(Image Attribution: Sir Magnus Fluffbrains, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons)
It was a small church in a ragged neighborhood in Scranton. The Armorer lived and prayed and ministered there all alone. Sometimes the phone, the special one, rang, and he was pulled into his secret vocation. His true one.
In the autumn, the phone rang. The Armorer picked up, said nothing.
A familiar voice spoke in a New York City accent. "A thousand rounds. Silver. The usual."
"It will cost - "
"The usual. And we will pay the usual."
"Give me two days."
"That's not usual."
"I have another client. Be patient."
"Two days."
The line went dead.
The Armorer shook his head. So theatrical!
He sealed the deal with the other client, a dead-eyed woman in leather and denim, and then got to work for the New Yorker.
The Armorer carefully laid the bullets out, one by one, in a row across the old wooden table. He made the Sign of the Cross over each bullet, one by one, and prayed as he did.
"In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."
There is Evil walking amidst us.
"Glory to Thee, our God, glory to Thee!"
And to us is given the duty of battling it.
"O Heavenly King, the Comforter, the Spirit of Truth, Who art everywhere and fillest all things; Treasury of Blessings, and Giver of Life - come and abide in us, and cleanse us from every impurity, and save our souls, O Good One."
For we are Your servants.
"Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal, have mercy on us."
Surely, the Enemy will have none.
And it was true, the Armorer thought with a weary sigh of his soul. He thought of Xenia, and Stavros, and Michael, and Stan, and all the others the Enemy had devoured in his wickedness.
Then he recited the holy Psalm that went with the blessing.
"To thee, O Lord, have I lifted up my soul.
In thee, O my God, I put my trust; let me not be ashamed.
Neither let my enemies laugh at me: for none of them that wait on thee shall be confounded.
Let all them be confounded that act unjust things without cause. shew, O Lord, thy ways to me, and teach me thy paths.
Direct me in thy truth, and teach me; for thou art God my Saviour; and on thee have I waited all the day long.
Remember, O Lord, thy bowels of compassion; and thy mercies that are from the beginning of the world.
The sins of my youth and my ignorances do not remember. According to thy mercy remember thou me: for thy goodness' sake, O Lord.
The Lord is sweet and righteous: therefore he will give a law to sinners in the way.
He will guide the mild in judgment: he will teach the meek his ways.
All the ways of the Lord are mercy and truth, to them that seek after his covenant and his testimonies.
For thy name's sake, O Lord, thou wilt pardon my sin: for it is great.
Who is the man that feareth the Lord? He hath appointed him a law in the way he hath chosen.
His soul shall dwell in good things: and his seed shall inherit the land.
The Lord is a firmament to them that fear him: and his covenant shall be made manifest to them.
My eyes are ever towards the Lord: for he shall pluck my feet out of the snare.
Look thou upon me, and have mercy on me; for I am alone and poor.
The troubles of my heart are multiplied: deliver me from my necessities.
See my abjection and my labour; and forgive me all my sins.
Consider my enemies for they are multiplied, and have hated me with an unjust hatred.
Keep thou my soul, and deliver me: I shall not be ashamed, for I have hoped in thee.
The innocent and the upright have adhered to me: because I have waited on thee.
Deliver Israel, O God, from all his tribulations."
There should have been a Deacon, but there was only the Armorer.
"O Lord our God, God of Power and Might, powerful in strength, strong in battle, You once gave miraculous strength to Your child David granting him victory over his opponent the blasphemer Goliath. Mercifully accept our humble prayer. Send Your heavenly blessing upon these bullets. Give to them power and strength that they may protect Your holy Church, the poor and the widows, and Your holy inheritance on earth, and make them horrible and terrible to any enemy army, and grant victory to Your people for your glory, for You are our strength and protection and unto You do we send up praise and glory, to the Father, and the Son and the Holy Spirit, now and ever, and to the ages of ages. Amen."
He sprinkled holy water on the bullets, one by one, and prayed over them.
"Let the blessing of the Triune God, the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, come down on and remain upon these weapons and those who carry them, for the protection of the truth of Christ. Amen."
There should have been soldiers, too, but they were kept at a remove these days. Shadow soldiers in a shadow war. The Armorer never saw them, knew nothing about them. Sometimes he learned of their deaths. Never of their victories, stabbing and spitting in the face of the Enemy.
"Be brave and let your heart be stronger and win victory over your enemies, trusting in God, in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit."
The New Yorker came not long afterwards. Him, the Armorer knew. Big and strong and proudly black, just as proudly Catholic. With him was someone the Armorer didn't know. A young woman, slim and fit, but with a touch of softness to her.
And more than a touch of money.
The Armorer kept his questions unsaid. The sad truth was, the woman would be dead inside a year. Dead or worse, made a puppet for one of the Enemy's imps. Or, far worse, sharpened into a soldier, a crusader.
"Here," the New Yorker said, handing the Armorer a thick envelope. The Armorer didn't count what was inside. Instead, he gestured at a large wooden box full of small silver bullets.
"A pleasure," the New Yorker said.
The Armorer shrugged. He looked at the woman. He said "Good luck." He thought - God willing, I'll see you again. But I doubt it.
She looked back, nodded, said nothing.
He did see her again, but not for a while.
I went to a small Catholic boarding academy just outside Scranton for my junior and senior years of high school. Very cool to see one of your stories set in the area.