AGG: Rise: Creation’s Dilemma

AGG: Rise: Creation’s Dilemma

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Commissioned by Bingereader, Cjdavis, and Blfqy

Word Count: 6086 (2500) (1000) (2500)

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Hello, good morning. Yes, it’s me. The Aspect of Creation, God, and Celeste Thomas. Yeah, it’s a bit overdone, but the Trinity thing’s pretty cool, so I’m sticking with it. Anyway, I’m happy to report that I’m currently alive and well, all the people I’m technically responsible for are safe and sound, and my reincarnated, totally-after-my-best-friend son is dealing with the apocalypse… or is that three apocalypses? I’ve lost count, but that’s because I’m busy. Yeah. Totally busy. I haven’t taken a vacation after exhausting myself from one fight, or anything. Really, you can trust me.

Anyway, overall, the situation’s 10/10 at the moment.

Mah boi is out there doing what I wanted him to do originally. Killin’ bad guys, assembling asskickers, and being the world’s poster child, despite the fact he’s obviously making a harem. I mean, Solomon had what… a thousand lovers? And, everyone thought that guy was pretty great, until he started cavorting with other gods. Really, if he just knew how to pick’em right, everything would’ve been fine. Well, as long as Song wore the pants in the relationship, I was sure that everything would turn out fine.

CORE’s cleaning up the rest of Ouroboros, with a little help from the Preservers. D-weapons are being secured, sealed, and hidden in underground bunkers. All of the battalions are finally clear to go out and kick Chimera to the curb without hiding. Wardens, Cleaners, and all the secret services are going ahead and entering semi-retirement, making the Arcologies safe from any organized criminals.

The Concepts are being secured by the Preservers in full compliance with the UN. The Preservers are getting action figures, video games, toys, and other paraphernalia, bringing in boatloads of cash, while also making morale rise higher and higher. Why’d you make all your Angels pretty, everyone asked. Why didn’t you make them terrifying, awe-inspiring, or intimidating? This is why! Universal appeal! Skyrocketing faith and worship! Fanclubs! Constant discord! Society naturally speeds after trends set by idols! What better idol is there than Li Song!? 

So, with everything on the up and up, you might be wondering how I’ve gotten myself into my current mess.

In front of me, is a short-haired, androgynous woman with scarlet hair, emerald eyes, and perfect complexion. She isn’t a Sorcerer, though with enough magic to slow her aging, but she is well armed and exceptionally trained. How well armed? How well exceptionally trained? Well, I, the Aspect of Creation, really want to run away at the moment. That’s how much. Now, granted, I prefer running away from a lot of my problems, as I am a squishy, squishy Aspect, but I remain an Aspect. The fact I want to run away is still noteworthy, especially when I’m armed, which I currently am.

I’m pretty sure mother would have me on the floor and fellating the barrel of her “gun,” the quad-cored event-horizon artifact handgun she had her arm enhanced for, the moment I tried to draw my own. Never thought I’d ever be afraid of my own tech, especially something that I gave as a birthday present, but that’s just how free will rolls, I guess. Fuck me, right!?

And, to my left, is my uncle.

Head of CORE.

Yeah, just my uncle.

Inventor of a branch of magic which involves hiding yourself from space and time.

Not anyone special.

A living mana battery, made through a eugenics program by Analytic Engine.

Just my uncle.

A mage who outstrips a Sorcerer in their combat abilities.

He’s my uncle.

An individual who has, on more than one occasion, levelled city blocks.

That’s my uncle.

The Speaker of the Dead, an entity who routinely says “fuck you” to leaving the stranded to their fates.

Definitely, just my uncle.

He was just, unthreateningly, glaring at my mother, because he just found out that my mother cultivated and used a battalion of disposable child soldiers.

…if anyone out there is listening, please, help me.

“Vorpal is to be shut down, Thomas.”

“Vorpal is needed now, more than ever, Creighton.”

