American Paranormal Society Chapter Four: Heaven's Stand

[Nightkill the Emperor]

"Shakara ilk akhy!" Gabriel yelled back into the sky. It's romanized and I'm not telling you the language unless you beg, cause fuck you.

Gabriel attached the horse to the sleigh. "So, where the fuck are we going now?"

[Nationstatelandsville]

"Shakara ilk akhy!" Gabriel yelled back into the sky. It's romanized and I'm not telling you the language unless you beg, cause fuck you.

Gabriel attached the horse to the sleigh. "So, where the fuck are we going now?"

"Libya," Wayne answered simply. Everyone was in the sleigh by then, because tying a horse to a sleigh too small for it takes time and also, plot. The garage door rose, which was was weird because their definitely wasn't a garage door on the outside, and several small candy canes burst forth from the snow. These canes were the size of ferns, and they were an equal distance apart from each other... the distance between the sides of an airplane runway. The canes began to blink, signaling any passer-by's (there were none) to get the fuck out of the way before they were mowed down by Santa Claus. Well, Santa Wayne. Henderson Claus? It doesn't matter. The horse suddenly found itself yanked forward, its legs no longer under its control. That would spook the hell out of a horse, if it were still conscious. No, its mind was now inhabited by the sleigh. Wayne whipped the reins and cried out something indistinguishable, and the horse blasted forward. It began as a gallop, but began to become something more. The horse began to travel much faster than anything was ever supposed to, except for energy, and the snow around it began to melt. The Brigade felt none of this, as they were protected by a bubble of Christmas miracles. Then, something amazing but entirely expected happened: The horse took another step, but never touched the ground. All of his hooves were now suspended above the ground, and the horse was climbing. He bolted into the sky, and then, breaking the sound barrier, shot forward. The Workshop melted away around the Brigade, and they found themselves flying high above Britain at super-sonic speeds. They had emerged over Scotland and, in five seconds, were blazing past the ruins of London. Never had been built there, they still lay as a memorial to the many, many lives lost there. There were plans to build a New London further up the Thames, but many doubted they would ever come to fruition. All trade was still cut off with the UK, though that had spared them from the utter collapse of Europe's economy. The group was now over France, which still all French. Its economy was faltering horribly as well. In fact, only Germany was still in a position that could be described as anything but "Oh fuck!" Then, they were over Italy, and the horse seemed to speed up so as to prevent them from seeing too much of it: All they saw was thick black smoke, the smoke of a raging inferno. So, that was nice. And then the sleigh was touching by the cave in Libya, the same cave.

"How'd you do that?" Oliver asked in surprise.

"No idea," Wayne said, "let's not question it, or I might not be able to do it again."

[The Inritus Extraho]

Nico frowned, and sat back in the sleigh, wondering what was going on. He frowned, and then just tapped against the hilts. He could feel his insanity bleeding through him, actually infesting his mind.One two three four five four five four three two one two one two threefourfivefourfive43- his thoughts were interrupted by the horse touching down.

"Libya." he murmured, echoing Wayne. "Ah... Dame Gwen, I'm sorry for touching your soul." Though few would understand a blade being a soul, Nico suspected that the Dame was one of the few who knew the connection. To die without a blade in your hands was to damn your soul - not that Nico really cared, he didn't have one.

[Agritum]

Nico frowned, and sat back in the sleigh, wondering what was going on. He frowned, and then just tapped against the hilts. He could feel his insanity bleeding through him, actually infesting his mind.One two three four five four five four three two one two one two threefourfivefourfive43- his thoughts were interrupted by the horse touching down.

"Libya." he murmured, echoing Wayne. "Ah... Dame Gwen, I'm sorry for touching your soul." Though few would understand a blade being a soul, Nico suspected that the Dame was one of the few who knew the connection. To die without a blade in your hands was to damn your soul - not that Nico really cared, he didn't have one.

"Our souls,Mr Hawkeye" Gwen corrected.
She gazed towards the hilt of Cortana,now resting in its sheat.Two souls,fighting for a common cause.Two souls,that needed each other to properly function.
Two souls,acquiring an unnatural synergy between them.The Dame feels like being a sword herself,the sharp line dividing Light and Darkness.
Every slash,every stab,every block.Both the Dame and the sword feel them.

Cortana-Sword of Mercy.One of the many,fabled weapons of the legends.Forged with the same steel of Durendal and Joyeuse,carring the same ancestral power possessed by the likes of Galatine and Arondight.
Sir Tristan wielded it,when his heart burned for Isolde.
The paladin Ogier wielded it,when he fought the Saracens under the liege of Charlemagne.

And now there she was,the current wielder of Cortana.Dame Neverton,last standing member of the Knights of the Round Table.
She stepped off the sled,landing on the soft sand beneath it,then took the first steps towards the entrance of the cave.

[Nationstatelandsville]

Nico frowned, and sat back in the sleigh, wondering what was going on. He frowned, and then just tapped against the hilts. He could feel his insanity bleeding through him, actually infesting his mind.One two three four five four five four three two one two one two threefourfivefourfive43- his thoughts were interrupted by the horse touching down.

