The Race to Save Brian

The Peterson Investigations:

The Race to Save Brian

Scene 1

         A giant red orange fire lighted the great room. The flames revealed the dark stained oak walls that were covered with grotesque paintings of horrific images of knights being devoured by dragons and Christians eaten alive by lions in the coliseums of Rome. The frosted windowpanes of leaded glass were covered with thick ornate crimson and black tapestries. It was clear that no outside light was permitted to enter this enormous den. Throughout the room, large banquet tables stood filled with platters of the seared bodies of indistinguishable animals being prey upon by ravenous gluttons who were delighting themselves as the blood from the rare flesh poured down their mouths. Beds covered in the pelts of deer, rabbits and mink were located in strategic stations around the tables. On these pelts wrestled the nude bodies of feral men and women wrapped in the heat of lust and covered in the sweat of their uncontrolled passions. At the back of the room, on an elevated platform, sat a creature on a throne made from the horns of various wild animals. The throne was upholstered with the scales of a dragon and cushioned by the hide of a black wolf stuffed with the wool of lambs. This creature had the form of a man but his eyes glowed red as fire. There were two naked concubines on their knees at his feet that served his every fleshly desire. From his voyeuristic throne he watched the wanton pleasures of his lecherous minions. At the entrance of the great hall, in front of the massive wooden doors, a brilliant light appeared.

The light intensified blinding everyone in the room save the dark enthroned creature. The hedonistic horde shielded their eyes from the intense light. From the slit of light stepped the figure of a man. All carnal activity ceased and all the room’s souls focused attention on the new visitor.

         The figure stood seven feet tall. Underneath his midnight blue traveling cloak appeared a regal high collared pressed uniform jacket. Matching gold lion head emblems mirrored each other at the stiff clasped collar. Highly reflective gold piping traced the neck, shoulders and body of the jacket. The uniform scarcely hid the powerful muscles and sinews wielded by the figure. The figure’s creased navy blue pants were neatly wrapped around his calves and tucked into his polished black riding boots. As the portal of light faded, the visitor pulled off his black leather gloves. The enthroned dark creature smiled an evil smile.

         “An hour before dawn eh? A ver wise move Archangel,” chided the dark man-creature. “Wise that you chose the last hour of our strength; choosing to interrupt our feat – our fine orgy of fallen souls.”

         The visitor looked at the enthroned being, “I have come to speak with you; you the single son of Lilith,” demanded Archangel.

         The son of Lilith rose from his throne. “You will call me ‘Mordred’. Do you hear me Archangel?” Mordred angrily chastised Archangel, “or you will leave in pain,” Mordred threatened. “You wouldn’t want to dirty that beautifully perfect uniform now would you Archangel?” Mordred said smirking at Archangel.

         Archangel raised his hand, commanding the largest of the great banquet tables to rise off the floor and hover. The gluttons cowered back as they watched in horror as their desired treasure floated away from them. They shook, as the power that was being displayed was unleashed on them. With a wave of his hand, the hand hewn timbered table flew like a bolt at the wall and smashed into splinters.

         Mordred’s followers screamed in fear and raced to find shelter from the tumult; their cowardice angered their master. With his eyes blazing with fire and enraged, Mordred swept his open left hand around the room gathering power and closed his fingers into a tight fist. As his fingers closed, a high piercing shrill drew itself to him from the fire, torches and candles all around the room. When Mordred slammed his fist down, thunder exploded through the great hall and then a shock wave flew from him in all directions. The wave extinguished the fire, snuffed out all candles and knocked over every standing soul and piece of furniture save Archangel and himself. Mordred chocked out the voices and screams of every creature in the hall. After a second of utter blackness, a small light, like a torch, appeared in front of Archangel. The torch fire rested at face height, held by the hand of Mordred who now stood a few feet from Archangel.

         Mordred’s hand held fire revealed his face. He was a handsome man with striking features. Although Mordred’s face intoxicated women and endeared men, his eyes of fire and his now fully extended fangs did little to hide the fact that his beauty and charm was only to mask the vicious deadly being that at that moment held fire like most men held a baseball preparing to throw. Mordred’s hate bated Archangel to fight.

         Archangel eased the tone of his voice to that of a disgusted diplomat, “Easy Mordred, I am only here about the boy.”

         Mordred’s eyes relaxed only slightly as his fangs began to retract. He threw his fiery pitch behind himself to the giant stone fireplace. When the fireball landed against the back wall of the fireplace, the fire erupted and every candle and wall torch reignited. Mordred looked back at Archangel and sternly but calmly prophesied, “He will not fulfill his destiny. The boy will fail.”

         Archangel pointed his finger at Mordred. “You will be the one who fails Mordred,” he retorted. “This boy’s destiny will be fulfilled; all of Heaven is on his side, and I shall see your doom,” Archangel promised.

         Mordred’s eyes glowed a deep crimson red. Restraining his wrath, he opened his lips and spoke through clenched teeth. “Four hundred years ago I found this boy’s line. It was a strong line, yes very strong in faith and morals. But each generation grew less stalwart than the previous.” Mordred paused and drew a long breath to calm hatred’s fire inside him. “This boy will perish along with his destiny,” he swore at Archangel.

         Mordred walked back to his hellish throne on the elevated platform and held his arms outstretched in silent command for his jacket. Immediately his two naked concubines appeared behind him and slipped a black leather duster coat onto his outstretched arms. He slid his arms through the sleeves. The bottom of the duster rested just above the top of his silver tipped dragon skin cowboy boots. The opened jacket revealed his smooth tattooed chest and black leather pants. He lowered his arms extending his long fingers, pushing his evil Chi into his wicked fingertips.

         Archangel stared across the room at Mordred. “You are not allowed to take his life Mordred,” he warned. “His soul does not belong to you!” he challenged.

         Mordred’s eye burned at Archangel. “Doesn’t belong to me?” he asked Archangel sarcastically. “Don’t you forget that you and your kind lost dominion of this world the second men inhabited it,” he reminded the uniform. “The hell he doesn’t belong to me!” Mordred yelled at Archangel.

         Archangel’s eyes pierced Mordred’s challenge, “And Hell is exactly what you will receive – single son of Lilith!”

         Blinded with rage, Mordred screamed, “GET OUT!” He outstretched his arms and made an ear-piercing clap. The clap created a visible vertical knife shaped shockwave that raced toward Archangel. In the middle of the shockwave shot forth a beam of black anti-light. Archangel quickly changed his stance to brace himself for the impact and threw up his right hand to shield himself. As his right hand moved, a curved bow of bright white light appeared in front of him just as the dark weapon reached him. When the two powers connected, Archangel was thrown back ten feet and vanished before he crashed against the massive doors.

         As he loosened the palms of his hands, Mordred muttered to himself “He has to fail…or we are doomed to fail.” As Mordred lowered his arms, darkness began to engulf the room. A faint beam of sunlight signaling the beginning of dawn pierced through the tapestry. Darkness raced to cover the thick cloth. The great hall vanished. The light revealed only an old empty warehouse forty years later. It was the present.