Into the Flames of Veinica

by VanG Ziggy ZA

A few months after the Factory unsuccessfully attempted to kill her, Robin must now deal with a nutjob with powers that could be even greater than her own! Story to be updated late Summer '06!

9. Inferno of War

WITCH HUNTER ROBIN: Inferno of War

Okay it's the third of September, and I go to my relative's house tomorrow, so I think I'll try and begin to write the ninth chapter. I don't know if I'll finish it tonight, but hopefully I'll have it in time to submit at least before if not on the 8th of September.

Robin sat in a chair, watching the television, trying to come to grips with what had just happened earlier today. It was hard to understand that Raven's Flat was gone, and harder still to believe that the entire STN-J was back together. Well almost all of them; Michael was still in a coma but at least the doctors had decided what to do with him now. The computer boy would lose his right side, having it replaced with mechanical devices almost all the way up to his neck. Michael would have a fit, but at least he would be alive.

It hadn't taken long Amon to retake control of leadership of the STN-J's hunters, Karasuma grudgingly stepping aside as the "boss". So except for their headquarters, everything seemed to be back to normal.

"We need a plan of attack," Amon said, reading the constantly flowing reports as they came in. After the attack had been brought to an end, he had been wearing the same grim frown he had one right now.

Nagira had provided them with a new war room, not as high tech as what they were used to, but it would do for now. The bright afternoon sun shone in on them, highlighting their clothes and hair.

"Right now we've got to get our bearings together," Karasuma said. "We're short handed, and have little ammo, unless I've missed something."

"If we do not do something right now, we're only giving Motokita a chance to regroup and launch a bigger attack," the gothic man snapped back, pounding his fist on the table.

"Puh-lease," Karasuma snapped. "He's got all his available men fighting the police force and the Factory. How could he possibly have any more men to spare?"

"Something's not right," Robin said, looking at the group.

Kosaka looked at her with bright eyes and frowned, "What do you mean, Robin?"

"How is it that this Yakuza boss has so many people at his command? Wouldn't he need every crime boss under his command to pull something like that off?"

"We're pretty much certain that he does," Amon said.

"Even with all of them, it still seems like he has too many men at his disposal," the girl said.

Doujima giggled and patted Robin on her head, "Don't worry so much, okay? We have you here now, so there won't be too much trouble in defeating Motokita anymore."

"Except we still have to deal with the American hunter as well," Sasaki said. "We can't forget about her."

"No doubt that she's here in Japan by now," Nagira said. "I've talked to Harry, and he's been trying to find out more info about her for us."

A phone rang, and Doujima picked up her cell phone and answered it. They stood there and listened, and then hung up their phones, their faces deep and sorrowful.

"This war has just increased," Doujima said her eyes wet with tears. "The mafia is attacking our European facilities, my parents were killed."

They stared at her for a long time, none of them knowing what to say to comfort her. The eighteen year old dropped to her knees and started to weep bitterly, the aura of the room growing thicker with shadows and cool breezes, as if her parents' spirits had come to the room to watch their daughter in her despair.

"This is why we have to strike as soon as we possibly can," Amon snapped, pounding his fist on the table.

"And we'll end up just like Doujima's parents for all our efforts," Karasuma snarled right back at him. "We can't run around pretending to be cowboys and cowgirls, like you and your brother like to be."

"Hey, now wait a minute," Nagira said, shooting to his feet.

"This is pointless," Kosaka shouted. Everyone had seen him angry at one point and time since they met him, but nothing like he was now, rage and Hell's fury pouring over his body. "Fighting amongst ourselves will do nothing but weaken our position, and give the Yakuza what they need to bury us."

"We have the high ground now," Sasaki said, pointing at Robin. "Her powers have grown, and we have Amon back with us, so that should give us the edge we need to finish this," he stopped and looked at Doujima, still crying on the floor. "At least here in Japan."

"Except I'm sure that Motokita somehow knew Robin and I was still alive, and I'm equally sure he has a back up plan with dealing with us."

"Let's not forget that these attacks have been kind of at random as well," Nagira said. "They were probably aimed with trying to make you two show yourselves before you were really ready to do so."