Unfortunately, I, God, had my prayers go unanswered.

So, that’s what that felt like.

What a crummy feeling.

No wonder most of my Church hated each other.

Anyway, back to the shitshow, which is a superspy talking to a diplomat. I was sure that I was missing a million verbal and nonverbal cues a minute, at the moment. Really, I’m sure that my current presence in this meeting is already a power play by uncle Sherry’s design. Oh, what a rascal Uncle Sherry is! He’s such a joker! Yep! He always does silly things, like bringing the child of a child-soldier creator to their meeting. Who he’d instructed the woman to raise as a normal child who could make her own decisions. He’s such a shameless cad!

Please, help.

“Oh? What exactly do you intend with your assets now? When our only opponent is an interdimensional entity and an Aspect? I would very much like to know, Thomas.” That’s a very nice coat, uncle! Please, tell me it’s designer, and not meant for sustained, Ultimate-class combat. Also, that little emblem on your lapel? Very stylish! Please, tell me that’s not Elisabeth there, with Erica’s upgrades, powering your suit. Those are some great, great gloves. Please, tell me, those aren’t the Instant-Disintegration-Ritual prototypes I’d sent for you to test, last week. “Do you, perhaps, know something I don’t, besides what I happened learn secondhand from the man who saved my daughter’s life?”

I really don’t want to be here.

“Li Song, despite his words, can still become a tyrant, in the future. Vorpal is the only way to keep him in check, should he renege on his promises.” Hahaha! Yeah, that’s a  great joke, mother dearest! You’ve been practicing that for a while, right? Seriously, preparing to kill the Aspect of Conflict, after all the good he’s done? Yeah, you’d never plan that, right? That’s not your job, right? Ha ha ha, we should all go to a comedy club, so you can share that joke. Like, right now.  “We have a means of disabling him, though the means are unscrupulous, to insure he doesn’t become a threat to humanity.”

“Vorpal is the threat to humanity, Thomas. One of the Concepts is an apathetic psychopath, who can defeat Li Song with just a few allies, because of you.” My uncle’s a pretty great guy. Super great. He likes buying people nice clothes, our families always eat together on the holidays, and he never raises his voice. He’s great friends with my mother. They almost never argue. And, when they do, they never devolve into shouting matches. Not that that means they just talk at each other with enough subtle threats to sink a submarine, instead. That doesn’t happen. Not at all. “Dissolve Vorpal, now. Rejoin CORE. Otherwise, I won’t be able to protect you against everyone who’ll come looking for those responsible for Stiles.”

See, that wasn’t subtle at all!

“We can protect ourselves, Creighton. And, there’s no need to worry about CORE’s records getting even more dirtied. Our plan, to make sure that Vorpal and CORE are never identified together, worked.” Why am I even here right now? Did I do something terrible in my past lives? I mean, I’d like to think I’ve been a pretty good person across all my lives. So, why exactly am I sitting to Sheridan Creighton’s left, while he speaks with my mother, who supposedly plans to take on the whole world, if needed. “CORE can no longer make the decisions that it used to make, Creighton. Participating in wetwork operations is no longer possible for you, given the public eye.”

“And, that gives you carte blanche to do whatever you think is necessary, Thomas? Are you even listening to yourself? You and I have killed people with less power, and less extreme intentions, than you have.” Alright, Aspect of Creation. It’s time to grow some balls. You have a voice. You have led legions of Angels. People made a religion out of you. You can be charismatic, influential, and prominent. Now, all you have to do is talk to your uncle and your mother. And, nothing’s coming out of your mouth. It’s okay. You can try again, later. “Listen to yourself, you sound nearly unhinged—

My mother’s reinforced arm went through her desk with ease.

Well, that’s one way to get rid of nerves, I guess.

“Goddammit, Sheridan, take a moment to talk with me instead of at me!”

