Christforce, Torah Brigade and the Saruvim Daredevil's - Fiction

[Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly]

Christforce, Torah Brigade and the Saruvim Daredevil's

Christforce

Jenna was pregnant. Jesus twin, Jenna the Cherubim, was pregnant to her twin, and about to deliver. Apostle Luke was with Jesus in the waiting room, and Jesus was walking about nervously biting his teeth.

'Hey, if its a boy, call him after me,' said Luke.

Jesus smiled at the Gospel author and nodded. 'Sure buddy.'

The wait was long. 18 hours, and then the nurse ushered Jesus in.

'It's a boy,' said Jenna, who looked exhausted. 'What shall we call him?' she asked, as she presented her son to his father.

Jesus looked down at his latest treasure. 'Luke. We will call him Luke.'

'Luke Ben Yeshua,' she said. 'Perfect.' Jesus smiled.

Later on in the year, Jesus was in the throneroom of Zaphon, sitting on the outer seats, thinking. And then the flame, a perpetual blue, turned red for a while. And God spoke.

'LUKE. YOUR CHILD. HE IS A SARUVIM. SEE THAT HE KNOWS HIS COMMUNITY.'

Jesus looked up at the throne, and noticed the flickering rarity of red, but it turned blue very quickly again, and God no longer spoke.

When Luke had finished his course of studies at the Global Space Designs Institute, he knew what he wanted to do. In his father's honour. 'The Christforce,' he said to his dad.

'What's it all about?' asked Jesus of Nazareth.

'A space core. We patrol the realm and offer protection to the world. We love dad. And we intercede against evil, because it just seems to live on and on.'

'Then you have my blessing for Christforce,' said Jesus proudly.

A few centuries later Christforce was up and running with Christians from the Saruvim Angel community. They were missionaries of love and peace, but warriors of Justice also. And the new players in the game soon came into contact with the emerging Saruvim army of Starpower. Radiel's bunch. And it was then the rivalry began.

The End

The Saruvim Daredevil's

'You know, Valderann,' said Caltek to his Saruvim friend. 'Christforce sounds like an earthly 1980s B Grade Christian band.'

Valderann chuckled. 'Hey, at least they are not named after a petrol company.'

'Shut up. It's Caltek. Not ruddy Caltex. I don't know how many times I have pointed that out to you, son of Valderdash.'

'Valandriel. His name is Valandriel. The Seraphim you know. 12^th born of the Seraphim. Not like your stupid dad Danfart, 45^th in line. Come on. That's pathetic. He's not even really an Archangel. There is only really 12 of them you know.'

'Bite me, Valderdash,' responded Caltek.

The Saruvim best buddies, sons of, indeed, Valandriel and Daniel the Seraphim, were in the cafeteria of Terraphon keep, eating a meal. They were young, in their 20s, and were working out what they wanted to do in life. Their father's had arranged some early studies at the ancient school of Terraphora, which had cost them an enormous tuition fee, but they could afford it.

Caltek looked forward, eating his hamburger, thinking. 'You know. Why don't we do that? What Luke is doing. And Radiel as well. Why don't we form our own Space Fleet'

'What do we call ourselves?' asked Valderann.

'I don't know. The Saruvim Daredevil's maybe. Something exciting. Not predictably boring like Lord Kalphart and Christtwit.'

'Sounds good. May as well. Something to do. Might make us good cash. I can afford that place in Mitraphora I want, maybe, eventually,' replied Valderann.

'Steep prices, dude. Mitraphora. It'll be an aeon or two before you will have half the amount for a deposit,' replied Caltek.

'I can wait,' said Valderann.

'Right,' said Caltek, and munched on his burger.

After a while. 'Well, we'll do it then? Saruvim Daredevil's?' asked Caltek.

'Sure. Why not. Just don't get us into any trouble.'

'Would I do that?' asked Caltek, feigning perfect innocence.

'Were do I start,' replied Valderann.

And so the plan was made, and the plan was set, and the Saruvim Daredevil's had been born.

The End

Desdrael and Chantel

Desdrael was the 57^th Seraphim Male of the Realm of Eternity. His twin was Chantel, the 57^th Female Seraphim of the Realm of Eternity. Desdrael was, in many ways, a longsuffering soul. He had not found his meaning in life. It had always been the fundamental flaw in the nature of Desdrael – he didn't know what to do with himself. Chantel his twin had bemoaned his lack of direction age upon age, lifetime upon lifetime it seemed as well, from distant memory. She encouraged him to finally choose his glory if God would not visit an answer upon him, which he never seemed to do. Instead, Desdrael remained a prince in Luxembourg in Terraphora, were they had remained almost perpetually since the rebirth, and there they stayed, and lived their lives, and that was seemingly that. He couldn't choose, so he just did what he had been created for, and not much else. Luxembourg ran itself well enough now, it had aeons of experience after all and, with very little new citizens now, very settled souls the hallmark of the Luxembourg way of life, Desdrael had grown used to patterns of behaviour which were well familiar. They didn't change much. They didn't really do anything new. Yet, never really anything that exciting anyway.

Chantel had a collection of romance novels. 127 to be precise, and she never yearned for another one. She read them in routine all year round, and it was her life, now, in many ways. Always thinking about her lovers in their worlds, and what they might have done, and what they should have done. Desdrael, for the most part, read about 70 or so fantasy works, and that is likewise what he stuck with. They read, watched the same television programs usually, played a little indoor cricket on the same 'Royal Team', which was mildly competitive, and that was that pretty much. But they had settled. And now, after an aeon of life, Desdrael was finally starting to get the point from God for the wisdom God would teach Desdrael. It was just life in the end, and it didn't matter what you did in the end. Better to settle into routine, and enjoy it for what it was. And so that is what they did. And, now, after all this time, starting to actually enjoy it and get the point of it all.

'Another sausage?' asked Chantel.

Desdrael held his midriff but nodded anyway.

'The team should do well this weekend,' she said in regards to the indoor cricket team they played on. 'Sloggers are never that competitive,' regarding a low placed division team in the national competition. It was the half year knockout tournament, and they had a good draw this time.

'We should never really underestimate them,' said Desdrael.

'I know,' replied Chantel. 'You know, perhaps we could do something different this time. Why don't I pair with Jelda. It would be a change.'

Desdrael looked at his wife seriously. 'We, we never bat with anyone else. It's you and me forever, right?'

'Something new,' she offered.

He bit into his sausage and looked at her. 'I'll think about it.'

'Do that,' she said.

He enjoyed his sausage, and looked at the newspaper. 'Christforce? Are they really serious about that name?'

'Why not?' replied Chantel.

'It's a bit lame, don't you think?'

'It's alright,' she replied. 'I'd like to see you do that, though. Design a spacefleet.'

'Luxembourg has a perfectly good airforce,' said Desdrael dismissively.

'Yes,' replied Chantel softly.

And then a rare thing. A new idea hit the mind of the 57^th of the Seraphim. He looked at his wife. 'Say that again?'

'What?' she asked him.

'Design a spacefleet.'

'Well, yes,' she said. 'Why not.'

'What about me, Michael and Ambriel. We'll form Torah Brigade. Have a bit of fun with that.'

'Ooh,' replied Chantel, looking at her man. 'That would be exciting.'

'Yes. Yes it would, wouldn't it.'

She stood, went to the kitchen, and brought back the frying pan. 'Another sausage.'

'Fuck it. Why not,' he replied.

'Your language,' she said.

'And you might get some tonight,' winked Desdrael at his bride.

Chantel thought on her romance novels. 'Finally,' she thought to herself. It had been quite a wait. And she did get some that evening. And, for once, it had been worth the wait.

The End

Callodyn and Kayella X: Dawn of the 'Torah Brigade'

'You know, it really is a kinda pathetic name,' said Callodyn. 'Christforce. Sounds like a dodgy pentecostal power movement which has 3 pages of doctrine and not much else.'

'Very funny,' replied Kayella.

'I mean, come on. Christforce? What the hell where they thinking?'

'At least they are tackling real problems in the universe. They are very polite and spread a message of love.'

'Same old game as his dad's,' replied Callodyn. 'This second lamb is hardly original.'

'Second lamb?' she asked him.

'It's what they now call him. The second lamb of God. Supposedly the 'Second Book of Revelation' has been written by the Apostle John, prophesying future events.'

'Seriously?' she asked him.

'I have it on order online. Should be here in a few days.'

'Fascinating,' she replied.

'Oh, I've read that already,' said Loquiel, looking at the two of them from the couch. 'Similar to the first work in many ways. Different stylings of beasts, and not quite as heavy mind you, but he's got new ideas. And the second lamb shall be involved in the 'Great Confrontation' which will 'Shatter his soul,' which they call the second slaying.'

Callodyn looked at Loquiel. 'Really? Sounds very interesting indeed. I'll look forward to my copy.'

'Why don't you join Christforce,' said Kayella to Callodyn.

'Too busy,' replied Callodyn. 'Not a Christian either. Nor a Saruvim.'

'He'll join Torah Brigade instead,' asserted Loquiel the Seraphim confidently. 'Ambriel has already asked me to join. Wants all the Seraphim on the team, and the Cherubim if he can get them.'

'What the heck is Torah Brigade?' asked Callodyn.

'Seraphim Desdrael's idea. Match Starpower and Christforce. The elite of the elite, though. Desdrael plans on being the best in the business.'

'You've joined it?' asked Kayella.

'Certainly. Something to do, you know. Oh, I'm happy at Zaphon. Been there forever now, you know. Organising activities for the Zaphon Tower community. But a change would be good.'

