My first movie fanfiction, done after seeing Dogma for the first time (actually, fifth time in about four days). What follows is basically my take on Bartleby's thoughts throughout the train sequence. Whether or not this is what Kevin Smith intended isn't my call.

Please R/R if you thought it was good...or even if you thought it was total crap. Any opinion would be great, really.

Disclaimer: I don't own rights to anything, so please don't sue. Characters and plot were created by Kevin Smith, whom I'm not.

Rated: R for language.
- NV22

As Bethany prattled on about her 'crusade' in a drunken haze, Bartleby felt the color drain from his face. It couldn't possibly be. She...she was the Last Scion? She was the one who was supposed to hunt them down, stop them from going home? She was Heaven's defense, the one sent to kill him and Loki?

Bartleby couldn't believe it. Didn't want to believe it. He'd liked her, he really had. He had felt a definite connection between the two of them, strange as it seemed. It had been the first time in a long, long, long time that he'd been attracted to a woman. He hadn't even thought it possible, truth be told. But Bethany was honest, real, a good person throughout, like poor Miss Pryce back at Mooby Corp. Well, of course she was, he admonished himself dazedly. She was the Last fucking Scion.

But even so, even with this knowledge, Bartleby felt a stab of regret. Because he had really liked her. It wouldn't have worked out, he knew. Even if he could somehow persuade this woman to date him, had he predicted that the sparks between them were mutual, eventually their relationship would reach the stage dubbed as the 'Next Step'. And of course he couldn't sleep with her, which would bring everything to an unfortunate grinding halt. People reacted pretty strongly to their significant other's decided lack of genitalia. Even Bethany, this pure, innocent soul...even she would turn tail and run. It pained him to think of the abrupt end to even a fictional relationship.

However, it pained him more to realize that if she succeeded, he'd never get home. And if he wanted to, he was going to have to kill her.

Kill the bitch. The violence of his own thoughts surprised him, but it was like the clouds parted and he was enveloped in a holy light, cliched and stupid it seemed, all things considered. An epiphany. How dare God do this? These humans--these worthless beings, these stupid fucking meat-puppets--they were God's favorites. His proverbial teacher's pet. And a good lot of them had a total disregard for Him. Some flat-out didn't believe He fucking existed, and they were His favorite project? What about them, the angels? The ones designed to be His eternal slaves, in constant, never-ending adoration for Him? Once, just once, Bartleby had persuaded Loki to stop his massacres. Because he felt fucking sorry for the humans. And what had the exalted one done then? He'd kicked them both out. Sent them to fucking Wisconsin for the rest of eternity. Where was God's purported 'infinite patience' then? Why were the standards for Angels so different, just because they were in Heaven? It wasn't fair. It wasn't fucking fair!

"I suppose it's not all that different from killing a human," he said softly in response to Bethany's drunken skepticism. The bottle was cool, light in his hands under the table. In a matter of minutes it'd be in shards on the floor, perhaps some imbedded in the smooth, pale flesh of her neck...

Something in the back of his mind expressed pity for Bethany. She hadn't chosen this fate. But there was shit she could do about it now. Kill the bitch! screamed his brain. Last Scion or no Last Scion, she was just a human. Just a fucking human, easy to kill. And once he passed through that archway, it would be forgiven anyways.

The door to the car opened, and a familiar voice invaded Bartleby's murderous train of thought. "Holy shit!"

"The apostle!" Bartleby cried out, stunned to see the guy again. He threw his conscience out the window, smashed the bottle, and grabbed Bethany firmly, broken glass to her neck.

As it dawned on Bethany who he was, she struggled in his grasp. Bartleby called to Loki, off on the other side of the car getting stoned with Jay and Bob. It occurred to Bartleby that he'd have to kill them, too, even though they seemed to be Loki's new friends. Oh, well. No harm, no foul, right? Loki would understand...he was the fucking Angel of Death, after all. Bartleby could all of a sudden see the appeal of genocide. After the Last Scion, he imagined, two hapless stoners would be a breeze. A piece of righteous cake.

Power. Bethany, unheard to anyone but Bartleby, was mewing softly in fear as she struggled against him. Time stood still, it seemed. Absolute power. Who would have thought that a simple bottle of beer, only a few minutes ago a sign of friendship, was giving him such a rush? Loki had been right all along, Bartleby thought. This was right, this was good, this was what they were meant to do. Fight.

That nagging, shallow voice was back. But you used to fight for God.

Fuck that, Bartleby replied, and banished the thought from his mind. Who gave a fuck what God thought anymore? God was the unfair one. Bartleby felt justified.

But before he knew what was happening, the thirteenth apostle was all over him, Bethany was thrown to the side safely, and things were a chaotic blur.

Anger. Jealousy. Justification. Fucking meat-puppets. They had everything going for them and they didn't even fucking realize it. Only one thought flooded his brain as he flew through the night air, screaming at Silent Bob.

Vengeance.