Entry #30, January 18th, Fifth Year of Armageddon

This is the last entry I'm making in this thing … at this point, I've pretty much screwed myself beyond all reason, and said all I need to say.

I started this thing off to make sure that someone knew what went on here … never expected to get wrapped up in all this shit in the process. I sure as hell never intended to do the things I've done.

But then, I guess that's pretty much the way things go … you never know you're going to get fucked until you feel your ass get reamed. Kicker of it is, 9 times out of 10, you're the one doing the fucking.

Been traveling a long time … long enough that I need a rest. I've secured my spot in the after whatever … whether or not the deal with be honored, I don't know, and don't really give a shit anymore. I've done my bit, for good or for bad. Now, I want to be left the fuck alone.

"Me and myself killed the world today" … for some reason that lyric is going over and over in my head. Old Monster Magnet song from way back. Fuck … spending way too much time equating things of the past to actions of the present.

Let's see … lot's happened since I last wrote. A deal was struck, if you care to remember last. A seriously fucked up deal that I really doubt will be honored at this point. It sounded fucking great at the time … but now … shit. Who fucking cares? What's done is done.

Sounds good … wish it was that easy to let go of. Truth is, I miss the kid … really badly. And I really wish I hadn't delivered him over. He's a shining light, or at least was … no telling what he'll be turned into now.

Why the fuck did this … ANY of this … have to happen? Why the fuck is His Almightiness so fucking amused by watching us squirm? If He's so fucking all-powerful and all knowing, He had to know that His right hand man would turn against Him. My guess is that He just got bored one day and needed a fucking playmate. Hell, I bet He forced old Lucifer to Fall just so he would have a counter part.

Would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation.

Lucifer: "Uh … you want me to do WHAT?!"

So here we are, all tap dancing for His sick fucking amusement. Merrily trying to stay within guidelines that no one really gives a shit about while He just keeps score and arbitrarily makes our lives a living hell.

What has my revelation been through all this? What is the epiphany that has opened my eyes? God doesn't give a shit about us. Never has, never will. We're points on a scoreboard to Him. Nothing more. No more than anything else in Creation … angels, demons, Beasts, animals, what the fuck ever. It's all just chess pieces.

Some, like me, are pawns. Others, like Jacob, count as bishops, knights, rooks … in the end, it's just a matter of who has the highest kill rate when the buzzer sounds.

But God has his PR men, and they spin a mean line … but not nearly as attractive as Satan's. Lucifer has a unique understanding of the nature of Mankind … don't tell us about bullshit that may or may not happen after we die … give me a fucking blow job and a joint right fucking now, and I'll do whatever you want. Zombify my mind and take away my responsibility … give me something to lay blame for my actions on, and I'll do whatever you want.

See, God never quite understood that … kind of funny given the fact that He's supposed to be so fucking smart. He created us, but has no idea what makes us tick.

Satan knows what makes us tick, and uses that to rack up a higher score that God has. Nothing more. He doesn't give a shit about corrupting us anymore than God does about saving us. It's just a matter of winning the game.

Winning the game …

Well, I did my part to help win the game. I held up my end of the deal. I stuck it to the fucker, sure enough. Little late to be having second thoughts.

Whether or not I trust Michael's word is a moot point.

Yeah … Michael's word. I know not to trust Lucifer's … I may be fucked in the head, but I'm not stupid. Besides … as much as I want to see Rachel and Jaime again, I couldn't give Jacob over. I don't give a rat's ass about what role he's supposed to play in the war … I just wasn't going to give that kid up to those fuckers. Jacob's good … I mean really good, not one of these self-righteous ass lickers that God seems to like so much … he's good just because.

Anyway, I just wasn't going to give him over to the Infernals. I've seen too much of their "hospitality" up close and personal to consider it.

I thought it would be best for Jacob … didn't know about the rim-job that was coming.

Me and Jacob made it to the front lines. We hit St. Louis and didn't have much trouble securing passage that far, but no farther. I had hoped for some kind of underground railroad type thing to get him over to the other side, but no such luck.

What can I say about the war zone … not fucking much.

I've seen pictures of the battle fields of World War I … back when trench warfare was the norm, and ground was torn up, laid waste, wiped out over and over, while the battle lines never really moved much … it was kind of like that, but without the happy-go-lucky ambiance.

