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by The Nuge, December 13th 2000
Why do you look at me when you hate me
Why should I look at you when you make me hate me too
I sense a smell of retribution in the air
I don't even understand why the fuck you even care
Ramona thumbed up the volume on her Walkman as she strode through the doors of the downtown Manhattan opera house. Her full-length leather coat; the leather jeans with the metal clasps; the silver metallic bellytop; the shock-red, almost burgundy spike of hair; it all went unnoticed by the staff of the opera house. But not because she was reprehensible best ignored; No, Ramona was better than these sheep for the slaughter. She was better. She was a master of reality. She was a Lord.
And as Lord of the Wounds, she had mastered the ritual Mesmerise to the point of art: she could walk though a crowd, as she did now, with not a soul capable of acknowledging her existence. She liked it that way. An attendant pricked his ear as she walked past, almost as if he could hear her music. But confusing his intuition for delusion, returned to the banality of his retched little life.
Taking in her surroundings, Ramona could not help but sneer. She had always hated the pomp and ceremony of opera and classical, and here presence in the ornate antique building was one of dire necessity.
She stopped the tape as she heard the faint sound of the opera above her own tape.
Egotistical. Pretentious. Prissy. She sneered again, flicked the play button, and Guns & Roses returned to blaze in her ears. Though not as hard or fast or offensive as more current bands, the concept of people worshipped as gods a decade ago now wallowing in obscurity, Fallen Idols as it were, always amused her.
She ascended the steps and headed towards the boxes. She couldn't help but wonder why he had called her. He was the face of hidden things. The harbinger of a New World Order. He ran the Fate, and through them, the Lords. He was both divine messenger and human master. Why then had he called her here, away from the normal meeting places? Away from the rest of the Fate? Why her? The mystery was unsettling.
Not that she really objected. It was he who had found her, aged seventeen, squirreled away in suburbia and the illusion of normal life. Opened her mind to the power of the Truth. Made her Somebody. As a child, she had never respected religion, but had always liked Jesus - all that destruction of organised religion for the cult of the person. And meeting Stephen Alzis was like meeting her own personal messiah.
Though, she had never wanted to fuck Jesus like she did Alzis.
At the door to the box, she pulled out her earphones, breathed deeply, and stepped in. Spying Alzis, she pursed her mouth to speak: before she could, Alzis lifted his right hand, index finger raised, all the while not turning from the stage.
Ah, dolce notte!
Tutto estatico d'amour,
Ride il ciel!
The singing concluded, and the audience applauded. It was only as they began to file out for the intermission that Alzis spoke.
" An embodiment."
Ramona arched her eyebrows in perplexion.
" Embodiment?" she queried.
" Of the role," Alzis replied, still facing the crowd. " The lead soprano, ms. Sonia Compting-Cummings. She brings an exquisite sensuality to the normally restrained role of Madame Butterfly. Such delicate grace. Perhaps even contesting Renata Scotto's definitive 1966 performance.
" But anyway" he stood, and turned. Though dressed in a straight, nondescript tuxedo, he radiated the presence he deserved. He could have stepped straight from a celebrity photo-shoot, have been the idol of a thousand teenage girls across a nation, such was the seraph that stood before her. " Your presence here is appreciated."
" My lord, your beckoning is the one power we of the Lords respect. Though why you have called on me is a mystery..."
" That it is. And any mystery worth its value is never answered quickly ...or directly. Please allow me to elucidate thus: There is a Court, where a King rules. In truth, the King is an idiot, and the real power, unknown to all, is the Prince. Now, as part of his secret rule, The Prince has created alliances throughout the Courtiers, for his benefit, and therefore the Court's. One of the alliances was to take on one who would become the Apprentice.
"Unfortunately, the Apprentice has been a poor choice. He has come to see himself as the real power, and that the King and the Prince are one and the same. He has acted without the Prince's consent for his own benefit, much to the detriment of the Court; so much so, that even the idiot King has noticed."
" And this is Madame Butterfly?"
" No. This is Life. And it is the Lord of Life has gone beyond his means: he has acted not only against the better interest, but has done so in my name. He offends me. He has offended others."
"Ah. I understand now."
"To usurp me, he would do anything. He would destroy the Court, to spite the Prince. But as the Prince, it is I who calls the Court to order: I decide when it assembles: and I decide when it disbands."
" And how does this involve me?"
"His plans hinge on one individual, and those that he forms a nexus to. Your task is to deprive Belial of this individual. Or, more specifically, deprive the individual of his head. What he carries within will do the rest. I trust your special gifts will bring you success."
There's things that never will be right, I know
And things need changing everywhere you go
But till we start to make a move, to make a few things right
You'll never see me wear a suit of white.
Apt, thought Lepus, as he rummaged though a black attaché case in the driver seat of the rental Ford Taurus. He had wanted a Cadillac, he always did when he got the chance to drive - it was all that travelling by helicopter - but realistically, a 56' Detroit Iron wasn't exactly indiscreet. And it wouldn't be worth it if he couldn't get a Stetson to go with it.
