Forget Me Not

I've Got No-one But Myself To Blame

Samson turned a shocked expression towards Copia, squinting his eyes as he tried to imagine the paint. He knew he didn't doubt the Sister but it was hard to imagine that somehow Emeritus, oddly dressed as a cardinal, had literally been delivered to their doorstep, but good fortune didn't seem a sufficient enough phrase to cover it.

"Here, see?" the Sister pulled back the lid over Copia's left eye revealing the white unholy iris. "And we have him!" She jabbed a finger between the Bishop and herself in her glee. "And we're going to destroy them, as the Archbishop ordered!"

The assignment given to the Sister and Bishop - and their sole purpose for their placement in this church - was to act in direct opposition to the Ministry founded at Linköping Abbey. Their ultimate mission being to quash the known and unabashed satanic group that had somehow gained access to what had once been hallowed ground and where they performed what they viewed as perverse rites.

Now with the unexpected, even miraculous, arrival of Copia within their halls, what Sister Hope Augusta saw as their holy aim felt well within their grasp.

"We need guards on this room. Who do we have available?"

"Guards?" The Bishop frowned at what he saw as an unnecessary precaution. "Really? I mean, regardless of who he is, this man isn't going anywhere. Look at him!"

The still and deathly pale form of Copia, now dressed in a simple light green hospital gown, was a pitiful sight, and even considering who he was, the bishop was finding it hard to imagine him as a viable threat.

"You're not getting the big picture, Bishop." The nun explained, "This isn't just about stopping him escaping but the possibility of a rescue attempt. I don't think you quite understand. We have their vile anti-pope. If they discover he's here, they'll do everything they can to get him back. Guards are as much to protect us as they are to keep him here."

Bishop Samson nodded. He accepted that it was impressive that Sister Hope Augusta had recognised Emeritus. Even seeing the white eye, he still couldn't honestly say he looked familiar. Perhaps if he had paid more attention to the photograph in his orders? But there was no way he was about to admit to that. He did, however, recognise the need to protect themselves.

"I'll organise a rota," he said after a moment's thought. "And I'll order all windows and doors secured."

"And make sure they know to use force if they need to," the Sister replied, nodding for emphasis. "We cannot let him escape. This is literally a God given opportunity; we have to make it work."

The Bishop nodded, the idea of Emeritus falling figuratively into their laps was astonishing enough but he surprised himself as he allowed his gaze to fall on Copia.

Despite everything and even knowing the reach this satanic church had through the Ghost Project - all he could see was vulnerability, possibly even pain, within the still and fragile features of the unconscious man. By contrast, the dangerous gleam of excitement mixed with loathing in the Sister's eyes left him wondering who actually wielded the bigger threat.

*

Despite the frigid temperatures and the incessant falling of cold, wet snow. The ghouls practically tore apart the remains of the wreck, looking for any trace of Copia when Rain realised something very important that, in their panic to find Copia, everyone else had missed.

"Where's Mountain?" He asked out loud, more to himself than anyone else. Nobody heard him anyway over the wind and the sounds of shifting rubble being dug through and ripped to pieces.

He dropped the torn piece of metal he was holding and carefully edged his way towards the front of the bus. Shocked at the sight of the crushed and mangled cab. Peering around the driver's seat he found a deflated airbag with a sizable amount of black ghoulish blood in the middle.