And Now For Something Completely Different
Diella's Story
Summary: What if a new character was added to the mix? What if she was Diella, Metatron's annoying, heckling wife, sister to Gabriel, one of God's most trusted Archangels, and she used to work for Lucifer himself? You get a weird twist on an already weird story. Read on!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything associated with Dogma, but I own Diella. That's not really saying much, but it's something! Anyway, read on!
Chapter 1
Diella's bright blue eyes stared around the almost-blinding white room. If she hadn't been surrounded by white for the past few thousand years of her life, her eyes surely would have been burned out of their sockets. True, when she first arrived in Heaven, the perpetual white was quite different to her accustomed black and fiery red of Hell, but after a few hundred years, her eyes adjusted.
Now, as she stood in this room, she gazed about, and wondered vaguely why she had been called. God was away on one of Her 'constitutionals', and probably wouldn't be back until later that night. Seeing the Orb of Omniscience sitting in the center of the room, she floated towards it.
That was another thing she had to get used to; floating. While she was used to it by now, it was still a strange sensation to just float, even when her wings were tucked under her robes. It was as if she was always on a cloud, just hovering over everything. Standard angels didn't get to float everywhere- they had to walk. But, being Gabriel's sister and Metatron's wife had its perks.
Her lip curled at the thought of Metatron. Ah, her lovely husband. Oh, sure, being married to the Voice of God was cool, for the first hundred or so years. But he had these little habits that just got to you after a while.
Like, the way he always had to have the fork on the left side, and the knife and spoon on the right side at meals. I mean, did it really matter which side they were on, as long as they were there?
And the fact that he always complained about how he was overworked, when he really wasn't, at least not nowadays-- it's not like people are talking to God nearly as much as they were when Abraham and Sarah were around. And the way he glared at you when he was mad-- which was quite often for Diella; he was always finding something to be cross about, whether it was about the laundry, the dishes, who took the garbage out last.
Sometimes she wished divorce was available in Heaven. But, when God did marriage, She did it for good, permanently.
Gazing into the Orb, Diella strained her eyes. Swirling in the mist of the picture, she saw a woman, sitting in church. Her black hair and semi-bored expression did little to cause her to stick out from the crowd of regular mass-goers. In fact-- Diella leaned closer, peering into the inner-workings of the Orb-- the entire congregation were focused on something entirely different than that of what the priest was saying. Some were talking, others were sleeping, and one man was even listening to headphones.
Amazed and disgusted, Diella straightened up, still looking into the Orb. She tucked a stand of her black hair behind her ear. The nerve of people these days…why bother going to church if you're not going to pay attention?
"Sad, isn't it?"
Diella didn't even look up.
"What's that? The lack of interest in church-goers, or that fact that people are still going to church?" she asked. A cold chuckle drifted across the empty room.
"Both."
Diella finally turned around to face Metatron, her husband. He had his hands in his pockets, his wings folded under his robes, and he was walking slowly towards her. She noticed the unearthly glow he usually had was ebbing away, which meant he was going into his 'human' form. He was going to talk to someone. She turned back around to look into the Orb as he stood next to her.
"What do you want, Metatron?" Diella asked, determinedly not looking at him. He chuckled again.
"Just to tell you that I will be leaving shortly; I must deliver a message to the woman you see before you," he nodded his head to the black-haired woman in the Orb, who was now receiving Communion with a look of bored reverence.
"Why? She seems to be nothing special. And with God gone, you need to be here in case things unsettle."
"Your darling brother can take care of that," Metatron said snidely. "And as for the woman…her name is Bethany Sloan, and she is the Last Scion."
Diella's eyebrows arched as she turned from the Orb to look at Metatron interestedly. "You don't say? Fascinating."
He nodded. "I trust you've heard of the Bartleby-Loki situation?" Diella nodded her assent. "God wanted me to contact her to take care of the situation."
Diella frowned. "Why not have one of the Grigori's take care of it? It is there job, isn't it? Watch the wellbeing of the world?"
Metatron smirked. "Yes, yes, but she is reaching middle age. She can't go her whole life without knowing who she is, can she? And who knows when a situation like this will arise again?"
She shrugged, and tuned back to the Orb. "I suppose so. I assume you will be relaying the message?"
"Of course. That is my job, isn't it?" he replied smartly.
"Oh, of course, mighty Metatron. What would we do without you? Have a lesser angel take up the trying task of convincing a bunch of meat puppets that God truly exists? Wow, how horrible," she muttered sarcastically.
Metatron sighed exasperatedly. "Yes, Diella, I will miss you too, dear," he said mockingly. "I'll be back by morning."
He turned to leave, when Diella was struck with an idea. "Oh, Metatron, before you leave, how about some dinner? I've been dying to try a new recipe I got from a new arrival the other day-- fish 'n chips, it's called."
