In His own image

Rattle of plastic wheels approaches the reception of Disneyworld’s Polynesian Resort Village. The man dragging the luggage has a dour expression beneath his keffiyeh, beard grayed from age and stresses of life. Receptionist forces a smile befitting the magic kingdom. “Good evening sir, how may we help you?” “I have a reservation by the name Afsoun Darzi.” The man’s heavily accented words cut in without delay, almost catching the receptionist off guard. Thankfully, she is a professional. “Yes, just a moment sir… Yes! You may find your bungalow by the lake. It is the third one to the left. Your fellow travelers should be there at this moment. I hope you enjoy your stay in Disney World, sir.” She hands the man a garish bracelet with one hand while directing him towards his accommodations like a stewardess. He nods and quickly continues along. Try as he might, he is ambushed by a lady handing out flower leis. Trying his best to avoid a scene, he grumpily accepts the welcoming gift. Despite the laughter of children and smiling faces of tourists, his expression doesn’t change. If anything, the more he walks the more aware he becomes of the grinding sound of his luggage.

Soon the sound of plastic against stone shifts to wooden clutter of boardwalk and he presents his RFID key bracelet at the door. The click of lock being disengaged is soon met with a young female voice. “Aloha! You finally arrived dad! Welcome to the Poly.” As the man closes the door behind him, a woman in her mid-twenties comes to greet him. She is an athletic woman with shoulder length black hair. She wipes the sweat from her forehead against what may have moments before been a hijab. “I see you've already gotten yourself a dose of Tiki touch. Me and Mr. Dingo here spent the last few hours moving furniture for the main event.” She puts her fists on her hips in triumph after straightening her shirt. A long-haired, muscly man with tattoos peaking from under his Hawaii shirt nods while straightening bedcovers that have been taken from the bed that is now resting against a wall. “Mr. al-Ghazālī. Pleasure to work with ya.”

The bearded man doesn’t turn his eyes from the empty center of the room as he drags his luggage across the floor, absentmindedly throwing off his flower lei. “Too many bystanders my dear Sekhar.” He blurts in Farsi. “And are you sure about this Australian fellow?” Muscular figure leans against the wall and replies in the same language. “This isn’t my first supernatural rodeo, mate. I’ve gotten briefed by your daughter and it doesn’t sound like anything I couldn’t handle.” For a moment, al-Ghazālī is taken aback. He turns his head towards the man for the first time. “My, it seems that you have qualities that aren’t all apparent. Mercenaries don’t usually bother learning Persian.” “Aye, it’s not as useful as Pashto in my line of work. But I prefer to talk directly with my employers rather than rely on translator cunts.” A surprisingly amused smile creeps up the older man’s face. “I like your gumption kid.” He says in his strained form of English.

Quickly his face turns back to stern worry as he starts opening his luggage. “But as I said, there are too many bystanders here. Just because the War will be fought here doesn’t mean that we should accommodate here.” “That shouldn’t be a problem dad. All of the 19 other bungalows are ours and they are a bit removed from the main resort.” “There are still children running around here Sekhar, I wouldn’t want them to find out about this.” “I think you saw five kids on your way. Two with matching New York Giants caps, two with flowery dresses and pig tails and one bored out of his mind playing with a phone while blasting rock music from his earbuds.” “How did-“ The woman folds her arms while wearing a smug expression. “They are all puppets. I just finished them last month. Perfect for infiltration.” The patriarch throws his hands up from the depths of his luggage with an elated yelp and turns to hug his daughter. “Oh Sekhar! I am so proud of you! I knew you would make me proud!” “H-hey dad ease up. That’s not all I’ve done.” “Yes! Yes, of course. Do go on.” He lets go of his daughter and takes a seat with focus he had not displayed before. “See Bruce, Qahve is easy to please as long as you do your part.” “Oh, hush now Sekhar, that wasn’t easy what you did!” Qahve says as he waves the words away like pesky flies. “Please, tell me what you’ve worked out.”

