A True History - Book TwoChapter 8 free porn video

It was still easy to take off from home without being seen by the guards or the cameras. I wondered what I’d have to do when we were in California. Maybe dig a tunnel out somewhere. It’s not like they didn’t have earthquakes all the time, so my drilling wouldn’t be out of place. I was visualizing the map in my mind, since I hadn’t actually flown over the area and how long the tunnel would have to be when I realized I was almost to Italy.

Time flies when you’re distracted. I’d have to watch that in the future, flying 5,400 miles without paying much attention.

I stopped at 5 miles up, so I could check things out. Brokaw hadn’t been kidding. There must’ve been 3,000 or so people in St. Peter’s Square, even this early on a Monday morning. I looked around the area, and finally decided to go with my usual. I thought it was interesting how many places had big obelisks in front of them. At least it made a landing spot for me easy to choose.

I dropped down to 500 feet, then felt a thought coming my way from the girls. The Pope said I was just an alien. May as well have a little fun with it. I wasn’t very musical, but I could be loud. It was too bad that I didn’t have a big board of flashing lights above me. They’d just have to deal with me making the five tones from Devil’s Tower as best I could.

By the time I stopped making the tones and landed on the top of obelisk, the crowd had increased. There were police cars around, shining their spotlights up at me. I could see men in military uniforms taking up positions on the roofs of the buildings, although I wasn’t sure what good they thought they could do. Several men with long pikes came running out as well.

I patiently waited until finally someone wearing red, flanked by four men in black, came hurrying out. The crowd was now up to nearly 10,000 people. The five men were quickly surrounded by the guards with pikes, all of them walking towards the obelisk. The crowd parted for them, without anyone saying anything. I was intrigued that the man in red was black. They stopped, like they were waiting for me. The rising of the sun hit the top of the obelisk, and I took that as my cue.

I jumped into the air, doing a three and a half gainer, with two twists, before landing in a vertical position directly in front of them. The guards didn’t know what to think. Neither did the men in black. However, the black man started applauding. “You get a 9.5 from the African judge.”

“I tried. It’s hard to stick the landing when it’s not water, of course,” I said.

“Since no one on this planet could do what you just did, I presume that you are the Messenger from Above. I am Cardinal Bernardin Gantin.”

“It’s my pleasure to meet you, Bernardin. Technically, you’re not correct. There is another ... but unlike young Skywalker, she is not my sister, although she is my apprentice.”

One of the bishops looked like he was going to say something when I called the Cardinal by his first name. A simple hand motion stopped that. “We were wondering about that. The news of what happened in Mexico yesterday has traveled fast.”

“We, meaning the Catholic Church, or we, as in you and Karol?”

“His Holiness is curious, as am I, as Prefect of the Congregation of Bishops.”

“That’s certainly normal. After all, I’ve effectively stated that your entire religious group isn’t needed, so I can see why you’d wonder about that. The minor detail that, yes, I really am an alien from another world ... sort of, as I’ve found out not that long ago, thanks to some messages my new apprentice brought me ... no doubt gives you leave and cause to think my own message doesn’t apply to you.”

He frowned. “No, actually, we don’t have much of a problem with your message. We would rejoice an end to the fighting around the world. As for destruction of drugs, there are medicines that can be abused, but do have good uses as well. Perhaps a slight modification, such as destroy the bad drugs, would be more appropriate. And of course, we simply wish to live in peace.”

“However ... we do have a bit of an issue with your comments regarding faith, as well as resurrection.”

“I’m quite certain you’ve seen videos from America. I’ve found souls ... even though that’s not the correct word, but it works ... in other places around the world. Just not in the concentration that was at that memorial. Very politely, I’ve been avoiding many military cemeteries, as well as the concentration camp locations in Europe, simply because I am human, after all, and the amount of emotions can overwhelm even me.”

“You’re human,” he flatly said.

“Yes. Just as much as you, with a couple of exceptions. That’s why I won’t take my mask off today, even though I was enjoying a meal in Mexico yesterday. You have cameras. It’s difficult to walk around, to otherwise learn about our people as you’ve become here, if everyone recognizes you.”

“Our people?” he asked.

