Ms. Stockins, long-time resident of Pleasant Valley, Mississipi, points out, "I really don't like having the dog door built right into the wall like that. Won't criminals be able to crawl right in?"
There's the Symphonic jangle of a celestial entering the corporeal world, about an eighth-mile away. Then, chime-chime, another pair, forming a triangle around the house Jaakobah is in.
Jaakobah grins one of those grins that makes one think that he's going right for the throat - although it's a friendly going right for the throat. "Oh, of course not, Ms. Stockins. Not even a child can fit through that door, let alone your common every day inner city scum. Besides, there is hardly any crime in this area at all. Heck, people round about here..... people round here still keep their doors unlocked.
Mr. Stockins admires the polished tiles of the kitchen floor. "That's real plastic, isn't it. Made in Mississippi, I bet."
Jaakobah peers around looking for the janglings in the Symphony, and says a mite bit distractedly, "Oh certainly. That's top of the line linoleum there ma'am. Good for years of use."
Ms. Stockins looks fretful. "I heard about a series of crimes off in Detroit where they sent a five-year-old in and had the door unlocked from the inside."
Jaakobah says "I assure you, Ms. Stockins, Detroit is a long way away."
Mr. Stockins punches the wall with medium force. "Good solid construction." He doesn't appear to notice the slight dent his knuckles made. "What kind of price were we talking again?"
Jaakobah names a price that is worth far more then the appraisal on the house, but hey, he needs his suits. "The owners are asking for 135. It's a good house, in a good neighborhood."
From the backyard, separated from the next house by a wire fence, bushes, and the other house's backyard, there's the sound of something crashing into a bush. You can hear what might be footsteps on the driveway out front - it's a balmy day, so several windows are open.
Ms. Stockins says, "We'll consult," at the same moment Mr. Stockins says, "Sounds good." They exchange glances, and then move in close to one another for quiet converse.
Jaakobah gives them a big winning Think Positive grin, and then moves over to the window to peer out at the sounds.
Jaakobah . o 0 ( Thinking Positive.... )
A rough-edged guy with the kind of five-o-clock shadow that looks to be permanent can be seen approaching out front. He's got a navy windbreaker on and tangled black hair. The kind of guy who'd be a perfect Calabite Vessel if he were just a bit squatter. Out back - the house conveniently allows looking both ways if one stands in the arch between kitchen and dining room - the bushes on the far side of the fence are trembling vigorously, and Jaakobah can hear faint crunching sounds.
Mr. Stockins turns, and says, in a bluff bargaining voice, "132 and a half." His wife emits a scandalized noise, and he lowers this quickly to, "er, 131 and a half."
Jaakobah grins at his clients and says, "Excuse me for one moment. I've been paged and I must call my office." Then he nods at the Stockins and starts to walk outside.
The Balseraph can make it outside before the man out front reaches the door.
A tiny knife - almost too small to be called a weapon - rests in the rough-edged man's left hand. On a less military note, someone down the street a ways, opposite from the direction of the rough-edged man's initial approach, has a tiny camcorder at his eye.
The camera's lens tracks Jaakobah as he leaves the house.
Jaakobah turns to the camera lens, smiles, and waves for the Audience At Home. Yes, I see you.
Jaakobah then reaches for his cellphone.
The rough-edged man, reaching conversational range, asks, "Good day, sir. Are you Jaakobah, of Comedy?" He seems to have trouble pronouncing the harsh helltongue that comes from his lips, and the form is almost archaic.
Jaakobah flips open the cellphone, and looks hard at the rough-edged man, and the weapon in his hand. "On whose orders do you come calling?"
He looks Jaakobah up and down, including the cell phone, and says, "I serve none but the Father," he answers, "but I come at your master's request." Except for 'Father', in English, that also comes in accented Helltongue.
"You are to report to him," the man explains, further, "regarding a final assignment."
Jaakobah says, slightly disappointed, "Oh." He flips the cellphone closed and says, "Hey, I'm in the middle a job here, bub. This is poor time management on your part, and you should really work on that. It'll make your life stress free. Why don't you try to reschedule a little and see if you and your camcorder friend can try again when I'm a little less busy, yeah?"