'Torah Brigade,' said Callodyn to himself.

'I don't like that look,' said Kayella. 'It's not good when Callodyn has that look. Means a brain cell is finally at work.'

'Shaddup,' said Callodyn, and returned to his thinking.

'Could be an exciting change,' said Loquiel. 'A reboot for those of us who get involved. A fresh start.'

'Fascinating,' replied Kayella. 'But leave Callodyn out of it. Him and Daniel will think they are the elite of the elite of the elite.'

'Of the elite,' finished Callodyn smiling.

'In your dreams,' smirked Kayella.

'Yep, in my dreams,' replied Callodyn, whose mind had suddenly become full of them.

The End

Hotshit

'Listen 'Hotshit' Rothchild. Your scum, I tell you. Scum. Worse than rabied dog's testicles.'

'Yes General Daly,' replied Ambriel dutifully.

'Get that smirk off your face, officer. Your barely fit for tending the latrines in my opinion, let alone being in charge of our number one Star Warrior. And why do they call you Hotshit anyway?'

'Coz I'm Hotshit, boss. In the Brigade. Number one starfighter, and I kick ass, boss.'

'I don't like the sound of the pride in your voice,' continued General Daniel Daly, Daniel the Seraphim of Eternity. 'Your not Hotshit until I call you Hotshit. Is that understood.'

'Yes General Daly,' replied Ambriel.

'Well,' said Daniel, looking over Ambriel's uniform. 'You'll pass I suppose.' Ambriel, in fact, looked immaculate in his uniform, his boots shinier than Meludiel's arse, according to the sniggers of may of the other Seraphim.

'Your dismissed.'

Ambriel left off, and wandered over to Michael on his bunk.

'Busting your balls again, is he Hotshit?' asked Michael.

'General Daly is doing his job. It's not easy being first in Command in Torah Brigade under Lord Valandriel. Lord Valandriel is very fussy.'

'How they got the job......' said Michael, shaking his head.

'Theophany must be wiser than us,' responded Ambriel. 'He sees the heart of man.'

'Or has a sense of humour,' responded Michael. 'Anyway, General Desdrael didn't seem to complain, so the way it goes, I suppose.'

'The way it goes,' said Hotshit.

Torah Brigade was up and running. Desdrael had first gone to Zaphon throneroom, where the Theophany had shown up and instructed him on the top hierarchy of the organisations. It was a permanent thing, Torah Brigade, so God would have his say. And that had been that.

'Meludiel and Elenniel are coming over tonight,' said Michael. 'Can you get a nightpass?'

'It was cleared,' said Ambriel. 'Excellent service.'

'Then tonight we fly,' said Michael.

'Tonight we fly,' responded Ambriel, looking forward to seeing his woman after so long high'n'dry.

The End

Desdrael and Aime

'Yes, Aime. Torah Brigade is running smoothly now,' replied Desdrael to Aime Palliere's question.

'That is good. And I see that it is the Noahides who are in charge. That is not surprising, it would seem.'

'Aime. That is an ancient issue between us now. We are Catholic, ultimately, I would think. I have always thought our faith from our youth would never die and it hasn't, in either you or me. But we are those who have accepted the teachings of the Noachide Covenant, and perhaps we should accept that that is the authority with God. He honours his first covenant first and foremost. The nature of things.'

'Yes,' replied Aime. 'Rabbi Benamozegh has suggested similar ideas over the ages. Well, it has been good catching up. You promised midnight mass in Lyons this upcoming year. Will you and Chantel still be able to attend?'

'That should be ok. I'm quite and very busy now, as you could understand, for Torah Brigade is in many ways my first consuming passion. But I will not miss the service.'

'Then we shall again depart the best of friends,' replied Aime, and kissed Desdrael on the cheek and left the office of the Torah Brigade General.

Desdrael sat there for a while, in the quiet of the afternoon, and turned to look out on the camp's training yards. There were a few Seraphim out there even at the moment, and thousands of Cherubim, still in new training, for recruitment was still going on to the oldest of the angels of the Realm of Eternity, and not all yet had joined, some being very difficult to persuade, Raphael especially, who was locked up tight at Mitraphon in an age long devotion to God and spirituality which had captured his soul. No time for such shenanigans, the email response had come back to him. But, in the end, it was not necessary to claim the whole fleet. Not at this time anyway. Who knows, maybe one day, at the end of the world, they would all unite, and the Saruvim of Infinity would oppose them, and it would be the final great battle. But that was fantasy of the Second Revelation of John, the new work, and probably shouldn't be taken too seriously. Should it?

He sat there, quietly, and sipped on his now cold tea. But he didn't mind. Life was good, now. Life was good. He had settled, finally, after so long, happy with his life at last, but then, just when he had settled, adventure. Brand new adventure. Very strange, the ways of life. Very strange, the wisdom of God. He thought on his friend Aime, and wished him well, and would indeed see him at Midnight Mass this year. But till then, it was work to do, and thinking that, turned to his desk, looked at some papers, and started signing off documents. Life was good for Desdrael. He had found meaning. A happy and content purpose, to see out his days, and to find, in the end, something useful to do. Simply that. Something useful to do.

The End

Saruviel's Redemption

'One thing,' said the ancient Catholic priest. 'There was something we noticed, which your mother never knew. Down on your ankle. Faint. But it was noticed. Another number. This time, not a six.'

Saruviel paused, then, for the first time in an aeon, and slowly raised his head from his meal to look at his old catholic mentor. 'Another number?'

'Yes. Not a 6. On another part of the body, but distinctly a numeral. So, If you'll excuse me, Mr Darvanius, I will be going.'

'Uh, sure,' said Alexander. 'Oh. What number?'

The Catholic priest gave him a long, hard look. Then walked off.

He heard it though, just before the priest left the room. Whispered. 'A 4 you idiot.'

And then he was gone.

And Saruviel had been redeemed.

The End

Apocalyptic Revelations

The Saruvim Damien. Also known as Alexander Bradlock. He had a middle name. Nicolae. This was taken from his maternal grandfather's name, Nicolae Damien Carpathia, who in turn inherited it from his maternal grandfather's middle name, old Robert Nicolae Thorn. Old Robert also had a son called Damien, and Alexander had always been fond of that old devil, with his quirky sense of humour. Rich blood, in a very rich Bradlock family. The adopted son of the family in a way, Alexander Darvanius, old Saruviel of Eternity, was in fact born to John Bradlock, Damien's father, but this was not well known. He had been a bastard son, which Damien always smiled at. Damien, in an old plan of the Saruvim's, labelled by Satan in an occurrence in the realm of eternity, had officially been called the Antichrist. But Saruviel had worn that moniker for so long, the traditional adversary of Jesus of Nazareth. But Damien always knew better. He knew were his 3 sixes were. He had been told. Birthmarks right up his anus. He told nobody of this most disgusting fact. Yes, he was the old Antichrist, but Revelations had come and gone, and, of course, it was no longer an issue. But then there was that dastard new second revelation of the apostle John. All Damien really could think was 'Here we go again.'

The End

Hot Shit up Shit Creek

'Jesus. Bite me,' said Ambriel.

'Heh,' said the Christ Child. 'Stuck in the middle of Dalgety fucking river, on a rock, surrounded by shit for 20 metres. And we've piled it high as well, Rothbutt.'

Meludiel looked on dismayed. 'Your nasty Jesus.'

'You can bite me too, St James.'

'Nasty bastard,' she said.

Jenna looked at David. 'What if he sinks. You know, that much shit – it might act like quicksand.'

'Quickshit?' considered Jesus. 'David stuck in a pile of quickshit? Yo, Peter. Fletch. Have you got the camera ready. The fucken polaroid like I asked you too. This should be classic.'

David wanted to curse the bastard, but refrained. 'I'll pray,' he shouted out. 'For rain. To wash the shit away.'

'Hot shit is gonna pray for rain. How original,' smirked Jesus.

'You have him in sights?' queried Iron Eagle.

'Ten four, buddy,' replied Golden Dragon.

'Release the shittersplasm,' said Iron Eagle.

'Shittersplasm away,' replied Golden Dragon.

David was embarrassed. What would he do. 'You know, Jesus. If there is any kind of Justice in the world, you'll get yours,' shouted out David.

'Bite me Rothbutt,' replied Jesus, grinning madly.

The Shittersplasm, painfully accurate and on target, hit its target and exploded the biggest pile of sloshly cow dun g everywhere. Meludiel was splattered, just a little. Jenna took a bunch of poo in the face. Peter Fletcher was partially covered, but the main main, the Christ Child himself, took the mother load.

'Fuck!' he swore, as he stood there, covered in the smelliest and sloppiest cow dung, this side of the great dividing ranges.

David Rothchild, though, still stood in the middle of the creek, untouched by the bomb. He grinned as a helicopter came into sight, lowered a rope ladder, and as he flew away, clean and unblemished, he could just see in the distance two, very proud, and very happy, fighter jets, and wondered to himself, 'now who the hell were they?'

