#Perspectives: Part 3, Chapter 6.

Five days later, John got a phone call from the lab. “We have a courier for V243.”

“Good.” Then, thinking it was the polite thing to do, John asked, “Who is it?”

“Some guy named John Paul,” which struck John as interesting.

“Another John, eh…”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do we know what his story is?”

“Typical Christian conservative. Thinks all these religions, races, and non-binary gender problems are causing the collapse of the country. He wants to save the world from them.”

John knew the type well. The south was full of them, especially outside of its big cities.”

“Why does he want to die?”

“Seems a flight of drones from Oceana blew away his house trailer, while his family was in it.” There was a pause. “Seems his family was making biological weapons for God’s Army.”

“Perfect.” John smiled. It was actually perfect. A mad man, stricken by grief, who no longer cared if he lived or died. That’s exactly what John needed for the V243 program. “Set everything up, and let me know when he does the job.”

“Yes sir.”

It would take several days for the man to get his package of V243, then to cross from wherever he was into the Norfolk area. They’d help him pick a place to light off the V243. A place to become a martyr for God.

Humans were so stupid. It never occurred to them that God was a fictitious creation, a story. Created by the families thousands of years earlier. Just another means to control the humans. To manage the herd.

Oh, there may have actually been a God of the universe somewhere. John wondered sometimes, if there was. After all, something had to have created such wonderful beauty as roses, and sunsets, and ocean breezes. It probably wasn’t just dumb luck that made all those happen.

But if God was real, he’d also made the families, and granted them the intellect, physical gifts, and wisdom to rule over all the humans. He’d made the humans just another material resource for the families. And that was something you’d never find in any book the families let the humans obtain.

Once the V243 had been shipped, John would have his special forces strike, and destroy the lab that made it, along with everyone that knew what V243 was. He’d also have all their families destroyed, just to be safe.

Of course, the design of V243, and the antidote for it, would be locked away in the computer network the families owned, just in case they ever needed it.

It would be good to watch Norfolk fall. To see the overpopulated area and its overtaxed physical resources come back into line. To watch it start to recover from the damage the human horde had done to it. To watch it return to the marvelous natural wonder it had once been.

He looked forward to one day walking on the beaches of that area once again. To one day feeling the actual sun, and the actual breeze from the ocean. He certainly hoped he lived long enough to see that day again. But if he didn’t it was no big loss. His son certainly would have the experience.

Thinking of his son, John realized his boy would be thirteen in a few weeks. That meant it was time to start the selection process for a woman his son could use to learn about what women were meant for. He’d have to pick carefully. But the idea of using the maid with the perfect butt did have a certain appeal to it.

His son was going to enjoy his thirteenth birthday present. Just like he’d enjoyed the present his father had given him.

All in all, it was turning into a rather good day. So, he decided to take the afternoon off, and spend time with a couple of maids. Celebrating. He also decided to send a human male to his wife’s quarters. Just in case she was interested in having some fun.

Yes, it was turning into a rather good day. A good day indeed.


#Perspectives : Part 3, Chapter 4

While his son was at school, being taught the ways of business, resource management, and history, John had plenty of time to call the research lab. It was a special call, in the virtual reality room. He knew the humans of the surface wished they had such technology. But this was reserved, by the families, for the families.

He placed his hand on the door to the room, the sensors identified the hand, the exact shape of it, whether it was three dimensional or not, if it had blood flowing through it, and was still alive, the details of all fingerprints, the DNA signature of the hand. All security to make certain he was the only one allowed in that room.

Satisfied, the door slid open, silently, and waited for him to enter. Once inside, the door sealed the room shut. The room was empty, but the walls, the floor, the ceiling, were all textured, moving, constantly reorganizing themselves. He could call up a simulation of his favorite park from the surface, and walk for miles along its trails, and never move. Just stand there, walking in place, the room changing to keep him feeling like he was moving.

“Bio Lab.”

The room shifted, and a holographic projection of the Bio Lab quickly formed inside the room. With John standing in it. It wasn’t solid. Wasn’t real. But it looked real. The room even simulated the temperature, and air currents of the real Bio Lab, hidden in the Appalachians.

A man formed, seated at a desk, “Good afternoon, sir!” He stood.

John nodded.

“Would you like me to escort you to the bacteria weapons lab?”

John nodded again, and the man, John didn’t even know his name, led him through the building, through locked doors, and past security guards, to the lab. It was real, in the sense the man really did walk through the building on the surface. He wore a set of augmented reality glasses so he could see, and talk with John, who wasn’t really there.

When they reached the lab, the man took the appropriate actions, inserted his key card, had his retinas scanned, and his hand examined, and the room opened, to allow him in. John walked in with him, in the VR room. It was like he was actually there. The same noises, the same smells. All of them simulated in the VR room.

The man walked to three computer panels, where a single man, with the classic look of a mad scientist, stood, staring at the numbers that scrolled past on the screens. “Willie, the boss is here for a status update.

Willie stopped his work, and turned to face the man in the funny glasses. “Good afternoon, sir.”

John wasn’t into playing around, “How is the new strain coming?”

“The CRISPR edits have been completed, and verified.” Willie smiled. “The bacterial strain targets red blood cells, eats them for lunch.”

John nodded. “Good.”

“Would you like to see the most recent test run?”


