Helmet was sick. Very sick. For the past few days, he's been stricken with a terrible fever, along with vomiting and occasional diarrhea. He tried praying it away at first, but it did little to help. He eventually had to be admitted to the hospital and it was there where the angels, Flat Cap and Loincloth, waiting.
Flat Cap sat in a chair next to Helmet's room, sound asleep. He was rather concerned for the oddball crusader while he was still awake and even though Helmet would certainly go to Heaven if this sickness is something he'll end up dying from, he'd rather made sure the guy lived a full life before croaking. Loincloth meanwhile, sat calmly, reading one of the magazines from a nearby end table. Unlike Flat Cap, he didn't care that much whether Helmet died from the sickness. In his mind, he'd just be another causality among the millions of other mortals who succumbed to illness. Plus, Helmet's entrance into Heaven was guaranteed thanks to his devout ways, so why worry about his death?
The doctor soon came out the door, prompting Loincloth to wake up Flat Cap, who then stood up and faced the doctor.
"So doc, what's the diagnosis?" He asked.
"It seems to be quite the bad case of the Flu." The doctor replied, looking through the notes on his clipboard, "I tried to find out when he last got his shots, but he seems to not have any sort of medical record. Would you two know by any chance?"
"As far we knew, he took a dip in a tub of holy water, said a few prayers, and cured himself of any illnesses he got." Loincloth answered, standing up from the chair.
"I see. And he's been like this for a few days?"
The angels nodded.
"Well, then all we can do right now is wait and see if he recovers. You two are more than at liberty to see him, but I must require you both wear a mask."
"We're angels, we don't get sick like you mortals do." Loincloth commented.
"Nevertheless, I cannot let you in without wearing a mask."
The doctor then took out two masks from his pocket and handed them to the angels. Flat Cap put his on with no problem. Loincloth hesitantly did the same. With that, the doctor left and the angels entered the room. When they saw the poor state Helmet was in, Flat Cap took off his hat and held it to his chest.
"'Ey, lad...you doin' alright?"
Helmet just laid there, his ashen hair covering his eyes and taking deep, struggling breaths as he began to speak.
"The Devil…ravages my body...seeking to teareth out my soul...but I will not submit...to his dark magics...The Lord God...shall healeth me...and drive The Devil out...from my flesh-crafted form."
"Hate to disappoint you, but God isn't gonna-" Loincloth began but Flat Cap delivered a swift elbow to his side.
"Now ain't the time fer yer cynicism, Loins. Look at the man. He's sufferin'."
"So am I just by looking at him. Can we go home now?"
"I oughta slap ya."
"Like you'd even hurt me."
Flat Cap groaned and turned his attention back to the ailing knight.
"There anythin' ya need fer us to get or do while yer 'ere, lad?"
"Yes…" Helmet answered, "...I request that...you both perform...tomorrow's sermon and...confessions...I would greatly...appreciate it…"
"Hang on. People actually go to hear you preach? How come we've never seen them?"
"You two are...usually gone...on Sundays...Doing what?...I know not. But please…do this for-" He suddenly then began coughing profusely. Like he was about to hack up a lung.
"Don't worry, lad!" Flat Cap said, "We'll give them a sermon they won't forget!"
"We?" Loincloth asked.
"Yes we. If I 'ave to spend me Sunday bein' a hypocrite, so do you. Now let's go before we catch Helmet's flu."
"How many times do I have to say this? We don't get sick." Loincloth said as he followed Flat Cap out of the room.
As the sun rose the following day, Loincloth sat in one of the pews at the church, reading Confessionals and You by Madam Rosary. A short, but informative book about the basics of giving spiritual guidance to others. Rated 4 out of 5 stars. Flat Cap soon approached the giant angel, wearing clergy attire fit for a local pastor.
"Well?" he asked, "How do I look?"
Loincloth looked up at his methamphetamine-addicted partner and examined his choice of clothing.
"Hmmm, not bad. Now you just need a couple altar boys serving you and you'll be prime Christian material."
"Why thank ya."
"Wasn't meant to be a complement."
"Then what the fuck was it supposed t-...Oh hardy har har, ya fuckin' cunt." Flat Cap then noticed the book in Loincloth's hands.
"What's that?"
"Confessionals and You by Madam Rosary. A short, but informative book about the basics of giving spiritual guidance to others. Rated 4 out of 5 stars."
"And why are ye readin' Confessionals and You by Madam Rosary? A short, but informative book about the basics of givin' spiritual guidance to others. Rated 4 outta 5 stars. Yer an fuckin' 6000 year old angel, mate. It should come naturally to ya."
"Because giving what's essentially just therapy for the soul wasn't my job back then and I can't stand hearing mortals whine about their problems. Especially in modern affluent nations like this one."
"Well, ya better used to it. We promised Helmet we'd do this for him."
"You promised. I did no such thing."
"Will ye ever stop bein' a persnickety arse?"
