Title: The Delicate Sound of Thunder

Summary: A young woman, working as a Criminal Defense Lawyer in the Big Apple, believes that as a result of her past and professions she is destined to eternity in Hell. Turning to her friends for support she realizes she is stranded with nothing but fate. That is until the entrance of 2 prophets, the 13th Apostle, and a witty angel named, "The Metatron", change her life forever.

Rating: The rating will change each chapter, but due to language and sexual innuendo's, will be slightly high compared to my other fic's. This chapter will remain 14A, as it will contain some crude jokes and language. However, though the rating's go up, I assure you, this fic will be one of the best yet.

Genre: Comedy/Angst/Romance/Adventure

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the lovely little characters created by the "Dogma" people. Although, I wish I had Alan Rickman all to myself. –squee and glomp- That is only a fantasy, -sigh- and therefore, I have no right to say I own any of the brilliant masterpiece that is "Dogma". However, I can thank them. Thank them for making and brining to life one hell of a movie and awesome characters who will always and forever own a place in my heart. Oh, and some of the characters are mine. All mine, based on some people in my life who welcomed me to the "Dogma" un-official fan-club. (Nicky, Sharrah...whom, infact, have almost the same name's RL.) I also mention another friend, whom has not yet seen the movie, but will love it all the same. They will be introduced in the second chapter...(Shimmy –wink-) Well. Enjoy the story, don't flame me too much. Hope you love it as much as I do.

PS: I'm ALWAYS open to suggestions. So, if you want to see/hear the characters do/say anything...just comment. I'll see if I can work it in, just for you. –bows curtly-

Amen.

PROLOGUE
[Right Next Door to Hell]

"I'm going to hell, I just know it." A voice grumbled from the young woman whom had buried her head in her hand's, and leaned forward onto the table, "It's destined for me, you know it, I know it...shit, God even knows it. I bet he's just waiting to see the day I die. Sitting on his almighty ass and waiting for my to...Oh, I dunno, fall off a fucking cliff or something!"

A chuckle was suppressed from the second woman sitting at the table in the small New York café, her mocha curl's cascading around her pleasant, freckled face like an elaborate frame, "How many time's have we had this discussion this week, 'Less?" She replied calmly, her warming brown eye's bearing down onto the grumbling girl's blonde head, as she reached across the table and patted her reassuringly, "You aren't going to hell."

"And what make's you so sure?" The voice snapped as she recoiled from her frustrated position, jerking her head up to face the other two. Her crystal blue eye's shone with a seriousness never seen amidst her before; but her short blonde hair, hanging two inches from her broad shoulders, still flipped out with the playfulness she was always graced with, "Last time I checked you ain't no angel. God, I'm a fucking criminal defense lawyer, Nicky! A CRIMINAL DEFENSE LAWYER! Okay? Do you even know what I did today?"

The third woman, apparently choosing to sit back and listen throughout the beginning of what seemed and endless debate, mumbled lazily, "You woke up. You ate breakfast. You went to work. You dealt with your horrendous work partners. You went to sign some divorce papers. You came with us for lunch." Her aqua eyes glittered with the usual sparkle of sarcasm, her tone filled with a sisterly bluntness that they had all grown to love, as she ran a hand through her russet tresses.

"Can we PLEASE be serious for just one second, Sharrah?" Alessia, also known as 'Less, snapped with a rough casualness. Her pale face was turning slightly red from the frustration, a hint of crimson rising in her cheeks, as she straightened out her T-shirt, "Can we just be serious for one, bloody, fucking second?"

"Oh, that's rich," Nicky snorted, as she rolled her eye's in mock disgust, retreating from her words to take a momentary sip of her Java, "Alessia telling us 'let's be serious'. That's ironic. Coming from somebody who's worried the earth's going to open up and swallow her whole into it's fiery pits of doom!" Childishly she waggled her finger's in Alessia's disgruntled face with a moronic chuckle.

"Shut up." Alessia groaned, swatting at her friend's waggling fingers, "Anyways; That's not irony, that's hypocrisy. But honestly, do you even know what I do for a living?" She sighed, resting the side of her crème face on an up-turned palm, rested stably by it's elbow on the small wooden table.

