When God Rises
It was a cycle.
According to Pyunma, man's fear of his own mortality created the idea of something greater, of that which could defy death. Man created god, and in this mass belief, God came to be. Omnipotent or otherwise, one or many, god defied death and human frailty, and yet remained bound by human whim. More than that, aside from this mass God there was the god of each human mind, both weaker and equal to the mass god in it interpreted the will of God per the individual.
Man created God and God bent man to his will while being subject to the definitions of man. Around and around they went.
Jet felt his systems struggle as he left Earth's atmosphere behind. He found Joe right where he expected him and dragged him along to chase the missiles. In the ever-fall of orbit, at this speed, they would catch it, inertia would take them there without the use of his rockets. Jet pushed them anyway, rerouted power until his systems screamed and he lost a back thruster. Not enough. He'd probably need to lose a leg.
If one could then influence the masses, place the image of his personal god upon them that it would spread to become the mass god, then would not the line of between man and god be crossed?
It was something he'd thought about for a long time.
The missiles were close now, Joe reaching for them in desperation. Jet had to time this perfectly. One last push, one last cry, and he felt Joe grab hold. Jet let go, cut his systems and blew the leg, sending himself careening away. It hurt, but he had to get out of the blast radius. Carefully though, he didn't have enough in him to get out should he start re-entering Earth's atmosphere too soon. He heard Joe call for him over the brain-waves and felt a pang of regret, but dismissed it.
Everything will be alright again soon, Joe.
Jet double-checked his trajectory and began his shut-down procedure. Joe was ready to blow up the missiles, himself with it, but the cyborg could survive that kind of blast, especially out here. It was the EMP in the false-nukes that would properly incapacitate him.
Like Jet would honestly launch primed nukes into Earth's atmosphere. There were too many chances something could go wrong for that risk. They would blow, yes, but a minor explosion that would make a lovely show for those down below. Joe would be hurt but survive, Jet would be back online in a few minutes to ensure that, but he could not be conscious when the EMP went or he'd be taken out too. Time for a power nap.
Jet only wanted one thing in life and like most clichéd lessons he had to lose it to realize he'd had it all along. Getting it back would prove the harder, and yet the hypothesis Pyunma had disposed upon him when he'd called proved interesting and Jet could not help but think on it long afterward.
Already humans tapped into this 'mass god' to influence their followers. Celebrities did it all the time, public speakers, politicians. Tap into enough personal brain-gods and soon God himself would follow. But humans were faulty and all knew this, even the most fervent believer would turn on a man who failed them. However, that which was undefined, that which was unknown, could not fall.
Jet had been in intelligence too long, had sat through and performed too many interrogations, had fought and manipulated his way through the streets of his youth to not understand the human mind and its fears. And oh, was the unknown high on that list.
Fear was the origin of God. To control the fear was to control Him. Jet would stop the cycle.
Jet Link would become God.
Gods were born of chaos, like Atum who rose from the primordial waters of Nun or Gaia and her ilk, and so would Jet. That part of his plan had been ridiculously easy. He was well aware of Samuel Klein's fascination of him and used that to place himself as liaison between Samuel Capitol and the US government. An ugly-ass piece of fossilized angel in the boardroom just made it all the easier to press on Klein's human guilt that was rampant in the western world these days. They shared a lunch in which the CEO described his desire to create advanced cybernetics (for medical reasons, of course) and while Jet made a show of hesitation in the end he personally handed over to Klein his own cybernetic specs. When money was needed for such an expensive venture as creating cyborg soldiers, Jet had only to drop a few key words amidst his feigned outrage and soon America was waging a war within against nothing. Klein got his money and increased business and Jet reaped the fear.
Chaos bloomed and Jet went to work. Klein and his board were first. Under the shadow of their long-dead angel they watched the death toll rise under their greed and they suffered. Jet whispered of humanity's evil, of their corruption, but if only they had a second chance! If only they could begin anew. Klein's guilt fell to purpose, to a greater plan that was for the benefit of mankind overall. The idea spread to a special few under him, and all Jet had to do was tap into their fear and misery with a few overheard or direct conversations and soon they marched to a divine plan.
Sometimes he had to excuse himself and find a quiet storage room in which to have a good laugh.
Jet had often wondered, of his cybernetic brethren, which of them was the most powerful. On a scale of raw power it was Geronimo, no doubt. Great Britain, however, had such a skill that could trump them all, more than once he had fooled even his own teammates. It was probably Ivan though, with mind powers that could teleport them or stop even a hail of missiles, but his infancy limited his powers and more than that he seemed to lack the drive for anything beyond his teammates needs. Joe was the most obvious, with his speed and power but most of all his drive. Jet knew better than anyone, even Francoise at times, of what Joe was capable if he felt the need. While they expressed it differently, he and Joe were of the same mold; survival and loyalty defined their actions, but loyalty earned outdid even survival. The only difference between them was that Jet was more specific it what constituted that earned loyalty.
Not everyone in need was permitted his life, and in that they differed. That, Jet believed, made him stronger. He did not have raw strength or psychic abilities or acceleration, but he had defined, clear determination with fewer compunctions about what it took to get what he wanted and the ability to be anywhere in the world and back in a few hours at most.
The fear spread as people around the world watched American cities fall; it took relatively little effort for Jet to use that fear and send foreign cities to the ground. If he focused, he was certain a mind in distress could pick up on some level his brain-wave transmissions.
Jet spoke, and the select chosen obeyed his voice.