Sekhar straightens her back like she is giving a school presentation that she had prepared alone when all her group members had called in sick. After clearing her throat, she starts addressing both Qahve and Bruce. “There are about two dozen infiltration units with representations of all walks of life here in Disney World. Largest portion of them are here in Poly, but they have infiltrated other resorts as well with luxury resorts as priority. We all know that Maguses can hardly resist the finer things in life.” She momentarily smiles at the irony of staying in a deluxe bungalow herself, but soon regains her serious tone. “As I said earlier, the 19 other bungalows are also ours. I have taken the liberty of placing your eliminator units evenly across all of them. Their equipment was smuggled easily enough through air drop the lake. Small arms, utility gear and protective uniforms have already been recovered, but I’ve chosen to leave the heavier artillery in the containers that they arrived in underneath select bungalows. The cases are waterproof, so there should be no worry of them being drenched. As for alchemical reagents and mana jewels I-“ Cutting in on Sekhar's report, Bruce pushes himself off the wall while whistling. “Fucking hell lass, where’d you find all the money for this? You wizards finally managed to make gold out of thin air?” Bruce interjects in disbelief. Qahve quickly tries to explain how creating gold isn’t difficult but Sekhar confidently cuts him off. “Mr. Dingo, where we have gotten our funds is not a matter that you should bother yourself with. Buuuuuut if you must know, well, have you heard of Twelve Swords of Truth?” “The Shiite insurgents operating in Syria? I ain’t looking gift horse in the mouth but let’s just say I have no comment on theology.” “Don’t worry about that. As it turns out, my father’s old organization worked to funnel money to them and from them. I thought that we would have better use of it than them. Plus, they kept ogling me despite wearing a full burka when I last saw them.” “Oh, thank goodness. I can do a lot of stuff but I ain’t that fond of beheading cunts.” “Despite where we are you should be ready for that possibility.” Qahve says in monotone while stroking his beard. Bruce gulps. “Continue, Sekhar.” “Yes. You should find all the magus equipment in order. I’ve also set up a lab for you in the kitchen and an op-center in the second bedroom. These bungalows are also warded so we shouldn’t have too many unwanted visitors snooping in. That is, of course, unless the Masters we face are truly worth their title.”

Qahve continues stroking his beard silently. Sekhar’s confident posture begins to waver just as he rises from his chair. “Excellent work. We should begin.” Sekhar nods towards Bruce who begins pulling the curtains over the windows, double checking that no prying eyes are observing what they will do next. Qahve takes out his clothes and basic tourist amenities until there is only a false bottom left in the luggage. What lies beneath is a pistol, laptop, ballistic vest and a metal box. He gingerly lifts the box after donning silk gloves and places it on the floor few feet away from an esoteric circle that Sekhar is finishing drawing on the floor with chalk. “This will be the rock on which we build our church, Sekhar. Not of false dogma, but of reason.” Sekhar rises after finishing the symbol. “So, who will it be?” “Don’t hate me for this Sekhar, but I took a gamble. I don’t know what this will be.” “W-what?” “Look.” Qahve carefully lifts something brown and oblong from the box. “This is a rib from Jebel Irhoud, Morocco. It belongs to one of the five fossilized bodies found there.” “But who’s is it?!” “As I said Sekhar, I don’t know! No one can possibly know. What I do know however, is that this is the perfect experiment to conduct. There have been debates on powers of Servants for ages. Are they as powerful as they were in their legends? Are they more powerful the older they are or the more known they are? It has been impossible to tell until now. You must know of Gilgamesh, one of the most powerful Servants recorded?” “Of course. I have read up on him.” “Then you must know that he lived 30,000 years ago. The bones found in Jebel Irhoud? They are 330,000 years old, the earliest found remains of Homo Sapiens.” A pregnant pause fills the room, as if any sound could shatter the relic in Qahve’s hands. “With this, we may know which is more important. Is it fame or is it age? The answer to that question will tell whether we should consider retreat, or should we consider mercy against our foes.”

