Iglesia ……………………………………… Episode 31

(Iglesia is a serialized novel, published on Tuesdays and Saturdays at midnight ET, you can read all of the episodes by clicking on the tag.)

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“I can most definitively assure you,” Rogers said, “That I am neither God nor Mohamed. Just a humble” smirk “servant, here to assist you in whatever small way I possibly can, within my meager abilities” smirk.

She was very proud of herself for not trying to punch him again, when he did that smirky thing he did. She looked down and saw that she had barely spilled any of her tea when she restrained herself, too.

She was almost positive now that the Indian accent was fake. It was just too stereotypical to be real.

She crossed her arms and cocked her hip and stared bullets at him.

“I don’t suppose you will tell me how you do that ….disappearing transparent thing you do, since you know I will kick the living shit out of your ass when I figure it out. I have to admit that’s some serious fuckin Fu you got there.”

“On the contrary! Quite a considerable part of my duties will be instructing you in that very same….Fu? ….that your very competent and spirited attacks were unable to defeat. And may I venture to say that it speaks very highly for your fighting spirit that your first inquiry was concerning how defeat my modest abilities. Not for instance, why your head does not hurt, or indeed, why you are here undergoing these rather strenuous exercises in the first place?”

She sat down on the delicate little tea chair and rubbed her head. It still didn’t hurt, dammit.

“Yeah….well this sure ain’t the Heaven I heard about in Sunday School, I gotta say.” She sat back and gave him her very best stare. For a long time. Everyone flinched when she whipped that one out. He never even blinked. She stood and walked over to him and poked him again, still solid, still felt like anyone she had ever had occasion to poke. She took his hand and bent his finger back….and back, and back until the top of it was touching the back of his hand. She could still feel the bones in it when she traced it with her other hand. Feel where they should have broken, but instead just kind of stretched without getting any longer or any weaker, as she found out when she wiggled the finger back and forth and felt resistance.

He smirked.

She seethed…and then went back and sat down and poured a fresh cup of tea. But she didn’t drink it.

“As you can see, and as you have demonstrated to yourself at great and laborious length,” a sigh this time, instead of a smirk. If anything it was even more infuriating. “the rules that you are used to, that you have existed within for your entire ‘life,’ in fact nearly everything you know, are not applicable here.”

“This is indeed not the Heaven you were taught of in your rustic youth. That Heaven, or a form of it, too be strictly accurate… does exist here, or in close proximity at least. But I doubt you will be visiting it any time soon. In your present form you would….disturb…the residents.” A bite of cake a sip of tea, a short version of the smirk….she just stared. “Yours is a special case,” he continued “a very special case indeed. You now exist in a place that is currently outside of anything that could be considered ‘normal space,’ and you have been brought here for a very specific purpose.”

More staring.

“I must say, you are quite a most extraordinary person! It seems we have chose well.” Stare. “Is there nothing you wish to ask me?”

“Yeah.”

Stare.

“Where did you get that piece of shit suit?”

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