Sunday Armageddon and Gatling Gun Tournament.
Box Lunch Special afterwards in the Park.
Far to the west, over the post apocalyptic ruins of Boulder Colorado , the weekend liturgical storm begins to develop. Boulder had been the modern day Sodom and Gomorrah and had been cursed with God’s wrath.
That’s what the Televangelists said, at any rate. It might have even been true. People didn’t think much about it anymore. Every one in Boulder and for a hundred miles in all directions didn’t care. They were dead. People outside the zone of abomination DID cared, but they were trying too hard to survive. They didn’t have much time to waste too much of it on TV any longer.
Forward deployed listening stations indicated that this might be a bad storm. It seems to have a solid core and was rapidly gaining in intensity. This might become a ‘hundred years storm’ possibly of Lilith or even of Lucifer intensity.
The post rock country of Western Kansas takes cover. No fool they and veteran of many such disturbances they batten down the hatches, hunker down, and prepare to ride it out. All vehicular travel is terminated as people take cover.
Almost all vehicles. The lone motorcyclist is pretty obvious. An old Jew rides his BMW motorcycle into the parking lot of the ancient stone synagogue. The temple is set on the “air” point of the prime defensive partial pentagram . Saturday has rolled around again this week just like it does every week. Time for Rabbi Moses Ben Israel to get to work. This is why they paid him the big bux.
Moses nods to the armed guard in passing as he eyes the retina scanner and strokes the palm reader. All biogenic indicators go green and the door irises open with a pneumatic hiss. Moses Ben Israel, the point man of Heaven’s Riders enters the Holy Fortress and prepares to do battle with the creatures of darkness.
The first thing he does is take a shower. Wearing a Full Sensory AR Rig for any length of time is always a treat. Being dirty to start with just makes it that much MORE fun.
After his shower he pads barefoot and nude into the suite room. The Golems are waiting and they could care less if he is nude or wearing the finest gold cloth. They help him into the VR suite and hang him from the “cross”. Moses always thought it ironic that a full VR suite would look the way it did and him being a Jew. God must have a grim sense of humor.
“And I’m online….boys and girls...what do you have in store for me this fine sabbath?”. he said over the divine network.
“This one is intense Rabbi’ replied the shaky voice of a forward observer. The young pilot sounded apprehensive even though he was trying hard to cover the fear in his voice. “The Quabalah index is 5.0 and rising..the Upsherin radius is approaching unity...I’ve never seen more indicators pointing toward Olner’s Paradox in my career. This is starting to be scary.”
“Hang in there son. This does sound serious. I’m activating the Dharma Wheel now.” said the Rabbi as he activated the Ekottara Agama a little earlier than doctrine called for this week. By all accounts and telemetry it looked like they were in for a big blow.
Moses keeps a weather eye on the telemetry while humming a song. This is not good. The membrane porosity and the diaphragmatic permeability indicators are approaching asymptotic reversal. The are almost crumbling. It’s so bad that even the synoptic dietrious is igniting. He frowns and looks closer at the skalar fractal detector. Is it starting to cascade? Is a schism eminent?
Yup. It is.
He enunciates very calmly, and very carefully. There might not be time to misspeak. “All spirit riders evacuate. I repeat...all spirit riders head for the tall grass. An ethereal ejection is immin... …………….<bang>”
It happened….even as he spoke there was an avalanche in dimensional porosity . Extreme permeability was rapidly surpassed followed by an eruption . Some of the spirit riders actually escaped…..the experienced ones, the one’s who acted immediately and instinctively at his first words.
The one’s who stopped to listen to what he was saying didn’t make it out in time...the slid down the throat of the vortex and were consumed...those that were lucky. The unlucky ones were impacted and impaled by the ejaculate. The Gobekli Tepe Skaleen Revision (type 2a) were once again unleashed into this world.
Rabbi Moses swung into action. He activated a Euscher wall which deflected the onrushing Mobeius dimorphs toward the predetermined pentagramiacal co-ordinates. He also activated the “Pope Recall”.
The old Jesuit Priest, Alexander Clemens, wasn’t a Pope and never expected to be one. His mother had a sense of humor and named him after two earlier pontiffs. Moses liked to rag him about it.
Moses wished that Alex would answer his damn phone. For a good while, after he’d placed the call, Moses was busy….extremely so. From his perspective he took his flaming sword and flew amongst flying demons and did battle. He sliced and diced the enemy removing heads from bodies and wings from shoulders. He swooped, dove, did immelmans and other, artistic aerobatic actions. He was a one man air force.
…..And he was praying. He’d gone through quite a number of prayers when Alex finally answered. FINALLY.
Moses answered “Are you up for midnight mass father?”
Alex was a bit shocked. His old friend Moses sounded a bit out of breath...and he NEVER called him father. Normally it was something like “you old goat”.
“Yes I am” replied Alex…”why do you ask”.
“We are currently experiences a force seven event. Confluence factors are twenty sigma south by seventeen megatherms lateral descension.
“In other words, and to put it mildly…..I could use some help here boss” panted Moses.
“On my way” the ‘Pope’ answered. True to his word he didn’t even bother to change clothes. He’d had on sweatpants and that was all. That would have to do. Luckily his beard would protect his face and much of his upper body during the brief bike ride.
