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Mythological Task Force: Angel Division |IC| Open

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Active Characters

Reydris (ray-dree) - Earth | 1,205 years | Female identity

Vale - Earth | 920 years old | Female identity

Karleo - Fire | 734 years old | Male identity

Larien - Fire | 960 years old | Female identity

Eliphaz - Spirit | 182 years old | Male identity

Ithuriel - Spirit | 927 years old | Agender identity

Nithandros - Water | 650 years old | Male identity

Zarall - Water | 800 years old | Female identity


Gender Tally

3 Males | 4 Females | 1 Other


Information Document


Inactive Characters

Alrion - Spirit | 144 years old | Male identity

Maklar - Air | 749 years old | Male identity

Alrraei - Air | 894 years old | Male identity

Azriel - Earth | 531 years old | Male identity

Rylain - Fire | 724 years old | Male identity

Akane - Water | 698 years old | Female identity


Current Map

Linked for size.

Edited by Narvix

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Gunshots rang in her ears, smoke billowing from the muzzle of her shotgun as the silver bullet raced towards her target. A writhing mass of ethereal shadows snarled and hissed, leaping from wall to wall as it attempted to strike. The bullet hit its mark, punching through the creature's chest and exploding into a burst of icicles. The demon was blasted back, slamming into one of the surrounding buildings and tumbling to the ground.


Black wings beat at the air, feathers silencing most of the noise as she dove, gun leading. Another shot as the demon got to its feet, shadowy tendrils blurring as the beast darted down the alleyway. Zarall pursued, doing her best to keep it within her sight. The large size of her wings (almost thrice the size of her height) was required to get her body into the air but not very good for flight below rooftops within the city. At nearly six feet tall, Zarall had an athletic body with brown skin and effeminate features.


Cropped brown hair danced in the wind that was created from her flight, the strands swept back and out of her hazel-colored eyes. Her body was hugged by a gray tank top and denim shorts, black tights coming into sight from beneath the blue fabric and disappearing into black hiking boots. She had a green zippered jacket on earlier but quickly ditched it when she came upon the demon.


Demons. Deformed creatures that dwelt beneath the human world and plagued the unseen realm. In their own domain, they were solid but, among humanity, they were nothing more than ethereal tendrils of darkness with glowing eyes. They became formless, teeth and claws being the only distinguishing features beyond the eyes. And they were speedy. Each one sought out a human host so they could wreak actual havoc. But an Earthly body, human or animal, could not survive a demon's invasion for much longer than a week. It was a slow, painful decaying process, a process which the invaded body's mind was fully aware of until death consumed it.


For millennia, angels had been the primary opponents of the demons until, gradually, other benevolent supernaturals took up arms or aided with supporting roles. Humanity's world was the battleground, neither side able to penetrate the seams of the unseen realms to invade the home territory of their opponent. This war was Zarall's reality for the past eight hundred years. Her weapon of choice hadn't always been a shotgun or rifle; it once used to be a heavy mace. But, as humanity evolved, so did the demons and so, too, were the angels required. No longer did blades or hammers work. Now, it rested on the holy bullets, in the harness attached to her belt, to deal the damage.


But holy auras was not enough, even now. Each attack required an elemental aspect to bolster the effect and make enough of an impact. Fire, water, earth, air, or spirit. Everyone had one aspect out of the five. Zarall's was water, most effectively used against demons of fire and least affective against earth. Fire was strongest against air, air was strongest against earth. Spirit was a neutral element, neither strongest or weakest against the other four. Each element had a subelement as well. If you had fire, you also had lightning (or electricity, your choice of label). Water had ice, earth had metal, air had temperature, and spirit had nature (which is actually different from earth).


However, angels couldn't abuse their elements; they were confined to the bullets. You could only identify an angel's element if they fired their gun. Limiting, yes, but it provided some fairness among the supernaturals. Angels were responsible for all of humanity, or at least most of it. To avoid the annoyance of other creatures, it was deemed best to not encroach on the elemental abilities of many.


Zarall fired another bullet, causing the demon to trip and collapse with a painful impact as the shot hit what might have been a leg. A sphere of water enveloped the creature for barely a moment before it broke free, staggering. Around them, humans walked by, completely oblivious to the one-on-one battle. Their eyes were not capable of seeing supernaturals in their true forms. Neither could they hear or feel or smell them. Even the items in a supernatural's possession became completely invisible. As a result, Zarall did not worry about the gunshots being heard.


But she had to concern herself with ensuring that none of her bullets struck the wrong target. Even if the humans passing down the street were not one of her charges, it was a crime to inflict any harm on one. Accidental or not. Charges were not assigned to angels upon their birth. Rather, an angel was assigned to a specific location. Any humans living within that location became their charge and that location was their territory. Like police officers, you only had control of your territory. If you entered someone else's territory, you were required to follow their orders. Official teams were never formed among the angels but, temporary groups often pulled together to eradicate a swarm of demons.


But, that would be too many humans to look after at once. Isn't it? Not exactly. Animals were great allies, providing ears and eyes to help ensure the safety of charges. If something went wrong, an angel could be there in an instant if nothing prevented their arrival. After all, the safety of their charges was of the highest priority. Nothing else was allowed to take precedence.


Zarall only knew of a few angels that couldn't protect their charges. She did not, however, know what happened to them. They disappeared and another took their place. Speculations could be made but what would be the point? Things were made easier with the freedom to interact with their charges on a physical level. All that they needed to do was hide their wings, a process that dissolved the feathered appendages from sight and touch then, bam, they were a visible human. The only key difference was the lack of reproductive organs; nothing rested between their legs. Angels had no need of them, being unable to reproduce.


Grunting, she hit the ground running, chasing the demon by foot until it rounded a corner and whirled to attack her with swiping claws. Zarall scowled, quickly lifting her shotgun up and blasting another round into what could only be the beast's head. Ice burst outward, ripping the ethereal form to pieces. With a shriek, the demon vanished from existence and Zarall sighed, lowering the gun before pushing off the ground and taking flight again.


This was the war and it wasn't going to end any moment soon.

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Some angels liked to spend most of their time invisible, engaging the enemy in reckless pursuit. Others, like Vale, preferred to take a more subtle approach in the mortal realm. It was no less work nor any less exciting; it was just another part of the job. Unlike the human officer she sometimes masqueraded as, protecting humanity didn't allow for off-days. The demons were getting better at hiding, now, and some even started slipping through the cracks, which meant stricter policies regarding the protection of charges. It meant more work for everyone, and their side seemed to be constantly understaffed.


The ice cubes tinkered against her glass as she swirled her drink, hunched over the bar with her elbows on the table. She hadn't chosen a very memorable appearance. Androgynous, of average build, dark russet hair in a pixie cut and olive skin, sharp chin and soft brows... There were always stories of angels taking up the guise of an attractive female in order to (theoretically) charm their way over half the population but Vale herself would have hated the attention. Not many men tried to approach her and the ones who did were repelled by her cold character.


A gunshot rang through the neighborhood -- though it seemed like she was the only one to hear it. Humans usually thought the sound meant fireworks, or perhaps gangs in the area having a dispute. Little did they know there was a war taking place right under their noses. Demons were invisible to humans too, until they weren't. They became tangible in a more sinister way: by taking over a vulnerable human host who would then get sickly, and die. Therefore, it was in the angels' best interest to be rid of them before they latch on. And the easiest way to do that was a bullet right through the eyes.


Her dress shirt and tie pinned her as coming back from a long day of work, but concealed under her tan jacket was a holster for her standard Glock-22. A shame that sniper rifles -- her usual arm of choice -- tended to turn heads in urban areas. Rules were rules. Not that the firearm would be entirely useful in this enclosed and crowded setting. Humans had a bad habit of... 'freaking out' when someone pulled a gun at them for no visible reason. That kind of reaction was usually not good. Demons were attracted to panic and chaos.


Or in this case, depression.


Unless a possession is directly witnessed (which shouldn't happen, anyway, as that was a blemish on one's record for not preventing the event), it was difficult to know with absolute certainty if someone were acting under the influence of one -- until they attempt high-profile manslaughter before the host expires. Manslaughter was also something that was usually not good. Forget scratches on your immaculate record -- that kind of stuff gets the entire squad fired.


She had reason to suspect that there was a demon under this roof, however. Her eyes were trained on a disheveled older man across the room. Roland, age 32. Lost his kid, then his job; a regular patron at this establishment. His actions in the past few days were reckless, even for a human, and completely out of character.


She narrowed her eyes. Show yourself.

Edited by TehUltimateMage

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It was late evening and starting to get dark when a cold breeze came whistling through the alleyways. The breeze flared his embers, making the cherry of his cigarette shine a deep bright red. He stood still, hiding in the shadows in front of the very popular cinema. It was movie night, and the cinema was packed. Some new release was out today, some kind of action comedy flick, nothing that caught his attention. The cinema marked the border that butted up to Zarall's territory. And was often a crossing point for demons.


The cinema was built into a shopping center. It was the middle store, and its roof towered above its neighbors. The cinema outer walls were a light chestnut color, some spots darker from the collective dirt. The bottom floor of the cinema was adorned with huge artistic windows that allowed the inside light to overflow onto the sidewalk and street outside. A little offset to the left were two large oak doors, stained to a darken shade. The cinema only had two theaters and because of this, the tickets were a bit more pricey, and the cinema took pride in its cosmetics and cleanliness.


Opposite from the cinema and on the right side of the alleyway where Alrraei stood, was an Italian influenced restaurant. It was a decent sized place, with a patio and inside diner. Al loved the place, and was actually his destination of the night. The railings that surround the patio had little cardboard paper Italian flags hanging in the form of a banner. A dulled melody could be heard sneaking its way outside, which would suddenly get louder when a door opened. It was live music, a band that Al hadn't heard of, but live music nonetheless.


Al dropped his cigarette to the ground and used the toe of his boots to crush it. Al was an impressive 894 years old, not the oldest of his kind, but no where near the youngest. In his human form he looked to be around 38, with jet black hair only disrupted by a random strand of gray. His face was hard and his eyes dulled with the thousand yard stare. He had a scar that spanned from the top left side of his face, directly below his hair line, down the side of his head, across his cheek, and ends at his chin. This scare was real, something he had received hundreds of years ago, and simply chooses not to hide. Al's skin was a deep brown with an olive hue. His hands felt rough and aged like a farmer's and his voice was deep and ragged.


Al dressed fairly simple, always wearing a suit of some sort. On that day he had on charcoal pants with black cowboy boots and white dress shirt. Over his shirt he wore a shoulder holster complete with two Sig Sauer P320 9mm full size pistols. Both pistols were black, one had the word Spada etched into the side and the other the word Scudo. He wore different belt than the standard dress belt, his was a combat belt that held 5 magazine holders. Each magazine held a total of 17 rounds and he kept the two in the guns fully loaded as well. Though Alrraei's element was air/temperature, He only carried air element bullets with him. Over everything, Al wore a charcoal suit jacket and had a black tie on.

