habit of making promises he couldn't keep but the situation seemed to be getting more and more desperate.
The figure, still hunched over, suddenly jerked her head up and stared up into the bottom of the airship that hovered nearly directly above her.
I'm too late, thought Abel.
Within a minute, ten Vatican soldiers stood with Rex-9's leveled at the woman. They had fanned out in formation to prevent her from escaping back downhill.
"By the order of the Vatican Department of Inquisition, you are hereby under arrest for kidnapping an agent of the Vatican, wanton and willful destruction of Vatican property..."
Although the men looked identical, the unit commander stood slightly ahead of the others. The voice amplifier in his helmet crackled as he continued listing the charges.
Abel, who slowed his pace as he neared the soldiers, could now clearly see her face.
Strangely, she wasn't looking at the men surrounding her, or the semi-automatics they held - she was staring directly at him, dark eyes flashing with defiance.
Only then did he realize what the soldiers did not. By blocking any downhill escape route, they had unintentionally left open the only route she was ever planning to take; the reason she was here at all. She rested 20 paces from a sheer 100 meter drop into the sea.
Without breaking her gaze with the priest, the female guard slowly raised her hands and tentatively took a step back.
The commanding officer stopped mid sentence.
"Wait.....Don't move or we'll shoot."
Abel was close enough to touch the Vatican soldiers. They gave him no sign of acknowledgement although he was quite sure they were aware of his presence. He stepped between two of them but felt uneasy about venturing any further.
They were all staring ahead at the suspect. Not only was the woman disregarding the commander's orders, she was now lowering her hands, inching them closer to the firearms strapped to the sides of her hips.
"Stop. Repeat. Stop immediately. Do not draw your weapons!" The static interference of the voice amplifier could not hide the mounting desperation in his voice.
She was more than halfway to the cliff edge and was gently easing two rather hefty looking handguns out of their holsters.
"Stand, ready!" The commanding officer was barking orders to his team. He held a black gloved hand outstretched above his head, poised to give the final command to fire. But even as the woman completely unholstered her guns, the order never came.
She reached the edge and stopped. Still wielding the firearms, she lifted her arms out from her sides, looked skyward and paused.
Don't do it, Abel pleaded silently.
Then she stretched out into the void and was gone.