He jumped on his Indian Chief , fired it up...and was shortly screaming down the tree lined lane toward the “Cathedral” as they called his fortress. He was on his cell phone, an archaic Galaxy Mega which he wore in an athletic armband, his arms were big enough to handle it. He was using and old set of google glass as a heads up display.. He made several calls before he got to the door of the cathedral.
All over town Brethren and Cistern dropped what they were doing, or rolled out of bed, or both. That is...they stopped, dropped and flopped. They rushed toward the cathedral. Once more unto the breach was the watchword.
The “ Pope” had donned a full immersion VR harness in passing and dove off the diving board into the baptismal. Waldo manipulators extruded from the tank walls and attached air hoses, data cables, and power lines to the floating priest. Neutral buoyancy was achieved in the heavy glycerine mixture. He dialed into the fray.
“Jesus Christ our Savior” he blurted. “ What a fine mess we have here Moses”.
“Ain’t it just” replied the rapidly tiring Rabbi. “ Glad you could join the party. It’s getting exciting.”
“Coming online now...and Nun too soon it seems” said the priest. He grinned as the old Jew theatrically winced at his pun. Strategically located ballistic pipe organs resonated. The sound of silence evaporated. Automatic Rosary readers and Prayer Wheels were cranked up to speed. An awful lot of praying commenced as the Catholics Holy Mass joined hand to hands with the Jewish Sabbath to guide the forces of darkness to the field of extinction..the fifth point of the pentagram.
Hours later the Priest wiped the blade of his terrible swift sword and leaned back to back with the winged Rabbi who did likewise.
“I think we’ve managed that third quadrant turn” he said. “things are lining up nicely. I think it might be time for back up. What do you say?”
“Admittedly so, “ replied the Winged Warrior of Yeshua...I’m activating Methodist and Lutheran now..” as he was busily texting messages into his celestial smartphone.
Martin, the Lutheran Minister was sleeping soundly. He wasn’t scheduled for duty for a few hours and he was making the most of it. The phone went off like an explosive charge demanding his immediate attention. He was up like flash, however and immediately assimilated. He had a little list...of people he tried very hard not to miss...and activated each recipient in turn.
Then lightly he sprung with a clatter...and mounted his iron horse from a ladder...and off he rode down the lane and he was GONE.
John, the methodist pastor was already in route. He’d had a divine premonition that evil was afoot and was shrieking down the country lane on his hardtail. John wasn’t much for mufflers as he like the sound of the v-twin. Everyone within miles got to share the sonorous tones of his passing. JackRabbits stood to attention as he passed with their paws in their ears.
The two latecomers entered their respective holy castles and donned their raiments of wraith. Shortly they were all networking.
“Could use a little help here boys” noted the ‘Pope’ as he casually backhanded a hammer blow that crushed the skull of a demon.
“Actually that’s true’ opined the Jew as he swung his sword in deadly cadence” The Priest and the Rabbi were protecting each other’s best interests..
“Always the traditionalist” muttered John Wesley to Martin...the two of them wore power suits. They each had set their gatling guns to spool up. Soon dual lances of holy fire streaked across the heaven shredding imp, demon spawn and the son’s of satan.
It was spectacular.
“You think it’s time?” Martin spoke casually to no one in particular.
“hmmmmmm….” muttered John Wesley and the Pope “I dunno..perhaps it’s a bit early”..
“YES!! “ stated the Jew firmly. “It’s time. Activate the calliopes. Please.”
“Well ok” conceded the two protestants. The pope just grinned and hammered on. He was more of a retail kind of a guy...it was about to get wholesale in a big way.
Along the “line” miles wide...barn doors swung open and mobile units deployed. Then, as one they all began to fire…”the calliopes of god”. Ravenous firey shrills of ultra-spectrum as well as and thunderous subtones of under-bass raked the heavens and clawed demonspawn from the sky….
That was but their secondary design function. The primary intention was to guide the infection toward the desired killing field….the fifth point of the pentagram.
“It’s…..it’s here”...stated the Pope in satisfaction..”Ignite”
In the basement of each rock church a respective ark began to glow. The resplendent power and glory of which initiated the Pipe Organs whose thunderous sounds fenced in and guided the forces of darkness toward the fifth point of the pentacle. There they were collected and compacted until finally..the pumps were primed and the holistic Weapon of Mass Invocation erupted into the sky. Atomized holy water sprayed from irrigation sprayers engulfed the evil host.
Ectoplasm smoked, crackled and burnt. Demons Shrieked. The smell was like burning rubber.
And the skies cleared, the wind calmed and all was well.
Another weak end incursion had been conquered.
“Everyone clean up and meet at the fifth pentacle” The Jesuit Broadcast over the airwaves and sound system for the whole town to hear.
“This week we’re having fried chicken. I hear there will be a contest among the ladies as to who has the best potato salad and there might even be some gumbo. See you there.” announced the auxiliary chaplain to the holy warriors of the host.
Later that afternoon the four old men of good were on their respective motorcycles. An Iron Horse, an Indian, a BMW, and a Harley. They were casually rumbling along in a spiral outbound from the fifth point of the pentacle. Each had shotguns. On occasion one would aim and fire at something in the bush.
Another Goblin Gone.