Divine in Maturity

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This article, Divine in Maturity, contains the following: Adult Content. Reader discretion is advised.

Note: it is recommended that you read Across the Universe before reading this story.

Xiros drifted through space. Most of it was cold blackness, devoid of life. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw Sirkac, the moon of Peregari, split again, awash in plasma. The only constants in the universe were light and lightlessness–and he had had enough of the dark. Though he had been reduced to the body of a child, he felt invigorated. As an angel, his was a righteous fury. In time, he would become strong enough to challenge his father and Zeno for erasing Universe 17.

An Oh Nani! Betting Lounge had been built on the nearest asteroid. Inside, amongst the grime and piles of crumpled-up space receipts, a Zar-degar girl sat on the carpet, her legs spread, fingering herself. While she wasn’t wearing pants, she had the decency to keep her shirt on. It smelled faintly of space cherry and mold. If only she had known what he had already sacrificed for her.

There was a space syrup vending machine sparking in disrepair next to the nearest betting booth, where, after conjuring a stack of space woolongs, he placed a sizable bet upon a certain purple-shelled Vahljian sea slug in a 1500 meter race.

Up sidled a skeevy-looking Jolean. Half of his blond mohawk had been shaved off for some reason. He was sucking on the tip of an unlit Nil stick. “Pity, that. Now see, that’s just awful. Loose-Lipped Second Wife? Really? Surefire loser you got there, boy.”

“Are you sure, good sir? How do you know?” The angel was graceful, so he would allow this mortal to explain himself.

“Uses too much energy out of the gate. Same thing every time. Never want to take the lead that early. Never. Rookie mistake. He’ll run out of stamina by 600 meters, guaranteed.”

And so he did, and so Xiros lost the bet.

“Show me how to pick a winner, mortal.”

“Please, please, the name’s Nonce. Don’t worry, boy, I’m not a drunk–not on race days, heheh. I know what I’m talking about.”

“Go on then.”

“Here, that one,” he said, pointing a yellow fingernail at the lavender slug. “Proven winner. Capable, reliable, passes the eye-test. Guaranteed cash out.”

The Jolean’s pick came in sixth place, and Xiros was forced to conjure more space woolongs. Trying to suppress the heat rising in his cheeks was difficult.

“I thought I was guaranteed?”

“Eh, it happens. Here, bet on this o–”

“Silence, mortal! I’m betting on Brown Spot, and you can’t stop me.”

The man clicked his tongue, the race began, and wouldn’t you know it, the Jolean’s pick won (Xiros’ came in fifth place).

“Told ya. Heheh, I win again.”

The alien went to the booth to collect his winnings. Xiros hated losing. Most of all, he hated losing to mortals. He loved them, wanted to preserve them, wanted to save them from Zeno’s tyranny, but he did not want to interact with them, or be amongst them. He would spend most of his days in Zeno’s palace after he murdered everyone responsible for Universe 17’s demise.

After fighting his desires for three or so seconds, Xiros murdered Nonce with a light-blue energy beam through the upper chest. The angel thought no more of restraint. Rage had been his only companion during his exile in the Teleportation Zone. It ran through his veins in a dark, hot, dangerous pulse. In the end, justice was all that mattered.

Exhaling, he kicked the space syrup machine. A packet squirted out the hole, landing in a pile of rubbish. The Zar-Degar got to her feet; an odorless liquid spewed from between her legs onto the grey hardwood floor. Wrinkling her nose, she asked, “Like what you see, kid? How much you got on you?”

He blinked and the asteroid vaporized. None of those degenerates had had any inkling of their impending demise. He almost felt bad. The boy sensed for the nearest signs of life when suddenly, a great pain coursed through his body. He couldn’t hear his father, yet somehow, he felt his presence in the deep recesses of his mind. It burned.

“N-no… wait… I’m not ready… I’m going to liberate the multiverse! This is my story! I’m the hero!”

Xiros seemed rather surprised when he dissolved away. Perhaps more astonishing was the fact that nobody noticed.