Real Gods Require Blood

Summary:

A brief meditation on how “Holy Trifectas” work through the lens of my three favorites: Lucifer (The Judge), Yahweh (The Jury), and Michael (The Executioner). Inspired by the 1929 Saint Valentine’s Masacare. See the artist here.

---

So the Judge, the Jury, and the Executioner all roll up at an abandoned factory. . .

. . .where they know some heinous activity is going down. If you want a “moral” reason to understand what they’re about to do, it is this: the criminals in question were doing an awful lot of sex trafficking that was harming the community around them, something they could not approve. However, there was the “practical” reason of being pissed that their extortion was bleeding them money and well, an empire can’t run for free in these streets, can it? Therefore, they’ll strut their way through the plastic, wafting curtains that would like you to believe they’re the entrance to a humble shipping center.

Well, as you will guess, it most certainly is not. To spare you the boring details of how the three people in question bag the criminals, they play a few tricks around the building before rounding up 13 criminals in total. By the time said criminals realize everything that transpires, they would find themselves all lined up like pigs on butcher hooks against the cold, white brick wall, wrists and legs bound while blindfolded. Many of them will start to wriggle and writhe at this realization, but the trio don’t care, because they’re here to deliver the Divine Justice the cosmos desires. It starts like this:

First, the Judge who you will know as Lucifer enters the room, closer to the left where a scruffy desk is. He’ll be rocking a nice, all white suit with a wide-brimmed hat and a long, flowing trenchcoat to match, a good combination for his dark skin and purple eyes. He’d have long, brown hair that spills down to his waist in waves; none of these pigs, of course, could see his severe expression upon them, but it’d be there all the same as he crosses his arms behind his back.

“Filthy bastards.”

He now begins, his left eye scrutinizing them from beneath the rim while his lips curl into a scowl. “Look at you all sitting here acting like you’re free of sin, yet your records say otherwise. Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

And Lucifer will now stop in the center of the room, a drab, concrete container for what he knows the criminals use to ship their bullshit, whores and cash alike. “I’m afraid I’m not a merciful judge, by the way. I know how you pathetic humans think. . .you try to use the wisdom I gave you in an effort to supersede the reality that exists around you. I’m uncertain, really, why you would do that when you know that at some point it will catch up to you.”

Guilty, Lucifer concludes like he’s smacking a gavel down. “Guilty, I say, and I’m just fine with you lot dying.”

Very good. The second person to enter the room takes the center position of the room, hands also crossed behind his back. He too rocks a suit with a wide-brimmed hat and a trench coat, though his will be in a perfect, deep brown to offset his lighter, tan skin and long, blonde hair that spills right down to his legs. We now call this man Yahweh, also known as The Jury who’s here to try and give us humans a fair chance by weighing any additional evidence that would support us.

“Don’t be so hasty, Lucifer.”

Yahweh teases now, mouth twitching into an awful grin as he begins to breeze past every last body on the hook. He would not bother looking at any one of them and kept both of his eyes beneath the hat for true justice must adhere to being blind. “For all we know, they could still be saved.”

Doubtful, Lucifer hums, though he’ll tap his foot and wait for what The Boss has to say. Yahweh stops at the last pig in line with his gloved hand drumming upon their back before asking Lucifer to present the folder of proof for why they need to die. Lucifer does from a breast pocket; Yahweh is quick to skim it page by page, lips now slowly curling into a frown upon the presentation. Tax evasion, he already didn’t like it but that’s what every billionaire does now-a-days. Sex trafficking, however? This is not something he can forgive. Innocent people should not be waywards in another man’s battle and yet these lowlifes were doing just that, which is why Yahweh throws the manilla folder at one of their heads.

“The Jury agrees with The Judge’s decision. They are guilty of treason and must be punished as such.”

To which Yahweh then goes back to his position in the center of the room, though stays behind Lucifer for the third person needed to make his appearance. And here it was, The Executioner, a man dressed in the same ensemble with the exception of it being all black. You know him best as Michael, God’s final arbiter who weighs the souls when all is askew in the universe.

“If they are guilty, boys, I’m happy to clean them up.”

To which The Executioner lifts his head up just enough to reveal his right eye, a single, blue one gleaming from the brim with tanned skin and blonde hair not unlike Yahweh’s since he was The Jury’s firstborn son. “True Judgement knows no bounds, after all.”

And with hat, Michael unsheathes a tommy gun from behind his back. One, by one, by one, he would mow these bastards down with bullets drilled into their heads, their waists, and more. By the time The Executioner completes his task, there is only one alive because Michael wanted to make an example out of this idiot.

“Do you feel remorse for what you’ve done, little pig?”

The Executioner now asks while pressing the tip of the gun to their back. The pig in question trembles, says yes, says sorry.

“Good. Now say that to the people you’ve harmed in the afterlife for me, okay?”

And with that, Michael makes the last shot real personal by pumping a bullet straight through their heart. By the time he’s completed his task, he takes the right side of the room with the gun pointed towards the floor, lips curled into something that is neither a smile or a frown.

“Very good, boys.”

Yahweh concludes with a clap of his hands. Now sat 13 very dead, bloodied bodies piled upon each other in the cold of the room, mouths agape and eyes gazing off into God knows where. “I think their boss got the lesson on this one, don’t you?”

Sure did, Lucifer says with a naughty little chuckle. Michael agrees with a wicked smirk and a nod.

“Excellent. This is the reason why I keep you two as my favorite, never forget it.”

Now, let’s leave, Yahweh concludes while nodding towards the exit. “We don’t want to get caught, do we? Better to let the police agonize about how important their deaths were in the grand scheme of things.”

Indeed, both conclude. Yahweh is the first to head out as the head of the Trifecta; Lucifer and Michael follow behind hand-in-hand, pleased to have accomplished a necessary task of eliminating more pests. By the time they get to their burner car awaiting them on the curb, anybody who had the brief pleasure of witnessing them would see a perfect triangle moving in tow before entering it, with said car then drifting off into the distance of whatever city you so desire them doing this.