Tag Archives: Psychic Probe

2.37 It’s Not You, It’s Me

Book II: Chapter 37
July 15

I watched as Alan and Miriam were led as prisoners through the secret corridors of the Vatican underworld. After his brutal beating, Alan was nearly unconscious, while Miriam’s face was the picture of confusion. It seemed clear to me that she didn’t recognize Cardinalate Marrollo — and the fact that his mind had earlier repelled her Psychic Probe must have been disconcerting indeed.

Was she perplexed by a man who was addressed as ‘His Majesty’ and yet was clearly not the Pope?

Cardinalate Marrollo

Who was this gang of monks willing to do his every bidding – up to and including brutal violence?

Most importantly, how could she and Alan escape?

Whatever Miriam might have thought, I had no way of knowing, and before she had time to figure out how to escape, suddenly Marrollo turned around in front of a service elevator and announced, “Benedict awaits.”

As it turned out, Pope Benedict XVI was indeed waiting for the prisoners in the conservatory of his private residence. And when Marrollo and his masked crew walked in, I noticed the smile on Joseph’s unmasked face – it was the picture of a certain underlying hunger he was unable to contain.

“Excellent…”

(Hmm, Joe was clearly eager to learn more about the intruders, but did he really care about secret treasures they’d allegedly stolen or was it something more… sinister?)

“So, who are our grave robbers?” The Pope asked casually, but when the group of monks separated to reveal their prisoners, Joe immediately changed his tone, “Get out — all but Marrollo and the prisoners!” When they hesitated he arose, “The Curse of the Angel of Death be upon you if you all don’t leave my presence this very instant!”

The priests hurried out of the room, the fear of God speeding their exit. Meanwhile, Miriam was left to try to help Alan get mask back on and then get into one of the chairs to rest, after which she stood silent, waiting.

As for Marrollo, although I couldn’t see his visage behind the mask, he seemed fairly unfazed as he approached the Pope. “I found this on the woman.” And here his left hand emerged from his robes as he handed over a small scroll.

(Now for some reason I had a fleeting thought that something was off about the way that Marrollo had just handed over his prize to Joe, yet before I could consider further the inkling was lost).

Marrollo added, “I have fulfilled my duties. You have the prisoners and that which they sought. I leave the remainder of the matter to you.”

Joseph looked long at the Cardinalate, before finally nodding his ascent. With the Pope’s approval, Marrollo turned around and left – without a further glance at his captives.

(Strange man, huh?)

Once they were alone, Joseph turned towards Miriam and Alan, “Do my eyes deceive me? Is it really you? Darling, you can remove that silly mask here, don’t you remember the Covid Rules don’t apply here.”

“I feel more comfortable with it on, thank you, Your Grace.” Miriam replied guardedly.

“Suit yourself. But I must say – how pleasant it is when brothers and sisters come together in unity, right?” Joseph smiled, but then, remembering the circumstances, “But what happened? You know you have full reign of my city; why would you ever need to sneak around behind my back? Unless… do you no longer trust ME?”

“No, it’s not that.” Miriam lied. “Well, you see, it’s just that… what we had to do… er, it didn’t really involve…”

“Enough!” The Pope slammed his fist.

“Let’s cut to the heart of the matter.” Pope Benedict continued. “The real reason you are here is… the time is now.” And before Miriam could reply, he added, “The Beast is Bill Bates in the form of Ghaz al’ Ridwan Ma’bus and we all know it.”

(Is it? I honestly don’t know anymore).

Miriam looked over at Alan who appeared to have recovered. Sitting up in his chair, ALan flashed a wink to Miriam, then nodded to The Pope.

“I can see that you agree.” Joe concluded

“But, why do YOU agree, Your Grace?” Alan asked.  

“Lazarus, how can you doubt that I would be informed about this situation? Why, ensuring The Second Coming is a matter of state around here. Come now, I represent an entire world of believers. The tapestry of history that my Catholic children have lived surely rivals what you, Mary, and John have done – despite your long lives.” And then, as if realizing it for the first time, “But wait, where is John?”

He chose not to come, Your Grace.” Alan explained sadly. “We still hold out hope that he will join us, but his participation is very much in question. You see, John is experiencing a period of doubt.”

“We all have our doubts. Frankly, I’m a bit upset with you for not coming to me sooner – it made me doubt the intelligence I’d received proclaiming BAVI, er, Bates as The Beast — for I knew that Satan’s son would not emerge with you three idling in the background. Do you realize that your hesitation has allowed the man calling himself Dr. Ma’bus extra time to secure his place?” And looking at Miriam he grumbled, “How many lives have been lost in your Book of Life?”

Miriam avoided his glance, “You know the final number is only 144,000. It cannot be avoided. And we are not there yet.”

