Earth. 3rd Planet from the star, Sol, Italy, Rome,

The Vatican City

Eighteen Earth Years Ago

The two men stood talking under a dim street lamp on a quiet tree lined street, one kilometer from Emilio's hotel.

"So, you want me to ride in the trunk?"

"Sì," the old priest nodded. "Do you want to see it or not?" he asked, his voice low. The priest's eyes darted around nervously.

"Very well," Emilio replied. He looked around and then lowered himself under the man's raised arm and into the trunk of the black 1963 Mercedes-Benz 220SE.

"I did put a pillow in there for you," Father Agostino said with a smile.
"You watch your fingers," he added and then closed the heavy lid with a thud, sealing Emilio inside the dark, metallic box.

The ride was bumpy, the outside noises muted, but Emilio passed the time playing a game on his cellphone in the dark. "Such an odd way to spend a weekend," he thought. Either way, he realized he was soon to witness something that only a select group of people on the Earth had ever been privy. He was to see the actual weapon that killed Abel and read an unpublished book of the Bible, one evidently sanctioned by the Holy Church, but never released to the masses. True, a percentage of humanity would give a body part to experience an event such as this, but for an archaeologist, it would be worth risking your life.

The brakes squealed as the car rolled to a stop and Emilio pressed the power button on his cell. He began to stow it in his jacket's pocket and then thought of something. The archaeologist quickly removed the device once more, turning off the ringer for good measure, and turned on the GPS locator app he used when he was out on a hunt. He heard the door open, then slam shut, footsteps crunch on the pavement, and then keys rattle. He shoved the phone down his pants as the trunk lid lifted. "Father...I...wait, you are not Father Agostino."

"Quiet, Mr. DeFranscesco," said a priest in long black robes, wearing sunglasses, and holding a silenced 9mm pistol. The barrel pointed directly at Emilio's head and the hand holding it was not shaking.

The museum curator noted the sash around the man's neck bore a different symbol than the typical crucifix. The mark it bore resembled a three dimensional black cube traced in red. Emilio eased himself from the trunk, hands in the air, and walked around the car. He spotted Father Agostino standing calmly at the front of the Mercedes-Benz. The old man smiled reassuringly.

"You need to understand, Emilio, we have to be careful. Just do as you are told and everything will be fine," the priest said as he lifted a red velvet sack up and over Emilio's head.

"Walk," said a voice.

Emilio felt hands grasp him on each arm, guiding him forward. He could hear his own breathing and felt each warm exhaled breath amplified beneath the hood. Light and dark were the only things he saw and they came in red-tainted shades. Nothing substantive beyond these sensations were available to any of his other faculties apart from the occasional odd voice or noise, like a door closing, or his and his escorts' footsteps echoing down some unfamiliar hall.

Then the procession stopped and the red cloth lifted from his face. Emilio squinted as his eyes attempted to adjust to the light in the brightly lit, stark white room. As his vision improved, he noticed he was not alone, but standing in the center of a cylindrically shaped chamber occupied by approximately ten or so Catholic priests, all wearing sashes bearing the same odd markings as the armed priest.

Father Agostino stepped forward. "We have come to a decision, Emilio," he said, arms outstretched, indicating the men encircling the Italian archaeologist were in some sort of agreement. "...that you are worthy and will be allowed to read from Book Zero and to see the Shechita of Cain."

"Thank..."

"Say nothing," a soft, low voice said, abruptly silencing Emilio. "It is we who are grateful. Thankful for your presence."

"Huh?" Emilio turned to find he was staring into the bearded face of a man in his early thirties. The mysterious figure wore a hooded brown robe with a rope for a belt and his hands were tucked in each of the other's sleeves.

"Please, follow me, Emilio," the stranger commanded and then turned.

A pair of priests stepped toward the wall and each pressed a different spot on the blank white wall. The area between the two men dissolved into nothing, revealing a brightly lit, long hallway. Emilio stepped backwards in fear.

"It's okay, follow me."

Emilio swallowed and stepped forward as commanded, albeit reluctantly. His cellphone beeped as passed through the doorway. Emilio grimaced as he realized he had forgotten to put the phone on silent.

"It wouldn't have worked, anyways, Emilio."

"What?"

"Attempting to trace your route here. We control all RF in or out around the Vatican."

Emilio winced. "Sorry."

"Please, may we continue?"

Emilio nodded. "By all means..."

On the farthest end of the corridor, another door, "...with hinges, at least," Emilio noted to himself, opened and once more, he was ushered into another room. "Oh, my..." Before him, Emilio witnessed a large area filled with servers and computers of a very advanced design. The monitors on the wall appeared to have no frame, only a single sheet of glass. Images of the Earth, maps, news networks from around the planet, and the varying social media sites appeared on the many luminous surfaces lining the walls. On the desktops below the screens, there were no keyboards, only blue, glowing images floating on their surfaces. Several priests were typing, their fingers darting in and out of the virtual keys projected around their fingers. Emilio watched one black-robed gentleman jog across the floor, talking on a clear glassy cellphone, similar to the monitors above him.

