Atlas had found them.

Oscar couldn't help but think Father Vincent or one of the other nuns gave him up. At the moment, it didn't matter who snitched. He needed to find Xiomara and get the hell out of there.

The church was in a frenzy, though. Finding the girl wasn't going to be easy.

Bullets whizzed by his head, cracking the wood pillar holding up the ceiling above him. Cursing loudly, he dove behind a wall and covered his head. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he squeezed his eyes shut. Short and choppy breaths left his lips as he urged himself to calm down.

He wasn't good to anyone if he was panicking.

Once his breathing steadied and his brain slowed down, he took a peek around the wall.

Atlas agents were pouring into the church, their weapons raised. Their flashlight and laser dot attachments were activated, filling the lobby with lights like a disco club. He hadn't seen any Jaegers.

That was a positive. Regular Atlas agents wouldn't be a match for him.

But fighting them in an enclosed space like the church wasn't ideal. Any attack of his that didn't hit its mark could risk sending the entire structure up in flames. Most of it was made out of wood—as it had been built decades ago.

He was going to have to be careful.

His hand fished into his pocket for his silver lighter. The cool metal soothed his frazzled nerves as he ran his thumb along the initials engraved into the metal. Releasing a deep, steadying breath, he nodded to himself.

Game time.

Rolling on his shoulder, he sprung out from behind the wall and into the open. About four Atlas agents were in his direct vicinity.

"Target found!" one of them shouted.

Another round of bullets was aimed his way. He conjured up a wave of fire, reducing the shells into subatomic particles of lead. Before they could shoot again, he dove behind a pew. Bullets thudded into the wood, splintering off in a million directions.

Gritting his teeth, Oscar held his position and waited for them to run out of ammo.

The shots continued ringing throughout the air for a few more seconds. Then they stopped, quickly being replaced by faint clicking noises.

He grinned.

Springing up from his hiding place, he launched two fireballs at the agents to his left and right. They both slammed into their chests and sent them flying across the nave of the church. The remaining two agents removed the electrified nightsticks from the holsters attached to their waists. The weapons crackled in the air, buzzing like live wires.

They approached him methodically, circling like sharks as they attempted to flank him. They had closed off both sides of the pew and were closing in on him fast.

He let them get close.

One of the agents swung their baton at him, narrowly missing his head. Sidestepping the strike, he coated his fist with red-hot flames and punched them in their helmet. Their visor cracked as they dropped to the ground.

The other agent unleashed a guttural battle cry as they rushed him. Oscar gulped. Their charged nightstick struck him in the back. Shocks raced up his spine. He cried out, his entire body going limp for a split second.

He toppled over the pew before landing on the ground between another row of seats. He opened and closed his mouth a few times as he laid there. The inside of his mouth tasted like burnt toast.

"Jesus," he grumbled while picking himself up. "Reminder. Don't get hit by one of those things."

The agent hopped over the pew and slashed their weapon downward. Oscar dodged and delivered a kick to their midsection. He then forced a geyser of flames toward them, causing them to crash through several rows of wooden benches. Their body laid in the charred rubble.

Oscar took one last look at them before taking off for the hallway that held the room the nuns had been conducting their bible study group in.

He had to find Xiomara before they did.

A pair of agents were scouting the corridor, their flashlight piercing through the dimly lit passageway. With flaming fists, Oscar planted one foot on the wall and used it to push off. Still in the air, he drove his fist across the face of the unsuspecting Atlas soldier. They dropped to the ground, holding their smoking helmet as they rolled around in agony.

"Hold it!" the other agent yelled with their gun aimed right at his chest.

Oscar, who had landed on his knee, carefully look up at them. He cursed under his breath.

"Don't move!" the agent barked. With their other hand, they pressed a finger to their ear. "I've cornered Inferno in the west wing of the—"

A wave of fire smacked into them. Their body hit the wall before crumpling to the floor like an empty can.

Oscar's eyes widened. Standing in the doorway of one of the rooms lining the hall was Xiomara. Her dark hair was wild and stuck to her face. She held her hands out in front of her, smoking pouring from her palms.

