The Devil Loves Swiss Chocolate {Chapter 1}
Title: The Devil Loves Swiss Chocolate
Fandom: Figure Skating Real Person Fiction
Pairings/Characters: Johnny Weir/Stephane Lambiel, Alexei Yagudin/Evgeni Plushenko, Brian Joubert/Tomas Verner, Ryan Bradley/Drew Meekins. but everyone pops in at some point.
Genres: AU/Humor/Parody
Rating: R
Summary: Good Omens AU for skatingkink. Johnny is a young angel who is sent down to Earth to helped tempted people. When he meets Stephane, a notorious demon with a sweet tooth, he just might be tempted. Meanwhile, Stephane really should just kill him, God and Satan are having an affair, there is no vodka in Hell, Archangel Raphael owns a hot dog stand, and the world as everyone knows it just might end by the end of the week. On a Saturday. It's very complicated.
Notes: This story is a complete work of fiction: it involves real people, who I have no association with, and Good Omens belongs to Gaiman and Prachett. This has been a fun ride, and I hope you guys all have a good read. :)
===
Today was a nice day.
In fact, that was a very redundant statement. All the days were nice, and Johnny had long since last track of the days, since he spent most of his time scribbling down prayer requests on post-its, arranging them by color. He could not remember the last time he had stepped outside of this place, but somehow he just knew the day was going to be nice. Anyone who complained about the nice weather was immediately banished to Iowa.
Johnny had never been to Iowa. All he knew about Iowa was that the days probably weren’t always so nice. Other angels in the cubicles around him whispered that Iowa was like a second hell or something equally horrible.
The phone on his desk rang; Johnny sighed and picked it up, thumbing through his colorful collection of post-its, he was running out of sunflower yellow, and hoped that the incoming call was not going to be about someone’s plants dying. Otherwise he would have to go and fill out Form F4.6 and even he had been here long enough to know that it took close to forever. And here in the Great Heavens, ‘forever’ was legitimately a very, very long time.
“Hello, Prayer Hotline,” Johnny took especial care to sound cheerful, that was the number rule of working the Prayer Hotline. Even if the person on the other end of the line was going to most likely bawl their eyes out, Prayer Hotline workers were supposed to be upbeat, happy. “This is Johnny speaking, pray at your leisure.”
“H-hello,” it was a little girl’s voice on the other end. “My dolly’s head fell off, Mommy said if I prayed, God will fix it.”
Broken toys were carrot orange. Johnny scribbled down ‘broken doll’ in block letters. He didn’t really like block letters, but the Great Heavens demanded it so and so everyone wrote in block letters.
“Hey, Johnny?”
It was Adam, who worked in the cubicle next door; he wore an apologetic smile, “Sorry to interrupt, but do you have any sunflower yellow? I’m fresh out.”
“I have three left, here, take them.”
“Thanks.”
The phone rang again.
“Hello, Prayer Hotline,” Johnny said again. “This is Johnny speaking, pray at your leisure.”
“Hi, it’s been raining nonstop in Seattle, can it please, please stop now?”
Weather problems were lavender. Johnny printed ‘excess rain in Seattle’ and tacked it on the billboard next to ‘very very bad drought in Tanzania.’
The phone rang again, “Hello Prayer Hotline, This is --”
“Johnny, I know.” The voice on the other end wasn’t one that he had heard before, but still sent chills down his spine anyway. The voice had an interesting accent. “This is Evgeni.”
Evgeni. Johnny quickly ran that name through his mental rolodex, came up with absolutely nothing. “Erm...I don’t think I know you. Unless you’re from a past life and I don’t remember.”
The voice let out an annoyed hiss of sorts, “Honestly. Fine, we’re definitely trying this again. How about this: hello, Johnny, this is God.”
“God?” Johnny practically dropped the phone.
Suddenly, there was a dead silence. Adam leaned over and raised a worried eyebrow, as did the majority of other people in the vicinity.
God (or, Evgeni, apparently) made that exasperated sound at the back of his throat again. “You know, there’s a legitimate reason I said my name was Evgeni. Do you not understand what my actual name does to workplace productivity?”
“Uh...I guess...I do now.” Said Johnny. “What can I do for you, God -- I mean, Evgeni?”
At this, Adam leaned all the way over and went bugger-eyed, “God’s name is Evgeni?”
Evgeni mumbled something that sounded like swearing; it wasn’t a language that Johnny hardly recognized, but then again, Evgeni was God, while Johnny was just some amateur angel working Prayer Hotline from nine to five. All angels started out on the Prayer Hotline. “Tell Adam to get back to work Or else I will stop time and no one gets off work.”
Johnny turned, and Adam suddenly flinched. “Evgeni says --”
“That he’ll stop time, yeah, we heard...going back to work now.” Jeremy, who was on his other side, rolled his eyes. “God, you’re no fun.”
“You hear that?” Johnny said into the phone.
Evgeni sighed, “It’s nothing new. Anyway, I need you in my office.”
“But my calls...”
“--Are being routed to Adam and Jeremy as we speak,” Evgeni’s voice suddenly sounded about ten times more threatening, “By the way, do you always talk back to God like this, Johnny?”
Johnny was about to say that he didn’t know about ‘always,’ he’d never had a phone conversation with God before. But then he thought better of it, maybe Evgeni was already inside of his head. “Uh, no. I’ll...I’ll be right there.”
“Good.”
Johnny hung up. Then he remembered that the whole of the Great Heavens was something like a master-level office labyrinth and he hadn’t the slightest where God’s office was located. He’d heard good and bad things about God’s office, and he had been pretty content about never seeing the inside of God’s office ever. It wasn’t like he had the patience of a saint to make Employee of the Month or anything.
