"Dammit, Eternus, I hate when you do this mysterious shit, just fucking tell us."

"It doesn't work."

"Telling us doesn't work?"

"It never does, Streak. It never has and never will. I keep telling you this, and you keep pretending like we've never had this discussion."

We've had it more than he knows, because for every one he remembers, I've had to deal with him doing it a dozen times. Asshole.

"Well, what do you expect, Eternus? All we get is you interrupting and slamming into us and being dickish in general. You say you're reliving the mistakes, but all we know is the present, the now. But you expect us to just suck it up and do what you say. It gets old, fast."

"No shit, Streak, you wanna guess how fast dying because your surly ass wants to play pissing contest instead of listening to the guy that's saved every life on the planet a dozen times, and your life so many hundreds of times I can't even keep track. Why do people do this? The psychics, the time travelers, it doesn't matter how many times we're right, it's this same, shitty argument.

Yes, I expect you to fucking listen to me because this is the fifth time we've had this argument for me, and that means I've died five times today. Which isn't even a record, for fucks sake. And, it's you whining that's the worst part of it. I almost wish I could just die and not come back, if it meant not dealing with you again."

The General did his usual, "Gentleman, can it. Eternus, just brief us; Streak, go take a walk and cool off."

Fifth time. Fifth fucking time. "The Ragnarok are going to hit London. We get there, and they're tearing the city apart. This will be my fifth run, and we've only made it maybe two minutes in the fight before Nuke unleashes and we're all ashes. Streak, every single time, tries to play stupid and just hits him at speed. It keeps not working. It just gives Nuke more kinetic energy to redirect into his blast.

If we're going to even get close, we gotta either hit him hard enough to put him down permanently, or try something new. Streak isn't following the plan. We need to leave him behind this time, try to at least gather more details before I get taken down. I said this last time, and you said.. "

"I said he's fast enough to cross the ocean and get there before we do."

"Finally! Something different. That's the first time you've interrupted me with that! The last two times you waited until I was done and said that of course you said it, it was true."

"Believe it or not, Eternus, I do pay attention. I started thinking it and realized I must have thought it before."

"So, what's the new play, general?"

"I talk to him anyway. If we haven't tried before?" I shook my head, almost giddy at a new twist. "Good, then you four get ready, I'll pin down Streak and get him to hang back."

So, we did. Me, Hellion, Damage, and Lightstorm got geared up and moved to the transport room, where Switch was ready to port the team once the General showed. And, we got there before the alert too. Two new occurrences. Maybe this would be the right one.

The alarm blared, and the General ran in, pulling on his helmet, "Alright team, let's handle business." There was a tugging at my stomach as Switch switched us, and the fight was on.

"Streak, this is Eternus, our new member. He's a time manipulator of sorts."

"Good to know, General. How's it hanging, Eternus?"

Not fucking good, Jamie, not fucking good.

"Oh, I guess it's hanging fine enough. We'll have to see what the future holds."

Again.

"Ahhhh, you fuck, you fucking bastard, you fucking shot me!"

"You're gods damn right I did. Your dumb ass refused to listen. This is trip seven for me, asshole. And every time, it's your punk ass that gets us killed."

The General ran into the room, spooling up his power as he came. I raised my hands, "Penguin."

The General stopped cold, "I gave you the code?"

"Yup. This is trip seven. Last time, you ordered Streak here to stay behind. It almost worked, but he flew off the handle when he saw Damage lose his head, literally, and pulled the exact same shit instead of letting things play out and let me get better intel on the fight.

This time, I figure we've got a few hours before he heals enough to be a problem. More if I shoot him in the other knee too."

"Let's not go that far."

"Not that far, you gave him the code so he could shoot me? You're both assholes, fuck both of you!"

So I shot him in the head.

"Sorry, General, this has been a bad day. Let's just get to the fight and I'll off myself if we get it handled, come back and figure out a way to do this without doing that."

"It wouldn't bother me so much if you didn't seem happy about it."

"Hey, you haven't been dealing with this prick for eight hours on repeat, you might be a bit happy if you had."

The alarm started blaring, and we ran for the transport room...

"How's the knee?"

"It fucking hurts."

"Well, now that we figured out what to do, if you ask reeaaaly sweet, and give me something that will convince you to keep your ass at base until you're called, I can shoot myself and use it."

"Your codes are fucking stupid."

"Yeah, well, you're the only one that thinks that, and you're the only one that got injured today. So, you're stupid. Fine, whatever. But maybe think up a code in case you decide to wear your ass on your shoulders again."

