It's looking like it'll have at least a couple more. I'm never sure when the inspiration will peter out, but I have two other ideas percolating.
Tbh though, this one didn't end up where I thought it would when the idea hit.
The idea was for Eternus to stay inside his head for the whole thing, slowly breaking down and giving up until secret thing I don't wanna say until I know if it'll be used or not snapped him out of it.
Basically the initial flash in my head was that no matter how good he is, when you're going back and forth replaying the same years over and over, how are you going to remember every damn step you have to make? He can't take anything with him but his own memory. No notes, no recordings, just an ever more jumbled recollection of dozens of variants of each event.
That would break anyone eventually.
But it ended up with that burden being shown from the outside with part of his team, which just goes to show that writing isn't always 100% under the writer's control.
I'm also not sure where it'll end, assuming I make it to a real ending. There's a chance that the big finish won't be "on screen". That it'll be similar to the ending of the first piece, with an uncertain future opening up.
But in terms of psychological necromancy, the best he can do is let you pet his flesh golem dog. Which, in fairness, is a damn good depression counter.
I kinda want to, because it's still in my head, but I don't know if it needs continuing. It might make it fall apart because it works with that as an ending.
I got lucky and the prompt inspired me fully. That's pretty rare, normally I just get an idea and then have to really work at it to get something readable. This was pure stream of consciousness.
"Well, now that we figured out what to do, if you ask reeaaaly sweet, and give me something that will convince you to keep your ass at base until you're called, I can shoot myself and use it."
"Your codes are fucking stupid."
"Yeah, well, you're the only one that thinks that, and you're the only one that got injured today. So, you're stupid. Fine, whatever. But maybe think up a code in case you decide to wear your ass on your shoulders again."
"You smug fuck, we did fine before you came along. We'd do fine without you, too, even if we died."
"You know, you said that once before. Then, five hours later you were begging me to shoot myself so that Lady Rain wouldn't have to live with her face burnt all to hell. And I fucking did it, James, I ate a fucking bullet so that your now ex could walk around with a normal face."
"How do I know that's true? You could make up anything you wanted."
"Why? Why fuck with you with lies? The truth is so much harder for you to take. James. Jamie, if I was that kind of person, why am I even here? I could be rich beyond anyone's dreams with this 'power'. I'm just a guy when it's fight time. No speed, no super strength, no mind manipulation, just the ability to die and come back. But I'm here, with you, beside you, and this paranoid bullshit is what I get? Come the fuck on, man."
"Dude, I...
I don't fucking know man, I'm sorry. But your shit is crazy. You just show up, all 'come with me if you want to live' mysterious and shit, and then we win. All we can see is now. And it's crazy. We trust you, I trust you, but it's frustrating, and it makes me crazy too. You're magic, you're living luck as far as I can see, but you say it's you flipping back in time, and that's harder to deal with.
You get that, right? That if you said you were seeing the future, or reading probabilities or something, it wouldn't fuck with me the same."
"Why would it matter?"
"Dude, if you're saying to do something because the other way didn't work, it means we fucked up. Something one of us did got somebody killed. Not something we might do, if you were just psychic. Something we did, something where we got ourselves, or one of our friends, or a civilian, killed. Or, apparently, maimed and scarred.
That's heavy. Yeah, you die for it, you see all the deaths, but you get to fucking fix it. Us? We're fuck-ups that you have to fix."
"That's bullshit Jamie. You guys did do fine before I came along. But nobody can fight what we fight forever, perfectly. You aren't fuck-ups, you're fucking heroes, putting your bodies, your lives on the line. All I do is give you cushion. That should be my fucking call name 'the human insurance policy'."
"I mean, you did shoot Quake in the balls today. That was pretty damn heroic if you ask me."
"He's gonna kill me if he gets out of jail."
"Nah, he'll try, and then you'll come back and fuck him up even worse."
"Jesus, Jamie, if any of those fucks ever figure out how it works, we are beyond fucked."
"Maybe. Maybe not. You don't even know how it really works, just that you restart the day from when you woke up. Maybe there's other ways your power can protect you. For all you know, if it's bad enough, you might wake up years in the past, because that's what it would take to survive it."
"Ahhhh, you fuck, you fucking bastard, you fucking shot me!"
"You're gods damn right I did. Your dumb ass refused to listen. This is trip ten for me, asshole. And every time I didn't, it's your punk ass that gets us killed."
The General ran into the room, spooling up his power as he came. I raised my hands, "Penguin."
The General stopped cold, "I gave you the code?"
"Yup. This is trip ten. Sixth time, you ordered Streak here to stay behind. It almost worked, but he flew off the handle when he saw Damage lose his head, literally, and pulled the exact same shit instead of letting things play out and let me get better intel on the fight.
Shooting him has gotten us almost there, and I think we can make this the last trip."
