9838/Path of Glory: The Good Fight

Path of Glory: The Good Fight
Date of Scene:	26 January 2022
Location:	Saint Patrick's Cathedral
Synopsis:	Donna Troy calls on Michael to speak with him about the nature of the campaign he has presented. She too learns of the scope and gains insight into the mind of the General of the Hosts.
Cast of Characters:	Donna Troy, Chas Chandler, Colette O'Connail

---

Donna Troy has posed:
    So far the angels have been rather single-minded and not afraid of collateral damage when pursuing their direct aims, but don't seem to be a problem if you don't get in their way. Scouting out the area therefore doesn't appear to be a particularly dangerous activity, though it may help Donna that Caitlin has made it clear that she is 'off limits'.

     How long this particular situation will last, Donna doesn't speculate. She hasn't fought any angels herself yet. She's not making herself /look/ like a threat, dressed in entirely civilian garb and armed only with her lasso, which remains slung from her hip, glowing slightly in the evening light.

    For a while now she had been hopping from rooftop to rooftop, but the last half hour she had been the roof of the Tishman building, sitting on the edge, legs dangling. It has a good view to the front of the Cathedral, where crowds fill the streets now largely empty of cars.

    There is a fact about this building that amuses her, in the situation. Only a few years ago, the building had been renumbered -- it used to be 666, and bore a large sign at the top saying so. Inappropriate? Or maybe very appropriate A good question. One that could do with answers.

    There have been a dearth of good answers. People on both sides seem to Donna to be remarkably sure of themselves. Caitlin had accepted that the angels are good with very little question. The Justice League Dark and... well, almost everyone else, the opposite. Simple black and white stories make it very easy. That's what justifies punching the other side into submission. But that's just playing the game, right? This is a thought that has been nagging Donna for a while. Back when she had been on the T-Jet, going to investigate the asteroid, there had been that angelic urging to face them, to contest their conquest. It seemed to be what both sides wanted.

    You should never get into a game when you don't know the rules. Terry seemed to be very keen on playing the game, on considering it all an elaborate chess match with ridiculously high stakes. But those stakes mean it's not a game. And that means the responsible thing to do is to find out what it really is.

    "So, uh..." Donna say aloud, to the air. "Kryptonians generally just kind of hear me when I call their names, Saves on switching on a comm. Do angels do that too? You there, Archangel Michael? I'd like to talk, if that's possible."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    There is no fanfare or announcement to the Archangel's arrival but the moment the words pass her lips he is there. Tall, imposing, and devestatingly beautiful in his platinum armor. He bears no weapon beside the sheathed sword at his side. A weapon he draws only when he deems it necessary. "You live in the universe I breathed life into, of course I am here child. Where else would I be?" he asks, moving to stand beside her as his wings settle into a position of rest. The right one is still marred into a mass of bloody imperfection while the left is resplendent in white and gold.

    "As for talking? I am always open to a dialogue with one my Champion holds in such high regard. What is it you wish to talk about?" he asks as he drops to a knee and regards the Amazonian serenely.

Donna Troy has posed:
    Donna's lip curls up with the hint of a wry smile. "I hear there's a whole multiverse out there, " she replies. "I mean you could be /anywhere/. Maybe you were checking out some real estate, or studying alternative architectural plans. There are so many options. And so many questions."

    She shuffles sideways, folding a leg underneath her to more easily face the Archangel as they speak. "I've been to a different universe before. Perhaps the handiwork of some /other/ Michael? Is that how it works? The Earth there was not in a good way. It had been invaded about forty years previously, by an alien that did bad things to people's minds. The only place on that version of Earth that was still sane was my own homeland. I visited it. I can't say that was fun, but in an odd way I felt some pride in the resilience of my people, even though they weren't my people. That despite all that had happened, that version of the person who is my mother, and that version of the person who is my sister, had kept their people hopeful that one day they would be able to turn the tide, to go out into the world and rescue it from itself. They're doing that now, but still it is a world that has lost so much compared to this one. I admit I saw just the tiniest corner of it, but it seemed from what I saw to be a very poor mirror of this universe. Perhaps that's something for you to be proud of."