Robin, now kneeling by the tearful Doujima, looked up at the man, her eyes growing with sudden understanding. "They brought in the helicopters knowing that I was here, knowing that we were here."

Amon jerked as he looked at her and looked down at his feet, cursing his blindness to the situation. "They didn't just want to flush you out, they wanted to know how strong you had gotten, what you could do or couldn't do."

"And we played right into their hands," Kosaka said with a sigh.

"And Michael, and Doujima's parents and dozens of others are paying for it," Karasuma groaned, placing a hand on her face.

Kin looked down at his shoes and sighed, "Then that's that, the only way the Yakuza could estimate what we would do, before we did it, is that someone in the STN-J or perhaps in Solomon in the whole, is giving them information."

"Or they're part of the Yakuza," Sasaki said.

"Which means," the young eighteen year old said, her eyes moist with her tears, and forcing words past sobs, "that Motokita, is probably not the one calling the shots."

"A puppet, using puppets to get some shadow master's job done," Nagira said. "It's a maze, within a maze, within an enigma, wrapped in a riddle."

Amon looked up at his older half brother and frowned, "What are you, some kind of D.C. comic book villain?"

Nagira looked at his brother and shook his head, "I've never been one to dress in horrible green with question marks," he chuckled. "I prefer to think of myself as a Japanese Bruce Wayne."

"Except you've never been one to dress in black either," his brother said raising an eyebrow.

"I didn't say I was brooding Batman, that's your department, I just said that . . ."

"All right, enough," Karasuma said. Her voice bounced off of the walls and everyone stared at her with shocked expressions. "We need to stop with the childish come backs and one-liners and focus on how we're going to survive this!"

"We need to do more than just survive this Karasuma," Amon said. "We have to end this, or the world is going to get swallowed up in madness."

"It seems like our fate to expose controversy and government conspiracies to light," Robin said, lowering her head.

"I don't believe in fate," Karasuma said.

"Maybe its time you started to," Kin replied.

Kosaka looked at the group and crossed his arms. "Very well, I've made up my mind."

They turned and looked at him. "Sir?" Sasaki asked.

"With our hand forced, and Robin and Amon coming back into the framework, we've gone on the offensive, we've pushed back a small fraction, perhaps even a medium sized fraction," he turned and looked at Kin, inquiring without saying a word. The former Japanese police officer shrugged and shook his head. "We've pushed back a fraction of Motokita's force then, at any rate. Tokyo's police force is battling along side with the Factory with Motokita's other troops. I can't say what Solomon will do about this attack in the European front, but history says that those who back off of the offensive, once they've entered it, end in the trash heap. I personally do not want to be dumped into the trash."

"The best place we could strike, or investigate is the Opera House again," Kin said. "We never did catch him there, thanks to the shadow throwing monkey wrenches in our gears, but I've got a strong hunch there's more about that building than just singing going on there."

"We all know that," Amon said, and then looked down at the paperwork on this mental witch who controlled the Yakuza so completely. He'd been brought up to date with who they were tracking long before he and Robin revealed themselves, thanks to Michael's coded email to him.

"How funny that a man who supposedly supplies funds to war orphans can so openly and arrogantly snub his face in order, and declare war on the innocent," Doujima snapped; her eyes hard and bitter. "I'm going to love frying his testicles over a hot open flame and laughing at his agony."

"Heat not a furnace for yourself so hot, that it do singe yourself," Kin said. Everyone looked at him and blinked. The officer smiled and shrugged. "Shakespeare, King Henry VIII."

"Nice to know we have an actor in our mists," Karasuma taunted bitterly. "But what good will that do us?"

"Hot heads will get us no where, and those who want revenge will only find sorrow," the young witch, holding the young hunter, said. The eyes of the room turned on her and she smiled. "Robin Sena, Nagira's office." They looked at her, and slowly one by one they began to laugh.

When they were done, Robin helped Doujima to her feet, and brought her back to the table. Amon looked at her and nodded, as if to say, good work, and then turned his gaze on all of them.

"Okay, I think it's safe to say that we all needed that," he said, eyeing Karasuma particularly as he spoke, daring her to dispute him. When she didn't, he continued speaking. "I'll also admit that it would be a fools' gambit to rush in with guns blazing, but we are going to have to bring this conflict to an end before we're all swallowed by shadows."