"You smug fuck, we did fine before you came along. We'd do fine without you, too, even if we died."

"You know, you said that once before. Then, five hours later you were begging me to shoot myself so that Lady Rain wouldn't have to live with her face burnt all to hell. And I fucking did it, James, I ate a fucking bullet so that your now ex could walk around with a normal face."

"How do I know that's true? You could make up anything you wanted."

"Why? Why fuck with you with lies? The truth is so much harder for you to take. James. Jamie, if I was that kind of person, why am I even here? I could be rich beyond anyone's dreams with this 'power'. I'm just a guy when it's fight time. No speed, no super strength, no mind manipulation, just the ability to die and come back. But I'm here, with you, beside you, and this paranoid bullshit is what I get? Come the fuck on, man."

"Dude, I...

I don't fucking know man, I'm sorry. But your shit is crazy. You just show up, all 'come with me if you want to live' mysterious and shit, and then we win. All we can see is now. And it's crazy. We trust you, I trust you, but it's frustrating, and it makes me crazy too. You're magic, you're living luck as far as I can see, but you say it's you flipping back in time, and that's harder to deal with.

You get that, right? That if you said you were seeing the future, or reading probabilities or something, it wouldn't fuck with me the same."

"Why would it matter?"

"Dude, if you're saying to do something because the other way didn't work, it means we fucked up. Something one of us did got somebody killed. Not something we might do, if you were just psychic. Something we did, something where we got ourselves, or one of our friends, or a civilian, killed. Or, apparently, maimed and scarred.

That's heavy. Yeah, you die for it, you see all the deaths, but you get to fucking fix it. Us? We're fuck-ups that you have to fix."

"That's bullshit Jamie. You guys did do fine before I came along. But nobody can fight what we fight forever, perfectly. You aren't fuck-ups, you're fucking heroes, putting your bodies, your lives on the line. All I do is give you cushion. That should be my fucking call name 'the human insurance policy'."

"I mean, you did shoot Quake in the balls today. That was pretty damn heroic if you ask me."

"He's gonna kill me if he gets out of jail."

"Nah, he'll try, and then you'll come back and fuck him up even worse."

"Jesus, Jamie, if any of those fucks ever figure out how it works, we are beyond fucked."

"Maybe. Maybe not. You don't even know how it really works, just that you restart the day from when you woke up. Maybe there's other ways your power can protect you. For all you know, if it's bad enough, you might wake up years in the past, because that's what it would take to survive it."

"Jamie, don't. Don't even say that."

ALERT ALERT, PLANETARY THREAT INCOMING

"Dammit, Eternus, I hate when you do this mysterious shit, just fucking tell us."

"It doesn't work."

"Telling us doesn't work?"

"It never does, Streak. It never has and never will. I keep telling you this, and you keep pretending like we've never had this discussion."

We've had it more than he knows, because for every one he remembers, I've had to deal with him doing it a dozen times. Asshole.

"Well, what do you expect, Eternus? All we get is you interrupting and slamming into us and being dickish in general. You say you're reliving the mistakes, but all we know is the present, the now. But you expect us to just suck it up and do what you say. It gets old, fast."

"No shit, Streak, you wanna guess how fast dying because your surly ass wants to play pissing contest instead of listening to the guy that's saved every life on the planet a dozen times, and your life so many hundreds of times I can't even keep track. Why do people do this? The psychics, the time travelers, it doesn't matter how many times we're right, it's this same, shitty argument.

Yes, I expect you to fucking listen to me because this is the sixth time we've had this argument for me, and that means I've died six times today. Which isn't even a record, for fucks sake. And, it's you whining that's the worst part of it. I almost wish I could just die and not come back, if it meant not dealing with you again."

The General did his usual, "Gentleman, can it. Eternus, just brief us; Streak, go take a walk and cool off."

Sixth time. Sixth fucking time. "The Ragnarok are going to hit London. We get there, and they're tearing the city apart. This will be my sixth run, and we've only made it maybe two minutes in the fight before Nuke unleashes and we're all ashes. Streak, every single time, tries to play stupid and just hits him at speed. It keeps not working. It just gives Nuke more kinetic energy to redirect into his blast.

If we're going to even get close, we gotta either hit him hard enough to put him down permanently, or try something new. Streak isn't following the plan. We need to leave him behind this time, try to at least gather more details before I get taken down. I said this last time, and you said.. "

"I said he's fast enough to cross the ocean and get there before we do."

