God Eat God

A figure stood at a bus stop, a newspaper held before his face.

He was of rather lithe build, and carried about himself a theme of black, sporting black clothes, black hair and black eyes contrasting against white skin. Quite attractive, if you liked that sort of thing. If not for his nonchalant stance one with a hopeful imagination could think him to be a ninja, perhaps. That, however, was a little below him, or at least he considered it to be.

He did not portray the usual signs of a man waiting for the bus. The impatient pacing on the spot and constant head jerks from side to side were absent. Instead he simply stood, his dark eyes peering over the top of the Times, watching the doors of the church opposite which the bus stop stood. No, this enigmatic man was not waiting for a bus. But he was most definitely waiting for something.

A movement ahead caught his attention, shown only by a slight raise of his eyebrows. One of the side doors of the church opened slightly, allowing a man to slip out. He was not very remarkable to look at, looking too weathered to be a priest, and would pass for any ordinary person had the man in black not shown such interest in him. He possessed a tired, softly lined face, a long overcoat and brown hair speckled with grey, like a leopard's spots. As he began to straighten himself up and walk down the street, the man in black resolutely dropped the newspaper and made his way across the road towards him.

"Soldur," he said simply, to the retreating back.

"I'm sorry, I think you've got the wrong person," said the leaving man, his pace quickening a little.

"I first I thought I might have, but now I now I haven't. Another person wouldn't have registered that as a name."

"Look, I-" he said turning around, but the sight that met him stole the very sentence from his lips. His expression shifted and took a moment to settle."...Marcellus?" he finished instead, deciding to go with the pleasantly surprised look.

With almost unnoticeable hesitation, he stepped forward and the two embraced like long lost brothers. This caused side-way glances from passing people, as in this day and age people kept to themselves and did not even walk too close to strangers. An innocent action such as two men hugging on the streets was just asking to be muttered about.

"Soldur," said the man in black again, giving him a hefty thump against the back. "It's good to see you after all this time."

"It's been a pretty long time, hasn't it. I haven't heard a word from you ever since that little plague episode you pulled back then." Although he wore a smile to match the other's, there was a strange look in his eyes. A look that hinted confusion or doubt. "So," he said, masking this with conversation. "How've things been for you since then? What've you been doing?"

"Oh... things," he answered, vaguely. "Just getting by. It's hard, though... That's partly why I wanted to see you again. A friendly face from the good old days."

"Mm. Speaking of which, how did you find me?"

"By chance, really. You were sat opposite me on a bus the other day, but you got off before I could speak to you. Naturally you wouldn't have recognised me," he added, putting his hands in his pockets. "But I knew it was you when I saw your hair."

At this, the one addressed as Soldur could not help but allow a guilty little smile to pass. You wouldn't really notice had you not known about it, but when you actually looked there was definitely something odd about his hair. It had the impression of a constant breeze blowing through it, causing it to whip back and billow around his face in a majestic manner. "Well, we were allowed to keep a few of the old powers," he said, somewhat shamefully. "And it doesn't hurt anyone... doesn't break any of The Rules..."

"Oh yes, 'The Rules'," muttered Marcellus, looking up at the church before him with obvious distaste. "What were you doing in there, anyway?"

Soldur didn't look as if he wanted to say. One thing he knew about Marcellus was that he always considered competition to be the enemy, and naturally, a little chat with the enemy was something out of the question. It seemed that even now, when it was all irrelevant, he still held this view. Soldur was still trying to work out why he had sought out him, when surely his blinkered view would have prevented him.

If Marcellus was concerned about the lack of answer he didn't show it. "Hey. Take a walk with me."

Soldur complied. At that moment, something about the surrounding area changed. It merged slightly, but they didn't seem to notice.

"Have you found any of the others?"

"No," replied Marcellus. "Not for want of trying, though. I mean, we just look like ordinary people now. It's hard."

"I haven't seen any either. It looks like they've managed to fit in with the new life without a struggle, judging by the fact we haven't seen anything on the news or some extra large headlines."

"I haven't been finding it so easy," said Marcellus, pushing a large, leafy branch out of his path as he walked. "To have everything, and to be pushed so quickly to nothing..."

"I wouldn't exactly call it 'nothing'."

"Hm. …But anyway, Soldur," he continued in a way that unabashedly reeked of subject change. "How's mortality treating you?"