Edited by Forsaken Rider of Dreams

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[1:1] Children of the divine, holy being, thou art blessed. In thine glorious pilgrimage from above, make way to the Kingdom of Man. Set upon them your purity and your grace. Find amongst them the wretched and the scorned, the black-hearted beasts which feed upon their souls. In retribution, thou must always watch. For we art the Watchers, the Eyes of Man, the hidden dagger in the cloak, the final bullet in the chamber....


[1:2] And lo, must thou act with wisdom upon fellow man. Seek that which is impure, which is dark, and cull it from thee of mortal soul. Thou art the greatest line of defense against the plague of shadow. Thine first Tenet is Protection, for thou art the Shield of Man, the Aegis against Sin...


[1:3] Lo, must thou act with compassion. Each action must be swift and with utmost conviction. Stray not from the path of goodwill. Stray not from the light that shall show thou thine path. Believe, wholly, unquestionably, in thine own abilities. Thine second Tenet is Faith, for thou must deliver upon Sin the final Mark without hesitation....


[1:4] Yea, must thou act with courage. Trust wholly in self, in ability, in thine own strength. Do not fear the darkness which shall consume. Do not fear the abyss which stares back into thou. For thine third Tenet is Salvation, the protection of the weak who cannot stand for themselves....


[1:5] Yea, must thou act with might. Thou must face the Mark within the Mark's own nest, within the bleakest shadow. Show them the strength of the Divine, to show them to fear the Almighty, His Grace...


For thine fourth Tenet is Judgment, the Wrath of God....


The Tenets of the Hunters




There is no further question then. There is only the action. Centuries of this tireless work, and it is always the same, as it has been since the beginning. Who was the first? Not many know. Perhaps not even the Almighty Himself. But this conflict holds its roots within the Kingdom of Man, the Sin the tree, the Demons the branches - gnarled and twisted as old, dead wood -, bearing no fruit save the fruit of Lies and Misery.

Thus, through us, is Man's immortal soul saved and able to live free. We must not question, we must not falter, we must not stray. Remember the four Tenets.

Even the weakest Angel can slay a Demon....




He shut the book tightly within its leather bindings, the scent of hide and paper mixing with the dust in the air. He took a deep breath, relaxing. He always read this each day, to remind himself of the purpose of the mission, as he had for over seven centuries.

He was not the oldest but certainly not the youngest of his brethren. But age, amongst them, did not matter much. To the timeless angels, whose death could only come from the jaws of their prey, there was no significance of age. It was man's clock to count the days of their existences, their tally until their fate was met and the reaper clutched the immortal soul from their form.

Death... death was no stranger.

In the background, left on the original vinyl, was Wish you Were Here by Pink Floyd, playing on a loop while he read. The quiet guitar soothed his mind as the voice sung of man.

Some men... some men were gifted. Others seemed to work for it. But in the end, in the one hundred years a man could live, only so many things could be learned, could be experienced...

He wondered how many people died never fulfilling their lust for new things? Such a strange, petty thought. He stood to his feet, relinquishing the chair which had been his companion for the past half hour. Silence as the sunlight beamed from the shutters of a blinded window. The only noise was the sound as he clicked open a case and reached within to grab a pair of revolvers.

Shining, polished, and ready for their use. He clicked the hammer experimentally, eyeing the craftsmanship. They would, and had, served the purpose for ages.

He holstered them, then reached nearby for a bundle tied in a bag to look like some sort of sports equipment. But it was merely a facade. Within the bag was a refined shotgun, prepared for use as well. One could never go too unequipped.

One.... five.... ten.... fifteen shotgun shells now sat in a box in his coat pocket, bulky but tightly wrapped and waiting for their chance to be fired. A box of revolver shots, twenty four of them, sat in his other coat pocket. To the untrained eye, he was a deer hunter in a hotel room getting ready for the season. But he was not a hunter of mortal flesh. His hunt was far more dangerous than that. More sentient. More bloodthirsty. More deadly.

"In my God, do I give my faith, as his servant..." the man whispered, holstering the shotgun on his back. "In my God, do I have courage unwavering. In His name, do I take this pledge..."

More noises as his jacket rustled with his movement. The final rays of the sun had disappeared over the horizon. There was only night now, only the shadows of a darkened world.

The darkness he had come to accept. The darkness he now welcomed.

The Dark of the Hunt. But he could not hunt them without a target. He grabbed his key to his hotel room from the counter as he shut off the record player. The soft sound of metal jingling left the note in the emptiness of the room.

The night had just begun.




There is only peace. There is only understanding. There is only judgment.

To deal this judgment, we are here.

The servants of a Divine.

Her mind swirled with thoughts as she lay within the pond, clad in the swimsuit she had purchased only the day before. The water silently washed against her whole form. Here, she felt as weightless as when she flew.

It was night now, the cold air of the moonlit eve washing over her body like the water. But she felt none of it. All she could think was of the Hunt.

She removed herself from the pool, the water leaving her body as though it had been trying to cling to her. But that was merely an illusion.

A towel. A change of clothes. A knock at the door.

She opened it, prepared, as a familiar face stood in the doorway. Gruff, slight hair patched a stern face. Short, dirty-blonde hair adorned a male head. Hands were in jacket pockets. She put her hand over her chest thoughtfully as she felt the familiar tug of their connection with each other.

"Another night." Rylain stated.

"Another eve." Akane corrected. "The night is still young."

"Ugh." Rylain grunted. "Have you felt a Charge?"

"Not yet."

"Neither have I." Rylain replied, uncomfortable. "It's strange."

"It is His Will." Akane replied, weaving her hands through still-damp hair pensively. "Or theirs."

"So it is."

"Then what do you propose?"


There was a small nod as she stood in the doorway, accepting the invitation.

"Yes... coffee would be... pleasant." she smiled, heading into the back of her room where her closet awaited. Rylain turned his head slightly to look at the familiar, neon sign of the hotel the two of them had chosen to live in.

A few times, they had shared the same room here, if only for the sentimentality. It was not as if Rylain had the equipment to share a passionate night with Akane but it didn't mean he couldn't feel for her. Humans had it easy in that regard. Single, nights of love and then a few notes for the weeks after before contact stopped entirely. They lived such short lives that such short affairs were but a small ripple in the ocean of time.

But for those who knew only love from the experiences of Man and had not the capacity to give birth nor give themselves to another in body as well as spirit, it was always an odd sensation. It felt like a link, a binding of their immortal bodies and souls.

Either way, his devotion to her was second only to his devotion in the Almighty, as it should have been, and as it had been.

She returned, dressed in a sweater for the night sky, a long skirt, a necklace hanging from a slender neck. Her white hair fell over her shoulders, now a bit less damp. She took her arm in his, his hand still in his pocket. She leaned against him, head upon his shoulder.




They walked down the busy city sidewalks, their steps calculated, foreseen. Smokers gathered in alleys. Cars drove past with the familiar noises of honks and sirens. In the diners still open at this time of night, there was the sound of drunken men telling stories and enjoying one last dinner of the day before heading home to see their respective families. The entire night was alive.

Rylain had always contemplated that. Night never felt like a slumbering beast. Night, unlike the many who dwelled within it, was a living creature with the lust and hunger of men. But it was also the dangerous time of the Hunt.

Rylain had deemed it the Hunt himself. The time when the demons came to feed. They were active in daytime as well but at night, things behind closed doors, words exchanged laced with corruption... these were their homes, their fodder.

He was about to push open the door of one of the diners when he heard the sound. Both of them paused knowingly.

"That was no firecracker..." Rylain commented, hesitating.

"Another one has joined the Hunt."

The two of them stood in front of the door, turning to look at the sky, then looking in the direction of the loud noise. Now, there was only silence in the night sky. The only sound came muffled from within the night bar.

"They either won... or they have died." Akane stated flatly, turning back to the door. "Their Hunt has started. Ours.... has yet to begin."

Rylain pushed the door open, the sounds of people drinking, talking, or eating now replacing the quiet of the eve. This was one of the places where the beast was alive.

He took his seat with Akane near one of the windows, away from people. He would await a waitress or waiter. He would silently act as one of the other men around him. But as he gazed upon them, he felt a pang of slight sadness. Akane didn't seem to notice, but it had always hurt him.

Did they feel more love for their other halves than he did for his?

Edited by Thaelasan

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The air was frigid and smelled like asphalt after rain. It wasn't cold enough to warrant frost, but Reydris's breath came as opaque clouds anyway, and she reminded herself-- for probably the fifth time that night-- to finally buy herself a goddamn jacket. Slim-fitting tanks were nice and all, but they didn't do a whole lot when the sun went down. She rubbed at one arm absentmindedly and exhaled another cloud.


Reydris was perched on the top a tall building, likely to be a corporate office of some sort from all of the desks and cubicles she'd spied through the windows earlier. The toe of her boot was suspended just over the ledge of the roof as she gazed down at the streets below, but the length of the drop didn't intimidate her in the least; it could have been the height of a step stool, for all Reydris appeared to care. She swept a loose piece of long, wavy black hair from her face and yawned.


Not many people were out and about just yet. This was a the period before the storm; most humans had gone home from work at this point and were having dinner or preparing for another grueling day tomorrow. Others, however, Reydris knew were just getting ready; in this part of the city, the nightlife blossomed into energy and passion. In the past century, Reydris had found herself drawn to such establishments. Clubs, raves, bars-- excitement in general was a great attraction for her, and she had no qualms with enjoying such festivities. But it wasn't so much the places, or the events, as it was the people themselves. It had taken her a while-- a good portion of her thousand-year long life-- to realize it, but Rey loved humans. She loved everything about them. It might have been unusual for angel to give into such unfiltered affection for her charges, but Reydris had long since discarded such precautions. She adored each and every one of them as if they were her own children.


Perhaps that was what led Rey to disguise herself as a police officer or military through the recent years. It was a particularly convenient disguise, too, considering the guns she toted around on a regular basis. But that wasn't the real reason she took on those guises. Rey loved her humans and vowed to protect them from the plague of demons at any cost. By extension, she believed this to include the demons of humanity, not just the shadowy spirits that lurked in the darkness. Of course, even in law enforcement she had never taken a human life; incapacitation was her only method for dealing with the morally bankrupt. So far it had served her well and Rey was more than pleased with herself for aiding her humans how she knew best.


Actual demons, however, she had no qualms destroying. No, scratch that. She did have issues when demons possessed any human host. It was like a physical blow to her to lose a human that way, especially since she was tasked with obliterating the demon still feasting on the decay of the human's soul. She'd lost a few of her charges in such a manner over the course of her stay on Earth. None was more painful than the loss of Vanessa, the human whom Rey had given more love than she ever thought angels capable of. Vanessa's possession had totally shattered her world. Even though she had been the one to end Vanessa's suffering via a bullet through the forehead, it was little comfort.


