Arch-Nemesis

Jesus flew.

It was a nice feeling. Even cooler than walking on water, and he was pretty sure nothing was going to top that. Well, raising the dead was cool too, but this flying thing was sweet.

He was flying over the desert. He'd been out here the better part of a month, and it was cool of the Custodians to let him use the armor. It was so light that he barely felt it, but impervious to just about anything. Plus it had lasers. He'd never even heard of those before, but he sure did like them. He blew the top off a small mountain with one just for the sheer fun of it.

He settled down onto what was left, and surveyed the wasteland before him. The armor was doing a nice job of keeping him cool in the desert heat too, which was nice. And he'd told those jackoffs that kept following him around that he had to make this trek alone, some crap about spirituality, he forgot exactly what he said. The upshot was, they fucked off and let him go alone. Which was really great, since the only alone time he got any more was when the Custodians sent him on missions.

He really thought he was getting the hang of those, too. The monster on Alpha Centauri was rough, but that was mostly just getting used to the armor. Since then, he stopped an asteroid from colliding with Earth, apprehended an interstellar gang of slave-traders and prevented a mad scientist from turning the Vega star prematurely nova. And once he told Mary Magdalene about his new job, she dumped that schmuck with the hammer and got back with him. Yeah, life was looking up. He even managed to cure some lepers and enlighten some people after he got back from the mad scientist thing, so his dad was happy. He'd gotten grudging permission from the old man to keep up the galactic defender bit, so long as his "hobby" didn't interfere with his "real job".

Just then, the armor's internal sensors beeped, and he barely had time to dodge as hellfire blasted down onto the spot where he'd just been standing. He rolled, spun and fired a few blasts from his lasers.

"MUAHAHA!" A hideous laugh came from behind him. "You'll have to try harder than that to defeat the menace of... DR. SATAN!"

"Oh, fuck me," Jesus thought, turning around. It was his father's old assistant. He'd been fired ages ago, but still kept hanging around trying to start trouble. And what was this Dr. Satan crap? Jesus asked him.

"It was just something I thought I'd try out," Satan said, looking a little hurt that Jesus wasn't more impressed. "You don't like it?"

"Not really, no. Kind of stupid, truth be told."

Satan pouted, looking down at the ground. "Fine. I'll just stick with 'Satan', then."

"You do that. What do you want, exactly?"

"Nothing." Satan kicked at a rock, looking uncomfortable. "It's just, now that you're doing the hero thing, I thought you could use an arch-nemesis. So... y'know..." He looked up at Jesus, hopefully.

"What? No!" Jesus shook his head. "First of all, what do I need an arch-nemesis for? Second, why on earth would I want it to be you? What would you even do, anyway?"

Satan shrugged. "You know. Rob money-changers, plot global domination, kidnap Mary Magdalene and tie her to one of my doomsday devices..."

"You have a doomsday device?"

Satan looked at his feet and shuffled them. "Well... no. Not as such, but... I could get one."

"Yeah... listen, thanks, but, I think I'll pass. I--" Jesus paused as his armor beeped. "Crap. A rogue planet is on a collision course with a scientific observatory in a nearby binary star system. I gotta go." He laid a hand on Satan's shoulder. "But listen, buck up. Something will happen for you soon. You'll see." With a final pat on the shoulder, Jesus leapt from the mountain, heading into deep space.

"So, I'll just wait here then, okay?" Satan called after him. "Okay? Jesus?" Sullen, he sat down on the mountaintop.

"Crap."

Secret Origin

Jesus of Nazareth walked home, dust kicking up around the hem of his robe. The apostles followed, of course. Dad forbid they give me a moment's fucking peace, he thought. Just one night to myself, is that so much to ask? It had been so long since he'd been able to spend any "quality time" with Mary. He knew she'd been checking out that young cross maker who worked in the Roman garrison.

He remembered the last time they talked. The last time they had the chance to talk, without Peter and the rest of his fan club sitting around listening in. "Look, honey," she said, "I know how important the messiah thing is, and what a hard-ass your father can be about the family business. But a girl has to think about her future. Joshua has a good job in a growing industry. He has a house, an ass and just bought into a collaborative sheep herding venture with two friends of his from school. He's going places, and he wants to take me with him." She touched his cheek tenderly then, smiling in that way she had. "I still love you. But what can you offer me other than a lifetime of persecution and a dozen slackers who expect me to cook for them?"

