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…
<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?”
“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).
A couple nights later I had my sleep interrupted again – this time with another vision of The Two Witnesses as the word became flesh before my eyes…
<Drip… drip… drip…>
<Drip… drip… drip…>
<Drip… drip… drip…>
I watched as a frustrated Enoch, despite his blindness, arose from the prison floor and tried to ferret out the source of the annoying drip. After a time, he did successfully locate the trickle, but unfortunately the crack in the cell’s ceiling was simply too high for him to do anything about.
<Drip… drip… drip…>
Ice cold rivulets splashed into Enoch’s maw – smelling of raw sewage they were far from refreshing. And so, backing away dejectedly, he slumped back down onto the pile of filthy straw that was his bedding and did the only thing he could – endure.
As for Elijah, he might as well have been a dead log. During this brief respite from their visions, I was certain that sleep, if the prophets’ could grasp it, was a welcome relief. (Even though my own was currently being interrupted!)
Turning my attention back to Enoch, I wondered if he ever remembered that he was once a man of renown – and if so, would that knowledge cause him to curse his present condition? For the fact that he formerly enjoyed the favor of God but was now subject to a fate worse than Job seemed like a pretty raw deal to me. (After all, this was something I could definitely relate to). Or was Enoch foolish enough to believe he was going to be rewarded for this ‘righteous’ suffering?
<Drip… drip… drip…>
“Will this never end?” Enoch muttered, head hanging in misery. “Where is our savior?”
(Well I guess that answers my question).
Suddenly my vision shifted – torn from the prophets’ cell, I was again looking upon the man calling himself Ghaz al’ Ridwan Ma’bus. He was in his private quarters and again watching a webcam of the prophets, but this time he was not alone.
“Don’t worry, my friend, I’ll save you.” An unmasked Ma’bus replied to Enoch’s question, even though the prophet never heard him.
“What does he mean?” Mystery said. Not only was the woman not wearing any Covid personal protection, but she was wearing little else – climbing off the bed she clasped a wisp of silk around heras she came up behind her lover to look at his computer. “What will never end? The virus? The world? His revelations?”
“Who cares? He’s clearly not having a true vision, so it doesn’t matter.”
“How do you know he is not prophesying?” Mystery wrapped her arms seductively around the technocrat’s shoulders.
“Look at Elijah — he’s out.” Dr. Mab’us casually brushed off Mystery’s advances. “The Two Witnesses never reveal wisdom unless they both speak. So perhaps Enoch’s just complaining about the food?”
Mystery ignored her lover’s rebuff and chuckled along at his last comment before growing serious, “Benedict suspects something about all this, you know.”
“So?” The computer whiz turned dictator continued to stare at his webcam, allowing his mind to think of ways to improve the tech in the device.
“So, he never got around to asking about the prophets, nor how Alan escaped — but only because I got out of there before he could dig too deep.”
“He knows about all of it by now.”
“How? Did you tell him? Did he—“
Bates raised a hand, “Don’t forget the kind of power we’re dealing with. Joseph Ratzinger is no ordinary man. He is one of the Chosen.”
(A Chosen — Joe? Again, I’m as confused as you are).
And closing his computer screen, Dr. Ma’bus turned to look at Mystery, ignoring the temptation of her seductive body, “Benedict already knows that I have the witnesses. And as for Lazarus, surely Benedict knows that Mary came to my lair to rescue him… and that I let Mary succeed.” (Whoa, what’s that?)
“But he wasn’t happy to learn that you kept Alan’s Nail.”
“Of course not. He wants The Nails for himself – and he’ll stop at nothing to get them. I’m sure he’s already planning to influence Mary and John to bring him the other two.” (Hey, don’t bring ME into it!)
“But he won’t succeed.” Mystery smiled. “Alan’s nearly dead because of what Dr. Flipflop and you did to him to him with The Chair of Woe, and John is out of the game permanently.”
“On the contrary. Lazarus will be fine. John will repent. And Benedict will eventually get his hands on all three of The Nails.” (La, la, la, I can’t hear you!)
“What?” Mystery gasped – apparently wondering if she’d chosen the right side.
Bates seemed to know what she was thinking, “Dost thou have so little faith in me?”And before Mystery could stutter a response, he explained, “This is all part of MY plan, dear – just like with Covid. As for Lazarus, you know I only wanted to toy with him in The Chair — you know he is needed for something far more important… later. I knew that Mary would come to rescue him once she was informed by Gabriel. So by torturing Lazarus, I forced Mary to take him to the one person on earth who could cure him of the wounds I inflicted.”
