Date: Post-Oscars Location: Church of Saints, Private Chapel Closed: @davisadele
The Noli didn’t know why he didn’t simply kill one of the security guards guarding one of the many doors out of the Church Building. He could have, should have and would have without much difficulty but he let the man live. He did him this small kindness for the sole reason that Heath didn’t want blood on his shoes. With the apocalypse occurring, Heath mused he was going to have to be much more careful about his clothing. Heath strolled through the Church of Saints with much ease. He didn’t look like any of the Horsemen and if there were warnings about the Farriers, none of the civilians around him cared much. He found what he was looking for soon enough - a small, private chapel. He tried the door but as expected it was locked. Breaking the lock took a small twist of his wrist.
Heath left the door ajar behind him, slowly approaching a small altar at the front of the room. It was small, quaint but it had the air that he was looking for. Something sacred. He knelt down in front of the altar, looking up at the cross of Jesus. And Heath felt nothing. Not a single thing. There was no feeling of reverence, no hushed prayer. There was nothing in the air for Heath to see why so many people spent years on their knees, begging. It puzzled him. The world burned around Heath and it felt like he was watching it through a video game screen. It was all about the next button to hit.
The door behind him opened and Heath’s arm shot around, a Heckler and Koch USP in his hand. He didn’t see who he was pointing the gun at first, keeping his eyes up on the cross before he glanced over his shoulder. An angelic smile split his face, blue eyes twinkling. Charity. “Close the door behind you, Adele, and without a sound, please.” He jerked his head to the spot beside him. “Mind praying with me?”