Chapter 150: A Fraud?

"Shit, you're insane!" Killer's voice ricocheted through the confines of the car, his words laced with a mix of awe and terror. He was hunkered down in the backseat, gripping the leather as if it were the only thing anchoring him to reality.

The night was alive with chaos, the roar of Jon's engine slicing through the infected humans. With each aggressive swerve and turn, the car's high-performance tires gripped the asphalt, leaving behind a horde of infected, their bodies now nothing more than a macabre tableau painted across the desolate road.

Jon's voice cut through the tension, as cold and unyielding as steel. "I need to remind you all, what we're about to face is not some demon or evil spirit, but an alien being."

"Aliens?" Luke's voice was a cocktail of incredulity and fear, a stark contrast to the hardened edge of Jon's. The concept of extraterrestrial life had never been more than a distant thought, a fantasy relegated to the silver screen, yet here it was, confronting him in the flesh.

"Hey, wait! As an exorcist, do you even deal with aliens?" Luke's question hung in the air, a testament to the surreal turn their lives had taken.

Jon's sneer was almost audible, a sound that seemed to mock their ignorance. "Being an exorcist is just a cover story I made up, and my real identity is not that of an exorcist." He paused, the weight of his next words hanging between them. "I am some kind of a supernatural judge."

"A Judge?" Luke's confusion was palpable, his mind struggling to keep pace with the revelations unfolding before him.

"Yes, to judge all the sins in this world, and not just human sins, but also those of ghosts, demons, and aliens! Any creature that has sinned must face my judgment!" Jon's declaration was a solemn vow, a promise etched in the very fabric of the universe.

As they entered the small town, the scene that greeted them was one of apocalyptic dread. Shaky figures, reminiscent of zombies, staggered through the streets, their moans a haunting melody to the night's grim chorus.

"Tell me Luke, who are the real sinners?" Jon asked in a serious tone.

"Demons..." Luke's response was a whisper, a faint echo of the conviction that Jon's presence inspired.

Jon's smile was a rare glimpse of humanity, a fleeting moment before his gaze returned to the road ahead, his voice a low growl. "This alien creature has slaughtered countless intelligent beings across multiple planets; its sins are deeper than anything I've ever seen!"

The evil that permeated the air was a tangible force, a darkness that dwarfed the malevolence of Voldemort, Serleena, Boris the Animal, and a legion of other villains that Jon punished.

Abruptly, Jon hit the brakes, the car halting with such force that it seemed to defy the laws of physics.

"Why... why are we stopping?!" Killer's voice was tinged with panic, his instincts screaming that the safety of the car's interior was preferable to the unknown dangers outside.

"To solve the problem, one must get out and deal with it personally." Jon's words were a decree, his resolve unshakable as he opened the car door.

"Hey, wait!" Killer's protest was a desperate plea, but Jon was unmoved.

"If you're scared, just wait in the car." With those final words, Jon stepped into the fray, the night swallowing him whole.

Luke followed without a second thought, his trust in Jon unwavering. Killer, after a moment of internal struggle, set his jaw and joined them, his determination overcoming his fear.

Jon handed them each a small silver high-tech pistol, the metal gleaming under the moonlight.

"What... what is this?" Luke's question was laced with curiosity and a hint of skepticism. The gun was unlike any he had seen, compact and futuristic, more akin to a prop from a sci-fi blockbuster than a weapon of war.

"A specialized weapon for killing aliens." Jon's tone was matter-of-fact, his face an unreadable mask.

As the two blood-mouthed humans charged with guttural screams, the night air was split by their cries.

Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!

Instinct took over.

Bang, bang!

Luke and Killer, with unsteady hands, raised their pistols. The weapons, deceptively small, unleashed beams of searing light, obliterating the heads of their attackers in a gruesome display. The recoil was unexpected, powerful, knocking them back onto the ground, their breaths escaping in sharp gasps.

They stared at the guns, disbelief etched on their faces, as the headless corpses began to stir. From the ragged necks, two blood-red worms wriggled free, grotesque and alien.

"Ah, shit, that's it, that's what turned Mrs. Glenn into that!" Luke's voice trembled with horror, his aim shaky as he tried to target the writhing parasite. His inexperience with firearms was evident; the high-tech weapon felt alien in his hands.

The blood worm lunged with a sudden burst of speed, aiming for Luke's mouth. But in a flash, Jon's hand snatched it from the air, his grip unyielding. With a burst of hellfire, the worm was reduced to ashes. His boot came down hard on the second worm, obliterating it with a sickening crunch.

Luke and Killer exhaled in relief, their confidence bolstered by Jon's swift actions.

Regaining his footing, Luke, still gripping the pistol, asked, "How did you get this thing?"

"War trophies from killing aliens," Jon replied with a nonchalance that belied the gravity of their situation.

Luke paused, his mind racing—was Jon serious, or was this another layer of deception?

Bang, bang, bang!

The sound of gunfire snapped them back to reality. They turned towards the source of the commotion.

"It's coming from the woods over there!" Killer's voice was tense, his eyes scanning the treeline.

"Let's check it out!" Jon commanded, his voice cutting through the night.

They advanced towards the woods, the underbrush crunching beneath their feet. Jon led the way, his movements precise and deliberate.

Bang! Bang!

"Die, you sons of bitches!" The voice from the jungle was rough, tinged with desperation and fury. Gunshots echoed, punctuated by the flashes of muzzle fire.

***

Jon, with a steely gaze, led Luke and Killer through the dense underbrush toward the gunfire. They emerged to a scene: a young man clad in a police uniform, his handgun barking death at the infected lurching towards him, while a young, beautiful blonde woman cowered behind him.

"Are you okay, Starla?!" the officer called out, his voice a mix of concern and adrenaline.

"I'm fine, Bill!" Starla's voice trembled, but her words were firm.

Bill, the town's sheriff, and Starla, the wife of the wealthy businessman Grant—whose body was now a vessel for an alien entity—were the main protagonists of this horror unfolding in real-time.

The rustling of the bushes put Bill on high alert, his gun snapping towards the sound, ready to unleash leaden fury on another wave of the infected.

"Heh heh, don't get excited, it's me, Bill!" Killer's voice cut through the tension as he stepped forward with raised hands, a gesture of peace to the familiar face of law enforcement.

Bill's eyes narrowed as he assessed the trio, his gun lowering incrementally as he recognized the absence of the infected's erratic behavior.

"Who are these two?" Bill's question was direct, his gaze shifting between Luke and Jon.

Killer stepped in, "This is the lawyer, Luke Matthews, and this is..." He hesitated, unsure how to present Jon.

"Uh... this is Mr. Jon Vinson, the Exorcist." Killer finally said, with a hint of uncertainty.

Bill's reaction was immediate—a hearty laugh that cut through the grim atmosphere. "Hahaha, a fraud then, huh! Hey, kid, if you want to scam money, go somewhere else. With all these monsters around, you'll be dead before you make a cent~!"

His laughter was short-lived as the bushes betrayed more movement. Two, no, three infected staggered into view, their grotesque forms a stark reminder of the reality they faced.

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A\N: 

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