Azrael: I know I've been essentially dead on this website on both accounts for a while now. I am still working on stories, but I probably won't post them until they're done, which takes a long time. My problem is that as soon as people start reading and giving feedback, I have a really hard time working on the story. However, this idea hit me a few weeks ago while I was listening to Evil Angel by Breaking Benjamin, and I finally got the chance to write it out. I hope you like it. I'll probably write additional one-shots that take place before this story at a later time, but I really need to work on the homework I've been putting off all day. This is implied later in the story, but this takes place well after the anime ends.

Blue flames engulfed his vision, searing the smoky silhouettes of burning trees into his cerulean eyes. Ashes choked him, biting and stinging as they forced their way into his lungs. He tried to shut out the sight, to clear his mind. If only the world would stop spinning. Jumping to the side, he narrowly avoided a massive camphor as it came crashing down. Amid the crackling of the blaze and the thunder of collapsing branches, there was the distinct sound of footsteps growing closer, closer. Stumbling back, he dodged a furious swipe from long, pale claws. With an animalistic snarl, the demon before him whipped around and threw a punch. He felt the impact of his brother's fist as though it had come through a pillow. Muted. Numb. But the force of the blow sent him flying through the cinders and smouldering ghosts of trees. A rough cough shook his lithe frame. The smoke that clogged his lungs seemed to have seeped into his skull, but he couldn't shake it quite so well. What was wrong with him? Shoving himself off the grey earth with more force than necessary, he glared in the direction of the raven-haired devil spawn that stalked toward him with a murderous expression. This had to end. Slamming his heel down, he sent a tremor through the forest floor that split the earth at his brother's feet. A look of surprise washed over the demon's face as he slipped into the crevasse. With an exclamation of profanity, Rin scrambled to grab hold of the edge. The green haired demon started toward the harried man that was struggling to pull himself out of the small canyon that had nearly engulfed him. He stopped short. His ears were ringing. A high, keening tone cut into his mind, causing him to grab his head in agony. That was when he heard it. A soft, weeping voice whisper his name. Amaimon...please... He stood straight then, feeling as though he'd been doused with frigid water. That voice...he knew it well. Well enough to know that if she was summoning him, something had gone very, very wrong.

Rin watched in confusion as Amaimon stiffened and turned his gaze to the west. His eyes were wider than usual, and something about his expression was disconcerting. The King of Earth looked...worried. Without a word, he dashed off so quickly that he seemingly disappeared, but Rin knew better. He pulled himself onto solid ground and ran after him, the desire for revenge still burning within him. That bastard had gone too far this time. It was one thing to constantly harass him to cure his boredom, but lately he'd been bringing Yukio and Shiemi into it as well. Yukio was fine - he could handle it - but poor Shiemi was about to have a heart attack. The exorcist in training followed the trail left by his brother (though he hesitated to call him that), but found that it ended abruptly between two gnarled, twisted trees. Somehow, they'd escaped the worst of the inferno thus far. Rin looked frantically for any trace of Amaimon, but he seemed to have vanished into thin air. He walked around the trees and then jumped up to examine the branches for any sign that someone had been there before him. Nothing. There wasn't a single trace of the demon king. Returning to the ground, he retraced Amaimon's steps. Each footprint was far from the ones before and behind it. He'd been running full tilt toward those trees. Rin did the same. When he reached the last track, he wasn't sure what to expect. He passed between the trees and skidded to a stop, retching at the stench of sulfur and rot. Whatever the hell had been there, it was Gehennan for sure. Rin was certain it spelled trouble. Knowing he wasn't going to be able to solve the mystery by himself, the man pulled out his phone and dialed his brother's number. "Yukio, I need your help. How fast can you get here?"

"Yukio's busy," a voice sounded behind him, "Perhaps you'd like to explain what happened."

"Mephisto?" Rin spun around to stare at the strangely-dressed man in surprise, "What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't help but notice the mess you were making outside my academy, and I decided to put a stop to it," Mephisto replied casually, as though he really couldn't care less. To be fair, he'd been dealing with Rin's shenanigans for nearly 14 years now, so he was quite accustomed to them.

"Amaimon was here," Rin answered shortly.

"Of course he was. You two can't seem to control yourselves around each other." he sighed, "It's always the youngest."

