Killing Angels

by Michael McGovern

“I don't much listen to the words of fools. Everyone knows the shit that the angels speak into people's ears ain't right. That's why we're here, and they're there. We all have blood on our hands, but I'm damn sure more comfortable on this side of the blood spilling. It’s a sad world when you can’t even count on the police to protect you, or your neighbour’s to not try and kill you. I'm glad Marvin's dead. I hope all the Marvin’s die.”

  Cormac raised up his glass.

  “I’ll drink to that. Fuck Marvin!”

  The others raised up their glasses and repeated the toast.

  “Fuck Marvin!”

  They were shushed by a man trying to enjoy the comedy up on stage. Cormac cocked an eyebrow and stared the shusher down until he turned away. The angel up on stage spun and stomped about like a petulant child at the sound of people's laughter.

  “Oh, you all think this is funny, do you? We'll see how funny it is when I cross you all off the list.”

  The angel stepped into the audience and started to point his finger.

  “Everyone knows that Nick Russo hides a naked fireman calendar in his home. Take that flaming homosexual off the list so that he may flame in Hell.”

  St. Peter drew a line through the name of Nick Russo.

  “Annette Baker has seven lovers - seven! It's amazing what people find time for when they don't have to work 9-5. Take that harlot off the list, and while you're at it, take her lovers off too. Sex is to be had in wedlock and for the sole purpose of procreation. Who among you has ever used a condom?”

  A bunch of hands were raised. The angel shook his head and tutted.

  “St. Peter, you know what to do.”

  St. Peter's quill worked overtime on the piece of parchment as he struggled to keep up with all the sin. Back at the bar, Cormac weighed in with his own thoughts on religion.

  “I suppose that Marvin was already conditioned to listen to that voice in his ear. We were all listening to it long before the angels even got here. Religion has always been there, telling us to do things against our better instincts. It's no wonder we're so violent as a species. That voice in the ear never shuts the fuck up trying to tell you that your left is right, and your right is left.”

  “Oh, please,” said Gus. “You'd still be violent regardless.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “I once saw you punch a man over the last pack of Nutter Butters in the supply shed. What voice told you to do that?”

  “Now that's not fair. Jeremy knows I called dibs on those Nutter Butters. It was his own fault that he got a black eye.”

  “You know,” Gus began. “I once got into an argument with a creationist about how the world could only be 5,000 years old when there are dinosaurs older than that.”

  “What did they say?” asked Princess.

  “That angels are dinosaurs.”

  “No fucking way,” said Cormac.

  “No word of a lie. Gabriel's a T-Rex, Michael's a pterodactyl, and so on. He went on to tell me that all of the bones we find in the earth are remnants of the battle for Heaven.”

  “That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard,” said Princess.

  “I've heard dumber,” said Cormac.

  “You've said dumber,” said Gus.

  “Very true,” Cormac agreed. “Have another drink, Princess. I find that it helps the dumb shit make sense. I haven't been sober for close to two years now, and I never get confused. When something starts to vex me, it kind of just goes away.”

  “The only thing that makes sense is that you all talk too much shit,” said Princess. “Crazy is crazy no matter how you slice it. Religion is just an attempt to justify the crazy. If it weren’t religion, we’d all be killing each other in the name of Pokémon or some other such nonsense.”

  “Yeah, I guess he's right,” said Cormac. “Or is it she? I always get confused about my gender pronouns. I don’t have people on Twitter to correct me anymore.”

  “I'm gender fluid, leaning more towards female, but keep talking and you might find that I'm a foot up your ass,” said Princess.

  “Hold on now. I sometimes would take my cock and tuck it in between my legs just to see what it would look like if I had a vagina.”

  Princess shook her head and scrunched her face like it physically pained her to be in this conversation.

  “What has that got to do with the price of beans?”

  “I’m just saying that I think of you like a sister is all.”

  “Do you ever actually stop talking?”

  “I'm providing a service. I merely make up for the lack of television or radio in the modern world.”

  “Minus the volume controls,” said Karina.

  “Or alternative stations,” said Darnell.

