by Matt Drabble
McCullum rubbed his hands across his face massaging his head attempting to shake off the growing tiredness, he had been raised within a hard single parent household by a widowed mother. His father was still alive but after he had walked out he had ceased to exist to his family, his mother was a strong shouldered woman who had raised her family on the sweat of her brow and the convictions of her faith. Growing up in a small poor town called Pembroke Dock in Southern Wales, the area did not lend itself to any emotions other than those of getting out, industry was scant and jobs were hard to come by, his mother had sacrificed her money and her health in order to send him on an escape route away to college, university and eventually the police academy. His professional ascent had been steep and arduous, he had attacked his career with a furious intensity that none of his colleagues could match, he had risen through the ranks at the expense of friends and relationships driven to succeed for a broken mother and to spite an absent father. He leant back in his chair with his hands on top of his head feeling anchored by his malaise.
The office was fairly deserted, McCullum’s desk was religiously organized in stark contrast to that of his associates, his attention was drawn to another detective, DC Arwel Thomas stood by the office window, an expression of heavy depression plastered across his face. Something in the young mans demeanor pricked at McCullum’s senses and these were the senses that he trusted implicitly, he rose and walked over to window. Thomas did not react to his approach lost as he was in his own thoughts, a heavy wave of sadness radiated from him.
“You ok son?” McCullum enquired gently so as not to break to the young detective’s thoughts and cause the man to withdraw back into himself.
“Do you ever feel that your life is not your own, that your choices are not yours to make, that everything has been planned and laid out before you?”
McCullum immediately felt embarrassed by his preconceptions of all of his colleagues, the young detective was obviously intelligent and articulate, he now felt genuinely interested.
“I thought that it was harmless you know, I thought that it was meaningless, that it wouldn’t matter, stupid, stupid, stupid!” each stupid was punctuated with a clenched fist thump to the side of the young mans head
“I’ve had many a choice come back to take a chunk out of my backside” he offered, becoming concerned.
Thomas opened the large window and closed his eyes against the gentle breeze that buffeted his face,
“I tried you fight it you know Sir, I really did, I thought.., I felt…,”
Thomas sighed the heaviest sigh that McCullum had ever heard, the air seemed to exude from the depths of the young mans heart. “It’s my fault Sir”.
McCullum snapped to attention as the conversation turned into a professional avenue, he kept his tone neutral and his voice soft, “What son, what’s your fault?”
“There on my desk”, Thomas pointed absently behind him toward a small cubical, McCullum walked briskly over, he scoured the well kept desk, he noticed a photo of Beck, the suicide victim. This photo however was different from the others that he had seen since the body was fished out of the cold black water. This one contained not just Tony Beck but also a young woman, her hands were thrown around the older man in a happy and loving embrace, father and daughter.
“This?” McCullum asked
As he turned back to Thomas he was horrified to see the young detective straddling the open window, perched upon the opening, one leg already outside, he swung the other over to hang beside it, his hands both gripped the window frame behind him as he hoisted himself up into the cold air. He threw a broken look back toward McCullum, “I really did try to fight it Sir”.
McCullum was already sprinting across the room the look in Thomas’ eyes instantly told him that there was time to call out, as it turned out there was no time for anything else either. McCollum’s hands only had time to grasp at thin air as the young detective propelled himself from the fourth floor office window. The screams from the street below echoed up through the open window, McCullum stood motionless and unblinking as the events sudden and violent turn sank in, his mind however was already processing the conversation with an analytical detachment.
The world was young and immature, the landscape was empty but burden with possibilities, this was an artist’s blank canvas pregnant with potential. Baine drifted above this adolescent world, he viewed without interaction, the Tall Mans presence accompanied him as he floated through the vacant scenery. The earth was lush and green, the colours were vibrant and flourishing, the grass seemed greener than Baine had ever seen before, trees twisted in the light breeze of a gloriously sunny day.
“This is a time of birth”, the Tall Mans voice resonated in his mind. “A time of new, and before”, the Tall Mans voice held barely suppressed traces of bitterness.
Baine drifted toward a glowing horizon, the setting was indistinguishable as a country or even a continent. A gathering came into view, six figures were lined three on either side of a shimmering dome of light that radiated warmth even into the hot suns day.
“Memories my dear boy”, the Tall Mans voice for the first time seemed to approach a sense of humanistic quality. “This is a time and energy that I visit in my haunts and dreams, a time of love and loyalty, of peace and wonder. We stood tall on this earth and strode upon its surface feeling the tremble heralding our approach, we were warriors that served and sat at his right hand before…, before he fashioned them from lifeless clay and breathed his life into their putrid form”, the anger was unmistakable now as the Tall Man spat his thoughts into Baines head.
