Enough of you have been asking for this, so I finally got around to getting
it done. For those not familiar with this (long delayed) series, the first
two parts are on my website, listed below.
Mata ne,
Rob
primary: rob@yogipigs.org secondary: mara@megami.net
AIM: Mitsukai com ICQ: 45925353
Mitsukai! http://www.mitsukai.com
Sailor Moon AX: http://www.yogipigs.org/sailormoon-ax/
Studio YOGIPIGS: http://www.yogipigs.org
A Long Strange Webpage: http://www.yogipigs.org/ALSW/ (COMING SOON)
So pardon me while I burst
Into flame
I've had enough of the world
And its evil, mindless games
So pardon me while I burn
And rise above the flames
Pardon me, pardon me -
I'll never be the same.
--Incubus
Goddess?!?!? Oh My....
By Rob Barba
OMG! is the intellectual property of Kosuke Fujishima, Kodansha, AnimEigo,
Dark Horse, et al.
PART THREE: OWA TAFU LIAM
(=<*>=)
The radio in her hotel room was currently spouting some inane chatter in
Dutch by a DJ talking about sexual intercourse and all its
accouterments--after all, she was in the internationally infamous red-light
district of Amsterdam. It was sort of odd that the Holiday Inn would put
one of its more classy hotels here in Amsterdam, but then again, it was just
the way things were in this rather jacked-up place.
At one time, Mara would have had her own personal bevy of men and women
in here--in fact, this had been a meeting place for Urd and her two years
ago when it was Mara's choice; the orgy had been one of the more interesting
things she'd done these past few years. She closed that memory down rather
fast, as it was part of a life she no longer led, a portion of life that she
was neither inclined nor supposed to.
Not much, anyway.
And in any event, she wasn't here for that, regardless. At the moment,
she was poring over a few maps, computer printouts and such, drinking from a
bottle of Amstel Light and wolfing down a greasy burger and fries from some
nearby fast-food place called the Manikin's Piss. The food certainly tasted
like it; but the fact was, she'd been up all night and this was the only
place open at 4 in the morning for food. After getting off the plane, the
first thing she did at the hotel room was sleep off her jetlag, and she just
got up about 30 minutes ago. She wanted to go back to sleep, but that would
have robbed her of vital planning time and besides, she was hungry and
feeling overtired. There wasn't really much going on in the hotel at 3:30
in the morning, so there were two choices out there in town: go get drunk,
stoned, laid, or a combination thereof; or go find a 24-hour greasy spoon.
Given the change in her lifestyle earlier this week, her rather limited
choices were restricted even further. So dinner it was.
Going out to grab dinner was interesting. Stepping out of the hotel,
she rounded the corner and went down the red light district, headed towards
this place she'd known for a few years. Walking down the streets of the
red-light district certainly brought back some memories, and quite a few of
the hookers, druggies, drunks, and other gutter tra--um, souls in need of
saving--did a double-take in seeing what they thought was a familiar face.
Since she wasn't "dressed" (to use the term loosely) in the same way when
she was here last--an ensemble that left less than nothing to the
imagination--they merely figured her to be a different person, and for the
most part, that was for the best. She'd also had a few familiar faces who
did make some level of recognition come up to her and proposition her for a
good time. When she simply spoke to them in her new attitude, they
apologized for the mix-up and left her to go on her way, feeling somehow
dirty for talking that way to her. Amazing what a change in outlook will do
for a person, Mara commented to herself.
So, here she was, getting her plotting right for her plan--at least she
was hoping that's what she was doing, in any case. The timing would be
thin; she would only have today to plot her motions, and tomorrow for
surveillance. She'd have to be in more than one place at once, something
she couldn't support with her current magic levels; and she'd have to
possibly deal with forces far more powerful than herself. What she was
planning was dangerous and disaster-prone, and she'd be on her own, and
truth be told, she'd rather be downstairs in the Irish bar, snuggling up to
a nice Irish Coffee and joking with a few of the other tourists, but she
couldn't afford that. Neither could Skuld. Especially neither could
Beatrix.
"Aw, man," she said, finishing off her beer, grabbing another, popping
off the top, and brought it to her in one grand sweep, "This is never gonna
work. Not one bit." She leaned back in her chair and ran her hands through
her hair, sighing, "What am I gonna do? This plan's half-baked, and it's
gonna explode in my face! Damn.... Gotta think of *something*, or that
kid's a goner."
All throughout this, the radio continued to drone on, not paid attention
to by the goddess. After all, when the last fifteen songs were either about
various forms of sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll, things tend to blend
together when one's running on little sleep at four in the morning, with no
nourishment save for hops, barley, greasy potato slices, and a cheese-puck
of a burger. In fact, she was so out of it, she vaguely identified the song
on the radio as the Smiths' "Bigmouth Strikes Again," but she really didn't
know if it was the original, or the recent Placebo remake.
And still, she went back to the map of the city, planning her solitary
Charge of the Light Brigade as the radio droned on:
"And now I know how Joan of Arc felt,
Now I know how Joan of Arc felt,"
Without warning, her door burst open as a rusty and rather off-key voice
sang along, "As the flames rose to my Roman nose, and my MegaDrive started
to melt...."
Not even bothering to look up from the map, she commented, "Last time I
remember, the lyrics were in the third person, and the term was 'hearing
aid', right?"
Joan plopped down into the second seat at the table and answered, "Like
I really need a hearing aid? And the song's about me, so I get to sing it
in first person. So there." Reaching out, she snagged a couple of fries
and popped them in her mouth, chewing. After a second or two of a
distasteful look on her face, she asked, "And you eat this stuff?"
Still not looking at the patron saint of the French, she commented,
"Well, the little boulangerie down the street closes at 10, I was sleeping
off my jetlag, and I didn't conjure up something because I'm trying to be
real sneaky-like." Finally turning her attention away from her detailed
operations, she inquired, "So why are you here? I thought this was my gig."