Willie turned to the display panels again, and touched a pale rectangle on the central one. The screen images changed, and showed a video of the last test of the new strain. “Anti-Iron variant test 243 occurred two nights ago.” Willie grinned, “It went well.” A human walked into the room on the display panels. “We picked an expendable item, of course. From the appropriate resource pool.”

John nodded, “Of course.” The human appeared to be a black human from a private prison. He still wore the prison garb.

“Once he was inside, and the seals were in place,” John watched the human on the panels as he searched for a way out of the room, “the V243 variant was puffed into the room, through a single air vent, that was immediately sealed.”

John didn’t even see the puff from the vent. “It was only a 20 cell dose. Invisible to human eyes.” Willie seemed quite pleased. “That’s all it took, though.” John watched as the human subject walked around the room, then sat down. “That’s when the subject became infected. It didn’t even inhale all the cells.” The human walked around the room a bit more. Within minutes, he shook his head, and rubbed his eyes. Then he yawned.

Willie continued his narrative, “After three minutes, V243 had begun reproducing in his bloodstream. At one hour, V243 had consumed the equivalent of one double red cell donation of the victim’s blood. At three hours, the victim became non-functional.”

John watched the video skip ahead, at the three hour mark, the human was resting on the floor, unable to move, and looking rather pale. John smiled. V243 was going to be most helpful in the management of human resources.

“At 12 hours, the subject’s body functions began failing.” John watched the human gasping for air as he laid on the floor of the lab. His hands and feet had turned much bluer, starved for oxygen. Suffocation of the body was occurring. John watched, fascinated.

“At 18 hours, the test was completed, and the subject had total organ failure, caused by lack of oxygen. Further tests revealed the subject had lost 93 percent of his red blood cells. We observed V243 kept consuming those cells until no trace of them could be found. Then, V243 died out rapidly. At the 28 hour mark, no trace of V243 could be found in the remains.”

John smiled. “Good.”

Willie nodded.

“Take the week off, Willie. Spend it with the family.”

“Yes, sir! Thank you sir!”

“Oh, and Willie.”

“Yes sir?”

“Stay away from the coast.”

Willie nodded. “We’ll visit West Virginia, sir.”

“Good.” John turned to face his escort. “Contact the team in Currituck. Tell them the backpack will be ready in 48 hours.”

“Yes sir!”

John smiled. “Good work, gentlemen. Good work.”

Then he let himself out of the room, by turning off the Virtual Reality. The walls of the room resumed their usual, always moving appearance. The door opened, and let him exit the room, then sealed itself shut again.

John was happy. V243 would be released in Norfolk, within a matter of days. That would cure the problem of Hampton Roads, Virginia not having suffered in the war, and greatly reduce the population of that area. It would become much easier to control, once the V243 had run its course.

“Human Resource Management. That’s all it is.” John sighed, as he walked back to his office, “Just like Daddy always said. You have to manage your resources properly, so they don’t become worthless.”

#Perspectives : Part 3, Chapter 2

The meeting had been as dull, and boring as ever. John was relieved when it was over. As far as he was concerned the humans could totally destroy themselves. The world would be a better place without them. After all, the families no longer needed the humans. The humans had been replaced in every way by autonomous machines. And it was trivial to repair a machine as needed, or replace one when it became too worn, and too old to repair.

Humans weren’t cheap to have around. And sometimes, they rebelled, and turned against the families. Something the machines weren’t capable of. The machines had no free will. No intelligence.

But, most of the other families wanted to keep the humans around, if only to exploit them, play with them, and manage them to maximize their wealth and power. Basically, to have someone to dominate. And John did have to admit, at least the humans were good for that.

John’s plan to bring Norfolk and Hampton Roads into line with the objectives of the families was simple, and effective. It consisted of having the autonomous aircraft of the military in Hampton Roads commence bombing runs into North Carolina in an effort to stop the murder of non-white Christians in that state. Once the bombing had started, North Carolina would retaliate against Satan’s children in Hampton Roads using foot soldiers, and biological weapons. The result would be widespread devastation in Hampton Roads.

It was a simple, elegant solution to the problem. He was proud he’d suggested it. The families quickly approved his plan, and ordered its implementation.

John remembered when his father first showed him the plan. It had been generations in the making. The families were nothing if not patient.

Grow the economy of the United States, turn it into the most powerful economy on the planet. Guarantee white people, white families, and especially white Christian families, received the greatest benefits. Put families that had never been able to afford homes into homes. Raise their standard of living. Make them comfortable. Make them fat.

Then, arrange for the court system to strike down the advantages those people had been given. Have the court system implement racial equality, and integration. That had been such fun. His father had told him all about it. Those nightly stories of “Your father and his peers”, and the things they’d done were priceless to him. He made certain to share them with his own son.

They’d made Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King, John F. Kennedy, Susan B. Anthony, Franklin D. Roosevelt. All the greatest names in the history of the United States were names the families made. One after another, to lead the humans, guide them down a carefully laid out path.

They’d made certain the US courts had legislated marriage equality, the legal declaration that men could marry men, and women could marry women. They’d legislated the removal of barriers to homosexuals, so they would spread through the population.

At the same time, they manipulated the education system of the country. They slowly brought in the concept of education standards, and mandated what people needed to know to be educated properly. Then, they slowly stripped away funding from that education system, forcing the best minds in education to abandon the field, and find other walks of life.