"Yeah, and then you went and talked to him to get him to stay away, and the fucker just ran around the planet and hit Nuke from behind and we all died faster this time."

"Maybe if I make it an order."

"Fine, fucking try it, but if it doesn't work this time, I'm shooting him in the damn knee next time."

"Eternus, no, you won't."

"The fuck I won't, General. And you'll back my play, or I swear by all that's holy, I'll stay behind, and just recruit a team that will listen. You all only have to die once."

"You're serious."

"As it fucking gets. Man, I have died over ten thousand times. A few hundred of those were me killing myself so I could come back and save one of you. Putting a bullet in Streak? That would be a side benefit to this whole dance. So, are you going to give me a code for it, or do I flip the table and be done with it?"

"Penguin. The current code is penguin."

"Awesome, you go corral the asshole because the alarm...."

And the alarm went off. We jumped into action, and....

"Ahhhh, you fuck, you fucking bastard, you fucking shot me!"

"You're gods damn right I did. Your dumb ass refused to listen. This is trip ten for me, asshole. And every time I didn't, it's your punk ass that gets us killed."

The General ran into the room, spooling up his power as he came. I raised my hands, "Penguin."

The General stopped cold, "I gave you the code?"

"Yup. This is trip ten. Sixth time, you ordered Streak here to stay behind. It almost worked, but he flew off the handle when he saw Damage lose his head, literally, and pulled the exact same shit instead of letting things play out and let me get better intel on the fight.

Shooting him has gotten us almost there, and I think we can make this the last trip."

I considered just shooting him in the head again, but if we did win the fight, the General would just make me come back.

"Streak, the last few times, I shot you in the fucking face so I wouldn't have to deal with you. That's what it took to keep us from dying. Are you going to play nice and not say something stupid that gets you shot in the face again, and let us handle the fight without you?"

"You shot me in the face?"

"Damn skippy. Three times so far. Wanna make it four?"

"You are such a prick."

"Yeah, yeah, you keep saying that, and I keep keeping you from dying permanently, so who's the bigger prick here? Just shut up, heal, and stay ready in case we need you for the finish, yeah?"

"Fuck you."

And the alarm hit...

Thanks :)

Ngl, I'm proud of this one. Even made my family listen to me read it lol

Dammit, another transfer. I still can't believe I got suckered into this.

"Oh, Terry", they said, "you'll get to live forever, all you have to do is keep things running. The nanobots will do most of the work, so you get to kick back and enjoy the best of everything!"

Yeah. Right. Sure, the bots can grow anything for me, any food I want, any clothes from all of history, it's great. And since I can plug into the system, I can talk with anyone and everyone that converted. Great!

And it was great for the first thousand years. One body gets old, you have the bots clone you one, plug into the transfer matrix and hotswap. You get another hundred or so years in a healthy body.

Problem is that all those people in the machine are the same assholes I've been talking to for centuries. At this point, I'd have to look up how many millennia it's been, and the last time I did that, the nanobots had to rebuild my entire body and reboot me from back-up after I blew my damn head off. Can't even die, not allowed.

Don't get me wrong, when I'm plugged in, I can get all the sex I want, all the praise and adulation, but I've fucked every single person in there a dozen times, and it isn't like I can stay plugged in all the time. There's work. Maintaining nanobot code, scanning and repairing the crystalline matrices that allow a full person to be copied in, the turnover for all the storage units, it's a solid ten hours every day, though not always the same jobs every day.

And we're it. I've run sub-servers to try and figure out a way to create new people, to have children, but it won't work. The serious brains inside can't figure it out, so I don't know why I keep trying, but I keep failing. The religious and philosophical geeks inside say there's no way to make a soul "stick" inside, if it wasn't there already, that souls need meat to grow with, so there's no way to make it work at all.

I'm half tempted to stick my junk in a port and see if that works.

Eternal life! Bull. There's no life at all. It's static, it's eternal, but it ain't life.

I keep waiting and hoping that maybe the planetary defense network will fail, and I can just not fix it, and some kind of planetoid sized mass will slam into us, and that would maybe break up the nanobot network enough that it would all be over. But I suspect I'll be right here until the sun wipes us out.

At least, it'll wipe us out here. The other me, the one frozen and waiting with the back-up network cruising to space outside the galaxy, he'll wake up and get to start the same mind numbing wait for oblivion out there.

Yeah, great idea this was, Terry.

Okay Hannah, as soon as the new body decants, begin the transfer and scrub this mangy old shell.