A wave of relief washed over him.

He quickly got to his feet and swept her up in a hug. She hugged him back, her hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt.

"Thank God you're okay," he said into her hair. Releasing her, he surveyed the area around them. There weren't any more agents around. Not at the moment, at least.

They needed to leave.

"Sister Maria," Xiomara started. Her bottom lip trembled. Tears were streaming down her face. "They got her."

Oscar's stomach crawled into his throat. His knees nearly buckled. Xiomara might have been his main priority, but the nun had been nothing but kind to him since he arrived in Los Angeles. She had given him a place to stay when he needed it. She had given him meals when he was starving.

She had been the only person who was there for him when it mattered.

He couldn't leave her fate in the hands of Atlas.

"Come on." He grabbed Xiomara's hand. "Take me to her."

Nodding, Xiomara tugged him in the nun's direction.

Within moments, they had arrived in the east wing of Trinity Mission. The place was crawling with Atlas agents. Nuns had been corralled in a room and were forced to their knees, their hands reaching for the heavens as guns were pointed at their heads.

Oscar and Xiomara froze at the mouth of the corridor.

They couldn't get to Sister Maria. Not without putting the other nuns—and the church itself—at risk.

The agents wouldn't kill her. Unlike the Jaegers, they had a code. Or so he thought. He could never be too sure with them. With General North having taken over for Pearce Shaw as director, the Atlas agents had grown more ruthless. They would stop at nothing to complete their mission.

Even if that meant hurting innocents.

Oscar's jaw clenched. His fingernails dug into his palms, nearly drawing blood.

Trinity Mission had accepted him when no one else would. While he might not have agreed with Father Vincent, the man had only been trying to help. He couldn't let Atlas hurt them. Especially since he was the reason they were there in the first place.

He turned to Xiomara.

"We're going to save them."

The little girl nodded at him. A determined look passed over her face. He nodded back at her.

Ahead of them, an agent whipped their head in their direction. Their gun followed suit.

"Targets straight ahead!" they yelled. Agents filed out of the room, their pistols trained on the two pyrokinetics at the other end of the corridor. Inside, the nuns screamed for them to lower their weapons. Some desperately tried to get Oscar and Xiomara to run away.

But he wasn't running.

"You all made a big mistake coming here," he growled as he walked forward.

"Stop right there, Inferno!"

He grinned. "No." Two torrents of blistering fire rushed from his palms. The walls were bathed with orange light as the flames surged toward the agents. They all dove to either side, narrowly evading his attack.

Xiomara ran in front of him. Coils of sweltering fire scaled up and down her arms. He arched an eyebrow at her.

She can do that, but she can't throw a fireball?! I can't even do that!

Shaking his head, he sprinted toward the agents—who were all getting back up. He drove his shoe into the chest of one, sending them straight back down. The other two grabbed his arms and pulled them back. They forced him down onto one knee, holding him as another agent appeared with their nightstick.

He gulped audibly and tried to squirm free. Their gloves were like iron vises around his biceps and he couldn't get his hands anywhere near them to burn their clothes. Straining, he thrashed around wildly.

"Should've come quietly," the agent quipped as he sauntered forward. He glanced at the weapon in their hand. "I'm gonna enjoy this."

Oscar froze. His eyes homed in on the crackling end of the baton. He felt his throat constricted as he stiffened in the grip of the agents holding him down.

Xiomara was ahead of him, warding off agents with the flames enveloping her arms. They kept their distance and were reluctant to fire off their weapons.

At least they had enough conscience not to shoot a little girl.

He snarled at the agent ahead of him. They raised their weapon, preparing to swing. He closed his eyes and turned away, bracing himself for impact.

The sound of something thudding into a skull filled his ears.

But it wasn't Oscar's head that just got cracked. It was the agent's. They were on the ground, hands clutching at their helmet. Blood leaked out from where they were hit. The ones holding him down released him instantly and pointed their weapons at the woman standing where the fallen soldier had just been standing.

A cast-iron pan was held tightly in her hands.

