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Post by s on Apr 21, 2006 16:21:43 GMT -5
OH EM GEE
Alice, I love you.
Absolutely Brilliant.
'Her eyes widened, and her face started to glow. “Alice and Shruti are going to love this.”'
I most certainly do.
Heh, transvestite Tragedy, for whom Colbert has fallen, but whom he is also trying to kill? Amazing.
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Post by Alice Wilde on Apr 30, 2006 13:42:53 GMT -5
I love you all. This part is a little longer, but mostly plot-relevant. I suppose I'm asking you to bear with me. Oh, and I suppose I should put a warning: Jesus will say a swear.
Part Two-Skirting
The following is an excerpt from For It Is My Blood: The Betrayal of Jesus Christ by Celia Snikmopht. Every portion of the prose is historically accurate and non-fictitious, except for the things the author made up:
All was quiet as Jesus prayed in Gethsemane. One could sense eventfulness in the air...something was going to happen tonight. The Messiah knew it, had long foretold of it, yet was apprehensive.
For the missing of the Twelve, as he will betray me...
“Rabbi!” Judas called to Jesus, voice arching into a short falsetto. “Oh my gods, how long has it been?”
Jesus looked up. He seemed to grimace.
“Dude, you saw him at supper tonight.” Simon said, yawning.
“That’s right. You spilled the salt.” Jesus said. “...right after I asked you how you received those thirty pieces of silver.”
“Oh, did I really?” Judas asked, forcing laughter. “I’ve been so clumsy lately...”
Jesus’s eyes widened as he stared at a crowd of sword and club wielding people behind Judas
Judas looked over his shoulder. “Oh, hell,” He whispered, placing his palm on his forehead. He turned to face them. “I thought I said ‘wait until I give the signal’?”
The crowd murmured something about having a brunch to go to, and grabbed Jesus. Paul screamed “It’s the fuzz, run!” and the Apostles scattered. The Son of Man was alone...and betrayed.
Jesus felt his heart race and sink, a mixture of fear and dread. “I...” He knew if he said something he could muster strength. “I...”
Judas cupped a hand over his ear. “What? I can’t hear you over the sound of thirty pieces of silver jiggling in my pockets!”
“I knew it.” Jesus whispered, eyes coating with a layer of water. He tried to wipe his tears away, but the men holding him held tight.
“What was that?” Judas took a few coins from his pocket and began rubbing them against his ear.
“I said you are an asshole.” Jesus paused for a moment, glaring at the four scribes that had followed him since he began his ministry. “And, if you put that in the Bible, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, I’m kicking you out of paradise.”
Judas looked at Jesus and winked. Their plan had been a success.
Hiding amongst the crowd, an Apostle watched Judas. Peter gritted his teeth. He could not help Jesus for fear of crucifixion...in fact, he would probably have to deny even knowing of the Messiah. Yet, as the swords were raised and the clubs wielded, he held the taste of revenge on his tongue. And by the time Jesus was led away, Peter knew that soon Judas would be dead. - - - -
Linda ran about the hotel, the train of her dress snagging on corners. So many last minute things...She struggled to catch her breath, stopping outside of the ground floor lounge, a loose pin hanging out of her mouth as she fiddled with her mask. She always had trouble with them. Either the mask was too large and fell off her face or too small and –What was that smell?
Smoke poured from inside of the room inches next to her. She examined it. No 667er that she knew smoked...
“Did you see him, Jon?” A hard voice asked. Linda knew she had heard it before, in passing. “I know he’s here, watching us probably...”
Someone, Jon, exhaled. “You know as well as I that I haven’t seen him. Look, Stephen, forget about this, just for a couple of hours.” There was a hint of bitterness in his next statement. “I’m sure those fans of yours could probably make tonight exciting...”.
Linda blinked, perplexed. Fans?
“Jon...” The other man, Stephen, dropped his voice. “Those girls are cute, but you know I would never...not while you...I mean, you gave me everything.”
