The Third Convergence Day

Mexico City

Mexico City, Mexico

January 1st, 2054

11:40 AM

Miguel stood, his back to the entrance of the Basilica of Guadalupe, his eyes fixed on the horizon. The heavy bags under his eyes told the story of a man who had not slept in days, the blade of obsidian gripped tightly in his hand furthered that narrative. He stood alone in front of the monument, the rest of the city had either fled the city in droves, or were bunkered down, deep beneath the city. He had mixed feelings about that, on one hand, they would be shielded from the catastrophe that was coming, while on the other, they wouldn't bear witness to his ascension. A side effect of the city's abandonment was that it was quiet, quiet enough for him to hear the distant rumblings, a sign of his foe's arrival.

His sleep deprived mind raced as the rumblings grew closer, images flashed in his mind, clips of the oncoming foe, the first divine. Cipactli drew closer, the great devourer, once a formidable crocodilian had returned, its form shifted into that of a massive crustacean. A clever trick but one Miguel saw through. Miguel had seen the battle in Lagos, watched as the great beast destroyed his eternal rival, the flying serpent Queztalcoatl in a vicious combat. Miguel knew his brother had always been too weak, too cowardly to defeat Cipactli alone. A serpent couldn't win this fight, but a jaguar, a jaguar could.

Then he saw it, peaking over the horizon, outlined by rising clouds of darkened smoke, was the tip of his eternal foe. The red carapace of his foe shined like polished steel in the late morning sun. Fitting, he thought, as he looked back over his shoulder at the blasphemous structure. Erected atop a holy site, a place of worship besmirched by false gods, worshippers of him. He turned back to the oncoming foe, and rage filled his body, he stared at the deceiver. It had tricked them, that was it, came to those beyond the atlantic, whispered lies into their ignorant ears, convinced them to come, to conquer, to erase the places of worship its superiors deserved.

He saw the beast's black eyes, towering above the rest of its massive form, a physical representation of its egotistical view of itself, looking down on everyone, on everything.

Miguel raised his right hand, which was coated in wet yellow and black paint, and in a swift motion, he smeared the paint across his face.

The earth shook with each titanic step his rival took, he heard car alarms blare, fires roar, and buildings crumble, and yet he remained, eyes never leaving the crab. As it grew closer, its enormous frame obscuring everything around it, Miguel raised the obsidian blade clenched tightly in his opposite hand. As soon as the crab got close enough, he would unlock his true form, the form of a gargantuan jaguar, with teeth of obsidian, adorned with feathers and gold. He'd become the champion he always knew he was, the champion that quack had tried to bury away with pills. He'd become Tezcatlipoca, and he'd save everyone.Then he would become their God. The monster's frame grew closer and closer, until it bloated out the midday sun. Miguel roared, he roared to unleash the deity inside, to begin the transformation, his body would shift and crack and churn until it was no longer man... But he didn't turn.

He screamed until his throat was raw, but nothing changed. No fur grew, no tail formed, nothing changed. He looked at himself, at the body he had grown to hate, the one his father had beaten, the one his wife had left, and then he looked upwards, towards Cipactli. The monster had stopped. It stood a few hundred yards away, stoic as a sentry, its beady, stalked eyes stared down... at him. He stared up, and the hatred he had felt for the monster melted away as he looked back at it, watched its damaged mandibles twitch and rub together. The grandeur of the monster sank in, Miguel's shoulders slumped as his arms fell uselessly to his sides. The clatter of obsidian against the concrete cut through the silence that hung in the air as tears started to well in the middle aged man's eyes. This wasn't right, none of this was right. His hands moved up as he feebly wiped the tears away from his eyes, smearing his war paint in the process. He was supposed to win, show those that called him crazy that they were wrong, they would've fallen to their knees and begged him for forgiveness, that was what was meant to happen, that-

An earth rattling series of low clicks broke the delusional man's concentration. He looked up through watery eyes, and watched as the titanic god's attention was drawn elsewhere. He followed Cipactli's gaze, and saw them.

Perched upon the tops of the distant hills, sat two enormous insects, their crystalline wings glinted in the sun. Confusion and depression gave way to fury as Miguel twisted around to face the duo of wasps. No, no, no, no! They weren't the chosen champions, they weren't, they couldn't be, he was! He knew he was! He reached down, snatching what remained of the obsidian blade, and stood tall once more. Streaks of tears ran down his painted face as he screamed again, screamed as he knew he should, to smite these pretenders, claim his destiny, to-

Crabnarok's massive foot fell upon the entrance of the Basilica, sending shards on concrete and rebar upwards into the air. As the bringer of the end times marched forward, it left the now crushed church in its wake, surrounded in eerie silence.