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2.29 Leavin’ on a Jet Plane

Book II: Chapter 29
July 13

The good news is that my friends finally went away.

The bad news it that I did not get to work in peace as I’d hoped because the very next day I had another vision forced upon me – ironically it was about Alan and Miriam (gee whiz, how do I get rid of these guys?)


“Why did we bother to come through JFK?” Miriam complained, fiddling with her face mask.

“Hopefully the delay won’t be much longer.” Alan soothed, he too donning a face mask as per the requirements for air travel that had been mandated since back in 2020. “Meanwhile, let’s take this time to plan our next moves.”

Despite the delay in the plane’s arrival, my friends had been able to book the flight quickly because their Freedom Passes and social credits were still flagged as Platinum status – this was based on the fact that both of them had received every round of their semi-annual Covid top-off vaccines since 2021, had no record of any crimes, had no record of social media hate speech, were both on record as bleeding heart liberals, had taken all their White Privilege re-education programs, and had never missed a daily virus test on their phone (that last was a tally I’d ‘corrected’ during their visit to me in order to account for the time they missed while Miriam was rescuing Alan – it was a task I happily undertook because it fit with my plans to get rid of them!)

“Oh, Alan, always the analytical mind.” Miriam replied. But then, as if realizing her possible faux pas, she added, “Er. I didn’t mean that in a mental telepathy sort of way.” And seeing her friend’s face redden around his mask, she stammered, “Alan, please know that I did NOT go through your private thoughts. I never have in the past and I never plan to. You mus–”

(Don’t believe her, Alan).

“Hush. I trust you, Miriam. But let’s just make a pact so we can save ourselves further embarrassment – no more telepathy, mental probes, or other mental tricks.”

(Amen to that!)

Miriam nodded, “If I have anything to say, I’ll say it out loud.”

“Amen!”

(Copy cat).

“Alan,” Miriam’s grew thoughtful. “How long has it been since we’ve last talked? I mean really talked.”

(Oh no, when a woman says she wants to talk that’s never good).

Alan thought for a moment, “The last time we were together — before you rescued me from Ma’bus — was in 1945 – April 30th to be exact.”

“The day Hitler shot himself – alas another Antichrist theory which didn’t pan out.”  

“And yet, I wonder…” Alan mused. ”Unlike most, we saw Hitler’s remains – at least what his people claimed was his remains – which, as you’ll recall we had certain unanswered questions about at the time. Nevertheless, even though we determined that Hitler was not in fact our Antichrist before he died, we still worked hard to drive him out of his mind in order to rid of the world of his evil.”

“I’d say so.” Miriam interjected. “After all, even though the world never knew, it was you, John, and myself who succeeded in pushing Der Fuhrer down the suicide path.”

(I realize this probably all news to you, but actually it’s quite true).  

“Ah, but don’t forget — Hitler shot himself two days before we thought he would.”

“So?”

“Let’s not forget – none of us actually saw him take the shot. And while we did see his charred corpse, I told you back then I wasn’t comfortable with they way everything played out.”

“But nothing more happened. We all agreed the Hitler File was closed.”

(Actually I agreed with Alan at the time — I wasn’t 100% sure Hitler was really dead, but I didn’t feel like fighting Miriam, so I didn’t say anything).

“What if we were wrong?” Alan mused.

“What do you mean?”

“What if Hitler never did kill himself?” Alan whispered. Then leaning in closer he said even softer, “Miriam, is it possible Hitler actually stayed alive and has now re-emerged as… Dr. Ma’bus?!?”

The color drained from Miriam’s face, yet before she could respond, Alan pressed ahead, “Let me take it a step further. Miriam, in the course of the last few decades, I have been postulating a new theory — in the past, whenever we’ve been presented with a potential Antichrist emerging, how did we evaluate that candidate to determine if they were truly The Beast?”

“I’m not sure I understand — why are we talking about men whom History has proven NOT to be antichrists?”

“Has it? Think about the men we were once CONVINCED were The Beast: Nero, Attila, Arnulf, Weishaupt, and Hitler. I want you to—“

Nero
Attila
Arnulf
Weishaupt
Hitler

“You forgot Martin Luther.” Miriam interjected.

“Actually, I left him out on purpose. There is no question that we were wrong about him and luckily John caught our error in time.”

(Well, at least someone gives me some credit around here. Thank you, Alan).

“Agreed.” Miriam consented as much, but her face told a different story regarding her true feelings Martin Luther. However rather than argue the point, she encouraged Alan to continue, “OK, so what?”

“Miriam, what if ALL of them really were The Beast?”

“How could that be? They all died – and stopped causing problems.”

“And yet, in every case there is a nuance that left me unsure. Consider Nero’s death – a supposed suicide in which he drove a dagger into his own throat – albeit with the aid of his personal secretary Epaphroditus. And yet Epaphroditus then conveniently disappeared from history?”

“Even still, Nero’s death seemed pretty convincing.”

“Death of Nero” by V. S. Smirnov

“Was it? Or did Nero switch with his aide and disappear himself?”

“But, why? For what purpose?”  

(Duh? Miriam, are you so obtuse?)

“Let’s table that and examine the other candidates. Next there was Attila — his demise is still controversial: was it internal bleeding caused by years of heavy drinking or did he die at the hands of his wife Gudrun?”

“What does it matter? Either way, he DID die.” Miriam rebutted. ”And did you forget that Attila was buried in a triple coffin made of gold, inside of silver, inside of iron – all to keep him locked inside?”

“And supposedly his army then diverted a section of the river Tisza over his grave site – yet all those men were later killed by Attila’s son Ellac in order to keep the exact location of the grave site a secret.”

(Hmm. I’m starting to see where Alan’s heading. What about YOU?)

“Attention passengers of Lufthansa Flight 1501 to Rome,” came a voice over the Terminal speakers, “Please proceed to Gate A31…”

“Hey, they changed our gate!” Miriam arose and began to hastily gather her belongings. “That’s at the other end of the terminal!”

“Moving on,” Alan trotted after Miriam, continuing his discourse between breaths as they waded through the crowd. “Arnulf’s death – still a mystery. Same goes for Weishaupt. And we already discussed Hitler.”

“Ugh, Alan, just spit it out — what are you trying to say?”

As they stepped onto moving walkway, Alan whispered urgently into her ear. “Just this, Miriam — what if all of those evil men really were the SAME man?  What if we did correctly identify the Beast each time, but due to our actions or just some unexpected turns of History, Satan chose to delay his rise?”

Miriam suddenly stopped in her tracks – causing a backlog on the tight walkway behind Alan.

“Sorry, friends,” Alan turned to apologize to the many passengers behind him who were now complaining at the stoppage, before quickly urging Miriam ahead towards the end of the moving walkway.

Once they got off, Miriam pulled Alan aside, “My God, Alan, what if the spirit of Satan’s son possessed the bodies of those men and merely used each as a vessel?”