"Will you ever shut up and stop dragging me into shit?"
"When do I drag ya into shite?"
"It's a monthly occurrence! I had to give away my favorite tobacco pipe to those French bastards because of your bullshit!" Loincloth exclaimed, throwing the book at Flat Cap, who quickly dodged it.
"And I told ya, ye can just make another one!"
Loincloth then stood up. "And I said, it was a one-of-a-kind handcrafted meerschaum pipe, you uncultured, harebrained, chimp-faced ketamine addict!"
"Those are some big words comin' from you, ya mop-headed, self-aggrandizin', crypto-furry gymcel!"
"At least I take proper care of my body! Unlike you, you damn pig!"
"'Ey! I am a fuckin' ram!"
"You're about to be goat meat in a fucking minute!"
"What're ya waitin' fer then, ya prick?"
The two angels were staring each other in the eye at this point, their faces inches away from each other. As their argument reached it's boiling point, about to replace the harsh words with swift fists, the church bell began to toll. It was now 9 o' clock and the church goers would be there any second. The realization quickly dawned on them and they scrambled to get ready. Loincloth squeezed himself into the confessional booth while Flat Cap grabbed the nearest bible and stood at the podium, opening to a random page and checking his appearance one last time.
As the bell reached it's ninth chime, Flat Cap waited for the attendants to come flooding in. As the seconds turned to minutes, he wondered if the clock was somehow off. He checked his watch and nope, it was definitely 9am. He waited another few minutes. Still, no one showed. Loincloth eventually poked his head out of the booth.
"You know, I never took Helmet for a liar. Even if it was for a joke as unfunny as this."
"'Elmet's a lot of things, but a liar ain't one of them."
"Then I am now thoroughly convinced he's insane. What kind of wacko gives sermons in an empty church?"
"I'm sure they're just runnin' late."
"Or he's just crazy."
"'E's got the backin' of the fuckin' Lordship. Shook 'ands with the J man 'imself."
"Being backed by Heaven's elite and having an outing with God's bastard doesn't make one immune to a case of loose screws."
"Can't ya just go fer one day without spewin' a bunch of pessimistic and misanthropic drivel?"
"It's not pessimistic or misanthropic if I'm right."
Flat Cap sighed, wiping a hand down his face. Oh, how he wanted to hit Loincloth at times. Always seeing the worst in everything and everyone. Never happy, always a damn downer.
"Um, Excuse me?"
The unknown voice startled the two angels, mainly Flat Cap. It came from a short bald human whose body shape resembled that of an egg.
"Are you doing confessions today?"
"As a matter of fact, we are, me son." Flat Cap answered as he straightened himself, "If you'll just step inside, Brother Loincloth shall hear your sins."
"I'm no one's brother." Loincloth commented.
"And I sometimes wonder if yer autistic."
Loincloth scoffed and closed the door to the confessional, sitting down as the short man entered the other side.
"Forgive me, father. For I have sinned."
"Yeah, yeah. Who hasn't? So what did you do to offend the oh so mighty Lord?"
"Something…terrible." The man answered, the shame and guilt clear in his voice.
"Well then spit it out. Can't be forgiven if you don't tell me."
The man said nothing and just sat in silence.
"Well?"
No reply.
"...Come on, it can't be that bad."
The man soon began to sob.
"Oh, for fuck's sake. Okay, what was it? Did you kill someone? Did one too many ounces of cocaine? Fucked a man? Come on, just tell me."
"I…I…" The man sniffled, "...stole a pencil from my boss' office!"
As the man's sobbing intensified, so did Loincloth's irritation. As much as he wanted to punch through the wall and crush the midget for all that build up over nothing, he relented. Instead, taking a deep breath.
"Thank you for telling me, Mr?"
"P-P-Porvaloni..."
"Riiight. Well, thank you for telling me, Mr. Porvaloni. The Lord forgives you."
"T-Thank you...Thank you so much."
"Yeah yeah. Now get out of here."
Mr. Porvaloni then waddled out of the confessional, tears and snot still drooling down his face, with Loincloth doing the same.
"Hopefully that's the only one I have to."
"Hate to break it to ya, Loins. But while ye were doin' that, these fine people showed up." Flat Cap said, gesturing to the huge line of people that had gathered. Not only was it so long that it went out the church doors, but around the whole block. This left the muscle bound angel dumbfounded.
"W-What the hell?! Are any of you here for sermons? Like, at all?"
They all just shook their heads with one saying he's just here to use the bathroom. Loincloth then turned to Flat Cap, a look of shock still on his face.
"We are taking turns."
"I dunno, lad. Ya did say ye wanted to do the confessionals."
Loincloth responded by holding up a cast iron ball which seemingly appeared from nowhere and crushed it in his hand.
"Righto! Let's 'ear out some sins!" Flat Cap exclaimed, hopping from the podium and into the confessional.
"Yeah. That's what I thought."
