Sophia's Chronicles
Chapter 89: Chaosmeter
"I know what you're all thinking," Crowley's voice channelled through the conference line. Purple patches peppered his face and his bottom lip still stung from all that fist-swinging. "How did we all manage to get out of all that hullabaloo without getting our faces ripped off? I'd like to bring all of your attention to the Crowley Highway Satellite, named after yours truly. How thoughtful of me, wasn't it, to build such a thing in the case of disaster not unlike the one we just endured."
On the other end of the line, Kali rolled her eyes and rubbed a finger against her temple. Ares, who sat opposite her at the long table, took that as a cue to speak on her behalf. "Yes, it was. Equally thought-provoking is the sad fact that you didn't take the same route to seek safety with us here in Lonford," he quipped. "What happened? Did you grow cold feet after your promises fell flat?"
"With all due respect, that is an absurd claim," Crowley defended. "My personal security was compromised and I had to flee the scene prematurely. A decision which, if I may admit, allowed me to prepare Lonford for your discreet arrival. We will have time to strike again once our armies have recuperated."
"Strike again?" Kali retorted. Even in this weary state, her anger hurled her words with the force of an inferno. "You told us Lucifer was getting weak! You said he wouldn't see us coming in Brimstone. He looked more than prepared to deal with our surprise."
"To be fair," Ares provided a calming voice. "We all saw the evidence. We all thought Lucifer was getting reckless. Clearly, it was all a set-up, right from the start. He wanted us to try and attack him."
None of his words seemed to have an effect on Kali, who simply huffed. "I watched our dead rise up right before my eyes to join his ranks. So long as Horus and Lucifer combine their powers, we cannot take him in battle. We'd just be feeding his army."
Ares had a pensive gaze as he rested his chin against his palm. "I don't think they'd pull the same trick twice. It was the power of the blood moon that allowed them to pull it off. Even if they did try again, they'd have to know that we have some capable underworld gods on our side too. People who wouldn't sell out to him," he reasoned. "Still, the message is clear. They're ready for us to let down our guard. We should be wary."
"If I may," Crowley began. "What if we used Lucifer's strategy against him? We could find a way to butter up those who have sided with him. Make them turn on him. I hear there are some who are willing to get out of his pocket."
"Things have escalated far beyond the point of negotiation. Our former friends have made their choices. They should pay for them," Kali declined. "We can't fight him—not in the state we're in now. We can't submit to him. We can't negotiate with him either. We need to do something drastic."
"I completely agree," Crowley said. "It was brought to my attention not too long ago that you may have some… measures that could serve that purpose."
Her gold earrings bounced as she tilted her head. "What measures?"
"Well, I- I understand that you may not have considered it for various reasons that are probably… reasonable," the demon stuttered. "The Brahmastra – I hear they're deadly. That would do the job, don't you think? I know it's probably not my place-"
"You're right, it isn't," Kali cut him off immediately. "Are you insane? Do you even know what you're asking for?"
"You wanted something drastic," Crowley pointed out. "This is drastic enough, isn't it? Lucifer would never see it coming."
"This is madness," Kali declared with a defiant shake of the head. "I won't allow it. What you're asking for is total annihilation. Perhaps Lucifer would sink low enough to use such a weapon, but we must not. We should be the ones guarding creation."
"We can't guard creation if Lucifer destroys it first," Ares considered. "It's just a matter of who's left to rule the ruins. Better us than him."
There was some shifting from next to Kali. "No," Rama, the bastion of peace, said. Deep lines creased his forehead from nights of relentless thinking. "We can't be doing this anymore. I told you it would come to this—that violence would only beget violence. Now you've made the Brahmastra a choice. We should stop while we still can."
"Are you kidding me right now? After everything we've done," Kali flustered. "Your wife is in danger. What part of that do you not get? You, of all people…" she threw up her hands. "You didn't even fight."
"I told you – it was a bad idea and I had no intention of spilling blood with my hands," Rama insisted.
Ares narrowed his eyes in cynicism. "I distinctly remember you offering to become the leader of our joint armies," he recalled. "You seemed eager to fight then."
"I wanted to lead the way of moksha, not blood," Rama clarified. "That is what Lucifer needs to see from us. By engaging in this dance of spears, we are no different from him."
Everybody else in the room seemed to engage in a collective eye roll, even Crowley who wasn't even physically there. "So…" the demon trailed off. "You wanted to protest peacefully?"
"This is ridiculous," Ishtar now spoke. The Egyptian goddess had her regular composure – always ready for business but unafraid to engage in humour – except this time a nasty cut lining her right upper arm set the tone for the conversation. A fleeting image of Morrigan slicing a sword in her direction came to mind. As much as sorrow flooded the Irish goddess' green irises, that didn't make the gash sting any less. "You did nothing the last time too. Just because you sit back and let other people do the fighting, it doesn't make you any less complicit. You are a part of this, Rama, whether you like it or not. Don't forget that we're all doing this so you can get Sita back."
