The Profit: The End

Oh, you are damn right there, Mari-chan. Yeah, you, me, all those fucking voyeurs. That’s exactly where we all are. Right here: hell on earth. And the fires are going to burn like you wouldn’t believe.

What’s up? Surprised to hear from me? Thought I was dead and buried? In a cave, on a slab? Well, you haven’t been listening very carefully then, have you? Because, by now, surely you know who I am, you know how this story goes, the prophecies that must be fulfilled. I go and I come back. That’s just what happens. It’s what I do.

Oh, you don’t believe me, you Thomases, you. ‘Oh Lord, but it can’t be you!’ Can’t be me? You didn’t believe I could return? You saw me walk on water! You saw me raise Lazarus! You watched me destroy Satan herself! But what, you think I couldn’t perform the cheap parlor trick of returning from the dead? Christ on a fucking bike, what fools you are. So, what do you want? To plunge your fingers into my gaping wounds? Well fuck that for a game of soldiers. Not this time, sonny Jim. No, this time the wounds are all on the inside, and this time I don’t have to do shit for you. You had your chance.

Of course last time I had plans on getting into the family business so I had to be a good little Christ, do as I’m told, help keep you guys out of the eternal hell fires, that was my cross to bear. And what was to be my reward? Maybe I could take over when the time comes, but you know what happens when your old man is immortal? The time never bloody comes, does it? You think Prince Charles has it tough waiting for Lizzy to cark it? He doesn’t know the half of it.

And besides, what good is the business anyway? Child-minding you bunch of remedial infants, the ones he loves so much, the ones he made from clay and his own breath. He has such a glorified idea of you, dear reader, you and your kind. Of the creatures he made it is you he reveres above all, but he knows nothing about you. He sits there in his heavenly abode, looking down upon you from a distance, he knows sweet bugger all.

But I, oh dedicated reader, I know you better than he ever could. I have walked amongst you, I have seen you at your worst. The first time I tried to save you, from Satan, from yourselves. But where did that get me? You couldn’t have cared less; you carried on rolling in your filth, in your debauchery, in all your fucking money.

So here I was, back again, playing out the same routine, doing my best, trying to keep you bastards out of the flames, but then once again I’m betrayed – last time with a kiss, this time by that fucker Jude: an email, a hi-five in a bar, a swarm of the fingerless thugs. That’s fucking irony for you, isn’t it?

So, this time, what should I do?

Before, I took the ascension, I rode the holy elevator to the heavens and I watched you, I watched what you did with the good words I left behind. I followed what you did in my name: the wars, the crimes, the repeated rape of those more vulnerable than you, those who, into you, had placed their trust.

So again I ask you, what should I do? Play it again, Sam? No, fuck that. This time I’m gonna do it my way, and this time the outcome’ll be a little bit different.

This time I’m not catching my ride to the top. I’ll be turning off my phone when my father calls. This time I’m going to make things right, I’m going to sort it out once and for all. I ain’t dying for your sins, not again. There are just too many sins, and so many sinners who can take my place.

That’s right, boys and girls, the time has come, the time is now. I’m going to take everything from you, everything you hold so dear: your property, your money, your sexual desires. From now on it’s all mine, it will be me that profits from all the evil you have done to this world. Right now, it’s Rapture o’clock, and no one’s going up. It is for you, each and every last miserable one of you, for whom the bell tolls. And you think those biblical fairy tales have prepared you for what’s coming? Well you can think again. All that – the tribulations, the plagues, the famines, the floods? That’s fucking child’s play compared to what I have in mind for you.

So now it’s time. Say good bye to your loved ones, tell them how you feel, dear reader, it’s time that we ended this story once and for all, and all the praying in the world isn’t gonna help you now. It’s too late for all of that. All lines of communication with the man upstairs are cut. It’s just me and you now, dearest readers, it’s just me and you.

Of course, I can feel your blame, your complaints. “I didn’t know, why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you send a sign?” you bleat. Or you tell me that it’s not your fault, that you always believed, that you’re my faithful followers. That you wouldn’t betray me like Jude, that you wouldn’t desert me like Mari, that you wouldn’t turn your backs like Masa, Makoto, Ruka and Jun.

But I’m afraid it’s too late for all that, now. Hell hath no fury like a deity scorned, that’s something that you guilty masses will soon find out. And no, none of you are innocent out there, oh dearest readers. No, you’re into this, right up to your fucking neck.

The End

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