"Well, yes it is," she replied, "but you have to bear in mind three
things. One," she said, as she counted off her fingers. "I'm your
bodyguard. It's my job to make sure you don't become celestial road-kill.
Number two: while you and your fellow Norns have changed your occupations,
I'm still in the Security biz, so I know a few things about modern tactics
that you guys won't. And number thee," she remarked as she stared at Mara,
her lens-covered brown eyes staring into Mara's own, "We're your friends,
Mara. We're not going to leave you hanging."
"'We're?'" the goddess of the past parroted.
A head peeked into the doorway, asking, "Did we come at the wrong time?"
Mara turned and saw Urd standing at the doorway, flanked by Claudette, and
Mary. "If you're done with the female bonding with Joan," Urd said in a
playful tone, I believe we have some planning to make?"
Mara looked at Urd, then at Joan. "You planned this, didn't you?"
"No, you did," Urd pointed out. "You didn't have to come out here,
Mara. You could have just left everything be, and let things run its
course."
"No I couldn't have, " the ex-demoness replied. "You guys are my
family, and I couldn't let Skuld and you and Bell down when you needed me.
Besides, this is my screw-up and I have to fix it. If I don't, then...."
She ran her hand through her thick mane of blonde hair. "I don't want to
think about it."
"Then don't," Urd said giving the neophyte goddess a huge grin. Looking
over the Mara's shoulder, she peered at the map and asked, "So what's the
plan?"
(=<*>=)
In the dark confines of a dank room somewhere in Amsterdam, a small girl
cried out in sorrow, pleading for help, knowing fully well that the cries of
assistance that she pleaded for were not easily forthcoming, and that she
was soon to die. The little girl named Beatrix sat there, her body a mass of
wounds and bruises, simply putting up with it because there was nothing else
to do but to put up with it.
It didn't matter, anyway. Tomorrow was to be her fifth birthday.
Tomorrow, as her parents told her, she would die. That sort of thing tends
to have an effect on the way children look at the world, and Beatrix
certainly was no exception. She had nothing all her life except for pain
and fear, and even what little she had of that would be soon taken away from
her.
A small rat scampered in the space in front of her then stopped, gazing
at her. A second one, a bit clumsier than the first, bumped into the first,
then stopped and rubbed its nose, which made the little girl laugh. Feeling
slightly cheerier, Beatrix looked at the rats as they looked back, and said,
"You are happy mousies. I wish I could be happy. I wish I had friends."
The first rat's simple answer was to wash its whiskers in front of her,
while the second one scampered up Beatrix's leg and arm and tried to nuzzle
against her cheek. Unfortunately that rat zigged when it should have zagged
and fell off her arm, tumbling down her front and landing on her lap, dazed
and dizzied from its venture.
Picking up and petting the rat, she set it gently down next to its
companion and said, "Pretty mousies. Go run and play while you can. Be
happy. I just wish I could play someday." Something odd then happened, the
one that had been washing itself looked back at her and seemed to nod, while
the second one scampered around as if trying to pass some sort of message.
Unable to control herself, she began to giggle and laugh at the antics
of the two rats that suddenly seemed to be more interested in entertaining
her than being free. They played with her for a few hours, giving her more
joy in that small space of time than any period she'd ever had in her life.
The giggles of the young girl seemed to light up the room that she was
in, creating a space of joy in that cold, dark place.
(=<*>=)
"We found the girl," Claudette said a few hours later, reporting to the
group. "Mary's with her, and she's going to stay there to keep an eye on
the kid." She morphed back into human mode, her wings flickering for a
second before disappearing into nothingness. "I saw Pazram there, but I
don't think he noticed me--and if he did, he might have thought I was the
real thing."
"What's her condition?" Mara asked. If she was going to fulfill this
contract, she was going to do it the right way.
"She's a bit weatherbeaten, but that stands to reason, considering she's
just a sacrifice for them." The angel replied. "Have you guys come up with a
plan yet of how to get her out of there?"
"Actually, we have," Urd said with a clinical tone. "We're going to
need a distraction, and I think that we can easily provide one."
Before Claudette could ask any further, she was interrupted as the sound
coming from the radio coalesced into cascading waves of sound energy, then
formed into Joan's body. "Great. We've got a few new problems coming by.
I just took a look around, and noticed that Gui's in town, and she brought a
few friends with her. Quite a few of them are really nasty, too--nothing
I'd recommend that you'd best deal with, Urd," Joan pointed out as she
plopped down in one of the chairs, took off her glasses, and began cleaning
them. "But," she said with a bored sigh, "It's nothing that an uneducated
peasant girl like me couldn't handle."
"So what do we plan to do then?" Claudette asked, concerned by her
sister's tone. To the others, it sounded like her usual bravado. But to
Claudette, she knew well the minor undertone in Joan's voice, the minute
flicker of alertness in Joan's brown eyes. There was more to what was going
on than the Riot Grrrl of Orleans let on, but the fact that she wasn't
telling anyone anything meant that whatever it was, it was going to be very,
very difficult.
"We're going to give them a distraction," Mara answered. She had an
amused grin on her face, as though what they were planning was more along
the lines of a grand practical joke than a rescue operation and divine
fulfillment case. "It's going to be fairly straightforward: we'll have you
cause a commotion in the middle of Amsterdam, Urd will deal with those who
don't fall for the distraction, Joan will handle whoever Gui brings along to
play, and Mary and I will take care of the problem at hand. Pazram is still
an imp, so he doesn't have the authority to command backup forces just yet."
"However," Joan pointed out, "Gui *does*, and she has the ability to
enslave people to her will at the turn of a dime. So we have to prepare for
that, or rather Urd and I do. Urd will have to handle the flunkies, while
I'll deal with whatever big guns Gui will have around, including herself."
"'Flunkies?'" Urd's tone was a mixture of sorrow, indignation and humor.
