The Waiting is Over
Titus 2v13 ‘While we wait for the blessed hope, the glorious appearing of our great God and Saviour Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us to redeem us from all wickedness and to purify for himself a people that are his very own, eager to do what is good.’
Another week into Paul’s training and transformation into a fully-fledged Master Disciple was going well, but it was taking its toll on Adam. As well as his own training, he was training Paul at an athletes pace and he was feeling it. Rachel had asked if Adam could possibly have a day off, midweek, to take them all out on a family day. But Milo had him on his guard because they were awaiting the arrival of the mysterious shipping container due to arrive at any time.
Defied and frustrated, Adam took Rachel and Grace out for a spin in the Beamer anyway. They took Grace for a swim at the local leisure centre and then went on for a picnic in the countryside. Grace was walking quite confidently and was very aware of the stress her mum and dad were under. Grace was a very understanding little girl and always going up to her daddy to give him a hug and say ‘Gob-Less’ in her native baby tongue (meaning ‘God Bless’). There was no fear of Grace ever forgetting that phrase; she’d heard a million times.
Adam was more than convinced that Grace understood what was going on and most of all she understood that God was real, even at fourteen months old.
Adam was grateful to God for having such a good mother for Grace in Rachel – a real woman of faith and a standard that was unshakable.
Meanwhile, at church Milo and Paul were listening in on Slayem and Deygar in the office, awaiting the arrival of the container that was intriguing them all.
A buzz was heard in Deygar’s office.
‘Sir, the delivery has arrived at the main loading area, and requires a signature from yourself and a Mr Hugh Williams.’
Deygar grabbed his pen. It was perfect, as the pair listened back at church hoping it was the pen with the bug in, and it was.
The evil duo quickly boarded Deygar’s express elevator straight down to the loading area to receive the container that had Deygar so intrigued these past few weeks.
Once down at the loading area, the place was a den of activity and noise; vehicles backing up, loud reversing beepers warning pedestrians and other users of the dangerous fork lift trucks travelling at speed.
Derek Greyer demanded a work force that was not just hard working but ever-efficient and was always striving for excellence.
A driver approached the pair as they paused and watched the ballet that was the loading area at its busiest time.
‘Excuse me, but is there a ‘Hugh Williams’ around? I have an urgent delivery for him,’ asked a large-set man, easily twenty-two stone of mass muscle, perhaps a former body builder in his early fifties. You could clearly see he could look after himself with many battle scars about his chiselled features.
‘That will be me, Marv.’
‘Sorry, sir. I could hardly recognised you in that suit. Since when have you considered yourself a business man who was serious enough about business to wear a penguin suit thingy?’
Derek was taken aback at the way this man addressed Slayem. There was no way that any of his employees would address him in that way. There was always respect and to know ones place in the running of things – especially ‘business’.
‘You know, Marv, you have to impress the new client. Don’t you know how shallow people are, always judging you on what labels you wear or what cut designer suit one wears.’
‘So, where do you want your container, boss?’
‘Along that back wall, out of the way and near to that power supply.’
‘Sure. You’re the boss. Can you sign please and it will be off and powered up in no time.’
Within ten minutes the driver, Marv, had the container off and powered up, plugging it into the massive power outlet on the rear loading deck and then pulling down the huge power breaker. Suddenly, the container came alive; power fans and an air-conditioning system and the mightily huge steel door lit up like a Christmas tree, were all triggered. There was a digital display and Slayem typed in a code, covering the keypad with his free hand to not reveal the code to Derek.
But that was only half of it. It was a complex locking system that required the key holder – Slayem – to pull on two handles and turn them simultaneously. If any person not authorised tried to open it, it became the earthing point to a 50,000 volt electric shock.
Slayem turned to Derek at this point. ‘It may not kill you, but it’ll hurt like hell.’
It was at this point that Derek hadn’t notice any signs saying ‘Danger of Death’ or ‘Electric Shock’ warning off potential thieves. Perhaps that was just Slayem’s way. It seemed he loved death or any way of inflicting harm; he embraced it like a drug addict; you could sense the effect that being a Dark Lord had on him, so evil and so filled with the blood of lost souls; lost to an evil and thoughtless being; totally transformed by his own demons.
‘I’m not all that bad you know, Derek.’
Derek let his mind wonder forgetting Slayem’s amazingly evil gift of reading a person’s thoughts.
‘No. No not all. I was just away with myself. I was miles away.’
‘I just find death the ultimate deterrent,’ said Slayem, with his evil grin.
As the door opened and the pair were inside, all Derek could see were lots of steel cabinets, gun type steel cabinets, and then halfway through there was another door.
‘What’s through there?’ Derek asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.
‘You’ll find out in due course. You’re so impatient for someone who can live forever.’
‘What are in these cabinets then?’
‘Weapons. Lots and lots of beautiful weapons. Well, I am a collector after all. That’s the only way I can ship this thing around. My official title is ‘Historian and collector of armoury and weapons’. Well, I do have a PhD in the subject, which makes me Dr Hugh Williams, but I hate to brag.’