"Is that so, Ishtar?" Rama questioned in turn. Despite the dull ache emanating from within his chest, his critical words were delivered as no more than a breeze sweeping over a meadow. "What a great struggle it must have caused you, to learn of my wife's disappearance. Were you torn over it? Did you gaze at every doorway, hoping she'd walk through it? Or perhaps you could tell us of the numerous times you stopped an ant or a bee in its path, just to inquire if it had felt Sita's blessings that day. Can any of you?" He looked around the room, only to be met with rude stares or averted gazes. "All of you pretend like you weren't waiting for any excuse to launch the world into utter chaos. You're as responsible for this war as Lucifer is."
"So?" Kali further pressed. "What's your plan then, to get her back?"
A tense silence passed between them. "All this resistance…" Rama sighed. "…is nothing more than us holding onto our egos. Just let go of this, all of you. You want your dignity? There's only one way to keep it."
"Rolling over is not an option," Kali emphasised with a huff.
"Then gamble with your own consorts," Rama simply said, crossing his arms. "I'd like to meet with the King of Hell and congratulate him on his stunning victory."
Murmurs and gasps filled the air. "Just hold on a second," Ares implored. "Let's think through all the options first. Don't go off on a whim like this. You deserve better."
To that, Rama shrugged and averted his eyes. "Speaking of who deserves what," Ishtar interrupted. "Concerns have been raised about the sudden storm that hit Brimstone while we were there. We'd sanctioned an atmospheric power source during the battle but for some reason, it was disrupted by someone – all that power wasted and channelled into hurricanes, lightning strikes and rain."
"It hurt our troops on the ground," Ares recalled with an unlabelled fury furrowing his brows. "Not only did the storm break the legs of our strategy, it also depleted the one advantage we had over Lucifer. We could've won if not for that storm."
"What happened, Crowley? Your witch promised us a powerful spell," Ishtar pointed out. "This isn't what we paid you for."
"The spell was working fine. See the thing is- How do I say it-" Crowley hesitated. "She's dead, madam."
"What?" Ishtar's eyes widened. "Lucifer killed her?"
"Not exactly," Crowley stroked his beard with a thumb, eyes distracted by the depth of the whiskey in his glass. The memory was mercilessly vivid in his mind yet he couldn't find the words to describe it. "There was a certain… complication on the scene. And if I recall correctly, that nasty storm did Lucifer dirty too. He lost a great deal of manpower. Whoever did that, it wasn't Lucifer."
"What complication?" the Egyptian goddess demanded to know.
"Some weasel angel showed up to trip our step," the demon told them. "His name is Malachiah. I watched him burn Esther right before my eyes like it was the Salem witch trials. There really is no justice in this world."
"An angel?" Ares straightened up at the sound of that. "Are we going to have to worry about Heaven getting involved now?"
"This wouldn't be the first time Heaven's sent a smiting down in the form of a storm," Ishtar reasoned. "My people know that better than anyone."
Crowley stuttered again on the line. "B-but as far as I can tell, that budget Jesus is a freelancer. He set up a rescue operation for the humans caught in the war and tried to force me to bring you a peace treaty."
Kali and the others exchanged bewildered looks. "Why are we only hearing about this now?" she sternly said.
"Because you were all busy slashing throats," Crowley defended. "Besides, that angel is full of shite. He believes he can find where Lucifer's hidden Sita – behind his back, mind you – and free her. Anyone with half an idea of who Satan is knows that that's impossible."
"If Sita is free, Lucifer will have no more leverage over us," Kali realised.
"But what then?" Ares wondered. "She's the only reason he's been this easy on us anyway. He's still expecting us to stand down. The moment he realises she's gone, I don't think he'd bother with any more niceties."
"What if he doesn't realise she's gone?" Kali suggested, locking eyes with Ares. "Let's say this Malachiah finds her and sets her free. If this guy is any good, he'll buy us some time. It's his head Lucifer will want anyway. Then, we pull the rug from under Lucifer and put a knife through his heart. It has to be quick and coordinated."
Ishtar nodded, specifically at Rama who seemed lost in thought. "And we'll avoid mass bloodshed," she reassured him. Looking at the phone, she said to the demon, "Get in touch with Malachiah. We need to get him on board before Lucifer does."
"I'm not sure this is a good idea," Crowley's voice boomed through the speaker. "I've dealt with my fair share of angels and he isn't anything like them. I don't trust him."
"Who said anything about trust?" Kali pressed impatiently. "Once he gets the job done, he'll take the fall for us. We'll put him on your contract. If he screws this up, it's your head. So make it work."
She reached over and clicked the red button. Crowley stared absently into the phone. Call ended.
"Bye bye, Sistine Chapel. Bye bye, US Capitol," a voice on the television said. "Bye bye, Whitehouse—squished by an aircraft? Don't stop paying your mortgage because NASA assures us that nothing bad will happen."
The clip quickly cut to a scientist. "There is no threat to the earth in 2012."
Static. The channel switched and more voices flooded the air with their opinions. "I hope you're aware the world will end in about a week. The Mayan calendar says it so it must be true."
"For months, people have been preparing for the twenty-first. Many are heading to Vegas to party and face the end of the world on a high note."
Static again. "Welcome back to Mystic Mead's Magical Hour. We have our next caller. Hello?" the lady with the purple turban and the crystals greeted.
"Hello?" the silvery sound of a small child came through the line.
"Hello, darling! What's your question?"
