Funny how many people will prioritise an assault rifle over a bar of soap when the end of the world rolls around. Dysentery tries rearing its ugly head, all you need to do is point your AR-C at it and shoot, right?

For all the doomsday prepping these Eden's Gate people are supposed to be doing, Rook hasn't seen a single one of those portable water purification units anywhere in this compound. What are they going to do when the first person starts shitting themself to death, lock them in a room with thoughts and prayers? It'll be a miracle if any of them lasts more than a couple of months, let alone however many years this Joseph Seed guy says God will "salt the earth" for. They should stop worrying about any fire and brimstone that might rain down from heaven, and start worrying about the fire and brimstone about to shoot out of their asses.

Then again, they've apparently been living soap-less for some time already, if the smell is anything to go by. And they're alive and well enough to spit at her feet and flash their guns at her, because of course Rook can't get an easy assignment to start her new job with. Unfortunately, it's not like she can blame them—their whole shtick is 'volatile cult', and bars of soap hanging from their belts wouldn't have had quite the same effect.

"Rookie! Get your ass up here if you know what's good for you!"

The lack of patience in Sheriff Whitehorse's voice leaves no room for disobedience, so Rook nervously readjusts her collar and picks up her pace despite the ominous rendition of 'Amazing Grace' coming from a chorus of voices inside the church her team is standing outside of. Her slow, careful walk hasn't made any of these Peggies stop glaring holes into her back and go back to doing whatever apocalyptic cults get up to when armed officers aren't at their doorstep, so might as well get this shit over with.

The marshal accompanying her squad, Burke, seems to be even more over it than Sheriff Whitehorse, because Rook's barely made it to the door before he's opening it, hand on the pistol at his hip as if that was going to help pacify a militant religious movement. Luckily, the sheriff's on it.

"Whoa, Marshal," he says, closing the door again. "We do this, we do it my way."

Good ol' Earl, still trying to save Burke from his own stupidity. It won't help much, the situation already being what it is, but Rook can appreciate the effort. Her partner Hudson seems to be similarly pessimistic about their chances, glancing back warily at the cultists while Sheriff Whitehorse does his best to defuse the steadily ticking timebomb that is a federal marshal thinking he can flash his gun and badge in rural Montana and make people listen.

And then, the discussion is over and the doors are opening for real, and Rook can only hope the sheriff cut the right wire. Her nervousness must be showing on her face, because Hudson gives her a light pat on the shoulder.

"You'll be fine," the other woman tells her, voice low. She hasn't known Hudson for long, but the small affirmation is a comfort nonetheless.

The church is quiet now. Rook can't pinpoint exactly when it happened, but at some point 'Amazing Grace' had petered off and made plenty of room for a single voice to ring out as she, Marshal Burke and Sheriff Whitehorse step into the church.

"Something is coming," it says. Rook recognises the voice from the video she was shown during debrief, but she's pretty sure she would have known whose it was regardless. She hasn't heard many examples and thus doesn't have much evidence to support her theory, but it kind of figures that a cult leader would have a nice voice, doesn't it? There has to be a reason people stop to listen, after all.

"You can feel it, can't you?" Joseph Seed continues calmly, authoritatively, as though he isn't about to be arrested. His figure is starkly outlined against the only light source in the room. "We are creeping toward the edge... and there will be a reckoning."

He goes on, voice rising as the three officers get closer, but Rook's too busy surveying the room to pay any attention to a cult leader's drivel. There's at least fifteen other people in the church, most of them armed, and all of them are turning around, one after one, to stare at her team.

When her attention returns to the preacher, it's with some mild shock that Rook registers the fact that he's not wearing a shirt. It's early September and thus not as cold as it'll be in a month or so, but really? In front of your entire church, the officers of the law coming to arrest you, and presumably God himself? Did no one else in the department know Eden's Gate was that kind of cult, or did they specifically neglect to tell Rook just so they could fuck with the probie?

Bastard probably looks good, too. It's difficult to see details, but the silhouette clearly shows well-toned arms and a slim abdomen. Figures.

Seeing so much skin makes Rook look away and readjust her clothes so her own remains hidden. This shirt, just like every other shirt she owns, covers her from neck to stomach, shoulder to wrist, but the reassurance that nothing's visible is soothing.

"Sheriff, c'mon," Burke says, and Rook's honestly a bit surprised he held out this long.

"Just hold on, Marshal," the sheriff replies, clearly fighting a losing battle to prevent the situation from escalating.

"We will not let their greed, or their immorality, or their depravity hurt us anymore," Seed declares, voice rising in volume and passion as he completely ignores Rook's colleagues' continued bickering in favor of his sermon. "There will be no more suffering!"

"Nah, fuck this," Burke snorts, finally having had enough. "Joseph Seed!"

That would be the boom. Looks like Sheriff Whitehorse got the wrong wire.