The mysterious stranger lifted his hands and slid the hood back from his head. He turned to Emilio and said, "Mr. DeFranscesco, forget everything you think you know about the world you live in because it is all wrong."

"What does that even me....whoever you are? What is all of this?"

"I am Lazarus."

Emilio raised an eyebrow. "Is that your code name or something?"

"No, I am Lazarus of Bethany..." he replied.

"As in Luke 10:38-41, that Lazarus of Bethany?" Emilio inquired, incredulously.

"Yes, the same."

"H-h-how?" the archaeologist stammered. He found himself examining Lazarus as if he were a science experiment.

"When Joshua resurrected me, I suppose his touch altered my code and changed my function's timer to a slower rate...one that probably matched his up there."

"I apologize, friend, but, I am so confused," Emilio said. "You sound like the administrator in my I.T. department at the museum and nothing at all like any holy man I have ever met before, and trust me, I have met many. Functions and code, what does that mean in regards to your existence, Lazarus? How are you here?"

Lazarus smiled. "I apologize. The church is very strict with who it allows into the Order of Geneticus, so, we rarely get new members. Usually, the newest recruits are those priests with a background in quantum mechanics, electronics, or software engineering. I forget your focus is in a much different direction."

Emilio shot a thumb up over his shoulder at one of the walls of monitors. "Why? Why would the church need all of this?"

"Because, humanity's battle for the soul is not ethereal, Emilio, it's ethernet."

Father Agostino stepped up beside the archaeologist and placed a hand on his shoulder, arresting Emilio's thoughts. "Son, it is a lot to take in, believe me I know. Come, follow me," he said. "We will return in a bit, Lazarus. I am going to take Emilio to the vault."

Lazarus nodded and turned to examine one of the videos recently uploaded to Youtube from the Middle East. Brightly colored images from the large monitor reflected on the man's face, displaying a tall, very attractive, very naked, pregnant redhead throwing some poor Egyptian soldier over a crowd and into a wall using only her mind. "...she is awake, Joshua my friend. It will be time for you to return and I hope you will not wait too long."

...

Earth. 3rd Planet from the star, Sol, The United States,

Washington, D.C., Mother Arcturis' Personal Aircraft Hanger,

Current Day, June 2nd, 2034

The black, armored vehicle pulsed quietly as it waited in the hanger for its passengers to arrive. A pilot and his co-pilot were both visibly making their preflight checks and could be seen from the outside through the angled cockpit windows. Four blue disks, one under the nose, one in the rear, and two under each wing, glowed from beneath the large machine, keeping it levitating just above the ground. Julius and Demios' footsteps echoed through the hanger as they approached the floating mechanical beast.

"You are going to love this birthday present, my son. First, we are..."

"Why am I here, father? My life is pointless...this whole existence is pointless."

Julius froze in place, his hands gripping the chrome handles of the WC-530 anti-gravity aircraft's boarding ramp. He blinked and then turned to face Demios. "Why would you say that, son?"

"It's Mother...is it not her entire goal in life to destroy Geneticus? To tear down this world it created? If she does, then I am nothing."

Julius sighed. "The machine did build this place for its Creator and then just left us to rot. She is correct about that. I mean, look at the state of this world. The death, the..."

"It's not real, you know that father? Don't you?"

Julius shook his head. "No. It is real. It's all real to me." The archaeologist reached up to place a hand on each side of Demios' perfect face and patted his cheeks. "You are real, boy. In fact, you are the most real thing in my life. When you were born, I feared I had nothing left to live for, that my life was over, and then you grabbed my finger as if to say, I'll be here for you, Julius." Tears began to well in the German's eyes. "...and then your Mother gave me the most precious gift ever given to another human in all of existence. I admit when she first did it, I was frightened beyond belief, because I was at the lowest point in my life in that devastated hospital room. I could not have imagined what I was ever going to do with a child when my own life was in so much in turmoil. Regardless, she gave me you to love and to raise as my son. By making me your father, I was able to move past my own selfishness and..." Julius looked down to wipe the tears from his eyes. "I'm sorry, this is so unmanly..."

Demios was perplexed. He had seen men cry in movies, but never Julius. He reached out a large hand and lifted Julius' face. "Why are you crying, father? There is no need to be upset...it's not real."

Julius sighed. "What is reality, son? Does it matter? Who defines what it means to be human? That machine up there? You?...or me?...or even your mother? I choose to believe that we are alive and I really don't give a flying shit about how it happened or why. I abandoned my mother when she needed me and I will go to my grave unable to forgive myself for it. However, I will never do that to you, my son. I would gladly give my life for you..." Julius paused. "Get down!" he shouted and shoved Demios to the ground as several shots rang out, echoing through the hangar bay.

Demios witnessed his father's chest erupt into a red mist of blood as bullets pierced his body. Julius looked over at Demios and fell to his knees.