“The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away.” Jon answered, blowing his cigarette. More smoke crept through the open door. The tension could be, and was, felt from five feet away.
“I never knew if that was in the Bible.” Stephen said. Linda grinned. Of course she knew that voice...It was Stephen Colbert, host of Comedy Central’s The Colbert Report. And, he was speaking to Jon Stewart, host of the Report’s parent program, The Daily Show. But, why were they...?
“You can be tonight’s theologian. I’m going to enjoy myself.” Here, there was a pause, the only sound coming from the room the clink of something metal being transferred from one man to the other.
Jon continued. “ I think that a two thousand plus years old blood feud can wait until the end of this ball...” His footsteps echoed as he moved closer to the door. Linda prepared to walk away, becoming more nervous as the conversation progressed...
“If you don’t kill him, I will.”
Stephen said the words quietly, but Jon reacted as though he had screamed them. There was a loud thud in the room. Linda leaned over, glancing. Both men were wearing thin black masks that resembled blindfolds, sans eye coverings, and tuxedos. Jon had pushed Stephen against the wall. Not violently...no, it was the sort of shove you might give to someone who was about to be hit by a car. Stephen held twin revolvers in his hand. Linda strained to hear.
Jon pressed his hand to Stephen’s lips. A moment passed.
“God, what you do to me.” Jon released him. Linda could not see the front of his head, though he sounded grim. She suspected he was frowning. “And, you know you can’t kill him...”
Stephen adjusted his tie.“I’m sure it doesn’t have to be as specific as she implied. She hasn’t researched this as I have.” He brought the weapons to eye length, examining them. “I could do it as well as you.”
Jon sighed, holding a hand out. Stephen stepped back into the wall. Smiling, he handed his partner a gun. You could hear a pin drop.
And, Linda’s did.
Jon whipped around, Stephen’s eyes widened.
“Oh, sh...”
Linda ran faster that night than she had ever in her life. - - - - -
The ball was in full swing. The orchestra played a lively song while the people danced and chattered. Their clothing was impeccable, their masks awe-inspiring. Everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time. You know how it goes.
Stephen scanned the room, throwing casual smiles at anyone who happened to pass. In truth, he was searching for a man...The Guest, she said he would be called. And look for the marking on his neck.... Her voice rang in his thoughts. He didn’t trust that woman, but she had information...
“Hello,” Shruti approached him, golden mask shining along with her gown. She stuck out her hand. “I’m-”
Stephen turned to her, eyes ablaze. He relaxed and laughed, interrupting her. “Ah, ah, ah,” He wagged his finger. “My dear, I do believe the purpose of a masquerade is for others to guess your identity.”
My dear. Shruti blushed crimson, thankful for the mask. “Yet I already know yours, Mr. Colbert. Don’t you think it is unfair for one person to know with whom they are speaking when the other does not?”
Stephen’s Lincolnish eyebrows went up. “Would you care to dance?” He asked, becoming serious. He lowered in a bow.
Shruti suppressed giddy amusement. There was no way that Stephen Colbert, God of Truthiness, was asking her dance. This was a dream and when she woke up she would tell it at the actual ball.
However, if it was a dream, it was a damn good one, and she intended roll with it. “I would love to.” She said, grabbing his hand. - - - - -
Meanwhile, across the room, Jon’s hand was close to another’s as well. He observed that a lot of people were wearing identical silver bands on their left ring fingers, and asked Pandora about hers, hoping to distract himself from worrying about the eavesdropping woman. He had forgotten nearly every physical detail about her and could not be sure just how much she had seen and heard...or who she would tell.
PJ glowered at him as Pandora offered her hand.
“Why don’t you ask J?” He suggested, grabbing Pandora just under the elbow and pulling her toward him. She looked at him. God, she was beautiful, her pearlescent mask bringing out the color in her eyes. He could have spotted her continents away...though she couldn’t see through his facade. Thus, the strange look.