"I have a warrant issued for your arrest on the suspicion of kidnapping with the intent to harm," the marshal continues, completely uncaring of the cultists rising from their pews as he goes on. "Now, I want you to step forward and keep your hands where I can see 'em!"

This is bad. This is really fucking bad. Members of the Project are starting to surround them like wolves do their prey, and Seed merely looks amused at Burke's words. There's three more people around the stage besides him that Rook hadn't noticed before, and that brings the count to about twenty people staring daggers at her and her small team.

"There they are," Seed says, raising his hands as if to obey but instead pointing at them. "The locusts in our garden. You see, they've come for me." More and more Peggies are coming to stand between Rook's team and Seed, protests starting to form in the crowd. "They've come to take me away from you. They've come to destroy all that we've built!"

Hell is close to breaking loose, as voices gets louder and hands on both sides start moving towards guns. Sheriff Whitehorse's voice rises above the rest, ordering Burke to leave his service weapon alone and both sides to calm down, but it's not until Seed steps down from the stage and puts his hands on his followers' shoulders, immediately silencing all protests, that Rook feels like she can breathe again.

Alright, she'll give it to Seed. He's got his people eating from the palm of his hand. Then again, that's precisely the issue that started all this, isn't it?

"We knew this moment would come. We have prepared for it," he says to his followers, voice soft and low and yet commanding the attention of the entire room. "Go."

And they... they actually fucking go. One or three stare Rook down as they do so, but they all leave the church, just like that. All it took to deescalate an incredibly tense situation was a few words from their leader, and something about God not letting them take him, and every single Project member listened.

Somehow, it's not until this moment that it dawns on Rook how much danger she's in. Joseph Seed can tell his followers to do literally anything he wants, and they'll do it. The compound outside the church was big enough to house hundreds, and the department's intel said this isn't even their biggest base of operations. How many people does this guy have waiting for his every word with baited breath?

It merely takes seconds until the only people left in the church are Rook's team, Seed, and the three people behind him on stage. Two men, one about Rook's age and another a decade or so older, and a young woman. There's something different about them, like they're not just regular cultists. They look washed, for one, which probably means they have extra privileges that the rest don't. Higher ups on the cult chain of command, perhaps?

Not the time to ponder the specifics, because Seed's started speaking again. Everything he's said so far has sounded like a sermon straight out the mouth of a corrupt televangelist, which Rook supposes isn't too far off, but this time it sounds like actual Scripture, as if that would give any of this more weight.

"Step. Forward," Burke says, and for once, Rook appreciates his lack of patience for all this nonsense.

"And I saw!" the preacher replies, actually stepping forward, but him obeying the marshal's words doesn't put Rook at ease in the slightly when it looks like that's exactly what he was going to do anyway as he shoves a finger in Burke's face. He still has the power in this room. "And behold, there was a white horse..." he continues, voice softening once more as he looks at the sheriff, as if he knows how hard Earl tried to prevent all of this from happening.

And then, Rook's spine straightens up, heart nearly stopping when his eyes, made no less intense by those strange yellow glasses, turn to her.

"...And Hell followed with him," Seed murmurs, raising his hands towards her, gently, as if she was a wild animal that he's trying not to scare further.

"Rookie," the marshal barks out, breaking the spell as her attention snaps to him. "Cuff this son of a bitch."

Rook turns her gaze back towards Seed, resolve hardening. This man is dangerous. She and her team are all in danger already, but the danger he could bring, if left alone to his own devices, will be much greater if she doesn't stop him now.

As if seeing her internal thought process, Seed's voice comes out once more, soft and yet full of the type of confidence only a delusional man can have. "God will not let you take me."

"He's welcome to stop me," she murmurs back, grabbing the handcuffs off her belt with one hand and his wrist with the other.

He huffs out a breath of a laugh, still staring deep into her eyes as if he could see her entire soul. "He will," he replies, low enough for it to be for her ears only. "Sometimes, the best thing to do is to walk away. I'm sorry you'll have to learn it this way."

Rook doesn't like that. It feels too much like a threat, but it's too late to do anything about it. Instead, she readjusts her collar again—she feels way too fucking seen—with one hand while holding onto his cuffs with the other, and pulls him ahead of her as she and her team turn around to leave the church. Glancing back, none of his friends have made a move to stop them despite all three glaring at her something fierce, which is disconcerting enough without thinking about the gaggle of Peggies outside the church about to see Rook walk out with their leader in handcuffs.

Those three are dangerous too, though. The woman and the dark-haired younger man are looking at Rook with nothing but hate in their eyes, but for some reason it's the red-haired older man's stare that raises her hackles even more. Rather than hostility, all she sees is cold calculation. Rook can't quite bring herself to fully turn her back on him, or the others for that matter. All they need is one wrong move on her part, and they'll strike.

"Let's go," the sheriff says, voice tired.