Jaakobah bounces the idea around in his head that he's supposed to drop everything and report. This might be a good idea... but then again, the big K would understand finishing a job, wouldn't he? Where would he, Jaakobah, a self-respecting Balseraph be without a closet full of new suits and a nice new family without a leaky roof? He mulls. Decisions, decisions.
Jaakobah realizes that Self-Esteem in the form of nice new silk ties is Very Important (tm) to one's Self Outlook.
The man's brows wrinkle slightly. In the distance, Jaakobah hears what sounds like someone pulling him or herself over a wire fence, complete with an incomprehensible curse. "The character of your loyalty surprises me."
Jaakobah is starting to reach in his pocket for his electronic organizer. "Excellent. It's a highly desireable trait."
He smiles, slightly. "We will not interfere with your work," he says, "if it is of such import. Be aware, however, that you do not have much time." He signals towards the man with the camera, who makes it disappear and then walks towards Jaakobah and the rough-edged man.
Jaakobah ohs. Man, people with their time management skills. Don't they realize that if they can just get together and have a chat everything would work out? He walks back into the house, all smiles. "So, how are we all? Finding the house to your liking?"
The rough-edged man trails along, knife hand and knife now in a windbreaker pocket.
Jaakobah sort of kind of wishes the man would go away.
Mr. and Ms. Stockins give him a strange look. Mr. Stockins ventures, in a crafty tradesman-like way, "The refrigerator does not filter water."
Jaakobah raises his eyebrows. "No? Well, most new home owners replace the appliances."
The man with the camera opens the front door and slips in to join Jaakobah. He has a slightly cleaner look to him than the other, seen close up - the only real difference is in the eyes, but those are idealistic and a deep, pure blue.
Ms. Stockins says, "That sounds very inconvenient."
Out the kitchen window, Jaakobah can see a lean woman hop from the top of the fence into the bushes in this house's yard, which immediately collapse under her weight and leave her mired in brush somewhere between the fence and the yard.
Jaakobah does NOT give the camera man an annoying glance, but he does make a covert dirty demonic hand gesture in it's general direction out of view of the Stockins. "But very common. I would not expect the entire house would be to your liking. Every homeowner will change the house they own...."
Jaakobah is starting to get slightly annoyed with this.
Ms. Stockins says, "Isn't your job to make the house like we want it?"
The rough-edged man gives her a glare, as if to say, 'How venal.'
Jaakobah says "No, look. When you buy a house, you buy a neighborhood, with proximity to shopping and main roads and schools and the crime rate. Every house is going to have something the new owners want to change, to personalize it! How else is it ever really going to become yours?"
The idealistic one looks vaguely amused at the bushes out back, and leans in to whisper to his companion in singsong English, "Bet she wishes she worked for Flowers, huh?"
Ms. Stockins considers this, chewing thoughtfully on a knuckle.
Jaakobah is noticing that No One is playing the Game, and actualizing their potential. This is getting annoying.
Mr. Stockins says, "132, and that's as high as we'll go."
Jaakobah nods. "We'll have to rework the paperwork a bit with the new figures, of course..."
The idealistic one looks like he might actualize his potential sometimes, as on weekends and holidays.
Ms. Stockins says, "That'll give us time to go over the contract and look for other things we want to change, then."
Jaakobah says "So do we want to meet tomorrow at my office say, around 10am? At that time we can go over the contract and the monetary obligations that is required up front."
Mr. Stockins and Ms. Stockins exchange glances. For a moment, it looks as if Mr. Stockins is going to cannily offer 10:15, but then they simply nod.
Jaakobah grins. "Wonderful!"
Jaakobah offers a hand for shaking.
The rough-edged man and the idealistic man tense slightly, then relax.
Ms. Stockins takes Jaakobah's hand and allows him to shake it.
Jaakobah shakes her hand. Shake shake. And grins in that oh so friendly way. With teeth.
The woman struggles out of the bush, in the yard. Little bits of bush and leaf cling to her hair and clothing.
Jaakobah decides to look down at the belt of his suit at his pager. "It's going off. I'm afraid that the office is beckoning me back. Tomorrow?"
She strides up to the window, long and lanky strides, and peeks in. The idealistic man nods to her, and she smiles and holds up two fingers in a manner similar to the victory sign. Then she vanishes from view, by walking around the side of the house.
Mr. Stockins and Ms. Stockins nod. "Tomorrow!" they say, albeit not in union.