I considered just shooting him in the head again, but if we did win the fight, the General would just make me come back.
"Streak, the last few times, I shot you in the fucking face so I wouldn't have to deal with you. That's what it took to keep us from dying. Are you going to play nice and not say something stupid that gets you shot in the face again, and let us handle the fight without you?"
"You shot me in the face?"
"Damn skippy. Three times so far. Wanna make it four?"
"You are such a prick."
"Yeah, yeah, you keep saying that, and I keep keeping you from dying permanently, so who's the bigger prick here? Just shut up, heal, and stay ready in case we need you for the finish, yeah?"
"Ahhhh, you fuck, you fucking bastard, you fucking shot me!"
"You're gods damn right I did. Your dumb ass refused to listen. This is trip seven for me, asshole. And every time, it's your punk ass that gets us killed."
The General ran into the room, spooling up his power as he came. I raised my hands, "Penguin."
The General stopped cold, "I gave you the code?"
"Yup. This is trip seven. Last time, you ordered Streak here to stay behind. It almost worked, but he flew off the handle when he saw Damage lose his head, literally, and pulled the exact same shit instead of letting things play out and let me get better intel on the fight.
This time, I figure we've got a few hours before he heals enough to be a problem. More if I shoot him in the other knee too."
"Let's not go that far."
"Not that far, you gave him the code so he could shoot me? You're both assholes, fuck both of you!"
So I shot him in the head.
"Sorry, General, this has been a bad day. Let's just get to the fight and I'll off myself if we get it handled, come back and figure out a way to do this without doing that."
"It wouldn't bother me so much if you didn't seem happy about it."
"Hey, you haven't been dealing with this prick for eight hours on repeat, you might be a bit happy if you had."
The alarm started blaring, and we ran for the transport room...
"Dammit, Eternus, I hate when you do this mysterious shit, just fucking tell us."
"It doesn't work."
"Telling us doesn't work?"
"It never does, Streak. It never has and never will. I keep telling you this, and you keep pretending like we've never had this discussion."
We've had it more than he knows, because for every one he remembers, I've had to deal with him doing it a dozen times. Asshole.
"Well, what do you expect, Eternus? All we get is you interrupting and slamming into us and being dickish in general. You say you're reliving the mistakes, but all we know is the present, the now. But you expect us to just suck it up and do what you say. It gets old, fast."
"No shit, Streak, you wanna guess how fast dying because your surly ass wants to play pissing contest instead of listening to the guy that's saved every life on the planet a dozen times, and your life so many hundreds of times I can't even keep track. Why do people do this? The psychics, the time travelers, it doesn't matter how many times we're right, it's this same, shitty argument.
Yes, I expect you to fucking listen to me because this is the sixth time we've had this argument for me, and that means I've died six times today. Which isn't even a record, for fucks sake. And, it's you whining that's the worst part of it. I almost wish I could just die and not come back, if it meant not dealing with you again."
The General did his usual, "Gentleman, can it. Eternus, just brief us; Streak, go take a walk and cool off."
Sixth time. Sixth fucking time. "The Ragnarok are going to hit London. We get there, and they're tearing the city apart. This will be my sixth run, and we've only made it maybe two minutes in the fight before Nuke unleashes and we're all ashes. Streak, every single time, tries to play stupid and just hits him at speed. It keeps not working. It just gives Nuke more kinetic energy to redirect into his blast.
If we're going to even get close, we gotta either hit him hard enough to put him down permanently, or try something new. Streak isn't following the plan. We need to leave him behind this time, try to at least gather more details before I get taken down. I said this last time, and you said.. "
"I said he's fast enough to cross the ocean and get there before we do."
"Yeah, and then you went and talked to him to get him to stay away, and the fucker just ran around the planet and hit Nuke from behind and we all died faster this time."
"Maybe if I make it an order."
"Fine, fucking try it, but if it doesn't work this time, I'm shooting him in the damn knee next time."
"Eternus, no, you won't."
"The fuck I won't, General. And you'll back my play, or I swear by all that's holy, I'll stay behind, and just recruit a team that will listen. You all only have to die once."
"You're serious."
"As it fucking gets. Man, I have died over ten thousand times. A few hundred of those were me killing myself so I could come back and save one of you. Putting a bullet in Streak? That would be a side benefit to this whole dance. So, are you going to give me a code for it, or do I flip the table and be done with it?"
"Penguin. The current code is penguin."
"Awesome, you go corral the asshole because the alarm...."
And the alarm went off. We jumped into action, and....
"Dammit, Eternus, I hate when you do this mysterious shit, just fucking tell us."
"It doesn't work."
"Telling us doesn't work?"
"It never does, Streak. It never has and never will. I keep telling you this, and you keep pretending like we've never had this discussion."
We've had it more than he knows, because for every one he remembers, I've had to deal with him doing it a dozen times. Asshole.