The motion carries, but only in my inside voice, and because my mother is scary. Sorry, Sherry.

“You just punched a hole through your desk, Thomas. You’re not exactly making a good case for your mental balance.”

“And, you’re kowtowing to a boy capable of cutting the world in half, who we just found out existed three months ago!” Now, when you say it like that… I mean, I’m not picking any sides here, because I know better than to try to weigh in on issues above my paygrade, but that’s a good point. Anyway, mother, please continue to make sense. I’ve just realized that I’ve been mostly backing Sherry up, probably because he’s so good at subtlety, so, please make some good points. “It’s ludicrous! How can you not suspect he’s doing something wrong, especially when the whole world practically worships him!?”

Uncle Sherry was about to provide some input, but mother cut him off.

Bold move, mother.

Now, let’s see if it works out.

“Sheridan, Vorpal was made for this moment. When you’ve been found, when all eyes are on you, this is when Vorpal is supposed to exist. We’re the backup, the counterbalance, and the hidden dagger against our own allies, in case of betrayal.” Mother pulled her arm out of the table, retook her seat, and seemed to be as old as she truly was. Afforded a goodly amount of magic, along with the best augmentations and medicines, I looked older than her in the right light. Still, by just letting out a sigh and lowering her shoulders just-so, she looked as though she experienced every decade she had twice over. “The program that created Stiles was a mistake. I… I just needed more agents like myself, trained like I was, than what everyone else offered. They were a stopgap, a means to buy time, so I could retrain adults as long as I could. I don’t spend a single day without regretting what I did… but, that mistake saved tens of thousands of lives, that would’ve been otherwise lost.”

Sheridan didn’t have an answer for that.

And, well, neither did I.

That was the catch-all, wasn’t it?

What was good? What was evil? Who was right, and who was wrong? And, finally, if you come to an answer, how can you expect everyone else to believe the same as you? Every civilization of humanity put their faith into different gods, with different forms, and different ideals. There’s no universal stance on morality, and those who force their view on others are nearly always wrong, save for those who believe that might makes right.

Both of the people with me, in this very room, would be individuals who I, once upon a time, would indict and send Angels against, in another life and another time. Even I changed with every reincarnation I endured. Every life I went through, lived through, and experienced,  fundamentally changed me. And, even then, each time I went through the cycle, the enormity of my task, to make the world “better,” seemed larger, and more impossible, than the last.

Sheridan has killed many. Thomas has killed much more. I have killed millions, and even eradicated the very existence of many Demons and Devils. To the eyes of the laymen, those who would be introduced to each of us, from any society, we were terrifying monsters who utilized lives like currency. Each one of us is dripping with sins,to those who are faithful. Heretics and monsters to those who do not. And, those who are educated, and who do not believe, would look upon us with fear in distrust.

None of us, intrinsically, had any right to sacrifice lives, hurt others, and cause pain.

Even for the sake of saving lives.

The only right we have to do what we’re doing, even with the dusty government mandate Sheridan had somewhere, is what we make ourselves. Those who stand against each of us can be silenced. Our morality can be alleviated by the fact that we’re saving others. Any naysayers, any allies we have, who question our means and methods, can simply be asked “would you have preferred to let those people die?” Our positions is irreproachable, unmatchable, and untouchable, unless we decide we are wrong.

This is absolute power, and it is as monstrous as I remember it to be.

What could Sheridan do, after my mother said the program would never happen again, after all the times he spent lives to buy time as she did, and after all they’ve done for the sake the lives of others, besides agree?

“Good, then, we’re on the same page, Thomas. As a leader, you’ve made errors, which your administration will take the blame for.” Eh? What? Excuse me? Pardon? Where did that smile come from? Why do you seem happy? Please, explain why you seem so fucking smug, right after my internal monologue! “So, of course, you’ll understand your need to retire within a year’s time from Vorpal’s command, and begin transferring control over the Celeste.”

…

…

…

Oh.

