The Book of Revelations has been, and likely will always be, the final authority. It’s like the grand finale of some brilliant and beautiful story. I suppose that is what it is, isn’t it? The end of a book. Revelations, after all, is the last book in the New Testament. But to the more theistic of us, it’s a mixed message. Sure, heaven comes down to Earth. Sounds perfect. But if you read Revelations a little closer, well… it’s Armageddon. No other way of putting it.
So when John received the message to spread the word to the 7 churches of Asia, he did just that. You see, the number seven might not have a lot of significance in the Bible, but it certainly does have some ties in the Judaistic lore, namely to the archangels.
… You know, Gabriel? Michael? Holy warriors of God? They’re the second most powerful things in this universe. There was a church set up for each of ‘em. So John ran around the world to send his desperate message to the second-in-command. Looks real dedicated, right? God sending John out to inform the warriors in waiting, nice reason. But that isn’t why John sent the messages. He was afraid. So he gathered some of the disciples.
Now, s’far as I was told, that’s how we started. A bunch of foolish and sinful humans, taking on God himself. We were so little at the time, you know? Romans really hated Judaism, sure, but they hated Christianity more. Byzantium was one of the few solaces for a long while. Luckily enough, ol’ Byzantium was in store for some inprovements once we clawed our way to the top of the seven hills of Rome.
From there, Europe was simple. Have the Islamic branches fake an invasion, get one of our head officers made into a hero, and done. The resulting Holy Roman Empire with Charlemagne was a stroke of genius, I gotta say. Unfortunately, we got a bit corrupt recently.
Well, not all of us. Just a third of the whole organization, honestly, but it's been a big deal. They broke that truce we had between each of the factions. Christianity broke the truce with the Inquisition. I mean, think of it like this: We're all friends, nearly brothers. But then the little guy we just helped, the one who should be thankful? He turns on everyone.
It's not that they have plotted for world domination, really. When you think about it, it's inevitable. We're humans, and we sin. We could never challenge Yahweh, and I think we've always known that.
So here I am. I'm staying behind here, in a small barn in the Pyrenees. I know they'll find me. And you know what, I'm not going to lie. I'm of the Judaistic faith. I'm not scared of the Habsburgs. They're pathetic. I just pray, please.
Oh Michael, the warrior; give me the strength.
Oh Raphael, the healer; prepare me for the pain.
Oh Gabriel, the messenger; let this story reach someone.
And Lord, please; Do not let this be the end.
Technician Gabriel Jonathan Milton (Lantern, to his ‘friends’) sighed. He knew his Father to be impatient, but never this much so. It was much too early for Revelations to occur. Albion had not been properly united yet, religions still warred, and many an unholy skip still roamed this plane. But when Father wanted something, he was usually bound to get it. And creating an XK-Class End-of-the-World scenario was a pretty good way of doing that.
The last thing Gabriel thought of before he hit the mountainside was how beautiful the morning sun looked. He’d never seen it from this angle, after all. The hexagonal ice crystals making up the higher cirrus clouds were reflecting a vibrant orange, only comparable to the brilliant yellow sunlight cutting through the air. He would have painted a picture of it, had he the time.
Of course, when you’re tumbling through the stratosphere, you don’t really have much time at all for such things.
The impact knocked the non-existent breath from his lungs, and the complex structure of light and sound that was his wings nearly shattered. Gabriel was dimly aware of how he tumbled down the mountain, through the snow and over boulders, until he landed upon a ledge. He barely felt the warmth of the arms that picked him up, and could only just register the young man speaking to him.
“Lord, Father, what has happened to you? Your body is bathed in blood… I shall get you to safety. I hope what little I have will be sufficient…” The voice spoke, and Gabriel chuckled weakly. Oh, if only he knew what the Lord had done. Consciousness began to slip out of his reach, and he passed out for the first time in his existence.
Technician Milton briskly walked to the Senior Staff hall. There was a way to stop this, and he would do anything to prolong his world’s existence. He approached a door, and knocked.
In the seconds before it was answered, he looked at the plaque hung so proudly (if not a tad off-centered) over the threshold. The name was one he’d pretended to fear for years.
When Gabriel awoke, it was to a beautiful sound. It was as if the northern wind had learned to sing, and had begun a melody so rich and deep that Heaven itself could not rival it. He even forgot about the pain that tore at his nervous system, if only for a little while. He opened his eyes, and was naturally surprised to see not the summer sky, but the oaken rafters of a church ceiling.
Once he moved to get up, the serenade ceased. A young man, perhaps no older than twenty-five, approached him. Gabriel could finally see his new companion, and smiled. The lad couldn’t have been over a hundred-twenty-five kilograms, he was so thin. But his stature was tall, and his eyes bright. He had barely a peasant’s garb, and hair like the bark of the Tree of Knowledge in Eden. He looked at Gabriel imploringly, and offered him a bowl of smoked pork and corn-bread.
“You must lie back down after this. I’m afraid to say that you… you might not make it through this without much rest and medicine.” The lad spoke, and the angel remembered that voice from just moments ago. The young lad was skinny as a rail, he could not be capable of such song. Gabriel took the bowl of food as he thought, yet did not eat. He sighed, and looked at his vessel. He’d not survive to Autumn in it, he was sure of that. He needed a new one, a body to control. His thoughts drifted, and he feared where they might go.