He hadn't had an answer then, and he still didn't. What did he have to offer someone like Mary Magdalene? Or anyone else, for that matter? He sighed. Maybe old John was right. Maybe he WAS trying to hard. Maybe he should just stick to performing the odd miracle and let the people figure things out on their own. Much as he enjoyed the sermons, and they seemed to be popular, he was beginning to think that people really weren't getting it. Take the other day, for example. He'd just spent the better part of two hours baking in the hot summer sun while he explained, again, about the importance of caring for those who cannot care for themselves, doing unto others as we would have them do unto us... basically the whole love thy neighbor bit, when he was interrupted by someone from the audience who wanted him to preside over a stoning. It turned out he was to officiate at the execution of a man who's only sin seemed to be leprosy, and an unwillingness to engage in garish decorative displays during Hanukkah. Jesus had thrown a rock at the audience member instead, and railed at the crowd for a good 45 minutes before storming off. He'd regretted losing his temper, but for crying out loud. How thick do you have to be? He was seriously considering telling the apostles to fuck off for the night, when he was bathed in an unearthly glow and addressed by a celestial voice.

"Jesus of Nazareth! You are called now to action!"

Oh great, he thought. Just what I need tonight. It didn't sound like his father, so it was probably another of those dickhead angels come to give him shit again. "Listen," he said, looking up. "Now isn't really the best... who the fuck are you?"

Floating before him was the translucent image of five tall bald men wearing robes adorned with some sort of odd symbol. "We are the Custodians of the Cosmos! And we charge you with the defense of this galaxy! Go now to the third planet of the Alpha Centauri system. There you must do battle with the ravenous interstellar omnibeast, which threatens the--"

"Wait a minute," Jesus said, holding up his hands. "Pretending for the moment that I have the first idea WHAT you're talking about, don't you know who I am? I'm the Son of God. I'm the Messiah. I can't be running off to my dad knows where to fight some monster. I have souls to save. Sinners to redeem." He shrugged. "I'm a little busy."

The Custodians looked down at him, pique evident upon their alien faces. "Oh," they said in mock-contrition. "Oh, please forgive us. We can see how being the bastard offspring of a local deity and discussing philosophy all day with morons would trump defending the galaxy from evil. No, really. We'll just be on our way."

Jesus nearly let them go. They were kinda pricks, after all. But then he thought about it, and realized that galactic defender would be a pretty steady job. Something solid and dependable, that would show Mary he wasn't just some wandering prophet with no direction in life. Plus, galactic defender was way cooler than being a guy who sticks two logs together all day for nailing up retards who didn't grasp the fact that it wasn't a good idea to piss off the Romans. And he HAD been riling up the rabbis a bit lately. It might not be so bad to disappear for a bit while things cooled down. Make one joke about being King of the Jews, and all of a sudden you're public enemy number one. And he was drunk when he said it. EVERYONE got drunk at that wedding, what with all the wine he'd made. People were talking shit all over the place. But of course HE catches hell for it. At any rate...

"Hold up," he hurried after the departing aliens. The apostles seemed frozen in place, which was good. The last thing he needed was them barging in and making asses of themselves. "How will I get to this place, let alone fight a monster? My miracles tend to be a bit more passive."

"Worry not, Jesus of Nazareth," the Custodians said. "We will deliver you to your missions, and return you home again. As for performing those missions..."

Suddenly, Jesus was dressed head-to-toe in lightweight armor.

"The armor will grant you considerable abilities, along with the knowledge to use them," they explained. "By the time you reach Alpha Centauri, you will be well versed in the use of your powers. You are a demi-god, after all, and therefore suited to this type of work."

"Okay then," Jesus said, examining his strange new armor. "Let's get this done."

And suddenly, in a flash of swirling light, he was gone.

The apostles didn't notice however, as they had become engrossed in trying to teach a rabbit to catch a stick.

To be continued...