LI CHI, HAJJA AND RAMIREZ were overseeing the training by the surviving God’s Army rebels — with their new inclusion of Salazar's exile Mexican prisoners — and the hundreds of volunteering, inexperienced free-males and women of war-torn drug-cities, in the mix.

They were planning to seize Los Angeles by hitting various strategic points — to cripple the city soon. Their cardinal attack would be centred at the Fundraiser premise — with the presences of the US Army’s buttress — in protecting their Snake-woman president.

He looked out at those gathered from the window, from the top floor of the abandoned office that Michael was utilizing as his office and meeting place with the monks. Doran was saying his mental prayers with rolling rosary beads in hand — as watching below at his soldiers in their activities.

His mind was not there, with his circa of going to war. He turned back towards seeing Michael piously reading the bible at a round table. He came over and sat beside him to confide.

“I still get those visions of my past, Michael. My Mother is always still taunting me — and saying that I will go to hell. Even Sister Lisa Marie too appears with the other dead nuns and monks from the Convent. They all keep also repeating that my time is up — that I will die soon.”

Michael closed the Bible, kissed it in devout — and crossed himself before replying him...

“We have spoken of this many times while in prison, Doran — that you have spent a lot of time, even for several months in the isolation hole — and that has impaired your reality...

“But, you will be fine, my brother — and you are not going to die — and even God, will not permit that for now.”

“Then, am I losing my mind, Michael? Sister Lisa was there...and so was Matthew too...the visions —are getting very real every day...”

Michael’s face tightened when he heard of the dead monk’s name, even after years of lamentation since.

“No Doran, you just have to let go of the burden of your past failures — and you should move on. You were only 12 then — when the Snake-woman had ordered the attack on us at the Convent — but even till today, you are still clinging to the guilt — for not saving every nun and monk, who died that day.”

Michael also recalled his own futile attempt to save the drowning Matthew underwater, in the flooded sewer...

“Even I failed that day…”

They both turned to a knock on the door, and Peter opened to look in. He spotted Michael who was closest to the door...

“Dr Sofia Grozini is here.”

Two women stepped into the room — a mother and daughter — and they introduced themselves to Doran. Only Claudia Grozini spoke English with a heavy Italian accent. They sat across the round table facing the three monks...

“It is a great honour to finally meet you, Padre Doran. Your influence is really felt in such a big way, in Europe. People are talking highly about you over there of your bravery — of how a simple Catholic monk has put a resistance, on the greatest Government on earth.

“They even mention your name in churches as the new future — that the world had waited, for eighteen years since the outbreak of The Medusa. You are even mentioned and discussed intensively all over the social media.”

“Sorry, I don't Facebook,” the uneasy Doran said softly without — thinking everyone present on the table were humoured and laughed delightfully.

It was something he heard people around him talk about online social networking — but that coming out from a conservative, archaic monastery upbringing, who never touched a computer or owned a cellphone in his entire religious life — he did not know what the joke was about at the table.

Claudia spoke again in candour...

“Yes, then you have heard of our proposition that we told Padre Michael, of you coming to St. Peters, Vatican — and lead the dying church as the Holy Father to a New Era in Roman Catholic faith. You are the most favoured among the listed few, Padre Doran — the Vatican really needs you now.”

Peter grinning proudly interjected, “Our very own first American Pontiff.”

Michael, who was sitting beside him, gave him a stern look as to not to participate in the conversation. Dr Sofia Grozini spoke urgently in Italian to her daughter, “Tell him, Claudia, that we have to leave soon, or the President will get suspicious about the wounded human-cargo aboard — and attack our vessel in the water when we sail home.”

Claudia nodded to her and turned back to Doran. “So what have you decided, Padre? The whole Christian world now awaits the good news, of your coming to Europe.”

Instead, Doran turned to Michael beside him — and held his shoulder with a dissident suggestion...

“This is your man, Ms Grozini. He is the true servant of God. He is the rightful person and not me — to be the Holy Father.”

Michael knew this was not the interest of what the Grozinis had in mind.

But he too could not understand why Doran still kept turning down the divine opportunity, that was laid in front of him to be a spiritual leader of the world — but rather be a hunted fugitive in exile, in his own homeland.

Both the women were left speechless momentarily before Claudia spoke out again to cajole...

“Why not yourself, Padre Doran, you served God well too...

“...and you are the reason the bleak ones, and even the non-believers, have regained their hope to return back in churches in Europe — so that they can hear the same sermons of hope that you had preached, while you were in prison. Padre — you have really inspired millions of them, to return back to God.”

Doran laughed nervously, shaking his head...

“But I don't deserve this God’s glory because I am just a simple soldier of God — I have killed my enemies in cold blood in the battlefields — and a murderous sinner like me, should not be a leader of something, so sacred as the Holy Church.

“Even if I do accept — then, I would be no different than that serpent Snake-woman and her army of whores, who are butchering my specie — and even if I am given a second chance to do it all over again — I will still go out and kill those wicked women, until my freak-looking people have an equal platform, to coexist in this world created by my God!”

Michael interrupted when he saw Claudia Grozini seemed to have given up any hope in convincing him. The two women alleged that the vengeful and insular Preacher — was also a bitter misogynist, in real life. Michael mooted at Doran’s ludicrous decisions, to fight a losing battle with Cory’s high-tech legion...

“But, Doran — what about Paul the Apostle, who was once Saul of Tarsus? He too was a cruel soldier of the enemy and a brutal murderer? He persecuted the early Christians back then — but yet our God chose him — to be a leader to lead the Holy Church later.

“Brother, why can’t you walk in his footsteps, and serve Our Lord better!”

Doran looked down, shook his head slowly — and refused to accept what was said — he then stood up — but Michael kept reasoning, and rationalizing to him...

“Now the full circle has come around, to choose an Intersexual to lead the Church — and it is you, Doran. Let go of your past, and embrace your true calling now...

“Come to holy city with us, my Brother!”

Doran raised his bitter voice...

“No! My calling is for my people here! The army that fights in the Name of God — they who had washed my feet with their blood and tears, where in return — I will continue to wash their feet in with my leadership. My place is rightfully here, and I will not forsake the hope of freedom in them...

“...and just like the Good Shepherd, I will not abandon my flock!

“The God’s Army will capture every last of the Snake-woman’s stronghold cities now, and we will march over to White House soon — and execute that woman for her sins and crimes, against God created humanity! Once that justice is served in the Name of God, and only then — the Fallen Sun will set on His throne...

“Until then, every one of you — please do not distract me from serving my God!”

Doran left the round table, and he walked out the door. Michael rushed after him, trying to stop Doran, who had now descended in a hurry down the stairs.

“Doran, wait!”

Doran was out of the building, into the street, crowded with his God’s combatants. He heeded Michael calling him from behind...

“Doran, wait!

“If you truly believe that it is the Will of God to be here at war — then we all too will not go to Italy. The monks and I will pledge to remain back here — and we will not leave your side.

“We will all fight and die alongside with you, in the next battlefield, Doran!”

The Preacher did not acknowledge him — now, he had the future blood of his benign brothers soiled again in his hands, with this ongoing civil-war insurrection — since he last saved them in Tombscradle, from Wolfe’s monk-prisoners execution threats...

He kept on walking away, with his hot tears flowing down his face of guilt.