(ARG! Do you see what she’s doing? As always, Miriam can’t accept someone else’s idea, so she has to change it to make it hers. Just like a woman – never satisfied until they have their own way!)

“Hmmm… that I can’t answer,” Alan replied, “But one thing is sure. Lucifer is a master manipulator – for something as important as the rise to power of his son — and his own subsequent release from the prison of Hell — surely, if he felt for even a moment that everything wasn’t going exactly as planned, he would pull the plug and start over later, right?”

“Indeed. For Gabriel always said that once The Antichrist attempts The Armageddon Rite, he will have one chance at it – just ONE. That was the agreement Satan worked out with God. Although why The Lord would allow Himself to be bound by such a possib–”

“Attention passengers of Lufthansa Flight 1501 to Rome,” came the airport voice again. “All passengers should be at Gate A31 ready to board.”

“Oh, let’s hurry, Alan. We can talk more on the way to Rome!”


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30 – Dead Man Walking
Book II Table of Contents

2.28 The Bible Code

Book II: Chapter 28
July 12

Miriam bowed her head, while Alan sputtered – still unable to accept the possibility there might be a secret vault beneath St. Peter’s Basilica that he knew nothing about, “I don’t believe it!”

“It’s true.” Miriam agreed. “La Papessa had the vault built specifically to house my letter. The construction was completed by a craftsman who was in the employ of the Bishop of Hostia – her son. As it turns out that contractor was an illiterate mute – making him an ideal choice for such a covert job. As far as I know, outside of the craftsman, Pope Joanna, and her son, the only other person that knew about the vault was me.”

“Does anyone have access to that depository now?” Alan asked.

“Three people.” Miriam advised. “The current pope –for among the many articles that come with the Papal Throne, a cryptic message about La Papessa’s vault was included in Pope Francis’ personal artifact collection. However, if we surmise that only those popes who have contacted me about it have actually read the letter, then the number of popes who knew about the vault has been very small indeed.”

“How many?” Alan asked.

“None.” Miriam smiled winsomely, before explaining further, “I doubt that any of the popes have ever looked at La Papessa’s message or spent any time trying to decipher its Bible Code. After all, didn’t we just say that Joanna’s reign was discredited? Thus which pope in his right mind would want to be caught meddling with her affairs? Certainly not the millennial-appeasing Francis. Ah, don’t you see the beautiful tapestry of God’s work — even though Pope Joan suffered, it was not for nothing – for she protected this knowledge from prying eyes, even until this very day!”

“I’d like to believe that, but we can’t be sure.” Alan surmised. “Yet you spoke of THREE people — who are the other two?”

“I believe one could be the Confuto Penitentiary.”  Miriam speculated. “He is the keeper of the most secret items of the Papal Artifacts collection.”

(Dammit, she’s on to something. And when Miriam gets a whiff, she’s like a bloodhound that won’t stop).

“You mean the Major Penitentiary.” Alan corrected.

“No. I mean what I said. The Confuto – Supreme – Penitentiary.”

“I love seeing you two argue.” I interrupted, taking another swig of my drink, having now lost count of how many of my Modelo’s I’d swilled in the last hour. (They sure do go down easy when you’re having fun). “You sound just like an old married couple.”  

Both Alan and Miriam blushed red at that comment, and Alan stuttered, “Miriam, there hasn’t been a Confuto Penitentiary for over two centuries.”

(Ah, but there will be soon, buddy – and I couldn’t help thinking about the mysterious Cardinalate Marrollo’s recent request to Benedict – could Marrollo know about The Sacra Crypta and the secrets it housed?)

“No Confuto in office is a good thing!” Miriam advised. “For that’s one less person we have to worry about. But that still leaves one man left who is all the more important to us. He’s never contacted me about the letter but he still worries me.”

“Benedict.” Alan filled in the blank.

“Benedict.” Miriam agreed.

“We must see him.”  

“We must know which side he is really on.”

“Well, that settles it then. We three shall go to Benedict.”

“Good thing we have our Covid Freedom Passes. When do we leave?”

“I guess that’s up to John.” Alan looked over at me in anticipation.

I took another long pull on my beer, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and then leaned back in my chair to make it a recliner, “You two are welcome to get on up out of here whenever you like. And the sooner the better. But as for me, you know I never took the Covid jab so I ain’t got to Vax Pass – and I ain’t about to get one. Naw, I’m just fine where I am.”

“John, how can you say that?” Miriam asked. “Are you concerned about the vaccine’s side effects? But I don’t understand, yes the vaccine is super dangerous, but know they can’t here you.”

I didn’t reply.

“This isn’t about the vaccine or it’s horrible side effects on humanity, Miriam.” Alan surmised. “John probably has more Freedom Passes than we do – albeit homemade ones I’m sure. The fact is that he knows we all must go together.

Still I was steadfast in my silence.

Bates already has my Nail.” Alan reminded. “Yours and Miriam’s are the weapons we need to defeat him. We can’t afford to let him get them too. If he does, he’ll be able to perform The Armageddon Rite!

Another taste of my drink, and I licked my lips, “Ah, that’s good. Mr. Modelo sure does brew a good beer, don’t he?”

“Jesus needs you.” Miriam ignored by charades. “I know you are still hurting, but The Lord will restore you again, John — and you will praise Him for it. Don’t you care anymore?”

At that, I jumped out of my chair, sending beer cans flying, “HE doesn’t care about me, so why should I care about him?” Hobbling over to my bookcase, I pulled out the chest that held my Nail, and threw it at them. “If you want that damn thing so bad, you can have it. Go! Do whatever you two want to. Go to Benedict – see how far that gets you. Visit Bates, if you like. I don’t care; just leave me alone to die!”

And with that, I forced Alan and Miriam out of my house – tossing Miriam’s PPE out with them and then slamming the door shut.

Miriam tried banging on the door to get back in, “Refrain from anger and turn from wrath, John — it leads only to evil.”

“Shut up, Mary!” I screamed at her through the door. “When will you understand — that which is twisted cannot be straightened, that which is lacking, cannot be counted.  I am no more than a man forgotten and I just want to be left alone!”

And so they left – off again to pursue their great Commission.

As for me, I was alone at last.

Finally I was ready get to back to work — for The Opus Magnum beckoned. And this time I vowed to continue that rite until the very end… and hopefully die trying!


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29 – Leavin’ on a Jet Plane
Book II Table of Contents

2.27 A Rose by Any Other Name

Book II: Chapter 27
July 12

My last jibe did not disappoint – and with both Alan and Miriam wfhite-faced, I went for the kill, “Lighten up, people. I know we can’t switch sides. But if Michael wants to do his thing – fine. And if you two want to stop Bates or Ma’bus or whoever he is – also fine. Just leave me out of it.” Then I clicked on the TV – hoping they would finally get the hint.