    She tilts her head sharply to the side, regarding the angelic figure. "Or not. Because from what I hear, this universe is kind of broken. That bothers me a lot. That's one thing I'd really like to talk to you about. Because I hear people on both sides making plans. Your side apparently wants to tear it all down and start again. The other side wants to stop you, but they talk very little about what comes after that. About fixing the problem you're trying to deal with. "

    "So I guess that's the first thing. Trying to understand... all of this." She waves a hand in an expansive gesture towards the crowd below. "What's actually the problem with the universe? And why do you think it's so broken it can't be fixed? That's a part that really puzzles me. Because the price you are apparently willing to pay seems huge. I mean if you don't know how to fix it without tearing the whole thing down... why not ask the mortals to try? I don't see how there's anything to lose in that, and you'd have trillions upon trillions of pretty motivated people to think up an answer. Mortals can be pretty smart sometimes."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Michael frowns at the Amazonian for a moment. "What resides in other universes as the First Spark I cannot say. For I do not know. My governance is here, in this universe. I can see the entirety of Creation because I am of His body... but what resides in other spheres is not for my Purpose." He considers her for a pause and then offers her a hand. "Take my hand and I will show you what troubles this universe. Why I do what I do. What the scope of my Purpose, truly is."

    Once the Amazonian's hand is in his own the world around them falls away. Michael was not a creature of relief. The shift was abrupt and without warning. One moment they sat at the edge of a building, the next they stood overlooking a vast field of color. Twinkling motes of color swam in the vast expanse. Michael stretches out a hand and speaks. His voice sounds as if it is covering a great distance even though he stands right beside her. "Behold! That which your kind calls the multiverse. All of the possibilities ever envisioned given a set quantity of power and matter in an ordered system." Another wave of his hand pulls them closer to a single mote of color. It appears as a perfect sphere dominated by the colors blue, red, and purple. "A stable universe appears as this one does. Elegant in form. Self contained. Holding and continuing as it should on its own."" He pauses allowing the Amazonian a moment to take in what she sees before he waves his hand again.

    The movement is almost instantaneous, but it feels as if they are covering distances that don't have words. Before them is a grey mass, trickles of the mass fall from it and dissappear moments after. "A failed universe in the final stages of reclamation. Whatever power was tasked to enforce such activity has done its job and the mass will be reabsorbed into the Presence and the Source and recast anew."

    He waves once more time and the entirety shifts once more in a vast blur. They hover before a green and blue amorphous... thing. It moves through the vastness like an amoeba, not spherical but not bleeding either. "This is your universe. It is neither destabilzed to the point of destruction nor is it self-sustaining. See there!" He gestures and the amoeba like universe brushes a "foot" against a nearby sphere. The effect is instantaneous. The sphere starts to loose its color and falls apart, destabilized to the point of destruction while the amoeba looks revitalized, stronger.

Donna Troy has posed:
    As abrupt as the transition is, when you've spent a lot of time around Raven you become accustomed to such abruptness. The sudden death-like absorption into Raven's Soul-Self and unceremonious exit back into reality any time Raven gets it into her head to transport you somewhere is a jarring experience that most people never get used to. People who've done it fifty times still tend to feel at the very least nauseous afterwards. In comparison this abrupt journey is pleasant, and Donna who has taken the Raven Express far more than fifty times, takes it in her stride.

    And at the other end of the journey is a thing of beauty. This is a perspective Donna has never seen before, and never expected to see, and she cannot help but attempt the impossible task of taking in the infinite All laid out before her as Michael explains to her what she is seeing. In some corner of her mind she can't help thinking of this as being like some particularly pretty episode of Cosmos, with an Arch Angel playing the role of Neil Degrasse Tyson beside her, but she doesn't let the amusement the thought generates interfere with taking in the sight laid out before her. Finally she whispers "Thank you" to him -- a simple, heartfelt reflection of genuine gratitude towards the archangel for giving her the gift of seeing this.