Rey huffed slightly and rubbed at her eyes. She didn't want to think of Vanessa right now. There had been a shot somewhere in the distance, and Rey's vibrant sea-green eyes searched for the source now, hoping to pick out the tell-tale flicker of shadow on a wall or street. She'd always tried not to think of her hunting as revenge, but it fueled her in the same way and granted her the same satisfaction when her mag emptied into the shadow-beast's writhing face. Rey took hold of the machine pistol that hung at her hip. Tonight was only beginning, and she'd be damned if she let any demon cross unscathed into her territory.


Two wide, massive wings flickered into sight against her back as they stretched upward, allowing the slight breeze to tease the feathers. The underside of both wings were snowy-white, only a few tints lighter than her skin tone, though the tips of her feathers were striped with slate gray bands across the tips. They arched above her head several feet, poised and ready.


Rey did not hesitate to pitch herself off the building. Though she thoroughly enjoyed the company of her humans, there was nothing quite like the experience of soaring above their heads unseen. Her wings caught the air just seconds after the drop; moonlight silvered over the gray mottling on the backsides and the stream of black hair that carried down her spine. The street below remained vacant, save for a few souls that wandered obliviously on the sidewalks, but Reydris remained vigilant and watchful.

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Alrraei moved slowly towards the establishment. He was watching the shadows for any signs of hidden life. He watch the patrons of both the cinema and the restaurant for any suspicious behavior, as well as the sky for any running demons. Even with the music and the bustle of the cinema, the night felt dead, quiet and lifeless. The heels of his boots echoed as the wood clicked against the concrete. Al hadn’t even gotten to the door of the restaurant when he froze, focusing in on his hearing. There was a sound, muffled by the music and the people, yet he was sure he heard it, a gun shot. Then another, and another. It took him a moment, but he was finally able to determine the source direction of the shot. It came from the north, from Zarall’s territory. There was a brief silence after the third shot range through the air, and Al began to relax. And then, as if done on a purpose to keep Al focused, a fourth and final shot rang.


Al decided to skip the restaurant for the night, instead continuing down the street and into an alley. After going deep enough into the darken maze between the buildings, making sure that he wouldn’t be able to be seen from the street, as well as making sure that he wasn’t followed. He sighed, taking a deep breath in, and slowly exhaling. His wings seemed to shoot out the sides, opening into a full wing span, as if they were simply only folded. His wings were a dark gray, with black spots on the outside facing away from him, and a pearl white on the insides. Al stretched them in and out, and even gave a few practice flaps with little to no strength. He did this to guarantee that the wings still worked after all this time.


With one final practice swing, Al launched himself into the sky. The wind billowed beneath him, sending trash and boxes scattered across the alley. Al continued to fly straight up until he escaped the walls of the surrounding buildings. He stayed in the air for a brief moment before flying to the highest building in the area. It was just a simply four to five story building, but it seemed to tower over the others, even the cinema. The only possible bad thing about the post that Alrraei chose, is that it can be debated as being on his side of the boundary, or on Zarall’s. Al moved to the edge of the building roof, to the side that was in Zarall’s territory, and watched silently, his trained eyes looking for some sort of movement.

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Zarall's wings carried her through the air, her brown eyes skimming the territory she had been assigned to eight hundred years ago to protect. Coming to light on a cellphone tower, the angel took a few passing moments to watch the sun finish setting. Hues of deep red filled most of the sky until the dark of a night sky overwhelmed the brilliant color. Stars twinkled in their glory, the waxing gibbous moon heralding the arrival of a full moon in the next day. For a few moments, Zarall breathed slowly, taking in the sight around her. She had watched this very city grow from a small establishment to the bustling metropolis it was now. She would forever marvel at the accomplishments of humanity, take joy in seeing them evolve and improve.


A smile crept across her face, turning the corners of her mouth upward. Her upper lip, thinner than her lower lip, stretched into yet a thinner line as a result. Opening her wings again, she leapt off the tower and started to make her way home, certain that there would be no further trouble tonight. A silhouette in her peripheral vision caused her to divert, however, as she dipped a wing down. Twisting to add a little flair in her flying, Zarall flew towards the winged figure at the edge of her assigned section, frowning. "Alrrei?" she questioned, recognizing the angel.


Carefully, she lit on the rooftop he stood upon, folding her wings to rest against her back. The longest of her feathers dragged slightly along the loose gravel and dirt as she stepped closer. "Alrrei, it's been awhile. What brings you checking in on me?" she inquired, smiling welcomingly.

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Alrraei was beginning to lose interest, standing on that building like one of those stone guardians, a gargoyle. He stretched out his wings, letting the crisp air ruffle through the feathers. When not in his human form, Alrraei’s eyes glittered like the starry night, and during the day you could tell that they were are deep hazel, with what seemed to be golden flakes. His face seemed to grow younger, smoother, with less wrinkles. Al was turning back, to hopefully still be able to get a bowl of Pecan pesto shells with Italian sausage, a treat he allows himself every now and then. He had stopped mid turn however, his eyes having caught movement in the sky at the last second.


Alrraei watched as the fellow angel softly come in for a landing. He already knew who it was, and though the fellow angel inquired for a conformation that it was him, he knew that she knew who he was. Alrraei and Zarall have been tasked here for a long time, though Zarall was there first, Alrraei wasn’t that far behind. Alrraei turned to Zarall and smiled, gently as if he was still new and hadn’t seen a day of battle yet. This didn’t last long though, for no sooner did Al fold his wings in, he was back in his human form. Al had taken a liking to his human form, it wasn’t necessarily easier to move, but it was easier to navigate. That, and Al was a smoker, however only when in human form.


Alrraei wasn’t sure if separating his smoking habit between his real form versus his human disguise, but if nothing else, he tried. “Zarall,” his voice cracked as it settled back into the preferred tone. “It has been a long time, almost a century maybe? I was actually just in the area, wanted to treat myself to a special meal today,” Al paused to light a cigarette, “however I wasn’t expecting gun shots with my pasta.” Al gave a slight chuckle at the end of his remark, which sounded more like a deep rumble than a laugh.

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A glint of humor filled Zarall's eyes at Alrrei's comment. "Apologies, Alrrei. I guess that demon was your dinner guest?" she joked in return. "There's still some time, would you mind if I joined you?" she inquired. The angel could use a bite to eat, nearing the moment when she would start to feel lacking in energy. Perhaps she should rest tomorrow? Alrrei wouldn't mind watching her area for the few hours that she would need. Thinking on it, she hummed as another thought came to mind. "Have you rested recently?" she inquired, concerned about his well-being.


She knew her surrounding angels well enough to be considered acquaintances but, she realized she hadn't made many friends out of them. Nearby there was Vale, Maklar, the companions Rylain and Akane. Surrounding still were a handful of others but, at the very moment, their names slipped Zarall's mind. Shaking her head, she swept the matter out of her mind. Presently, it was of no pressing concern. Perhaps, though, she would check in on them at their respective areas.

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What, then, is love, if it is something only man can experience? Is it merely an emotion, a hormone? Or is it truly... real?




He sat at the diner table, leaning across from her, as she looked out the window. He knew not if the emotion he felt was truly love but as he looked upon her - her white hair, her noble features, her eyes of knowing and age - he wondered "how could it not be?" Was love not the feeling of wanting to be closer, to see them happy, to be content to just see them as often as possible? Even as she stared out the window, tracing her finger nervously upon the wood of the plastic table, he could still see nothing but beauty.


Of course, she was not the only angel he knew - but the only one he cared to be around. One of the others seemed far too lenient for his liking and didn't seem to take his work seriously - Maklar. Another, Alrraei, owned the section which this diner was bordering on. Those were the only two he could recall, or cared to mention. He supposed if that gunshot earlier was truly one of their own, he -Alrraei - may have had a hand in it. Him, or ... wait, there was another....

He was pulled from his thoughts quietly by the introduction of two cups of coffee and breakfast platters. He leaned forward slightly, grabbing the sugar from the small cup besides the coffee mug and tearing three packs open.


"My my... still love it sweet?" Akane asked, smiling lightly.

"I love my coffee as I love you, Akane." Rylain commented, stirring slowly. "Sweet, warm, full of life... but with a lot behind it."

"And what do you mean by that?" Akane asked, coy. Her finger now lay on the side of her face, her eyes playful and alight with the spark of mischief.

"Ah, Akane. You know I would not mean it as a remark of your body." Rylain smirked. "There is no attraction from that. Our bodies are merely vessels, even though yours - yes - is gorgeous to look upon."

"Smart answer." she whispered back, stirring her own. In the distance, outside the window, the sounds of a police siren howled into the night. The honking of cars, though muffled, still permeated the sluggish air of the diner. Rylain gazed for a moment out of the glass wall by him, staring at the night sky.


"You ever wondered about going back up there?"

Akane looked up at him, curious.

"....Once... maybe twice." she admitted. "Maybe more."

"I've done it too. Wondered if others get to go back and maybe we're just left behind." Rylain sighed. "I wonder if... we'd ever get called back, or if they'd choose only a certain... lucky few."

Akane took a sip, mulling over the thought.

"Then... hopefully they chose us both... or neither." she responded. "If I knew you were left here... I would not enjoy it."

"I would be the same." Rylain assured, drinking. "But as long as the demons feast upon Man... such thoughts are meaningless."

"Still... the thought lingers."

"It always does." Rylain shrugged. "Maybe I'm becoming more human than I think. Having these 'dreams'. These 'thoughts'."

"We both are. It was inevitable." Akane stated flatly. "When one lives amongst a crowd, one becomes the crowd itself. Centuries of constant contact will do that to anyone."

"I suppose you're right." Rylain chuckled. "Can't prevent the inevitable."

"But it is our job to try, and succeed." Akane informed, finishing the drink. "For everyone involved."

"Of course. Of course." Rylain replied, "For the greater good."

"For the greater good."

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He knew it was watching him, the angel. It wasn't difficult to miss, not with (in his opinion) his superior mind. Angels wreaked from the auras they boasted, even if no other creature could sniff it out. He surely did and it took all he had to not crinkle his nose with disgust. But the aura wasn't the only betrayer. No. Roland saw through her, as clear as a sharp gaze penetrating the night.


Glancing at the watch that rested on his wrist, the man payed for his tab before leaving the table and exiting the bar. He climbed into a tan-colored sedan, unlocked his phone, and dialed a number. The tone rang a couple times before someone answered, a delicate and effeminate voice coming through the speaker into his ear. "Ready?"


"Yes. Make sure everyone has their marks down in 30 minutes. We can't afford any slips. In 60 minutes, we start." He hung up, removing the sim card before starting the engine. Cutting the tiny bit of plastic into pieces, he started driving out of the lot. Turning onto the main road, the man idly tossed the phone out into the street, causing it to break on impact with the ground. Further still it was destroyed as another car's tires passed over it.


He contemplated having a smoke as the final minutes ticked by, the weight of time pressing against his mind. Roland, however, chose not to light a cigarette. As nice as the nicotine would feel, he wanted to keep his hands free for the job ahead. He knew just how these would end and it brought a slow grin to his face, blue eyes glinting.


