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Speaker 1: Mortal Steel,

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Speaker 1: Part Two: Outskirts.

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Speaker 1: The earth itself rattled as the huge
inner door of Last Respite parted before Pastor

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Speaker 1: Ethan Cutter. He stood, feet firmly
planted in the dirt as it rolled with

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Speaker 1: ominous speed. There were no other
people out here in the open except the guards

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Speaker 1: looking down at him through the
narrow vertical slits in the battlements. Those
were

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Speaker 1: not highly coveted positions. Despite
constant surveillance and frequent blessing of

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Speaker 1: the walls by priests, every other
month something managed to pull a relatively
large

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Speaker 1: person through one of those small
holes to be devoured below.

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Speaker 1: Ethan stepped into the killing field
between the inner wall and the outer wall. He

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Speaker 1: waited another eternity for the inner
door to close behind him. Only then did the

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Speaker 1: outer door part. It rattled and
creaked, grinding noisily on the ground as it

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Speaker 1: opened. How long had it been since
anyone left? It stopped opening

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Speaker 1: almost immediately, then for some
reason started closing again, leaving only a
foot

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Speaker 1: or two of rapidly shrinking space
between the wall. Ethan shot a withering glance
up

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Speaker 1: at the guard working the gate in the
nearest tower. The man did not move to open the

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Speaker 1: gate wider. Ethan had to sprint then
turn sideways to get through the narrow gap

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Speaker 1: between the reinforced door and the
concrete wall. As he did, he felt the rattling

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Speaker 1: door, nearly two feet thick, pressing
against his face. He turned his head sideways

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Speaker 1: as he shimmied to prevent it
exploding like a crushed melon. For a moment, he
feared

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Speaker 1: it would crush him anyway, ending his
mission as soon as it had begun, and in the

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Speaker 1: most wasteful and mundane way,
reduced to a very expensive stain on the

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Speaker 1: concrete wall. But he narrowly pulled
himself through the gap just as the door

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Speaker 1: boomed shut. Only then did his second
mind helpfully confirm that, yes,

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Speaker 1: that door did have enough force to
destroy him. Not long ago, he would have
stumbled

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Speaker 1: and fallen to the dirt, but that was
a different person. Instead, he simply

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Speaker 1: transitioned to a light, casual walk,
brushing the dust from his black clerical suit

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Speaker 1: and adjusting the white preacher's
collar around his neck. Ethan surveyed his new

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Speaker 1: surroundings. Red and yellow warning
signs lit up everything in sight. Every

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Speaker 1: broken window and every open doorway
to each dilapidated building was a potential

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Speaker 1: threat. And each of those terrified
faces looking out at him were enemy combatants.

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Speaker 1: This was going to need some
calibration. For now, he shut off all the
warnings in

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Speaker 1: his HUD, asking his second mind to
only notify him of immediate danger of demonic

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Speaker 1: nature. The world was cleaned up
instantly and he saw with fresh eyes. He

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Speaker 1: had not left Last Respite in more
than a year. Even then, he'd done so in an
armored

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Speaker 1: Humvee. That time had not done the
outskirts any favors. Husks of

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Speaker 1: three- and four-story buildings lined
empty streets with the corpses of larger,

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Speaker 1: towering skyscrapers in the distance.
The rusted-out vehicles had been cleared away

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Speaker 1: from the immediate area, but the
eternal traffic was piled up only a few hundred

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Speaker 1: yards away. Very few windows and
doors remained intact. The streets themselves
were

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Speaker 1: broken with scraggly-looking plants
growing up through the cracks. Bizarrely, the

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Speaker 1: iconic palm trees were doing just
fine, a narrow portrait of paradise set against

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Speaker 1: the greater backdrop of ruin. But
Ethan wasn't here to fix the city, if such a
thing

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Speaker 1: were even possible. He was here to
cut out the rot that continued to ruin it. The

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Speaker 1: repairs would be done by normal
people, people unlike him. He walked down the
broken

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Speaker 1: sidewalk, chin high, nodding serenely
at the faces with sunken cheeks that looked

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Speaker 1: at him from the buildings. The
stalker's abilities and whereabouts were
unknown.

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Speaker 1: What little information he had
indicated that it was secretive and cunning,

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Speaker 1: preferring to hide among the human
populace and only strike when an easy target

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Speaker 1: presented itself. The rest of the
time, it used its ever-growing force of human

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Speaker 1: worshipers to do its dirty work.
Chances were, he would need to cut through a lot
of

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Speaker 1: these normal people before he got to
the possessed. That didn't sit well with him.