Great.
“Hey, guys...where’s Evgeni’s office?”
Jeremy tore a piece of salmon pink almost savagely from his stack (salmon pink for teenage angst -- the category was established only recently and they all hated it with a fiery passion most of them did not know was possible.) “Spin around three times counter-clock wise, then three times clockwise, and stop at two o’ clock.”
Johnny gave him a strange look of sorts, “Oh, okay. Thanks.”
“Have fun.”
===
It took Johnny three tries to actually stop at two o’ clock. It was harder than it looked. But when he finally managed it the third time, a door appeared in the middle of the aisle. No one else seemed to notice it. Hesitantly, Johnny stepped up to the door and knocked -- three times, just to be safe. It seemed to be the magic number.
“Come in,” said Evgeni’s voice.
Johnny took a deep breath and turned the knob.
He didn’t know what to expect, exactly, but the office was enormous, that Johnny almost felt like he was swallowed up in it. Along one wall was a huge billboard tacked with post-its, Johnny thought he saw a couple of those with his own handwriting on it. Along another wall was a series of maps, the maps were dated: 1402, 1771, 1812 and so on. Evgeni had the most recent one too: 2010. The modern world seemed to be causing him a lot of problems because it was scrawled all over violently in red marker, unlike all the other maps which were relatively blank.
“Well, sit down! I don’t have all day.”
===
Somewhere else, it was a Saturday morning, and it was gloomy. Maybe it had something to do with the atrocity that was the number six.
Once a month on the sixth of every month, a group of inconspicuous-looking businessmen in matching gray cooperate suits would rent a large conference room at the Airport Mariott at LAX. This was convenient for many reasons that are entirely too complicated to explain right now. No one knew much about them, but it was generally agreed upon that they were possibly the most unfunny group around.
A man named Alexei Yagudin was in charge, he was rather small in stature, but everyone seemed to be scared out of their wits when they were around him so no one said anything. This was wise, for Alexei Yagudin had lots of other names too.
One of them was Satan.
===
This time, Alexei and his party were given Conference 4B on the top floor with windows. Alexei looked pleased. He took his usual place at the head of the table and flipped through a large binder, for no other reason than to pretend he had a purpose. It was actually more than a bit ironic.
But since he was Satan and all, Alexei was a great believer in irony, among many other things. Among them, he believed in first and foremost punctuality, then order. He took a moment to raise his eyes from the binder to look around the table.
Most everyone was present. Except --
“Where is Stéphane?”
No one spoke. In fact, everyone more or less cowered in their seats. Aside from Alexei, everyone was afraid of Stéphane. Stéphane, like the rest of them, had many names. One of them was ‘Original Sin.’ He certainly didn’t look like it, but he was plenty frightening when he wanted to be. Lucky for all of them he normally chose to be anything but, instead.
“Well?” Demanded Alexei, who had thin patience.
Everyone cowered some more, until Jeffrey (whose other name was Mammon*) raised a timid hand, “I heard he was stuck at the airport in Switzerland...he said he called ahead. Didn’t you get his message?”
“What in the world is he doing in Switzerland?” Alexei fished out his Blackberry, indeed, he had one new message in his voicemail. He was about to click on it when
“It’s the best place to get Swiss chocolates, don’t you know, Alexei? Remind me to send you a customized box for Christmas.” Out of nowhere, Stéphane had appeared. He was of average height, and endlessly cheerful. The bright shirt he was wearing made him look sordidly out of place, but that did not seem to bother him in the slightest as he took a seat between Jeffrey and Brian (whose other name was Moloch*).
Alexei mumbled, “I don’t celebrate Christmas.”
“That’s fine,” Stéphane assured him, “New Year’s, then. Or Valentine’s Day, if you prefer. The holidays are abundant. Hell should take a memo. I think we’d all be a lot less miserable for it.”
Brian coughed pointedly and elbowed Stéphane in the ribs.
“Anyway...what did I miss?”
“We have not started yet,” Alexei tapped his binder with an accusing finger, “As usual, you’ve held up the meeting. After we recount our temptations, I have some grave news that I have no choice but to share with you all -- Jeffrey? Why don’t you start us off?”
Jeffrey said, “Well, today I made sure that three teenaged girls who were shopping for their friend’s birthday present made a detour to Louis Vuitton. They now covet the merchandise, so perhaps in six months or maybe even less, they will become shoplifters.”
“Very good. And you, Brian?”
“I went to a bar and flirted with married women, and now they’re all going to go home and think adulterous thoughts about me while they’re in bed with their husbands.” Brian sounded bored as he examined his fingers. He was always bored.
“Good, good. Stéphane?”
“I went to Switzerland and gave out free Swiss Chocolate to children on the street.” Stéphane said, without so much as missing a beat.
Alexei narrowed his eyes, “Excuse me?”
At the same time, all of the others shook their heads.
“What?” Stéphane blinked.
Alexei simmered, all the others who knew better waited with bated breath, (in case anyone was wondering, everyone in the category of those who knew better included everybody with the exception of Stéphane. This was nowhere near surprising to any of the parties involved.) Finally, though, Alexei just sighed, “...Never mind, we’ll come back to you later. Next?”
Beelzebub*, who had adopted the name ‘Sergei**’ for earthly purposes, cleared his throat. “Today in downtown L.A., there were many drivers pissed at the radio traffic report and ergo ran over innocent pedestrians, thus tempted into committing murder. Also they closed off the 60 Freeway.”
“Good...next?”
