FIC: An Official Inquiry (Mythklok, Chapter 8)
Title: An Official Inquiry (Mythklok, Chapter 8)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Archangel Michael is back, and this time he wants some answers. Also, Prequel!Sariel and Raziel drink beer and conspire
Warnings: NON-CON: referenced by a character, and played as un-sexy and scary and upsetting. Also, slash, AU, F-word, OCs and smoking.
Notes: Notes after the jump
This is a Metalocalypse AU. It’s up to 8 chapters now. Good lord. tiktaalikroseae was the one who originally dubbed it “Mythklok,” but you can’t really blame anybody but me. Here are the other bits, about an angelic visit (Chapter 1), a hunt (Chapter 2), a barbecue (Chapter 3), a ski trip (Chapter 4), a sword fight (Chapter 5), Bette Davis Movies (Chapter 6), a concert (Chapter 7) and tall tales. I’m not totally happy with the first couple chapters. Maybe some day I’ll hit ‘em in the head with a shovel and bury ‘em in the back yard. So if you wanna start reading in the middle, that’s cool.
THE RULES, THE CHARACTERS, WHAT’S HAPPENED BEFORE, AND WTF: There once was an angel named Sariel, who got kicked out of Heaven. Depressed, he took a preposterous new name based on a classic old movie and some random Scrabble letters, and started managing the world’s biggest death metal band. All was well and good, until some of his old acquaintances from the Host started paying him unwanted visits. Desperate to protect his band, he ended up sending a snotty female Seraph named Raziel off to kill a murderous Archangel named Uriah, who had been parading around earth under the name Selatcia. Unbeknownst to just about everybody, Raziel kept Uriah’s head alive (bwa-ha-ha!), and she and her boyfriend, Wotan, who also happens to be head of the Norse pantheon, are keeping Uriah (and his soul) in a box in their spare guest room at Valhalla. Uriah’s old boss, the Archangel Michael, who’s also leader of the Legion, the angel army, is not pleased to be missing an Archangel, and even less pleased to have lost track of his soul. Though we’re not entirely sure why yet.
One of Wotan’s old hunting buddies is Shiva, Lord of Destruction, a Hindu god, and a huge Dethklok fan. Shiva’s wife is a love goddess, and is sort of having an affair with Skwisgaar right now, which is pissing off most everybody. (And I’m still not advancing that plot, sorry.) As Shiva is a bit of a flake, most of the day to day affairs of the Eastern Kingdom are currently being run by his level-headed son, the elephant god Ganesh.
Admission: I totally stole a line from The Godfather for this. If anyone recognizes it, well, you don’t get a prize, but you get to feel smug. Also, I totally played fast and loose with all the legal stuff. So, sue me. :D
Oh, and this week zsomeone and late_totheparty did amazing arts. I mean, amazing arts. I am still sort of amazed at the amazingness. And now I have desktop/iPad backgrounds FOR LIFE.
Oh, and also since it’s my fucking AU, here’s some dumb images.
Something I could imagine Lady Raziel wearing to her rave. Although, there’s so much sheer stuff out on the runways nowadays, you could probably find other, much worse, examples. I imagine she’s classy enough to not actually go out with visible boobage.
The immortal Dietrich in her Witness for the Prosecution outfit.
An Official Inquiry (Mythklok, Chapter 8)
The electronic beat throbbed. Someone who looked to be a small, pretty dark-haired woman danced with someone else who resembled a strikingly attractive Indian man with shoulder-length hair. In reality, they were a Seraph angel and a Hindu elephant god. At any rate, they cut quite a couple. She was an excellent dancer, and he was even better; graceful and athletic. They joyfully waved glow sticks in the middle of the mostly human mob of dancers.
She felt a vibration that was not the dance beat, and checked her text messages yet again. She shook her head. She signaled him, and they retreated to the periphery of the crowd. She stood on tiptoe, as she was a bit short for a human, and he was a bit tall, and shouted in his ear, “I think we’re gonna need beer.” He grinned a funny, sloppy-looking grin - it didn’t appear to entirely fit his handsome face. He made for the bar area, and she walked towards the booths in the somewhat quieter back room.
There was what appeared to be an annoyed man in a business suit seated at one of the small tables, smoking a cigarette. She slid into the booth next to him. He wasn’t, in actuality an annoyed man. He was, in fact, an annoyed Fallen angel.
“How the FUCK did you get in here dressed like that?” she laughed. “I thought this club had standards!”
He pulled on his cigarette and scowled at her. “How the fuck did you get in here wearing NOTHING?” he replied.
“It’s a rave party!”
“Does Wotan know you go out looking like that?” Wotan, head of the Norse pantheon, was also Lady Raziel’s boyfriend.
“Exactly when did you appoint yourself my personal evil overlord?” she grinned. “I’m partying with Ganesh! Odie’s spending the weekend in Hel.”
“PLEASE don’t call him Odie in my presence. What’s in Hel?”
“Poker party.”
“I thought you liked playing cards?”
“Yeah, but they won’t let me play anymore. They keep accusing me of using my angel magic to cheat.”
“And, you don’t?”
“No, of course I do, but that’s not the point!”
“Why haven’t you been answering my pages, Raziel?”
“Somebody kept texting me in the middle of my rave party, so I tossed my phone into the punchbowl.”
“Can we at least go outside? I have had to spend the last 20 minutes listening to the SAME EIGHT FUCKING NOTES of a bass line.”
“I know! Isn’t it amazing? The DJ is totally hot tonight. Oh, and speaking of totally hot!” She went up on her knees on the seat and started waving merrily. Ganesh had arrived with the beer.
Ofdensen was scowling his scowliest scowl now, which was quite scowly. “So. Wotan is OK with you two going out…. Together?”
Ganesh slid into the booth. Raziel bounced over into his lap. “Oh, Ganesh, do you think Wotan suspects?”
“Kindly vacate my lap, you horrid, horrid woman,” Ganesh told her, looking more dryly amused than offended.
“Well, I tried,” Raziel said, hopping back off his lap and swilling some beer.
Ganesh smiled in mock offense. “You didn’t try terribly hard.”
“Would it have worked?”
“No.”
She shrugged. “I am simply trying to recapture my days as a party girl!”
“Why the hell would you wanna do that?” Ofdensen muttered.
Ganesh put an arm around Raziel. “The poor girl is striving to temporarily banish from her mind her deprived existence with a billionaire boyfriend who spoils her absolutely rotten,”
“OK,” Raziel said. “That does it! Ganesh, you are OFF my Christmas Card list!”
“I am stung in the heart. You are a horrid woman.”
Ofdensen sighed and drained a rather large portion of his own beer in one go. And then he grabbed what there was of her sleeve and shouted a single word in her ear.
“Oh, FUCK! Why didn’t you tell me?” she replied. He sighed again.
She in turn grabbed Ganesh by his stylish collar and whispered something. He nodded, and they all slid out of the booth.
“If I might offer any assistance, Lady, kindly let me know.” Ganesh told her.
She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on both cheeks. She squeezed his hand. “Thanks, Ganesh, you’re a doll. C’mon!” She grabbed Ofdensen by the elbow and dragged him towards the nightclub’s door.
They appeared moments later in the woods just outside of Mordhaus.
Ofdensen found himself a little disoriented. And then he lurched over and upchucked the beer he just drank, plus various and sundry other items.
“God dammit, Raziel! Would you please warn me before you disapparate me? I don’t travel that way as much as you do.”
“I swear, you have such a sensitive stomach these days,” she said, going into his jacket to fish out his handkerchief. “It’s just human travel is so boring and tacky. I mean, unless you can go by train,” she said, dabbing at his chin. “Trains are stylish! Have you thought of getting…?”
“Mordhaus does not need a fucking bullet train system!” he said, snatching away his handkerchief. It was the third time this issue had come up this week, and he was getting a little impatient with it. “I had our helicopter there waiting.”
To add to his already great annoyance, she had now begun to shiver. “Damn, is it already winter here?”
“Yes, Mordland is not in Majorca. Maybe next time you leave the house you’ll remember to put on some clothing first.”
“You live in a castle full of naked women!”
“Yes, but they’re inside my castle, not out disco dancing!”
“It was a rave party, not a disco!”
He reluctantly shrugged out of his suit jacket and held it grudgingly towards her. When she reached for it, though, he held it back. “I just had this custom made. BE CAREFUL!”
She nodded and reached for it again. “Oooo, is this a Caraceni? Did Wotan give you their number?”
They began walking towards the castle, Ofdensen still fuming. They were nearing the front entrance when he smelled it. Brimstone.
“Oh, fucking Christ!”
He broke into a run, Raziel hurrying behind him, but they skidded to a halt just before the entryway.
There was an angel standing there.
Gabriel was one of the Seraphim, the largest, most monstrous breed of the Host. And Gabriel looked the part. He was, frankly, fucking terrifying.
Angels were not, as is commonly assumed these days, Created to be figures of comfort and reassurance. They were meant to terrify, to inspire awe, to scare the freaking bejeesus out of hapless natives everywhere.
Gabriel, in his True Form, stood several stories tall. His incredibly girth made Mordhaus look cramped. As do all Seraphim, he had three full sets of wings, the largest of which would have served well on a jumbo jet, and he held them, at this moment, fully spread. He held in his hands an enormous flaming sword, doubtless the origin of the brimstone smell. If there had been sun, he would have blotted it out. As it was, he cut quite the demonic figure under the full moon.
Although Ofdensen had striven to warn the Klokateer security personnel when he had learned there was the potential for a visitation, he noticed that they had scattered, and, for once, he didn’t blame them. The sight of a full sized Seraph tends to cause panic in anyone possessed of even a scrap of sanity.
This latter probably explains why the members of Dethklok were slowly emerging from Mordhaus to gawp at the spectacle. Ofdensen dearly wished he had the time to shoo them away, but he hadn’t the bandwidth to wrangle death metal musicians and deal with an angry angel of vengeance looming in his entryway.
“SARIEL!” boomed Gabriel. Ofdensen noted that he didn’t bother with the “Honored Brother,” title, much less even “Little Brother.” It was gonna be that kind of meeting.
“Uh, Gabriel. This is….” He faltered. Well, it wasn’t pleasant, and it definitely wasn’t a surprise.
But Raziel suddenly pushed forward. “Goddammit, Gabriel, what has gotten into you!” she shouted.
“Raziel?” said Gabriel peering down at her tiny form. “Is that you?”
“You show up True Formed at somebody’s human home! That is SO FUCKING TACKY, I cannot even begin!” Raziel spat, wagging a tiny finger up at the enormous presence.
“Silence, Honored Sister Raziel!” the giant angel boomed.
“Oh, you don’t you take that tone with me, Little Brother!”
“WHAT!” Gabriel sputtered, his booming True Form voice actually jumping up half an octave. It was something that would have gotten lost in translation to a human language like English, but angels were fairly obsessed with rankings and honorifics. As Raziel and Gabriel were both fairly high ranking Seraphim, by all rights, she should have at least called him her Honored Brother, if not her Venerated Brother. “Little Brother,” her favored sobriquet for Sariel over all these eons, was actually a bit of a slap. Angels had gotten into violent quarrels and killed each other over much less.
“You start acting polite, and I’ll use your polite title, but not until then! I want you out of that True Form and into your proper Court Form RIGHT NOW!”
“You can’t…. You can’t talk to me like that!” Gabriel protested. Ofdensen was dumbfounded. He hadn’t thought it possible for a 50-foot tall avenging angel to sound quite so whiney.
Raziel fished into Ofdensen’s suit jacket pocket and extracted a metal box. She waved it at Gabriel. “There’s still room in the box!”
It was the metal box Raziel had given Ofdensen following her recent duel. It contained all that was left of the Archangel Uriah: a few ounces of ash. Gabriel actually gulped.
“I will…. I will transform. Simply to make this meeting, uh, more conducive.”
