by SK Benton
"Oh, that is such a wonderful thought, but thank you so much anyway. We are actually in quite a hurry."
"Yes," Gabriel interrupted gruffly, "we are looking for Mickey."
"Mickey?" everyone in the team cried out in unison.
"Yes, that is the name I believe he took in this world."
"What sort of name is this, this Mickey?" asked Krynos, speaking for the first time and causing Amy to practically jump back from the boom in his voice.
"It would be a diminutive form of his real name, used to make him sound non-threatening, I would imagine," stated Bagatelle.
"Quite correct, Luigi," said Draagh, "but Mija-El is not the type to cower in the shadows." Looking at Gabriel, he asked, "My son, what has become of your brother, and why is he here?"
Gabriel paused for a moment, and then shrugged his broad shoulders. Resigning himself with a sigh he said, "Father, we could not resolve an argument, so we made a wager. The loser was to live in exile, powerless, for 100 years. He lost. I chose this place - flowers, peace, love and a near-complete lack of hygiene. It seemed perfect, and for the last 25 years I haven't had to see his face nor suffer his ridiculous moralisms."
"What was the wager?" asked Bagatelle.
"You do not want to know," the archangel responded soundly, "and it really doesn't matter anyway. We need to find him and…"
"I believe I see something, yes, something," Draagh stated plainly as he looked as his circular display.
"Oh my god, you mean you found Michael?" Jennie asked.
"It's beautiful, oh my. Yes, it is…" he murmured.
"What is it, Grandfather?" asked Liliana
"It is… um," the old mage stuttered as he looked at Jennie, who was giving him a stern glare. He then looked back at Liliana and said, "It is a beautiful field of flowers, my dear! Perhaps we shall pass through it as we search for Michael."
Jennie, Krynos and Bagatelle all gave Draagh a look that seemed to say you are so full of it, but then looked around to the people of the campsite that had gathered around. It was obvious that the locals lived a sparse existence, and were probably even vegetarians; each person was thin, but fairly healthy looking. Children rambled out of tents, their hair matted and unkempt, but what upset Jennie most was that parents weren't concentrating on making a morning meal for the children - rather, they were smoking herb from waterpipes as the children mulled about, looking for scraps to nibble on. Seeing this, and noting that Jennie was about to become upset, Draagh stepped up to the campfire, and with a wave of his hand conjured bowls of delicious honey porridge.
"Children! Come! Please have some breakfast!" he exclaimed, as eight kids ran up, smiles on their faces, taking hungrily to the bowls of steaming food. Liliana looked at the children with a complete and deep understanding. She never forgot the fact that she was an orphan before having been adopted by Max and Jennie, and there were many times when she went hungry. Looking up to her adoptive mother, Liliana saw an approving glance and then skipped over to the children.
"Hello," said one of the girls as she saw Liliana. "What's your name?"
"Lilia… Lili. My name is Lili. What is your name, little unhygienic one?"
"Flower. Flower Sunbeam," the little girl happily responded in between mouthfuls of hunger-satisfying porridge, not understanding the title Liliana had given her.
Liliana looked at the other children who were smiling as they enjoyed their morning meal, but out of the corner of her eye she noticed one of the adults trying to take a bowl of porridge. Quickly shooting over, she yanked the bowl out of his hands and glared menacingly at the obviously stoned individual, wagging her finger as she silently mouthed the words, no, no you don't. The emaciated breakfast thief skulked back, eyes cast toward the ground. Gabriel watched Liliana's activities with an interest that almost bordered on pride. She was showing leadership skills, and was fulfilling the genetic role that was intended for her subspecies.
"My friends! Again, we are looking for someone, and I believe you may know him as… Mickey," stated Draagh.
"A skinny, blonde young man named Shaylo cautiously stepped up and said, "I know Mickey, but I haven't seen him for a couple of weeks. Said he was gonna go on a walkabout - you know, a trip on foot."
"Excellent!" boomed Krynos, as children gathered around the huge, smiling lycan, curiously touching his leathers.