Miriam walked over, rudely snatched the remote (yes, the remote that I had just recently learned how to use!), and then turned the TV back off. “Stern discipline awaits him who leaves the path, John! You’re not listening.”

“WHAT?” I roared. “WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO KNOW?”

“Don’t you see — Michael’s offensive is a SECRET attack! I wrote about this in my letter to La Papessa. In the end, after consulting the scriptures, she marked my letter signum eternus and locked it within the most secret of the Vatican’s vaults – where it been ever since.”

“The Biblioteca Apostolica?” Alan asked. When Miriam shook her head, he wondered, “Then your letter must be in The Archives of the Apos–?”

The Vatican Archives

“Alan,” Miriam interrupted. “It’s not in any location under the control of The Apostolic Penitentiary.

“Then what other secret vault could you be referring to?”

“I’m referring to the… the… Sacra Crypta.” Miriam whispered.

The Sacra Crypta

(Bingo! That’s what I was trying to remember when Joseph was considering Cardinal Marrollo for Confuto Penitentiary – a post that would give him access to the Sacra Crypta. Damn, it’s all starting to make sense now).

Alan’s eyes narrowed, “My dear Miriam, remember who you’re talking to – you don’t seriously expect me to believe that such a warehouse has remained outside of MY knowledge for lo these many centuries?”

“I’m not sure what to say, Alan, but The Sacra Crypta does indeed exist.”

“Then where is it located?” Alan snapped, clearly embarrassed.

“Beneath the church of Santo Stefano degli Ungheresi.

“Impossible. That church was pulled down in 1776.”

“True. But what else do you know about it?”

Santo Stefano was established by Charlemagne in the 9th century.” Alan recalled. “And I was in attendance when Pope Sylvester II later granted it to King Stephen I of Hungary back around 1000. In fact, that church was a key diplomatic link between Hungary and the Vatican for centuries.”

“OK. OK.” I tried to move the story along. “What happened next, Professor?”

“Hmm.” Alan tried to remember. “I moved away from Rome again around 1100, and by then the church fell into some disrepair. In 1776 Pope Pius VI pulled down Santo Stefano and built a new sacristy for St. Peter’s.”

“If you loved it so much, why didn’t you stop this?” I teased.

“John, as you might recall, we three were tied up dealing with Weishaupt at the time. Regardless, Saint Stephen’s church was torn down – so now all that remains are its Roman columns – which I convinced Pius, by letter, to place in the new sacristy of the St. Peter’s.”

“Alan, you’re correct on all of that.” Miriam agreed. “I know how much you loved that chapel. However, you overlooked one thing.”

“Oh, what’s that?” Alan asked, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

“There was a secret cellar under Santo Stefano.”

“What?!? That’s impossible.” Alan was offended. “Why, I’ve been there a thousand times, how could I never have known about it? There wasn’t any such feature in the original construction.”

“She said it was a secret.” I laughed.

Alan’s look at me was pure ice, yet it was Miriam who spoke again. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I was sworn to secrecy.”

“Who built this vault? Who kept you from telling us?”

“The answer to that question is one and the same.” Miriam began.

But it was I who filled in the blank, “Don’t tell me — Pope Joan?”


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28 – The Bible Code
Book II Table of Contents

2.26 Pope Joan?

Book II: Chapter 26
July 12

I think my jaw fell open at Miriam’s revelation, but it was Alan who first asked, “Archangel Michael is actually in battle again? This is momentous indeed!”

“Why are you so surprised? I already told you about this back in 856, I wrote about this very event in a letter to… er… Pope John VIII.”

Loannes Octavus?” Alan was confused. “But, he reigned from 872 to 882?”

“I wasn’t talking about Octavus. I was referring to Joanna Anglicus.”

Pope Joan?” I cackled in delight – grateful for the change of subject. “Oh how I always loved that fiasco.”

“What choice did the Church have but to cover up that scandal?” Alan was quick to defend.  And before we could stop him, he embarked on a history lecture. “You know the story told by the chronicler Martin of Opava – the orphan Joanna Anglicus was raised to live as a man by her older lover, a Greek named Frumentius. In Athens, Joanna became proficient in a wide range of knowledge, and as time wore on her intellect knew no equal. When she later went to Rome, a high opinion of her arose in the city, and she became first a papal secretary, then a cardinal, and finally, when her respect was at its peak, she was elected Pope John VIII – the FIRST to be called that name.”

“Ah, but she couldn’t abide by the Vow of Celibacy, eh?” I chuckled, “for while pope she became pregnant by Frumentius!”

Pope Joan

“Indeed. And through ignorance of the time when she was to deliver,” Alan continued, “while Joanna was mounting a horse, she was delivered of a child. That event occurred in a lane once named Via Sacra, but now known as the shunned street – its location is between the Coliseum and St. Clement’s, and as you both know, no current popes will travel down that street. In the end, to avoid a scandal of momentous proportions, Joanna’s name was removed from the list of holy pontiffs — both because of her female sex and on account of the… delicacy of the matter.”

“A changing of the records made all the easier because of the destruction of knowledge that occurred during the Dark Ages.” Miriam said gloomily. “And yet, I still believe Joanna could have been one of the greatest Church leaders of all time. After all, she was the one who–.”

“And but let’s not overlook the legendary ending to this tale,” I interrupted.  “After giving birth, our Pope Joan was bound by the feet to her horse’s tail and dragged through the streets and stoned. And until 1485, at the place of her supposed grave, it was written: Petre, Pater Patrum, Papisse Prodito Partum – ‘O Peter, Father of Fathers, Betray the childbearing of the woman pope’.”

“Wait, as I recall,” Alan said, “Joanna wasn’t really stoned to death?”

“Correct,” I advised. “The official unofficial version was that she was deposed for incontinence and forced into a convent. Meanwhile, to keep her quiet the new pope made Joanna’s son the Bishop of Hostia. And, in a final twist of irony, when Joanna was on her deathbed, she instructed that her burial should be in that place where she had given birth – the Via Sacra! Ha, oh the miracles which God works, eh?”

“But what has all this—“ Alan began.

“Wait,” I was still laughing. “Don’t forget the sedes stercoraria!”

“What’s he talking about?” Miriam was annoyed with this tangent.

“He’s referring to… defecation seats.” Alan stammered. “It seems, after Joanna, pope-elects were forced to sit on a special throne — with a hole in it.”

“For what purpose?” Miriam asked, confused.

“To verify the sex of the pope!” I grinned impishly.

“Preposterous!” Miriam gasped. “You two are making all this up.”

“Ah, I’m afraid John is telling the truth.” Alan blushed. “After Joanna, prior to any official announcement, the new pope-elect was made to sit upon the sedes stercoraria, robes lifted so that his bare bottom touched the seat. The chair was hollow in the middle and underneath, therefore the cardinals were allowed to reach underneath and… ah, confirm he was indeed a man.”

