This began as the start of an RP project between myself and a couple of friends however the game fell through and I've found myself wanting to keep going with the story. I'm looking at sharing it chapter by chapter one a number of fantasy/sci fi forums however before I embarrass myself and waste a lot of time I thought it best to run the opening past a few knowing eyes for a little c & c.
“Ideo precor beátam Maríam semper Vírgine.” Cardinal Fleischer’s lips flickered quickly, reciting the prayer with such ease and familiarity they required no conscious effort to form. “Beátum Michaélem Archángelum, beátum Ioánnem Baptístam.”
As he whispered, the deep smell of incense flirted with his senses and the cool cathedral air seemed to swallow his words.
“Sanctos Apóstolos Petrum et Paulum, omnes Sanctos, et vos, fratres, oráre pro me ad Dóminum Deum nostrum.”
The cardinal reached to touch his forehead “In nomine Patris”, when the airflow around him was disturbed and the sweet frankincense was replaced with the harsh musty aroma of stale tobacco.
The cardinal closed his eyes hoping the smell would go away; a trick of the mind set in darker times.
“Hello Daniel.” The words seemed to have been whispered right in his ear. Daniel Fleischer turned his head slowly and looked up at the figure, his face obscured by the dancing candle light behind but instantly recognisable. A smirk spread across the shadow wreathed face.
The old man’s eyes gapped with horror and disbelief.
‘Daniel, How are you my friend?”
The angel nodded his head in sickly greeting extending his right hand to the cardinal who stared at it with a mixture of horror and disgust. A sickly smile spread across Baal’s predator like features.
‘Drecksfotze! You are no friend of mine!”
The elderly priest stumbled backwards to his feet using the altar to drag arthritic and bulbous body upright.
“Oh come now Cardinal.” Baal began to walk around the small cathedral alcove admiring the works painted upon the walls. “You and I have known each other far too long for this.”
Baal turned and locked the old man in his gaze, “And remember, I know you better than anyone else you’ve ever met.” Again the sickly smirk folded up the edges of the angel’s lips as he watched with pleasure the cardinal realised the full weight of the situation.
“What do you want from me? I did everythi’.”
“Enough,” whispered Baal, keen not to over excite the old cleric; for no other reason than that he was worried he may die before he giving him the answers he needed. By the time he found his soul in hell he’d be in no fit shape to answer anything.
Baal moved out of the small prayer chapel and into the side aisle of the New York’s St Patrick’s cathedral. He whistled in a fake gesture of admiration.
“I’ll be damned,” the irony of the comment was not lost, “You have done well for yourself haven’t you?”
Baal stood looking up at the ceiling, supremely confident in his total control of the situation.
“Look here you B*****d! I have done everything that was asked of me, you got your thirty pieces and I made it clear I never wanted to see your ugly ******* face ever again.” Though spoken with the confidence of a man who’d made lying his vocation for the past seventy years the doubt hidden underneath his bravado and clipped German accent was easily detectable.
“Oh, did you cardinal,” Baal not bothering to hide his irritation. “Did you indeed! Well how about you and I have a little chat.” Baal had moved across to the opposite side of the altar to that which the priest was stood. He took out and ancient looking Luger and sat it on the polished marble top. “And how about this time you remember just who it is you’re talking to, you jumped up little sh*t.”
The words were lost on the cardinal, who was staring in sheer terror at the firearm before him. The weapon possessed little in terms of physical intimidation; both knew that Baal needed no tool should he want to kill the old priest. The weapon was a reminder, a reminder of just what Baal had on him.
‘Oh I see, suddenly remember now do we? Good.”
Baal’s smile was back, the move had been perfect and now the cardinal was his. It was now time for some answers.
“Pater, ignosce mihi!”
Baal rolled his eyes and tossed his head, accentuating his lack of patience with the old man.
“How many times? You know that will do you no good!” The angel moved around the alter, leaving the weapon where it stood on the marble surface, he placed his hand on the shoulder of cardinal and moved to stand behind him, speaking into his ear.
“You burnt your bridges with him a long time ago.” Baal was looking up at the plaster fresco decorating the ceiling, the radiant colours fighting through the constant twilight of the church.
“It’s you and me now Daniel, haven’t I always looked after you? Have you not done well by me?”
The old priest had his eyes closed, clearly exacerbated by the sudden appearance of this most unwelcome secret, rearing its ugly head after all these years.
“What do you want?” The priest asked at last, the will behind his words wavering.
“The time’s come chaplain, time for you to give back what I gave you all those years ago. Where is it?”
