Always loved this song since it came out, so it made sense the Muse would find a strong scene to run with. Not so far back in time this time, 1940’s, and a story that I’m dying to find the time to write. But there is much to do before this truly comes to life. In the meantime, enjoy
The Church was meant to provide sanctuary, it was meant to be a safe place. But this war did not discriminate between the sinner and the saints. It did not take pity on the weak and the innocent.
The soldiers were just following orders and because of it, everyone would be killed.
“Elizabeth, please, we have to hide.”
“You go to the children, and whatever you hear, do not come out.” Nobody at home called her Elizabeth but they were not at home and she had been separated from the others. It was just her now to protect these women and children that had been left behind.
She could hear the trucks now, she could hear the men with their guns and their orders. The men with nothing good left in their hearts.
Just following orders. Who would want to live and kill a child as payment? No, she would rather die than follow these orders but man was ever a selfish creature. Landscapes changed with time but it seemed the soul of mortal man did not.
“Go!” She yelled and pushed the young nun back towards the church. The nun gave a final backwards glance and went. There was no hope in that look. Only fear.
Elizabeth could not blame her for that.
The resistance would come. The others would come. She had faith that they would not be far behind her now. This is what their elite team was trained for.
These men would find out why her code name was Fury.
Fury would begin with fear or at least a pretence of it. She felt no fear, even if she was to find death. She would die with honour in her heart. She felt only that fury for what these men had done and what they would do.
Orders? That was no defence.
They smelled of blood and sweat and excrement as they arrived and approached her. There were jokes, they would not think she spoke the mother-tongue. But she did and the fury grew.
No man should wish that on a woman, on another.
“Please, do not hurt me.” She begged in flawless French.
They continued to advance.
“S’il vous plait. S’il vous plait.”
They understood that, and some found the pleading amusing.
The fury grew.
A soldier stepped close to this tearful woman and took her by the wrist in a firm grasp. The words he spoke to her did not require translation, the look in his eyes said enough.
The fury grew.
“You should not have said that. You should not have come here.” She spoke English now, and this it seemed he understood or perhaps he simply understood the change in her. “You have new orders. Go to hell.”
His eyes widened but any cry for help he might have made died on his lips as she went for his throat. She did not wish to drink from him, she just wished to end him. And she did, he dropped, blood gushing from his wound as he gurgled.
She pounced upon the next soldier and he screamed.
The air filled with the sounds of gunshots and screams.
She just had to keep them from the children and the women until back-up arrived. They were not far away now.
A bullet tore through her arm but she did not let it slow her down.
She had a duty to stand up against evil. She had a duty to fight against tyranny. She did not do this because she was following orders, she did this because it was right. And when people stopped doing what they knew was right out of fear, then evil won.
The men were dying and she found a final soldier cowering in the truck. He was little more than a child, he was unblooded and terrified.
And she spared him.
Because it was right.
She did not let him near to his radio, though. She might have spared him but that did not mean she had to trust him. And so they sat in a heavy silence as she waited for the others to arrive.
They were not far behind.
“Mother Mary, love.” Her husband spoke with pride in his voice as he surveyed the carnage. “You might win this war for us without the need for the allies.”
“I can’t be in all places at once. Even Meggie isn’t that powerful.” She laughed and let Edwin hug her. Her attention only straying from the young soldier once he was in the hands of the resistance.
“He’s not a killer, yet,” she said and the Frenchman nodded and led the boy away.
“You do realise that you could have been killed.” Edwin chided.
“I’m hard to kill.”
“And you’re injured,” Edwin led her to the medic to have the bullet removed so she could heal smoothly.
She leant her head against his shoulder and tried to ignore the pain. Even a Child of the Night could feel pain.
Edwin sighed and squeezed her against him. “I wouldn’t have been able to talk you out of taking on a whole squad even if I’d been here, would I?”
“No,” she replied. “This is my duty, to stand against those who would harm the innocent. It is not a duty I will shy from. Not while injustice remains in the world. I have a duty, we all do.”