Jaakobah decides it is officially time to bail. He gives the Stockins one more grin and then heads out to one of the two cars in the driveway - one of which happens to be his. Well, the big 4x4 is his, actually.
The lean woman reclines in the passenger's seat, hard rock with a heavy drum beat filling the car.
Jaakobah peers at her as he opens the driver's side door of the pickup and tosses his briefcase in. He narrows his eyes. "Get out."
She says, calmly, "We must prefect assignation attempts," in very faulty Helltongue.
She adds, "We have already first too mulch."
Jaakobah . o 0 ( What the hell is she talking about? )
Jaakobah decides, in Grand Kobalite Tradition, and in one who is well versed in Positive Thinking, to just get into the truck. He climbs in and closes the door. "Hey baby. So how far are you willing to go..... to protect me from assassination? I mean, baby, I'm flattered. And you should be too, come to think about it."
Jaakobah revves up the engine.
"I will sacrifice anything," she says calmly, switching to English, "in obedience to my Bright Lord."
Celestials vary as much as humans, and one can never be sure. Still, Jaakobah just placed something very strange about the body language of all three of these, from a couple *very* unpleasant close shaves in the past.
It's Malakite.
Jaakobah just blinks. And then blinks again.
Jaakobah then just laughs. Ha. This is indeed amusing.
Jaakobah pulls out of the driveway. If the Malakite wants... whatever, then the Malakite wants whatever. Off to the Kobalite Tether of Fun we go, baby.
A few minutes of driving later, Jaakobah sees something dart across the road in front of him. It's past before Jake can either swerve or deliberately not swerve, and for a moment there's a faintly rotten stench in the air.
Jaakobah just presses on the accelerator.
In due time, the car pulls up at the local Tether of Dark Humor, about an hour out of Pleasant Valley, one of the few places in the country that the Air Force ever accidentally bombed. The Seneschal's hut sits at the border of the dead land. That land is pocked with small craters.
Jaakobah gets out of his truck, leaving his briefcase behind. He doesn't seem to care much if the Malakite follows or not - well, he does care, but if said Malakite is still going to go on and on about assassination and protecting, well, he isn't going to stop it. Although he'll remember to tell Elymius about this one.
Jaakobah heads to the hut.
The Malakite tags along.
When Jake gets close to the hut, a red light on top of the hut starts flashing and bits of Wagner blare from a speaker on its side.
Jaakobah grins with some mirth. "Hey, open up in there."
The door creaks open and the Seneschal peeks out. He looks perennially sleep-deprived, and blinks to suit, but then smiles. "Hi, Jake. Come on in. Pull up a bean bag. Bring your chick."
The Malakite viciously brushes leaves off her clothing.
Jaakobah ignores the Malakite but walks on it. "Hey. I can't stay long. I've been summoned by the big K."
The Seneschal's eyes widen. "Wow. From the Enterprise?"
Jaakobah says "From the wha--? No, just some guy."
"Ah." The Seneschal reflects. "Tea? I have some gray tiger tea from China; it has a fairly rich body and a faint, almost chocolate-y sweetness."
(The Seneschal shall henceforth be referred to as Samangaluf.)
Jaakobah takes a look around, and then finds a beanbag into which he can drop his long, lanky body. "Sure. Oh, and this here is my own personal Malakite. Who speaks Helltongue. I guess we're all learning something new today."
The Malakite offers, "It is a shrimp acquirement." in the language of the Pit.
Jaakobah says "See?"
Samangaluf murmurs, "Indeed. You are most accomplished."
The Malakite favors him with a 'what a cute demon. Maybe I can teach you a trick before I kill you.' smile.
Jaakobah has clearly decided that he needs to relax, kick back, drink some tea, and move from Jake cool ass guy to Jaakobah, cool ass demon. Besides, the Boss wouldn't begrudge him a bean bag, someone as cool and interesting as himself, would he?
Kobal is known for his kind, generous, and understanding ways.
Samangaluf assesses Jaakobah for a moment, and then walks over to put a teapot on. You hear the whisper of a Song from him; the Malakite stiffens. (In a Malakite manner, not that of a statue.)
Jaakobah knows that the Boss is neither kind, nor generous, nor understanding, but hey, Jake has gotta be Jake.
