How to Build a Better Savior

            As he had been around since the beginning of time, it took very much to surprise the Archangel Gabriel. After the existence of platypi, racists, and humans who rejected the true age of the Earth, he had been certain nothing could. Gabriel had always known that Jesus Christ had dark brown skin with a head of dark dreadlocks. It was the only logical genetic result, what with his mother Mary hailing from the proximity of Jerusalem, in the Middle East. Nor was this occasion the first time Jesus had leaped over the atrocious floral sofa in his corner of the Heavenly High Council Chamber. It wasn't even the first time the son of God had been observed in a white dress, though Gabriel always believed Marilyn Monroe had worn it better. As for Jesus blessing a pitcher of water into wine, that was so common even his believers knew about. No, as the Messiah in the push up bra poured three glasses of Blessed Wine, it was what he raised his wooden chalice, the Holy Grail,  to toast to that startled the pepper haired Archangel.

“Here's to the upcoming Second Coming, my baby sister!”

             If the fair skinned Archangel was startled, the brown eyed Metatron beside him was flabbergasted.

“Up coming-sister?” Fiekal stammered, “But I thought the Second Coming is supposed to be your return tour to Earth!”

“Fiekal, my Metatron,” Jesus pattered the pale skinned angel's back, “Have you seen how I'm depicted these days? Brunette, blue eyed, and white as the sugar coated side of their fucking frosted Wheaties. You think my followers can handle me as I am? Hell, they might crucify me all over. No, the Second Coming has to be all new. A new savior for a new millennium, a new born with a new soul.”

“New soul?” Gabriel raised a hand and adjusted his spectacles. It was true, angels didn't need things like glasses, but the Archangel had crafted this pair for special purpose.

“Oh yes, a brand spanking new soul,” Jesus grinned, “With contributions from the Archangels in its production.”

“Contributions?!” Fiekal began to bristle, “The production of Nephilim, children of humans and angels, has been been forbidden since,”
“Shhh,” Jesus moved forward and placed a finger over the brunette Metatron's lips, “Don't speak. You'll only embarrass yourself.”

“He doesn't mean genetic components, Fiekal,” Gabriel spoke up, “He means elements to craft a soul.”

“Bingo, Gabe, my angel,” Jesus produced a plastic baggy of 'Savior Special' Brownies, and tossed one of the baked goods over to the archangel.

            Gabriel caught the snack and began to nibble as Fiekal tried to make sense of what was being uttered to him.

“But crafting souls is Azrael's business,” The Metatron held his brow, “Guiding souls to and from life.”

“Generally yes,” Gabriel glanced over, “But for special occasions, such as this, exceptions can be made to assure the best possible soul for the new savior.
“Unlike when Azrael fashioned me with his usual dice rolling procedures,” Jesus laughed, “So. Gabriel, since you have to get ready for telling Miss Christi that she's expecting, I'll have you contribution first.”

           The small rag doll Jesus produced from beneath his skirt was not unknown to Gabriel. That said, he did raise a brow as he took it from him. These dolls were how every angel earned his wings in the early days, by crafting a Saint or angel's soul from carefully chosen components. Each cloth doll was featureless, and wore a necklace of five golden capsules. In each capsule was a rolled up piece of parchment, and on each parchment a personality trait or core value was written. Once all five capsules were filled and placed within the doll, it would then be set in a special basin of holy waters to soak up the traits. The process generally took anywhere between eight and ten months.

          Gabriel smiled fondly as he took one of the capsules, remembering when he had crafted the soul that ages later would become Mary, Jesus's mother. Honesty. Loyalty. Devotion. Generosity. Integrity. Of course, even with those core elements, there had been surprises. Despite modern depictions, telling a fourteen-year-old virgin she was pregnant with the child of the Almighty God had not gone over well. Especially when not only was she not yet married to Joseph, she had every expectation to remain a maiden in that marriage. This was not because, as Catholics seemed to think, it was integral to her character, but because Mary was an early sample of a homosexual man marrying a woman to hide his true nature.

          Even though Mary was honest, loyal, devoted, generous, and bore integrity like Gabriel had never seen, she had a bit of a temper. She had flung quite a bit of pottery at the Archangel when the first Annunciation occurred. Even when he showed his wings, she was still furious she had not been consulted. If Joseph had not arrived to calm her down, Gabriel was unsure what would have happened. I suppose I'm about to go through that again. The archangel pondered as Jesus looked up at him.

“You know the procedure?”
“I do.” 

             Gabriel sighed as unscrewed the capsule to remove the parchment. What element should he give to the Second Coming, he wondered. The Seven Blessed Virtues crossed his mind, but he dismissed them. It had done very little for several of his fallen kindred, those being their core elements, and others still struck him as stupid. He wanted to give the Second Coming a trait of use. Something that would bring her more success with her destiny then her brother.

          That was it. Gabriel recalled what had led to the fall and Resurrection of Jesus. One of his dearest friends and followers, who now existed in Hell encased in molten silver, had betrayed him. Either Jesus had known or accepted his fate (not impossible but given what he knew of Jesus, Gabriel had his doubts), or he hadn't known of Judas's deception until it was too late. Gabriel smiled softly and plucked a pen from his pocket and wrote a single word: intuition.