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Post by Publicist on Sept 2, 2016 12:27:35 GMT -5
 MINISERIES CAST
(In order of appearance)
Father Brandon Knight ... Ace Watson (2 Episodes)
Anka de Jarius (Hexx) ... Kenzi Grey (7 Episodes)
Hot Church Girl/Afflicted Woman/Dead Girl #7 ... Brittany Williams (3 Episodes)
Pushy Church Guy/Fireman #2/Uniformed Officer/Silent Disciple/Murdering Roman #16/Handsome Centurion/Roman Door Guard/Concerned Roman Citizen #3/Decapitated Centurion/Indifferent Mongol/Villager in Paradise ... Parker Van Peters (7 Episodes)
Reaver ... Melissa Reeves (1 Episode)
Vixxxen ... Katie Anderson (1 Episode)
Fire Chief "Charlie" ... Bruno Alexis (1 Episode)
Detective Stacey Jordan ... Nina Stokes (1 Episode)
Scarred Centurion … Chris Andrew (2 Episodes)
Arella ... Orchid (2 Episodes)
Raphael ... Phoenix Chambers (1 Episode)
Daria Knight ... Missy (1 Episode)
CREW
Director ... DubbleFC
Screenplay ... Ron B.
Produced by ... CTN Television Studios
Casting ... Maleek Raheem
Music ... Pedophiles Candy
Chapter I: The Beginning
Empire City was a sprawling metropolis like nothing the world had ever seen. Towering spires of aluminum and glass reached high into the heavens, their mirrored surfaces reflecting the clearest of blue skies. The massive walled city stretched for hundreds of hundreds of miles, a mix of urban sprawl, bustling suburbs, and lush wilderness. The massive city had risen from the mighty and ancient city of Rome, enduring for centuries and outlasting all other dynasties. While others collapsed into ruin, Empire City prospered and flourished, putting it’s faith in the multitude of Gods and Goddesses that made up its fabled pantheon.
People had come to the city from all walks of life to escape the wastelands beyond. Their societies had failed them…their Gods had not been as powerful as those that had protected Empire City. Jupiter, Neptune, Juno, Mars, Venus and the savior of Rome itself, the mighty Superious. Temples erected to these titans were as numerous as the stars in the sky…but those fabled Gods and Goddess of old had begun to fade into myth. Empire City was changing…but not for the better.
New Gods had begun to emerge…at least gods among men. Meta-humans, some with powers beyond belief. These powerful beings had crippled the once shining city, casting a dark shadow over its glorious past as a darker future began to emerge. Prayers to the Gods of old went unanswered and soon people began to abandon the old ways…the old beliefs…until all but one remained; The Church of the One God. This religion was as old as Rome…older even, advocating the existence of a single all-powerful God…a God with a plan for us all. However, even those dwindling number of believers had come under attack. Empire City’s new Gods were jealous and now sought to stamp out what remained of the city’s hope…
Madison ChapelEmpire City
Chapter II: Faithless
Father Brandon Knight wiped his brow as he looked about the ever-shrinking congregation. Over the past few months he had watched as One God followers had slowly deserted the faith. The emergence of meta-humans had shaken the core of the church just as it had all but destroyed the belief in the many-Gods faith. Making matters worse, One God Churches throughout the city had now come under direct attack as a series of fires had ravaged them, scaring off what remained of their remaining faithful. Brandon did not blame them…it had become harder and harder to believe in the word as these meta-humans squeezed the life from the city, destroying their way of life. Even his own belief was beginning to crack under the tremendous weight.
He spoke the words…he read from the books…but his heart was no longer in it. He hoped that those who had remained faithful could not see the conflict within him. Regardless of whether the One God existed or not…the few that believed depended on him and came regularly to hear him and draw what strength they could. Their numbers were so few that now he knew mostly all of their faces. The young and the old, all rapt with attention…all hanging on his every word…believers all…all except one…
The young girl with the raven black hair and the caramel skin had been coming for weeks. She always sat alone in the back and listened to each and every sermon. She was never disruptive, but he could tell from the sour looks she gave that she was not among the faithful. Why did she come? Did she want to believe? He doubted it, at times he preached his sermons just for her in the hopes that he would reach her, but she had no more passion for his words than he himself had. It was perplexing…amazingly perplexing.
On this day, as he finished yet another less than enthusiastic sermon, he had made up his mind to meet this curiosity among his flock. As he finished, he turned over responsibility to Jacob Phills, his alter boy, as he hurried down to try to catch the girl before she vanished as she always did. He politely pushed his way through the members all seeking to bend his ear, excusing himself until he finally caught her at the door. “Miss! Please!!” He reached for her, barely touching her arm. The girl turned abruptly, her brow knitted tightly as she glared at him. Brandon raised his hands, “Sorry…please forgive me. I only meant to speak with you.” The girl’s intense gaze softened, but only just barely as she stood back and folded her arms across her chest in a most defensive manner. “Father…” she said, with callousness dripping from her tongue, “…I listened to your lies with the rest of the fools for well over and hour. What more could you possibly have to say?”
Brandon tried not to be taken aback by the woman’s brashness, but it was not quite the reception that he expected. He took a deep breath, and nodded, “I get it…you’re not a believer…”
The girl’s big brown eyes searched his face as she stood there in silence. Finally she cocked her head to the side and gave the smallest smile. She leaned in as she whispered to him. “I’m not a non-believer Father…I know that the One God exists.”
This was even more confusing, “What? I…I mean…you don’t seem to be into it very much. I was just wondering why you continued to come. I see you here, week in and week out. I just wanted to know…why?”
The girl’s smile turned cold, “I came to see His churches die. You have to know, yours is one of the last…”
Brandon’s blood ran cold as he looked into her eyes and saw the malice there. He stepped towards her, his old instincts taking hold, “Are you the one? Are you the one burning the churches?”
The girl stepped back, staring at him with her fists tightly balled at her sides. “You don’t even believe anymore Father…I can hear it in your voice! Why do you even care?”
Brandon stood there, staring at her, rooted to the ground by her question to him. He had wanted to grab her and hold her there until the police could come and question her for her suspicious behavior and her damning words, but something stayed his hand…something he could not quite understand. Even as he spoke, it was this new and strange sensation that now moved him and guided his words, “He still cares for you…he cares for us all.”
The girl stumbled back with the oddest expression on her face. It was as if she had seen a ghost. Before he could follow, the girl turned and dashed from the church, throwing open the doors as she barreled through them. For a moment, he stood there stunned and unsure why, but as soon as his senses returned he ran after her. He ran through the doors only a few moments afterwards, but the girl was nowhere to be seen. He looked left and right, but the streets were nearly empty. He ran his fingers over his head, unsure of how he could have possibly missed her.
As the rest of the parishioners exited, he reluctantly turned his attention to them. Shaking their hands and doing his best to not appear as confused by the earlier encounter as he actually was. What had happened…what had he experienced?
Madison Chapel
Empire City
Chapter III: A Time to Kill
Brandon sat in his study inside the church later that night, his mind still on the encounter with the girl. He had stared at the phone for hours, contemplating picking it up and calling the police…but something stayed his hand. Was it the same invisible force that had moved him to say the words he had spoken to the girl…the words that had so affected them both? He put his hands together…his fingers slowly remembering their old form as he bowed his head for the first time in months and spoke to his Father, “God…please, give me a sign…something. Show me that I’m on the right path, I…”
He paused as he felt eyes on him, turning to find Jacob there with a broad, yet apologetic smile on his face. “I’m sorry Father…it’s just been so long since I’ve seen you pray.”
Brandon couldn’t help but to smile at the boy, “It’s been too long Jacob…it’s been much too long.” He waved for Jacob to run along, “Go, finish up out front and head on home for the night, okay?”
Jacob’s face lit up as he let out a loud “YES!” and ran to the front to finish tidying up.
Brandon turned back and tried to renew his prayer, but his mind was consumed with thoughts of the young girl who had affected him so. He spoke aloud, “…another time Father.” He sighed as he picked up the phone and dialed the number to the Empire City Police Department’s Detective’s Division, it was a number he knew by heart. He waited as the phone went to voice mail, “Hey…Stacey, it’s me…Brandon. I wanted to call you about a girl I saw today. I…I’m not sure, but she may have something to do with the church burnings. I…”
CRASH!
Brandon stood, startled by the sound and then Jacob calling for him…
“HELP!! FATHER BRANDON!! PLEASE!!”
Brandon dropped the phone and ran out, pulling up short as he saw a most curious sight…and one that made his blood run cold. Jacob stood in the clutches of two women…or what might have otherwise passed as women. These two weren’t humans…they were metas. The taller of the two held Jacob in her clutches, lifting him easily off the floor with one hand…long vicious looking claws aimed at the boy’s throat. The woman’s companion with long flowing black locks of hair…and in her hands danced ethereal blue flames, produced from thin air.
Brandon shuddered, “W-What in God’s name…”
The clawed woman spoke up, “God? Goddesses you mean, right?” Both women laughed as they looked at one another. “Maybe you should get down on your knees and start praying to us? Isn’t that what you do…priest?!”
Brandon bolstered himself, trying to find the strength to confront the two, even as his eyes searched for a weapon he could use if need be. “Please…let the boy go.”
“GET DOWN ON YOUR KNEES PREACHER MAN!” The tall woman with the claws screamed. “I’ll tear out his fucking heart!”
Brandon collapsed onto his knees as quickly as he could, doing whatever it took to save the boy. “HERE! PLEASE! LET HIM GO…I…I beg you!”
The tall woman laughed as she looked over at her partner, “Did you hear him Vixey? He wants us to let him go.”
The dark haired woman smiled as the fire she made sent shadows dancing across her face. “Should we do it Ree? Should we let him go?”
The taller woman smiled viciously, “I think we should…we should let him go…” Before Brandon could even process what he was seeing, the woman with the claws tossed Jacob into the air as her partner hurled a ball of blue flame at the screaming boy…
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”
Brandon’s scream was drowned out as the fire hit Jacob’s careening body and it went up like a Roman candle, crashing into the wooden pews and sending them up in a magnificent ball of fire that immediately began to consume everything around it. Brandon jumped to his feet and ran towards the spot where Jacob had fallen, but the flames were too intense and all he could do was fall back with his hands up to protect his horror-stricken face. As he stumbled back, he felt himself lifted off his feet.
The woman with the claws held him easily off the floor with one hand as his feet dangled. She put her claws to his throat, “We let him go…just like you wanted. Do you want us to let you go as well, Preacher Man?”
The doors to the church were thrown open behind them and as they turned, only Brandon recognized the girl who stepped inside…the girl from earlier. Was she with them?
“Who th’ fuck are you girlie?” the tall one asked, answering the question that Brandon had wondered.
The girl looked at Brandon, then back to the two women, “I came for the Priest…you can burn the rest. I don’t care.”
The dark haired woman stepped towards the girl, holding out her arms as the flames in the palms of her hands intensified. “What’s to stop us from burning you too bitch?!”
“GET OUT OF HERE GIRL! YOU RU…OWWWWW” Brandon’s attempt to tell the girl to go was cut short as one of the woman’s long claws dug deep into his shoulder.
“I warned you.” the girl said, almost plainly as she stalked towards the two.