I reached up, like I was scratching my head. “Yeah. Turns out that the last Messenger was here about 10,000 years ago. I’m not going to say that your messiah might not have been descended from him. It’s entirely possible he was. Some of the ages of people mentioned in your book ... the Bible ... are entirely within the lower end of our life spans. Here’s the thing. I said, before, that our peoples both came from common ancestors. Turns out I was slightly incorrect. You’re all actually descended from us.”

The crowd, which had been really quiet, actually almost as one, gasped at what I said.

“Turns out that, about 250,000 of your years ago ... and I specify that, because while just about every star system that we know of measures a local year as one complete orbit around their primary star, that can take different amounts of time. A year on the planet I most recently came from is nearly 500 of your days, for example. Anyway, about a quarter million years ago, this planet was visited by a group of scientists from ... us. I really don’t know how or why they ended up staying, and that’s because your file went missing, as I said before. Now...”

I stopped, because someone had come running out, from the Basilica. “Your Eminence, His Holiness requests that you and the Messenger meet with him inside.”

The Cardinal nodded. “Of course. Sir, would you come with us?”

“No, I don’t think so. Son, why don’t you run back in to Karol, and tell him that I want to talk to him, out here. Where the people can hear him, can hear us, and where what we’re saying isn’t hidden by any secrets.”

Apparently, some of the news cameras that had shown up while I was standing on top of the obelisk were being broadcast live, because no sooner had I said that, than another group of guards came out of the Basilica, escorting a man wearing a very tall hat. I waited patiently while the Pope walked out to meet us.

“Greetings to you, my Son,” he said. He held his hand out, with his ring on top.

I reached out, and shook his hand. In Polish, I said, “Hello, Karol. Would you prefer to talk in this language, since it’s your native tongue?”

“I am fine in the French that you and His Eminence were using.”

“Certainly. You’ll note that I’m not that big on titles. One thing we’ve figured out over the millennia is that it’s not the title that makes the man, it’s the man that makes the title. Or woman. As I was explaining to Bernardin here, the people of your world ... all of you ... are descended from my people. I’m not saying that your Bible is false. On the contrary, the book of Ezekiel, for example, seems to describe an exploration probe. I will say that the words have been twisted over the centuries, because, of course, not all men are as good as the two of you. Even those that have held your titles in the past.”

Pope John Paul II frowned. “I cannot argue with your last statement. But I can, with some of the rest. Do you have proof?”

“Did you hear me say the last Messenger was here about 10,000 years ago?” He nodded. “My new assistant ... she brought me more information. It wasn’t that your planetary file was accidentally lost; it was deliberately misplaced. Bernardin, I’m quite sure that you would agree with me that if someone with powers and abilities like I have demonstrated showed up in many parts of your home continent, the peoples there would worship him as a god.”

He snorted. “I know there are many tribes of primitives who would do so.”

“Well, I’m not a god. I’m just a man. A lot older than Peter the Fisherman in Cancun thought, but that’s irrelevant. Now, both of you...” I paused, looking at the crowd. “All of you, including those watching at home, at work, or where ever you may be. Imagine someone showing up with my powers and you were all primitives. There was a catastrophic event that hit this planet around 50,000 years ago. The civilization that was here was wiped out. We’re a resilient breed, though. Your ancestors stubbornly hung on, and started getting things back together. We ... my group ... was watching, and a Messenger came to help.”

“That’s where ... well ... many of the ancient myths came from, that make up so many of your truly ancient religions. But where we were, and are responsible, was those Messengers did truly help your people, because you all are OUR children. But ... we’re also human, with human failings, just as many of you have. Look how many Catholic priests have this fetish for little boys. Oh, not the two of you, but you know what I mean.”

The Pope’s eyes bugged out a little when I made my comment, and I thought for a moment he was going to yell something, so I kept talking.

“Thing is, we had someone assigned as a Messenger and he purposely hid your file. He couldn’t destroy it, but he did hide it. And he came here, while you were primitive, and he set himself up as a god. He used his knowledge of souls, of what does happen after death, and he used his powers, to frighten people, and make them bow to him. Some ... much ... of what he taught was the truth. But so much of it was perverted.”