"I still don't like this," Karasuma finally managed to say.

"No one is asking you to," Amon shot back quickly. "But it's something that has to be done."

"So then what's first?" Doujima asked.

"With Michael out of it, for a little while anyway, we're going to need another hacker, or at least someone with decent computer skills, and an aptitude for research."

"Where are we going to find someone like that?" Sasaki asked. "I mean, we can't possibly clone Michael, and expect it to be mature in the time that we need it to be."

"We won't need to," Amon said. The group continued to stare at him, the silence in the room thick and unbearable. "Harry has connections with certain individuals in the States, as well as in other countries. He knows a certain individual who might be useful to us."

"So then there's another Michael out there?" Sasaki asked, in mocked shocked emotion.

Amon smiled agitatedly, "In so many words, yes. But this individual is much more than just a computer whiz, and a researcher." Anther bit of uneasy quietness filled the room before Amon mercifully broke it, "He's a water witch, who's fought the hunter."

"And he lived? What, she wasn't interested in killing him, or he's that strong?" Kosaka asked.

"From what I gather, he wasn't her main target, she had no idea he was what he was, until he used his abilities to help the people she was attacking."

"So in short, she got caught off guard, and he got lucky," Nagira said. His brother looked at him and nodded his head.

"But that does not make him weak, his abilities from what I gather and considerable, no where near a match for Robin, and probably not that much a match in the long run against the hunter, I was told she was also attacked by a young girl who was also a witch, whose mother the hunter had killed." Amon could sense the shock in the air and raised a hand, "I have no idea where the girl is, but she's younger than Robin. As to the extent of what she can do, I don't know. But this American witch might be the key we need in turning the pendulum the other way, toward our enemies."

"Unless they know about him, and our interest in him," Doujima said.

"Which is why, you and Sasaki are going to the Tokyo Airport and wait for him to come to you, and bringing him back here," Amon said with a large cat like smile on his face.

"Say what?" the two hunters asked, rising to their feet.

"Harry's connections are getting the man out of the predicament he's in right now as we speak, and are getting a flight to Japan."

"And we know he'll agree to come here, how?" Sasaki asked.

Once again Amon smiled that cat like grin, "He's an Otaku, a big anime fan. Never been to a convention before, but the chance of going to the country where it all started is like a dream come true for him."

Nagira chuckled until tears came to his eyes. "Let me guess, he thinks he's won a trip to some kind of anime studio or something, right?"

Amon said nothing as he stared at his brother, his eyes narrowing. "What of it?"

"And he'll agree to help us out, once he's learned that we've tricked him, why?" Karasuma snapped.

"I'm no Zaizen," Kosaka said with a sly smile, "but leave those details to me. I'll find some way to convince him."

"And if Michael recovers," Karasuma began.

"He will recover," Robin snapped.

The older woman looked at her for a long time and then shrugged. "When Michael recovers, then what are we going to do with this American?"

"Their combined skills will only help us out of the mess that we're in," Amon said with a shrug. "Any other questions?"

"We know what Doujima and Sasaki are going to do, but what about the rest of us?" Kin asked.

"You and Karasuma can investigate your Opera House theory," Amon said. "Get a feel of the place, and of the people who work there, but change clothes and keep a low profile, we don't want Motokita too suspicious. Robin and I will do what we can for the Factory without revealing ourselves to the police units in the other combat zones." He turned to his brother, "You have your doctors get Michael back on his feet as fast as they can," and then turned to his director. "What ever you can think of to do, Director Kosaka, will be much appreciated."

The director smiled and stroked his chin. "I think I can pull some strings so the officers at the front have no questions for your and Robin's intervention on our behalf, and I can call in some favors so this American witch can come through here without having to deal with customs too much."

"Good, then now that we know what all our jobs are, let's get too it." Amon went to walk out the door, paused and turned to Doujima and Sakaki, "Bring in some files on Motokita and the Yakuza, and get a wireless laptop with you when you get the American, so he can get to work."

One by one they left the room, each one knowing their mission, each knowing what was at stake. They were on the offensive now, and with luck, they'd stay there. But none of them knew that darkness was everywhere, none knew that the devil's agents were keeping an eye, even here in this small office, in the form of a small glass dove that a beautiful agent had given to Nagira as a gift.