“I served one too many vodka shots at a bar and initiated a fight over a bIliards game.” said Belial*, whose name was Adrian. “All parties involved were either arrested or sent to the hospital, thus promoting general chaos.”
“Very good,” now Alexei closed his eyes and looked rather pained. “Now that we have heard everything -- Stéphane, how does giving out free Swiss chocolate to children count as a temptation, or a preceptor to a sin?”
“Have you ever heard the phrase ‘don’t accept candy from strangers,’ Alexei?”
“Can’t say I have, no.” Alexei looked like he wanted to start simmering again.
“Oh,” Stéphane heaved a rather exasperated sigh of his own, “Well then. Even if you haven’t...you do know that fifty percent of the children I encountered today on the street will grow up in fifteen years to become morbidly obese and therefore partake in gluttony.”
“In fifteen years?” Here, Alexei’s eyebrows paused in knitting together to rise sky high instead.
“Well, of course, don’t you know that patience is a virtue, Alexei?” Stéphane smiled winningly at him and clicked his tongue. “Someone like you should know better.”
===
“Mortals are crying out for help, Johnny. They are being tempted every day. We are up here, helpless to stop any of it.”
Evgeni looked quite comfortable there in his chair. Johnny could have accused him of being lazy and not even willing to raise a finger, except Evgeni was God, so it was probably not a smart idea. “Is that what all these red marks are for?” Johnny gestured towards the 2010 map.
Evgeni hmmed noncommittally and stared at him intently for a long moment, not even blinking once, “I’ve come to a decision, Johnny.” He said finally, “I’m sending you to Earth.”
“What?” Above all else, Johnny was bewildered, “Why me?”
“Why not you?” Evgeni said. His voice was light, but if Johnny listened hard enough, he thought he detected barely covered malice and hurried to save his own skin.
“I don’t think I’m right for the job at all,” Johnny admitted. He found that he mostly meant it. After all, he didn’t think he would be good at this...helping humans resist temptation thing. He barely trusted himself. But he wasn’t about to let that on because he had a feeling that Evgeni would not be too pleased at this admission, however honest.
“And why not?” Evgeni asked again, this time, the malice was obvious and Johnny actually cowered.
“Because,” Johnny bit down on his lip. “I don’t think I’d like Earth.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it sounded just ridiculous enough for the position he was in. “Besides, what would I do? I mean, I’ll go down there, sure...” he trailed off with an offhanded shrug, “But what would I do, Evgeni? Don’t you have higher up angels for this sort of thing?” Suddenly, working the Prayer Hotline from nine to five on business days didn’t seem so horrible anymore.
Evgeni sighed an undoubtedly irritated sigh as he rubbed his forehead pointedly, “Johnny, I was trusting you to not make this a habit.”
“Make what a habit?” Johnny tilted his head curiously.
Suddenly without any warning, Evgeni’s eyes flashed a violent shade of black, “Arguing with me.” Johnny almost let out a undignified squeak of sorts, but he had his mouth covered, so perhaps it did not slip out so easily.
“I -- I mean, erm. I mean yes, sure, I’ll go to earth.” That sentence somehow managed to arrange itself into some sort of coherence. Johnny almost felt accomplished.
“Good,” Evgeni’s voice took on a cheery tone again. “I knew we were going to end up on the same page eventually. I’ve already arranged a contact for you down there, I trust that the two of you will get along.”
Then Evgeni waved his hands, and Johnny felt as if air had been sucked out of his lungs. His vision faded. He opened his mouth to scream, but there was no sound. Even Evgeni’s face was fading away.
Until there was nothing left there at all.
===
Johnny hit something. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was. All he really knew was that whatever he had hit, it’d hurt.
There was a loud honking noise, effectively shocking the rest of him back into consciousness.
“Get the fuck out of my way!”
Johnny barely looked up into to see a large truck speeding towards him. Ironically, the first thought that flashed through his mind was -- Oh, very funny, Evgeni. But for whatever reason, he could not move, it was as if his limbs were stuck to the cement.
At the last moment, he felt someone yank him by the back of his collar; then he was pulled none too gracefully to his feet. It felt strange to stand, and the truck sped by, with the driver sprouting even more curses.
Johnny looked to find a very, very good-looking man holding him firmly by the arm. The man wore a t-shirt and jeans, human clothing. But he knew at once that there was something ethereal about him. Hastily, he cleared his throat and disengaged his arm. A glance down at himself told him that he was dressed similarly, but Evgeni had awful fashion sense. Orange did not go with purple, at all. Johnny had spent much of his existence in white, but even he knew that much.
“...Hi...and well, thank you.”
The man looked him over up and down, “Hello, and you’re welcome...I’m guessing...God sent you.”
“That obvious?” Johnny picked idly at the edge of his orange shirt.
“He sent me down here looking like rainbow vomit, trust me. I ducked into the first thrift store I could find. Seeing all that white all the time probably has something to do with it...Evgeni can’t be blamed. I’d go insane too.” The stranger shuddered briefly at the horrid memory. And then he regained his composure and held out his hand for a friendly shake, “I’m Archangel Michael, but down here I’m Drew***.”
“Michael isn’t a strange name down here. At least, not last that I’ve heard,” Archangel Michael was the last person he expected Drew to be, but he took the proffered hand and shook it anyway. “Isn’t it easier just to keep the name?”
“Yes, but I’ve had the name for so long, it bores me.” At this, Drew appeared to be rather pained, but then the dour expression was at once traded in for something brighter. “What’s your name?”
