Friday, August 16, 2013 – 12:02 PM EST – The Compound



There is a reason that I am Sebastian Duke's closest adviser. A reason I've become his Messenger. With the exception of that one time my judgment was clouded, I've always had his best interest at heart. I knew he'd be adamantly against this proposed plan. I also knew he'd ultimately agree to it. For Sebastian Duke, a man trying to change his ways in order to be a good role model for his yet unborn son, this must be seen as a step backward by him, as well as many others. I can assure you, it's not.


Pedophiles have been allowed into the Catholic Church for decades. Not only in the United States, but all over the world. Not only have they been allowed in, but once scandals emerged concerning men of the cloth committing atrocious acts against the impressionable youth, they've been quickly and quietly swept under the rug.


If the criminal justice system can not or will not do its job, then it has now fallen on the Brotherhood of the Illuminatus to give all those young men the justice they deserve. Admittedly, I almost feel as if I'm some kind of super hero. My face is hidden, but I don't wear a mask. Justice will be served, but none of them will serve time in prison. During this very inglorious mission, the darkness truly will be my best friend.


I now have a scheduled meeting with Matthew. My number one. Sebastian Dukes number two. We've acquired our first mark. Sebastian has kindly given me his office during this mission. I think he's in the 'I don't want to know' mindset at the moment.


But, I know Sebastian Duke.


That won't last long.


Zebras can't change their stripes, as they say.


No, give it time. I'd imagine the Angel of Darkness will want blood on his hands.


I walk into what is now, my office. Matthew sits on the near side. I take my place in Dukes chair.



THE MESSENGER: “So, what do we got?”

MATTHEW: “Our first mark.”

THE MESSENGER: “Where?”

MATTHEW: “Michigan. Traverse City, to be exact. There's a priest there. He was accused in 1998. I've hacked the Michigan state police mainframe and discovered they'd had some pretty hard evidence against him.”

THE MESSENGER: “That's what I don't get. These law enforcement officers. You know they have families. Children of their own. What if it was their child? Would they be so willing to just sweep it away and not pursue the case?”

MATTHEW: “In this case, they did. It was the judge that threw out the case at its first hearing. Just two weeks after the accusations were made.”

THE MESSENGER: “The family?”

MATTHEW: “Relocated.”

THE MESSENGER: “Who's the mark?”

MATTHEW: “Father Fitzgerald. You'll pick up a car outside of a gas station on Lansing Boulevard.”

THE MESSENGER: “What time do I leave?”

MATTHEW: “Ten minutes ago.”



The fuck we sitting here talking for!? I need to go!

---

Friday, August 16, 2013 – 6:14 PM EST – Traverse City, Michigan



The car I found awaiting me outside the gas station was a 1994 Pontiac Sunbird. A very wise choice for anyone entering this... line of work. I'll park a few blocks away in a car that blends in with working class America. I'll walk in, do my thing, and be out of town before sunrise.


As I enter the TA Travel Center on the interstate, I feel my phone vibrate.


It's a text message from Duke.



SEBASTIAN DUKE: “Where are you?”

THE MESSENGER: “A travel center.”

SEBASTIAN DUKE: “When does this... take place?”

THE MESSENGER: “Tonight. Around midnight.”

SEBASTIAN DUKE: “Then what?”

THE MESSENGER: “I come home.”

SEBASTIAN DUKE: “Don't get caught.”

THE MESSENGER: “I don't plan on it.”

SEBASTIAN DUKE: “I don't know many people from Michigan. If you get caught, getting you out may prove difficult.”

THE MESSENGER: “Understood. I'll be cautious.”

SEBASTIAN DUKE: “Good. Keep me updated on your movements.”

THE MESSENGER: “Definitely.”



I replace the phone into my pocket and head in to the travel center for a quick change of clothes. To be honest, I'm surprised Sebastian had already began taking interest in what we're doing. Then again, he was right. By doing what I'm doing, we're putting everything on the line.

---

Friday, August 16, 2013 – 9:37 PM EST – Traverse City, Michigan



I watch the man, and he doesn't even know I'm there. Throughout history, anyone in any profession, legal or otherwise, one of the first things you learn when you're tailing people, is that people are creatures of habit. Take your average Joe, for instance. He wakes up everyday before work at the same time. He stops at the same gas station for coffee on his way to work. He travels the exact same route to work that he drove yesterday, and the day before that. He'll travel the same one tomorrow, too. He arrives to work at the same time everyday. On his way home? The same thing. Same route, same stops, same everything.


In this line of work, it's what you call an easy target. A sitting duck. Father Fitzgerald is exactly that.


I stand here, dressed in black. Black paint covers my face. I stand amidst the shrubs peering into the windows of the old church. My mission stands on the other side of this wall. Just then, the phone in my pocket vibrates one time.


It's another text from Duke.



SEBASTIAN DUKE: “Have you accomplished your objective?”

THE MESSENGER: “Getting close.”

SEBASTIAN DUKE: “Get in, do it, get out.”

THE MESSENGER: “I've not yet been able to study him fully.”