“The Apostle John.” Mystery nodded.
(No, this is not happening! Please don’t let me just be a pawn. Don’t let all of my actions be predetermined! Quick, what am I thinking right now? What am I going to do next? See, YOU don’t know, right? And neither do I. So how can they?)
“Correct.” Dr. Ma’bus replied. “Mary had to take Lazarus to John. Given his resentment against Jesus, I’m sure John resisted getting involved, but I expect that Mary was quite convincing.”
Mystery smiled knowingly at that comment.
“Oh, not in the way that you are thinking.” Ma’bus explained, pulling Mystery over to lap and ripping away her coverlet. “John’s too old to care about this sort of thing.”(Hey, you’re wrong there). “And I’ve always wondered if he liked women anyway – after all his own gospel says that he is the apostle that Jesus loved. Ha!” (Now that’s a low blow. I’m not gay – not that there’s anything wrong with it — that lifestyle just doesn’t appeal to me). “And Mary doesn’t have your… talents. But the bottom line is that she has learned how to control minds – remember the havoc she caused here – my people are still suffering from her rampage. And I don’t doubt she would use that power on John too.”
(Wrong again — I did not agree to help because I was influe– Wait a second, DID Mary use her Psychic Probe on me?)
“But, even if John cures Alan,” Mystery asked, still sitting in the nerd’s lap, “how do you know they will go to Benedict? And why in Hell would they give him their Nails?”
“My dear, let’s not forget WHY these Nails exist in the first place.”
Mystery hesitated, “Er… ah… to destroy… you.”
“Don’t be afraid to say it, love. After all, what you said IS the truth.” And here the flaccid man pushed Mystery off as he rose up and took on a pompous air, “These are the very nails by which Jesus of Nazareth was gloriously crucified nearly two thousand years ago. The holy spikes that pierced his flesh and sent him to the grave. Why, the beat-up iron still retains his blood! Enemy or not, I understand the power these instruments contain — they will be the glorious tools by which I complete the Armageddon Rite and thus stop the Nazarene’s Second Coming once and for all. Indeed, December 21st will mark the official beginning to my own reign upon this world!”
Although Mystery smiled back, it was clear she was still unsure.
“I sense your uncertainty. Care to see what the Nails can do?”
Mystery took a step back, grasping for her coverlet again, “Here? Now? No. I’m confident in what I already know about them from my father, and in what you’ve told me.”
“Ah, but I don’t think you are.” The dictator reached out and grabbed her by the hair! (Damn, this girl’s been taking a beating lately, huh?)
“Ghaz, no!” Mystery shrieked, unable to break his iron grip.
Spinning her around, the man slammed her into a chair and ripped her silk away again, “Don’t move!” As he spoke, his eyes rolled back – showing nothing but the whites – and his voice became rich with an ancient <power>. “Now you’ll get a taste of what I possess.”
Although Dr. Ma’bus’ demonic persona quickly receded, Mystery remained trapped in place, whilst the man tapped his watch to activate its communication feature, “Oh Jamir, be a good sport and bring me The Nail of Lazarus.”
As my vision dragged on, Pope Benedict continued to strangle Mystery and I gotta say – it was a shocking sight!
So much for social distancing, huh?
I took a moment to ponder more on the possibility of TWO Beasts by remembering Revelation Chapter 13. Look it up with me, will you…
Did you read it? If not stop and go do that. It’s kind of important. Don’t worry, I’ll wait…Read Revelation 13 now…
OK, so based on what you read, clearly you’ll agree that the first beast is to be a political figure, right? And surely Bill Bates as Ghaz al’ Ridwan Ma’bus now fits that description.
As for the second beast, I’ve always thought he would be a pseudo religious figure, but I never anticipated it being The Pope of the Catholic Church – I mean, that’s is Peter’s Rock we’re talking about!
Two beasts – the Great Deceiver and the Great Imitator. Could they really be Bill Bates and Pope Benedict?
I was jarred out of my thoughts by Joe’s viciousness – still choking his adversary, Mystery’s face was now turning blue.
“Answer me!” The Pope roared, at last he releasing his grip on the woman’s neck, yet still holding her down with his weight.
<GAAAASP! GUUUULLLP!> Mystery sucked wind back into her lungs. Tears had been forced from her eyes while the Pope had strangled her and her mascara was smudged, yet even still her face was beautiful to behold.
“I told… you…” She struggled, “I followed… your directions.”
