Chrno Crusade: 1981
"I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending, saith the lord, which is, and which was, and which is to come, the Almighty,"
Revelations 2, 8 - Holy Bible
Chapter 1: A Simple Pocket Watch
It had been a long day, Remington thought to himself as he kneeled in front of the altar in the small church on the outskirts of Germany. In the many, many years spent doing the work of the church, Remington had not seen times like these...in truth, he wished not to think on those old times and those sad memories. But soon, he would have to face them.
"A man is coming, a man I have not seen in...many years. A pursuer, or so he was. Soon we will see how much has changed...and how much remains the same."
It had only been one day previous. A man pulled out a gun and shot the pope twice, critically wounding him. The authorities had scrambled like mad to keep a lid on the situation and not leak the information on the assassin too early. They had tried to prevent the real secrets of the even from coming out too fast. But the order knew, what was left of the order knew that a gear had been set in motion as soon as the man let fly the first bullet. It had pierced the very fabric of time, space, the Vatican City, Italy, and soon, the rest of the world.
"Have you no shame, Aion?"
Remington finished his prayer and reveled in the open arms of the savior above him, though he feared the face of the statue cried out even more than usual on a day like this. At the same time, watching from the very back of the church, was one who had turned his back on the arms, the body, the face, and the tears of god a long time ago. He cared not for the house of god, only the sinners that defiled it.
"You know I prefer to remain outside the holy house...Ewan Remington."
Without turning, Ewan acknowledged the man's presence with a knowing smirk and a touch of his index finger to his forehead, as if contemplating the next few exchanges in his head.
"I appreciate you coming...and yes, I do know. But now is not the time..." As he turned, he was taken aback by the figure that stood before him. He was slenderer than he had been, but it was the same man, "Deufo."
It was clear that the sensibilities of the time meant nothing to Deufo who looked as he always did: mysterious and slowly aged with the rim of a very noticeable and well worn fedora cutting across the top edge of his horizontally pressed eyes. Even in the daylight of the stain glass windows, Deufo carried with him an air of the unusual and foreign: perhaps not seeming altogether demonic, but not altogether human either.
"I take it you've seen the news?"
Deufo walked toward Remington slowly, looking over every edge of the small church like a realtor inspecting a house. The lack of emotional attachment to the walls and edifices around him almost got to Remington, but he tried his best to get over it.
"Don't you find it odd, Ewan" Deufo began defiantly, "this church stands against everything the humans of this age believe in. The 20's - - a joke to the common man today. You ask him if he remembers the great 'time when'-- and even his parents...his parents' parents...cannot bring themselves to remember what we did to save this world from itself."
In the course of this diatribe to himself, Deufo had ended up right in front of Remington, directly below the outstretched arms of the Holy Father himself. Even now, the symbol of the crucifixion and the man who stood under it (a once very prominent and holy figure) seemed very small. "And now we are right backs where we started."
For a moment, no words were said. Deufo looked straight into Remington's eyes and Remington looked straight back. Within the silence, there was an understanding between the two of them that spanned many long years filled with too much pain for man and demon alike. Slowly a smile crossed Deufo's face and a chuckle broke the silence.
"As stern as ever. Although not quite as pristine as I remember, Remington. Clearly, this can't be a good sign otherwise you never would have called me."
"A desperate move, I admit, but one that is more than necessary in times such as these." With that Remington put an arm on Deufo's shoulder. "It is good that you came, though. Now please, have you..."
"Of course I've seen it. It's only in print and video everywhere from here to Balkans."
"I can't say the media has helped the problem," Remington admitted, "each country is spinning it differently. Luckily, none of them seem to know the truth behind the matter."
"And I supposed you do Ewan." Deufo was now leaning against one of the arm rests at the end of the aisle, his hat tipping even more to the front, as if he were falling asleep right then and there. As Deufo positioned himself correctly to make the position as painless as possible, his eyes wandered to the carpet below his feet. "The Color of Blood...as if dripping from the very statue itself..." By now, he had expected to hear the theory that Remington had mentioned only seconds earlier. When it didn't come, Deufo slowly lifted his head up.