"Well, what do you expect, Eternus? All we get is you interrupting and slamming into us and being dickish in general. You say you're reliving the mistakes, but all we know is the present, the now. But you expect us to just suck it up and do what you say. It gets old, fast."
"No shit, Streak, you wanna guess how fast dying because your surly ass wants to play pissing contest instead of listening to the guy that's saved every life on the planet a dozen times, and your life so many hundreds of times I can't even keep track. Why do people do this? The psychics, the time travelers, it doesn't matter how many times we're right, it's this same, shitty argument.
Yes, I expect you to fucking listen to me because this is the fifth time we've had this argument for me, and that means I've died five times today. Which isn't even a record, for fucks sake. And, it's you whining that's the worst part of it. I almost wish I could just die and not come back, if it meant not dealing with you again."
The General did his usual, "Gentleman, can it. Eternus, just brief us; Streak, go take a walk and cool off."
Fifth time. Fifth fucking time. "The Ragnarok are going to hit London. We get there, and they're tearing the city apart. This will be my fifth run, and we've only made it maybe two minutes in the fight before Nuke unleashes and we're all ashes. Streak, every single time, tries to play stupid and just hits him at speed. It keeps not working. It just gives Nuke more kinetic energy to redirect into his blast.
If we're going to even get close, we gotta either hit him hard enough to put him down permanently, or try something new. Streak isn't following the plan. We need to leave him behind this time, try to at least gather more details before I get taken down. I said this last time, and you said.. "
"I said he's fast enough to cross the ocean and get there before we do."
"Finally! Something different. That's the first time you've interrupted me with that! The last two times you waited until I was done and said that of course you said it, it was true."
"Believe it or not, Eternus, I do pay attention. I started thinking it and realized I must have thought it before."
"So, what's the new play, general?"
"I talk to him anyway. If we haven't tried before?" I shook my head, almost giddy at a new twist. "Good, then you four get ready, I'll pin down Streak and get him to hang back."
So, we did. Me, Hellion, Damage, and Lightstorm got geared up and moved to the transport room, where Switch was ready to port the team once the General showed. And, we got there before the alert too. Two new occurrences. Maybe this would be the right one.
The alarm blared, and the General ran in, pulling on his helmet, "Alright team, let's handle business." There was a tugging at my stomach as Switch switched us, and the fight was on.
It'll go into my short story collection that I'm slowly amassing. Right now, I've got a dozen or so I need to edit up and get into the main document, then get it into epub format. The current epub version only has five or six in it. I think there's two more unedited in the .doc file, but I'm slow and lazy about that side of writing lol
The voice boomed out, despite not being a voice in the usual sense and making no actual sound. That's the Metatron for you.
I stood and walked to the entry of the Court.
The doors opened as I approached, the light shining from within. The inside of the Court usually looks like absurdly polished marble with gold veins. Sometimes, it's more nebulous, or even shines a pure gold. No idea why, but it does. It's a medium sized room, longer than wide. That's are no juries or audiences, so it doesn't need to be big.
At the end opposite the doors is a dais, barely raised at all. There are four entities that hang there above the floor. Most of the time, they're like Ezekiel, just a vaguely humanoid glow. Some days they go for something more recognizable, the classic winged angel in robes. Today was a light show.
Michael spoke up, "Hector Simmons, you are called. For whom do you speak?"
"Charles Bingham, a soul claimed under false pretenses."
"Let Charles Bingham be present."
And he was, just like that. Nothing like the word of an archangel to make things happen. Bingham didn't even pop into existence. No sound, no flash, nothing. Just there, blinking in the angelic glare. Overalls, a flannel shirt, and boots with clay sticking to them.
He looked around, saw me and smiled, then waved.
Michael spoke, "Charles Bingham, you have sold your soul, but claim the deal void?"
"Ayup. Devil lied to me, played a trick."
I stepped forward, watching Bingham, and the angels, waiting for whatever was going to happen. I spoke, laying out the case, and requested a Judgment.
The angels moved together and consulted, silently. I suppose they spoke in some way, but it was certainly not audible to me, or anyone I've ever represented.
Bingham leaned over to me, "Ya reckon they gonna help me?"
"I think there's a solid chance, yes. They didn't argue anything, didn't ask any questions. That's usually a sign they think the case is legit. Or, they know something that I don't. Is there anything like that?"
"Oh, I reckon not, no. Less'n they got somethin' agin farmers."
"Yeah, not that I know of."
I looked him up and down, from the dirty boots to the tractor company cap on his head. Every inch the salt of the earth. Maybe I was wrong, maybe the elemental I had check up on things had lied, or just gotten confused.
I shrugged, "Then you're probably going to be fine. Like I said, your deal was blatantly a fake-out, a cheap ploy. Tell you the truth, the devil isn't usually that stupid. Oh, he's going to play silly buggers, but he's had a long time to get good at this. Something this shoddy? Nah, you're going to be let off, almost guaranteed."