The mass god fell under his sway as people fell to panic, and he spoke to the chosen directly. They no longer saw him, but whatever they desired to see and hear in God. All the while Void called and he obeyed. All the while he flew about looking for answers. In this he began to realize that the mass god could get away from him if he wasn't careful. A few suicide bombers he had not directed began to appear, but they only aided in the fear and chaos so he let them be for now.
The expected summon from Gilmore came soon after, and Jet ignored it.
The US Government could barely track him, even if they wanted to, and he was free to come and go as he pleased so long as he met deadlines. As such, it was hardly a bother to head back to New York when Great Britain called. Jet had struggled and fell to quiet bitterness; GB could too easily read people, a skill developed during his time as an actor and only increased by the SIS and he was already looking for something in Jet. They were both intelligence and knew this game well, questioning each other without many words, and Jet learned what he needed. GB knew about His Voice and was undoubtedly going to tell Gilmore about it. Jet could not allow that, it was far too soon.
When the Lazarus failed Jet himself left the bar to stop GB. He did not know what his former teammate saw to make him follow, but follow he did and Jet led him away. Once dealt with, Jet returned to the bar for a drink. Regret sank into his stomach, but he was too far in now. GB would be safe until Jet brought him back.
Pyunma too knew too much and, grateful as Jet was to him, he must be removed. Jet appeared to him amid the crowd and Pyunma followed, away from Albert and away from the eyes of others. Jet lead him away.
Thus developed the dichotomy. Jet's Voice versus Jet the man, who still had yet to cross into godhood. He sent the B-2 out to destroy Dubai, well aware his former teammates would know of it, and then followed, looking as though he meant to stop it but with no intent to do so.
Joe's arrival was not a surprise, but his claim to obey His Voice was, and it was the first time Jet panicked.
He was not a tactician, his role on the team had been to follow, either Ivan or Gilmore's plans and then the commands of Joe or Pyunma or Albert in combat. Not that he was useless on that score, when it came to matters of aerial combat or plans reliant on his reconnaissance they generally deferred to his judgment, but it had never been his strong suit. Still he tried, many nights he sat up in his apartment without sleep making plans, attempting to come up with countermeasures to every possibility. If this happened, he would do that, if that happened, he would do this.
Joe falling sway to his will had never even been considered a possibility and Jet didn't know what to do. How could Gilmore allow Joe to wallow in such misery and listlessness that his belief in the good of man could be usurped by a desire to destroy? How could Joe let himself fall to the mass god? Didn't the idiot realize Jet was doing this for his sake as well? For all their sakes? They had been strong once, they could take down anything together, from Black Ghost to damned alien warlords. Then they were forced apart and it ruined them.
It ruined him.
Joe had to be stopped, Jet could not allow him to be involved in Dubai's destruction in any way. That was Jet's burden to carry, and he was too far in it now.
"For me, what's right is to eliminate anyone who gets in my way!"
It was the first truly honest thing he'd said in months.
They fought and Joe had smiled, and it was then Jet realized he'd been played. Too late, the missile was fired and Jet barely had time to get the B-2 Spirit away before the city burned, Joe lost in it.
Long ago, Jet had prayed to God to give him the strength to reach Joe out in space, to save him, with mixed results. There was no need for prayer now; if Jet had any power of the mass god behind him, Joe would live. Without his friend, all this was for naught.
He returned to find his government in chaos. "His Voice" was the force behind it all, but it was still the unknown, and the fear was rising. Jet could feel it. He checked on Samuel Capitol, their loyalty to their divine path still needed, and they were as fervent as ever and confident enough to show their hand to Jet.
The last stages of his plan were laid out. All those he had chosen throughout the government moved under his unspoken directive. Missiles were replaced and a submarine changed course.
Jet loved his country and owed his loyalty to its government, but governments were run by men, and to them Jet owed nothing. He obeyed his so-called superiors because he chose to, his own experience and capabilities far surpassing them all. Near thirty years he obeyed and learned, and so when Void turned the blame of Dubai on him he was hardly surprised.
But the involvement of the others he could not allow, and Void was slain before him. The room filled with light and she came, and for the second time Jet panicked. He himself now faced the unknown fear he had inflicted upon the rest of the world.
Then he understood. Before him now was himself, manifested as others believed him to be. A voice of God, young in innocence and female to represent purity, but still very much Jet. Fear was replaced with power.
Jet Link beheld his own divinity.
He stood and attacked the Pentagon, his own body used as a battering ram, then lie down and wait. The others were under attack, but he knew they would prevail. All was going as he planned.
An injury and desperation, and then he called his former teammates and set then to their task.
Jet came back online, his remaining rockets sputtering. Debris flew past, and Jet scanned the dark for Joe. He was too far away and moving fast for Jet to reach with the little that remained of himself, but man created God and God was Jet and with a mere thought Jet was whole again and Joe in his arms. He let gravity take them and they entered the atmosphere burning, two shooting stars over the ocean.
Jet could feel his teammates, feel their loss and sorrow, but also their hope. Francoise prayed, and Jet pushed the world aside, leaving quiet and sunlight. There his friends gathered in peace, and there he lay Joe on the shore. They came and took him, carrying him to Francoise safe house for care. Jet called for Great and Pyunma, sending a boat to bring them to his paradise, and then pulled up a chair to wait.
The water held them in this place, for they were above it, and Jet couldn't help but smile as his dear friends approached, well and whole as he intended. Francoise and Joe were elsewhere together, and the remaining team met GB, Pyunma, and Jet on the shore.
Together, as they were meant.
"I'm proud of you," said Gilmore, and extended his hand.
Jet clasped it warmly and released the mass god, denouncing his divinity, and the world returned. Once more he was only a 00 cyborg, standing with his team. His family.
For that was all he'd ever wanted.