Twenty minutes on the road, the man began to pull into the parking lot of a shopping complex, a popular one with a cinema attached. By now, someone else should be setting up at a diner, a third at a hospital, and a fourth still at the city's center. Roland exited his car, a golf club bag under his arm and a crinkled receipt in one hand. Passing through the entrance, he smiled and nodded a greeting at the security officer posted to make sure shoplifters didn't leave the premises.


The smile fell from his face as he proceeded through the building, slipping into a stairwell and making his way up and into the more hidden areas of the cinema. Finding various spots, he crouched down and planted a charge, pressing the button to turn the LED from red to a flashing green. Armed and ready. He did this for six charges, placing two outside of the cinema and more in the shopping area.


He left the bag in the stairwell, pouring corrosive acid onto the material to burn it away for minimal evidence. Slipping back out of the mall, Roland stopped at the backside of the building, leaning against the wall as he checked the time. Looking up at the sky, he grinned.


He only had this body for a handful of days, enough time to plan and orchestrate a decent scheme. But his mind was ages old, previously primal and instinctual. Still, like his fellows, he evolved with each era, faster than the angels could. Even know, demons had evolved to be one step ahead. They were more cunning than before, more deceitful. And they had an advantage.


Before, it was difficult to spot an angel among the humans, their scent masked by whatever perfumes or enchantments they applied. But, no more were demons happening upon an angel by mistake. Now, it was done with purpose. They could kill the angels and oh was the sweetness of seeing one fall. Now, they could spot an angel wherever.


Their wings were no longer invisible.




The diner was busy, as it always was for a weekend evening. Full of talkative families, energetic friends, and private couples. Angels were no exception. Two sat beside the window, at the table she recently brought coffee to.


Blonde hair pulled back into a high ponytail, the woman pulled a trio of entrées off the counter where they had been waiting for delivery. Serving them to a group of young teens, likely enjoying part of their plans as companions, the woman smiled and returned to the kitchen. She tapped the shoulder of one of the cooks, not meeting his brown gaze as she passed him. He would know though.


The man slipped a hand beneath the sink area, covering the motion with wiping his hand on the hanging towel from his apron. Unseen, a charge's light turned green. He nudged the teenaged cook beside him. "I gotta use the john," he excused himself, setting his hat down on the counter before exiting the kitchen and slipping out the back.


Both he and the woman stepped towards the dumpster, removing three brief cases from beneath bags of trash. Each one was flipped open, various illegal guns staring back at the pair. The woman checked her watch, nodding in content with the time. "Five minutes," she said simply. "I'll cover the front." As she spoke, she picked up one of the pistols, a shotgun, and the submachine gun, a Spectre M4 with blowback action and a 50-round cartridge.


In turn, the man picked up the other pistol and shotgun and the remaining Spectre. Both clipped belts full of magazine refiles to their waists and torsos. Knives were slipped into sheathes and stashed into boots. Again, the woman checked her watch. "Two minutes. Let's get moving."


Reaching into the remaining case, each one put on a costume mask. Hers bore resemblance to a white rabbit, the plastic designed to leave her lips and chin uncovered. His was made to look like a skeleton's skull. Both deposited their aprons into the trash.


She walked around and he entered through the back. When he stepped into the kitchen, no one immediately noticed what was wrong. As he lifted the pistol, aiming on the closest body, an entering waiter spotted the gun and froze, an exclamation stuck in his throat. The first bullet was fired, entering the cranium of the dishwasher boy. Before anyone could think to react, the man quickly turned the pistol onto the waiter, then a cook, and many others. Six out of nine bodies were crumpled on the ground by the time people realized what was happening. People in the dinning area were screaming, not knowing where the shots were happening.


As he took out the individuals in the back, she hoisted the submachine gun and stopped in front of the panel of glass to the front. Everyone's attention was focused on the initial assault, meaning no one noticed her. A perfect opportunity. The bullets wouldn't kill them but, being too close, the two angels would not be able to avoid serious injury.


With a decided pull on the trigger, a barrage of bullets shattered the window.




Phones rang, pagers beeped, and distraught silence hovered in many rooms of the hospital. Doctors tended to patients, grueling surgeries left families nervous, and nurses saw to various needs. Unknown to them, several charges laid hidden, waiting for detonation. It wasn't time though. In half an hour, the job at the diner would be completed and, with everyone's focus there, everything was in place to go off with a bang.


A janitor smirked to himself, fingers ruffling his dark hair before grasping the end of the broom. Whistling nonchalantly, he continued cleaning the floors. Five members made up their little team, each one a possessed human. Each one anticipating death. Something bigger was planned, something much more devastating than just a few blown up buildings.




The lights of business buildings and massive advertisement boards filled the area, creating a bright illumination that almost concealed the stars. Even after nightfall, the heart of the city was alive with busy people. From people working night shifts to people gathered for a good time to promiscuous individuals standing at street corners. No one was the wiser of what was about to happen.


Sirens began to fill the night as first responders rushed towards a high-risk emergency. A woman, more physically exposed than she ought to be, smiled with private knowledge. She looked at her phone, starting the countdown.

Edited by Narvix

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A figured sat half perched on a small outcrop of a taller building, half-lidded expression the only thing setting itself apart from being some intricate carving on some millionaire's home. A slight gust of wind brushed aside longer sun-bleached hair. It was nearly platinum blonde toward the bottom, gradient style by the sun toward the top returning to the natural brown at the roots. The length stopped at the bottom of her shoulder blades as she pushed a strand out of her sight. A sigh let out. The age old battle of angel verses demon never stopped. She had been up here all day watching. Waiting. For a demon attack, yes, but none came. Not today. Had she finally taught them a lesson? She was one of the oldest angels so far that she had met, and apparently had made a difference in her district so far. This was the only day yet that no demon attacks were found in her district.


Larien boredly checked her cell-phone, scrolling through a few needless text messages. A few of the humans she mingled with were wanting to know where she was. They were supposed to hang at a mutual's house again for the night. It was supposed to be quite a party. Sad she was going to miss it, the angel stretched and swung into a sitting position on the outcrop of the building. Down below was a very far drop into a few busy streets.


A gunshot rang out far away. Not terrible or unecessarily far, but far enough to be curious. That was Zarall's territory causing the stir. She pushed herself into the crouched position once more, crawling to the actual roof as she fully stood. "Amber's gonna be furious I miss this party." She exclaimed to the air with a chuckle. "I'm allowed to miss things though, they at least understand I am a busy person." She wasn't talking to anyone, yet her demonour seemed as if she were. Hand motions and shrugs would have easily convinced someone watching that she wasn't alone. "I'll owe 'em money too, darn." She added somewhat sarcastically. She had been paying for some special wine and a few other rather harmless ammenities they liked to dabble in.


A yawn let out. Larien wasn't tired, just rather bored waiting for this party that she was now deciding to miss. A night without some drugs and alcohol would do her fine. Granted, she had a very high tolerance at a base level anyways, and she never really was impaired like her human friends had been.


"Alright Zarall, let's see what's up..." She commented, situating her dark maroon leather jacket. At her waist, admist her belt holding her jeans, sat an M1911 pistol and a few more cartridges. She laced up one of her black combat boots, shrugging off another gust of wind. Yes she was slightly still high, as she had grown accustomed to functioning like this in her human form in her district. It offered a chance to strike up conversations with people otherwise too preoccupied with their days to care. Letting out another sigh, purely due to the boredom still refusing to leave, Larien stretched her wings now.


The raven black appeared almost purple in the light, complimenting her hair color when it was not bleached by the sun. The wingss too seemed vaguely whiter toward the tips, which had been a new occurance in the past 100 years for the angel. Maybe she was grower blonder instead of silver like the humans did when they aged and her wings were trying to follow that pattern. She shrugged at the thought. That sure would be interesting.


A few test flaps proved her wings still worked. She hadn't used them in the past month, choosing to wander around on foot ever vigilent but also having some fun on the side being a human. One text sent saying she would be missing the party and then she launched herself off the building.


"To bring the semi automatic rifle or to not?" Larien asked herself as she let herself drop. The wind rushed past her at a comforting speed, only subsiding as her wings opened slowly to catch the wind. They carried her along one of the streets leading closer to Zarall's district as more gunshots rang out. A closer listen revealed even more happening as she sped closer. She was still in her own district, often forgetten about by Zarall. She couldn't blame the other angel, Larien often kept to herself for a lot of things. Or was busy socializing with the humans and keeping the demons out of her boarders to really socialize with the other angels unless necessary. She angled toward her actual home, dropping in as she always loved to do.


"Now where.... Ahhh, here we are!" Larien paid no mind to the minimal decor of her house. She scooped up the AR-15 and shouldered it onto her back with its strap. This would definitely prove useful. She opened her front door instead of dropping through the hatch on the roof, slamming that shut and taking off again. A neighbor curiously looked out the front door at the noise, seeing no one. She smirked, knowing she would get a phonecall of a supposed robbery to her house later. Her phone buzzed. Or now. Ignoring that, the angel pumped her wings a bit more to gain back to her previous speed in hopes of running into another angel somewhere come to investigate the noises. Sirens were blaring in Zarall's district. She wasn't awfully far away now. Hopefully Zarall would be aware.

Edited by Dragonhatchling

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Rey drifted almost lazily over the main street of her territory, her Heckler & Koch MP7 held aloft, the muzzle of the suppressor upright as to avoid the accidental targeting of her charges. Her wings resembled those of a snowy owl with wide, open feathers that granted her a smooth glide with a singular stroke every once in a while to keep her from losing altitude. The patterned tips of the feathers caught the light of the street lamps below, and Rey mused that in the flickering light, her wings almost looked like those optical illusion pictures with the checkered designs.


Her thoughts wandered over to the gunshot she'd heard earlier. Normally, Rey would have meandered on over to the district to check out the battle, but the consecutive shots that followed made her think her aid was unneeded. Zarall was a good warrior, after all, and Rey couldn't exactly make friends by barging into everyone's territories to slaughter every demon around. Not that Reydris had many angel friends to begin with; many of them had disapproved of her relationship with Vanessa, and the intimacy in which she connected to the rest of her charges. But Reydris didn't care. She'd long since given up her stoic soldier mentality in favor of her passion for the humans, and she felt a better warrior for it. Damn what the other angels thought of it.


The sudden blare of sirens caught Rey off guard, and she banked hard to the right, swooping upward until her steel-toed boots touched the railing of some human's apartment patio. She crouched there for a moment, head tilted as she listened. The sound came from relatively close by. Rey pinned it as coming from the territory of two angels who appeared inseparable-- Rylain and Akane, if she remembered correctly, though she could never recall which angel's district actually bordered hers. It wasn't necessarily out of place, since accidents and drunken messes occurred occasionally at this hour, but as she sat and listened, Rey realized the number of sirens was increasing rapidly. Her brow furrowed in suspicion.


She reached for the shotgun strapped between her shoulder blades and loaded it while her sharp gaze trailed around the block she perched over. Nothing was bleeding into her territory yet, but a few streets down she caught the glimmer of red-blue lights and the wail of the sirens as it echoed against the surrounding buildings. Rey stood and pumped the shotgun once. If there was trouble, Reydris was going to find it and end it.