Gabriel Court Formed. Like most of the Seraphim, his Court Form was still too large to much resemble a human being, but it was a definite come down from his monstrous True Form.
Ofdensen smiled. He gritted his teeth, and moved over to put a friendly arm around the shrunken Gabriel’s shoulders.
“Now, Honored Sister Raziel,” Ofdensen told her, “we shouldn’t be so unpleasant towards our guest, our Venerated Brother Gabriel.” Raziel widened her eyes, but, for once in her existence, was smart enough to keep her mouth shut. “Now, what can we do for you, my Venerated Brother?”
“Michael commands….” Raziel scowled at him. “Uh, Michaels requests your presence for an official inquest into the death of our Honored Brother, Uriah.”
“You want me at an inquest?”
“That is correct. You, our Honored Sister Raziel, and the human being, Mr. Nathan Explosion.”
Raziel flashed a concerned look at Nathan, but Ofdensen forced a cheery smile. Pretend you’re Wotan and everybody’s your fucking buddy, he told himself. He slapped Gabriel’s back. “Well, why don’t the four of us just go up to my office and have a little chat and a glass or two of Scotch?” He started steering Gabriel into Mordhaus, and nodded at Raziel.
“Who is this douche bag?” Nathan whispered to Raziel.
“He’s an angel.”
“He’s kind of a whiny dildo.”
“Definitely.”
“Nathan!” Nathan and Raziel turned. It was Pickles. And he wore a surprisingly menacing glare. “You gonna need us?” Raziel was surprised to see the lot of them looking a rather displeased. Including Toki, who she wouldn’t have thought could look menacing. She remembered they probably weren’t too fondly disposed towards archangels visiting their manager.
Nathan looked at Raziel.
“I don’t think so, Nathan, but maybe we could call them if we needed them?” she said. Nathan nodded. She shook the metal box at them. “It’s OK, guys, if he’s any trouble, he goes in the box. All right?”
“And Nathan,” she pulled on his collar to bring his ear down somewhat closer to her. “Whatever you do, make sure this guy’s glass of whiskey glass is ALWAYS full. OK?”
Nathan refilled Gabriel’s whiskey glass, and his own. He patted his new friend on the back, and Gabriel choked slightly.
“So, Michael is concerned about losing Uriah’s soul?” Ofdensen was asking.
“Oh,” said Gabriel, “that’s all he’s on about these days, Uriah’s blanking soul.”
Raziel, sitting on top of Ofdensen’s desk, and still wearing his suit jacket, stole a glance over at Ofdensen. Gabriel actually said, “blanking.”
“And they haven’t just checked with Morningstar?” Ofdensen proposed, steepling his hands. “Might be just another filing error. He was always a little sloppy.”
“Blanking Morningstar,” slurred Gabriel. “Oh, you don’t know about the big To Do with Morningstar!” He waved his whiskey glass.
“The big To Do?” Raziel asked.
“He’s in enough trouble now, without the whole hoo-hah of Uriah’s soul.”
“Hoo-hah?” asked Nathan.
Gabriel hiccupped. “Lots of things going on down in H-E-double hockey stick!”
“H-E-double hockey stick?” said Raziel.
“Uh. Well, thank you for bringing these tidings, Gabriel. Kindly tell my Honored Brother Michael we share his concerns about Uriah, and that we will cooperate fully in this investigation.”
“Oh, thank you, Sariel! I would have hated to go back to Michael with unhappy tidings. Oh, and thanks much for the little drinky!”
And Gabriel disappeared in a puff of whiskey fumes.
“Little drinky?” repeated Nathan. “Does that fucking guy even speak English?”
“Never could hold his fucking liquor,” Ofdensen muttered. He sat back and twisted his whiskey glass into the desk. “Fucking angels. Always think they have God on their side.”
“Uh, don’t they?” asked Nathan.
“May I please go stab Michael now?” Raziel asked.
“No. No. I have another idea. Call your boyfriend,” Ofdensen answered. Raziel hoped off the desk and pulled out her cell phone. “And then call your other boyfriend.” Raziel paused with the phone in her hand, glowering at Ofdensen.
“What?” said Nathan.
“He keeps giving me shit because I was out at a rave with Ganesh.”
“Is that why you’re dressed that way?” asked Nathan. “Does Wotan know you go out looking like that?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.
“YOU GUYS LIVE IN A CASTLE FULL OF NAKED WOMEN!”
“Yeah, but they’re in here safe with us, not out there with all the assholes! What if somebody looks at your tits?” Nathan demanded.
“I’ll do what I always do, kill them with my sword!”
“You’re gonna kill a bunch of guys at a rave party dance?” Ofdensen asked pleasantly.
“Yes! No!”
“That might be cool. But it might not look so good in the newspapers, huh?” Nathan inquired.
“OK,” Raziel said. “OK, you guys. OK. First! Because you seem to be the only two people on the planet who cannot fucking figure this out: Lord Ganesh has absolutely no interest in me or any other woman or any female being in any known universe. And furthermore, his father is Lord of the Dance, and his mother is a goddess of love, meaning if I go to a dance with him, I could literally be NAKED ON THE DANCE FLOOR, and not a single other sentient being of any form or either sex is going to pay me absolutely any mind, because I’m right next to LORD FUCKING GANESH.”
Ofdensen noted with no little malicious delight that she literally bounced up and down on her toes with anger as she said the last.
“And…. And….” Raziel continued, now getting quite wound up. “My boyfriend personally requested Lord Ganesh accompany me to rave parties, because Lord Wotan despises any dance form that was invented subsequent to the Eighteenth Century, and Lord Wotan knows I couldn’t be safer if I went to a rave party in a lead-lined coffin. And I can’t possibly even get in trouble, as Lord Ganesh is a master swordsman as well as a medical doctor as well as a top ranked defense attorney with and 100% record of exoneration! Now that I’ve banished every scrap of a possibility that I could be up to anything with even a hint of healthy old fashioned bad behavior, will you guys PLEASE GIVE IT A FUCKING REST?”
“Huh,” said Ofdensen. “100% exoneration?”
“Yeah, but,” Nathan scolded, “you might wanna put on more clothes next time. You know, so people don’t get ideas.”
She silently removed Ofdensen’s suit jacket and held it out to him, glaring.
“What did I say? You’re the one who said you were too cold!” Ofdensen chuckled.
She vanished.
“Whoa. Sensitive,” said Nathan.
Ofdensen stood smoking a last cigarette. He glanced up at Nathan, who always looked a bit out of sorts when forced to wear a suit.
“OK, Nathan, like I told you, of all the boring and awful meetings you’ve ever had to sit through, this has the potential to be the single most boring and awful. Plus, there will be angels. Really, really obnoxious angels. I’ll try to hurry it up. But, afterwards, we’ll go get ice cream. Or, go to a strip club. Or go get ice cream at a strip club. Or, whatever the hell you want to do. OK? I promise.”
Nathan looked slightly miserable. “So. I should try not to punch people?”
“Try not to punch anybody unless I specifically tell you to punch them. OK?”
Nathan nodded miserably.
Ofdensen stubbed out his cigarette and then waved to the people waiting behind them.
The angels had decided on Negative Space as a location for the inquiry. He had not objected. Negative Space is exactly that, a blank area between worlds. Unaltered by magic, it looks quite like a television set tuned between channels: not exactly blank, but not defined.
The angels had used some magic to set up the venue. It somewhat resembled a typical human court of law. A panel of five archangels, Michael in the center, sat behind a raised desk at one end. Below them were some floor level desks attended by Cherubim, who, he assumed, were clerks of various sorts. There were also a several Seraphim holding flaming swords flanking the assembly. A bit rude to turn on the flame this early, Ofdensen thought, but it did look a bit impressive. And it was obviously supposed to strike everyone as intimidating.
There was also a low table with a few chairs at the front, he assumed for counsel. And behind a low barrier, there were some benches for spectators.
Not, as it turned out, nearly enough benches for spectators.
Some Klokateers arrived behind them, and then more arrived, and then still more arrived, and behind them, more hooded figures. Some wore suits with hoods, others were dressed in the standard uniform, still others appeared to be outfitted as technicians and chefs and mechanics and lab techs and various other functions.
“Sariel!” It was Michael.
Signaling Nathan to stay put, Ofdensen wandered over to the bench. “You have a question, my Honored Brother Michael,” Ofdensen asked pleasantly.
Michael leaned over to whisper. “Who are…? Who are all these people?”
“Well those,” he pointed to some rather burly Klokateers near Nathan, “are bodyguards for Mr. Nathan Explosion, who, as you know, is a rather famous and important human being. And those over there are his personal assistants. And those are the assistants to the assistants. And that one is his dietician, as Mr. Explosion suffers from intermittent hypoglycemia. And those are a few of his publicists….”
“Publicists?”
“Yes, we’re looking into creating CD/DVD of this experience, as Mr. Explosion has a very popular spoken word series. That’s why the video, lighting and sound people, as well as Mr. Explosion’s vocal coach and his dialectician….”
“All right. All right. But then who are all of those other people?”
“Oh, I’m awfully sorry, those are my people. These are my legal partners, and of course our law clerks, file clerks, admins, interns, paralegals, their assistants…. And, uh, you, way back there? What do you do again?” He squinted down to the margins of the gallery area.
“I get the coffee, Sire!”
“Oh, cool. Could you get me a triple macchiato, extra hot?”
“Immediately, Sire!”
“You can’t have all these people in attendance today!” Michael scolded.
“Well, that’s a curious question, Honored Brother Michael! As it so happens, I have a modest library of angelic legal volumes, and I thought to have some of my people look into this very issue just last week! Can I get those briefs?” he asked a Klokateer in a suit, who asked another Klokateer, who asked another, and another. At a certain point, someone near the back of the gallery produced some paperwork, which was successively passed up to Ofdensen at the front of the courtroom area. He then in turn handed them off to yet another Klokateer, who shuffled them up to a Cherubic clerk, who finally passed them to the bench. Michael, obviously annoyed, shuffled through them, and then had a whispered conversation with the four other Archangels on the bench.
“All right,” Michael said at length, “We will allow it.”
“If it’s not too much trouble,” Ofdensen asked, “could you see fit to have some of your Cherubim set up a few more seats? I’m afraid the gallery as it’s presently arranged is going to be painfully inadequate.” He cringed slightly as one of the video camera cranes went over with a crash.
“I’ll see to it,” Michael grumbled, throwing the legal briefs back at a flustered Cherub.
Ofdensen got Nathan seated in the first row of the gallery, and then took a seat at the front table. He grinned as he watched a harried Cherub trip over some of the wiring his lighting Klokateers were noisily setting up. He had given everyone enough confusing, ambiguous and contradictory directions, he hoped, to keep things pleasantly chaotic.
There was a sound. It was music. Martial music.
A uniformed pipe and drum corps, approximately 50 strong, made its entrance to the venue, marching in time. Headed by a drum major with a large sword, they performed an elaborate routine, flourishing decorated drumsticks, and gaining some appreciative applause from several Klokateers who had paused to watch.
The pipe and drum corps at last came to a halt. And then the sound of hoofbeats erupted. A vast cavalry was arriving in Negative Space, mounted women and men girded for warfare. There were a few visible, and then a few more, and then the entire horizon seemed to be filled with their ranks. The bravest warriors of Valhalla had arrived, rattling their sabers, pounding their shields, their mounts scraping and snorting, their colorful banners streaming behind them. Several Klokateers had now climbed up on the gallery benches to take in the spectacle. It looked like something out of a Kurosawa movie.
Ofdensen noted with amusement that the armed Seraphim near the bench seemed to be cringing and moving closer together. He halfway hoped one of the angelic soldiers would lose it and True Form.
The pipe and drum corps began to play again, and a mounted honor guard consisting of eight armed horsemen and women rode before the front line of the cavalry, and at the head, Lord Wotan, the King. He was riding on his tremendous steed, the eight-legged Sleipnir, dressed in a stylish bespoke three piece suit, a golden crown on top of his head.