"You're a lawyer," Sharrah stated matter-of-factly with a shrug, not understanding the under-lying point, "Which, last time I checked, is a very professional career at the age of 26."

"Not just any lawyer, Sharrah! A criminal defense lawyer," Alessia cried in grieving, throwing her hands up in defeat, a look of horror striking her painfully beautiful face, "Wake-up! Even the name reeks of Hell's odor! I defend criminal's. I lie so that some messed up, sick, twisted fuck can live freely..."

"So?" She was quickly interrupted, as Nicky spoke again, "I'm a novelist. I spend day's inside my apartment, sitting at a computer screen, surfing the net mindlessly as I search my mind for any sort of inspiration, and get paid for it!" Nicky added, raising her eyebrow's at the platinum blonde, "I'll be following you to hell, by any rate."

"And I'm a Restaurant Manager. I order people around and watch them do all my work for hardly any pay," Sharrah shrugged, as she defiantly thumped a closed fist onto the table, all three coffee cups rattling in a startled manner, "Is that hell worthy?"

"Neither of your jobs are. God, you don't get it. You just don't fucking get it, neither of you do!" Alessia growled, her crystal blue eye's cold and enraged, as she massaged her temples wearily between her thumb and fore- finger.

"What don't we get, 'Less?" Nicky said a little softer, trying to figure out what was getting on her friend's nerves so terribly.

"It's wrong. Okay. Just wrong." Alessia mumbled, running a finger absentmindedly around the rim of her porcelain coffee mug, watching the intoxicating swirl's of mocha, chocolate, and caramel intertwine with one another; Creating an abstract and beautiful array of pigment's and motion, "Like, today for example. I have a client whom," She lowered her voice to a barely audible whisper, "Whom confessed to me that not only did he rape and murder a woman, but he was also responsible for three other deaths."

"And how's that you're fault?" Questioned Sharrah with a prominently confused glance, "Cause I seemed to have missed that part. Some people are just sociopathic, homicidal perverts. There's nothing you can do about it. "

"Hell! There's tons I could do about it. I could throw him in jail and make sure he doesn't pull something stupid like that again. But no. I have to defend him. I've gotta swallow the ranting's of a sociopathic, homicidal pervert and get him to somehow come off as a good and decent man in front of a fucking jury. He's delusional, and a liar. Not to mention wicked and downright aggressive. And those are some of his better qualities." Alessia sighed, running a hand through her pale locks of gold, and shaking her head in sheer anger.

There was an odd silence floating around the table. Nicky quickly scanned over the contents of the morning's paper, which she had read over thirty times in the last hour; Sharrah's eye's distantly wandered to the window, watching people cross the street as the light flickered scarlet. Alessia sighed, speaking again, both of the other's woman's eye's floating back to her.

"And I have to get this sick fuck off. That's my screwed up life."

"I think you're taking thing's too seriously," Sharrah shrugged, quirking an eyebrow and yawning, her hand raising to her lip's in order to excuse the tired action.

"And you, not seriously enough." Alessia hissed, once again her eye's glaring dagger's into Sharrah's, a common event that occurred around a round of coffee.

"Well, if there is a God," Nicky started un-easily, "Shouldn't he be able to...Oh, I dunno. Send one of his little, messenger angels down to cleanse you of all of your sins, or something?" She furrowed her brow, and shrugged, trying to force out a weak smile in Alessia's direction, "You go to church every Sunday, why don't you ask him for a favor? Ask him for help."

"Right." Alessia stated bluntly, her frown setting heavier, as she pouted more outlandishly, "Like that bullshit will ever happen." After a long pause and many withdrawn sigh's she added, "I need a tequila. A strong tequila."

"Girl," Sharrah smirked, as she slammed down her cup of Mocha joyously, "You need four tequila's."

"Ya," Alessia chuckled, actually smiling. Her placid lip's widening into a grin that seemed to light up her aristocratic feature's, "I need four tequila's and a goddamned guardian angel."

And what the young woman didn't know, was that she was about to get both.

A/N: That's only the beginning, so come on and read more! Please? Pretty please? You will? AWESOME! Oh, don't forget to review! –mwah- Thanks for reading this little piece of obsession this far: e-mail me, I'm open to any sort of suggestion. However, flame me, and I'll have to reply back...and therefore, The Metatron's wrath will be upon you.