Agents of Armageddon III

"What may I do for the two of you?" Ramixa asked in that sweetly husky voice of hers as Elion and Sanomina sat down in her shadowy living room. The chairs were low so they had to look slightly up to meet her face. Sanomina begun:
"What can you tell me of the children I carry with Elion?"

Ramixa simply stared Sanomina in the eyes and smiled:
"They will both be fine boys. They will love and care for each other so closely and completely, and resemble each other so much that many will mistake one for the other. They will both make out their own faith, listening very little to other's warnings or advice. Although they will tend to land on their feet – most of the time. And if one fails the other one will come for rescue. They are twins and brothers in the truest sense, never to betray or besmirch the other.  And what most important is - Their course can be for the good or for the evil. They will at one time in their life reach a point of no return where they will have to choose. And that's a choice they will have to make, without any interferences or influences from others, and it will be irrevocably. Once on their chosen track there will be no turning back."

Sanomina nodded her acceptance. And their names? she asked.
"Those I cannot see, but they will come to you in time." Ramixa responded smoothly.
"You cannot tell me what they will be?" Elion asked.
"I cannot see them clearly. There's some kind peculiarity regarding them. Like they are not fixed in the timeline. I suggest the two of you wait and see. You will know in due time though."
"Then hand us their medallions so they can be given their names at least after birth."
"I cannot do that!"
"Why?" Elion wrinkled his brow.

"There are no medallions for them."
"What?" Elion and Sanomina choired.
"How can that be possible?" Elion asked. "They are divine children after all, their powers shows as much."
"I know that, but the Deliverer has not given me any medallions."
"Who's this deliverer?" Elion enquired. "I've been wanting to know this now for years and years, but no one can tell me."
"Neither can I, son of Ireu."

Elion stood up at his full height and looked down at the older woman, trying to intimidate her as much as possible.
"You cannot? Or you wont? Come on; don't try to trick me that you do not know who this person is."

Elion soon found himself climbing up from a sprawled out position on the carpeted floor.
"Don't fool around with me, boy", Ramixa said evenly. The way she spoke it would have been impossible to tell anything had just happened between them. "Even Ireu fears me, and with good reason." She turned back to Sanomina, granting the younger woman permission to speak.
"Is there anything else you can add to what you just told?" she asked meekly. "Will there be medallions for our sons in the future?"

"Believe me when I say that it is better for your boys to not get them 'till it's due time."
"Why would that be?"
"I dread to tell you much, but I can tell you this: If they chose the pattern of evil, they will slaughter many men. But in the end their pride will betray them and they will fall against one of their kin."
"How do we help them to choice the good path then? To prevent all this from happening?" Sanomina asked. In spite of the little light in the room Elion could see that his beloved had gone pale.
"That I cannot help you with. Not now. Perhaps not ever. You may go now."

Sanomina nodded again, said her thanks and started out of the room. Elion turned to follow her, but Ramixa stopped him.

"I understand your recent attitude, child," she said to him. "But remember who you are. You are not one of the Ancients, nor are you one of the Great Creators. You have gifts; powerful gifts, but you are nothing more than a God. Remember that advice, for it will serve you well in the future." Without waiting for him to respond, she let go of him and turned back to her divan.

Clearly dismissed Elion started to follow Sanomina out, his mind spinning with confusion as well as a deep sense of sadness and worry. Was this what it meant to become a divine parent? To worry that your sons might grow up to become slaughterers? Was it really a good thing to pry into the future after all? Now he would never have peace until he knew that his twins had chosen the good side. If they would of course... But then he would do his best to make that happen, he wove to himself. He owed that to Sanomina as well as to his unborn, still nameless sons.

Elion made his way back out of the cottage and to Sanomina's side. She simply stared out at the churning waves of the sea visible over the tops of the pines growing on the side of the peak. Without turning to face him, nor any other acknowledgment that he was there, she held out her hand for him to take.
"Are you all right?" Elion asked Sanomina softly, taking her hand in his own. "Is there something you want me to do?"

"Take me home, love" she whispered flatly, her voice harsh and broken and Elion could tell that she had been crying again.
"I will find out!" he heard himself say.
"What?"
"I will find out who this maker of medallions is and why they have been denied our children."

*******'

The man who walks up to father Brennan outside the St. Patrick's Old Cathedral is obviously stoned, although he doesn't smell of alcohol or any other drug, when he grabs the reverend by his jacket collar and almost shakes him. Fear and confusion shines out of small, pale-blue pig eyes in a weathered face.
"The Anarchist is coming"
"The Antichrist you mean?"
"The Anarchist I mean."

"What kind of Anarchist?" The priest asks, and gently pries off nicotine-yellow and arthritic fingers from his jacket.
"The one from Atlantis. The killer god. The rapist and murderer. Dead men are falling out of the sky. Dead men dressed in black, out to kill the true gods. We must stop them! Where is your god, father? Where is your god? Is he dead as well, just as all the rest of those who used to take care of us?"
"My friend, do yourself a favour, go home and read the Bible, there it says where the One True God is. He's in your heart. "
"I ain't got no Bible!"
"You can have one from the church if..."
"I can't pay for it."
"It's free for you."

"Will it stop the men from falling from the sky?"
"I assure you it will", Father Brennan pats the elderly man gently on his arm.

This is the last time he will say such things and feel them to be true.

***

The sun has gone out! And the silence is replaced with the sounds of sirens, screaming people, helicopters and a thousand other noises. The woman by the window is gone; the only thing left is an empty bag of popcorn and two equally empty bottles of wine.
Dorrie turns and look at Dave:
"What the fuck!"
"It's NIGHT!" Dave exclaims. "And it sounds like a fucking war zone!"
"I don't believe this, are we still in New York?"
"I think so, but it's definitely not five PM anymore. And the chick is gone."