The king swung lightly out of the saddle, handing off the reigns to a waiting footman, who led Sleipnir off to the side.
“Whoa. That guy knows how to make an entrance!” Nathan enthused.
“It’s good to be king,” Ofdensen agreed. He tried to steal a glance at Michael, and wondered how much longer the Archangel had before his head was blown clean off his body from pure fury.
Next an equipage arrived, consisting of a closed white coach and driver, drawn by four pure white horses, plus numerous more liveried servants. One such servant opened the door, and a tiny, well-manicured hand fluttered out. Ofdensen noted with amusement that it took at least three servants to usher the tiny Raziel out of the coach.
She was dressed in a severe suit with high shoulder pads, and wore a small straw hat. Wotan strode over to her, and extended an elbow, and she took it. A uniformed page marched up in front of them, halted and announced, “His Most Serene Highness, Wotan, Lord of the Aesir, All Father, Wise One, Spear Shaker, Lord of the Undead, Father of Magical Songs, Raven God, Splendid One, God of Runes, Mover of Constellations, Friend of the Goths, and his Royal Consort, the Lady Raziel of the Seraphim.”
Then with great fuss and a few attendants trailing, Wotan escorted Raziel the 10 or so steps to the front row of audience seats, where she demurely sat down next to Nathan Explosion.
Ofdensen tipped back his own chair so he could whisper to her. “Witness for the Prosecution?” he guessed.
She leaned forward and nodded happily. “But, my Netflix copy didn’t arrive on time, so this outfit is based on a production still rather than the screen used costume.”
“Well, I guess sometimes you just have to improvise.”
“Uh. King Wotan,” Michael was saying from the bench.
“Oh, I don’t stand on ceremony, Mike,” Wotan assured the frowning Archangel. “You can just call me Your Majesty. Or Your Most Serene Highness will do.”
“Uh, yes, Your Majesty. I guess I am a bit surprised to see you here today.”
“Valhalla received a summons regarding the Lady Raziel of the Seraphim, my Royal Consort.”
“Your what?” Michael sputtered. Ofdensen took a sip of his Macchiato and glanced at the time on his Vacheron Constantin. He decided to give angelic head explosion 20 more minutes.
“Raziel, you cannot be Wotan’s consort if you’re still a member of the Host!” Michael exclaimed. Raziel grinned back at him.
“My Venerated Brother Michael, if I may?” Ofdensen interjected, standing up.
“Why, Sariel,” the king exclaimed, “how completely pleasant and unexpected to see you here!”
“Well, I am equally pleased by the great surprise of running into you here, Your Majesty,” Ofdensen said, shaking his hand. “I may have some interesting information for you.”
“Some interesting information? Why, what could that possibly be?”
“Well, just by a complete coincidence, I had some of my clerks look into my angelic law books regarding coexisting status as a member in good standing of the Host and local court status.”
“Why, what a fortunate and completely unexpected coincidence! And would you perhaps be willing to share this important information?”
Ofdensen gestured, and so began the wave of Klokateers asking other Klokateers, and then a legal brief slowly being passed hand to hand from the back of the courtroom area to the front, and then to Ofdensen, and then to the King, and then to one of the King’s footmen, and then to a Cherub, and finally up to the bench, where it was the subject of another whispered discussion.
Finally, Michael announced, “The bench reluctantly accepts the standing of King Wotan to answer for his Consort.”
Raziel grinned. “Uh, is this Michael dude the dude you guys used to work for?” Nathan whispered.
“Yep,” said Raziel. “I think he’s what you guys call a dildo?”
“Yeah, he’s totally a dildo,” Nathan agreed.
“And if we are finally all assembled, I would like to begin this inquest-“ the Archangel Michael began.
Then was a rumbling. Like a small earthquake.
The elephants had started arriving.
And there were also boars and oxen and tigers and lions and even more horses. And riding them were warriors with swords, and servants and footmen, and animals of all kinds: snakes and tortoises and bears and most of all, monkeys. The monkeys in particular seemed to be suddenly everywhere, including the bench, where one stole a most displeased Archangel Michael’s gavel.
“Monkey trial!” said Raziel, tasting her mocha latte.
“Monkeys are AWESOME,” Nathan noted appreciatively, sipping his Americano with three raw sugars.
“Everything is better with monkeys,” Raziel agreed.
A retinue of colorfully-dressed swordsmen marched to the forefront in formation. They skillfully juggled their flashing sabers, to enthusiastic applause and cheers from much of the audience: Klokateers (many of whom were now very openly standing up on benches and snapping photos with Dethphone cameras) and Asgard’s mounted cavalry, and even including a few of the Cherubim, who got stern looks from Archangel Michael.
Then the swordsmen marched into two columns facing each other, raising their sabers at attention. Lord Ganesh appeared between the two columns, wearing his most stylish human head, and dressed in a smart suit and clutching a briefcase. He coolly marched between the two columns while, with much glinting metal, swordsmen tossed their sabers across the column to each other both directly behind and directly in front of him. The elephant god did not blink.
“Whoa! I gotta say, that was even cooler than King Wotan,” Nathan whispered to Raziel.
“Yeah, that was pretty damn cool,” she agreed.
Ganesh placed his briefcase on the table and snapped it open. He extracted a pair of reading glasses from a breast pocket, donned them, and began to read from a brief.
“On behalf of Supreme God The Lord Shiva The Destroyer, Mahadeva, Maheshvara, Parameshvara, Leader of the Eastern Kingdom, also known as Rudra Sarva, also known as Agni Sasipanjara, also known as Tivasimati, the Invincible, the Mighty, the Terrible, the Lord of the Dance-“
“Uh,” said Archangel Michael, his head in his hands, “is it possible we could just read Lord Shiva’s many honorable epithets into the court record and get on with it?”
“I believe that would be satisfactory,” answered Ganesh. He handed off a rather substantial stack of paperwork to a monkey servant, and the simian carried it over to a Cherub.
“And may I understand the reason for this … interruption?” Michael asked.
“Certainly! I am the Lord Ganesh, Remover of Obstacles, Lord of Beginnings and Lord of Obstacles, and chief legal counsel for the Eastern Kingdom, LLC. On behalf of our kingdom, I am here today to submit a brief of amicus curiae regarding the matter before the court today.”
“You’re here as a friend of the court?”
“That is correct Your Honor.”
“You can’t submit a friend of the court brief to this tribunal!”
“If I may, Your Honor?” Ofdensen asked.
“What is it now, Sariel?” Michael snapped.
“Why, Sariel!” Ganesh gushed. “I didn’t even see you sitting there! What a completely unexpected and pleasant surprise!” Ganesh strode over to shake Ofdensen’s hand.
“I find it equally surprising! And pleasant!” Ofdensen enthused. “And do you know Lord Wotan?”
“Why, Your Majesty!” Ganesh said, shaking the king’s hand in turn. “I am completely taken aback! It is indeed prodigious that you would be here in attendance today!”
“And you are here with a friend of the court brief?” Wotan inquired.
“Yes, that is correct, I am here as a friend of the court!”
“I may have some vital and interesting information regarding your amicus brief!” Ofdensen suggested.
“Interesting information?” said Ganesh. “I can’t imagine!”
“Well, just by a complete coincidence, I had some of my clerks look into my angelic law books regarding filing an amicus brief in this court,” Ofdensen told him.
“I would be so terribly grateful if you could possibly share that information with me now.”
Archangel Michael literally had his head down on the bench as they repeated the brief-passing ritual. Ofdensen grinned over his second macchiato and dearly hoped at least one of the idiot Klokateers behind the various video cameras was capturing this moment, as he was already hitting his mental rewind button. On the big screen in the control room. Oh, yes.
“We will allow this,” Michael finally sighed. “Lord Ganesh, can you kindly summarize your brief for the court?”
“Certainly, your honor,” Ganesh replied. He doffed his reading glasses and stood before the bench for a long moment.
“Your honors, Your Most Serene Highness,” he nodded to Wotan, “and Honored Sariel,” and to Ofdensen, “as I stand before you today, think of me not as counsel for the Eastern Kingdom, but rather, as a concerned businessman. Along with my family, I presently run one of the largest corporations in this universe. My associates,” and he waved a hand to where elephants scraped the ground and colorfully dressed swordsmen stood at attention, “though they are dressed, as demanded by our ritual, for the ancient practice of warfare, will return to our kingdom tonight, and to lives of peace, and prosperity. Certainly, in this last half century, we have been blessed with peace.”
“I love courtroom dramas!” Raziel whispered to Nathan.
“Especially with monkeys!” Nathan replied, feeding some chips to a new friend.
“But I believe all of us here recall the … unpleasantness of the last two centuries,” Ganesh continued. “When my honored friends of the Legion,” and here Ganesh stopped and frowned towards the sword-bearing Seraphim lined up beside the bench, “sadly, clashed daily with our soldiers, the men and women of the Eastern Kingdom. Perhaps you recall how we at last requested the Legion leave us to our affairs? Perhaps you recall how the Legion, at last, and reluctantly, complied.” Some of the Seraphic swordsmen shuffled their feet. The Eastern Kingdom had, in fact, beaten back the Legion. It had been their most crushing defeat in recent memory.
“It was thus with severe … disappointment that we learned that the Legion - and as you will agree, all members I see before me on the bench,” and here Ganesh stared for a moment at each angelic justice in turn, “are, every one of them, associated with the Legion - had now seen fit to intervene in a legal Blood Feud.” Ganesh shook his head with apparent sadness and walked back towards the counsel table.
Ganesh re-donned his reading glasses, and shuffled through some papers in his briefcase. "Honored Justices,” he concluded, “I don't like violence. I am a businessman. And blood is a big expense. But, I will do what must be done, as I have always done, as we have always done, to protect our interests. And kindly understand, what you do today, you do not do in silence, nor in secret.” Ganesh gestured towards the video cameras. “What you do today will be watched, and closely. Not only by the Eastern Kingdom. By by other Pantheons. By every Pantheon. And so I politely request you today, as a friend of this court, as a respectful outsider, and on behalf of the Eastern Kingdom, to reconsider your jurisdiction in this case.”
“Cool, huh?” Raziel whispered to Nathan.
“Dude, I totally wanna go break some laws and shit just so this dude can defend me!” Nathan agreed.
“And he looks so sexy in those glasses!”
“Uh. Eh. I dunno about that.”
Michael was conferring with the other angelic justices once again. This time, the conference appeared to grow a bit heated.
“I’m not gonna start another war with the Eastern Kingdom just so you can keep covering your ass, Michael,” one of the justices finally shouted. Everyone seated near the front of the court looked over to the bench with interest as one furious angelic justice disappeared. Archangel Michael blinked, and then went on conferring with the remaining three Archangels. At length, he said, “Thank you, Lord Ganesh, we will, uh, take this under advisement.”
From the sky erupted a sonorous, but strangely familiar cry.
“Oh what the fuck is it now?” said Michael.
The fire lizard flew gracefully, like a delicate green banner in the sky. It was not, sadly, quite as graceful when it finally alit in the courtroom, its long tail flicking over a couple of the armed Seraphim when it twitched.
A large man with a bear’s head hopped off and waved enthusiastically at Nathan. “Hon, dude!” said Nathan, as he and his monkey friend waved back. About two dozen other Kachinas clambered off the flying serpent’s green back, wearing various owl and deer and other heads Nathan couldn’t recognize. Hon paused to assist a small bearded human man in dismounting. He then escorted the bearded man over to the lawyer’s table, where the man opened his briefcase and extracted some papers.
The bearded man placed his papers down on the table and adjusted his reading glasses. “I am Myron Lefkowitz, attorney at law, and I am representing the combined New World Tribes in adjudication. With permission of the other litigants, we seek a permissive intervention in this matter.”
“We definitely have no objections to this,” Ofdensen said. “How about you, Your Majesty?”