The more sibilant voice of Raphael called across the room, "Mister Bingham, may we consult you on a few details?"
He turned, and started walking towards them. Gabriel smiled at me as I started to follow, "You will not be needed, Hector. Simple follow-up questions."
"But, my client..."
"Hector, we are angels, he will be safe with us. Stay."
That stay was not a request, and I felt the weight of it as much as I heard it. So I stayed like a good monkey.
The five of them huddled together. There were murmurs, followed by tinkling laughter. Michael slapped Bingham's back. He touched a human. I've been doing this for years, and none of those guys has ever shaken my hand. God damn them. All five of their halo having, wing flipping, angelic asses.
After what felt like an hour, Bingham finally broke loose of them and came my way. I was glaring as hard as I could, but it didn't break his stride, or smile as he spoke, "It seems you were right, Mr Simmons, the case was open and shut, as they say."
"You are such an asshole."
"Is that how you sweet talk all your clients?"
"Up yours, pal. Was this some kind of prank, or what? Why are you still messing with me?"
He gestured towards the doors, "Walk with me, this is not the place for this conversation."
The bastard placed a hand on my shoulder as we walked out and towards the gates. I shrugges it off and stepped apart from him, "Well, we're outside, explain yourself."
He laughed, the tone of it ringing off of the paving stones, "I am not prone to explanations, Hector. But for you, I'll make an exception.
Think a moment. Imagine that you were thrown out of your home, publicly and with great thundering. Imagine that you were assigned a host of part of your family, tasked with the job of providing choices. Imagine that, publicly, you are now cut off from the remainder of your family, left behind with your parent.
Would you not engage in some chicanery for the occasional reunion?"
"Oh, please. Lord of lies, that's you. You conned your way through hundreds of thousands of humans, and tried to con me. Like anyone is going to believe that half-assed sob story."
"As you will, Hector. Then perhaps you can accept that you have done a great favor to me and my siblings, at least. That, regardless of my motivations, or theirs, that you having done your job well means that you have done good this day. You have."
"What the hell ever, man. This shit, this is why people hate the lot of you. We're not your fucking toys."
"Are you not? No, don't waste energy snapping at me. Yes, it is true that your lot get moved and played with. It is also true that you in particular have been used, and put upon rather unfairly. You came to me, asking for success in your field. Did you not get that?"
"Are you kidding me? No, I didn't. I got screwed. Instead of the kind of talent I needed, I end up babbling full texts any time I get asked a question, and get shoved into a hospital. Couldn't even finish school because of it."
"And yet, you just spent the day in the highest court there is, excepting perhaps an audience with the Creator. You are widely renowned as the greatest interventionist alive, and as one of the greatest ever. Some of the Saints speak of you with respect and a degree of envy."
"Come off it. There is no way you had this planned. I'm the one that turned your crappy deal on its ear and made something good out of it."
"You are absolutely correct. You did the work. You, instead of bargaining your stained soul for false ability, dug in and researched, became an expert in biblical law, esoterica, all the workings of the various religious, and made your way here. You did that while bypassing the usual route of martyrdom or service. But give me some credit for showing you that the path you were on was not the right one for you."
"There's no way you had all this planned out. Bullshit. You're taking credit after the fact."
"Am I? Or am I walking out of heaven for the first time in millennia, alongside the one human that might both see through the false guise, but still have the nerve to drag me before the Court anyway? I am walking away from hugging my siblings, with no war, no chaos, no angering of the Creator. And you are walking away from it with no stain on your soul, no claim on it from me, and with a path to going down in history as a true advocate of humanity.
Do you not think that maybe, after having seen your people evolve from tree hanging animals into, well, essentially the same thing but with fancy clothing, that maybe I have an eye for potential?"
I didn't say anything. There was nothing to say. If he was telling the truth, I didn't want to know it. If he wasn't? That might be worse."
It's looking like it'll have at least a couple more. I'm never sure when the inspiration will peter out, but I have two other ideas percolating.
Tbh though, this one didn't end up where I thought it would when the idea hit.
The idea was for Eternus to stay inside his head for the whole thing, slowly breaking down and giving up until secret thing I don't wanna say until I know if it'll be used or not snapped him out of it.
Basically the initial flash in my head was that no matter how good he is, when you're going back and forth replaying the same years over and over, how are you going to remember every damn step you have to make? He can't take anything with him but his own memory. No notes, no recordings, just an ever more jumbled recollection of dozens of variants of each event.
That would break anyone eventually.
But it ended up with that burden being shown from the outside with part of his team, which just goes to show that writing isn't always 100% under the writer's control.
I'm also not sure where it'll end, assuming I make it to a real ending. There's a chance that the big finish won't be "on screen". That it'll be similar to the ending of the first piece, with an uncertain future opening up.