"I...love..." Julius gurgled and then fell forward, the life leaving his body, never to return. The blood pooled around the German as he lay motionless on the concrete hangar floor.

"Father!!!" Demios shouted. His heart filled with rage and he leapt high into the air, several meters above his father's killer. He shot down behind the camouflaged assailant like a bolt of lightning and flashed forward at an impossibly quick speed, gripping the man by the throat before he could even turn and lift his weapon. "Why, you fucking sim? Why would you do that?" Demios asked, gritting his teeth. He held his father's killer in the air, legs kicking violently around, desperately searching for something to set its feet on.

The man gasped, fighting for air. He clawed at Demios' iron grip. "I wasn't...trying...kill him. I..kill you..." He pulled a knife from his belt and thrust it at his enemy.

Demios grabbed the knife by the blade and broke it in half with his left hand. With the other still gripping the assassin's throat, he squeezed and let the twitching body fall to the hangar bay's floor with a thud. He began to step over the body, but stopped as he noticed the familiar black and red insignia of the Army of Geneticus on the man's arm. "Bastards." He raced back over and lifted Julius' lifeless, bloody body into his arms. He felt the tears stream from his eyes and an unimaginable sadness fill him as he walked, hugging his dead father in his large arms.

...

Demios kicked in the door to the Oval Office Throne Room.

"I will call you back, general..." Elle quickly disconnected the comm and stood in surprise, alarmed at the loud noisy intrusion. She stepped cautiously from her seat and approached her son carrying what appeared to be the bloody body of Julius Mannheim. "What has happened, Demios? What..."

Demios looked over at his mother sadly and then turned to gently lay the body of Julius down on the couch. He knelt beside the kind and caring man he knew as his father and wept uncontrollably.

Elle inhaled sharply. "Guards!!!" she shouted. "Find Commander Schmidt!"

...

Earth. 3rd Planet from the star, Sol, Italy, Rome,

Fort Vatican, Unified Army of Geneticus HQ

Current Day, June 2nd, 2034

"Missile defenses on high alert, people! They did not get number two, I repeat, two is still active. Wait! Resources on the ground have confirmed, target number three has been immobilized!"

The room of Vatican military personnel cheered.

"Alright, no one knows what that evil witch is going to do, yet! Let's keep our eyes open!" General Tom Lawrence, former Rear Admiral, United States Navy, now commander of the Army of Geneticus field operations across the globe, shouted over the noise in the control center beneath the Vatican City. "One down and only six more to go!"

"General, might I have a word?"

"Certainly, Lazarus. Is there a problem?"

"Who ordered this flagrant violation of the Rhine River Treaty?"

"The Battle Pope, sir...I'm just followin' orders," the officer replied.

"I understand, General," Lazarus said and began to walk away. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. "You know, one day you are going to slip up and call Pope Ajaka Duhari I that ridiculous nickname and she is going to have your American head."

Tom laughed. "It's gonna happen sooner or later..."

"What is? Slipping up and saying her nickname?"

"No, some woman receivin' my head on a platter and after today, there's at least one more of them ready to join the fan club. Hell, I only married half of them and thankfully, at least, those two would rather have the money than my head."

"Well, I see you still have your humor, general," Lazarus said.

Tom smirked and refocused his attention to the glowing, 3D map of North America and the United Arcturan Empire that spread over the hemisphere. "Zoom in over D.C., erm, damn, showin' my age. Zoom in on the Arcturan Capitol," Tom said and then patted the control officer on the arm. "Excellent..."

...

"Pope Duhari?"

"Yes, come in, Lazarus," said the attractive Nigerian Pope, sitting down to sip her afternoon tea. She relaxed in front of an open set of double, glass-paned doors, revealing a balcony that overlooked a beautifully manicured garden. A gentle, warm breeze blew in through the opening, disrupting the long sheer curtains hanging on either side of the doorframe. "My guards said you wanted to see me?"

"Your holiness, might I inquire why you would flagrantly violate the Rhine River Treaty like you have done today? Are you trying to force the Arcturan's hand?"

Ajaka nodded and set her teacup down on its matching antique saucer. "Yes. That I am."

"Why?"

"Because, when Lucenda fires off her missiles, Geneticus will have to notice us."

"At the loss of how many innocent people?"

"To save how many more in the future, my dear Lazarus?" she asked, looking over her teacup at her guest. "Why should you be concerned. It seems you cannot die, either way."

The man shook his head. "I have told everyone, including you, Joshua will..."

"We don't even know if he is alive up there on Cenerea. There could have been an accident. An accident involving an, um, what is it? A transport? Who know, Lazarus. Maybe a war and..."

"Yes, maybe so. Regardless, I am choosing to have faith that He will return and maybe you should, too."

"Very well, I and the Bishop's War Conference will take your advice under consideration. Thank you, Lazarus."

He nodded. "Good day, your holiness."

Ajaka smiled and once more returned her attention to the pretty, sunlit garden below her.