So, here he was, in a 99' Ford, with what passed for high spec features, whistling away to Johnny Cash, parked across from where his quarry, agents Lee Burroughs and Bobbi Peel had been holed up for hours. The third one Lepus had yet to identify. He had left almost as soon as they had arrived at the hotel, and like a true professional, scuttled down the subway with his hands over his face, "to light his cigarette" and a cap on his head, denying Lepus the chance to get a look at him. He figured that either they had somehow been alerted to his presence, which seemed unlikely, or perhaps the third man was just paranoid by nature.
The contents of the case now occupied the passenger seat.
First, the trench coat. He ripped the plastic packing with his teeth, and laid the new coat on the dash. Then, the gun-holster: one obviously designed for a weapon at least a foot long and a sizeable bore, attaching it around his right thigh, border style. Over his suit, it looked ridiculous - hence the trench coat, to regain a vague semblance of normality. He clambered uncomfortably in the confined space of the car, eventually getting his arms into the sleeves, but still leaving most of the coat bunched up behind his back.
Finally, the weapon. While he still had his trusted Glock 18 in a shoulder rig, for this, he needed something special. That's why he had "borrowed" it from the Project PLUTO's lab.
True, it was technically treason to have taken the experimental device without authorisation, but Lepus was one step from the Steering Committee. That was enough to give him leeway in such matters. And being the head of Majestic-Twelve's Wetworks agency was enough to scare off any bureaucrats and science geeks.
The weapon itself was large: an almost two foot long metal tube with groves running the length of the barrel, terminating in a two-inch bore. It was heavy - maybe twenty-five, thirty pounds, with weight distributed towards the front. Its handle was unpolished metal with insulation tape wrapped around. So fresh from the lab, it was probably a small miracle that it had casing.
Lepus tried the holster. A good fit - not perfect, probably a bit too loose for permanent use, but enough to keep it concealed across the street and inside the hotel.
As he loaded it, the third Man returned.
Oops, I did it again
I played with your heart
I must make amends
Bobbi hummed as she perused the contents of the hotel rooms mini-bar. Finding a miniature bottle of Cognac, she pulled off the cap and poured its contents.
" Any Wild Turkey?" asked Lee from across the room.
Bobbi traced her finger across the labels.
" There's some Irish scotch."
"Madam, that is a contradiction in terms." Interrupted Mycroft "As you know..." Bobbi, knowing well now that Mycroft could ramble about any topic endlessly for hours, quickly changed the topic.
" You know, it's strange. I never drank wine before. Now, I don't touch any other kind of alcohol. I think its must be a by-product from my feminisation."
" Is humming Brittany Spears another by-product?" said Harvey as he stomped into the room.
"Or have you always had crap taste in music?"
" Where have you been?"
"I had to see a man about a dog."
Bobbi shot him an icy glance.
"Alright, I went for a smoke, as I said. Then I noticed we have company. Outside. The silver Taurus. Delta, most likely."
Bobbi went to the window and looked out to the darkened street.
" I see him."
Sat at the centre of the mystic circle, Ramona drew the elemental silver blade across her palm as she chanted.
"Gorgo, Mormo, thousand-faced moon, look favourably upon our sacrifices."
The air seemed to seethe as the few droplets of blood fell into the brazier.
" Know whom offends your beshrouded eye, that opens all that gaze upon it, and send forth your minion to purge that which offends."
Lepus slid the pry bars into the lock, twisted, and heard a resounding click. For someone surrounded by technology, he still liked to do a few things by hand. Especially when they were quieter. He opened the door, removed the pins, and stepped inside. He could hear them in the other room. Obviously the decoy in the car was still working. He drew his Glock and headed toward the other door.
"What's that?" asked Bobbi.
" What's what?" replied Harvey.
" That noise. Like...bacon."
" I don't hear shit."
" Come on. It never hurts to check."
As Harvey reached the door, the noise became apparent. But it wasn't a crackle; more of a high-pitched whine. So high, that it registered less with his ears and more with his teeth.
Then Burroughs heard it. A strange and terrible noise, like nails on a blackboard. No, worse.
Like the echo of a psychotic animal. Like the sound of a dead man's eyes being closed for the
final time. No, like a chorus of bleeding children, being shredded like paper by something more horrible than perception allowed. The noise reached past his ears, into his brain, into his mind. Suddenly, each of his individual components could hear it. And most of them were afraid. While Red Thomas stood steadfast, his colleagues scrambled like rats.
Burroughs slid fluidly off the couch and went into some perverse spasm on the floor, like each muscle in his body had come under independent control.
" Shit" cried Bobbi " He must have epileptic shock. Doc warned me this could happen!"
" You mind him. I'll take care of this." Replied Harvey. He drew a massive Desert Eagle pistol from a shoulder rig " if there's anything out-there, this'll send it crying home to momma."