J, red-masked, grinned, straightening her matching dress and motioning for Jon to move away from them. “We’re all married.”She said, once he had. On the dance floor, Akbar and A. swirled passed, waving. Akbar seemed to have left his confusion about the motives of Jon and Stephen behind...either that, or he didn’t recognize Jon through his mask.
Jon’s mouth fell open. Surely he had misheard the girl...J, was it? “What?” “We’re all married.” She repeated.
“To each other?”
She giggled and nodded. “To make a long story short, it started when Pandora...er, that is the girl in the white mask, had a lesbian marriage to a large number of people, who married other people, eventually leading to the whole internet forum being wed.”
“Oh.” Jon looked uncomfortable. “So, you’re just e-married, then?”
“In every state except for Utah.” J folded her arm into his. “You wouldn’t care to join us, would you, Mr. Stewart? I know that Stephen supports polygamy...”
A metaphorical knot appeared in Jon’s stomach. She knew about he and Stephen? Changing the subject, he asked “Who bought the rings? They look marvelous.”
Pandora (PJ’s eyes stuck to her) injected, “Because they are. Cinderella takes the marvelous care of us, despite all the acts she puts up.”
“Cinderella?” Jon’s head began to ache from bewilderment.
“Cinderella is our benefactor, funding these shindigs.” J gestured around her. “‘She’ is also the ‘woman’ that invited you here.” Jon didn’t understand why she put emphasis on the gender-related (pro)nouns, and decided that he needed a strong drink. However, seeing the people spinning on the floor, soaking up the feelings of nostalgia and happiness, he decided that these people were close, that was nice, and that was what mattered.
“The woman in the robe.” He agreed. He looked over at the beverage table, wanting to stand up. But, when he tried, the revolver in his pocket dug into his thigh and he remembered he wasn’t here to see the bonds of friendship. He was here for Stephen. J seemed to like Stephen as well, so he would ask her.
“Say, J...” He began.
She looked at him.
“Have you ever heard of the Gethsemane Vendetta?” - - - - -
“One of them is talking to J. The other is waltzing with Shruti. I think that you are wrong to worry, Dante...”
“How can you say that when they would not hesitate to slaughter us? We must fight fire with fire, ‘Nora. Keep the tear gas ready.”
“This is never going to end.”
“No. Tonight, Antenora. It ends tonight.” - - - - -
Stephen was dancing with her. The omniscient woman who had lead him here. The woman who restored his faith in the legend when he least believed. True, her voice was a higher than on the phone, but he had suspected she was disguising her tone from the beginning.
“It’s an honor to meet you, madam.” He said, twirling her.
“That’s what I wanted to say.” She smiled. She was more amicable than Stephen had imagined, which made it awkward to transition from pleasantries to business. However, given Stephen’s career, he was a pro.
He looked around, then brushed his lips against her ear, softly. “Where is he?”
“Where is who?” She asked, shivering. She stepped forward, as the song grew louder, so that they were dancing closer.
Stephen swallowed. What was she getting at? “The...the Guest. The man you wanted...you know.”
Shruti licked her lips. “Why, Stephen. I haven’t wanted any man...except you.”
The music eased off and BSam found his way onto the podium in front of the band. Robert waved his conductor’s stick one last time and sat down.
BSam took a sip from his beer bottle, smacked his lips, and said (after stealing a microphone from the nearest flutist) “Ladies and gentleman, may I present Cinderella!”
The ballroom erupted in laughter as the Tragedy look the stage, dressed in an navy gown and darker mask, rolling his carefully done eyes. Stephen’s knees felt weak for the second time, reunited with the most remarkable ‘woman’ he had ever seen. It occurred to him that Cinderella was an inappropriate name for only one reason...she would never be less than a princess to Stephen.
“Thank you, Sam. Remind me to ban you for next year, as well.” Tragedy surveyed the former members of his forum, warmly. “Welcome to the fifth annual 667 masked ball. Now grab someone and help yourself to the buffet, because tonight has only begun.