"Mommy says we're going to die soon and I'm scared… Can you pray for us?"
The mystic's eyes slowly lost their cheer and her smile faded away.
Static. "The end of the world: Amidst assurance from scientists, many have reported fear and anxiety about the prophecy. Some have even taken extreme measures as seen in the rise of tax evasions, job resignations, homicides, suicides and drug abuse. The world may not end from a meteor crash, but rising chaos is a close competitor."
The school bell rang again. It was a shrill tantrum amidst the stern silence. Soon, police sirens joined in rebellion of the paternal scent of blood. Static crackled as the officers reported their findings through walkie talkies. Paramedics assisted in recovering the bodies. By the time they found the ones with the rifles, the barrels of the guns had already been turned inwards.
There were other stories, equally telling of the Morningstar's rise. They spread across the world like wildfire. Whether people were aware of it or not, the air had changed. The stars were pulling differently. The earth called out to its mother and cried when she neglected to answer.
One quaint little town amongst the mountains was a special spot on its own. Everyone had gathered in the single church establishment in the centre of the town. It was almost thrice a week now that they gathered like this. No one worked anymore. They wanted a sense of safety. Their abused saviour was always good for that. Funny thing was, no one seemed to care that lightning had struck the crucifix clean off the spire. They huddled inside the unnamed building regardless of the inverted cross that was plunged straight into the ground right outside the door. Those who dared tamper with it were met with great resistance, like they just weren't worthy of dislodging the abomination.
"How are you still ignorant, God asks!" the preacher commandingly lectured his audience. Along with his prim and proper attire, his white beard was neatly kept. He had an early balding pattern on his greying head and looked at the congregation through his round-lens spectacles. "Satan is at your very doorstep, telling you to forget your mission. But will we?"
"No!" disorganised mumbles replied.
"Look at what he's done to the rest of them. All these billionaires have their bunkers ready. The California folk drink and fornicate, because it's the end of the world." The pastor did a little jazz hands to illustrate his point. "Wonder where they think they're going after that."
That elicited some self-righteous chortles.
"What if I told you that our faith is needed now more than ever? God spoke to me Himself," the preacher assured them. "You saw how He gave little Bertha her eyes back through my hands." He looked to the little girl who only smiled sweetly at him. The brown of her irises were clear as ever, glistening under the mellow daylight blessing the church. Admittedly, that warmed his heart. "He came to me in a dream last night, shaking me out of a blissful slumber just to talk to me in the deserts of Judea. Yes, the very same where Jesus resisted the Devil. Is it a coincidence that the sign of the Devil tempts us all right outside this fine establishment? The Almighty is testing our faith. Searching for those who deserve even an inch of the eternal Paradise. The test will be difficult, I am told. My Lord, I know these folk, I said to Him – these people are the most deserving! Ol' Hitch may have failed third grade, but he'll pass this with flying colours, I'm sure!"
More laughter erupted, especially from the named old man who bore his single tooth and tipped his hat.
"So why is Pastor Jim Pickens rambling on to you about all of this?" he gestured towards himself. "The reason is simple. As it stands, we only have a few days before the 21st. It'll be judgment day, people. God will look at all of us through His most refined lens. The scrutiny will be unparalleled. All of you are ready, I know. You'll be on the express train to Heaven. But what about the rest of 'em?"
"Sinners!" someone yelled, accompanied by murmurs of agreement.
"Exactly. It ain't gonna be a walk in the park, I'll tell you that," Jim agreed. His face suddenly hardened, terrors from beyond haunting his eerie gaze. "Those people will burn. In fact, it's already begun."
The vivid images from his nightmares flashed through his mind. The fireballs hurling down, the demonic cackles, the children stabbed, the women assaulted. The pastor had to take a moment just to hold up the crucifix that hung around his neck, whisper a prayer to himself and bring himself to peace.
His voice grew softer. "I can't tell you the things revealed to me. Destruction on a scale you can't imagine. Being a prophet is no joke," he muttered. "Have solace in this: Just like Mary protected her little lamb, God wants to hold your innocence safe in his arms…" he clasped his hands loosely to form a small enclosure with his palms. "…so your eyes will be spared of the sights I have been shown. And… and I'll tell you something even more remarkable – it is the seed of the Devil that brings us this blessing. That's right, the son of Evil will cleanse all sin with breaths of storms and lightning caresses. I saw myself, last night, right after Judea. I was the Devil, dressed in all white with a sword of first temptation. In comes my son, some homoerotic image of sin. His tears could bring floods and his lips could poison those that it touched. God was trying to tell me something. He was showing me the past, the present and the future, all at once."
He paused to study their bewildered expressions.
"It makes sense when you think about it," Jim assured them. "Let's not forget that we live on God's earth. Whatever the Deceiver has planned, God is always ten steps ahead. Satan may send his son, but the Antichrist is no match for the plan. The plan. Whatever they do, God will always turn their snakes into paper tigers. It'll be a good show, folks. That's for sure. We'll see it all. We'll watch God's Law reign and Lucifer dead. We'll have the best seats in the house!"