Lepus snuck through the door and into the broad hallway that joined the two rooms. Even in the dark, he could see the usual kitchenette junk: fridge; cooker; sink. Sticking tight to the wall he made his way to the door on the far side of the room. His Glock drawn in his right hand, he reached with his left for the door.
Harvey pulled open the door at that exact moment, and in a quick reflex action, brought his gun to bear on the intruder. Both men, temporarily dazzled by the sudden change in light, realised that they were each staring down each other's barrel. Mexican standoff.
As their eyes adapted, both brought the other into clear focus.
" Adolph?"
" George?"
Both stood baffled for a moment. Then, as if to shatter the astonishment, the creature arrived.
Like something from a monster movie, there was a pinprick of light, streamers of lightning, and a flash, bringing the terrible thing into existence.
It was big as a bear, with skin both fur and scales. It had A face, but one that could be described as such in the vaguest terms. Its arms were long and clawed, its form unnatural. It bellowed, half a trumpet, half a scream, and charged forward.
Harvey's aim went immediately for the thing. Five shots rang out from his massive hand-cannon. Chunks of flesh spewed from the chest of the creature, spraying behind in a green-brown spray of ichor.
And still it came.
Lepus dropped his Glock, and pulled the weapon from his side. He pulled the trigger. A stream of white-hot light spewed from the barrel. It went through the creature like a knife through butter and arched out the other side. For a moment, it seemed not to even notice.
Lepus grabbed Harvey by his shirt collar and pulled him into the doorway, kicking it shut as he did.
" Get down!"
Inside, the creature suddenly became aware it had been shot. The tendril of energy that waggled from its rear suddenly split six-fold and doubled back on itself. These new tendrils penetrated the creature again. And again. And again. They began to eat it inside out. As if some meltdown was occurring inside the creature, it lit up, then lost all cohesion, and finally exploded with a loud squeal. The four saw the flash of bleaching light under the door as it happened.
" What the fuck just happened?" asked Bobbi, picking herself up off the ground.
" I'm not quite sure," replied Lepus "But it doesn't matter: he ain't making an encore."
" And, just who are you, exactly?" said Bobbi, staring Lepus down.
" Bobbi, this is Adolph Lepus." Replied Harvey.
" Lepus?" She quizzed. " as in, Delta Wetworks? As in Majestic-Twelve? The, well, how do you put it, Bad Guys?"
"Yeah, perhaps. But he was there in Cambodia in Sixty-Nine too."
"And what exactly is he doing here?"
" We have a mutual problem" Lepus interrupted, as he lit a cigarette and proffered the pack to Harvey. " One involving your friend over there."
" And what problem is that?" Bobbi enquired.
"'Armageddon.' 'End of Days'. All that fun stuff in writ down by John the Revelator." He replied.
"The fallen Angel Belial and his legions of demons are planning on making a reappearance, and mankind is the battlefield."
" Oh, you have got to be kidding me." Exclaimed Bobbi. " This psychopathic asshole sneaks in here, with his toy ray-gun, and starts spouting shit about the end of the world. Puh-lease."
She walked away from Lepus and Harvey, and went to help. Now the thing was gone, he seemed to have recovered some of his self-composure.
" I sneaked in here because there isn't a chance in hell that if I knocked politely at the door, you'd have invited me in for a casual chat. Of course, if had known George was here, perhaps I could have. But thankfully, he's still as paranoid as ever."
" I'm still alive - obviously it pays off." Muttered Harvey. "and It's 'Harvey' now."
" And as for the ray-gun" Lepus continued " I brought that in case I needed to deal with your friend."
Bobbi's eyes went wide.
" Like you did that thing?!?"
Lepus managed a wry smile.
" No. Fortunately for him, this thing has more than one setting. If necessary, it could shut his higher functions down for a while. If he looses control."
"Oh, marvellous. Harvey: Get rid of this asshole Bronson, would you? I don't care what he has to say, we have a job to do."
" Listen to me 'Bobbi'," her ears pricked up at the subtle derision in Lepus' tone. " I might do what you think America doesn't have the right to do, but I stop the pinheads who don't know better from destroying themselves on a daily basis. I walk the fine line between order and anarchy to keep this country intact.
"But none of that matter at the moment. This is above country or our professional disagreements. I'm taking about the Apocalypse. The Devil against the Almighty Lord. And the demon-thing inhabiting your friend's head is somehow central to the Devil's plans. But if I go to my bosses with stores of demons and angels, I'm going to get locked up.
"That's why I came to you. This is what you people deal with every day. We might have a chance of stopping this thing."
" And what makes you think we have any reason to trust you?" Bobbi replied.
" This." Lepus pulled a concealed package from the lining of his trench -coat and flung it to the table. Bobbi picked it up, opened its packing, and looked at the book it contained.
Necronomicon.
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