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Post by s on Apr 30, 2006 16:30:28 GMT -5
Have I mentioned that I love you?
Sheer brilliance.
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Post by Linda Rhaldeen on Apr 30, 2006 23:56:21 GMT -5
Stupid hairpins...I've never liked them. Wonderful, wonderful, Alice. Oh, and I feel the need to mention that Utah's marriage laws are the same as everywhere else.
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Post by PJ on May 1, 2006 0:10:00 GMT -5
Awesome. I love the whole Jesus-tie in.
Pure brilliance.
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Post by Akbar Le Grey on May 2, 2006 11:01:43 GMT -5
Marvellous, Alice. I'm quite worried about the whole tear-gas thing, though. ):
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Post by Libitina on May 6, 2006 23:02:10 GMT -5
I started reading this last week, but I've been quite busy, and only finished it just now. This is absolutely brilliant, Alice. I am so glad that I've finally begun to watch The Daily Show and the Colbert Report. I can't wait to read the next chapter.
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Post by Alice Wilde on May 14, 2006 19:52:52 GMT -5
Part three-Traitors
“I want them all gone.”
A strange feeling had emerged when he said the words. A mixture of pride, malice, determination. Regret as well. Tragedy would always regret this...
His fingers traced wooden table. The room was sparse, no television or books on the wall. Only floor boards and a candle burning in a corner. The table by which he stood. A verdant notebook lay in front of him, penciled numbers strewn about the page.
He hated the looks on their faces.
Antenora’s lips parted with amazement and fear. She started to say something, protest perhaps, but didn’t. The chair she was sitting on, the only chair in the room, tilted as she leaned back and began to stand up, yet stopped.
Dante was expressionless, though Tragedy didn’t know if that was better or worse. At least, he spoke.
“I want you to reconsider.”
Antenora nodded. “Yes, please do. We could easily rid ourselves of the avengers...We don’t know them, you see. But, the 667ers, dancing the hours toward their deaths away, no warning...” She swallowed. “I won’t do it. There’s no reason.”
Tragedy felt his face warming. “You swore to protect me,” He said, jabbing the air with his index finger. “You can’t refuse.” The last phrase was more plea than order...please don’t refuse.
“I am more than sure that Antenora and I would preform our task better if you informed us why we must murder our comrades.” Dante wanted to sneer, though attempted to maneuver to a respectful tone.
Tragedy found himself unable to speak, his accusing finger still pointed at Antenora. He watched her eyes drift to the birthmark on his knuckle. It was a peculiar design, identical to the one ingrained outside of the building in which they were. It was four perpendicular lines narrowing with a straight line connected to a curved about a centimeter away. Tiny dots surrounded it.
A salt-shaker with the cap screwed off, spilling the salt. A timeless symbol for awful luck. Indeed, misfortune had plagued his family ever since...
“They listen to the avengers. They will protect them” Tragedy’s hand folded as he retracted it, making the marking brighten. “Those who watch the shows...fan love is different from the bonds of friendship. It’s stronger.”
He shook his head, continued. “I’ve worked so hard to keep the forum loyal. But, they’re so accepting...even with all the gag accounts I created to make them untrustworthy of new members. And, that woman went and found the two people after Daniel Handler himself that the members would adore.”
“They wouldn’t allow Stephen Colbert and Jon Stewart to murder you. ” Antenora said. “This is ridiculous.”
“I don’t care. They need to die. All of them.” Tragedy turned to Antenora’s partner. “Dante knows all about it. I had a feeling she would send Jon and Stephen this year, so I told him. Why, he’s even ordered the nerve gas-”
“Tear gas, sir.” Dante corrected him. Antenora looked at him.
“Tear gas?” Tragedy asked. He had told him specifically... “Why on Earth did you order tear gas?”
Dante cleared his throat. “Because I’m not a murderer.”