“You did not!” Joe’s eyes were wide in blood lust as he again placed his hands around the girl’s throat. “You failed me! You failed the world.”
But this time, Mystery would not be taken so easily, and before the Pope could get a grip, she brought her knee up hard – into his groin.
The Pope crumbled backwards in agony – smashing Mystery’s chair to splinters and landing in a heap on the ground.
Now it was Mystery who had the upper hand, and she stood over the Pope, “You’ll pay for this treatment, Joe! I was never yours to begin with. You of all people should have known that. From The Darkness I came, and to The Darkness I shall return. So why did you trust ME, Joe?” And pointing down at him, “It is YOU who are the Fool, for The Brotherhood has chosen — Bates as Ma’bus is The Chosen One. Therefore I serve him, Joe… And I always have!”
(Gee, miss a few Brotherhood meetings and the world changes beyond recognition. What gives?)
I watched as Mystery then walked a line over Joe and toward the door. Stopping for only a moment to pull out her compact, she fixed her makeup before straightening her dress and then exiting The Pope’s office.
For his part, Joe remained upon the floor, in silence.
After a time, one of his feline friends emerged from some hidden corner and began to lick the Pope’s forehead — as if caring for his wounds. At last, Joe opened his eyes – yet instead of revealing tears or lamentation, I could see that his eyes were bright, almost twinkling.
It’s not often when I actually want my revelations to continue, but today I did because I was curious to know more about the relationship between Pope Benedict and Teri Abbracciavento.
“You’re hiding something.” The Pope calmly averred to his guest. He was sitting unmasked in his high backed chair behind a massive desk that was itself situated upon a raised dais in the middle of his office – all of which allowed him to look down upon any visitors seated before him.
“Oh, I wish you’d close those drapes so I don’t have to stare into the sun behind you.” Mystery complained as she removed the face mask she’d been wearing in the foyer to comply with the Vatican’s Well-Health requirements. “It’s not creating the halo effect you’re looking for, so can we lose the charade in my case?”
A momentary tightening of the jaw was the only perceptible sign of Joseph’s irk, yet outwardly he smiled as he pressed another button on his desk – causing the heavy curtains to close.
The room grew noticeably darker, yet Joe made no effort to turn on any lights, “I’d imagine you’re more comfortable with the lights off, my dear? After all, from The Darkness you came, and to It you shall ret—“
“Spare me the dramatics, please, Joe. I already told you I appreciate the praise for the Ki-Moon mission – although that was a pretty easy job. And yes, my father is doing well at the chateau you secured for him. But this meeting was supposed to be about BAVI and what we’re going to do next.”
“Haven’t we been discussing that for the last 45 minutes? And yet YOU who are the one not being forthright with me.”
“You can read me like a book – or so you believe.” Mystery smiled. “Well if you are correct, then what is it that I am hiding?”
“You have avoided my questions about Professor Zarus.”
“What is there to tell? You told me to ensure that he was safe.”
“I told you to bring him to me!” Joe slammed his fist onto the desk.
“It wasn’t safe here.”
“But it was safer to bring him to BAVI?” Joe took a deep breath and sat back in his chair – he looked at Mystery for a long time without saying a word.
(Well this at least solves one mystery for us – BAVI is clearly Bill Bates nee Ghaz al’ Ridwan Ma’bus, right?)
Meanwhile I saw Benedit get up and walk over to his sidebar, poured himself a tall glass of Barenfang– sans ice – and then returned to his seat.
He did not offer Mystery a drink.
(Good for you, Joe!)
Looking at his guest, Pope Benedict took a long pull of his liquor and let out a big sigh. “Mystery, so help me God, you are playing a game you cannot win. If you try to double cross me, I will not only see that you burn in Hell – which is already a given – but you’ll lose your promised riches in this life too. Is that what you want?”
Straightening her shoulders and raising her chin high, Mystery gamely replied, “I merely want what is coming to me. No more. No less.”
“Oh, you’ve got that coming, sister. Don’t worry.”
(Hmmm, that’s news to me. Like I said before, perhaps if I had attended some of the more recent Brotherhood meetings I’d be more up on current events – interesting).
“I only did as I was told.”
“Not by me! I told you to bring Zarus to Rome.”
“That plan is still in progress.”
“So who told you to take Zarus to BAVI first?”
“I can’t answer that question.” Mystery looked down at her lap.
Another nod to ponder, another sip on his drink,. “Interesting. Yet, no matter. I’ll let you can keep your secrets, Mystery – for now.”