"Libya." he murmured, echoing Wayne. "Ah... Dame Gwen, I'm sorry for touching your soul." Though few would understand a blade being a soul, Nico suspected that the Dame was one of the few who knew the connection. To die without a blade in your hands was to damn your soul - not that Nico really cared, he didn't have one.

"Our souls,Mr Hawkeye" Gwen corrected.
She gazed towards the hilt of Cortana,now resting in its sheat.Two souls,fighting for a common cause.Two souls,that needed each other to properly function.
Two souls,acquiring an unnatural synergy between them.The Dame feels like being a sword herself,the sharp line dividing Light and Darkness.
Every slash,every stab,every block.Both the Dame and the sword feel them.

Cortana-Sword of Mercy.One of the many,fabled weapons of the legends.Forged with the same steel of Durendal and Joyeuse,carring the same ancestral power possessed by the likes of Galatine and Arondight.
Sir Tristan wielded it,when his heart burned for Isolde.
The paladin Ogier wielded it,when he fought the Saracens under the liege of Charlemagne.

And now there she was,the current wielder of Cortana.Dame Neverton,last standing member of the Knights of the Round Table.
She stepped off the sled,landing on the soft sand beneath it,then took the first steps towards the entrance of the cave.

Gwen would enter to find that the cave was exactly how they found it, secret entrance and all. This raised the question of whether or not the Libyan soldiers had even seen the cave, which was actually rather unlikely. It had belonged to Arthur after all, a king from England. If his body could get transported to Libya without modern technology, it could be hidden from a few confused mortals. It was rather odd that the message they left had been in Modern English, but it seemed to suggest some kind of telepathic interaction with whoever was reading the words. Moving on, the only change to the tomb was that the rusty old blade that had been stuck in the table now glowed gold. I'll let Agr describe it from there, since its his sword.

"Get the sword and move on, please," Wayne demanded, catching up with Gwen, "also, cue supernatural thing!"

Michael faded into existence in front of the sleigh, looking more than a little pissed at his younger brother.

"Where the hell have you been?!" he barked at Gabriel, "Didn't you get my messages?!"

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Gabriel checked his IPhone. "Fuck you." "I fucked all your whores after you left Heaven." "I kissed a daemon and I liked it." He said, reciting the posts on his wall on Celestialbook. "Is this you, or is this Zacheriah hacking your account?" he asked.

"In general, I think I was ignoring you. What's up?"

[Nationstatelandsville]

Gabriel checked his IPhone. "Fuck you." "I fucked all your whores after you left Heaven." "I kissed a daemon and I liked it." He said, reciting the posts on his wall on Celestialbook. "Is this you, or is this Zacheriah hacking your account?" he asked.

"In general, I think I was ignoring you. What's up?"

This answered with a punch straight from God himself. Or rather, it would have been from God, if he and Odin weren't in the middle of nap-time. (Yes, I did insinuate that Odin and Yahweh are a gay couple that share Odinsleep; yes, I find the idea hilarious; yes, it is now canon.) Michael leaped over the sleigh and onto Gabriel, knocking the angel out of Santa's ride and onto the ground. He began to pummel his brother, delivering punch after punch after punch to his cocky little face. Gabriel may have been strong, but he was no archangel. All the while, Michael was screaming in an unintelligible and volatile blend of Greek, Latin, and Hebrew slurs, most of which amounted to: "You useless whore, how could you? How could you? This is worse than the time when I was 7 and you threw Mr. Fluffliewums into a supernova." After about five minutes of unrelenting angelic rage, Michael calmed down and floated into the air, away from Gabriel. He was in his Italian form, and he looked very bad: His toga was ripped to shreds, barely covering his less divine parts, his wings limp and missing massive chunks of feathers. He was battered and bruised, covered in dirt, grime, and dried blood. He had lost his sword and now carried a very David-esque sling, which is never a good sign for an army if it is lead by such a broken man. His nose was broken and bleeding, and two massive scars went down his right cheek. That was his turning cheek, goddammit!

"You really have no idea, do you?" he asked, dumbfounded, "It's October 30th, Gabriel. I haven't talked to you since the 11th, when you returned from the Outside and I asked you about the prophecy. On the 13th, Uriel was summoned to Naples, Italy by a Greek sorcerer. The city was immediately destroyed by an unprecedentedly powerful lightning bolt, completely destroying it and killing Uriel. Not simply ruined, but totally atomized. A phenomenon like that has never been seen on Earth before. the next morning, the same happened to Florence, taking down Uriel this time. That night, Raphael broke into Olympus and found plans for Jupiter's new super-weapon, the city-destroying lightning we had seen in Italy. We immediately declared war on the Olympians, covertly driving the agents from Italy and Greece. Their response came on the 20th, with an attack on an angelic encampment outside of Athens. On the 22nd, my forces met theirs in Germany and a massive battle broke out in the Black Forest. On the 23rd, they deployed one of their so-called 'Static Electricity Long Range Weapons', or SEL's as we've been calling them, on Canterbury Cathedral. There has been little war on Earth since then, but Olympus is currently defending its border from our occupying forces. We ourselves have begun to gather any and all Olympians in Heaven and are imprisoning them inside the Camel's Eye. I recently heard word that the Olympians are going to send a massive invasion force to Rome on All Saint's Day, one which aims to conquer Italy as an Earth base for their forces. The Society remains neutral and the public remains ignorant, but knowing your girlfriend, that won't last long."