And so the angels heard and absolved the sins of over a thousand humans that day, taking turns with each one that came through. As the sun began to set, Loincloth stepped into the confessional to hear the sins of the last poor, poor sinner.
"Thank ya for seein' me, father." The man said.
"Just say what you need to say. It's been a long day and I'm tired." Loincloth responded, yawning mid-sentence.
"I need advice, father."
"Advice? It's called a confessional for a reason."
"I know that, but this is somethin' I can't talk about to anyone else and it's just...just so damn confusin'."
"Well, spit it out then."
"...It is a sin to befriend a wicked soul?"
This question perplexed Loincloth.
"Well, Jesus associated himself with sinners. Invited them into his home, ate with them. I don't see why it would be."
"I don't mean simple sinners. I mean truly wicked. Those whose sins were so great that the Devil found it suitable to add them to his ranks."
There was a short silence before Loincloth spoke again.
"Why...the fuck did you not reject the demon on the spot if it's such a concern to you?"
Loincloth knew quite well what this was. Those two demons were trying to snatch a human soul. For what purpose, he did not know exactly, but it likely involved a ghost.
"I know...I know it's bad but...he seemed genuine…"
"Please tell me you didn't sign a contract."
There was silence again and in the man's hesitation, Loincloth had his answer.
"I-"
"Get out. Just get the fuck out. There's nothing I can do for you. You screwed yourself. You're done. You're fucked. Goodbye."
Loincloth then stood up to leave.
"I-I-I read the contract! It said nothin' about him ownin' my soul!"
"Did you read the fine print?"
"Along with the fine print in the fine print."
Loincloth sighed and sat back down.
"What else did it say?"
"Just some stuff about a longer lifespan and him coming to protect me whenever I get into trouble."
"...A guardian devil. Well, ain't that some shit? What is this demon like?"
"He's an angry motherfucker, but he says his outbursts are a part of his punishment. Says he's somethin' called a 'Wrathion' and takes some kind of meds that are supposed to keep him calm. When he ain't all pissy, he's pretty honest and actually seems to care. He says he's helpin' me cause he empathizes with my current situation and wants to make sure I don't go down the path he did."
"...How great are your sins?"
"Enough to fill a whole glass and then some."
"So that's what they're planning…" Loincloth mumbled to himself. He knew exactly what was going on. The demons were planning to arrange this human's death and turn him into a ghost. They must be really desperate.
"What did you say?" The man asked.
"...Tell me. What exactly do you want my advice on?" Loincloth asked in return.
"Well, what should I do?" The man shrugged, "Should I trust the demon or should I reject him? Like, if it was a angel befriendin' me like this, then it'd be no problem, but...it's a fuckin' demon, man...this ain't the kind of shit I was told demons do and I'm just...I'm just confused as all hell…"
Loincloth pondered on this. It's clear what the demons were planning and the obvious thing, the right thing, for him to do was warn him of their plan. And yet...If his sins were so great then his death could result in quite the powerful ghost, which would mean he would be worth a hefty sum of heaven coins. However, he couldn't tell for certain as he did not possess the ability to see one's sins. That power was reserved for demons and high-ranking angels deemed worthy of judging souls in God's absence. Though he thought little of the demons, if they had determined him to be worth the effort and planning, then surely he'd be worth the lie. Besides, it wasn't like he cared about what happened to humans at the end of the day and more heaven coins meant he'd get back to Heaven quicker.
"It is rare," He began, "but there are demons who possess a level of empathy akin to humans and will attempt to help poor souls out of pity. So my advice is this: If you believe this demon is genuine, then you can continue your association with him. Just be careful. Wrathions can be quite unstable and unpredictable. If you own a gun, dip the bullets in holy water and aim for the head if things get violent."
"You sure?"
"Positive."
The man sighed. "If you say so. Thank you, father."
"Don't mention it." Loincloth said as he exited the confessional.
"So, how did it go?" Flat Cap asked as he lounged on a pew, playing tug of war with Mesh.
Loincloth looked back and he watched the man leave the church, taking note of his parka and the black bandana he wore on his head.
"It actually went...rather well." Loincloth answered then whistled for Mesh, who stopped tugging and stood at attention. Loincloth pointed out the church entrance.
"Follow and report back. Don't be seen."
Mesh nodded and ran out the door.
"Uhhh, Loins? What're you doin'?"
"You'll thank me later."
Mesh wasn't the brightest of creatures, but he was smart enough to know when to hide when the man checked behind himself, which was quite frequent. The man was clearly paranoid. Mesh eventually tailed him to a house in Putang's less affluent district. He looked into the window and watched the man up the stairs to the second floor before his nose caught a scent of something he did not like. Something demonic. He growled and ran before whatever he smelled saw him. As he did so, he could hear a faint knock on a door and a loud voice.
"Hey, Bandana! You here? I got tickets to a showing of MickMack. Wanna come?"