"Kasper"
I've always hated being on patrol. We're sent down to Earth, basically to baby-sit demons who're allowed out every once in a while. It's because Lucifer can't control them for himself; so he relies on us, minions of God, to watch over them while they're on Earth. It's not like we have a choice, either. It's an ancient pact between God and Lucifer; angels watch over demons, demons do their best not to turn an angel into a demon.
As stupid as demons may be, they do have that one, dangerous power. It's their laughter. If a demon utters the slightest chuckle within a five-foot radius of an angel, that very laughter can cause the angel to lose faith in God. It has happened once or twice, but it's rare, which is why God keeps up his end of the deal and sends us down here into human territory.
As I'm walking, I suddenly find myself lost in a crowd of the demons. Filthy. Their pit-grime (pit-grime is what angels call the sin that the demons are soaked with when they come up from the Pit, which is another word for Hell) is staining my robes, getting on my wings. I hate it. However, rescue is not far away; another, higher-ranked demon approaches me, scattering the weaklings. He begins to speak.
"Sorry about them. They can't seem to leave the Watchers alone," he says. Demons call us angels 'Watchers' for obvious reasons. We watch them.
I vaguely recall a faceless (at least in the memory), higher-ranked demon telling me once never to speak to a demon, no matter how high their rank, no matter how little pit-grime they seem to be soaked with. It must slip my mind, because I'm already speaking. I say, "I appreciate your help, demon."
He arches a brow and watches me carefully. I suppose he didn't expect me to respond to him. "Well, Watcher," he says as the shock of my angel's voice wears off, "I have a name, and I'm sure you do as well. Let's trade." I don't quite understand why he's talking, don't understand why he wants to know my name or tell me his. It's quite unlikely we'll ever see each other after this meeting.
I tell him my name anyway. "Kasper," I say in my soft, quiet angel's voice. I'm watching him with my unusually (for an angel) violet eyes (most angels have blue). He's a typical demon for his rank. Long black hair, blood red eyes. He's sort of the image of stereotype.
The beautiful sound hits my ears. It's a sound like bells; intoxicating. I don't ever want it to stop, it's so lovely. It's…laughter. Coming from the demon standing before me. The danger sets in, and I try and plug my ears, back away, but it's too late. I can feel God's presence being wrenched away from me as though my heart is being torn in two. Irreparable damage. I can hear his voice through the laughter. It seems distant. "Casper? As in Casper the Friendly Ghost?" he's asking.
I grit my teeth and answer him angrily. People have always made fun of my name. Ever since that wretched human movie came out. "Kasper with a K," I hiss through the pain, through the agony. Through the rage. Rage at being laughed at, rage at the fact that the laughter is coming from a demon. He's laughing at my name -- laughing away my faith in my one and only Savior.
Too late, he realizes that he's laughing at an angel, not one of his grimy friends from the Pit. He stops, backs away. But it's too late. I shake my head, trying to let him know that it doesn't matter, it's too late. Trying to tell him that I'm doomed to a life of exile, never gaining the right of passage to Paradise again. The thought only makes my rage grow.
My violet eyes turn to the heavens. The empty heavens. My Savior has deserted me, abandoned me, left me to rot in the depths of Hell for eternity. An idea is forming in my mind; a plan coming to completion. Revenge. Vengeance against my very own traitorous Savior. He has left me, left me with no way back in, no way to escape. I am alone. I am alone and full of vengeance. My former God will get what's coming to him.