The dark haired woman snickered as she reared back and hurled a bright blue ball of fire at the girl. Brandon’s mouth dropped open as he watched the girl shrug her shoulders and massive feathered wings seemed to materialize, folding in front of her and deflecting the fire away, sending it high into the rafters. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who was left in a state of shock.
The breath was nearly knocked out of Brandon as he was unceremoniously dropped to the floor by the clawed assassin. He grimaced as he tried to catch his breath, watching as partner hurled ball after ball of flame that was warded away with ease, the last one smacked away and sent careening back at the woman, hitting her in an explosion of flames that sent her crashing into the pulpit.
The dark haired woman screamed as her partner rushed to her side, trying to get through the flames that blossomed all around her partner who had been knocked nearly unconscious. Brandon struggled to get up, but the pain in his shoulder hit him like a speeding truck and he fell to his knees. He felt himself being lifted, even as the billowing feathers of the girl’s magnificent wings shielded him from the licking flames. He looked over as the girl glanced at him, “On your feet Father…unless you’re ready to meet Him face to face tonight.”
Brandon found his strength as he got to his feet, trying to move as quickly as he could. Suddenly he was knocked to the floor and sent skidding into the wall. He looked up as he saw the woman with the vicious claws riding the back of the winged girl, screaming like a lunatic as she slashed at her with the razors at the ends of her fingertips. Brandon’s breath caught in his throat as he heard the girl scream and then gurgle as her throat was slashed, blood spraying like a fountain. She fell to the floor and the tall woman drove her claws into the girl’s chest again and again, ripping and tearing at her in a rage.
Brandon scurried back against the wall as the woman turned on him, flicking the blood and gore from her claws. She started to bare down on him, “NOW YOU DIE PREACHER MAN!!” Before she could reach him, the creaking of beams giving way caused her to jump back. A portion of the roof collapsed and fell between them. The woman started to go over the burning ruin, but the screams of her partner caused her to pull up short. She turned to the cries behind her, then turned and looked at him one last time, hissing as she disappeared into the darkness.
Brandon got to his feet, running for the door…then he paused, and looked back inside…to the place where the miracle he had been waiting for lay in a ruined heap. It was a sign…it was proof…proof that would restore the hopes of the people everywhere.
He covered his head as he dashed back inside…
Madison ChapelEmpire City
Chapter IV: The Morning After
As firefighters began to sift through the ashes of what remained of Madison Chapel, many of the police who had arrived on the scene were forced to turn their attention to keeping onlookers out of what could have been a potential crime scene. A pair of soot covered firemen came running out of the burned out husk of the church and spoke with the Fire Chief, who acknowledged what they said with a grim nod. He sent the pair on their way and walked over to a plain-clothes police officer leaning against an unmarked squad car.
“Well sweetheart… you might want to call all the boys with the yellow tape…there’s a body inside.” He tipped his hat to her. “Your show now Detective…”
“I’m going to need a fire investigator from you Charlie. Get me Sweeny if you can.”
The Fire Chief stroked the beard stubble on his chin. “Sweeny’s working a case on the Upper-East side…” he grinned at her “…but maybe I could…”
She held up her hand, obviously in no mood to play games with him. “Get me Sweeny. I want this shit done right. That crap up town can wait. Some rich kids playing with matches!” She turned to the church and frowned. “This isn’t an accident… it’s murder…”
The Fire Chief stood beside her, surveyed the damage with a nod. “The church burnings from a few months back.” He sighed. “You know that the City isn’t going to waste a whole lot of time on this thing. One God Churches…not so popular these days…”
She nodded. “I know, then again, neither is murder.” She turned back to him one last time, her large eyes flashing in the lights of the emergency vehicles. “Call in Sweeny…do whatever you have to. I need to know what happened here tonight.”
He nodded. “Okay Stacey, I’ll smooth it over with the Department.”
She gave him a slight smile and a curt nod as she walked back around and got inside her car. She sat there for a moment, staring at the remains of the church, her mind wandering back to a time when she herself was a member here.
Stacey Jordan had grew up in this area of town. She had attended regular services at this very Chapel as a child…before things had changed and people had turned their faith elsewhere. Those had been happy times for her, but she hadn’t thought back to them in several years. Her job had become all-consuming and now there was little time to spend reminiscing in the old neighborhood. She channeled most of her effort into keeping the place from tearing itself apart. The destruction of this church was like the driving of the final nail in the coffin for this area of town. Hardly anyone gave a damn about Madison before, and now if she was right, the last man that did care was dead.
She picked up her radio and called in. “Dispatch, this is Detective Jordan, we need to wrap this place up. I’ll need three additional units and a meatwagon down here. I’ll also need you to get me the last known address on someone…Brandon Knight…” She paused. “…and his next of kin.”
Madison Village East
Empire City
Chapter V: Where the Path Leads Next…
Several blocks away, Brandon stood by his window, watching as fire department units finished extinguishing the fire at his church. He could see police and firemen milling around what remained of the place where his church once stood…along with the body of Jacob Phills. That was more agonizing to him than the loss of a building of wood and plaster. Given the chance…he’d rebuild the church. However, the life that was lost tonight, that could never be replaced.
He turned and looked at the bloodstained body on his couch, her wings splayed out. He didn’t know why he had pulled her body from the building. At first he had thought that he’d use it as proof that God and his angels did actually exist, but in the end he had decided against it. He had carried her body away from the scene under the cover of darkness. As he stood looking at her now, the question of what came next loomed large.
There were two questions that needed answering;
Why were the churches of the One God being targeted, and who had sent the assassins who not only had orders to burn the place to the ground, but to do it with him still inside?
There was no doubt that the two were interconnected. If you answered one… the answer to the other wouldn’t be far behind. All the same, he was still no closer to answering either of them. Even though his faith was now as strong as it had ever been…despair seemed unavoidable.
He walked over to the couch and stood over the girl’s angelic form. Her body was slender of build with a light colored complexion. He knelt down beside her and reached up to pull the long dark curls of hair from her face. Even though her face was burned, he could see what a beauty she had once been…now far removed from the angry young girl who sat in the back of his church and mocked him. She was every bit as lovely has he would have imagined an angel would be, right down to her wings, that were still pristine despite the intensity of the blaze.
Brandon wondered what it all meant…if it meant anything at all, yet one thing did remain, he’d have to put her body somewhere else before long. It wouldn’t take the police long to come looking for him to inform him of the fire. The question would be whether he would tell them what had really happened there or not. This body would be convincing evidence in his favor…but what would become of it once he told his story? The idea of it being violated by someone less reverent than himself horrified him, even more than the thought of telling a lie to cover it all up.
He grimaced as he made up his mind. The body had to be hidden away for now. He reached underneath her, but even as he did, her huge wings seemed to tremble, then flick outward. Brandon was flung across the room like a rag doll, as he slammed against the far wall. He grabbed the back of his head and neck and held it in pain as he fought the approaching brain fog that threatened to send him down into unconsciousness. For a moment he thought that he was in the midst of a dream and his mouth fell open in a mixture of surprise and fear.
Even as the wings trembled and fluttered, the woman’s body arched upward, contorting horribly. Her wounds seemed to burn white hot as a light so brilliant that it couldn’t be looked at shown through them. Brandon was forced to cover his ears as a piercing scream escaped her which seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at once.
Brandon attempted to cover his ears as he fell to the floor and closed his eyes. For a moment he couldn’t tell whether the ear shattering noise had ended or not. His entire body seemed to resonate with the sound. Cautiously, he removed his hands as he looked up and saw the woman down on the floor on her hands and knees, looking directly into his eyes.
“My God!” Even as Brandon scrambled back, she rose from the floor and up to the back of the chair, as her wings buffeted the room. Brandon staggered against the wall and stood there taking in the entirety of the scene. The woman’s face and body was again unmarred, only dried blood spatters and burned torn clothing remained to tell of what had happened to her.
The woman looked down at herself, then moved an arm to cover her exposed breasts. Her large hazel eyes, which seemed to glow with an unnatural light of their own, settled on him. “Do you have a shirt Father?”
Brandon didn’t move or even breathe as he stood there, awestruck. Finally he was able to speak. “W-who…who are y-you…?”
She merely glared back at him. “The half-naked woman in your house…asking for a shirt…”
Several minutes later, Brandon stood outside his bedroom door as he waited for his unusual houseguest to finish showering. He stood there fiddling with his hands, eager to see her again…eager to speak with her. When he heard the water shut off from the shower he called out to her from behind the closed door. “I have clean shirts hung up in the closet to the left of the bathroom door. Feel free to help yourself to whatever you like…anything, anything at all…”
He waited for a reply, but it only came in the form of the closet door opening. He nodded as he kneaded his hands nervously. “I-I have so many questions for you. I’ve waited for what seems like a lifetime for this. I feel like Moses, when he stood on the mountain and spoke to God!” He smiled to himself. “You probably have no idea.” He smirked, “Well, I suppose you were there…you probably do.”
Finally there came a reply from behind the door. “I suppose I’m not quite as easy to impress as you are…”
He chuckled. “Yes…after standing in presence of the Almighty…the rest must certainly pale in comparison.” He struggled to find the words. “You know…I…”
KNOCK… KNOCK… KNOCK!!
His heart leapt into his throat as he heard the loud banging on his door. Brandon couldn’t remember the last time that he entertained a guest here, or if he ever had at all. Jacob was the only person who had ever come there. Now that he was dead…
KNOCK… KNOCK… KNOCK!!
The knocking became more urgent and he turned to the bedroom door and whispered as softly as he could. “Wait there, I’ll deal with it and send them away…”
KNOCK… KNOCK… KNOCK!!
“MR. KNIGHT…EMPIRE CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT! OPEN THE DOOR!”
Brandon paused, but he already knew what this was about. The burning of the church…and Jacob’s body left inside. They would want to talk to him, might even take him downtown to talk. It was the last thing that he wanted, but it would have to be done, sooner or later. He started to head to the door when he glanced over at the couch and saw the bloody smears all over the sofa cushions. Outside the door he heard the jingle of keys.
“There’s no answer… open it up…”
Brandon called out. “I’M HERE!! ONE MOMENT!!” He pulled off the bloodstained throw cover and hid it behind the sofa. Next he hurriedly flipped the cushions over, doing what he could to cover the mess that had been left there.
KNOCK… KNOCK… KNOCK!!
“MR. KNIGHT! COME TO THE DOOR!”
Brandon ran to the door and opened it. “I’m very sorry officer I…” He paused as he saw Detective Jordan standing there beside another uniformed officer. Immediately his demeanor changed. “Stacey…I…I haven’t seen you in…”
Stacey turned to the uniformed officer and dismissed him. She turned back to him with a relieved look on her face. “It’s been a long time…but, I have bad news. Can I come in?”
“Well, I…” Stacey had started to walk in, but she paused as she looked at the couch. He saw her staring at it and he quickly moved to straighten it up. “I haven’t had a chance to straighten up and…”
“Brandon? Who’s there?”
He froze in fear as he heard the door open behind him and the sound of footsteps coming from the bedroom. He turned, expecting to have to explain what was sure to be the unexplainable to a shocked police detective, but instead he was the one who was shocked. His guest walked out of the bedroom wearing nothing but one of his shirts that came down just pass the middle of her thighs. Her hair hung down in long lovely dark curls. However, what was more striking, her broad wings…were gone.
