Nature has no principles. She makes no distinction between good and evil.
~ Anatole France
"I remember the First Battle well."
It was not thunder that shook the Heavens so many thousands of years ago, but a clash of angelic powers. The battle cries were terrible to experience, but music to the ears of the One that served as the source of this war; the instigator, if you will.
Angels by the thousands filled the sky, above the earth, above even the stars. Far beyond the eyes of mortal man or any alien entity that scoured the galaxies. Their calls to arms on opposing sides as they flew through the light of Heaven and met in open combat, the steel of their blades and spears clashing together...
The sparks from blades crafted of Heaven's 'black smiths' created brilliant flashes of light, eclipsed only by the light of the warrior's themselves, light that burned so bright that it would burn the eyes from the sockets of any who would look upon them. Below on earth, the eyes of animals and the first family looked 'up' to the skies where their lost paradise had once been, and witnessed only the miracle that mortals now refer to as Aurora Borealis. It these times when this miracle was witnessed, it was in fact simply a sad reminder of what once was and would never be again.
The light cut a path across the sky as far as Adam, Eve, and their children could see, giving one an idea just how colossal of a battle raged on so far above, and with the violence being shed between brother and sister, those that supported the One God, and those that believed in the truth of the Morningstar. Each side had a general, and both fought with equal determination to come out the victor.
Michael, the chief amongst the Archangels, called aloud to those at his side and charged forward, some in flight with wings that spanned the stars, and others meeting their enemies on foot! Opposite Michael was of course the youngest of the Archangels, and the most beautiful, Lucifer. And he was no less in number of supporters who rallied to his cause. If he were, perhaps then he would not dared risk the wrath of God by threatening to overtake Heaven and sit upon his Father's throne. Yet he did, and so he would.
"Your fates rest in the outcome of what is happening at this very moment." I can recall whispering into the minds of the first man and woman. "You may not understand what is happening, but it is truly a marvel."
"At least it was from where I was standing. I could feel the same curiosity radiating off of them now that caused their expulsion from Eden's walls. Little known fact: The Garden of Eden was never actually on Earth. It was more somewhere between this piss ant of a plant and Paradise itself. No mortal coil could have contained such a place as what He designed for his new pets. Yet still here the Father and Mother and Cain and Abel watched, with the same craving for knowledge of what was coming as they felt the moment their lips tasted the fruit."
"Just between us, I always believed that Lucifer deserved something of a fruit basket for his particular role in that. He was made for deception in his own way."
"Oh those poor, foolish animals that the Judeo God had chosen to reign supreme over the earth. What they must have thought when they struggled to lift their knuckles from dragging in the dirt, much like the simple mud monkeys that they are, to stand upright and cast their dumbed down eyes to the skies above. To their simple minds, I was sure then that they were learning to appreciate what they saw as their first sunrise, when it was something oh so very much more."
"They watched and saw the colors igniting the Heavens, and felt the warm, red rain as it fell from the sky, not once realizing the miracles unfolding above them; the miracles of the Angelic Host reducing their brethren's numbers in the War of Fire and Blood. The very first battle in what was to be known as Good and Evil from that point on. And with as much modesty as I am capable of, I would like to think I played my role well."
One angel after another fell from where they flew in the stars as their wings were hacked from their bodies, crippling their enemies so that they might never again know the thrill of sailing through Heaven to do the One God's work.
One angel fell to the white marble-like tile of Paradise and was impaled by Lucifer's intricately carved spear. Her blood pooled from the wound and ran to the surface of their battle ground, and from there fell to earth in gentle cascades of crimson tainted rain. A miracle some fools thought, others believed it to be an ominous sign or omen. And this angel was not the first to fall in this battle, nor was she to be the last. Such a war fought would not end in hours or even days, but it lasted for a time unrecorded.
Lucifer pulled the spear free, ready to continue when he heard the cry that sent chills down his spine. The cry of an angry older brother as Michael came at him with his fabled sword and wings emblazoned with righteous fury...
"I don't mind admitting that even I paused and took a step back at the sound of Michael's scream. It was not one of fear or even anger. But the pain of betrayal from a brother whom he had loved. If I am to be honest, I would not have traded places with Lucifer at that moment for anything in existence."
The clash of angelic steel was terrible to behold, but much like mortals with gruesome roadside accidents, I could not look away. These were not the sweet, cherubic angels with harps and draped in simple cloth that artists have made light of for centuries. No, these were one and all, hardened warriors of the highest order, and Lucifer had made the critical error of angering the greatest of them all.
As Lucifer swung his spear in a horizontal arched swing at Michael's midsection, his older brother and former general leapt aside with a great gust of his golden wings and brought his own sword down hard against the spear's edge, pinning it to the ground. Then with a sweep of his foot, he took Lucifer's own legs out from under him and the Morningstar found the blade at the tip of his throat...