The Pope shook his head. “I ... apologize. I came very close to failing in my charge, to be true to my people, when you commented about the Church. It is my charge, to make sure that we are servants of the people, not the other way around. We will investigate, and we will take action, about what you said about us. But I also heard you say that one of your people was wrong. Do you know who?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s easy. You’re not going to like this, but a lot of what Hindus talk about as far as reincarnation and souls is right. The messenger’s name, when he came to this planet, was Shiva.”

My comments seem to have irritated one of the Bishops present.

“How dare you state that the True Church, His Eminence, and His Holiness, are wrong? In Christ’s name, I rebuke thee!” He pulled out a phial of water and started flinging Holy Water on me. “The power of Christ compels you! The power of Christ compels you!”

The Pope was looking at him in alarm, when two of the other Bishops started doing the same. I screamed out loud, as if in extreme pain. Then I started writhing around, crouching down. That seemed to embolden them to redouble their efforts.

I think they figured out something was wrong when I screamed, “Oh, no! I’m melting! I’m melting...” and then I was down on the ground. The Pope heard my words and held his hand up, causing them to stop. I raised my head up. “No? All done? Does that mean I can’t go into my Gene Kelly ‘Singing in the Rain’ number next?”

A slight smile crossed the Pope’s face. “I don’t think so, no.”

“Ah, okay.” I sprung back up to my feet. “I guess it’s a good thing that my uniform comes with a full money-back guarantee. Guaranteed to be impervious to fire, flame, ice, frost, vacuum, and holy water. And in case you think I’m making a little bit of fun at the expense of those Bishops ... you’d be right. Bernardin, Karol, here’s the deal.”

“I’m not going to argue that the Catholic Church hasn’t done a lot of good over the years. It has. Unfortunately, you also can’t argue that over the years, there’s been a lot of bad things that have been done, in the name of organized religion, including by the Catholic Church. There have. Karol, you helped write the Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World and the Decree on Religious Freedom. That’s fine, but look around. Look at the trappings you have. You’re the smallest nation on the Earth, but you have the same rights as the largest as far as I’m concerned. You want to be powerful? Change the way you do things.”

Bernardin asked, “What do you mean?”

“Simple. Continue the good works. Continue the good deeds around the world. But do them for the right reason. Not because your ‘religion’ demands it. You’ll note that I’ve put a major restriction on all of the other countries. All of their militaries get to come back to their countries. I actually don’t want your priests and nuns to come here. I know that most of them are actually from the country they work in. All I want ... all I require ... is that you quit pushing the extra crap, and concentrate on the good stuff you do. That does mean you’re going to be cutting back on the glitz and extra stuff, though. The building itself is not the church. Neither are the tapestries and all the other goodies some of you covet.”

“You require ... I see. It does seem that you’re making a few demands, here in what is our country. We have no divisions; we have no armies. Why do you feel that these are demands you can make upon us? We’re simple servants of God, after all.”

“Honestly, I don’t care if you were simple servants of Santa Claus. The problem is that you’re not simple, and you’re not ... well ... quick explanation time. Remember how I said that the being known as Shiva was from my planet, was the last Messenger? Thing is, he changed your genetic code. The person you revere as Jesus Christ wasn’t actually the son of God, at least not the way you think of him. He was a man, just like you, just like me, with all of man’s failings. The thing is ... he had access to some technology from my planet. I suspect, but I cannot prove, that the same thing happened regarding the person you call Moses. I KNOW that Jesus did.”

“Then how do you explain that you met Jesus, Michael, a little Angel, and now Peter the Fisherman?” the Cardinal asked.

“I’ve met a lot of people. Thing is ... if those folks in Cancun hadn’t shown that they needed intervention, no one would have known. I’ve also met a Harold the Fisherman, a Bernadette the nurse, and now I’m talking to Karol the Pope. If you haven’t figured out by now, especially with the whole melting thing, I’ve got a slightly skewed sense of humor. I find things funny to myself that other people might not. You have to have that after the first couple of thousand years, because watching people who you’re caring for grow old and die gets depressing otherwise.”