[Nightkill the Emperor]

"Oh." Gabriel said.

"Oh fuck."

There was a pause. Then Gabriel started dialing on his phone. "WHITE! ANSWER THIS!"

[Ionian Knights]

Durim looked at the two angels fighting like little girls. "Look, I'm no expert on diplomacy, but I do believe what Mr. Micheal here just said is the equivalent of hell on Earth." Instinctively he clutched his ax, his knuckles white. "Also, let's hurry up and get out of Libya while we still can, cause if what you say is true, Rome is in trouble. I'm no fan of all that fancy art shit, but while we still can fight, we must!" The dwarven fury in him was boiling. "We fight to the last man! We fight to the death! Most likely we are all that stand between you humans surviving, thus my race surviving, and utter destruction. And That brings in no beer or gold." Durim's eyes looked like they were on fire inside. "We save Rome, Italy, Europe, then find peace... cause my gut tells me that there is a third party in this..." He looked at Oliver. "How much you want to bet the OIA are the instigators?"

[Nationstatelandsville]

"Oh." Gabriel said.

"Oh fuck."

There was a pause. Then Gabriel started dialing on his phone. "WHITE! ANSWER THIS!"

White and the Room were staring at each other intensely. The past seventeen days had been filled with a whole lot of bullshit, and White needed to unwind somehow. So, like any sane human would do, she summoned her Christoper Eccelston doppelganger best friend whose dark and horrible powers reached far beyond human understanding and challenged him to a staring contest. White had forgotten to factor in two things: Gabriel's physical incapability to make a decision without her holding his hand and the Room never having to blink. Ever. Seriously, don't look at the guy, its extremely unsettling. White's petty attempt to beat the Ninth Doctor at anything was interrupted, of course, by Gabriel, who is really the only person in this creepy pseudo-mènage à trois who really matters. White simply sighed, knowing full well who it was. No one else knew her number, everyone else just called the cops and screamed a lot about fish-men eating their waffles (fish-men love waffles) and the police rerouted them to the Society. She reached across the table and grabbed the phone, never taking her eyes off of the Room. They were starting to sing.

"Fuck you," she said, bringing it up to her face, "you already missed your deadline and I set you up with the perfect plot for a Kiefer Sutherland television series. You're all going to lose your jobs if I can't convince Yellow and Purple to change their minds. They never liked you, you know. Old white men never do."

Durim looked at the two angels fighting like little girls. "Look, I'm no expert on diplomacy, but I do believe what Mr. Micheal here just said is the equivalent of hell on Earth." Instinctively he clutched his ax, his knuckles white. "Also, let's hurry up and get out of Libya while we still can, cause if what you say is true, Rome is in trouble. I'm no fan of all that fancy art shit, but while we still can fight, we must!" The dwarven fury in him was boiling. "We fight to the last man! We fight to the death! Most likely we are all that stand between you humans surviving, thus my race surviving, and utter destruction. And That brings in no beer or gold." Durim's eyes looked like they were on fire inside. "We save Rome, Italy, Europe, then find peace... cause my gut tells me that there is a third party in this..." He looked at Oliver. "How much you want to bet the OIA are the instigators?"

"Third party?" Oliver scoffed, "There are third and fourth parties involved in this. But I'll let White explain that to you when we get back to D.C. You are considering joining the Society, right?"

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Gabriel's voice screamed into the phone in Arabic. "WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?" he sighed. "I don't even need to be there to know what you're doing. You're challenging a doppelganger who is currently a Doctor to a staring contest. Is it Tennant? No, not Smith. Eccelston. That's it. Really White, I'm just disappointed." he said.

"Anyway, you're probably updated on what's going on. They blew up Naples? Remember our vacation there a century ago? Motherfuckers blew the place up. Olympus is attacking Heaven. I'll need your help." he continued now in French for no particular reason other than he could.

[Nationstatelandsville]

Gabriel's voice screamed into the phone in Arabic. "WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?" he sighed. "I don't even need to be there to know what you're doing. You're challenging a doppelganger who is currently a Doctor to a staring contest. Is it Tennant? No, not Smith. Eccelston. That's it. Really White, I'm just disappointed." he said.

"Anyway, you're probably updated on what's going on. They blew up Naples? Remember our vacation there a century ago? Motherfuckers blew the place up. Olympus is attacking Heaven. I'll need your help." he continued now in French for no particular reason other than he could.