The End

Love IV: Love Reconsiders

Gemma Watkins. She was a successful lady. In partnership with Francine Jones and Justine Atkinson, she headed 'Eternya Lawyers International'. The rights to the business name had been auctioned off, as many of the very marketable names had been done so by the Council of Eternya, for they were the trademarks, the business names, of eternal success, when it came right down to it, and the lawyers Gemma, Francine and Justine had an eternity of savings to draw upon, entered the auction, and won comfortably. It had been a slow day, and a little guardian angel had prayed for them for months to be given a break by the Almighty. They were schmick, well dressed, well spoken, and looked fantastic. And the men in the office always fancied their presidents, but they were not ones for fooling around so easily. Francine was single, and had been so for aeons upon aeons. She had a debt she owed to God in her heart for an ancient transgression, and had forsworn male company until she was damn well good and ready to face the throneroom of Zaphon and see if he was happy with her repentance. David had arranged a showing for her at her perusal, but she waited. She wanted God to know that she was a good girl, and while she might have stuffed up once, that was not her heart. Her heart was good. She wanted God to know that – she had a good and caring heart. Justine was an on again, off again, faithful baptist girl, who had joined Daniel Rothchild's, or more precisely Daniel Daly's, the one who had been brought up as the older brother of David's, 7DF fellowships years ago, when Christianity had been abolished for aeons, but had since returned to her reformed Baptist church, which had evolved doctrinally, and now mainly concentrated on God as their saviour, with Jesus the 'Gospel Teacher' as their focus on their former Christ. Not even calling themselves Christians anymore, they were baptists first and foremost, and had developed something of a 'Mikveh' system, based on the laws of the Old Testament, which helped them with spiritual cleanliness. Somehow it ended up being a natural part of Baptist faith. But she still loved Jesus in her heart, and had the same Bibles she had all those years ago, carefully cherished, and faithfully read at times. Gemma, though, was the fire in the company, and all the hot guys would go for her, but she would turn her nose, and say 'Who are you kidding, right?' Gemma, in the end, was still hung up on David Rothchild to a large degree. He'd stuffed up not long ago, well, actually, quite a long time ago really, but now, with the growing reputation of 'Hot Shit' around the world, and the competitive Space corps really heating things up with the new movies based on them, and the emerging culture on the issue, David was in her thoughts again. But she wouldn't be so easy to nab – he had to earn her.

'Yo, dude,' said Hot Shit.

Daniel turned to look at the arrogant talk of his top flightsman. 'Well, if it isn't Captain Rothchild.'

'Hot Shit mate,' said David, smoking a ciggie, and looking cool, in his Tom Cruise Maverick Sunglasses, and his attitude of a 'god', or so they said.

'Hot Shit? I've heard tales on that. You almost were recently, apparently. Until some legendary figures of amazing accomplishment got you out of a stick situation.'

David looked at Daniel. 'Amazing accomplishment? You know who they are?'

'Private. They want to remain private. But they are first class flightsmen as well. Seen them in action. On video. Brilliant manoeuvres, really. Quite impressed I was.'

'Mmm,' replied David. 'Well what can I do for you bossman? Why the visit to our lodgings?'

Daniel looked down at his manilla folder. He looked at David carefully. 'I don't know, you know. She really should know better.' He opened the folder, and passed an envelope to David.

David looked at it, and looked at the back. It was signed by Gemma Watkins.

'Thanks,' he said to Daniel.

'Don't break her heart, Rothchild. She's a catch, and you know it. And you can never make up your mind on a permanent squeeze, so take what she says seriously.'

'Can you?' David asked Daniel.

Daniel looked at David, and sat down on a bunk. 'You know, Hot Shit. Your a good pilot. And a loyal friend. I, in my heart, am a bit flaky. But that's the way I really am, ok. It's something I tried repenting of, once. This dilly dallying with women, but it never really worked. It wasn't even temptation. I guess I would be a hypocrite to call it love, because apparently true love only makes one choice. But my heart chooses many. And, in the end, my heart has chosen many. I will defend myself, though. There aren't any more ladies any more. It's full, in there. So, because of that, I don't pretend to have a permanent affection, other than a close loyalty to my twin for support and friendship. I don't think things will ever change me, because those loves of my heart won't either.'

David took off his sunglasses. 'Ok. That's fine with me. Will Iron Eagle take me out for a drink then?'

Daniel looked long and hard at David. 'Officer, this place is a mess. Clean it up, or I'll have your guts for garters.'

'Yes sir,' said David dryly.

But, as Daniel walked away, David could here a soft chuckle, and a few words which said 'Iron Eagle to Golden Dragon. Shittersplasm target accomplished. Let's return to base.'

And then he was gone.

And David cleaned up his bunk, and laid down for a nap, and grinned about those words, and slept nice and happily all evening.

The End

Batman and the Silver Fox Flying High

'Now listen, horseface, I take the lead.'

Azrael – the Batman – looked at his wingman the Silver Fox, Cosadriel. 'You always take the ruddy lead. Why not admit that Azrael, the Real Batman, kicks your arse.'

'The Batwing,' said Cosadriel, pointing to Azrael's ship,' is a pile of bat poo poo. Oshanel's 'Lovecopter' makes it look second rate.' Oshanel, Cosadriel's twin, had a rescue helicopter covered in love symbols and rainbows and rabbits.

'Comparing me to the Lovecopter is a typical thing for the Silver Fox,' replied Azrael. 'It shows his genuine admiration of my beauty and adroit flying skills. Your twin is a magnificent pilot, so I am indeed complimented,' replied Azrael.

'Humph,' said Cosadriel. 'The mission is this. Christforce are making ground in the northern reaches of Sklyandria. Their dominion is starting to encroach upon Torah Brigade's hard won turf. We have a mission from the Golden Dragon to do some amazing flying today, and win some hearts. We lose this chance to win Degrees 56, and Golden Dragon will not be impressed.'

'He should have given us 224,' said Azrael. 'A lot of Scots out on 224. 56 is full of chumps, mate.'

'Be that as it may, and don't diss 56, for a lot of Icelandic folk know it has home, it is our degrees of Eternya were the current action is taking place with Christforce. And we had better make some positive ground as well. Old Noah is preaching 'The Document' again, and a new reward awaits us at the end of this era. Official glories, recognitions, awards, yada yada yada. I'm sure you get the picture.'

'Why don't we bring the lovecopter along. Get Oshanel to do some work with us. The kids love her after all,' suggested Azrael.

Cosadriel looked at him. 'You know, wingman, sometimes you actually make sense. A rare quality in Scots folk, but sometimes you actually make sense.'

Half an hour later. 'She's busy with a Lazy Town job,' said Cosadriel.

'Then its Batman taking the lead and the Silver Fox coming up his tail,' grinned Azrael.

'Watch it, wingman,' replied Cosadriel.

John Peters, the Christforce chief Flightsman for degrees 56 on the official Eternya designation of land areas, based on the 360 degrees of a circle from the centre of Eternya, outwards forever across the landscape of Eternya, was concerned. Torah Brigade were present, and it was the Batman, whom he respected, and the Silver Fox, who was just a tad eager to impress.

'Peters to Brown Owl 7. We have a problem. The dynamic duo are in town, about 50ks south of here.'

After a moment Brown Owl responded. 'Ten four buddy. Be cool. Watch, and then do manoeuvre 74 Hawkfire.'

'Will do Brown Owl,' responded Peters.

'The show is on,' said Azrael. 'The crowd is good. Word must have gotten around well.'

'It was scheduled a few months ago, but kept secret from most,' said Cosadriel. 'Only locals of the area were told.'

'Then let the show begin,' said the Batman.

Thus, in the 56^th degrees of Eternya, some way out from the centre, the Batman and the Silver Fox leading, performed various manoeuvres in their craft, all for the purpose of entertaining crowds and showing their skill. What had become the standard way of competing amongst the space corps was good old fashioned entertainment, and crowd reaction gauged by newspaper and media reports, which were assessed by the impartial council of rewards for the Eternya Contract committee, based on ideas from the Document on competition. There were no rules, in this sense, but the rule of law, and the imagination of the competitors. The Batman and the Silver Fox performed well, and then, as they noticed a Christforce ship in the vicinity, they finished off for a while and watched. The Christforce flightsman performed a copyrighted manoeuvre, 74 Hawkfire, developed by Luke ben Yeshua, in honour of his father. When the manoeuvre had been performed, Batman contacted the Silver Fox. 'Tough. Do we spend a move, or do we retreat?'

'Run, run, run away, live to fight another day,' replied the Silver Fox. 'Impress them too much now, and we waste our patterns. This fella has done well, but we worked hard with basic moves. We call it a day, Batman.'

Azrael put on the theme from Batman Forever, and as 'Kiss from a Rose' started playing on the two ships stereo, Cosadriel considered the Christforce. They weren't fools, naturally. But what they had, how well did they conserve? People got tired, in time, of all the Hot Shit. Waste it all, and people moved on. Got bored with it. Seen it all before. So the Batman and the Silver Fox would not spend their stuff so easily today, and wait for a future opportunity.

'Time to head home old buddy,' said the Silver Fox.

'I'm right up your arse,' replied the Batman.

Cosadriel grimaced at the visual which entered his head. Not a pleasant idea at all.

The End

Slipstream, Tailwind and Gobbledy Gook's night out

'Yo, Slipstream?' Archangel Michael turned to look. It was Talzudiel.

'Wassup Tailwind,' replied Michael, to Talzudiel's Torah Brigade flightname.

'Gobbledy Gook is up for a night out.' Gobbledy Gook was Archangel Gabriel's flightname, and Slipstream was Michaels, as his specialty was to fly in the Slipstream of his fellow Torah Brigade team mates, and emerge for the glory at the right time.

'Then let Gobbledy Gook fart around with Tailwind, coz I'm broke.'

'I'll make you a loan,' responded Talzudiel.

'Oh, ok,' responded Michael.