They had now reached the six figures, they all held ground on a plateau above a large hill that reached up into the days clear blue sky, their forms were indistinguishable as to sex or partly even shape, all were obscured by a radiant light that seemed to burn at Baines eyes despite the fact that he was not even here. The words of the six began to fill his thoughts as he observed, it soon became clear that this was becoming an increasingly tense and aggressive confrontation. The object of the dispute seemed to emanate from the dome of light centered between the figures, the words that filled his head were rushed and strange, they seemed to flow in a language of emotions rather than an actual vocabulary. Baine felt their tug of war over the object, a breakdown of an agreement and an uneasy pact between the parties. Their light seemed to grow stronger and denser as the conflict rose and grew, suddenly the day grew darker, the six forms immediately ceased their arguing, Baine felt an overwhelming fear pour from them, they were terrified, they were scared, they were discovered.
The day had lost all colour and light, the only illumination came from the dome that lay between them, the air was heavy and crackled with electricity that Baine despite his transparent form found chilling. The dome of light began to rise toward the heavens, all of a sudden a figure from each side of the argument rushed forward, Baine felt the magnitude of their actions, their ultimate betrayal, the sky roared with an explosion of anger that deafened the world. Suddenly the world detonated in a blinding white light that scarred the landscape, Baine tried in vain to close his eyes against the hot light that burned through him and scorched the air. Slowly his vision inched back into focus, to his surprise the earth’s surface remained intact, with the force of the explosion he had expected to see the ground seared black but everything seemed to remain the same. The only difference was a faded and jaded quality to the day’s colours, the sky was not quite as blue and the sun seemed to hang slightly lower without quite as much warmth.
“This was after”, the Tall Mans voice anger had been replaced with a melancholy sadness that seemed to weigh heavily upon him.
“What was the object that you all fought over?” Baine asked.
The Tall Man left a long pause before answering, “How much did you understand?” he asked incredulously.
“That you and five others like you took the item from another, another who was superior and who was royally pissed when he found out”.
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A ghost of smile appeared to enter the Tall Mans voice, “Yes, he was most irate”.
Baine had now settled on the ground, he sat on the plateau, surprised he felt the grass’ dew seep into him, the view stretched out before him, unspoiled and beautiful.
“Since the beginning we served” the Tall Man began what Baine instinctively knew to be a long overdue explanation. “We were Gods chosen, we were his hands and his tools, we carried forth his word and his will, we only had one master and an army of subjects beneath us. The creation was long and arduous, forget what the written scribe tells mankind about the six days, it was in actuality eons of time that stretched before us seemingly never ending, but we had eternity and so we toiled. Eventually he became increasingly sure that the end was in sight, the world took shape, the colours grew and formed into coherent shapes, sights and sounds became flesh and took their place amongst the creation. We stood and admired his design, we readied ourselves to take our place at the summit of his new world, our utopia, our Eden. However unbeknownst to us we were already betrayed, our love had been taken and abused, God had fashioned a new life out of the earth’s clay and every breath he placed into this figure, this man, was a dagger into the very heart of us. We are the Seraphim, Archangels of God, we should sit at his right hand, we should hold this world as our own, and yet we were expected to yield to his new pets, his precious humans. There were those of us who could no longer stomach this treachery, there were originally six of us who decided to act, six of the Seraphim’s most senior members, Azazel, Samyaza, Lucifer, Raphael, Michael and myself, Gabriel. We six knew of Gods plan to hand over our world to mankind, as six of the inner circle we also knew of God’s plan to remove us from here to sit once again as his servants in heaven, but we could not return after tasting the freedom of the world. All that we wanted was the heaven that we had been promised, we had served him loyally for millenniums, we only asked for what we deserved, what was rightly ours.” The anger and bitterness of Gabriel even after all this time was still painfully raw.
“God refused us our right, he would not even consider our requests and dismissed us from his sight, all of his time and attention was spent on man, his new toy, we were discarded. So we vowed to obtain what was rightfully ours, we made a pledge amongst the six of us to recreate the world as heaven. There is an object that holds all of God’s creation secrets, it hails from the soul of a man called Enoch a direct descendant of Adam his first clay creation, God took him as a scribe to record 366 books of his word. God always liked to hear himself preach and talk, he loved to have those around him live on their knees in awe. Once Enoch had scribed his 366 books God committed the ultimate act of our betrayal by transforming him into an Archangel taking the name Metatron, upon his transcending Enoch’s soul became Metatron’s Cube. The cube holds all of God’s secrets of creation, with this cube we could reconstruct the world into one worthy of us. I took the cube from under the watchful eye of God as he sat immersed in his own arrogance, however I suffered yet more treachery as Lucifer led Azazel and Samyaza in what appeared to be another agenda. We had sought to create a paradise on earth, to live and rule mankind in peace and holy harmony, to banish war pestilence and disease yet unbeknownst to us there existed an order led by Lucifer known as The Grigori. They had walked among the humans disguised as such, they indulged their carnal desires and lustfully ran with the human women, partaking of every immoral act imaginable and wished to create a hell on earth. We had the Cube in our grasp, I held its power in the palm of my hand, we were so very close, however God took this opportunity to rise himself from his self indulgence and smite our plans. We were all banished from his kingdom and disowned from his grace. Metatron’s Cube was taken from us and hidden away somewhere on earth, all we know of its location is that it rests in a place that we could never enter, God’s vengeance was petty and cruel, we were never to enter the gates of heaven again and God would never again acknowledge our existence nor speak our name. Raphael, Michael and I formed the 11th Order to oppose the Grigori, we seek the Cube in order to return the earth to a prior time of Eden, a peaceful purposeful time of love and harmony. The Grigori seek to obtain the Cube and acquire its secrets in order to reconstruct the world as they pleased placing themselves as its masters allowing themselves to wallow in the mire immersed in their own filth. Over the centuries we have collected willing human recruits that we can alter to aid our cause as have they, the Nephilim are grotesque offspring’s sired between the Grigori and the human women, they possess increased strength and abilities, I believe that you met such a child”. Baine thought back to his encounter with the shadowman in his apartment block.
