Mike & Gabe Hash It Out for the Umpteenth Time

"I'm so disappointed!" Mike grumbles, observing the invading tanks rolling across yet another border. "We never do anything anymore."

"It's all part of The Plan," Gabe says, making note of the battalions of soldiers involved in this latest incursion over what is essentially an imaginary line. "Who even uses tanks these days?" They both bank right to avoid an incoming air assault squadron. Moments later, their faces are ominously illuminated as the incendiary bombs erupt in what a crayon company might dub Apocalyptic Orange.

"All we do is watch, observe, maybe perform some minor interventions; very minor," Mike complains, ignoring Gabe's question. Small-arms fire sprays from alleyways, echoing off the buildings that have not already been reduced to rubble. "Remember the old days?"

"Don't start with the old days crap! This is the mission," Gabe says, changing altitude and angle for a better perspective. "What's that one thing that one guy wrote that soldiers in the movies always recite?"

"The 'do and die' thing?" Mike responds, nonchalantly taking evasive action to avoid a rogue RPG.

"Yeah."

"Tennyson."

"Right! Lord Tennyson, funny man," Gabe smiles. "Anyway, he had it on the nose. We just do the mission. It's not up to us to ask questions."

"So, your take is we just follow orders no matter the outcome?" Mike huffs, avoiding a column of dark, billowing smoke roiling into the sky.

"Do you see another way?" Gabe replies, taking notice of a well-executed flanking move on the part of the invading military. Opposing forces are in disarray.

"Obviously, I adhere to the Word of law, but when it comes to questionable outcomes, I'm not sure," Mike admits.

"You follow orders every time and you know it, because you know the stakes if you don't!" Gabe scoffs. "You've seen what happens when these things are questioned."

"So, whatever the directive you will just follow it blindly?" Mike says, unable to ignore the agonized cries below. He shifts to a higher position to cut the noise. 

"Well, you're technically in command, so yeah," Gabe says, his passively-aggressive tone patently undisguised.

"Here we go," Mike sighs.

"What? I'm just sayin' what's true and factual," Gabe says. "You're in command, so you call the shots. You're the one everyone looks to on these matters and..." Gabe trails off.

"Go on, say it!" Mike demands, just as an antiaircraft round goes off in the airspace nearby.

"Nevermind," Gabe says, checking his wings for flak damage.

"Say it!"

"Fine! You get all the press! None of the rest of us ever get mentioned." Gabe says in a rush.

"That isn't true in the slightest and you know it!" Mike chastises.

"Well, partly," Gabe responds, sullen, pretending to focus on a skirmish far across this latest battlefield. "You're usually the only one who gets the recognition. The rest of us are just kind of lumped together."

"C'mon, Gabe," Mike says. "All those accounts and writings are subjective. These things change over time and the real truth will come out. What we do isn't about glory and fame. It's about right and wrong. Good versus evil."

"Good versus evil, really? Then how come you don't do anything to set the record straight?" Gabe asks.

"What am I supposed to do?" Mike questions. "Start shouting from the rooftops that teamwork makes the dream work? That despite what you may have heard I am not the one in charge?"

"Exodus, 23:1, Mike!" Gabe says. He spots a platoon surrounding a family compound full of unarmed civilians. "Minor intervention?" he asks.

"I'm not spreading a false report!" Mike shouts. "Besides, you get plenty of press, Messenger!"

"Don't get mad," Gabe says. "What about that compound?"

"Negative," Mike says. "Just leave off the false report stuff, Gabriel. Besides, it's not like you don't have your own things."

"Like what?" Gabe asks innocently, maneuvering away from what can only be called an atrocity. 

"Oh-ho! So, now you don't like to toot your own horn, is that it?" Mike asks. "I'll leave it at that. Go ahead and take care of that bomb falling over that school," Mike points.

"That's such an unsavory thing to bring up," Gabe replies in disgust, performing a minor intervention.

"Well, you started it," Mike reminds. "I mean, I could be just as irritated by the fact that you kind of stole some of my thunder and you've never done anything to dispel the myth," Mike says, casually changing the trajectory of a few bullets, thus saving the lives of seventeen people fleeing the invasion. "That bomb you redirected hit a tank, by the way."

"Um, yeah, whoops," Gabe says. "As to who started it, Mike, are you kidding?" Gabe asks indignantly. "You're like millimeters from being The Holiness Itself. I mean, the stories are legend. You are virtually totally responsible for defeating the greatest scourge this side of Paradise! Even Jesus is in awe of you!"

"The Lord rebuke you!" the Archangel Michael says, raising his sword for the first time. Simultaneously, several dozen enemy combatants below have a change of heart and lay down their weapons as they each individually experience what would be described as epiphany by religious folk and cowardice by the likes of General Patton.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Gabriel pleads. "Don't get all I'll cast you out! on me!"

"I'm just kidding," Mike says with a laugh.

"Not funny," Gabe says.

"All I'm saying is everything gets confused, watered down over time," Mike says. "Like these folks down there. They'll see what and who they want. They'll see you or me or some other version that coincides with their belief system."

"To every season?" Gabe asks.

"No, not at all. It's just all so, so, so..." Mike searches for the words.

"Confusing?" Gabe asks.

"Sometimes, yes," Mike admits.

"I know," Gabe agrees. "I think things are just as confusing for the All-Seeing. I'm pretty sure we're off the map in terms of prophecy!"

"Seriously?" Mike asks, changing into a brilliant purple-blue light, the better to soothe the dying.

"Oh yeah," Gabriel says, raising his trumpet and striking a divine pose at just the right angle as to be haloed by the hazy sunshine. "This is an unprecedented time. Like no time ever before, actually. Well, that time when all the revolutions broke out was close, but really, this is all just flat-out bonkers!"

"Are we talking Armageddon time?" Mike asks excitedly.

"Don't get your hopes up," Gabe replies. "I don't even think They know what to think, like maybe They think just riding it out is the best course of action."

"Hmm," Mike hums. He is distracted by the destruction and suffering below. "Sad."

"Sad, indeed," Gabe agrees. "You ever wonder if it will change?" They fly higher, allowing others to take their place.

"I like to think maybe," Mike says.

"Even after all this time?" Gabe asks.

"Yes," Mike replies. "What else can I do?"

"You know, if you really want to do something," Gabe prods.

"Yeah?" Mike says.

"You could put out the word that we are many," Gabe tells him.

"You mean the archangel thing?" Mike asks.

"Yeah, archangels, plural, like specifically you're not the only one," Gabe says.

"Seek not the glory of man, Gabe!" Mike says, sending a nearby missile back toward its point of origin.

"I had to try," Gabe says sheepishly, spinning the horn on his finger and disarming the latest volley of artillery so that it crashes back to earth without detonating.

"Really, with the horn, though?" Mike asks. "You totally stole my thunder and you know it!"

10-9-19