"Joan, isn't this the part where I point out that I was fighting demons and
their ilk long before you were?"
"Of course. That's the point where I counter that you've since moved on
to computer programming and likely gotten rusty, while I've been fairly
steady at what I've been doing now for a few centuries," she answered with a
grin. "To be honest, Urd, if I didn't have faith in you, I would have taken
on everyone by myself. But frankly, I can't do that, and you have the
skills, outmoded as they might be, to deal with the problem at hand."
"Gee, thanks Joan," Urd drawled sarcastically, to which her friend gave
her another smart-ass grin.
"So, what is this distraction?" Claudette asked.
Mara answered. "According to your sister, you're already familiar with
it."
The executive assistant of the French Patron Saint facefaulted. "Oh,
not...you don't mean that one, do you?" Three deities nodded
simultaneously. Claudette groaned. "You've *got* to be kidding. Do you
know how *embarrassing* that is?"
"But effective," the trio of goddesses said at once.
"I don't want to do it!" Claudette, in a rare show of defiance and
anger, put her foot down. "You can't make me!"
(=<*>=)
The beautiful young woman strode in front of a man several decades older
than her. She was wearing no clothing whatsoever, and her eyes showed both
invitation and the effects of multiple drugs in her system. Bowing to him,
she said, "Lord Pazram, it is good to see you here. But I thought the Lady
Mara would be joining us?"
The man, a short but bulked man in his late fifties, leered at the woman
unabashedly. "I sent word for her, but admittedly, the administration does
take a while to get paperwork through the proper channels, especially if
it's from someone as low as I am. But I'm sure her ladyship will be
arriving in no time flat."
"Good," Agnes replied, beginning to rub herself in pleasure in front of
the man, inviting him to join in as well. "I will be glad to be rid of that
mewling, screaming brat of mine and replace her with something more
important--power."
"Oh, you'll have that power, Agnes," Pazram replied, stripping off his
clothing. "I guarantee you will. After all, once the lady Mara arrives,
there will be nothing to stop us. Not even the hosts of heaven themselves
would dare." He waved his hand a little, and certain parts of his body grew
to larger than normal size.
Agnes squealed in giddy delight at the display of bodily prowess the imp
now had. Touching it gently, she cooed, "My lord, are you sure that none of
heaven's forces can attack us successfully?" Lying down on the ground, she
made herself ready for him.
Approaching her, he commented casually, "If one of heaven's agents were
here, we'd know about it. I've requested some security from the Terror and
Brutality Directorate."
"Oooooohhhh," she moaned in pleasure as he touched her delicately.
"Then we should have no problem?"
"None at all," he answered as he began to get more intimate with her.
If either of the two had been a little more cautious and a little less
out of heat, they would have noticed a small mouse doing what mice usually
were incapable of doing: jotting notes down on a steno pad. Of course, had
they done that, they would have noticed the incredible blush as the mouse
uncomfortably was stuck watching the first stages of their carnal act.
Doing an impossibly full-body blush for a mouse, Mary crawled out of the
room, more embarrassed than she'd ever been in her life...living or
otherwise.
(=<*>=)
"I hate this," Claudette moaned.
"You look fine," Urd said primly. "You look every bit the part."
"You're just enjoying making me suffer, aren't you?" the angel snapped.
"You know, has anyone every told you you're incredibly insubordinate for
an archangel?"
"Absolutely," Claudette answered. "Besides, wasn't it Mara who said I'm
supposed to treat you as equals and not like superiors?"
Urd grinned. "Claudette, you would have made a great goddess, you know
that?"
"Not me. I prefer to work for a living," she responded with a grin.
Urd made a mock-angry face and pushed the angel out of the building.
With their cloaking magic in place, no one would see them until it was time.
"Now get out there and do your stuff, kiddo."
The French angel groaned. "Oh, all right."
It was a completely normal, calm day in Amsterdam, between the revelers,
the druggies, the sex workers, and the tourists, and it was meant to
continue that way. Or at least it was until the Visitation.
Out of a cool, roiling mist that came into being from nowhere, was a
vision of beauty. Astride a white horse, enshrouded in the primmest, pure
white of cloth and glistening silver of armor was an incredibly beautiful
and willful young woman. Now, such a person in the streets of a city as
jaded as Amsterdam would be impressive enough, but when the woman moved
forward slightly in her seat, unfurling two grand, ivory and gold wings,
people tended to notice instantly. There was an old saying in English that
there were no atheists in foxholes, and it was proving true that there were
none in the red-light district of the Dutch capitol, either.
The woman sang out in a voice pure and powerful, speaking in French, yet
her words could be understood by all, the speech of tongues unfurling for
the crowd as the Word of the Lord. "Here me now, all ye who would hark unto
the word of God! I am Sainte Jeanne D' Arc, and I have come to bless the
pure and punish the wicked. Really! For I am Jeanne D' Arc! Did I mention
that I was Jeanne D' Arc?"
Standing on a corner a block away, Urd groaned. ((Great, Claudette. Go
overboard, why don't you?)) The Norn of the Present shrugged; apparently
this stunt of theirs had worked before, and they weren't quite done yet.
Pulling a portable stereo out of nowhere, she also fished out a CD and threw
it into the player, hoping it would work on the crowd. ((Although I have to
admit that I think Joan's got a sick sense of humor. OMD's "Maid of
Orleans"?)) As Urd watched, the music began to blare behind Claudette,
giving even more of an incredible impression:
"If Joan of Arc,
Had a heart,
Would she give it
As a gift
To such as me
Who longs to see
How an Angel
Ought to be...."
(=<*>=)
In a bar across the street from the Visitation of Joan of Arc, a demon
of high rank looked around at the assembly in this particular bar they'd
"reserved" for the night. Okay, so in truth, they'd murdered the owner,
raped then slaughtered his wife and children, but that's what one does when
you're part of the demonic security apparatus. The demon, who referred to
himself as Catoblepas, looked around with his silvery eyes, the blood-red
color of his hair falling in front of his face from time to time, favoring
himself with a secret smile. So far, due to the spell, the only ones coming
into the bar were mortal women. Once there was enough of them, he would
have his troop of men entertain themselves for a while.
