Rusty rolled his arms and bounced around like a cocky prizefighter. He used his thumb to wipe the corner of his lips as his tongue slithered over his teeth. Racing around the room with emphatic speed, Rusty launched a flurry of combos into Gina’s face, running and hitting from all directions. But his offense came to grinding halt as massive pain throbbed from his knuckles. He squealed like a pig. Breathing heavy and sweating profusely, Rusty stared at the Angelite in awe while caressing his swollen red knuckles. Sore arms. Faded confidence. What does he have to do to make this woman bleed? Was she that strong? Or did John lie about his power?
Gina found his attacks laughable. His punches hurt her as much as a fleabite.
She leaned sideways and sarcastically asked him, “What are you staring at? Are you gonna propose?”
Feeling humiliated, Rusty tensed up with anger and rushed toward her again. This time he added spin kicks to his repertoire of combat moves. Gina finally decided to strike back and sprung her knee into his midsection. And just like that, the fighting stopped. The pain was so intense that Rusty couldn’t move. An elongated grunt seeped out from his windpipe while his arm stayed stretched out like a photo of a major league pitcher. Gina launched a thrust kick that sent Rusty spiraling across the office, smashing through several wooden tables along the way. He crashed into a supply closet, landing on his head.
“I know that spell has made you stronger Rudy,” Gina said, “but we both know you’re no match for me. Surrender now and I’ll let you live. Last time I’m going to tell you.”
Tripping over broken furniture, Rusty pulled out a firearm from his rear holster. He only fired one shot before Gina swooshed over and easily snatched the gun away. Breaking his weapon in half like a breadstick, she warned, “This is the last time Rudy.”
Back-peddling like a drunk Mambo dancer, Rusty nervously patted around the numerous pockets in his uniform, looking for more weapons to use. All he had left was a hand Grenade and a plastic explosive the size of a hockey puck. “DIE!!!!” he yelled while pulling the pin out from the grenade.
Gina caught his wrist and snapped it in half. As Rusty cried in misery,
Gina grabbed the grenade and crushed it like a plastic cup, exploding under her fingers like flash powder from an antique camera. “The last time!!” she warned once more.
Quivering in his knees, pulsing with absolute fear, Rusty raised his good arm in surrender. “You win,” he admitted. “This ain’t worth me losing my life over, sweets. I didn’t want this life...but I was lost…a man without a home. Thank God for you, Vasquez…now I’m found. I’ll come quietly...but promise you’ll protect me from THAT DAMN PSYCHOPATH! Hart. He’ll kill me...for selling him out. They will punish me for all eternity!”
“No matter who comes for you Rudy, I’ll protect you. Don’t worry. You’re making the right choice.”
Gina offered her hand. Rusty accepted it with a firm slap. As Gina helped him up to his feet, Rusty replied, “Thank you for making my choice so easy.” Suddenly, he slapped the plastic explosive on the side of her face and swished out of the office. One push of the trigger on his remote detonator.
BOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Doors blew off the hinges. Windows shattered to pieces. Great balls of fire violently burst through the ceiling. Broken glass rained onto the streets as clusters of fire lit up the sides of the building, further darkening the night sky with black smoke. Gina never left the room.
Radiating with sadistic joy, Rusty danced around the burning hallway, fluttering his arms and leaping like a clumsy ballerina. “I DID IT!!” he howled. “I KILLED THE ANGELITE!!!! How about that, John – YOU POOR EXCUSE OF A LEADER!! You were sooooooooo terrified of that red-haired Sheila. BUT
I CONQUERED THE ANGELITE!! ME! NOT YOU! ME! I’m going to be the one who runs this city!! I – I - I…I…I…”
Chattering teeth. Soiled pants. Drowning in sweat. Rusty lost control of everything, including his composure, at the sight of the Angelite standing in front of him. Her eyes fumed with anger. Face as clean as a whistle. Flowing hair. Clothes intact. Displaying the mangled explosive in her right hand, Gina ripped it apart like cardboard. With a wide-open frown, Rusty dropped to knees and pleaded for forgiveness.
Gina’s rage then turned to pity. Seeing him beg in such a pathetic fashion, she realized he couldn’t be saved. Demons had a vice-grip on his mind, body, and soul. Offering protection wasn’t enough. He passed the point of no return. His demon had to perish. Gina slowly shook her head, watching Rusty sobbed like a baby. With a heavy heart and glossy eyes, she glanced at the fire and said, “Bye, Rudy.” Gina swung a lightning roundhouse kick that Rusty never saw coming, decapitating him on impact.
Time slowed down at that moment as Gina watched Rusty’s head rotate toward the fire. His face was still frozen in grief. From out his eye socket spewed out a hideous demon, shrieking like a monkey as the flames gobbled it up. Turning in remorse, Gina wasn’t sure how much of this she could stomach. Heinous flashbacks revisited her mind of watching Sylvan being torn apart by the hellfire. “I can’t do this,” she sobbed.
Endless fighting suddenly seemed unappealing. Why play judge and jury when her misdeeds have yet to be accounted for? Leave this life. Go back
to New Mexico. And hide. But then, a murmur of words broke through the darkness, traveling from her ears and into her heart: “I run with purpose in every step.”
Pastor Goode preached that when Man chooses Satan they become slaves in Hell forever. John Hart and his possessive officers are no longer people. Deception can control the flesh, but the Spirit sees through its ugly walls. “This is my purpose,” she proclaimed. Rusty Pipes was the first to fall. More Clucifix soldiers are still out there. They all must fall.