Oscar couldn't help but smile.

It was Sister Maria.

She hadn't been with the other nuns like he thought. From the looks of it, she had been in the kitchen. And she brought a weapon.

"Stand down, lady!" another agent ordered.

"Leave them alone!" Sister Maria shouted back. She gripped her pan like it was a baseball bat. "Leave this church! You have no right to be here!"

"We have every right!" They pointed at Oscar, and then at Xiomara. "You've knowingly been harboring two very dangerous Primes. That goes against penal code 216 of the Prime Registration Act."

Sister Maria snorted. "I couldn't give a rat's ass about the Prime Registration Act. In Jesus' name, you will leave these children alone!" Before the agent could respond, she took a wild swing with her pan. It connected with their visor, immediately shattering it into a million tiny pieces.

Oscar caught a glimpse of the look in the agent's eyes as they staggered backward. Their mouth twisted into a sneer. They sheathed their glowing baton and drew for their pistol.

He reached out toward them, his heart beating a thousand times per minute. He knew what was about to happen. He had to stop it.

Everything around him slowed to a crawl as he watched the scene unfold. Sister Maria froze like a deer in headlights as she stared at the pistol pointed at her. The agent's finger coiled around the trigger, their breathing ragged and erratic.

Nearby, Xiomara turned her head to witness the scene. Her bright eyes were wide with fear and uncertainty.

Grimacing, Oscar conjured up a flame. He felt the warmth spreading across his hand as the fire built.

Come on, come on.

A gunshot rattled his ears.

The fireball shot out from his hand and sent the agent careening into a wall. Their head hit a light fixture, knocking them out cold. The pistol hit the ground. Another shot was fired off. Smoke rose from the barrel. Oscar could smell the gunpowder in the air; it tickled his nose, teasing and taunting him.

He turned his head to Sister Maria.

Horror slowly expanded across his features.

"No," he mumbled. "No, no, no!"

A scream had been ripped from Xiomara's throat. The girl dropped to her knees. A rush of warmth exploded from her, knocking everyone to the ground. Flames crawled along the walls and rafters above like orange spiders.

Oscar remained on the ground for a few moments. All the air had been knocked from his lungs. He couldn't breathe. He wasn't sure he wanted to. Because the moment he took another breath, that would mean what just happened was real.

And he didn't want it to be real.

He wanted it all to be one, big, horrible nightmare he would soon wake up from.

Exhaling shakily, he opened his eyes. He got back to his feet. Hands trembling, he approached Sister Maria's body. Her face was covered in soot from the burning wood around them.

A growing blotch of red had ruined her black outfit. Her brown eyes were glossy. Both of her hands were pressed against her stomach. The color was draining from her face rapidly.

Oscar resisted the urge to break down in tears. Ignoring everything else around him, he rushed over to her and knelt by her side. He swept up her hand and used his other to apply pressure to her wound. Whipping his head around, he took note of the agents in the area.

Almost all were incapacitated due to Xiomara's attack. The girl had remained on her knees. Tears were streaming down her face like waterfalls.

"Oscar," Sister Maria said while squeezing his hand. Her bloody felt slick against his skin. He could taste the iron in the air as more of it seeped from the bullet wound in her abdomen.

"You're okay, hermana," he mumbled shakily. "You're okay. You're gonna be okay—"

"Oscar." She mustered up a stern look.

He stopped. His bottom lip trembled as he stared down at her. She reached up and pushed his black curls out of his face, tucking them behind his elf-like ears.

"You have to go." Her voice was just above a whisper, but the command was loud and clear. He just wasn't sure if he could do it. He couldn't leave her there to bleed out. Not after everything she had done for him. "You can't stay here."

Sniffling, he shook his head. "I-I'll take you with me. We'll...we'll get you to a hospital. They'll fix you up and you'll be back here in no time—"

"You can't do that," she whispered.

He knew she was right. Atlas or the police would get him the moment he stepped inside the emergency room.

"I can't leave you," he said as tears fell down his chin. His voice broke. "I can't."