"Shut up, you weird clown. Look, we fought like normal, but then he freaked out and ran off. He disappeared there," he pointed towards the twisted trees as he said this, "but I can't figure out where he went."

"Hmmm," Mephisto played with his violet goatee and examined the spot with a bit more interest. It wasn't like Amaimon to abandon a fight, especially not with his favorite victim. When he caught the scent of Gehenna, Mephisto frowned. "He may have opened a portal home. There's a weak spot in the barrier between the worlds here."

"Why?"

"I cannot say for sure. Oh well, at least he's out of my hair for the time being." Mephisto grinned, then turned on Rin, grabbed him by the ear, and proceeded to drag him back to True Cross Academy, "In the meantime, you need to take care of this forest fire, write an incident report, and get your wife to have her little friends regrow everything you've destroyed. Okay?"

"Ow, quit it Mephisto! I'm not five!"

The purple haired demon just laughed at his little brother's protest and refused to let go until they'd reached the outer gates of the campus. Leaving him with strict orders to get things fixed post haste, Mephisto sauntered off to his office to make a phone call. He tried Amaimon's number twice, but it went to voicemail both times. The third time he called, it rang once before Amaimon answered and immediately hung up. The calls went directly to his inbox after that. Mephisto growled at the stupid little greeting. Hello, you have reached the inbox of "What am I supposed to say again, Aniue? Oh yes, I'm Amaimon" is not available. If you'd like to leave a call-back number-. He pressed the end button so hard he nearly cracked it. What the hell did Amaimon think he was doing? Mephisto was about to pitch the phone out the window when it chirped merrily at him. He answered it immediately without checking the caller ID.

"About damn time!" he snapped.

"Did you know about this?" an angry female voice growled from the other line.

"Huh? Who is this?"

"Shura, you idiot."

"Yes, of course. What can I do for you?"

"You can start by getting your ass to America. We have a problem."

Of course they did. Because he didn't have enough of his own issues to deal with. "What happened?"

"I'll fill you in when you get here. Now hurry up."

"Fine."

With a growl, Mephisto ended the call. This time, a dark fissure split the center of the button. One half landed on the floor with a pitiful clack while the other hung limply from the abused device. The birds in the shrub outside could barely fly away fast enough as the pink piece of plastic and metal went careening past, shattering into dozens of pieces as it struck the sidewalk with the force of a cannonball. Mephisto stalked to his office door and jammed an infinity key into the lock. Twisting the key roughly, he jerked it open to reveal vestibule of the American branch of the Knights of the True Cross. The Manhattan Division, if he wasn't mistaken. Shura tapped her foot impatiently and waved him over. He glided smoothly over to her, trying to mask his frustration, and followed her to a small conference room. Many other high ranking members of the Order were present.

"Alright, people, we need to deal with this situation quickly before everything goes to shit. We've got reports of what appears to be a demon attack in an apartment complex about twenty minutes east of here off Washington Street. A neighbor reported screams to the police, then the phones cut out. Officials responded in about ten minutes, but they can't get in. The electricity's gone out on the entire block and a freak storm cloud has appeared right over the building. It's got the mark of demonic bullshit all over it, and we need to get in there to help. Any questions?"

No one said a thing. They all focused their grave attention on the man that had just finished speaking. He cleared his throat and gave each of them a measured look.

"Then let's go, before this becomes a massacre."

A few minutes later, the small group of exorcists gathered outside the building as a set of officers slammed into the front gate with a battering ram. The wrought iron bent, but did not give way. They tried again.

"Arias, help them get in," the man, whom Mephisto had dubbed "Sir" for lack of an introduction, snapped, gesturing for a scrawny teenage girl and an older gentleman in a stiff suit to go to the gate. They began to chant different verses from the Bible.

In the meantime, Mephisto, Shura, and another, unremarkable, man walked the perimeter of the building to try to find a weak spot in the barrier. The longer they walked, the greater the sinking feeling in Mephisto's gut became. The area was eerily silent. If it hadn't been for the disrupted police call, no one would have known that something was amiss. There was also a certain air around the building that Mephisto belatedly recognized. This aura was definitely Amaimon's. He'd know his baby brother's energy anywhere. What the hell was he doing? The trio finished their sweep of the perimeter and reported back to Sir. The barrier was solid all the way around at ground level, but there was an open window on the fifth floor in the back of the building. It might be weaker there, if they could find a way to get to it. Mephisto understood the look Sir gave him. Get in there. Nodding, he vanished in a plume of pink smoke and appeared floating in midair by the window.

