darker_london | Nasty, Tricksy Antichrist! (Peter, Dragonetti, Open?)

Walking down the street was no longer a terrifying thing. For months, the Templar had driven the city of London deep into a hole of fear, and no one felt safe going out on their own. Not even people who happened to know what was going on and were immortal. But the terror was over now. No more fires of hatred burned. People were rebuilding. Hope was returning. And Peter felt quite content as he walked, even if it seemed that spring was struggling for a toehold and he had to wear a thick jacket to feel comfortable.

Peter was hardly expecting to run into anything untoward. So when he ran into a Templar, it took him by complete surprise.

And he wasn't the only one. Father Alessandro Dragonetti had tried to get as far away from London as possible. Until realising he had to come back. It was like a desperate quest now, to prove Peter Kemp was the Antichrist. No one else in his order believed him. Bishop Holden was gone, dying in the Antichrist's lair at the hands of his demon. Who, Dragonetti assumed, had been under some sort of Antichrist's Thrall. Caoilfhionn had always been loyal to Holden before that day. As loyal as Caoilfhonn ever was... But Dragonetti had seen her break Holden's neck. And he'd run, knowing they had failed in their quest to bring Peter Kemp down.

His order was under new leadership. Bishop Tagliateli was not a forward thinking man. He was content enough to sit on his arse and carry on as if they didn't know the Antichrist walked amoung them. Dragonetti had to prove it and he had to prove it on his own if they wouldn't follow. It had become something of an obsession. And, as he stumbled away after being nearly knocked over, it was obvious that he cared about little else. Including himself.

"I'm so sorry!" Peter said, flustered, and he rushed forward, extending a hand to steady the man until he realised who it was. His face was gaunt and he hadn't shaved in far too long, but it was Dragonetti. The man who had tortured him. The man who had killed Robert. Peter recoiled, drawing his arm back as if he feared Dragonetti might lop it off. And he might have too, if given half the chance. "What the hell are you doing here!?"

Dragonetti righted himself and he ran his fingers through greasy hair. Staying in homeless shelters wasn't entirely pleasant, but it was better than staying in a church and being told to return to Rome before he finished his quest. He would return when he was ready, dammit! "Peter Kemp."

Peter looked frantically around himself. The street they were one was relatively empty, as most people preferred to spend their cold Sunday afternoons inside. And if they were outside, they were generally in a rush. There was no one to help him, but Peter was hardly helpless himself. And Dragonetti didn't look too flash. Peter was shocked to find that he was overcome with a wave of pity. Dragonetti had lost everything. And yes, he'd done so by attacking everyone Peter loved in their homes, and if he hadn't that would have meant Peter would have lost everything. But it was never easy for Peter to see someone in pain. Even someone who had done unspeakable things to him. "Yes, that is who I am. Are you...quite alright?"

Dragonetti blinked. Why was the Antichrist addressing him like he cared? "I was fine! Fine until you came into the picture!" And he had been. Until he'd heard the name Peter Kemp, he'd been on the fast track to the top, riding on the tail-end of Bishop Holden's robes. But the ride was out of order now. And Dragonetti was left with nothing but a rusting hulk. Somethign inside Dragonetti broke now, looking at Peter's face. Dragonetti hit Peter square in the chest, but Peter hardly felt it. "Why is God testing me like this?!" He demanded, his voice desperate.

"I...I don't know.." Peter didn't exactly believe in the God Dragonetti was talking about anymore. But he had once. He'd been a monk and a priest and he'd surrounded himself with the knowledge that God provided. And he tested people too. But this was a question he couldn't answer for Dragonetti. Swallowing roughly, Peter took a step back and he ran his fingers through his hair. "I..why do you think...why do you think it's a test?"

Dragonetti glared at Peter, leaning against the wall for support. "He wants his church to return to glory and we were given the path to do that! We had it in front of us! Seeing the Heavenly Creatures would make people return to the church in droves and glory could return to God. Why would he block our path?!" Dragonetti took a shaky breath. "No. He didn't block it. You did! You vile creature! Son of Lucifer himself!"

"As I have said countless times before, my father's name was Klaus and he was a solicitor." Peter sounded bored and annoyed. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe your path was blocked because you were going the wrong way? Headed for one of those...cliff things they show in the comics with nothing but a sign saying 'look out!'?"

"Blasphemer!" Dragonetti cried, and a lone elderly woman who happened to be walking by picked up her pace and shuffled off in terror.

Peter looked after the woman for a moment and then back to Dragonetti. "Sure, I'm a blasphemer. We've established that." They'd put him on a strappado for it. And Peter shuddered, thinking of the agony he'd been left in for an entire night. "Why would you come back here?"

"I will prove who you are!" Dragonetti hissed, sounding manic. "I will! I'll find proof! I know it's in that hospital of yours! I just need to find it!"

Peter was glad that Rolf was able to keep the hospital hidden from anyone that sought to harm it or anyone inside. Angels were handy that way. "You never will." Peter assured Dragonetti. Peter wanted, more than anything, to call the police right now and have Dragonetti arrested. But he didn't have a phone on him and he knew that any attempt to restrain the man was only going to end badly. Most likely, for Dragonetti... And he'd already almost killed the man once. He didn't need a repeat performance. "I can't say I'm sorry you're not going to get what you want because it's...horrible. But I am...something. Looking at you makes me feel something other than complete disgust."

"I will send you back to the hell you came from!" Dragonetti yelled again.

Peter signed. "I didn't come from hell, I come from London."

"Get away from me, vile thing. I will see your downfall!" But that day was not today. Dragonetti leaned up from the wall and he inched away from Peter, sure that when he turned his back, all the hounds of Hell would be released on him. His heart was pounding in his chest now. He had to get out of here. God was testing him and he had to succeed. This was his quest. He would bring Peter Kemp down and his name would live on forever in the pages of history.

Or...not. As Dragonetti tried to back away, still screaming curses at a bemused looking Peter, something inside Dragonetti's chest seized. The months of hard living, and barely eating took their toll. Dragonetti clutched at his chest as he fell forward to his knees, a strange and terrified sound escaping from his lips. Oh god, the Antichrist was attacking him from within!!

Peter, who had nothing to do with Dragonetti's heart attack, immediately rushed forward to catch the man before he shattered his head all over the footpath. "Oh, fuck me!" Peter cried out, as Dragonetti gasped in his arms.

"Stop!" Dragonetti tried to scramble away from the Antichrist. Who knew what horrors were waiting for him now?! But he was far too weak. He couldn't breathe. The world was fading into blackness.

"Hey! Oh, for fuck's sake, don't die now! You'll think you have proof then! Shit!" No, it didn't make sense. But Peter was panicked. "Okay...okay...there's a Templar dying in my arms and I have no phone. And everyone's inside...fuck it. HELP! SOMEONE HELP!"