It would be the least they could do while they were waiting for the
mission to go down. And what a pointless one this was. According to the
orders of the day, the imp Pazram was about to make Demon Third--what a
waste, to make an underling like that an actual demon!--through the
slaughter of a mortal girl. However, the reason that the Terror and
Brutality Directorate ordered a team of TBD agents to Earth was due to the
fact that they were ordered to prevent the possible interference of a
rengade demon who'd once been Pazram's mentor. That demon was a female
named Mara.
Catoblepas had taken the time to read what little there was of Mara's
record. A one-time Demon First, she'd betrayed all that she believed in by
falling in with a group of Norse gods. Stripped of all her power, she'd
been assigned to be personally hunted by Hac Tou Gui--what a hotbod that Gui
gal was, he thought to himself--but had so far been twice thwarted. The
reasons for the defeats had not been documented, though according to
intelligence sources, it was said that Mara had changed sides. That last
bit caught his attention: no one changed sides; it wasn't normal. But if
she did, she deserved to die. No one betrayed the Covenant of the Damned
like that and got away with it.
One of the young women who'd come in with the last batch, sat down next
to him, not really taking the time to notice. While Catoblepas was a bit
put out that she hadn't noticed him (he was, after all, wearing one of those
flimsy skin-tight shirts and black loose pants that were so stylish in
Europe lately), but a second later, he was somewhat relieved. Unlike all
the other girls that had come in, this one was by no means attractive. She
wasn't ugly, but she'd gone to no lengths to make herself look beautiful,
and the boyish clothing she was wearing mostly hid her figure. All in all,
she was rather dull, and to boot, she ordered a soda from the bar!
Still, beggars can't be choosers, and it was almost time for the fun,
Catoblepas noted. If he gave his men the more attractive ones while
sticking with this one, he would ensure their loyalty. ((Besides,)) he
thought, ((one never knows; this one could be secretly a handful.)) "Excuse
me, miss," he spoke to her with an affected Spanish accent, "but it seems
wrong to me that you should be ordering something as slight as a soda in a
bar. Perhaps a decent pilsner or two would interest you? Perhaps something
more?" With a slight flicker of his hand that was meant to look like
prestidigitation but was in fact a small summoning spell, he held up a
couple of hash cigarettes.
The woman shook her head. "Thanks, but no. I really don't care much
for alcohol, because I don't have a tolerance for it. Besides, I can't
really take intoxicants while I'm working, you know. Not only is it bad for
business, but it dulls the senses." Pulling out a coin, she pumped it into
the jukebox remote on the bar, and selected a techno song, the display
telling her the song would play within the next minute.
The man laughed gracefully, as though she was telling nothing more than
a pleasing joke. However, he wondered exactly who she was. She was
obviously not one of his own, and why would a mortal girl stop in a bar
during working hours just to buy a soda? He was intrigued by her, and
wanted to know more--as her mouth would be put to other uses shortly. "So,
miss, tell me why a girl like you would come here if you're at work?"
She gave an oddly graceful shrug and replied, "A working girl has got to
earn her cash somehow, you understand. And as for what I'm doing, you might
find that interesting as well." She motioned for him to come closer, and as
he moved just within an inch or two from her face, she laughed gently and
whispered, "Why I'm here to stop you, of course." Before he could ever
react to her words his face felt pain as he reeled back from a vicious
upward palm strike.
Hitting the ground, Catoblepas snarled, *"YOU'LL PAY FOR THAT FOLLY,
MORTAL!!!!!!!! DO YOU KNOW WHAT I AM?"* His eyes began to glow with a
malevolent power.
The girl continued to sit at her stool by the bar, apparently amused at
the challenge. After a second, she hopped to the ground and answered with,
"Sure I do. You're cannon fodder, and I'm here to clean up!" Taking her
hands, she raised them up towards the air, and a flare of light appeared
between them, filling the room and alighting upon every one that was there.
This caught the attention of the demons, who sensed the enemy was now in
their midst, while the mortal women that were there stood transfixed by the
dazzling display of arcane power that was dancing before them.
The light grew brighter and strobed, spraying forward like a geyser, and
lengthening. The light elongated into a shaft of energy, a sword of light
and power that illuminated the evil-filled room with its power of divine
retribution. Swashing the blade through the air, it left trails of power
and force behind it like a cloak carried in the wind.
With a voice that held as much power as Catoblepas, the "dullard" girl
roared with the voice of command, the tones of a general: *"LET'S
ROCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"*
Joan slid comfortably into a battle stance, holding her blade at a
forward angle, ready for combat. The energy blade vibrated with power, more
like a living thing than a weapon. And in a sense, it was. She'd learned a
long time ago that her power was an extension of her mind, and anything she
did she could affect action. While some of the other deities preferred to
use actual weapons, or to use pure willpower, Joan knew a combination of the
two would be best for her, a combination of the two forces that she'd
become, and just about right for a misfit, to neither purely belong to any
one school of thought but have access to both.
Looking at the opposition before her, she gave the same sort of roguish
grin that she'd done many a time on the battlefield as she said, "And I
think it's time for a little action." With that, she dived into the mass
before her, attacking before they even had a chance to react. Her will
powered blade darted back and forth, swept and arced like it was alternated
between the uses of a foil and a katana.
Striking down the first four opponents in one easy sweep, she finally
came across one that had managed to begin attacking. A huge brute, he was
by no means even remotely human in appearance and for a second Joan wondered
how stupid hell's security forces were if they were going to try to get
non-humanoids into the battle.