"Ecoutez ici," White replied in French, "salope imbécile vous. Je ne sais pas comment ils font les choses dans ce bordel dans le ciel de vous appeler à la maison, mais ici en Amérique nous faisons les choses de façon intelligente, généralement avec un peu de pétards plus que nécessaire. Je ne vais pas mettre en péril ma société et mon pays pour aider vous et votre frère face avec un ajustement hissy divin. J'ai besoin de penser à mes électeurs ici, Gabriel. Je ne peux pas laisser de chaque côté aucune raison de nous détester, tu le sais. Ainsi, je ne peux pas vous offrir la moindre aide.

En tant que tel, le Nemo est d'environ dix mètres de vous, rempli de quelques armes laissés par la bataille contre le dos Jotunn dans les années 80. Votre niveau de Star Trek au laser des fusils, des armes de balles base pour les nostalgiques, un marteau et une épée ou deux. Eron est-il de la voile.

Et n'oubliez pas, je n'ai rien fait pour vous."

[Ionian Knights]

"Oh." Gabriel said.

"Oh fuck."

There was a pause. Then Gabriel started dialing on his phone. "WHITE! ANSWER THIS!"

White and the Room were staring at each other intensely. The past seventeen days had been filled with a whole lot of bullshit, and White needed to unwind somehow. So, like any sane human would do, she summoned her Christoper Eccelston doppelganger best friend whose dark and horrible powers reached far beyond human understanding and challenged him to a staring contest. White had forgotten to factor in two things: Gabriel's physical incapability to make a decision without her holding his hand and the Room never having to blink. Ever. Seriously, don't look at the guy, its extremely unsettling. White's petty attempt to beat the Ninth Doctor at anything was interrupted, of course, by Gabriel, who is really the only person in this creepy pseudo-mènage à trois who really matters. White simply sighed, knowing full well who it was. No one else knew her number, everyone else just called the cops and screamed a lot about fish-men eating their waffles (fish-men love waffles) and the police rerouted them to the Society. She reached across the table and grabbed the phone, never taking her eyes off of the Room. They were starting to sing.

"Fuck you," she said, bringing it up to her face, "you already missed your deadline and I set you up with the perfect plot for a Kiefer Sutherland television series. You're all going to lose your jobs if I can't convince Yellow and Purple to change their minds. They never liked you, you know. Old white men never do."

Durim looked at the two angels fighting like little girls. "Look, I'm no expert on diplomacy, but I do believe what Mr. Micheal here just said is the equivalent of hell on Earth." Instinctively he clutched his ax, his knuckles white. "Also, let's hurry up and get out of Libya while we still can, cause if what you say is true, Rome is in trouble. I'm no fan of all that fancy art shit, but while we still can fight, we must!" The dwarven fury in him was boiling. "We fight to the last man! We fight to the death! Most likely we are all that stand between you humans surviving, thus my race surviving, and utter destruction. And That brings in no beer or gold." Durim's eyes looked like they were on fire inside. "We save Rome, Italy, Europe, then find peace... cause my gut tells me that there is a third party in this..." He looked at Oliver. "How much you want to bet the OIA are the instigators?"

"Third party?" Oliver scoffed, "There are third and fourth parties involved in this. But I'll let White explain that to you when we get back to D.C. You are considering joining the Society, right?"

Durim raised a bushy eyebrow. "Well... lets see,you're all in hot water... your boss hates your guts." He motioned to Gabe and his phone. God damn that thing knew how to scream out White's voice, "and you seem to be a fighting a losing battle." He looked at the group. What a pitiful bunch of heroes, but then again, stories were stories and if this was the Brigade, so be it. "I'll accept your offer Mr. Oliver, but on the grounds that I'm not exactly in the Sixth. You all seem to... I don't know... off for my liking, but the world needs a-saving and unless the Italians can pull something out of their asses, like say a guy who can spawn the dead to fight against the gods, we're smoked." He then gave a great belly laugh. "speaking of smoke, anyone want to have one?" The dwarf grabbed his pipe and started to smoke. "Also, I get to make the armor for you guys. Kevlar and carbon-fiber is like butter compared to my work."

[Agritum]

While Gabriel and Michael bickered outside of the cave,Gwen had reached the sword.She grabbed with both hands the hilt of it,and pulled it in her direction.The sword came off easily from the table,causing Gwen to fall on her back due to the excessive thrust she had applied on it.
Then,she finally got a closer look at the glowing sword:
Its hilt was composed by a slender,long grip painted in a dark blue color,connected to curved,golden cross-guard.The pommel was very small,almost non-existant,and tinged too in a golden hue.
The blade,who measured about 90 cm in length and 20 of width,was decorated by in an particular cross motive on its rain guard and letters of unknown alphabet carved on its edge.

Certainly,it had been forged by expert hands,maybe divine ones.Gwen could feel an ethereal aura being emitted by the sword,enveloping her in a soothing and warm sensation.
But why that rusty sword had started to glow as she entered the cave?And most importantly,what that sword was?Surely,it was a very ancient artifact,kept in pristine condition by whatever arcane force that permeated it.

Her mind full of unanswered questions,Gwen stepped out of the cave with the newly found sword,reaching her fellow Brigadiers.As she heard of the nuking of Naples and Canterbury,and of the ongoing war between Yahweh and the Olympians,Gwen shuddered.