Yeah.

That.

That can happen.

…

Vorpal is a one-part deep-oil platform, and nine parts undersea installation. As far as anyone’s concerned, including mundane physics, the topmost part is the only thing that exists. However, a gracious allowance, Russian mass production of runes, and a few Templar artifacts allowed a small, compact city to flourish beneath the waves. Given my mother’s lack of naming sense, it was technically just called Vorpal Installation 02, while the rest of the employees (myself included) liked to call it Atlantis 2.0.

This time, however, there wasn’t an almighty bath plug right in the middle that could flood the whole city. What those Sorcerers were thinking centuries ago, making that sort of thing in the middle of their floating city, I don’t know. Couldn’t they have made it less innocuous? Less appealing to the random passerby? Did they think that making a beautiful, one-of-a-kind city, free of disease or hunger, could offer any of its citizens the literal chance to pull the plug, if discontent, without consequence?

They could at least have put a guard, or two, around it to make sure that discontent was real!

I’m pretty sure a random kid just pulled it for fun!

But, I digress.

Atlantis 2.0, all its inhabitants, and billions of credits of assets were now set to be at my disposal. That includes Vorpal’s last-ditch armory of CORE D-Weapons, the precise formula, manufacturing process, and techniques to make and utilize Woden’s Blood, and one of the Soviet Union’s most advanced  fabricators… which can make a fusion-powered spaceship out of bedrock in three days, process water into Helium 3, and arm it with a few dozen mass-drivers.

Needless to say, given how I’m me, I wondered why the heck I suddenly had the keys to turn the whole world into cinders.

Again. 

Thankfully, Mr. Just-As-Planned was here to explain things to me.

“So, uh, were you going to tell me that you were going to fire my mom, and then put me in charge, Sheridan?” Oh, how I wished this was just some sort of corporate takeover, with me acting as a puppet to my best friend’s dad. However, that wasn’t the case. I truly, really, one hundred percent, was completely in charge of the world’s largest, best-equipped espionage organization ever to exist, which also had the right to blow up most of the world without getting a single eyebrow raised in question. “Or, were you just going to be smug and mysterious, until you leave mysteriously to attend to stranger mysteries?”

If he said yes, I couldn’t really say anything back, mind you.

I once gave a guy advice as a burning bush.

That wasn’t exactly transparent nor a clear delivery of wisdom.

“I met with Thomas today, to see how she truly felt about the program that created Stiles. After speaking with her, I was convinced that she truly believes that program is a mistake. Her mistake, to be precise.” Yes, please, Sheridan Creighton, say everything simply and concisely. Read my mind for the questions I haven’t even said, but want to know the answers too. Truly, I appreciate being told everything I want, need, and require to know, before I even find the need the ask. Honestly, if you weren’t holding the world together, I would recommend you go ahead and become a college professor. “If she believed that Vorpal, as an organization, was in the right to create such programs, I would have shut this down with all the force I could muster. However, your mother told me what she truly felt. The program was a stopgap and a mistake that saved tens of thousands of lives… but she regrets its existence completely.”

“So… how does that translate into me becoming the head of Vorpal?”

“An organization that’s experiencing growing pains, that made mistakes it can’t repeat again, is acceptable, as long as efforts are made to change it.” I suppose, that’s what Sheridan found here in Vorpal today. And, naturally, the latter was…  “An organization that’s set in its ways, which has no intention of changing, and refuses to admit its mistakes, instead validating them by results, is unacceptable.” Now, a normal teacher would look at me, to try and elicit an answer, but Sheridan simply continues. He knows me, so he knows I understood his words, because those words were meant for me. “Thomas made a mistake in utilizing child soldiers. She admitted that. However, she also believes Vorpal is necessary. So, I gave her a compromise. Abdicate and support her replacement: you. Who, I hope, would never consider that course of action as  acceptable.”