But then, Joe’s voice grew darker, “It’s not a sin to expel a demon. With that in mind, dear, I ask you — why should I even let you walk out of my office alive?”
(Wow, now this was clearly a side of my friend that I had not seen before!)
Yet Mystery didn’t even flinch. “We both know that you cannot complete your plans without me.”
Joe finished his drink, “You’d better hope that’s STILL the case, eh?” And before Mystery could reply, he added, “But let’s get to the heart of the matter — Zarus is secondary — it’s his prized possession I really need.”
(Oh no, not you too, Joe).
“Oh that…” Mystery snickered.
“Yes?”
“Well, it seems… there’s been a change of plans there. You see, although Alan himself will be coming to you, his Nail won’t.”
“What good is Zarus to me without The Nail?”
(This is looking worse for you, Joe. Whose side are you on, anyway?)
“That’s between you and BAVI. My mission, in your very words, was to ‘deliver Alan Zarus’ to you and, as I said, that is still in progress.”
“You, demon-whore!” Joe snarled, slobber running down the side of his mouth. “You know Zarus is worthless to without The Nail. Mystery, you have failed me!” And he arose from his seat and moved menacingly towards her.
Mystery made no move to stop him — for she appeared certain that the Pope was all bark and no bite.
It must have come as a surprise then when Joe viciously grabbed her by the throat and pulled her out of her seat!
Spinning her around and slamming her back against the desk, Joe continued choking her, “You knew it was Zarus’ Nail I wanted. You knew I needed all three. And yet you dare to defy me? Why?”
Two days later, Miriam was still sitting beside Alan’s bed as he recovered – amazingly she was going so without any of her personal protective equipment on!
Meanwhile, I was having a beer on my back porch – Heavy Seas Loose Cannon – one of my favorite IPAs. Like so many other brews it was no longer being manufactured by the original brewery since Heavy Seas and pretty much every other microbrewery (and all other small businesses for that matter) had been destroyed by the forced lockdowns early on in the Covid plandemic. Luckily for me, being the alchemist that I was, I was easily able to replicate the recipe for all the beers I liked so I could brew them on my own. (Hadn’t you been wondering where I got all my beer from? Well now you know).
As for Alan, I knew he was out of the woods by now so I could relax a bit. And since I couldn’t just sit there and listen to Miriam whine (that woman is like a canary – she never shuts up), I planned to spend my time on the porch blasting away the sound of her yapping with a Cannon… or three.
Naturally, The Lord picked this as yet another occasion to send me a vision…
“Another day, another dollar.” I saw an unmasked Benedict say to himself as he watched a rather strange man leave his conservatory.
I recognized the other gentleman immediately – for there could only be one man bold enough to sport such garb: a flamboyant outfit highlighted by a Venetian mask over his face – like all other masks, it didn’t work against Covid, but at least Marrollo’s looked interesting.
I knew exactly who he was: Cardinalate Giovanni Marrollo — an eccentric but high-ranking member of the Vatican.
High-ranking indeed, for Marrollo was the current President of the Pontifical Commission, making him the de facto CFO of the Vatican). He was also one of the driving forces behind the messaging Pope Francis used to talk up the benefits of the United Nations Agenda 2030 and Great Reset one-world government plans.
“How many of those crazy masks does that man have?” Joseph wondered aloud once Marrollo was gone, “More importantly, can I still call him my friend?”
Knowing now why The Lord had given me this vision, I realized that the Pope had reason to be concerned — for although Marrollo had helped Joseph Ratzinger to get elected as Pope Benedict XVI, surely Joseph was not foolish enough to believe that Marrollo had done this merely out of the goodness of his heart.
The same could be said for the way Marrollo helped Joe to orchestrate his pseudo-retirement. And naturally everybody who was anybody knew that Marrollo was the man who had installed Pope Francis as the new figurehead so that Joe and Marrollo himself could wield the real power behind the scenes – and out of the public eye. It was a matter of course that Joe had therefore always repaid Marrollo by appointing him to a host of gaudy positions within Vatican City.
But was that enough to make them even in Marrollo’s mind?
I never thought so and clearly Joe was now wondering the same.
(When Joe mentioned that Crypta, I knew that it should have jogged another memory, but he kept yammering on and I couldn’t think straight… perhaps that 3rd beer had something to do with it?)
“If I let Marrollo secure the Penitentiary,” Joe’s words interrupted my thoughts again, “Then, coupled with his other commissions, he would effectively control all of the Vatican’s wealth… and all of its secrets.” And his face went white at the implication. “No single person has ever held all that power.”