"So many lives lost..." she murmured,gripping the Glowing Sword thightly.

[Nationstatelandsville]

While Gabriel and Michael bickered outside of the cave,Gwen had reached the sword.She grabbed with both hands the hilt of it,and pulled it in her direction.The sword came off easily from the table,causing Gwen to fall on her back due to the excessive thrust she had applied on it.
Then,she finally got a closer look at the glowing sword:
Its hilt was composed by a slender,long grip painted in a dark blue color,connected to curved,golden cross-guard.The pommel was very small,almost non-existant,and tinged too in a golden hue.
The blade,who measured about 90 cm in length and 20 of width,was decorated by in an particular cross motive on its rain guard and letters of unknown alphabet carved on its edge.

Certainly,it had been forged by expert hands,maybe divine ones.Gwen could feel an ethereal aura being emitted by the sword,enveloping her in a soothing and warm sensation.
But why that rusty sword had started to glow as she entered the cave?And most importantly,what that sword was?Surely,it was a very ancient artifact,kept in pristine condition by whatever arcane force that permeated it.

Her mind full of unanswered questions,Gwen stepped out of the cave with the newly found sword,reaching her fellow Brigadiers.As she heard of the nuking of Naples and Canterbury,and of the ongoing war between Yahweh and the Olympians,Gwen shuddered.

"So many lives lost..." she murmured,gripping the Glowing Sword thightly.

"We theorize that they attacked Naples and Florence to launch the war," Michael told the dame, "and moved on to Canterbury to begin a systematic destruction of our religious strongholds. You see, religion is how the gods establish our power here. The first religion was founded by the First Gods, gods so ancient the only way we remember them is through our own legends, the religions of the gods. It is said that the First Gods came from the abyss, Chaos, before even the Alpha Dimension. Our legends say that the world of the First God's came before the Multiverse as a whole, but it crumbled back into the abyss. The First Gods, or, as they are called by certain denominations, the Higher-Ups, fled into the Anything..."

"Anything?" Oliver interrupted.

"The Anything is indescribable," Michael answered, "it cannot be perceived by any living thing, mortal or immortal. You see, the Anything was what surrounded Chaos before Chaos fed Creation into the Anything."

"So the Anything is like the Nothing?" Oliver asked.

"The Anything is the absence of all Creation," Michael continued, "that includes the Nothing."

"What made the Anything?" Wayne questioned.

"The Anything isn't even a thing," Michael said, "its true nothing, truer than the Nothing. There was no need to make it, because there was nothing to be made."

"Huh?" Wayne said.

"Again," Michael replied, "indescribable. Anyhow, Chaos created new Creation from the old universe, which we call the Pradesa. However, the Pradesa had not totally collapsed, and left it behind a shadow, I suppose you could call it. The foundation of their universe remained, and we now know it as the Nothing. The Nothing is the base distillation of any Creation. It consists solely of protons, electrons, and neutrons that have not fused into atoms. Chaos creates the Nothing and then causes reactions in it, causing the protons, electrons, and neutrons to fuse into atoms and cause Big Bangs. But you see, the Nothing of the Pradesa was different from the new Nothing of Chaos's new Creation. This new Nothing, which makes up our worlds, is called Everything. So the Everything fused together to create a whole bunch of universes, which we call the Omniverse. Our Multiverse is a small part of the Omniverse, and the Multiverses consists of every world that is comparable to ours: worlds that contain life and familiar laws of physics. The Omniverse as a whole could not expand further than the remains of the Pradesa, so they became trapped inside the Nothing. The Nothing functions as a net that catches any new universes and holds them in place. With the Nothing holding us together, we can never collapse like the Pradesa did, and we can never expand into the Anything."

"Makes sense, I guess," Oliver said.

"Yeah," Michael responded, "but I got sidetracked. The point is, the First Gods came to the Alpha Dimension, which was the first world in our Multiverse to be born, and they passed on accounts of their lives to the first sentient animals there, Homo something or other. They did the same to all the races of gods, creating psuedo-colonies where we practiced rituals to appease the First Gods and to increase their power. In exchange, the First Gods guided and helped us. From this plan, religion evolved, and the other gods followed the First Gods' examples when dealing with life. Then, something happened the First Gods. No one has seen them since long before the first human was born. We can't even remember them, the Lord Yahweh hadn't been born yet. Only the Babylonian gods remembered them by the time other religions came to be, and the Babylonians are long dead. So, you see, the gods have certain areas where their religions are most powerful, so they are most powerful. These are places like churches or other things, particularly places like the Vatican and Canterbury, places where religions are run. The entire Palestine is like that, and our troops are powerful to destroy the entire world there. We don't go to the Palestine, because using your upgraded powers is consider dishonorable. However, it is also dishonorable to destroy these places. The Olympians tried to provoke us by attacking so close to our points of power, and it worked. They finally crossed the line and destroyed Canterbury as a way of telling us off. This is divine warfare, destroying other places of power to weaken the gods' hold on the Alpha Dimension and force them to flee back to their homes. We have to stop the Olympians in Rome before they prepare enough SEL's to destroy the Palestine and make us too weak to put up any kind of worthwhile fight. Luckily for us, the Olympians are weak here already, so we should be able to quash them."

