Disclaimer: I don't own any anime or manga, if I ever do, I'll be sure to rub it in your face.
Warnings: Language. Controversial subject.
A/N: Not beta'd please e-mail me with the subject BETA at chibichocopaws(at)hotmail(.)com if you are interested in doing so for any of my past, current and or future works.
Chapter One
Father Maxwell was anything but your orthodox priest. In fact, his renowned fame was based solely on his reputation as an investigator. He prized his work on discovering the truth of possession. All 247 of his exorcism cases had resulted in nothing but an investigation, a list of suspects, and an eventual arrest for various crimes committed. Not once in his 14 years as a priest had he encountered an actual demon possession, and perhaps his unorthodox ways were due to his decreasing faith. It was not that he did not believe in God, far from it actually, Father Maxwell held his faith entirely upon God, deeming himself a soldier and teacher of God and his Almighty ways; however, Father Maxwell had begun to lose his belief in the devil himself with each arrest. God was simpler to believe than the devil. Miracles had occurred many times with no explanation but divine intervention. However, most of his cases led him to believe that only humans were evil, for if there were a devil, would he not attempt to show himself? Would he not attempt to prove himself to the world? Would he not attempt to make the humans shudder? Would he not attempt to make God shudder Himself? And Father Maxwell's simple analysis of the situation pointed to the simple answer of no existing devil. But there was more to Father Maxwell than just his beliefs that made him unorthodox.
His long chestnut hair, pulled back into a lose braid, swayed past his behind. His outfit; although, in style of that of a priest, was much tighter and more of the hip new trends of the teenagers during these days. Like a priest, Father Maxwell was found wearing his priest outfit at all times. The typical white neck band was adorned under the collar of his black button up shirt, which was tucked into the black pants to appeal to the older more sophisticated folk he worked with; although, if it were his choice, he would see no issue with wearing the shirt loosely hanging over his pants. His boots, always polished brilliantly, were heavy with a thick sole, adding more height to his short stature. Around his neck, dangling loosely to his mid chest, was a simple golden cross on a small golden chain clipped together in the back and also tucked under his button up collar.
The day he received a call from a small town doctor with wishes for an exorcism on a so called possessed child, he was quick to accept the job without details. It wouldn't surprise him in the least if the real culprit turned out to be the doctor himself drugging the poor child for his own gruesome experiments. This of course only further proved his point of a non-existent devil.
He left his office in no rush, his only inspiration was to save a life and, if he were being truly honest with himself, the cash that would be handsomely rewarded to him for his work. He slowly closed the vidphone, polished his gold cross by blowing a hot breathe of air upon it, then diligently rubbing it upon his shirt; when it shone in the dim light from the lamp on his desk, he smiled proudly to himself. He looked next to the door in the mirror, flattening a free strand of hair, frowning to himself, and shrugging when he realized it was a futile battle to attempt control over his unruly hair. His leather jacket, another item pointing towards his unorthodox ways, was hung on a wooden rack near the door, his keys inside the front right pocket. He was sure to turn off the light and lock his door on his way out, knowing he would be gone for quite awhile. His trip was to be long, and most likely longer on his way back due to lack of sleep and possible irritation if the culprit was any good at what he did.
He wasn't worried about packing a bag. As a priest always on the move, Father Maxwell was never the kind to be unprepared for a long arduous trip. Not that he needed to pack much, or take time out to think of which outfits would be best for which weather conditions.
He unlocked the door to his Saleen S7, the doors swishing upwards and catching the eye of many envious individuals walking the streets. He couldn't help but smile at the reaction he received from onlookers every time he sat in the beauty. It was an old car, but nevertheless one that he loved dearly. It was one of the few things he pleasured himself in having. A racy sleek black, with dark tinted windows and spinning rims, which back in the days the Saleen S7 was designed, was quite a spectacular trend; however, not so much anymore. His philosophy, when asked why a priest would indulge in such a worldly item, was that indulgence in moderation was not necessarily something looked down upon by the Almighty. God couldn't have created humans with the ability to feel pleasure if they were not meant to feel it. Of course, the times he wasn't in the spotlight due to his cases, he was in the spotlight for his words, being criticized by fellow clergymen, or being commended by his peers and the younger folk whom agreed with him.