Lucifer's eyes filled with tears, perhaps realizing too late what he had done or had allowed himself to be influenced into doing....
"Do not do this Brother... please!" Lucifer pleaded for his life, for when angels perished, they had no afterlife.
"You betrayed our Father!" Michael raged, his own hot tears pouring from his eyes and to the cleft of his magnificent chin. "And for what!? Self glory! Your own pride! He loved you best of all! He gave you everything!"
"Please..." Lucifer continued to beg. "A second chance? Father would give me a second chance!"
The pity that swelled in Michael's heart would only harden his resolve to do what his Father bid. "Lucifer, my dearest brother." Michael started to say... "This was your second chance!"
Seeing there was to be no reprieve, Lucifer's eyes cast themselves in dark shadow and from that moment on, mere wisps of time before he was cast out to the pits of Hell, was he to become the being known as the Adversary.
"If I am to be perfectly honest, I felt a trifle insulted when I had learned the nickname gifted to the Morningstar. I liked it, personally, and would have had it for my own. After all, I felt if anyone deserved to be known as the Adversary, it would have been me."
"Look at them." I whispered into the ear of Lucifer as he stood stoically at his post, at the frame of the most magnificent flowers and plants that rose into an arch, forming the very gates that led into Eden. As God's favorite amongst the angels, it would fall to Lucifer to protect the most magnificent of his Father's creations, the man and woman who walked the Garden in all it's splendor.
I continued with my thoughts, which he had never truly understood were the source for his own. I was not corporeal, not was I in possession of the form I had now. There were simply no vessels worth taking then, and angels were foul to me to even attempt. Then, I was simply a force of nature.
"Not a care have they. They walk unclothed and unashamed, having neither served their Lord and your Father, nor done anything to earn their place within His favor."
"Why does He love them so?" Lucifer asked of himself, his beautiful blue eyes darkening to a storm cloud gray.
"From that moment, I knew that I had him. I had found my way into his heart and could toy with him as I pleased. So please don't judge Satan too harshly. He knew not what he did."
"But please do not misunderstand me. Evil was nothing knew then. The very force of evil has existed since the time God Himself had stepped out of the primordial void. There was simply a name for it at that point on. Fear was the key, and where fear grows, the hearts of man and angel would darken. Why then did I do as I did at the gates of the Garden and instigate the fall of man and angel alike? It amused me. I did just as I was created to do; spread chaos and fear. I've been doing it for eons."
The godling with the visage of the hawk, Horus, son of Osiris, flew into a rage at the arrival of his uncle, the deity worshipped by the ancient Egyptians as the god of evil and death, Set himself.
"Gods.... please! They perhaps were above the station of mortal but the Egyptian 'gods' like the Greeks, Norse, and other Houses of Worship, were as far from mortal as angels, the One God (and myself) were beyond them. Though I must admit that I did like Set's sense of style. With the head of a serpent, he certainly did fit the bill of a visage of evil."
This battle of good versus evil was orchestrated by the wife of the fallen god, Isis, who sought to avenge her brother and husband, Osiris. Set had destroyed him out of jealousy, just as ages past, the Pale One had orchestrated the first murder between Cain and Abel. Jealousy was a force of nature all unto its own, one that could darken the brightest of souls and cause the most innocent of men to shed the blood of another.
Temples fell with the fierce battle that raged across the desert sands. The lives of many innocents were snuffed by both 'gods' as they only had eyes for the blood of the other, and not to the mortals of whom they had once claimed to be the protectors of. Earthquakes brought down mountains just as Horus threw Set from their heaven and to the sands of Egypt. Sand storms blew across their own nation from the violent clash of arms and swift movements of the gods' representative of all that was good, and the one who was both uncle as well as enemy.
Set had torn the body of Osiris into thirteen pieces, and only after his death did he father a son with Isis, one that would spell out the vengeance only the family of the fallen could know. And when it looked as if Horus were to do just that, and destroy his father's killer, his own uncle, the nature of the good Isis stayed her son's hand and spared Set.
"Yes, she spared him. The bride of the dead god spared her husband's killer. Proving again that this ongoing clash between the two greatest forces was only predestined to continue on throughout time and beyond."
"Even imprisoned as I was, my influence could be felt the world over. It was just my physical manifestation that could not walk the earth. Whether it was Adolf Hitler who suffered delusions of grandeur or that fool Saddam Hussein who believed, like Hitler, he could reign supreme as a god on earth, they all felt the fear I fed them towards their own insecurities, and it simply made them what they became."
"It has always amazed me what fear can do to the weak minded as opposed to the strong. The men who believed themselves strong, reduced to committing atrocities and becoming infamous in history for their crimes against nature, whereas the weak would rise to fight as no man might, believing they themselves have no further place to go and are backed into a proverbial corner, if you will."