Her patterned wings snapped open again and Rey launched herself off the railing with purpose. Because it was evening, her avian assistants were asleep and of little use, but the alley cats and sewer rats were just as bright and alert as herself. She touched briefly on their minds in unison, Remain vigilant, friends. Signal me with anything unfamiliar. There was a chorus of affirmation. Without hesitation, Reydris soared to the east, gripping her shotgun warily.


It didn't take long for her to reach the commotion; she followed behind the ambulances and cop cars, careful to keep high enough that she could spy any danger lurking close by. When she saw the diner, however, Rey's wings beat sharply downward to keep her in the sky. Gunshots rang out into the night, and the front window burst into glittering fragments. The perpetrator stood in front of the building with a submachine gun in hand. Rey's heart seized for a moment. This was typical demon behavior-- she had been around long enough to identify it easily-- but this was not her territory, and therefor not her jurisdiction to decide whether or not the criminal was, in fact, possessed. Reydris cursed under her breath. She'd have to take out the threat without her gun until Rylain or Akane could confirm the issue.


Rey slid the shotgun into the holster against her back, but kept a hand on the machine pistol at her hip. Should it come to demonic possession, armor-piercing rounds would benefit her greatly. But she couldn't use those yet; not without the other angel's to verify. The human below couldn't see her, thankfully, which gave Rey the advantage. She couldn't wait for Rylain and Akane to show up. At the very least, she could distract them.


She dropped heavily from the sky, wings tucked close. Dive bombing from that height would theoretically give her enough power to knock over the human if she opened her wings at the right moment. Rey had done this maneuver before, so she knew that she needed to be careful with the amount of power she generated from the drop, or else she could seriously injure the target. She approached like a bullet, and just a few yards before the ground came surging up to meet her, Reydris jerked back and flung her wings outward to expel a great force of wind. Her momentum carried her forward and she leaned back, kicking her feet out to hopefully catch the masked woman in the stomach in case the wind merely staggered her.

Edited by Shiny Hazard Sign

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"... now I just have to pop the spring back in and the ejection mechanism will be complete..." A man spoke to himself in his apartment's living room as he tinkered with the parts laid out in front of him on the coffee table and reassembled the weapon he had received days ago; his goal, as it had been the first time he took it apart and reassembled it with the manual's help, was to learn all of its intricacies. The sole lamp that was lit in his home bathed him from above in warm fluorescent light and made his black ponytail's hair shine with a color much closer to dark cobalt. A few loose hairs in front of his vision bothered him and he blew them back with a quick puff of his mouth, as he was too busy to properly smooth them down with his hand right now. The man's face was furrowed in frustration, his dark green eyes covered partially by the squinted muscles around them and his arched eyebrows hanging low in a show of intense concentration. His thin lips moved to emit a groan as the spring he was struggling with bent in its housing, then was flung out of the innards of the gun and landed down somewhere around his feet.


"Damn..." Azriel muttered lowly under his breath as he bent down and did his best to search for the spring with one arm in a very, very crooked position that definitely seemed unsuited for a human spine to endure. After a few moments, he let out a relieved sigh and rose back up with the spring held tightly with both his index finger and thumb, then yet again bent toward the rifle atop his desk and dug both hands into its entrails.

Finally, after a few more painstaking minutes, he pulled back with a soft yet very satisfied smile and stared at the gun in front of him. As it was an imported model all the way from the other side of the world, he had shelled out a good amount of money for the weapon, but he was very pleased with what he had received in return. The dark matte finish of the rifle's parts gave it a very streamlined and simple appearance, whilst the additional custom additions like the stock and the barrel jacket made it personalized and also seemed to give the whole weapon an overall militaristic vibe. The name he had given to the rifle was simply Vindicāre - its meaning, however, was left completely to the imagination of the ones that knew its calling.


"Alright, that's done," the man spoke to himself as he rose from his seat and bent down for a second to retrieve the weapon, then looked down its iron sights and gave himself a nod after making sure they weren't misaligned. His hand moved in silence to retrieve another module he had put aside - the scope of the weapon - and quickly reattached it to the rail on the top, sliding it into position and then securing it with its pins before locking the whole thing in place.

"Perhaps I should recalibrate the scope..." Azriel mused with himself as he clutched the rifle with both hands down low at his waist, then gave himself a nod and stepped toward the balcony entrance.

"Might as well see what the others are up to, then," he spoke as another reason as he stepped up to the door, but took a second to gaze at himself in the glass' reflective surface.


To most people that could see him now, he would currently be considered a fairly average guy - standing at just around six feet with an average build, slightly pale skin complexion, shoulder-length black hair wrapped into a short ponytail that ended at his nape and a moderate stubble along his round jaw, he looked just like a poor student that did not really wish to waste money on a hairdresser or a barber, but also thankfully did not have to, as the style suited him very nicely.

Moving his left hand to the door and flipping its handle before pushing it outward, Azriel stepped into the cold of the early night and stared out into the depths of the city that surrounded his quadrant. Having picked the highest apartment complex in his part of the city and gotten the flat on the last floor, he could quickly come out on his balcony and flip upward with his wings to reach the rooftop - which is exactly what he did the moment he shut the door behind himself.


Wings of dark gray that faded into complete black, raven-like feathers at the edges spread suddenly from his back before slamming downward, almost hitting the floor he was standing on as they sent him surging into the air and upward. Spiraling with the weapon clutched tightly in his right hand, he leapt up onto the rooftop, then spun yet again on one foot until he was facing at the city like he had been on the balcony and quickly dropped down onto the ground.

The bipod from below his gun was unfolded as he positioned himself at the edge of the building and propped it down, then pulled back the operating bolt with his left hand to load in the next shot. Leaving the safety on for now, the man bent down and placed his face in a way that allowed him to stare down the length of the barrel and into the scope's eyepiece.


Raising his right arm from his side and moving it to the scope, Azriel began to turn the various parts along the module, adjusting elevation and windage and then taking a few minutes to tinker with the focusing and magnification section at the other end to make the image as crisp and clear as possible. Once he was done with the basic changes, he took a look through the scope, switching it quickly directly into the 16x category to pick out the most details from the distant buildings.

The angel was pulled back from his business as a shot rang out, making him slightly flinch enough to move forward and push his eye into the lens of the scope. A hiss came from his shut mouth as he pulled back and immediately began to rub at his eye with his right hand. He was surprised when he heard another shot, then one more before a final fourth rang out, silencing the charade in the distance completely for better... or worse.


Blinking away the wet feeling that was building up in his eye because of the irritation, the man stood in silence and pondered just who exactly had been the one shooting. Was it one of the other Angels? Were they in some sort of trouble? Or was it actually another crime they were not supposed to think about?

Whatever the answer of his question was, it would definitely involve moving into another Angel's territory, as his instincts and ears told him it had come from Zarall's area - there were others stationed closer to her anyway, though, so for now, he found no use in getting up and going over to check. Instead, he bent his head back down and let his raven hair and long-sleeved matching polo sway together in the early night's breeze to calm his nerves and allow him to focus again.


A click came from the scope as Azriel activated its LED overlay, creating a sudden pulse of green inside the tube that appeared as a translucent cross shape colored in vibrant emerald on one of the scope's inner lens. Staring through the newly-made reticle of his so-called sniper, the man looked at the distant buildings and tried to pick out some of them from old memories.

That process was interrupted after a few moments of sightseeing when another set of shots came from Zarall's territory. Although the first were worrying enough, the intensity of these as they went well past five made the man feel... like something wrong was going on. His patience wore even thinner as multiple sirens screamed into the night, indicating there was an emergency - and judging by the pattern of the lights, everything was heading for the diner at Zarall's.

A quick shove pushed him to a crouched position as he turned toward Zarall's - was it even hers or was he recalling incorrectly? - territory and raised the weapon in his hands up to stare through its scope. He scanned the area quickly and located the diner. The sight that was in front of his eyes, even from this distance, made all of his hesitation about not moving disappear.


Leaping almost instantly into the air, the man swerved heavily with his wings and landed on the balcony. Rushing into his house whilst his wings disappeared, he approached the table yet again and set down the gun, then quickly retrieved a rifle sling and attached it to the gun before pulling it onto himself. With that done, the man grabbed his metal gray coat from the nearby hanger and flipped it to expose the multiple pockets it held inside. This was the work of a nearby tailor supernatural that he had asked exactly because he needed a way to hold onto ammunition during a firefight - a method that would not be intrusive, but would also allow him easy and quick access to reloads whilst also not being easy to spot if he were to sheathe his wings. Slipping a few magazines of the rifle he had loaded up earlier, the man then rose from his seat and ran off into the darker parts of his quiet house.

Appearing seconds later with a few loaded speed loaders in one hand and an intricate revolver in the other, Azriel quickly hid away the former like he had done with the magazines of ammo and attached the latter to the holster at his belt above his slim dark blue jeans. The smaller gun, a specialized import capable of doing semi-auto fire, was named Lancea Sacra and had the same written in a golden engraving along the gun's side that was glamored away to be unseen by humans.


Finished with preparations, the man quickly slipped the coat onto himself and noticed its slightly heavier feel, but ignored it and simply leapt out onto the balcony. Shutting the door, he leapt up, pushing himself off a low chair onto the railing and from it into the air, where his wings manifested again and blasted him forward with a strong flap.

The streets below him and the buildings high enough to be around him seemed to become a blur as Azriel shot forth, his wings' gliding form maintaining the speed he had gotten and sending him very quickly toward Zarall's territories. His goal for now was to drop directly into the street, pull out as many people from the action as he could and eliminate whatever tried to attack them, as not only could many of them be Charges for the other angels that were probably also converging on the action by now, but one of his Charges - a young lady with amber eyes and red hair named Danny which had come to the diner for a meal with her mother after a night at the cinema's with her boyfriend - was also in the center of action... and could very well die, if he was not quick enough or if some other Angel didn't help her.

Edited by KuroKishi

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Such blissful, everlasting peace is death. But we must avoid it.

Here, in the Kingdom of Man, we must survive. You must prepare for any situation. Otherwise,


You Die.




The demon assumed that Rylain and Akane would be frozen in place. Upon seeing the situation, their minds would not be able to adapt.

Gunshots in the back. Screaming.

The demon, was, unfortunately for her - mistaken. Rylain kicked the diner table from its holdings, knocking plates and the empty coffee mugs onto the ground as he turned it into a makeshift shield and began making a run for the back of the diner. The plastic wouldn't provide much cover but it would be more than enough to stop a few bullets. Akane, meanwhile, watched his back with her pistol, scanning the area behind them.


"The Hunt has come to us!" Rylain shouted as he grabbed his shotgun from the bag on his back.

"Then we shall reply in kind, dearest Rylain!" Akane replied back, her wings unfurling from her back in glorious white. "Without mercy. Without constraint."