The Pope started to say something, then stopped. “You’re saying that you’ve been alive since the time of Christ himself?”

“I wasn’t here then, of course, but ... um, yeah, pretty much. Bit longer than that, actually. Our people were around 500,000 of our years ago, so call it 600,000 of yours. It’s funny, you know. We’ve known for tens of thousands of years that there’s no heaven, no hell, because your soul is eternal. Then finding a place where someone was trying to set himself up as a god, and finding your own technology was used to promote that. It offends me, it offends my sensibilities. I’m just trying to correct our own mistakes, our own wrongs, at this point. That way, you can join the rest of the galaxy.”

A solid two minutes passed while the Pope stood, obviously deep in thought. Finally, he nodded a little. He reached up, then took his miter off, handing it to one of the Bishops. “You have powers beyond those of men, do you not?” he asked.

“Clarification. I am a man, and I am human. But yes, I have powers beyond those of any man alive on this planet.”

He took his ring off. “This is gold. It is the symbol of my office.” He held it out to me. “Can you melt it, so that I could use it to help others with the money from selling it?” There were quite a number of audible gasps from everyone around. Not just the Bishops, but also the Swiss Guards and the crowd.

“Yes, I can.” I just stood there.

He smiled. “Allow me to rephrase that. Will you melt it, so I could use it to help others with the money from selling it?”

I took the ring from him. It was a crucifix that had been made into a ring.

“No, I will not. Pope John Paul the Second, of the Catholic Church, your actions today have shown me the character of the man that was chosen to lead this group of people. I cannot ... I will not ... order you to change your preaching of love, of helping other men, of the sermons that were the words of Jesus. I ... require ... that you get your own house in order. The ceremony, the pomp ... it fills men’s heads with beliefs that they are more than what they truly are.” I glared at the bishop that had first dowsed me with water. “Judge a man not by his actions, but by the content of his character. You have shown me you are a man of good character.”

I held his ring back out to him. His hands were shaking when he took it from me, slipping it back onto his finger. I held my hand out to him. He started to kneel before me. I shook my head, saying, “No,” and turning my hand so that it was palm up. He understood then, taking my hand with his. I shook it, then let go. “Take care. You know I’ll be watching. I wish that ... well, eventually I’ll be able to meet you, without this uniform on.”

With that, I took off. Once I was about half a mile up, I kicked it in, so I could get up to 10 miles up. It was less than a thousand miles to London, so I was landing on the street in front of Number 10 Downing within a minute of leaving Rome.

I walked up to the door. “Hi. Is Maggie in, or is it just Denis?”

The police officer at the door didn’t know what to do. He just stood there, rather dumbfounded, looking at me with wide eyes.

“Hello? I’m speaking normal English now, right? I know I was just talking in French, but I think you should understand me, right?”

He still just stood there, now with a large wet spot showing on the front of his pants. “Oh, good grief, man! Go home and grow a pair.” I stepped by him and opened the door. There was another police officer just inside.

“Hi. Sorry to simply walk in like this, but your man outside just wet himself, for some reason, and doesn’t seem to understand English. Is Maggie in?”

The police officer inside blinked a couple of times, then reached for his gun in reflex, then stopped, his hand on the pistol grip. “Sorry, mate, but you can’t just barge in here.”

“I asked politely to the officer outside, who seems to be having some sort of seizure at seeing me land out front. So I’m not barging in. I really didn’t barge in when I stopped in Washington to talk to Ronald, either, so I presume that Maggie has some sort of protocol in place for me as well.”

The officer’s eyes were looking around, quickly. “Okay, if you’re who you say you are ... here. Flatten out this coin.” He reached into his pocket with his other hand, pulled a coin out, and tossed it to me.

“Okay.” I quickly did so. “Now, would you care to lighten up a little? If I was here to hurt anyone ... at least right now ... do you think I’d be so polite?”

From behind the officer, two other men came up. “It’s okay, George. I’m Denis Thatcher. I presume you’re looking to discuss some things with my wife.”

“With your wife, with your Parliament. Just a relatively short and peaceful conversation and discussion, as it were. Granted, it’s going to irritate a few people, but I seem to have done that at times lately.”

