Metal Gear: Priest
Chapter 1
Prologue: Failed Exorcism
2002 Tijuana, Mexico…
The bars never closed in Tijuana, and Father Emmanuel Cortez knew it well. On Sunday he forgave his local parish of their sins.
He and Bishop Ignesia had built St. Thomas Church in 1998, and the then 20 year old Emmanuel had thought it a miracle how much the community had helped to build it. Truly this was God's work on Earth.
The people made their tortillas, raised their children, ran their businesses and prayed. They were poor, but with the help of the church, they were happy.
Father Cortez sat in his small room and wrote his next sermon. It was on the guises Satan took to trick the followers of Christ. He had noticed an increase of heinous sins in the confessional booth. Though supposedly anonymous, Cortez knew the voices of every single one of his people. What was his reaction to be?
Confessions of family abuse, drinking, drugs; even acts violence against their fellow man. Surely, these people could open their eyes.
BOOM!
He looked up at the sound of the crash and looked around. Rising, Emmanuel picked up his Bible and headed to the main vestry.
Any of the local women would say that they would have loved to get into his pants. At 24, he kept an aura of innocence and beauty that was rare to find in the Mexican slums. You could see this in his sparkling blue eyes. His long black hair was not in a ponytail at this time, as was his tradition. .This, along with his thick beard, made his mother say he looked like a Latino Jesus. Nowadays, Emmanuel knew what saying that sort of thing was. Blasphemy.
He swung the small door at the side of the vestry open and stopped short.
Every member of the parish sat there in grim record, while the patrons on the front row were huddled around an object in the aisle.
"Good evening everyone," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "Mass is not for another nine hours."
One of those huddled around the object, a local child, turned and gave Emmanuel a blood stained grin.
The people got up and went to their respective seats, letting Father Emmanuel Cortez see his future to come.
Bishop Ignesia stared at him with only one remaining eye. All over his twisted body, pieces of flesh were missing as the blood slowly ran out of his body. He was dead. That much Emmanuel knew for sure. A spilled ampoule lay in the middle of a puddle of clear liquid.
Holy water.
A tremendous banging at the door shook the entire foundation. The entire parish turned expectantly toward it.
The doors shattered after the third bang and a chuckle was heard. Emmanuel could not move he was almost entranced with this display.
Through the opening a form walked through. He had the shape of a man but an immense shadow immersed him. What Emmanuel could make out was a black suit and a short black cane and deep red eyes under a mop of white hair.
When it opened its mouth to speak Emmanuel could have sworn that this thing's voice was made up of screams.
"Good evening Father Cortez," it said, giving a sly grin. "Tonight is an excellent night for an exorcism."
The thing tapped Ignesia's twisted body and laughed deeply.
"I told you it wouldn't work Ernesto. You couldn't close the door forever!"
It turned to Emmanuel. "Your faith is strong. I see that."
Emmanuel couldn't open his mouth. The bishop… this m-thing. He didn't know how to react.
"Ah, but I do," the thing said, pushing one of the people out of the pew and taking a seat. "My name you see is Pizouzu. I've been called other things, Satan, Hades, Lord of the Flies, but my favorite is my birth name, the one our father gave me. Lucifer."
"I've been walking your Earth for thousands of years, but since his pitiful son died all that really is left is possessing idiot mortals. Which is where this church, a little girl in Georgetown, and a little town in Maine come in."
"In 1973 I decided to come forth myself into a human, and not send some reckless demon to take the girl. It worked; I proved humans are weak disgusting creatures. My rival at the time, Lancaster Merrin came all the way from Iraq to fight me. He failed miserably. Yet, his accomplice, Damien Karras was quite the tricky one. He got me to come into his body and then threw himself out the window."
"After this I took some time to recuperate from my loss. The sow had lived. But then a surprise invitation brought me out of Hell in February."
"One of my most ancient followers, a vampire from Germany by the name of Barlow found a little town just brimming with evil. He made the necessary sacrifice to bring me. It was aptly named 'Salems Lot."