Then, they’d started to rewrite history. Nothing so bold as saying, “The holocaust never happened.” Or “Slavery was a good thing.” No. They just had to make people question the evidence. That’s all it took. A single seed of doubt. A single voice that said, “It’s all a lie!” And the rest was history. That lie took root, and spread. And the humans did what they’d always done. They forgot. They declared it wouldn’t happen again. And because it hadn’t happened in generations, they began to doubt it ever had happened.

The families funded the development of the economy, transportation, electronics, appliances, entertainment. They made it all appeal to the humans, so the humans couldn’t resist the urge to consume it all, and become dependent on fossil fuels. Fuels that poisoned the air, and gradually grew to threaten all life on the planet. They deliberately manipulated the supply of those fuels, so it became impossible for the humans to break their addiction to them.

People bought houses, made by companies owned and operated directly, or indirectly, by the families. People bought cars, made by companies owned and operated directly, or indirectly, by the families. People bought televisions, washing machines, freezers, vacuum cleaners, underwear, shirts, pants, dresses, shampoo, soap, deodorant, plates, silverware, bandages, beer, wine, hamburger, and everything else, from companies owned and operated, directly or indirectly, by the families.

And they didn’t even know it.

The families created billionaires among the humans. Rockefellers, Fords, Kennedys, Walls. Hell, they even created altruistic, movie star billionaires, like Jobs, Musk, and Gates. And they convinced humans everywhere they could become rich if they worked hard enough. If they were strong enough. If they were dedicated enough.We gave them just enough they couldn’t resist believing, and trying.

The families owned everything. That had always been the plan.

The humans did what we wanted them to do. Always had, always would. We’d kept them around while we built our world. We’d kept them around to build our power, our wealth. And we worked to build autonomous machines with the purpose of replacing as many humans as possible. Because, less humans meant less expenses for us, and even more wealth, and power.

That’s why we’d spent generations bringing about the war.

John walked through his family’s massive underground complex. His son was in school, being taught by the best learning systems in existence. Far more effective than the limited education system the humans had. His son’s learning experience was tailored specifically to him. It targeted his weakest skills, and worked to improve them. It targeted his strengths, and worked to perfect them.

“Let the humans believe in their little war,” he thought, as he walked toward his control room, where he could study the progress of the war, how widespread it had become, if there were any trouble spots where human populations needed to be further reduced. “I like the words they have for this.” He smiled, and nearly laughed, “Human Resource Management.” He shook his head, “If only they knew.”

#Perspectives: Part 2, Chapter 8

It had been nerve wracking for John Paul to wear that back pack each day of his journey across the North Carolina, Virginia state line, through the emptiness of Suffolk, and the never ending walk across the so called cities of Chesapeake, and Virginia Beach, all of which were the size of counties in North Carolina. It had been difficult to find places to sleep where he wouldn’t be found. Difficult to stay off the main roads. Difficult to be invisible among the millions of people in Hampton Roads. And difficult to not be picked up by the police.

It took days.

Each night, before he slept, he used his smartphone to read several chapters in his Bible, before he went to sleep. Each night, he prayed to God the Father, from whom he always asked guidance. And each night, the last thought he had was of his wife, and their child. Blown to bits, and those bits burned to ash, by the missiles of Satan’s minions.

“I’ll be with you soon, my loves. I promise you. I just have one last thing to do. One last blow to make against Lucifer.”

It was October 31st. Halloween. John Paul walked the sidewalks of Norfolk State University, in Norfolk. The university of the black people. It was the appropriate place, he thought, to complete his part of the war against the demons. In one of their strongholds. A school for demons. “This place should have never been built.” He walked between the buildings and watched as black people, and a few white people, and other non-black people walked between the buildings, moving from one night time class to another.

He made his way to a Halloween party outside one of the buildings on the campus. No one paid any attention to him. He was just someone taking a shortcut across campus to get somewhere.

Sometimes, as he walked, he wondered how the genetically modified bacteria in his backpack worked. He knew they were airborne. The backpack would explode, and his lungs would be filled with them. They told him it would be hell at first. But once the bacteria destroyed his lungs, he wouldn’t care anymore. He’d asked more questions, and they’d explained the bacteria entered their target as their target breathed. It only took a few, five, six, or seven, for the bacteria to be unstoppable.

In small quantities, they didn’t do much damage to the lungs. Almost none in fact. What they did was pass from the lungs into the bloodstream, the same way oxygen did. Once in the blood, they bred. Five became ten, then twenty, forty, eighty. In an hour, there were thousands of them. And their number doubled continuously.

In order to breed, they ate. They attacked the walls of blood vessels, capillaries, veins. Anything that carried blood through the body. But for some odd reason, they left the heart alone. It was like they knew, if the heart kept going, they could keep feeding, and breeding.

As the blood vessels in the body were destroyed, blood flow stopped, and the parts of the body that depended on that flow began to starve. At the cellular level, the starvation accelerated. Within 24 hours of exposure, the body died as all blood flow to the brain stopped, and the brain asphyxiated.

It was, he was told, a brutal way to die.

It was, he was told, and he agreed, a perfect way for demons to die.

John Paul found a bench near the main entry of a large building filled with lights, and students. He sat on the bench, and waited. He knew, soon enough, it would be time for the classes to change once again. He knew some unknown number of students would come out of that building. He would count them. When he’d counted enough, he’d pull the ripcord on his backpack. It would explode, violently, and leave him crippled, bleeding, on the sidewalk. He’d gasp for breath from the pain, and would suck in tens of thousands of bacteria.

