***PRESS START*** Jon Barretta stepped into the Church with one thing in mind: revenge. Revenge on the man who broke his arm. Revenge on the man who put a hole in his throat. Revenge on the man who killed the only girl he ever loved. Revenge on the man who took everything away from him. Roland made his life a living hell, and so Jon would send him there. One way or another. The stench of death wafted through the hallowed halls. It was an uneasy combination of sex and shit. Barretta was forced to use all god-given willpower to keep from vomiting. It was the kind of smell that could drive a man mad. His left hand tightened on the longsword at his side. The crimson symbols on the wall (bloodbloodohgodsomuchblood) blurred into an ocean of scarlet and concrete. The statues in every corner came alive at every horrible opportunity. This was a place of nightmares. Jon wanted to run. He needed to run. Dust kicked up from under his feet as he strode toward the alter. Even his own footsteps shot goosebumps over every crumbling inch of his skin. There were dead bodies in the pews, rotted away to little more than skeletons with shitty clothing. Men, women, children, it didn't matter. They were dead. God only knows what he did (pleasegodnoleavemywifealone) to them. Roland was one sick bastard. The alter was made of solid steel. It was still shining, excluding the bloodstains that spotted the corner. And there was a noise. My god, what a terrible noise. It was the kind of noise that could shatter all the teeth in your head at once. It was kindof like a deep, low, resonating scream. Like pain from the mouth (ohgodnoyousickfuckleavemybabyalone) of satan himself. Jon stopped about a foot away from it. He stood there for a long time, just staring at the sound and slowly losing his mind. What a terrible sound. A terrible, horrible sou- "Having fun, Jonny boy?" That voice. That terrible voice. Jon Barretta slowly turned, if only to face his final destiny. As he did, he drew his sword. "Jon, Jon, Jon. You were never one for hello's, were you?" Jon paused there, sword drawn, his eyes locked onto the man who had taken everything. "That's right, Roland. Luckily for me, I didn't come to say hello," Jon raised his blade to point at the monster, "I came, to hear you say goodbye." "And so it begins." "That's were you're wrong, Roland. This is where it ends. This is where it all ends." Both men charged at that very moment, weapons drawn, Gods fury raging in the air between them. ***2BCONTINUED***