“Oh,” When Drew put it that way, it made a lot of sense. Besides, Drew was a nice name, just like Michael -- which begged the question why God had sent Archangel Michael down here to languish on Earth. Something told him that it wasn’t a question that made for easy conversation, so Johnny told himself that he would inquire at a later time. “My name is...well, I suppose I am just Johnny. I haven’t been up there long enough to earn one of those long memorable names.”
Perhaps it was just Johnny’s imagination, but Drew’s expression almost darkened. But the frown had come and gone so fast that it was easy for Johnny to tell himself that he really was just dreaming.
Drew shrugged, “Maybe that’s a good thing,” he paused a moment and then made a gesture over at Johnny’s clothes, “Let’s go find you a thrift store.”
===
Alexei still looked like he wanted to hit something, But punctuality dictated most everything that he did, and a glance to his wristwatch made him let out an annoyed sigh as he scratched a hand through his hair, “Hold that thought, because one of these days, I’m going to dissect it for you and tell you once and for all every single thing that happens to be so very wrong with that statement. Until them, someone please hit him.”
For a moment, no one moved. Then Adrian said, “Dibs,” and proceeded to reached over and thwacked Stéphane generously on the back of his head.
“That actually hurt.” Stéphane rubbed the unfortunate bump on his head. “By the way...what is ‘dibs’?”
“It’s,” said Adrian, who looked ready to launch into a long-winded explanation, except he caught sight of Alexei’s face, and caughed abruptly. “Long story short, it’s when you want something first -- Alexei was saying something.”
“I was saying that Zhenya is up to something.” Said Alexei, and then he looked around the table. He was probably expecting everyone to immediately put on expressions of grave concern, but everyone just looked confused.
Jeffrey said, “Wait, who is ‘Zhenya’?”
“You mean you don’t know?” Alexei outright bristled, as if their not knowing was an unspeakable offense of sorts. “How do you people not know?”
“We really don’t know,” Stéphane added helpfully, with his head tilted just so at a curious angle.
“Oh,” Sergei suddenly looked thoughtful, and when it appeared as if he’d reached a conclusion, he paled white, then gray. “Oh.”
“Sergei, you know who Zhenya is?” Brian finally looked up from his fingers.
“Zhenya is...God.” Sergei stole a look at Alexei, and quickly added, “I think.”
“But I thought God’s name was Evgeni,” Jeffrey raised an eyebrow. “How can his name be Zhenya?”
“I gave him the name, but that’s besides the point --” Alexei sighed, “The point, is that God is up to something, and that is never good for us.”
Stéphane blinked, “That is very much the point. You gave God a special nickname. Alexei, that’s suspicious. You owe us an explanation.”
“Short story, he gave me one too, it was a mutual thing. I’m not about to let you talk me into talking about this now. The point is that a young angel made contact with the Archangel Michael today. This may or may not be relevant. I expect all of you to work harder on your temptations, and someone find out all they can about this angel.”
Adrian said, “What do you know about him?”
“My sources tell me that he is very young, nameless on the Great Heaven’s hierarchy. But there has to be a reason Zhen-- I mean Evgeni picked him out. Find out what, then kill him. His name is Johnny.”
“I still can’t believe you gave God a special nickname,” Stéphane shook his head.
“Stéphane!” Brian elbowed him again.
“Although you have to admit, ‘Oh, Zhenya’ does have a certain ring to it. I think I like it...If I remember, I’ll use it.” Stéphane pushed back his chair as he got up. “Can I have dibs on Johnny?”
“May I help?” Adrian looked hopeful.
Alexei looked between the two of them for a very, very long time. Beelzebub and ‘Original Sin’...somehow something told him that the Apocalypse was definitely going to be moved up quite a few years. That might actually not be a bad thing, in the broad scope of things. Finally, he consented with a slow nod.
“I’ll be in Hell if you need me.”
Alexei had a feeling that they might need him very soon.
===
Stéphane’s one pride and joy, aside from Swiss chocolate, was his car. a black Bentley which he obsessively took in for a wash and a wax every Tuesday. Adrian spent most of his time on a motorbike, as did Brian, Sergei, and Jeffrey. So obviously he was impressed by the car. Stéphane half-smirked at him, “If you can stop gawking for a moment and get in, it will save us some time. But feel free to compliment my car.”
Adrian indulged him begrudgingly, “Nice car.”
“Of course.”
“Wait,” said another voice. “I am coming too.”
Both of them turned to see Brian walking towards the Bentley and both of them groaned. Even though Brian was Alexei’s clear favorite out of the four, and thus his Powers to Destroy Things were that much better honed, he was a bit of a downer to have around. “Alexei sent you?”
“He’d rather the Armaggedon not happen so soon, that’s all. And he admits that sending the two of you after an Archangel is rather stupid.”
Adrian held up one finger, “I learned what this was today.” He huffed, “You deserve it.”
As much as Stéphane loved company, he was already looking forward to leaving the two of them in the nearest bar.
“Where’s Sergei?”
“He left to wreak more havoc on the freeways. I think he’s found his niche.” Brian shrugged.
“Someone call him and tell him not to clog up Freeway 710 going west. I might have to kill him.” He only half meant it. Stéphane wrenched his key in the ignition and the Bentley came alive with a protesting hum, as if it already knew that it was in for a long drive.
“Does anyone know any good bars around here? I’m buying.”
___
*Beelzebub, Mammon, Moloch, and Belial are Satan's four lieutenants as mentioned in John Milton's epic Paradise Lost.