Baal had turned around, he had his back turned and was toying items arranged carefully upon a pulpit, he ran is fingers across the items, along a set of rosary beads and across side of a golden crucifix. His fingertips stung on contact with the consecrated artefacts but it bothered him little. The priest had still not answered.
“Daniel, I asked you a question.” Baal’s tone was flat and empty of emotion, it carried such authority that a weak man would have instantly obeyed. That said Daniel Fleischer had always been many things, but weak was not one of them.
“Daniel?” Baal still did not turn around, he’d taken the crucifix into his hand and with each passing second his grip grew stronger, as did the burning sensation on the celestial’s skin.
During the course of the conversation the Cathedrals choir had shuffled into their position upon the cathedral’s stalls. They began their evensong, oblivious to the events in the side chapel.
From their words Cardinal Fleischer drew new strength, he even smiled besides the fact that what he was about to do would seal his fate and that what he had once done had sealed his destiny.
“You will never have it,” said the old cleric “Your schemes are over, for I made it my business to ensure they received it. You cannot use it now.”
The cardinal turned around, standing taller than he had for years, more alive than he had ever been. Baal’s back was still turned but his body language was easily detectable. Where before he had been slack and at ease, he was now taught and stiff. Blood trickled from his hand; his grip was now so tight on the icon it had begun to cut into his flesh. His eyes were empty and deep in thought, the air now thick, not just with the smell of oils but with the sounds of the Gloria calling the faithful to prayer. His eyes changed and became lucid once more. The fallen one stared down at the golden body hanging from the crucifix, and his eyes flashed with anger.
The thick wooden door of the cathedral slammed shut behind him; the tranquil environment of the church was replaced by the constant moan of the vast metropolis surrounding it; the smell of incense replaced by the repulsive odour of sewage and fornication; the choral songs with the screeching of sirens. Rain pummelled down from the heavens, car headlights and establishment signs cast sickly auras through the polluted downpour, Baal flicked up his collar and descended the steps into the crime-ridden streets below. The precipitation running down his jacked washed the last remnants of his old acquaintance’s blood into the gutter and the fallen angel made his way into the heart of the city. Where the old b*****d had finally found a backbone he didn’t know and he was still awash with rage from his insolence. He wouldn’t let this ruin his plans, not now, not after all this time, but he had to think, follow some leads, and there was only one place in this city he could get the answers he needed.
Many thanks in advance, I hope it wasn't too painful a read.
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“Ideo precor beátam Maríam semper Vírgine.” Cardinal Fleischer’s lips flickered quickly, reciting the prayer with such ease and familiarity they required no conscious effort to form. “Beátum Michaélem Archángelum, beátum Ioánnem Baptístam.”
As he whispered, the deep smell of incense flirted with his senses and the cool cathedral air seemed to swallow his words.
“Sanctos Apóstolos Petrum et Paulum, omnes Sanctos, et vos, fratres, oráre pro me ad Dóminum Deum nostrum.”
The cardinal reached to touch his forehead “In nomine Patris”, when the airflow around him was disturbed and the sweet frankincense was replaced with the harsh musty aroma of stale tobacco.
The cardinal closed his eyes hoping the smell would go away; a trick of the mind set in darker times.
“Hello Daniel.” The words seemed to have been whispered right in his ear. Daniel Fleischer turned his head slowly and looked up at the figure, his face obscured by the dancing candle light behind but instantly recognisable. A smirk spread across the shadow wreathed face.
The old man’s eyes gapped with horror and disbelief.
‘Daniel, How are you my friend?”
The angel nodded his head in sickly greeting extending his right hand to the cardinal who stared at it with a mixture of horror and disgust. A sickly smile spread across Baal’s predator like features.
‘Drecksfotze! You are no friend of mine!”
The elderly priest stumbled backwards to his feet using the altar to drag arthritic and bulbous body upright.
“Oh come now Cardinal.” Baal began to walk around the small cathedral alcove admiring the works painted upon the walls. “You and I have known each other far too long for this.”
Baal turned and locked the old man in his gaze, “And remember, I know you better than anyone else you’ve ever met.” Again the sickly smirk folded up the edges of the angel’s lips as he watched with pleasure the cardinal realised the full weight of the situation.
“What do you want from me? I did everythi’.”
“Enough,” whispered Baal, keen not to over excite the old cleric; for no other reason than that he was worried he may die before he giving him the answers he needed. By the time he found his soul in hell he’d be in no fit shape to answer anything.
Baal moved out of the small prayer chapel and into the side aisle of the New York’s St Patrick’s cathedral. He whistled in a fake gesture of admiration.