It would take too long to write down everything that we went through … and I'm still trying to stop having nightmares about it, so I don't want to re-hash it all. There were normal war type things - explosions, artillery, mega-death weaponry - and then there were things like new types of Beasts I'd never seen before, and really fucking don't want to see again, Risen driven to the point of starvation, angels that'll kill anything that fucking moves (if it's on their side, they just figure that they're sending the soul home, so what the fuck, right?), and bodies … Jesus, there were bodies all over the fucking place. There were places where you couldn't see the ground we crossed because of the corpses … and they were still kicking.

Try to imaging a field of nothing but moaning and screaming bodies, all too torn up to move, but feeling every single bit of what has happened to them. Apparently, the ones that fall in the war zone can't leave their bodies … to either Heaven or Hell. Something about the area makes it a neutral zone to either side, and the ones that fall there are just fucked. They're dead, but they can't die.

There were areas where we had to walk across miles of nothing but fucking screaming bodies … the fucking noise is enough to drive you over the edge, which is saying something considering what my home town has turned into.

I still hear the voices in my nightmares, when I'm awake, pretty much all the time now. Hell of a reward for getting across that place.

We almost didn't make it. We stayed low until we hit the Texas border. I'd gotten stupid enough to congratulate myself on my sneakiness when we got caught by a patrol. Six humans led by some kind of lesser angel or some such shit. The angel spotted me for a Damned right off the bat, and opened fire. Nearly fucking killed me AND Jacob when he suddenly saw Jacob, and called a cease fire.

At this point, I'm out of ammo, out of patience, and really close to losing my mind if it weren't for Jacob. It's amazing how the kid survived the trip, but he was a rock the entire way … he calmed me and helped me get through it.

Anyway, the angel knew what he was as surely as he knew what I was. In a matter of a few hours, we were airlifted off to the nearest HQ center and who was there to greet us?

Michael … in the archangelic flesh.

It was strange how the others all reacted to his presence … a cross between military respect and religious awe.

He came up to us, and smiled. I felt Jacob's hand slip into mine … I looked down and could see it in his eyes - Jacob didn't like him … not at all. I couldn't say or do anything at that point.

"Welcome home, Jacob," Michael said. "I've waited a very long time for you to come back to us."

Without another word, Jacob was pulled away from me by soldiers … I never saw him again. All I can think of is the last look on his face … a look of fear.

Michael drew my attention back. "You've done well," he said. "Just like I knew you would."

I looked in the direction they'd taken Jacob and asked what was going to happen to him. Michael just shook his head. "None of your concern anymore. You've done your part."

Excuse the fuck out of me?!? None of my fucking concern?!?

Then it hit me … like a freight train, it hit me. "He's going to die, isn't he?" I asked him. "You're going to make him a fucking martyr just like you did two thousand fucking years ago."

"In time, yes he will die." He said it like it was nothing. "His gifts will enable us to win the war, and then he will die … and in death will become a symbol to guide others."

My heart sank. I don't know any other way to put it. Then the fucker put his arm around me.

"Don't mourn him, Michael. He has his place to play in the larger scheme, just as you did. You have held up your end of the bargain, and can be assured that a place for you is guaranteed."

"In Heaven?" I almost choked on the words.

"Close enough." He said.

What?

He talked to me like I was a stupid kid. "Michael, you have to understand something … those that have been marked as Damned can't truly enter Heaven. As a result, a separate existence has been created outside of Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory for those who God deems worthy of saving from Hell's embrace."

I couldn't fucking believe this. I'd gotten screwed by the ones supposedly on the "right" side.

You're not good enough for our club, but here, we've got a separate but equal spot for you. Now be a good nigger and get in the back of the bus.

So … just to bring things full circle, I'm back home now, meaning I'm back in the Zones. Better to know where I stand than have to constantly deal with smoke being blown up my ass. I don't know if I'll ever see Jaime or Rachel again … I don't know what will happen when some asshole finally gets the drop on me and cancels my ass. I don't trust Michael to back his word up anymore than I'd trust the nearest succubus to babysit for me. But I do trust Lucifer to back his threats up, and I'm not exactly looking forward to the bullet that's going to put me down.

But even then, I don't fucking care anymore. What is, is. What happens, happens.

I'll take things the same way I always have … on my own terms.

I'm sorry Jaime … Rachel … I'm so sorry …

I tried. I really did. It just wasn't enough.

To whoever finds this, I wasn't a fucking number, a footnote, or a face. Neither was Jaime, or Rachel, or any of us caught behind the Black Curtain when the world went to shit. We were people … all of us had lives, hopes, and dreams. All of us had names.

I have a name … my name is Michael.

A-fucking-men.

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