Jaakobah cocks an eyebrow, and says nothing. Hey, he didn't invite the Malakite here. He didn't tell her to walk into a demonic tether.
Samangaluf asks, "What brings a person of such accomplishment to my humble abode? Where I am not, of course, referring to Jaakobah."
Jaakobah shrugs. It is clearly obvious from his body language that the answer is plain - Jake is so cool that everyone wants to hang with him.
The Malakite says, "I am certain your Dark Lord will explain such things in due course." (English, of course.)
Jaakobah says "Maybe. Maybe not."
The teakettle, no doubt assisted by the earlier Song, begins to whistle.
Jaakobah continues to look placid.
Samangaluf steps over to that area of the hut and returns a minute later with three cups of tea on saucers, two balanced precariously in one hand.
Samangaluf hands Jaakobah the single teacup, and provides the Malakite with her choice. Then he flops on a beanbag.
Jaakobah tastes the tea. "So, do I get a hint at to what this is about, or do I get to find out like a great big surprise?"
Samangaluf reflects. "I have not the faintest notion," he admits. "Although I can certainly inform you of recent doings in Hell and Pleasant Valley. It would be difficult to resist some minor embellishments, you understand."
Jaakobah waves a hand in that "I understand" sort of way. "Embellish away."
Samangaluf says, "The activity of the Game and the War has increased dramatically. By all indications, the Princes are preparing for some major move. Lucifer has been sighted several times in Shal-Mari. Heaven may also be preparing for an offensive; the number of demons directly killed by the Host has approximately doubled over the past few months - one doubling, not one per month, of course."
Samangaluf considers. "The Archangel of Creation was recently sighted in the Pleasant Valley area, having apparently peregrinated there on foot rather than materialized as would normally be an Archangel's wont."
Jaakobah looks slightly.... disturbed by this news. But not enough to actually look nervous or anything. He's pretty unflappable. "Ah."
Samangaluf adds, thoughtfully, "Most of Hell's television stations have been shut down; Nybbas' spokesdemons have approximately fifteen thousand conflicting statements on this matter."
Samangaluf sips from his tea. "Not that I have counted them."
Jaakobah says "Well, at least they're having fun."
Samangaluf ponders. "I have also received a communication, verified via Celestial Tongues." He rummages around in the floor by his beanbag and comes up with a piece of paper, which he folds into an airplane and sails across the five feet to Jaakobah.
Jaakobah sticks out one lanky leg, on which is attached one semi larger then life foot to retrieve the airplane from where it landed next to him on the floor. After some scraping, he picks up the airplane, and unfolds it.
My servant Samangaluf,
Until further notice, render all due assistance to Servitors of Fate. Further, although you may continue to express hostility towards their private persons, you are not to interfere with the duties of the agents of the Game. Please share this communication with those Servitors who take advantage of your facility.
DARK HUMOR
Jaakobah says "What is this? Some kind of joke?"
Jaakobah attempts to laugh at it, just in case it is.
Samangaluf shrugs expressively. "I have noted to my Prince that others will assume such. Nevertheless, this is by all apparent measures, our new policy."
Jaakobah says "It's a highly amusing policy. I'm sure we'll ALL stick to it."
Samangaluf says, wryly, "Indeed."
Samangaluf offers, "Perhaps we could play tricks on Malphas and Saminga, instead."
Samangaluf reflects. "Although the latter is almost too easy."
Jaakobah says "Perhaps there is more to this message, and perhaps I should get a move on and get to my briefing."
Samangaluf muses, "A while ago, I told a Calabite of Death, 'Look out behind you!' As far as I know, he's still turning around."
The Malakite says, "That sounds averagable," in Helltongue to Jake.
Jaakobah struggles out of the beanbag, and puts the teacup somewhere someone is bound to trip over it sooner or later.
The Malakite reclines, showing no obvious intention of getting up. Samangaluf looks vaguely nervous.
Jaakobah stands and gives a vague glance over at the Malakite. He's a little curious, but hey. Baby, he's so cool, he NEEDS a Malakite bodyguard just to keep the admirers off. It sure beats a can of Raid.
Samangaluf nods to Jaakobah. "Fare ye well."
Jaakobah starts to make his way toward the terminus of the tether. Time to take off, man.