    She watches on in thoughtful silence for a while, words surging to her lips but never quite escaping as if she feels unwilling to put what she is seeing in mere words, but eventually it comes. "I don't know how you perceive this, but to me... I see colors. my friends Victor and Nadia have persuaded themselves that magic is color-coded recently. They will learn in time that they are over-simplifying. This though..."

    She pauses a moment before turning away from the green-blue shape to look up at Michael. "The healthy universe I saw as predominantly purple, blue and red. This one... our universe, I see as green and blue. It's unbalanced. I guess that's why it's not... self contained? That it needs to draw on energy from outside to maintain itself. More green, less purple. Do these colors signify particular things, particular types of energy or force that must be in balance? Is there something we are simply missing? What causes this to happen?"

    She looks back at the amorphous shape of her own universe, staring deeply into the swirl of colors as if by studying it hard enough, committing it to her memory, she might learn its secrets. "You didn't answer the second part of my question though," she adds.

    "I suppose it's ironic. You can see all this, this infinity of infinites, yet you talk of this, this single infinity being your purpose. That what resides in other universes is not for your purpose. Is beyond your knowledge. And just moments ago I was telling you how... one of these, one of these other motes of light, I have visited. As tiny corner only, it's true. But from that tiny corner I have seen life, and love, and stars, and death. In both the universes I have visited, the mortal inhabitants who live those lives among the stars, who love each other, and die -- they have found a way to pass from one infinity to another, to cross this endless boundary between them, and return. To pass through a barrier you do not, to understand what another of these swirls of color we are seeing really /is/."

    "You want to make this better. No reasonable person could disagree. So I ask again -- you are willing to recruit Caitlin as a warrior to your cause, but why not recruit the scientists and sorcerers to your cause who have learned to walk those paths you don't walk, to see if they can see a different angle to all this, to mend this imbalance, and repair what is broken? Maybe they have the answer, so why not ask?"

    "If you tear this down, you may be destroying the solution to it, and a solution at a vastly lower price. And what then if the replacement turns out to have the same problem? You would surely mourn the loss of another option as much as you'd regret the price your solution demanded, if it proved

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Michael sighs and looks at the universe moving in its way. "The colors are, more or less, your brain differentiating them. I doubt they have significance. But I cannot seek out assistance from mortal kind. We are not permitted to do such a thing in our Purpose," he replies with a a soft shake of his head. "I can only do what He" he gestures to the Infinity before them, "has permitted in what I am. We are isolated stewards. And in this abstract containment I saw a failure of what was. The only recourse I am allowed is to let it go forth as it is, despite it likely destroying everything in it's continual quest for stability or Reclaim and begin over. He smiles at her. "Until I was given another option by my Silent Brother."

    The scene of Infinity washes away and now Michael and Donna find themselves in The Garden. The title is necessary for this place. Even Themyscira pales in comparrison to the beauty of this place. Far in the distance stands The Great Tree from which all life was birthed. Two figures emerge from a swirl of mists to their left. One is an young man who, despite the power pouring from him, still seems... rather plain in his bearing. Even as Donna looks upon him she's knows his name: Uriel. The Silent Watcher. The woman at his side, by contrast needs no introduction to Donna. Gaia exudes beauty, grace, power, and fertility in magnitudes that mark her apart from even the mightest of angels. While Michael can -Create- none of his kind can truly -Give Life.- The creature that walks beside Uriel is created for the sole purpose of Life and she glows with that power. Her thin gown, green as fresh growth, hangs from her sun-tanned skin and her hair, the color of fertile soil cascades down her back, held away from her face back a circlet of crystals and living vines. The woman and the archangel seem to be in deep cousel with one another.