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Speaker 1: Surely there was some way he could
get the demon host out into the open for a

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Speaker 1: confrontation. It wouldn't be fair,
of course. There was no honor among

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Speaker 1: demons. Only winners. Winners and
bodies.

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Speaker 1: Unsure of what else to do, Pastor
Cutter walked up to an apartment that still had
a

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Speaker 1: set of metal double doors. He knocked
on a door. His titanium skeleton made an

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Speaker 1: unnaturally loud sound as he rapped
his knuckles against the metal.

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Speaker 1: When no one answered, he opened the
door, realizing only after it was open that the

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Speaker 1: door had been locked. Four young boys
stood on the other side of the door. They

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Speaker 1: scrambled away from him and looked
down at the destroyed deadbolt. "Sorry about
your

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Speaker 1: door." "Demon! Demon!" Three of the
boys scattered, but one of

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Speaker 1: them tripped and fell. "Guys, wait!"
The boy rolled on his back and gave

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Speaker 1: Ethan a terrified look, then shielded
his face. He was dressed in ragged

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Speaker 1: jeans and a dingy T-shirt. He
couldn't have been more than nine years old.
Ethan

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Speaker 1: waited quietly in the doorway.
"You're not gonna kill me?"

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Speaker 1: "No. I need your help." "Anything?"
"Do you

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Speaker 1: know of a church nearby?" The kid
scrunched up his face, thinking

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Speaker 1: furiously. He looked like he might
try to run again. Ethan's second mind showed him

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Speaker 1: four nearby churches based on maps of
the city. "Never mind. There's a church

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Speaker 1: nearby. It was called Immaculate
Conception. Do you know the place?"

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Speaker 1: The kid nodded. He probably would
have nodded regardless. Hopefully he would carry

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Speaker 1: the message, though. "Tell everyone
you know that I'll be giving a sermon there.

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Speaker 1: At sundown." And that was all the kid
could take. He nodded

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Speaker 1: furiously, then got up and started
running after his companions. Ethan watched him

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Speaker 1: go. If he told everyone he found the
same thing, word would eventually reach the

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Speaker 1: stalker. He would give a sermon. A
sermon these people would never

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Speaker 1: forget.

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Speaker 1: Part Three Sundown

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Speaker 1: Fleabag ran barefoot down the alley,
shouting. He wasn't even making sense anymore.

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Speaker 1: He couldn't remember being this
excited. "Inaccurate Conception! Sermon at the

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Speaker 1: Inaccurate Conception!" A man tried
to grab Fleabag as he ran, but he spun away from

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Speaker 1: the hands. He screamed at the man,
who he only now realized was his uncle. He was

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Speaker 1: probably just shaking him down for
food to trade for alcohol. "Sundown!" Who

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Speaker 1: was this stranger with the clean
clothes? Didn't the others see the way he ripped

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Speaker 1: off that door? He was so strong.
Stronger than the king.

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Speaker 1: Maybe. Would he fight the king?
"Conception! Conception at sundown!"

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Speaker 1: People yelled at him to shut up.
People threw things at him as he ran past. But
they

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Speaker 1: heard him. He made sure everyone
heard him.

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Speaker 1: Pastor Cutter scoped out the church
well before sundown. Within a few minutes, he

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Speaker 1: had more than a feel for the place.
He had a high-resolution 3D map. He knew

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Speaker 1: which walls could be reliably pierced
with bullets, and which walls could be

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Speaker 1: breached by people with or without
explosives. The possessed was the big unknown.

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Speaker 1: It rendered his defensive simulations
largely useless except for planning against

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Speaker 1: the more mundane human threat. By the
time the sun was low in the sky, he had

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Speaker 1: long since overthought the impending
conflict. He had completed nearly 800,000

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Speaker 1: combat simulations. In about 600,000
of those simulations, he emerged

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Speaker 1: victorious against a small army of
humans, only duking it out with the stalker once

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Speaker 1: his mortal cannon fodder was
expended. In the remaining 200,000 simulations,

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Speaker 1: he met one grisly demise after
another, usually at the hands of the stalker
himself.

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Speaker 1: Without knowing what to simulate, his
second mind simply conjured monsters from

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Speaker 1: movies and television, supplemented
with data from other known possessed.