Emmanuel's eyes widened. Things now began to clear. The 1973 case of possession and the exorcist Merrin's death was a textbook case in seminary school. And the 'Salems Lot disappearances had been a bit of a commodity in the papers.
"But, I did not expect resistance. A small group of 'believers' tried to fight me. The writer, whose love for the girl couldn't save her. The girl, whose love blinded her. The boy, who was the strongest but saw the futility of their actions. And finally my favorite, Father Callahan, who put his deluded faith to one last test. One by one they fell, until the boy and the writer were able to defeat Barlow and destroy the town."
"So, Barlow failed, but I gave the priest my communion in evil. Donald proved quite sufficient to kill hope."
Emmanuel shuddered, what was this demon's purpose with him if he could break a priest?
"To prove my point to HIM," he said, snatching the question from the priest's mind. "That even his servants are powerless against me. So, priest shall we perform an exorcism?"
"I…" Emmanuel stammered.
"A bit fearful are we? Good, that is the first step. I'll suggest something; I will give you five minutes to gather your things. If you're not back then, I will leave and kill all these people as they did Ernesto."
Emmanuel shakily started backing up toward the door to his quarters. A start by Pizouzu made him bolt to his quarters, locking the door.
The first thought was to run, leave these people to their cursed fate. Yet, Emmanuel knew that he could not abandon his people.
He quickly searched the room and came up with a few items he could use. A light stole and cassock, several vials of holy water, the Roman Rituals, and a sharpened crucifix. The crucifix he kept tucked beneath his belt in case he had to resort to killing-
'Wait. How do I know I can kill this thing?'
You can.
'But I'm too weak… I…
No, the Lord will protect you.
Emmanuel nodded and went out into the main room. Pizouzu still sat at the pew, occasionally twirling his cane.
"Are we ready then, Faddah?" he said in a New York accent. "Help a brother out, I'm a Catlic."
The priest recognized the voice as that of a bum he had met once in the states. He had been asked for some change but Emmanuel could not stand to look at him.
The original hardened voice returned. "Come sit with us Emmanuel. We'll have oodles of fun." He tapped the bishop's cooling body.
"THIS CUNTING BISHOP, YOU KNOW WHAT HE DID?" he yelled in a thick British voice. "He'd wank his wee little wienie while the little boys confessed their sins in the booth, and then he'd…"
"Enough!" Emmanuel shouted. Pizouzu smiled with canine like fangs and nodded. "I am a servant of the Lord, our father, who art thou in Heaven. Hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give this day our daily bread…"
As he said this, he began spraying the demon with a vial of holy water. Pizouzu screamed and writhed and then laughed.
"Really," he said, wiping away a tear. "Where is your father? Fucking his only son in the ass while you call out his name."
The demon rose and in the blink of an eye was face to face with Emmanuel. His breath reeked of fetid flesh and death.
"Don't you see it boy? I am LORD of the Earth. God is dead. These people here cling to hope that by once a week they can have their sins forgiven. Here's a tip, he doesn't care. He'll just…"
He stopped short, feeling the searing pain shooting up from his belly made him stumble back.
The crucifix was planted deep, letting out a fierce white light. The demon opened his mouth in a nameless yell.
Emmanuel pushed deeper, sweat breaking out on his forehead. He pushed the demon back until he had planted the point all the way through Pizouzu and into the hard wooden pew.
It struggled, but it was fruitless. The flesh around the wound bean to sizzle and burn. Emmanuel opened another vial of Holy water and began pouring on the wound.
"The power of Christ compels you," he shouted.
The demon screamed forth ancient curses.
"The blood of the martyrs compels you," He said, now throwing the water in the face of the demon. Pizouzu opened his mouth wide, showing viscous white canines.
"It is God himself who commands you," he whispered in pitiful things face.