  “All Cormac. All the time,” said Gus.

  “Oh, you're all against me now, is that it? Perhaps I'll go sit by myself and listen to some mediocre amateur comedy then. How about that?”

  Cormac got off his stool and took his pint with him.

  “You’ll miss me when I’m gone,” he said as he stormed off.

  They all laughed together the moment that Cormac was out of earshot.

  “Seriously though,” said Darnell. “I can't wait to fight a T-Rex on Judgement Day.”

  “Oh, take another drink and shut up,” said Princess.

  The fake angel was still working its way around the room with an outstretched finger, naming sins.

  “Liars! Blasphemers! Adulterers! Self-pleasuring fools! All of you are off the list. Did you get all of that, St. Peter?”

  St. Peter shuffled about awkwardly on the stage.

  “Um, I ran out of ink.”

  The angel jumped and spun towards him with a look of furious outrage.

  “What!? How could you let this happen? Take yourself off the list and be gone with you!”

  A collective 'aww' rose up from the audience as St. Peter put on a sad face with a quivering lip.

  “I have one question before I go,” said St. Peter.

  “What is it?”

  “Are you sure you can't be... tempted?”

  The house band began to play 'Sweet Transvestite' as St. Peter ripped away his costume to reveal a tight corset and fishnet tights. The angel's jaw dropped as St. Peter pulled him up onto the stage and placed him in a chair for a lap dance. The angel fought against the temptation, but as St. Peter worked his erotic magic, he gave in to the pleasure and groped St. Peter's ass with a wide smile on his face. St. Peter picked up the parchment and handed the angel a freshly inked quill that he produced from his corset. The angel nodded and crossed his own name off the list. He stood up and kissed St. Peter with full tongue as the crowd whooped and hollered.

  The front door to the Mister Sister swung in violently with a kick of Raimond's polished shoe. The band cut the music. Every head turned in Raimond’s direction as he strode in wearing his purple three-piece suit and gambler hat. Blood dripped from his hands to the floor as he walked behind the bar and set a nail gun down on the counter. Princess promptly stepped aside as Raimond went to the sink and washed his hands in the water basin. No one spoke. No one said a word. The entire bar watched the scar-faced man wash his hands as if it were an event they had paid money for. Raimond dried his hands on a washcloth and set his hat down on the counter beside the nail gun. He cast his eyes over the crowd and the comedians on stage who had stopped everything they were doing the moment he entered.

  “Oh, I'm sorry,” he said in a voice like gravel. “Did I spoil the mood? Were you all too busy playing pretend? Well, some of us remember that we're at war.”

  Raimond helped himself to a bottle of whiskey and poured himself a glass. He swirled the liquid and stared down into it.

  “Our guest, the police officer. You remember the police, right? You should. They've killed enough of us. Not the kind of thing you forget. At least I haven't. Officer Greg certainly wishes that he could. I tortured poor Greg until he talked and gave up where his little friends are.”

&n
bsp; Raimond downed the whiskey in one gulp and shuddered with the burn.

  “At first, he didn't want to talk, but that's before he realised that I spoke his kind of crazy. I brought that man a little closer to his Jesus. I flogged him. Damn near stripped all the skin off that boys back. Still, he didn't talk. I put his hand on the table and drove a nail through it with my nail gun. I did the same to the other hand, and then I did the feet. He screamed like a little bitch, but still, he didn't talk. That's when I remembered that Jesus had a crown, and it would just be wrong if Greg didn't have a crown just like his saviour. I took my nail gun up close to his forehead KA-CHUNK! KA-CHUNK! Nails went through his skull and touched some of that boy’s brain. I knew that I would have to go all of the way across to make it a crown, and I was fully prepared to do it, but Greg - Greg had enough. He was ready to tell me anything I wanted to know. Though with his brain all punctured and shit, he was talking a little funny and drooling all over himself.”

  “But you got it?” asked Remy, who was now standing at the centre of the bar.

  Raimond took a bloodied-up map from his inside coat pocket and threw it on the counter.

  “You'll find them there. Boy wasn't going to lie to me when he was that close to Jesus.”