A long line of cardinals could make for a long day…

(This is true, my friends. Check it out for yourself if you don’t believe me).

“Why that’s just horrible.” Miriam was aghast at the thought.

“What’s so bad about a little—“ I started off again.

“Be that as it may.” Alan raised his voice to drown out my bawdy humor. “We must get back to the tale at hand. Miriam, regarding what you wrote to Pope Joanna about Michael’s war on terror, please, tell us more.”

Thankful to be past that last bit of the conversation, Miriam advised, “Among other things, I wrote about the climax of The Infernal War – a covert attack led by Michael against the walls of the underworld.”

“Moving the battle lines,” Alan agreed, “from Heaven’s Bates — where they have been since Lucifer’s Fall – to a new front: The Doors of Hell! Yes, I remember, now; it was a bold tactical move – something I ever wondered why Michael didn’t do previously.”

“Because that time was never right… until now.”

(Damn, if she’s right about this…)

“But how can you be sure, Miriam?” Alan asked.

“Shortly before I rescued you, Alan, Gabriel revealed that Michael is on the move and that Hell itself was about to be laid to waste.”

“Well, that settles it then, eh?” I chimed in. “If Michael is taking matters into his own hands, then what do they need us for? I guess we can all relax. Seems like our entire existence has been nothing but—“

“John, stop!” Miriam yelled. “You know that even if Michael does open the gates of Hell, if the Antichrist stops the Second Coming of Jesus in this world, then Lucifer can escape Michael and come here. God would be driven away and the earth would then become Lucifer’s new home!”

“All hope would be gone.” Alan surmised. “The battle would be over, and we would end up be on the losing side.”

“Not if we change sides now.” I said in a deadpan tone, looking at each of my companions and waiting to see how they replied.

(I’m a stinker, I know. But an old man’s gotta have some fun, neh?)


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27 – A Rose by any other Name
Book II Table of Contents

2.25 The Many Faced Man

Book II: Chapter 25
July 12

“But how could Benedict hold our Nails in his hands without being destroyed?” Alan pondered at my unexpected revelation about the Pope.

“And without dying?” Miriam was still in shock herself at my suggestion.

Another long pause followed as they tried to make sense of things. I smiled as they prattled on, enjoying my drink.

Naturally it was Miriam who rained on my parade, “For you, O Lord, are the Most High! Don’t you see, this merely confirms what I’m saying — Benedict will be filled with divine power at the appointed time, so that he CAN hold the Nails in order to destroy Bates as Dr. Ma’bus and thus enable Christ’s return!” And she smiled winsomely at the thought.

(Dammit! I hadn’t thought of it that way — she just might be right).

Envy rots the bones.” I muttered under my breath, before replying to her, “If that’s true, Mary, then what are WE still doing here? In your theory we three are useless.”

“John.” Alan raised a hand. “You know our mission – we are to guard The Nails until the day they are needed, until The Second Coming. Nobody said our role would be in the spotlight. Isn’t it enough to know that our work will be directly responsible for aiding Christ’s return?”

<SMASH!> I threw my glass against the wall. “No, Laz-a-rus, it is not! Do you think I wanted to wait around here for two thousand years, guarding a worthless piece of iron, only to give it off to someone else at the moment of truth — so THEY can get all the glory? That’s a raw deal!”

“John, you know that’s not true.” Miriam reminded me. “YOU, more than anyone, know the value of Jesus’ love.”

“Two thousand years is a long time — I guess I plumb forgot; just like HE forgot about me.” And before anyone could reply, I continued, “Besides, who cares about all your theories, you’re probably wrong… again.”

“What do you mean?” Alan asked.

“Don’t you see?” I said wearily. “There is no many faced man, there is no antichrist!”

“How can you say that?” Miriam gasped.

“Just how often have you two been wrong about The Beast?” I jabbed back. “Oh let me count the ways. First there was Nero – but that was on me – he’s the one I wrote about in Revelation – or so I thought. So I’ll take the bullet for being wrong there.

“But it was you, Mary, who brought us Attila in the 400’s,” I hastened on. “Now Attila was a ruthless conqueror indeed, but NOT the antichrist. Which brings us to Alan’s theory about Archbishop Arnulf of Rheims in the late 900’s.”

“Well, he was a thinking man’s antichrist.” Alan offered.

“Yet again we were wrong. “ I concluded. “So after that, I stopped trying to guess, but you two plodded ahead. You listened to Charles V when he brought you Martin Luther in the early 1500’s – yet why you two couldn’t see that Charles was playing you for a fool, I’ll never know? Luckily I was able to talk some sense into you. Oh sure, Luther caused some problems for the Church, but on the whole, I think you’ll agree he’s proven to be a catalyst for change which the Church needed.”

“Touche.” Alan nodded. “And your poi—“

“And then there was Adam Weishaupt.” I cut him off. “Or should I say George Washington? Indeed, after he pulled his little identity switcheroo he had the world fooled – and us too. And while he advanced the cause of the Illuminated Ones, and laid the foundation for America to become a world harlot, he was surely NOT the Antichrist either.”

The Shocking Truth about our first President?

“How can you be so sure?” Miriam asked.

“Which brings us at last to the one person that you two really had me convinced on – Hitler.” I pressed ahead with my own designs, ignoring Miriam. “Yes, despite my pledge that I was done listening to you two after the Weishaupt Fiasco, even I couldn’t resist your arguments about Ol’ Adolf.”

“Well he DID fit the bill.” Miriam whined.

“And yet, we were wrong about him too.” Alan said. “Oh, he was indeed evil, but… as John pointed out, even Hitler was NOT the antichrist.”

“And so it goes.” I concluded. “There IS no antichrist. Jesus is not coming back. And we three will be forced to rot here in this world forever. Therefore, will you two please just let it be and leave me alone.”

It seemed that my arguments were having the desired effect on Alan, because he was at a loss for words. Yet Miriam continued to protest, “You’re wrong, John. This time is different. Bill Bates as Ghaz al’ Ridwan Ma’bus IS The Beast!”

“Mary, why are you so sure this time?” I grimaced. “Just because this Bates fellow meets all your criteria?”

“He does!” Miriam slapped fist to hand.

“But so did all the others!” I retorted, in disbelief at her doggedness. “Hell, Flipflop was just as bad so why don’t you name him the Antichrist?”

Yet Miriam just sat there — jaw jutting out, back straight, unwilling, or unable, to give up.

Knowing she wasn’t going to leave without saying her piece, my shoulders finally sagged. I felt as old as I looked, “OK, let me hear your story. If you must tell it, get it over with so I can get rid of you two and… get back to the business of trying to kill myself.”

“John!” Miriam said. “You’re blaspheming Christ’s work in you.”