"Enough," the demon whimpered. "Let me leave…"
"Why? If I left you leave freely you will come back? Why not send you tumbling back to the abyss." Emmanuel said, not believing he had the strength to combat Satan.
The demon smiled weakly at him, a thick blood pouring from his mouth. "Because I can kill all these people. Will you live with that guilt?"
Would he? Could he sacrifice the entire parish to kill the mortal body of this demon? No.
"I sense your apprehension. So, I will make a compromise."
"And what be that demon?"
"Allow me to choose a body here to live in, and the rest will be free to go and not remember their acts. One sacrifice for thirty seven lives. A good trade."
"What if I reject it and finish you?"
"Then these people will walk to a lake and drown themselves. Just like the Pied Piper."
Emmanuel considered.
"Fine. On one condition."
The demon smirked, knowing he had won. "And that will be?"
"That person must leave, an outcast, with a mark to show the evil inside. A…" he thought of the proper mark. "A cross. Burned into his hand."
Pizouzu laughed deeply. " 'And so God put a mark upon Cain, and banished him from the land around Eden and sent him into Lot. And all knew not kill him.'. Brilliant."
"Take your body and leave this church." With that Emmanuel withdrew the cross and sealed his fate for eternity.
The body that Pizouzu had occupied began to smoke and burn. The clothes seemed to fall off as the body became a black smoke with two red eyes and came at Emmanuel.
He realized the demon's trick all too late as the smoke entered his mouth, his nose, any orifice it could. He stumbled back, knocking over the small table used to take communion.
"No…" he whispered as he felt the invading presence take residence his mind. "Damn you… Pizuzou."
'Ha, the fun's just getting started Emmanuel. Now, let's see about that mark of Cain you spoke off.'
As the parish began to stumble out, Emmanuel began to make ready, for the final pyre.
He went to the small shed drunkenly and picked up a ten-gallon jug of kerosene and wandered back into the church. He poured it all over Bishop Ignesia's body and the rest of the church.
After doing this Emmanuel wandered into his room and gathered a small bag of things he would need before breaking open the collection box and the poor box. He humbly took roughly two thousand dollars gathered over two years and stuffed it into his bag. He poured the last of the kerosene on his bed with an outfit of his attire.
"Fire, purifies everything," he whispered before lighting a match and dropping it on the bed.
He watched it begin to burn and noticed the rosary in the middle. Not thinking he picked it up and, despite the burning, closed his hand around it.
After roughly a minute he put it gingerly in his pocket and wrapped a bandanna around his hand after looking at it.
'You said it yourself,' Pizuzou mocked. 'You must become an outcast. No church, no affiliation for you little one.'
Emmanuel bowed his head, tears streaking his cheeks.
He went to the broken main door, and as the fire spread to the main vestry, Emmanuel left.
Nothing left for him.
No hope.
A broken faith.
Only a priest.
An exorcist.
A Savior.
Romania, Later that Night…
Seven figures sat around a large wooden table. The darkness masks their identity. Come closer, they won't see you.
"It has begun," a lustful woman's voice said.
"Yes, the Day of Judgment is set," a thickly accented voice said.
The one at the head of the table stood and raised its wine glass. "And may no mortal intervene!"
A/N: An idea I kicked around after writing several stories. Approaching upon ideas after watching and reading Catholic based materials and playing MGS I saw the possibilities.
Disclaimer: Emmanuel Cortez and the shadowy figures are the only things I own. I do not own the Exorcist, 'Salems Lot, MGS or any other thing I draw upon. Contains rude humor, sexual innuendos, and of course bad naughty language.
Next Chapter: After ten years on the road. Emmanuel has made a name for himself among the Underworld as a demon hunter and exorcist, even after his excommunication from the church. While on a routine mission, he is abducted and brought to a U.S. agency known as FOXHound. Here he is given the details on a group of cultists who wish to bring about the end of the world with a Metal Gear.
Thanks to Shardclaw for always inspiring me to write more, don't worry your favorite story is next on my plate.