  Remy nodded as his eyes took on a hard, pensive look.

  “Everybody go home. Get some rest. Tomorrow we go to war.”

  THE BOOK OF KARINA

  Good guys and bad guys drove in separate cars, and so did the good girls and the bad girls. It helped to keep the illusion alive that pro wrestling feuds were something real. Everyone in the modern age knows that pro wrestling is fake, but it still ruins the immersion when you see supposed rivals all buddy-buddy outside the venue. Karina Katana was a bad girl, or heel if you want to use wrestling lingo. Her job as a performer was to make people hate her so much that they would pay to see her beat. She must have been doing her job well because the good folk of Austin, Texas had sold out the Frank Erwin Centre to see her battle it out with Lucha Dora for the women's championship live on Pay-Per-View.

  Renegade Wrestling may have been new to the Pay-Per-View market, but Karina wasn't. In another life she fought in a cage, knocking out other women left and right. The MMA hype machine had billed her as the next Ronda Rousey as she amassed a professional fight record of 8-0, but she never got to see where that potential went. Her last fight was her longest. Emma Banks was a game challenger and pushed Karina all the way for five, five-minute rounds of nonstop action. Karina won the fight by split decision but lost the battle with the doctors. A post-fight MRI revealed abnormalities in her brain. She could no longer get medical clearance to fight, and her license was revoked. That was when her MMA career ended, and her pro wrestling career began. In pro wrestling, you didn't need a license.

  Karina met her opponent for the night inside the venue. Despite the horrible things that they did to each other in their storyline on television, they were actually good friends with a lot of mutual respect for each other. Lucy Perez (better known as Lucha Dora to her fans) was a mainstay in Renegade Wrestling. Her popularity had helped to boost the women's division to new heights, and she had been the champion of that division for two years straight. That was all about to end as Karina was booked to take the title away from Lucy and be the new face of women in Renegade Wrestling.

  “It feels so strange to be taking the title away from you,” said Karina as they hugged.

  “Someone has to. I can't keep going much longer. All the years of jumping off the top rope has left me with no cartilage in my knees. I'm already on track to be a cranky, arthritic bitch in my old age. It's best that I go out on top while I still have some mobility left.”

  “Renegade without Lucha Dora is going to be a strange place.”

  “They'll do just fine. They'll have Karina Katana to take my place. Come find me when you get settled and we'll plan out the match.”

  “Cool. I shouldn't be long.”

  The promoter, Todd Jones assembled the roster together when it was closer to show time. It was an unusual crowd of midgets, giants, baby-oiled muscle men, and people wearing bright and colourful masks.

  “Alright, listen up. This is a big night for all of us. We have a sold-out arena and people watching from all over the country live on Pay-Per-View. I want each and every one of you at your best and ready to steal the show. The running order is as follows...”

  One by one he listed the matches on the card in the order they would run. He finished by saying 'Lucha Dora Vs. Karina Katana' and the room fell silent. Women never main evented. It was unheard of.

  “The fuck is this shit!?” said a gravelly voice belonging to the world champion, Killer Rex. “I'm the champion. The champion always goes in the main event.”

  The look of anger on Todd's face was plain to read, but he kept a calm tone as he responded.

  “Normally that would be true, but most of the people here tonight have paid to see Dora and Karina. We give the audience what they want.”

  “That's fucking bullshit, and you know it.”

  “Maybe if you put a little more work into broadening your appeal instead of whining when you don't get your way you'd still be in the main event. The best thing you can do is to prove me wrong by making your match the one people go home talking about. Now if you have anything else to say to me you can do it in private. Dora and Karina go on last, and that's final.”

  Killer Rex huffed his way out of the room with his title belt on his shoulder and entourage in tow. He had an animal fur waistcoat that was open to show off his washboard abs, and black spandex tights with airbrushed claw marks on the side. He had a confident swagger in his step, but his eyes were daggers pointed at the two women who had dared usurp his place in the main event.

  “Cunts,” he said with a spit as he passed them by.

  Karina had no time for backstage politics. She had just been given a massive opportunity, and she was determined to take it with both hands. Rex's bruised ego could wait for another day.