That night, everyone gathered in the grand hall for a great feast. The pufferfish was tender and the soup divine in the cold air. A cacophony of cheerful words formed a noisy ambience. By the time dessert was served, their mouths foamed and heads slunk back. Eyes stared up at the ceiling. Some people were even collapsed on the ground in a pile of their own vomit and blood. Those who still lived soon found a bullet lodged between their brows. Jim Pickens dropped the warm revolver on the ground. He wiped the sticky blood off his face as he admired his handiwork. It was a difficult sight for sure, but he'd fasted enough hours that puking was futile. Instead, he dragged himself back to the church. It was only when he reached the inverted crucifix lodged into the ground that the Messenger came to him.
"My angel," Jim knelt immediately in reverence. Tears flooded his eyes so fast he'd barely blinked enough to suppress them. "I've done as you asked. As much as it pains me to admit, I had my doubts when I received your visions. Saving this town… is a gruesome task. Will I ever rest easy?"
Said angel rested a palm against the protruding end of the crucifix, one leg crossed behind the other as he leaned on one foot. "I don't know Jim, do you doubt your mission?" the blond man sighed, studying his nails out of boredom.
"No," the pastor grew defensive. "No, I don't. It's just… I've known these people my whole life. I-"
"You need to stop being so attached to this world, man," Lucifer casually dismissed. "Love will get you nowhere. You think Jesus died on that cross because he loved you? He didn't even know you." His eyes furrowed sardonically. "He believed in a greater plan. He was willing to die for that plan, because that's what he was told to do. Are you willing to do what it takes, Jim?"
"Of course-"
"There are so many godly men out there, you know? But I chose you. You're one in a million, buddy. You got what we up in Heaven call the 'X-Factor'," Lucifer rambled. "A soul more astute than others. But make no mistake – if you can't live up to the task, I'll just have to move on."
"I can do it," Jim panted for breath, desperate to keep the angel's faith. "I'll do anything. It's an honour."
"Good. I'm pleased with what you've accomplished here," Lucifer commended him. "Though I have to ask, why'd you go off-script?"
The pastor looked up at the angel with a right frown. "W-what do you mean?" he asked.
"I mean what was all that about the-" Lucifer couldn't help but contort his expression like he'd tasted something bitter. "The Devil's son?"
"B-but… you showed it to me," Jim appeared as puzzled as the angel. "When you touched my soul, it's what I saw."
A sudden absurdity washed over Lucifer. He shifted to stand straight, craning his head down to look the feeble man on his knees. In the biting coldness, Jim shivered visibly. The old man looked at him in askance.
"Is- is something wrong?" Jim wondered. That was when Lucifer realised he'd been ruminating too long. "Was it a falsehood? A misguided whispering of the Devil?"
"What? No," Lucifer huffed. "Everything you see is from me, a righteous angel of Heaven. God's messenger."
Despite regaining his composure, Lucifer couldn't help but feel a new tinge of warmth spike his entire being. With everything that had happened so far, it had finally felt like the stars were aligning. The world is always clearer from the top, he'd told himself. And now this – an accidental vision of his son? He didn't want to jump to any conclusions. Lucifer was the source of these premonitions, but it was the pastor's job to sell it to the crowd. It could just be a shocking exaggeration. Yet this very moment seemed to incite a hopeful curiosity in him. But what if… The counterfactuals stifled his optimism. It was the curse of rationality and a garnish of cynicism.
"Don't tire yourself with doubts. There is still work to be done," Lucifer commanded the pastor. "There will be those like you, claiming to do God's work. They will question you and gawk at you. You mustn't give in to them. Just finish what you've started, no matter the cost."
In a location far away, darkness reigned. No life, no one in sight. Just a low, head-spinning humming. It wasn't industrial – there was nothing of the sort around. Instead, it was more melodic than anything. An energy seeking to soothe, to assuage worries, to knead those knotted muscles into rest. Hades found his mouth beginning to water at the lulling sound. He felt a magnetic pull demanding attention from every inch of his being, especially his favourite several inches.
What brought him to this strange place, however, was something entirely different. He'd been making the rounds in all the conquered territories, a giant mug of absinthe in one hand and a crushed skull in the other, when the signal hit him. A distinct 'ping' called to him from halfway across the world. He followed mindlessly, unbothered by the strange routes through which it took him.
The haunting voice seduced his ears. His single black iris darted about but found no target. The humming soon grew words like legs to traverse his impulses.
Come… I'm yours… alone…
Come… I'm yours… alone…
Hades' breathing grew heavier at the sound of feminine tonality.
Peace, my heart begs
Please, put it to rest
Are your lips an elixir to my unending disease
Lover release me from this Hell
"Show yourself, little slut," Hades called out. The ghostly voice caressed the air like an instrument on its own.
All sins are forgiven through me…
A glimmer shot through the dark. There was a pedestal, and atop it, a familiar metal adornment. A single spotlight illuminated the structure. Hades stopped in his tracks.
"A gift, for me?" Hades huffed. No wonder he'd been so compelled to follow the signal. The item was his – the Helm of Hades. "I'll thank you as hard as you want."
He made towards the pedestal, but as soon as he approached a reasonable distance, darkness suddenly eclipsed it. He reached forward. It was gone.
