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The transport jumped and groaned as it glided across the barren desert sands.
The battered lands, scarred with wounds from battles old and new, scorched craters and decaying warships peppering the landscape as far as the eye could see.
Towering monoliths of the old world peeked over the horizon as if caressing the sun as it descended from its fiery perch.
The harsh desert winds blew Gywenever's hair into a maelstrom of scarlet threads, her pale, white skin catching the last rays of the sun glinting off her golden armour. She sat quietly, eyes closed, hands gripping loosely around the handle of the large battleaxe that lay in her lap.
Visions of past battles flickered through her mind as she desperately tried to silence her thoughts, her grip tightened as frenzied rush of emotions about to overwhelm her. Suddenly she was dragged back to reality by a voice calling out to her.
Her emerald eyes snapped open to see a man standing before her, his face hidden under a hood.
"We're about to reach our target, prepare yourself," he said calmly, in a voice as dead as the land around them.
The two exchanged nods before the man turned back to face the transport controls, his flowing white robes fluttering in the breeze.
An exorcist through and through, the mission on the mind and nothing else, she thought as the transport slowly pulled to a stop.
Once stationary, the man in white began checking his gear, withdrawing a small, semi-automatic handgun from beneath his robe, he quickly pulled the slide back and checked the ammunition with staggering efficiency before depositing it back under his robe.
"Valkyrie Altersted" he barked before turning to face Gwynevere "Have you checked your armaments?" he questioned in an authoritarian tone.
"Why exactly do we have to use the official titles? It's not like this is our first mission or something," Gwynevere muttered while tightening one of the many straps of her heavy plate armour.
The man glared from beneath his hood. "Official protocol dictates—"
Gwynevere grunted loudly, "To hell with official protocol, it's just me and you Kalder so knock it off, you're starting to get on my tits," she whined.
Kalder sighed, "Fine but you're never going to get promoted if you don't start following protocol Gwen," he scolded.
"Like I care about promotions," she chuckled as she stood up and hoisted the battle axe onto her shoulder.
After a few moments, Kalder removed a small obelisk from within his robes. The smooth black stone had small patterns etched into its surface that emanated a soft white glow. Kalder pushed a small button on the top of the stone before a large hologram of a man with flowing white hair and chiseled features appeared in the air.
"Exorcist Surran, Valkyrie Altersted," the man said in a deep, commanding voice. "Your mission is to infiltrate the demon stronghold outside the old human city of Las Vegas and eliminate its commander, a demon known as Aserak the hungry, a lower demon of gluttony."
The message continued, displaying pictures of the demon as well as the stronghold and the surrounding areas. Kalder switched the device off before placing it back within his robes.
"Well, well, well receiving orders from Archangel Michael himself, we're moving up in the world." Gwynevere chuckled as she stepped off the transport, hitting the ground with a heavy clunk.
Kalder followed, hitting the ground silently before turning and looking up at Gwynevere. "Maybe or maybe we're just expendable enough to send on a suicide mission," he said grimly before turning away and heading off in the direction of the stronghold.
"Also, you sound like you gained some weight, want me to start making us some less fatty foods?" he asked in a teasing manner.
"Keep talking Surran, you end up with axe buried in your ass," Gwynevere snapped.
"Don't threaten me with a good time, Gwen," Kalder shouted as he continued walking.
"Smartass," Gwynevere muttered before chasing after him.