'Hey, they're pretty hot,' said Gabriel.

'What is this place?' asked Michael.

'Degrees 56's favourite nightclub,' responded Talzudiel.

'Those girls. Rather scantily clad,' said Michael. 'This is one of those places, I take it.'

Talzudiel grinned. 'Only the best for our fearless leader.'

'I'm hardly the leader. Officially Golden Dragon owns that right. He performed best in the initial trials.'

'Yeh, Valandriel sure kicks ass,' said Talzudiel. 'That's him, though. You know. That lad has been so conservative for so long, but gradually mind you, he branches out. Found his foundation with that eternal home he was given in the realm.'

'They are not easy to earn,' said Michael. 'I don't have one yet, you know. Just a dorm at Zaphon if I insist. An eternal abode. I must be a nomad, or God thinks that.'

'Don't sweat it,' said Gabriel. 'Daniel still pays God dues for Danielphon, you know. Every now and again God charges him some rent. Says he hasn't earned it just yet, mate.'

'Who has,' replied Michael.

'Well, Valandriel of course,' said Gabriel.

'Mmm,' said Michael. 'Something I'll have to think about.'

'You gonna try and score?' asked Talzudiel.

'Elenniel wouldn't like it,' said Michael.

'No. She wouldn't. Would she,' said Gabriel, looking at his older brother. 'No matter, bro. Enjoy the sights, but we'll go home sober and unrewarded I think.'

Talzudiel looked at them both, and at the girls, and sighed. 'I will have a few. But I won't get pissed,' he replied.

'Feel free,' said Michael.

'Mm. No. One beer, then. And ginger beer after that. We'll play some pool and just have a good time. But don't make me ignore the pretty ladies ok.'

'Will do,' replied Michael.

As the night passed, they discussed Torah Brigade and the current state of play, and the newcomers in the game, the Saruvim Daredevil's.

'A good life,' said Talzudiel, as they drove home, mostly sober.'

'That's what God promised us,' replied Michael. 'Right at the beginning. Said we would work it out eventually.'

'Let's hope we're starting to,' said Gabriel.

'Amen to that,' said Michael, as they continued steadily back to Torah Brigade homebase, and a long sleep well overdue.

The End

Zadennuel Strikes Hard

'Caltek. His speed and manoeuvring is unbelievable,' said Hardstrike, the flightname of Zadennuel, 31^st male Seraphim of the Realm of Eternity, into his mic.

'Then sit back and watch,' said Overlord from Base.

'Will do Overlord,' replied Zadennuel.

Degrees 56. Things were heating up. Daredevils had entered the fray, and were playing hard. Damn hard.

'This is Lady Skreemer. Do you hear me Hardstrike?'

'What the?' said Zadennuel. 'Are you out there Suzi baby?' Suzandriel, Zadennuel's Seraphim twin, flew by to join him as his wingwoman. 'Right by your side, Z Man.'

Hardstrike looked out his window, and waved to his babe. 'Good to see you. Don't forget, though. No fancy flying. This is a trial period, and Iron Eagle is not impressed with Golden Dragon's judgement on allowing sheila's into the Brigade.'

'Yet Overlord's will is supreme, and Ogre has no objections.'

'Desdrael can bite me,' said Zadennuel. 'Overlord my butt. He thinks he's the bees knees. Doesn't even fly now. Sits back and gives all the orders.'

'He formed the brigade, sweetie. Learn your place.'

'As hotter than Hot Shit,' smiled Hardstrike, and returned his focus on Calteks manoeuvres. 'He's a class act this kid. Callodyn's boy, isn't he?'

'That's him. New to the Daly family. Another ego I think we will have to deal with in time.'

'They're all like that. Meek my butt.'

'Well, house Marrakesh should learn some humility and serve Allah more faithfully. You think its that damn easy earning the glories they've earned. They've taken the Document seriously forever, and were serving right at the beginning. They defined the damn new agenda for starters.'

'And now we compete,' said Ali Marrakesh, the Angel Zadennuel.

'Now we compete,' replied Suzandriel.

Caltek performed some skillful flying, and a helicopter had joined them, at a safe distance, with a big number 7 and a familiar logo on it.

'Hey, its Aussie channel 7,' said Zadennuel. 'They must be filming.'

'Then get some good flying in, bro. And if you'll allow, I'll do something special.'

'Gotcha Lady Skreemer,' replied Zadennuel.

As they watched Caltek continued on with the show, and Zadennuel waited for his opportunity.

'Whatever you do, don't be bloody gay about it,' said Lady Skreemer. 'Be a man. For a change. I remember, you know. What mother said. That Zadennuel boy. I know he is your twin, my dearest, but he is such a pussy about everything. Too scared to hold your hand in public. Too scared to show any real affections. Needs approval from his father for everything. Allah forbid he make a decision of his own.'

'Shaddup. And leave your mother out of it. She never liked me.'

'Oh, she likes you alright. Loves you in fact. Thinks you are a wonderful person, with a heart of gold. But your a candy ass in her eyes.'

'Shaddup,' said Zadennuel. 'Candy ass this.' And then he was off, doing his flight, and Lady Skreemer decided to forego showing him up, letting Hardstrike strike hard and, hopefully, gain the glory for Torah Brigade for the day's activities in Degrees 56.'

The End

Gentlemanly Conversation

Talzudiel jumped out of the jeep, and picked the magazines from the front seat, and looked at the flat. It was a duplex, adjoined to another, and his twin Winoniel had only rented it for a six month lease. It had not been expensive, as she was only here at Torah Brigade Headquarters 56 Degrees Alpha Kappa Omicron for a short while. But that didn't matter. He would have enough time, now, in these six months, to address some issues.

He took the magazines, came up to the front door, and knocked. No response. A neighbour poked his head over the fence, and smiled at him.

'She's gone off. Shopping. Should be home soon though. My name's Jim. Winny and I are good friends, now. She came over for dinner the other night, to meet my wife and have an introduction to the neighbourhood.'

'Uh, thanks Jim. I'll wait, I guess.'

'You a friend of hers?' he asked.

'I'm her brother,' he replied.

'Oh, I didn't know she had family. She seemed to indicate she was an angel, from what I heard. A realm one.'

'She is,' replied Talzudiel.

Jim looked at him for a moment, focusing on his face. 'Are you a Seraphim?' he asked.

'Talzudiel. 43^rd male Seraphim of the realm of eternity. Winoniel is my twin.'

'Well I'll never,' replied Jim. 'Well I'm Jim. Jim Castle. Look, why don't you come over. We'll have some tea. I'm on old Aussie, rooted in a pommie culture. Mum and dad were poms, and I was born in England, but raised in Australian culture. I live here in Skylandria now, though. Found it suitable to me. Like the attitude of the nation.'

'It's popular, yes,' replied Talzudiel. 'Yes, ok. I'll have tea with you.'

They sat eating biscuits, and Jim explained that his wife worked, while he was a freelance reporter who worked a few months a year, but was mostly semi-retired. 'We don't need much to get by on, you know. And the wife likes to work. She's a doctor's receptionist down in town.'

'Right,' said Talzudiel, looking over the place. 'You have,' said Talzudiel, searching for the words, 'a unique taste in things. Wallpaper of conflicting types. But they seem to somehow match each other.'

'They counterpoint each other,' said Jim. 'I love music, especially eccentric types, and our house reflects a mishmash of stylings. It's how we like it. So, what do you do. For a living. I guess you must have fortunes upon fortunes. I'm very young, you know. Compared to your great years. I was born here in Eternya, in England back near the centre somewhat, and I have a vague idea of the past ages and worlds so many have been through.'

'It's grown each time, you know,' said Talzudiel. 'Always new additions with each growing world. Always like that. I have a head full of so many memories, now. They come in from time to time, and I fluctuate through them. Ancient memories are strong, right at the beginning, but its all in there somehow. Somehow God's miracle of our minds keeps it all under control.'

'Fascinating,' said Jim. 'Well, let me show you the chicken coop. I have some special hens which are award winning.'

Jim Castle showed Talzudiel around for a while, and Talzudiel was struck by his simple ways, but ways which mattered to Jim. And he thought on the words Jim had spoken earlier about his wife and that they had been loyal together for so long now, and that he hoped it would always be like that. Talzudiel really didn't have that anymore. He'd married numerous times, but didn't have a loyal partner. And his twin, who once he had sworn eternal devotion to, had left hi after he had cheated for a while with another lady. And, he supposed to himself, that was what it was all about today. What Michael's words the other night had done to him – striking a chord. His loyalty to Elenniel.

'That should be her now,' said Jim, noticing the noise of the car pull up next door. 'Well, it was good to meet you Talzudiel. If you ever want to visit, I'll be right here.'

'Thanks Jim. Thanks,' he said.

As he wandered over next door, his twin smiled, kissed him on the cheek, and thanked him for the magazine presents he had brought her. But he noticed it. In the eyes. It wasn't resentment. Or a grudge. It was just that look in Winoniel's eyes. Experience. She knew her twin, and didn't expect that much of him anymore. And if that was the case.............well. If that was the case. Well. Well what did he intend to do about that, he asked himself? What in God's good heaven above did he intend to do about that?

The End

Kayella and Winoniel

'Says he loves you,' said Winoniel, putting away the groceries.

'It's an old crush. Don't think too much of it,' responded Kayella. 'Talzudiel is fickle at times. Thinks he knows what he wants in his heart, but later on its all different, and he goes in a new direction, and never settles on who he is. The greatest sportsman the realm of eternity has ever had and will ever have. Do you remember that boast? But now? Couldn't give a damn, and doesn't give the slightest shit about Columbia in the world cup. Then he goes off into business expertise, but ends up selling his companies aeons later just to start again. He never settles. Can't make up his mind.'