The bacteria would form a cloud that covered the entire area outside that building. The cloud would spread to eventually cover the entire gap between the building, and the other buildings near it. It would be sucked in through the environmental systems of the buildings, and spread through all their classrooms.

People would walk through it, breathe in bacteria, and start a chain reaction. The cloud would settle, as a fine, invisible dust, over the entire area, inside all the buildings. People would sit in it. Get it on their clothes, their books, their tablets, their hands.

They’d breathe in the bacteria.

All it took was five, six, or seven.

Soon. Very soon. People would begin to die.

Others would come. Medical people. Emergency medicine people. Fire fighters. Police. City officials. Inspectors. They’d be exposed to the bacteria.

Of course, they’d go back where they came from. With bacteria all over them. They’d spread that bacteria. They’d touch things. They’d breathe. They’d cough. They’d exhale bacteria in little, invisible clouds.

The bacteria would run wild.

He prayed, as he sat on the bench, for everyone within 100 miles to die. He asked God to spread the bacterial weapon far and wide, so it touched every demon, and burned their souls.

He didn’t have to wait much longer. There were no bells, no chimes, no noise. Just the digital display of time. Classes ended ten minutes to Eight. Right on time. John Paul counted people as they exited the building. Twenty. Thirty. Forty. It was time.

“Father. Tell my family I will be with them soon.”

He stood up.

He pulled the ripcord.

John Paul died.

But he took one hell of a lot of demons with him.

#Perspectives: Part 2, Chapter 7

“It was one thing for them to attack our camps, and bases. That we could live with. That we knew was coming.” John Paul looked up at the stars, and the moon, “But, they’ve been attacking more and more. Even places where we aren’t.” He raised his hands to God, “Why? Please, tell me why?”

God didn’t need to answer because John Paul knew the answer. No life was sacred to Satan’s minions. They’d do anything, kill anyone. They’d lash out blindly, like they had.

“We did our part, Father! We did what we had to do. We cleaned them out. We got rid of them. The devils. The demons. Those disguised as humans, the transgender monsters, the faggots, the vile Muslims.” It took everything he had not to cry. “We even put the animal niggers back in their place!” His heart was breaking, and he knew it. “And then they attacked.”

John Paul had made the long journey home from Norfolk. He’d received the phone call two weeks earlier. “You need to get here.” It was a call all his brothers in God’s Army knew too well. The call no one wanted to hear.

The bare, burned ground was hard, and cold against his knees, even through his pants. He hadn’t been able to stand since he’d arrived, however many hours ago that had been. He could make out the charred remains of the carriage of his mobile home. Along with pieces of his truck, scattered about.

His home was gone. His wife. His child. Gone. All that was left was ashes.

John Paul couldn’t imagine the nightmare it had been. The absolute silence of the darkness before dawn, when even the crickets were silent, and the birds were all asleep. Everyone was asleep, resting, getting ready to work the next day. He’d told her not to help. Told her it was dangerous to make the chemical packets the drones delivered against God’s enemies. Told her Satan’s minions would come for her, and all the neighbors.

He couldn’t imagine the sound of the sky being torn in half as the unmanned aircraft had flown just above the trees, faster than any human possibly could, with its computer guidance system guiding it, and adjusting its course 100,000 times a second. He wondered if his family even heard the sound.

John Paul couldn’t imagine the flash of light as the drone sent a video guided missile into his home. He couldn’t imagine the sound of the trailer’s roof being torn asunder as the missile collided with it, then passed through it, like a bullet through the side of a soda can.

And he couldn’t imagine the sound, the light, the smoke, the fire, the shock wave, when the missile then exploded.

“I pray they died in their sleep, Father.” He stared at his hands as they shook.

“I have nothing left, Father.” He wouldn’t cry. Only weak men cried. Only Satan’s minions cried. He heard the words of God once more, “There is a time for peace, and a time for war.”

He stayed on his knees. It didn’t matter how long. He couldn’t move.

It wasn’t until the sun began to rise that he knew what he had to do. The same thing that had happened in other strongholds of Satan’s armies. Where brave, Christian soldiers, men of God, did what had to be done to defeat Lucifer. He felt his strength returning.

“There is something at work in my soul,” John Paul looked at the sun as it rose above the horizon. “And you know what it is, Father.” He looked to the heavens once more. “Tell my family, my only child, and my beloved wife. Tell them I’ll be with them soon.”

He placed a call to his superiors. “I want to hand deliver a package to Norfolk, Virginia.”

“You know the procedure,” was all the response he received, before the line went dead.

It wouldn’t be long before he crossed back into Virginia, and returned to the Norfolk Naval Station. But this time, John Paul would carry a package in his backpack. When the time and place were right, he’d explode that package. He’d die in the explosion. He knew that.

The explosion would spread the contents of the package, and kill every demon within 50 miles of him, when he died. And each demon would die horribly, in agony, as their cells began exploding. One at a time.

It’s what Lucifer’s children deserved.

#Perspectives : Part 2, Chapter 6

The local police departments had quickly given up trying to stop God’s Army. The state police had also let God’s Army do what needed to be done. All the private militias had joined in God’s Army’s efforts to cleanse the spawn of Satan from the country.