“Of course you have. She’s not here right now, though. She’s addressing the Commons this morning,” he said.

“Shall we go for a bit of a stroll, then? That’ll allow these fine gentlemen ... except that poor bastard outside that can’t control his bladder ... to radio ahead, so they expect us.”

Denis smiled. “That sounds like a grand plan. I must say, Margaret was curious as to whether or not you’d come here at some point or another.”

The security staff wasn’t thrilled about it, but they didn’t argue too much. We walked out and onto Downing Street, then to the sidewalk. We headed south, but didn’t get very far. I had to stop.

“Is there a problem?” Denis asked.

“I presume you’ve seen the films from what happened when I visited the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington. The monument...” I looked at the policemen. “Are any of you gentlemen veterans, SAS or SBS?” Two of them nodded, both of their eyes going wide when they realized why I was asking. Another officer stepped into the street, stopping traffic. The rest of us walked over to the monument.

“Wow.” I was just looking at the Cenotaph. “I know yesterday was Remembrance Day, but ... gentlemen, you may want to be careful, touching this.”

One of them looked up. “Boys, I’m with the London Police now, but I served with Her Majesty’s Armed Forces for ten years. Treat me gentle, okay?” He put both of this hands on the Cenotaph. Seconds later, tears started flooding down his face. “So many of you. My God! Easy, lads, easy!”

The other officer braced himself, saying, “Lads, I did five years with the SAS before I got hurt and had to retire. I’m still here for you.” He put his hands on the Cenotaph as well. “Sweet Jesus! Gerry Watson! I saw you die! No, mate, we finished the mission, we did our duty. Aye, for Queen and Country!”

Several people walking had noticed us. A couple of them went to the other side, away from where the police were. I heard both men, at the same time, say, “Bloody Hell!” The second officer that had been SAS pulled his hands off. He wasn’t crying, but his eyes were puffy. The first one was still touching the Cenotaph. The second one took him by the arm and pulled him away.

“Thank you, mate. I never got to say goodbye to Gerry. Gents, let’s escort this man to see Missus Thatcher.” His voice was rough with emotion.

Denis asked, “Kenneth, you’ve been with us for years. What’s ... I’ve never seen you this way before. What happened?”

“Sir, there’s ... I don’t know how many men ... thousands, maybe tens of thousands. Fuck, maybe millions! That was built because we couldn’t bring them home. They came home anyway.” He shook his head, then looked at the third officer. “Get on the radio. Close the street. The Regiments need to come, need to talk to the boys.” He turned to me. “And you...” He did something I never expected. He saluted me. “Lieutenant Kenneth Miller, London Police, at your service!”

“Carry on, Lieutenant.”

“Very good. Come on, lads, let’s continue this little stroll, shall we?” Two more policemen had shown up, and were now working on diverting traffic as the word spread about the Cenotaph, and more military veterans came up.

It took us about fifteen minutes to walk the rest of the way to the Parliament Building. There were more policemen and even some army troops that were deployed around the building, presumably due to possible terrorist threats.

An army officer came running up. “Here, now! What’s this about? Oh, hello, Mister Thatcher. Why are you here?”

“This man needs to address the Commons and my wife. Please move out of our way,” Denis said.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but with the threat level so high, no one is allowed in right now.”

Lieutenant Miller laughed. “And how the bloody hell do you propose to stop this man, if he wants to go in? You’ve seen the news. Be a good lad, and step aside, so he doesn’t have to kill anyone here today.”

The army officer looked at Miller in shock, then realized that I was in my uniform. “Oh, crap, they didn’t give me orders about this.” He moved back, allowing us to proceed in. My escort grew by half a dozen more people, as well as two journalists.

There was a guard standing outside the door to the Commons. “Sirs, the Commons is meeting now, and the Chamber is...” He stopped speaking when I reached out and picked him up.

“Please just stand aside now. It’s time for some decisions to be made, and I’m not that big on ceremony,” I said. One of the policemen that had been following us held the man back, so he wouldn’t be hurt. I opened the doors.

There was a brass rail right in front of us, blocking our path. When the door opened, an older man just inside the rail turned his head, then stood up when I walked in. “Here, now! Stop right there, on that side of the Bar!”