“I’ll be damned,” the irony of the comment was not lost, “You have done well for yourself haven’t you?”
Baal stood looking up at the ceiling, supremely confident in his total control of the situation.
“Look here you B*****d! I have done everything that was asked of me, you got your thirty pieces and I made it clear I never wanted to see your ugly ******* face ever again.” Though spoken with the confidence of a man who’d made lying his vocation for the past seventy years the doubt hidden underneath his bravado and clipped German accent was easily detectable.
“Oh, did you cardinal,” Baal not bothering to hide his irritation. “Did you indeed! Well how about you and I have a little chat.” Baal had moved across to the opposite side of the altar to that which the priest was stood. He took out and ancient looking Luger and sat it on the polished marble top. “And how about this time you remember just who it is you’re talking to, you jumped up little sh*t.”
The words were lost on the cardinal, who was staring in sheer terror at the firearm before him. The weapon possessed little in terms of physical intimidation; both knew that Baal needed no tool should he want to kill the old priest. The weapon was a reminder, a reminder of just what Baal had on him.
‘Oh I see, suddenly remember now do we? Good.”
Baal’s smile was back, the move had been perfect and now the cardinal was his. It was now time for some answers.
“Pater, ignosce mihi!”
Baal rolled his eyes and tossed his head, accentuating his lack of patience with the old man.
“How many times? You know that will do you no good!” The angel moved around the alter, leaving the weapon where it stood on the marble surface, he placed his hand on the shoulder of cardinal and moved to stand behind him, speaking into his ear.
“You burnt your bridges with him a long time ago.” Baal was looking up at the plaster fresco decorating the ceiling, the radiant colours fighting through the constant twilight of the church.
“It’s you and me now Daniel, haven’t I always looked after you? Have you not done well by me?”
The old priest had his eyes closed, clearly exacerbated by the sudden appearance of this most unwelcome secret, rearing its ugly head after all these years.
“What do you want?” The priest asked at last, the will behind his words wavering.
“The time’s come chaplain, time for you to give back what I gave you all those years ago. Where is it?”
Baal had turned around, he had his back turned and was toying items arranged carefully upon a pulpit, he ran is fingers across the items, along a set of rosary beads and across side of a golden crucifix. His fingertips stung on contact with the consecrated artefacts but it bothered him little. The priest had still not answered.
“Daniel, I asked you a question.” Baal’s tone was flat and empty of emotion, it carried such authority that a weak man would have instantly obeyed. That said Daniel Fleischer had always been many things, but weak was not one of them.
“Daniel?” Baal still did not turn around, he’d taken the crucifix into his hand and with each passing second his grip grew stronger, as did the burning sensation on the celestial’s skin.
During the course of the conversation the Cathedrals choir had shuffled into their position upon the cathedral’s stalls. They began their evensong, oblivious to the events in the side chapel.
From their words Cardinal Fleischer drew new strength, he even smiled besides the fact that what he was about to do would seal his fate and that what he had once done had sealed his destiny.
“You will never have it,” said the old cleric “Your schemes are over, for I made it my business to ensure they received it. You cannot use it now.”
The cardinal turned around, standing taller than he had for years, more alive than he had ever been. Baal’s back was still turned but his body language was easily detectable. Where before he had been slack and at ease, he was now taught and stiff. Blood trickled from his hand; his grip was now so tight on the icon it had begun to cut into his flesh. His eyes were empty and deep in thought, the air now thick, not just with the smell of oils but with the sounds of the Gloria calling the faithful to prayer. His eyes changed and became lucid once more. The fallen one stared down at the golden body hanging from the crucifix, and his eyes flashed with anger.
++++++++
The thick wooden door of the cathedral slammed shut behind him; the tranquil environment of the church was replaced by the constant moan of the vast metropolis surrounding it; the smell of incense replaced by the repulsive odour of sewage and fornication; the choral songs with the screeching of sirens. Rain pummelled down from the heavens, car headlights and establishment signs cast sickly auras through the polluted downpour, Baal flicked up his collar and descended the steps into the crime-ridden streets below. The precipitation running down his jacked washed the last remnants of his old acquaintance’s blood into the gutter and the fallen angel made his way into the heart of the city. Where the old b*****d had finally found a backbone he didn’t know and he was still awash with rage from his insolence. He wouldn’t let this ruin his plans, not now, not after all this time, but he had to think, follow some leads, and there was only one place in this city he could get the answers he needed.
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Many thanks in advance, I hope it wasn't too painful a read.