The bone is placed in the center of the circle and after final glances at each other, Qahve begins chanting. “Let argent and cendrée be the origin. Let mineral and wāli of bonds be Yesod. Let my great Master Solomon be the ancestor.” Maybe it was pride in founding a new House, but Sekhar knew that the only connection to Solomon and their family was that of tradition. Regardless, it wouldn’t serve anything to protest Qahve’s choice of words, as the air in the room began to stir. “Let rise a wall against the gust that shall fall. Let the gates of four winds close. Let the three forked paths from Keter to Malkuth turn.” The billowing grows stronger. Windows rattle against the magical force emanating from the circle. “Let it be heard now! Your blood shall serve under me, and my judgment shall be with your fist. Submit to the call of the Holy Grail!” Lights flicker, but the room is bathed in greenish hue when there should be darkness. “Hark, if you would submit to this will and this truth! An oath shall be sworn here. I shall attain all blessings of all of Paradise; I shall rule over all curses of all of Hell.” Energy is bursting more and more rapidly around the room. Qahve grits his teeth and grips his outstretched arm with his free hand. “Yet you shall serve with your eyes blinded by uncertainty. For you would be one tethered in madness. I shall grip your chains!” Sekhar stares at her father in disbelief. Not only is he is summoning an unknown person, he is summoning a Berserker! Her father was always a man of reason, why would he tempt fate like this? “From the Seventh Heaven, clad in three words of power, arise from the circle of restraint, upholder of the balance!”

A final billow accompanied by sounds of light bulbs exploding and windows cracking. All was dark. Shifting her posture, Sekhar could feel pieces of glass crack under her feet. The wind had stopped. Bruce opens the curtains bathing the room with warm evening light that creates shafts in the fog that had filled the room. A large, looming figure is crouched where the circle used to be. Where the rib of ancient man used to be. The stillness is broken when the hulking form rises higher and higher, it’s head almost touching the roof. Peeling from the silhouette, a second form emerges. They are still unseen, yet they are distinctly man and woman. Bruce opens the balcony door, letting the fog disperse. Between the three of them stands two giants, rippling with muscle and raw bestial power, fog condensing from their warm bodies like a racehorse in winter. The giants exhale, a sound more akin of a growling tiger than man. Qahve scans them with his eyes, eventually locking in with theirs. A primordial fear rises within him. Breaking the spell, the giants embrace each other while making happy sounding grunts and huffs, nuzzling their faces against every inch of one another. “I-it can’t be…” Qahve stammers incredulously. “Dad… You managed to summon… Adam and Eve…” Qahve’s confusion soon turns to anger. “No. No no no! This can’t be right!” “Dad, this is amazing!” “Crikey... Fuck me mate.” “They aren’t supposed to be real!” “What are you saying! Of course, they are real! Solomon is real, Salome is real, David is real, why wouldn’t they be real as well?!” “You fail to see the forest for the trees my sweet child! Adam and Eve are directly related to God! All those others are just silly interpretations of existing people in a fantasy book!” “Now I’ve never been a Christian, friends, but this is completely bonkers.” “You should be happy then! These are the first humans to walk the earth!” “But what about other members of homo genus!? How do they fit!? Tell me, I really would like to know!” “Uhh, boss.” “I don’t know dad, but that doesn’t matter!” “Doesn’t matter!? Have I taught you to close your eyes for inconsistencies in existence?” “Boss.” “No, but they will surely be unstoppable in the War.” “Creation myths are dime a dozen! These could as well be Mashya and Mashyana, Wurugag and Waramurungundi, Ask and Embla, hell, they could be Líf and Lífþrasir for all we know!” “Boss!”

“What!?” Al-Ghazālīs turn in unison to face Bruce who wears an uneasy expression. “Should we do something about that.” “Do what about wh- oh good grief.” It seems that during the heated argument the two Servants had begun copulating in the center of the room. “Shouldn’t Servants usually have clothes?” Sekhar asks meekly while squinting her eyes. “Y-yes. I don’t know what’s going on.” Qahve lets out a defeated sigh that is almost drowned by moans. “I-if these two really are Adam and Eve, that… Behavior, would mean that these are from before they took the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil. They don’t appear embarrassed in the slightest. If there were five bodies in Jebel Irhoud, they could be Adam, Eve, Cain, Abel and Seth. They are far away from the three rivers so that is another ques-“ “Should we do something, boss?” “No, Dingo. They would break you like a twig if they wanted.” ... “Should we get, I mean, make some clothes for them? Dad?” “They are so massive that they will attract attention wherever they go. I… I don’t know. Maybe they’ll be immaterial for most of the time? Hopefully.” Room falls silent save for wet slaps resounding in the room, accompanied with huffs and occasional yelps. “Bruce, would you please go outside and see that no civilians are nearby to hear this?” “Right on it boss.”