cooool... write more ... DO IT 
You have a fantastic story, an original way of presenting it, and a good grasp of tone. I love the ending, the dark twist of humour really rounds it off well, ensures it feels in no way tacky...I was left, like the other guy said, wanting to read more!
I like your hero character - good intentions going awry, believable motivations, genuine human feelings, and power at a cost. These are staples of good comic-book characters and writing.
Superb!
Very well done, and thank you for sharing it.
I don't have time to get around reading all the stories posted here, but I read this one and liked it. So yes, you should write more.
PS. I don't think it's problem if two characters have same name as long as it doesn't break the rules. How many of us has truly original and unique name?
Pyranha
Hi all. I wrote this due to getting back into RPing one of my favourite toons again recently. Apologies for length, I didn't intend it to come out so long. Let me know if you think I should write more.
P.S. Before I get flooded, yes I know that the name Anathema is used elsewhere in CoH. She was one of my first characters before I came across it but by then it was too late. Besides, I love it as a girl's name, blame Terry Pratchett.
Absolution
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There was a faint squeak coming from the skirting boards as Father Thomas moved the lectern back into its proper place for Sunday morning. Mice, he thought with irritation, thats all we need. The old church was in a sorry state of disrepair as it was, infestation with mice would only add more to the bill for restoration. At least we have proper church mice, he thought, smiling. As he extinguished the candles spread around the crumbling building he noticed movement in the corner of the room. Squinting in the poor light, he saw a figure dash into the confession booth near the entrance to the church. It wasnt uncommon for people to come late for confession, wishing to avoid the rest of the public with their regular tales of woe. Promising to lock up the church quickly after this one, he smoothed out his robes and took up his usual spot in the opposite booth. Taking a deep breath, he slid the shutter to one side.
How can I help you, my child? he asked.
On the opposite side of the ornate grill he heard a similar deep breath and saw a trembling hand brushing through bright green hair.
Forgive me father for I have sinned, came the required response. Its been I Ive never been to confession father.
The priest allowed the pause as the woman on the other side collected her thoughts.
Ive never really needed it until now, she said.
Tell me what is troubling you said the priest with his customary patience. Hed been hoping for an early night and this sounded like it was going to be a long one. But he was good at caring for his flock and this woman sounded like she needed to spill everything.
I..I used to be a surgeon, came the reply. I worked with the university, developing new surgical implants for people so that they could lead normal lives again. I really loved my job. There was a sudden warmness to her voice and Father Thomas could tell that she was smiling.
I thought I was really making a difference, improving peoples lives. That was before he found me. There was a heavy emphasis on the he, that sounded like she wanted to spit the word out.
A lover? ventured Father Thomas.
Good heavens no! replied the woman, almost amused by the statement. No, he said he wanted to know more about my work. Said that he would be able to fund my research, free from university regulations. It was my work he was interested in, not me.
And you wanted this?
Of course, she answered. Who wouldnt? Universities always want to stick their nose in, to take credit for your discoveries before you get a chance to capitalise on them. He was offering me a chance to work on my own with a huge budget and to keep my rights to my findings. I would have been crazy to turn him down.
There was a brief pause as she considered her next sentence.
Of course, if I had of known what he was planning, I would never have got involved, she said, barely above a whisper. He wanted me to continue working on implants, not just ordinary ones, but devices that would enhance human performance, almost as if we were going to improve on nature. Hed already made vast leaps in his research before he found me. I was just improving on his work.
And so you started working for him? asked the priest. He could tell that this was genuine for once. Some of the people he saw knew the routine, came in to flagellate themselves for something and then be given penance. No, he knew that the real confessions were far more than just feeling lustful or angry, they went a lot deeper than that.
The woman was silent. For a moment, Father Thomas wondered whether she had gone but he could still see the green hair on the other side of the grill and her laboured breathing.
Yes, came the whisper from the other side. After another breath came, He brought me volunteers. The word was heavy with meaning. He said that they had agreed to try these new devices. He made me fit them. The people were always anesthetised when they came in. I just did the work. I never saw them again.
So you dont know if they were successful?
He always said they were, she said. He was always congratulating me on my work. Told me that together we would defeat death itself. I almost believed him.
But?
There was a long pause.
You know when people go missing, they stick their faces on the side of milk cartons? she said quietly.