They're still there, and you can always cross post, or repost.

Matter of fact, it would be great if you did. Different instance, different eyes.

You should also know that activating usb debugging in there is the best way to have a chance at fixing anything that goes wrong later. If your age screen shatters, there's ways to access what's on the device if you've solar already hooked it up to your pc and set it to always allow that pc to access the device. It can help with bootloops or other issues too.

It's optional, but you'd be amazed how many times someone has needed that access.

It isn't, in this case. It says the law may have been broken. Until a prosecutor comes along and goes for an indictment, then the person is convicted, saying that they broke a law isn't a fact.

It's splitting hairs for casual conversation, but when it comes to making a public statement, you run into libel issues.

So, while it grumpy definitely is a fact that the pictures are released, and that she did so, no legitimate press is going to say she broke that law, only that she may have. If she's indicted, then they could say "charged with", or similar language. But until a jury in a criminal case renders a verdict, the press as a whole wouldn't be protected if they said she broke the law. Well, there's other things that would clear that language for use, but they still involve determination of guilt in the courts

Basically, it covers their ass.

My head.

I got lucky and the prompt inspired me fully. That's pretty rare, normally I just get an idea and then have to really work at it to get something readable. This was pure stream of consciousness.

I'm legit proud of it.

Not inactive, just not active active. There's never anything to moderate, and I'm not prone to doing my writing on lemmy these days. Character limits make it somewhat annoying to fit things in. I favor longer fiction than I used to, particularly back on reddit. Since this account is exclusively for my pen name, and I'm a non entity, there's not much call to interact with things.

But I passively use lemmy plenty, and read everything in the community.

Well damn! Thank you!

When I set it up, there was a bit of difficulty finding instances, or I would have picked one that's less congested. There's one at literature.cafe that gets some use as well.

I'm thinking on this one, I have an idea but it hasn't wormed its way out yet. But, I have a tangentially related one I did on reddit back a few years while I'm percolating.

There he stood in all his scarlet glory. The lack of horns and tail was disappointing, but those had always been symbolic. I glanced at his feet, but they were shod in shiny red leather, so if there were hooves, I never saw them.

What stood out the most was his visage. Not because of any facial features; other than being incredibly handsome, nothing stood out in that regard. Even the perfectly groomed mustache and goatee weren't anything that stood out.

The glare in his eyes, glowing faintly red, and the curl of his lips into a sneer as he began to speak are what seared into my memory.

Standing at a crossroads in the middle of rural Tennessee, having just summoned the devil himself would be something to remember by itself, but his words crushed my dreams.

"Let me guess. Another human trying to sell their soul?"

The raw contempt and disgust in his voice made me shiver in fear. I opened my mouth to respond, but he raised a well manicured hand before I could start.

"I have no use for the damned things. I know you humans love to pretend they have value, but they're useless to me. If I did want them, millions of souls are consigned to me every year by their own actions and no cost to me. I do not, nor have I ever, given anything in exchange for a human soul. That isn't to say I'm not in the business of trade, but souls? Even Jesus himself has no use for them.

No, if you have something useful, we can make a deal. It won't even guarantee you a spot in my soul sauna since the father gave you screeching monkeys the escape clause of repentance. All souls are hers no matter where they reside."

Stunned, I tried to process his words. My brain scrabbled at Satan calling god both father and her for a moment before it slipped back into gear and recalled my purpose. I didn't sacrifice that goat for nothing!

"Oh hail and praise thee Lord of Darkness, I have come to make a deal."

His eyes rolled as he muttered something about Ozzy and Anton needing an ass kicking, but I continued.

"I would offer my soul in trade for power over my fellow man, and great wealth."

He cocked his head to the side. "Are you dense, or just fucking with me?"

"Um. Sorry. I had this whole ritual planned and, well, I thought it was the thing to do."

He ran his hands across his face, then through ebon hair. "Humans." He then sighed and went on "Look, Charles, I know who you are, I know what you want. And I know what you have to offer. My staff are excellent at gathering that kind of thing before I ever show up. So let's cut the bullshit, shall we?"

"Yes, um, my Lord?"

"If it makes you feel special, Lord is fine. You tell me what you want, in reasonable detail. I tell you what I want in return. Then maybe we don't both go home with a million mosquito bites at dawn and get home quickly instead."

With that, he slapped one of the offending insects, a slight puff of sulfurous smoke rising from the spot on his neck.

"Yes my Lord!"