"Dinner?" he asked curiously.
"Yes, dinner. You know, food you eat before you go to sleep?" Diella replied coolly.
Eyeing her with suspicion, Metatron faced her. "Okay, what's the deal?"
Feigning innocence, she frowned at him, "What do you mean?"
He scoffed. "What I meant was that you haven't offered to cook me dinner in nearly fifty years. Why the sudden change of heart?"
She shrugged. "Oh, I dunno. Just a thought that burst into my head. Why? Do you think I'd try to take advantage of you in your almost human form? Try to poison you or something just so I could get out of Heaven for a few hours and get some excitement in my otherwise dull life?" she smirked. "Come on, dear, I'm not that avaricious."
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About an hour later, Diella was standing outside a house in downtown Illinois, staring up at it. The cold wind air swirled around her, but she didn't feel it. Her wings tucked safely under her robe, she straightened her jacket and walked to the door.
She hadn't been to Earth since she delivered the message to the shepherds that Christ had been born. The new technology of the door puzzled her. After pausing for a moment, she gingerly reached up and touched the doorknob, bringing her hand back as soon as she touched the cool metal surface, as though she expected it to shock her. After she deemed it harmless, she tried it. Locked.
"Damn," she muttered. Gazing around for something to use, she spied a flowerpot near the door. Bending down, she lifted it up. A small key sat underneath it.
"Stupid bottom-feeders," Diella muttered, straightening up and inserting the key into the lock. She turned it, and the door opened. Tossing the key back on the pavement nonchalantly, she stepped inside. It was dreadfully dark. Carefully stepping towards what she assumed was the bedroom, she stumbled, stubbing her toe on a side table. She fell, quite noisily, dragging the tablecloth, several pictures, and a flower vase down with her.
"Shit!" she cried a bit too loudly as she fell flat on her face, the vase shattering, spilling water all over the floor and the glass in the frame cracked. She froze, on her hands and knees, and listened intently. She heard a rustling in the room. She had woken the woman.
Maybe Metatron was a better choice for the job; I'm so goddamn clumsy. I'll bet he wouldn't have tripped. Groaning, she stood avoiding the water and the pieces of glass. She'd have to clean it up later. Oh well, better do this right, Diella thought miserably. I haven't entered in a rush of fire in a while…not since my days with ol' Lucifer. I hope I can still do it.
Bringing herself up to full height, she strode purposefully towards the half-opened door. Just before she entered, she snapped her fingers, disappearing from the hall and appearing inside the bedroom, in a rush of flames. Her booming voice, which she borrowed from Metatron to seem more intimidating, echoed around the small room.
"BEHOLD THE METATRON - HERALD OF THE ALMIGHTY AND VOICE OF THE ONE TRUE GOD!" Diella cried. "BEHOLD THE METATRON - HERALD OF THE ALMIGHTY AND VOICE OF THE ONE TRUE GOD!"
In her haste, and feelings of superiority, Diella didn't notice the scared-shitless woman scurry from her bed over to the closet, pulling out a fire extinguisher.
"BEHOLD THE METATRON - HERALD OF THE ALMIGHTY AND--" Diella broke off and began hacking as a rush of froth from the extinguisher saturated her. The woman was spraying her with the fire extinguisher!
Diella fell to one knee, still coughing profusely as Bethany swung the nozzle about, catching all the flames and putting them out. She dropped the empty can on the floor and jumped on the bed, swinging a baseball bat defensively.
Diella stood shakily, still coughing and tried to wipe the froth from her robe. "Sweet Jesus! Did you have to empty the whole friggin' can?" she shouted, stepping backwards to brush off her suit. "Good Lord…will you look at my suit?"
"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU, AND WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY ROOM!" Bethany screamed, brandishing the bat quite pathetically. Diella raised herself to her feet, glaring at Bethany angrily. Diella noticed she was in a button-down cloth shirt and underwear. Very nice.
"Yeah, I'm the one who's soaked, and she's the one who's pissed," Diella muttered darkly, staring angrily at her. "That's rich…real rich."
The woman edged to the side of the bed, holding the bat in one hand and reaching for the phone with the other. "I'm calling the cops! Breaking and entering…attempted arson…they'll lock you up for life!" she held the receiver to her ear, not taking her eyes off the soaked and extremely mad angel in her doorway.
"No dial tone," said Diella coldly, still fussing over her suit. Bethany dropped the receiver, frightened.
"Oh, God…you cut the phone lines…"
No, I used my psychic powers to warble up the electronic waves, Diella thought coldly.
The woman brandished the bat again. "Get the fuck out of here…NOW!" she shouted, taking a swing. It missed by a mile, seeing as how she was still on the bed and Diella was seven feet away, still standing in the doorway.
"Or you'll do what exactly?" Diella asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow at her. "Hit me with that…fish?"