But, as the holy war continued, and more of Lucifer’s demons died, the United States military was finally forced to act by the corrupt politicians in Washington DC. The Navy started the military’s response by launching cruise missiles from its ships, to attack God’s Army up to 1200 miles inland. Those missiles were evil, they flew low to the ground, and nearly silently. No one ever saw them coming. They followed the terrain, followed street maps, and made 90 degree turns. They targeted the bases of God’s Army.

John Paul was in his bunk one night when the night was transformed into day in a blinding flash of light, followed by a shockwave that hurled him, and his fellow soldiers across the room, into the wall. The noise had been awful, deafening, terrifying. As if heaven was being ripped in half, and poured into the ocean. Scorching heat tried to burn his skin from his body, the smoke and fire tried to rip his lungs from his chest.

It took hours for the dust to settle, for the fires to burn out, for the screams for help to fall silent. For the cries of agony to die.

John Paul survived. God had protected him. God had stood beside him, and defended him from the destruction the missile had caused. 37 of his brothers, God’s soldiers, died in that blast. Another 217 were injured. Some would not survive. Others would never walk, or hug their wives, sons, or daughters again. Some were blinded, the retinas in their eyes burned out, or detached by the force of the explosion. Others were deaf forever.

Matthew, his best friend, a true man of God, would never hear another sound. It would be days before Matthew woke up. They feared he’d die for most of those days. The blood from his ears showed the damage to his hearing.

John Paul watched as reports came in by radio from other bases that had also been struck. 100 missiles. 100 bases struck. They’d aimed for the armories. They’d never missed. The missiles were like that. They knew exactly where to go. They knew the latitude, longitude, and elevation of their targets. They knew where the doors and windows were on their targets. They knew where the weak points were. They flew into the buildings before they exploded. Once inside, they’d exploded, and those explosions triggered massive explosions of the mortars, bullets, shotgun shells, black powder, and everything else in the armories.

Hundreds, maybe thousands had died. And thousands were wounded.

The war had truly started.

They’d all known it was coming. They’d all known, sooner or later, Lucifer would order his minions to strike back. That he’d played the entire process out in the media, before the eyes of the world, and show how it was the last thing anyone wanted to do. How they’d tried to negotiate with God’s Army. Tried to reach a peace agreement. Tried to stop the slaughter of innocent human beings.

And, when the time was ripe, when the world believed he had no other choice, he’d send in the missiles.

It had all happened. Just as the church leaders had said it would.

John Paul went home for a couple of weeks. He needed to spend time with his wife, and daughter. He needed to pray to God the Father in his home church on Sundays and Wednesdays. He needed God, his family, and his Christian brothers and sisters to guide him through the nightmares he had every night as he slept. To help him live with Matthew’s bleeding ears, and the missing arms, and legs of so many others. To help him recover his strength, so he could return to God’s work, and once more help rid the country of Satan’s minions. Once more free it from Satan’s grasp.

God’s Army didn’t stop its work. They continued to burn mosques to the ground, shoot, hang, burn at the stake, the transgender witches, and the faggot scum. Those who broke the word and the law of God. And then laughed as the government protected them, and forced good Christian people to treat them like people, and not like the demons they truly were.

God’s Army continued to burn black neighborhoods, black houses, black churches, to the ground. It was time to free the good people of the country from the tyranny disguised as equal rights.

Of course, the US military continued to respond. They launched more missiles. They flew their drone aircraft over the states, and launched more missiles at John Paul’s brothers while his brothers attacked Satan’s strongholds.

The good, God fearing Christian people who believed in the work of God’s Army started to hide his soldiers. God’s soldiers were welcomed into people’s homes. The factories started making more guns, more ammunition, to support God’s works.

It was all for the glory of God.

And John Paul cried each night as the number of dead soldiers inched upward endlessly.

Everyone knew something had to be done. It was useless to close state borders. It was useless to use fishing boats against littoral combat ships, destroyers, aircraft carriers, and cruisers. It was useless to launch Cessna planes against fighter jets.

Something had to be done.

That’s when God’s words rang true. “There’s a time for peace. And a time for war.” And in war, God had to win. There was no other option. God had to be on the winning side.

John Paul was the first of his brothers to volunteer to move into Virginia, Ohio, and other states. The first to walk across the state border in the dead of night. He carried his backpack, his guns, and plenty of ammunition. He carried his cell phone.

It took a few days for him to get close to his first objective. But he finally arrived in Norfolk. He finally saw the US Naval Base. He used his phone to signal his brothers. Then he waited.

The radio controlled drone aircraft weren’t much. They were small, slow, battery powered, and only flew for short distances. They didn’t carry much, but they carried enough. It took an entire network of soldiers to move the drones from North Carolina to Norfolk. They flew them up in steps, and recharged them as needed. A few miles here, a few miles there. But it worked.

That night, John Paul used his binoculars, and his phone. He guided one drone, then another, and another. Seven drones in all. The first drone struck the McDonald’s on the base, where the usual crowd of sailors was, some with their families. It exploded with a quiet “foom”, and spread its chemical payload in a glorious purple cloud.

The second struck the base security office, and filled the air outside that office with a cloud of iridescent purple. The third struck outside the base gymnasium. The fourth outside the urgent care medical center. The fifth outside the base mosque. The sixth outside the base commander’s office. The seventh struck outside the movie theater, as a movie was letting out.