    Michael smiles at the pair, fondness pouring from him for those he sees as... peers? "The Great Mother would choose a champion: a single individual of mortality and imbue them with power, knowledge, and strength to stand opposite the force of The Presence--to stand opposite of me. Their solution, unknown to me at the time was fairly simple, either her Champion would find a way for the denizens of Creation to stabilize the universe themselves without requiring external assistance. Or I--as the force of the Presence--would do as I am bound and reclaim the universe for repurposing by the Will of My Father. And that is where we stand, Jonathan Sims, Gaia's Chosen One, stands against me desperately attempting to unify those who wish the continued existence of their reality. Meanwhile, my force works to enforce one of the tennants for our very existence."

Donna Troy has posed:
    There is a momentary look of disappointment on Donna's face when the scene changes. A momentary sense of loss. It does not last long because of what that view has changed to.

    As they appear in the Garden, Donna lets out a long slow breath, then breaths in deeply. Her face relaxes, and she walks a few steps here and back as if testing out the ground beneath her feet. This ur-wilderness is what Themyscira is meant to be an echo of -- she feels very at home here.

    She does not interrupt Michael as he explains, content to listen closely to his words. When the two figures appear, Donna greets Uriel with a simple, low nod - formal, polite acknowledgement of his presence and who he is, rather than any real greeting.

    It would no doubt be surprising to many that her reaction to Gaia is very much the same.

    "That tenet being -- to preserve the stability of the multiverse, to ensure that the universe for which you are responsible is not simply whole in itself, but healthy for the infinity of infinities too?" she asks.

    Donna frowns and shakes her head, looking down at the ground. "This is a conflict between two concepts of how to achieve the same end. Either her champion finds a way the universe is stablized without external assistance, or you will will find a way to stabilize it. Normally people fight to achieve opposing aims, not the same aim. What is there to gain from fighting, if a victory for either side achieves the same ends?."

    "It seems to me that if you are fighting Gaia's champion to stop him from attempting to stabilize the universe, then while it is true that if you win you enforce one of the tenets of your existence, you are fighting to stop an attempt to enforce that very same tenet. You are fighting both for your purpose and against it."

    She shrugs her shoulders quickly, and looks up at him again.

    "Also you say you must do it yourself because that is your purpose and you cannot seek out assistance from mortal kind, yet you sought assistance from Caitlin when you made her your champion. The way you describe all this seems... contradictory."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Michael smiles and the vision of The Garden fades and again they are atop the roof in the city. "Almost as if I am a being of comsic importance and focused on the higher level of reality as opposed to the myriad of individual parts," he says with a small smile.

    "I will address the matter of your sister first." He says calmly. She weighs heavily on your heart after all. Caitlin presented herself to me. For her initiative, I have placed her as an example of what might be should I Reclaim the universe. I cannot seek outside help but I can tag agents for my cause. Just as any good general will utilize whatever weapons he has at hand, so too have I used what weapons have come to me."

    "As for Jonathan and the fact that our goals are opposing and in line with each other... this is not lost on me" he says. He gestures at his armor. "We fight because I am what I am. A General. A soldier. A warrior. Anything I do, is done in that vein. Do I want Jonathan to win? Of course, otherwise I would simply lift a hand and everything would be gone. But I am giving him, and you, and all of this universe time to do what they feel must be done in the hopes that his efforts will be successful. But, make no mistake, he -is- my opponent in this contest and as such I must do all I can to see that he fails."

    Another smile graces his features, spreading beatific benevolence over the Amazonian. "It would hardly be sporting to simply sit back and allow him to tamper with the forces of this universe however he sees fit. Proper decorum must be maintained after all. And I -am- still The Archangel Michael. Having the Fire of Creation lay down for the will of a mortal is not something I can do. It is not in my Purpose."

Donna Troy has posed:
    A smiles spreads slowly across Donna's mouth as Michael's worlds unfold before her, words put to a suspicion that had been growing in her mind for some time as she watched Michael's actions, heard how Jon has described this 'game', and now in speaking to Michael himself. It culminates in a single world spoken by Michael, the very word that had been on her mind, that she was waiting to hear.