The terminus of the Tether is not far away, and Jaakobah arrives there quickly. Behind him, with a snap, the Malakite takes celestial form.
The deep black of the Malakite's angelic shape looks deeply out of place amid the Seneschal's collection of "comedy tools," beanbags, and books of classic puns.
With a flutter of the wings, the Malakite straightens, and begins to drift towards the terminus as well.
Jaakobah turns and narrows his eyes at the Malakite.
Jaakobah says "Just what do you think you're doing?""
She sings, in bright angelic, "I do not fear the darkness of the Pit; I cannot be hidden from my Father's eyes."
Jaakobah shrugs. . o O ( You know, whatever floats your boat. Honestly. )
Jaakobah says "I'm going down. If you want to follow - Great! Fabulous! If you don't - Great! Fabulous! I'm going to say out of the kindness of my heart - man, you don't want to go down. Kay? Got it?"
She considers a moment. "I will watch you descend," she says. "Then my duty is complete."
There is a hint of dark amusement in her eyes, an expression Jaakobah knows very very well.
Jaakobah says "Well, as much as I like the idea of being murdered, I don't think so, baby."
"He likes to stall," Samangaluf comments, sipping at his tea.
Jaakobah attempted to look hurt. "Moi?"
Samangaluf does not dignify this with a response.
Jaakobah says "I'm not getting naked while a Malakite watches."
She sighs and turns her back.
Jaakobah goes celestial and descends.
The Balseraph emerges from the silver-static glow of a theater screen in an empty theater. The "Kobalite" door, which allows a Dark Humor Servitor to enter Kobal's Halls (and dumps anyone else into a filing room in Hades) stands off to the side, with a red "EXIT" sign above it.
Jaakobah preens his brilliant purple and blue scales for a moment, then wings his way over to the door.
The door opens neatly into a large dark chamber, of which Kobal's great throne is the centerpiece. It is, in fact, a proper throne; only the story of the mortal who sat in it before him is truly amusing. The room is uncommonly quiet, although the secretaries and planners do their work at their desks and maps. Red eyes gleam in the darkest shadows. Kobal, his presence reeking of bitterness and pain, turns his head slightly towards Jaakobah as he enters. (At the same time, in a dozen other rooms like this one, he turns to regard someone else - or to focus his attention on a map - or simply studies the air before him.)
Kobal, very slowly, smiles. "Jaakobah. At last." The intensity of emotion in his tone implies that the wait has been interminable; the lack of obvious anger suggests the opposite.
Jaakobah stops suddenly, and feels real self conscious. He looks around for his favorite tattooed freak - and doesn't spot him, so dammit, he's on his own, which does not please him much. This is not going to be any fun. He makes a point of bowing his long sinewy head down before his Lord and says, "Master. I come at your bidding."
Darkness and silence descends over the secretaries and planners - and even the red eyes - in the room, although a sense of motion and action and faint voices remains. For all that eyes and ears offer, however, there is only Jaakobah, the throne, and the Prince.
Jaakobah decides that this is not, in fact, cool.
Kobal says, softly, "You are a fortunate demon, Jaakobah."
Jaakobah says "Thank you, Master."
Jaakobah doesn't want to know why, mind you.
Kobal says, "It has come time for the final punchline." He rises to his feet, a robe currently trimmed in incarnadine and gold hanging loosely around his goat-like legs. "It remains to see that I am the one who plays it."
Jaakobah thinks, in all profundity, "Oh shit." But he says, "Naturally, my Master."
The Prince opens his mouth and says something. The word cannot be heard; it simply sears itself into the space within the room like a brilliant and quick-burning flame and leaves emptiness and void behind. "... that is, God, has chosen the millennium as the time his second and final incarnation will be born. That is, itself, a small joke, but I will permit the enemy to claim it as his own."
Jaakobah takes a chance on lifting up one pair of his eyes from the floor, listening in interest.
Kobal says, softly, "He intends, as before, to appear to a mortal woman and combine His essence with hers. Due to the nature of the world, she will have the option of refusing him. Due also to the nature of the world, she will not - you, who have seen Andrealphus, still do not and cannot comprehend beauty until you have met that One."
Jaakobah nods. "Yes, Master." He's trying to see the angle. Okay, God is coming back. Okay, we get to have a new Messiah. Okay, it's going to be banner time for Kobalites. So what's the hitch?
