A/N - I sometimes don't even know why I write. The weirdness sometimes is too overwhelming, even for me.
anyway... Have fun!
Piphael descended into the dark and gloomy basement in a huff.
So, what if he had been sleeping on the job? Its not as if they weren’t doing the exact same thing. No one had been paying that close attention to Earth since the 19th century when all the humans had stop paying as much attention to them. An eye for an eye as the old book said.
But that hadn’t stop them from throwing him down here to make up for all the years he’d missed. Sloth being a sin and all that. They had told him that he would have to earn his way back to his cotton-soft bed of clouds; and earn he would. Piphael vowed to perform a miracle as soon as he could so that he could get the heaven off this lump of rocks and back to practicing “9 to 5” on his harp.
Brushing dust that had been disturbed as he landed from his celestial robes, Piphael glanced around. It was very dark, but not because there weren’t any lights. There were lots of lights, though mainly only glowing computer screens. There were several scarlet panes in the ceiling, however, that cast his surroundings in a deep burgundy. The darkness came more from the overall loom and gloom atmosphere of the place and Piphael’s unnatural brightness set this whole aesthetic off kilter.
Ducking his wings behind his back, he turned down his own heavenly glow and decided to go for a bit of a wander. The hallway was incredibly long, and no door was to be seen, which seemed rather odd for a hallway. There was a series of loud bangs and clashes coming from one direction so Piphael decided to go that way. As he walked, the sounds became louder and he discovered a lone, wide doorway from which the noises, along with several chairs and tables, were being thrown into the hall. Beyond it, the sound of two very angry voices partaking in a shouting match that could put a howler monkey to shame, caught Piphael’s attention.
“You’ll never succeed, Professor. That machine of yours will never see the light of day.”
“You are mistaken, Agent Gunn. You have mistaken my brilliant machine with yourself.”
Clash. A small series of bangs and then another clash.
“You’re a maniac and deserve to be behind bars!”
“I’m afraid it will be you who will be squandering in their misery this time around when I have defeated you.”
Poking his head around the door frame, Piphael wasn’t surprised to see one heaven of a fight going on. A grey-goateed man, wrapped in a ridiculous coat, was clutching a tiny pistol at a second wiry, and yet at the same time muscled, younger fellow who held his own gun. They were both firing at each other and tossing the occasional piece of furniture with the most amount of passion any two individuals had to kill one another Piphael had ever seen. He walked into the large room where they fought, took a seat on a chair that had miraculously avoided any abuse, and watched in fascination. Piphael wasn’t concerned about being seen, ethereal beings rarely do. He had simply moved his body into a plane of reality that wasn’t visible to the human eye, though it was for dogs. This often led to many embarrassing incidents for the yapping mongrels and a headache for him.
The battle took place in a gargantuan lab that would have made Albert Einstein raise two furry eyebrows. There were screens everywhere and a of an assortment of sizes. Most of them showed maps of the Earth while others displayed images of the younger man who was currently leaping gracefully from one of the sets of stairs that encircled the laboratory to another. One large contraption, that Piphael assumed must be the mysterious ‘machine’, was located in the center of the room. It was pointed like a needle and sat vertically so that its tip almost scraped the domed roof.
There was thud. The older man had fallen from one of the stairs cases and was lying on the ground, dejectedly. The younger man jumped down beside him and pointed his gun at his chest. “The games over, Professor Perill. You’re going to the highest security prison in the country.”
Piphael frowned, this all seemed terribly unfair. The professor only wanted to use the machine he had made; and if his memory served him well, he couldn’t remember Tesla or Leonardo da Vinci ever getting beaten around by a handsome, young fellow with a gun.
He got up and walked over to the massive machine. It wouldn’t be that hard to turn it on, all he had to do was connect two wires and flip a switch. It was a win win for everyone. The old man finally got to see his creation in action and Piphael would have performed his miracle and be long gone. The younger guy didn’t count, and he had already won his fight, so he would just have to deal with it and try not to be a sore loser.
All it took was one illuminated hand on it’s dark metal surface.
The machine hummed to life as the ceiling began to roll back with a loud crank, revealing the glinting night sky. Piphael stood back from his fiddling and nodded with approval. From the ground, the older man had raised his head in disbelief and began to laugh at the shock that crossed his opponents face.
“That’s impossible,” The younger man shouted. “I cut the wires myself.”
Piphael shared in the professor’s glee and flapped onto the edge of the roof to clearly see what exactly the machine was going to do.
With an electrifying buzz, a beam of light charged through the air and into the sky. At its peak altitude it split into ten separate, but equally vibrant, smaller beams and shot off into the surrounding horizons.
It was a cool light show but nothing worth fighting about, thought Piphael to himself. Two years later, he realised that maybe it was.
The world easily fell into his palm after the destruction of those ten, major metropolis’s and the murder of the planet’s top agent, Gavin Gunn. Atop his throne, Emperor Supreme, Professor Perill ruled over the seven continents with malice and contempt. A trail of destruction in his wake. Piphael watched all this with worry.
“Oh bother,” he muttered to himself, and prayed that nobody Up There had noticed his mistake.