Previously in Paladin: Origins…
Connor Sharpe is THE PALADIN, the last of the Earthborn Angels…and now, he is a killer. Having recently manifested his powres, the angel Gabriel enlisted his help in preventing a demon invasion. Gabriel as severely beaten and it left Connor to fend off the demon’s leader, but it was his ignorance of his own powers that cost him so much more, as Connor’s final attack took the life of hundreds….
I
The sound of squealing brakes and screaming children ring harshly through the bus, but outside, only the sound of the train can be heard. Inside the bus, 30 children are screaming and one poor man is cursing the bad luck that the engine chose just now to break down. Thirty feet away, a train conductor is frantically pulling a stop cord, praying that it will be enough, just barely enough to stop this behemoth of a train.
100 miles away, and Connor Sharpe can still hear it all as if it was happening right next to him.
He’s off in a flash of light, energy crackling around his body and solidifying into his now familiar black and white costume, the cape flowing behind him. Faster than most mortals would be able to conceive he arrives, his body stretching long, his arms pointed out straight ahead. He flies directly to the side of the train, close to the windows, the passengers seeing this magnificent man closer than anyone yet has as he blazes past the passenger cart, past the conductor’s engine, finally far up to the front, where he moves up to the tip of the train and places his hands up against its hard, steel nose.
His eyes narrowed and his teeth grit, he pushes hard, flying up against the train, the wheels going hot and smoking, he himself pushing and straining harder. Finally, as the end reaches, as his own cape flaps up against the windows of the bus, with a horrifying screech and the reeking smell of metal grinding against metal, the train halts to a stop, with barely enough room for the Paladin to slip out and disappear. They will want to thank him, to reward him, to show their gratitude.
But by the time they clear out, he is gone. The Paladin is no longer in the area, and Connor Sharpe is back where he was before, sitting leisurely under a secluded tree, and trying his best to understand the complicated Trig book when Lea appears before him. She’s clutching a bundle of flowers and is dressed in a long, flowing dress. Connor stares for a moment, feeling his heart beat all the way up to his throat, thinking about how gorgeous she is, how much he wants to hold her, to dip her back, to…
“Are you ready?”
Connor shakes his head and looks up at her again, her face twisted in a look of confusion. “Ready for…?” he asked, still trying to shake the dream of their shared kiss out of his head, wondering what brought him to think that.
“You know what today is, Connor.”
Connor looked at his watch and sighed, then stood up. “Yeah…lets go.”
***
It is twenty minutes later, and Connor cannot take his eyes off this cold stone imbedded in the dirt. It’s been here for years, weathered by time. Its words are no longer as bright and clear as they once were, but it still sends a chill through his bones.
Lea gently knelt down, placing the flowers atop the slab, running her fingers gently across the name. “You really miss them…don’t you, Connor?”
Connor did not answer, merely grunted. His parents were here; deep under the ground, there bodies were now little more than skeletons and dust in the wind, surely. He had never really gotten the chance to known them before they were ripped away from him.
He still held them so deep in his heart; His mother, a slender young lady, her hair jet black, her eyes so full of love and hope. She was always so kind to him, so quick to take care of his wounds, so ready to love him no matter what he did or what happened. And yet, somehow, even now that he knew of her true role in the world, as an angel who actually walked the Earth, it didn’t take away the humanity of her being so quick to sacrifice her own wants for her only child.
It was his father whose memory surprised him. At first he had been a good person as well. He was a tall man, clean-shaven with short, blonde hair. He and Connor would often play when he was younger, playing catch out back or making fun of the people on the television.
But one day, out of the blue, he changed so suddenly, so rapidly. He became angry, and spent hours locked by himself in his office, spending eventually days in there doing God-only-knows-what in there. Until one day…
Lea placed a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “I…need to get going to class.” She said. Connor nodded and watched her leave, watched the sweep of her dress, the movement of her body, before finally turning his attention back to the gravestone imbedded in the cold ground beneath him.
Connor closed his eyes and bowed his head, silently praying to himself. Did his new powers affect this too? Did he gain a direct line to the Powers That Be? Would his mother be able to hear this one herself?