Brandon was totally speechless as she walked over to him and threw an arm around him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She turned her attention to Stacey who began to blush noticeably. “Who is this honey?” She looked at him playfully. “You aren’t messing around on me are you?”
Stacey looked at her and then at Brandon, then back again before she managed to say anything. “Err…I’m Stacey…Detective Stacey Jordan, Empire City Police.”
She stuck her hand out and shook Stacey’s hand. “Anka…” She looked at Brandon quizzically and then back to Stacey. “…what’s this about officer? Has something happened?”
Stacey stared at the woman a few moments more and then turned back to Brandon. “It’s the chapel… it burned to the ground last night. I’m surprised you didn’t see or hear it from here…but…I guess you were a bit busy.” She watched his reaction and then she continued. “We found a body inside. I was worried that…” She paused and then corrected herself. “We thought that you might have been there.”
Anka quickly spoke up. “No…Brandon was here with me last night.” She looked at Stacey pointedly. “Do you know who it is? Whether or not it was an accident?”
Stacey looked at Anka again, studying her face even as she answered. “No…we don’t have any information yet, but I’ve put the best investigator available on it.” She paused for a moment as she attempted to gauge what she was seeing. “I was going to have you come to the station and give us a statement…but…” She looked at the woman standing by his side. “…if you’ve been here since last night…” She looked back at Brandon. “…together.”
Brandon hated lying, especially to Stacey, but this was an evil that he would have to commit for now. “Yes…we were here…all night.” He found it difficult to look her in the eye as he told the lie, but he managed. “Just let me know what you need me to do?”
“Just come to the station later…” She turned to Anka. “…both of you…Ms.?”
Anka smiled curtly. “Jarius.”
Stacey nodded and turned back to Brandon. “Fine then, I look forward to seeing you both at three?”
Brandon nodded. “Yes, three is fine, I…” Before he could finish, Stacey turned and walked off and he watched her go until she rounded the corner.
Anka arched her eyebrow. “Hummm…feel that sexual tension! Do you feel that? I felt it!” She grinned at Brandon. “Aren’t you suppose to spare the rod Father?”
Brandon sighed as he closed the door and turned to her. “Anka Jarius...what is that, Hebrew?” He looked at her and nodded. “And the trick with the wings…?”
She shrugged her shoulders as they seemed to appear and disappear again through the ragged tear that was now visible in the back of his shirt. “Sorry about that…” She patted him on his shoulder, avoiding the bandaged one. “…but you know what they say Father, the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.”
Brandon turned to her and stared at her oddly. “What kind of angel are you?”
She threw back her head and gave a hollow and mirthless laugh. “Angel? I’m no angel darling…I’m about as far from it as you can get.”
Brandon frowned. “But the wings…you came back…you came back from the dead!”
Anka perched herself on the arm of his chair. “A curse...some sort of hex placed on me by your Father. His idea of a joke.” She looked away and gave another laugh, though halfhearted at best. “He’s got one Hell of a sense of humor doesn’t he?”
Brandon came over and knelt down beside her. “I don’t understand…I mean, what’s going on here?”
She shook her head and looked at him pointedly. “I told the others like you to give up trying to convert people but they didn’t listen. There’s not much more to it than that.”
“But why are you here? What do you have to do with what’s happened? What role do you have to play in God’s plan for me?”
The look on Anka’s face grew deadly serious. “If you’re lucky…none at all! Like I told you before, He has a sense of humor that I doubt you’ll find very appealing. If barely getting out of that place last night with your life wasn’t enough for you, maybe you could take a trip out that window and find out just how funny He can be, face to face.”
Brandon glared at her. “What are you saying? Is this some sort of test?!!” He stood up indignantly. “My faith won’t be shaken! Not again! CERTAINLY NOT NOW!!”
Anka got to her feet as well and stared at him. “Then you’re a goddamn fool!” She rolled her eyes, “The last righteous man in all of Empire City…” She gazed up towards the heavens. “…you haven’t lost your touch at all.” She looked back into his eyes… “The question now is, are you fool enough to stay on the path…even without knowing what He has in store for you next? I tell you this Father, if I had known a fraction of what I do now…when I died…I would have never wished to be brought back!” Anka’s gaze broke from him as the smallest chuckle escaped from her. “What a fucking joke…He still cares for you…He cares for us all…”
Brandon stared at her, remembering the words that he had spoken when he first met her, before the church burned. “Tell me…tell me your story…I want to know…all of it…”
She looked at him, all manner of emotions crossing her face all at once. Finally she looked away and she nodded, “You want to know my story…you want to know of the cruelty of our Father? Very well…take a seat…it’s not exactly what I’d call a short story…”
EPISODE CREDITS
CAST (In order of appearance)
Father Brandon Knight … Ace Watson
Anka Jarius … Kenzi Grey
Hot Church Girl … Brittany Williams
Pushy Church Guy … Parker Van Peters
Jacob Phills … Emos Dikdaed
Ree (Reaver) … Melissa Reeves
Vixey (Vixxxen) … Katie Anderson
Fireman #2 … P.V. Peters
Fire Chief “Charlie” … Bruno Alexis
Detective Stacey Jordan … Nina Stokes
Uniformed Officer … P. Van Peters
Directed by … DubbleFC
Screenplay by … Ron B.
Produced by … CTN Television Studios
Casting by … Maleek Raheem
Music by … Pedos Candy |
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Post by Publicist on Sept 4, 2016 15:11:50 GMT -5
The Far Distant Past
The Shores Near the Sea of Galilee
Chapter XII: Blessed Child of Ages (Part 1)
The wind blew cool across the sandy expanse, with the sun hanging low in the sky. A young girl, of no more than six, played by herself as she drew pictures in the sand. A long shadow approached and the girl looked up with a smile for him as she called out in a foreign tongue. “PAPA!!”
The girl ran to her father and hugged him tightly, the course hair of his beard feeling prickly against her soft skin. He knelt down beside her and looked at her drawings in the sand. “My daughter… you are becoming quite the young artist! Tell me, what do we have here?”
The girl smiled as she hopped down off his lap and pointed at what amounted to a circle with sticks coming out of it. “That is a cow…” The man arched his brow, but said nothing. Next, she pointed to long line with spines drawn along its side. “That right there…” She explained. “…that’s the moon!”
The man scratched his beard as he peered down at the pictures, unable to figure out what any of them were. His daughter would one day make some man a fine wife, but so long as her duties didn’t include drawing… she’d be okay. The man took up a stick and began tracing out his own pictures on the ground. He drew a triangle and pointed to it. “Do you know what this is?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “A tree?”
The man laughed. “No… it’s not a tree… it’s the symbol for man.”
The girl looked down at the picture and snickered. “It doesn’t LOOK like a boy to me Papa… it looks like a tree!”
He hadn’t seen any trees that looked like that, then again he hadn’t seen any cows that looked like the one she had drawn either… but maybe she had. Who was he to dispute her? He drew another triangle at the top of the other one, this one pointed down as the two tops touched. “This is the symbol for woman…” He continued to add to it, drawing arms sticking out the side and feet hanging out of the bottom, then finally topping it with a smiley face on top… with bits of hair hanging down. “There!!” When he was finished, there was a rather crude looking figure that appeared to be wearing a dress. “This is a picture of you. Made up from me…” He pointed to one triangle. “…and your mother.” He pointed to the other triangle. The girl giggled as he drew a pair of large wings on her back. “There!”
The girl sneered. “Papa, I’m not a bird! I’m a little girl!”
He shook his head. “No… you’re my little angel… and don’t you ever forget that!”
She hugged him tightly for a moment, then let go as she took the stick. “I want to try!” She knelt down and drew one triangle, then drew another inverted triangle directly over top of the first, ending up with a rather odd looking six-pointed star. She paused and looked at what her father had drawn and then what she had just drawn. “Oh! I messed it up!”
She started to erase the image, but her father stopped her. “Wait! Look what you made. This image… this hexagram…” He drew a circle around it. “…this is the fusion between man and woman… the divine mind.” He looked at her. “This is a very complex symbol, the hexagram, it contains a lot of power…” He smiled at her as he touched her nosed playfully. “…very difficult to draw so well! Perhaps you will be an artist after all!”
The girl looked down at the symbol and smiled. “What did you call it Papa? A Hextagrain?”
He smiled. “Hex-a-gram…”
“YES!! Hextagram…” She repeated, though still not getting it quite right. “I like it… it’s pretty… like a flower!”
The man smiled as he lifted her up and kissed her. “Not so pretty as you Anka… my little angel!”
He spun her around as she laughed out loud… her squeals of delight filling his ears…
Nearly Six Years Later…
Anka’s cries of pain pierced her father’s ears and he stood by her bedside and her mother attended her. He could hardly look at her now frail and emaciated form. Her sickness… whatever it was… had ravaged her, wasting her away to not but skin and bones. He had done everything… called on the best doctors… and prayed to God in Heaven to spare his child… but nothing seemed to help… nothing seemed to ease her pain. Finally, he turned and walked out of the room, unable to bare the sight of her… his lovely young daughter, dying before his very own eyes.
A few minutes later his wife emerged from the room. Her eyes reddened by her tears, her face harrowed and haggard. “Jairus!! Will you not even stay inside the room with her?! She calls for you… screams for you to hold her… to comfort her!!”
Jairus looked at her. “WHAT CAN I DO?!! WHAT?!!” Tears streamed down his cheeks. “No parent should have to bury his own child… NONE!! Yet… for all that I have done for others… in the service of God… no one can help me to save my little angel!!”
His wife looked at him in earnest. “NO!! Jairus… what about the man from Nazareth! He comes this way… and there are stories!! Stories that he has healed people… driven out demons! Surely he can help her! Surely he would!!”
If anyone would… if anyone COULD help… it would be him. The man that they called The Nazarene…
Jairus stood in the blistering heat of the mid-summer day at the shore of a large lake as he, along with several others, awaited the arrival of the boat that would carry the great man to them. The crowd was heavy with people longing to see him… commune with him… to touch him, but Jairus wanted his help… not for himself… but for his daughter.
As the boat arrived, the crowd immediately moved in to meet him. A crush of humanity, all calling to him… reaching out to touch him, but it was none of them who caught his eye… so much as the worn looking synagogue ruler who begged him with his eyes… pleaded with him using his entire being.
As the man approached, Jairus fell to his knees before him, as he pleaded in earnest. “My little daughter is dying…” He looked up at him. “…please, come and put your hands on her, so that she will be healed and live!”
The Nazarene went with him, even as the large crowd followed and pressed around. Before he could address Jairus, a woman from the crowd, one who had been afflicted with bleeding for twelve years moved in close to him. She had suffered a great deal under the care of many doctors and had spent all she had, yet instead of getting better she grew worse. Unable to resist, she came up behind the great man in the crowd and touched his garment.
Immediately her bleeding stopped and she felt in her body that she was freed from suffering. Almost at once, The Nazarene seemed to realize that something had happened. He turned around in the middle of the crowd and asked, “Who touched my clothes?”