“Sounds good to me!” Wotan agreed. “Let’s hear what this fellow has to say!”
Myron Lefkowitz nodded. “I stand here in the matter of a class action regarding the following New World tribes and peoples.” He peered at his notes. “Tribal associations including but not limited to the A'ananin, Abenaki, Absaalooke, Achumawi, Acjachemen, Acoma, Agua Caliente, Adai, Ahtna, Ajachemen, Akimel O'odham, Akwaala, Alabama-Coushatta, Aleut, Alutiiq, Algonquians, Algonquin, Alliklik, Alnobak, Alsea, Andaste, Anishinaabe, Aniyunwiya, Antoniaño, Apache, Apalachee, Applegate, Apsaalooke, Arapaho, Arawak, Arikara, Assiniboine, Atakapa, Atikamekw, Atsina, Atsugewi, Araucano, Avoyel, Ayisiyiniwok, Aymara, Aztec, Babine, Bannock, Barbareño, Bari, Bear River, Beaver, Bella Bella, Bella Coola, Beothuks, Bidai, Biloxi, Black Carib, Blackfoot, Blood Indians, Bora….”
“Uh, perhaps this list can be read into the record,” Michael sighed. Myron Lefkowitz handed over a rather thick stack of papers to a nearby monkey, who conveyed it to a Cherub.
“And you are here for….” Michael asked.
“We are here in the matter of a class action regarding the above named tribal peoples of the New World. We are seeking reparations for the aforesaid tribes for damages incurred by what is commonly referred to as the Genocide, or the New World Holocaust, from the Angelic Host, in the amount of no less than 125 trillion dollars. I have an itemized spreadsheet breaking down damages, if you would like me to read it….”
“Just….” And Michael waved tiredly. And another thick sheaf of papers made its way to the bench.
“As our first motion, due to excessive burdens places on the plaintiffs, we are petitioning for a change of venue.”
“You would like to move the venue?” Archangel Michael asked.
“That is correct, your honor. We would prefer the location to be changed to the superior court of Trenton.”
“You…. You would like…. You would like to move this hearing to…. New Jersey?” Michael sputtered.
“We are so petitioning, Your Honor,” said Myron Lefkowitz, attorney at law, to the Archangel Michael.
It was at about this point that the other Archangels decided that it would be best for Archangel Michael to take a very brief recess, perhaps until the beginning of the next human century.
Some time later, the angels had all cleared out of the courtroom area. Well, all but two. They sat with Ganesh, attorney at law: Ofdensen contentedly puffing on a Wotan-supplied Cuban, Raziel up on the table, kicking her small legs, fiddling with Ganesh’s reading glasses.
“You don’t really need these glasses to read do you?” she asked the god, peering through them.
He laughed and leaned forward, smiling. “Confidentially, no, but they make my appearance more officious, don’t you think?”
Raziel pushed on the glasses. “They look awfully sexy!” she commented.
Ganesh chuckled. “Yes, Lady Raziel, it’s quite vitally important that I look my sexiest during practice of contract law.” Ofdensen glanced at the elephant god. He had a very pleasant laugh. Like his mother. That family….
“Do you actually require your eyeglasses, Sariel,” Ganesh asked.
Ofdensen cringed. “Uh. Yeah, unfortunately. My eyes don’t…. Deal well with this place.”
“You have perfectly lovely eyes, Sariel, don’t pout,” Raziel stated, hopping off the table wearing Ganesh’s eyeglasses. “Can I go show Wotan?” she asked. Ganesh waved her off.
“Good god,” muttered Ofdensen.
“You don’t find it a bit charming?” Ganesh asked, watching Raziel model his eyeglasses for the cigar-chomping king.
“Wait a few thousand years.”
“They seem a good match,” Ganesh tried.
“Well,” Ofdensen ruefully looked over to where bespectacled Raziel had now made herself at home in an obviously appreciative Wotan’s lap. “At least he’s not like those idiots she used to waste time with. When she was a ‘party girl.’”
“Oh? What were they like?”
“Ah, I dunno. Maybe kinda like you, if you had your brain removed. She liked these fatally handsome men who were…. Uh. Stupid.” Oh sweet Jesus please tell me that did not really just come out of my mouth, Ofdensen thought with mounting horror. He shot a side glance at Ganesh, who had risen, snapping his briefcase closed. He was smiling that funny smile that looked somehow too big for his face.
“We have decided to take our leave,” King Wotan announced. He and Raziel had somehow suddenly appeared at the lawyers’ table. He pumped Ganesh’s hand. “Good job today. Hope we gave those bastards a bit of a show.”
“I believe we made a lasting impression,” Ganesh commented.
“It’s…. It’s never easy to tell with Michael,” Ofdensen noted as he was getting his entire body shaken by the king’s enthusiastic back patting.
“Guess we’ll just have to see,” the King noted, already starting to stride off. “My Lady?” he called.
Raziel was still at the table, leaning over to Ganesh, holding up his eyeglasses. “Can I borrow these?” she whispered to him. “PLEASE?”
“Sure, go ahead,” he replied, grinning. She put on the glasses and, waving to Ofdensen, was pattering after the King. This time, Wotan assisted Raziel into the coach, grabbing her by the waist and hoisting her into the cab, and then climbed in after, shutting the door with a rather determined slam. An attendant signaled, and the coach took off.
“Hm. Seems the king can’t wait to return to Valhalla to play Prosecutor and Hostile Witness,” Ganesh laughed.
“Oh, shit, Ganesh, I was supposed to schedule a meeting with you. I’m so sorry. I’ve been so fucking busy with this stuff.”
“It’s no matter. You obviously have much weighing on your mind at present.”
“It’s always that way.”
“CHARLES CAN I KEEP THIS MONKEY HE LIKES ME?” It was Nathan. With a monkey.
“Uh, well, I guess you need to ask Lord Ganesh about that, Nathan.”
“I am most pleased that you have found a new acquaintance, Nathan,” Ganesh told him “Sadly, I know this particular beast is a special favorite of my mother’s. Perhaps I might make an alternative suggestion? Perhaps you might honor the Eastern Kingdom with a visit in the near future.”
“Many, many monkeys there, Nathan,” Ofdensen suggested.
“Monkeys are awesome!” Nathan said.
“Then it shall be done,” Ganesh smiled. He reached out a hand, and Nathan’s monkey suddenly sprang up his arm and onto his shoulder. He gave a small bow, and snapped his fingers. Instantly, the honor guard of swordsmen was at his side, escorting him from the court area.
“Charles, that was the best meeting ever in my whole life!” Nathan exclaimed.
“Uh-huh. Monkeys?”
“EVERY meeting should have monkeys and elephants! And guys with swords! Can we get guys with swords.”
“I’ll, uh, look into it.”
“Did you see the tigers? Are we going to get ice cream now? I wanna tell the other guys. Do you think we could ride on the dragon? Could we get a dragon? Maybe we could take the monkeys on a ride with the dragon?”
Many years ago….
“What did you say about Sariel?”
The angel Ramiel looked up from his beer to see the little Seraph. He cast his eyes carefully around the Inn before he responded.
“What. Have you been saying. About Sariel?” she persisted.
Ramiel cursed. There were not only enough Cherubim sitting on their fat asses that this would definitely get back to Headquarters, there were a couple of Seraphim over at the bar. And, yes, they were watching.
“You boyfriend come crying to you again?” Ramiel tried.
“Take. It. Back.”
Ramiel saw the two Seraphim whispering to each other out of the corner of his eye. He knew well what people said about Raziel and her swordfighting skills. But, he thought, just look at her. Ridiculous. And how competent could she possibly be, especially associating with a freak like Sariel.
He stood. And sealed his fate.
“Make me,” he told her.
Sariel looked up from his book. He was peering over the smoked eyeglasses he now habitually wore when he was abroad. His odd silver eyes didn’t cope very well with the world outside Headquarters. Mistakes had been made, some said, with the New Ones. Sariel’s eyes were one of the least.
He had toned down his looks considerably for his Court Form. Too much so, in Raziel’s opinion. But she was quickly learning Sariel had his own, very strong, opinions regarding nearly everything.
“So, what happened?” he asked.
“Like you said, I challenged him while some of his buddies were listening, and he bit.”
“Ex-angel?”
“Snicker-snack,” she said, pulling up a chair and signaling the barmaid. Then she added, “Men are stupid.”
“How are men stupid?”
“Well, he must have known I would kill him. Why didn’t he just back down?”
“How is it you spend so much of your time snacking on tasty men, and seem to have gleaned so very little about them?”
“Well, they’re cute to fool around with. But you know.” She held up the beer glass the girl had just set down. “I don’t have this great need to understand my beer. I just drink it and I’m done.”
He laughed.
“So, now that I’ve killed him, what did he say, anyway?” she asked.
“According to rumor, he called me a homosexual.”
“Well, um, aren’t you?”
“I don’t believe that word completely captures my erotic proclivities.”
“And, how did he know this interesting fact?”
Sariel grinned. “Probably because I fucked him.”
“Godammit, Little Brother, I told you three things, just THREE THINGS to avoid: Headquarters, Court politics, and dating angel men. And what do you do? I mean, what the fuck?”
“Perhaps I embrace a challenge.”
“Why don’t you try some nice human men for a change?”
“Human men are appalling. I would never fuck a human.”
“Never is a long time.”
“Now, maybe I could find a nice local god.”
“Oh, local gods are ridiculous,” Raziel sneered. “Look at me! I’m Bucky! And I’m god of … these rocks over here!”
Sariel smiled into his own beer.
“Look, Sariel, seriously.” She leaned over towards him. “Promise me you won’t get your wings up over this….”
“Raziel. You unerringly say that to me exactly when I ought get my wings up over something,” he complained. But she had started looking serious, so he decided to listen. “What is it?”
“I told you I was with a couple of angel men.”
“And they were horrible. Yes.”
She was staring, and looking distinctly unhappy. “The first one? The first time?” He nodded. It was a bit weird for her to stop burbling. But it usually meant there was something interesting coming. He sipped his beer and waited.
“OK,” she said. Her voice had gotten low. “I didn’t know. Because, I don’t know how I would have known. There was…. There was no one to ask. But, what I figured out afterwards, was that he raped me. I mean, much later. I figured this out. But here was the worst thing, and I want you to hear me. What happened was, just after, I found he was going around, telling everyone I was … well, I was also too new to even know what he was talking about. A prostitute or something? I wasn’t even sure what the words meant. That it was all me, and that it meant I’m evil. It’s just, I worry about you, I don’t think you realize-“ She looked up to meet his eyes. Steel grey eyes.
“Who?”
“Little Brother, I said no wings up.”
“Who?”
“It’s…. You don’t need to worry about him any more.”
He stared at her a while longer. “Snicker-snack?” he finally asked.
“Kind of like that,” she said, looking into her beer glass.
“Raziel, if anyone EVER….”
“They won’t. Not any more anyway. If they’re not scared of me, they’re definitely scared of you.”
“I can’t imagine why.” He sighed. “I’m such a lovely guy.”
She laughed softly. “Sariel. You just had me kill somebody because he failed to adequately describe the full range of your sexual experience.”
He smiled ruefully. “That’s not why we killed him. You do understand that?”
“I don’t think I want to understand. Just…. Just, tell me who to kill and when to kill them. You know I’ll do it.”
“They were murdering New Ones. You know that.”
“We do that. Kill each other. You didn’t think we called you guys Little Brother because we liked you or anything?”
He smiled and shook his head.
“I know you think there’s some kind of conspiracy,” Raziel continued, “but look at Morningstar! They say they’re readying some kind of special project for him and those guys he hangs around with.”
“Earth?” Sariel asked. She nodded. “It sounds horrible. And Morningstar is an asshole.”
“Yeah. I’ll stay far away from Earth is Lucifer is anywhere near.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
“Wanna get out of here?” Sariel asked.
“I wanna go find a really pretty man,” Raziel said.