"You have to." She squeezed his hand again and gave him a weak smile. Her eyes moved to Xiomara for a moment. "Take care of her, Oscar. Please." He watched as she reached a hand in her pocket. A pair of car keys with a metal cross attached to the keychain appeared in her palm. She handed it to him.

It weighed more than the sky as he held it in his hand.

"There's a car in the parking lot outside," she told him. The color was draining from her face. It was almost gone completely. "Take it and go. Quickly."

Police sirens sounded in the distance.

"You have to go now."

Oscar could barely see. The tears in his eyes had obscured his vision. Still, he nodded at the woman and rose to his feet. His legs shook so bad that he thought he would fall. He slowly backed away from her; he clutched the car keys to his chest.

"I won't forget what you did for me," he told her.

"You better not."

She then dropped her head back, her chest rising and falling faintly. A low hum rose from her parted lips. Oscar recognized the song. It was Ave Maria. Her favorite.

He nearly broke down in tears, but he knew he couldn't. Sister Maria was right. He and Xiomara had to get out of the church. If they didn't before Atlas' reinforcements arrived, they would surely be captured.

Not to mention that the church was currently going up in flames.

I gotta go.

Spinning on his heel, he ran over to where Xiomara was. The girl was staring at Sister Maria's body, her eyes blank. He grabbed her hands—his were still wet with the woman's blood. Xiomara looked down at them and held back a sob.

"We have to leave, Xiomara," he said.

"But—"

"I know, but we can't stay. We have to go."

Wiping her eyes, she nodded.

Oscar took one last look at Sister Maria. She wasn't humming anymore. Her eyes had closed.

She was gone.

He cursed. Then he grabbed Xiomara's hand and took off for the parking lot outside the burning church.

#

Within minutes, Xiomara's fire had swallowed Trinity Mission Church. Fortunately, the nuns and Father Vincent had made it out already. The agents who hadn't been injured were pulling their fallen comrades out of the inferno. None of their attention was on Oscar and the little girl as they raced for the only non-church administered vehicle in the parking lot.

It was parked in the very back near a willow tree.

A red 1954 mustang.

He wished he would've got the chance to ask where the nun got it from. But he knew he never would be able to now.

A rosary hung from the rearview mirror. Pictures of a young Sister Maria and a man whom he assumed was her husband decorated the dusty dashboard. More trinkets and keepsakes adorned the rest of the vehicle.

His heart felt heavy in his chest.

She had died protecting them. She gave her life for them.

More tears fell down his face. He wiped them away and climbed into the front seat of the car. Xiomara got into the passenger's side. She buried her face into her hands and sobbed. After putting the key into the ignition, he twisted it. The engine sputtered to life, causing the entire car to rumble vigorously.

He glanced at the rearview mirror.

Police cars were speeding onto the street adjacent to the church. He could see Atlas vehicles approaching behind them.

Gritting his teeth, he shifted the gear into reverse and pulled out the parking space. Without a second thought, he shifted the gear once again and sped out the lot like a bat out of hell.

He swerved onto the street, nearly hitting a few parked cars in the process.

Both the cars in front and behind him skidded to a halt as he zoomed past them. The police sirens soon faded into the distance as he rushed through the evening traffic. He checked the rearview mirror again.

No one was after him.

The fire trucks that had arrived at the church were making it difficult for any vehicles to progress—including the police and Atlas.

Good.

He wouldn't let Sister Maria's sacrifice be in vain.

Once both he and Xiomara were out of the city, he drove them down a winding highway until the sun gave way to the moon. He peered at the girl beside him. She had her head resting on the window, her eyes looking up toward the sky.

Dried tears streaked down her dirty cheeks.

Neither of them had said anything since they left the church. What was there to say?

However, Xiomara lifted her head and turned to Oscar. She didn't look sad. She didn't look confused. Instead, all he saw in her amber-colored irises was fury. He saw a fire that could burn down an entire city.

"They will pay," she grumbled, venom falling off her words like spilled poison.

Oscar shifted his gaze back to the road and nodded.

"Yes," he replied as he continued to speed down the dark freeway. "Yes, they will."