***
“Hello, gentlemen,” Father Francis greeted the uniformed Agents. “Have you come to worship the Lord our God with us?”
There was laughter from the men. They wore digital urban camouflage with thick Kevlar vests with the bold white letters “USR” across their chests. They held their P90 submachine guns against their shoulders, aimed at the three men who stayed behind. The leader of the assault team stepped towards Francis. The Agent grew disappointed when the little man didn’t waiver or bow to his knees and beg for forgiveness.
“I’m afraid not,” the leader said. “We’re here to bring you to justice.”
“Under what crime?”
“Spreading your evil, tyrannous views on the good citizens of this city.”
The third man spoke up. “We’re here under our own free will. What tyranny do you speak of?”
“I can think of several acts, but we don’t have time for that.” The leader replied.
“Have you found God in your life, Mr…” Francis started to ask.
“No, because there is no god. And, if there was, it would side with us versus your…hate mongering.”
“Hate mongering?”
The leader smiled. “Yes, hate mongering and exclusion of those who believe different from yourselves. Now, let’s go.”
The third man lost it and ran towards the stairs. The Agents let loose automatic bursts from their weapons. The barrage of bullets tore through the man’s back and he crashed to the floor. The blood from the bullet wounds stained the once pristine floor. Fredrick gasped. He looked over in fear to Francis. Francis shook his head no and held his finger to his lips.
“I’m not ready to die,” Fredrick said.
“You should’ve thought about that,” the leader replied. “I’m afraid there is no way out for you…unless you denounce your god and this filthy religion you practice.”
“Okay,” Fredrick pleaded. “I denounce it. What do you want me to do?”
“You no longer believe? After all this time you’ve been worshipping? I don’t believe you.”
“I swear it…” Fredrick cried. He fell to his knees, hands behind his head.
“Fredrick!” Francis shouted. “Get up. Stop saying that nonsense.”
“I don’t believe, I swear it, I don’t believe any longer.”
“Then,” the leader persisted. “Why do you come here?”
“I was going to report them. I swear on the almighty USR I was.”
“Fredrick!” Francis shouted again.
The leader pointed his handgun in Francis’s face. The Father’s lips shook and he went north, south, west, east with his right hand. He expected to be gunned down at any second. The leader just laughed at the sight in front of him.
“Stop with that and keep your mouth shut,” the leader ordered. “I’m not going to kill you, yet.”
“What about me?” Fredrick asked as he picked himself up off the ground.
“You have proven yourself.”
“Really?”
The sound of a gunshot echoed through the basement. Fredrick fell face first to the ground; the bullet tore straight through the front of his skull. Francis looked away. A stream of tears escaped his closed eye lids. The leader laughed again as blood leaked through the bullet wound.
“To be a coward,” the leader said. “Let’s see if your god will forgive you for your betrayal. As for you…”
“What is it?” Francis asked, his head still looked away.
“You are coming with us. We have some questions for you. Boys…”
Four Agents moved in. Their P90’s were now slung over their shoulders. They had their night sticks out and ready. They hit Francis over and over again until his frail body hit the floor. The frail man, tears flowing from his eyes, felt two Agents pick him up from his armpits. They carried him up the stairs and out to their truck. Francis said nothing, he only prayed.
Not just for himself…but for the men who captured him.