    "Warrior," she repeats. "Yes. I understand that. Something we have in common after all. As an Amazon, I am a warrior too. But it's not just about being a warrior, about fighting wars. It's purpose. I understand that. Amazons exist to be warriors. It defines us. It is the part we are in the greater universe. I do understand."

    "A year ago Caitlin and I and two of our friends became trapped inside a strange artificial singularity, a kind of pocket universe constructed within one of the holes between here and there that are part of this one. It was hard. It was hard even though I never for a moment lost faith that we would find a way to escape it and return to the people we loved. It was hard because I didn't have /purpose/. We travelled seven strange worlds within that pocket universe. Caitlin and Victor engineers as well as warriors. Terry is a communicator as well as a trickster. Each of the worlds had found its own unique and flawed way solution for how to be. Worlds at peace, devoid of significant problems. I had no purpose being there. That was the hardest thing, having no reason to exist in that place. I knew I was not /needed/ and that was a sensation I had never felt before. I was deeply, existentially troubled by it. Then finally, we arrived on one world where their solution involved constant low-level warfare. Suddenly I had purpose. Suddenly I was me again."

    "So yes, I think I understand that."

    Her features shift slowly, awaking from the reverie of memory she had found herself drifting into. She tilts her head up to look at Michael, making up that distance in height. "How long is it since you fought a war, Michael? Since you last lead your forces into the field of battle, the way you were created to?"

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Michael smiles at Donna's question. "The last time I was forced to rally the Hosts to do battle was early in the creation of the universe. The Abrahamic religions call it The Fall of Lucifer. My brother, in his arrogance failed to acknowledge the works of this universe as those of Our Father." He sighs and shakes his head. "In his Pride he turned aside from the Purpose of his creation. To inspire. To build. To be the Great Architect."

    He ponders for a moment and then inclines his head as if reaching an answer. "Time had little meaning then and the numbers mean little given the scope of things. But in human terms?" He shrugs. Fourteen billion years is a good a number as any."

Donna Troy has posed:
    Donna nods her head, the kind of nod that indicates this is not surprising. "And before that? It's hard to see there was anything to fight about before then. Is that war the reasons why the host exists, and that you became a Warrior and General rather than being the Great Stonemason? Are you still fighting that same fight now, though the enemy is already beaten and the people left to fight seek an end you also seek?"

    "The people fighting against you... very few of them are warriors. Not truly. Gaia's champion most certainly is not. They don't fight because it is their purpose, but because they see your victory costing so many lives. It's a simple cause. Fight with us, or a trillion trillion people will die. Who wouldn't fight for a cause like that? I know Caitlin certainly would."

    "And yet she's fighting on your side." Donna raises a hand to forestall any objection. "No, I'm not implying you've brainwashed her or anything. When I see her, I still see Caitlin. I know she is fighting for what she believes to be right, but she would not think the death of a trillion trillion would be right. You could explain this all to her one way and she'll fight for you, or you could explain it to her another way and she would fight against you. "

    "Does that not concern you?"

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Michael considers her words. "I think, were you a one of my siblings, that you may have been able to get me to set aside this conflict for more sustainable options." There is a sense of sadness in the General of Hosts' tone. "Or perhaps not. What is, is. Were you one of the Greater Hosts, you may not have the same motivations. Speculation on the possibiities of what could be when you have all eternity can be exhausting."

    He sighs. "But we are too far past the point where such things can be set aside. The path ahead is laid out, the methods of focus quite clear, and unlike mortals I am not as malleable in what I can and cannot do. Demiurgic force or no." He pushes himself to his feet, once again towering over her, but there is a different look in his expression now as he looks down at the Amazonian.

    "I knew that your people would be trouble, I just did not fully understand -how-. I think I am beginning to see at least a part of the answer to that question now." He shakes his head. "Caitlin will continue to do as she believes. Perhaps, in time, she will change her mind on who she follows. After all, she is mortal and that gives her the power to make such a choice freely. But at the moment, you are right: she fights for me. The numbers game would not sway her decision on that. She believes that the world created after Reclamation will be the paradise of Heaven on Earth and, in theory, she may be correct. Not even I can say what will be when the cycle is renewed."