"Actually, It isn't Soldur anymore," he said. "It's Sonny."

"'Sonny'?" exclaimed Marcellus, his lips curling back.

"Yes," he said, beating away a cloud of midges that stood before him. "I don't know... Soldur just seemed a little too 'high and mighty'... I'm past that now. You've got to move with the times."

Marcellus said nothing. He simply replied with a silence that suggested there was no excuse for a name like Sonny.

"Okay then," he continued, eventually. "What does 'Sonny' do for a living then?"

"He owns a company, actually."

"Oh yes? Well he'd probably be a little better off if that's true. A little better off than he appears to be."

They both wrapped their coats more firmly around their bodies when the crunch of snow met them underfoot. However, the reinforced layer could do nothing to negate the very sudden coldness that had arisen between them, as Sonny had expected it might. Marcellus never could keep the 'good little friends' game up for long.

"He doesn't really care about the money that much. Most of the profits go to charity."

Marcellus actually laughed. "Ever the good one... so what type of business does this company involve?"

He tried to say it casually and coolly, but it was impossible. "...Custard."

Marcellus stopped, the frost in the wind aging his dark hair a few centuries. "You own a custard factory."

"Yes."

"A custard factory."

"It's good custard," said Sonny defensively, probably more for his own reassurance than anyone else's. " Ambrosia: Good enough to be the food of the gods..."

Marcellus shook his head. Maybe to show his irritance, or maybe just in an attempt to remove the snow from his face. "It's pitiful," he said, ignoring Sonny's product catchphrases. "Once one of the greatest beings in existence, now reduced to a custard maker who gives to charity."

"It's not such a bad life. And it makes more sense than being a self-pitying has-been hanging around feeling sore."

"I'm not, if that's what you happened to be referring to," he answered testily. It was above them, but sometimes childish bickering could not help but escape the greatest of wits. "I've been doing something far more constructive than either options, actually."

"Really? And what might that be, pray?"

He paused for a second, purposefully being dramatic. "I'm trying to go back."

"Go back?" said Sonny in disbelief. "No, no thank you, I don't want one," he muttered absent mindedly to a woman who was determinedly trying to sell him a melon.

It was unusual the way in which they walked; a bystander would not see mere blurs passing as if in fast forward, nor did they see two mysterious people flashing into view one second and gone the next. Instead, they simply saw two men, walking through the area at a brisk yet steady stride, somehow with snow on their shoulders melting under the Jamaican sun. "Go back... You can't. It's against The Rules. Upon losing all followers and without belief, a God is defeated. A defeated God shall cease to be a God. Said God must not covet another's followers, or attempt-"

"-To spread influence in any way," finished Marcellus, boredly. "Forget the rules. It was an unfair match. Nobody expected Hinduism and Christianity to become so popular so quickly; they blew us out of the water!"

"But that doesn't change-"

"It does change. A change of circumstances means a change of rules."

Sonny leant back against a conveniently placed rock; one that just happened to be a part of Stonehenge. "Look," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You think that I haven't thought about this? Do you think that everyone single one of us hasn't? How wonderful it would be to go back. To stop living like a mortal and to go back to the sacrifices and commandments. It can't happen. It's over for us."

"It could happen!" Marcellus stressed, like a teacher convincing an obstinate student that two plus two really did equal four. "And why shouldn't it? Why shouldn't we break The Rules? There isn't some 'almighty higher power' that'll come down on our asses. We are the almighty higher powers, for my sake!"

"We're not anymore!"

"But we could be," he insisted once more.

Sonny sighed, obviously being wore down. "This is why you wanted to find me, isn't it. 'A friendly face'? You would have destroyed my temple in a flash had you thought I was the most formidable opponent to you."

Marcellus couldn't say anything to this. It was true, after all.

"You know, I was pleased to see you again. I know we didn't get on back then, and I thought that 'A friendly face' was an odd choice of words."

"We're alone in this world. No one else can be a friend. Admit it, you can't hold a relationship with anyone. People feel like there's something odd about you and it makes them feel uncomfortable. I know because it's the same for me." He placed a hand on his shoulder, which Sonny looked down at. "I need your help if I'm going to do this."

"...I don't know."

"Look at those people over there," said Marcellus, gesturing with his head towards a group of hippies congregating around the huge stones. "Humans. They disgust me. How torturous it is to become one of a species who hold such reverence to one of the biggest ever left over domino games."