"Yeah I've noticed. Very weird all this, including her behaviour. Talking about impending doom."
"More and more people do that these days" Dave scratches his head. "It seems to be some kind of epidemic."
"Let's go out and see what's going on!" Dorrie urges.

The polices exit the hotel to a bedlam of chaos and confusion. There are colleagues everywhere trying to control panicking and confused people, and several ambulances are parked everywhere, their strobic lights flashing all over the place. Dorrie walks up to the nearest policeman, a young officer with a dog:
"What's going on here really?"
"I don't know. It seems like some kind of mass suicide. Several jumpers, most of them obviously with gun wounds and stab wounds as well. And dressed up like some kind of – I don't know what, some kind of biker or Goth sub culture. Or role players perhaps."

"What the... How many?"
"No idea, they seem to find more of these guys all the time. I keep listening to the radio; it's getting weirder and weirder minute by minute. At least 30 have been found. Haven't you heard at all?"
"30 people!" Dave exclaims.
"We failed making an arrest in the hotel here. A woman we suspect killed Beckie SaintClaire."
"The officer who went down? Sad story, my big brother knows her fiancée." the officer with the dog tells.  

Dorrie stares at the ambulances trying to recall what the woman in the hotel room had been talking about. It was a bit dizzy but she had said things like Apocalypse and 'end of the world'. Had she known what was going to happen? Was there some kind of connection between her and all those dead people? Dorrie knows that she has nothing to do with this case (or this PART of the case if that is so) but she feels curiosity taking overhand and she tells Dave:
"Try to find the others of our group. I want to have a look at those suiciders. Perhaps there's a connection to our case. Some way to find out where our white-haired suspect went."

With those words and quick good-byes to the man with the police dog, she starts forward the second nearest ambulance. The nearest just leaves, lights still on but no sirens, the sign that the victim inside is dead. Dorrie has never been overly religious but now she wishes she had a god to pray to for strength.
"Is dead" one of the medic personnel says to Dorrie as soon as she arrives and shows her badge. The medic is a tall and lean, tar black man who's shining scull is reflecting the emergency lights. This makes him look slightly alien, like this is all some kind of X-files episode.
"May I have a look at him?"

The man nods and removes the blanket. And Dorrie finds herself staring. The dead man is huge, more than six feet tall and with almost impossibly heavy muscles, and all dressed in black, studded leather with tacky symbols of sculls and crossed knifes. He's covered in gunshots which must have been lethal even if he hadn't fallen down from whatever height it took to create an impact like this, which has crushed his face completely and rendered the whole frontal body a mess of gore and blood.
"Steroids," she says under her breath, looking at what's left of those ropy muscles. "A cult of steroid abusing bodybuilders."

Then the X-files feeling strengthen when Dorrie hears a voice behind her:
"FBI!"

She looks up; approaching her is a pudgy and balding old man in a chequered beige suit and a woman looking like Demi Moore with glasses. It's 'Demi More' who has spoken and it's she who shows the ID.
"What's going on?" she asks Debbie, clearly showing that she's new on location.
"I hardly know a lot. But it seems to be a mass suicide of some kind, complete with an all out shoot-down."
"Say what?"

Dorrie recapitulates with what she knows including how she and her colleagues came here firsthand, to investigate a possible police murderer.
"I'm Liz Kelly" says the FBI agent.
"Dorrie O'Michael. Have a look at this bloke," she nods at the dead man on the stretcher. "He's like..."
"Looks like a smashed action figure" Liz says cynically. At the same time David appears, with Claude in tow.

"The others are around doing their job. Ahmed has gone back to the station to file the report. And there are reporters all over the place. CNN pulled in just a sec' ago." David tells.
"FBI is here," Dorrie indicates Liz and her colleague. The latter has started to interview the tall medic of the ambulance.  
"So what's this drama anyhow?"
"I think we're dealing with some kind of cult here." Dorrie starts "Some kind of 'end of the world' wackos like those who killed themselves in Florida just before last New Year. Perhaps the woman in the hotel room was part of them, but quit the mass suicide for some reason."
"But did she kill Dorrie?" David asks.
"I don't know yet. On the other hand if you think the world is going to end you might end up doing bizarre things like that."  

"And these blokes?"
"Bikers on steroids. With guns. Lotsa heavy guns! Really sick guys."
"Do we have some identification on any of them?" Liz asks.
"Not that I'm aware of yet" Dorrie replies. "But I doubt it. You don't really carry an ID around if you're out to kill yourself as well as quite a few others."
"And the guns?" Claude asks. "Found any of those yet?"
"I don't know" Dorrie sights. "You'll have to ask someone else" she sweeps her arm in the direction of some other policemen a bit away and Claude start heading for them.
"Tell me about the hotel room woman?" Liz again.

"Yeah" Dorrie sighs. "Long story..."

***

Lokita leaves the hotel with a feeling of dismay. All right it had been fun to see the dark knights kill each other, but it was far from what she has expected. It was like going to Alien and getting Alf. Not enough blood and gore. And neither Elion nor Iryon had shown themselves. As if the main actors of the play had gone on sick-leave and she had to be content with the understudies. But the mortals had been all over themselves as usual, and that had been some consolidation price.

She hadn't killed those cops after all. First she hadn't done it because she didn't want to miss a second of the action in the sky so she had just 'stopped' them; it was faster to be rid of the distraction that way. And then she had been so disappointed with the lack of entertainment that she had simply left the hotel room, letting the cops be, like frozen mannequins. They would snap awake any minute now, and she feels a slight malicious pleasure at the thought of their confusion upon waking up almost two hours later.

She powers up her bike heading out from Manhattan trough the Lincoln Tunnel. There's nothing more for her to see here, she plans to visit an old friend instead.