Pope Land II sat on his bed, staring at the small television before him, watching wars and rumors of wars, famine, plague, and every kind of suffering imaginable and unimaginable to human mind race through the screens. He sighed sadly and put his head in his hands. St. Malachy, an Irish mystic had prophesized that soon the Papacy, and Rome, along with the world would end by the twenty first century, the last two popes being the one of the olive branch, and the last named Peter II. Fr. Juliano, now pope Lando II was a Benedictian, their mark being the olive branch, and he very narrowly decided to call himself Pope Benedict XVII, but hoping to overturn the prophesy, and teach young members of his faith their history, named himself after the first Lando.

Now he was no longer sure if what he had done or even his acceptance to this role was appropriate. Evil seemed to be everywhere, it seemed to claw its way into public life, and reveal its horrid head. No one doubted it existed anymore; fanatics burned poor people who didn't believe as they did, or were born different than what was "deemed" acceptable; to death, or bombed buildings. The name of God, which was supposed to mean a feeling of peace and tranquility, was being used in the order of chaos and disruption, and darkness. And what was more; it was pushing good people away from faith, and slipping them into another avenue of darkness. When Fr. Juliano heard the word faith, it no longer meant peace and love, but war and hate. It no longer belonged to God, but to the Devil.

Was his role truly to usher in the reign of the anti-Christ? To be the last message of hope before Peter the Roman brought the people of the world safely to the harbor, away from the storm? And the question then became, if that was true, how many people in the world would be left to bring to safety? How many people would openly reject the goodness of God and embracing this ever growing evil as their faith, either because they wanted gold, or through despair of life? There was no doubt, evil was winning the war, and the earth was hinged on a very dangerous tight rope hanging over the grave. How many people can I convince to follow the light before my soul leaves for its judgment and hopefully reward?

The elderly pope's shoulders sagged and he wept, the images of death, despair and destruction flashing before his eyes. Desperately he clutched onto his Rosary and prayed for the strength to continue running the race, for hours. When he felt he could no longer continue through his meditation, he set down the simple white beaded meditation string down, and lay in bed, letting sleep overtake him.

In the early morning he rose and said three more rosaries, giving each petal of the "rose garden" special attention to his Heavenly Mother, and then set it down, feeling refreshed and strengthened for a new day. And it was in that second of total relaxed emotions that a scene appeared before him, where he was standing on a ship made of wood hundreds of refuges escaping an army of darkness and their large fleets, bombing them at each side. Then as he watched, he was hit, died, rose from the dead, and lead the ship a second time, before handing the wheel of command to a very young Roman boy, perhaps no more than eighteen or nineteen, before he died yet again.

Then there was a second scene that flashed through his mind. He was standing in a large building, almost like a Congress building, thousands of priests, bishops, cardinals, even nuns were around all from various orders, listening to his words, some happy, many bitter and darkly angry as he called for new reforms, and a mission to build the Church in the customs of both the Old and the New, to allow the Mass to return to the way it had been before Vatican II, to make no qualms about the fact that priests were to stay celibate, and that only men would be allowed into the priesthood, but also to accept certain new ideas, nothing that would break the Church's standing on anything substantial, but in allowing the "mutants" rights in the eyes of the Church.

Then there was a voice, "What you have just seen is what will lead to the vision before it, you must be prepared to great agony and discomfort. A war the likes the world has never seen before will soon erupt on our planet and you must help lead my children into the arms of my Son, your Savior, so that the prince of this world will not corrupt their souls."

Pope Lando II knew who he was hearing, even though he had never seen her or heard her voice before today. He was listening to the words of the Virgin Mary. Being a man of science, Mary's virginity was one of the things he had the hardest time believing, and yet as years passed, and Robin came into existence, as well as dozens of new witches, he began to examine his skepticism and come to peace with it, not fully surrendering, but at least living with it with a truce.

"There is one more thing, my child that you must see, for it is important to your granddaughter to know," she said, her voice tender and soothing. "And no, my child, this vision is not a result of your love of brandy." She laughed, her tone as tender as a mother who was slightly amused, and yet a little embarrassed at something her two year old had said.