"What about the Black Forest?" Oliver asked, "Why did they attack that?"

"I'll let Remus explain that to you," Michael answered, "and you alone, Oliver."

"Why?" he questioned, "What's that supposed to mean?"

[Nightkill the Emperor]

"Stop giving us backstory." Gabriel snapped. "What are we going to do now?"

It's a short post because I'm busy and Nat wants one.

[Rupudska]

Upon hearing of the destruction of Italy, Francesca stopped dead. Being Italian, the news affected her more than any other. She crumpled to the ground, like a puppet with its strings cut. She said nothing, simply lying there, the rug pulled out from under her. When Gabriel asked what was next, however, she stood up. "What's next? I'll fucking tell you what's next. We go to Rome."

[Nationstatelandsville]

"Stop giving us backstory." Gabriel snapped. "What are we going to do now?"

It's a short post because I'm busy and Nat wants one.

"No idea," Michael said with a shrug, "I was planning to beat you to death."

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaand cue plot!" Wayne lampshaded, exiting the cave. He had spent his time exploring it for a bit. He liked caves now, he assumed it was a werewolf thing. Anyhow, at this very moment, Michael's cellphone rang. There are two things worth noting about this. First, this was the ringtone of God's greatest warrior: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X024NEsDyC8 Second, Michael didn't have a cellphone. Not in his current form at least. As such, he was forced to assume the form of his that actually had a phone. Thus, Michael landed and took a deep breath in, closing his eyes and allowing change to wash over his body. Michael the Italian no longer stood before the group, and in his place, was Steve Jobs wearing a black turtle-neck and brown khakis. Steve reached into his pocket and produced an iPhone, stopping to address the others before he answered it.

"Tell no-one," was all he said. At this moment, Michael vanished, presumably because it was a private conversation.

"Suck it, Bill Gates!" Wayne laughed.

"...What the hell is wrong with you?" Oliver sighed. Michael returned to the group, still in Steve Jobs form but now decked out in a golden suit of armor that would make Jon Favreau envious.

"That was Harut," he said, shifting back into his Italian form, "the Olympian invasion has started. They just appeared out of nowhere: storm spirits, fauns, giants, the Minotaur, and the other two Gorgons. Jupiter and Apollo are leading them into battle."

"And who do you have?" Oliver asked.

"My armies have been waiting to appear since the 27th," Michael answered, "they were there the second this happened. I just need to go and lead them. Additionally, we are receiving assistance from Mars."

"Mars is on your side?" Wayne asked, surprised.

"Ares is always on the opposite side of Zeus," Oliver explained, "he used to be considered an outsider by the Olympians. When Rome was founded by his children, the other gods reluctantly allowed him back on Olympus, but Mars would side with whoever was protecting Rome. Rome is his city, and Jupiter's forces would most likely destroy it."

"Neptune is also on our side," Michael continued, "but he is only giving us assistance on the coastlines and in the sea. Pluto, Minerva, Vulcan, and Venus remain neutral, while the rest are with Jupiter. Apollo is sided with his father, but has so far refused to send any military tropes for fear of angering his sister. She has him on collar and leash."

"I'll say it for you, Gabe," Wayne offered, "kinky."

"Should we be going then?" Oliver asked.

"Its not that simple," Michael replied, "I wouldn't be worried, but..."

"But what?" Wayne questioned.

"But a mortal army has intervened," Michael said, "and its not Italy's. Its Russian, but the government hasn't deployed any troops."

"The OIA," Oliver deduced, "fan-fucking-tastic."

"And there have been sightings of a muscular Santa Claus shooting water out of his ass to amuse himself while smoking weed cigars," Michael added with disdain.

"...What the fuck?" was all Wayne could say.

"Rurik," Michael replied.

[Ionian Knights]

Durim furrowed his brow. "So... we have a 4 way contest for one city? A city that can't be destroyed." He looked at Micheal. "Rome has power for both sides no? and if it is destroyed, it's a catch 22." He started to pace, with his pipe in his mouth. "Also, I found this mask near Santa's place." He pulled it out of his knapsack and showed it to the group. "You guys know what it is? Cause I'm rather confused, and intrigued by the design, for it seems not to have been made by dwarf nor man..." He snickered a little. "Trust me, you humans make such flawed devices, I feel sickened to even think of them." In the Dwarf's mind though, he was planning on how they were going to fight gods... and stop the world, his home, from falling to pieces...

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Gabriel sighed. "Alright. So," he said, changing into Neil Patrick Harris, "Let's go. It's not like I have anything better to do." he said.

"Oh, by the way, Mike? Guess what I got." he said, holding his assault rifle. "Spear of Destiny. Converted into a motherfucking assault rifle. Can you tell Uriel to suck it?" A pause. "Oh yeah. He's dead. Tell Raphael." Another pause. "...Let's go kill those Roman bastards, shall we?"

