"In my early days with Iscariot, we were a secretive group. The regular membership only consisted of Father Pendrake, myself, Father Anderson, Father Renaldo, and an aged sister who finally made her peace with God only a year after my appointment to the headship. Good candidates for our ranks were usually too distraught by their sins to continue service for the Church, or took the coward's path of suicide.
"We could not use such men in our ranks anyway.
"I was forced to stand before the four as they tried me for my crime against God, of which I still pled innocent, but Father Pendrake had broken me to admitting that I cared for the girl. I believe he knew I spoke the truth; he just wanted to wound my pride.
"It was only once I was full of humility that my missions began."
Maxwell sighed, lowering his eyes to his hands, which lay casually upon the table. His cigarette hung loose between his fingers.
"I did not understand, at first, why Iscariot even existed. My first missions were like what I had been doing at my parish, except I was the one traveling to the afflicted. The cases were not even difficult; a common parish priest with wavering faith could have banished the sort of spirits I met during my early travels.
"While not on missions, I trained with the other recruits, brothers and sisters that had found disfavor in the church. Most were blasted pedophiles from America, and most of those could not handle Father Pendrake's teaching methods. Though we had a high turnover rate in the early days, I soon understood my mentor's vision; for a private army, Iscariot was pathetic. We would become the new Knights Templar once proper candidates could be found."
He paused, taking a drag as the cardinals waited.
"Combat training was not my forte. I was not skilled with human weapons so I was not chosen for the special gifts endowed by the Vatican doctors to certain persons in our membership. Yet Father Pendrake insisted that I work with Father Anderson.
"On a warm July evening, we began our search of Amsterdam. It was our first and only real mission as equals."
ooooooooo
"Over there." Anderson whispered, pointing at a group of drugged-up teenagers, each proudly displaying a pentacle on a chain around their necks. "Do you sense anything from them?"
Maxwell squinted, his hair hanging loose down his back. "Besides the fact that they're obviously tourists taking advantage of this district's freedoms, no. Nothing demonic, only illegal in most of the Western world. Their necklaces show what faith they pretend to follow, but they hold nothing sacred."
"What affiliation?"
Maxwell's face strained in concentration, leaning against Anderson for balance, should he lose consciousness while using his newfound talent of reading souls. "Christian-based, but not Catholic. Perhaps American Southern Baptist; all Protestants look alike."
"Come on then. They are not our mission, this time." The pair continued walking through the streets, Maxwell terrified of whatever was lurking in the darkness. Father Pendrake had been less than informative in this mission briefing; there was a demon in Amsterdam's red light district. Anderson and Maxwell were to find it and send it to hell as quickly as possible, returning to Rome upon successful completion. What unnerved him most about this mission was his comrade; Anderson was in a different state of mind than when he had trained with him before.
And then, standing in the middle of a perfectly legal cyber café, sipping on what appeared to be a glass of wine, was a demonic presence the likes of which he had never sensed before. It was too strong, almost as if Satan himself was controlling the man. In fact, he didn't even have to try to read the man's soul. It was like a light in the darkness.
"That one. The pale man with the sunglasses." Maxwell pointed at the man as he took another drink. "I've never seen anything like it. The three women around him have a slightly less intense signature, but they're still afflicted. Should I-"
"No." Anderson pushed the younger man away, putting his hand inside his coat. "Go back to the airport. Call Father Pendrake and get us passage back to Rome. I'll meet you in twenty minutes."
"But Alex,"
"I said GO!" Anderson pushed Maxwell away with his free hand, harder this time so he would understand, and the younger priest ran from his brother in arms, not once looking back. Alexander Anderson was a jovial, kind man. He ran an orphanage, for God's sake. Something was troubling him. . . .perhaps Angel Dust would be allowed to play tonight.
He smiled as he ran. Being the heir to the Order was enough to take him out of the front lines, and in the two months after the announcement that Maxwell would be the next leader of Iscariot, he spent his time receiving special instruction from Father Pendrake. The most important lesson that the elderly priest had taught was that self-preservation would be the key to his success, since he was not in any way as talented as Anderson and the rest.
He had watched in horror the first time Pendrake raised a gun to his subordinate and shot Anderson in the chest, a perfect blow to his heart. Only when he realized that no blood had been spilled did Anderson start to laugh before standing up, using a photograph of the look on Maxwell's face as another source of humiliation.
Still, he would like to do good again, to see the smiling faces of a family that he helped, or to see a person that lived in constant torment finally be free from Satan's grasp. But as Pendrake constantly told him, he was the next chief exorcist of Iscariot. It was his duty to find demons and the duty of the others to eliminate them.
Schipol was relatively empty at two in the morning, allowing Maxwell the freedom to call his superior as he waited for Anderson without fear of being overheard. He might as well follow orders; there was nothing better to do.
Father Pendrake was thrilled that Enrico had been able to see these demons, more than he had ever been before. Together, they had worked on enhancing Maxwell's abilities of being able to detect demonic presences to the point where he could read a person's soul, good or evil. Pendrake said that being able to see this particular type of demon showed great potential for his successor, and as soon as he returned to Rome, Enrico was to begin the second phase of initiation.
oooooooooo
"We have been informed about the training of Iscariot's membership, including your Superior's notes about your own training." The cardinal in the center stated. "You learn of vampires, werewolves, and other non-human creatures that are abominations in the eyes of God, and how to destroy them. You personally performed nearly all of the exorcisms given to Iscariot in your first year of service. God may care what you and your comrades do in his name, but I do not."
"Do you know why we must destroy the demons in God's name?" Maxwell raised an eyebrow at the cardinal that was questioning him.
"Because that is your calling."
"NO!" Maxwell slammed his palm against the table, startling every cardinal in the room. "It is because God wants us to repent for our founder's sins! We purify the world, making it free of all those who oppose the true teachings of His Son! Do you think that Judas, the great betrayer, did not have the same purpose that we do? Had Judas not acted according to God's Will, we would not even have our glorious Church!" Maxwell paused, removing his hand from the desk. "Our sins are absolved by the blood of those that profane the Will of God. It is how such unwholesome people create an order of the Vatican. Each of us has been condemned by YOUR lot once in our lives; and yet it will be because of US, the sinners in your ranks, that YOU, my dear Cardinal, will be saved when The Lord comes again! We purify the world for YOU!"
"Maxwell! You are out of your mind! I'm calling an end to this inquiry! Turn him over to the British authorities and see what becomes of his ideals!"
Enrico only laughed harder as the cardinal spoke, which only infuriated the cardinal even more. The circle continued; the cardinal and Maxwell both grew louder until finally another cardinal screamed over both voices, "WILL YOU JUST GET TO THE POINT?"
With a gloved hand, Enrico wiped his eyes, still chuckling as he leaned back upon the chair. "Remember, if I am destroyed and the Order disbanded, you will have to deal with my three most highly fanatical and loyal underlings. If the Knights ever grew suspicious of what happened to me, I cannot be held responsible for their actions." He smirked once again. "Sister Wolfe could destroy you without even breaking a sweat, and she's my least talented fanatic. I'd hate to see you pitted against Yumie or Alex."
He paused yet again to finish the cigarette, not lighting another one in its wake. "You all know I became the head of Iscariot almost ten years ago. My sin was my alleged child; my sin was my talent for detecting demonic presences; my sins would lead to my redemption. I studied in the Vatican libraries as the rest killed terrorists, infidels, pagans, heathens, heretics, blasphemers, and inhuman creatures. We were efficient. We were good at information suppression without the aid of the other orders, right Cardinal Molan? At least it was that way for my first eight years."