"Wouldn't it be pertinent to interrogate… I mean, interview the locals here? We need more intel than he went on a walkabout. Liliana can keep the children busy while we talk with the campers," Bagatelle offered.
"Good idea, Brother. I'll speak with the women and you can talk to the men. That way Draagh can concentrate on his mini satellite and Krynos can… well, Krynos can check out the surrounding area and secure the perimeter, while Gabriel does whatever it is that Gabriel does," said Jennie, as she called out to her daughter. "Lili, keep the kids busy, please. Show them a bit of magic. Oh, snap - I don't even know if there's magic on this world, but my senses are at full alert, so it should be ok."
"Magic and racial skills are in full order on this world, my niece, so it should be nothing shocking to the locals. Technology is not blocked, either," added Gabriel.
"Kids! Would you like to see some magic?" asked Liliana, the children immediately emitting squeals of delight as they all filed in behind her, with the young lycan/mage leading them in a coordinated march out to an open field behind the campsite.
"I am going to scan the local area," said Gabriel, as a wide, black span of wings morphed out from his back, followed by him immediately shooting into the air and leaving a very audible concussive boom in his wake. Wings were not necessary for flight, but they looked awesome, so Gabriel used them around the easy to impress.
Bagatelle and Jennie led campers over to the other side of their site, splitting them into male and female groups, while Draagh continued to track herb plantations and Michael's DNA trails, having again exposed his oval view portal. As the siblings interviewed the locals they learned that Mickey was the local go-to guy for knowledge. He had no skills, such as magic, but he seemed to always give the best advice and know how to fix things. He also loved the herb, and apparently was quite the weed cultivator, but the more she learned about Mija-El the more she was glad that he hadn't raised Max. However, she also took into consideration the fact that he had been stranded on that world, and it seemed like there wasn't a whole lot going on aside from growing vegetables and getting loaded.
Draagh continued using his satellite drone infopanel to capture imagery of the local surroundings, when he conveniently picked up his son's trail 500 kilometers to the northeast. Acquiring precise coordinates, but not saying anything, he made sure that Jennie and Bagatelle were busy interviewing the locals, Krynos was walking around and feeling very important (while not actually doing anything), and that Liliana was showing feats of magical skill to the children. Determining all was clear, he slipped out, coming in about ten meters behind Michael, who happened to be picking some berries in a wooded area.
Draagh surveyed his son, noting that his brown hair had grown out nicely and was pulled back into a ponytail. He also noticed Michael looked substantially thinner than normal, but attributed it to local dietary restrictions. Walking up to his son, he was mildly surprised that Michael didn't detect his presence any sooner than a normal human. Turning around quickly once he heard approaching footsteps, Michael grew a great smile as he recognized his father.
"You came for me. Is Gabriel with you?"
"Yes, my son, on both counts. It is good to see you. How have you been?" asked Draagh as he closed the gap between the two.
"Surviving, Father. It has been some number of years, and I believe I was a bit thoughtless in agreeing to the terms of our wager. However, Gabriel won and I lost. It is here I pay the price of my brash arrogance."
"Well, my son. Gabriel and I have come to an agreement. Part of it is that we find you. The other part I shall need to deal with later. Yes, quite a bit later."
"What
did he get out of you, Father?"
"His own world," Draagh responded quietly.
"Then I truly pity that world's population."
"We shall see. They will not be alone, as I will keep vigil over their societies. It is all I can do, as I will be the creator of their situation."
"So, why do you come to find me?"
"Well, my son, I have need of you. Specifically I have need of your DNA."
"That sounds so… impersonal," responded Mija-El, as he rolled his eyes.
"There is much more to it, my son. Yes, much, much more," exclaimed the old mage as he prepared to inform his son about his progeny.
"Michael…"
"Mickey, just call me Mickey, please," responded the Taxiarch.
"No, my son. You are Taxiarch Mija-El, and the father of my grandson."
"I prefer Mickey, and I am… huh? Father? Grandson?"