Kobal looks skyward for a moment, and sighs. "I should like her to be pregnant," he says, "when the Lord
Jaakobah decides that his Prince and Lord and Master has finally flipped out. At least he doesn't do anything in a small way.
Kobal looks down, his eyes gleaming and dark at one and the same time, and says, "Unfortunately, she has vanished. Without - and my source for this is not and cannot be mistaken - His willing it so."
Jaakobah says, against his better judgment, "Oops."
Kobal's eyes continue to gleam. "I wish you, Jaakobah, to find her."
Jaakobah stifles the "Why me?" which was to follow. Some inner survival instinct told him that now was just not the time. It may never be the time again. So he figured the best way to live through this was just to accept it - as ludicrious as it sounded. So he said, "Yes, Master."
Kobal says, "When you return to your Vessel, you will find a key to and a map to her Pleasant Valley house, where she was last seen. I find the comments of her neighbors unhelpful, save to establish that at approximately 11pm Wednesday night, she took out the garbage. I will not bias your investigation by describing them."
Jaakobah says "What of my role, Master?"
Kobal says, softly, "It is, as always, both useful and expendable. You must find her before the Godhead descends, in 11 days; use your own judgment. I believe having a place in the mortal world will help your task."
Jaakobah is quickly descending into an interesting Netherrealm of Hell called the Realm of Really Not Wanting to Know. But Jake, being quasi-intelligent, simply says, "Yes Master."
Kobal says, softly, "You are a lucky demon, Jaakobah. You may ask questions; I know you have the brain of a tin of whale fat. If you have none, dismissed."
Jaakobah says "Master, once I find the - ah - Mother of God, what exactly do I do with her? And what sort of opposition am I looking at?"
Jaakobah ruffles his purple leathery wings.
Kobal sits again, rests one elbow on his throne and his face against but not covered by his hand.
Jaakobah takes a chance and gets himself out of the supplicant position.
Kobal says, "When you find her, you must return her to her normal life and alert me that you have done so. You will not need to guard her against further assault. You need not worry about involved angels; I have addressed that matter. Other investigating demons should be led astray, with a few small exceptions; you will recognize them when you see them." All this sounds faintly bored. What follows, however, sounds more animated.
Kobal says, smiling slightly off into the distance, says, "I cannot predict the opposition you will receive from she herself, or any who have taken her, be they parents, kidnappers, celestials, or indomitable celestial forces."
Jaakobah just says, "Ah."
Jaakobah says "Should I expect any reinforcements?"
Kobal says, his voice now utterly bland, "I have consulted with Kronos on this matter."
Jaakobah says "I saw the edict."
After a long moment, he adds, "Each additional variable makes success less likely. Of course, having your soul rended to shreds also makes success less likely."
Kobal smiles. "That stated, you may call upon my forces as you need them."
Jaakobah twitches his tail nervously. There's a catch. There's a big catch. "Where's the catch?"
Kobal says, "Are you familiar with Zeno's Paradox?" He looks distracted now; more of his attention drawn, no doubt, to other incarnations of this throne room.
Jaakobah says "Um, not really, Master." He knows several others of the collected 'group' up top who were bigger into that sort of thing. Him? He likes guns.
Kobal says, "Let us suppose that there is one year left until the end of the world. It could be orders of magnitude less or more, but let us assume one year."
Jaakobah says "Okay."
Jaakobah assumes. He resonates on himself. There. Now it's fact.
Kobal says, smiling, "Let us imagine that you fail me - by introducing too many variables and thereby spinning the situation out of control. Then, why, the first stage of your punishment would only take half a year. Of course, that would leave me only six months to finish things off. So I suppose I would have to prolong your time sense by a factor of two - automated, of course. And when half of the year had passed, I'd have to do it again. And so forth."
Jaakobah gets it completely. "Ah."
Kobal smiles. "Of ourse, I could do the same thing with certain kinds of rewards."
Jaakobah says again, "Ah."
Kobal says, "Your questions are beginning to bore me. You may go."
The darkness starts slowly fading away from around Kobal and Jaakobah.
Jaakobah bows low, and then gets the hell out of dodge. The Boss was being downright creepy.
Jaakobah is now officially creeped out. Man.