"For we are the Wrath." Rylain finished, his own, grey wings expanding as he disappeared from mortal view. They were truly within the Hunt now. Time itself seemed to slow as he became faster, using his wings to press himself forward until he reached the door to the back - just as the window behind them both exploded with a hail of bullets.


"THERE!" Akane screeched, realizing where her Charge was now. A middle-aged woman, cowering behind a chair in the front as the bullets tore through the fabric. The woman was huddled with a younger-looking, red-haired girl, her arms around her protectively. Akane turned to Rylain, nodding to him as he nodded to her. Akane grabbed the diner table from him, bullets tearing into her arm and his backside as she readjusted it.


"Damn!" Rylain cursed, kicking the back door a few times before realizing it was locked. Akane, meanwhile, turned around and aimed the shield at the window before hurling it at the attacker. She then used her wings to fly forward, leaping in front of the chair the woman was behind and bearing her pistol.

Outside the window, in the light of the diner and the stars, a woman was reloading. She wore a rabbit mask and seemed intent on harming anyone in the building. Akane thought quickly.

She couldn't shoot her. She didn't know if she was a demon or not. But she also couldn't leave her to cause her Charge any harm. Frustrated, she aimed the pistol at the woman's gun and arms, trying to avoid shooting her in her vitals.


Meanwhile, Rylain finally shot the door down with his shotgun, the blast echoing through the back as he surveyed the room before a bullet fired past his ear. Instinctively, he moved behind a counter as a man with a skeleton mask came to follow. Rylain rolled around, trying to decide his next course of action. As with Akane's current predicament, Rylain couldn't decide if this man was a demon or not. Killing humans was an act of utmost wrong and sin. Angels could not do that. Never. It was the greatest crime an angel could commit. Unless the human was possessed beyond saving, it was against all Angelic Law, the Seraphic Code. Rylain grimaced, trying to make the decision quickly of what to do.


The man had missed his shot. It would make sense, if he were human, because he would not have seen Rylain. But if that were the case, then Rylain could end this quickly and tackle the maniac to the ground. However, demons in the bodies of humans were vastly intelligent. He could have missed on purpose. There were too many unknowns. To make matters worse, several humans around the room were cowering and too afraid to reach for the door to leave. It was smart. Even if the man was diverted in his attention searching for this intruder, the sound of a door opening could set him off.

And far more worse, Rylain saw his Charge at the end of the room, a small, new waiter boy, barely 17 years old. He was hiding behind one of the meat lockers, almost invisible. Rylain thanked him for being clever in this situation. Made it easier to protect.

He needed to be certain. As the man reached the edge of the counter to get him, Rylain shoved upward with the front of his shotgun, slamming it into the man's legs with a great amount of force. The metal made a sound as it impacted the bone. He then moved to get around the man, using the gun to strangle him.

Edited by Thaelasan

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Larien flew faster, skimming the tops of the buildings as she flew through the bordering district into Zarall's as a few sirens blared below. She followed those soon, nearing the diner just as Reydris also did. She knew the other angel vaguely well, this one being the oldest one she personally knew of. They didn't talk too often, but occasionally worked together when needed due to their districts bordering the city center.


She was above Reydris currently, but dropped to be level with where the slightly older angel had been as they dove. "Why is it they're choosing to trouble now? Of all times?" She asked, removing the semi automatic rifle from her back. "Shame too. Not in either of our districts." She followed suit, diving down and instead of attacking a human soley, she simply landed with a heavy thud from the speed.


That hurt. But not enough to make her think twice about doing it again. She snarled, wishing her crow-friends had been awake to take watch in her district now with all this going on. More gunshots rang. Yeah, she liked the crows better. The humans had found it odd that the crows seemed attracted to her and so friendly, but it was easily played off as someone fond of nature, and the crows had taken a liking to her. They served as one of the best networks in her district, and were considered blessings to anyone who she considered a friend. The crows definitely would have been better than this gun mess.


The human brandishing the submachine gun had been taken down nicely by Reydris. Larien doubted the older angel even knew she was here. She scanned the area, searching for another foolish human brandishing a gun in the midst. An attack like this wasn't likely to just be one possession. And judging by the sounds inside, there was more trouble in there too. "Oh this'll be fun alright." She soured, not actually annoyed with the events. This was her job after-all, and she gladly had chosen to miss the fabled party in order to help. Good thing too, as another barrage of bullets rang out. "Oh yes." She hissed, cackling a little. The demons were evolving faster than even she liked. Why couldn't they evolve into simpler beings like the animals sometimes did?

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Downing the rest of her drink, she slammed the whisky glass onto the wood countertop. The ice cubes chimed in at the sudden impact. The woman shuffled through her inner jacket pocket to withdraw a slim wallet, and from the wallet withdrew a few bills to place under the glass. She walked out of the bar and the door shut behind her, leaving the warmth inside. Night had fallen and the air was refreshingly crisp. In some ways it was brighter than it was indoors, as streetlamps, spotlights, and neon signs presented themselves every few feet. With bright lights came dark corners; one moment she was visible and the next her form had melted into the shadows. At least, to human eyes.


She followed the man's car, her wings -- which were a solid dull grey, like the clouds on an overcast day -- letting her drift lazily above the roads. For all she knew, it was a night like any other. And while it was a tedious routine, she knew she had to remain vigilant lest anything escape her attention.


She nearly missed a sign, too, through the late evening traffic. A phone getting tossed from the driver side window, too unlikely to be an accident with how humans normally clung to them. It only confirmed what she already knew but, she couldn't attack right away lest she cause a traffic incident. It was her first clue that something was about to happen.


The car took many twists and turns as if purposely trying to lose her before it finally parked in front of a cinema near the edge of Zarall's district. Some blockbuster was playing tonight. Explosions, car chases... Having spent nearly a thousand years patrolling humanity, Vale couldn't understand what was exactly appealing about watching moving pictures of stunts that would normally kill the average man.


The man was a demon, she was sure of it. Her suspicion came to a peak when he carried a golf bag under his arm, and Vale's immediate response was to assume he was carrying a gun to shoot up the place.


For a moment she thought she should warn Zarall -- but this man was Vale's Mark and this area attracted humans from many different territories. It would be more effective to just tackle the man before he could cause any major damage. Demons weren't known for their tact. Despite their evolution, angels liked to think they were one step ahead.


Remaining invisible, Vale passed the security without any issues, though it was too cramped to spread her wings especially when the man entered a stairway. At first she wondered what he was doing, but then it became clear when he finished setting the second one. Bombs. Two in the cinema. Humans might not even recognize them as explosives, as they did not resemble their fictional counterparts (why would they?). For the first time in nearly a hundred years, Vale was genuinely afraid. The safest option was to simply evacuate all of the humans: she had no idea what or when was the trigger, nor how powerful the devices were (somehow, she doubted that the demon would tell her the information she needed). She might have prevented the situation if she were a bit less cautious, but rules were rules. She convinced herself that she had no choice but to wait.


She didn't need to keep following her Mark, now that she knew what he was up to. There were more urgent things to attend to.


Vale pushed through the nearest emergency exit and finally spread her wings once she was outside, then glided to the ground before tucking them in and becoming visible to mortals. She patted her pockets to make sure she still had some extra ammunition, then took out her phone.


First, she called the human authorities. They were the only people the masses actually listened to. From the sound of the lady on the other end, it seemed to be a busy night. Vale could only hope that the two incidents were unrelated, but no matter the cause, both the police force and the angels would be spread a little thin. She'd have to hunt down Zarall, but it was likely that she would spot the other angel while the latter was patrolling.


Vale never thought she would use the second number she was about to dial. They were on the same force, yes, but Vale felt nothing but contempt at the other angel's lifestyle choices. Love and duty should never mix, in her opinion. It only leads to tragedy and weakness.


She picked out Reydris' number from the contact list and waited for an answer, each ringing tone feeling like an eternity.

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The distinct, rhythmic echoes of a machine gun swept away the silence of the young night as Azriel flew over and out the edges of his own area and continued into his neighbor's. Although he did not clearly recall under whose jurisdiction this area was, his mind strangely led him to the idea that the angel responsible for this territory was the partner of another one... or something like that.

His eyes scanned the sights below him, following blinking lights shortly as they flew the streets in a hurry, and then rose back up as he neared the diner. Taking a moment to scout out the situation, he took a strange right to land onto a nearby building, rolled forward on his wings to soften the landing and then quickly pulled the rifle from below his coat and raised the scope to look through it.


His breath seemed to fade out as he watched the scene just a few streets down from his location. People seemed to fall like raindrops as he stared through one of the kitchen windows and watched, unable to do anything to the person that was attacking them and only hoping he never walked out of there and reached his Charge. Another human emerged from the front of the diner, making him quickly move his scope to watch her and seize up when she raised a machine gun and began to unload into the glass that was wrapped around the diner's front.

Azriel gritted his teeth together as he trained his scope onto the woman's body, wondering what to do in the split seconds he had before she finished her first clip and loaded another one to continue the work. A table flew out from the inside, thrown by someone in an attempt to hinder the hail of bullets, but it did not take much for the machine gun to shred through its material. Staying silent as he watched the situation unfold, Azriel weighed his options carefully, but also quickly.

His fingers seemed to twitch with tension and hesitance against the Vindicāre's surface as he did his best to consider everything he had learnt up until now. It was forbidden to kill people if one was not sure they were possessed, so the option to blow her brains out was out - for all he knew, she could be some lunatic, with the white bunny mask that enveloped all but the mouth area of her face. The fact still was, however, that her shots were most likely trained on people such as his Charge - something that worried him to no end and made him hope he received no premonitions from the common blackbirds he had linked himself with.


As the woman's first clip of ammunition ran dry and she urgently began to retrieve another one to load into the machine gun in her hands and begin shooting, Azriel trained the crosshair of his scope onto the weapon in her hands, then raised it a little to accommodate for the distance that would inevitably be a variable with his low-caliber ammunition. His hand flipped the safety switch off, and he steadied his breath, then pulled the trigger back slowly and...

Much to his dismay, a diving angel flew in from nowhere, coming to a sudden stop with a heavy swing of her wings that slammed the woman with a gust of wind and made her lose her footing for a moment. Following it up with a kick into her side that forced the weapon out of the bunny woman’s hands, she seemed to effectively disable the attacker, which in turn made Azriel blink at her for a moment whilst flipping his weapon's safety back down. Deciding that she would handle the situation then and there, he turned his gaze back to the open window.


To his surprise, what he caught a glimpse of there was another man - no, another angel - that was huddled behind the counter with what appeared to be a shotgun in his hands. The crimson sprays and chaotic mess around him seemed to not even bother the man as he thought of the best way to neutralize the attacker Azriel could not really see from his position.

That issue soon disappeared as the man suddenly walked into his field of view, moving along the length of counters his fellow angel was using to take cover. Time seemed to stop as the shooter marched up to the corner of the counter before the one with the shotgun suddenly slammed the weapon into his legs' side and then rose, flipping behind him to catch him into a chokehold with the shotgun's length.