“Whatever. Please, just tell your tale and then go. What makes you so sure that Bates is the Beast? Enlighten me.”

“Because The Infernal War has moved to the front lines of the underworld, and Michael himself is leading the troops in this campaign!”


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Book II Table of Contents

2.24 The Secret Supper

Book II: Chapter 24
July 12

I successfully stopped myself from revealing my secret vision about Pope Benedict and Bill Bates to Alan and Miriam by chugging my beer and then going to the kitchen for more.

Yet before I could even sit back down in my chair, Miriam was on to me, “Do you realize that you are proposing that a Head of the Catholic Church is part and parcel to a pawn of Satan? Shame on you, John. Even if Francis is the official head, we all know Benedict is still running the show right? So how can y–”

“John, does your vehemence against Benedict have anything to do with your grudge against The Catholics?” Alan interrupted. “Are you still bitter about the fact that they tried to martyr you for leading a sect of the Cathars? Good God, man, but that was hundreds of years ago.”

“It might as well have been yesterday to me.” I replied, remembering the events of 1235 A.D – when I was sentenced to death as part of Gregory IX’s Inquisition.

(Yet I’ll have you know, his Dominican lackeys succeeded in murdering me only because I wanted them to — unfortunately, their efforts didn’t succeed).

“John, why did you ever get mixed up in that cult?” Miriam inquired. “Did you really believe what you wrote in the Gospel of the Secret Supper?”

(Wow! The Gospel of the Secret Supper – now that’s a classic! If you can find that text, give it a good read — for entertainment purposes only, of course).

“What kind of a question is that?” I exploded on Miriam. “And coming from YOU of all people, Mary? Aren’t you little Miss I’m Tolerant of Everybody’s Beliefs? And what’s with all the Covid virtue signaling – you’re a worse enabler than Zuckerberg or Dorsey!” And before she could reply, I continued, “Of course I believed the Secret Supper Gospel – hell, I believe what I wrote there more than what’s credited to me in the Christian Bible. After all, what’s so wrong about what we Cathars held to be true – namely that ‘the earth was created by Satan as a prison for souls, and that Jesus was sent by God to show us how to escape back to Heaven?’ Ha, the real problem, as you both well remember, was that my Cathars were growing in such popularity in Europe that we were replacing Catholicism! Obviously the Vatican had to do something about that – thus their creation of the Dominican order and the ruthless Inquisition.”

Pope Gregory’s Methods were not very successful

“John, let’s be reasonable,” Alan rebutted. “You didn’t give Pope Gregory much choice — you rejected all the sacraments, and you came up with two very sacrilegious rituals of your own. What did you expect?”

I wouldn’t give in, “Every group has its rank and file. The Rite of Consolamentum allowed us to advance our key members into the class of Perfecti. The Vatican didn’t really give a crap about that. It was Endura they hated.”

“Well, who would approve of encouraging people to deliberately commit suicide?” Miriam questioned. “Obviously YOU thought it was a shortcut to get yourself back to the spirit world. And obviously it didn’t work.” (She was right there). “Oh, John, why must you always pursue your own designs? Why can’t you delight yourself in the Lord, for if you do, He will give you the desires of your heart.” And then she looked at me with eyes that seemed to bore into my brain. “Is it because of the guilt for your sins? You make no effort to hide it; why you wear it as if it is a badge of courage! But why? Surely The Lord will punish you with the rod, but He will never take his love from you. Why not turn back to Him? Say to the Lord ‘I confess my transgressions to you.’ And He will reply, ‘You are forg—“

I could take it no more, “That’s enough! How can I dispute God’s judgment for me, you ask? Well, all He ever does is overwhelm me with misery! Justice? What is justice to Him who makes all the rules? Go take your—“

“OK! OK!” Alan tried to restore order. “John, regardless of what happened back then, and regardless of any guilt you are still dealing with, this is not the time for an intervention. We’re getting way off the subject at hand NOW. Do either of you have anything constructive to share about Benedict?”

I gave no reply – knowing I had already said too much. Instead I merely took a long pull on my drink – finishing it in a giant gulp. Then I let out a loud belch. After that, I got up, went into my kitchen, and grabbed what was left of a six pack of Sam Adams Summer Ale. (It’s not the best summertime brew, but it will do in a pinch and since I had the ingredients on hand I couldn’t resist making a batch a few weeks ago).

When I finally returned to the living room, I could see that Alan and Miriam were still waiting on me to respond. (Oh why does this have to be so tiring all the time? I could feel every bit of my 2,000 years of age. Thanks, Lord!)

Seeing that my ‘friends’ weren’t leaving, I realized that I was going to have to play hardball. So, taking a big swig of my drink, I said after another belch, “You know, I just realized I forget to tell you something — it seems to me there IS more to Benedict than meets the eye. As it turns out, I recently had a vision about our Pope. Now, now, don’t get all excited because I can’t remember much – after all, I’m an old man.” And although I knew they didn’t buy that excuse, I pressed on before they could comment. “In any case, in my dream, I saw Benedict holding our Nails in his hands as he approached this Ma’bus character.”

“You saw Benedict and Ga-, er, Dr. Ma’bus together?” Miriam asked.

“What was the event?” Alan inquired. “Were they friends or foes?”

“You’re both missing the point!” I stopped their questions. “It doesn’t matter why they were together. The important thing is that Benedict was holding the nails…” I reeled them in, “Don’t you listen?

“The Pope was HOLDING the nails… in his hands.”

Alan and Miriam looked at one another, astonished.

(Ah, the sweet taste of victory! Gee, this Summer Ale really IS good.)


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25 – The Many Faced Man
Book II Table of Contents

2.23 Surrounded

Book II: Chapter 23
July 12

The very next day, I was in my living room with Alan and Miriam. It had been nearly a week since I’d brought back Alan (nee Lazarus) from the dead – I’d hoped that my former friends would have left me by now but as usual nobody seemed to care what I wanted. But at least Miriam wasn’t decked out in her PPE and she didn’t try to make Alan to the same.

And so Miriam had continued to help Alan recover, I’d been raked with more revelations (no rest for the weary). So far today I’d been free of vision, however that didn’t mean I could relax. As I sat in my Laz-e-boy trying to drink myself into oblivion, Alan and Mary were sipping tea on my raggedy couch (and clearly not getting my many hints for them to scram).

They had no idea about my visions the past few days and I wasn’t about to tell them. I did my best to conceal the shaking of my hands but it wasn’t working — for no matter what I did, I couldn’t escape the image of The Beast nailed to Peter’s cross!

Meanwhile, Alan was now back to his old self – which is to say that he was determined to understand what was going on in the world; and now he and Miriam were both wearing me out with their questions.

“Thank God you were able to find me, Miriam.” Alan gushed again. “Even while I was lost inside myself, I could feel the slightest something… tingling at the edges of my mind — a faint calling that kept me from falling over the precipice and into Oblivion. Miriam, you saved my life!”