Joe continued his musings, “But alas, how can I refuse Marrollo? Ah, there is the question indeed. For he obviously believes he holds all the cards.”
And I watched as The Pope pondered a few moments more, before concluding, “Sadly for Marrollo, he is incorrect. Oh, I’ll let him continue to think he is pulling the strings… for now. After all, I just need another five months and then it’s all a moot point. And if he does turn out to be a traitor, I’ll be the first to remind him that he who digs a pit, often falls into it himself!”
And with that thought, the Pope smiled as he pressed the contact on his desk that communicated with his Secretary. “Ah, Georg, who is my next appointment?”
The pope’s personal secretary Reverend Monsignor Georg Ganswein had followed him into retirement – having no idea that the venture would end up requiring more hours of him than less! He replied wearily, “Your Excellency, that would be Miss Teri Abbracciavento, and she is waiting here to enter at your convenience.”
Pope Benedict’s eyes flickered wide only for a moment, before steeling himself for this next ordeal. Sitting higher in his chair, he advised, “You may show her in, Georg.”
(Well, well, it seems this vision just got a lot more interesting – I was about to witness the ol’ Joe getting another opportunity to deal with the devil’s mistress. Strange bed fellows indeed, eh?)
Then there were the Voices – terrible ravings about unspeakable atrocities – all spilling out of Alan’s mouth, even as his face took on horrible visages to match his words.
(Miriam had to cover her eyes more than once during this stage of the putrefaction and as I stole a glance at her during one of Alan’s more gruesome Voices, I wondered – was she recalling <whispers> of her own demonic possession from a time long past?)
I had no time to ponder further about her, because suddenly Alan tried to break loose from his ties! Were it not for the heavy straps that I’d used to bind him to his chair, he might well have succeeded in harming himself or one of us. As it was, I had just enough time to douse him with a foaming liquid from one of the flagons I had on hand – and although the container was marked with a skull and crossbones, by the time Miriam saw that infamous warning mark, it was too late – for I had already used the potion.
The result: Alan was immediately immobilized.
Although I had saved us from his ravings, as the hours passed, Miriam and I realized that there was something worse than the voices or the physical abuse — The Silence.
If I had not constantly been checking his breathing, I would have been certain he was dead.
But such was not the case.
And then, suddenly there was an instant in which Alan’s eyes were not glazed — as if his soul had reached to us across the depths.
But the moment quickly passed and once more Alan was gone.
Confused, Miriam broke the silence, “Did he…? Was that…?”
“You saw correctly.” I advised calmly. “Lazarus is coming back from the dead… again.” I chuckled, enjoying both my pun as well as the scientific curiosity of this whole experience.
I then forced an effervescent liquid down Alan’s throat and followed this up by dousing him with a special powder.
And finally it happened…
Wonder overtook Miriam as we watched Alan transform.
First the bruises and awful marks disappeared from his body.
Then Alan’s frame cast off its slouch, even as his face released the bonds of their internal struggle.
And finally, Alan’s eyes cleared of their haze once and for all.
Tears welled up in Miriam’s eyes, “Oh, John… I mean, Azoth… you did it!” But under her breath, I heard her say, “For the Lord is good and His love endures forever.” Finally she reached down to Alan, “I knew you wo—“
<GAAAASSSSP!> Alan convulsed again and began gulping for air.
Miriam shrank back. “What’s happening?”
“Stand back, you fool. The rite was not over yet!” And ripping Alan from his bonds, I heaved him upon my back and raced towards the door. “Come on, we have to submerge him in the tub, otherwise, he’ll suffocate!”
OK, so the cat’s out of the bag – yes I became an Alchemy Master in order to try to kill myself.
Big deal.
Has it worked yet?
Obviously not.
Meanwhile, Miriam pleaded, “I don’t want your help if it means you’re trying to kill yours—“
“Don’t worry,” I interrupted her, while wheeling Alan over to one of my workbenches. “I won’t be needing the Ebon Essence for this procedure.”
Miriam tried to stay out of the way as I poked and prodded Alan. My examination lasted for some time so I won’t bore you with the details. Eventually I advised, “It won’t be easy. Only The Nigredo can save him now.”
“John, er, Azoth, I don’t understand. I’m not an alchemist!”
“Cool your breeches, sister. Basically I have to perform a Rite upon Lazarus that will first putrefy his body and then purify him from the inside out – it’s the only way to burn out the impurity left from The Chair of Woe.” And after a pause, “It will not be a pretty sight.”
“Meaning?”
