The Madness at Koresh Manor Part 11

They didn’t make it out of the cells along before the alarms in the building started to go off. Karalius did her job by taking out the people guarding her and them, but it was only a matter of time before they found the men knocked or dead. Raphael wasn’t sure how Karalius would handle her foes, but he guessed he was going to find out soon.

                “We have to get below,” Rain said. “I need to seal the gates to the Lesser One.”

                “Lesser One?” Karalius asked.

                “No time to explain,” Raphael said as the doors to the holding cells flew open, and few men came rushing in with high powered weapons. They raise their guns, and it was no longer time to hide what was under Raphael’s skin. He glanced over his shoulder ordering the other two, “Get below and I’ll find you.”

                They both nodded with Rain already flipping through his books. Before the armor bleed from space-rocks imbed in Raphael’s’ body a small portal open under Karalius and Rain’s feet pulling them below. He turns back to the men who more shock at his armor then the magical portal. He guessed they must have seen a lot of odd things in the days after joining the cult, but nothing like armor from space.

                The bullets taped him on the chest and face like annoying gnats unable to hurt him. He dashed at the men wondering why people always kept firing like the more the bullet hit him, the more likely they were to hurt. The few couple dozen didn’t work why would any of the other?

                He gives the first men a quick one-two to the face. The hit wasn’t strongest to break the man’s bones, but the armored fist didn’t feel good at all. Raphael had to learn a long time ago how to hold his punches because it would feel like to be smack in the face with a steel bat. He wondered, better yet, knew Michael, his younger brother, had to learn how to not use his full power. It was the downside of having super strength. He could break a man’s face as easy as breaking a pencil.

                The man dropped the floor out of the fight with Raphael rushing at the next one. This man, a nice black man from down south, used the gun as a shield against Raphael’s attack blocking but not hurting him at all. The other dropped his gun and took off running screaming there was a demon.

                The black guy let his gun fall pulling a long hunter’s knife from his back and barked, “I’m going to kill you, monster.”

                He launches the blade at Raphael, not moving the knife cracking and then shatter the metal against his chest. “Not with that,” he said nailing the man right in the center of his nose. The man hit the wall behind them with a broken nose dropping to the floor out cold or at least not wanting to fight anymore.

                Raphael, Karalius said into his ear by way of radio, get down here now.

                “Right, on the way,” Raphael told her stepping out into the hall where a few dozen men stood pointing weapons at him. “Come on guys,” he said holding open his arms, “let’s play nice. Isn’t this a church and what no ---” The hail of gunfire killed Raphael’s words. He hit a few of the men right into the wall knocking a few of them out of his way and then struck those around him like Batman in a fight. Some of the men tried to shoot him with their friends dropping to the ground knocked out while others were thrown through doors. Once their guns were empty which wasn’t long after they started trying to fight him, it became hand to hand.

                These men’s fists were broken against his armor, and he would knock them out quickly. He was more afraid of them hurting themselves than him. Their fists weren’t doing a thing to him. He images all these people trying to punch a tank in the hopes they lived in a video game somehow, and one right punch would kill the boss. Of course, Raphael happens not to the boss which he wasn’t sure how he felt about them thinking he was the big evil of the game.

                “We are never going to stop,” someone yelled.

                “We will die for the Light,” someone else screamed at him shattering a wooden bat on the back of Raphael’s’ armor.

                These people were mad with undying faith to a false god, and they were going to die for him, like so many other cults. Unless Raphael could end this fight quickly praying he only hurt them a little. He was swinging a little wild not sure how much he was holding back, but the fight was taking a lot out of him. He couldn’t get hurt, but the amount of energy he spent keeping the armor over his body made running a fifteen-mile marathon look like a nice stroll through the park. He could keep the armor up for a while, he had run his fair share of marathons, but adding fighting on top of it was starting to beat against him. He had to end it.

                Where are you? Karalius lovely voice asked him.

                “Trying not to die,” Raphael yelled back.

                Well, try harder and get down here.

                He growled looking at the last three men readying themselves for a hard fight. “You can’t win,” he told them.

                “We don’t mind dying for the father,” one of them says.

                “I hate you guys,” Raphael huffed at them overly frustrated and took off at them. He clotheslines one man taking him out the fight before he knew what happen to him. All his years of training in the variety of martial arts had taught him one thing, end a fight fast and don’t die. The don’t dying part he had down and with these foolish men, who were not soldiers, the second quickly came around. The last man hit the wall far harder than Raphael had planned, but he didn’t have time to check him. He dashed down the hallway to help his friends.