maskormenace | Video; forward dated to the 6th

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Video; forward dated to the 6th

[ Okay, he's bored. Where are the tumbling heroics? Where's the challenge? Lucifer is here - back - whatever, taking time out from recording his show to hang out on the network with you fascinating examples of God's greatest mistakes. He sets up his camera, which shows off the back of a chair that reads 'Lucifer' in broad black writing. The background is a handsome looking church, with stained glass windows, long red carpets, and hanging red drapes that tumble down the broad pillars. Huge bouquets of summer flowers decorate the altars and tumble out of the planters beside the pews, and light pours in through the round feature window. For once, Lucifer - when he takes his seat - is groomed, dressed in a neat black on black suit, and finished with silver fish shaped cufflinks and everything. He looked the part of the villain, the businessman; the schemer. A charismatic cult leader. Or well...like a guy in a sharp suit. He counted off on his fingers: ]

Pestilence. War. Famine. [ And he touched his fourth finger, then looked puzzled at the camera. ] Well, would you look at that. Four horsemen, not three. No prizes to anyone who guesses the last one.

[ He reaches into his breast pocket, removing a simple silver ring very carefully, propped it on his thumbnail and then flicked it. Flicked Death's ring clean into the air, then snatched his hand up and caught it. ] One left.

[ He leaned very slightly forward, speaking as though he were sharing a secret. ] Don't worry your head about it, my darling. I wouldn't dream of giving this thing to just anyone, but its multiversal owner really will have to come fetch it back before I'm tempted. To do what? Who knows? I'm mercurial like that. Sammmmy, come on out to play. It's been forever.

[ Lucifer's attention was broken by his accepting a clipboard and signing off on something on it. ] Chicken soup again? [ A nod from the assistant. ] Good. It's wonderful for the soul.

[ And then he's left to continue with his video, and he rolls his eyes pointedly. ] The fault really lies with you, kiddos. All that anger and repression, it'll mess you right up. But for the sake of argument, I think it's fair to say 'I predict a riot'. Accurate? Why don't we talk it out, hm?

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Really?

[ He looks on edge. He should be; he's fighting the urge to fly into a rage, to let his feet carry him to Lucifer right now.

The only reason he doesn't is because he thinks it's what Lucifer wants. ]

Because we aren't the ones soaking in the glory of it all. Is this all a game to you? Turn us against each other while you watch from your gilded windows, presiding over the chaos you've wrought?

[ His expression flickers into a cold smile. ]

You're still looking at this from the wrong perspective, Darty. It's not a game, it's a lesson. You're the beneficiaries of my vast experience.

And if I get a kick out of watching you fail, can you really blame me?

[ Offscreen, his free hand curls into a fist. More than he can say, he wants to hurt this man. He hadn't liked Lucifer even before the ring played with his temperament. D'Artagnan had already been volatile, quick to anger. He's so much worse today. ]

Fail? I don't fail. You really think you'll get away with this? I knew something was happening. I knew there was a reason for all of this, and now I know it comes from you.

Do you think you're safe behind those windows?

You fail. You are failing now; failing yourself, failing your design, failing God. You have no Faith, and in the end, D'Artagnan, sweetheart, you'll come rushing down to the pit. That's what failure is. This short little life is your test. Can you find the strength to overcome your willfulness to sin and love God irregardless of what science and common sense dictate? Are you so proud of your intelligence that you can't even get out of your own way, when it comes to eternal life in the Kingdom of Heaven? That is the question God asked you. And you fail--you fail by your droves. Not every time, no, but plenty enough to keep Hell's fires burning.

[ As for those threats. ]

You're angry. You want to come and fight me, shoot your little pistols. Helpless little ape, clinging to your crude tools. It is Divine Grace which protects me, not windows and walls. But come, why don't you. Try your luck against an Archangel of the Lord, and see what it gets you.

[ Oh, God, this is ridiculous. He should have known this would be ridiculous. He should have known before he even answered it, and Lucifer's words drive a humourless laugh from him. ]

Of course. Of course! How could I forget? You're completely insane.

[ There it is. He has no idea what's actually happening here. Maybe Lucifer found a way to cause it. Maybe he didn't, maybe it's something else altogether, but what's patently obvious is that Lucifer is still preaching at him like some sort of bizarre Archbishop. Or perhaps a Cardinal. Yes, that's an even more uncomfortable comparison. ]

Do you hear yourself? You claim to be what, the, the ruler of Hell? And yet you want me to pass God's tests? You sound like every priest I've ever heard, cautioning the faithful against hellfire! Is that what this is? A way to frighten us all back into Church?