“You may want to go back to my house and wait.”
The color draining from her face, Miriam gritted her teeth, “No.”
“Suit yourself.” I turned my back on her and got to work.
Yet before I could get started, Miriam sheepishly asked, “Does this ritual involve The Philosopher’s Stone?”
At that I laughed – I mean, I truly laughed – it was a rich, heartfelt laugh the kind that I had not experienced in decades and damn it felt good!
“What’s so funny?” Miriam asked, perturbed.
“Is that the extent of your knowledge of Alchemy?” I smiled, as if talking to a child. “Do you think The Stone is truly a great mystery?”
“You mean it’s just a legend?”
“On the contrary, The Philosopher’s Stone — the substance called the Philosopher’s Stone — is quite real. And yes, you can use it to turn inexpensive metals into gold.” Raising a hand, “Before you ask, those three chest there are filled with gold ingots. All at least a thousand years old from back when I amused myself with this trick. Ah, but who needs gold anyway?”
(Do YOU want that gold? If so, come on by and you can have it. Grab my cure for Covid while you’re here. They’re both waiting for you – that is, if you dare to try to find my house).
My eyes narrowed at that. “Don’t trouble yourself with that vein — I buried those secrets long ago.” And because this was a touchy subject for me, I changed it, “As for Alan, he requires but one step along the path of The Opus Magnum– ‘The Great Work’ — The Nigredo is the first step of this path.”
“How many steps are there?”
“Four.”
“Well, after working on this craft for over a thousand years, I’ll bet you have completed them all, right?” Miriam tried to be encouraging.
Yet my face grew hard, “That’s no concern of yours, Mary. Now step back and give me space to work!”
(And don’t YOU go asking about that either — the fact is that I have NOT yet completed The Opus, but I am damn close! Yet before my life is over I WILL complete The Rite…and become a god! )
In an effort to stop Miriam’s complaints, I finally agreed to help our friend Alan.
In order to do that I had to bring him to my private workshop — which was actually a just detached garage, a short walk away from the house.
From the outside it probably looked like any other barn one might find in upstate Pennsylvania.
Yet the inside was quite unlike anything you’ve seen – for I am an Alchemist — not just any amateur experimenter trying to turn metal into gold, mind you, but a full-fledged Alchemy Maestro, perhaps the greatest of them all!
(I know, I know, I probably should have told you this sooner, but remember, I tend to forget quite a bit in my old age. What’s that — what else have I forgotten to tell you about? Ha, now that’s a good question!)
“Once inside these walls you shall call me Azoth.” I instructed Miriam, as I fiddled with the multitude of locks that barred the door. “Additionally we’re going to take that stupid mask off Alan and you’re going to remove that silly outfit your wearing.”
“Wha-?” Miriam stammered, backing away. “I…I can’t…er…what about the vi-vi-virus?”
“Miriam, you fool, you’re immortal!” I raged at her. “You can’t die from any virus – much less a made-up one that’s never even existed! How stupid are you, girl? You know as well as I that Covid was just a PLANdemic carried about by globalists to get everybody vaxxed, chipped, and monitored as part of the United Nations Agenda 2030 creation of a world-wide police state. Do I really need to explain all this to you?”
Miriam began to bawl, physically shaking as her mind was clearly resisting what she knew to be true even as the #FakeNews propaganda she’d allowed herself to be force-fed these past few years surely told her I was lying.
I merely waited for events to play out.
In the end, Miriam caved. Yet even as she removed her pandemic garb she gave in to a new fear. “Ah, John, er, excuse me, Azoth… we’ll not be doing anything sacrilegious in there, right?”
“Do you want my help or not?” I screamed at her, doing nothing to hide my disgust.
Miriam cried again, but looking down at Alan, she struggled to regain control as she said, “I’m sorry, Azoth. Please, let’s hurry inside.”
“How does it feel to be the one who is manipulated, eh, Mary?” I chuckled.
I smiled to myself as I opened the final lock, before pulling the door ajar the door to let Miriam pass inside first – even though she was woman of the world who had seen quite a bit during her long life, as she entered my workshop I could sense her surprise at the sights before her.
To say the oversized garage was over-stuffed was an understatement – for although the 30 x 20 foot interior was a healthy area, I had nearly every available spot crammed with something. A giant furnace dominated the far wall – pipes leading out from it in all directions – some carrying exhaust to the outside, others hooked up to trailing pipes that led off to smaller furnaces or connecting to heating beakers both large and small, and still others going down into the floor. (What’s their purpose? Sorry, that would take too long to explain. Just sit back and listen please).