[Nationstatelandsville]

Durim furrowed his brow. "So... we have a 4 way contest for one city? A city that can't be destroyed." He looked at Micheal. "Rome has power for both sides no? and if it is destroyed, it's a catch 22." He started to pace, with his pipe in his mouth. "Also, I found this mask near Santa's place." He pulled it out of his knapsack and showed it to the group. "You guys know what it is? Cause I'm rather confused, and intrigued by the design, for it seems not to have been made by dwarf nor man..." He snickered a little. "Trust me, you humans make such flawed devices, I feel sickened to even think of them." In the Dwarf's mind though, he was planning on how they were going to fight gods... and stop the world, his home, from falling to pieces...

Oliver blinked. He remembered everything about the miànmó and lánliǎn now, which was a surprisingly large amount of information to forget. He assumed that only Gabriel could truly remember what happened in the Workshop with the mask in front of them restoring their memories, as an angel's memory is an amazing thing. Just like anything else in an angel's body, it was nigh-invulnerable. Nigh-invulnerable, of course. Gabriel forgot a lot of things. Like, for instance, James.

"I'll take that," Oliver said to Durim, wrenching the mask from his hands and putting it inside his coat, "I had it made when I had a memory lapse. A consequence of being trapped in the Nothing for 800 years. The mask allows whoever is wearing it to remember the masked women. I fear that more of them await us in Rome, most likely under the employ of Rurik or the OIA.

...Did I spend 800 years in the nothing?"

Then, Oliver forgot what he just said, for the sake of his own sanity. Everyone also forgot about the mask, since it was out of sight. But not Gabriel. And also, I just realized, not Nico, because he can read our posts. Shit.

"So, uh..." the werewolf continued, blinking to get his mind back in focus, "Gabriel, Gwen. I want you guys with me, on the Nemo. I need your help piloting it."

So Oliver and the other two waltzed off to the submarine, maybe skipping a little bit and singing a show-tune. Actually, I'm pretty sure that was just Gabriel. Anyhow, the three of them found the sub, which was floating on the surface, and got in. Oliver took the captain's seat, Gwen took navigation, and Gabriel was weapons. While this happened, Wayne whipped the reins on Santa's sleigh, and it rose slowly into the air. Oliver flipped a few switches on his control panel and chuckled, and the S.S. Nemo was airborne.

First, there came a loud hum. It was high-pitched and whiny, and it signified the descent of the rocket boosters into the water. Next, there was a deep male's voice declaring...

"5!"

"4!"

"3!"

"2!"

"1!"

...and the humming died out, replaced by a loud screech. The sub began to climb into the air, moving very, very slowly. Loud creaking noises filled the sub, letting its pilots now that gravity was not pleased with this sudden development. However, after several nerve-racking seconds of these noises filling the sub, which was gradually beginning to tip down towards the back, it had climbed to twenty feet above the air. Santa's sleigh was thirty feet. At this second, the screeching and creaking were replaced with a loud and continuous BLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH! sound as the sub rocketed forward towards Rome at the speed of a jet plane. The sleigh pursued it at a slightly slower speed, though it could have gone much faster. The sub was long, about thirty feet long and ten feet tall, and it was shaped like a pill. It was made of black metal panels, and it had a man-sized hatch in the dead center for entering it. On the bottom of the sub, it now had six large cones protruding from the bottom. These cones had no bottoms and were shooting out red light, the energy that was suspending the Nemo in the air.

And then everything went to hell.

Let me tell you something about the Libyan government: Like any government, when two fast-moving aircraft appear out of goddamn nowhere, they panic. And, since Libya was now an isolated and weak nation, said panic usually involved missiles. As such, three massive heat-seeking missiles were deployed on the sleigh, and two fighter jets were sent after the Nemo. They caught up to them with relative ease, because something was folding reality to make it smaller. Something was amused by this.

"Gabriel!" Oliver yelled to the angel, a manic smile spreading across his face, "You are going to love this!"

Gabriel's chair collapsed, and he fell through a trap door into a new one. It was dark where Gabriel was, but he was in a comfy chair and he had a joystick with a big red button on it. And then, very quickly he fell into the light. He in a large glass orb, which was attached to the ship. The chair was screwed into the orb's base, and if he moved the joystick, Gabriel would move the orb. Oh, and he was attached to a large cannon. That shot lasers. So yeah, that was cool.

"Go on Wilf," Oliver said to Gabriel through a speaker system, "have some fun."

Wayne, meanwhile, was swerving out of the way of the missiles, managing to get two of them to crash into each other. Unfortunately, that involved a lot of swaying that almost threw everyone off and oh, the explosion also made the wood sleigh catch on fire. So basically, everyone was trying to hold on and also not burn themselves.

"A LITTLE HELP WOULD BE NICE!" he yelled back at the Nemo which, by now, was under attack from the fighter planes.

[The Inritus Extraho]

Nico laughed, and clung to the top of the Nemo - don't ask how he got there - and stared at the fighter planes.