“Then why do you cry about it? It is what it is. We all have our part to play and some of us will be required to die for the cause – that’s why it’s called ‘sacrifice.’ All that matters is the End Game.” And, with a snicker the Pope added, “Ah, but don’t worry about your own hesitation — because I have not been so idle. In fact, I’ve been orchestrating events behind the scenes and playing our moves to perfection. As a result, the outcome is inevitable – why Kasparov himself couldn’t have played a better game!”

Confident in his plans, Benedict said encouragingly, “Buck up, friends, keep your eye on the prize and remember what we’re playing for — our Lord is about to return! And WE are responsible for making it happen!”

(Is Joe really one of the Good Guys or is he just playing us?)

“Excuse us if we don’t quite share your exuberance.” Alan replied. “The game is not over, thus the outcome is far from certain.”

“It’s called ‘Faith,’ my friends. Try it for a change.” And before they could dispute him, Joe spoke on, “In any event, the fact of the matter is that Bates IS The Beast, the time IS now, and WE are responsible for stopping him.” And after the briefest of pauses to lick his lips, “Am I to assume that you have The Nails with you?”

(Oh, Joe, you sly dog!)

Miriam’s gaze fell into her lap, and Alan stuttered to reply, “We don’t have all three Nails anymore. Ah, er… Dr. Ma’bus… has mine.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry. How did it happen?” The Pope was clearly fishing.

Alan looked to Miriam for support and when she nodded, he took that as her approval for him to tell his tale, therefore he spent the next candlemark or so explaining the highlights of his capture and torture at the hands of Dr. Flipflop and Bill Bates. He talked about the Fallen Angels, about Bates’ devious plans, and even about the terrible Chairs of Woe.

Alan in the Chair of Woe

All the while Joe listened as if hearing the information for the first time.

(He is such a good actor – I guess it goes with the office).

In case you’re wondering, there was no point for Miriam to try her Psychic Probe on the Pope — this wasn’t the first time she and Joe had crossed paths – like me, she had known him for many years prior to his ascension to the papal throne. I remember one of her letters from a while back (one that I actually read) in which she described meeting an unusual clergyman whose mind was closed to her. In the letter, she warned Alan and I to keep an eye on this priest named Joseph Ratzinger. I didn’t pay it much mind back then (this was perhaps 50 years ago), but I guess Miriam’s inclination was right. And yet, I’m sure that, as she sat before him on this day, she was more than a little bitter than she couldn’t sift through the Pope’s mental fibers to find out if he was really a friend or a foe.

Just then I realized that I hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation…

“…see that you agree.” Joseph was saying. “But what I don’t understand is where are Mary and John’s Nails?”

“They are safe.” Miriam averred.

“Well, let me see them.”

“We don’t have them on us.”

“That’s preposterous! Considering what happened with Alan’s Nail, I should think that you would have them strapped to your side.  Come. Come. No lies. I know you have them, let’s see them.”

“Miriam speaks the truth.” Alan said. “Don’t worry, they are safe.”

“As safe as your Budapest bank vault? Alan. Mary. I have known you my whole life. I don’t understand what has happened between us. Why do you doubt me now? What have I done to make you think I am not who I really am?”

(Well for starters, Joe, you’ve been hanging around with Mystery. And you’re an open supporter of Ma’bus. And then there was my dream about you actually killing Ma’bus!)

“It’s not you,” Miriam began.

“Oh don’t you dare try to give me the it’s not you, it’s me speech.” The Pope interrupted. “I think you owe me a little more than that.”

“What do you want us to say?” Alan squirmed.

“I want the truth!” Joseph’s face grew red with anger.

“Then what would YOU do if you were in our position?” Miriam’s anger matched The Pope’s. “Why are you surprised if we are hesitant about you if all we see of you in the public eye is you palling around with Bates?” And with even more passion, “Joseph, surely you know that your actions are driving people around the world to follow this man Ma’bus – yet to us it seems as if they were merely sheep being led to the slaughter!”

“Ah, but most of them are.” The Pope was grinning from ear to ear and his eyes were suddenly blazing with fire.

(What? Joe, say it ain’t so? Are you revealing yourself as The Beast?!?)


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38 – Prepare the Way for the Lord
Book II Table of Contents

2.36 Friar Tuck’s UNMerry Men

Book II: Chapter 36
July 15

Bored out of my mind, at last I watched as Alan followed Miriam out of the cubby they’d been hiding in and back into the wooden stall they started from yesterday, and then out from there and into the Chapel of the Choir at St. Peter’s Basilica. Once more they were masked, gloved, and wearing their Covid QR Passes.

Miriam took a quick walk to the chapel’s entrance and, when she felt comfortable that the coast was clear, she motioned Alan to follow. I watched as they blended into a nearby tour group that was on its way to the piazza. Here Alan took a deep breath and then proceeded forward.

