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He let her thanks roll off his back, he didn't know why he was doing good turns anymore, but he was suspecting it was the only thing that kept him out of the maw. They didn't have a long walk before they reached the grand doors of the cathedral. One of the smaller doors within the door swung open to reveal a mid-sized man hidden by shadows and cloaked in white.

"Brother," the figure spoke revealing it to be Father Wester, "I don't know why you always spirit them away at night, but you've got this old man of the lord so tired these days."

The be-robed figure faced Abbie, "Sister child, you look worse than some of the homeless that roll through here, let's get you inside."

The Father sniggered at the remarks Abbie made, Orson showed no facial changes as he pushed in beside him following after Abbie.

"Tell me what you need that I can provide sister, and please limit it to what I can provide. Broken dreams and shattered wishes aren't a specialty of mine."

The Father's kindness continued, Orson, however, was on a mission, or so it looked, as he made his way to the rather modest altar in the grand church, where he promptly knelt. Wester ignored this.

The priest sighed and leaned against the pew next to her. "We grew up together me and him, we're brothers, and I don't mean that like a church way, we're brothers."

He was implying they were in a gang together.

"Well I became a holy man and he became a detective, I found myself as part of this church, and he brings those he wants to protect here because I can set them up in pretty well in the shelter."

Father Wester sighed again, "You aren't the first, you won't be the last."

He looked off at his comrade, still kneeling in front of the altar, in the time they spent talking, the detective added a small picture to the altar that could not be made out from where Abbie and Wester had positioned themselves. In fact, it merely looked like a small rectangle in the distance.

"That little boy, he's got something after him too doesn't he?"

Orson had finished kneeling and was now standing up, the small picture in his hand. It was a quiet moment, and the silence felt different from that of the parking lot, it felt normal. In fact, it felt reverent.

"You can't save everyone sister, hell, the Lord doesn't even ask for that. But from the way you sound the Lord and His salvation doesn't rock your boat." Wester shrugged, "I'm not going to try to convert you, I don't need any more in my flock, but tell me sister, what put you out on His love?" Innocent question to pass the time as the detective had chosen to sit in the first row with his head in his hands.

It was obvious the Father was just as much entertaining his new ward as he was trying to give his old friend some space.

The Father took a moment to reflect on Abbie's words. He had heard plenty of stories of how God is used against people, and the result were often the same, or came in the same categories. To Father Wester, Abbie was another of those who experienced God as a weapon, a mighty and powerful weapon, drawn like a sword and wielded like a shield, blindly sheltering its subjects whilst cleaving them apart. Wester knew not how to fix this, indeed, he knew little of anything when it came to solving "humanity", but he made his attempts and this was about to be one of them.

"The version of God thrown at you with the weight of words and on the back of a bible isn't the version of God you should believe in, I'll give you that," he paused and sat beside her, "again, I'm not trying to convert, just give you a little better understanding," he smiled, a row of white contrasting the dark of his tight-curled mustache, "My understanding."

He expected that she expected a "all in God's plan" but he was about to go somewhere different.

"God has left us, humans, to our own devices. He's given us the building blocks to make ourselves great," The father reached in a gesture to the cieling with an open palm, "But He also gave us, us animals, free will," he closed it, and looked at her, "That free will is both His blessing and His curse, as the case may be with your father. He squandered his free will to create a God that struck you with cruelty and sin and brimstone from Hell. I can't say as to why he did it, I can't say as to why anyone does that."

Kenneth Wester, as he was now speaking more now as a man than a man of a church, sighed and looked at Abbie earnestly, "But you've come away from him, your father, and his will, and now you have your own. If you choose to believe in the God your father struck you with and used against you then go ahead, God won't stop you. But the God I know, the one I like to think is the one not made from Fear and Loathing and Ignorance, but the one of Love, Kindness, and Generosity, He is here when you need Him most, when He is called upon. And all too often do people turn their backs on Him and He forgives them, lord yes he does, and it is because people saw fit, with their free will, to create a God that can't be trusted."

He looked down to the ground.

"I don't know why these kids have gone missing, why these, these, homeless have gone missing. I don't know how the God I believe in plays a part in all this, all I know is that those things out there don't get in here, and if that isn't proof of something I don't know what it is."

~100th Post Celebration Expo!~

At that moment Detective Orson, who had made his way across the church very silently, spoke up, and as he spoke, the ground beneath the church began to tremble in a quaking bass,

"I've paid my dues," the ground shook more violently, "time after time."

It was the father's turn, "I've done my sentence," somewhere in the rumbling night a guitar sounded, "but committed no crime."

Behind Abbie spoke a familiar eerie voice she never wished to hear again, that of the demonic Hank. "And bad mistakes," joined by Jeremy, from in front of her, looking into her eyes with an empty stare, "I've made a few."

Then from the side of her which previously had nobody, a man with a burned face began his part of the verse, "I've had my share of sand kicked in my face, but I've come through..."

The ground ended it's tumult, and the organ in the church began a startling refrain while ethereal guitars sprang out in the night, all of the players in this story sang in tune, a cacophonous harmony,

"We are the champions, my friends/
"And We'll keep on fighting, til the end/
"We are the champions,/
"We are the champions,/
"No time for losers, cause we are the champions..."

And the silence came, while a brief light from heaven shown on Detective Orson's face, "Of the world."

And all went dark.

Absorbing the information, Abbie looked down at her hands and rolled her thumbs over one another. This was a habit she did during class when the students were taking tests, reading or just having quiet study time. Abbie enjoyed the display of her old habits, they reminded her that she was still sane. With everything going on around her and what had happened to her in just a single day, made her wonder what would happen tomorrow, or the day after.

Orson had mentioned nonchalantly that people got out of this town in a body bag once it started happening to them. Abbie wondered if that same fate would befall her. However, she looked back down at her thumbs and remembered she was still alive. That had to account for something. "The homeless people don't really have families they can count on to care about their disappearance. If this isn't paranormal in any fashion, some terrible person chose the perfect target. No one is going to go looking for any of those people...." Abbie felt a twinge of sorrow for them. No one cared about them being on the streets without food and proper shelter, what did they care if they suddenly disappeared? One less homeless person on the streets in that case.

"You think there is a connection between the disappearances and this?" Abbie pointed towards herself. Thinking to herself on that note, was she really safe here? A scenario in which the ghastly Jeremy crawled out of her body, the same way he went in, and murdered everyone in the church caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand erect. She shook her head violently to get the scene out of her head and looked back at Orson. "What do we do now?"