    "Troia," he says, Naming her outright, "you have given me much to consider with your questions. Something that speaks highly of you when the only other to have such conversations with me since the dawning of this universe is the very being your people venerate. But time is pressing and there are matters that need my attention. Are there more questions you have or have you revealed the nature of your curiosity fully to me in this?"

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    Troia gives a slow nod of her head to Michael. "We are warriors, you and I. You know as well as I do that I haven't entirely revealed the extent of my curiosity, because no good warrior ever reveals their entire hand." She breaks into a quick, playful grin.

    "Yes Michael, thank you. You have answered my questions and told me many things. I have only one question left to ask, but only because it is a question that I believe should be asked. All I ask is that you think about the question, rather than that you answer it. The question is: if you are the Great Warrior, who is the Great Stonemason now?"

    She shrugs her shoulders and for a few moments shuts her eyes, to see instead with the eyes of the mind the Garden they had so recently stood, trying to commit to memory every detail. "There are a couple of things I want to tell you, though. When we escaped from that singularity, when I was somewhere that I knew I had purpose again, back on Earth where warriors were needed, I felt like a burden had been lifted from my shoulders. I felt I had a reason for being who I am again. It took a while for me to realize the irony of this. I fight to make the world a more peaceful place, and yet there I was celebrating because the world I was in was less peaceful. I was happier because I was needed, but that also means I was happier because the aim I was fighting for had not been achieved. There are warriors who fight for good causes and warriors who fight for bad causes, but the irony for a warrior who fights for good causes is that our ultimate purpose is to make ourselves redundant."

    She opens her eyes again and looks back down to the streets below, the gathered crowd of the faithful in front of St.Patrick's church, the artificial canyon of Fifth Avenue spreading out in either direction. Normally it's an exciting place to visit, a monument to the abilities of humankind, full of life and promise. Now it seems like a poor reflection on the garden, populated by the short-sighted and a horde of angels who, apart from the archangels, seem increasingly alien and insect-like to her.

    "The second thing is that you're going to lose. I claim no prophetic ability, but I can tell you this already. I'm not sure I need to tell you, you may know already. There are inconsistencies in what you're saying, and I don't know how aware you are of them, but they mean that you're going to lose, even if you win. Exactly how you lose, I cannot say."

    "I hear there are already those in your ranks who doubt. I believe that in time, Caitlin will turn away from you. It is possible, if you lose in the wrong way, that the cost to you will be high. You may one day find yourself feeling very lonely. I think you're /wrong/ Michael, but I also think you are /good/. But because you are wrong, everyone may turn their backs on you. If one day you feel alone in the universe and need someone to talk to you, and if I am still here, I will not turn my back on you."

    She finally tears her eyes away from the city street, and turns back to Michael, giving a nod of her head. "I'm done. Thank you for answering my questions, and for showing me what you have shown me."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Michael inclines his head to the Amazonian. "If things come to pass as you have predicted and I am alone when all is done, then not much will have changed in my time of existence, child," he says giving her that same sad and rather tired smile. "I will consider your question and the great many things you have said to me. I will consider them because, as you say, we are not so different."

    His wings flex out, flashing darkness and light in equal measure respective to the two sides and he slowly rises from his position. There is no flapping of wings, he simply ceases to be confined by gravity. "Perhaps, if I still exist as I am when this is over, I will speak with my brother to allow you access to The Garden. It is more resplendent in reality to any vision I can convey through memory, even perfect as that is." He smiles at her and nods once, rising a bit higher. "But you are more than worthy of that honor through this conversation alone. Goodbye, Troia, I hope one day we can meet on less volatile terms."

    There is a brilliant flash of light and a sound like a great many birds taking flight and the Archangel Michael is gone. There is no displacement of air or any sign of his passing, he simply is no longer there in Donna's presence