All the drones had delivered their payload of chemicals. People had breathed those chemicals, gotten them on their skin, in their hair, in their eyes, on their clothes.

Chemical warfare. It’s all God’s Army had left against the might of Satan’s minions.

John Paul signaled his home base the drones had been delivered. Then he headed toward his next target, Oceana Naval Air Station.

Lucifer’s minions had launched missiles at his brothers, and murdered thousands of them. It was time they answered for their crimes, and paid for their sins.

#Perspectives : Part 2, Chapter 5

It started in the countryside. Rural areas. Where the immigrants lived. The cheap houses, and cheap trailers, by the side of the road. The first reports came from outside Lucedale, Mississippi. It was a fire, and it burned out a trailer park filled with immigrant farm workers.

Those fires spread, quickly, through Mississippi, Alabama, Louisiana, Texas, Georgia, then the Carolinas, and beyond. John Paul and Matthew praised God their Father with each fire report they heard. The fires spread from the rural areas, to the suburbs, to the towns and cities.

It was glorious.

And it was only part of the solution, John Paul knew that. He spoke with Matthew and his brothers in God’s Army about that many times. What the next step in the war against the demons was. As their houses burned, the demons began to collect in groups, in safe houses, with friends, and family members. They gathered in the towns and cities, and the fires followed them.

It was when they started sleeping and living on the streets that things got difficult.

John Paul remembered countless fires set by him and his brothers. The greatest being the homeless center in Clinton. A shelter set up by the town for the displaced, those whose homes had been burned. It was perfect. A building filled with Satan’s demons, packed in like sardines. John Paul remembered pouring twenty gallons of gasoline on the exterior of that building. The walls, the doors, the windows. They’d been quiet, God’s soldiers. They’d blocked off the streets leading to the building, then poured gasoline on the building, and the ground around it.

Matthew had lit the acetylene torch, stretched his arms to heaven, closed his eyes, and declared, “For the glory of God the Father!”, then leaned down, and touched the blue and orange flame to the gasoline soaked ground. John Paul and his brothers also bellowed out, “For the glory of God the Father!”

They sang Onward Christian Soldiers as they watched the fire consume the den of the demons. John Paul guarded the back exit from the building. He watched as that door opened, and three demons tried to run through the fire to escape God’s judgment. Just to make certain they didn’t escape, he shot them. His brothers did the same at the other exits of the building, and at the windows. Bodies littered the burning ground. Demons burned like the little piles of filth they were.

The building burned to the ground. Not one demon escaped.

That night, John Paul explained to his brothers it was like pulling weeds from an unkept flower garden. Sometimes, as you pulled the weeds from the ground, you pulled out a flower or two. It was sad. But it was needed. The entire flower bed was better for having the weeds removed. “We’re just gardeners, brothers. Caring for the flower bed of life, pulling out the weeds, planting flower bulbs, and putting down the mulch, so that in the spring, flowers will return to a place the weeds had taken over.”

Half the country had followed suit. Half the country was engulfed in flames, the darkness of the night filled with the sound of God’s holy army at war with Satan’s demons. Isn’t that what the book of Revelations said? There would be war between God’s angels, and Satan’s demons? And it would last a long time. What was it, twelve times 144 days? Something like that. John Paul knew that was the Bible way of saying something that lasted a long time.

Sometimes, at nights, he heard the voices of Satan’s demons, crying in fear at the thought of being cleansed from the Earth. He heard their cries of agony and pain, and remembered all the agony and pain they’d put God’s people through. The drug addictions. Gang violence. The loss of jobs and income. The list went on and on.

Satan’s demons had confused so many people, and led so many people astray. But they wouldn’t lead John Paul and his brothers astray. Hearing their pleas for mercy in his dreams, hearing their demon children cry in terror in his dreams. That was a small price to pay for doing the work of God the Father.

John Paul wanted to do more. To help more. To do more of God’s work.

#Perspectives : Part 2, Chapter 4

In the weeks that followed, trips out became a regular occurrence for John Paul, and the others in his bunkhouse. John Paul started to look forward to them, “Doing the work of God! Cleansing the world of Satan’s children!”

He wrote a weekly letter to his wife, in which he told her he’d killed some of Satan’s children. He had no regrets. In truth, on Sunday mornings at church, he sang louder than he ever had. He prayed harder than he ever had. He rejoiced that he was being allowed to help make the world a better place.

In many places, the police and sheriffs did nothing. They collected the names of the dead. They held press conferences where they declared it was sad that such things were happening. But they had no clues so far, no identification of who the culprits were.

His brothers in God’s Army rejoiced when those vile transgender slimes that had caused so much chaos and ruin in their lives started moving. They started leaving the nearby towns and cities. It was glorious!

That only left the fags, the niggers, and the lying, cheating immigrants.

John Paul talked with his Master Sergeant about those particular demons. “We have a plan to deal with them too,” was the answer he received.

Two months later, the plan became apparent, when John Paul, Franklin, Stephen, William, Michael, Jordan, Peter, and Moses were ordered to set fire to a mosque, and not in the middle of the night, but in the middle of one of the heathen services, while the mosque was filled with demon spawn.

They were going to finally be rid of those evil Muslims.