The man who opened the door was not the Alto Clef Milton had seen before. That one was healthy, ambitious, and ready for anything. This one… was not that. He was pale, and had a dull look in his eyes. He glared at Milton and, with a lengthy sigh, spoke.
“I knew you’d come. Damned angels always would find me.” He muttered, and grabbed his shotgun half-heartedly. He seemed a broken man, and Milton felt he had reason to be. After everything that happened to the poor late Dr. Kondraki…
An idea sprung to mind. A brilliant, ingenious idea that might work better than the one he had planned. What better to use to counter the long-predicted… than the unpredictable? Milton cleared his throat, and spoke.
“Doctor, do you want Kondraki back?”
Gabriel had a plan, an insane plan. He knew he was going to die if he found no vessel, so he summoned the young man forward and told him what he needed to do. “I’ll need you to find someone for me. They must be devout in their faith, and possess a strong willpower. Hurry, for I do not have long.”
The young man nodded, and took care to tuck the stranger in before he left on his quest. He knew not why this man claimed to need such a person, but he had always been taught that the needs of others were much more important than his own. He was, after all, merely a serf. He did not get the luxury of asking or knowing.
Dr. Clef stared at the angel-turned-man before him. He could not summon the words, so he merely nodded. He’d tried gambling with 738 before, and had no success. No-one wanted Kondraki back as much as he did, apparently.
Milton grinned, an authentic grin, which he hadn’t been seen to do all his life. He left quickly, with a nod and a promise to fulfill his end of the deal. After all, he had much work to do. Rescuing a soul from the seventh level of the Inferno was not an easy deed.
The young man returned several times with many clerics and preachers from the neighboring village. He tried with the blacksmiths, the messengers, the farmers and even a knight. But none of them would work. The man on his bed shook his head at every one of them, and his condition only grew worse. The young man was frightened that this stranger might die without ever finding what he was looking for. So he kept going further and further, spanning the whole of the kingdom.
After a month, the stranger on the bed had chosen none of the people the young man brought back. He’d gotten worse, every cough bringing forth blood and he burned at the touch. The young man sat and thought about it hurriedly, and came up with an idea. He was sure it would not work, but he had to try.
Kondraki damned his own foolishness for the eighteen-hundredth time. Oh, he regretted none of his over-the-top behavior over the years, it was his final choice that he hated with such fury. He’d been a blind fool to trust Gears, and he cursed himself for it every day. But he supposed the physical torture was not that bad; he’d been through worse. It was the psychological pain that agonized him.
In the end, he had not trusted his truest ally. He’d shot at Clef, even as the Doctor defended himself without shooting back. He’d thought Clef a traitor and a liar, and had ended up treating him like an arch-enemy. He could nearly cry at that, it was so pitiful.
He was wallowing in this self-induced misery when an angelic form broke through the seventh Gate, and smote the demons within. It shone brightly, as if some sort of beacon, or lantern. And to his surprise, it stopped in front of him.
“Let’s get you out of here, huh?” It said, and Kondraki swore it smiled.
Gabriel was very weak and sickly when the man entered the church. He was wearing a cloak, and spoke with a baritone voice. He felt it immediately, that this vessel would work. He sighed in relief, and thanked whoever was still listening that he was given a choice other than the kind and beautiful young lad who’d taken care of him. He beckoned the stranger forward, and explained his problem.
“Thank you so much for coming. I… I know I do not look it, but I am the Archangel Gabriel. My vessel is weak and dying, and I need a new one. Please, for the sake of the Heavens and my life, permit me to take control of your vessel so I may survive. You will be awarded a high place in Heaven, and I will be forever in your debt.”
The stranger in the cloak nodded, and held out his hand. Gabriel clasped the man’s hand, and his essence transferred between the vessels, old to new. Once it was done, Gabriel stretched in his new vessel, and took off the cloak to look upon his new face.
His blood turned to ice when he saw the face of the young man staring back at him, his body still seemingly rail-thin, and his hair as brown as the bark of the Tree of Knowledge. And Gabriel wept bitterly, for now he knew that his caretaker had just made the ultimate sacrifice for him. He vowed that he would make sure that this vessel was never harmed, and that he would keep the church-house repaired and clean for the young man’s soul to inhabit in eternity. He meant all of it, for the few times he had seen the lad, he had fallen in love with him. Ever since he woke up to that heavenly melody, he had been enamored by the young man’s dedication and beauty. And so he did as he promised, and would constantly yearn for the companionship he could never have, even when his Father’s Paradise came. But Gabriel still held hope, for if he created his own Paradise, he could see his love again.
When the being that once called itself Gabriel Jonathan Milton returned to the office of Dr. Alto Clef, he brought with him another. Dr. Kondraki leapt from its arms, and looked around himself. No longer did he hear the tortured screams of the damned, no more would he feel the hellfire of the Pit. The first thing he saw was the vessel of his rescuer. He knew it faintly from somewhere in the Foundation, but the major thing he could discern was the dulled bark-brown hair. He nodded in thanks, and turned around to see his once and future ally, who was gripping a shotgun in surprise.
“Konny? You’re really back?” Clef asked, an unnatural (but natural for Alto Clef) smile spreading across his face. Kondraki nodded, and the angel watched as they rejoiced. There was much more to be done, but at least the first hurdle had been overcome. And, from somewhere deep within his being, the archangel known as Gabriel hoped that they could have the connection that he and the young man had once had.