Bethany looked down, and screeched. "Ack! A SNAKE!" she threw it away from her, her eyes bulging in fear, screaming. "I thought you said a fish!" When the black snake hit the floor, it disappeared with a pop!
Diella shrugged. "Well, you know…fish…hiss…they kind of sound the same." Bethany stared. "Oh, give me a break already, I'm new at this!" she glowered fiercely. "Now, just sit down on the bed and shut up."
She turned her attention back to her soaked clothes. "Jesus wept! Look at my suit! Get me a towel, will you?" Diella snapped. The woman didn't move. "Okay, fine," she mumbled. "Will you please get me a towel?" Bethany rose hesitantly, and went to the bathroom, got a towel, and handed it to the angel apprehensively, plopping back down on the bed, still staring.
"Who…who are you?" she asked quietly. Diella was almost beside herself.
"I'm pissed off is what I am!" she snapped, glaring. "Do you go around drenching everyone who comes into your room with flame-retardant chemicals? No wonder you don't get laid." She furiously tried to wipe the dampness from the front of her suit, but to no avail. Fed up, she threw the towel back on the bed and glared angrily at the woman. "Now…stand back."
Arching her back, she flexed, and to Bethany's amazement, a pair of huge wings extended from her back. They flew open, sending little droplets of water everywhere, the leftovers of the fire extinguisher.
"As I was saying," Diella began slowly, her eyes still shining angrily, "prior to your fire-fighting episode-- I am the Metatron."
Blank stare. Diella sighed angrily.
"You know…the Metatron!" she repeated, looking at her and waving her hands as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Don't tell me you don't recognize it?"
Bethany slowly shook her head. Diella looked insulted. Woo, boy, Metatron's gonna be furious that people don't know who he is anymore, she thought a bit happily, and shook her head.
"Let me explain--"
"Perhaps I should explain, seeing as how it is my job," an angry voice snapped behind her. Diella whipped around, her wings quickly shrinking down below her robe. She looked much less intimidating and smaller without them, Bethany noted. Diella's eyes were wide, almost scared.
"Uh…hey there Metatron," she said nervously.
"Metatron?" Bethany asked confused. "I thought you said you were Metatron--"
"No, I am the Metatron," the voice said again. Another figure appeared in the doorway, next to Diella. A man.
"Oh, God…" Bethany began, shrinking back frightened. "A man…Oh God…just take whatever you guys want, but please don't kill or rape me--"
"Oh get over it, will you?" the new figure snapped, pushing Diella a bit roughly to the side and standing where she was seconds before. "I couldn't rape you if I wanted to! Angels are ill-equipped." He quickly unzipped his suit bottoms, showing smoothness, and absolutely nothing that usually defined a man. "See? I'm as anatomically impaired as a Ken doll."
Bethany stared, mesmerized as the new figure pushed his pants back up and fastened them. "You stupid bottom-feeders and your arrogance…you think everyone's just trying to get in your knickers." He sneered at her, then stood up straighter. "Now…" he said softly, getting ready to flex his wings. "Stand back--"
"Don't bother, I already went through the whole routine," Diella said from her place by the wall. "The fiery introduction, the wings, the huge booming voice- the whole she-bang."
"You really take all the fun out of it, you know?" Metatron snapped. He paused, and stared intently at her. "Why are you all wet?"
"She--" the angel pointed accusingly at Bethany, "--soaked me with a fire extinguisher!" Metatron stared for a minute, glanced back at the puny mortal on the bed, and dissolved into a raucous laughter. "It's not funny!" shouted Diella, stamping her foot impatiently, which only caused him to laugh harder. "Shut up! Shut UP!"
Loosing her patience, she stormed forward and placed a well-aimed kick straight in his chest. He lost his breath, clutching his stomach painfully.
"OUCH! You little bitch--" he stared forward, arm raised, his fingers poised to snap.
"Uh-uh, not here, Metatron," Diella said, waving a finger. "I got me some of your powers now, and I won't hesitate to use 'em on you."
He lowered his arm just a little. "No you don't…you're bluffing."
Diella raised an eyebrow. "Am I?" Pursing his lips, Metatron let his hand fall to his side.
"Very well, you little cretin…but as soon as we get back in Heaven, I am going to kill you!"
She smirked. "You can't kill someone who can't die, Mr. Know-It-All. I suspected the omniscient Voice of God to know that."
"But you," Metatron pointed accusingly at Diella. "You tried to kill me! While I was trans-substantiating, no less!"
"No, I wasn't trying to kill you," she argued back. "I was merely trying to make you incapable of carrying out your duties." She shrugged. "I wanted to get out of Heaven for a few hours, go back to Earth. I haven't been down here since Christ was born."
"That's no excuse to poison me!" he cried, his eyes growing wide with anger.
"Oh, get over it," she mumbled, crossing her arms and turning slightly away from him.
