Obadiah woke inside an isolation tank, floating in a transparent liquid, rich with vitamins, oxygen, and trillions of metachines. He also wore a breathing mask, which was attached to an independent air supply. Obadiah checked his limbs, fingers, and toes. Then he swam over to the window, that served two purposes: interrogation and observation. It was a place he’d been before they put him under. It was the place where his lawyers told him he would serve an indefinite sentence. His Korean interrogators asked him leading questions to determine guilt or innocence or sanity. 

No one appeared to be anywhere near the observation/interrogation window. Obadiah took this as a sign from God, who he thanked for blessing him with such blessings. 

Your flesh that walked upon this ephemeral world escaped a prison with your intervening hand, Obadiah thought. With your hand now, I will escape, so that I may continue to do thy will, lord of lords.

He slammed his fist against the window. Nothing happened. He swam back from the window, focusing on it with his gaze. He then closed his eyes, asking God for help. He prayed and felt the energy flowing through him. He opened his eyes again, and he saw the water solidify into a hammer. The metachines in the water had been corrupted by those within his own body, which his Korean captors had attempted, poorly, to flush from his body. 

The hammer swung at the window. Cracks began forming at the center and the edges. The hammer swung a dozen times more, and then the unthinkable happened: The window exploded outward, along with the edges of the tank connected to it. Obadiah swam toward the new opening, with a renewed sense of hope, a renewed faith in the Great Majesty. 

On the other side, Obadiah found a sterile room, with four white walls, no cameras, and minimal security. He found his belongings near the door, which looked flimsy against his renewed faith. Obadiah remembered what the Elders had told him before he began his journey, his mission as a ghazi for the Church. They told him to let no manmade obstacle get in his way, and to fear no one, except God. These words rang in his skull as he dressed and found another knife, one his Korean captors wouldn’t have been able to find. 

He touched the door’s handle and gave it a twist, but the door’s handle didn’t budge. 

He stepped back a few strides and lifted his leg high and slammed his foot against the door. A crack formed down the middle. He stepped back again, and he kicked the door once more. The dry snapping of wood and the whine of metal bending filled his ears. His heartbeat pounded with excitement. He kicked the door once, twice, and thrice more, until nothing was left standing in his way. 

Obadiah walked through the opening he’d made where a door once stood in his way. The outside world shone through, peeling away the sterility of white paint and barren walls. He could even hear the sound of birds chirping and squawking. He walked down the length of hallway until he found an armed group of security guards waited for him with loaded guns and heavy body armor. 

This made Obadiah smile. He liked a challenge to his faith. 

“Put the knife down,” one of the taller Korean guards shouted, pointing his rifle in Obadiah’s direction. “You are not compliant. Compliance is necessary for rehabilitation.”

“Fuck this asshole,” Obadiah’s demon said inside his skull. “Let’s fuck some shit up, kid. What d’you say? For old time’s sake? A little murder never hurt no one—except those it was meant to.”

Obadiah checked his surroundings, the guards, and then his knife. He threw the blade at the feet of the taller guard, who jumped back at the display of compliance. 

“Why did you do that?” the demon asked, its voice ringing out in his skull. 

“Compliance with God’s laws is an affront to God himself,” Obadiah said, looking at each of the four guards, who were still pointing their weapons at him. “Which side are you on? There’s only one right side, folks.”

“Compliance is mandatory!” the taller guard yelled again. 

“Fuck up this asshole, kid,” Obadiah’s demon ordered. “I want to see if he bleeds like the rest of these fuckers.”

Obadiah rolled his neck, side to side. He cracked his knuckles and back in one swift motion. These actions made the armed guards moved backward. Their weapons were still trained on him. Obadiah counted four: three men and one woman. He was sure they’d never fired their weapons before now. 

“I’m going to give you one last chance,” Obadiah said. “God’s way is that of forgiveness and mercy. You can put down your weapons. I won’t hurt you. My quarrel isn’t with you. It is with someone else, someone deemed a threat to God and creation itself.”

“Stop fuckin’ talkin’, kid,” the demon said. “Fuck some shit up!”

The guards didn’t say or do anything. They stood there, like a wall. The words of the Elders rang in Obadiah’s head, rattling around against brain matter and skull. Nothing should stand in his way. If it did, it must be dealt with swiftly and with extreme violence. That was why God had asked for him to hunt down the unbeliever. He’d given Obadiah the gift of violence. Violence from God was justified, even if it meant innocents got in the way. These guards weren’t his enemy, but God worked on a deadline, and he needed to cleanse his soul. 

Obadiah yelled as loud as he could, thumping his chest in the process. He yelled so loud his throat hurt, his chest felt tight, out of breath. The gesture pushed the gun-toting human wall back a few steps. He then rushed the taller guard, slamming an elbow into the man’s throat. He then grabbed the man’s weapon and finished him with two shots to the face. The three remaining guards saw this wild display and began running away. The female guard stopped halfway down an adjacent hallway and began firing her rifle from the hip. Two shots rang out; both missed Obadiah by a few hairs. 

Obadiah admired the woman’s tenacity, her bravery even. He picked up his knife and sheathed it. He waited for the woman to start running, but she refused. She took aim this time, and Obadiah reacted first. He first three shots. Two missed and the third clipped her in the throat. She fell backward. 

He approached her and slung the rifle over his shoulder. He grabbed his sheathed knife. As he approached, he could hear her life melting away. Obadiah kneeled next to her and said a quick prayer. 

“I am sorry for what I am about to do,” Obadiah said to her. Her eyes showed confusion and her brow was etched with worry. “There is a place for brave souls, your own, in Heaven. God hates the coward. God hates those who tremble before anyone or anything except him. He will show you kindness and will grace your soul with everlasting life.”

When he finished, he pulled her head closer to his. He began carving out her left eye, blood poured from the injury. She tried fighting him, but the pain and shock of her injuries appeared to get the better of her. Her body went limp, and Obadiah had his prize. He held the eyeball in his fingers. He looked at it for a few moments, before returning to his task. 

He mustn’t let any manmade obstacle stop him. He had God’s work to do. God worked on a strict timeline, and Obadiah knew that failure wasn’t an option. 

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