I watched as Miriam noticed the multitude of glass bottles – how could she miss them? – for more than anything else, jars of all shapes and sizes filled my laboratory. In fact, one of the 30-foot walls was lined completely with a massive, custom-made shelving unit and every space was filled — giant bottles containing preserved animal parts, smaller decanters bubbling with strange liquids, and tiny phials glowing with mysterious crystals. These and more were stored on the shelves – and everywhere else about the room too.
Various tables piled up with unusual tools, hulking chests locked tight, and storage containers overflowing with materials took up much of the rest of the space.
Each with a purpose only I knew.
A bit further inside, I saw that Miriam noticed The Three Pillars. An important alchemy construct, the two outermost posts had a shelf jutting out towards the inside pillar — upon the shelves, each of the pillars held a bulbous carafe which in turn had a long nodule connected to a tube. The tubes of the carafes connected to pipes that were attached to additional tubes that intersected the middle pillar, and then eventually emerged to connect to a similar pair of carafes at the base – yet rather than being supported on shelves attached to the outside posts, these glass jars were situated upon smaller furnaces that were continuously heating the liquids inside the flagons. I knew that Miriam had no idea as to the purpose of this apparatus, and I wasn’t about to tell her (or you!)
As you might expect, my workshop was not without its share of books too. From heavy tomes to delicate scrolls, my fetish with books played out here even more than it did in the living room of my house. I followed Miriam’s eyes with pride as I saw her espy the volume that was my most prized possession – a large stone tablet, shaded emerald green, sat reverently upon a podium in the very center of the room.
Although the engraved text was large enough read even from afar, it was written in a language that I knew that even Miriam did not understand. (If YOU want to know more, do some research — look for references on any of the following: The Emerald Tablet, or The Tabula Smaragdina, or The Secret of Hermes. See, I do give up some secrets).
Next, I could see Miriam captivated by the fact that nearly every wall surface was covered with Symbols; even the floor was covered in a giant glyph – a circle inside a square, inside a triangle, inside a humongous circle, the outer edges of each shape touching the inner edges of the ones they were housed within. As for the symbols on the walls, in one area, I saw Miriam note a collection of four triangles, representing the four basic elements: upright triangle for “fire,” pointing down for “water,” pointing down with horizontal line dissecting for “earth,” and pointing up with horizontal line dissecting for “air.”
“Ah… Azoth,” Miriam found her voice again, “what does the circle with the dissecting lines represent?”
“Hardly!” I snorted. “Quintessence is much more than a folk tale. Unlike the other elements, it has no physical qualities – it’s neither hot nor cold, wet or dry. It is incapable of change and yet always changing. It controls light and matter. It is the space between – but in a LIVING way.”
“Interesting.” Miriam was clearly impressed by my knowledge (and rightly so). Yet I noticed that she changed her tune a bit, when she asked meekly, “But, Azoth, I thought that Einstein’s Relativity dismissed aethyr?”
Aethyr – The Space Between?
“Wrong! Einstein attempted to dispute the existence of aethyr in his Special Theory of Relativity, yet even then his negative proof relied mainly upon an Occam’s razor – postulating that the existence of aethyr was not necessary to explain the gaps in the universe. However, later in life he corrected himself in the commentary to his General Theory of Relativity– wherein he admitted the logical need for aethyr.”
“Ah, John, did YOU have anything to do with his changing viewpoint?”
“No comment.” I smiled. (What, you think Einstein got all his grand ideas on his own?)
“What about all the other symbols you have painted here?”
“And those different colored roses? Is this place also a greenhouse?”
“Don’t be a fool – my lab is hardly a garden! The roses have their place in my work and the colors have meaning. Red means ‘passion.’ White – ‘purity.’ Yellow – ‘compassion.’ Orange – ‘optimism’ (and before YOU comment, it’s true, I don’t have many orange roses on purpose!). Blue – ‘promise.’ And the ones gilded with Gold mean ‘Perfection.’”
“And…” Miriam hesitated, “The Black ones?”
I paused a moment, wondering if I should speak the truth. In the end, I didn’t care enough to fight…
“The Withered Roses offer Death.”
“And you said you use these roses in your work?”
“I extract their essence as the backbone of certain experiments.”
“But why would you ever need the Black ones? Unless…”
And Miriam looked at me in horror, suddenly realizing that my most important secret of all…
“What do you want me to do?” I asked Miriam — who’d been pleading with me from the moment she arrived, over three hours ago.