The drive to the shuttle port was short, not but five minutes. When he arrived he was sure to place his car in the private parking. As his prized worldly possession, Father Maxwell did anything in his possible power to keep his car from being broken into or stolen. His home colony L2 was not exactly what one would call a friendly non-criminal active colony.
He boarded a small shuttle, paid monthly amongst the clergymen that used it. Many priests and nuns looked up from their conversations or paperwork to glare at him. Their extra piercing intensity was due to the fact that he had yet to remove his large sunglasses. The others simply ignored him as he took a seat in his usual spot aboard the shuttle. No other clergymen had ever taken the seat next to him. One man even aborted his payments due to the fact that the only seat left for him was next to Father Maxwell. The priests deemed him as nothing but an imposter. A fraud and a disgrace to the word religion. One even went as far as to claim Father Maxwell was the devil himself attempting to corrupt the church.
The words and glowers had never upset Father Maxwell; instead he went about his business, ignoring the assaults entirely. He slipped his hand into his duffle bag and pulled out a small media player. Scrolling through the songs and playing his favorite while he slipped on the tiny earphones and fell soundly into sleep, a dreamless sleep that always occupied his mind, yet still a deep sleep that would rest him enough for his long trip to the small town.
The shuttle was flying from L2, towards L5, passing the three remaining colonies on the way, and then descending towards Earth, circling in the atmosphere over Asia, Europe, and the Atlantic Ocean to land in a shuttle port in the state of New York. He would take a private car service for a two hour ride to Connecticut and still yet another hour to the small farm town called Durham. He wasn't exactly excited to be stranded in the middle of nowhere. He assumed the police force, if they had one, would be very weak. He doubted he would be able to hire an assistant from the investigations bureau if need be, and a forensic science lab was even more doubtful. However, upon his arrival, happiness swelled his heart.
Rolling lush green hills, with large three story houses randomly placed upon them. He passed many farms. Inhaling deeply and regretting shortly after as the smell of cow manure filled his nostrils. Although the smell wasn't exactly to his senses, seeing the many different animals appeased him for the fifteen minute drive through the small town to the address given by the doctor.
The car came to a halt in front of a small mint green, one story house. The shades were all pulled down, and there were three cars in the driveway. The road, unlike most of the roads in the town he had driven through, was adorned with single floored houses next to each other. At the end, a cul-de-sac, which, if looked passed, was a barbed wire fence and a steer chewing idly on grass.
Father Maxwell shouldered his duffle bag, stepping out of the car and paying his driver in pure cash with an extra tip for taking him the scenic route. He wasn't exactly sure if that was the only way into the town, but nevertheless he enjoyed it thoroughly.
He stretched his arms above his head, working the kinks out of his back and shoulders, and then twisting his neck in both directions, receiving a small pop from both movements and a release of the stiffness that was overwhelming his body.
The silver beamer behind the two trucks, he assumed, must have been the doctors. He was happy the man hadn't left, as he would be the first person interviewed by the priest, and possibly the first suspect. It was unlike Father Maxwell to prejudge however. It was his job to answer the questions and fix the problems; going into a case with a prejudice mind would most likely result in a silly mistake.
He walked up the short driveway, stepping onto the small rock dabbled concrete path, up the two steps, and to the screen door. The door bell was dirty and worn as if the family had guests over often. He pushed the button, a soft melody echoing inside the house, and a light breeze twisted his hair and rippled through his shirt, flowing through his nostrils the scent of freshly cut grass. He had to admit to himself the peace of the town was very calming and unnerving, and he wouldn't mind living there, as long as he stayed away from the awful smell of compost filtering its way throughout the entire town.
He heard a loud crash inside and a woman shouted desperately for the thing making the noise to stop. This was something he had encountered once before. A teenage boy had been put on the pressure by his peers to try drugs; he had a very bad trip, and beat his own mother to death. The child's dad had called Father Maxwell because he believed the child was possessed. It was only a matter of minutes that Father Maxwell had realized the boy had been eating mushrooms and smoking pcp. He frowned to himself, hoping this case was more interesting and with less deadly outcomes. The thrashing continued and the woman screeched then all went deadly silent. He hoped the deadly silence wasn't a shadow of a murder that just took place but a locked door away from him.