(Hmmm. Alan’s talk suddenly intrigued me. For a moment I forgot about Bates as I realized that if I could somehow get myself into one of those Chairs, then perhaps I could succeed where Alan had failed).

“Hardly.” Miriam corrected. “It was John who really saved you.”

(Yeah, you’re welcome – now get out so I can get back to work).

“Well, you both did.” Alan smiled. But then, after pondering further, “Miriam, you’ve talked to me with your telepathy before, but this time it was different — it wasn’t so much a voice I heard, as a <presence> I felt. Was this because of The Chair of Woe?”

Miriam blushed, “Alan, I was desperate. Time was running out, and telepathy wasn’t working. I, ah, had to use… my Psychic Probe.”

I roared with laughter at that admission, raising my glass of my version of Duvel in a toast, “Here, here! Now I’ve h—“

“John, stop!” Miriam commanded.

Yet it was too late to save Alan from embarrassment, and his face went from a canvas of shocked whiteness to one of flushed red.

At this, Miriam quickly added. “Please. Don’t worry, Alan. I only used the power to locate you. I did not go into your memories.”

(Well, if she did, then she’ll know the secret Alan’s been keeping from her lo these many years. Oh, this is rich!)

“Ah… thank you?” Alan was clearly still horrified at the prospect of Miriam inside his mind. “It’s not as if I have anything to hide, mind you. It’s just… just that…”

“A man’s thoughts are his private business.” I wagged a finger at Miriam. “Nobody should be able to get into the mind of another person. I don’t even know why you call that ability a gift, – it’s witchcraft.”

“And your Alchemy is any better?” Miriam shot back. “John, you’ll go to the Pit for your lack of discipline – led astray by your own great folly! Talk about witchcraft, why that’s the very defin—“

“People!” Alan broke in. “In-fighting is not going to get us anywhere. Look, I am grateful to you both. By whatever means necessary, you saved my life. Thank you.” And he switched subjects. “I should have known that Teri was the real Mystery. After all, how could a woman like that be so interested in Biblical Antiquities?”

“Amen to that!” Miriam chimed in. “It only took me one look to see that there was more to her than meets the eye.”

“But, if Mystery is the Evil Temptress, how do we explain her dealings with Benedict? After all, even though Jesus charged us with The Commission, I’ve always felt that The Pope would be OUR ally, not theirs.”

“Benedict can’t be aligned with Bates.” Miriam replied. “The Beast must take down The Rock of Peter before he can begin his own reign.”

“Well, Francis is that rock now.” Alan advised. “Clearly there’s more to Benedict then we all knew. How do you explain his role otherwise?”

“I believe there’s only one interpretation,” Miriam offered. “Benedict will be the one to kill this man Ma’bus and enable the Second Coming – not us!”

Miriam caught me off guard with that comment and I saw that Alan was taken back a bit as well.

(I know what you’re thinking – now would be a good time to tell them about my vision of the future with Benedict supposedly killing the Ma’bus figure, but I wasn’t about to give Miriam the satisfaction).

Instead I entered the conversation with a word of caution, “It’s not good to have zeal without knowledge, nor to be hasty and miss the way. You’d never make a good scientist, Mary, for you only reach conclusions that you WANT to find and fail to consider other possibilities.”

“Such as?”

“Such as the potential that Bates is NOT the antichrist and that Benedict is.”

(Sorry, but I couldn’t resist throwing that out there – if only to get them riled up a bit!)

“No chance.” Alan shot down my comment. “Bates IS The Beast. Mystery told me so and we all agreed on who she is.”

“Interesting – I don’t recall me agreeing.” I replied. “After all, if Mystery is The Evil Temptress wouldn’t it be in her nature to mislead you?”

Alan did not reply.

“And even if Benedict is not The Beast, couldn’t he be The Second Helper?” I suggested. “Perhaps he will bring The Nails to Bates’ Ma’bus persona as part of the Armageddon Rite, maybe Benedict is the one who will install them into The Crown of Doom, thus stopping the Second Coming. Perhaps, he—“

(Suddenly I stopped short, realizing I was saying too much).


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24 – The Secret Supper
Book II Table of Contents

2.22 My Soul is Yours

Book II: Chapter 22
July 11

I’ll be honest – I was still shaking as I watched a vision Bill Bates hang upside down on what appeared to be the Cross of Saint Peter. It was a gruesome scene.

For her part, Teri Abbracciavento (aka Mystery) continue to sob at the feet of man who she (and I) thought was the Antichrist. The man whom she’d laid all her hopes upon – hopes that now appeared to be gone.

Of a sudden, Bates’ head jerked up.

Jumping back, Mystery raised her hands as if to ward off a blow, even as the man who called himself Ghaz’ Ma’bus slowly opened his eyes. Yet her horror (and mine) only grew in scale as Bates’ eyeballs rolled over – showing only the whites, laced with blood.

“Ghaz?” Mystery eked out, bravely moving towards him, but her courage melted when Bates spoke!

“I am Legion – WE are many…” The antichrist advised, his visage writhing — as if the flesh of his face was being burned by an intense fire. Yet it was the words Bates spoke next that finally sent Mystery running for her life – for when The Beast opened his mouth again, the sinister sounds were the Tongue of The Abyss.

Then it was that Mystery (and I) realized that not only was Bates NOT dead, but he had not been crucified against his will either – he did this intentionally in order to commune with demons of the underworld!

“If They find out I’m here, They’ll kill me!” Mystery panicked, fearing discovery by Satan’s minions. “I’ll get sucked into The Fires!” And she raced back out of the room, leaving her master to his fate.

(Too late, woman, The Beast knows you were here. You’re doomed).


My Sight continued to follow Mystery and less than three hours later, I watched her board a plane to Rome.

“I can’t have my soul returned to The Fires.” The beautiful woman shivered, sitting in a fairly empty section of first class on a plane flying over The Mediterranean. “But what can I do? If my fate is sealed with Ghaz, only Benedict can save me now.”

Yet even as she said it a new thought seemed to take hold, and with eyes wide, she whimpered, “But what if Benedict is in league with BAVI after all? He might well laugh in my face and hand me over to death.”

Mystery’s mind must have locked at that thought, because her face twisted and she was silent for a time. Eventually she decided, “I can’t explain why but I feel my only hope is Benedict. I must escape from Ma’bus!“

Yet just then, the plane shook with turbulence.

“Whoa!” Mystery gasped – her words echoed by other passengers.

“Hello, folks,” came a voice over the intercom. “This is your captain. We’re heading into a bit of unexpected weather. Please fasten your seatb—“

But the pilot’s words were cut short – as the plane suddenly dropped through the air! Drinks and bags went flying as passengers and flight attendants struggled to keep from being jostled about the cabin. It only got worse from there as the plane took a full nose dive, plummeting through the air at breakneck speed.

