Priest: Taking the Hood

The New Arrival

Late Autumn, 1988, at an undisclosed wooded area of Switzerland, a group of young hunters are being trained; these teens will be the next line of defense for mankind from the beasts of burden that hide within the shadows.

The crisp cool air bit into the flesh of even the most hardened man, feeling like needles running through even the well-garbed skin. The collage of yellow and orange leaves mostly lay upon the ground and far from the place they once hung.

This group has been passing down these training secrets since well before for Christ walked the Earth. Only the strongest would live to see graduation; unlike the fictional tales, the teachers were just as brutal if not more so than what was hunted. No romantic notions of gratitude or fame floated in the minds of the youth, but more a monk-like duty to serve mankind and God by risking life and limb to cleanse the planet of the unholy plague that rampaged the nights with its uncontrollable hunger for blood.

Most of the youth were sparring with one and another; some were facing one attacker, while others were fending off three or four aggressors. There was one. One that stood out among them all. The boys that faced him had timid looks on their faces and nervous reactions to any small advancement that he made. He was not a cruel boy or any larger than anyone, but more disciplined and far more accurate than the rest. The four were doing their best to encircle him, hoping to catch him off guard, something they all understood to be an unlikely feat - for they had never seen another student knock him off of his feet.

In the distance was instructors taking note of every cadet's performance. From time to time they would glance over at Aden's area, but other than a shaken head and the occasional smirk at the other's feeble attacks, they paid him little attention, because he was sure to have the usual outcome - everyone else laying about huffing for air as he looked over the laughable lot.

Aden always strived to help his fellow trainees develop their skills when asked, but most were too proud. He remembered an old Scottish adage that one of the scribes had once told him, " Never catch a fallen knife or friend." It is best for someone to hit bottom and admit to themselves that help is needed - before it is safe to offer. The scribes were wise men that were not just scholars of the dead languages but were also lethal protectors of the knowledge that they had gathered throughout time.

The first young man lunged at Aden to find his lungs winded by the blow he took to his gut, the blow that continued into him being grabbed by the head with Aden's free hand, one swift set of motions that sent him sailing overhead and slamming to the ground that was facing Aden's back.

He remained hunkered with his back exposed to the three that remained. Two of them sprung to action, headed for opposite sides of him, hoping that one of them would land a kick to his ribs, finding themselves kicking each other as he bound backward. Both boys were baffled to where he had vanished until his foot met the back of the knee of one and was used as a springboard for him to jump and knock the other on the side of the head with a reverse roundhouse. Upon landing he blasted the one he used as a springboard on the side of the temple with his fist, knocking him out - cold.
He stood up to face his final foe to see the young man look glum.

"Want to learn how to do that last kick I did?"

His sparring partner nodded his head. This boy seemed a bit younger than the rest and a bit smaller. Aden went on to show the boy how to do the same kick by springing off of a tree. The boy's attempts were sad at the start, but with Aden's patient explanations and demonstrations, the boy's moves began to more and more take shape.

A crack of thunderstruck from the center of the area designated for today's training: In actuality, it was Griffen slamming his hands into a cupped clap. The alpha of alphas, he was six foot five, 250 pounds of lean muscle. Even in his more advanced age - 45 - he was a force of nature more fierce than any that you would want to happen upon in a dark alley. He had not always been the cream of the crop, but since the falling of Priest, he was the end to all when it came to killing evil. With a swirl of his finger in the air, all the trainees and trainers came to full attention in front of him. No word was needed all knew what was expected.