There was a nasty sort of silence. The room seemed to expand with every breathe Tragedy took. He stepped back, extinguishing the candle. The only light came from the sun now, sinking closer to the horizon, reflecting off the eyes of his guardians. He felt betrayed.
Tragedy felt his lips curl into a snarl. “You’d better be tonight. She, as well.” He jerked his head toward Antenora.
Outside, to the surprise of Tragedy’s less extravagant neighbors, a limousine pulled up. The driver honked. He left, but he could almost feel his voice echoing in the minds of Dante and Antenora. - - - - -
Hours later, the memory replayed. Standing on the podium, as the forum members gave him their full attention, Tragedy felt himself sway. He was going to miss them.
However, the faces of Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert stuck out in the crowd, as though they had worn scarlet to a funeral. They wanted him dead.
And as much as he would miss 667, missing things would not be an option if he were deceased. - - - - -
“...and thank you once more for attending.” Tragedy finished, and tittered off the podium. Linda suppressed faint amusement as he walked passed her, standing a head taller than everyone around him in his outrageous high heels. The effect was charming, though, and within seconds, she watched as Stephen Colbert bade good-bye to Shruti and walked to the forum administrator.
Linda gulped. This early? They were attempting to kill him this early?
She had to tell someone. Had to get them to stop...This wasn’t how the evening had been planned.
Akbar, noticing the concern written on her face, offered her a drink, yelling as the music started up. Linda silently thanked a higher power. Akbar was perfect. Someone who trusted her and would be able to help.
“Wot’s the matter?” He stood next to her.
She tried to look sheepish, but she could feel triumph oozing into her voice. “Have you ever heard of the Gethsemane Vendetta?” - - - - - -
PJ ate the chocolate eclair Pandora had given him with delight. It was delicious and Pandora reaching over for a bite was wonderful as well, but it was not what enthralled him. It was Jon Stewart reaching for his cigarettes. Now, if he could work his way to the newsman, he could get all the info-
“You’re PJ.”
He blinked. Pandora was waving her hand in front of his face and laughing. The light hit her lips, drawing his attention to them. She was so close...and it wasn’t like the night was going terribly for him. Her scent surrounded him. Perhaps tonight...
She pressed her lips to his.
The room faded away. - - - - -
Shruti sighed as Stephen walked to Tragedy. She wanted very badly to inform him that the administrator was a man and that he should dance with her some more because she loved him and possessed the ability to give birth to his children, while Tragedy could do neither. However, couth stopped her and she gravitated toward the nearest link to Stephen.
“What are you two doing?” She asked J and Jon, sitting down at their table.
Jon fiddled with his lighter, cigarette hanging out of his mouth. J gestured to him.
“Jon was about to tell me about a vendetta.”
“That’s quite a topic for ballroom conversation.” Shruti said. She gazed at the dance floor. Tragedy and Stephen were moving gracefully together, on par with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. Except Ginger probably had actual breasts, not two scarves shoved down her dress...
The cigarette lit, Jon began to cough.
“Are you all right?” J asked. Shruti watched as Tragedy whispered something in Stephen’s ear.
Jon grabbed his chest, and shook his head, still coughing. People passing by the table paused. Jon mumbled “Judas...” and slumped over the table, spilling J’s glass of wine. She and Shruti stood up, quickly, as the stain began to spread.
“What’s happening to him?” J shrieked.
Stephen, snapping out of whatever trance Tragedy held over him, rushed to the table.
“Jon?” He knelt next him. Shruti glanced at Tragedy. His eyes had narrowed and he seemed to be searching for someone. Stephen touched Jon’s forehead.
“A doctor!” He cried. “We need a doctor!”
A masked man stepped forward.
“I’m a doctor.” Sora said. - - - - -
From For It Is My Blood: The Betrayal of Jesus Christ, Celia Snikmopht, pg. 35:
Judas wandered beneath the trees, rope in his hands. The Sea of Galilee loomed in front of him, fishing boats skidding across. He was about to tie up his own boat when the rope was torn from him. The view of the sea was replaced with the face too familiar.