Though people had crowded all around him… he knew that this touch was different. He continued to look around, until the woman finally came and fell at his feet, trembling with fear. “I-I thought th-that if I… just touched y-your clothes… I would be h-healed…”
The Nazarene was not angry as he looked down at the woman and remarked, “Daughter, your faith has healed you.” He helped the woman to her feet. “Now, go in peace and be freed from your suffering."
While The Nazarene was speaking, Jairus felt a tug at his shoulder. He turned and immediately he knew what they had come to tell him… before the words had even left their lips. “I’m sorry … but it is too late… your daughter is dead.” Another man put his hand on Jairus’ shaking shoulder to guide him. “Come… there is no need to bother the teacher now.”
Jairus opened his mouth, but only a mournful sound escaped. His child was gone… his little angel. Soon… he would be called upon to commit her tiny body to the earth, and the thought of it seemed enough to kill him.
The Nazarene made his way to Jairus, ignoring the other men as he addressed him directly. "Don't be afraid; just believe."
Jairus had little else left… only belief… but in what? His child was dead… what could this man do for her? Suddenly he thought back to the woman that had touched his garment. She had believed… and she had been healed. Slowly he rose to his feet, and showed The Nazarene the way back to his house.
The Nazarene’s disciples, Peter, James, and John accompanied him. When they came to Jairus’ home, there was quite an uproar going on. There were many people crying over the loss of the little girl. When The Nazarene saw the uproar, he said to them, "Why all this commotion and wailing? The child is not dead but asleep."
The crowd balked at him, but her father and mother did not. Jairus turned to the great man. “All I ask is that you help her… if you can…”
The Nazarene was led to the place were the child lay, accompanied by his disciples. The room was heavy with sorrow, and completely empty… save for Anka’s lifeless body. When her father saw her, he fell to his knees beside the bed and cried, begging her for forgiveness. “I should have been here for you Anka… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry!”
Her mother pulled him away as The Nazarene went to the bed and took the girl by her hand, holding it gently inside his own. Mother, Father, and disciple alike all watched and waited… not knowing what he would do… or what would happen. He looked down at her with a loving smile as he spoke to her a simple phase, "Little girl, I say to you, get up!"
No one in the room had a chance to wonder why he would speak so simply to her. Her mouth fell agape and took in a deep breath. Her eyes fluttered open and she immediately moved to sit up… as she was told to do. The disciples where astonished, but her mother and father were astounded beyond words. Only moments before she was dead and gone… now she was up and looking around, appearing better by the moment as she managed to get slowly to her feet. As she ran to them and threw her arms around them, they were slow to embrace her… but embrace her they did, and with much fervor.
As they held her, The Nazarene addressed them; instructing them to tell no one about what happened there. They nodded with great insistence as all three of them cried together. As he departed from them, he told them to give her something to eat… and that they did, even as they continued to shed tears of joy throughout the night.
The miracle they had experienced on that day left no doubt in their mind that he was in fact the son of God, for whom else had the power to raise the dead? From that day forward, Jairus and his family did all that they could to keep faith with God and follow the teachings of The Nazarene. Even till the end… which would come sooner than they would know…
Nearly Six Years Later…
Tears cascaded down Anka’s cheeks as she stood with her parents, along with others of her village as the Roman soldiers ransacked their homes. The man in charge was a pompous looking Centurion, by the name of Pratercus, wearing a gleaming breastplate and wrapping himself in a cloak of crimson. He looked at each of them evenly. “How many of you here would pledge yourself to a false prophet instead of the Roman Empire? How many of you would chose to die… or flee in exile instead of submitting yourself to Roman rule?”
Jairus was the first one to speak up. “You would seek to make slaves of us? Force us to worship false Gods? Nay!”
Anka, now a young woman, pulled at her father’s robe as she whispered. “Father… please!! Do not provoke them!! Do what they want!!”
Jairus took his daughter by the hand and held it, though he never once looked at her. Only a tight squeeze would she feel from his hand as he continued to speak out. “Centurion! It is death or exile that we would prefer to that! We follow the teachings of Jesu…”
The Centurion drew his short sword and ran its blade into Jairus’ stomach, and glared at him, even as his wife and daughter screamed. “Haven’t you heard? The false prophet dies on the cross this very day…” Several others screamed and tried to run, but they were cut down just as easily and Anka was horrified by it all.
The soldier pushed Jairus down, the blade sliding easily out of him as he fell to the ground, blood gushing from his mortal wound. Anka wailed as if she herself were the one stabbed and not her father. She pressed her hand to the wound, but nothing would stop the blood from spilling out between her fingers, gushing like a crimson colored fountain.
The soldier threw back his cloak, in an attempt to look as regal as he possibly could. “I offer this to you once… and only once. Renounce your faith in the false prophet… and spare yourself.” His eyes fell on each of them in turn. “Do it not…” He pointed his bloody sword toward the dying Jairus. “…and you will join him in his fate!”
Anka was shaking with fear as she and her mother held her father, his life ebbing away. He groaned as he looked at his wife and then to her. One last smile for her touched his bloodstained lips as reached up to touch her cheek. “He still c-cares for you…he…he cares f-for us all. My little… ang… el…”
As Jairus died, his wife wailed loudest of all. Anka sat in silence, watching as her father’s hand dropped from her face and fell through her outstretched hands. His dying words, burned into her mind…she would one day hear them spoken again. She shook her head as she stood up and looked down at him… and then at all the rest. She backed away and then turned to the Centurion. “Let’s us go… please!! Just let us go!!”
The arrogant man looked down at her, taunting her with his sword… even as her father’s blood dripped from its gleaming tip. “Then… you renounce The Nazarene?”
Anka stood there in silence as she turned to her mother, holding the lifeless body of her father and shaking her head no. This defiant gesture was repeated by each and every one who stood with her, still she herself would not relent and allow them all to be put to the sword. She turned and faced the Centurion. “YES!! We renounce him!! LONG LIVE THE EMPIRE!!”
Collectively, the group made their wishes known as they faced up to the soldiers and told them that Anka did not speak for them… and that The Lord was their Savior. Anka’s mother stared at her with as much anger and disappointment as she could muster!! “ANKA!!! You dare to speak so when it was he who saved you?!!! You’d grovel before these pigs before you kept faith with God?!!”
Anka ran up to her as she knelt at her feet. “MOTHER!! THESE MEN MEAN TO KILL US ALL!! Is it so much a sin to say so small a thing to spare your life?!”
“Small thing?” Her mother looked at her as if she did not know her. “It is NO small thing Anka!! We will keep faith with God… and if we are called to His kingdom on this day… then so be it!”
The crowd echoed her reply, and Anka stood and stumbled back, turning to face the Centurion. She fell to her knees before him, clasping her hands together. “Please… I beg you… spare them!! They know not what they say!!”
The man reached down his hand and gently caressed her skin, brushing the hair from her face, then he suddenly grabbed it and yanked her hard to her feet. “THEY HAVE NOT RENOUNCED HIM AS THE FRAUD THAT HE IS… and trust me when I say… they WILL die… each and every one of them if they do not!!” He smiled at her. “But you? I admire your loyalty to the Empire… and I feel that it is my duty to reward you for it!!” He pulled her hair hard, yanking her even closer to him. “Would you receive what it is that I offer?”
Anka’s eyes welled over with tears of pain, even as she begged him. “Y-YES!! PLEASE!! J-Just spare t-them!!”
He stared at her, even as he held her in place a moment longer. “You had better explain it to them then…”
The Centurion threw her down to the ground hard, the back of her head striking so violently that it dazed her. She felt a kick to her ribs that rolled her onto her stomach… the pain… sharp and excruciating. Even as she struggled for air and fought the pain in her side, her ordeal was just beginning. In the haze and confusion she felt the rip of her clothing and then the tug at her undergarments. Her hands reached down to hold them, but a kick to her face ended the struggle.
The world was a red hue… as blood seeped into one of her eyes. Through the haze, she saw her mother’s horror, even as she moved to run to her. She shook her head ‘NO!!’ frantically to stop her… even as the soldiers stood at the ready to cut her down if she moved. She gasped as the pain of a forceful and unwanted penetration of her most delicate flesh ensued. Anka’s hands dug deeply into the ground, most of her nails ripping from her fingertips, while a silent scream tore at her throat.
The man’s violent thrusting paused only momentarily as he grabbed her hair again, wrenching her head back painfully. “You had better tell them to renounce The Nazarene and his false miracles! It is the only way to save them!”
“H-He is n-not… THE SAVIOR!!” She screamed as the man slammed her head to the ground and continued about his business with her. All the while, even with her face pressed hard to the ground, she urged her people to deny The Nazarene. She never felt an end to the man’s ravaging of her… even as he spilled himself and ruined her… another took his place…
“Th-there were… n-no miracles…”
Still another came unto her… and another…
Even as she watched… she did not acknowledge what she saw. No one renounced The Nazarene… and they were butchered before one another. Some beaten with the vile flagrum, its heavy metal balls smashing and ripping at the flesh with every swing of the taskman’s whip. Some were simply hacked to death… but all died… whether on their feet… or on there knees…
“The Nazarene is a-a liar!!”
The great irony of it all was that none of them were going to leave that place alive no matter what they said or did. Perhaps it was merely a test of faith… and Anka reaped the rewards of failure in that…
“…no…”
She saw the Centurion standing over her mother… and then a brutal swing… another and another, finally her head falling to one side, even as her arms still held her husband… Anka’s father. Her words were no longer coherent… not even to her… but in her mind they were clear. She cursed the man who had butchered her people… each and ever one. She cursed her own people… they had died like cows before the slaughter, doe-eyed and filled with false hope. But most of all… she cursed God for visiting this horror upon them… for forsaking them. Her heart was not filled with hate… it was hate…
Anka screamed so loud that the sound of the nails being driven into her flesh was almost drowned out. As the hammer banged down, it shook her to her core… causing her to bite down so hard that she felt her teeth break. Her mouth filled with the acrid tastes of her own blood, and she choked and gagged on it… even as she was hoisted upright.
She looked up to the sky, her face battered and bruised… pain beyond measure coursing through her body. “G-God… p-please… HELP ME!! HELP MY PEOPLE!!!”
All around her the Romans burned and murdered, unchecked… and Anka’s prayers soon turned to curses…
“…selfish… bastard!” Her body hung limp as her eyes grew dim and death encroached upon her. “…I hate y-you…” She used the last of her strength to look up to Heaven and scream, “THERE IS NO GOD!!!”
Almost as in answer to her cry, thunder boomed and lightning split the sky. The powerful bolt struck Anka, and every muscle, every fiber, and every cell in her body shuddered and shook. So violent were the tremors that racked her body, that the center beam cracked down the middle and leaned heavily to one side.
Her one good eye opened and she moaned. Her suffering was not at an end… it was only beginning… and it would last for centuries…
Madison Village East
Empire City…Present Day
“God can be cruel… not unlike a child with an ant farm and an magnifying glass under the strong afternoon sun.” She looked down, her face filled with sadness. “Perhaps I am his favorite ant… or perhaps his least favorite, depending upon your point of view.”