Immediately, Azriel gathered his breath and stared through the scope at the two combatants, switching through the zoom levels absent-mindedly until he again had the 16x adjustment. Though the angel had the attacker in a nice hold now, the man’s hands were still free, and he still could use them to shoot. He could already see as the surprise in his body cleared away and was changed by the will to escape the clutches of his attacker. The pistol that was still in his grasp was slowly twisted as he attempted to direct it backward.

Narrowing his eyes, Azriel flipped the switch of the safety off, then aimed again, going through the necessary corrections in less than a heartbeat and finally pulling back the trigger of the rifle in his hands. The gunshot echoed into the night, sending the bullet spiraling toward the angel's mark, before it finally reached its destination, where it embedded itself into the pistol's front. The round's low force allowed it to only pierce the barrel of the weapon, but the obstacle in the bullet's way would block the shot and make the pistol burst once the trigger was pulled.


Pleased with the results of his intervention, Azriel rose back up, spreading his wings out after he slung the weapon onto his body and then leaping off. His flight carried him quickly past the few streets he had to cross to reach the diner before he swerved to the left and lowered himself quickly to land with a thud followed by a roll onto his wings behind the establishment.

The Lancea Sacra on his hip was pulled out as the angel quickly took a look around to make sure no more attackers were left - once he did that, he leapt into action, dashing into the diner's cooking area through the backdoor that seemed to be almost torn open with holes at the handle.

"Rough night, eh?" Azriel exclaimed to the other angel in the room as he stepped into the room, his pistol trained at the figure he was holding as he stepped around so he could see the mask of the man. His eyes wandered and searched for survivors, spotting a well-hidden waiter boy behind a meat locker, as he wondered if the other angel could pull off choking the man out without making it appear strange and forced, like it actually was in this case.

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Just as Zarall finished asking her question, waiting for Alrrei's response, Maklar appeared and interjected himself as if he was entitled to any outing. She frowned briefly before parting her lips. "Good evening, Maklar," she greeted. "I was asking Alrrei if he was open to my company tonight because it was the polite thing to do," she remarked, faintly stressing 'polite' in an attempt to make Maklar realize his pompous attitude. After a moment, she shook her head, sighing slightly. "At any rate-."


The sound of wingbeats stopped her mid-sentence, causing her to look up and wave as she recognized Karleo. "Hello there, Karleo." A rather busy night. Had her little tussle with a demon attracted so much attention? Smirking, she idly adjusted her green jacket. She'd picked it back up shortly after getting rid of the demon, some time before she had noticed Alrrei. "All in a day's work, ya know? Not a lot of other action but, I won't complain about it. It's a good thing whe-."


Once more cut off, Zarall gasped, eyes widening as pain flared in her left temple, a throb of dread filling her chest. Caught off guard, the angel was knocked over, tripping over her own feet and tumbling over the edge of the rooftop. Horror etched across her effeminate face, as she fell, tears beginning to sting the back of her eyes. Not him...!


With a snap, her dark wings stretched and caught the air, leveling herself before she could hit the ground. Furiously, she powered her wings, racing towards where the sense of death emanated. Wind ripped at her hair and clothes, barely able to dent the speed of her flight. In moments, she was upon the diner. Before her, she caught a glimpse of two - three? - other angels outside with a shooting human in the front. That wasn't of her immediate concern though.


Crashing to the ground at the back and ignoring the flair of pain in her legs, Zarall got up from a sloppy roll and, tucking her wings against her back, rushed inside.




The man with the skull mask whirled at the sound of the door breaking open, firing a bullet past the angel's head. They ducked from sight before the man could try again, mentally cursing the fact that he missed. As he stepped along the counters, he felt a burst of pain in his knee from the butt of a gun being slammed against it. Growling as he grimaced, he didn't have time to react to the angel grabbing him from behind, shotgun against his throat. Almost roaring with aggression, he planted his feet, gripped the shotgun, and flipped forward. He threw the angel off of him, shifting the aim of his pistol at their face. Before they could fire, someone else shot through the window and the bullet pierced his gun. Reeling backward, the man scowled but didn't hesitate to withdraw his submachine gun.


This turn of events was okay though. The bullets in the pistol wouldn't have done more than make the angel before him bleed. The ones in the SMG, however, were another matter. Noise from behind him caused him to twirl, pulling the trigger as he did so. A torrent of iron bullets rushed towards the new angel that had appeared. Engraved with demonic runes and dried with human blood, these were the instruments that could kill an angel should a demon possess a human body.


Quickly, he pulled the Daewoo USAS-12 shotgun free from the holster at his back, aiming it's deadly fire upon the first angel.




Zarall entered the building as a storm of gunfire began to occur, instinctively ducking and grunting as she covered her head. Splinters of wood collided against her body but she paid no mind to them. Panicking, she darted out of the doorway, registering the presence of two other angels but not bothering to identify who they were. The kitchen was small, making wings a difficult thing to use. Concealing them, she faded into view of human eyes and ducked behind various metal shelves, counters, and the like until she could get to her charge. Please don't be dead! Please! I promised her!


One hand went to her shotgun, holding it out and training it on the masked attacker, while the other hand shifted the teenaged cook into her lap. Blood was already soaking into her clothes, seeping through her tights to layer the skin of her legs. The boy wasn't moving and, though she knew the final outcome, she refused to not try anyway. In a few heartbeats, her hand rested against his forehead, growing warmer until the heat was almost unbearable.


Skin to skin contact and will was usually all that was needed to save a charge from an early death. But it only worked while they maintained a pulse and had suffered in a violent way. From a car accident, a stabbing, a shooting or falling, an angel could heal them and save them, even from the brink of death. Only if it was ordained could it be done. An angel would innately know if it was or wasn't - dread only overcame an angel if their Charge was not yet meant to pass from this realm.


The tears that stung Zarall's eyes began to overwhelm her composure as she couldn't accept her failure just yet. I promised her! she mentally berated herself, hanging her head.




The blonde woman jumped back as a table tumbled out of the diner. "I see you..." she muttered, grinning darkly. She yanked her pistol free of its holster, aiming the first iron bullet in its chamber on the angel that attempted to shield a pair of female humans. A second shot escaped its barrel before a new sound caught the attacker's attention. Twisting, she recognized the sound of being wings and swung the pistol up, firing a third shot before the angel knocked her back with its wings.


Grunting from the impact, she rolled to her knees, dropping the submachine gun as she did so. Scowling, she took aim again, pulling the trigger for bullet number four. Behind, the voice of a second arrival made the woman frown. Rolling sideways, she moved out from between the two angels and unholstered her Daewoo, aiming it on the newest angel before firing.


Sirens grew louder as authorities drew nearer. In roughly a few minutes, the pair had already captured the attention of protectors, human and supernatural. Not a bad night it seemed. But the end drew nearer still, faster than the human officials. Rising to her feet, the woman grinned again, arms out wide. "The night isn't without it's triumph," she stated calmly, knowing that the angels recognized her as a demon and would bring about her death. "Go on then, do what you will for your cherished humanity!"




Behind the cinema, Roland glanced at his watch, humming faintly. Sirens could be heard in the distance, a bunch of them all heading in the same direction. He knew the angel had been watching him the entire time, it was hard to miss that stench. Surely, as they didn't approach him directly, they were planning to foil his actions in another way. He doubted it would work out the way the angel hoped. Actually, he knew it wouldn't.


Whistling softly, he walked away from the back of the mall, weaving down alleyways and smiling as the scent of the angel didn't follow him. How foolish the angel seemed to be, running off and thus sacrificing their trail on his heels. By now, several humans were dead within that diner and, in only a few short moments, hundreds more would fall. While the authorities busied themselves with the carnage of the diner, fire would spread and illuminate the night in red hues.


Two streets down from the mall, Roland withdrew the detonator from his coat pocket. A simple flip phone, he opened it and pressed down the number two. For a moment, a key tone hummed from the speaker before the speed dial number connected. As soon as the call went through, a deafening blast erupted from the mall and cinema complex. At the same time, the diner, hospital, and city center did likewise. Four out of five members would be dead by now, whether from the blasts or from the angels.


Roland remained where he had stopped walking, awaiting the arrival of his angel.

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As soon as Rey flipped over again, the sound of a gunshot made her jerk back and a blazing flare of pain erupted across her cheek. Her hand flew up to the wound and she hissed and twisted to avert a second, but when she landed, fear blossomed in her chest. The masked woman was smiling, and in a second Rey realized that the human could see her. With her wings out. In fact, it seemed as though she had reacted to Rey's and Larien's approach. Her sea-green eyes widened. Impossible.


Bunny-face pulled out a shotgun and lined it up to Larien, whom Rey had only registered by the angel's voice following her from the sky. Reflexes were all she had at this point. With a cried, "NO!" Reydris dove for the other angel and snatched her by the front of her shirt before slinging her hard to the side just as a spray of shotgun pellets thudded into Rey's left wing. A grunt of pain bubbled up into her throat, and she staggered.


The woman spoke. At this point Rey did not have a doubt in her mind that the human soul within was claimed by a demon. A dark snarl crossed Rey's bloody face as she yanked her machine pistol up and delivered a barrage of bullets into the Bunny's torso, the last of which embedded into the mask itself. As each bullet touched the human body, spikes of steel sprouted like silver arrows, the length of which sliced cleanly through the meat of the woman's chest and skull until it appeared she had been skewered with several three-foot long bolts.


Something buzzed in Rey's back pocket. She tensed, still panting from the pain that throbbed in the upper wrist of her wing. Finally, glancing back at Larien to confirm that the other angel was all right, Rey fished out the phone in her pocket and flicked the screen unlocked. The number glaring back at her made her freeze.


Why was Vale calling?


With a sharp intake of breath, Rey pushed herself off the ground, gritting her teeth when her left wing dragged slower against the air. She ascended quickly and pressed the phone into her ear. "What's going on?" she snapped, looking wildly around the city for more clues. Something was very, very wrong. The animals in her district were quiet, but Reydris contacted them frantically, urging them to investigate as quickly as possible. Her people. Her loves. They were in danger, but how? When?


A deafening explosion erupted at her back, tossing Reydris forward and plummeting from the sky. Her phone dropped from her hand. A scream of pain-- not of bodily pain, but of emotional, mental, spiritual anguish-- ripped from her chest as she fell. She no longer felt the chill of the wind, nor the ache in her wing and cheek, nor the stabbing sensation in her backside from the blast. Her entire being felt as though it were on fire and bleeding from every pore. In the distance, she had glimpsed a similar flash of light, and knew it in her heart that the City Center had suffered the same attack; like the buildings, several of her own charges were obliterated with it.


Rey gasped for air as though she were drowning. Her body burned. She hadn't lost a charge in over a hundred years, and she attributed that to her great love and devotion to them. And now, many of them were dead and beyond her ability to help. Agony enveloped her, choked her, and she struggled to open her wings enough to catch a gale before her drop left her splattered on the cement.