Nah, I’m all about child soldiers. They’re the absolute best. They eat less, learn fast, and get into the tiniest nooks and crannies. Not only that, but if they survive, there’s no chance of them turning tail, because the organization was their whole life, fighting is all they know, and they don’t have any options or outside support. Sure, you gotta have them man squad-emplacements, mortars and heavy machine guns, when they’re too young, but, by the time they’re past seven, they can use small arms just fine!

Hahaha.

No.

Seriously, mom, what were you thinking!?

That’s just a step aboveusing a kid as a drug dispenser!

“Celeste, you need to remember that Thomas’s past is a mystery to both you and I. Her presence at CORE was simply justified by the US government at CORE’s inception, during the Cold War, by a single phrase: she’s our best.” Sheridan had a hand on my shoulder. Though I had a few inches on him now, he managed to make me feel small, especially with the smile he had on his face. It was the sort of smile that came with experience… and understanding. Two things that I struggled with after millennia.  “She’s a product of her time, yet she also understands that what she did is wrong, and is willing to ensure that it doesn’t happen again. Your mother remains an exceptional woman, and you should never doubt that.”

I had plenty of time to reply to those words, but I found myself looking up at Sheridan, as he stood on the precipice of the teleportation array. How much time had passed? Ten minutes? Twenty? We began to speak to one another upon exiting mother’s office. Yet, here we are, at the outskirts of the facility, where everyone comes and goes. While he’d spoken to me, as I’d patiently listened, time seemingly disappeared.

Or, rather, I hadn’t cared to keep track of it.

“Thomas will guide you faithfully, even at her own expense, Celeste. While she can commit such wrongs with only her name on the line, for the sake of others, she would rather die than allow you to do the same.” The words were simple, not what you’d expect of the man who could get Serafall Leviathan to speak, yet they stopped me in my tracks nonetheless. I didn’t know how, or why, but Sheridan Creighton can make feel like a child with utter ease. “Trust her more for this moment, for her admission and choice to repent, than otherwise, okay?”

When he says it like that, how could I refuse?

…

Johanna Stiles is one of thirty children who Vorpal utilized as a stopgap measure. While the first, initial years had Vorpal working closely with CORE, stymieing the need for high-caliber infiltrators, that changed when Vorpal could finally hold its own weight. Mother had been too quick, too decisive, in the detachment. She was left without allies, in the middle of the ocean, with too few assets at her disposal.

Thus, while the first generation struggled, and the second was carefully, methodically nurtured into the infiltrators that Vorpal would become known for, mother chose to call upon old connections, scour the underground, and found children who didn’t exist. She gave them names, rooms, and food, or freedom from their old ties, and gave them the choice of  dying, or becoming the best.

Johanna Stiles is the only survivor of the program.

But, the results were undeniable.

In the simplest form of assessment, twenty nine lives ensured millions lived, and tens of millions uninjured. Simplest, as in not going into detail about various assassinations,  kidnappings, sabotage, and hundreds of thefts from Hell, Grigori, Heaven, and literally all the Human Organizations.

“We stole from CORE!? Why would we steal from CORE!? You could literally ask Sheridan for anything, and he’d give it to you!”

And, like clockwork, and a little, smug smirk that I was growing to hate very quickly, my mother provided a single, one-word answer that made me quite cross.

“Deniability.”

The only things missing in the infinite smugness of that delivery was a finger-gun and a wink.

If my mother did both, I’d probably have a stroke.

This first day as Vorpal’s commander was rapidly becoming a vocabulary class! I felt like I was back in college! So many words, ideas, and theories were being crammed down my throat, to the point where my brain was starting to feel overloaded! Me! The Aspect of Creation! The gal who builds Fusion Reactors for fun, from scraps, in caves! I made Heaven, yet I’m going brain dead from this!? Why!? Where are you, fantastic cosmic powers!? Why aren’t you helping, super-cheap, overpowered, cheat abilities!? I’m supposed to be THE Inventor! With all the capitals! What are you doing, my smarts!? Are you on vacation!?