**Sergei refers to the Russian figure skater Sergei Voronov.
***Drew refers to Johnny Weir's ex-boyfriend, pairs skater Drew Meekins.
===
>> 2 >> 3 >> 4 >> 5 >> 6 >> 7 >> 8
Fandom: Figure Skating Real Person Fiction
Pairings/Characters: Johnny Weir/Stephane Lambiel, Alexei Yagudin/Evgeni Plushenko, Brian Joubert/Tomas Verner, Ryan Bradley/Drew Meekins. but everyone pops in at some point.
Genres: AU/Humor/Parody
Rating: R
Summary: Good Omens AU for skatingkink. Johnny is a young angel who is sent down to Earth to helped tempted people. When he meets Stephane, a notorious demon with a sweet tooth, he just might be tempted. Meanwhile, Stephane really should just kill him, God and Satan are having an affair, there is no vodka in Hell, Archangel Raphael owns a hot dog stand, and the world as everyone knows it just might end by the end of the week. On a Saturday. It's very complicated.
Notes: This story is a complete work of fiction: it involves real people, who I have no association with, and Good Omens belongs to Gaiman and Prachett. This has been a fun ride, and I hope you guys all have a good read. :)
===
Today was a nice day.
In fact, that was a very redundant statement. All the days were nice, and Johnny had long since last track of the days, since he spent most of his time scribbling down prayer requests on post-its, arranging them by color. He could not remember the last time he had stepped outside of this place, but somehow he just knew the day was going to be nice. Anyone who complained about the nice weather was immediately banished to Iowa.
Johnny had never been to Iowa. All he knew about Iowa was that the days probably weren’t always so nice. Other angels in the cubicles around him whispered that Iowa was like a second hell or something equally horrible.
The phone on his desk rang; Johnny sighed and picked it up, thumbing through his colorful collection of post-its, he was running out of sunflower yellow, and hoped that the incoming call was not going to be about someone’s plants dying. Otherwise he would have to go and fill out Form F4.6 and even he had been here long enough to know that it took close to forever. And here in the Great Heavens, ‘forever’ was legitimately a very, very long time.
“Hello, Prayer Hotline,” Johnny took especial care to sound cheerful, that was the number rule of working the Prayer Hotline. Even if the person on the other end of the line was going to most likely bawl their eyes out, Prayer Hotline workers were supposed to be upbeat, happy. “This is Johnny speaking, pray at your leisure.”
“H-hello,” it was a little girl’s voice on the other end. “My dolly’s head fell off, Mommy said if I prayed, God will fix it.”
Broken toys were carrot orange. Johnny scribbled down ‘broken doll’ in block letters. He didn’t really like block letters, but the Great Heavens demanded it so and so everyone wrote in block letters.
“Hey, Johnny?”
It was Adam, who worked in the cubicle next door; he wore an apologetic smile, “Sorry to interrupt, but do you have any sunflower yellow? I’m fresh out.”
“I have three left, here, take them.”
“Thanks.”
The phone rang again.
“Hello, Prayer Hotline,” Johnny said again. “This is Johnny speaking, pray at your leisure.”
“Hi, it’s been raining nonstop in Seattle, can it please, please stop now?”
Weather problems were lavender. Johnny printed ‘excess rain in Seattle’ and tacked it on the billboard next to ‘very very bad drought in Tanzania.’
The phone rang again, “Hello Prayer Hotline, This is --”
“Johnny, I know.” The voice on the other end wasn’t one that he had heard before, but still sent chills down his spine anyway. The voice had an interesting accent. “This is Evgeni.”
Evgeni. Johnny quickly ran that name through his mental rolodex, came up with absolutely nothing. “Erm...I don’t think I know you. Unless you’re from a past life and I don’t remember.”
The voice let out an annoyed hiss of sorts, “Honestly. Fine, we’re definitely trying this again. How about this: hello, Johnny, this is God.”
“God?” Johnny practically dropped the phone.
Suddenly, there was a dead silence. Adam leaned over and raised a worried eyebrow, as did the majority of other people in the vicinity.
God (or, Evgeni, apparently) made that exasperated sound at the back of his throat again. “You know, there’s a legitimate reason I said my name was Evgeni. Do you not understand what my actual name does to workplace productivity?”
“Uh...I guess...I do now.” Said Johnny. “What can I do for you, God -- I mean, Evgeni?”
At this, Adam leaned all the way over and went bugger-eyed, “God’s name is Evgeni?”
Evgeni mumbled something that sounded like swearing; it wasn’t a language that Johnny hardly recognized, but then again, Evgeni was God, while Johnny was just some amateur angel working Prayer Hotline from nine to five. All angels started out on the Prayer Hotline. “Tell Adam to get back to work Or else I will stop time and no one gets off work.”
Johnny turned, and Adam suddenly flinched. “Evgeni says --”
“That he’ll stop time, yeah, we heard...going back to work now.” Jeremy, who was on his other side, rolled his eyes. “God, you’re no fun.”
“You hear that?” Johnny said into the phone.
Evgeni sighed, “It’s nothing new. Anyway, I need you in my office.”
“But my calls...”
“--Are being routed to Adam and Jeremy as we speak,” Evgeni’s voice suddenly sounded about ten times more threatening, “By the way, do you always talk back to God like this, Johnny?”
Johnny was about to say that he didn’t know about ‘always,’ he’d never had a phone conversation with God before. But then he thought better of it, maybe Evgeni was already inside of his head. “Uh, no. I’ll...I’ll be right there.”
“Good.”
Johnny hung up. Then he remembered that the whole of the Great Heavens was something like a master-level office labyrinth and he hadn’t the slightest where God’s office was located. He’d heard good and bad things about God’s office, and he had been pretty content about never seeing the inside of God’s office ever. It wasn’t like he had the patience of a saint to make Employee of the Month or anything.
