The quaking continued until a door right of the altar was flung open. With some difficulty, a monster of a man squeezed his way through it. He was easily around ten feet tall, and his muscles looked almost ready to tear right through his tanned skin. His comically small head was bald on top, but had a very fluffy white beard. He was wearing a sort of sash and a pair of ill-fitting pants, and a priest's collar, but otherwise nothing else. Tattooed on every conceivable surface on his body were Bible scriptures, prayers, and Latin phrases. It was hard to believe he was Menniker's dad, but indeed he was.
"WHO IS DISRESPECTING THE FATHER'S HOUSE?" he bellowed. No one dared answer back. He pulled two full-size miniguns (that is, the kind that should be mounted on aircraft) from under the altar, easily wielding one in each hand. "SOMEONE TELL ME OR I START SHOOTING!"
"um…it was us," Vasquez said, very quietly, her former bossy demeanor thrown to the wind to uphold the virtue of survival. "We'll pay for it. We'll even fix it ourselves!" she pleaded.
"HMMM…NOPE, I THINK I'LL JUST START SHOOTING," replied Menniker's dad, and that's exactly what he did. Menniker grabbed Raille's arm and took cover. Twitch stood, soaking in the ensuing carnage. The three intruders ducked and ran. Vasquez offered a "this won't be the last of us" but her voice was lost in the metallic ring of minigun fire. It didn't stop until well after the three had already gone out the door and were halfway back to headquarters.
"Way to give 'em hell, dad!" shouted Menniker, emerging with Raille from his hiding spot.
"NO, SON," replied his dad, "I GAVE 'EM HEAVEN."
"It-seems-to-me-that-you-have-a-choice," Twitch said to Raille. "You-have-two-options. You-can-side-with-us-and-get-hunted-down-by-those-jerks-or-go-back-home-and-hope-we-don't-decide-to-kill-you-later." Raille frowned at him and took a seat, trying to weigh her options. Hadn't she always wanted to live an exciting life, away from the lap of luxury? Yes, but with a metal psychopath and a priest's drunkard son? Was it worth it?
"Yes," she finally said, more to herself than to the group. "I'm with you. I do have one request, though."
"What?" asked Twitch.
"I have a suit and some knives at home I'd like to get first. May I?"
"Only-if-we-come-with-you."
"Okay," she said. She didn't hesitate or seem disappointed, so Twitch was pretty sure she was sincere.
"Now-tell-us-exactly-who-you-are," said Twitch, "You-obviously-are-very-important-and-have-more-than-a-few-ties-to-Renraku."
Raille sighed. "I'm the daughter of Elsa Royale. She's a top inventor for Renraku's American headquarters. I let them use me as guinea pig," she subconsciously rubbed the base of her neck as she said this, "so they're probably pretty peeved at loosing me."
It all made sense now. The three said their goodbyes to Menniker's dad, and went out to the RV, ready for the trip to Raille's house. None of them noticed the shadowy figure that was sleeping in the back. Also, no one noticed the shadowy figure watching from a nearby rooftop. Not to mention the shadowy figure twenty-three blocks away, thirty stories up, sitting in a wheelchair. No one even gave him a thought.