A new vision came into his mind, billions of soldiers, dressed in lavender and red standing at attention to some shadowy figures, who glared down at them like false gods, stood ready to doing their masters' unholy biddings. Juliano knew that these soldiers were hunters, all of them or witches trained as hunters. They listened to the silent orders of their masters and then began pumping their fists in the air, shouting "Hail Veinica, Hail Veinica, all hail the glory that are the Holy Archons the prophets of the angel, Puruel!" Behind this demonic army was a large banner, with a massive angel wings as large as a jet liners, bearing a mighty sword of flames. Juliano knew his angelology, and he knew that this thing wasn't the devil, but what or which angel it might be was a mystery. But what frightened him the most, was that the angel in the banner seemed alive, and very aware that someone was watching this unholy parade of vile. Its eyes glowed red and it growled, as it searched for the intruder.

And then the vision was over, and Juliano stood blinking his eyes and clutching his chest. He knew then, as if he ever had any doubt, that there was a God; such a vision of evil would have killed him without divine intervention. True, Mary had been the one to guard him, but she couldn't have done anything without the aide of her son, Jesus.

"I am not allowed to answer you questions as to whom these people are, my child, or as to the true identity of the angel, though my Son is keeping him in check with all the power of Heaven. But if mankind is allowed to fall under the shadow of this threat, they will surely embrace this darkness, and you and the Church will suffer like you have never done before.

"Mother," Juliano asked, his voice shaking, "is this creature truly an angel, or that of the vintage of Satan?"

"He was the last to fall from grace, my child," her voice said, her words slowly growing softer. "He was charged with guarding Paradise, but denied his post and was sent into the flames of ever lasting punishment. He is not Satan, but if he succeeds, as does his followers, then the power of Satan will be unleashed, crushing both saint and sinner in flames. You must pray daily, you must not falter; our Heavenly Lord has given you this post for this reason. The truth will be revealed, and His will, will be accomplished, but many will suffer hardship if the dark shadow of Puruel falls. The hunters must be vanquished."

"The hunters?" Juliano frowned, "You mean the Witch Hunters? Solomon?" there was no response. "Madre Maria," he called out, but still no response. Juliano, Pope Lando II was alone yet again. He swallowed and stiffened his body. "I'm not sure what you wish, Lord, but Your will be done. This, Puruel, and his dark band of human followers will not be allowed to destroy the world as long as I can help it."

The pope strode to his desk and sat down, taking out blank pieces of paper. He began to write down what he had seen, and then sealed it in an envelope, locking it back in his desk. Next he wrote down a second note and again sealed it, this one directed to his successor, which would tell him to read the note, and act on it, if he, himself could not before he died. Then taking numerous requests and informational papers he had gotten from bishops and cardinals from around the world he began reading, studying the issues, praying with extreme intensity as to what he would be doing. After many years of calls for it, there would finally be a third Vatican Council.

The shadow watched with just as much intensity as the pope worked, and as the STN-J scattered through their missions, and it chuckled. It wasn't the most powerful force in the Council of Ganesha, but it did lead Project Phoenix, and was a devoted follower of Puruel … well not as devoted as the American hunter was, but devoted enough.

But too many incidents had already happened to make it worried. That damn fool Motokita only did half the job, smoking out Robin and Amon, but not killing them, and its fellow council members, the Archons, or Holy Archons, or of course the Council of Ganesha, were losing patience with its delays. And the shadow was losing patience with Motokita. It scoffed at his ridiculous ambitions, the new emperor of Japan, fool! Once Puruel was released there would be no emperor of anything, until the angel deemed it so.

And speaking of religion, this new development with the pope was highly disturbing. The shadow had no idea what had possessed the old man, to whom he spoke, or what kind of work he was doing now, and that angered the shadow more than anything else. It was not a person who like being left in the dark.

The mysterious owner of the twin crimson eyes began to pace back and forth across its penthouse suite. What to do, what to do? It now knew the powers that Robin could call forth; it knew the pope would not allow himself to play the old beggar, waiting for his grandchild to come to his aide. There was no longer any holding back their plans, and that was a damn shame, for the next scenario, the one that should have begun two months from now would have to be enacted as soon as possible, not to mention that it could no longer count on that fool Yakuza lord to do anything right.