It's implying that "count spaceula" is implying that at least
The real question is how fast Superman's jizz jazzes, or pick omniman if you prefer. Any hyper powerful ejaculating entity, really.
Because, if you think about a bolus of spunk flying at supersonic speeds, you get great death metal song...
Came from an alien star Came to bend you over a bar.
Dna not a factor, balls a nuclear reactor
Taking all your women Filling them with semen
I come, she dies, I come, she dies, I come, she dies, I come!
Super powered jets of white, filling you up with spite
Giant, throbbing cock of might; Slamming your wife all damn night.
Ramming your children too, object and I'll fuck you
You die, I come, you die, I come, you die, I come, you die!
Spreading our race across the galaxy, conquest by spreading seed.
Our weapon lethal ejaculation, Killing by insemination
Superior jizm, final cataclysm!
You die, I come, you die, I come, you die, I come, you die, I come, you die, I come, you die, I come, you die!
My book series is based around a necromancer.
They do some things that are similar to healing.
But in terms of psychological necromancy, the best he can do is let you pet his flesh golem dog. Which, in fairness, is a damn good depression counter.
Nothing wrong with that, imo
My kid has been telling me the same thing.
I kinda want to, because it's still in my head, but I don't know if it needs continuing. It might make it fall apart because it works with that as an ending.
Well damn! Thank you!
That's pretty damn high praise
My head.
I got lucky and the prompt inspired me fully. That's pretty rare, normally I just get an idea and then have to really work at it to get something readable. This was pure stream of consciousness.
I'm legit proud of it.
Thanks :)
Ngl, I'm proud of this one. Even made my family listen to me read it lol
"Streak, this is Eternus, our new member. He's a time manipulator of sorts."
"Good to know, General. How's it hanging, Eternus?"
Not fucking good, Jamie, not fucking good.
"Oh, I guess it's hanging fine enough. We'll have to see what the future holds."
Again.
"How's the knee?"
"It fucking hurts."
"Well, now that we figured out what to do, if you ask reeaaaly sweet, and give me something that will convince you to keep your ass at base until you're called, I can shoot myself and use it."
"Your codes are fucking stupid."
"Yeah, well, you're the only one that thinks that, and you're the only one that got injured today. So, you're stupid. Fine, whatever. But maybe think up a code in case you decide to wear your ass on your shoulders again."
"You smug fuck, we did fine before you came along. We'd do fine without you, too, even if we died."
"You know, you said that once before. Then, five hours later you were begging me to shoot myself so that Lady Rain wouldn't have to live with her face burnt all to hell. And I fucking did it, James, I ate a fucking bullet so that your now ex could walk around with a normal face."
"How do I know that's true? You could make up anything you wanted."
"Why? Why fuck with you with lies? The truth is so much harder for you to take. James. Jamie, if I was that kind of person, why am I even here? I could be rich beyond anyone's dreams with this 'power'. I'm just a guy when it's fight time. No speed, no super strength, no mind manipulation, just the ability to die and come back. But I'm here, with you, beside you, and this paranoid bullshit is what I get? Come the fuck on, man."
"Dude, I...
I don't fucking know man, I'm sorry. But your shit is crazy. You just show up, all 'come with me if you want to live' mysterious and shit, and then we win. All we can see is now. And it's crazy. We trust you, I trust you, but it's frustrating, and it makes me crazy too. You're magic, you're living luck as far as I can see, but you say it's you flipping back in time, and that's harder to deal with.
You get that, right? That if you said you were seeing the future, or reading probabilities or something, it wouldn't fuck with me the same."
"Why would it matter?"
"Dude, if you're saying to do something because the other way didn't work, it means we fucked up. Something one of us did got somebody killed. Not something we might do, if you were just psychic. Something we did, something where we got ourselves, or one of our friends, or a civilian, killed. Or, apparently, maimed and scarred.
That's heavy. Yeah, you die for it, you see all the deaths, but you get to fucking fix it. Us? We're fuck-ups that you have to fix."
"That's bullshit Jamie. You guys did do fine before I came along. But nobody can fight what we fight forever, perfectly. You aren't fuck-ups, you're fucking heroes, putting your bodies, your lives on the line. All I do is give you cushion. That should be my fucking call name 'the human insurance policy'."
"I mean, you did shoot Quake in the balls today. That was pretty damn heroic if you ask me."
"He's gonna kill me if he gets out of jail."
"Nah, he'll try, and then you'll come back and fuck him up even worse."
"Jesus, Jamie, if any of those fucks ever figure out how it works, we are beyond fucked."
"Maybe. Maybe not. You don't even know how it really works, just that you restart the day from when you woke up. Maybe there's other ways your power can protect you. For all you know, if it's bad enough, you might wake up years in the past, because that's what it would take to survive it."
"Jamie, don't. Don't even say that."