Brandon stared at Anka in disbelief. She hardly seemed old enough to have lived so long and endured so much. “Anka…” calling her name now, with a bit of reverence he would curse himself for later, “I… I don’t know what to say. I mean… that is the most incredible story that I have ever heard…”
She chuckled without looking up. “Story? That’s my life… or at least a portion of it. There is more…” She looked up at him, her eyes like large brown pools. “…if you care to hear it?”
Brandon nodded… but said nothing. There were no words to convey to her how badly he wanted to hear the rest of her story…
…and she gladly continued…
EPISODE CREDITS
CAST (In order of appearance)
Anka (6) … Yenoh Oob-Oob
Jarius … Nean Yrennoc
Anka (12) … Atokad Gninnaf
Mother … Ycul Sselwal
The Nazarene ... Jose Susej
Silent Disciple … Parker Van Peters
Afflicted Woman ... Brittany Williams
Anka (18) ... Kenzi Grey
Centurion Pratercus … Lem Nosbig
Murdering Roman #16 ... P. Van Peters
Directed by … DubbleFC
Screenplay by … Ron B.
Produced by … CTN Television Studios
Casting by … Maleek Raheem
Music by … Pedos Candy
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Post by Publicist on Sept 5, 2016 5:30:01 GMT -5
The Far Distant Past
The Shores Near the Sea of Galilee
Chapter XIII: Blessed Child of Ages (Part 2)The light of day faded as a Roman soldier stood in the middle of the ruined village, which had once been home to Anka. The man stood staring slack jawed up at the leaning cross in the middle of what remained of the town square. A second soldier walked up and looked at him. “What is it?”
The first man never turned to look at the man who had questioned him. “I think you should send for Centurion Pratercus… I think you should send for him now…”
The other man looked at him oddly, but his eyes soon turned up to the cross that held his attention. The body of Anka hung on the damaged cross, as a vulture pecked and pulled at her shoulder, attempting to rend off a piece of her flesh. The woman flinched and sent the scavenger bird flying off… squawking its displeasure.
Anka’s blood stained body hung loosely from the cross, her torn clothes blowing slightly in the breeze. The soldiers listened closely as Anka whispered to herself. Her curses for them… for her own God, and even though their faith was different… the malice in her voice chilled them to the very bone.
The second soldier turned back to the first and whispered. “How long as she been up there?”
“…six days…”
RomeEmperor Augustus glared at the Centurion as he led him through the causeway. “Pratercus… there had better be a good reason for this! My time is short… and you’ll find that my patience is even shorter!”
The Centurion nodded, but gave the threat no further credence. What he had to show him would speak for itself. “Emperor… tell me… what do you know of the Hebrew religion? Specifically… the one known as The Nazarene?”
Augustus arched his brow. “No more than I need to.” He sighed. “What is this about Centurion?! He was put to death… and that is the end of that. I haven’t the time to debate religious rhetoric with you!”
Pratercus raised his hand, begging some degree of patience. “Indeed Emperor, the man claiming to be ‘The King of The Jews… and the son of God’ was crucified some days ago… but…”
“But?”
Pratercus smiled. “It is their claim that he has risen from death…”
He scoffed. “How simple a thing would it be to put his remains on display Centurion? Must I think of everything?!”
Pratercus smiled. “That was thought of Emperor… but the body is gone.”
Augustus threw back his head and laughed… perhaps more for himself than for anyone else. “The body is TAKEN Pratercus! He hasn’t escaped death… and such a rumor must not be allowed to persist! Death for Jews is the same as death for us all… they must not be allowed to think otherwise!”
“That was my assessment as well… until…” Pratercus stopped and stared at him.
“Until what?!”
Pratercus did not answer, he merely turned and gestured. Augustus looked over and his blood ran cold as he stumbled back, putting his hand to his mouth as if to stifle whatever might come out. Inside the cell a young woman hung by her hands… her midsection laid open and her entrails pulled out.
Augustus turned to Pratercus. “You bring me here to see a butchered girl? Are you mad?!!” The Centurion pointed towards the girl and his eyes followed. He banged loudly on the cell and the girl flinched and slowly looked up. The Emperor’s mouth fell open. “WHAT MADNESS IS THIS?!!”
Pratercus stared plainly at him. “Religious rhetoric, Emperor Augustus… religious rhetoric…”
Augustus stood there staring blankly at Anka… doing all that he could to take in the scene and make sense of if. “Pratercus… how is this possible?”
He shook his head. “If one is to believe the Jews… it is the power of their God.”
“…and you Pratercus?” Augustus asked, “…what do you believe?”
The Centurion stared at Anka, as she stared back at him. “I don’t know what to believe anymore. All I know is that we have tried poison… we have tried fire… and we have even tried dismemberment… but nothing works.” He looked at Augustus. “I do know this… if the Jews knew about her… the world as we know it… would change forever.”
Augustus frowned. “This must not get out Pratercus! No one must know!”
Madison Village East
Empire City…Present Day “No one did know… not for many years.” Anka stared down at the ground, half lost in thought. “I endured suffering beyond measure and there was not a day that passed that I didn’t ask God why He had done this to me. I watched as the men who had abused and raped me… men who had killed my family… I saw them grow old and eventually die, and for all my hate…” She looked up at Brandon. “…I envied them…I know of no greater cruelty He could have inflicted upon me…”
Brandon was spellbound, but he managed to snap out of it long enough to ask her to continue. “My God!! I cannot imagine what it was like for you in that time. To endure so many years of torture and captivity… what was that like…how did it end?”
She shrugged, “It never ends…but it continues…”
EPISODE CREDITS CAST (In order of appearance) Handsome Centurion … Parker Van Peters
Emperor Augustus ... Semaj Somla
Centurion Pratercus … Lem Nosbig
Anka (18) ... Kenzi Grey
Directed by … DubbleFC
Screenplay by … Ron B.
Produced by … CTN Television Studios
Casting by … Maleek Raheem
Music by … Pedos Candy
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Post by Publicist on Sept 5, 2016 8:27:13 GMT -5
I no longer remember what their experimentations were about. Were they trying to kill me? That had been my most sincere hope… but I think that the more rational reason was that they were trying to figure out why I would not die. Their methods were hideous… monstrous in fact.
I had often said that God was like a child with an ant farm and a magnifying glass on a hot summer day… but these men gave Him a run for his money. Nothing was off limits to them and they had no illusions about their purpose for being there. Each new day… brought a new and more imaginative form of torture and abuse…
…I’ll not bore you with the details… you’d hardly believe me anyway…
They say that with animals… and even people… the longer they are kept the less they desire to leave. I believe that is true… and I should know… I was kept for a VERY long time.
I lost count of the minutes, the hours, the days, and then even the years as time passed. Honestly… what did it really mean to me? Everything I knew was gone. My family… my people… my entire way of life was gone, and I was the only thing left behind. The cruelest twist… in my mind… was the fact that I couldn’t die along with the rest of them… I would have welcomed it… and in fact, I still do…
As far as my jailers go… I watched them all grow old… all except for me. I think that made them crueler… all the more bitter. The irony of it all? If I could have traded places with any of them… I would have done it in a second! Many of them never realized that what was a great gift in their eyes… was the most vile punishment that I could have ever imagined.
Most grew old… too old to keep coming to where I was kept. They died in their homes… in the streets… wherever… anywhere but where I could see them. Perhaps that had been a blessing in itself… to see the thing you want most right in front of you… but not to be able to touch it yourself…
The Far Distant Past
Rome
Chapter XV: Blessed Child of Ages (Part 3)
The guards all turned and looked away as the elderly man made his long slow shuffle down the corridor that led to the innermost chamber of what was essentially a prison. His back was humped and stooped with age… his once dark mane, now thinning and shockingly white. No one knew just how old the man was, only that his days upon the earth had been long… and were now coming to a close.
He shuffled painfully down the final corridor and waited as the guard nodded to him in silent acknowledgement and unlocked the door, admitting him to where ‘she’ was kept. It had been rumored that he had been her original jailer… the one who had found her and brought her to this place… but none truly believed that. ‘She’ had been there for many, many years… maybe even a hundred or more according to who you believed on any particular day. All that they knew was that this man… of some considerable rank… had come here to gaze at the most highly prized secret in all of Rome… possibly for the last time.
As he walked into the darkened cell, he swallowed hard. The room was tiny… cold… and almost completely empty… except for a single chair and the figure huddled in the corner, chained to the wall like a wild animal. He stood there in silence looking at the motionless figure for a moment before he finally moved closer and sat in the chair.
The chair creaked loudly, just as it always had, but the figure never moved. The man breathed heavily as he rubbed his gnarled hands, now covered with liver spots and racked with arthritis. His voice was low… gruff with age… but there was something beneath… regret? Sorrow? Desperation perhaps?
“It’s been many years since I’ve come here… so many that I’ve lost count…”
He waited for a reply, but none came. He was foolish to wait for one. She had never spoken to him in all her time here… never spoken to anyone. He supposed that it had made her time here worse… but what was the alternative?
He put the thought out of his mind. He hadn’t come here to debate with himself. He had done that enough on his own. He had come to bare his soul… anything beyond that… would be up to her…
“…I don’t suppose that you care much for what I have to say… or even if you remember me.” He looked away as shame gripped him. “For a long time I told myself that what I had done… I had done for the good of Rome and it’s people. It was never about me or even you… only the good of the Empire.” He laughed to himself. “I told everyone that knew of you how Rome would tear herself to pieces if anyone outside these walls ever spoke of… the girl who would not die… the heathen child that had been touched by the hands of Christ… King of the Jews… raised from the dead.”
His eyes, once bright and keen with vigor, now dim and dulled by time turned back to her. “I had believed that Rome was sustained by her gods… that without them… Rome could not exist. To me… you were a threat to her… and it was my duty to ensure that the harsh light of day never fell on you.” His hands rung themselves nervously. “I… I was a fool…”
The gods of Rome were suppose to be immortal… perfect in wisdom and in deed, but when men… rulers declared themselves as gods… everything had begun to change. At first, the Romans rejected the idea that a human ruler should be worshiped as a god, but when Julius Caesar permitted a statue of himself to be erected with the inscription, ‘The unvanquished god’ etched upon it… Rome had begun its journey down a dangerous road. Julius had declared himself dictator for life, and even though later in that same year he had been slain by Rome’s citizens… the die was already cast. Augustus made himself the first emperor of Rome… but he wisely avoided any claim to being divine. This was a temporary reprieve at best. As the government of the Roman Empire became more autocratic and gave rulers almost unlimited power, emperors eventually accepted divine honors. This belief in the emperor's divine authority eventually led to the requirement of a sacrifice to the emperor as a sign of loyalty. Rome was a mob… and it demanded whatever it thought it was due… or more aptly… what its ruler thought it was due. Christians refused to worship the emperor as god, and therefore, would not sacrifice to him… leading to even more horrors that he had hoped to forget… but couldn’t.