"Not so fast," the voice said. His head shot up to find another spotlight. Underneath the touch of this light was a more curious sight. A demure figure stood against a black pole with their back towards him. The figure was clothed in a red skirt that was slit at both sides to reveal slender legs in their full length while obscuring only as much as needed. Their slender torso was wrapped tightly in a bodice, atop which a glittery maroon cardigan was manipulated to tease glimpses of their shoulders, but mostly guarded their secretive body. On top of that, they had flowing, dark hair that ran down their back. As if on cue, they spun around the pole once and leaned against it as they faced him, slowly sinking down to the stage. Their head knocked back to expose their vulnerable neck. "You're gonna have to talk to me first."
Her eyes hazel. Her skin flawlessly smooth, light but betraying a coloured ancestry if one looked closely. Her cheekbones sharp and hollow. And best of all, her red-stained lips calling to him with her serpentine tongue crawling over them. Hades grinned widely, sharp incisors coming into view. He neared her with an impatience begging to break free from his skin. Still, he was intrigued enough to stand still one foot away from her. "Who are you?" he growled in his friendliest volume.
"Let's be honest, darling, you don't care," her deep voice snaked along the air. She was still sat against the pole. Her hands, adorned with rings kissing her fingers, were clasped to it above her head to leave an inviting façade. "But answer me one question, and you can have anything you like. Oh, and your helmet too."
"Ask away, baby, I am ready," Hades grunted. His grey fingers traced her exposed collarbone. She melted against his touch, gasping when his finger ran up her neck. She sank into his exploring touch, which now traced her sharp jaw and lips. She kissed his finger, even sucking longingly. He couldn't get enough of her delicately lined eyes, complete with mascara and blush on her cheeks. When surprise pleasantly spread across his face, she broke into a shy grin.
"You have something I'm interested in. Well, more than one thing," she began with a wink. "You see, a friend of mine is missing. I was hoping you could help me find her."
She pouted slightly, letting out a soft whimper that ached to be soothed immediately. "Will I get two-for-one deal?" Hades asked as he continued to toy with the delicate features on her face. Her pearls of laughter were like music to his ears. And her eyes… God, he couldn't stop staring at them – they were like endless pools of honey. "You know, Persephone, you look so much like a Hellion I know. Human, that one, and much smaller than you. But you are the spitting image of her. Can't complain, though. Boss wouldn't let her be my Persephone."
"Aww," there was that sympathetic pout again. She bit her own finger seductively. "Guess I'll just have to do then."
"So tell me," Hades smirked. "Who's your friend?"
"She's a gal purer than me and in spite of thee. Her husband's a saint, that which you ain't. A hard choice it isn't, tell me about her prison," she dryly said, but with dramatic emphasis where needed.
The two hairy strips Hades had for eyebrows sunk in confusion. "What are you trying to say?"
"You know what I'm asking for," she insisted. Her eyes suddenly grew sharp. "Sita – where is she?"
His pale lips contorted into a grimace. "You must be stupid," he hoarsely replied.
"Tell me," she demanded, now straightening her back where she sat. She grabbed his hand and held it to her neck, gently caressing the callused skin. "Trust me, I'm an experience like no other."
She placed a palm flat against his chest. Immediately, he felt sparks of lightning shooting through him in an ecstasy he'd never known before, tingling in all the right areas. On any day, he'd dive deep into those unknown waters. The unwavering image of Lucifer's nuclear scowl was a good motivator of abstinence by itself. "Nice try, but the only experience you're asking for is trouble," Hades warned. "Get on your knees, Persephone."
His grip on her neck grew more firm. The light behind her eyes deflated a little, pensive. Still, her eyelashes swept up authoritatively to look him straight in the eyes. "Is this how you want to die? Chasing a momentary high? What would your King say about that, I wonder," she taunted, suddenly caustic. "Your dickless corpse sprawled on a pavement, somewhere you were never supposed to be."
He pulled her up to his eye-level by her neck. She barely protested. Instead, she only had a defiant iron gaze. He squeezed harder, but still, no reaction from her. She merely reached down to his crotch and feeling its softness, she feigned surprise. Flustered, he threw her back down and pinned her wrists above her head. "It's time for you to learn your place," he growled.
"What's the matter, big boy? Does it bother you that I'm not squirming and writhing like all those other women you raped and killed?" she berated. "Let me guess, the only way you know how to avoid any embarrassment is if she dies in the thirty seconds it takes for you finish."
"I can last longer than you can handle, bitch," Hades yelled in her face.
"Go on, prove it then," she challenged, even from her compromising position. "I know you want to. There's a really easy way to fix all of this, you know…" her delicate feet reached over to massage his groin. "Tell me where Sita is. Just get it off your chest, baby."
"Or I could just have you anyway," he countered with a malicious upturn of his lips. He dug his mouth into her neck and slurped hungrily. There it was, that familiar feeling. It was all coming back to him. He grabbed the front of her top and ripped it open. It was at this point when fate showed its hand. His heart stopped when he came to the sight of a flat chest. He suddenly pushed her away. All this time, the object of his desire – the sight that had struck the passion of scorching fire into him – was not even a she. "What the hell?"
"Heartbroken? Don't be," Jack stood up, neck craned to look up at Hades. His voice went back to its normal low. "Most men don't know what they really desire until I show up."