Great.
“Hey, guys...where’s Evgeni’s office?”
Jeremy tore a piece of salmon pink almost savagely from his stack (salmon pink for teenage angst -- the category was established only recently and they all hated it with a fiery passion most of them did not know was possible.) “Spin around three times counter-clock wise, then three times clockwise, and stop at two o’ clock.”
Johnny gave him a strange look of sorts, “Oh, okay. Thanks.”
“Have fun.”
===
It took Johnny three tries to actually stop at two o’ clock. It was harder than it looked. But when he finally managed it the third time, a door appeared in the middle of the aisle. No one else seemed to notice it. Hesitantly, Johnny stepped up to the door and knocked -- three times, just to be safe. It seemed to be the magic number.
“Come in,” said Evgeni’s voice.
Johnny took a deep breath and turned the knob.
He didn’t know what to expect, exactly, but the office was enormous, that Johnny almost felt like he was swallowed up in it. Along one wall was a huge billboard tacked with post-its, Johnny thought he saw a couple of those with his own handwriting on it. Along another wall was a series of maps, the maps were dated: 1402, 1771, 1812 and so on. Evgeni had the most recent one too: 2010. The modern world seemed to be causing him a lot of problems because it was scrawled all over violently in red marker, unlike all the other maps which were relatively blank.
“Well, sit down! I don’t have all day.”
===
Somewhere else, it was a Saturday morning, and it was gloomy. Maybe it had something to do with the atrocity that was the number six.
Once a month on the sixth of every month, a group of inconspicuous-looking businessmen in matching gray cooperate suits would rent a large conference room at the Airport Mariott at LAX. This was convenient for many reasons that are entirely too complicated to explain right now. No one knew much about them, but it was generally agreed upon that they were possibly the most unfunny group around.
A man named Alexei Yagudin was in charge, he was rather small in stature, but everyone seemed to be scared out of their wits when they were around him so no one said anything. This was wise, for Alexei Yagudin had lots of other names too.
One of them was Satan.
===
This time, Alexei and his party were given Conference 4B on the top floor with windows. Alexei looked pleased. He took his usual place at the head of the table and flipped through a large binder, for no other reason than to pretend he had a purpose. It was actually more than a bit ironic.
But since he was Satan and all, Alexei was a great believer in irony, among many other things. Among them, he believed in first and foremost punctuality, then order. He took a moment to raise his eyes from the binder to look around the table.
Most everyone was present. Except --
“Where is Stéphane?”
No one spoke. In fact, everyone more or less cowered in their seats. Aside from Alexei, everyone was afraid of Stéphane. Stéphane, like the rest of them, had many names. One of them was ‘Original Sin.’ He certainly didn’t look like it, but he was plenty frightening when he wanted to be. Lucky for all of them he normally chose to be anything but, instead.
“Well?” Demanded Alexei, who had thin patience.
Everyone cowered some more, until Jeffrey (whose other name was Mammon*) raised a timid hand, “I heard he was stuck at the airport in Switzerland...he said he called ahead. Didn’t you get his message?”
“What in the world is he doing in Switzerland?” Alexei fished out his Blackberry, indeed, he had one new message in his voicemail. He was about to click on it when
“It’s the best place to get Swiss chocolates, don’t you know, Alexei? Remind me to send you a customized box for Christmas.” Out of nowhere, Stéphane had appeared. He was of average height, and endlessly cheerful. The bright shirt he was wearing made him look sordidly out of place, but that did not seem to bother him in the slightest as he took a seat between Jeffrey and Brian (whose other name was Moloch*).
Alexei mumbled, “I don’t celebrate Christmas.”
“That’s fine,” Stéphane assured him, “New Year’s, then. Or Valentine’s Day, if you prefer. The holidays are abundant. Hell should take a memo. I think we’d all be a lot less miserable for it.”
Brian coughed pointedly and elbowed Stéphane in the ribs.
“Anyway...what did I miss?”
“We have not started yet,” Alexei tapped his binder with an accusing finger, “As usual, you’ve held up the meeting. After we recount our temptations, I have some grave news that I have no choice but to share with you all -- Jeffrey? Why don’t you start us off?”
Jeffrey said, “Well, today I made sure that three teenaged girls who were shopping for their friend’s birthday present made a detour to Louis Vuitton. They now covet the merchandise, so perhaps in six months or maybe even less, they will become shoplifters.”
“Very good. And you, Brian?”
“I went to a bar and flirted with married women, and now they’re all going to go home and think adulterous thoughts about me while they’re in bed with their husbands.” Brian sounded bored as he examined his fingers. He was always bored.
“Good, good. Stéphane?”
“I went to Switzerland and gave out free Swiss Chocolate to children on the street.” Stéphane said, without so much as missing a beat.
Alexei narrowed his eyes, “Excuse me?”
At the same time, all of the others shook their heads.
“What?” Stéphane blinked.
Alexei simmered, all the others who knew better waited with bated breath, (in case anyone was wondering, everyone in the category of those who knew better included everybody with the exception of Stéphane. This was nowhere near surprising to any of the parties involved.) Finally, though, Alexei just sighed, “...Never mind, we’ll come back to you later. Next?”
Beelzebub*, who had adopted the name ‘Sergei**’ for earthly purposes, cleared his throat. “Today in downtown L.A., there were many drivers pissed at the radio traffic report and ergo ran over innocent pedestrians, thus tempted into committing murder. Also they closed off the 60 Freeway.”
“Good...next?”