Sonny didn't say anything. He had always been rather fond of the humans; the way in which they would turn to gods such as himself, more ready to accept an unfeasible simple answer rather than a believable complicated one. It was their stupidity that made them amiable. After all, it was their original belief that there must be someone who pulls the sun into the sky every morning that had brought him into existence in the first place.

Nevertheless, it was tempting... so very tempting...

"Unless, of course, you wanted to stay a custard maker for ever-"

"I'll do it."

The landscape shifts.

A city lies, busy to say the least. Cars zoomed, people worked, sky scrapers stood defiant before the sun, turning the world below into a land of darkness. No one noticed the two men who suddenly appeared in the vicinity, and immediately cast about themselves an air that suggested they had been there for hours. No one, that is, apart from a man sat on the streets with an upturned cap before him, who upon having spotted and paid attention to the two of then hoped that they would return the favour. It was a living.

"Where are we?" asked Sonny.

"New York."

"New York…" A sudden urge to break into a Sinatra song struck him. It seemed he'd been living as a mortal for far too long. "Why here?"

"Soldur, Soldur…" said Marcellus, shaking his head. "If you're going to do something magnificent, then naturally you want to do it in a place where everyone will see. 'Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house…' I thought you of all people would have known that, if I do."

Sonny regarded the other god. Whereas he had always been one of the more peaceful ones, Marcellus was something near a different species to him The type that is constantly out to steal followers, and virtually feeds off belief. The type who relished in the worst of techniques in order to gain said belief. Not that he was suspicious of him at the moment or anything, but he couldn't help but notice that there was a definite spring in his step…

"I assure you. This will be fantastic. "

Sonny didn't reply. He was now too busy staring upwards. Those skyscrapers… absolutely incredible. Admittedly, being what he was he shouldn't have found such a considerably meagre sight so awe-inspiring, but they were just so tall. Tall was an understatement. Really very, very tall. So tall, in fact, that they gave the illusion of looming over you, and what with them being on every side it made him feel as if he was being surrounded by the biggest bullies in the world. He brought his eyes down to a safer height, and absently wondered whether Marcellus would mind if he nipped into Mc Donald's before he did whatever it was he wanted to do.

"People of this mortal earth!" Marcellus exclaimed throwing his arms into the air, making Sonny jump. "Pause your insignificant lives, for it is I." The way he spoke was unusual in the same manner as the way in which they walked. His voice was and only sounded to be a normal shout, yet it carried immensely. All people surrounding stopped and looked. His voice did not drown out all the other sounds of the traffic and bustle; it took over them and used them to magnify its own volume.

"Say something," he whispered, giving Sonny a jab in the ribs. "Say something."

He hesitated. He was out of practice. How did it go again? "Mortals, you have forgotten us. You have forgotten your very gods. For we are your lords, your gods, and we are disappointed in your lack of faith."

Marcellus gave him a look. Disappointed? Angry, he felt, would have been a more fitting word. "What with the decreased amount of belief we have decided that a change is needed. A revamp of faith. Bow before us now, or suffer the consequences."

There was silence.

And at that moment, a misguided individual who had been biding his time chose this time to laugh. Not just a giggle or a half hidden snicker; This was a true, rising from the belly laugh, complete with pointed finger. Marcellus did not even register his presence with a scowl. He simply made a flicking motion with his hand, and instantly the traced mark played itself across the man's chest, from which blood immediately began to spurt. He was dead within the next second.

"Jesus Christ!" Sonny exclaimed taking a step back, breaking the spell on himself somewhat.

As the screaming commenced Marcellus turned to him, a fire burning in his black eyes. "Christ? Jesus Christ?"

"Slip of the tongue…" muttered Sonny, stepping further back. He realised that he was cowering. Cowering. Why? It was absurd, they were both the same. He had no power over him…

Perhaps it was because he had truly given up his divinity, whereas Marcellus never had, desperately clutching to the remnants of his greatness. A God wouldn't be scared by such a sight, but a human might.

"They are mortals! Their lives are insignificant! They are like ants compared to what we are!"

"They are like children compared to what we are," Sonny insisted.

Marcellus growled with contempt.

Sonny shook his head. "This has gone way too far, and I don't want to get further involved. I'm going."