Bethany had been watching this whole exchange with growing interest. Were these two people…angels? And why were they fighting like an old married couple? If Metatron was right…and angels didn't have 'you-know-what's', then why would angels be married? Wasn't marriage all about the sex? … Or was it different in Heaven?
"Uh, hey," she interrupted quietly. They estranged pair of angels turned to face her. "Uh…weren't you saying something about…Metatron or something?"
"Oh, yes," Metatron said, his face relaxing as he remembered what he was sent here to do. "That's right…stand back."
Diella sneered, but took a step backwards, giving him room. Bethany watched in amazement as-- again-- wings protruded from Metatron's back.
"I am…the Metatron," he stated, his voice echoing around the room in a way that Diella hadn't been able to accomplish. She frowned at this.
Still a blank stare. Diella smirked.
"When I said that to her, she gave me the same reaction," she said. "I doubt you saying it will make it any clearer."
Metatron looked crossly at Diella, then turned back to Bethany. "Don't tell me the name doesn't ring a bell?" Bethany slowly shook her head. Metatron frowned angrily.
"You people," he muttered testily, his wings drooping slightly as he placed his hands on his hips as a sign of his annoyance. "If there isn't a movie about it, it's not worth knowing, is it?"
"No, it's just you," retorted Diella faux-sweetly. "You're not important anymore."
"Just shut it, will you!" he snapped, whipping to face her. Diella sneered, but fell quiet, leaning against the wall. Metatron turned back to Bethany.
"I am a Seraphim," he continued, as though it were obvious. Still, no reaction. "The highest Choir of Angels?" he continued incredulously. Bethany scoffed, looking at him as though he were an escaped lunatic. "You do know what an angel is, don't you?" he asked crossly.
Bethany nodded slowly, casting a quick glance to the other angel in the corner, who was now inspecting a roll of pennies as though it were the most interesting thing on the planet. She turned her gaze back to Metatron, who was speaking again.
"Metatron acts as the voice of God," he said. "Any documented occasion where some yahoo claims that God has spoken to them, they're speaking to me…or they're talking to themselves."
"Usually it's the latter," piped up Diella, who had abandoned the roll of pennies and was stepping forward next to Metatron. "He's been slacking lately…hasn't spoken to anyone-- aside from you, of course-- in nearly four hundred years."
Metatron glared at her, as though he was trying to burn a hole in her head. He would have, if she hadn't threatened him. Bethany opened her mouth as if to speak, but closed it, at a loss for words. Finally, she spoke.
"Why doesn't God just speak for Himself?"
Metatron nodded. "Ah, glad you decided to join the conversation once again. To answer that…human beings have neither the aural nor the psychological capacity to withstand the awesome power of God's true voice." He gave her a knowing look. "Were you to hear it, your mind would cave in, and your heart would explode within your chest."
Diella smiled ruefully. "They went through five Adam's before they figured that one out."
"So…" the worried expression was creeping back onto Bethany's face. "You're not going to kill me?"
"I could, for what you did to my suit!" Diella snapped, pointing to her soaked chest. "Do you know how hard it is to find this color this late in the season? And I'm not the only one with this size-- practically every angel in the universe is around my size! It'll be hell trying to find a new one!" she pursed her lips as Metatron glanced at her sharply. She sighed. "But…I can't. You're called."
Bethany frowned. "Called how? How called?"
Diella's eyebrows arched. "Wow, all that from two words," she mumbled sarcastically. "Color this angel impressed."
"Mind you, it doesn't take much to get old Diella here interested. You see that those rolls of pennies were enough to pique her interest. She has a very short attention span," he looked at her. "All that heat in the old days must have fried her brain."
Diella's expression of annoyance changed in a heartbeat to one of fury. "Why you stupid, worthless bastard--"
"Uh, how do I know you're an angel?" Bethany interjected quickly, not at all looking forward to another altercation between the two strangers.
Diella looked over at Bethany, annoyed. "What, beside the fiery entrance and the expansive wingspan?" she asked coldly. Bethany just shrugged lamely.
"Fine," Metatron said. "You want more proof?" he smiled. "How 'bout a tequila?"
He snapped his fingers, and they were gone.
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A/N: So? How was that for a first chapter? I'm not really looking for a lot of reviews on this story-- the Dogma section of FanFiction is visited rather infrequently. I'm just writing this to get it off my chest. But…if anyone is out there reading this, drop a review and let me know how I'm doing, okay?
A/N2: Some of the lines in the story, such as "No dial tone/ Oh God, you cut the phone lines" and "Color this angel impressed" were found on a different script of Dogma I found while surfing the Web. I figured this must be the first draft, before the actors/actresses and screenwriters altered it. If anyone wants to find it, email me. I'll be using it frequently, because I'm not really funny enough to write my own comedy. :)