'He did invest,' said Winoniel. 'We have money, you know. But I know what you are saying. Puts all his passions into something, and thinks it will last forever, but come a day and he is off again, on a new adventure, a new dream. Can't settle.'

'Can any of them?' smirked Kayella.

'Valandriel did,' said Winoniel.

Kayella looked at her older Seraphim sister. 'You know, that actually is kind of true. With Valandriel. He never leaves his twin, and has owned that place in the Realm forever now, and doesn't really change much from what he does.'

'He leads the Torah Brigade practically, under the Overlord idiot, and has so much glory these days. More responsibility in the Brigade than ego boy Daniel.'

'Tell me about it,' said Kayella. 'Look, I think it is a rash belief of the heart on Talzudiel's part. I'll speak to him, if you want. Let him shower me with love, and then I'll tell him to wise up.'

Winoniel looked at her angelic sister. 'Yes. Do that if you wish. I don't think I really care that much either way. But if you wish.'

'Don't be jaded, Winny. Your so young, you know?'

Winoniel looked at her sister, and they both burst out laughing on that joke.

'He'll get his head together. Eventually,' said Kayella. 'Just give him time.'

'I've given him an eternity so far,' said Winoniel.

'Then give him an eternity more,' replied Kayella. 'God knows its still taking Callodyn time to work out where he belongs.'

Winoniel smiled. 'I'm sure Callodyn knows were his bread is buttered.'

'Yep. Right up Taylor's......'

'Kayella. Watch your language,' interrupted Winoniel. And again they both burst out laughing.

'Time,' said Kayella. 'Lots of time.'

'In the mean time,' said Winoniel, getting some ice cream out of the fridge. 'Time for cookies and cream.'

Kayella put her hands to her thighs. 'Callodyn will kill me.'

'Tell him to f off to Taylor then,' said Winoniel grinning.

'You bitch,' smirked Kayella, and they headed for the lounge, and an afternoon devouring a tub of Sara Lee and weight worries conversation.

The End

4 O'Clock 14

God was bored. It was 4 O'clock in the morning, and he knew he had another hour in him before sleep beckoned. He picked up the newspaper, but had second thoughts, and wandered off to the TV room. Rihanna was sleeping on the couch, sliced cucumber on her eyes and a mudpack on her face. Her current beauty fixations, so she said to him. He picked up her feet, and she groaned a little, and snuggled down beneath them, already armed with his mobile and the remote control. The mobile first. He rang the number and Pizza Hut 24/7 answered.

'Your order?'

'Ogre's special,' replied Wolfgang.

'Oh. It's you again. Look old man, it takes us ages to put on the toppings like you like, and bossman doesn't like the scam of trying to get it at a bargain price.'

'I'm on a budget,' replied God.

'And we've got a business to run,' the Pizza Hut operator.

'Look, give me a break. I've had a hard night. (he hadn't). The wife is complaining I snore too loudly. (she wasn't). The kids have been screaming all day. (they hadn't). And I think I'm coming down with a boil. (partially true – there was a large pimple currently forming on his chin, which he was in two minds about squeezing and saying 'to hell with it.').

'Aw, for fuc... Ok old man. Have it your way. Ogre special. But bossman will kill me if he find's out.'

'Your a legend,' said Wolfgang. 'Oh, and garlic bread and a bottle of Coke Zero. Gotta watch my weight.'

'Will do, big fella.'

'And put it on my account,' he continued.

'Oh, about that account. Are you planning on settling it any time soon?'

'What's the problem?' asked God innocently.

'It's up to $3000. You know, that's a lot of cash. Are you really sure you are even good for it?'

'Let me know when it hits 5 grand. I'll settle then.'

'Alright,' said the voice. '1 Ogre special, garlic bread, and a bottle of Coke Zero. Because you are concerned about your weight,' added the pizza hut operator in a cheeky voice.

'Why you little..,' started God. 'Fine. That will be fine. And just come in. The front door is open. I'm in the front room.'

'Oh. Ok. Shall we bring you a hot water bottle. You know, it might be a little cold now.'

'Why you little...' started God, but controlled himself. 'And make it snappy,' and he hung up.

'Pizza hut workers,' he complained out loud. 'Don't know how good they've got it. Right, what's on?'

He picked up the TV and turned on Skylandria channel 8. They were covering the recent spectacles of those brave men in their flying machines.

'Great,' said God, and as the hour passed, and pizza man finally arrived at 5 to 5, Wolfgang wolfed down his pizza, had second thoughts about the garlic bread, and sipped on the Coke to wash it all down.

He dreamed that night, and as the Sandman worked out his endless ministrations, God found himself cornered by a gang of very upset Pizza Hut workers. 'We want our cashola?' they all threatened him. God forked over two bucks.

'It will do for now,' they grumbled. 'But we'll be back soon enough.'

And God dreamed on, and on, and on, and angry pizza hut workers did not invade his dreams again for quite some time indeed.

The End

Samson and Goliath

'Yo, Philistine scumbag,' yelled out the titan Samson.

'Yo, Danite cradle snatcher,' responded Goliath, drinking beer in 'The Decadent Harlot' inn, on the southside of a Degrees 56 province of Skylandria known as Canaan.

'Cradle snatching. It's been a while since I've been up to those shenanigans,' replied Samson, taking a seat next to Goliath at the bar.

'The good old days, hey,' responded Goliath.

'Aye, lad. I remember those good old days. Belting up weak philistines. Bedding adorable philistine harlots. Taking the piss out of the Gaza morons in general.'

Goliath turned to Samson and eyed him up. 'You in for some brawling, Danite, I take it?'

'By the sword of David, I am in for some shagging I think,' responded Samson.

'Then you've come to the right place,' grinned Goliath. 'The Decadent Harlot' is well known around these parts for the quality of the ladies.'

'Nothing too scungy down below I take it?' inquired Samson.

'They've known a health clinic or too, you know. But you should be fine. Nothing your old thumb tack can't handle. If it can find their clacker that is.'

'My old behemoth can find their clacker, don't you worry about that,' responded Samson. 'I'm just surprised yours hasn't fallen off yet.'

'Has actually,' replied Goliath, taking a swig of beer. 'A few times now. Doc fixes me right up. The surgery costs a bit, and it takes a while to grow them in the labs, but its ok. The current model is right as rain.'

'Good to know,' said Samson.

'You still doing those movies with Delilah?' asked Goliath.

'She's seeing the Daniel fellows. Currently his squeeze. She's joined the Lightbringers, from what I hear. Has found her new salvation.'

'Aye, I think I heard something of that,' responded Goliath. 'That one has a ladies man reputation. His good looks.'

'Samson pulls them by the dozen when he flexes,' responded Samson, and ripped off his T-Shirt, showing his majestic chest.

Goliath proceeded to take off his shirt, and for the next half an hour they cracked pose after bodybuilding pose, trying to out do each other.

Later, when the whistles had died down, Samson spoke on what he had come about.

'Torah Brigade. It's open just to them angels,' said Samson. 'But I have been offered a place with the Saruvim Daredevil's on a special brigade for humans. They asked me to ask you. They have a big ship they want manned, and they've also sought out Wolfgang Debear to pilot the ship. It's called Behemoth. And its big. Very, very big.'

'Sound's interesting,' said Goliath.

'It can go far, and quickly when it builds up speed. They have a request of God. They put it in formal writing, and it was endorsed by a community of several hundred willing volunteers for the program,' said Samson.

'And what is that program?' asked Goliath.

'They want to go out far. Way far. Way out in roughly a northerly direction, way beyond the established settlements of Eternya. To places nobody will get to yet in trillions of years with current technologies. MOST current technologies. Behemoth, once she really gets the speed up, can reach the kind of distance they want in a few weeks.'

'Why so far out?' asked Goliath.

'For the rise of the Saruvim,' responded Samson.

'The rise of the Saruvim?' queried Goliath.

'The rise of the Saruvim,' affirmed Samson.

'Interesting,' said Goliath, and sipped on his beer, as Samson started going over details of a brave and very bold plan. A brave and very bold plan indeed.

The End

Talzudiel's Wisdom

'Yeh, ok. What if it is just a crush? What of it? I obviously am keen.'

'And so is my twin,' responded Kayella, sitting there, eating cookies and cream, Winoniel next door with the Castle's, leaving them to chat.

'Who is as faithful as a shark,' responded Talzudiel, pacing the room.

'He is, actually. Faithful. Has been for aeons now.'

'As he screws Taylor and Luladiel on a regular basis,' retorted Talzudiel. 'Come on. He's a rogue. I never marry more than one woman.'

'But you are never faithful to the woman you marry,' replied Kayella, watching the Skylandria Rugby League match on a new team she was now following.

'I'd be faithful to you,' he said.

Eloenuel considered that. 'You know, Kayella. He probably would.'

'Stay out of it Ellie,' said Kayella.

'Oops,' said Eloenuel, and went back to reading the magazine he was looking at.

'My point,' continued Kayella, 'is that Callodyn is faithful to me. He may indeed be faithful to other ladies as well, but that is his style, and Torah does not forbid.'

'One man, one woman,' said Talzudiel. 'In the beginning it was as such.'

'Then why can't you choose one woman?' replied Kayella.

'Because I can't. But it's only one woman. And I already know that if you marry me I will leave you one day.'

