By: Deathstrike

"For the great day of his wrath is come; and who shall be able to stand?" - Revelation 6:12

  The Bishop and other members of the Brotherhood sat quietly, meditating, using their formidable mental strength to ward off the madness that was sweeping the world.  Hidden deep in ancient tunnels beneath the Vatican, they could still hear the din of insanity ravaging the surface.  Explosions, colossal smashing sounds, uncontrolled mobs...the screams of millions penetrated their sanctuary.  A trickle of sweat cascaded down the Bishop's cheek.  He was nervous, and rightly so.  It wasn't every day that one was forced to endure the death of a world.

  It didn't take long.  Within hours, the sounds of anarchy had died away, replaced by an eerie silence.  The group decided to investigate, to see if anything was left, if anyone sane remained to accept their help.  Emerging from their warrens, the Brotherhood gazed upon the rotten carcass of man's civilization.

  Bodies were strewn everywhere, as far as the eye could see.  Some had killed themselves; most had died fighting each other in savage delight.  Naked, covered with blood, some torn apart, others smashed into barely identifiable piles of gore, they had not gone quietly.  Cars overturned, buildings burned or blown apart...no structure or man-made object had been spared.

One of the younger Brotherhood members broke down.  "Nothing!  There is nothing!  We've failed...our mission is lost...Lord have mercy..." He collapsed to the pulverized, blood-soaked pavement.

"Our mission is clear," the Bishop called out in a commanding voice.  "We will search for survivors and try to rebuild.  That is all we can do.  The Bible tells us-"

"Survivors?  Rebuild?  Are you mad!  Have your eyes failed you??  Where do we start?  Which pile of bodies should we check for survivors?" the young man wailed.

The Bishop was about to respond when a Babel of horrible noises interrupted him.  From a jagged, smoldering building further down the street, a horde of Deep Ones greasily pushed their way through open doorways and windows.  The Brotherhood members were armed, some with ancient weapons, some with modern ones.  The shock of seeing their world destroyed was replaced by the need to survive, and, even more, to exact revenge on those responsible.

The Bishop's robes flowed around him, billowing out, as he gripped a morning star in each hand.  He had been trained well in the martial arts...the duties of the Brotherhood often entailed some degree of danger.  He'd even faced the Deep Ones before...once in the South Pacific, twice in Madagascar.  They were horrifying to look at, but clumsy in their mode of fighting.  And their bones were far from unbreakable.

Spinning, the Bishop smashed one morning star into the staring, flabby face of the nearest Deep One, causing it to cave in.  Another stumbled toward him, and a sweeping blow from the other morning star ruptured its head and sent it lurching backwards.  The melee expanded as the Brotherhood went toe to toe with the blasphemous fish-frogs, slicing them in half with broadswords, scooping out their innards with battle-axes, or blasting them apart with drum-fed shotguns.  Still, the horde was vast, and soon the Brotherhood was falling back down the street.  It looked grim.

Suddenly an American Apache attack helicopter roared overhead, raking the Deep Ones with withering chaingun fire.  Missiles arced down, sending napalm and shrapnel throughout the glistening, undulating mass of creatures.  More helicopters appeared, and armed soldiers slid gracefully down on ropes to join the Brotherhood in massacring the last of the foul beasts.

A soldier approached the Bishop.  "I'm Major Levenson of Delta Green.  I'm glad we found you...I assume you are the Brotherhood of the Sleeper?"

Shocked that the man knew who they were, the Bishop quickly regained his composure.  Now was not the time for secrecy.  "We are.  How did you find us?"

Levenson smiled grimly.  "We have a man who knew of you, knew you'd be here, and knew you'd survive the apocalypse.  He knows much about this horrible time.  It’s kind of hard to explain.  When the madness started spreading across America, he and another man contacted us.  While we fought off the crazed people and the horrible...things...he send us here to find you.  He thinks you'll be able to help us salvage what's left..." his voice trailed off for a moment.

"So some have survived?" asked the Bishop.

"Yes.  Not many...but some.  We're still fighting in the US.  We've been sent to bring you over, to ask you to join us.  The doctor says to tell you that the stars are right, but that all is not lost...yet."

"The doctor?" the Bishop inquired.

"The man who knew you'd be here.  Doctor Indiana Jones has sent me to you.  He's waiting for us back at Area 42, with a man named Kirk and two of our X-Files agents..."

Shedding Skin

Saruman cackled over the bowing form of Gandalf.  "Old fool.  Don't underestimate my power.  If I can break you, then I can break the Old Ones.  All it takes is patience...and I have all the Time in the world."

Suddenly, a blinding flash erupted, signaling the opening of a space/time wormhole.  Out of it stepped the TimeGuardian Avalon.

"Avalon!  What do you want?  If its battle you crave, you've come to the right place!" screamed Saruman.

"I want nothing to do with you, Saruman.  It's him I need." Avalon gestured at Gandalf.

"Ahhh...you like my new pet, eh? Well, you'll soon be joining him!"

"I think not." Avalon nodded toward the wizard, and Saruman's spell was shattered.

Gandalf leered at Saruman and Avalon.  "I don't know why you've freed me Avalon, but you probably shouldn't have!  The Grey poison has shown me the true way.  I am no longer Gandalf the White.  I am Gandalf the Grey!" and with that, he vanished.

Saruman's rage exploded, taking the form of azure bolts of pure energy.  Avalon deflected the attack fiercely, energy crackling and lancing in all directions.

Saruman seemed shocked, and even as he pressed on with his attack, a gnawing doubt crept into his mind...he'd felt energy like this before, but not from Avalon...from someone else.  "What are you hiding from me,
you pathetic fool?" he screamed at Avalon.  "Why did you free him?"

"I'm hiding from you what I've hidden from everyone...the TimeCouncil...the humans..." He clenched his fist, showing the One Ring which still rested on his finger.  "The wearer doesn't change the Ring, the Ring changes the wearer..." More energy burst forth from the Ring, overpowering Saruman's defenses.

The dark wizard's eyes grew wide, first in realization, then in fear.  His legs buckled.  "You...never...really...changed...SAURON!!!!"

Gandalf the Grey streaked through time and space...back to the Regula station.  Once there, he grabbed Hyuj's box.  If anyone was going to use this to stop the Old Ones, it was the Greys.  He safely hid it in a self-contained dimension before leaving for the past.  He knew that he had much to do in the timestream to tailor past events so that his future, the Greys future, would be glorious.  (See all messages from SB 1-5 where Gandalf the Grey appears).