The anti-Christ stood alone by the cold, gray water with his gaze focused on the horizon. The roar of a jet airliner broke his train of thought. He glanced up. Despite the dense cloud cover, he determined the plane was heading west to the airport.
He stepped back from the reach of the incoming waves. His black ensemble provided instant identification and immediate recognition, but as a symbol of peace, not the deliverer of divine vengeance.
God visited him long ago in the desert and burned His message into his untested soul with such force he carried its mark to this day. The ferocity of that exchange drove him to express his rage against the liars and false preachers in private, but his time to leave the shadows and unleash divine wrath was close at hand. Danger lurked only in the manner and timing of his revelation. He required a mandate and a platform to bring mankind the proper cleansing of fire and fear necessary to rid them of their abominable wickedness.
The days were coming when people would cry out their contrition and beg for absolution and release. The establishment of God’s Kingdom on Earth awaited, to be accompanied by the agony of laborious birth, and he would take his place as the beacon to which all must turn to endure and survive the terror they would encounter. He would be the standard bearer, dispensing mercy, not kindness, offering salvation, not comfort.
His destiny to be the tip of the spear leading the way drew near. The anti-Christ smiled at the simplicity of the will of God. He stood ready to accept his mission.