“Hmmm, we’re forty minutes into this session, dear. How about we take a prolonged break?” Under normal circumstances, I would hate being treated like a child by my mother. In public, I am a grown, mature woman with a bitchin’ coat, raven locks, and a figure to die for. A tall, tanned, and toned young woman with the whole world in the palm of her hand. I do not get called “dear,” get asked to take breaks, and get coddled by my mother! “I had some coffee and cake delivered from home.”

In private, with homemade coffee and cake promised, and after three fifty-minute-learning-sessions, I am free to raise my hands in defeat, slam my face into my desk, and groan in relief from my suffering.

“Yes. Please. That would be great.” My voice was muffled by the papers I was mashing my face against, but my mother’s chuckling told me that she heard me loud and clear. Resting on my chin, I watched her make very, very unsanctioned use of the office’s emergency teleport array. However, because she came back with a pot of just-pressed coffee, a whole cake, and my personal communicator, I was willing to overlook her transgression, just a little. “I love you so much, mom. You’re the best. Please, take care of me for the rest of my life.”

Just a little.

Anyway, without a doubt, homemade cake is the absolute best!

To the uncultured eye and palate, the cake was a simple yellow-cake with buttercream frosting. Alas, they are, as I said, uncultured. To the discerning eye, the frosting alone would a be a sign of master craftsmanship. Not only is it a buttercream frosting that is perfectly, impeccably enrobed upon and between three layers of cake, but closer examination reveals a subtle secret: flecks of true vanilla, from CORE’s Madagascar redoubt, established to monitor Africa after the destruction of the Beast!

Given the world’s current state, most vanilla now is very, very good replica extracts. A single beanstalk, from carefully curated arboretums on specialized Arcologies, was worth the entire paycheck of an average individual. Yet, CORE’s cafeteria enjoys access to vanilla, cinnamon, and other spices in their natural state, due to its continued worldwide presence. According to Sheridan, he was coordinating efforts to make sure that all groundside strongholds enjoyed luxurious foodstuffs. However, for now, CORE, Vorpal, and all connected to it, enjoyed nature’s bounties.

I could eat a bowl of the frosting by itself, without shame, as it was truly delicious.

However, paired with the cake, it bordered on ambrosia!

The cake was not merely moist, but also had a crumb and a chew. The batter was no prefabricated mix, or one slapped together, but a composition of wet and dry ingredients carefully orchestrated to achieve their fullest potential. The sugar had been creamed, the flour sifted, and the wet batter allowed to rest, cool, and return to room temperature! At the first bite, combined with the vanilla-specked buttercream, one enjoyed the smooth, creamy, and sweet frosting gilding a sturdy and chewy, yet fluffy cake… that also enjoyed further care from candied lemon rinds!

It was sweet, yet had a savory edge, and finally had a tang that set the palate to tingling.

Combined with freshly-ground, -brewed, and –pressed coffee, the cake was a meal fit for… well… me!

“Young lady, you are not eating the whole cake.”

And, my mother, too.

I guess.

I was on my third eighth of the cake, with my mother on a measly second, when she decided to speak again.

“I’m almost disappointed that Sheridan decided to talk to you. I actually wanted to apologize for what I did, personally.” My mother set aside her cake, and took a sip from her coffee, before speaking. Thankfully, she didn’t look as old, withered, and stressed as she did when confronting Sheridan. I’m fairly confident in saying that I’m completely and utterly incapable at being mad at my mother when she pulls the “I’m actually a human whose lifespan is greatly extended” card. Quite simply, I didn’t want her to die, and I wouldn’t allow it if I had any choice in the matter. Which, naturally, I did. “This cake and coffee were supposed to be involved as bribe for you to speak to me, honestly. A little underhanded bribery, with a touch of childhood guilt leveraged, is always a fine tactic.”

