[Good Omens] Come What May, Prologue
Summary: While completely improvised, Gabriel's plan to transfer his memories in the container fly before erasure was rather solid. It came very close to working, too. But 'close' was not enough.
[SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2]
Characters: Gabriel, Beelzebub, Crowley, Aziraphale, Murien, Michael, Uriel, Saraquael
Rating: T
All chapters will be tagged as ‘come what may’ on my blog.
A/N: Bitches will get the best possible happy ending for their ship, uncomplicated and 100% satisfying, and then decide to create Problems. That's me, I'm bitches.
***
“... He doesn’t have a desk.”
“I’m sure it won’t take him long to clear--”
“Uriel. He has never had a desk.”
Michael’s word came out cold and clipped; it caused Uriel to go quiet, and Metatron to turn to her. It was a long, piercing look. “Do you believe he’s lied to us?”
Holding Metatron’s gaze was never easy, but Michael did, unflinching. “I know he has.”
Uriel frowned. “But why lie about a desk?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t trust him,” Saraqael spoke up, and looked over at Michael. “Can I start the memory wipe now?”
“Yes. Do that.”
***
The average adult human brain has the ability to store the equivalent of 2.5 million gigabytes digital memory. While it may seem impressive, the mind of an archangel - let alone that of the only first-order archangel in existence - is not built like that of a human. Its capacity is infinitely superior and can therefore contain nearly limitless information, which comes in handy when you’re immortal and there are indeed countless things, names and events to remember.
This doesn’t necessarily mean that the storage has to be full. Some archangels - specifically, the only first-order archangel in existence - do have quite a lot of empty space left for the data to move around like tumbleweed in a bad Western movie. However, the mind’s capacity is exponentially higher than any supercomputer in the world, and the amount of data in it is exponentially higher than that in any human brain. Or that of many, many human brains glued together with several supercomputers thrown in here and there. The more data, the more time is needed to delete it.
This is all to say that, however efficient the memory wipe is, it takes time. Not much time, but time nonetheless; enough for the subject to know it’s happening. It is generally painless, though.
Unless the subject in question is foolish enough to fight it.
***
“NO!”
Gabriel jerked upright, the half-open match box falling from his fingers. The fly--
the gift
-- flew off, still empty, but he hardly noticed. He fell on his knees, clutching his head with another cry. He knew instantly that something hadn’t worked - odd, with a plan so brilliant - and now a hole had opened up in his mind, a back hole capable of pulling in galaxies and reducing them to nothing.
He had seen black holes at work, or-- had he? He didn’t recall. Those memories, too, were being pulled into the black, stripped from him, erased entirely.
It had started, it was happening and he couldn’t stop it.
“No, no, no, no, no--”
Archangel Gabriel stood and forced himself to move, forced himself to walk and then run as fast as he could with his memories and sense of self being actively ripped away by… by… who was doing this to him? He didn’t know. He didn’t remember.
The elevator. I need to get downstairs, I must go down, I must--
Where was the elevator? Was he going the right way? He needed to get in it to take him… to take him where?
Down. Down. Must go down. They’re there.
Who?
They-- no. No. Please. There is someone. It must go-- I must go--
Where?
Before… before…
Before what? What was happening?
Doesn’t matter. The most important thing… the only important thing--
Even with his thoughts disjointed and flashing across his mind in a futile attempt to escape the pull of nothingness he - who was he? - almost, almost made it to the elevator. At that point he could not recall where said elevator was supposed to take him, but he had to get in. He only knew as much, that he had to go because… because…
Almost there, he managed to think.
Where?
Closer. I’m getting… I'm getting…
Close. But ‘close’ was not enough.
The black hole tore away the last lingering memory he’d been trying to hold onto. It hurt, like something vital being snatched from his fingers. Purple irises flickered, then dulled to green, blinking in confusion at the threshold of an elevator that had been reached too late.
The archangel Gabriel was no more.
Just above the hollow shell, and just as empty, the container fly kept buzzing softly.
***
NUMBER DEACTIVATED
For a few moments, Beelzebub stared. Then they stared some more. They tilted their head, and squinted for good measure. The words on the screen made no more sense than they did before.
NUMBER DEACTIVATED
That had never happened. That was not supposed to happen. Why would Gabriel deactivate his number? And most of all, why would he do that without so much telling them? The idea he may have had second thoughts about their entire… agreement, and all that came with it, briefly crossed their mind - only to be immediately dismissed with a scoff.
No, of course not. He would not. The most pompous archangel of all Heaven was currently wrapped around their little finger, which would have been quite useful to Hell if not for the fact they were, unfortunately, wrapped just as firmly around his. Quite a mess they had gotten themselves into. And neither of them wanted out, Beelzebub was sure of it.
So what was going on? Something smelled fishy, and not just because Dagon had been in the room. They tried to call again, just to see if something would change, and it did. Now the message that pinged on the screen had more words.
Unfortunately, none of them was good.
NUMBER DEACTIVATED. FOR FURTHER COMMUNICATIONS, CONTACT ARCHANGEL MICHAEL.
***
“Oh, and this is your station, sir! I mean-- I know I don’t have to call you that, you’re technically below me, but I was never in charge of anyone before. So, I hope I don’t mess up?”
Muriel smiled, watching the new junior recording angel - 38th class, one below them, they had no idea there was a rank below theirs! - look over the scrolls and the archive he was now tasked to help them keep in order and update and all that. He turned to them, and smiled back.
Did he look… vaguely familiar? Muriel must have seen him around before, even though their office was so remote, they saw very few angels.
“You’re doing great!” he exclaimed, like he’d just seen them perform the miracle of miracles. “And… where am I again?”
“The archives. Ah, a lot of angels have never been around here, it’s all right! I’ll show you around,” they offered, still a little giddy at the notion that they now had someone else to work with on a daily basis. Things could get a little lonely in that corner of Heaven; Saraquael’s arrival had been the biggest thing to happen in… nearly five centuries, they guessed.
“This is a new junior recording angel, 38th class. He will work under you, so do show him the ropes. Jibreel, you will do everything they tell you to. Is that clear?”
Muriel could quickly tell that a lot of things were not all that clear to Jibreel, but that was all right. They liked explaining things, and he liked to listen. And he smiled a lot. They liked that, too.
Yes, they were going to get along swimmingly.
***
[On to Chapter 1]
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