John Paul spent his nights praying himself to sleep. He praised God for the glory of life, the magnificent nature of the world. The birds, the bees, the grasses, the trees, the clouds in the sky. They were all gifts God had provided his children, and John Paul knew he didn’t deserve those gifts.

Just like he knew it was his responsibility to protect those gifts from the Devil, and all the demons that followed him.

Each night, after he gave thanks, he prayed for the safety of his family. “Father, please look after my wife. Keep her safe while I’m not home to protect her. Keep my little girl safe. May she find a good, Christian boy to take care of her.”

Then, he prayed for strength. The strength to carry on the work God had set him to. The strength to help God’s Army save the world from Satan, and his minions. The strength to do what had to be done. To kill the demons, and drive them out from the Earth, so it would once more be the world God had meant it to be, and not the nightmare Satan’s demons had turned it into.

And one mosque turned into two, then three, then more. With each one that burned to the ground, and the countless demons that burned inside them, John Paul knew the world was that much better, that much safer, that much closer to how God wanted it to be.

It was too bad if nearby houses caught fire, and burned. But that was part of the cost of war. In war, innocent people died. They always had. It was sad. And John Paul prayed for them all. “Take them under your wings, Father. Care for them. They are innocent casualties of war. They weren’t meant to die, and if Satan’s demons had not been there, they would be alive today.” He always shook his head, and begged his Father up above, “Make them whole, and glorious, and grant them your gift of eternal life.”

Sometimes, at night, he remembered the cries of demon children, as they burned inside the houses of devil worship. Tiny little demons, not yet grown, learning the ways of true evil from their parents, and Satan’s great teachers, the foul mullahs and imams. “May they burn in hell for all eternity!”

John Paul and his brothers started their own action against the fags. It started one night when John Paul saw two men kiss. It made him puke. He couldn’t believe it. Two men. Kissing. Lips locked. Tongues doing whatever they were doing. John Paul knew that was evil. It was Satan, striking directly at him. He closed his eyes, and shook his head, as he tried to forget the image. As he tried to erase it from his memory. But he couldn’t, it disturbed him so. He had to open his eyes, when he saw those two men, in his mind, naked, one on hands and knees, the other behind him.

He knew what that was. And it made him furious.

Without thinking, he drew his gun, and started shooting. He emptied the entire clip.

Both of those sick, evil demons were gone. Their twisted bodies were nothing but wreckage on the ground, with black blood leaking out.

John Paul ran.

That night, he prayed for strength to continue doing God’s work. He asked God to protect him from the evil thoughts those demons had planted in his head, and to forgive him for his weakness in being unable to put those thoughts behind him.

So it was, the war spread, having begun with transgender demons, then spreading to those who preached the ways of the Devil, finally reaching men who slept together. All that left were the problems of the immigrants, and the niggers.

Patiently, John Paul waited. He knew it was only a matter of time. He knew God would not let those demons stand much longer. And John Paul knew he’d happily do God’s work, when the time came.

He’d happily help God remove the demons from the world.

#Perspectives : Part 2, Chapter 3.

Every Sunday, John Paul went to church. Rain, or shine, hot, or cold, it didn’t matter. John Paul had gone to church all his life. He knew Jesus died to save him from his sins. He knew he needed the fellowship of other Christians, people who knew the truth of this life, as he knew the truth.

It was at church, on another Sunday, the pastor, a true man of God, a leader of God’s people, a shepherd for God’s flock, said those true words yet again. “Transgender people are a lie. An abomination. They are members of Satan’s minions, who spy on good Christian men, women, and children, in public restrooms, in locker rooms, in beach swim houses. They are evil men who want to wear women’s clothing. Sick women who want to usurp the power God has given men. Disturbed men who want to have sex with other men.”

The pastor had carried on through his entire sermon that day, as he had countless other Sundays. John Paul agreed with every word. The pastor cited verse after verse of God’s word, the Holy Bible, that told how evil those people were, and John  Paul nodded his head. He’d never read the Bible, but he knew what was in it, knew what it said about those sick people, those spawn of Satan.

That Sunday evening, John Paul had talked with his bunkmates in training about those demons, and they’d all agreed, something needed to be done to protect the good, honest Christian people from such beings. John Paul had found his Sergeant In Arms and asked what God’s Army could do, and would do, to protect God’s people from those evil, sick, Satan lovers who called themselves transgender people.

He remembered the answer forever. It rang in his head when he slept. “We cleanse the world of them.”

John Paul didn’t have to be told what that meant.

When he returned to his bunk, he shared what he’d been told. That night, all six of the men in that bunkhouse decided it was time. Time to start saving good Christian people from Satan’s demons.

The next night was a Monday night. John Paul and Michael got dressed in their best suits, and planned to do God’s work. John Paul slipped his Tisas into his shoulder holster, and made sure it was well concealed. Michael did the same with his Springfield. Then, they left the compound and went into the nearby city, where they wandered from bar to bar, hunting Satan’s minions.

They found plenty of them in a bar that catered to homosexuals, another breed of Satan’s demons. There were several couples there, they looked like men and women, like normal couples. John  Paul and Michael watched those couples and tried to discern if the women were real women, or fake women.

They watched them kiss each other at the bar. Watched them hold hands. Watched them flirt with each other. They waited. Until one of the women went to the restroom. John Paul followed her into the room half a minute later, and Michael stood outside the door. No one seemed to notice.