"Ein, zwei, drei," he said without the usual flourish and pointed his ice cream themed umbrella directly at the window. A dark green crack appeared a few feet in front of him and began to spread in all directions, turning lighter as it crept around the building before disappearing altogether. A metallic clatter told the demon that the barrier was gone. That was the last sound he heard before the hellish screaming pierced the relative quiet of the New York neighborhood. The tenants of the apartment were clearly terrified and pleading for help. Above the cacophony of fear, one scream defined itself. It was one of true terror and pure agony. Whoever was emitting those guttural sounds was in immense pain, and would likely not survive whatever he was enduring with his sanity intact...if he survived at all.

"Mephisto!" Shura shouted at him from below, "Get down here and help get everybody out!"

His gut told him to go in that open window, but he acquiesced Shura and followed her through the back door. People were still trapped in their apartments and Sir wanted them to be the first priority. It was unlikely that they'd be able to help whatever poor souls had already been targeted by the demon, so they needed to reduce his number of potential new victims as quickly as possible. Part of Mephisto agreed, but the other part nagged at him to get up to that open apartment immediately. He was sure that whatever had caused the tremendous spike in his brother's bloodlust was up there, and his curiosity would not be sated until he knew what that was. But Sir was in charge of this mission, so he would abide by his decision...for now at least. When they finally reached the fifth floor, he made a beeline for the apartments at the end of the hall. The old aria shouted at him not to be hasty, but he paid him no heed. He blasted open the door on the left with a quick incantation and reeled at the stench of blood. Dark red footprints marred the light tan carpet in the hall from the first door down to the third, which quietly clicked shut. Mephisto barreled down the narrow passage and wrenched the door open as the blood-drenched figure of his brother leapt silently out the window. He appeared to have been carrying something, but he'd vanished over the rooftops before Mephisto could follow him. Someone vomited outside the door. Mephisto turned to tell them that the demon had left and that he was going after him, but the words died on his lips when he saw the carnage in the room he'd bypassed. A shredded, broken corpse lay in pieces in all corners of the room. Blood covered nearly every surface, giving the room an eerie, red glow. Whoever this was, he or she must have done something to seriously piss off Amaimon. A slender woman was carelessly tossed on the bed, her powder blue nightgown stained with red. Her neck had been broken. No, crushed was a more appropriate word. Blood-flecked foam was still present on her lips and chin. The whole scene was enough to give even the most seasoned exorcists nightmares, but there was something about the woman's body in particular that bothered him. Finally, it dawned on him that her eyes were closed. People generally didn't close their eyes when they were being strangled. Mephisto squinted at the smear of blood on the bridge of her nose, her forehead, and her eyelids. If he was not mistaken, it was a smudged handprint. Amaimon had closed her eyes after he killed her. But why? It was clear now that these murders were intensely personal and far from random.

The question of why lingered over Mephisto's head like a dark cloud over in the weeks to come. A full-scale investigation was launched by the Vatican, but it rapidly went cold. At first, there was a fear that the demon would strike again, but when no clues to his whereabouts surfaced and no more murders occurred, resources were shuffled to other, more pressing matters. Mephisto questioned many of his contacts both in Assiah and Gehenna, but no one had seen his brother. No one knew where he was, and the others that might've known could not be reached. It was infuriating. Every morning, Mephisto glared at a series of newspaper clippings in a folder on his desk. One headline, in particular, always stood out. Missing daughter of murder victims presumed dead. Mephisto had thought that he'd seen Amaimon carrying something when he'd escaped, and he was now certain that it was that girl. Her name was Maria Greyson. She was sixteen years old, still just a child. What had Amaimon done with her? Where did he take her and why? Mephisto wouldn't know the answers to those questions for a very long time.