Michael lost focus momentarily and started to look around, almost in a panicky fashion, as he tried to piece together what his father had just claimed.
"Who and where? And please, how does this affect me and why is my DNA required?"
"My son, do you recall a particular dalliance of yours, nearly three standard decades ago with a lycan-potential female on Azul? She was a particularly gorgeous creature by the name of Clarisa Martinez. And when you found that she was with child you clouded her memories and matched her with a university professor?"
Michael gained a look of sudden realization as he put together the pieces from his father's puzzling manner of speaking. He did indeed remember. However, after securing a caretaker for the woman, he never kept track of the offspring, figuring he would have been better off with the elder Gunnarsson and the mother. He did truly care for the girl, but also knew that not only would it have been difficult for him to stay and care for her, but that it was also basically forbidden. She was a mere mortal on her world, while he had a universe to attend to. Michael had implanted the name Maximilianus into Clarisa's subconscious, so she would be sure to bestow it upon the child. He did intend on checking up on the boy, but as he had been, for lack of a better term, stranded on his current world for near a quarter century it had never even entered his mind.
"Please tell me about my son, Father. Is he here with you? I know I am not much to look at these days, but I have been told that I clean up very well."
"Michael, do you remember? Your son's name is-"
"Maximilianus. Yes, I remember, the powerless archangel calmly responded."
"He is unique among his kind, and invented humanity's first faster-than-light propulsion technology. I tracked his progress during his few years on his world, but when he returned to the home of his ancestors I felt it was time to make my presence known."
"Huh? He went to Earth? Why would he do that? It is a dead world in his timeline, is it not?"
"Yes, my son. It is, but it shall yet again flourish. The plague that the Vrol unleashed upon Earth had gone into dormancy, and then fossilized, so it was perfectly safe for him. However, things are not all well on the world of his birth. Lovers of Death have commanded positions of power and…"
"Vampires? On Azul? Have the ghouls been activated? How did this happen?" asked the powerless angel, showing only a slight bit of concern.
"No, not activated, but they do hold onto some of their innate characteristics. Despite the attempts of many of our kind, certain politicians managed to create a power structure similar to that which nearly destroyed their former world, even though the Vrol basically finished the job for them. Anyway, I took your son to Earth of the future, where he has trained with lycans and, of course, with me. He is an incredibly powerful mage, an accomplished warrior… but he is currently lost to us. That is why we need you, my son. We need to attempt one last thing to try and locate him. Well, no, I lie. I will never stop looking for the lad. It is my most sincere hope, however, that you will assist us in this effort."
The banished Taxiarch took a seat on the soft grass as Draagh then detailed Max's entire story to Mija-El, starting with their meeting at Machu Picchu.
"So you believe that he was sent to the location of Marnn's ghanlo?" asked Michael.
"Yes, my son. It is the only logical destination."
"I never agreed with that law, you know. Have you not considered supplicating to Jah?" asked Michael, not being aware of the current status of the universal consciousness.
"Jah is nowhere to be found, my eldest one. Think of it as a form of sabbatical. Even the most powerful being in existence needs a vacation every now and then."
Draagh gave his son a whimsical look, and then winked at him as he pulled a satchel of herb out of his leather jacket. Michael snickered as his father handed him his pipe and they both enjoyed a bit of nature's finest.
"Not bad, Dad, not bad. But try this stuff out," stated the Taxiarch as he packed some of his own weed into the pipe and handed it to his father. Draagh took a long draw; a pleasant smile grew on his face, as his eyes closed lazily.
"This is quite nice. I should like to replicate it for further use. Perhaps once we have accomplished our mission you and I could… work together on some horticultural efforts on a beautiful garden world in galaxy Messier 51? The sunsets on that particular globe are quite spectacular."
Michael sat for a moment, thinking about what his father proposed, but then reminisced about all of the wonders of his current world - the lack of responsibilities, the smoke, the countless females who fawned over him, and so he selfishly decided to reject his father's offer. He was sure his son would be fine, wherever he was, and if he was that great of a mage he would find his way back home.