“John, I’m at my wits end,” She replied. Miriam was still wearing her pandemic safety garb – disposable Hazmat suit, gloves, booties, and facial shield over her Nano Mask. She looked ridiculous in the getup but I knew she wore it around me because she knew I was a Covid-denier and thus likely infested with the virus. After fiddling with her mask, she barked at me. “John, all you do is sit there in your Laz-E-Boy with your arms folded and a sour expression on your face? Put down your beer and look at Alan!”
“This isn’t any ol’ brew, it’s a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale – only the finest beer in the world!” Even as I said it, I could see Miriam glowered behind her mask and face shield, so I slowly lowered my glass and glanced at Alan as she requested – I had to admit, he looked pretty bad as he lolled mindlessly in his chair – especially with that stupid mask Miriam on him.
Before I could comment more, Miriam was on me again, “You’re probably the only person in this world who can help. I need you to save him, John. Bring Alan back to us!”
“And then I suppose you’ll want me to help you to save the world, is that it? Let’s solve the Covid crisis once and for all, turn back the clock on our Climate disasters, give everyone unlimited money without making them work, and while we’re at is solve world hunger too. How does that sound? We’ll feel so good about everything in life. The sun will always shine, and unicorns will fly out of my butt when I pray? Is that what you want? ”
“Ugh, I don’t understand you?” Miriam whined. “Why have you given up on our mission? Why have you forsaken our Lord?”
“You think I have forsaken Him?” Now it was my turn to get angry. “What kind of a fool are YOU, Miriam? Take off your mask and open your eyes! It’s been nearly 2,000 years since He left. Yet He said He would fulfill His mission to us DURING our lifetimes? What a crock! If anyone has been abandoned it’s US!”
“John,” Miriam replied quietly. “Don’t forget that our lifetimes are still going. There is still time for Him to fulfill His promises. You just need to have faith. Remember, He said ‘I go to prepare a place for you. I will come ba–“
“Don’t throw that verse back in my face — I wrote that! And yet apparently I was deceived, because what I wrote is NOT true.”
“How can you say that?” Miriam’s eyes were wide in fear – I guess she didn’t realize how disillusioned I’d become these last few decades. “Your gospel is the most beloved of all. YOUR words have changed the world – for the better. Look at all the many millions who have been saved directly because of how you were able to capture the essence of The Teacher. You are the greatest Fisher of Men of us all, John.”
“What good has it done me? I am supposedly ‘the Apostle that Jesus loved.’ Yet what did it get ME? Am I with Him in paradise? No, instead He gave me this… wonderful curse of immortality. But with a worn out body to enjoy it in! Why? To sit here and see the world decay as a bunch of globalists turn us all into digital cattle? I’m tired of everything. I’m tired of waiting! When is He coming back? When?”
“I… I don’t know. But we can’t give up now. The Final Battle is on.”
“Don’t count on me. I’m done fighting.”
“Shall we accept the good from God but not the trouble?” Miriam tried to negate my words. Then, glancing at Alan, “John, regardless of how you feel about Our Lord, I’m asking you, as a friend, please help Alan. He needs you.”
“Take him to a doctor.” I waved her off. “Medicine has advanced quite a bit and they worship at the altar of Science now. These men like Dr. Flipflop and his ilk fancy themselves as gods and aren’t afraid to tell you so.”
“You know they can’t help him. He needs YOU, John.”
“Why ME?”
“Alan was forced to endure The Chair of Wrath!” Miriam screamed – as if I didn’t already know. “He is trying to kill himself from the inside out!”
I let Miriam’s words hang in the air for a moment as I pretended to ponder the situation – even though I had no intention of helping. But then…
Wait a second, old man. I thought to myself. Alan IS trying to kill himself — and he very well might succeed!
Once I made that connection, things changed for me.
I couldn’t bear to let Alan escape this life – not without me too!
“Interesting.” I nodded, playing it cool for Miriam, even though my scientific curiosity was now raging.
The moment lingered as I tried to convince myself that what I was about to do was worth the risk.
Miriam waited anxiously, tending to Alan, and I could sense that she was praying urgently inside her mind.
“Arg! I should be asleep already,” I blurted at last, “lying with the kings of the earth, men who built monuments for themselves, but which are now lying in ruins. Let me just be like Ozymandias — dead and forgotten and covered over with sand.”
I continue my rant for a bit, however Miriam didn’t bat an eye.
Tired of it all, at last I gave in to her, “Fine. You have your wish – bring him to my workshop.”
The Last Temptation of John 