A long slender finger tapped its owner's chin and the shadow stood in thought. The council had given it absolute authority to do whatever it had to do with the crime lord witch. What the shadow wanted to do with it, was kill him off right here and now, but then, it still needed him, for just a little while longer.

Then an idea hatched in the twisted figure's mind and it smiled. Picking up the phone it dialed Solomon's headquarters, and gave them a unique gift, one that only fate should have given them. After that phone call the shadow tracked down the hunter, who was waiting, as was instructed, in Osaka, Japan, and gave her strict new orders. As soon as it had done that, it left its home and went to an evening dinner, secure in the knowledge that it had done all it could do for the cause.

The hunter licked her chops as she hung up her phone. Finally, after all this waiting, a hunt! And not any hunt, but the hunt! She wasn't sure what her superiors had meant by not killing the devil child quiet yet, just test her powers, but if it was the will of Puruel, the servant and right hand agent of the Lord God, thus being His will, then she would obey.

The young woman knelt in prayer for hours before the statue of her patron angel, her heart racing, and her mind straining to focus on her meditations. She could hardly contain herself from smiling; finally she was going to kill one of Satan's strongest minions, and bring peace to the innocent who were threatened by the girl's shadow, but her very existence. Created by SCIENCE! How obscene! The hunter knew that this creature had to be destroyed, that it was destined to be destroyed just as Lucifer was destined to lose his war and fall forever in the flames of hell. Soon paradise would be upon the world, the Garden of Veinica would be rebuilt, and people would live under the just rule of God's agent, just as it had meant to be before Adam and Eve had listened to the serpent and rebelled against Puruel in the first place. That rebellion that had launched the birth of the vile and sinful Republic, then Empire, and finally the greatest of all the devil's tricks, church of Rome.

But that would all be undone in a series of years from now, starting with the defeat of Robin Sena and the assassination of the pope. She felt sad a little, tears rolling down her eyes. Hunting was all she knew ever since she was discovered by that man, when she was seven years old, forced to fight in those dreadful pits.

Everyone was jealous of her gift, had hated her for it, her family blamed her for something, but her mind would not allow her to remember it, so it must have been their own fault at what had happened. No one up until that fateful day had given her the time of day, and she was moved from house to house, family to family, and facility to facility to be studied and poked and prodded.

But that holy man had discovered her, and brought her out of the shadows, and taught her how to control her powers given to her by the right hand of God himself! Powers that were meant to judge the sinful and make way for an empire of peace and mercy. That's what she had been taught. And she gleefully did her job well, executing those who's dark, hellish gifts would have corrupted mankind's innocence, their purity of race that God had given them and that Puruel had bestowed to guard for eternity.

After her prayers, the hunter went to bed, and slept for the first time since she could remember, her smile never leaving her lips, the mind of her opponent never leaving her thoughts. Robin Sena, Robin Sena, the "devil's child". I'm not coming for you dear . . . I'm already here.

Man this took me a long time to write! It's the 25th of September as I write this. Anywho this should answer some questions, and perhaps leave a lot more to be answered! And damn could I have made this hunter even more messed up! I don't see how. Yet don't think you know all about her just yet, cuss there's a lot more to this nutcase than just the crusty wooden shell. Oh, yeah, I know, I said I'd wait for somebody or at least the majority of you to say what you thought of my character, Kris Anderson, before adding him to the story some more, but with Michael in a coma, and the STN-J short handed, I knew they needed some more resources, so I force volunteered him, er me, um, well you know what I mean LOL. Oh, and I hope all this religious talk isn't bothering anyone, but since Robin and Fr. Juliano are both Catholic, and I myself am one, it played a dominate role in the story.

Now to reviews:

Lynx: Well so far I only have your review of my last two chapters, so you're the only one to mention this chapter. Kool, I'm glad that I made your day by uniting them. I was going to wait until chapter ten, but for some reason they really wanted to come out and play, so there they were. And as for your wish to see the hunter and Robin clash, well, they're not going to get into any fights just yet, but they do meet next chapter, so stay tuned!