”It’s my fault!” Mystery gripped the seatback in front of her whilst the airplane rapidly descended. “Ghaz, please, don’t forsake me. Give me a chance to do your will!” And she ducked as a piece of carry on luggage went whizzing past her head – slamming into a passenger a few rows in back.

Screams raged all around and the pilot’s voice came back on, “God…. help… us!  We’re going… down! If… you know a prayer… now is–”

And then something rather strange happened — for the briefest of moments, I got a glimpse into Mystery’s mind. (Is this what Miriam sees when she does her mental probe thing?) I saw Mystery’s life flash rapidly before her eyes (too quickly for me to make out much), but the important thing is what happened next – amazingly Mystery was given the opportunity to beg for The Lord’s forgiveness and grace!

The plane’s descent continued, yet for Mystery, time stood still…

As she considered God’s call.

Unfortunately for her, she hesitated – and that was all the time Ma’bus needed to bore back in to her psyche.

As it turned out, Mystery prayed like I have never heard anyone prayer before – and yet, unlike the rest of the passengers onboard who were surely also asking God for help, I realized in horror that Mystery’s lamentations were to someone altogether different – for Mystery was praying to Lucifer.

“Save me, Master!” She wailed. “Save me to do your son’s bidding. I pledge myself again to him alone. My soul is yours. Save m–”

Immediately the plane righted — to joy of everyone onboard.

The remainder of the flight was uneventful, however the turmoil had served its purpose…

Mystery no longer had any doubts about what to do.

“I will carry out my mission.” Her voice now devoid of emotion, even as all around her people celebrated. “And then I will return to BAVI. Let him do with me what he will. I belong to him… and his father. The Fires are my destiny.”

At last my visions ended. I was left alone on my back porch – my beer having long since gone warm.

“Damn. So this is really The End?” I looked up at the evening sky, knowing inside that it was all just beginning. “But there are so many good beers left to try?”


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23 – Surrounded
Book II Table of Contents

2.21 The Cross of Peter

Book II: Chapter 21
July 11

My revelation concerning Bill Bates as The Beast was about to take a very strange turn – for as soon as she was released from Dr. Ma’bus’ assault, I watched as Mystery ran to her room and broke down.

For nearly an hour, she let her emotions pour out – eventually crying herself to sleep.

(It was quite a mess and I wasn’t sure who was being tortured more – her or me?)

Unfortunately, my own agony didn’t end – I had to endure this vision until Mystery at last woke up and blubbered, “I’m doomed if I stay here. Look what happened to Dr. Flipflop! But what else can I do? Who would want to save ME?”

After a time she pondered, “Can I come clean with Benedict? If I plead for his protection, will he spare me when The Moment arrives?”

Yet even as she said the words, I saw her dismiss that notion — first off because I think she knew that Pope Benedict would not believe her, and secondly (and much more importantly!) surely she must have known that the man who called himself Dr. Ma’bus could read her mind and that harboring such a traitorous idea would surely lead to her doom.

As if on my cue, she gasped, “Don’t even think it. That was not my idea.” Again I watched her throw a tantrum, pounding on her bed in frustration — trying to erase even the memory of that treacherous thought. “Oh now – He knows!”

Frantic at this new idea, Mystery jumped off her bed and raced back toward’s Ma’bus’ quarters. “I’ve got to explain — I am not a traitor!”


“Where is he?” Mystery screamed at one of the guards who barred her entry back into the dictator’s private domain. “Which room?”

“Miss Abbracciavento, I’m sorry, you are not permitted right now.”

“You don’t understand, I must see our lord. Now!”

“There is noth—“

A knee to his groin cut off further words and, as the man fell to the floor, Mystery flew past him down the hall.

Reaching the door to Ma’bus’ room, she wasted no time in knocking but instead barged in… only to be met with something quite unexpected.

In the far corner of the room, a large wooden cross had been erected, set up in the shape of an “X.”

Nailed upon that cross, upside down, wailing in agony, was Ghaz’ al Ridwan Ma’bus – Bill Bates – The Antichrist Himself!

It was not a pretty sight – The Beast’s naked body was coated in a mixture of blood and sweat. Just as Mystery entered, his chest was racked by a violent spasm, and then his eyes bulged from his head, as if he was unable to withstand the intense pressure building up inside his skull!

“Ghaz, Noooo!” Mystery screamed.

Even though Mystery was now standing in plain sight, it was clear that this man Ma’bus did not see her — in fact, I got the feeling that he was not actually looking at anything (or at least not anything in THIS world).

Too curious or perhaps too scared to just leave, Mystery was unsure what to do.

But then it happened – all at once Ma’bus’ wailing ceased, his head flopped forward, and his body went limp as his weight pulled against the nails that impaled his wrists and feet.

(Could it be? Is he?)

“Oh no, Ghaz, you can’t die! Don’t you dare leave me!” Mystery ran over to the gruesome display and fell to her knees at the base of the cross, trying to talk herself out of this nightmare. “Why Ghaz? When you first showed me this macabre thing last year, you said it was the very cross of Peter of Galilee had been crucified upon, and I knew you were enamored with it, but… I didn’t think you would really do… THIS?”  

(Was this really Peter’s cross? I had to admit, it sure looked the part. More importantly, did Bates just kill himself? Could we actually be lucky enough to see Dr. Flipflop and Bates bite the dust in the same day? Lord, don’t tease me like this!)

“What’s going to happen now?” Mystery looked at her lifeless lover.

Meanwhile, I was left to wonder – was this all part of God’s Great Plan? If so, I couldn’t help being amazed…


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22 – My Soul is Yours
Book II Table of Contents

2.20 The Substitute

Book II: Chapter 20
July 11

<Grgggl… Grrrrrr> I watched as Mystery continued to struggle against Bill Bates’ Dr. Ma’bus persona, the girl begging him for her life.

“What’s that?” Ma’bus joked, pretending to lean in to listen to his victim, even as he tightened his grip on Mystery’s neck. “Can’t hear you, honey. Cat got your tongue? Ah, that’s too bad.”

Just then the door to The Beast’s chambers opened and Dr. Flipflop entered – he was masked and gloved and carrying a silver platter, upon which sat a scorched black caisse (I’m sure you know what’s inside).

Turning around at the intrusion, the evil dictator nodded, “Ah, thank you, Tony…my loyal servant. Wish I could say the same for everybody here.”

His eyes glazed over as if under a spell, Dr. Flipflop smiled with delight, eager to conduct his experiment.

While Flipflop waited, Bates smiled down at Mystery, before reaching over and carefully undoing the lock that held the box’s lid in place. After this he gingerly opened the ebony container and positioned Dr. Flipflop ‘s gloved hands so that Mystery would be afforded a view inside.

