He lived in a world of angels and devils and ordinary - oh the ordinary! They liked to think they were angels, but no, they were ordinary. They were boring. He wasn't ordinary, he wasn't boring. He was a devil among angels. He could feel that thing, red and black and strong, inside him. No, he wasn't an angel.
He had met a devil once. The devil who thought he'd beat him. The devil who had no angel left, whose hands were covered in blood, who enjoyed it. Oh, yes, he enjoyed it, it was a game, a silly game for him to play with someone who wasn't ordinary. Pity. Pity he sided with the angels. Pity he wouldn't relish the taste, the feel, the smell of blood. Pity he couldn't leave the angel behind.
Angels and devils. The ordinary, so many of them, so vacant, so normal. So stupid. The angels had to protect them from the devils. The angels had to protect them from him. He wasn't all angel. He was only on their side. He would turn. They always turn.
Death, oh the sweet oblivion, he did not fear it, why would he, he would go where the angels did. He would go where the devils did...he would shake the devil's hand in Hell, he would not disappoint. The devil owed him the devil could show him how to lose the angel. He wasn't an angel, he was only on their side. Everyone was on their side, but not the devil. The devil was insane, the devil was right.
They were the same. He wasn't a devil, he wasn't an angel. He was the same as the devil. They were the same. The devil liked that. A single nudge and the angel would be gone. No, he would die before the angel, the angel would not leave. What was he, how would he know, he wasn't an angel. He wasn't a devil, but he was the same.
What would happen, what happened to angels and devils and ordinary and in-between? There was only one way to know. The devil was dead. The angels would die. Unless he did.
He wasn't a devil, he wasn't an angel. He was never ordinary.