"Y-you're not Persephone," Hades muttered with the bitter recognition of the fool he'd been turned into. Jack's gaze turned into an eerie focus as he eyed Hades like prey.
"But I am," a third voice said from behind. Hades spun around. It was the sight of a lost treasure. Persephone stepped out from the shadows. There was an initial tremble in her arms, over which the flowing cloth of her dress rested, but she soon found herself with a concrete step.
"I've always thought myself more as an Aphrodite," Jack chimed in as he joined her side. He pulled together what was left of his blouse around himself.
"Persephone…" he muttered, eyes softening as he took in the whole image of her. "My dear Persephone… I always knew you were alive. They told me you died, but I never believed them. Many nights I have longed for you."
The goddess' expression hardened with vitriol. "You deserve nothing but to suffer for all you've done," she hissed. "Never speak my name, you mongrel."
"B-but I…" he stuttered, reaching a hand to her. "I love you. I still do. Please come back to me."
She stepped back. He stopped. "You are incapable of love," she stated sharply. "You are a hate-filled creature following the whims of the only impulse that makes you feel superior. Tell me, how many have you hurt in my name?"
"I missed you!" he yelled back, almost like a child. "I wanted anything to fill my heart again like you did."
She gulped, tears running down her cheek amidst that ghastly frown. "You disgust me," she shook her head. "If you ever cared about me, as you say you do, you must tell this angel where your people have hidden Sita."
"I can't do that," Hades denied through clenched teeth.
"As I thought," Persephone huffed, crossing her arms. "Hades, God of the Underworld, they said. If only they knew he submitted to another god."
Hades stumbled upon his own thoughts. The anguish and the anger were almost indistinguishable. The things she said reverberated in his head. "I must have you, Persephone," he said with the stinging ache in his heart. When he made towards her, she shuddered.
Jack stepped between them. "No, you may not," he spat out harshly. He stuck his palms forward to halt Hades with a gust of wind.
The Greek god scrambled to lift himself off the ground. Jack immediately clocked him in the jaw. He was about to do it again when Hades grabbed his neck. In a quick-timed response, Jack held onto the hands around his neck and used them to leverage his weight as he kneed Hades thrice in quick succession in the abdomen. That made the bulkier man let go, though it only bought Jack a precious few seconds to brandish a blade. By the time he swung the metal at his enemy, Hades grabbed his wrist and twisted it. Letting out a shout of pain, Jack let go. The blade clamoured noisily on the floor.
With his large structure, Hades could easily overpower Jack and pin him against the ground. Despite Jack's struggles, Hades managed to climb atop him and put him in a stranglehold. "You fight like a human," Hades smirked as he increased the strength of his grip. He pressed harder and harder, eagerly awaiting the comforting crunch.
Amidst all of that choking, Jack managed a thin smile. A snicker, even. Tiny tendrils of lightning filled his sclerae. Thunder rumbled from above them. At once, a bolt of unfathomable wattage shot down at them. The archangel bathed in its electricity but Hades screamed from how sharply it burnt. Though Jack felt Hades' grip loosen up, the god was too stubborn to let go. With a laboured grunt, Jack's muscles tightened up as he boosted the voltage. In the meantime, he reached for the blade. Seeing that, Hades held down Jack's reaching hand and punched him with another. That pain was enough to shock Jack into stopping his lightning avalanche.
A cloud of soot rose from Hades as he breathed heavily in the silence. "You know what, I don't think I will kill you," he told Jack among desperate inhales. "Demons are getting bored-"
Sword sliced skin. His single black eye widened. Persephone pulled the blade out of his back. "No one else need suffer at your hand," she pointedly uttered. She stabbed him again. And again. He sank to the ground, weakened. Then, she pulled back his head and sliced his neck open.
Jack gathered himself to his feet as he watched the larger god succumb to his wounds. "Thank-"
Now she climbed on top of his torso and continued to plunge the blade in his chest. As much as Jack was intrigued by the sight, tilting his head as he watched, he knew it was time to stop her when the stab wounds were merging into one large messy tear.
"Okay, he's dead," he pulled her away gently by the shoulders once she'd cut off the part of Hades which had caused most of her pain. Taking one last begrudging look at Hades' mutilated corpse, she returned the sword to him.
"I can't thank you enough for this opportunity, Jack Pierce," Persephone softly muttered. The darkness which surrounded them began to clear now that the task had been completed. A rundown warehouse came into view. The skylight had been mercilessly shattered from the lightning. The broken shards still peppered the ground. "A million years couldn't bring me the peace I needed, but you did."
"I saw what that monster did in Brimstone," Jack clenched his fist at the memory. "I'm just happy to deliver justice any way I can."
"It's what Sophia would have wanted," Persephone said. She took his hand in hers. "I have to say, I almost didn't believe you when I got your message. To hear anyone speak her name so fondly, let alone in these tumultuous times…"
"She'd written about you in one of her personal works," Jack recalled. "That's how I knew to contact you. After everything she went through to save you, it just didn't seem right to see your abuser walk free. I had hoped to get Sita's location, though."
Some relief made it into Persephone's smile. "Hades was never going to betray Lucifer," she reassured him. "If you could find me, I'm sure you can find her too."