The portal gaped before the Earth King, revealing the reddish haze of the Gehennan atmosphere. Amaimon threw himself into it with a single thought. Run. He had to run. He had to hurry. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. The knife that had buried itself in his gut twisted as he bolted past demon after demon, monster after monster. A gargantuan dragon-like creature roared a challenge at him, but he ignored it, barreling past the creature and its mate. Run! He hauled himself up an icy precipice and launched himself from that mountain to the next. He continued to throw himself from cliff to cliff to clear the mountain range as quickly as he could, gaining momentum as he went. Faster! He should have just leveled the damn things. Move! Amaimon kept running, clearing miles in seconds. Suddenly, he skidded to a halt in the middle of a barren desert. Here. He slashed his claws through the air, leaving sky blue streaks in their wake. The wounds in the air spider webbed out, reaching toward each other until a new portal formed. Jumping through it, the demon found himself in a familiar alley.

Layer upon layer of colorful graffiti screamed at him from the dirty brick walls. The rough, cracked concrete below him was littered with refuse and reeked of vomit, piss, and rotting food. Amaimon hurried out to the street, nearly tripping over a homeless man that had blended perfectly with the garbage in which he'd taken refuge. Stars twinkled weakly above the skyscrapers and city lights. The horizon was dusted with pale blue and lavender. It always happened around this time. She always needed him at twilight. But she'd never called him before. Not like this. The demon king hurried down the block toward "the Village" apartment complex where she lived. He'd never understood the name. The large, rectangular building in no way resembled a village. She'd laughed when he told her that. She laughed a lot around him. He didn't know why, but he liked it. He liked her laughter and her smile. Maybe it was because she only showed them to him. It was a secret just for the two of them. Something that rare had to be treasured. Amaimon crossed the busy street, ignoring the honking horns and bright headlights of the traffic. He didn't have time to wait for them to get out of his way. When he finally reached the Village, he jumped to the roof, not wanting to waste the time walking around the building. He hopped off the other side, grabbing hold of her windowsill when he reached it. As usual, the window was locked, but a snap of his fingers changed that. Sliding the cheap piece of wood-framed glass up with a bit of effort, Amaimon hoisted himself inside the small apartment and landed on her rickety wooden desk. His eyes immediately focused on her limp form on her bed.

"Maria," he whispered softly.

"H-hey, Angel," she replied. The effort to speak caused a violent coughing fit to erupt.

"Angel?" he asked when she quieted down, smiling slightly in spite of himself, "You're still calling me that?"

"I'm n-not s'p-posed t' say your n-name," Maria answered mirroring his smile.

Amaimon crossed the room in the blink of an eye and sat beside her. Her bare skin was littered with dark bruises and a small pool of blood was forming beneath her hips. The demon clenched his fists and glared at a particularly nasty spot under her left breast. Her ribs were cracked and one threatened to puncture her delicate skin. Maria coughed again. A few drops of blood spattered her sheets. Amaimon hoped that it was just from her split lip. If there was blood in her lungs that meant that she was...

"I...I think I'm d-dying," Maria said weakly.

"No, you're not," the Earth King replied without hesitation. She couldn't die.

Maria smiled at him and laid her hand on top of his. Her arm wasn't supposed to look like that. Had he broken that too? A fury like Amaimon had never known began to replace the fear he'd felt. This was the last straw. That bastard had hurt her for the last time.

"I j-just wanted t' say g-goodb-bye," she said.

Shaking his head, Amaimon insisted that she'd be okay. He was going to get her out of that damned, accursed "Village." He should have done so years ago, but he wasn't nearly so attached to her back then.

"Angel," Maria whispered.

"Yeah?" he asked, trying to hide his maelstrom of rage and hatred from her. She'd think he was angry with her for summoning him.

"I...think I might lo-love you. I-is that t-totally crazy? To l-love your g-g-" another rough cough cut her off, but he had a sneaking suspicion he'd known what she was going to say. To love your guardian angel. That's what she thought he was. A guardian angel come to save her from the hellish reality of an alcoholic father and a mother too afraid to stop him. Jack Greyson had gotten into a nasty habit of taking his disgust with himself and his life out on his wife and daughter. Ten years ago, he'd transferred the beatings in part to Maria. A few years later, he escalated to far worse things. Amaimon gently stroked her hair.

"Not at all," he replied.

Maria closed her eyes and leaned her head against Amaimon's thigh as he continued to run his fingers through her hair. They sat there in silence for what felt like an eternity before Maria's breathing became more labored. Every breath sent stabbing pain through her chest. She coughed endlessly, trying to dislodge the sliver of bone from her lungs. Amaimon tried his best to comfort her, but he soon realized that it was a lost cause. Maria really was dying.