Unfortunately his happy attitude was short lived – for as the tour group began leaving the atrium to exit the basilica, he and Miriam were suddenly awash in a new wave of people – a group of masked monks who surrounded them and, covertly yet forcibly, moved my friends towards the Patio of Saint Gregory the Illuminator.

“The 4 Monks” by Rinaldi

“What’s going on?” Alan asked the clergymen holding his arms.

“Resistance is futile.” One of the priests replied stoically, as he and his rank continued to maneuver their captives into an elevator.

“But we’ve already seen The Dome.” Miriam protested, still playing the part of tourist.

“Don’t worry, madam,” the same priest spoke again, “you’re not going Up.”

And with that, he inserted a key into the elevator panel and and caused the lift to go in a direction the public never went – Down.

“Oh joy,” Alan quipped, “yet another secret locale. I’ve had about enough of all this covert maneuvering for one day.”

None of the monks replied to that comment, but soon enough the ride was over and the priests forced their prey out into a dim corridor.

“Kneel!” The lead monk barked. “Kneel before The Hand of God!”

(Ah, that’s a bit over dramatic, don’t you think?)

From out of nowhere a menacing figure emerged – his presence oozing of an ancient <power>.

He was a mass of black robes – layers of heavy fabric obscuring his true form; and curiously enough, his face was hidden by a venetian mask – a full-face Carne Ricci, with golden highlights around the curved mouth, raised eyebrows, black fabric folds pluming out in all directions above the mask’s forehead, and pearls to outline the trim work. (Like all other face masks, it was more for show than for protection against any virus, but at least the Carne Ricci didn’t claim to be anything other than it actually was).

The person wearing the mask was none other than Cardinalate Giovanni Marrollo – the new Confuto Penitentiary of The Vatican

(Oh no, not this crazy mite again).

The cascade of robes that graced the macabre figure made it seem as if he were gliding over the walkway towards Alan and Miriam, and he didn’t stop his approach until he was nearly on top of them.

I saw suddenly Miriam blanch white and guessed that she had just tried using her Psychic Probe but was repelled – clearly not a good omen.

“Don’t look up to your superior, dog!” Their clergyman captor yelled, while his cohorts forced Alan and Miriam to bow their heads.

At last, the mystery man spoke, “I believe you have something that belongs to me?” And he held out his hand to Miriam.

Miriam kept her head down. “I don’t know what you’re talk—“

<SMACK!> One of the monks struck Alan with a vicious slap, knocking off his mask and sending him to the ground in a heap. Before Alan could yelp out in pain, his attacker laid into him with multiple kicks to the midsection while the other monks struggled to hold him open to more blows – and all the while Marrollo looked upon the scene in stoic silence.

“STOP!” Miriam screamed. “STOP!!” She shook an arm free in order to reach into her pocket and pull out the Doomsday Missive.

“Ah, good.” The mystery man said as he accepted the scroll Miriam held out to him. “I was afraid you were going to make me ask you twice. That would not have turned out well for your friend here.”

For his part, Alan was trying hard to catch his breath as he struggled to put back on his mask. The side of his face was torn, his ear on that side was puffy and red, and I wouldn’t be surprised if one of his ribs was broken from those vicious kicks. Nonetheless, it was the look of dejection on his face that caught me most – disappointed to see that Miriam had just given up the object they had worked so hard to retrieve.

Meanwhile Marrollo cast but a glance at the scroll, and quickly pulled it into the overhanging sleeve of his right arm. “Well and good. Shall we?”

“Where are we going?” Miriam asked, as the guards forced them up.

<SMASH!> At a signal from the robed man, one of the monks pummeled Alan with a right cross to the jaw – buckling the professor’s knees and throwing his mask askew again.

Marrollo turned back to address Miriam, “I’d prefer that you not speak unless spoken to. But, since I was of a mind to tell you the answer to that question anyway, I’ll respond – after all, there is only one thing to do with you…” And he let the thought hang invitingly.

Luckily for Alan’s sake, Miriam didn’t take the bait and after it became obvious that she was not going to speak up – and thus give the monks a chance to further abuse Alan.

At last the cardinal snickered, “I see that you learn quickly. In any event, you’ve been caught stealing priceless artifacts and the penalty for that offense is death.” And here he paused again, as if he had something distasteful in his mouth, before he continued with a sigh. “Nonetheless, only the Pope can deliver the verdict. And unfortunately it won’t be my puppet Francis; instead you’ll be taken to Benedict immediately so he can pronounce your fate.” Then in a more chipper tone, “After that, you’ll be given back to Friar James and his crew. They will oversee your… execution.”


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37 – It’s Not You, It’s Me
Book II Table of Contents

2.19 The Word Became Flesh

Book II: Chapter 19
July 11

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 himand 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.”

(Can you say, ‘Yikes!?!’)


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20 – The Substitute
Book II Table of Contents