SEBASTIAN DUKE: “It's getting late. If you see an opportunity to eliminate him, do it. Don't wait.”

THE MESSENGER: “I'll wait about another hour. If he's still here, I'll do it.”

SEBASTIAN DUKE: “Why not do it now?”

THE MESSENGER: “Because you're distracting me. Plus, someone else may be inside.”

SEBASTIAN DUKE: “Follow your gut. If you feel like you need to split, do it.”

THE MESSENGER: “As you wish.”

SEBASTIAN DUKE: “Thank you, Genie.”



Why the hell does he keep calling my “Genie?” Anyhow, I place my phone back in my pocket and I return to my reconnaissance.

---

Friday, August 16, 2013 – 11:53 PM EST – Traverse City, Michigan



Looming large in front of me, a near 100 year old church. Ironically named St. Sebastian. Father Fitzgerald indeed, was not alone tonight. I wait within the dark arched doorway for whomever is inside to come out. Meanwhile, I hope that only one exits, and not both. If they both exit, it puts the mission on hold.


Finally, I hear footsteps coming from inside the church. As they get closer, I straighten myself up against the wall. Trying to edge deeper into the darkness. As Sebastian Duke had taught us all, all these years, the darkness is our friend. Our best weapon.


The door opens and a middle aged lady steps out. She walks down the steps and I quietly step through the door before it closes. I lock the door and continue on into the chapel. My mark stands at the end, cleaning different fixtures. His back to me.


I walked quietly. Carefully, I measured my steps. Too fast, and I'd give myself away. Too slow, and I risked him finishing his little task and discovering me before I'm ready. I close in. Standing just six feet away, is my mark. Father Fitzgerald.


I pick up a large stainless steel candle stick. It's kind of heavy. It should do the trick. Father Fitzgerald continues cleaning different objects. I decide now, is the time.



THE MESSENGER: “If you clean them too much, you'll rub the enamel right off of them.”



I startled him. Precisely my plan. He turns to face me and back up against the wall.



FATHER FITZGERALD: “Wh-who are you?”

THE MESSENGER: “I could give you a false name, but I won't. Just call me, The Messenger.”

FATHER FITZGERALD: “Th-the Messenger? Of whom?”

THE MESSENGER: “In time, Father, I will tell you.”

FATHER FITZGERALD: “Wha-what is it you want?”

THE MESSENGER: “Your blood.”

FATHER FITZGERALD: “Wh-why would you want that?”

THE MESSENGER: “Do you remember that little boy the Church paid off?”



Silence.



THE MESSENGER: “I remember him, Father Fitzgerald. And for the last few minutes of your life, you will too.”

FATHER FITZGERALD: “HELLLLPP!”

THE MESSENGER: “If I were you, I wouldn't do that again. See, I'm willing to give you a choice.”

FATHER FITZGERALD: “A ch-ch-choice? Wha-what do you mean?”

THE MESSENGER: “Father Fitzgerald, we can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way. The easy way, is admitting what you've done, and I walk out of here with you knowing someone else knows.”

FATHER FITZGERALD: “Wha-what's the hard way?”

THE MESSENGER: “Quite simply, Father, you'll get to see those pearly gates much sooner than you anticipated.”



Admittedly, I'm kind of enjoying this. Of course, no matter what he chooses, he's a dead man. But, he doesn't know that.



FATHER FITZGERALD: “Fine! I admit it! Just puh-please. Don't hurt me!”

THE MESSENGER: “So, you admit that you touched that young man inappropriately?”

FATHER FITZGERALD: “Y-y-yes, sir!”

THE MESSENGER: “Did it make you feel like a man, Father? To take a young mans innocence away from him?”

FATHER FITZGERALD: “I-I won't make excuses. I did what I did, and I live with that guilt each and every day, sir.”



I step toward the priest. He backs himself into a corner. I tighten my leather gloves. I raise the candlestick high.



FATHER FITZGERALD: “No! Please, don't!”



Instead of bludgeoning him, I knee him in the groin and he drops like a sack of cement. I dive on top of him and hit him in the left side of his face with the heavy candlestick. Blood from his mouth and nose splatters against the wall. I toss the candlestick and whip out my knife and hold it against his throat with my right hand. Then I place my left hand over his mouth in order to silence what was about to come.



THE MESSENGER: “Father, you remember how I said I'd tell you who sent me?”



He nods vigorously.



THE MESSENGER: “I'm the Messenger, Father. I'm the Messenger of the Grand Master of the Illuminatus, himself.”



His eyes open wide.



THE MESSENGER: “The Angel of Darkness sends his regards!”



He begins to scream, but he's quiet silenced as a slice his neck from ear to ear, completely severing his jugular vein. His death will be quick. I stand as the man lays on the floor in a pool of his own blood. I bend down and wipe the blood off of my knife on the priests robe. I watch him expel his final breath before turning and making my exit.


As I walk down the steps, I decide to update Duke.



THE MESSENGER: “Mission complete.”

SEBASTIAN DUKE: “Good. Get the hell out of there and get back here.”



Fade to Darkness.