The large beast, a sickening cross between a minotaur and a spider,
rushed forward towards her, wielding a viciously curved scythe. Leering
between its huge, venomous fangs, he warbled a booming threat of, "What a
pleasure it will be to make you suffer in the eternal pain of hellfire!" To
make sure that his blade did not go unnoticed, he swung at her, his arc
splitting the air with a scream.
"Oh, please, you've *got* to do better than that!" With a motion of the
hand that bordered on the ludicrously easy, the Maid of Orleans merely
flicked her wrist and blocked the blade in one easy motion. Parrying the
spidertaur away, she counterattacked, slashing the blade in a furious dance
that the beast had to hustle to keep up with, to no avail. Sparks flew as
the blades clashed in a sword combat that enveloped many different styles.
Finally done with keeping the creature on the defensive, Joan moved to her
left and performed a reverse-handed slash that slammed the energy blade down
the throat of the beast, making him disappear in a shower of holy light.
Opening her palm, Joan banished the sword, then grabbed two barstools,
making sure that it was time to let the rest of them notice that she was
here.
Taking a quick second to look around, she noticed that some of the other
women in the bar exploded into shards of light exactly as planned. While
her pantheon's skills didn't allow for omnipresence, meaning she couldn't
make multiple copies of herself, she did have the ability to copy anyone
under her patronage...and twenty-six French girls that were in actual fact
nothing but simulacra flash grenades did nicely; as for the other women
still in the bar, well...they were special. Again, she had to thank the
blatant stupidity of the underworld's TBD for that.
((Well, now it's time to *really* show them what it's like to be up
against someone who can fight back,)) she thought, her blood singing with
the divine power that was hers since the day she'd been anointed by the
angels to carry the battle ensign of heaven. *"Ready or not, fellas, here I
come!"*
Moving with an agility that they wouldn't expect for someone carrying
two bulky barstools, Joan bounded into the air and spun like a ballerina in
flight. Coming out of her turn, and seizing the advantage of surprise, she
began to swing the stools viciously, slamming them painfully against any
face, chest, or body part they came across. She'd managed to stun the
so-called "ferocious" hordes of hell by her own ferocity. Swinging the
stools one final time, she released them at the strongest point of her
swing, where one knocked a few imps out a window, and the other crunched a
small flying hobgoblin against the wall. Moving with the momentum, she
turned her arcs into a footsweep, dropping two more, then somersault kicked
upward, nailing one more in the head as she came back to her feet.
Knowing that wasn't going to be enough to keep them busy, Joan vaulted
over one side of the ring of thugs, while bringing her hands together.
Canting something in French quickly, she spread her arms to their maximum
wingspan, a blade appearing in each hand. As the blade tore across the
hellspawn, the jolt of sacred power burning through them blasted each one
back down into the dark realm. At the same time, she'd released a spray of
darts, each jag of her power cutting down more of them as they were in the
arc. Not bothering to even notice that the room was beginning to
considerably thin, the Battle Saint continued her onslaught, slashing to and
from with her twin blades, reaping exactly what the demons had intended to
sow on her.
Catoblepas ignored the thrumming in his head, standing up. Cursing his
fate that a mortal woman dared strike him, he vaguely remembered that the
girl had roared at him with considerable power of her own. Well, nevermind
that. He was going to tear her apart and ravish her as he did so, then
reincarnate her and do it over and over again for a thousand years. No one
could do that to such a powerful demon as Catoblepas. No one.
His mind changed drastically when he looked up and saw the situation.
There, having cut down a third of his men and moving with a martial skill
and talent that was a horrific thing of beauty, was the girl. Carrying two
spirit blades in her hands, she slashed and kicked, dropping demon after imp
after hellbeast. Nothing was standing before the might of this girl, and
whatever she was, she was dangerous.
Screaming a warcry of challenge, Catoblepas charged towards her, forming
claws where his hands were. He was going to make it his personal goal to
slash this girl to shreds, to make her ever regret that she was foolish
enough to try to take on the host of the dark. This was reality, not Doom.
A second later, he realized that it was Doom after all--his. He wanted
her attention, and as she released her two blades to bore into two more of
his men before they disappeared, he now realized he had it.
An unearthly roar sounded behind her, and whatever monsters were
attacking backed off instantly. Throwing her swords into the two nearest
ones, she moved in instinct, leaping up and initiating an arc kick that
connected with something solid. She felt herself surrounded by dark,
painful light, and the next thing she knew, she rocketed into a wall on the
far side of the bar, very uncomfortably.
Getting off the ground, Joan noticed her opponent doing the same.
Looking up at her with eyes that burned with rage and malevolent energy, he
snarled, "Mortal, you may be a good exorcist amongst your kind, but now you
face a true demon! *I AM CATOBLEPAS, FIRST OF THE FALLEN ANGELS, AND I WILL
SHOW YOU THE TRUE MEANING OF HORROR!!!!!*"
"Drop the theatrics," Joan snarled as she dropped into a fighting
stance. "You and yours are Hell's best? That's a joke! I've seen better
opposition out of mortal armies!"
"'Mortal armies?'" he parroted, finally realizing that this was no
normal woman he faced. "If you aren't mortal, then you must be from DGSA up
above. You've made a fatal mistake, angel, coming without your patron."
*"FOOL!!!!"* The "angel" closed her fists, calling up a torrent of
power that encircled her as though she were the cause of a vortex of power.
*"YOU'LL PAY FOR YOUR EVIL, CATOBLEPAS, FOR I AM JEHANNE LA PLUCELLE DU
ORLEANS, AND I HAVE COME TO METE OUT DIVINE RETRIBUTION!!!!!!!"*
Catoblepas looked at the woman rushing towards him, a wicked sneer on
his face. "And I'm supposed to be impressed?" He placed his hands together
then pulled them back, screaming, "Dark Cascade!" A ring of shadow lanced
towards Joan, and there was no doubt that if it connected, there would be
pain.
The attack slammed into a wall behind her, leaving a crater in the
stucco as chunks flew in every direction, most onto the pool table nearby.