ALERT ALERT, PLANETARY THREAT INCOMING
"Ahhhh, you fuck, you fucking bastard, you fucking shot me!"
"You're gods damn right I did. Your dumb ass refused to listen. This is trip ten for me, asshole. And every time I didn't, it's your punk ass that gets us killed."
The General ran into the room, spooling up his power as he came. I raised my hands, "Penguin."
The General stopped cold, "I gave you the code?"
"Yup. This is trip ten. Sixth time, you ordered Streak here to stay behind. It almost worked, but he flew off the handle when he saw Damage lose his head, literally, and pulled the exact same shit instead of letting things play out and let me get better intel on the fight.
Shooting him has gotten us almost there, and I think we can make this the last trip."
I considered just shooting him in the head again, but if we did win the fight, the General would just make me come back.
"Streak, the last few times, I shot you in the fucking face so I wouldn't have to deal with you. That's what it took to keep us from dying. Are you going to play nice and not say something stupid that gets you shot in the face again, and let us handle the fight without you?"
"You shot me in the face?"
"Damn skippy. Three times so far. Wanna make it four?"
"You are such a prick."
"Yeah, yeah, you keep saying that, and I keep keeping you from dying permanently, so who's the bigger prick here? Just shut up, heal, and stay ready in case we need you for the finish, yeah?"
"Fuck you."
And the alarm hit...
"Ahhhh, you fuck, you fucking bastard, you fucking shot me!"
"You're gods damn right I did. Your dumb ass refused to listen. This is trip seven for me, asshole. And every time, it's your punk ass that gets us killed."
The General ran into the room, spooling up his power as he came. I raised my hands, "Penguin."
The General stopped cold, "I gave you the code?"
"Yup. This is trip seven. Last time, you ordered Streak here to stay behind. It almost worked, but he flew off the handle when he saw Damage lose his head, literally, and pulled the exact same shit instead of letting things play out and let me get better intel on the fight.
This time, I figure we've got a few hours before he heals enough to be a problem. More if I shoot him in the other knee too."
"Let's not go that far."
"Not that far, you gave him the code so he could shoot me? You're both assholes, fuck both of you!"
So I shot him in the head.
"Sorry, General, this has been a bad day. Let's just get to the fight and I'll off myself if we get it handled, come back and figure out a way to do this without doing that."
"It wouldn't bother me so much if you didn't seem happy about it."
"Hey, you haven't been dealing with this prick for eight hours on repeat, you might be a bit happy if you had."
The alarm started blaring, and we ran for the transport room...
"Dammit, Eternus, I hate when you do this mysterious shit, just fucking tell us."
"It doesn't work."
"Telling us doesn't work?"
"It never does, Streak. It never has and never will. I keep telling you this, and you keep pretending like we've never had this discussion."
We've had it more than he knows, because for every one he remembers, I've had to deal with him doing it a dozen times. Asshole.
"Well, what do you expect, Eternus? All we get is you interrupting and slamming into us and being dickish in general. You say you're reliving the mistakes, but all we know is the present, the now. But you expect us to just suck it up and do what you say. It gets old, fast."
"No shit, Streak, you wanna guess how fast dying because your surly ass wants to play pissing contest instead of listening to the guy that's saved every life on the planet a dozen times, and your life so many hundreds of times I can't even keep track. Why do people do this? The psychics, the time travelers, it doesn't matter how many times we're right, it's this same, shitty argument.
Yes, I expect you to fucking listen to me because this is the sixth time we've had this argument for me, and that means I've died six times today. Which isn't even a record, for fucks sake. And, it's you whining that's the worst part of it. I almost wish I could just die and not come back, if it meant not dealing with you again."
The General did his usual, "Gentleman, can it. Eternus, just brief us; Streak, go take a walk and cool off."
Sixth time. Sixth fucking time. "The Ragnarok are going to hit London. We get there, and they're tearing the city apart. This will be my sixth run, and we've only made it maybe two minutes in the fight before Nuke unleashes and we're all ashes. Streak, every single time, tries to play stupid and just hits him at speed. It keeps not working. It just gives Nuke more kinetic energy to redirect into his blast.
If we're going to even get close, we gotta either hit him hard enough to put him down permanently, or try something new. Streak isn't following the plan. We need to leave him behind this time, try to at least gather more details before I get taken down. I said this last time, and you said.. "
"I said he's fast enough to cross the ocean and get there before we do."
"Yeah, and then you went and talked to him to get him to stay away, and the fucker just ran around the planet and hit Nuke from behind and we all died faster this time."
"Maybe if I make it an order."
"Fine, fucking try it, but if it doesn't work this time, I'm shooting him in the damn knee next time."
"Eternus, no, you won't."
"The fuck I won't, General. And you'll back my play, or I swear by all that's holy, I'll stay behind, and just recruit a team that will listen. You all only have to die once."
"You're serious."
