Blaze of Glory

Prologue: The Angel's Downfall

"You're kidding me. YOU'RE FUCKING KIDDING ME."

The physically 16-year-old girl stared at the seemingly empty space, save for an almost blinding light, with a mix of hatred, contempt, betrayal and denial all rolled up into one. Her black combat boots scratched the surface of the clean linoleum floor, leaving behind a sharp, contrasting line of mud, gum and who-knows-what-else. She crossed her slender arms against her small chest, the soft satin of her dress reminding her that she was an angel, and no one talked to the Boss like that. In an effort to seem almost demanding, she stretched out her wings a bit, the white tufts of feathers outlining the smooth, supple curves of the powerful appendages, and flapped them impatiently. Although she knew the consequences of her actions, knew her halo was at risk, she wouldn't dare to show any sign of remorse or regret, wouldn't dare hang her head in shame or hide behind her curtain of raven blue hair. She may leave without a halo, yes, but her pride would remain untouched.

"Tempest." His voice chastised her, powerful and harsh, yet soft and sweet at the same time, and Boss oh Boss how she hated that voice. It vibrated through the entire expanse of the never-ending room, sending chills down her spine and yet filling her with warmth so deep, so vibrant, the contrasting sensations seeming so harmonious yet so discordant. "Your actions regarding the situation were unacceptable. You must be punished."

"Well, I get that, but…but Earth? Hell, fine, but EARTH?"

If Temp could see his face, she could have been sure he was smiling in that aggravating way, the way that his son did, all-knowing and smug, eyes full of knowledge that only they had and no one else did. She'd even asked Gabriel if he'd known it would happen so soon, so fast, and the golden-haired comrade only shook his head and continued watching as Michael rallied the troops. He could be so solemn, but he knew that the messenger had that small spark of hope they all had. Well, at least most of them. "Earth is a wonderful place," the Boss said, cutting through her thoughts. "The humans are an amazing race; they've survived for so long."

"And killed so many on the way," she scornfully muttered, even though she knew he'd hear her anyway, the bastard. She imagined him shaking his head at her, the poor, pitiful archangel that couldn't control her pretty little mouth, the one that was probably the cause of the whole frickin' impending apocalypse. As though to add to her obvious misery, the Boss's son walked in; none other than the Jesus freaking Christ strutted in like he owned the place. The scumbag; just because he died to save a bunch of lost causes and he's got a whole religion based on him and his daddy. Tempest had killed more demons than she could bother to keep track of, but she didn't see anyone going on their knees and bowing. "Hello Father, pathetic little angel servant. May I ask what is going on?"

"You can go fuck yourself."

"Tempest the archangel. That is no way to speak to my own son."

The archangel in question simply flipped her ink black locks and huffed, pride unscathed. She shot a glare at the Son of the Father, her piercing, ice blue eyes having no effect on the Almighty Father's boy. "Whatever. I'll either be treated like a freak or a goddess, and either's fine by me." As if to accentuate this fact, she stretched out her wings even more, letting the sheer length of them almost fill the room. The blinding light reflected off of each perfectly rounded feather, letting off the luminous sheen that could make a blind man cry. Angels tended to have that kind of effect on simple human beings.

She immediately knew the mistake she had made, uttering that simple factoid, as she saw the almost evil glint in the Holy Son's eyes.

"…Hey Dad, send her to South Park."

Temp's jaw dropped in total and utter disbelief. The bastard! The scumbag! The douche! The…the, the DEMON! Everyone who was anyone had heard of the Son's escapades in South Park. Not a single angel dared to even try and communicate with them, except for when they needed that Keanu Reeves type kid. Out off all the places he could mention it had to be that hellhole! No, hellhole couldn't even describe that place. It was more of like if heaven had chewed up a piece of shit; spit it into Hell's food, and Hell shit that shit out after he ate it. It was larceny! It was Chancery! It was-

"She can live in my house and everything."

For a second, it seemed as though the big guy was actually considering the absurd idea. Temp had never even step foot on Earth; someone could catch on eventually! "Not if I teach you the ways of humans," the Son said aloud, literally intruding her Bossdamn thoughts like always. "I'll teach you what's cool and hip there, like those new words they're using, what were they, 'swag' and, and 'YOLO'. I'm sure you'll learn quickly!" She heard the sincerity in his voice, the simple innocence of a child only wanting to suggest an idea he found exciting.

She also saw the smirk on his face as the good and holy Lord made his final decision.

"By the power invested in me, Tempest the archangel and Felix the messenger will be banished to South Park, Colorado, in exactly 52.3 seconds, beginning now, until stated otherwise."

"Why Felix?"

"He's gay."

"Oh."

"You can't do this!" Tempest screeched, outraged at the Boss's decision. "This isn't supposed to be happening!" She sucked in a sharp, piercing breath as she felt her halo land on the top of her head. She picked it up in horror, as she watched its bright, shining light fade away like a dying firefly. The soft, luxurious satin of her pure white dress began to shrink, becoming coarser, tattered, until it was much like that of a poor, homeless child. Fitting, she thought in the back of her mind, very fitting.

She had no home now.

Her wings were shedding; each feather floating slowly in front of her, falling to the ground agonizingly slowly. "THIS ISN'T WHAT HE SAID WOULD HAPPEN!" The feathers darkened now, each becoming a pale, sickly brown, her long curtain of hair curling and toughening, the bright, piercing luminosity of her icy eyes glazing over. She began panicking; trying to fly even though she'd felt the weight of her wings leave her body, trying to run even though her boots were now simple, tattered black sneakers. The floor beneath her shook, becoming translucent until it seemed to completely disappear. The height was sickening; she couldn't fall, not now, not ever.

As the floor beneath her finally gave way, she uttered her final message in the land of angels.

"THIS WASN'T PART OF THE DEAL!"

Stupid, stupid little girl. Didn't anyone ever tell you to never make deals with the devil?

His son is no exception.

Thank you for bothering to read this, unless you just scrolled down here and skipped the thing I worked really hard on. The form is on my profile, if you just scrolled to try and find it down here. I am accepting 5 girls and 5 guys as MAIN characters, so if you're not on the list, I'll assure you, your character will most likely make guest appearances throughout the story. I hope to see you all again next week, with a complete OC list.

Until next time,

Multicolored Pencils