He smiled. “Let’s go find Bucky, Lord of the Rocks.”
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Archangel Michael is back, and this time he wants some answers. Also, Prequel!Sariel and Raziel drink beer and conspire
Warnings: NON-CON: referenced by a character, and played as un-sexy and scary and upsetting. Also, slash, AU, F-word, OCs and smoking.
Notes: Notes after the jump
This is a Metalocalypse AU. It’s up to 8 chapters now. Good lord. tiktaalikroseae was the one who originally dubbed it “Mythklok,” but you can’t really blame anybody but me. Here are the other bits, about an angelic visit (Chapter 1), a hunt (Chapter 2), a barbecue (Chapter 3), a ski trip (Chapter 4), a sword fight (Chapter 5), Bette Davis Movies (Chapter 6), a concert (Chapter 7) and tall tales. I’m not totally happy with the first couple chapters. Maybe some day I’ll hit ‘em in the head with a shovel and bury ‘em in the back yard. So if you wanna start reading in the middle, that’s cool.
THE RULES, THE CHARACTERS, WHAT’S HAPPENED BEFORE, AND WTF: There once was an angel named Sariel, who got kicked out of Heaven. Depressed, he took a preposterous new name based on a classic old movie and some random Scrabble letters, and started managing the world’s biggest death metal band. All was well and good, until some of his old acquaintances from the Host started paying him unwanted visits. Desperate to protect his band, he ended up sending a snotty female Seraph named Raziel off to kill a murderous Archangel named Uriah, who had been parading around earth under the name Selatcia. Unbeknownst to just about everybody, Raziel kept Uriah’s head alive (bwa-ha-ha!), and she and her boyfriend, Wotan, who also happens to be head of the Norse pantheon, are keeping Uriah (and his soul) in a box in their spare guest room at Valhalla. Uriah’s old boss, the Archangel Michael, who’s also leader of the Legion, the angel army, is not pleased to be missing an Archangel, and even less pleased to have lost track of his soul. Though we’re not entirely sure why yet.
One of Wotan’s old hunting buddies is Shiva, Lord of Destruction, a Hindu god, and a huge Dethklok fan. Shiva’s wife is a love goddess, and is sort of having an affair with Skwisgaar right now, which is pissing off most everybody. (And I’m still not advancing that plot, sorry.) As Shiva is a bit of a flake, most of the day to day affairs of the Eastern Kingdom are currently being run by his level-headed son, the elephant god Ganesh.
Admission: I totally stole a line from The Godfather for this. If anyone recognizes it, well, you don’t get a prize, but you get to feel smug. Also, I totally played fast and loose with all the legal stuff. So, sue me. :D
Oh, and this week zsomeone and late_totheparty did amazing arts. I mean, amazing arts. I am still sort of amazed at the amazingness. And now I have desktop/iPad backgrounds FOR LIFE.
Oh, and also since it’s my fucking AU, here’s some dumb images.
Something I could imagine Lady Raziel wearing to her rave. Although, there’s so much sheer stuff out on the runways nowadays, you could probably find other, much worse, examples. I imagine she’s classy enough to not actually go out with visible boobage.
The immortal Dietrich in her Witness for the Prosecution outfit.
An Official Inquiry (Mythklok, Chapter 8)
The electronic beat throbbed. Someone who looked to be a small, pretty dark-haired woman danced with someone else who resembled a strikingly attractive Indian man with shoulder-length hair. In reality, they were a Seraph angel and a Hindu elephant god. At any rate, they cut quite a couple. She was an excellent dancer, and he was even better; graceful and athletic. They joyfully waved glow sticks in the middle of the mostly human mob of dancers.
She felt a vibration that was not the dance beat, and checked her text messages yet again. She shook her head. She signaled him, and they retreated to the periphery of the crowd. She stood on tiptoe, as she was a bit short for a human, and he was a bit tall, and shouted in his ear, “I think we’re gonna need beer.” He grinned a funny, sloppy-looking grin - it didn’t appear to entirely fit his handsome face. He made for the bar area, and she walked towards the booths in the somewhat quieter back room.
There was what appeared to be an annoyed man in a business suit seated at one of the small tables, smoking a cigarette. She slid into the booth next to him. He wasn’t, in actuality an annoyed man. He was, in fact, an annoyed Fallen angel.
“How the FUCK did you get in here dressed like that?” she laughed. “I thought this club had standards!”
He pulled on his cigarette and scowled at her. “How the fuck did you get in here wearing NOTHING?” he replied.
“It’s a rave party!”
“Does Wotan know you go out looking like that?” Wotan, head of the Norse pantheon, was also Lady Raziel’s boyfriend.
“Exactly when did you appoint yourself my personal evil overlord?” she grinned. “I’m partying with Ganesh! Odie’s spending the weekend in Hel.”
“PLEASE don’t call him Odie in my presence. What’s in Hel?”
“Poker party.”
“I thought you liked playing cards?”
“Yeah, but they won’t let me play anymore. They keep accusing me of using my angel magic to cheat.”
“And, you don’t?”
“No, of course I do, but that’s not the point!”
“Why haven’t you been answering my pages, Raziel?”
“Somebody kept texting me in the middle of my rave party, so I tossed my phone into the punchbowl.”
“Can we at least go outside? I have had to spend the last 20 minutes listening to the SAME EIGHT FUCKING NOTES of a bass line.”
“I know! Isn’t it amazing? The DJ is totally hot tonight. Oh, and speaking of totally hot!” She went up on her knees on the seat and started waving merrily. Ganesh had arrived with the beer.
Ofdensen was scowling his scowliest scowl now, which was quite scowly. “So. Wotan is OK with you two going out…. Together?”
Ganesh slid into the booth. Raziel bounced over into his lap. “Oh, Ganesh, do you think Wotan suspects?”
“Kindly vacate my lap, you horrid, horrid woman,” Ganesh told her, looking more dryly amused than offended.
“Well, I tried,” Raziel said, hopping back off his lap and swilling some beer.
Ganesh smiled in mock offense. “You didn’t try terribly hard.”
“Would it have worked?”
“No.”
She shrugged. “I am simply trying to recapture my days as a party girl!”
“Why the hell would you wanna do that?” Ofdensen muttered.
Ganesh put an arm around Raziel. “The poor girl is striving to temporarily banish from her mind her deprived existence with a billionaire boyfriend who spoils her absolutely rotten,”
“OK,” Raziel said. “That does it! Ganesh, you are OFF my Christmas Card list!”
“I am stung in the heart. You are a horrid woman.”
Ofdensen sighed and drained a rather large portion of his own beer in one go. And then he grabbed what there was of her sleeve and shouted a single word in her ear.
“Oh, FUCK! Why didn’t you tell me?” she replied. He sighed again.
She in turn grabbed Ganesh by his stylish collar and whispered something. He nodded, and they all slid out of the booth.
“If I might offer any assistance, Lady, kindly let me know.” Ganesh told her.
She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on both cheeks. She squeezed his hand. “Thanks, Ganesh, you’re a doll. C’mon!” She grabbed Ofdensen by the elbow and dragged him towards the nightclub’s door.
They appeared moments later in the woods just outside of Mordhaus.
Ofdensen found himself a little disoriented. And then he lurched over and upchucked the beer he just drank, plus various and sundry other items.
“God dammit, Raziel! Would you please warn me before you disapparate me? I don’t travel that way as much as you do.”
“I swear, you have such a sensitive stomach these days,” she said, going into his jacket to fish out his handkerchief. “It’s just human travel is so boring and tacky. I mean, unless you can go by train,” she said, dabbing at his chin. “Trains are stylish! Have you thought of getting…?”
“Mordhaus does not need a fucking bullet train system!” he said, snatching away his handkerchief. It was the third time this issue had come up this week, and he was getting a little impatient with it. “I had our helicopter there waiting.”
To add to his already great annoyance, she had now begun to shiver. “Damn, is it already winter here?”
“Yes, Mordland is not in Majorca. Maybe next time you leave the house you’ll remember to put on some clothing first.”
“You live in a castle full of naked women!”
“Yes, but they’re inside my castle, not out disco dancing!”
“It was a rave party, not a disco!”
He reluctantly shrugged out of his suit jacket and held it grudgingly towards her. When she reached for it, though, he held it back. “I just had this custom made. BE CAREFUL!”
She nodded and reached for it again. “Oooo, is this a Caraceni? Did Wotan give you their number?”
They began walking towards the castle, Ofdensen still fuming. They were nearing the front entrance when he smelled it. Brimstone.
“Oh, fucking Christ!”
He broke into a run, Raziel hurrying behind him, but they skidded to a halt just before the entryway.
There was an angel standing there.
Gabriel was one of the Seraphim, the largest, most monstrous breed of the Host. And Gabriel looked the part. He was, frankly, fucking terrifying.
Angels were not, as is commonly assumed these days, Created to be figures of comfort and reassurance. They were meant to terrify, to inspire awe, to scare the freaking bejeesus out of hapless natives everywhere.
Gabriel, in his True Form, stood several stories tall. His incredibly girth made Mordhaus look cramped. As do all Seraphim, he had three full sets of wings, the largest of which would have served well on a jumbo jet, and he held them, at this moment, fully spread. He held in his hands an enormous flaming sword, doubtless the origin of the brimstone smell. If there had been sun, he would have blotted it out. As it was, he cut quite the demonic figure under the full moon.
Although Ofdensen had striven to warn the Klokateer security personnel when he had learned there was the potential for a visitation, he noticed that they had scattered, and, for once, he didn’t blame them. The sight of a full sized Seraph tends to cause panic in anyone possessed of even a scrap of sanity.
This latter probably explains why the members of Dethklok were slowly emerging from Mordhaus to gawp at the spectacle. Ofdensen dearly wished he had the time to shoo them away, but he hadn’t the bandwidth to wrangle death metal musicians and deal with an angry angel of vengeance looming in his entryway.
“SARIEL!” boomed Gabriel. Ofdensen noted that he didn’t bother with the “Honored Brother,” title, much less even “Little Brother.” It was gonna be that kind of meeting.
“Uh, Gabriel. This is….” He faltered. Well, it wasn’t pleasant, and it definitely wasn’t a surprise.
But Raziel suddenly pushed forward. “Goddammit, Gabriel, what has gotten into you!” she shouted.
“Raziel?” said Gabriel peering down at her tiny form. “Is that you?”
“You show up True Formed at somebody’s human home! That is SO FUCKING TACKY, I cannot even begin!” Raziel spat, wagging a tiny finger up at the enormous presence.
“Silence, Honored Sister Raziel!” the giant angel boomed.
“Oh, you don’t you take that tone with me, Little Brother!”
“WHAT!” Gabriel sputtered, his booming True Form voice actually jumping up half an octave. It was something that would have gotten lost in translation to a human language like English, but angels were fairly obsessed with rankings and honorifics. As Raziel and Gabriel were both fairly high ranking Seraphim, by all rights, she should have at least called him her Honored Brother, if not her Venerated Brother. “Little Brother,” her favored sobriquet for Sariel over all these eons, was actually a bit of a slap. Angels had gotten into violent quarrels and killed each other over much less.
“You start acting polite, and I’ll use your polite title, but not until then! I want you out of that True Form and into your proper Court Form RIGHT NOW!”
“You can’t…. You can’t talk to me like that!” Gabriel protested. Ofdensen was dumbfounded. He hadn’t thought it possible for a 50-foot tall avenging angel to sound quite so whiney.
Raziel fished into Ofdensen’s suit jacket pocket and extracted a metal box. She waved it at Gabriel. “There’s still room in the box!”
It was the metal box Raziel had given Ofdensen following her recent duel. It contained all that was left of the Archangel Uriah: a few ounces of ash. Gabriel actually gulped.
“I will…. I will transform. Simply to make this meeting, uh, more conducive.”
Gabriel Court Formed. Like most of the Seraphim, his Court Form was still too large to much resemble a human being, but it was a definite come down from his monstrous True Form.