  Karina changed into her ring gear. Compared to others on the roster, her attire was pretty understated. Todd had wanted her to keep the appearance of an MMA fighter to remind people of her legitimate fighting background. She spruced things up by applying her signature body paint. Every match was a different, elaborate design, and people would often speculate about what she would come out as next on social media. It had earned her a nickname from the broadcast commentators. 'The Painted Bitch' they called her. For this match, she went with a reptile theme. Snakes spiralled down her arms in red, black and gold. Green scales marked her face, and fangs that were dripping venom were visible at her mouth. The Painted Bitch was alive and ready for action.

  Karina met up with Lucha Dora by the entrance curtain. They both could hear the rising excitement coming from the crowd that was just out of their view. The atmosphere was electric.

  “Did you hear about Killer Rex?” asked Dora.

  “What?”

  “He stunk out the joint. It's up to us to save the show. We're gonna go out there and knock 'em dead.”

  Karina simply nodded as there was no time for anything else. Her entrance music was playing, and it was showtime. Karina stepped out from behind the curtain and got hit by a wave of boos and hostility. This was a crowd that was firmly in Lucha Dora's corner. Karina fed off of the energy and played her part accordingly. She glowered at them all as she shadowboxed on her way to the ring. Even with the microphone in hand the ring announcer still had to shout to be heard over the noise.

  “Introducing first, the challenger. She is 'The Painted Bitch' Karina Katana!”

  Karina raised her fists into the air at the sound of her name, and projectile rubbish fell on her like rain. She smiled smugly at the Pay-Per-View cameras and mimed a belt going around her waist.

  Lucha Dora's music hit and the boos instantly turned into cheers. A giant, Trojan horse-like, piñata was wheeled onto the entrance ramp. The front of the piñata exploded and out jumped Lucha
Dora dressed in magnificent white and gold that shimmered under the spotlight. Her face was covered by a traditional Mexican luchador mask that made her head look like that of a golden dragon. She threw candy from the giant piñata into the crowd as she made her way to the ring and the people ate it up in every sense of the word.

  With the pageantry over, it was time to get down to business. The bell rang, and they locked up in the centre ring. Dora was the veteran, so she was the one calling all the shots. She took Karina down repeatedly with a series of flashy moves that got the crowd up on their feet. Karina took a powder and rolled to the outside to break up the action, much to the crowd’s displeasure.

  Every wrestling match has the same basic story. The good guy starts hot until the bad guy finds an underhanded way to break their momentum. The bad guy takes over and beats the hero within an inch of their life until it is time for the big comeback and the grand finish.

  This contest played out in precisely that fashion, and they had the crowd eating out of the palms of their hands. Karina beat the shit out of Dora until it was time for the big comeback. Dora rallied back and bounced Karina all around the ring like a rag doll, and just when it looked like Lucha Dora was going to win against all the odds, Karina hit her finishing move out of nowhere and pinned Lucha Dora 1-2-3.

  “The winner by pinfall, and NEW! Renegade Wrestling Women's Champion, 'The Painted Bitch' Karina Katana!”

  The referee raised Karina’s hand and presented her with the title belt. The crowd didn't like it, but they respected it. Karina had beaten their hero clean, without resorting to cheating.

  Lucha Dora was back on her feet, and the crowd applauded her two-year reign. Dora looked at Karina with the title belt over her shoulder and extended her hand in friendship and respect. Karina shook her hand, and the crowd roared their approval. Lucha Dora and Karina Katana hugged in the middle of the ring and in that hug, Karina stopped being a heel. She was the new face of the women's division.

  When she got backstage, Karina was expecting people to be waiting to congratulate her, but there was no one there. The company had just wrapped up a massive sold out, Pay-Per-View event and no one was there to say anything when she came back through the curtain. She walked through the backstage corridors with the title belt over her shoulder until she found where the people had gone. Everyone was gathered in a group and watching the TV in front of them with awestruck faces. It looked like they were watching the news, but it must have been a TV show. The guy on the TV had angel wings.