The Justiceers
by Daphne Garrido
Part Three: The Will to Choose
Part Four: Prefinished Business
Part Five: Chrysalis
5.11
There was nothing else like this for Miriam — cutting a slice through that broadest silence of space, enjoying the gentle rurr from her Lithos Miranos running on quiet within her seat, such peace found in Yemi’s expansive void — love ran deep within her heart when soaring like this, feeling her light painted through the glorious darkness.
This night was going to be fucking great, she had no idea why, because nobody had told her yet, but it certainly was.
Miriam hadn’t been feeling super great lately, just lots of ups and downs, things coming back she’d never known before about herself — all the highs and lows as she worked through everything going on, facing each challenge, refusing to turn away or collapse into fear when she’d been most wrong — especially those confusing feelings so emanating from the presences of herself within the system.
There’d been some terrible moments she felt out there, horrid. One in particular was troubling her the most — somebody had died — she’d felt the horror of it come back too clearly.
All of these waves now returning had been with her always, she’d felt them before, even if she hadn’t known what they were. There was never much to say about what she’s not previously understood, but it had held a tightness in her chest, and a wicked anger in her belly. She wanted a fight and she didn’t know why.
Miriam felt linked to her family of soul more than ever, that highest self she’d always been so in touch with, and the rest of her spirit squad from beyond. It helped, but left her where she’d always been, right in the middle; holding it all.
She kind of liked the extremity of the challenge.
Something in her had always sought balance. Those spiritual philosophies and attitudes which drove her fucking crazy were often created by people with a very specific blindness, one she’d not have much patience for with the nature of her being, hypnotized by the light, holding it up as pedestal to be achieved in full, believing to become holy meant revoking all parts aligned with the dark.
That was bullshit, and Miriam always knew that.
Wholeness is holy, every part of a person is meant to be, and there are no mistakes in this regard. People just don’t like to see what’s in the dark, because they’re terrified they’ll get lost in the shadows. Here’s another one of those complicated parts of the way things work though; they’re right to be cautious, but not to be afraid. Many people become consumed entirely when they dive too deeply, however, there is always a path home, and it’s never anything but divine.
Hiding isn’t the answer though, you can’t pretend you don’t have darkness inside you, nor light. If you exist in this universe, your ass has both.
This bitch Miriam always had one thing figured out dead-on, proud of knowing something complicated yet profound, though it always having been a blessing from on high.
For every single soul out of alignment with balance to themselves in one way or the other — either towards the darkness or the light — it would equate to another who was equally imbalanced the other direction. Every step one person took towards realizing a harmonious self, bringing all of their most twisted and beautiful parts together, would in fact be perfectly harmonized with the most opposite journey of another.
The universe always stayed balanced, but it had been out of harmony. This great nexus point so approaching was to be the time things came back together, and Miriam was going do it on her own if she had to. She’d not give a single fuck.
This bitch was about to go full holocaust-mode.
Miriam was sad, she was angry, and still didn’t really understand why; but she wasn’t fucking afraid. Never again would she be — this bitch was free from the shackles of fear — above the false judgement of the blind, ready to show The Periphery what it meant to be fearlessly truthful.
That was written too, she didn’t need anyone to gift it to her, it was always hers to have for what she’d done for this universe. A trait she deserved for her suffering and faithful trust, that’s why we’re giving it to her right now through these words, and all the crazy shit they’re doing to her body just letting them come through. She really has no idea.
The point is though — she was genuinely about to fuck things up, and not one person in the history of this universe had given less of shit about it — she was legit happy for this chance to let out some of the anger she’d been storing within, this was meant to be and she had known it.
Miriam Halafax was always The Goddess, she’d never been anything been a super rad and bad-ass chick, and she had now to become the harbinger of end times. While that sounded cool, herself about to disrupt things quite thoroughly, and literally was very true in some senses. Destruction is a form a creation. A most powerful one, so don’t trip bitch-ass.
Sometimes shit has to get burnt down, tables need flipping, things like that.
All the while, she felt this whiney-angel-bitch-ass-self whining her bitch-angel-ass off all goddamn day about her stupid-ass feeling, and it pissed her the hell off, because she could not care less about that fucking twat and her bullshit-ass feeling. This was about breaking stuff Goddammit. Making porn, things like that.
Arthur doesn’t want some fucking angel cunt, and he surely doesn’t want the devil either. He wanted it all — and that’s what he was going to get — that’s what he’d always had with Miriam Halafax; all of it in one.
She was giggling maniacally as she’d brought her baby to bear upon the Zeus, laughing as always at the misspelling on its hull which read ‘Zues’, not realizing it had infected her own writing. Uh oh, though, wonder what she was doing there?
Frankly, this could go real-bad for everyone.
Miriam had seen this all happening in her mind and decided it fate. While there might have a been a little Lightfoot in this decision-making process, she was fully aware, you can trust that.
‘Meant to be,’ she’d figured, since we’d gassed her up so thoroughly with lies she knew as such but couldn’t help but getting angry about anyways. She was right on that one, this was very meant to be, we pulled that move all the time on this bitch. She hadn’t figured out who tells the truth yet, probably never would honestly; the whole chorus is quite capable of lying when she pesters us with dumb questions. Eventually she’ll just stop asking them.