In Reydris's twelve-hundred years of life, she'd witnessed massacres, bombings, and genocide. Each one left a black mark on her heart as if slivers of it had been cut away by the loss. Now, she felt that torture return as another mark carved into her very soul. Jessica, a twenty-four year old intern with a promising future in the design industry. Markus, the sixty-year old father of three, one of which was Jason, twelve years going on seventeen. Jose was a talented engineer who had just managed to save enough money to send his daughter to college. Alicia had just turned eighteen two days ago. Inari had just returned from her honeymoon with Luka. Yu was supposed to be practicing for his piano recital next week. All of them lost. Reydris screamed again until her voice gave out.


Her wings pumped sluggishly, but Rey pushed herself onward. She had to reach them. Touch them, kiss their faces, hold them in her arms, one last time. Part of her-- the soldier part, the logical, tactical part-- knew already that the bodies could not be recovered. They had been too close. Blackened, charred remains awaited her. When the City Center, or at least what was left of it, loomed into view, Reydris nearly fell from the sky again. A gaping, flaming pit engulfed what she remembered as the City Center. In that pit, she could feel the burning bones of her charges. She felt it in her own bones and sobbed into the palm of her hand.


Her landing was sloppy and careless. Car alarms shrieked, and people who were still alive shouted and cried around her. Rey could barely hear them. She stumbled toward the blaze, searching for her loves. They were there, somewhere, buried in rubble and writhing flames. She didn't care when a slab of stone toppled over in front of her, nearly catching her beneath it, nor did she care when the dancing embers caught on her jeans and tank top. The heat of the flames burned at her exposed arms, but Rey did not flinch. She didn't notice.


She did notice, however, the wild cries of a child. The sound pierced through her haze and Rey jerked her attention to the right where the cries emanated from. She didn't recognize who it belonged to, but at this point it did not matter. Rey jumped onto a burning pile of debris and scanned through the black smoke for the child. When it became too thick, nearly smothering herself, Reydris lifted her wings with immense effort and stroked them until the smoke cleared enough for her to spot the girl in the murk. The girl must have been around seven years of age. Her leg was caught between two pieces of broken wall, and the glass from a broken window had cut up her arm. Rey scrambled for her, using her wings to lift herself above fragments of wood and metal. As soon as she reached the child, Reydris ripped a piece of wall off of her ankle and scooped the girl up into her arms. The child continued to cry, flailing for only a minute until Rey's wings dissolved against her back and she became visible to the frightened child.


Holding the girl tightly against herself, Reydris climbed out of the debris and staggered away. The child sobbed into her shoulder and clutched her, even when Rey found a moment to crouch down and look into the small face blackened by soot and crusted with dust. This wasn't one of her charges, Rey knew already, but that mattered little to her now. She smoothed back some of the girl's hair and kissed her forehead when the girl buried herself back into Rey's arms.

Edited by Shiny Hazard Sign

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Alrraei smiled with Zarall asked if she could join. Before he was able to answer however, Maklar showed up from nowhere. Al thought about Maklar’s offer briefly before Zarall answered for him. Al couldn’t help but coughed at Zarall’s remark. Whether Maklar catches onto her seemingly obvious attack at his style of entrance. Al looked at Zarall with a look that said, be nice. However this moment wasn’t going to last long, the peace, joy, and calm that the angels have come to get used to was about to shatter. Before Alrraei was able to respond, Zarall began to act strangely, as if she was just hit in the gut by a cannonball. When Zarall started to fall back, Al moved quickly to catch her, but was not able to reach her in time.


Zarall plummeted off of the side of the the building. Alrraei opened his wings quickly and jumped, leaving Maklar on the roof alone. However Alrraei wasn’t needed to catch Zarall. Zarall opened her wings quickly and took off towards a different territory. Al decided not to follow Zarall, after all, she was older than him and have been at this for a longer time. Al hovered for a brief moment before noticing Vale near an emergency exit of the cinema. It was a red flag to Al, knowing Vale’s area was on the other side of Zarall’s territory. Al landed next to Vale as she pulled her phone out and made a phone call. “Ahem,” he coughed to get her attention. Al approached Vale with a cautious yet curious look. “Why are you over here Vale? This isn’t normal for you to be here, and the way Zarall just took off. Is every th--”


Alrraei never had time to finish his question has not but feet from him a massive explosion went off. The first thing that he could feel was the heat in his chest and and the pain of losing a charge. But then he realized the bad part, the dread that over took him quickly made it obvious. It wasn’t just one charge that died, it was multiple, an impossible amount. The next thing that happened was the actual shock wave of the explosion. It sent him flying into the nearby building and through the wall. He continued until he hit the other side of the building wall and just rolled to the floor like a rag doll. He tried to stand, the pain screaming through his body as he tried to make his way back to the cinema through the rubble. He didn’t want to believe it, the number of dead, the number of charges he let die early.

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No matter how many years had passed, the feeling of soaring through the sky never got old to Karleo. He did his sweep like he always did, getting feedback from various animal scouts within the city, all seemed well. A quiet day, just the way he liked it. He flew towards the section of downtown that bordered his territory and alighted on a lightning rod that served as his perch towards the end of the day before retiring to his home. At least, that was when he heard the unmistakable sound of gunshots.


“What in the world?’ he thought, turning his head to the direction of the disturbance. ‘Sounds like it’s coming from Zarall’s territory. She should have everything in hand by now, but… Ah the Hell with it. No harm in checking it out.’ With that, he spread his wings and took off towards Zarall’s territory. As he flew, he checked the magazine in his modified AR before locking it back in and readying it to fire. He still made sure to keep the safety on because while these rounds were meant for a demon, they could still kill a human easily. He flew high and fast, making sure that no humans would be harmed by his flight. He heard of an angel who knocked a couple humans off a scaffolding from the turbulence of his flight. It was not a good day for him.


Within a few minutes, he came upon Zarall and two others, whom he recognized to be Maklar and Alrrei. 'As I thought, she had the situation well in hand. It’s been awhile since I’ve spoken to any of them, though.' He heard her greet him and he responded with a wave before tucking in his wings to bring him closer to them. “Well met, all. How have you been faring?” He asked with a small smile. He then saw Zarall stumble and fall before coming back to her senses and taking flight before hitting the ground.


“Zarall! What ha- ah!” He cuts himself off as he gets a flash of terror and dread as he momentarily feels those emotions from three of his charges. “No! I refuse to let this happen!” He yells before he similarly takes off after Zarall. He beats his wings furiously as he follows the source of the distress unerringly, finding it to be the diner that is beyond his borders but a very popular locale among the humans. He sees Zarall landing at the rear of the diner and he follows suit, landing closer to the door.


Rushing inside just before Zarall did, Karleo recognizes Azriel standing in the way. Before him, a man with a skull mask fired an SMG, provoking Karleo into defensive action. 'It’s either him, or my charges.' He thinks as he raises his AR with the modified sight, taking aim at the gunman’s legs. 'You’re vile scum but I just can’t kill you outright.' He pulled the trigger once, twice and again, watching as the man jerks from the bullets impacting his body. Amazingly, the gunman turns his way and the man raises his SMG Karleo’s way. 'Damn you! Damn you to the Abyss, foul demon!' Karleo adjusts his aim and pulls the trigger five times in rapid succession, watching with grim satisfaction as his ammo erupts with fire and with the final round, it erupts with lightning. He watches the demon-possessed human burn and spark before falling into endless slumber. 'Requiescat in pace.'


He walks through the kitchen, weapon still up and head on a swivel. He no longer hears the deafening sound of a gun fight, and instead just the eerie silence that fills the void. He stops next to the immolated remains of the human and closes his eyes, searching for his charges. After a moment, he opens his eyes and walks out of the kitchen and into the diner itself, where he sees Larien and Reydris - the latter appearing to fly from the diner on an injured wing. “Larien, how do you fair?” He called to her, waiting for an answer before headed back in the direction of his charges.


He finds them huddled behind the tables that miraculously went unnoticed by the demons. He tucks his wings tightly behind his back before he becomes visible to them. “Hey, you guys alright? Can you move?” he asks as he goes to help the mother, who was clutching her child tightly, and then the father.


He then felt, rather than saw the explosion that erupted at his back. He had kept his wits enough about him that he tackled both adults down and used his body to add another layer of shielding to the child. His wings coming out at the last moment before the bright white light took his vision and the fires consumed the place.


He came to, minutes after the blast and seeing the immolated remains, literally what was left of the adults shielding their child, who he could see, was close to dying. “No…” he breathed, his dark grey wings tattered and scorched as they disappeared once more so he could pick up the child and so the little one could see one last act of kindness before the horseman of death took him. He held the small one close to his chest, long after he drew his last breath. Karleo, usually so stoic and level, wept openly as he held the body of the toddler.


"I'm sorry..."

Edited by Epyon

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While her second call was ringing, she heard another angel land near her. She expected it to be Zarall and nearly greeted the newcomer with the wrong name. Good. At least she had some form of backup, even though she had to quickly explain the situation.


"People are going to die if we don't evacuate the mall."


A voice came from the phone. Right on time. "What's going on?"


Before Vale could open her mouth to answer, the wall beside her exploded, throwing her and Alrraei into the air, pelting them with heat, fire and stone and nearly deafening their ears. A similar explosion echoed on the other side of the mobile line before it was abruptly cut off.


She didn't even notice she dropped the phone as a searing pain ran from her head to her heart and eventually her whole body. She doubled over and coughed, expecting to see blood on the ground. Seems like she had a few charges in the mall after all, and no one -- not even the mice -- had expected the detonation so soon. She knew they were dead. Jessica, 19. Yuri, Charles, Juro. She saw their lives and their lost potential. Mostly all kids looking for some fun in the evening, until their time was cut short. There was no point in checking the bodies.


It had been nearly two hundred years without a loss, and this time it was wholly her own fault. Back then, she vowed to rigidly adhere to her mission and all its rules, but now... None of it mattered now, did it? She'd almost forgotten the pain of failure, the immediate consequence foreshadowing the rough times to come. She wouldn't be surprised if the man upstairs would relieve her of her post for not preventing the incident.


There was more than one explosion in the city, though. Perhaps the demons were smarter than she initially thought, if they were working in teams. She closed her eyes and grit her teeth, unsure if the tears she felt were from pain or from grief. She had to -- she had to distance herself, and focus on finishing what she started.


She strained to put a hand on her pistol, and touching the weapon gave her a new wave of strength. Her wings materialized, held tense, and with a power flap she took it to the air, her eyes weaving through the broken remains of the cinema and shopping center she was a little too late to save. The wind extinguished the flames licking at her coat-tails, but the burns on her skin would take a week to scar and heal. She didn't even feel them.


The demon was easy to spot. He was almost gloating, standing away and savoring the destruction. She could have shot him from the air. She could have shot him twenty minutes ago. Instead, she announced her presence by landing heavily in front of the man, wings outstretched and looming.


Pulling her arm back, she punched the demon in the face at full force.


((Edit: fixed up the part with Al.))

Edited by TehUltimateMage

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