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Speaker 1: Ethan was tearing the arms off an
insect-like creature with acid for blood in his

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Speaker 1: mind when his second mind started
blaring mental warnings. Someone was in the

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Speaker 1: church. The real church. He flicked
off the simulation. Ethan stood behind a

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Speaker 1: ruined pulpit, defaced with graffiti.
He faced the heavy wooden entry doors.

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Speaker 1: A tanned man with thinning gray hair
walked in silence down the aisle between the

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Speaker 1: rows of toppled pews. He wore a long
gray trench coat. Was this him?

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Speaker 1: Had the stalker come in person? A
messenger, perhaps. The

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Speaker 1: man in the trench coat locked eyes
with Ethan. Ethan rested one hand on the huge

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Speaker 1: black and silver gun at his hip. A
messenger of his own. The man in the coat

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Speaker 1: nodded once at Ethan, then Then he
sat down on one of the upright

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Speaker 1: pews. Scanners showed no obvious sign
of threat. A

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Speaker 1: woman with three children orbiting
around her like hyperactive moons came into the

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Speaker 1: church. They flitted about, marveling
at the huge room and touching everything

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Speaker 1: within reach, but never straying more
than a few feet from their mother. The young

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Speaker 1: family sat down in the back. Ethan
pulled his hand from the messenger. What was

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Speaker 1: happening here? In the blink of an
eye, he ran a few simulations where the children

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Speaker 1: rushed him, while the man with the
thinning hair tried to sneak around behind him.

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Speaker 1: He flicked them off before it got
bloody. They didn't make any sense. More people

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Speaker 1: filed in. Most came in groups, but
many came alone. People of all ages.

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Speaker 1: All of them were emaciated. Filthy.
All of them looked terrified. By the

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Speaker 1: time the sun set, there were 37
people in the church. As far as he could tell,
none

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Speaker 1: of them were armed. What were they
doing here? His second

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Speaker 1: mind was of no help. It was his first
mind, the one he shared with these poor souls,

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Speaker 1: that made the connection first. The
boy he'd seen earlier that day walked through

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Speaker 1: the double doors, a bright smile on
his face. He'd promised them a sermon,

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Speaker 1: and they'd come. Pastor Ethan Cutter
cleared his throat.

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Speaker 1: "Good evening." The ad hoc
congregation gave him a loose

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Speaker 1: reply, nothing like the tight,
well-rehearsed routines in the last respite.

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Speaker 1: Amusingly, this was the very last
thing he'd expected, and he found himself

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Speaker 1: completely unprepared. Anxious, even.
How could he preach to these people

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Speaker 1: when he didn't believe? How could he
tell them a Lord was watching over them when

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Speaker 1: they'd had their lives, their very
homes ripped apart by demons?

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Speaker 1: His words came slowly, awkwardly. He
had never expected to give another

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Speaker 1: sermon. He told them that good things
came to those who do good,

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Speaker 1: that kindness was a virtue, that hope
was never wasted. It was the

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Speaker 1: most basic of lessons, little more
than common sense wrapped in poetic language.

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Speaker 1: It couldn't have lasted more than
fifteen minutes, and he had to resist his second

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Speaker 1: mind's urge to give him the exact
duration to the nanosecond. When it was done, a

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Speaker 1: young woman came to the front of the
church and held out a baby that looked nothing

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Speaker 1: like her. She asked him to baptize
her son. He tried to refuse, but

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Speaker 1: she insisted, and even though he
didn't believe, he baptized the boy in a
birdbath

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Speaker 1: filled with canteen water. She cried
afterward. A number of people were crying.

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Speaker 1: It was dark by then, but no one left.
What did they want from him?

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Speaker 1: The boy from before sauntered up to
the pulpit and put his hand out for a handshake.

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Speaker 1: Pastor Cutter shook the hand. A
perfectly calibrated handshake. "Nice

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Speaker 1: speech. I'm Fleabag." "Why?" "Huh?"
"Why are

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Speaker 1: you called Fleabag?" The boy
shrugged, giving Ethan a frustrated look.

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Speaker 1: "I don't know. That's my name."
"Fleabag, why are all

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Speaker 1: these people still here?" Fleabag
turned to look at the crowd of people who
shuffled

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Speaker 1: about in their seats, muttering to
each other. "They want protection. Probably

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Speaker 1: hoping you got food, too. Not me,
though. I'm here for the fight." "I don't think

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Speaker 1: there's going to be a fight." "You're
wrong about that. Scary boys are on their way.