As he made to leave, Marcellus shot forwards and grabbed him by the lapels. Sonny felt with fear as his feet were brought from the ground.

"You shall do no such thing…" he hissed. "You agreed to join me. We go through this together."

Sonny struggled, attempting to free himself, desperately scrabbling his fingernails against Marcellus' clenched fists. But he could not do it. Unthinkable. They were equal.

Unless…

There was something distinctly different about Marcellus. Gradual black lines ran across him like liquid, curling and patterning, etching into his flesh.

That one paranormal death had done the trick, and humans have a skill off quickly rearranging where their loyalties lie. People at the side were on their knees before him, their hands together, crying, begging, praying for him to spare their lives.

He was being believed.

"You didn't want me to help you," said Sonny, attempting to mask his fear. "You're worried that something will go wrong, and if so you want someone else to go down with you. I was an idiot to think you were different. You're haven't changed."

"And I could say the very same. Now announce yourself," Marcellus demanded. His eyes no longer simply contained intriguing black irises, they had increased in depth to an infinite extent, consuming his entire eyes. Like black holes, they drew your very gaze into them. "Make yourself like I am. Become what you are and join me. Cast a miracle and make them suffer."

Sonny continued to struggle, despite being fully aware that it was pointless. "I thought that when you approached me, saying that you wanted to go back, you meant by doing a good miracle. A real miracle."

Marcellus brought him closer, allowing Sonny to see his pale skin as it increasingly became tattooed black. "Do it, or die with them like the mortal you choose to be."

He didn't say anything. Through his fear he simply stared defiantly into those eyes that led to nothingness.

He was dropped onto his behind in an undignified manner as he was released. "Fine then. Have it your way."

Sonny crawled backwards into the crowd of people, watching as the calamity truly unfolded itself for all to see.

Marcellus stood, cloaked in dark light, and looked up at the colossal skyscraper that loomed above them all. With the merest of glances at the terrified people before him, he shot both arms up point to the peak of the building. Clenching his teeth and his fingers tightly, he brought his hands back down with a great invisible force.

A crack sounded.

"What's happening?" a young woman with frizzy red hair nearby Sonny wailed. He was too paralysed to answer.

Slowly, perhaps just due to an apparent decrease in the flow of time or just because it was waiting for gravity to play its part, the skyscraper now no longer only appeared to be falling down over them.

Marcellus cast his glare back at the people, and the person who earlier today he had called friend. "It's still your choice," he stated simply, and stood back giving their panic room to thrive.

"What do we do?" the woman cried again, crawling before Sonny's comatose gaze. "Who are you? You were with him, weren't you? Can't you save us?" She resorted to grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him vigorously. "Answer me!"

He blinked. "I can't stop him," Sonny replied. "With faith I might be able to put things right, but he has belief and I have insignificant powers compared to him. It's hopeless."

"What are you?"

"We're Gods. And stop asking questions, unless the last thing you ever want to hear is answers."

So slowly, the skyscraper tilted closer and closer towards them. It was going to speed up soon, and then it would be unstoppable. People on the floor were screaming. People in the building were screaming. Marcellus was laughing. It was a really evil laugh, too. That stung.

"Well, if you save us then people will believe in you! Surely!"

He grimaced. Save them. Huh. He would have very much liked to, and a million years ago he would have done, but back then he had the slight edge of being Almighty. Now his expertise only went as far as custard, and as incredible as it was in many circumstances it wasn't really much use in this arena.

He was virtually powerless, and the further this set into his mind the more the skyscraper began to tilt.

"Run?" he suggested, lamely.

As if that hadn't already occurred to people. The most basic instinct firmly rooted into the human soul. Unfortunately they were not very cooperative about it, which was their downfall. People pushed against motionless backs and bodies, cars honked pointlessly, and the fear poured into every man and woman causing a stress only relatable to waiting at temporary traffic lights while in need of the toilet to the power of a thousand.

Sonny stared at them. They really were stupid, simple beings, but he still liked them for it. And they certainly didn't deserve to die for it.

He brought himself off his rump and stood tall. He gave a small glance at the still euphoric Marcellus, and then turned away from him and the falling building. Instead, he looked up, at the other skyscraper opposite.

He didn't have the belief driven power that Marcellus had, but he still had the remnants. The redundancy gift. He just needed to be precise.