Ofdensen smiled. He gritted his teeth, and moved over to put a friendly arm around the shrunken Gabriel’s shoulders.
“Now, Honored Sister Raziel,” Ofdensen told her, “we shouldn’t be so unpleasant towards our guest, our Venerated Brother Gabriel.” Raziel widened her eyes, but, for once in her existence, was smart enough to keep her mouth shut. “Now, what can we do for you, my Venerated Brother?”
“Michael commands….” Raziel scowled at him. “Uh, Michaels requests your presence for an official inquest into the death of our Honored Brother, Uriah.”
“You want me at an inquest?”
“That is correct. You, our Honored Sister Raziel, and the human being, Mr. Nathan Explosion.”
Raziel flashed a concerned look at Nathan, but Ofdensen forced a cheery smile. Pretend you’re Wotan and everybody’s your fucking buddy, he told himself. He slapped Gabriel’s back. “Well, why don’t the four of us just go up to my office and have a little chat and a glass or two of Scotch?” He started steering Gabriel into Mordhaus, and nodded at Raziel.
“Who is this douche bag?” Nathan whispered to Raziel.
“He’s an angel.”
“He’s kind of a whiny dildo.”
“Definitely.”
“Nathan!” Nathan and Raziel turned. It was Pickles. And he wore a surprisingly menacing glare. “You gonna need us?” Raziel was surprised to see the lot of them looking a rather displeased. Including Toki, who she wouldn’t have thought could look menacing. She remembered they probably weren’t too fondly disposed towards archangels visiting their manager.
Nathan looked at Raziel.
“I don’t think so, Nathan, but maybe we could call them if we needed them?” she said. Nathan nodded. She shook the metal box at them. “It’s OK, guys, if he’s any trouble, he goes in the box. All right?”
“And Nathan,” she pulled on his collar to bring his ear down somewhat closer to her. “Whatever you do, make sure this guy’s glass of whiskey glass is ALWAYS full. OK?”
Nathan refilled Gabriel’s whiskey glass, and his own. He patted his new friend on the back, and Gabriel choked slightly.
“So, Michael is concerned about losing Uriah’s soul?” Ofdensen was asking.
“Oh,” said Gabriel, “that’s all he’s on about these days, Uriah’s blanking soul.”
Raziel, sitting on top of Ofdensen’s desk, and still wearing his suit jacket, stole a glance over at Ofdensen. Gabriel actually said, “blanking.”
“And they haven’t just checked with Morningstar?” Ofdensen proposed, steepling his hands. “Might be just another filing error. He was always a little sloppy.”
“Blanking Morningstar,” slurred Gabriel. “Oh, you don’t know about the big To Do with Morningstar!” He waved his whiskey glass.
“The big To Do?” Raziel asked.
“He’s in enough trouble now, without the whole hoo-hah of Uriah’s soul.”
“Hoo-hah?” asked Nathan.
Gabriel hiccupped. “Lots of things going on down in H-E-double hockey stick!”
“H-E-double hockey stick?” said Raziel.
“Uh. Well, thank you for bringing these tidings, Gabriel. Kindly tell my Honored Brother Michael we share his concerns about Uriah, and that we will cooperate fully in this investigation.”
“Oh, thank you, Sariel! I would have hated to go back to Michael with unhappy tidings. Oh, and thanks much for the little drinky!”
And Gabriel disappeared in a puff of whiskey fumes.
“Little drinky?” repeated Nathan. “Does that fucking guy even speak English?”
“Never could hold his fucking liquor,” Ofdensen muttered. He sat back and twisted his whiskey glass into the desk. “Fucking angels. Always think they have God on their side.”
“Uh, don’t they?” asked Nathan.
“May I please go stab Michael now?” Raziel asked.
“No. No. I have another idea. Call your boyfriend,” Ofdensen answered. Raziel hoped off the desk and pulled out her cell phone. “And then call your other boyfriend.” Raziel paused with the phone in her hand, glowering at Ofdensen.
“What?” said Nathan.
“He keeps giving me shit because I was out at a rave with Ganesh.”
“Is that why you’re dressed that way?” asked Nathan. “Does Wotan know you go out looking like that?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.
“YOU GUYS LIVE IN A CASTLE FULL OF NAKED WOMEN!”
“Yeah, but they’re in here safe with us, not out there with all the assholes! What if somebody looks at your tits?” Nathan demanded.
“I’ll do what I always do, kill them with my sword!”
“You’re gonna kill a bunch of guys at a rave party dance?” Ofdensen asked pleasantly.
“Yes! No!”
“That might be cool. But it might not look so good in the newspapers, huh?” Nathan inquired.
“OK,” Raziel said. “OK, you guys. OK. First! Because you seem to be the only two people on the planet who cannot fucking figure this out: Lord Ganesh has absolutely no interest in me or any other woman or any female being in any known universe. And furthermore, his father is Lord of the Dance, and his mother is a goddess of love, meaning if I go to a dance with him, I could literally be NAKED ON THE DANCE FLOOR, and not a single other sentient being of any form or either sex is going to pay me absolutely any mind, because I’m right next to LORD FUCKING GANESH.”
Ofdensen noted with no little malicious delight that she literally bounced up and down on her toes with anger as she said the last.
“And…. And….” Raziel continued, now getting quite wound up. “My boyfriend personally requested Lord Ganesh accompany me to rave parties, because Lord Wotan despises any dance form that was invented subsequent to the Eighteenth Century, and Lord Wotan knows I couldn’t be safer if I went to a rave party in a lead-lined coffin. And I can’t possibly even get in trouble, as Lord Ganesh is a master swordsman as well as a medical doctor as well as a top ranked defense attorney with and 100% record of exoneration! Now that I’ve banished every scrap of a possibility that I could be up to anything with even a hint of healthy old fashioned bad behavior, will you guys PLEASE GIVE IT A FUCKING REST?”
“Huh,” said Ofdensen. “100% exoneration?”
“Yeah, but,” Nathan scolded, “you might wanna put on more clothes next time. You know, so people don’t get ideas.”
She silently removed Ofdensen’s suit jacket and held it out to him, glaring.
“What did I say? You’re the one who said you were too cold!” Ofdensen chuckled.
She vanished.
“Whoa. Sensitive,” said Nathan.
Ofdensen stood smoking a last cigarette. He glanced up at Nathan, who always looked a bit out of sorts when forced to wear a suit.
“OK, Nathan, like I told you, of all the boring and awful meetings you’ve ever had to sit through, this has the potential to be the single most boring and awful. Plus, there will be angels. Really, really obnoxious angels. I’ll try to hurry it up. But, afterwards, we’ll go get ice cream. Or, go to a strip club. Or go get ice cream at a strip club. Or, whatever the hell you want to do. OK? I promise.”
Nathan looked slightly miserable. “So. I should try not to punch people?”
“Try not to punch anybody unless I specifically tell you to punch them. OK?”
Nathan nodded miserably.
Ofdensen stubbed out his cigarette and then waved to the people waiting behind them.
The angels had decided on Negative Space as a location for the inquiry. He had not objected. Negative Space is exactly that, a blank area between worlds. Unaltered by magic, it looks quite like a television set tuned between channels: not exactly blank, but not defined.
The angels had used some magic to set up the venue. It somewhat resembled a typical human court of law. A panel of five archangels, Michael in the center, sat behind a raised desk at one end. Below them were some floor level desks attended by Cherubim, who, he assumed, were clerks of various sorts. There were also a several Seraphim holding flaming swords flanking the assembly. A bit rude to turn on the flame this early, Ofdensen thought, but it did look a bit impressive. And it was obviously supposed to strike everyone as intimidating.
There was also a low table with a few chairs at the front, he assumed for counsel. And behind a low barrier, there were some benches for spectators.
Not, as it turned out, nearly enough benches for spectators.
Some Klokateers arrived behind them, and then more arrived, and then still more arrived, and behind them, more hooded figures. Some wore suits with hoods, others were dressed in the standard uniform, still others appeared to be outfitted as technicians and chefs and mechanics and lab techs and various other functions.
“Sariel!” It was Michael.
Signaling Nathan to stay put, Ofdensen wandered over to the bench. “You have a question, my Honored Brother Michael,” Ofdensen asked pleasantly.
Michael leaned over to whisper. “Who are…? Who are all these people?”
“Well those,” he pointed to some rather burly Klokateers near Nathan, “are bodyguards for Mr. Nathan Explosion, who, as you know, is a rather famous and important human being. And those over there are his personal assistants. And those are the assistants to the assistants. And that one is his dietician, as Mr. Explosion suffers from intermittent hypoglycemia. And those are a few of his publicists….”
“Publicists?”
“Yes, we’re looking into creating CD/DVD of this experience, as Mr. Explosion has a very popular spoken word series. That’s why the video, lighting and sound people, as well as Mr. Explosion’s vocal coach and his dialectician….”
“All right. All right. But then who are all of those other people?”
“Oh, I’m awfully sorry, those are my people. These are my legal partners, and of course our law clerks, file clerks, admins, interns, paralegals, their assistants…. And, uh, you, way back there? What do you do again?” He squinted down to the margins of the gallery area.
“I get the coffee, Sire!”
“Oh, cool. Could you get me a triple macchiato, extra hot?”
“Immediately, Sire!”
“You can’t have all these people in attendance today!” Michael scolded.
“Well, that’s a curious question, Honored Brother Michael! As it so happens, I have a modest library of angelic legal volumes, and I thought to have some of my people look into this very issue just last week! Can I get those briefs?” he asked a Klokateer in a suit, who asked another Klokateer, who asked another, and another. At a certain point, someone near the back of the gallery produced some paperwork, which was successively passed up to Ofdensen at the front of the courtroom area. He then in turn handed them off to yet another Klokateer, who shuffled them up to a Cherubic clerk, who finally passed them to the bench. Michael, obviously annoyed, shuffled through them, and then had a whispered conversation with the four other Archangels on the bench.
“All right,” Michael said at length, “We will allow it.”
“If it’s not too much trouble,” Ofdensen asked, “could you see fit to have some of your Cherubim set up a few more seats? I’m afraid the gallery as it’s presently arranged is going to be painfully inadequate.” He cringed slightly as one of the video camera cranes went over with a crash.
“I’ll see to it,” Michael grumbled, throwing the legal briefs back at a flustered Cherub.
Ofdensen got Nathan seated in the first row of the gallery, and then took a seat at the front table. He grinned as he watched a harried Cherub trip over some of the wiring his lighting Klokateers were noisily setting up. He had given everyone enough confusing, ambiguous and contradictory directions, he hoped, to keep things pleasantly chaotic.
There was a sound. It was music. Martial music.
A uniformed pipe and drum corps, approximately 50 strong, made its entrance to the venue, marching in time. Headed by a drum major with a large sword, they performed an elaborate routine, flourishing decorated drumsticks, and gaining some appreciative applause from several Klokateers who had paused to watch.
The pipe and drum corps at last came to a halt. And then the sound of hoofbeats erupted. A vast cavalry was arriving in Negative Space, mounted women and men girded for warfare. There were a few visible, and then a few more, and then the entire horizon seemed to be filled with their ranks. The bravest warriors of Valhalla had arrived, rattling their sabers, pounding their shields, their mounts scraping and snorting, their colorful banners streaming behind them. Several Klokateers had now climbed up on the gallery benches to take in the spectacle. It looked like something out of a Kurosawa movie.
Ofdensen noted with amusement that the armed Seraphim near the bench seemed to be cringing and moving closer together. He halfway hoped one of the angelic soldiers would lose it and True Form.
The pipe and drum corps began to play again, and a mounted honor guard consisting of eight armed horsemen and women rode before the front line of the cavalry, and at the head, Lord Wotan, the King. He was riding on his tremendous steed, the eight-legged Sleipnir, dressed in a stylish bespoke three piece suit, a golden crown on top of his head.
