Seven-Rapture Success

Like everything else, much of the Almighty's work happens behind the scenes. Hundreds of Cherubim and Seraphim labor like ants, probably rhe same workers who'd worked tireless hours wiring and double checking before the final microphone check preceding "Let there be light." there is no area where heaven more closely mirrors earth than the amount of credit given to the stage crew

These angels are preparing for something they'd been told was more crucial than creation itself. This was, of course, what they'd been told for every job since the Gomorrah Strike, and they all suspected that this was just an excuse to delay workers' comp for another century. Then again, not every act of the Divine was overseen by the Metatron.

The Metatron is, more or less, exactly what meets the eye. Shiny and perfect like the other angels, he is especially well groomed because, while he conspicuously lacks the ability to transform into a vehicle of any sort, he is the voice of God.

He has this job because any mortal who directly experiences the voice of the Divine will suffer some kind of cranial difficulties, generally explosion. After three botched Adams, actually named Quentin, Wendell and Steve, this was found to be the case, and the Metatron was given his job. He's very good at it, and now sounds even more like God should than God, who has a much higher voice and a slight stutter. At the moment that two very inconspicuous angels sauntered past, the Metatron is midway through his pre-proclamation vocal exercises, his golden headset securely fastened to his chiseled brow. A team of Cherubim are prepping the cumulosubwoofers that will discreetly transmit the message to all corners of the globe.

The two angels whipser to each other, in hushed voices. They are both cosmetically female, and look exactly like every other angel, though one has a stylish, modern hairdo and the other is sporting a very low cut robe.

"Ok, so this was easy for me, but I don't get how you can look like one of them without all the angels fawning over you like mortals do."

"Easy, honey. Angels all look the same, right? Can't improve on perfection, and besides it isn't like they're getting all jealous of you."

The stylish-haired angel pouts.

"I told you not to call me that. Ever again. That's over, done with, you saw to that.

"Relax. We've got a lot to do before you have time to bitch at me."

they reach the designer's terminal. Envy types in the easy acces macro password that Sloth told her to try.

A huge, twisted graphic appears on the screen, two nearly perfect helixes.

"Huh. He was right. Even heaven gets lazy around computers."

lust shrugs.

"Never been good at computers myself. I like the Internet, though. There's a hell of a lot of pictures of me on there, if you know where to look."

Envy growls at her wink, and composes herself before the green shows through her stolen angel eyes. She pulls up a portion of the spiral on the screen, enlarging it.

"Funny, thinking this is all that makes a human. So complete, yet if you change just one thing... " She clicks the mouse once. "You get an entirely different thing."

metatron begins his adress.

"Attention, all creations of the Almighty!"

Lust and Envy walk calmly away from the terminal, stopping only when they've put a good distance beween them and the angels.

"You have been called to bear witness to a most divine act of justice and mercy put into motion by my will! For henceforth will be a time of great tribulation on earth and the Lord has seen fit to remove only the most virtuous and good of his chosen creations to heaven's merciful embrace, letting them suffer not the trials of this oncoming war. Behold, chosen ones, the Rapture of the Almighty!"

In that instant, all the most virtuous and good gibbons disappear from earth, reappearing in gibbon heaven. While initially surprised, they react favorably to the large amounts of bananas.

A huge screen lights up, emblazoned with the words "Rapture Success!!!", showing all the joyful gibbons enthusiastically devouring delicious fruit. Primates, with one big exception, are fairly easy to please, and gibbon heaven was mostly just fruit.

Gibbon hell was also tiger heaven.

A hundred thousand worker angels stand open mouthed, realizing with horror that not only has something gone terribly wrong, it sure as hell isn't anybody else's fault.

The metatron screams with agony as the sound of someone taking His own name in vain fills his ears with extreme pain.

Lust and Envy watch.

"Metatron looks pretty put out." Envy says with a smile.

"Yeah." Lust replies. "Hey, I think I slept with him once. Angels may look dull, but when you tease them right..."

Lust gasps, cut off, as razor sharp nails tear black gouges in her cheek. She looks into Envy's blazing green eyes.

"Wrath wanted to kill you, after what you did to both of us. It said we should do it together. I should have taken it up on the offer."

"What did I do, follow my nature? If you want me, you can have me, but you need to know you won't be rhe only one. No exceptions."

envy seizes Lust's pale throat, Black fingers exploding from the angelic guise. Green flame scorches stolen retinas, and The pale cheeks split wide to reveal a gaping maw.

"Was it too much to ask for just a little of what Sloth and Gluttony have? I wanted it, Lust, I wanted it and you cuckolded me. I do not take your taunts lightly. This is your final warning."

She loosens her grip, enough for Lust to breathe. Ze spits on the ground between the two of them, the angel guise melting away to reveal zer normal shape.

"Lust and Metatron, sitting in a tree, F-U-C-"

Envy's fingers plunge deep into Lust's throat, seizing some hidden prize within zer flesh.

"I think you need to learn to be seen."

She yanks her fingers free, leaving a quinted of gaping black gashes. As Lust falls to zer knees, the wounds are already beginning to seal up, but even a Sin's body cannot replace something stolen away. Envy pockets a handful of black, fleshy chords.

"Not heard."

-Locke and Peter