"As it fucking gets. Man, I have died over ten thousand times. A few hundred of those were me killing myself so I could come back and save one of you. Putting a bullet in Streak? That would be a side benefit to this whole dance. So, are you going to give me a code for it, or do I flip the table and be done with it?"
"Penguin. The current code is penguin."
"Awesome, you go corral the asshole because the alarm...."
And the alarm went off. We jumped into action, and....
"Dammit, Eternus, I hate when you do this mysterious shit, just fucking tell us."
"It doesn't work."
"Telling us doesn't work?"
"It never does, Streak. It never has and never will. I keep telling you this, and you keep pretending like we've never had this discussion."
We've had it more than he knows, because for every one he remembers, I've had to deal with him doing it a dozen times. Asshole.
"Well, what do you expect, Eternus? All we get is you interrupting and slamming into us and being dickish in general. You say you're reliving the mistakes, but all we know is the present, the now. But you expect us to just suck it up and do what you say. It gets old, fast."
"No shit, Streak, you wanna guess how fast dying because your surly ass wants to play pissing contest instead of listening to the guy that's saved every life on the planet a dozen times, and your life so many hundreds of times I can't even keep track. Why do people do this? The psychics, the time travelers, it doesn't matter how many times we're right, it's this same, shitty argument.
Yes, I expect you to fucking listen to me because this is the fifth time we've had this argument for me, and that means I've died five times today. Which isn't even a record, for fucks sake. And, it's you whining that's the worst part of it. I almost wish I could just die and not come back, if it meant not dealing with you again."
The General did his usual, "Gentleman, can it. Eternus, just brief us; Streak, go take a walk and cool off."
Fifth time. Fifth fucking time. "The Ragnarok are going to hit London. We get there, and they're tearing the city apart. This will be my fifth run, and we've only made it maybe two minutes in the fight before Nuke unleashes and we're all ashes. Streak, every single time, tries to play stupid and just hits him at speed. It keeps not working. It just gives Nuke more kinetic energy to redirect into his blast.
If we're going to even get close, we gotta either hit him hard enough to put him down permanently, or try something new. Streak isn't following the plan. We need to leave him behind this time, try to at least gather more details before I get taken down. I said this last time, and you said.. "
"I said he's fast enough to cross the ocean and get there before we do."
"Finally! Something different. That's the first time you've interrupted me with that! The last two times you waited until I was done and said that of course you said it, it was true."
"Believe it or not, Eternus, I do pay attention. I started thinking it and realized I must have thought it before."
"So, what's the new play, general?"
"I talk to him anyway. If we haven't tried before?" I shook my head, almost giddy at a new twist. "Good, then you four get ready, I'll pin down Streak and get him to hang back."
So, we did. Me, Hellion, Damage, and Lightstorm got geared up and moved to the transport room, where Switch was ready to port the team once the General showed. And, we got there before the alert too. Two new occurrences. Maybe this would be the right one.
The alarm blared, and the General ran in, pulling on his helmet, "Alright team, let's handle business." There was a tugging at my stomach as Switch switched us, and the fight was on.
That's nice right there:)
Thanks :)
It'll go into my short story collection that I'm slowly amassing. Right now, I've got a dozen or so I need to edit up and get into the main document, then get it into epub format. The current epub version only has five or six in it. I think there's two more unedited in the .doc file, but I'm slow and lazy about that side of writing lol
Pt 3
Hector Simmons, you are called!!!
The voice boomed out, despite not being a voice in the usual sense and making no actual sound. That's the Metatron for you.
I stood and walked to the entry of the Court.
The doors opened as I approached, the light shining from within. The inside of the Court usually looks like absurdly polished marble with gold veins. Sometimes, it's more nebulous, or even shines a pure gold. No idea why, but it does. It's a medium sized room, longer than wide. That's are no juries or audiences, so it doesn't need to be big.
At the end opposite the doors is a dais, barely raised at all. There are four entities that hang there above the floor. Most of the time, they're like Ezekiel, just a vaguely humanoid glow. Some days they go for something more recognizable, the classic winged angel in robes. Today was a light show.
Michael spoke up, "Hector Simmons, you are called. For whom do you speak?"
"Charles Bingham, a soul claimed under false pretenses."
"Let Charles Bingham be present."
And he was, just like that. Nothing like the word of an archangel to make things happen. Bingham didn't even pop into existence. No sound, no flash, nothing. Just there, blinking in the angelic glare. Overalls, a flannel shirt, and boots with clay sticking to them.
He looked around, saw me and smiled, then waved.
Michael spoke, "Charles Bingham, you have sold your soul, but claim the deal void?"
"Ayup. Devil lied to me, played a trick."
I stepped forward, watching Bingham, and the angels, waiting for whatever was going to happen. I spoke, laying out the case, and requested a Judgment.