However, as the showering spray of debris and detritus filled the air, the
young saint continued to stand there, with a righteous look on her face.
Finally, as the dust settled, she brushed the hair out of her eyes, smiled
and said, "You know, for a second there, I almost thought you had some mad
skillz."
"'Mad skillz?'" Catoblepas parroted, not familiar with the term.
Joan shrugged and answered, "Hey, I live in North America mostly. You'd
be surprised of the colloquialisms you pick up now and then. Besides
which," she added, "I'm a saint of the people, in truth, the Saint of
Underdogs and Those Who Endlessly Tilt At Windmills!"
"And your point is, little girl?"
"Nothing much. Just this." As Catoblepas clearly hadn't expected it,
Joan raced in for the attack on him. Feigning a low high-speed punch
attack, she ducked under his slice kick, and as he completed his arc he
realized too late exactly what she was intending.
Unlike Catoblepas, she never bothered calling out an attack--she was of
Western thought, and felt the shouting of kiai was silly, anyway. There was
a spectacular ripple in the sky of golden light, as Joan viciously
uppercutted Catoblepas once more. However, this time, she leapt up to match
his trajectory, taunting with an oddly light tone, "Watch--I learned this
one from watching *waaaay* too many Jackie Chan films." In the space of
seconds, Joan fired off fifty rapid punches to the chest, an aerial rounding
snap kick to the face, an elbow smash, a final reverse snap kick, and with a
quick flicker of her hand, whipped out her gun and fired fifteen rounds dead
center into Catoblepas' chest.
Joan landed on her feet, exhausted, but in a better condition than
Catoblepas, who had begun to melt as the beams of spiritual energy tore
through him. By the time his body hit the floor, it wasn't much longer
until it dissipated into nothingness.
As he did, Joan sank to her knees and prayed for her victory in battle,
for the defeat of the demons, and the temperance to continue the fight until
her mission was complete.
A hand placed itself on Joan's shoulder. "Hey, great going, Joan. A
bit more ruthless than I expected from you, but you can be my backup any
day." Joan turned around and looked at the owner of the voice, one of the
many women that had come into the bar before she did--one of the fifteen
copies of Urd.
Joan laughed; as usual, the demons' one-track mind prevented them from
seeing the fact that with the exception of clothing and hairstyle, each of
the Urds that had walked in was identical to the next. "Well, what do you
expect from an uneducated peasant girl like me?" she commented, winking.
"You okay?"
The Urds answered at once, in a chorus of goddesses: "Sure, never
better." Fifteen merged into one with a rippling fashion that looked like
drops of water combining into a solitary stream.
"You know, that's really disorienting," Joan said as she watched the
merger. "Kinda like a car crash. You know you shouldn't be looking at it,
but you're fascinated, anyway."
"Hey, when you got it, flaunt it," the Norn combinate replied. When one
stood in front of her, there was a flash of light as Urd changed clothing,
and when it went away, Urd's hair color had changed to a deep black. She
was also a few scant, strategically placed pieces of fabric from being
completely nude. "How do I look?"
"You look like a complete slut. You should be completely ashamed of
wearing something like that, even as uninhibited as your sister says you
are."
Urd grinned. "It'll be sure to work, then."
"I don't know about that. I have a funny feeling about this next stage
of the plan," Joan griped. "I don't like the idea of letting Mara go in
alone. No offense meant towards your skills, Urd, but you could be walking
into a trap."
"Hey, don't worry. We'll be fine, Mara and I. We're old hands at what
we're about to do relax, okay? What could go wrong?"
(=<*>=)
"Attention in the room!" a particularly ugly creature of an amorphous
and inky shape called out in a voice that sounded like the burning of trees,
"Lady Mara has arrived!"
The answer they got, instead of Mara wandering into the room, was the
Angelslayer sauntering into a room, a barely dressed woman nibbling on her
ear and whispering things the likes of which would have made Caligula blush.
As Mara moved into the center of the room, she said to the girl, "Ursula
dear, sit there and be a good thing. As soon as we get this done, you and I
can have that orgy that we planned."
"Yes, my lady Mara," Ursula said, heaving a sigh with her ample bosoms.
Unfortunately, this snapped the strained thong strap, and her breasts fell
free, for the view of all concerned. "Oops," she said saucily, but made no
effort to try to cover herself. As Agnes looked at her with undisguised
lust, Ursula cooed, "If you're nice to Lady Mara, maybe she'll let me
entertain you first tonight." When Agnes nodded and licked her lips, the
other woman said, "Trust me. When this is done, you'll never forget me."
Meanwhile, unperturbed by her sex toy's actions, Mara addressed Pazram.
"So, are you ready for the grand event?"
"Yes, my lady," he bowed. "When shall we start?"
Mara smiled. "How about right now?"
"Now?"
"Now." To their surprise, "Ursula" brought her hands together,
channeling a ball of spiritual power into her hands. As her hair lightened
by several shades, her lack of clothing turning into Norse armor, and
markings appearing on her face, she said, "Of course we said right now. We
Norns tend to be impatient at times, ironically."
Pazram turned to stare at Mara, gaping.
The scant clothing that Mara wore changed into her white armor, and as
her demon marks inexplicably changed into goddess marks, she gave the imp a
wise-ass grin.
Urd loosed the ball of light, turning the room into a bath of
luminescence.
Both Norns bolted down the nearest hallway, hearing the screams of pain
as the imp and the witch were enclosed in the holy light. "You sure that's
going to keep them busy long enough?" Mara asked breathlessly.
"On guys like them? As low as they are, it should hold them a while,
unless someone like Gui gets involved," Urd answered. "You know, this has
to be the most stupid plan that I've heard."
"Well, now that I'm a goddess, a lot of the options that I had are
closed to me. So I guess simple subterfuge is not going to get me into too
much trouble."