“Why would this Nephilim come after me?” Baine asked.
“You my child, are a creature of prophecy” Gabriel countered, “You hold powers beyond your comprehension, you and only you possess the ability to retrieve the cube, to hold and wield its power. The Grigori search for the cube with as much desperation as we, only they would happily sever your hands to hold the prize. The Grigori seek to descend the world into their pit of darkness once again, to spiral downwards into pain and despair and sit atop the carnage high as gods. We wish only to obtain a champion to spare the world this misery, you my son, are our champion, our guiding light to save mankind and a return to a time of Eden”.
The sky had now begun to darken as the night approached, Baine felt that his time here was growing short with the fading light, Gabriel’s words had grown quiet in his mind and Baine wanted all of the information before they were finished.
“So where exactly do I fit into the picture?”, Baine asked, “What am I ?, am I one of these Nephilim, am I one of your human converts?, I know that I have increased abilities yet I feel no connection to the world around me, I walk among the world but I am not a part of it, after everything that you’ve shown and told me I should be screaming insanely from the rooftops, yet I feel no fear or panic only an acceptance that I have always known this”.
“You my child are another animal altogether” Gabriel’s voice was growing faint and tired, “You are a direct descendant of Enoch before he became the Archangel Metatron, a reward from God to his scribe, an indulgence to his favourite, in order to remain, you are to serve as his tool, you are his sword and a direct weapon forged of God’s right hand. God learnt his lesson of allowing any freedom of thought or act, which is why you are empty of memory and devoid of any purpose other than his will. You carry out his resolve through his emissaries on earth, when required; your functions are to remove those that he chooses, some for reasons no more valid than his never ending vindictiveness and spite, before returning to slumber once again. But I have awoken you my child, I can offer you a choice, a purpose of your own choosing, a reason to walk your own path, the Cube will enable you to claim your own life, no more at the mercy of a master but your own man, freedom my child freedom. I have searched the ages to find the descendant of Enoch for you, and only you, can grasp the Cube, only you can hold Metatron’s Cube, you can hold the fate of the world in your hands and shape it to our will. Think about the world that surrounds you, think about the pain and the heartache, the death and suffering, the misery and the hatred that permeates this earth, The Grigori have inched their way further and further into this world, their deception and cruelty have led mankind down a myriad of pain. We can offer you a solution, a final solution, you can help us to return this world to a time and place without war and harm, a place of love and harmony, an Eden”.
Gabriel’s voice had now weakened at the same pace as Baine’s surroundings, the hillside had faded into darkness, the grass on which he had sat became synthetic and softer, his apartment began to slowly focus into view. Baine found himself sitting once again on an expensive ivory sofa, only this time alone. The information that Gabriel had laid upon him weighed heavily, his nature was a cynical one but the explanations somehow felt as though they rang true, he was unsure about many things, there were many answers that lay beyond his immediate sight and
understanding but there was one thing that he knew to be incontrovertibly and irrefutably true, he was nobody’s puppet and he’d burn down the skies and piss on the ashes before he became one.
The silver VW Golf rested pregnant with occupants and fervor, the men and woman had waited what seemed like lifetimes for their opportunity, their hearts burned with fervor. Their eyes were all trained upon the penthouse windows bulging at the seams of the expansive and expensive downtown apartment block. Suddenly one of the men lashed out and clutched at the passenger door handle, he began to pull open the door, the harsh inner light abruptly illuminated the cars inhabitants rendering them venerable. The woman in the drivers seat immediately span toward her companion, she threw a stiff backhanded slap across the man’s face connecting with the right-hand side of his cheek and mouth as he had turned to exit the vehicle. Her eyes blazed with a barely held in check rage, for a split second the smoldering excitement in the air within the tight confines crackled with menace.