I looked at him. “No, I don’t think so.” I reached out, took hold of the center piece, then used my vision to cut it on both sides. “You don’t need that for me.” I jumped down to the main floor, holding the piece of brass pipe in my hand.

“What’s the meaning of this outrage?” yelled the old man.

“Son, you ought to sit down before you get hurt.” I gently pushed him so he sat back down in his chair. People on both sides of the aisle stood up, yelling in outrage. From the other side of the room, a man wearing a black robe and white wig stood up.

“The Gentleman is not recognized by this House!”

“Sit down and shut up, Bernie.” I kept walking across the floor. “Hello, Maggie. I’d say that Ronald says hello, but he doesn’t know I’m here yet.” The members were still standing, yelling at me.

I raised up in the air about five feet, and loudly yelled, “Shut it!” Between me actually showing that I was flying, and the volume of my shout, that got them to quiet down. “I think you’ll find that I’m not a big fan of parliamentary procedure. I tend to not get stuck in the niceties, and go straight to the heart and meat of the matter.”

I still had the section of the Bar in one hand. I floated over to the table, putting my toes under the haft of the Mace, flipping it up into the air, and catching it with my other hand. “This is a mace, designed for one thing. To break the heads of fucking idiots! How many of you need to have this used on you?”

The chamber was silent at my threat. “Better, much better. Maybe we can even have a civilized discussion, even if your government here is still so young. So, Bernie, you’re the Speaker of the House of Commons. Since you’re a constitutional monarchy, and Liz really doesn’t have much actual authority, I’ll talk to you, to Maggie here, and to all of those present. Just for point of clarification, is there anyone here who has any doubts whatsoever that I’m NOT the same man that spoke to Ronald recently, or to Karol down in Vatican City this morning?”

No one said anything for a moment, then Margaret Thatcher stood up. “I see that you’ve convinced Denis that you’re real, and Lieutenant Miller. That’s good enough for me as far as establishing who you are. That doesn’t excuse you for being rude, though.”

“That’s okay, Maggie. You’ll find that I’m not much for this whole...” I motioned around the room. “ ... decorum thing. It tends to get in the way of what’s important. Which is actually doing what you’re supposed to be doing. Leading this country for the betterment of your fellow citizens, not arguing about stupid shit.”

I looked around. “And, of course, not using your offices for personal enrichment or to hide your own personal foibles from discovery, of course.” I was paying attention when I said that last, to see who had a really guilty conscience. “Or both.” That got one man’s pulse rate going. Considering how fat he was, I was surprised.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did that strike home a little too close for you, fat boy? Making money from your own personal connections, while using your government position to cover it up? And your own foibles. Little children, is it?” I wasn’t making a guess. Mike had found in the official secrets files that it was.

He stood up, a feat in and of itself, since even though he was slightly taller than Beth, he easily was more than 350 pounds in weight. “If you’re addressing me, Sir, I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Really? So, you’d know nothing about the speech you gave regarding not regulating asbestos, even though you personally own considerable shares in Turner and Newell? That would certainly sound like a conflict of interest to me. Of course, that pales in comparison to hiding under the Official Secrets Act that you’re a child molester, and enjoy diddling with little boys, and have been doing so for years.”

The Speaker of the House stood up. “Sir, you are out of order here!”

I spun. “On the contrary, Bernie, it’s your government that’s out of order. You allow someone like Cyril there to do illegal things, and cover them up. Of course, I’m not sure it’s a lot better that, while Maggie is incredibly competent, her private secretary is a pederast. And she knows it. You all make me sick and disgusted. But at least Morrison has the decency to only have sex with boys that are at least old enough to experience sex, since your age of consent law is incredibly stupid. Not like Smith, who likes them much younger than that. Fortunately for you all, I have a simple solution to that issue.”

I spun, flinging the Mace, catching Cyril Smith right in the face. I’d made sure it wasn’t going so fast that it’d bust through his head and hurt someone behind him. Instead, it was just enough to lodge in his brain. Of course, there was quite a bit of blood and other spatter that went around the room when that happened, followed by a lot of screams.