"You know, I'm good where I'm at. I have about 75 more years, a few common-law wives, get to do whatever I please and… well, no thank you, but good luck in whatever you do, Father."
Draagh stared at his son, unable to believe he was looking at Mija-El - the warrior who had fought for the existence of so many species - mankind being primary among them. All he saw before him was a wasted, burnt-out shell of a former archangel who only desired to get stoned and to partake in personal pleasures. It was at that very moment that Draagh regretted having some of his stash with his failure of a son. Angrily, he pulled out his satchel of weed and dumped it on the ground, watching as the former Taxiarch scrambled to pick up the dust-covered buds.
"You are truly pathetic, my son. Look at you - on your knees, attempting to save a bit of this noxious substance, instead of saving not only your own progeny, but also an entire race - the race that was created in your image. I believe that it is time for what the humans call family intervention."
"Man, why did you dump that herb? It was so good and now it's all mixed up with dirt," whined Michael," and what do you mean by family intervention?"
Before Michael could even continue, he looked around and saw a number of unfamiliar faces looking down at him, as he was kneeled on the ground, pathetically holding some soiled herb in the palm of his hand. Draagh had quietly slipped them both back to the Woodstock camp, surprising not only Michael, but also the separated males and females distributed on either side of the campsite. Krynos was the first at Draagh's side.
"Ah my old friend! You have… have you found this Mickey that we seek? Are you Mickey?"
"King Krynos, please meet my most unwilling and petulant offspring, Mija-El, also pathetically known as Mickey. He does not desire to assist us in our quest, which is sad. Yes, quite sad indeed. In fact, he has outright refused to help us in any way whatsoever."
Krynos took a long look at the smaller man kneeling on the ground, and then turned to Draagh, asking, "You said he does not possess the powers of his kind at present?"
"That is correct, King Krynos. Quite correct, I must say."
"Um… hello?" was all Michael could manage to say before Krynos picked him up by his shirt and started to toss him around, laughing in a sinister fashion. Jennie and Bagatelle's intel groups got up and ran over near the campsite center, staying cautiously away, but also
looking on helplessly as the massive lycan king swung their friend Mickey around, much like a rag doll.
"So, the great warrior Michael is not desirous of assisting in the location of the good and honorable Max Gunnarsson? I find this to be unconscionable. Your son saved my kingdom! Your son is a good man! And I am also finding it hard to make a connection between Max and this pathetic waste of a formerly great angel. The leader of all archangels, indeed!"
The campers started to whisper among themselves. Apparently, Michael had never confided in them the fact that he was the Taxiarch, and instead only sought to live a peaceful, worry-free existence.
"Mickey, are you really… an angel?" asked one of the women, looking at him pleadingly.
Michael helplessly answered, hanging from Krynos grip that kept his a full meter off the soft earth. "Yes. I am Mija-El. But my powers were taken from me, and I only want to be here. I have no son that I care for. I only want to be with you, Becky. Well, and with you also, Sunny… and you, Sarah…"
"Shut up!" screamed Jennie, as she ran to the campsite center. Her appearance caused Michael to indeed stop talking - immediately. So stunning was her appearance in most situations that men stopped talking, but yelling as she did, and looking as beautiful as, well, as she was Jennie, caused Michael to stare, slack-jawed and unable to formulate a response.
"Oh my… and who are you, precious flower?" asked Michael, apparently forgetting that a massive lycan warrior king had him in a potentially lethal grip.
"I'm your daughter-in-law, you wretched puddle of squirrel vomit. Is it true that you don't want to help us find Max?"
Before Michael could respond, Gabriel dropped out of the sky, landing so hard that the ground shook and nearly blew some of the villagers backwards.
"Father, this is why I was reticent in assisting in the acquisition of my brother, who now seeks a simple life of sifting through garbage. You were wrong, Father, in making Mija-El the Taxiarch. It should have been me. I am the warrior you seek. Mija-El is trash and has always been so. I have done my part. We should be off, as I have a world owed me."