Then Slayem pulled out a sword, his favoured weapon of choice. The sword looked normal until he pulled it from its sheath; it was double-bladed, a lot like a two pronged fork.
‘Why two blades?’ asked Derek, wishing he hadn’t asked, knowing that there would be a gruesome reason for a double-bladed sword. There was a reason and, like he’d expected, it was gruesome.
‘You see, when you run a sword through someone and then twist – not much damage. But with a double-bladed sword, it tears their insides up so badly, there’s less chance of surviving or counteracting in a fight. It also transforms into a Ronin Sword and – before you ask – a Ronin Sword is used a lot like a staff; you hold it in the middle and you can block and strike with ease. You see, the handle has a line through its centre and a release button.’
Slayem demonstrated the sword by pressing the button, making the handle separate into two halves then he twisted the handles round so the two blades were horizontal to one another. The handles clicked securely and the weapon was ready to use with deadly intension.
Derek’s face lit up. ‘That is amazing. Could I get one?’
‘No, it takes years of training to use one of these things properly. In untrained hands you could cut your own legs or even your own throat, so maybe not for you, Derek.’
Derek’s attention to that other door was getting the better of him and again he pressed Slayem for its contents.
‘I can see you’re anxious to see in here. Come; I think this will really impress you a lot.’
The pair went through another digitally locked steel door to reveal a room filled with more glass-fronted cabinets and much smaller drawers. Slayem signalled Derek over to a cabinet and grabbed hold of the handle to a drawer then pulled it open.
‘What you are about to see will change everything you thought you knew about being a Judas cult member, for ever.’
The open drawer revealed a velvet-lined, padded inner with a velvet cloth over the centre, covering its contents.
Slayem quickly pulled the cloth off to reveal a single silver coin.
Derek felt weird and weakened by the sight of the coin for some reason, and not knowing its origin or significance scared him to his core.
‘Is that what I think it is?’ Derek’s voice was a quivering mess of words and emotion.
‘Yes! It is one of the very coins that purchased the life and execution of Jesus. Our leader and founding member, Judas, held this very coin; it was his contract and payment for a job well executed and carried through to the very end, and ultimately lead to his own death. It helped and assisted us to live forever.’
Derek was in awe of the coin, beckoning Slayem to allow him to hold it with his hands.
Slayem gave the coin to the nervous Deygar. ‘A true Dark Lord once held that coin,’ he thought to himself. And once received in his hand he felt a bolt of power so powerful it took him off is feet. He received such a feeling of evil that it disturbed him. He felt as if he had no control over himself. He felt he would gladly give up everything just to own that coin and to receive that feeling over and over again. The deadly sins had taken over him – to kill, to steal, to take, to over indulge, to covet and to serve his master, who now was Slayem: a pure evil being covered with flesh that happened to look like a man.
Deygar’s mind a mess of jealously and rage. How and when did Slayem receive such an item?
Slayem was quick to answer his inquisitive mind.
‘My father gave me that coin after my first kill. I was around fourteen or fifteen at the time and, I must say, it was the easiest kill ever. I just walked up to the man’s home and slayed him. I felt bad at the time – well, after all, it was my first kill – but my father soon assured me it was part of being a Dark Lord and if I wanted the attributes of a Dark Lord I would have to kill and learn to take pleasure in it to survive a long, long life. He said it like this: ‘Think of it as if we’re the lion just picking off the weaker of the pack’. He was right; I would find it easier to kill and to find pleasure in it, hence all my weapons. This place also doubles as a blood bank and lab for me to feed on the long life-giving blood of the believer, so let’s get to work on those MD’s, Seth and Milo. One quick question, Deygar: do you own a battle suit of any kind?’
Derek shrugged at the ridiculous question. ‘A battle suit? No, of course not. Why would anyone walk around in a silly suit? If I happen to be engaged in combat I’ll be wearing what ever I’ll be wearing; it could be a suit or a loose fitting pair of trousers and a long trench coat to cover up the sword. Why? What do you wear?’
‘Well, I wear a mixture of a Kendo and Shiai uniform, plus a mix of my own modifications. My suit consists of ‘Bogu’, meaning Kendo equipment. The centre of the uniform is the ‘Do’ – the chest plate and main torso protector normally made from bamboo but mine is made from Kevlar, a lighter and stronger material. Then ‘Hakama’, meaning pleated pantaloons or skirt. Mine are modified to look less baggy, but I can still move freely. They are also Kevlar padded. Then the ‘Kote’, which are fencing gloves, and then on my feet are my ‘Tabi’. Then the ‘Tare’, the waist protector. Then, what I think is the most important piece, is the ‘Tsuki-Tare’. ‘Tsuki’ meaning throat and as you now know ‘Tare’ means protector. I’d say a vital piece of equipment for a Dark Lord, you see, a throat protector, but again modified Kevlar stronger and lighter. So who looks silly now?’
Deygar had a look of astonishment upon his face and now longed for a suit like Slayem’s, especially his ‘Tsuki-Tare’.
‘So what are you going to wear, Deygar? It’s hunting time.’