And I told him. I wanted the ability to charm the masses, to sway minds with my words. For that power, the influence and wealth it would bring, I would swear anything.

He listened, watching my hands as they fluttered until I reined in their nervous flight. As I uttered the last word, anything, a devilish grin spread.

"I can do that Charles, oh I can give you that indeed. The price isn't even onerous. For that power, all I will require is that once you have risen to wealth and influence you form a small company dedicated to the sales of cheaply made electronics."

"Cheap electronics my Lord? That's all you want?"

"Well, that and I'll need about tree fitty."

"Tree fitty? Is that a South Park reference?" Did old scratch just make a South Park reference?

He sighed again. "Yes. They got what they asked for. I should know better than to trade a bag of "the dankest weed ever" for a subversive cartoon that features me. They smoked it all, and that's the best joke they came up with.

But yes, I need you to make cheap electronics."

"Yes my Lord. Um. Why?"

"You dare ask me why? My reasons are not for the likes of you to know, and you could not comprehend the skein of plans woven within plans that your tiny efforts will assist."

"Yes Lord. Cheap electronics it is. So, do I sign in blood, orrrr?"

"Pff, if you wish. You humans do enjoy ceremony. But there's no need. It's not like I need paper and a signature to collect what I'm owed."

With that, he snapped and a fussy looking little imp appeared with parchment, a quill and a syringe. The imp looked eager, his tail twitching in anticipation.

"No need my Lord! Your word is good enough for me!"

"Yes, it would be."

With that, he stepped forward. Fire and smoke began streaming from his hands. He touched my brow, then my lips and throat. The vermilion depths of his pupils boring into my own as heat washed from each point his hands touched.

I couldn't move. The fire from those touches spread across my skin, sinking down into my body. As they reached some immaterial but perceptible part deep inside me, my vision flared white hot and consciousness fled.

But as I fell the the ground, I heard him say, "Come Grossclout, we have an appointment with the postmaster that needs keeping."

When I woke, it was still dark. The crickets sang as I walked back to my car, filled with confidence and a plan.

"No, no, you do not need to take us to a leader. We do not need to speak to your scientists. Once our scan is complete, we will communicate with the human we have come to see and we will leave."

"But, why? We could learn so much from each other. Okay, more us from you, but we're not alone in the universe, and that means so much. Please, at least talk to us while you scan."

"There is nothing to say. Your world will either achieve the means to leave and find the rest of us, or you will not. That which is taught from the outside is unbalanced, wrong. It must be at your pace. When you can leave your star system, there will be much to discuss. Until then, it is a waste of our time, and yours. Instead, study your scans of our presence, as that is as much as any system limited species ever gets."

"Fine, okay, it isn't like we have a choice. The damn Morbinginan air force already proved we can't harm you if we wanted to. And, thank you for not holding that against the rest of the nations of earth. Can you answer one question, for me, just for me?"

"Ask it, and we shall see."

"Why did you tell the UN to have me be earth's spokesperson?"

"You share the name of a famous earth denizen we picked up as we scanned the past transmissions of your planet, Mr Hannibal Smith. A very entertaining show, we felt. The character you share your name with seemed unlikely to have a real person share the name. We had hoped the request would keep your governments busy until our scan was complete."

"Wait, are you fucking with me?"

"Is your name not Hannibal Smith? Why else would we request you by name?"

"I thought maybe it was my blog about astronomy."

"Oh. A blog. How... interesting."

"What's wrong with my blog?"

"Nothing, of course. I am sure it is a wonderful blog. Surely one worthy of great success."

"You didn't even look into who I was after we started talking?!"

"If I say no, will your feelings be hurt? We wish you no undue distress."

"No."

"Ah, wonderful. No, we did not look into you."

"sigh Thanks, I guess. At least I got to talk to an alien."

"There you go! There is always light in the darkness of the void once you travel far enough."

"So, uh, the people here are saying l have to offer you access to our resources if you change your mind and at least tell us about what other life there is."

"No. We neither want or need your resources.

Ah, wonderful, our scan is complete.

Communications, end this call and patch me in to Mr Gagney's line please."

Silence rang through the briefing room in the White House as the signal disconnected. There was much anger and confusion.

An immediate search for all Mr Gagneys started, winnowing down until an active call was identified and traced. By the fact that it didn't trace to any location at all, the closest FBI agents were sent to make contact with Gagney.

He, at first, refused to talk about the communication. He said nobody would understand. That it was private and confidential. But the steady stream of threats and offers of rewards changed his mind.