Mhmm… I see… I see…

Some might consider those words heartwarming.

However, after going through more than two hours of lectures on espionage, I knew differently.

“So, this was a test, and I failed? Right?”

“Exceptionally.” Mother laughed lightly behind her hand. I did my best to keep eating and enjoy myself, even as I wept inwardly. I, the new head of Vorpal, humanity’s premier espionage group, especially with CORE now in the public eye, have been effectively bribed with cake, by the woman I was supposed to replace, to do as she wanted. In the span of three hours, assaulted only be a simple barrage of words, then a promise of an easier time, I have been rendered into a groveling, simpering sycophant. “Nothing is fair in our duties now, Celeste. There’s no clear enemy, no rules of engagement, and no plans. We are the first line of defense, our war never ends, and we must always, always be wary, regardless of where we are, who we are with, and how secure we might be.”

“And, it’s better to be bribed by my mother with cake, on my first day, and laughed at for the rest of my life, than be bribed by the enemy.”

“That, too.” Mother gave that smug smirk again. Augh. I bet she was going to make that whenever, and wherever, I failed. Given my lack of formal training in espionage, where, apparently, child soldiers are the norm, I had a feeling I was going to be bombarded with absurd levels of smug by my mother in the near future. Sheridan! Why couldn’t you have gotten a cute, young, hot, and single beefcake as Vorpal’s head!? I can accept that smug! Hell, I’ll be frickin’ ecstatic with that sort of smug! But, with my mother, this is just torture! “There are no breaks in our line of work. We must always be ready to respond, to react, and take the fight to the enemy, lest lives, both of soldiers and civilians, be wasted.”

Now, though I was certainly enjoying my current slice of cake, and would enjoy another two or three slices, I understood the lesson being imparted upon me. Make no mistake, though I will most certainly be partaking in my bribe, I completely and utterly acknowledge the error of my ways. Though, I am drinking nigh-unattainable coffee between bites, so that each bite of luxury is fresh upon my palate, and have no intention of slowing down, the wisdom imparted to me has been strenuously inscribed into the innermost depths of my brain. I am, without a doubt, going to be better than my mother at leading Vorpal.

“Ah, there’s some frosting on your cheek, dear—you ought to have wiped that off, not licked it off your finger.”

Yes, without a doubt, I shall lead Vorpal to victory, for the sake of the millions who rely upon it.

…

As a child, I suppose I expected to be Vorpal’s commander, while Creighton became CORE’s commander. Perhaps, if the situation stayed the same, with the pressure on humanity remaining the same instead of intensifying, that could have been the case. Val would’ve kept up the fight with CORE against the Chimera, while I kept her back safe against Ouroboros, kinda like a buddy-cop film.

Jesus Mk. 3 and Lucifer’s granddaughter are hitting the streets, taking names, and chewing bubblegum. One’s a loose cannon, with nothing to lose, and the other’s a by-the-books operative. Naturally, the initial twist of the premise is that I, Jesus Mk. 3, is the loose cannon, while Lucifer’s the stringent, classy agent. However, in the end, we’d work together, overcome our differences, learn from one another, and tag and bag the bad guys with only a flesh wounds.

Alas, that buddy-cop movie shall never be, because Lucifer’s granddaughter has, according to tradition, strayed from her path!

I can only weep at what’ll never be.

Though, I suppose it’s pretty great that I can now barge in unannounced in her office to spook her—

“I know you’re there, Celeste.”

What!? How!? I’ve put on the superspy armor commissioned for Vorpal’s super special agents! THE infiltrator armor. It silences footsteps, erases one’s presence, blurs out features, sends out holograms on demand, and insulates magic! Even MY ambient magic! How could Valerie possibly have detected my presence!?