Urd decided to hold her tongue on that; Mara would get the answer to
that soon enough. "So where's Mary? I hope she remembered to do her part."
"I'm sure she did," Mara replied. "I think she's just doing whatever it
is angels do or whatever."
(=<*>=)
In the cell, Beatrix backed against the wall, fearful of the new
intruder. *"NO! Keep away from me!"* she screamed out in Dutch, trying to
keep away at all costs.
Mary, only a second ago being a friendly mouse but having since reverted
to her true form, was currently rapidly flipping through a Dutch-English
dictionary, trying to find the best way to explain what she was doing here.
((Ooooh, I knew I shoulda taken Spanish when I was still alive,)) she moaned
mentally. Where's the translation for "hello?"
"Here she is!" a voice called, followed in short order by Mara and Urd
charging into the cell at high speed. Both goddesses stopped on the
proverbial ten cent piece, but Mary, so worried about being plowed into,
screeched an "Eeep!" and leapt back, slamming her head against an
outcropping of wall, knocking herself out.
"I'll help our wayward one," Urd said, switching to Dutch for the sake
of the child. "You deal with her."
"Of course I will, Urd," Mara said in a kindly voice. Dropping down to
her knees, she smiled gently at the girl and said, "Hello, little one. My
name's Mara. What's yours?"
Timidly, the girl answered, "My names Be-Beatrix."
"Beatrix? That's a beautiful name," the blonde said, producing a
handkerchief and wiping away the tears from Beatrix' eyes.
"Are you the Mara that's come here to kill me?" Beatrix asked. "Mama
said that there was a Mara coming to kill me, and that when she killed me,
Mama and Papa were going to be really strong and stuff. I don't want to
die, lady."
"Of course not," Mara said. "I promise that nothing's going to happen
to you, dear child."
"Really? But I thought you were the Mara?"
Mara's brows furrowed in exaggerated thought. Putting a delicate finger
to her chin, she said, "Hrm. That would be a problem. But I doubt that
Mara Angelslayer will be arriving anytime soon."
"You sure?" the child asked, surprised at this development in her life.
"Of course I'm sure," Mara answered. "Mara Angelslayer, the demon,
would never dare to show herself in the presence of Mara the Norn of the
Past." The Norn smiled and then asked the girl, "I have a question for you:
if you could have anything you want in the world, what would it be?"
"I don't know," the girl said guardedly, shrinking away slightly from
the goddess. "Why d'ya wanna know? Nobody wants to know about me!"
"I do," Mara answered, looking at the child. "I do, I promise."
Mara looked at the frail, black-haired waif in front of her. She was
only five, but she'd seen too much in her young life, and there was so much
about here that were still unknown factors. She was a child of incest, born
to be a demonic sacrifice--and all of it due to Mara's urging, back when
she'd been a demon.
But that was a change of heart ago. She was different now, and as such
many things in her life were going to be far different than what she knew.
Surely, if she was entitled to a life change, so was this kid, and Mara felt
something that she hadn't expected: she felt a strong bond with this girl,
as though she were the only one who could be here for Beatrix. Of course,
this was the truth, as the others were here only for her escort and aid, not
for the actual mission itself.
The girl continued to look at her plaintively, with what might be both
fear and hope in her eyes. Fear was something that Mara had known
intimately. Now, she was to know the other, just as strongly.
"Beatrix," Mara said, reaching over and tenderly taking the child's
hands, "I am the Norse Goddess of the Past, Mara. I am empowered by the
lords above to grant you a wish. In other words, whatever you want, you can
have."
"I can, really?" Beatrix seemed as though she couldn't believe that
someone would ever give her something that special.
"Yes, dear one," Mara answered, taking a chance and embracing the young
girl. Inside, Mara began to cry. What she did years ago almost resulted in
the death of this sweet, innocent child, and she wouldn't have cared. This
girl would forever carry biological and emotional scars, and by most rights
would have a social taint to her. That had all been committed by the demon
Mara, and five years from that very point, the goddess Mara truly felt the
shame of what she'd done.
"But what if I don't know what I want?" Beatrix asked, hugging the
strange lady and actually enjoying the feeling.
"Then you can think about it, and figure it out later, right?"
"Why are you crying, lady?"
The question was very direct, and Mara was taken aback to realize that
she had been tearing. "I'm crying because of the pain of people who hurt
you and should have loved you. I'm crying because of what the demoness Mara
did to you. Little Beatrix, you should have been loved, and had a chance to
know what that meant." An odd idea crossed Mara's mind, and she looked at
Urd.
Urd saw that look, and didn't like it one bit. "Mara.... What are you
up to?"
Mara looked at her cousin and said with a straight face, "Redemption."
Mara turned back to the girl and commented, "Beatrix, how would you like to
come live with me? It won't be easy, but I don't mind at all."
The girl's eyes lit up. "Do you really mean it?"
Mara put a solemn look on her face, and vowed, "As I am the Norse
Goddess of the Past, I vow it." Smiling again, she said, "Little Beatrix, I
understand why I am here now, why this was placed before me."
Urd continued to watch the mess critically, muttering to herself, "I
think she's losing it."
Mary, slowly coming back to consciousness, asked, "Did I miss
something?"
"No, not at all," Urd sighed. "You're just about to watch your
supervisor do something incredibly stupid."
Unaware of what Mara was doing, Beatrix hugged Mara upon hearing the
news. "You're so nice to me. I wish that I had a momma that was like you."
Which had been exactly what Mara had planned on hearing. At the sound
of that, her eyes blistered with white power. Arcing her head back and
babbling in a language that had been ancient since before the dawn of time,
a small shockwave was the escort for blasts of white flame as her goddess
markings transmitted the girl's wish to the heavens...
...only to have them stop short of leaving her face. The power
sputtered out immediately, and flickered into nothingness. Mara's eyes
returned to normal, and she immediately turned on Urd. "What just
happened?!?!?!?"
