Got into FAITH lately, then I found out it shares the same universe as DUSK. I unfortunately haven't been able to indulge in that one yet, but... I know about the soap.
Spoilers for FAITH: Chapter 3's true ending.
Enjoy and be gentle
---
If one were to peek into John's pockets as he leapt down into the massive hole in the floor, they'd be in for quite the surprise. At least, if they were also unaware of the events of the past few days.
Feeling unclean was hardly new for John. Truthfully, it had started after that night. But that second failed attempt to right his wrongs worsened it. As did the nightmares after.
Just the faded memory of the "Candy Tunnel" and the squelching underfoot sent a shiver run down John's spine.
Then came New Haven. And the message on the wall. Now, he didn't exactly check, but John was pretty sure that those brown markings weren't dried blood. Between that and the close call with Lisa, the moment John got back in his car, he drove straight for the nearest convenience store and purchased three bars of soap. One such bar sat vigil in his pocket, already wet from where John had viciously scrubbed away the cultists' blood from his hands.
Was it overkill? Maybe. Did it make him feel better? Most definitely.
John landed amid an impossibility: a broken mirror of the Martin House was revealed by the lantern light, withered and raggedy. Slowly, he walked through each dusty, cobweb covered room. At the foot of the stairs leading up was a note. A note revealing the truth of Gary's nature. And making John's destination clear.
Each step creaked as John climbed towards the first floor. Dust swirled as it was kicked up. His hands itched for the soap in his pocket, but John held firm. He reached the top and went straight for the attic.
Gary was waiting inside, his body deformed, facing away from John.
"Behold My Mother, priest!" He raised up his arms towards the faceless corpse hanging above. "She tried to become the Unholy Trinity, but Her body was too old to withstand it. After all these years, I found the perfect Vessel to take that honor upon Herself... but we both know how that turned out.
You have pursued Me as far as I will go. Only one of us gets out alive. I will make you the first mortal to witness the Profane Sabbath, and the first to be consumed by it. But before I do, I will let you in on a secret:"
Gary turned to John, showing his true demonic form. "GARY DOES NOT LOVE YOU."
And he began crawling fowards with eager claws. John moved too, keeping Gary in sight at all times, and his cross aloft. For a time, they both maintained this chase of sorts. Growling in pain and rage, Gary laughed as their little game gained another player.
At the sight of Malphas's sudden arrival, John lost sight of Gary. Until he was right beside to him.
What happened next, John couldn't quite explain. Maybe it was the memory of Gary's rank breath as he drove a needle into John's neck? Or perhaps a benevolent hand guiding his own? Whatever the reason, John's hand reached into his pocket, gripped that bar of soap tight, and pressed it against Gary's twisted flesh.
Immediately, he shrieked even louder and faded away as if made of mist.
The room was still and silent. All eyes on the spot where Gary was not. Slowly, John looked at the bar in his fist. And gradually, it all made sense. His form was so vulgar that even earthly cleaning products were harmful. Explained the breath.
John's eyes snapped to the still shocked Malphas. Brandishing the soap, he turned to face the demon. Malphas flinched away and dissolved.
But it wasn't over. The faint forms of Gary and Malphas flew into Miriam's limp body. Darkness fell. And the beast revealed itself with a roar, skeletal wings outstretched alongside its gapping maw.
But John was not afraid. He could feel a presence, His presence, all around him. And he knew exactly what to do.
"O' Heavenly Father," John prayed while avoiding Miriam's swoops and flames, "I pray to thee in my darkest hour." With a corner of his cross, John carved a similar cross into the soap. "Guide mine hand, and let my aim be true." He reared back his arm as the beast swooped down for him. And threw the soap.
It sailed directly into the creature's mouth. And down its throat. Sputtering and choking, the beast's screeches were smothered by the foam bubbling up from within.
Desperate, the possessing demons fled. But the now empty body still twitched as the flow got faster and faster. Soon, it was like a high pressure hose, the head tossing back and forth as the bubbles shot out of the large hole where the face had once been. Until, finally, it grew too much.
The corpse of Miriam Bell scattered to the four corners of the room, showering everything in floral-scented pink foam. John was sent to the floor from the force of it. While muffled by the thick suds, Malphas' screams were still audible as it lost its grip on the world.
Exhaustion weighed on John's body, but he powered through it and sat up. Almost the entire room was covered, except for a single circle where Miriam had been. Right there in the centre sat the bar of soap. And hovering above it-
"Amy..." Gary Miller's head popped out of the foam, so squeaky clean that his bald head shone like the north star, "Amy Mea..."
He inched through the scented blanket toward her: "Electra Mulier Infra Omnibus, Simul Luna et Calix et Avis, Simul Mater et Filia et Spiritus Immundus,
MEA TRINITAS PROFANA."
At the end of his "prayer", Gary stared up at Amy, only for a clawed hand to emerge and grip his face tight.
"FAILURE," the demon within her declared before pulling him back to Hell, bloody tendrils whipping about briefly before they too retracted.
Calmly, she drifted down until she stood before John. Then before his very eyes, the wound healed over, until Amy's face was restored.
"Amy, I'm so sorry," John told her, "I couldn't save you."
"John... It's okay. It's over. They can't hurt me anymore," she said. She sounded tired. "You've been so brave. But now...
It's time to finish what you started."
And so, he did. Picking up the soap and his cross, John lightly pressed the soap to Amy's forehead.
"En nomine Patri et Fili et Spiritu Sancti." And Amy was free. "Amen."
---
John didn't let go of that bar as he left Garyland. The whole time, his thumb rubbed over the cross he'd made in it. Father Garcia raised an eyebrow when he saw it and the pink bubbles still covering him, but said nothing.
In solumn silence, they walked past the cop cars and towards John's car. It started to gently rain.
"So. Is it done?" Father Garcia turned to John and asked.
"Yes," he replied, the foam starting to wash away, "What I encountered down there was truely unspeakable, but I washed it away with the help of the Lord."
"That may be true, hijo, but the Unspeakable is still out there. It must be hunted down and destroyed."
Father Garcia regarded John, his eyes lingering on the bar of soap with new found appreciation. But before he could say anything else, a figure approached.
"John!" Lisa waved as she walked up, bags in hand.
"Lisa? What are you doing here?"
"Well, I can't exactly stay in my apartment after all that," she sighed before blinking, "What's that stuff on you?"
"...Soap."
Lisa's eyes flickered to the bar John was still holding. Then to Father Garcia.
"Did he seriously-?"
"Apparently," Father Garcia stated plainly.
"And it worked!?"
"Can't argue with the results."
Wordlessly, Lisa absorbed this knowledge.
"...What's the brand?" She eventually asked. John sighed and turned his face up into the rain:
"Can't remember. Got a spare bar at home though."
"Dibs."
John laughed. It was a tiny thing, but a happy thing. Standing there in the rain, an uncertain future ahead, John knew one thing for sure: he finally felt clean.
Im being for real. If you guys don't start making Top John Ward/Bottom Gary Miller hierophilia public sex (church) content right now, I'll have to play Faith. AND draw.
Amy has informed me today is some event called yaoi day and that I have to reconvene with the cultist known as John Ward to celebrate. Fascinating. I do wonder what that word means.