The Void
"Why?" I asked her. I didn't want to put any pressure on anyone, but I genuinely had to know why one of my sisters refused to pass the engine component to another one working on the second vessel.
"You don't understand," she insisted, wide-eyed. "She was looking around all weird. What if she's a spy for Khaos?"
Huh. So that's what this is about. "B-but… we already found the spy, Sophia," I told her, gulping away my pain. "She's dead. We're safer now."
"Are we sure about that?" she questioned in turn. "If the one we all trusted managed to sneak all this dickering from right under your nose, how many more could Alpha have turned?"
"Look," I sighed. "I understand your paranoia-"
"It's not paranoia!" she hushed sharply. "What exactly has changed since we killed her? We are still dying, still losing the battle. At this rate, we're all going to die here. Some would say being locked up for eternity was better. There's less of a disappointment in that."
"Please," I impatiently stopped her. "Don't ever speak that way about yourself. We are archangels. I know Khaos has beaten it into most of us to forget, but let us overcome what He's done to us. We can't let Him take away our identity and dignity like this." I sniffled. My whole being was tingling with fatigue. I felt ill from the mere image of the grace-stained blade in my memory. "Whatever is going on, I will get to the bottom of it. Until then, I need you to help me help you. All this unfounded suspicion will get us nowhere. As much as I wish to reassure you, we must not convict others without evidence. Do you forget how difficult it was for me to slay Forty-Two? I wouldn't have done that were it not for the clear signs that she was a traitor. You must not harbour these doubts without reason. Innocent until proven guilty. Now, can I trust you to work well with the others? You are free to switch duties with any consenting individual if you wish."
Her lips formed a thin line. Some cursory thought flashed through her mind. She simply shook her head once. "I'm fine where I am," she replied, drained of strength. It seemed we all shared this affliction now. "Thanks for listening."
As she made her way back to where she was supposed to be, she seemed to fade into an ocean of other exhausted creatures with my face. All of them wondered how long they'd have to go on like this and I couldn't blame them. The strange incidents that once plagued us seemed to make a comeback, like no progress had been made at all. Two steps forward, ten steps backward.
The worst thing about it was that none of it made sense. I'd killed the last Leech in the Omniverse when I went to investigate the quarantine zone, yet the infections continued. Sophias continued to die. The ocular system continued to fail every now and then from random bursts of energy overloading the system, the cause of which remained unknown. I mean, I did know where to look. There was that terminal I'd discovered in an empty room which was supposedly where a power source had to have been fed for this to happen. Yet, every time a surge was reported, I'd gone to the terminal only to find it empty. It made me wonder if I was even looking in the right place. At least we had a quick response to each incident to rectify the situation, but now every alarm served no threat except to keep us on edge all the time.
Of course, none of this peril would be complete without the continuous creeping up of the chaosmeter – a little cherry on top. I worried gravely for the fate of existence. This statistic meant more than just a countdown to Alpha's reaching full power. The only way for such a being to grow exponentially in strength was if all of existence pulled its weight. This was no more evident than in the escalation of wars and conflict erupting in the multiverse. The numerous screens before me each showed a unique ill fate. I hadn't realised how fragile existence was until then.
I thought back to the simpler days of the apocalypse. It all seemed so small now. It was a confrontation that had to happen. Yet, in the Omniverse, it was nothing more than an uptick on a screen. Of course, no increase or decrease in the chaosmeter was small. The balance between order and chaos was always precarious. What we were all witnessing now was the natural consequence of disrespecting this balance. I eyed the monitor showing my universe. My home. Whatever happened in Brimstone sent a ripple effect throughout the universe. The chaotic energy was rising at an unprecedented rate. Who knew where this would end? I direly hoped that finding a way to beat back Khaos would fix all of this.
Perhaps this was what the Leeches were trying to show me. Amidst all that life-sucking pain, there was a lesson to be learnt about sowing seeds. If Gabriel hadn't died, my son may not have been made. If my son hadn't been made, so many important secrets wouldn't have been revealed to me. Such a seemingly isolated incident had caused such a great ripple. And to think of Zara… I dreaded to wonder what Lucifer had used that little weapon for.
Numerous times he'd berated me for being hesitant about keeping my troubles to myself. It had become a kind of joke between us. 'Yes, be wary of what you tell the Devil, my dear. Everything's fair game for the Evil One,' he'd mockingly threaten me. A pulsating ache in my heart reminded me of how incomplete I felt as a person. We will reunite soon, I hoped.
Tired of ruminating, I went on my rounds again. At one stop, I found Sixty-Six conversing deeply with a sister about the metrics in the control panel.
"What is it?" I asked the one in-charge to report.
"It's the noise," she said to me. "We thought all the readings entered an unending cycle of randomness after Alpha attacked us, but when we ran the numbers, this didn't seem to be the case. Once we accounted for the noise, it became clear that things aren't set in stone."
"This sounds… good?" I said, unsure, with a half-nod.
"It's more than good," her pleading eyes tried to tell me something more. "It means that all this damage we've seen so far—the increase in the chaosmeter—we can fix it. There's a way to break the cycle. We just have to find it. Hope isn't lost."
A hard-earned smile fought its way to her face. Meanwhile, Sixty-Six remained stoic with her arms crossed. "If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is," she coldly said.