The head Norn crossed her arms. "Mara, you talked her into a wish.
Regardless of whether or not she meant it, you're not supposed to do that.
Now, her wish has been wasted, and nothing came about of it."
"But if it didn't work," Mary gasped, realizing, "the kid's in trouble,
and there's nothing we can do to prevent it!"
Urd nodded, sadly. "I know." Placing a hand on Mara's shoulder, she
said, "Mara, I know you meant well, but you goofed it, and now this kid will
have to pay the price."
*"NO!!!!!!!!"* Mara's scream was so vehement, it was barely possible to
believe that it had come from her lips. "No! It's not fair, dammit! She
doesn't deserve this! It's my fault, and I won't let it happen to her!"
She held the child close to her, eyes welling with tears. "Urd, please!
Don't let this happen!"
"Mara...." Urd said, "we've done what we can." The platinum-maned
beauty's eyes also started to water slightly, seeing something that she'd
never thought she'd see: Mara was genuinely taken in by this little girl,
and grief-stricken by what was about to occur. ((If I didn't know any
better, I would swear that she was acting like a--))
The Norn of the Present stopped in her tracks. ((No way. No freakin'
way. The spell failed, and it didn't even register with the system, and
yet...)) Yet Urd could not deny what she was seeing, unfolding before her
eyes. The woman who had been just earlier in the week been a cold, dark
demoness, was mystically making the change into a warm, loving goddess.
Plus it now seemed that another title was to be added to the list, one just
as old: mother.
Urd looked skyward. ((Father? Did you do this?))
The answer to that was something dropping into Mary's unintentionally
open hands. Holding it up, she said, "Urd, I've got something here, from
the Home Office!"
"Well, don't just stand there, read the thing!"
"Um, sure." Mary undid the scroll and began to scan the words, only to
groan, "Awwwww...it's in Dutch!"
"Let me see that." Urd raised her hand and summoned the paper to her
hand. Gazing over it really quick, she said, "Oh, man. Ooooooh, man.
Mara, you'd better take a look at this."
Mara tearfully let go of the girl and moved to Urd's side. Reading the
scroll, a look of disbelief quickly flitted across her features. "Is this
for real?" Urd merely shrugged, but Mara hadn't noticed as she read the
lines on the scroll over and over again:
NOTICE OF ADOPTION
Hereby let it be known that the American, Mara Blessings,
has hereby taken the child Beatrix Van Der Djik to be summarily accepted as
her daughter.
The note was signed and legalized by several names in Dutch, as well as the
Royal Seal of Government, making it official. But the true kicker was the
post-it note at the bottom, which simply read:
WISH GRANTED. :)
--Love,
Belldandy
In her mind, the eldest of the Norns had already reached back towards
Japan. ((How did you...?))
((Father gave me certain extra skills, which I entered into the
Yggdrasil as extra admin protocols,)) the retired Norn answered. ((As long
as I'm discrete about it, I can directly grant wishes without querying the
CPU.))
Urd could only grin at her younger sister's stunt-wishing. ((Ah, Bell,
sometimes I wonder about you.))
A voice in her mind answered back, ((As long as she's happy and she's
succeeded, that's the important thing, right? So now what's next?))
"Simple," a voice answered. All in the room looked towards the door, to
see a scantily dressed, redhaired demoness staring at them with golden eyes
of malicious glee. "It's really simple, Mara. None of you will escape,
will they, Pazram?"
"No, they won't," Pazram replied, standing behind the archdemoness.
"Thank you for getting word to me in advance, Lady Gui."
Gui licked her lips in anticipation of what she would do next. "You're
more than welcome, Pazram. And I guarantee that when we're done with this
little family, they'll be regretting your welcomes."
"You mean like the last people?" Pazram turned slightly, gesturing.
Across the hall, laying in spreading pools of blood were Agnes and Wilhelm
Van Der Djik, the looks of shock on their face one of final horror, but one
that clearly said that in the end, they received what they wanted, and it
had destroyed them. The effect was made all the more gruesome by the fact
that except for their faces, they'd been completely flensed and stripped of
flesh, now horribly alive in a state held only by the forces of the blackest
magic available.
"Well," Pazram continued, unsheathing a vicious, serrated knife, "I'm
done with them now. It's your turn."
As the four females moved against the wall, waiting the next move, Mara
snarled at Gui. "Hac Tou Gui, you will not beat us. I am the Norn of the
Past, Mara, and as that entity, I see that you have never won against us in
the past. History will play true."
Gui responded, "How very droll and stupid, Mara. I've never won against
the Norns because I've never gone up against them. But now I have, and I
think I'll be enjoying my victory." Turning to her subordinates, Gui cooed,
"Obliterate them."
Beatrix looked up at Mara, asking, "What do we do now, moeder?" Beatrix
said the word, somehow understanding what had changed more so than Mara did.
"Yeah, Mara," Urd asked. "What now?"
Mary said nothing, merely instead choosing to cover her eyes and wait
for the worst.
To the surprise of all, Mara's face reflected one of complete peace.
"Why, we do what is right, dear cousin Urd. After all, we are Norns." She
then dropped the superior look on her face and replaced it with one of
righteous anger, snarling, "But if these guys think for one moment that they
deign to lay their hands on the daughter of a goddess, by all that is holy,
they shall not!"
"Which means?" Urd deadpanned.
"Which means they caught me at a bad time, Urd, and weakest of the Norns
or not, I'm not going down without a fight!" Channeling up a ball of spirit
energy, she looked at Gui with divine wrath. "You've pushed one too many
times, Gui. Get ready to learn what happens when everything snaps back!"
Next:
Part Four: Ju Nid Hep
Author's Gospel:
Yeah, it took me a while to write this one. Gimme a break, will ya? Plus,
I think it feels a bit off, but I wrote it during a period of great personal
upheaval.
The song "Maid of Orleans" was created by OMD in honor of the 500th
anniversary of the death of the Maid.