Unfortunately, she needs to listen. The longer they stay here, the greater the risk of this blowing back in their faces. So, with a final stare-off with the red-haired man, Rook firmly grabs Seed by his shoulder before turning around and walking out of the church.

Things outside are... even worse than expected, unfortunately.

"We gotta get the fuck out of here," Hudson says as soon as she spots them, which is an understatement if Rook ever heard one.

News of their leader's arrest has spread like goddamn wildfire, and where Rook's team once had a clear path to the church from the helicopter there's now a car or two full of armed cultists. On both of their sides, violent-looking dogs are barking, and more and more people wearing guns as if they were fashion pieces are arriving every second.

"They're taking the Father! They're taking the Father!" Rook hears someone shout, and her colleagues need to shove several people away so Rook and Seed can pass unhindered.

It's chaos. Pratt, who'd been dutifully waiting, has already fired up the chopper, but not even the loud rotors are enough to drown out the steadily rising volume of a dozen voices protesting their Father's arrest. Then someone gets Burke in the head with a stone, and all hell truly breaks loose.

"Weapons out!" Sheriff Whitehorse yells over the shouts and protests. "Weapons out!"

It doesn't help. Burke lets out several warning shots, and in return people are brandishing their own guns, crowding closer and closer to Rook and her charge even as she finally reaches the chopper. Hudson helps her shove Seed into the helicopter as quickly as they can, but it's too late. To her horror, people are climbing all over the chopper even as it lifts off the ground—one of them nearly manages to pull Burke overboard until Rook gets a good grip on him, and even then the Peggie only lets go once the marshal shoots them.

And then, with one of the most horrifying sounds Rook has ever heard in her life, someone throws themself at the blades of the helicopter.

------------------------------

The world is upside down, half of it's on fire, and everything hurts when she wakes.

It takes Rook a moment to reorient herself. The world is upside down because their helicopter crashed. Looking around, the main body of the chopper is miraculously intact, but there are bits and pieces of the helicopter strewn about that seem to have exploded upon impact, and while none of their fires are too close yet, there's what looks like fuel dripping from the sides of the helicopter so it's only a matter of time. Her colleagues are all hanging limply from their seatbelts, and Seed is nowhere to be seen. She idly hopes he got flung out and impaled on a tree branch.

"Hudson," Rook tries, every single one of her teeth hurting as her mouth forms her partner's name. "Burke?"

Neither of them answer. Dear God, but Rook hopes they're just knocked out cold.

"Please, are you there? Are you there, Sheriff?"

Rook finally registers Nancy's tinny voice from the headset dangling across from her, and hope blooms in her chest. All she needs to do is reach the headset and Nancy will send help, and then Rook just has to somehow drag her comrades out of range before the chopper inevitably blows up. After that, she just has to keep out of sight from any stray Peggies until the National Guard comes deal with the rest of this fucking mess, and then Rook can put in a transfer for a cult-free county somewhere, with the blissful knowledge that all this is officially someone else's problem.

And then, right after she's come up with that plan, Rook registers something much worse.

"Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound..."

Joseph Seed. He's alive. He's here.

The headset. It's so close. If she can wiggle just... a little bit... out of the seatbelt keeping her in place, and then... stretch out her arm as far as it can go...!

But that's easier said than done when every single limb is aching and her head is both spinning and throbbing, so it takes her just a few seconds longer than she would have liked, but it's enough.

It's enough, just as Rook manages to grasp the headset, for a hand to grab her wrist.

Seed's face is upside down as well as bruised and cut up from the impact, but those eyes still fix her with the most intense gaze Rook thinks she'll ever experience. On his lips are not quite a smile, but close enough for his amusement to be clear.

"I told you that God wouldn't let you take me," he says, and Rook's pretty sure he thinks he's funny.

She's about to retort, or spit on his face, or attempt to bite his nose off, when her eyes flit over to the arm holding her hostage and any possibility of a reply dies on her lips.

GREED

Right there, carved on his left bicep. Her eyes move further automatically and there it is, SLOTH, crawling its way up from his right shoulder. LUST, when her gaze wanders up to his pelvis.

"Dispatch?" Seed calls into the headset, which Rook barely hears. "Everything's just fine here. No need to call anyone."

The lighting in the church had been too bad for Rook to make out anything, and later there had been too much happening for her to pay attention to Seed's appearance. But now, the growing fires illuminate all and he's the only one around for Rook to focus on, and she sees.

WRATH, marring his left forearm when he adjusts his grip on her. (REVELATION), on the inside of his right bicep. And dozens of other scars, smaller but no less present, strewn all over his body like corpses on a battlefield.

"Yes, Father," comes Nancy's voice, and Rook's too numb to figure out what that means just yet. "Praise be to you."

Rook can't see his back, but she knows what she'd find if she could. GLUTTONY, above his left shoulder blade, ENVY under his right one, PRIDE coming down from his left ribs towards his spine.

Each and every one is there. All of them evenly matched with the scars hiding underneath her shirt.