"Amaimon," the girl was barely able to speak, "Please make the pain stop. Please..."

Put me to sleep, evil angel.

He didn't want to. For once, he was incredibly reluctant to end a human life. For once, he had to kill someone out of mercy, not out of boredom. For some reason, that was a hard thing to do. Amaimon leaned down and pressed a light kiss to Maria's forehead. He would do it. He had to do it. Swallowing painfully, he looked at her smiling face one last time before he snapped her neck in one swift motion. Gently, he pressed a finger to each eyelid and slid them closed, unable to bear her lifeless brown eyes staring up at him. Something inside him shattered just then. His fury seemed boundless as he slowly rose from her bedside and walked silently to the apartment's only other bedroom. Jack was snoring loudly, as often he did when he'd had too much to drink. His wife, Darcy, lay awake, aching from the assault that she herself had suffered that night and lamenting the horrid fate that she and her daughter were forced to endure. More than anything, she hated herself for being partially grateful that her husband had turned the brunt of his "attentions" toward their daughter, so that she didn't have to take it all. Darcy couldn't look anyone in the eye anymore, least of all Maria. She hardly slept these last few years, and it was taking a huge toll on her health. She often suffered waking nightmares of footsteps in the hall, doors opening, and whispered voices. So she hardly noticed when their bedroom door creaked open. Nor did she pay any mind to the quiet, cat-like footsteps approaching their bed. The shadows on the walls shifted as always they did. It was only after one of them passed the window that she was startled to attention. A strange boy not much older than Maria stood beside Jack, his face engulfed in darkness. Darcy didn't know what to do. She was frozen with fear, and then she screamed. The loud, shrill note perforated the thin walls of the complex, piercing the calm, drowsy evening. The blow came before Darcy even registered that they boy had moved. She crumpled onto the floor, but her cry had done its job. Jack had woken from his alcohol-induced slumber and was clumsily trying to fight Amaimon, who dodged him with ease. Darcy's vision swam as she crawled to the door. Glaring at her, the demon king used his supernatural energy to slam the wooden barrier against its frame.

Across the hall, a woman was frantically dialing 9-1-1, but her plea for help was cut off in the middle of the conversation. She tried again, but the phones were dead and the building had been plunged into complete darkness. Screams and shouts echoed from all around, driving her terror level higher and higher. What was she going to do? Rushing to the front door, she attempted to tug it open, but it wouldn't budge. She flipped the deadbolt, but it was as though the door had been nailed shut. Full-on panic began to set in. The woman screamed and cried and fruitlessly yanked on the handle until it broke off. The door still wouldn't open. Through the new hole in her door, the woman heard a profane yell from her neighbor's apartment. It wasn't all that uncommon. Most people knew what Jack did, or at least had an idea, but no one wanted to get involved. Suddenly, the colorful curse turned into a cry of pain, followed by another and another.

Open your wings evil angel.

Amaimon's deadly claws ripped through the disgusting human's flesh with ease. He was going to pay that bastard back hundredfold for every time he hurt Maria, for every bruise, every scar, every rape. He was going to beat this parasite until there was nothing left to destroy. More than once, the demon had to revive the bastard when he blacked out from the pain. He would not escape his punishment. Amaimon doubted that he was much good as a guardian angel, but he could certainly be an avenging one. He was careful, oh so meticulously careful, not to give Jack any injuries that would kill him quickly. He had to suffer as Maria had suffered. He would not be allowed to die so easily. Darcy vomited at the sight of all the blood, from the brutish violence, the likes of which she'd never before witnessed. She tried to scream for help, but the sound stuck in her throat every time she tried. The demon ripping her husband to pieces would shoot her a look so murderous that she didn't dare make a sound. Stifling her sobs to the best of her ability, Darcy curled up in the cubbyhole that served as their closet and prayed to any god that would listen to save her. She squeezed her eyes shut and covered her ears, trying to block out the grizzly scene as best she could. Time seemed to slow to a halt, and then, all too quickly, Darcy realized that Jack's screaming had stopped. She felt a presence close to her face. Terrified to open her eyes, but even more frightened to keep them closed, she whimpered and faced the blood-soaked visage of the boy crouching beside her. He examined her tear-stained cheeks with a contemplative expression. Meeting his azure gaze, she begged him in vain not to hurt her.