John Paul observed there were three stalls in the restroom, no urinals. The woman was in the middle stall. John Paul didn’t ask. He broke the stall door to gain access. The woman was sitting on the toilet, and she was really a man. She had all a man’s body parts.

The Satan spawn looked up at John Paul, as he drew his Tisas, aimed it at the demon’s head, and pulled the trigger twice. As the demon died, John Paul bowed his head, “In the name of the Father, and the Son.” He holstered his gun, and left the room, as others came running to see what was going on. In the brief time it took for them to figure out what had happened, John Paul and Michael had left.

They told the Sergeant what they’d done that night. He nodded his head, “You boys have done the right thing. There’s one less demon in this world tonight, thanks to your actions.”

If John Paul had anything to do with it, there’d be a lot more demons wiped from the face of God’s Earth. If John Paul had anything to do with it, America would become God’s land once again.

#Perspectives: Part 2, Chapter 2

God’s Army had kept their word. Three days later they’d arrived at his home, and welcomed him into their ranks. They prayed, “Father, we welcome another Christian into your family, may you continue to bless him, and his family, and guide him in the days ahead.”

John Paul had lifted his duffle bag, with what clothing he needed, pulled his AR-15 over his shoulder, and lifted his second duffle bag that contained his two survival knives, two handguns, and every last bit of ammunition he had of any kind.  His wife gave him a brief kiss good-bye, and said, “Stay safe, and come home.”

With that, John Paul had climbed into the God’s Army bus, and began his journey.

He slept in a barracks, with seven others, like himself, who believed it was time to do something to stop the descent of their country into hell, and return people to the ways of God, the ways of faith and righteousness.

Each day, they practiced the ways of an army, cleaning and caring for their weapons, using their weapons properly, how to adjust their weight, get their balance right so it was easier to aim them. How to align the barrel and the gunsight. How to aim them, and shoot them, without missing. The supply of ammunition never ran out.

They studied the use of survival knives, including how to use them in preparing food, and how to use them to defend yourself against one of Satan’s minions. Where the organs were in the human body, how to damage those organs, and incapacitate, and kill those opposed to God’s ways, those who attacked God’s people.

The training was intense, strenuous, and exhausting. John Paul slept like the dead for the first couple of weeks. He hurt all over. But it was good. He knew if he stuck with the training, his body would adjust, and he’d become the strong man of God he needed to be.

God’s Army had two flags, the flag of their country, with its 50 stars and 13 stripes, and the flag of God. With Jesus on it, his hands raised, light surrounding him, as he spoke, “There is a time for war.”

Franklin, Stephen, William, Michael, Jordan, Peter, and Moses were his barracks mates. They all came to God’s Army for the same reasons he’d come. To stop the fall of the country, to stop the spread of the evils of homosexuality, that transgender lie made up by Satan, and planted in people’s minds, the notion that men and women were equal, which the Bible clearly said wasn’t true, and so many other things that flew in the face of everything they read, everything they believed, from the words of the holy book. God’s words.

They spoke, many times at night, of the thieves of the government, how they robbed from those who worked hard, and gave everything to the lazy, the undeserving. How they took hard earned freedoms from those who’d earned them, and handed those freedoms to those who hadn’t earned a thing, and then expected those hard workers to earn their freedoms again.

They spoke of the spread of machines, and how people were going lazy, and letting the machines do all the work, with the companies, and the government, printing money that didn’t exist, and giving it away to people who hadn’t bothered to learn any skills they could use to earn a living. How far too many people had stopped trying to earn a living, and expected the government to take care of them, feed them, clothe them, give them houses.

How it was all going to hell. How people were becoming entitled, greedy, selfish, and uncaring, and always wanted more. More sex, more drugs. How that lifestyle led to men sleeping with men. It was one thing for a woman, a wife, a lover, to perform oral sex on her man, but it was something else, something wrong, for another man to do that. How a man could have anal sex with his woman, but how it was so wrong for a man to have such sex with another man. How it was OK for women to sleep with women. There wasn’t anything against that in the Bible. And it was great fun to watch.

How women were supposed to dress for their men, take care of their men, the head of the family. And how men were supposed to care for their women, the body of their family. How women weren’t supposed to up and leave, because a man did something they didn’t like. How it was up to God to punish a man if he didn’t properly care for his family. Not up to some government to dictate how a man should behave, when he couldn’t slap a woman for being stupid. When he could and couldn’t screw the woman he’d married.

They all agreed. The country was totally screwed up, and needed to be fixed.

And they trained. They practiced with their weapons, they studied hand-to-hand combat, they studied basic martial arts, they practiced with knives, with guns, with anything they could use as a weapon.

They also studied infrastructure, sewage systems, water systems, electrical systems, networking systems, fiber optic, copper wire, and wireless systems, broadcast systems, transportation systems, electric charging systems, power generation systems. They studied all of it. They learned the basics of how to disable such systems. To cause chaos, to disable the ability to stop them from bringing the country back to the ways of God. To break down the society that was corrupt, and that grew more corrupt each day.

They became God’s soldiers, members of God’s Army. They became ready to fight. Ready to change the world. To save the world. From Satan’s minions.

And every night, they prayed, they asked, they begged, for God’s guidance in the days and weeks ahead. So they could, and would, do the work he wanted them to do.

Until the day it was time for them to join the fight.