I continued my life as an itinerant carpenter, moving from town to town and letting the Holy Spirit direct my actions. Then the Lord decided that my quest required more structure.
After witnessing me healing a local man, an agent of the federal government approached me and expressed an interest in recruiting me for a new governmental department. He bid me seek out a man by the name of Bullock in St. Louis if I was of mind to join. Seeing an opportunity to be exposed to a large part of America I accepted and headed south to Missouri.
I met Bullock with a group of other recruits in a St. Louis bar. We were told that the new department was called the Agency, and was intended to deal with unusual situations. The group was split into pairs and given trail assignments. I was paired with a gentleman named “Doc” Clayton Sanbel, who I am still journeying with.
Mr. Sanbel and I get along pretty well. He can be a little rough around the edges, and he enjoys the same social vices that are so prevalent in these times- most notably whoring and gambling. For all that he is a solid man and true to his companions. I like the man. I hope through my influence, or rather my example, he might eventually shed the need to indulge in his more questionable past times, but we each have our own road to walk and many of our lessons must be learned alone. If nothing else through my friendship Mr. Sandbel is now aware of an alternative life.
Our first job was to hunt down a trio of men who had been executed by hanging. Apparently after their demise reported sighting of these same men began circulating. The Holy Spirit had led me well; this was exactly the sort of evil I have been trained to combat.
In the course of our investigations we began to frequent a local bordello and drinking establishment called the West End. I have to say I like the place. Oh, the staff and my companions think I am equal parts offended puritan and naive innocent, which I find privately amusing. But the ladies are friendly in a non-predatorily way, the food is good, and the environment feels relaxed and controlled. There are certainly worse such establishments as my time in Paris was quick to illuminate.
We eventually found our walking corpses, who indeed were risen from the dead by some unholy means. I fear I shocked Mr. Sanbel with my Zweihander, but the situation could not be helped and he quickly recovered. This was my first experience with an actual “monster”, and I felt quite elated by the culmination of a lifetime of preparation. I took the heads, following Order protocol, and Mr. Sanbel and I returned to Mr. Bullock who lead us to the federal building that houses the Agency offices.
At this time we were introduced to the “Reverend” “Colonel” Elijah Q. Gridley, who was to be assigned to us, rounding our group out to a solid three. The Spirit makes me feel that the group is incomplete, and a fourth member shall join at some point in the near future. Directions from God aside, I must confess that Mr. Gridley is a character of dubious character and falsified pedigree.
He most certainly is not a Reverend, and he does not move with the training nor hold himself with the command of a Colonel that exists in any army outside of his own fevered fantasies. More amusing than his questionable titles is that he obviously considers himself an educated man of distinction, and feels that the world should recognize him as such solely based on the fact that his shirt is silk and his suit is pinstriped. Naturally by this logic I am of a vacuous cognation because my clothes are sturdy and sensible and I am a what is politely referred to as of large stature, and less politely referred to as a knuckle dragging behemoth.
Additionally Elijah Q. Gridley (whose initial Q. does not seem to stand for anything and whose last name was probably randomly chosen from a census report) takes those vices that Mr. Sanbel enjoys and wallows in them. My example will most likely not have any effect on Mr. Gridley’s spiritual and moral growth. And just as I hope to be a good influence on Mr. Sanbel, Mr. Gridley will prove to be an opposing influence. But that is the way of the world and its flawed humanity. Ultimately my role in the divine plan is that of defender and slayer, not redeemer.
I must also express some reservations about the Agency. While I must admit it has vast potential to further my work as righteous sword of God, it also treads a questionable line. Most noticeably when I turned in the heads and they were found to be regenerating, the Agency operatives seemed to have an unwholesome interest in studying them instead of removing their spiritual contamination. I am well aware that through study a way to more effectively combat or eliminate them all together may be found, but I could not in good consciousness allow them to continue in a situation where I personally could affect the outcome. Graciously, although reluctantly as well, Mr. Bullock permitted me to dispose of them once I pled my case.
I must admit I was far less comfortable with our second job. First it was assigned by Mr. Rigby, the Agency’s prime researcher and scientist. Second it involved the clandestine theft of Ghostrock from a train. Our group’s role was to deal with the guards during the theft. To this end, he assigned another member to our group, Consumption Jackson.
Mr. Jackson seems to be a fine fellow, if a little wild, but I do not believe he is to be our fourth member as indicated by the Holy Spirit. True enough he was only around to help us on this one venture, though I would not be sad to see him in the future.
We boarded the train, and after dancing around with the porters (to his credit Mr. Gridley came to my rescue and diffused a potentially awkward situation, but not one that bears description here) we found ourselves in the bulk of the train, separated from the engine and the first few cars. Mr. Sanbel was on the first half of the train leaving myself, Mr. Jackson, and Mr. Gridley to deal with the situation. It so happens that the final car was a control car instead of a caboose, and Mr. Jackson and I set about catching up with the original first half of the train. Meanwhile Mr. Gridley went ahead to scout out the rest of the train.
We did manage to catch the train’s engine at which point Mr. Jackson brought the control car to a stop. Hearing the unmistakable sound of combat I rushed forward. I first encountered a large porter wielding a heavy wrench. Unfortunately I had to dispatch him with my Zwihander, but thankfully I was able to patch him up before moving on. He was just doing his job after all. I next came into a room where a woman who had previously been introduced to me as Mae and two others were holding the porters and passengers at gunpoint. Miss Mae immediately swung her shotgun toward me and ordered me to get with the rest of the passengers. At this point it became obvious that Mae and her companions were the guards we were sent to deal with. They were just trying to control the situation to keep the theft from happening. I wrestled the shotgun away from Miss Mae while Mr. Jackson engaged one of her companions, and I was able to knock Miss Mae unconscious without too much violence. Not the most noble action a Knight of the Broken Cross has ever taken, but not unheard of either. As soon as I subdued Miss Mae, he unoccupied companion shot me. The wound was a grievous one, and I had no choice but to engage him with the sword. Soon it was all over. Mr. Gridley had apparently had a battle of his own, he came out swearing with an angry red mark on his face. It resembled the mark from a strong open hand slap, but I have only ever seen such a thing on a mouthy prostitute before and so was probably mistaken. I tried to patch up the guards as best as I could, they were after all only doing their job and we had no indication that they were villainous in any way.
Mr. Gridley was particularly upset that I was helping our opponents. He was quite worked up (Mr. Gridley is not often given to fighting and was therefore quite excitable at the time). I didn’t feel that that was the right time to explain how my actions are directed by the Holy Spirit. Indeed, in the past such conversations have caused me more trouble than good and I have determined that they are to be avoided. Suffice to say, I cut them down because they were attacking me, and had they killed me I would not be able to continue to do the Lord’s work. I then helped them because they were hurt and needed help.
The Path of the Holy Spirit involves constantly living in the moment; making decisions based on the now. It is a difficult path if you needlessly complicate things, an easy path if you give yourself over completely to God and allow yourself to be guided by the Holy Spirit. Right and Wrong are a matter of choices, and choices are best understood in the moment, not with any thought or reflection.
There is now a tension in the group. None of us enjoyed this last mission. Here’s hoping tomorrow brings a new task to wash the taste of this train robbery away.
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