"You're just as guilty as he was," the boy replied coolly.

"Please, I have a daughter. She needs me," Darcy begged.

"No, but she did need you, and you were too much of a coward to help. You should have stopped him," Amaimon hissed.

"I know, and I'm sorry. I'll do better from now on, I swear."

"It's too late."

His arm snaked out and snatched the front of her nightgown. Dragging her to her feet, he pulled Darcy toward the center of the room so she could see what was left of her husband.

"Oh God," she sobbed.

"You can be certain that he won't be where you're going," Amaimon growled.

He flexed his claws and prepared to strike her when the light from a passing car illuminated her frightened countenance. The demon hesitated. She looked too much like Maria, with her dark brown curls and wide chocolate eyes. He couldn't do that to her. Besides, Maria never hated her mother as much as she hated Jack. The woman was just as much his prisoner as her daughter. Amaimon released the front of her dress and caught her under the chin, where he squeezed until her throat collapsed and her neck broke. It was a quick death, but she still paid for what she'd done. Knowing Maria would want him to, Amaimon pushed the woman's eyes closed. He tossed her onto the bed without a second glance and began to leave the room when he heard rushed footsteps outside the front door. He strode back to Maria's room, certain that his barrier would hold long enough to still get her out. She would not be left to rot in that disgusting place. Bang! The front door burst open. Wrapping her pale from in his bloody coat, he scooped her up and carried her to the window. He leapt out just as Mephisto threw open the door. He could tell that his brother wanted to follow him, but for some reason, he didn't. That was just as well. He needed to be alone right now.

The demon hopped from rooftop to rooftop until he'd left the city behind. The hazy lights were just a speck on the horizon as he ventured into the heavily-wooded mountains. He wound his way through the dark trees, searching for an important spot. It was a little meadow off a hiking trail, the place they'd first met. Little Maria had gotten separated from her kindergarten tour group, but instead of crying, she was busy making crowns out of the wildflowers. She'd offered one to Amaimon when he approached her. He'd only come over because he'd smelled chocolate. The Earth King shook the memory from his head. He didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to remember when Maria had been so trusting and constantly happy. An odd pain formed in his chest every time he did. Finally, after nearly half an hour of searching, Amaimon was certain he found the right place. He carefully laid Maria on the soft meadow grass and began to dig. He knew he could just as easily call a hobgoblin or command the dirt to move at his will, but somehow that didn't seem right. He needed to do this, though he couldn't be sure why.

Sentiment was new to him. Love in any form was new to him, really. Sure, he knew about it, but he'd never really felt any sort of affection for anything aside from his lollipops and, of course, his Behemoth. But candy and even Behemoth could be replaced. There were new lollipops at the store every day, and one hobgoblin really wasn't all that different from another. There was only one Maria. One Maria with her barking laugh and her rare smiles. One Maria that shared all of her secrets with him. One Maria who said she loved him, trusted him more than anyone else. One Maria, who lay dead beneath the veil of his coat. Swallowing the pain that clawed its way up his throat, Amaimon continued to dig until her grave was deep enough. He lowered the girl into the earth and began to cover her with soil. After a moment, he paused and willed the soil to turn to crystal, changing her earthen tomb into a glittering coffin. When he packed the rest of the soil back in place, he waved his hand over the area, causing wildflowers to shoot up over her gravesite. Something still wasn't right. Of course, it needed a marker. He summoned an infant Greenman to his side and ordered it to produce a seed for a cherry tree - Maria's favorite. He planted it by her head and fed it some of his energy. The seed quickly took root and stretched its limbs toward the sky, bursting into bloom in a rush of pink petals. Perfect.

"Goodbye, Maria," he said softly to the tree. The wind rustled its branches, as if to reply. And with that, he disappeared into the forest. He returned every day for the next few weeks, as if to ensure that the tree still stood. He knew that Mephisto was looking for him, probably furious that he'd turned his phone off - in his defense, he was a bit preoccupied with murdering Jack Greyson - and ready to banish him to Gehenna for eternity for breaking their "no killing" agreement, but he didn't care. He had to look out for Maria. He'd failed her in life; he would not do so in death. Now he would be her guardian angel. He owed her at least that much.

Fly over me, evil angel.