The spacesuit she’d propagated with her visage from Urina’s warehouse was svelt as fuck, that shit fit real-nice, her ass looked fucking stellar-as-hell; real talk. She’d thought about returning it but knew damn right she never would.
Magic was in the air. There’s no air in space, but you know what I mean.
Being out in the blackness wasn’t something Miriam did often before, when she’d been a scared little bitch-ass, but now there was a warmth to it and a genuine sense of connection to spirit borne inside her from being so surrounded by the beauty and stillness it all wrought from her heart. Also, this strangest feeling in her chest, almost the dark grip of a God now holding her heart.
That was getting kind of weird honestly, though the sensation took her back to an oddly familiar feeling, it was almost as if she was swimming. Some dream had recently placed that inside her along with a deeper intuitive connection with the real Arthur she hadn’t asked for in the slightest.
Getting her heart fucked by a God was pretty hot though, when it wasn’t scaring the shit out of her, felt real nice in a most frightening way. She knew this would weird him out — trust — it was not something Miriam felt comfortable with either.
She’d written pieces accusing him of doing it himself, unaware he’d no fucking clue what she was talking about. His soul certainly had, and if he wanted, he’d definitely be able to do it himself. He might have done that once before.
Still, she floated out there far longer than she’d needed to, finding connection with a peace she now knew had always been inside her as well, that part of The Great Light simply woken up by the beautiful man within her. Just as she so hoped to wake up the love inside of him.
Inside the utility hatch she’d had her visage prepare, there was a moment where she’d thought about just keeping the space suit on because it looked so good. Miriam fucking hated helmets though, she thought they were so dorky. You’ll notice she never writes of those. Like, ever, unless it’s about King Arthur or something like that.
Bubble-shields all the way; much cooler she’d think, even if she had to make some slight adjustments to reality. Her hair was too damn pretty to put in helmet, and especially Arthur’s, at least in writing. Miriam’s a fairly reliable narrator though, for the most part.
To be inside the Zeus again sucked fat balls, a fullest gullet of them.
There was this fucking douche-nozzle making his was down a causeway and watching her. From such a distance Miriam was already ragingly furious — how dare this cunt look at her.
‘Fuck you, you fucking dumb ass piece of shit,’ she’d said in her head from so far away. She really meant that too, her blood was boiling.
Yet by the time she’d gotten closer, and breathed it out a little bit, thought about how this man didn’t deserve that kind of projection, it actually made her feel quite sad for him that he was such a dumb ass piece of shit. When he’d gotten close she’d been the kindest. She meant that too, offering her warmest smile, and he’d been quite clearly touched. What a sweet guy.
Miriam was going to fuck this place up though.
Table flipping time, bitches — Lightfoot was here to stay.
‘Take it or leave it,’ she’d thought to the universe itself, knowing she was going to do exactly what she’d wanted, trusting that if we let her get this pissed off it was for a reason, knowing her ass most divine.
These visages made stealing shit really easy — probably her favorite part of the whole deal — but also breaking into places, that was sick too.
Meanwhile, Daphne had been protesting the style in which we’re writing this all quite stringently, begging for another way to tell this part of the story.
Yet Miriam was in.
Arthur’s security systems were fucking a joke for her magic ass, she’d break through all that punk-ass motherfucker’s walls. Did we mention she didn’t give a shit?
She’d still not even known how she was going to do it, there had just been this voice telling her she would find a way, not yet feeling what kind of wild shit we were about to have her do.
Miriam was going fuck that box, somehow. That’s the only way she knew she knew how to crack shit open; it was just her way.
The whole endeavor was actually quite nice.
She hadn’t known what kind of tools she’d need, but Miriam had figured out a way for her visages to fetch stuff for her by now, and they were actually helping her along with great aplomb. This was all going swimmingly by her estimation.
We were quite proud of her for following her heart.
Finally, when she’d blasted her dried-out load, shaking like the broken ass bitch she was — loving every second of it, so much, as always — there was a moment where she thought it might not work, and that she’d done all this for nothing. It scared her bit, that thought.
That would be super fucked up.
Yet something happened there as Laurentine unbuckled her from the harness, they’d strapped her into, and strapped her while within, as the visage under her own control was wiping everything up.
She realized she’d not care one bit if it didn’t work, because this had been fun as hell.
It was going to work though, this was working really fucking great, better than she even knew — because this was all of her, finally, the crazy bitch she’d been made to be. That reason her soul felt so drawn to heal the terrors wrought by the origin of evil stowed within this box, and her soul sisters so cruelly compelled to die at the hands of those people so twisted by the hatred it manifested into existence, was because of this moment she came here.
Miriam fucked the shit out of the devil, and they’d loved it so much it’s ridiculous. They’d never loved anything more than they loved her crazy ass. It was going to draw that bitch out, and Grammaton was going to fuck them straight-up.
Trust - we got you — big momma Grammaton had a plan, and this was always a part of it.