The king swung lightly out of the saddle, handing off the reigns to a waiting footman, who led Sleipnir off to the side.
“Whoa. That guy knows how to make an entrance!” Nathan enthused.
“It’s good to be king,” Ofdensen agreed. He tried to steal a glance at Michael, and wondered how much longer the Archangel had before his head was blown clean off his body from pure fury.
Next an equipage arrived, consisting of a closed white coach and driver, drawn by four pure white horses, plus numerous more liveried servants. One such servant opened the door, and a tiny, well-manicured hand fluttered out. Ofdensen noted with amusement that it took at least three servants to usher the tiny Raziel out of the coach.
She was dressed in a severe suit with high shoulder pads, and wore a small straw hat. Wotan strode over to her, and extended an elbow, and she took it. A uniformed page marched up in front of them, halted and announced, “His Most Serene Highness, Wotan, Lord of the Aesir, All Father, Wise One, Spear Shaker, Lord of the Undead, Father of Magical Songs, Raven God, Splendid One, God of Runes, Mover of Constellations, Friend of the Goths, and his Royal Consort, the Lady Raziel of the Seraphim.”
Then with great fuss and a few attendants trailing, Wotan escorted Raziel the 10 or so steps to the front row of audience seats, where she demurely sat down next to Nathan Explosion.
Ofdensen tipped back his own chair so he could whisper to her. “Witness for the Prosecution?” he guessed.
She leaned forward and nodded happily. “But, my Netflix copy didn’t arrive on time, so this outfit is based on a production still rather than the screen used costume.”
“Well, I guess sometimes you just have to improvise.”
“Uh. King Wotan,” Michael was saying from the bench.
“Oh, I don’t stand on ceremony, Mike,” Wotan assured the frowning Archangel. “You can just call me Your Majesty. Or Your Most Serene Highness will do.”
“Uh, yes, Your Majesty. I guess I am a bit surprised to see you here today.”
“Valhalla received a summons regarding the Lady Raziel of the Seraphim, my Royal Consort.”
“Your what?” Michael sputtered. Ofdensen took a sip of his Macchiato and glanced at the time on his Vacheron Constantin. He decided to give angelic head explosion 20 more minutes.
“Raziel, you cannot be Wotan’s consort if you’re still a member of the Host!” Michael exclaimed. Raziel grinned back at him.
“My Venerated Brother Michael, if I may?” Ofdensen interjected, standing up.
“Why, Sariel,” the king exclaimed, “how completely pleasant and unexpected to see you here!”
“Well, I am equally pleased by the great surprise of running into you here, Your Majesty,” Ofdensen said, shaking his hand. “I may have some interesting information for you.”
“Some interesting information? Why, what could that possibly be?”
“Well, just by a complete coincidence, I had some of my clerks look into my angelic law books regarding coexisting status as a member in good standing of the Host and local court status.”
“Why, what a fortunate and completely unexpected coincidence! And would you perhaps be willing to share this important information?”
Ofdensen gestured, and so began the wave of Klokateers asking other Klokateers, and then a legal brief slowly being passed hand to hand from the back of the courtroom area to the front, and then to Ofdensen, and then to the King, and then to one of the King’s footmen, and then to a Cherub, and finally up to the bench, where it was the subject of another whispered discussion.
Finally, Michael announced, “The bench reluctantly accepts the standing of King Wotan to answer for his Consort.”
Raziel grinned. “Uh, is this Michael dude the dude you guys used to work for?” Nathan whispered.
“Yep,” said Raziel. “I think he’s what you guys call a dildo?”
“Yeah, he’s totally a dildo,” Nathan agreed.
“And if we are finally all assembled, I would like to begin this inquest-“ the Archangel Michael began.
Then was a rumbling. Like a small earthquake.
The elephants had started arriving.
And there were also boars and oxen and tigers and lions and even more horses. And riding them were warriors with swords, and servants and footmen, and animals of all kinds: snakes and tortoises and bears and most of all, monkeys. The monkeys in particular seemed to be suddenly everywhere, including the bench, where one stole a most displeased Archangel Michael’s gavel.
“Monkey trial!” said Raziel, tasting her mocha latte.
“Monkeys are AWESOME,” Nathan noted appreciatively, sipping his Americano with three raw sugars.
“Everything is better with monkeys,” Raziel agreed.
A retinue of colorfully-dressed swordsmen marched to the forefront in formation. They skillfully juggled their flashing sabers, to enthusiastic applause and cheers from much of the audience: Klokateers (many of whom were now very openly standing up on benches and snapping photos with Dethphone cameras) and Asgard’s mounted cavalry, and even including a few of the Cherubim, who got stern looks from Archangel Michael.
Then the swordsmen marched into two columns facing each other, raising their sabers at attention. Lord Ganesh appeared between the two columns, wearing his most stylish human head, and dressed in a smart suit and clutching a briefcase. He coolly marched between the two columns while, with much glinting metal, swordsmen tossed their sabers across the column to each other both directly behind and directly in front of him. The elephant god did not blink.
“Whoa! I gotta say, that was even cooler than King Wotan,” Nathan whispered to Raziel.
“Yeah, that was pretty damn cool,” she agreed.
Ganesh placed his briefcase on the table and snapped it open. He extracted a pair of reading glasses from a breast pocket, donned them, and began to read from a brief.
“On behalf of Supreme God The Lord Shiva The Destroyer, Mahadeva, Maheshvara, Parameshvara, Leader of the Eastern Kingdom, also known as Rudra Sarva, also known as Agni Sasipanjara, also known as Tivasimati, the Invincible, the Mighty, the Terrible, the Lord of the Dance-“
“Uh,” said Archangel Michael, his head in his hands, “is it possible we could just read Lord Shiva’s many honorable epithets into the court record and get on with it?”
“I believe that would be satisfactory,” answered Ganesh. He handed off a rather substantial stack of paperwork to a monkey servant, and the simian carried it over to a Cherub.
“And may I understand the reason for this … interruption?” Michael asked.
“Certainly! I am the Lord Ganesh, Remover of Obstacles, Lord of Beginnings and Lord of Obstacles, and chief legal counsel for the Eastern Kingdom, LLC. On behalf of our kingdom, I am here today to submit a brief of amicus curiae regarding the matter before the court today.”
“You’re here as a friend of the court?”
“That is correct Your Honor.”
“You can’t submit a friend of the court brief to this tribunal!”
“If I may, Your Honor?” Ofdensen asked.
“What is it now, Sariel?” Michael snapped.
“Why, Sariel!” Ganesh gushed. “I didn’t even see you sitting there! What a completely unexpected and pleasant surprise!” Ganesh strode over to shake Ofdensen’s hand.
“I find it equally surprising! And pleasant!” Ofdensen enthused. “And do you know Lord Wotan?”
“Why, Your Majesty!” Ganesh said, shaking the king’s hand in turn. “I am completely taken aback! It is indeed prodigious that you would be here in attendance today!”
“And you are here with a friend of the court brief?” Wotan inquired.
“Yes, that is correct, I am here as a friend of the court!”
“I may have some vital and interesting information regarding your amicus brief!” Ofdensen suggested.
“Interesting information?” said Ganesh. “I can’t imagine!”
“Well, just by a complete coincidence, I had some of my clerks look into my angelic law books regarding filing an amicus brief in this court,” Ofdensen told him.
“I would be so terribly grateful if you could possibly share that information with me now.”
Archangel Michael literally had his head down on the bench as they repeated the brief-passing ritual. Ofdensen grinned over his second macchiato and dearly hoped at least one of the idiot Klokateers behind the various video cameras was capturing this moment, as he was already hitting his mental rewind button. On the big screen in the control room. Oh, yes.
“We will allow this,” Michael finally sighed. “Lord Ganesh, can you kindly summarize your brief for the court?”
“Certainly, your honor,” Ganesh replied. He doffed his reading glasses and stood before the bench for a long moment.
“Your honors, Your Most Serene Highness,” he nodded to Wotan, “and Honored Sariel,” and to Ofdensen, “as I stand before you today, think of me not as counsel for the Eastern Kingdom, but rather, as a concerned businessman. Along with my family, I presently run one of the largest corporations in this universe. My associates,” and he waved a hand to where elephants scraped the ground and colorfully dressed swordsmen stood at attention, “though they are dressed, as demanded by our ritual, for the ancient practice of warfare, will return to our kingdom tonight, and to lives of peace, and prosperity. Certainly, in this last half century, we have been blessed with peace.”
“I love courtroom dramas!” Raziel whispered to Nathan.
“Especially with monkeys!” Nathan replied, feeding some chips to a new friend.
“But I believe all of us here recall the … unpleasantness of the last two centuries,” Ganesh continued. “When my honored friends of the Legion,” and here Ganesh stopped and frowned towards the sword-bearing Seraphim lined up beside the bench, “sadly, clashed daily with our soldiers, the men and women of the Eastern Kingdom. Perhaps you recall how we at last requested the Legion leave us to our affairs? Perhaps you recall how the Legion, at last, and reluctantly, complied.” Some of the Seraphic swordsmen shuffled their feet. The Eastern Kingdom had, in fact, beaten back the Legion. It had been their most crushing defeat in recent memory.
“It was thus with severe … disappointment that we learned that the Legion - and as you will agree, all members I see before me on the bench,” and here Ganesh stared for a moment at each angelic justice in turn, “are, every one of them, associated with the Legion - had now seen fit to intervene in a legal Blood Feud.” Ganesh shook his head with apparent sadness and walked back towards the counsel table.
Ganesh re-donned his reading glasses, and shuffled through some papers in his briefcase. "Honored Justices,” he concluded, “I don't like violence. I am a businessman. And blood is a big expense. But, I will do what must be done, as I have always done, as we have always done, to protect our interests. And kindly understand, what you do today, you do not do in silence, nor in secret.” Ganesh gestured towards the video cameras. “What you do today will be watched, and closely. Not only by the Eastern Kingdom. By by other Pantheons. By every Pantheon. And so I politely request you today, as a friend of this court, as a respectful outsider, and on behalf of the Eastern Kingdom, to reconsider your jurisdiction in this case.”
“Cool, huh?” Raziel whispered to Nathan.
“Dude, I totally wanna go break some laws and shit just so this dude can defend me!” Nathan agreed.
“And he looks so sexy in those glasses!”
“Uh. Eh. I dunno about that.”
Michael was conferring with the other angelic justices once again. This time, the conference appeared to grow a bit heated.
“I’m not gonna start another war with the Eastern Kingdom just so you can keep covering your ass, Michael,” one of the justices finally shouted. Everyone seated near the front of the court looked over to the bench with interest as one furious angelic justice disappeared. Archangel Michael blinked, and then went on conferring with the remaining three Archangels. At length, he said, “Thank you, Lord Ganesh, we will, uh, take this under advisement.”
From the sky erupted a sonorous, but strangely familiar cry.
“Oh what the fuck is it now?” said Michael.
The fire lizard flew gracefully, like a delicate green banner in the sky. It was not, sadly, quite as graceful when it finally alit in the courtroom, its long tail flicking over a couple of the armed Seraphim when it twitched.
A large man with a bear’s head hopped off and waved enthusiastically at Nathan. “Hon, dude!” said Nathan, as he and his monkey friend waved back. About two dozen other Kachinas clambered off the flying serpent’s green back, wearing various owl and deer and other heads Nathan couldn’t recognize. Hon paused to assist a small bearded human man in dismounting. He then escorted the bearded man over to the lawyer’s table, where the man opened his briefcase and extracted some papers.
The bearded man placed his papers down on the table and adjusted his reading glasses. “I am Myron Lefkowitz, attorney at law, and I am representing the combined New World Tribes in adjudication. With permission of the other litigants, we seek a permissive intervention in this matter.”
“We definitely have no objections to this,” Ofdensen said. “How about you, Your Majesty?”
“Sounds good to me!” Wotan agreed. “Let’s hear what this fellow has to say!”