"Hey," I frowned mildly at her. "What's with all this cynicism?"
"I think of it as my job to keep our goals realistic," she monotonously reasoned. "Alpha already used our hopes and trust against us once. In fact, it was someone peddling fake gold just like you who betrayed us then." She looked at the one with the information, who seemed to recoil within herself at the accusation. "So yes, I am going to be wary."
"Well, I'm not lying," the other one huffed. "Perhaps you should investigate the facts before making accusations. Simply check the phi readings in the multiverse. I guarantee that it will corroborate my findings."
"Will do," I promised her. "Good work, sister. Any hope we can get is welcome, regardless of whether it pans out or not."
"Fine," Sixty-Six defiantly pouted, though she still appeared bored. "I'll go check it."
An air of tension was left in her wake. Muttering words of encouragement, I went to check on the other stations. On my return, Sixty-Six stood by the Interface, pondering at the words on the screen. "You learnt to use that thing quickly," I noticed as I neared her.
"I learnt by watching the best. Someone's gotta fill the void, if you will," she passively replied. She pointed to the numbers on the screen. "See what I mean? That pencil scratcher wasn't onto anything. Just a waste of time."
I turned to face her, leaning against the Interface with my hip and crossing my arms.
"Uh oh," she recognised my posture. "Is Mother going to berate me?"
"What's this really about?" I asked. "Whether our sister was right or not, you shouldn't have shot her down like that. It may have been charming before, but this attitude isn't helping us now. Everyone's already on-edge, quick to suspect anything even an inch out-of-place. You creating bad blood with other people is unproductive."
"That's not what I'm doing," Sixty-Six defended. Her unmoving composure seemed like such a strong contrast to my animated one. "We can't afford false hope right now. We need to know our limitations and address them. We can't do that if every ninny wants to put a positive spin on the situation."
"Stop this right now," I sternly said. "Instead of being so cynical, perhaps you could channel that incredulity into something more productive. Like actually bringing me good news."
"Fine," she huffed sharply, holding her hands up in mock surrender. "I'll try for you, like I've always done. I'll be like the rest of you and gather my best imagination to pretend we're not on a sinking ship."
While most had a desperate nervousness to them, she just seemed bored. I supposed some people reacted to stress differently. After all she'd been through, I imagined her shutting down like this was a coping mechanism. I'd seen it before too, right after the Fall. It was often the quietest ones with the loudest roars.
It was in a moment of solitude like this that an idea came to me. Whatever was continuing to cause the power surges had to be using the terminal I'd found previously. This terminal required some kind of energy source, but I just hadn't been able to figure out what. Every time I'd gone to check on the terminal, the source had been removed, so I decided to perform an experiment. There were a series of questions that needed to be answered.
Is this the work of a something or a someone? The key difference was intention. Intention would require persistence and even some problem-solving. I went up to the maintenance room and manually upped the resistance of the fuses. That would make it more difficult for the same energy source to cause them to blow. Would the surge still happen? The familiar shrill alarm confirmed as much. I went back up to find that the wires had been slashed twice as viciously. Out of anger, perhaps. So it was a person.
Was this the work of an insider or a trespasser? I'd considered defining an insider as someone who understood our inner workings, but that assumed that a trespasser wouldn't have learnt our code. What separated a Sophia from a not-Sophia? In the absence of any surveillance devices, I had to use something as simple as a light detector. I nabbed it secretly from the engineering team when they weren't looking and reset it with the light from my own eyes. I installed it in a secret location near the same slashed wires – which we'd repaired, as usual. I waited for the next alarm. Bingo. The light detector went off. My chest tightened with realisation. Someone with eyes like mine had been up here right before the surge. There was a traitor in our midst.
Final question – who is this Judas? This question required a more complex approach. I set up a little trap at the terminal. I had to be careful in doing so in order to not tip the person off. A little tinkering with the slot meant that it would crave more of the energy source it was supposed to be fed. When the user gave the terminal what it wanted, the excess energy would be siphoned into a hidden vial. If I could identify the energy source, I could trace it back to the person who owned it.
Sure enough, the plan worked. I obtained the vial. Now to run it through the Interface. As I slid the vial into the large computer, a sense of dread washed over me. The truth would come to light now. Which meant that… I betrayed the cause of truth before. What was I thinking? Forty-Two's frenzied eyes came to me as a strong, unwavering image. It practically knocked the breath out of me. My head grew light. That was an archangel just like me, who had nothing but love driving her. It was someone who tried to help me. I had a sinking feeling that the trepidation drumming in my chest wouldn't ease soon, or ever. Was I so desperate for an answer that I sentenced another to death?
My fingers trembled as they gripped the matte black surface of the Interface. The analysis was taking a long time. I'd have to hide it and let it run on its own. Instead, I focused on the equally morbid reality of battles and death spiking up Khaos' power.
Guess I'll find out soon enough how wrong I was.
A/N:
Just to give credit where it's due, Jim Pickens is a character belonging to the (2 million subscriber) YouTuber CallMeKevin. I love that guy's videos. They always bring a smile to my face on my low days so I just wanted to pay homage! If you don't know him, I highly recommend his Sims series. I can guarantee that it's both deeply disturbing and entertaining xD
