Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 372

"Assassination"

We shall use every weapon at our disposal to slay the Tyrants, every resource that we can lay our hands on. No power is too dark, no act too heinous. We shall not balk at the task before us. We shall not rest until the Tyrants are dead. We are everywhere. We are legion.

-excerpt from The Patriots Manifesto', author Unknown

Monday, October 7th, 2013-Mary Glassner - Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, New York City

I threw a punch at Mark's face. He caught my wrist easily.

"He's bigger than me, how am I supposed to fight him?" I demanded angrily of Azrael.

Ever since I took the Mother Superior's Gift, Mark and I could summon Azrael, the Angel of Death, and form a shared dreamscape. We were using it to learn to fight, so that we could defend ourselves if we ended up in another bad situation. Mark effortlessly picked it all up thanks to his Gift, while I had to struggle to learn just the basics-it was so frustrating! The Gift was so sexist! Why did Mark get cool fighting powers? He got to summon a sword and armor and look absolutely badass when he's fighting. All I got was the degrading power of exorcism through sex. I still felt dirty from handling Brandon's cock. Sometimes it seened like the vile taste of his cum would never leave my lips.

"Your foes will almost always be bigger than you, Mary," Azrael replied in her musical voice. She sounded like bells ringing when she talked: tiny, tinkling bells when she was happy and deep,

resonating bells when she was angry.

"You're getting better, Mare," Mark said with a smile. I knew he was just saying that to be nice, and it did make me feel warm inside. But I wasn't getting better. I felt so clumsy, like my limbs were weighted down as I struggled to properly move them. My husband moved quickly and deliberately. Unlike me, his body moved the way he intended it to, while I stumbled and flailed like a drunk chicken.

We had already been practicing for what seemed like a day. Time worked differently in the dreams, flowed slower. Mark kept referring to Inception, and he had looked so shocked when I admitted to having never seen the movie. For the last week, we had spent every other night training in the dreams; it was too exhausting with my pregnancy for me to train every night.

It wasn't just physical fighting we trained. We also practiced spells, trying to figure out ways to use them in sticky situations. Wind spells to knock an opponent down, illusions to confound them, and levitating to put distance between you and your enemy. And Molech's fire was a great last resort, burning anyone who touched you. I felt like I could do more with the fire, hurl it somehow, if I could just figure out how to control it better.

I also practiced my Gift, learning the Nun's prayers. I could control an enemy's Thrall so long as they weren't bound by the Zimmah spell-transforming them into traps to be sprung on their Warlock, or I could free the Thrall, or put them into a trance and interrogate them. With Warlocks popping up all over the world, I was the only one who could exorcise them and their Thralls. By touching their cocks. So unfair.

"Let's practice shooting," I finally said, growing too frustrated with the hand-to-hand training.

I was great at shooting. Since we were in a dream, we could shape or conjure anything we could imagine, I had been afraid of guns - they make that loud noise when they're fired ever since I was little. Once I got used to them, I found that there was something very satisfying about hitting the target and seeing the damage the bullet did. I especially liked to fire at targets that resembled Brandon, aiming at his crotch.

There was power in using a gun and being in control.

Mark and I spent a few dream hours which was probably only ten minutes in the waking world-firing various guns; it was satisfying fun. I had shot a few while awake now the bodyguards and soldiers were very accommodating and I had been pleased to see that my training in the dream had translated into real skill in the waking world.

I switched to shooting a 9mm automatic pistol. Probably my favorite gun. I aimed at a fresh Brandon target, lining up the front and rear sights right at his crotch. I squeezed the trigger and the gun rapidly barked and jerked upwards in my hand as it spat out bullets. The target splintered, the first few bullets striking the crotch, then there was a jerky line going up his hip into his gut. I smirked in satisfaction. Shooting effigies of Brandon never seemed to grow old.

"I hope you enjoy hell, bastard!" Mark shouted.

I chill went through me. We had sold our souls to the Devil, just like Brandon. When we die, was eternal torment going to be our reward? Mark didn't care about damnation when he sold his soul, and I had been too wrapped up in my love for Mark when I decided to sell mine. I had wanted so badly to be his equal that I didn't think through my decision.

I wished Sam was back from France. She should be on a plane right now, landing this evening at La Guardia. The last few days I have been studying the Magicks of the Witch of Endor, trying to find a way out of going to hell. The book hinted of a spell that would require a child, a daughter. My hand touched my belly, the only child I would ever have. If it was a girl, there was a way that Mark could gain immortality, and since I wished to live as long as Mark, I would gain it as well.

If I, or one of the sluts that is pregnant with his child, bore a daughter, we would be able to cheat the Devil and escape our fate.

"It's alright," Mark whispered, wrapping his arms around me.

He was such a sweet man, sensing my turmoil. I closed my eyes, feeling safe in his strong arms. I knew in my heart that we'd be together forever-even in the torments of hell. I let go of the gun it vanished back into dreamstuff before hitting the ground - and I wiggled my ass into his hardening cock

This was the other great benefit of the shared dream; we were sleeping hundreds of miles apart. I was in New York City, in the Waldorf-Astoria, and Mark was at the Willard Intercontinental in Washington D.C. But that didn't matter. We could be on the far side of the world and we were only a nap away from being together.