Myron Lefkowitz nodded. “I stand here in the matter of a class action regarding the following New World tribes and peoples.” He peered at his notes. “Tribal associations including but not limited to the A'ananin, Abenaki, Absaalooke, Achumawi, Acjachemen, Acoma, Agua Caliente, Adai, Ahtna, Ajachemen, Akimel O'odham, Akwaala, Alabama-Coushatta, Aleut, Alutiiq, Algonquians, Algonquin, Alliklik, Alnobak, Alsea, Andaste, Anishinaabe, Aniyunwiya, Antoniaño, Apache, Apalachee, Applegate, Apsaalooke, Arapaho, Arawak, Arikara, Assiniboine, Atakapa, Atikamekw, Atsina, Atsugewi, Araucano, Avoyel, Ayisiyiniwok, Aymara, Aztec, Babine, Bannock, Barbareño, Bari, Bear River, Beaver, Bella Bella, Bella Coola, Beothuks, Bidai, Biloxi, Black Carib, Blackfoot, Blood Indians, Bora….”
“Uh, perhaps this list can be read into the record,” Michael sighed. Myron Lefkowitz handed over a rather thick stack of papers to a nearby monkey, who conveyed it to a Cherub.
“And you are here for….” Michael asked.
“We are here in the matter of a class action regarding the above named tribal peoples of the New World. We are seeking reparations for the aforesaid tribes for damages incurred by what is commonly referred to as the Genocide, or the New World Holocaust, from the Angelic Host, in the amount of no less than 125 trillion dollars. I have an itemized spreadsheet breaking down damages, if you would like me to read it….”
“Just….” And Michael waved tiredly. And another thick sheaf of papers made its way to the bench.
“As our first motion, due to excessive burdens places on the plaintiffs, we are petitioning for a change of venue.”
“You would like to move the venue?” Archangel Michael asked.
“That is correct, your honor. We would prefer the location to be changed to the superior court of Trenton.”
“You…. You would like…. You would like to move this hearing to…. New Jersey?” Michael sputtered.
“We are so petitioning, Your Honor,” said Myron Lefkowitz, attorney at law, to the Archangel Michael.
It was at about this point that the other Archangels decided that it would be best for Archangel Michael to take a very brief recess, perhaps until the beginning of the next human century.
Some time later, the angels had all cleared out of the courtroom area. Well, all but two. They sat with Ganesh, attorney at law: Ofdensen contentedly puffing on a Wotan-supplied Cuban, Raziel up on the table, kicking her small legs, fiddling with Ganesh’s reading glasses.
“You don’t really need these glasses to read do you?” she asked the god, peering through them.
He laughed and leaned forward, smiling. “Confidentially, no, but they make my appearance more officious, don’t you think?”
Raziel pushed on the glasses. “They look awfully sexy!” she commented.
Ganesh chuckled. “Yes, Lady Raziel, it’s quite vitally important that I look my sexiest during practice of contract law.” Ofdensen glanced at the elephant god. He had a very pleasant laugh. Like his mother. That family….
“Do you actually require your eyeglasses, Sariel,” Ganesh asked.
Ofdensen cringed. “Uh. Yeah, unfortunately. My eyes don’t…. Deal well with this place.”
“You have perfectly lovely eyes, Sariel, don’t pout,” Raziel stated, hopping off the table wearing Ganesh’s eyeglasses. “Can I go show Wotan?” she asked. Ganesh waved her off.
“Good god,” muttered Ofdensen.
“You don’t find it a bit charming?” Ganesh asked, watching Raziel model his eyeglasses for the cigar-chomping king.
“Wait a few thousand years.”
“They seem a good match,” Ganesh tried.
“Well,” Ofdensen ruefully looked over to where bespectacled Raziel had now made herself at home in an obviously appreciative Wotan’s lap. “At least he’s not like those idiots she used to waste time with. When she was a ‘party girl.’”
“Oh? What were they like?”
“Ah, I dunno. Maybe kinda like you, if you had your brain removed. She liked these fatally handsome men who were…. Uh. Stupid.” Oh sweet Jesus please tell me that did not really just come out of my mouth, Ofdensen thought with mounting horror. He shot a side glance at Ganesh, who had risen, snapping his briefcase closed. He was smiling that funny smile that looked somehow too big for his face.
“We have decided to take our leave,” King Wotan announced. He and Raziel had somehow suddenly appeared at the lawyers’ table. He pumped Ganesh’s hand. “Good job today. Hope we gave those bastards a bit of a show.”
“I believe we made a lasting impression,” Ganesh commented.
“It’s…. It’s never easy to tell with Michael,” Ofdensen noted as he was getting his entire body shaken by the king’s enthusiastic back patting.
“Guess we’ll just have to see,” the King noted, already starting to stride off. “My Lady?” he called.
Raziel was still at the table, leaning over to Ganesh, holding up his eyeglasses. “Can I borrow these?” she whispered to him. “PLEASE?”
“Sure, go ahead,” he replied, grinning. She put on the glasses and, waving to Ofdensen, was pattering after the King. This time, Wotan assisted Raziel into the coach, grabbing her by the waist and hoisting her into the cab, and then climbed in after, shutting the door with a rather determined slam. An attendant signaled, and the coach took off.
“Hm. Seems the king can’t wait to return to Valhalla to play Prosecutor and Hostile Witness,” Ganesh laughed.
“Oh, shit, Ganesh, I was supposed to schedule a meeting with you. I’m so sorry. I’ve been so fucking busy with this stuff.”
“It’s no matter. You obviously have much weighing on your mind at present.”
“It’s always that way.”
“CHARLES CAN I KEEP THIS MONKEY HE LIKES ME?” It was Nathan. With a monkey.
“Uh, well, I guess you need to ask Lord Ganesh about that, Nathan.”
“I am most pleased that you have found a new acquaintance, Nathan,” Ganesh told him “Sadly, I know this particular beast is a special favorite of my mother’s. Perhaps I might make an alternative suggestion? Perhaps you might honor the Eastern Kingdom with a visit in the near future.”
“Many, many monkeys there, Nathan,” Ofdensen suggested.
“Monkeys are awesome!” Nathan said.
“Then it shall be done,” Ganesh smiled. He reached out a hand, and Nathan’s monkey suddenly sprang up his arm and onto his shoulder. He gave a small bow, and snapped his fingers. Instantly, the honor guard of swordsmen was at his side, escorting him from the court area.
“Charles, that was the best meeting ever in my whole life!” Nathan exclaimed.
“Uh-huh. Monkeys?”
“EVERY meeting should have monkeys and elephants! And guys with swords! Can we get guys with swords.”
“I’ll, uh, look into it.”
“Did you see the tigers? Are we going to get ice cream now? I wanna tell the other guys. Do you think we could ride on the dragon? Could we get a dragon? Maybe we could take the monkeys on a ride with the dragon?”
Many years ago….
“What did you say about Sariel?”
The angel Ramiel looked up from his beer to see the little Seraph. He cast his eyes carefully around the Inn before he responded.
“What. Have you been saying. About Sariel?” she persisted.
Ramiel cursed. There were not only enough Cherubim sitting on their fat asses that this would definitely get back to Headquarters, there were a couple of Seraphim over at the bar. And, yes, they were watching.
“You boyfriend come crying to you again?” Ramiel tried.
“Take. It. Back.”
Ramiel saw the two Seraphim whispering to each other out of the corner of his eye. He knew well what people said about Raziel and her swordfighting skills. But, he thought, just look at her. Ridiculous. And how competent could she possibly be, especially associating with a freak like Sariel.
He stood. And sealed his fate.
“Make me,” he told her.
Sariel looked up from his book. He was peering over the smoked eyeglasses he now habitually wore when he was abroad. His odd silver eyes didn’t cope very well with the world outside Headquarters. Mistakes had been made, some said, with the New Ones. Sariel’s eyes were one of the least.
He had toned down his looks considerably for his Court Form. Too much so, in Raziel’s opinion. But she was quickly learning Sariel had his own, very strong, opinions regarding nearly everything.
“So, what happened?” he asked.
“Like you said, I challenged him while some of his buddies were listening, and he bit.”
“Ex-angel?”
“Snicker-snack,” she said, pulling up a chair and signaling the barmaid. Then she added, “Men are stupid.”
“How are men stupid?”
“Well, he must have known I would kill him. Why didn’t he just back down?”
“How is it you spend so much of your time snacking on tasty men, and seem to have gleaned so very little about them?”
“Well, they’re cute to fool around with. But you know.” She held up the beer glass the girl had just set down. “I don’t have this great need to understand my beer. I just drink it and I’m done.”
He laughed.
“So, now that I’ve killed him, what did he say, anyway?” she asked.
“According to rumor, he called me a homosexual.”
“Well, um, aren’t you?”
“I don’t believe that word completely captures my erotic proclivities.”
“And, how did he know this interesting fact?”
Sariel grinned. “Probably because I fucked him.”
“Godammit, Little Brother, I told you three things, just THREE THINGS to avoid: Headquarters, Court politics, and dating angel men. And what do you do? I mean, what the fuck?”
“Perhaps I embrace a challenge.”
“Why don’t you try some nice human men for a change?”
“Human men are appalling. I would never fuck a human.”
“Never is a long time.”
“Now, maybe I could find a nice local god.”
“Oh, local gods are ridiculous,” Raziel sneered. “Look at me! I’m Bucky! And I’m god of … these rocks over here!”
Sariel smiled into his own beer.
“Look, Sariel, seriously.” She leaned over towards him. “Promise me you won’t get your wings up over this….”
“Raziel. You unerringly say that to me exactly when I ought get my wings up over something,” he complained. But she had started looking serious, so he decided to listen. “What is it?”
“I told you I was with a couple of angel men.”
“And they were horrible. Yes.”
She was staring, and looking distinctly unhappy. “The first one? The first time?” He nodded. It was a bit weird for her to stop burbling. But it usually meant there was something interesting coming. He sipped his beer and waited.
“OK,” she said. Her voice had gotten low. “I didn’t know. Because, I don’t know how I would have known. There was…. There was no one to ask. But, what I figured out afterwards, was that he raped me. I mean, much later. I figured this out. But here was the worst thing, and I want you to hear me. What happened was, just after, I found he was going around, telling everyone I was … well, I was also too new to even know what he was talking about. A prostitute or something? I wasn’t even sure what the words meant. That it was all me, and that it meant I’m evil. It’s just, I worry about you, I don’t think you realize-“ She looked up to meet his eyes. Steel grey eyes.
“Who?”
“Little Brother, I said no wings up.”
“Who?”
“It’s…. You don’t need to worry about him any more.”
He stared at her a while longer. “Snicker-snack?” he finally asked.
“Kind of like that,” she said, looking into her beer glass.
“Raziel, if anyone EVER….”
“They won’t. Not any more anyway. If they’re not scared of me, they’re definitely scared of you.”
“I can’t imagine why.” He sighed. “I’m such a lovely guy.”
She laughed softly. “Sariel. You just had me kill somebody because he failed to adequately describe the full range of your sexual experience.”
He smiled ruefully. “That’s not why we killed him. You do understand that?”
“I don’t think I want to understand. Just…. Just, tell me who to kill and when to kill them. You know I’ll do it.”
“They were murdering New Ones. You know that.”
“We do that. Kill each other. You didn’t think we called you guys Little Brother because we liked you or anything?”
He smiled and shook his head.
“I know you think there’s some kind of conspiracy,” Raziel continued, “but look at Morningstar! They say they’re readying some kind of special project for him and those guys he hangs around with.”
“Earth?” Sariel asked. She nodded. “It sounds horrible. And Morningstar is an asshole.”
“Yeah. I’ll stay far away from Earth is Lucifer is anywhere near.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
“Wanna get out of here?” Sariel asked.
“I wanna go find a really pretty man,” Raziel said.
He smiled. “Let’s go find Bucky, Lord of the Rocks.”