“…I can’t expect you to forgive me for all that I have done… not only to you… but to the rest of your people. I came her to tell you that… and… and to…” The man grunted as he practically threw himself out of the chair and fell down to his knees, crossing himself, then clasping his hands in prayer. “Our Father, who art in Heaven…”
Finally she moved, and with a suddenness that shocked the man so badly that he fell back into the chair, knocking it aside. Even in the darkness he could see her eyes, shining unnaturally and focused on him. The chains rattled as she pulled against them… straining to reach him… but falling short by mere inches. All the same, her words were the weapons that she used to wound him…
“B*STARD!! YOU DARE TO COME HERE AND GROVEL BEFORE ME AND AN UNCARING GOD WHEN IT IS YOU WHO ALLOWED HIM TO AFFLICT ME SO?!!!” Again she tried to grab him… spit at him… whatever she could, but he was just beyond her reach. “You took away my life… everything that I had ever known… because you believed in a LIE!! Now… at the end… you see the truth… and you want to make amends?!! FILTH!!! YOU’LL BURN IN THE LOWEST PIT OF HELL…” She sat back slowly. “…just as I have all these many years… Pratercus…”
The man stared at her in wide-eyed amazement. He knew that she could speak… he had always known that… but that she had remembered him… even knew his name. It filled him with surprise… and even shame. Better in his mind that she’d not remember him… that he’d just be another faceless Roman soldier… one that had raped her, tortured her, killed everyone that she had ever loved. He shut his eyes tight, but nothing could stop the tears that gushed forth. What could he say to her? There were no words… and yet… he had to say something…
“I… I… I’m so sorry… I…” So small and feeble were his words that he closed his mouth out of shame and looked away. “…for many years… I asked your God to forgive me… because I knew that He existed… you were the proof of that. The great secret that Augustus and I had once covered up for the good of the Empire. We were wrong to do it… fore we did far more harm than good.” He swallowed hard. “I know that now… as you say… at the end…”
Her eyes fixed on him. “…and you mean to make amends… with me?”
He shook his head. “Not only with you… but also with God.” He steeled himself as best he could. “Rome is dying… and only now do I see how to save it… though knowledge of you… knowledge of God… without faith… we are a dying race…”
She sunk back into the shadows. “Everything dies… almost everything. If you ask me… they are the lucky ones…”
Pratercus looked at her and he could feel her sorrow descending like a weight that threatened to crush him… and perhaps rightly so. “Christianity needs to be given to the people… knowledge of God… hope for something greater than the rule of megalomaniacs and sadists with delusions of their own divinity! I have taken everything from you… from your people… and now… I want to give it back, while I still have the strength to do it…” He struggled to stand, his old body resisting him even as he forced it to obey. “By days end… I will tell everyone who cares to listen about you… and about God… the ONE TRUE God.” He lowered his head. “Finally… you’ll be free of this place… free of the horror I caused you…” He looked down at her. “…you may not forgive me… but in time… perhaps you will, even as I burn in Hell for my sins…”
Pratercus turned to leave, but he stopped as she stood and called to him. “PRATERCUS!!”
He looked back at her as she stood there in chains. Even in the dank and dark of this cell, he could see that she was as beautiful as she had ever been. “…I… I…” She fell to her knees as emotion overwhelmed her.
He walked back and knelt down beside her. He put out his hand to touch her and he watched as it hovered just above her trembling bare shoulder. This hand, now withered with age was the same hand that had caused her so much pain… and now he sought to reverse it all with another touch? It hardly seemed right and he started to withdraw it, but her hands came up and took it. She held it gently in her own as she brushed it against her cheeks, the wetness of her tears hot against his leathery skin. He felt more tears well up in his own eyes. “Y-you… would forgive m-me… after all that I-I have done to you…?”
She pulled him towards her with such suddenness that he could hardly react. His arms flailed at her as he tried to scream, but it was cut short as she literally ripped out his throat with her teeth. A sickening sound escaped him and blood spurted from the hole in his neck, dousing her with its warmth and acrid smell. Pratercus’ struggles slowed as only a gurgle could be heard. She held him in her arms, even as her tears mingled with his blood that now pooled across the entire floor. She rocked back and forth with him. “I forgive you…”
Why would I do such a thing? Was it revenge? Not against Pratercus at least…
I had stopped lusting for that long ago. What would it gain me? Everything that I knew was dead and gone… everything except me. I gave Pratercus something that he could never give me… peace…
He was a fool at the end to crawl before me the way he had… to crawl before a hateful God and beg forgiveness for a crime that God himself could have stopped as easily as I had been raised from death. I couldn’t let him do what he was planning… I couldn’t let him draw in even more fools to fall on their knees before a vile and detestable God… a cruel and spiteful God…
I would rather to have languished there in the dark for an eternity than to have given ‘Him’ any credence at all. Rome was dying… as it deserved to… as all things that ‘He’ had created should have done. To go into The Veil with their eyes squeezed shut was my gift to Rome and all who dwelled within her. I would have saw it all fall and burn in the pit of Hell if I could… and so I thought I might… for a while at least…
My jailers were horrified by what they found when they came to my cell. I had defiled him… not so much as he had done to me… but it was heinous… all the same. A bloody cross was gouged into his flesh… right between the two empty sockets from which his eyes had once stared. What remained of his manhood… I stuffed into his mouth. It was all for show… none of it done with any real malice. I had only hoped that they would associate my actions with my ‘pagan’ religion… and so it was…
To say that I was punished was an understatement… I was scourged… I was ravaged… I was butchered… but I spoke not a word and I never even cared… I had achieved my goal… I would watch Rome wither and die… its children… ignorant and blissfully unaware of what awaited them on the other side of death…
Funny how things never turn out the way you think they should…
In my time… I had seen Rome start to crumble and decay. Many rulers… Emperors… Caesars did I watch come and then die… each of them taking another piece of their retched and failed society with them…
Augustus…
Tiberius…
Caligula…
Claudius…
Nero…
An entire throng could I recall… but to you they are just names. To me… they represented Rome sprinting towards its eventual demise… and it filled and sustained me for over 300 long years… until… everything changed…
Even as it rotted and festered from within, Rome continued to expand and grow… thanks in large part to a charismatic and powerful military leader…Superius…
General Superius lead the campaign that served to reaffirm Roman dominance over the lesser people of the known world. The foreign religions were burned away… supplanted by the gods of Rome. Entire races enslaved… taken from their homeland… those who weren’t beaten, raped, and murdered… were forced to pray to gods who were not their own… while they served masters who looked nothing like them…
Sounds familiar… doesn’t it?
I was certain that the end was in sight. How long can one civilization ravage and murder those around them unchecked… before they eventually turn on themselves? That was not to happen…
It was on his trek through the East that Superius was said to have encountered the demi-god known as Hercules… if one is to believe such things. All the same, it was said that he had admired Superius so that he imbued the Roman General with his own immortality and strength, thus ensuring the stability of his army and the empire of Rome…
So much pretentious bullshit I’d warrant…
With this ‘blessing’ Superius won over the whole of Rome capturing the hearts of all… even those who had been made into slaves fawned over their newly anointed champion. Rome had been saved… and it would endure because of the strength and guile of Superius…
Nearly 300 Years Later
Rome
The doors opened with the creak of hinges long rusted and seldom used. She held up her hands to cover her eyes from the light that shown in on her. How long had it been since she’d seen another person?
Years…?
Decades…?
Longer perhaps…?
All the same… she could hardly move… her limbs long since fallen victim to some perverse form of atrophy… without decay. Two figures rushed into the room and she tried to fend them off, but it was little use. The two men grabbed at her bonds and removed her chains, leaving her arms to fall heavily to the floor. A third person came in.
He knelt down beside her. “Get up girl!! You’re free!! Rome has finally given up her slaves and prisoners!! Thank Superius!!”
She sat staring blankly at him… unsure of what to make of it all. “Wha…? How can…” She managed the strength to will her limbs into action as she shoved him backwards and scampered towards the fall wall. “NO!!! YOU LIE!!! ROME IS DYING… AND ALL OF YOU WITH IT!!”
The man looked at his comrades and then back to her. “Nay child! Rome lives… ROME THRIVES!! See for yourself!!”
The men walked to the door, each of them casting a glance back at her, before beckoning for her to follow. They all walked up the long corridor and towards the blinding light at the end of the tunnel. She moved slowly to her feet… and ventured from her cell, for the first time in… three long centuries.
She squinted her eyes as she staggered up the corridor, being careful to stay close to the wall… loath to leave it. As she came to the mouth of the tunnel, she stopped short of the entranceway. She looked down as the sunlight shined on the tips of her bare feet. She stepped back into the darkness, her eyes burning from the brightness of it.
She turned to retreat back into the corridor, but the men all rushed in and grabbed her, dragging her kicking and screaming outside. They threw her to the ground and held her down as the third man grabbed her face and held it up to the light. “DON’T BE AFRAID!! ALL IS WELL!! LOOK FOR YOURSELF!! SEE THAT ROME STILL BREATHES!!”
She did look… and she saw very well that it was as he said. Rome did still breathe… more than that… Rome now flourished! Its buildings now three times as tall… people… ten times as many…
Her mouth opened and only a most wretched sound could escape it. The men holding her looked at one another, baffled and somewhat afraid. The leader of the group stared at her. “How long have you been down there?” When she didn’t answer… he asked her a different question. “Your name then? What is your name child?”
For a moment, it seemed that she wouldn’t answer, then finally she began to calm down as her raving gave way to uncontrollable sobbing. “I… I am forsaken!! I am cursed!! A HEX PLACED UPON ME!!”
“A hex?!!” The men holding her let her go and she fell limply to the ground.
The third man waved the other two away as he stared at her. “Listen to me… you are free… it has been decreed by Superius! He cares for you…he cares for us all!”
Again those words…it was like a slap across her face. She pushed herself up from the ground and to her knees as she sat there, her head hung low, her long black hair in dirty matted tangles. She looked down at her arms, the painful blisters from her bonds were already fading. She shook her head. “No… you’re wrong…” The man reached out to touch her, but she slapped his hand away with a hiss. He fell back as she roared. “KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF ME YOU ROMAN SCUM!!! I’D SEE YOU DEAD BEFORE I ALLOWED YOU TO LAY HANDS ON ME!!!”
She got to her feet and stared at him and then at the wonders that now surrounded her… including a life-sized sculpture of General Superius in all his glory and Roman splendor. So deep was her confusion… so great was her anger that her head swam and her vision blurred, leading her to stagger away… pushing people aside, even as she cast one last lingering look at the statute of the great General…
Superius… the great liberator and savior…
Superius… the self-righteous, egotistical, son-of-a-bitch…
Superius… like the rest of his ilk… a murdering Roman bastard that deserved nothing more than to burn and die with the rest of his heathen Empire…
There was no place for her here… Anka was long since dead. It was as she had said… she was cursed… a hex placed upon her. She staggered away… through the crowds and out of the city… disappearing into a world that was no longer her own… and worse… one that she despised… along with everyone in it…
Madison Village East
Empire City…Present Day
Anka sat silently…staring down at the floor. Beside her, Brandon looked off into space… kicking himself for asking her to tell him the rest. He had hoped that she would regale him tales of how Christ had returned to her… how she had been freed by angels… maybe even communed with God. Instead… he had gotten a much grimmer tale, and one that had a lousy ending. “Anka… I… what about God? What about his hand in everything? Especially now… in these times!! I mean, you can’t feel the same way… not anymore right?”
A smile touched her lips, but there was still something forced about it. She didn’t look at him as she answered. “I don’t feel the same…” She looked at him. “…not about everything.”