“I put a string in front of the teleporter. Even if I can’t see you now, you still tripped the sensor.” Val turned in my direction. And, true to her word, my best friend was looking over my shoulder, where I might be, instead of directly at my encapsulated head. Well… hmmm… what if I don’t respond, and pretend that I’m not me— “That suit costs five credits a second to operate. I suggest you turn it off before you regret it.”

And, cloaking tech is off.

Well, now, I could only hope that running the arcane dampeners didn’t cost eighteen thousand credits an hour.

“Congratulations on taking Vorpal over, I’m glad that you’re in command of it, now.” A colleague to Valerie Creighton would take a seat before her desk. A friend, would probably go over to Creighton, and stand in front of her until she stood up to exchange hugs. However, I am Val’s best friend, her buddy of buddies, and the ultimate obstacle any and all attempts she makes to appear dignified. Thus, I removed my helmet, and went to her very, very nicely curated liquor cabinet. Mmmm… priceless, one-of-a-kind whiskey… that I didn’t pay for. The best kind. Come to mama. “And, I was going to offer you a toast, but I see that you’re already helping yourself.”

Woah, strong stuff.

But, unfortunately, being an Aspect had its perks!

I didn’t get drunk!

Hahaha!

Ha… ha… ha…

…sob…

“I want to quit, Val! Vorpal’s too much! I hate it! It’s just my first day, but I hate it! I want to burn the whole place down!” Damn you, past self! I appreciate the fact that I’m pretty as fuck, never get fat, and toned as hell, but why can’t I get drunk!? I need it! I NEED IT! You loved wine, dammit! You drunk that stuff every day! Don’t lie to me! It was never about sanitation! You just loved the buzz! But, me!? Me!? The one who’s got it worse than everyone else!? I don’t get the buzz, let alone get drunk!? “Everything’s a conspiracy! Everything’s a lie! Reality is wrong! People are stupid, corrupt, and trying to fuck each other even now!”

“Ah, so they finally heightened your clearance, huh?” Yes! That’s all they did! All that happened was that I got a clearer picture of everything! While everyone else got to be happy, thinking humanity’s united, working together, and at peace, I got to know the facts! There were terrorist groups making homemade bombs trying to take down air processing in certain Arcologies! Nations in underground caves, all over the world, with launch capability! Stolen spaceships with kinetic impactors! How does a spaceship even get stolen, let alone ones with WMDs!? “Well, Celeste, I can only offer you my most sincere condolences, because there’s no way Sheridan, or your mother, will let you quit.”

“Please, don’t tell me that. I just want to be back on the Kool-Aid, Val.” Ah, yes. My only hope is in the far distance. The thought of leaving my job, going back to ignorance, and sipping on the sweet, sweet propaganda and memetic phrases filling everyone’s heads. “I want to be ignorant and happy again. I don’t want anything to do with Vorpal, espionage, and “the truth,” anymore.”

‘Thou Shalt Not Lie,” is to be struck from the Ten Commandments forthwith. It shall be replaced with “Seek the Truth at your own Risk.” Yeah, that sounded right.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Celeste. That’s just how things are. Vorpal deals with the lunatics, extremists, and terrorists, so no one else has to.” Awww, Valerie, you actually got up from your chair to put your hand on my shoulder. There really is a heart in that solid hunk of armor you call a chest. Wait, doesn’t this hurt you— Oh, right. The suit. That’s why she wasn’t burning up right now. I forgot about that. “Besides, with perks like your best friend being able to give you a hug, and share drinks with you again, everything’s not so bad, right?”

I considered Val’s words for a moment.

Knowledge of literally every problem that humanity has, every piece of propaganda now being a cruel joke, and the responsibility of protecting humanity from all threats, including itself.

Vs.

Being able to hang out with my best friends in the same room, talk to one another, and share meals together.

There was only one response to Val’s question.

“Nah, I’d hug you buck naked, covered in holy oil, and in public to get out of this job.”

“Bitch.”

Yeah, I guess there was some perks that made the job bearable.