"Aaaaand poof." he said, pointing with one hand, the Ring of Destiny - yeah, that's its name now, fuck you - clutched against the hilt of the Sword of R'yleh before he watched a single twisting green bolt of chaotic energy pulse out and touch one of the missiles. It flashed once, and turned into a whale, screaming "NOT AGAIIIIIN" before it fell into the water.

Nico frowned. "Wow... the Writer is either very tired... or just stupid from sleep deprivation."

He shook his head. "Aren't those the same things?"

[Agritum]

Gwen observed the radar,while the battle raged around the Nemo.
"Wait..but those are Lybian fighters!And we're shotting them down..."
She slammed her hand on the table near the navigation console.
"They're military!They are only doing their work!Couldn't we simply evade them and shot down the missiles?"
Gwen covered her face,as her head crumbled on the desk.
"Dear God...I feel like the accomplice of a murderer..."

[Nightkill the Emperor]

"Pew! Pew pew pew! Take that, Libyans! This is what you get for electing Gaddafi instead of Gabriel!" he yelled, firing down at the planes. He repeatedly pressed the joystick button, firing down lasers.

He flicked on a switch.

Music turned on. He began singing with the lyrics.

A warning to the people
The good and the evil
This is war
To the soldier, the civillian
The martyr, the victim
This is war

It's the moment of truth and the moment to lie
The moment to live and the moment to die
The moment to fight, the moment to fight, to fight, to fight, to fight

[Nationstatelandsville]

Gwen observed the radar,while the battle raged around the Nemo.
"Wait..but those are Lybian fighters!And we're shotting them down..."
She slammed her hand on the table near the navigation console.
"They're military!They are only doing their work!Couldn't we simply evade them and shot down the missiles?"
Gwen covered her face,as her head crumbled on the desk.
"Dear God...I feel like the accomplice of a murderer..."

"Dame," Oliver said, his voice amplified by the microphone. There was no need to do that, but it was fun. It gave Oliver's voice an extra bit of authority, and also he could switch it to all kinds of weird voices. At the moment, he set it to Darth Vader, because why the hell not? He failed to notice the symbolism of this, given what he was about to say.

"Gwen," he continued, "look. Life is not that simple. They attacked us, we fought back. There is no diplomacy with them, you know that if they found out it was... if they found out it was, they'd kill us. Now, I don't about you, but I'm not in the mood to lose my team. We'll have to kill two innocent men to do this, but think about it this way: There are eight of us. We saved six lives. There are eight billion people in this world. By killing those two men, we are saving seven billion, nine million, nine thousand, nine hundred, and ninety-eight lives, not even counting all of the animals and supernatural creatures who would die if this war continued. By going to Rome and stopping this war here, today, we are stopping the end of the world. That's another red star. And none of that would matter. The four of you, Gwen, Nico, Fran, and Roland... you all are my best friends. You're my family. I could never go on without you. So, if I have to kill two soldiers to protect you four, so be it. Chalk it up to the lycanthropy, but you guys are my pack. And a good wolf does anything for it's pack.

Wait, a second, where the fuck is Eron?!"

As if to answer his question, the elf entered the control room. He looked different. Eron had, in the past, been seven feet tall, had pale skin and vampiric fangs, pointy ears, and long golden hair. A proper Tolkien elf. He looked the same, only his usual slight smile had given way to a creepy David Tennant grin (Google it) and he'd grown a goatee. Who the fuck does that? Also, he was wearing Zod spandex (Google those, too) and his usual purple eyes were glowing bright red.

"Now whe-re-re's my litt-le-le bro--bro-th-th-er?" he said in a Danny deVito voice that cracked and skipped, "T-t-ell him Luke wa-wants to give him a hug!"

"Pew! Pew pew pew! Take that, Libyans! This is what you get for electing Gaddafi instead of Gabriel!" he yelled, firing down at the planes. He repeatedly pressed the joystick button, firing down lasers.

He flicked on a switch.

Music turned on. He began singing with the lyrics.

A warning to the people
The good and the evil
This is war
To the soldier, the civillian
The martyr, the victim
This is war

It's the moment of truth and the moment to lie
The moment to live and the moment to die
The moment to fight, the moment to fight, to fight, to fight, to fight

A single missile had thrown itself at Gabriel, and he had expertly dodged that and it crashed into the sea below. Gabriel swerved again and, with the accuracy of a warrior who had served for millions of years, shot the plane that had fired on him down with ease. He then swerved to his right and fired on the other plane, but of a fluke missed. This didn't much matter since, in order to dodge the cannon, the plane had to spin so quickly it was sent spiraling into the sea below. Gabriel was too good at this for his own good.

"I feel like you're working out some personal stuff," Michael shouted, his voice amplified by Divine Shit^{©THE CORPORATION OF DIVINE PANTHEONS, INC.}. He caught up to Gabriel and was now flying next to his brother, laughing a hardy laugh you wouldn't expect from someone in a such a grave situation.

"I told you stuffing those ballots would never work!" he chuckled, "It didn't work against Kennedy and it didn't work in Libya."