He looked at her and then at her bristling wings. “There is even more… about how you got those…”
She looked at him, his face reflected in her large dark eyes. “I already told you… God’s idea of a joke…”
He shook his head. “I don’t believe that… and I don’t think that you do either.”
Anka let a small laugh escape her as she shook her head. “Believe what you like Father…” She sighed, “…I have all the time in the world, but if you wish to waste what remains of yours…I am glad to tell you.”
Brandon was rapt, “Please…continue…”
EPISODE CREDITS
CAST (In order of appearance)
Centurion Pratercus … Lem Nosbig
Roman Door Guard ... Parker Van Peters
Anka … Kenzi Grey
Concerned Roman Citizen #3 … P.V. Peters
Directed by … DubbleFC
Screenplay by … Ron B.
Produced by … CTN Television Studios
Casting by … Maleek Raheem
Music by … Pedos Candy
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Post by Publicist on Sept 5, 2016 11:08:09 GMT -5
The Far Distant Past
The Wastelands…
Chapter XXIX: The Ghost of Memories End… (Part 1)
The wind lashed at her face as the bitter cold seemed to bite into her. How long she had followed in the shadow of the Roman Legion she no longer knew, but the one thing that she was certain of was that she was now closer to them than she had ever been before…
…closer to the most powerful military power on the planet…
…closer to its leader, a great and mighty leader…
…closer to her goal of getting a chance to kill him for all that he had done…
How long had it been since she had been freed from her Roman captors after a prison term that eclipsed three-hundred years? Anka didn’t know… and she didn’t care. Freedom… so long and unremembered a dream was now hers… yet she was still as much a prisoner of her rage and anger as she had ever been before.
Rome had mercilessly crushed her people… murdered her family… slaughtered thousands, maybe millions as they sought to expand their borders… and yet God did not punish them. No lightning struck their ranks… no fire fell from the sky decimating their base of power. Rome and her armies roamed unchecked… led by a fearsome commander that was fast becoming a legend…maybe even a God…
Marcus Superius Regulas!
To Anka… he was another arrogant Roman… another pompous Centurion… another rapist… another murderer. He sat at the head of Rome’s deadly army… and she hoped to sever its head… the cost no longer mattered… especially for a girl that could not die.
Her innocence had been stolen away… her faith had been shattered… all that she had ever known was burned to ash… the one constant in what remained of her life had been her hatred of Rome. She longed to see it fall… desired nothing more than its demise. There was no other reason for her existence that she could see.
She crept into the camp of the enemy… it was no great feat… they were busy celebrating another glorious victory in the name of their many pagan gods. Drunk on mead and thinking only of merriment… and how they would celebrate the razing of the next village that sat in their path, their defenses were easily breached.
It was a sight she had seen before… countless times. Entire townships… cultures… lands were decimated… wiped from the face of the earth. They could join the great empire that was Rome… or be ground into the dust. The village she had just passed fell into the latter category. Mongol bodies were everywhere… men, women, and children alike. Stabbed, hacked to death, burned… all manner of death and destruction had been visited upon them. When the bodies were gone… so to would any evidence of their ever having been.
So much like her own township… she was all that remained. She had dared to denounce the son of God… dared to curse the Almighty when he didn’t save her and her people. She would have died gladly on that day has He allowed it… but that did not come to pass… and she was left to wander aimlessly and alone.
Anka moved though the darkness… finding her way around the camp… looking for the banner that would lead her to her quarry. As she saw the command tent, she knew that the general languished inside. It was heavily guarded… a dead giveaway.
It was too much to hope for… the tent left unguarded… Superius asleep in his bunk… no doubt dreaming of rape… murder… conquest. She would plunge his own sword into his chest… or better yet his abdomen. He’d die a slow and painful death… perhaps not slow or painful enough for her liking… but it would have to do. The same for his guards… she’d delight in their deaths as well… so much the better.
For all of her fantasizing about this moment… dreaming that nothing could deter her from it… something did…
She heard the sounds of a wailing girl. Her cries so mournful that she could hardly turn away. Anka reluctantly turned her attention from the command tent, as she followed the sounds of the girl. As she came closer, she heard that the girl not only cried… but spoke as well… and the words, though not spoken in her own tongue, were words that she understood.
Curses to a cruel God… scorn, hatred, and bitterness. It was all so familiar to her… all so painful. She was drawn like a moth to the flame. No longer walking it seemed… almost floating. When her eyes finally fell on the source of the girl’s screaming… it was as if she were reliving a piece of her own history.
A young girl lay over the nude and bloody corpse of a woman… likely her mother. Several other bodies were heaped around… some dead… others dying. The drunken Centurions had had their fun with the rest… and now they turned their attention to the last.
Three was their number… all drunk and stinking of blood and ale. Their manhood no longer stood erect from their earlier abuses… yet what did it matter? It was all just fun and games… and the ending was always the same. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to visualize herself walking away… running towards the tent and doing what she came to do… killing the General, but that image eluded her. Instead, she felt herself being thrown to the ground… her clothing torn from her… her mother forced to watch as her innocence was taken… not by one… but by many.
She cursed God… she begged God… she wanted to be saved… but no one came to her rescue. God abandoned her to her fate… left her to be savaged… to be ravaged… to be torn asunder…
Anka would not allow it to happen to another… not while she could stop it. It was all a blur to her as she charged in, grabbing the short sword from one drunken Centurion and quickly separating his head from his body. The other grabbed for his sword, but found nothing but air. He shouldn’t have dropped his belt along with his pants. She jammed the point of the blade into his throat and a great torrent of blood gushed forth, splattering her as the man’s gurgled cries melted away along with his life.
She turned to the final man… then winced…
She looked down and saw the hilt of his blade sticking out of her. She followed it to his hand and up his arm… all the way back to his face. A cruel scar was cleaved there, from his eyebrow all the way across the bridge of his nose, down through his upper lip.
The man growled at her as he shouted and roared with such passion and rage.
Anka reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him close, even as she drove her own sword directly into his exposed pelvis, slicing into his genitals. She grimaced as she raised her foot and kicked the screaming man away from her. He held on to his sword… dragging it out of her.
She fell to her knees and put a shaking hand to the vicious wound in her abdomen. The pain was vile and she could feel the acrid taste of her own blood rising in her throat. She didn’t have much time before she lost her window of opportunity. Wounded or not… she’d find a way to get to Superius. The girl was safe… and the General would soon be dead.
She struggled to get to her feet, even as the blood flowed from her like a stream. She staggered toward the tent, casting one last look to the wailing child. “Go… RUN!! Get away from this place…”
“I… I… c-can’t…”
She felt the anger rising in her as she turned to the young girl. “I SAID RU…” The words caught in her throat as she looked down.
The girl’s eyes were covered in a milky haze and stared off into the distance, blind and unseeing… she was going nowhere…
EPISODE CREDITS
CAST (In order of appearance)
Anka … Kenzi Grey
Marcus Superius Regulas ... Mason Moore
Decapitated Centurion … Parker Van Peters
Scarred Centurion ... Chris Andrew
Dead Girl #7 ... Brittany Williams
Blind Girl (Arella) … Orchid
Directed by … DubbleFC
Screenplay by … Ron B.
Produced by … CTN Television Studios
Casting by … Maleek Raheem
Music by … Pedos Candy
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Post by Publicist on Sept 5, 2016 12:44:19 GMT -5
The Far Distant Past
The Wastelands…
Chapter XXX: The Ghost of Memories End… (Part 2)
Sometimes, to do what’s right, we must give up the things we want the most…
To Anka… that seemed a perverse joke… all the same, the truth that lay beneath it could not be denied. Superius… deemed a murdering Roman dog and made a symbol of all that she hated most… was her white whale. She had pursued him relentlessly as he waged wars against the ‘heathen’ peoples who rejected the right of Rome to expand throughout the known world. How many people had he killed in the name of the dream that was Rome? She didn’t know… but she had seen so much death and slaughter that it no longer affected her, as it affected others…
…until a most unlikely turn…
Anka had never been so close as she had come on this day… never had a chance that was so perfect. His guards would strike her down… but not before she looked the devil in the eye and spit… running him through with his own sword. She’d watch him die a slow and painful death… perhaps even as his legions sought to do the same to her. It didn’t matter… she’d smile at him all the while… her job done… perhaps then there would be a finality to her end, to rise from death no more…
…it all came crashing down, with but a single look upon the face that stared blankly back at her behind cloudy eyes… dimmed and then darkened forever. A young girl whose tragedy mirrored her own so perfectly now lay helpless before her… and so to did a choice.
She could condemn the girl to her fate and do what she had spent countless days and nights dreaming of, decapitating the head of the Roman war machine… or… she could turn her back on the burning hatred she felt, and try to save a life… a life that might one day end up like her own if left to fester and rot in the tidal wave of hate and malice that had formed around her. In the end, she made a fateful choice… one that she would both live to covet and regret at the same time.
As the last of the three murdering Centurion dogs that had sought to defile and murder the girl lay moaning in the very filth he had so callously wrought, his life ebbing away through a ghastly wound she had dealt him in his crotch… Anka reached out and grabbed the girl by the scruff of her tattered clothing. She yanked the girl to her, half carrying and half dragging her as she did.
She looked over her shoulder at the command tent that undoubtedly housed Superius… it would be the last time that she would come so close. She had made a selfish choice… given up the greater good for the life of a single victim. How many more men, women, and children would Superius and his army crush? Anka couldn’t know… but their deaths would hang over her head as surely as they would the great General himself. They would be accomplices in mass murder on an unimaginable scale… Superius doing what he did for the lie that was the glory of Rome… Anka doing what she did for the lie that was the salvation of her soul.
Anka fled the camp and trudged through the bitter cold holding the girl that was of no relation to her… and yet, the girl had become more akin to her than any could ever be. How long would it be before the bodies were found and the legions came after them? She didn’t know… but if there was a chance that she could escape and save the girl… and possibly herself… she would gladly risk it… and risk it she did.
How long had she pushed through the snowcapped hills? She couldn’t count. Day and night she drove herself… urging the girl on… hearing the marching soldiers at her heels… looking for revenge for their own murdering comrades… looking to defile the girl she now protected.
Hours passed into days… days passed into weeks… then into months…
The girl soon grew to call Anka mother, though they were not at all so very far apart in age… and she called the girl Arella… the Hebrew word for angel…
…a certain sort of irony in that… as well.
Anka knew that they were hunted… even though she never once saw the gleam of Centurion armor at their backs… she knew they were there… she sensed it. Moving… always moving… the two never lingered longer than a few days before moving on. She knew that they were an odd looking pair and attracted attention wherever they went. Her light bronze complexion with her long black ringlets of hair… the young Mongol girl with the almond colored skin and blind unseeing eyes.
They would be hunted down like dogs… it was only a matter of time. Rome was everywhere and everywhere was Rome… everywhere except for the ‘Savage Lands…’ the lands from which Arella’s people had come. They had stood against the might of Rome… prompting rumors of a great wall being built to keep them at bay. If they could make it there… to those savage lands… they would at long last be free of the ‘Evil Empire’ that had taken so much from them.