'Jesus Christ,' swore Kayella. 'Now that's a term of endearment if ever I have heard one.'

'At least he is honest,' stated Eloenuel, 68^th of the male Seraphim of Eternity.

'Shut up Ellie,' Kayella said again.

'Humph,' replied Eloenuel, and disappeared off to the back room.

'Look. Tallie. Don't be an idiot. You know I will never leave Callodyn. I'm flattered, ok. Believe me. Your a cute guy, and we have always been friends, and good ones to boot. I love your football suaveness, which you really should get back to, and your polished Spanish and Portuguese linguistic skills. Your a great guy. But you don't want me, you know. I'm not that centre in your heart. Look closer to home.'

'Ah, fuck off Kayella. Always the twin thing, these days. So many go on about how its all slowly leading to that plan, but I don't buy it. We are free, and the books have spoken that the twin can be an issue, but doesn't have to be. It's just life that rules in the end. Not a soulmate idea, which isn't even a fact. In fact, there is no bond in a twin at all. Nothing psychol-spritiual, nothing whatsoever. They are not necessarily even good mates. It's just a complex arrangement of various types of souls which mesh as a whole and a community, and in which some find the support they need in the twin as a lover and a romancer, but some just use that as a friend. Callodyn only thinks you are hot in the end, you know. Your just cute. He likes you because of that. I don't its anything more serious. Look at Taylor. Look at Luladiel. They aren't exactly plain janes.'

'Be that as it may, and I don't necessarily disagree, he is only human, and sometimes that is just where the chemistry comes from anyway. But he's tragically loyal to all three of us now, and I have even, despite myself, grown comfortable with it. Devuel never wants to know Luladiel anymore anyway, and Steve has been married for all eternity practically to a human lady, who he swears he will never leave. Doesn't even see Taylor anymore. Worlds apart as far as he is concerned. But its not like that with you. I can tell. It's why your here, and you are also Seraphim. For Seraphim its just that little bit more personal with the twin. You guys have known each other forever. And you and Winoniel are old friends, and good friends. Why even bother looking for another lady?'

'She farts a bit too much. She eats curried eggs quite a lot, and she stinks a bit. And its embarrassing,' he said.

She looked at him, stunned. 'Is that it?' she asked incredulously.

Talzudiel looked at her for a while, and nodded. 'Pretty much just that. I don't want to say anything, cause she likes curried eggs, you know. There her favourite. So she's not for me.'

Kayella looked at him, aghast. 'Are you serious? Curried eggs comes between you and your twin?'

'And the farts are pretty smelly,' he said. 'Toxic at times.'

'Jesus Christ!' she swore for the second time. 'For the love of Mary mother of God.'

'Heh heh heh,' came the laughter of Eloenuel from the other room. 'The baptist chick has dug deep into her catholic roots for that one.'

'Shut up Eloenuel,' shouted Kayella.

'She farts too much,' said Kayella to Talzudiel.

'Yes,' he replied. 'Largely that. But don't you say a word. She likes her egg sandwiches. I don't want to come between her and them. It's her favourite food.'

'Oh. Well, Ok then. I see you have a well developed rationality for betraying your twin's devotion. Not something like 'She's an axe murderer, or she worships Satan and the like. But, she farts too much.'

'And it smells,' he said.

'It smells,' she finished. 'Ok. I give up. But your not having me.'

'Fine. I'll find someone else.'

'You do that then,' said Kayella.

'Oh,' and don't you dare tell her.'

'I won't promised Kayella, and sat down, turned to the TV, and grinned to herself. Winoniel's curried eggs. For heaven's bloody sake. Winoniel's curried eggs. Whatever next, she thought to herself. Whatever next.

The End

Flight of the Nighthawk

'Jerahmeel. You are an old glory hound, aren't you dear brother?'

'Sariel. It is good to see you ole chum. My, it's been a while.'

'And it's Nighthawk, isn't it?'

'3 months now. Overlord christened me the title.'

'Baptised you into it, huh?'

'Something like that,' responded the Papua New Guinean Prince. 'So, your here for first day's training,' said Jerahmeel. 'Have you chosen a flightname?'

'Old Glory in fact,' said Sariel. 'Ironically. Overlord himself approved.'

'Classic,' smiled Jerahmeel. 'Oh, I have a mat with me. Fancy a game?'

Sariel looked at him seriously. 'Well, why not. It's been forever.'

Jerahmeel went to his trunk at the end of his bunk, retrieved a Chulara mat, and took it to the nearby table, with a plastic container of markers which he spilled out. As they set them up for a game of Chulara Jerahmeel began speaking on a mission entrusted to him.

'I have a mission coming up,' said Jerahmeel. 'I will be gone for a while. It is probably about 6 to 8 months away on estimates. But we have had intelligence which necessitates this mission.'

'Interesting,' said Sariel, looking down at the board, and deciding to make the first move, which either player occasionally could if they took a fancy to it. 'What's the mission?'

'Flight of the Nighthawk. I'll be away for several decades, and it will be a lonely life for a while. Just a colonisation move, really. Word came down from Overlord that Saruvim Daredevil's have an agenda. It wasn't leaked, exactly, but we have sources who observe certain things.'

'Callodyn?' asked Sariel.

'Not exactly. His twin. Kayella. She overheard some discussions innocently when she was in a back room. She was very upset in her conscience about evesdropping, but confessed the details to Valandriel. He spoke with Desdrael, and he spoke with Ogre. Ogre informed them he had already known, and said 'What of it?'. Thus my mission.'

'Care to explain,' said Sariel.

'It's called Behemoth. It's a creation of the Saruvim, designed by Caltek and Valderann. It's big. One of the very biggest ever, and when it gets up speed, so they say, it leaves the rest on a tricycle in comparison. And they have a plan which Kayella overheard. Based on the document.'

'Which is?' asked Sariel.

'They are going north. Taking Behemoth up to top speed and going north for several weeks once at top speed. The kind of distance they will travel – well, lets just say the whole encompassment of the Realm of Eternity, from one end of the outermost rim, cross the diameter to the other, is still only a fraction of the distance they will travel.'

Sariel looked at Jerahmeel, surprised. 'Is that so? And why do they want to go so far out?'

'For the rise of the Saruvim,' responded Jerahmeel.

'Which is?'

'The Document. Establish a colony, and build. Build large, and quickly, and establish things. They are forming a V shape going northwards from the point they reach, and using old white stones as boundary markers, so its very legal with the old man. I mean, it will literally be trillions and trillions of years before we get that far north in settlement, and by then they will have swallowed up so much more. They are going hard.'

Sariel looked at Jerahmeel for a moment, and looked down at the map. 'Could be a problem for some, I guess. But if that is their ambition.'

'It's why I'm going south. As far as we can get with what is planned. Daniel and Valandriel have taken on the fasting job, and will be at it for 5 months, aiming just for a small craft, which can travel at amazing speed. We probably won't get anywhere near the Saruvim's type of distance out, but I have a long job of establishing boundary markers as well, before a colonization team is established. We won't bother with east or west, as we need to let the rest alone for everyone else. But the Seraphim and Cherubim are not planning to let the challenge go without response.'

'I see,' said Sariel. 'Fascinating. 'Well, your move.'

'Sure,' replied Jerahmeel and, as they got underway, Sariel seemed to be enjoying his match, but his mind was in fact exactly upon what Jerahmeel had said. And also on the document. And the realities of life that that document now spoke to many. And, for his own families sake, just what did that mean for Sariel the Seraphim? What did that mean indeed?'

The End

Jetydosa the Saruvim

'Jetydosa, Jetydosa, Jetydosa. What on earth are we going to do with a Saruvim angel as simple as you?'

'Let me join the Saruvim Daredevil's,' replied Jetydosa.

Bossman looked at the young 22 year old. 'Your barely out of your nappies, and 'King's X Glory Band 784965231993' can not afford to let you go so easily. You are the first angel to bare your revered name, and the Glory needs you for an eternity yet my young son.'

'Yet I feel inclined, in my heart of hearts, which beats for the Lord Jesus, to counter-oppose the Christforce and set them an example of excellence in the halls of Daredevil glory.'

'Sayeth thee,' responded Bossman. 'I'll look at the books. Young Jerry Maguire Gaskill should fit in on bass if you insist on departing. Jerry has been fill in these past 6 months and is doing very well amidst your on again, off again stage appeareances.'

'Jetydosa's glory lieth elsewhere. In the name of Prince James let me departeth you old slug.'

'And relinquish your father's fateful signature? Mmmm. Should I?' he asked, scratching his chin.

Jetydosa looked pleadingly at old Albert Summersby, his bossman in the legion of King's X Glory band tribute bands to the legends themselves.

'Very well, young chicken. You shall have your freedom. I feel a guilt upon my very soul should I try and keepeth you. Gloria!' he shouted. 'Bring me Jetydosa's contract.'

A curly redhead showed up shortly, and handed a contract to Bossman. 'Here it is boss,' she said. 'Jetydosa's contract.'

'Now are you sure young layabout?'asked bossman.

'As sure as the testicles of Douglas Pinnick have known the backside of many a blokes arse,' replied Jetydosa.

'Good enough for me,' responded Bossman,' and shredded the contract. 'Your a free man.'

And Jetydosa was off, as free as Douglas Pinnick's testicles liberties, to the Saruvim Daredevil's, and a life of great adventure indeed.

The End

Diagonel son of Dameriel

'So, Dameriel. She is pregnant.'