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
Connor turned to see Gabriel, resting his hand upon the elegant hilt of his sword. “It’s a terrible thing, for a child to lose a mother.” He spoke. “But you can waste no more time mourning…you have work to do.”
***
Three hours later, Connor and Gabriel both are in mid-air, looking down at a patch of barren desert. The hot air swooped up at Connor, penetrating the material of his mask and running through to his face.
“I don’t’ get it.” Connor said, “What are we doing out here?”
Gabriel simply nodded and dropped down, landing gingerly on the sand. Connor followed his lead and landed next to him. As if on cue, as soon as he landed, the ground shook and heaved, the sand flying across in the air and parting to give way to a sleek, crystal doorway rising above the ground. Twin doors flew open and a slim figure, cloaked in a long, tattered robe stepped forward.
“You may as well lose that costume, young sir.” The voice spoke, in a low, ominous tone. “There are no secrets here, not even for those of your caliber.”
Gabriel smirked and walked in, following the robed figure into the building. Connor, ever so reluctantly, allowed his costume to dissipate and followed suit as well.
II
“Welcome.” The robed figure spoke in the entrance of the elegant, crystal hallway. “I am Malachi, the keeper of this temple. In here, the histories and legacy of all Paladin Knights, servants of the Lord Almighty, are recorded and saved for the education of future generations.”
Gabriel was leaned up against the wall, staring on at Connor, who now was standing there with one eyebrow raised. Connor, who was standing in the center of the room, was clearly surprised by what was going on, even though he tried hard not to show it. Malachi walked around the young man, the tattered edge of his robe sashaying along the ground, his fingers steepled as he looked Connor up and down.
“You will traverse these hallways,” Malachi spoke again, “and you will face the past you never knew about. You will learn a great many things about yourself, about those before, and perhaps about those yet to serve.”
Connor turned to Gabriel, who shrugged and raised his hands in a “What?” gesture. Malachi raised one hand and gestured towards a larger doorway in the distance, which seemed to open on command.
“It is time to begin, Connor.”
Connor walked up and stood in the doorway, looking out at the walls of the next hallway. Though they were made of similar crystals, these flashed lights and images, and seemed to reach out and beckon Connor. From here, he could already see Paladin’s who had come far before him. He saw an Englishman with an elegant rapier, a Knight with a suit of armor and a faceplate, even a more modern man in an awfully tacky yellow jumpsuit.
“Why today?” Connor asked Malachi, turning to face this strange man. “Why this day, when you know what it means to me?”
“Perhaps you will find that out when you walk the Hallway.” Malachi responded, “We will be waiting for you to return.”
Gabriel nodded and stepped forward. Connor sighed and stepped through, the crystal doors shutting themselves behind him. Almost simultaneously, a voice began to come from the walls, reaching deep into his mind. In a slow tone, reminiscent of an old radio broadcast, the history of the Paladin played out for Connor…
III
Gabriel sat at an elegant table in a farther recess of the crystal temple, across from Malachi. While Malachi was far more relaxed than he had been earlier with Connor, sitting casually and sipping a glass of wine, Gabriel himself seemed tense, a cup of hot tea sitting untouched in front of him.
“Why was it today?” Gabriel finally spoke, absentmindedly twirling the spoon sitting in his cup.
“Because today was important to both of you, Gabriel. You could never forget this date either.”
“Ironic…” Gabriel mulled.
“It was the price you paid, Gabriel. Thirty years ago, you chose to come to Earth and assist in the training of the Paladins. You can’t tell me you’re surprised that even those who are allowed to come temporarily have to follow the rules. Besides, no mortal could survive having knowledge of Heaven, you know that.”
“Yes, I…I know this, but…I can’t remember any of it. I know I loved Heaven. I know it truly was eternally blissful. But I can’t remember why. I can’t remember what I loved about it; I can’t remember what it was like. Inside, I feel it is only the notion of something else that I love, even though I know that’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” Malachi quipped, a sly smirk across his face.