I do, came the reply.
There was a face on mine, she said.
There was a soft sigh before she spoke again. Each word was like a stake being removed from her heart.
I had operated on him that morning
Father Thomas paused while he tried to take in what she was saying. He didnt need to. His tortured guest did it for him.
The boy had been snatched from the streets. He wasnt a volunteer. I asked at the police station, they said hed been gone for only a week. I asked him about it, asked him to explain. He just told me that the end justified the means, as if he was proud of it!
Her voice became frantic. I said I was going to go to the police, tell them everything. He didnt even look surprised. Just said that I should see something. He took me down into the basement to a room with a rusty steel door. When he opened it, he pushed me inside and slammed it behind me. I remember him shouting, Now see what you have wrought!
She took a deep breath. When I looked around, I realised that it was a freezer room but instead of meat, there were clear body bags hanging from the ceiling. And inside each and every one were the bodies of the people Id worked on
She paused here, the sudden surge of grief catching her unawares. He heard a sharp inhalation of breath and realised that she had been crying. He waited patiently for her to continue.
He left me in there for hours, she said eventually. Some other people came and pulled me out just as I was about to freeze. I couldnt fight them, I didnt have the strength. I remember being tied to stretcher and wheeled into an operating room. I couldnt move. Theyd sedated my body, but I could still see, still hear, still feel I felt the pain as they started to cut into my body
She stopped for a second. Father Thomas said, If you want, we can stop.
No, she replied with determination, you have to hear the rest. Then you have to forgive me He took me apart. Took all the parts he needed. My arm. My eye. Parts of my legs, anything he needed from inside of me. I wanted to pass out from the pain but I couldnt. And he did it himself. He looked into my eyes and I couldnt see a trace of remorse.
But, you are ok now? said Father Thomas hopefully.
A hero came to save me, she said. My tormentor fled with the rest of them, leaving me to bleed to death. When I awoke, it was three weeks later. I was in hospital on life support. Ironically, the devices that I had made to improve peoples lives eventually saved mine. When I returned to my research, I was able to make improvements, refine old ideas, make myself better than I was before he got his filthy hands on me.
Do you have family who could help you? asked the priest.
I have no family, she said bitterly. And now thanks to him I never will
There was a sound of creaking leather and metal. Father Thomas was able to see through the grill where the woman had clenched her shiny right hand. It was clearly artificial.
So now Im going to go and kill him, she said. He makes those bodies walk around like zombies. Ive seen them, a mockery of life. Im going to put them out of their misery and make sure he burns in Hell. Her voice dropped suddenly. But before I do, I need to know that Im forgiven.
The priest took in a deep breath. He considered what to say to this poor woman that would make her feel better.
My child, he started, It is not our place to take life. You did so without knowing, deceived into something far more nefarious. If you destroy this man, you become as bad as him, worse by actively wanting his death. You cannot live your life in guilt for how he misled you. There is nothing to forgive you for.
Silence descended in the booth. All he could hear was laboured breathing through damaged lungs. He hoped that he had talked her out of her insane ideas of revenge.
Nothing to forgive? she said.
No, he replied.
There came the unmistakeable sound of a shotgun being primed.
Then Id better go find something to be forgiven for, she said.
There was a rustle of fabric and he knew that she had gone. He darted outside to see a pale, thin woman walking back down the aisle, an assault rifle by her side. She heard him step out and stopped. She didnt turn.
Dont try to save me Father, she said. I cant be saved, I am a pariah. I am anathema.
And with that she strode out of the church. Silenced, Father Thomas stood, almost pitying the man whom she sought. Death for him would not be swift, he thought. He was so lost in his thoughts that he did not notice until the hand grasped him around the neck. Unable to move, let alone breath in the iron grip, he could do nothing to see who had crept up behind him. The voice, when it spoke, was deep, rich and calm.
So our little chicken has come home to roost it appears, it said. Well let her come. She thinks her patchwork body can match my creations? She is an amateur, I am the master. This time, I will finish the job.
On the periphery of his vision, Father Thomas saw a scalpel blade come into view. The voice spoke again.
As for you Father, it said, Tell me, are you a registered organ donor?
FIN
@Dante EU - Union Roleplayer and Altisis Victim
The Militia: Union RP Supergroup - www.themilitia.org.uk