The Holy armour of the Galactic Pope is child’s play to operate, because in the past idiots have worn it! I watch Orsini as he delights in turning on the array of deadly, dangerous, lethal and exotic weaponry the armour has. Cardinal Covo may ACTUALLY get his dream of being Galactic Pope.
“What are you waiting for?” I growl as Orsini’s armour clanks like bucket down a set of stairs. The underserviced hydraulics squeal as I put pressure on them, that pressure being that I weigh ten kilos more than Orsini. This armour is nothing more than a joke, a joke I may die in if the gods of old do not smile on me.
“So much choice!” rasps Orsini, his eyes darting between me and the heads up display.
I raise a fist and attempt to fire the wrist blaster, but all that happens is the joint hisses and sparks and burnt smoke pours from where the laser SHOULD have emerged. “Your armour is disgraceful!”
“It meets with the basic requirements of a Cardinal of my stature.” retorted Orsini as the chainblades extended from the forearms and roared to life “I think death by dissection would serve towards your martyrdom, your Holiness!”
I wrench off the useless gauntlet and hurl it at him “If you wish my head Orsini, come get it!”
He slowly moves forward, as he in unaccustomed to combat. He is use to poisoning or backstabbing people rather than face to face. But the Holy armour makes it almost as easy as walking. The chainblade sweeps near my head, which I barely duck as the dead weight I wear hardly bends. I would be better protected in a layer of porridge than this feeble excuse for armour! Orsini laughs like a man possessed as the flurry of blades come at me. Covo watches intently, as do the other Cardinals.
I flip through what other weapons he keeps in this junk pile, and I am not suspired by the lack of weaponry. Still I will make do with what he has left me.
The chainblade bites deep into my left gauntlet, sparks fly! I punch the visor causing Orsini to stagger back, more from shock as his face is protected by the plexi. I press my attack and blast a jet of hot oil into his face. It serves nothing more than a distraction but…
“AH! WHERE ARE YOU?”
He is use to using his eyes and not the sensor array. Given time, but his time is limited. I step in and ram a fist into his underarm and jam the gauntlet in, prying my hand free. He can’t lower his right arm for the moment.
“You are outclassed Orsini,” I make the signs of the old gods “In nomino patre, es spirtu sancti!”
“I’m blind NOT DEAD!” roared Orsini.
“You are now,” I flip on his audio system “Mortificatio flagellus caro!”
The Holy armour tremors and quakes as the Opus Dei internal system activates. It is a form of penance and remembrance which rakes, stings and pierces the flesh. To myself it is a reminder, to one without the layer of callous’ on their skin from years of this, it is torture! Orsini screams like the trapped animal he is, proving that he is a cardinal in name only as mortification is a requirement of the office. Blood trickles from the joints.
“Mortificatio flagellus caro maximus!”
Orsini howls again as the armour amps up the penance. He collapses to the ground convulsing in my armour. I stand over him.
“Do you yield?”
“Yes, oh gods make it stop yes!”
“Open the visor”
The visor pops open which makes his screams echo through the Great Hall. I raise my hand and drive my fingers through his left eye and into his brain making him and the chamber go silent. Cardinal Angelita explodes in rapturous applause, followed by my supporters. I can see the scavenge shifting; they often do at the sight of blood.
“I claim Cardinal Orsini’s life and his votes!” I declare holding up my red right hand, blood trickling down my forearm.
Cardinal Augustine and Cardinal Covo stood in the far corner of the banquet room. The day had gone decidedly against Covo.
“He can’t summon the Fleet!” hissed Covo “War with the House of Abstergo is tantamount to universal war!”
“We still have a few days to calm or out vote his Holiness.” eased Augustine as he sucked the marrow from a bone “Have you tried the goose?”
Covo smacked the bone from his hand “There are more important matters than what is on the menu!”
“An army marches on its stomach!” whispered Augustine as he glided away towards Akihito Borgia and his swelling throng of supporters. Covo drove his hands deep into his crimson robes to keep them from throttling someone. Akihito Borgia caught his bionic eye and the two stared at each other across the room.
“Keep it up Borgia,” muttered Covo to himself “You will get yours soon enough!”
Rated MA, all characters owned by me!