Remington's face was stern, as if he was staring down some evil that had stepped out of the shadows. It was the kind of look Deufo knew that Remington reserved for only one man. Rather, not a man, but a sinner who had made both of their lives quite difficult only 60 years previous.
"No..."
"It doesn't make sense, but..."
"Doesn't make sense? You were there when it happened..."
'Chrno killed him, 60 years ago.'
The name echoed in Deufo's head like a drop of water from a leaky faucet...drip drip drip until the sheer repetition of it was instantly recognizable to the senses. He had heard the news of Chrno and Rosette's passing shortly after the events...the sad sad events that Aion put in motion so many years ago. Aion you bastard. How can we fight this evil again without Chrno and Rosette?
"What does the order say about the incident?" Remington went slightly pale.
"The Order does not say much these days. At least, not to me." Remington walked around the edge of the row of seats and sat down in the seat closest to the aisle. "About 12 years ago, the last of the protectors abandoned their posts after a series of unexplained events took place resulting in the death of 20 different sister protectors. Some of them died of..." before he could finish his thought, Remington began to hear the very screams of the sisters he spoke of. He remembered their dying words, fighting an evil that would not show itself and yet was all too familiar. Left and right, year by year, another innocent sister fell to the increasing storm of evil that would culminate in the assassination attempt of the previous eve.
"...of demonic burning, poisoning, dismemberment, and two succumbed to a rare version of the stigmata that has only been documented one other time in all of recorded history. It is, indeed, so rare...the pope himself has never been told of the event or of the stigmata pattern. The pain...it is in a word, excruciating." He slowly brought his right hand to his forehead, crossing himself like an old man who had seen one too many battles in his time. "I would not wish that sort of pain upon any man, woman, or child again."
"Since then, the Order has been struggling to rebuild itself in the wake of a world that has become increasingly frustrated with religion and politics. They blame me for not doing more - - and angel powerless to change the fate of those who believed me for so long...when I promised them that they would be protected…and avenged." The pain was slowly becoming too much to bare. Deufo could see the events of the past had clearly taken a toll on Remington. If he had been a more compassionate man, he might have felt it necessary to console Ewan, but those times were long gone.
"I fear that this one event has caused the problems to escalate to a boiling point. If people cannot turn to the pope for help in times of need...they will turn to someone...and I fear Aion will use this opportunity he has created to, once again, bring the false prophet out of the ashes."
It took Deufo but a moment to realize what Remington meant. Aion had tried once and failed. 60 years ago, he had tried to bring upon the freedom of himself and the Sinners who followed him...using Rosette as the false prophet of his choosing. 'But how can this be? The clock stopped years ago..."
"The Clock..." Deufo let his thoughts slip out loud.
"Yes, my friend. The Stopwatch that Rosette wore around her neck."
"You fear he has it in his possesion?" Deufo, shocked, had resigned himself to the seat across the aisle from Remington. Although Deufo was not one to show wide ranges of emotion, Remington could see the disbelief in his eyes.
"I pray that he does not. This is our only chance to take it from him."
"Do you know where it is?"
With a spurt of confidence in his voice, Remington rose to his feet. "There is one person who knows. Let's just hope Aion believes her to be dead."
With that, Remington looked up at the cross one more time, closed his eyes, and took in a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, Deufo was already gone, most likely to follow him from the shadows until the solution to his riddle became clear. As Remington turned toward the back of the church, he felt the strangest feeling that someone was pushing him outward, toward the future that awaited the both of them. As he looked back at the Holy Father, his head hung low and his arms frozen an outstretched...
Rosette...
...was the only thought that came to mind.
Deufo had not gone far, standing on the roof of the church like a gargoyle warding off the evils of the night. He watched as Remington walked down the hill away from the church, neither looking back nor turning back. Deufo knew as he had known 60 years ago; the time of Aion had come again...and it was race that humanity, nor demon kind, could afford to lose.
So it begins again.
And with that...he vanished.
Next - Chapter 2: Azmaria Hendric
"I believe that Rosette is alive...somewhere"