The danger that had once come from behind, by the unseen pursuing legions now shifted to the front. The nearer they came to the outskirts of Roman power… the greater the risk of getting caught in the middle of a border skirmish. Anka and Arella avoided towns and villages… taking to covering the Mongol girl to hide her features when it was unavoidable. They were close… close enough to see the mountains… and the Mongol lands beyond.
Anka could not remember when last she had prayed… really and truly prayed, yet now she did. She got down on her knees and she begged… not for herself… but for Arella. The girl had not known peace… not known joy… known only pain and loss. She prayed that the girl would not end up the same way that she had… jaded… mirthless… and thirsting for revenge. Give her the happiness that she deserved… let her be a child… the little angel for whom she was named.
God seemed to answer her prayers… for once…
As they crossed into the mountain passes… not a soul did they encounter. All around were signs of great battles fought between Roman and Mongol armies… but no more than that. Two and a half weeks passed until they crossed out of the mountains… out into the Savage Lands… freedom was theirs at long last…
…they had escaped Rome…
Anka and Arella kept to themselves and stayed off the beaten path. When they were unable to do so, they took every precaution. This time it was Anka who was forced to hide herself from view with a makeshift veil. All the same, in the end, it was all for not. They were discovered by a Mongol unit as they marched to the border.
Anka much preferred the inquisition she got from the Mongols to what she knew they would have received from the Romans.
The two were held and questioned for days on end… over and over, always the same…
…were they spies?
…what were the Romans planning?
…where would they strike next?
The questions held no meaning for Anka and Arella… but as they drug on… an uneasy feeling began to settle over the pair. Anka could feel that something was wrong… and it was something she planned avoid. She formulated an escape plan. The two of them would escape under the cover of night…
…but they never got the chance…
Before Anka could slip her bonds with Arella and make good her escape, she was greeted by the all too familiar face of a murderous Centurion she never thought to ever see again. Before her stood the very man that had made an orphan of Arella… the man with the vile scar across his face… the same man that she had made a eunuch out of.
Romans… Mongols… together… it hardly seemed right.
The Centurion’s name was Flavaious… and after she had attacked him and left him for dead… he had managed to recover… such as one could in his condition. Not only had he recovered, but he had also been promoted by General Superius… for his ‘heroism’ of all things. Flavaious was given command of his own regiment and sent to bolster the defenses against the Mongols. Of course… he had a secret agenda, one given to him by the Emperor himself. While he was recovering… Flavaious had told tales of the girl whom he had dealt a mortal blow to… yet she had not died. He had found himself brought into a great secret of the Empire… and given an even greater duty… to prevent that secret from getting out.
Flavaious had pursued Anka relentlessly… and once he had found out where she was going… he had struck a deal with the Mongols. In exchange for the girl… the incursions on Mongol lands would cease. The great wall would be finished… and the war for the ‘Savage Lands’ would end.
Again… another great irony… the lives of thousands, maybe even millions would be saved… not because she had killed Superius, but because she had dared to save the little girl instead…
…for a little while at least…
Flavaious proved to be a TRUE Roman in every sense of the word… affirming all that Anka ever thought of them. Flavaious was a sadist and a pedophile… who had been hell bent on revenge against Anka, for all that she had taken from him. He took his vengeance out on Arella… all while Anka was made to watch. So vile were his acts against the young girl that a few of his soldiers refused to stay and watch…
…later he had them put to death…
When he had finally satisfied his bloodlust… his thirst for revenge… he did the Emperor’s bidding and he buried the secret of ‘the girl who would not die.’ The secret of the ‘One God’ religion would threaten the Empire no more…
The only question was… how to get rid of a woman who would not die…
Anka did her best to stifle the whimper that escaped her as she held Arella. Her body was broken and left a defiled and bloody ruin. Her tiny lips moved wordlessly, but the words didn’t need to come… she could read them perfectly… and they spelled the word… mother…
Even as she looked down into the girl’s unseeing eyes… she felt that they saw right into her. As they began to dim and grow dark and lifeless… a sound unlike any other burst out of her… a wail that could split the heavens in two.
The Roman’s that gathered there… only those who could be entrusted with such knowledge… turned their heads and looked away. They knew of the story… the girl had been ravaged, beaten savagely, nailed to a cross… and yet… she did not die. For nearly 300 years she was tortured and brutalized… but she didn’t die. Every one of them… each and every one had thought that they would give anything to have the power that her God had granted her…
…as they looked away… inside their secret hearts, they were glad not to have such a power. Living in ignorance was no longer such a bad thing. Her God may have been great… but how cruel He had been to her. Could He not have saved her if He wanted? Why did He not strike them all down? Her God might have been real… but in the end… He was just as uncaring as the many false gods of Rome.
The Centurions watched as the forlorn girl held the bloody body of the dying young angel close to her bosom. The darkness slowly… almost mercifully began to close around them as the sound of stone grinding against stone filled the air. Again they diverted their eyes…
…the child breathed no more…
…the heavy stone was rolled to the front of the cave…
…the secret of the girl who would not die would stay here forever…
EPISODE CREDITS
CAST (In order of appearance)
Anka … Kenzi Grey
Arella … Orchid
Indifferent Mongol … Parker Van Peters
Scarred Centurion ... Chris Andrew
Directed by … DubbleFC
Screenplay by … Ron B.
Produced by … CTN Television Studios
Casting by … Maleek Raheem
Music by … Pedos Candy
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Post by Publicist on Sept 5, 2016 14:37:34 GMT -5
The Far Distant Past
The Wastelands…
Chapter XXXI: The Ghost of Memories End (Part 3)
Even as the unholy alliance of the Romans and the Mongols sealed her inside the cave, rolling the massive boulder in front of its mouth… her thoughts were not on escape or revenge. She clutched the broken and lifeless body of Arella in her arms, holding her so tightly that the two became as one.
The light ebbed away… and the soldiers outside the cave could hear a most wondrous thing, though they wouldn’t have realized the significance. The girl of the raven hair prayed aloud… speaking to God… pleading to him for the sake of the dead girl in her arms. The words were meaningless… yet… they all wept to the man.
The darkness came as the stone was pushed into place… and there she sat… unmoving… for an entire age…
How long had she sat there in the darkness… unmoving? She didn’t know… and she didn’t care. She closed her eyes… still speaking her prayers… even until her end had come.
She opened her eyes and for the first time beheld the face of Raphael… Archangel… Guardian of The Veil… and her eventual jailer.
He smiled as he looked down at her… stretching out his hand. “Anka… get up child…”
She sat still, unmoving. “No… I can’t leave her… I won’t…”
His face softened, ever so much. “There’s nothing left Anka… your burden is lifted.”
She looked down at the tiny body she held, and as she did, what remained fell through her arms and scattered across the floor. Her mouth fell open as she dropped to her knees and screamed. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”
Raphael grabbed her by her shoulder and pulled her to her feet. “Anka… do not grieve… God has heard your plea.” He stepped aside and revealed behind him a bright and dazzling light… beyond it an ocean of blue, green, yellow… all the colors of the rainbow… warm and inviting. “Go Anka… take your reward… it is yours…”
Beyond the light, she heard the voices of her parents calling to her. She walked towards it… stumbling on legs that were once atrophied. As she moved closer, she suddenly stopped and turned. Her eyes focusing on Raphael. “Arella?”
He shook his head. “This is not her time now… Heaven is not for her. Our Father has another plan for her… just as He has opened paradise unto you. Go now child… take your reward.”
She turned, and slowly began to walk into the light… step after step seeming just as heavy as the last. She stopped… staring into the light… her eyes wide. There had never been anything so beautiful… so inviting… so perfect… and yet, she could not bear to leave. She turned back to Raphael, her eyes wet with tears. “I… I can’t… I can’t leave her!”
“You must! You must leave her Anka! You are released of your bur…” He paused and looked back into the light, as if listening… then nodded as he looked at her. “You would stay here… on this plain… you would sacrifice paradise for her?”
Anka looked back towards the light, her legs trembling. Happiness…she had not know it for well over 300 years or more. Now, it was hers and all she had to do was walk. Father…mother…friends, they all waited for her…waited to receive her into their bosom. The girl who had not kept faith with them…the girl who had cursed them for fools and watched them slaughtered before her. In an instant…all would be forgotten…
It took everything that she had in her to turn away. She looked at the angel and fell to her knees… her voice small and barely audible. “…yes…I would stay…”
…
The sounds of sobbing filled her ears… ragged and uncontrolled. It wasn’t until she felt a hand at her shoulder that she realized the sounds were coming from her. She looked up… and her eyes met those of Arella… no longer sightless.
She reached up to touch the girl’s cheek and she seemed to evaporate into thin air.
She looked to Raphael. “Wha…”
Behind her blossomed broad powerful wings… not unlike those of the archangel himself.
Raphael backed into the light as he regarded her with an approving look. “You are blessed Anka… remade for a great purpose… go now…”
Confusion and terror filled her as she screamed, “No… wait… WAIT!! ARELLA!!”
“He cares for you…He cares for us all…”
Despite her cries… he vanished… along with the light, leaving her in the darkness… all alone…wondering what that great purpose was…
Madison Village East
Empire City…Present Day
Brandon was dumbfounded…this was THE answer…this was evidence beyond reason. He put his hand on her shoulder, “Anka…you were chosen by God! You were sent here to reveal His truth to the world!”
Anka slapped his hand away as she got to her feet, her eyes flashing with rage. “HIS TRUTH?!” she spat out like a curse. Her massive wing flailed out upending much of the room, “You want truth? Here it is…God doesn’t care about me…and He doesn’t care about any of you! All He has ever done was to take and take!” Her chest heaved as she walked around him in a tight circle, “God’s path is death, destruction, and pain! That is all he has ever given to me…and now it seems that it is your turn Father…” Anka’s gaze broke from him for an instant as she looked to the door. “…speak of the devil…”
Brandon frowned, then followed her gaze, “What are you talking abo…”
The door suddenly opened up as Brandon’s sister stepped through the unlocked door. “BRANDON!! I JUST HEARD ABOUT THE CHURCH!!”
“Daria…I…” He turned back towards the place where Anka had been, but she was nowhere to be found. He looked around, then paused again as he turned to his sister. “…did you see…something?”
Daria narrowed her eyes as she walked over and put her hand on her brother’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Brandon turned around and looked at the open window across the room. The cold breeze blew the curtains back in a hard flutter. “I…I’m fine, but there is something very strange going on.” He looked his sister in the eye. “I think that someone is trying to kill me…”
Daria looked at him oddly, then took him into her arms and held him. “Nothing is going to happen to you brother…I swear it…on all the Gods and Goddess…” Daria’s eyes searched the room, even as she held her brother in her arms. She didn’t know what had happened here and that didn’t sit well with her…nothing happened in Empire City without her knowing or say so. This would have to be rectified…along with her brother’s annoying habit of still drawing breath…
EPISODE CREDITS CAST (In order of appearance) Anka … Kenzi Grey
Raphael … Phoenix Chambers
Jarius … Nean Yrennoc
Mother … Ycul Sselwal
Villager in Paradise … Parker Van Peters
Arella … Orchid
Father Brandon Knight … Ace Watson
Daria Knight ... Missy
Directed by … DubbleFC
Screenplay by … Ron B.
Produced by … CTN Television Studios
Casting by … Maleek Raheem
Music by … Pedos Candy
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