“I served one too many vodka shots at a bar and initiated a fight over a bIliards game.” said Belial*, whose name was Adrian. “All parties involved were either arrested or sent to the hospital, thus promoting general chaos.”
“Very good,” now Alexei closed his eyes and looked rather pained. “Now that we have heard everything -- Stéphane, how does giving out free Swiss chocolate to children count as a temptation, or a preceptor to a sin?”
“Have you ever heard the phrase ‘don’t accept candy from strangers,’ Alexei?”
“Can’t say I have, no.” Alexei looked like he wanted to start simmering again.
“Oh,” Stéphane heaved a rather exasperated sigh of his own, “Well then. Even if you haven’t...you do know that fifty percent of the children I encountered today on the street will grow up in fifteen years to become morbidly obese and therefore partake in gluttony.”
“In fifteen years?” Here, Alexei’s eyebrows paused in knitting together to rise sky high instead.
“Well, of course, don’t you know that patience is a virtue, Alexei?” Stéphane smiled winningly at him and clicked his tongue. “Someone like you should know better.”
===
“Mortals are crying out for help, Johnny. They are being tempted every day. We are up here, helpless to stop any of it.”
Evgeni looked quite comfortable there in his chair. Johnny could have accused him of being lazy and not even willing to raise a finger, except Evgeni was God, so it was probably not a smart idea. “Is that what all these red marks are for?” Johnny gestured towards the 2010 map.
Evgeni hmmed noncommittally and stared at him intently for a long moment, not even blinking once, “I’ve come to a decision, Johnny.” He said finally, “I’m sending you to Earth.”
“What?” Above all else, Johnny was bewildered, “Why me?”
“Why not you?” Evgeni said. His voice was light, but if Johnny listened hard enough, he thought he detected barely covered malice and hurried to save his own skin.
“I don’t think I’m right for the job at all,” Johnny admitted. He found that he mostly meant it. After all, he didn’t think he would be good at this...helping humans resist temptation thing. He barely trusted himself. But he wasn’t about to let that on because he had a feeling that Evgeni would not be too pleased at this admission, however honest.
“And why not?” Evgeni asked again, this time, the malice was obvious and Johnny actually cowered.
“Because,” Johnny bit down on his lip. “I don’t think I’d like Earth.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it sounded just ridiculous enough for the position he was in. “Besides, what would I do? I mean, I’ll go down there, sure...” he trailed off with an offhanded shrug, “But what would I do, Evgeni? Don’t you have higher up angels for this sort of thing?” Suddenly, working the Prayer Hotline from nine to five on business days didn’t seem so horrible anymore.
Evgeni sighed an undoubtedly irritated sigh as he rubbed his forehead pointedly, “Johnny, I was trusting you to not make this a habit.”
“Make what a habit?” Johnny tilted his head curiously.
Suddenly without any warning, Evgeni’s eyes flashed a violent shade of black, “Arguing with me.” Johnny almost let out a undignified squeak of sorts, but he had his mouth covered, so perhaps it did not slip out so easily.
“I -- I mean, erm. I mean yes, sure, I’ll go to earth.” That sentence somehow managed to arrange itself into some sort of coherence. Johnny almost felt accomplished.
“Good,” Evgeni’s voice took on a cheery tone again. “I knew we were going to end up on the same page eventually. I’ve already arranged a contact for you down there, I trust that the two of you will get along.”
Then Evgeni waved his hands, and Johnny felt as if air had been sucked out of his lungs. His vision faded. He opened his mouth to scream, but there was no sound. Even Evgeni’s face was fading away.
Until there was nothing left there at all.
===
Johnny hit something. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was. All he really knew was that whatever he had hit, it’d hurt.
There was a loud honking noise, effectively shocking the rest of him back into consciousness.
“Get the fuck out of my way!”
Johnny barely looked up into to see a large truck speeding towards him. Ironically, the first thought that flashed through his mind was -- Oh, very funny, Evgeni. But for whatever reason, he could not move, it was as if his limbs were stuck to the cement.
At the last moment, he felt someone yank him by the back of his collar; then he was pulled none too gracefully to his feet. It felt strange to stand, and the truck sped by, with the driver sprouting even more curses.
Johnny looked to find a very, very good-looking man holding him firmly by the arm. The man wore a t-shirt and jeans, human clothing. But he knew at once that there was something ethereal about him. Hastily, he cleared his throat and disengaged his arm. A glance down at himself told him that he was dressed similarly, but Evgeni had awful fashion sense. Orange did not go with purple, at all. Johnny had spent much of his existence in white, but even he knew that much.
“...Hi...and well, thank you.”
The man looked him over up and down, “Hello, and you’re welcome...I’m guessing...God sent you.”
“That obvious?” Johnny picked idly at the edge of his orange shirt.
“He sent me down here looking like rainbow vomit, trust me. I ducked into the first thrift store I could find. Seeing all that white all the time probably has something to do with it...Evgeni can’t be blamed. I’d go insane too.” The stranger shuddered briefly at the horrid memory. And then he regained his composure and held out his hand for a friendly shake, “I’m Archangel Michael, but down here I’m Drew***.”
“Michael isn’t a strange name down here. At least, not last that I’ve heard,” Archangel Michael was the last person he expected Drew to be, but he took the proffered hand and shook it anyway. “Isn’t it easier just to keep the name?”
“Yes, but I’ve had the name for so long, it bores me.” At this, Drew appeared to be rather pained, but then the dour expression was at once traded in for something brighter. “What’s your name?”