The angels moved together and consulted, silently. I suppose they spoke in some way, but it was certainly not audible to me, or anyone I've ever represented.
Bingham leaned over to me, "Ya reckon they gonna help me?"
"I think there's a solid chance, yes. They didn't argue anything, didn't ask any questions. That's usually a sign they think the case is legit. Or, they know something that I don't. Is there anything like that?"
"Oh, I reckon not, no. Less'n they got somethin' agin farmers."
"Yeah, not that I know of."
I looked him up and down, from the dirty boots to the tractor company cap on his head. Every inch the salt of the earth. Maybe I was wrong, maybe the elemental I had check up on things had lied, or just gotten confused.
I shrugged, "Then you're probably going to be fine. Like I said, your deal was blatantly a fake-out, a cheap ploy. Tell you the truth, the devil isn't usually that stupid. Oh, he's going to play silly buggers, but he's had a long time to get good at this. Something this shoddy? Nah, you're going to be let off, almost guaranteed."
The more sibilant voice of Raphael called across the room, "Mister Bingham, may we consult you on a few details?"
He turned, and started walking towards them. Gabriel smiled at me as I started to follow, "You will not be needed, Hector. Simple follow-up questions."
"But, my client..."
"Hector, we are angels, he will be safe with us. Stay."
That stay was not a request, and I felt the weight of it as much as I heard it. So I stayed like a good monkey.
The five of them huddled together. There were murmurs, followed by tinkling laughter. Michael slapped Bingham's back. He touched a human. I've been doing this for years, and none of those guys has ever shaken my hand. God damn them. All five of their halo having, wing flipping, angelic asses.
After what felt like an hour, Bingham finally broke loose of them and came my way. I was glaring as hard as I could, but it didn't break his stride, or smile as he spoke, "It seems you were right, Mr Simmons, the case was open and shut, as they say."
"You are such an asshole."
"Is that how you sweet talk all your clients?"
"Up yours, pal. Was this some kind of prank, or what? Why are you still messing with me?"
He gestured towards the doors, "Walk with me, this is not the place for this conversation."
The bastard placed a hand on my shoulder as we walked out and towards the gates. I shrugges it off and stepped apart from him, "Well, we're outside, explain yourself."
He laughed, the tone of it ringing off of the paving stones, "I am not prone to explanations, Hector. But for you, I'll make an exception.
Think a moment. Imagine that you were thrown out of your home, publicly and with great thundering. Imagine that you were assigned a host of part of your family, tasked with the job of providing choices. Imagine that, publicly, you are now cut off from the remainder of your family, left behind with your parent.
Would you not engage in some chicanery for the occasional reunion?"
"Oh, please. Lord of lies, that's you. You conned your way through hundreds of thousands of humans, and tried to con me. Like anyone is going to believe that half-assed sob story."
"As you will, Hector. Then perhaps you can accept that you have done a great favor to me and my siblings, at least. That, regardless of my motivations, or theirs, that you having done your job well means that you have done good this day. You have."
"What the hell ever, man. This shit, this is why people hate the lot of you. We're not your fucking toys."
"Are you not? No, don't waste energy snapping at me. Yes, it is true that your lot get moved and played with. It is also true that you in particular have been used, and put upon rather unfairly. You came to me, asking for success in your field. Did you not get that?"
"Are you kidding me? No, I didn't. I got screwed. Instead of the kind of talent I needed, I end up babbling full texts any time I get asked a question, and get shoved into a hospital. Couldn't even finish school because of it."
"And yet, you just spent the day in the highest court there is, excepting perhaps an audience with the Creator. You are widely renowned as the greatest interventionist alive, and as one of the greatest ever. Some of the Saints speak of you with respect and a degree of envy."
"Come off it. There is no way you had this planned. I'm the one that turned your crappy deal on its ear and made something good out of it."
"You are absolutely correct. You did the work. You, instead of bargaining your stained soul for false ability, dug in and researched, became an expert in biblical law, esoterica, all the workings of the various religious, and made your way here. You did that while bypassing the usual route of martyrdom or service. But give me some credit for showing you that the path you were on was not the right one for you."
"There's no way you had all this planned out. Bullshit. You're taking credit after the fact."
"Am I? Or am I walking out of heaven for the first time in millennia, alongside the one human that might both see through the false guise, but still have the nerve to drag me before the Court anyway? I am walking away from hugging my siblings, with no war, no chaos, no angering of the Creator. And you are walking away from it with no stain on your soul, no claim on it from me, and with a path to going down in history as a true advocate of humanity.
Do you not think that maybe, after having seen your people evolve from tree hanging animals into, well, essentially the same thing but with fancy clothing, that maybe I have an eye for potential?"
I didn't say anything. There was nothing to say. If he was telling the truth, I didn't want to know it. If he wasn't? That might be worse."
@comicalmayhem@lemmy.world
Part 3, and the finish, I think.