Dameriel, house steward of Glimmersphon keep in Zaphora, the realm of Eternity's central disc, smiled at Saruviel the Seraphim's comment.

'Yes, Genidwael is pregnant.' Genidwael was one of the female 700,000 Cherubim angels of Eternity, a long time friend of Dameriel through her many visits to Glimmersphon, whom Dameriel had kidded once recently that they should marry, him knowing her so well by now. She said that was a great idea. He replied that he had only been kidding. She kissed him on the cheek and said 'Then mean it.' He got down on his knee very quickly, on an unDameriel like impulse. She said yes.

His twin was not amused.

Not long later Genidwael became pregnant, and Saruviel's visit that day was mainly a congratulatory visit for Dameriel's fifth child. He had been very slow at it.

Later that year, when the child had been born, and was in a nursery put aside at Glimmersphon, Dameriel was down on the jetty of Golden Lake, looking out at the golden reflection of the hue of the light of eternity. Not far away the lake was covered with activity of regular lake goers, but the section reserved for Seraphim and Cherubim was vacant.

He was on the edge of the jetty, the ancient jetty, and looked out at the water. The ripples always held his attention – they did that to everyone though.

'God,' he said softly. 'Thank you for my fifth child. Life is always good with another addition to house Dameriel. I thank you Father. Really, I thank you.' And he sat there in quiet, not expecting any answer.

Later, when it was becoming dark, he finally roused himself, and was surprised to find the Theophany of God just behind him, gazing out at the lake.

'How long have you been there?' Dameriel asked God.

'Long enough,' replied God, and looked at Dameriel. 'Young Diagonel. Your new boy. He is different. There is a different kind of spirit within him. A very, very old one in fact. In many ways he is the oldest of the Saruvim, in many ways. But not quite.'

'He's Saruvim then? Yes, we sensed something different about the lad.'

'Treat him well. He is your eternal offspring.'

'Yes father,' replied Dameriel.

And they walked, then, up to Glimmersphon, and God stayed for dinner that night, and in the morning he was gone, and Dameriel was busy again, all about the keep, but his heart and attention mostly fixed on his new son, Diagonel, and whatever strange plan and mystery Destiny had in store for him.

The End

Little Trix

Sariel was a splendid old angel. At least, that is how he perceived himself. Traditional. English. A gentleman. Gloryel saw through the whole facade. In fact, for as long as he had known Gloryel, she'd had that unfortunate ability to be able to play trump card upon trump card to outsmart, outwit or generally outplay all of Sariel's proud manly boasting. She had that way about her, it seemed. That inevitable way.

Little Trix, as they liked to call her, or Trixiel, the 15^th daughter they shared, was the pride and joy of Gloryel's life for many years. Sariel was fond of her, despite her being shortish at only 5 foot 1 inch, which is were the moniker Little Trix came from and stuck. And, ironically, she was little trix in more ways than one. First of all, she was a dedicated adherent of the school of Animistic wisdom set up by the famed witch Lucy Potter. From this school she learned basic animistic spells, but they also taught traditional magical tricks as well in the local chapter she attended, which was more focused on the commercial realities of witchcraft training, including the blowing up of balloons and making funny animal shapes out of them, and the worst kids jokes known in creation. Trixiel lived in Gloryel and Daniel's house which they shared in the second of the heavens, now known as the Realm of Adventure. Daniel currently resided elsewhere, and Sariel and Gloryel were officially together for the time being – everyone knew it wouldn't last forever. It never did. But for now the warring twins were as one, raising a new child, a new hope, and making on with their eternal walk with destiny. Little Trix was not, of course, only fond of witchcraft, but the best of British Girl Bands including Spice Girls, and her favourite was 'Trixie Firecracker' herself, naturally, from whom she had been named, but then she was also fond of Girls Aloud and, quite naturally, Little Mix, to whom she felt quite drawn. She herself could sing somewhat, and was cute rather than traditionally beautiful, but that wasn't her career choice. No, neither magic, ultimately, nor music, had won the eternal heart of Trixiel. For on her 15^th birthday, doing her homework on the kitchen table, Sariel ushered the Theophany into the room, and Gloryel bowed slightly, and Sariel saw him to a seat at the table.

'Trixiel,' said the theophany.

Trixiel looked up at the old looking man for the first time. 'Yo, gramps,' she said. 'Hows it hangin?'

'Trixiel!' scholded Geri instantly. 'That's no way to treat Wolfgang. He is very fond of you.'

'Wolfgang, huh?' she said.

'Wolfgang DeBere,' he replied.

'And what do you do?' she asked him.

'Run things,' he replied.

'Cool,' she said.

'And you. Do you think you would like running things? Big things?'

'Like what?' she asked him.

'I don't know. A mega-global universal company with googols in credits profits each day?'

'Piece of cake,' she said.

Wolfgang smiled.

Later....

'She's a Saruvim,' said God. 'I've been meaning to inform you for a bit now. Just had some free time recently.'

'Oh, wonderful,' said Geraldine, looking at her daughter. 'Just what we needed. Saruviel will be sooooooooooooo impressed.'

'I was forgetting who they were named after,' said Sariel.

'So treat her with care,' said God. 'One day she will surprise you. Really surprise you.'

'Will do old man,' said Sariel.

'Gotcha,' replied Gloryel.

'Oh, and good luck in the cricket on the weekend,' said God to Sariel. 'I saw your last match. You'll need it.'

'Thanks,' said Sariel.

And God was gone, off to his own adventures, leaving Sariel and Gloryel staring at their newly revealed Saruvim daughter and wondering just what strange destiny that God had spoken of awaited her fortunes in the up and coming years ahead. What strange fortunes indeed.

The End

The Return of Jetydosa

'Your back,' said Bossman.

'They said I had the flying talent of an Eagle,' replied Jetydosa.

'That's good,' said Bossman.

'Whose wings had been torn off,' replied Jetydosa.

'That bad, huh? Well, them's the breaks.' Bossman looked at him. He looked at the look in his eyes, that faintest taint of Pinnick blood which he knew the fella had. 'Oh, for fuck's sake. Gloria. Type out the contract again. For Jetydosa. He's old enough to sign it now anyway. And give it a slight increase in payment. He's a quality bassplayer.'

'Bossman. I've got these lyrics and shit. An ancient tribute band to King's X, hiding in the Advancing Noah Movement, made them available to me. They were at the hall were I was meeting some Saruvim Daredevil's after the audition that morning. A club of sorts, and they had a grand-kid who had joined Christforce. They knew about me, said I had a glowing rep, and asked if I wanted to use some of their sacred shit. Let me sing it for you boss.'

Bossman nodded.

Jetydosa took the stage. 'This part is not a song, but a spoken word intro to the set. I'll just sort of play and sing it spokenly.'

'As you wish,' said Bossman.

Jetydosa checked his bass, which seemed fine, and began.

The Kids go to Nebraska

4 score and 7 years ago, not counting today, 3 gentle kids walked along a tired and dusty road. They did not know where they were going and they did not know where they had been, but they knew they were finding who they were, and having the fine and dandy time of their life. Everything was real – and everything was surreal – because they knew they had entered 'Gloryville', that ole Texas town of southern hospitality, fried chicken and gospel choir alleluias, but something wasn't quite right. 'Corruptors', one voice screamed. 'Our children are under their influence,' said another. 'Run em out of town,' said the sheriff. And so they got booted out of Gloryville 'We never fitted anyway,' said one of them. 'Too straight for me,' said another. The third kid carrying the drum-sticks said 'Look. A sign.' A sign, summarily blessed by the bounteous provision of angelic duty, shimmered down from upon high and suggested to them in radiant white letters. 'The Kids should try Nebraska.' 'Wasn't the whole point to get to Gloryville?' one of them asked. 'Nebraska sounds Mundane,' another suggested. Finally the kid with the drumsticks asked 'What do they do in Nebraska then?' Suddenly, a familiar looking young lady, with a big, bold and beautiful scarlet 'G' emblazoned over her dress dropped down from the heavenlies and smiled at them. 'Had your fill of Gloryville, huh?' They all nodded as one. She chuckled. 'Serves em right,' she thought to herself. 'Well, I FINALLY got to Nebraska myself. Auntie Christine had been beside herself with worry, my boyfriend from last summer had finally gotten tired of waiting and found another girl, and the job promised me was taken by another. So I ask you, my dear boyfriends, In going to Nebraska, was I too heavenly minded to be no earthly good?' The Kids stood perplexed. 'Exactly,' she wisely replied. 'So the next time the wisdom of the ages tries to kidnap you from your sensibly laid out earthly plans – GET THE HELL OVER IT, OK!!! Jesus!' And then she was off, back to her prior place of glory.' Finally one spoke. 'You know, remember when we just found who we were?' 'Reality intervened,' said another. 'Lets go to Nebraska,' said the kid with the drumsticks. And leaving nothing behind, and taking everything with them, they returned to the real world, and caught the next bus to Merriman, a lovely town in northern Nebraska, a place their destiny awaited.

'So waddya think boss?'

'Your on Friday night. Don't fuck up J Man. And let me see the music.'

Jetydosa smiled. Same old situation, but new material always worked wonders.

The End

The Gang

'Jendiel. You're a babe. Marry me.'

Jendiel the Saruvim looked at Radiel, head of Starpower Universal. She considered him. 'You have chased me for the last 1400 years, Radiel, and my answer has always been no. What makes you think I have a different answer this bright and happy day?'