He sat down in the chair in front of the Secretary General of the UN, with world leaders all around.

His guts were rumbling from hours of stress and and too much of the coffee that they had used as torture. Or maybe they meant it as an offer of hospitality, but damn if it wasn't eating a hole in his ass right now.

"I don't understand it, sirs. He just asked if I have Prince Albert in a can. I said, no, of course not, this isn't a tobacco store. They hung up."

"Look, Mr Bingham, I've been where you are, and I think you have a compelling argument for violation of contract.

But we've got to get a few details covered. You state that you signed a contract, in blood, with the devil. Are you certain it was the king of hell, and not some other entity. He does get imitators and soul selling scams are a dime a dozen."

"Well, sir, I reckon it was the man hisself. He had them horns, and the tail, and the glowing red eyes, and them wangs. Cain't rightly be nobody else."

"You'd be surprised how many things out there look like that. One of my exes could do a damn good version of that when I'd come home drunk.

At any time, did the eyes change color, did the wings shift to some other appearance at all? Any shifts?"

"Ayup, shore did. His eyes went from red to golden when we signed, and his wings started shining with a white light that durn near hurt my face. I had to turn away fer a moment." And I swear, when it started to dim and I looked back, he weren't red a'tall. He was almost like marble, only shinin' inside out as the light faded and he turnt back to what I seen a'first."

"Well, that certainly helps, we know it could only be a few things other than Lucifer, and none of those can give any power without the approval of the divinity they serve. Those divinities can't pull tricks in their arrangements because it isn't in them.

So, it seems that Satan, the dark lord of hell did pull a fast one.

The contract here says you wanted the power to clear a field in a day, no matter how big, no matter what the crop. In exchange, your immortal soul would be given unto Lucifer, the Exiled, to reside with him until the end of time.

The signature matches all known examples, and you specified a crop to be cleared.

I would definitely say that being caused to belch fire any time you step into a field would not match the intended exchange. Nor the, ahhhh, it says here the winds what tore a hole in your pants at the same time and demolished your harvester. No crop being present means that the field being cleared is a default of intent, and that matters in the celestial court."

"Ayup, that's what I reckon."

Alright Mr Bingham, lets get a few things signed in regular ink here. Power of Intercession, plea to the Saints and Martyrs for a hearing, and an affidavit of your version of the statements made today."

"You reckon I oughta sign anything a'tall? Last time I did that, I was fartin' tornadoes."

"If you don't, I can't stand for you in the court, I can only give you advice here on earth. That's your choice, and I have seen successful cases won that way. But you'll still have to present a plea, and the written version is the fastest. You have no idea how backed up the Saints and Martyrs are these days."

"I been backed up afore. Took some castor oil, cleared me right out. Hain't had no trouble like that since them winds started comin' out though. I reckon, if I didn't have the sense to not sign before, and it got me into this mess, maybe I oughta not have sense again, and see if'n it gets me out."

"That's one way to look at it, yeah."

As the parchments were signed and witnessed, I looked Mr Bingham up and down again. I should have seen this coming. You don't just escape a soul deal on a technicality and not piss the entity off. You sure as hell don't go on to find and help other betrayed souls to negate their contracts and begin the process of repentance.

The only question in my mind at that point was who Bingham really was. Could be one of the older incubi, they tend to be good at hiding their nature, even from someone familiar with the signs. But I don't think they would have gone with the hokey bullshit fake farmer thing.

No, it had to be something else. Maybe a greater demon, maybe one of the damned given privileges and power for the task. But it was definitely not the Mr Bingham that I had a friendly air elemental look into. Oh, it looked the part, but the real Mr Bingham didn't have that fake corn-pone drawl. And, while he definitely did fart tornadoes, he seemed quite happy with it. Had a little wind farm going, making nice income just from eating some beans every night and pointing the direction of the turbines when regular wind was low.

We would see, though. No way could it keep up the masquerade past the Celestial Gates. The guardians would sniff it out in a hot second.

"Mr Bingham, if you'll return tomorrow morning, ten a.m., I should have a response to your plea, and we can set up a time for a trip to purgatory to enter the Gates and have your case heard."

With the usual handshakes and malarkey goodbyes, I showed him out the door and made some prayers.

I'm going to continue this as a response to this comment because I don't want to hit the character limit, and I need a nap. Not sure exactly when I'll finish up, or how many sections it'll run.

The only way it matters is if/when it is defederated by/from other instances.

That being said, some may or may not be more reliable than others, but that's a separate issue

Thanks :)