Pass my tests. [ He corrects. ] All this is about, is how unworthy I think you are to be in His presence. To be so loved.

You don't deserve it.

[ And that's all there is to it. His petty anger and jealousy. ]

[ D'Artagnan doesn't speak. His expression stays expectant, while he waits for the punch line that never comes. You don't deserve it. He waits for one beat, then another.

Then he throws up his hands, exasperated - all the more so because of what the ring has done to his temper. ]

We don't deserve it. All right, fine.

So what?! No one ever said we did! Haven't you ever heard how good the Catholic Church is at guilt?! I'll tell you right now, every single person who calls themselves devout will assure you that they don't deserve it.

So what have you actually proved? All of this, what's happening. It's not our doing. It's yours. Yours, and your rings. That doesn't prove anything to anyone, except that obviously we need to keep you away from our valuables.

Have I never heard how good the Catholic Church is at guilt? You really just asked me that? Okay.

[ He shakes his head slowly. ] You really don't get it, do you? I didn't project anything on you that doesn't exist, that wasn't created by man and his sins. Pestilence, famine, war--the magic that formed them, that gives power to them, is perpetuated by you.

If you weren't what you are, it wouldn't have any power over you at all.

[ It's partial truth, but to tell the truth he's weaving his own web of lies with every word. Quelle surprise? ]

Really.

[ D'Artagnan, in reality, thinks there's truth to that. He knows he has a temper. He doesn't feel like that in itself is false; though the strength of it is wrong, and generally he needs more motivation than he's had to feel this furious with the people around him.

But that's the point, isn't it? Because he would need more motivation to feel this way. ]

Then why would you need the rings at all? If we're all going to destroy each other anyway, why not just let us get along with it? You wouldn't have needed to interfere at all, if that was true.

Well like I said, I didn't invent them. In the real apocalypse, I've got better things to do, and the Horsemen are their own entities. They feel me rise to power, and they rise too--I don't even have to send out any invitations.

But sometimes... Well, it can get so boring waiting. So boring. I tell you, eternity feels like forever.

You're insane.

[ Completely clinical analysis, done and dusted. D'Artagnan has no idea why anyone is even entertaining any of this.

They know who's responsible for all the trouble now. They ought to just be dealing with him. That would put an end to all of this. ]

Do you know, I don't care who you are. I don't even care what you are, I care that people have gotten hurt because of you. Stop this. Stop whatever the rings are doing and put an end to it, or I swear I'll put an end to you. Thanks to you, this is not the day to test me.

Does God stop a boulder rolling down a hill after an earthquake? This will end, Darty--when it ends.

[ He tucked his hands behind himself. ] I'm more concerned about your buddy Athos than you. He's got that--severe, passionless unblinking stare thing going on.

Whereas you... You're delicate. Jumpy. Even on a good day--which of course this isn't. The invitation stands.

[ Whatever anger d'Artagnan had felt, whatever rage he'd been experiencing -

It doubles. Triples. The mere mention of Athos is enough for that. Right now, he doesn't care who or what Lucifer is. The real devil? No, probably not. Probably just some sort of well-educated, zealous charlatan, like that priest who'd tried to kill the Cardinal.

But he's dangerous, clearly, and he's powerful. And d'Artagnan will not let this stand. ]

Stay away from Athos.

If you hurt him I'll kill you. This ends now.

[ And that's what he intended, really. It's too easy to find the mark, and well with muskateers, that brotherly bond is as easy to punch in the gut as it is with any blood brothers.

He doesn't mock him, or roll his eyes, or any of the other things he might do to urge him to greater heights of fury, because they're there already, really. His expression is calm, but it takes restraint not to tease him for 'it ends now'. ]

Well giddy up then, Darty. It's a long way to Miami, and you'll have to beat him here.

[ He doesn't answer. He hangs up, shoves the device into his doublet, and then he's going to find Athos. Lucifer, he'll meet in person.

All that matters to him is that he finds his friend. Nothing else is important, not now. He can't let this maniac hurt Athos, and as long as he puts a stop to that, he'll be happy. ]

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Video; forward dated to the 6th

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