'Listen, happy go lucky miss I'm perfect. In all your anglo-norman perfection, do you ever wonder if you need a man? You sit there every afternoon, after work, listening to Britten and Motorhead, the most diabolical pairing, and you think you are English royalty practically. Your brother tells me. He says you start with Britten and drink tea, and then, around 4, you put on your Motorhead T-Shirt, and close the front room door, and blast away at metal until 6 when your parents arrive home. And then all night its genealogical research into your human roots, which you take way too seriously for a Saruvim, and out comes the flag around 10 that evening, when you are watching Blackadder and Red Dwarf, and you clutch at the Union Jack and then knit until midnight. And all Saturdy – Tea parties with the 'English in Radendya'. For heaven's sake, we've only been here 5 centuries, and already you think you are one of them. Your posh accent has gotten posher, and then, all Sunday, the Spice Girls. And out comes the flag again, and Def Leppard all Sunday Night, and then work, and the week starts again on Monday, and you do the whole thing all over again.'

'Your point?' asked Jendiel.

'Your Saruvim. How about our culture, sweetie?'

'We barely have one. I've read 'The Life of Intensity' by Saruviel Seraphim, and that will do me. Besides, SFA is available on original copyright now anyway. You have to labour for centuries in prayer and fasting just to get an original poem from God nowadays. We have no culture left to us. Besides, I don't care. Grandmother was born in an English country in Eteryna, and that suits me fine. I like my English roots, and my human DNA as well thank you very much.'

'We have a culture,' said Radiel, a little annoyed. 'Starpower has many documents which are copyrighted and original manoeuvres for our starfleet as well. We have a sort of culture in our organisation.'

'Which is why I'm part of it, silly. But get over it Radiel. It will all be gone eventually one day. Everything original will be used up eventually. So we fit it. Get the hell over it.'

But Radiel's pride was strong. 'I don't quit so easily. At least the Saruvim should strive to claim what they can. I worked hard to get Starpower. Don't be so lame and copout to the other cultures so easily.'

'The answer is no. I won't marry you. Not until you change your tune and learn to bloody get along with everyone. They have all worked hard, those who have gone before us, so you should damn well appreciate the world they have built for us. Don't be such a snob, Radiel.'

'She's right,' said Varxanel. 'You are a bit of a snob.'

'I'll second that,' said Caltek, poking his head out from behind a newspaper in the Starfleet club.

'Yeh, definitely,' said Valderann.

'Humph,' said Radiel. 'Saruvim Daredevil's opinions are not worth that much anyway. As good as their flying, which is kind of pathetic.'

'Well I think your just a tad snobbish as well,' pitched in Trixiel the Saruvim, head of SuperMegaGlobalUniversalAstronomical Industries Pty Ltd. 'And I should know. In my world I deal with the elite all the time, believe me.'

'Yo, J! Am I a snob?'

The brown skinned Jetydosa looked up from his iPhone. 'Your the humblest bastard this world has ever known, dude!' replied Jetydosa, and returned to his texting.

'There you go,' said Radiel at the group proudly.

'But you tend to be a bit arrogant about it,' finished Jetydosa, texting away. The group chuckled a little, and Radiel blushed.

'I am sure there are greater snobs than yourself,' said Diagonel son of Dameriel, in a very strong Irish accent. 'The Lord knows he has dealt with many a challenging soul since the dawn of creation.'

'Thank you Diagonel,' replied Radiel. 'You appear to be my saviour.'

'That I am,' said Diagonel, smiling, which brought another chuckle from the group.

'The Saruvim should not be also rans. That's my fundamental point,' said Radiel, and said nothing more. One by one they all turned to look at him. He had stated his case. They were familiar with the argument.

'Then what are you all going to do about Radiel's challenge?' asked a voice, sitting down amongst them. They looked. It was Saruviel.

'Man, Radiel is full of it. Just party and don't sweat the shit. We got a good enough name. We got your name, many,' said Jetydosa.

'Yet Radiel desires a greater affirmation of self-glory,' replied Saruviel.

'Then tell him to fuck off north, which he won't,' said Varxanel. 'Saruvim Daredevil's sending an entire elite team, but Radiel won't go. Cause he doesn't want to miss him mommy. Boo hoo,' said Varxanel.

'It takes courage, that kind of plan,' said Saruviel warmly. 'But you are still young Radiel. A lot of commitment required as well.

'He's too weak to fast again,' said Trixiel. 'Says what he's done so far has taken it all out of him.'

'Perhaps that is true, though,' replied Saruviel. 'Sometimes we spend a little piece of our heart and soul in doing something, and sometimes its a piece which is not replaced that easily.'

'True,' replied Trixiel, and softened.

'We will find our glory in Time Archangel,' said Diagonel. 'It will take time, but we the Saruvim are still new in many ways, even though the oldest of us have been around a fair while now.'

'Yet not all have been born, yet, and still the greater majority to go,' said Saruviel. 'So you are still the new guns, the young guns, and you have a destiny to craft. And perhaps, looking at this gang of friends, a big part of the dream of that destiny could well be right here among us.'

'Let's hope so,' said Diagonel, to which the others nodded softly.

'Yeh, let's,' said Radiel, who risked a glance at his old man, and then turned and stared grimly into the distance outside the flyers club.

The End

666 iNterbrain

'Quang Low. Report to desk 4B6 immediately.'

Quang low heard the voice on the intercom, put down his soldering iron, and reported to desk 4B6 in 'Ultra Humanist Society Solutions Pty Ltd' Radendya operations plant. Radendya was a major city in Skylandria, along degrees 56, and at the moment many things were going on there. Especially the ministrations of Damien the Saruvim of Infinity, whose 'Ultra Humanist Society Solutions Pty Ltd' corporation was busily at work on his latest projects – 666iNterbrain.

'Quang. The Master is here. He will speak with you.'

Quang saluted, and as directed walked into the office nearby, sat calmly and without emotion on the chair opposite the red marble throne, which had a beautiful couch on it. Shortly the Master, Damien the Saruvim of Infinity, entered the room and sat down, looking at Quang.

'666 iNterbrain is ready then? Your reports indicate that all core objectives have been reached.'

Quang stroked his chin for a moment, and, upon consideration, nodded formally at his Master.

'The mind gathering trials. They were a success?' asked Damien.

'We linked 7000 minds together, and the strongest thoughts became dominant, especially when they were assented by other thoughts in agreement, which seemed to magnify them. But it fluctuated constantly, just like a dreamscape.'

'Excellent. And manipulation from the Central 666 iBrain CPU of dream motif and element. This has been achieved?'

'Generally, yes. The power input is of central importance, as a human mind simply seems to disconnect if too much power or influence is attempted. Something like hypnotism, it can't seem to directly contradict your will. But certain drugs can influence the will well enough to achieve what we ideally need,' replied Quang. 'But May I ask a question, sir?'

'Speak.'

'The second revelation of John. Certainly, they have prayed for and predicted the rise of our beast, and likely the Most High has informed them of our plans somewhat, so what shall be the outcome of our work?'

'The last revelation failed, didn't it?' asked Damien.

'That is a matter of perspective, sir. Most of Christ Jesus objectives have been fulfilled since then, and the Church still continues onwards. They have not failed their primary charter to destroy the Lord Satan eternally yet.'

'I doubt the freaks will quit any time soon myself,' responded Damien. 'So we oppose them till we eternally nullify their strength.'

'Not simply assassinating Jesus will resolve the issue?' queried Quang.

'Would not work. He would be resurrected from Sheol if he did not choose his own death. Life always has permission to go forth if it is not choosing death for itself, and avoids wilful destruction of other life. It's why the Saruvim don't directly kill anyone. Old tempters, my friend. We do our best to corrupt, but the ultimate test of life always lies with the one giving into the temptation. If they can't resist, then the Most High accepts our work. If they can't fight for life, we win, and our powerbase grows.'

'Thus the war with the church,' said Quang to himself.

'Return to work immediately. And I will speak with you again next year.'

'Yes Master,' replied Quang Low, and returned to his work station, picked up his soldering iron, and continued on with the work of the 666 iNterbrain project, not for once caring about the response of the Christian Church, not for once caring about the delicate words of prophesy of St John of the Apocalypse, the Revelator himself.

The End

Summation

Well, needless to say, life went on, and on, and on, and on. As much has been lived prior, was lived again. And again, and again, and yet again, in many profound cycles of life, adventure, mystery and amazement. Dreams came to be, and some dreams did not really eventuate to much in the end anyway. But for a new beginning, there has to be an old ending, and here it endeth for this first cycle of storytelling, and the chronicles of the children of destiny is complete, and the angels saga is finished, and for this first cycle of things, my work is done. And this final word from the stars of our story....

'Michael. You know, I have a bigger dick than yours. A solid 8 inches,' said Saruviel. 'I am duly informed your erection reaches a maximum of about 6.'

Michael did not comment.

'That's not bad. For a Rothchild I suppose. But hardly real man meat,' said Saruviel.

Michael, again, did not comment.

'So, you know, that sort of sums it up, I suppose,' said Saruviel.

Michael turned to look at Saruviel. 'Krystabel.'

'Yes,' replied Saruviel.

'Small tits. Hardly exist,' he said.

'Your point.'

'Elenniel. Nice tits, aren't they.'

Saruviel glared at Michael for a moment, and turned to look out at the ripples of golden lake.

Finally 'But I've got a bigger dick schmuck.'

'Bite me,' replied Michael.

'Sit on it,' replied Saruviel.

And two warring parties, warred on yet more, and life, as we know it..........................

The End

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