“Oh,” When Drew put it that way, it made a lot of sense. Besides, Drew was a nice name, just like Michael -- which begged the question why God had sent Archangel Michael down here to languish on Earth. Something told him that it wasn’t a question that made for easy conversation, so Johnny told himself that he would inquire at a later time. “My name is...well, I suppose I am just Johnny. I haven’t been up there long enough to earn one of those long memorable names.”
Perhaps it was just Johnny’s imagination, but Drew’s expression almost darkened. But the frown had come and gone so fast that it was easy for Johnny to tell himself that he really was just dreaming.
Drew shrugged, “Maybe that’s a good thing,” he paused a moment and then made a gesture over at Johnny’s clothes, “Let’s go find you a thrift store.”
===
Alexei still looked like he wanted to hit something, But punctuality dictated most everything that he did, and a glance to his wristwatch made him let out an annoyed sigh as he scratched a hand through his hair, “Hold that thought, because one of these days, I’m going to dissect it for you and tell you once and for all every single thing that happens to be so very wrong with that statement. Until them, someone please hit him.”
For a moment, no one moved. Then Adrian said, “Dibs,” and proceeded to reached over and thwacked Stéphane generously on the back of his head.
“That actually hurt.” Stéphane rubbed the unfortunate bump on his head. “By the way...what is ‘dibs’?”
“It’s,” said Adrian, who looked ready to launch into a long-winded explanation, except he caught sight of Alexei’s face, and caughed abruptly. “Long story short, it’s when you want something first -- Alexei was saying something.”
“I was saying that Zhenya is up to something.” Said Alexei, and then he looked around the table. He was probably expecting everyone to immediately put on expressions of grave concern, but everyone just looked confused.
Jeffrey said, “Wait, who is ‘Zhenya’?”
“You mean you don’t know?” Alexei outright bristled, as if their not knowing was an unspeakable offense of sorts. “How do you people not know?”
“We really don’t know,” Stéphane added helpfully, with his head tilted just so at a curious angle.
“Oh,” Sergei suddenly looked thoughtful, and when it appeared as if he’d reached a conclusion, he paled white, then gray. “Oh.”
“Sergei, you know who Zhenya is?” Brian finally looked up from his fingers.
“Zhenya is...God.” Sergei stole a look at Alexei, and quickly added, “I think.”
“But I thought God’s name was Evgeni,” Jeffrey raised an eyebrow. “How can his name be Zhenya?”
“I gave him the name, but that’s besides the point --” Alexei sighed, “The point, is that God is up to something, and that is never good for us.”
Stéphane blinked, “That is very much the point. You gave God a special nickname. Alexei, that’s suspicious. You owe us an explanation.”
“Short story, he gave me one too, it was a mutual thing. I’m not about to let you talk me into talking about this now. The point is that a young angel made contact with the Archangel Michael today. This may or may not be relevant. I expect all of you to work harder on your temptations, and someone find out all they can about this angel.”
Adrian said, “What do you know about him?”
“My sources tell me that he is very young, nameless on the Great Heaven’s hierarchy. But there has to be a reason Zhen-- I mean Evgeni picked him out. Find out what, then kill him. His name is Johnny.”
“I still can’t believe you gave God a special nickname,” Stéphane shook his head.
“Stéphane!” Brian elbowed him again.
“Although you have to admit, ‘Oh, Zhenya’ does have a certain ring to it. I think I like it...If I remember, I’ll use it.” Stéphane pushed back his chair as he got up. “Can I have dibs on Johnny?”
“May I help?” Adrian looked hopeful.
Alexei looked between the two of them for a very, very long time. Beelzebub and ‘Original Sin’...somehow something told him that the Apocalypse was definitely going to be moved up quite a few years. That might actually not be a bad thing, in the broad scope of things. Finally, he consented with a slow nod.
“I’ll be in Hell if you need me.”
Alexei had a feeling that they might need him very soon.
===
Stéphane’s one pride and joy, aside from Swiss chocolate, was his car. a black Bentley which he obsessively took in for a wash and a wax every Tuesday. Adrian spent most of his time on a motorbike, as did Brian, Sergei, and Jeffrey. So obviously he was impressed by the car. Stéphane half-smirked at him, “If you can stop gawking for a moment and get in, it will save us some time. But feel free to compliment my car.”
Adrian indulged him begrudgingly, “Nice car.”
“Of course.”
“Wait,” said another voice. “I am coming too.”
Both of them turned to see Brian walking towards the Bentley and both of them groaned. Even though Brian was Alexei’s clear favorite out of the four, and thus his Powers to Destroy Things were that much better honed, he was a bit of a downer to have around. “Alexei sent you?”
“He’d rather the Armaggedon not happen so soon, that’s all. And he admits that sending the two of you after an Archangel is rather stupid.”
Adrian held up one finger, “I learned what this was today.” He huffed, “You deserve it.”
As much as Stéphane loved company, he was already looking forward to leaving the two of them in the nearest bar.
“Where’s Sergei?”
“He left to wreak more havoc on the freeways. I think he’s found his niche.” Brian shrugged.
“Someone call him and tell him not to clog up Freeway 710 going west. I might have to kill him.” He only half meant it. Stéphane wrenched his key in the ignition and the Bentley came alive with a protesting hum, as if it already knew that it was in for a long drive.
“Does anyone know any good bars around here? I’m buying.”
___
*Beelzebub, Mammon, Moloch, and Belial are Satan's four lieutenants as mentioned in John Milton's epic Paradise Lost.
**Sergei refers to the Russian figure skater Sergei Voronov.
***Drew refers to Johnny Weir's ex-boyfriend, pairs skater Drew Meekins.
===
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