"Why is it then, Ben Jordan, that I do what I do? The answer is simple; when one gains in age, they take steps in which to better amuse themselves. They do what it is in their nature to do. I admit it is one reason why I am intrigued by this match between us. Under most circumstances, I find these physical encounters something of a bore, a mere distraction of a means to an end that you would be unable to comprehend. Yet this one? My match against you? Oh it has been so rare that such an encounter with a mortal man has taken my interests so."
"You are what many see as the epitome of good in this world we surround ourselves with. Sin City Wrestling, and never before has there been a man that has captured the hearts and minds of the plebeians who watch the physical violence with such brash eagerness, such as you do. You are indeed popular, and the mortal coil looks to you with adoration. I've watched as they flocked to you both here and during your time past in ACW where you reigned as a god amongst men. They clung to you as if their very salvation and physical pleasures were tied to being so near you. You posed for photographs with them, and signed your name on meaningless scraps of paper for them to worship as if a false god. You have their devotion, and they you. That is fine for them, but not so much for you. It has made me taken notice, and stirred my hunger."
"You are popular, strong in heart and brave, pleasing to the eye of the mortal woman -- and woman if I am to understand these times correctly. You remind me of a man I knew so very long ago. A few hundred years hence to be precise. One of whom I would hold accountable for a long and cold imprisonment."
The cottage seen time and again in old Romania was seen in later years. It had changed some in simple decor, but was still the home of what was to be known in the circle of the Hunter as Clan Dalca. A youth sat at the table, his blind eyes seeing nothing but his heart shone on his face as the old woman sat a steaming bowl of stew before him and she guided his fingers to the wooden spoon so that he might eat. How far he had come since he was but a babe born thrice afflicted; deaf, mute and blind. He had grown strong, and despite the hardships bestowed upon him, he had started to grow in strength of body and mind. And she, Nadya, had shown her wisdom by devising the system of touches and such in order to communicate with the fifteen year old. He learned, and he could "speak" with her as well as the man that was now in the role of patriarch and father to him and was understood.
Had the youth named Nicolai II, a choice, he would have followed the same path as his father and hunted, but Andrei and Nadya would not hear of such a thing and allow their loved one to place himself directly in the path of harm's way.
The lone door of the cottage opened and a brisk, autumn air blew into the cottage as an older and wiser Andrei set foot inside and his face lit up at the family he had grown to love as his own, both son and grandmother. He crossed the threshold and Nicolai II immediately knew he was there and rose to the embrace of hiss father, who also greeted the elder matriarch with his lips to her scalp in a tender kiss...
"No, Ben Jordan. It was not the older Andrei Dalca that you remind me of, nor the miserable witch gypsy behind my imprisonment. But the thrice cursed mortal who was, in truth, the source of my downfall. Because had I not sought to claim the then babe for my own, I never would have fallen. Still, that in itself is not why you bring up such memories. It is the surface of your soul, the bravery that wars inside of your very being."
"You see, despite their wishes and how much they protected him, Nicolai II did in fact follow in his father's footsteps, and it was the handicaps he suffered from that were the sources of his strength. He rose to infamy in my circle, and became perhaps the greatest hunter of the time. Quite the feat for one who could not see, nor speak or hear. Much like yourself I would dare to suggest. His heart and mind was what propelled him into battle when it was needed, and that is what I reflect upon when I think of you."
"You keep your eyes open, but you can't see the danger that stands before you. Your ears listen, but with a mind that is closed so you don't understand the warning signals of the threat of the shadows you set foot inside. And like all men, you talk much but say so very little. Which leads me to wonder where is it that you stand, Ben Jordan? Do you know and understand what you have been condemned to the moment you signed your name to the contract to meet me inside of the ring? The pain that I can and will inflict will be the pain of untold ages to come of past and present. It is a war that has been waged since the dawn of time, and now you are simply the next step in the evolution of the battle between good and evil.
Brother Grimm stood over the desk where the contract to meet Ben Jordan at Climax Control in Havana, Cuba rested. His amber eyes fell upon the signature of his opponent, and below that, the space for his own name which yet remained unsigned. He extended an arm and touched the tip of a forefinger to the blank space and the charred imprint of his fingertip was all that remained smoldering in that very spot...
"Despite what the One God would have you believe, it has existed far longer than you can imagine, and contrary to what His followers would want you to think, it will continue to exist long after the very tars have winked out of existence. It is a simple fact of nature, logic if you will: For without evil, there can be no such thing as good."
"Don't let the fairy tales of old fool you into thinking that this story between us will have a happy ending, Ben. It will have an ending, certainly, but this is one time I can and will prove that good does not always triumph in the face of evil."