Gabriel sighed and started to reply, when a loud crash from outside interrupted him. He leapt up and ran to the entrance, where a cloud of desert sand was beginning to dissipate, a large black beast standing amidst it. The monster flapped its large, leathery wings once and blew the hot sand back at Gabriel, who was barely able to shield his eyes.
“Malachi!” he screamed behind him, “Lock the temple, secure the Paladin!”
Gabriel drew his sword and lunged, slashing at the beast, but was too slow. Though considerably larger, the demon moved with a shocking degree of swiftness, and easily dodged Gabriel’s sword, countering with a mighty slash of its clawed hand, flecks of brimstone against the demons skin raising burns and sizzling on Gabriel’s flesh.
From the entrance to the temple, Malachi watched on in awe, a singular name whispered in utter disbelief.
“…Eblis.”
The demon, Eblis, reared back and howled, a monstrous scream of pain and anguish. Gabriel regrouped and stabbed forward hard with his sword, its gleaming blade piercing the monsters shoulder. Eblis grabbed Gabriel by the throat and hurled him against the temple, shards of crystal breaking off and falling down in the warm desert sand. Malachi finally broke out of his own trance and rushed forward, pulling at the door, but Eblis again proved swifter, swooping in and knocking the old man aside with one fell swoop of his right hand, the claws drawing blood from Malachi’s chest.
Eblis walked into the crystal temple, sniffing the air and searching about, swatting at various statues and monuments in the area. He towered before the twin doors leading into the hallway where Connor now walked, and sniffed, his nostrils flaring.
From behind, Gabriel dashed forward, flecks of sand still falling off his robes, his sword held down beside him as he ran. He hurled himself high into the air and dropped down hard at the beast, ramming his sword deep into its back and holding on for dear life as the beast bucked and kicked along the room, shattering what few remnants were left. The beast let out a mighty roar and grabbed Gabriel off his back, slamming him into the ground. The beast held down Gabriel and brought his clawed fists down hard, pummeling him deep into the ground before letting up.
Now, with none left, the beast sniffed again at the doorway and howled, then launched a mighty blow at the twin doors…
IV
Connor found himself at odds with his own mind.
This slow dull voice began to speak in his head, telling of Paladins of old. Of Englishmen who had defended their country, knights who had served their lords, and even one crazy fool who fought for safety of one woman, despite being shot in the throat over her.
But as he walked down the hallway, looked at these bright images of heroes long gone and of monsters long defeated, there was one that bothered him. The final image, along the end wall of the hallway, seemed blurry and unfocused, like a bad picture taken from the past.
He walked up to it slowly, and it subsequently came in focus, as he realized what it was. It was him. And his family.
His parents.
The replay started and the voice kicked up again. It was all old news, anyways. His mother, the gentle loving angel, new to the world and to her gifts. His father, a good man who suddenly turned evil.
But then Connor realized the voice wasn’t discussing his father being evil. It was showing the good things he was, the good he had done. What was this? What was going on?
There came a frame especially painful for Connor, as they stood in their house and watched Connor open up Christmas presents. He remembered it well, for it was but a few weeks later his father became the cruel man he had been at the end, and a mere year and a half before his father’s heinous act.
The frame shifted to show his mother hugging his father. A bright light emanated from her, though she did not seem to realize it, but his father’s eyes grew wide. Wide with surprise. Wide with fear. Wide with…
“Oh my God.” Connor said, dropping to his knees as the radio announcer in his head spoke such a terrible thing. His mother…his dear, sweet mother, who had given everything to protect her son. His mother who loved life, loved the world, loved everything. His mother, who was an Angel literally sent to Earth.
His mother was responsible for both her own and his father’s death.
The world around Connor erupted in exploding crystals as a clawed hand grabbed him by the throat. He found himself face to face with the demon Eblis, who growled and spat hot, steamy breath at Connor. Though Connor grit his teeth and attempted to form his sword, he soon realized the demons flesh was coated with brimstone, the burning sensation running through his neck robbing him of the concentration needed to form his weapon.
As the flesh of his neck sizzled, Connor could feel himself fading fast…
TO BE CONTINUED…
COMING SOON:
PALADIN: ORIGINS ACT IV
THE WAY THINGS ARE, PT. 2 (OF 2)