Casting his eyes around the building, he located the most vital area. He pointed a hand up to that point of the building, and made a swishing motion.

As if punched in that area, a small clump of the building scattered from the place.

And in the way that a pebble, of even mere sound waves can be the cause of an avalanche, that skyscraper too began to tilt.

"What are you doing?" the woman screamed, and she was not alone. "I thought you were going to help us!"

He turned around, apparently oblivious to her hammering fists against his back. Marcellus smiled at him. "You chose well," he said. "It's much more fun to be an evil God, and far more rewarding, as you shall soon see."

Sonny tilted his head, raising his eyebrows. "Excuse me? I think you're mistaken. I'll forever be the good one."

And the two skyscrapers fell. Falling, steadily accelerating, down towards the crowd, ready to make their impact against the earth one it would never forget.

They both met and crashed together in the centre with a colossal crunch.

And stopped. Motionless.

Sonny felt the power rushing into him, the faith reviving his tattered soul. He had knowledge. He had power. He had belief. He had saved them all, and the warmth of such a faith outdid any cold malicious substitute achieved through fear. It didn't need people to get down on their knees and worship until their voices were hoarse, this was something far less primal.

There is no true way of describing the feeling in a way that a human would be able to understand. At best, it was like feeling golden.

Sonny watched with interest as Marcellus backed away. The light emanating from him was painful to his very godly being, and he knew it. He took a step closer, causing Marcellus to take a further step back against the wall. Light vanquished darkness.

Sonny smiled a winning smile, his hair flying back from his face as if caught in a breeze, his eyes containing nothing and everything, appearing like the Sun.

"Damn you..." Marcellus muttered. "I was so close. All it would have cost would be a few insignificant lives..."

"Maybe next time, Marcy," Sonny replied in multiple dulcet, melodious tones.

He extended a hand, and Marcellus was gone. A mere wisp of darkness was the only signification that he had ever been.

Pausing only for a brief speculation, Sonny then turned around, only to see a camera being aimed at him like a weapon.

That was quick, he thought.

"Mr God person," said the frizzy haired woman who had been despairing with him earlier. However, he now spotted the signs. Leaning forwards in an inquisitive yet aggressive manner, notebook poised in hand, battalion of camera crews waiting around every corner for whenever she should see fit to for them burst into the scene… No wonder she was asking so many question. "So, Mr God person… Can I call you that?"

"My name is Soldur," he answered. "God of the Sun."

She didn't gasp, she just scribbled away. Nothing bar an apocalypse could shock a reporter, it seemed. "So you've saved the day, defeating the bad guy. How does that make you feel?"

He looked at her. What an odd question.

Behind her, camera men were fiddling for filters, suggesting that it was hard to get a good picture of a being who emanated light from his very body.

"I see. So what do we think is going to be next in store for Mr Soldur, the Sun God?"

He actually considered this. "Not a lot," he said, bluntly.

"Ah- Oh. All right then. So, erm, Mr Soldur, then… is there anything we can do for you?"

"Yes," he answered to this, rather quickly. He then leant forwards slightly, and said in a most definite manner-

"Forget about me."

The door of a small church creaked open, allowing a man to walk in. At least, he appeared to be a man. No one would have reason to think otherwise, that is, of course, unless they paid closer inspection to his hair.

It was not mass time, but that didn't matter. He paid the priest a small smile as he walked past, and sat himself down at the front of the church.

He leant back, in quite a casual manner, and rubbed his hand over a chin that was beginning to plead for a shave.

"It was nice," he replied eventually as if in conversation, but to whom was impossible to tell. "Very nice, going back for a little while. But it's wrong. Against The Rules… I lost to you, fair and square. Marcellus too, but he just doesn't like to acknowledge it.

"I don't doubt that he'll be back," he continued. "His type never does truly give up. Maybe I was an idiot to believe him and think that he had taken a turn for the more integral side, but…" He sighed, but not with sadness. "Well, I suppose stupidity is just something mortality entails.

"I don't feel resentment towards you, by the way," he added, as if feeling need to justify himself. "I know the way it works. Why have a god for the sun when they can have one that covers the whole universe? I suppose it's a little pointless, really.

"But although they may not need Sun Gods anymore, people are always going to need custard. And I think I'm just about right for that." He winked. "I'd just appreciate it if you leave that little bit to me."

And, feeling content, he rose to his feet and left the House of God.

The End