Faith: The Unholy Trinity Oneshots

𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙎𝘼𝙆𝙀𝙉 𝘽𝙔 𝙂𝙊𝘿; 𝘾𝙇𝘼𝙄𝙈𝙀𝘿 𝘽𝙔 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘼𝙉𝙏𝙄𝘾𝙃𝙍𝙄𝙎𝙏

[WARNINGS: BODY HORROR & VIOLENCE]
[1148 WORDS]
[JOHN WARD, FATHER GARCIA & GARY MILLER]
[ANGST(?)]

Father Garcia felt that he arrived just in time. John was laying on the ground, passed-out, blood oozing from his wounds and crucifix out of reach. He rushed over to the younger priest, kneeling and setting his shotgun on the ground and shaking the man awake. As John awoke, muttering confusedly, he weakly pushed himself up. Father Garcia helped him sit up, then to stay up as he almost tipped onto his back. John gazed around, stopping on the older man. His confusion slipped into gratefulness, and he chuckled.

"Another man of God is with me." He muttered, sounding dazed, "Thank the Lord... I'm finally not alone."

Father Garcia felt a slight twinge of guilt for the younger man. He'd been all alone this whole time, fighting Unspeakable horrors left-and-right? He gave a curt nod.

"Of course, hijo." He said, "I am Father Garcia. It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Pleasure is all mine, Father." John said.

Father Garcia helped John stand, picking up his shotgun along the way, slinging one of the younger's arms over his shoulders. The younger man gently pushed him away, stumbling on his feet for a moment before steadying. He took a deep breath, then looked at Father Garcia.

"There's no time." He said, "The Profane Sabbath is closing in quickly. We must hurry."

The older man was taken aback to see him recover from his imbalance so quickly, but he nodded nonetheless.

"You're right, hijo. Let us go." He said.

The two men (the older in front of the younger) quickly left the room, making their way through empty crimson hallways. There was barely any light, making it hard to see, but Father Garcia slowly felt John taking the lead, as if he could see through the dark. At one point, he even had to tell him to slow down. John appeared impatient. Father Garcia understood -- the Profane Sabbath was upon them, and their time was short -- so he did his best to hurry.

They soon came across a large, mostly dark room. The only lights that illuminated the priests' path were large fire braziers, with coal-black pews where hundreds of robed cultists sat. John looked back at Father Garcia.

"We're close." He said, "We must hurry!"

Then, the younger man started speed-walking down the red and black carpeted path.

"Wait, John!" Father Garcia whisper-shouted after him.

He growled to himself, then followed him.

When the two men were a fourth of the way there, a booming voice made them stop.

"A riddle, priest." A low, rumbly voice spoke, "How do you make a portal to hell?"

They were confused (at least Father Garcia was; he didn't know how John felt), but the younger man grabbed his arm and forced the older man to continue forward. His grip was tough as iron, and Father Garcia knew that he was already bruising.

"Dios mio, John. Let me go." He commanded.

After a moment, where it really seemed like the younger man hesitated, he was let go. They didn't go much further when the voice boomed again.

"Sometimes, it waits for the one who has already walked through it."

The priests continued forward, but once again, were stopped.

"Sometimes, it opens itself in the deepest, darkest room where nobody can find it."

The next time the men moved, they could barely see the outline of a man in a red robe. They stopped upon hearing the voice, seeing the man lifting his head to speak.

"And sometimes, it comes walking right up to you." He said.

Finally, when the two priests approached, Father Garcia in the front again, the man was fully visible. He looked up at them, smirking.

"Hello John, Rogelio, it's nice to finally meet you both." He said.

Father Garcia was surprised to hear his first name come from the cult leader's mouth, but the shock quickly wore off. He raised his shotgun at the man's head.

"We're not here to talk, demonio." The older priest snapped, "It's time to finish what we started."

The man laughed. He looked past the old man, seemingly looking at someone else.

"Detrahe eum."

Father Garcia quickly turned, ready to confront a dozen acolytes, but was taken by surprise when he saw a blue blurr tackle him. He used his shotgun to keep the person back, eyes wide in disbelief. John was on top of him, pushing against the gun, eyes narrowed. There was a reddish glint in them, and he automatically assumed that a demon had taken his body.

"Hijo! Fight against the demon! We can banish it and defeat this malvado!" He yelled desperately.

John scoffed, now smirking. "What makes you think I want to?"

Father Garcia winced like a knife cut into his chest, taken aback by the response. He was finally able to push the younger man away, rolling over and standing. He was hesitant to point the shotgun at John, which allowed him to jump at him and grab his face. Father Garcia turned his gun and jabbed it into the younger man's waist. He yelped and backed away.

"But why?" The older man asked, "Why did you stray from God's light? Why did you allow yourself to be possessed by a demon?"

"I didn't stray from God!" John snapped, "He abandoned me! He left me to suffer! It's all His fault that I'm here, in this Goddamned place, fighting demons and taking on more than I can handle."

The younger man chuckled. "Thanks to Gary, I am FREE!"

Suddenly, the man's face started to become distorted. Jagged teeth grew all around his face, his cheeks tore open to allow room for a larger mouth, filled by more teeth. A long, red, pointed tongue jutted out of his mouth, flinging saliva, and his eyes went dark. Well, eye -- his right eye was gone, replaced by a gaping red hole with more jagged teeth jutting out. Blood coated his face now, flowing freely from his exit wounds.

Father Garcia was horrified. John laughed laughed at his expression, slowly approaching the older man.

"ALU AND I ARE NOW ONE. TWO MINDS, TWO BEINGS, ONE SINGULAR FOCUS." He hissed, voice also distorted, "AND NOW, OUR FOCUS IS KILLING YOU."

"En el nombre del Padre, del Hijo y del Espíritu Santo, you will not kill me here." Father Garcia spat, "I will perceiver, and you will feel the wrath of the Almighty. I am sorry, hijo, but you left me no choice."

"THEN LET US GET ON WITH IT." John laughed, "I WILL TEAR YOU LIMB FROM LIMB BEFORE YOUR GOD HAS A CHANCE TO SEE YOUR POOR ATTEMPT AT BATTLE!"

Father Garcia prayed in his mind that he could maybe (just maybe) save John from Alu, Gary, and whatever Unholy abominations are influencing him.

After he finished, he took a breath, and pulled the trigger.