“Peter!” Judas stepped back. “What are you-”
Peter threw the rope around his neck. Judas gagged as he grabbed both ends and tightened. He said nothing, just pulled. Judas flailed, succeeding in slapping Peter’s face directly above the eye. The rope loosened.
“You killed our Savior.” Peter said, eyes watering. He threw the rope again. Judas held his thumbs in front of his neck, preventing the rope from strangling him...for the time being.
“No, you misunderstood. Jesus and I...” Judas felt his thumbs numbing from strain.
“I don’t want to hear you say that name again.” The thumbs bent and Peter squeezed. Judas heard his bones crack. After several minutes, the alleged traitor was lying on the ground, unmoving.
Peter prostrated himself, throwing the rope away. “I have avenged you, my Lord.” That was all. He could mourn peacefully now. He rose and brushed the dirt off his robes.
A young boy, carrying rotting fish in his arms, appeared. “Father, Mother said these fish can’t be used for sup...” The boy trailed off, looking at Judas. He dropped the fish.
Peter was stunned. The traitor had a son?
“Sir...” The boy was next to Judas, hands slipping around his broken neck.
“I killed him.” Peter said, in somewhat of a sad manner. Then, anger resurfaced. “Rest assured, your father deserved it.” He twitched, unsure of what to do. “I hope-”
The boy grabbed the rope, standing up. He was sobbing, tears running down his face like raindrops. Looking like he was going to faint, he twirled the cord. “I will kill you!”
Peter pushed the boy down. He sat on the ground, pounding his fists. He couldn’t be older than five. “You killed him so I’ll kill you, You killed him so I’ll kill you, You killed him so-”
“Silence.” Peter placed a hand in front of him. The boy bit it and stretched for the rope. Peter slapped him and he cried harder.
It was fruitless to explain his father’s crime. The boy had no idea who he was and by the time he was old enough to find out Peter would probably be dead.
Perhaps it was best if he walked away.
And, he did.
The boy moaned to his back. “Someday y-y-you will p-p-pay,”
Peter kept walking. - - - - -
Will Dante and Antenora carry out Tragedy’s plan? What’s happening to Jon? Will PJ and Pandora get together? Will Stephen and Shruti get together? Since when did Sora become a doctor? Why does Linda know so much about a three minute conversation that she scarcely witnessed? Couldn’t Tragedy afford breast implants?
And what does this all have to do with Jesus?
Tune in next week on J FOR JESUS’S VENDETTA to find out.
*theme music plays*
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Post by s on May 14, 2006 21:09:11 GMT -5
Brilliant. I hope nothing too serious happened to Jon. And your little advertisement at the end was amusing...although those are all perfectly valid questions.
Excellent update, and I look forward to more.
Edit: Also, you better become a writer, as a profession. And publish lots of stuff. To do anything less would be a travesty, and a betrayal of your talent.
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Post by PJ on May 15, 2006 0:25:28 GMT -5
D:
It's good.
*flees*
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Post by Linda Rhaldeen on May 15, 2006 0:39:03 GMT -5
Why does Linda know so much about a three minute conversation that she scarcely witnessed? That's what I'd like to know. Sometimes I wish that we were given the knowledge that we apparently know in 667 fics. That'd be marvelous.
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Post by Akbar Le Grey on May 15, 2006 2:03:21 GMT -5
OMFGWTF.
This is the best chapter yet! It just keeps getting better and better. (:
And yzay, PanJ.
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Post by PJ on Jun 6, 2006 23:58:34 GMT -5
*bump*
Mooooooore.
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Post by s on Jun 7, 2006 16:34:05 GMT -5
*seconds*
I was planning to bump this, but PJ got there first.
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Post by Sora on Jun 8, 2006 3:06:45 GMT -5
I'm a doctor now? Hmm. This is very getting interesting. Thank you so much for brilliantly continuing this.
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