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Speaker 1: Mixers, too." "Who are they?" Fleabag
gave Ethan a very

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Speaker 1: worried look. "Scary boys work for
the king. Mixers are new. They work for

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Speaker 1: someone else. You're gonna fight
them, right?" Ethan narrowed his eyes.

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Speaker 1: A cocktail of synthetic hormones kept
his heart rate stable. "Fleabag,

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Speaker 1: this is important. Are you saying
there's two possessed in the

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Speaker 1: outskirts?" "Yeah. They don't like
each other." There was a roar of a

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Speaker 1: motorcycle outside the front of the
church. Then the roar of a dozen more

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Speaker 1: motorcycles. "Pretty sure they hate
you more, though." Movement flashed across the

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Speaker 1: darkened windows. Ethan rewound the
peripheral footage in his second mind and

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Speaker 1: stepped through the frames until he
saw what had been watching him. He stared at the

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Speaker 1: still image, a bat-like creature with
foot-long talons and a snout

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Speaker 1: so long it looked like an elephant's
trunk, if an elephant's trunk could split in

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Speaker 1: half to reveal thousands of tiny
needle-like teeth. More movement on the

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Speaker 1: other side of the building. He heard
creatures moving around the outside of the

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Speaker 1: walls, on the roof. His makeshift
congregation grew alarmed,

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Speaker 1: perhaps just now realizing how
foolish they'd been to come here, but it was too
late

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Speaker 1: to leave now. A man in biker leather
walked up the steps to the front door. He

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Speaker 1: was flanked by a growing number of
similarly dressed people, all of them holding

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Speaker 1: machetes, axes, and swords. Only the
man in front held a shotgun over his shoulder.

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Speaker 1: There was a swagger to his step. Two
possessed. Ethan

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Speaker 1: didn't need to run the simulations to
know what his odds were. Not good.

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Speaker 1: "Repent, holy man." The lead biker
spread his

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Speaker 1: arms wide, grinning wider still. He
held the shotgun out like a party gift.

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Speaker 1: There was something wrong with his
face, a bone-like protrusion that grew over half

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Speaker 1: his face like a mask. "Say you're
sorry and we'll make it quick."

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Speaker 1: Bone Mask took another step forward
with an accusing finger pointed at Ethan. The

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Speaker 1: moment he stepped through the front
doors, his hand started smoking. The man leapt

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00:17:43.582 --> 00:17:47.842
Speaker 1: backward and looked at his burning
hand in shock, slapping out the fire on his

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Speaker 1: jeans. Ethan couldn't keep the smile
from his face. The church had

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Speaker 1: failed these people. He knew that
now. They'd hid behind their walls while the

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00:17:58.702 --> 00:18:02.762
Speaker 1: people of the outskirts suffered at
the hands of demons and betrayers like the

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Speaker 1: creatures before him. And still they
had faith. Faith enough to

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Speaker 1: consecrate this building. It was just
a building, after all. Despite all odds,

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Speaker 1: some of their hope had survived. It
was that dogged, persistent hope that made it a

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00:18:20.702 --> 00:18:26.326
Speaker 1: church again. The smile returned to
Bone Mask's face. He looked at the

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Speaker 1: exterior walls and roof of the
church, pleased by something that Ethan couldn't
see.

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Speaker 1: Full house tonight. New deal, holy
man. You come out, and we let these people

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Speaker 1: live. Ethan was already walking down
the aisle toward the entrance. You the

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Speaker 1: stalker. Ha! Let's say I am. Ethan
drew the messenger in a

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00:18:51.146 --> 00:18:56.566
Speaker 1: flash, pointed it at Bone Mask, and
pulled the trigger. The man's head exploded. The

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Speaker 1: corpse fell in a heap to the stone
steps.

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Speaker 1: Guess not, then. The crew of tainted
human bikers scattered. Ethan looked over his

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Speaker 1: shoulder at the people now huddling
behind the church's overturned pews. Stay in the

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Speaker 1: church. He couldn't protect them from
regular humans, but as long as they stayed

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Speaker 1: inside, nothing demonic was coming
in. Then he stepped over the threshold and

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Speaker 1: outside the church. The people wanted
another sermon, and by God,

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Speaker 1: he was going to give it to them.