Now I know, to the uninitiated, a cursory glance at the contents of the box the evil doctor held wouldn’t have warranted a second look – for the lone item inside was merely an inch thick, eight-inch long piece of hammered iron.

From a modern-perspective, YOU would probably look on it as nothing more than an ordinary railroad tie and wonder why such a meaningless object would be afforded such a glamour treatment. But believe me when I tell that you it was impossible to separate the visual sight from the <aura> that emanated from the Nail itself.

For <DEATH> radiated from the Nail in the box.

<Abandonment>

<Forsakenness>

<Hopelessness>

These feelings and more pulsed forth from the Nail. (Even in my location, I could feel It’s calling!) Anyone confronted by the sight would have quickly sought to escape the Nail’s presence – I realized that Bates must have somehow used the power of Satan to fortify Dr. Flipflop against the Nail’s aura otherwise the man would have been unable to even hold the chest, yet, it was Mystery who took the brunt of the Nail’s force.

“Krrrrr—yrrrr—RAAAAW!” She screamed — yet it was all she could do to just to raise her voice, as Dr. Ma’bus still held her muscles in check – something that clearly amused him.

“Well now. Let’s see, Tony.” The self-proclaimed Antichrist laughed. “Certainly we didn’t bring Lazarus’ Nail in just so this woman could look at it, did we? Oh no. we want her to FEEL the full force of that power. Shall we proceed, doc?”

Dr. Flipflop ‘s was giddy with anticipation of what was to come, whilst Mystery’s eyes went wide in fright. She tried to scream in protest once more – to no avail.

(Something tells me this is not going to end well).

Trapped in place, Mystery was forced to stare at what appeared to be the instrument of her demise. Her eyes bulged as blood vessels began bursting from the pressure of her fear.

Luckily for her, Bates master’s next words were not what she expected — as he advised. “Tony, old boy, how’s about YOU reach in and touch The Nail for us?”

Fool that he was, Dr. Flipflop didn’t realize the consequences of his action (which was nothing new for him) and with a lack of hesitation probably greatly assisted by Gate’s pyschological hold over the man, Flipflop set down the case on a table next to Mystery’s chair, and then began to reach his hand into the box.

(Part of me wanted to shout out to warn the plandemic orchestrator. but I knew it wouldn’t do any good in the vision. Furthermore, I can’t stand Dr. #Flipflop Lies and if this was how the world finally got rid of him, that was fine by me. Go ahead, Tony, stick your hand in that box and let’s see what happens – and don’t worry, when you die, we’ll count it as another one of your fake Covid Deaths to keep your scam going).

Mystery watched in horror as Dr. Flipflop ‘s fingers neared the Nail…

“YAWWPP!” The foolish man reeled back in agony and was soon writhing on the floor (the sight of which reminded me of all the victims of Tony’s Covid Vaccines who experienced similar reactions from those DNA-changing, population killing injections).

Bates had initially backed away at his friend’s screams, yet now he rushed over to inspect Dr. Flipflop , “Ah yes, just like all the others.” Then turning back to Mystery, the nerd explained in a detached manner. “Notice how Tony is bleeding from those ghastly holes in his hands and above his ankles. He has the infamous Stigmata of the Nazarene. So far, it’s been consistent with all who have touched the Nail.”

For her part Mystery was unable to reply — for terror was still written all over her face.

Next, Ma’bus tore open Dr. Flipflop ‘s lab coat and shirt – to reveal a horrible gash in the man’s side. “And this wound is reminiscent of where Jesus was pierced by the roman centurion Longinus. Oh the theatrics of it all, neh?”

Spear of Longinus

“What about…” Mystery managed to mutter.

“The marks of the Crown of Thorns?” Ma’bus interrupted, as he reached down and hefted up Dr. Flipflop ‘s head to bring it closer to Mystery for inspection. “Look here. Do you see them? Notice how his hair is matted with blood – it’s pulsing this picket-fence of tiny pin pricks around his scalp.”

“My God.” Mystery had her voice back. “The <power> IS real.”

“Verily.” Ma’bus smiled, letting Dr. Flipflop ‘s body drop to the ground.

(And that’s how we finally got rid of Dr. Flipflop – it was decades too late of course and the evil doctor had thus managed to do a lot of harm to the world with the countless plandemic scams he’d pushed on the planet (AIDS, Swine Flu, the first SARS, MERS, and of course his prized Covid Variants scheme that helped enable Bates’ Great Reset), but as I watched the weasel that was Flipflop bleed out, I couldn’t help but think of Solomon’s wisdom “He that diggeth a pit shall fall into it; and whoso breaketh an hedge, a serpent shall bite him” from Eccl 10:8. Goodbye, Flipflop , we’re not sorry to see you go!)

Meanwhile, Bates showed no remorse at the loss of his friend (read: his tool) and he unceremoniously used Flipflop ‘s hand to place the Nail back into its case before letting the man fall back to the floor. Bates then turned to Mystery. “And so, that brings me back to you, my dear…”

(Excellent – I hope the technocrat gives that slut the justice she deserves!)

Her face pale, Mystery looked at Dr. Flipflop lying in an ever-growing pool of blood, “Ghaz, please, no!” She begged, as Bates threatened her with the Nail. “You need me. Why are you doing thi–?”

The Antichrist grabbed her by the throat, “Don’t tell me what I need! If you have a part to play, what that entails and how long you continue in your role is up to ME! Just like with Tony here. I run this world and your life – not Benedict, not John, and certainly not you!”

“What have I done to anger you? Why are you turning against me?”

“That’s like asking the wind why it blows. Seek not to understand me, dear. Instead seek only that I might understand you.”

“What… are you g-g-going to do to me?”

Again, Bates brought Lazarus’ Nail’s case close to the woman’s face.

Mystery tried to turn away, “Please, Ghaz’, please! I’ll do anything!”

Ma’bus snapped the case closed, “You’re too easy, girl. Don’t you think I already know you’ll do anything? Yet, that’s what concerns me — for others could too easily, ah, encourage you to do anything for them too.”

“That’s not true. You know I serve you only. Only YOU, Ghaz’!”

“Is that so? Well, time will tell if you speak the truth. Be that as it may, for now, we need to move forward. Elijah and Enoch are about to give a new message. I need you to go to Rome and ensure that Benedict issues a response to the world. In addition, you are to contact Marrollo again, he needs to know about Lazarus and Mary – inform him they will soon be on the way to Rome, intent on…”

And so, the dictator continued to deliver new plans to his underling. It was clear to me that both of them knew these tasks were mere test missions to confirm Mystery’s loyalty — and it was obvious she understood the penalty if she failed – another date with Lazarus’ Nail – only the next time her experience would be much more up close and personal.

For her part, Mystery groveled for her life, assuring Ma’bus she would not fail him.

In the end, he accepted her promises and let her go. (Much to my chagrin).


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Cross of Peter
21 – The Cross of Peter
Book II Table of Contents