Symmetry
R
500 words.
Playing both sides.
sym·me·try
n.
Exact correspondence of form and constituent configuration on opposite sides of a dividing line.
I.
He enjoyed watching John Constantine. Inner struggle amused him. Why he would not just give in to his desires... Balthazar could not comprehend humans. Given free will, yet clung desperately to these morals. Pitiful.
The blonde on his lap was throbbing, mewling as he worked his hand between her thighs. Cigarette smoke swirled around his head like some obscene halo as he watched Constantine wind his way toward Midnite's office.
"Time to turn up the bass," he whispered. The girl shuddered; slumping down, and he wiped his hand on her skirt before dropping her to the ground, following his boy.
II.
Midnite knew arrogance. He had it in spades. His neutrality was borne not of balance, but of weights and measures. Favors. What was owed. Balthazar owed him.
"I need more time," the demon simpered, wearing self-importance as well as that pinstriped suit he skinned himself with. "Gabriel is lagging."
"Matters not to me," Midnite hissed softly, a heavy silver pen clenched between strong fingers. "So long as the deed is done soon. I won't be made out a liar."
Balthazar smirked, leaning forward. "You play a dangerous game. I do hope you buy out... in the end."
Papa Midnite frowned.
III.
Watcher. Take a look around.
Pathetic creatures they were. This angel of compassion masquerading as a clerk. Balthazar licked his teeth, wrapping nimble fingers around the creature's deceptively delicate throat, slamming him against the hard brick outside of Midnite's.
"Pretty voyeur," he whispered, running the edge of his smooth, dirty coin down the angel's face, tongue sliding close behind as the flesh welled and burned.
The seraphim hissed softly, eyes glinting as he stared hard at Balthazar. "Take heed, demon," he said quietly, as John Constantine stepped lightly onto the sidewalk. "We are not the only ones watching you."
IV.
The broken angel was startled, then, wide eyes jerking in mortal sockets; instincts flaring. Instincts? Fear.
He felt his breath escape.
Balthazar stood at the edge of the pool, sneer contemptuous. "You did well enough," he said loftily. "A pity we must fall, though, before we can fly."
Gabriel's eyes flashed. "Fallen or not, you are still beneath me."
Sodden clothing clinging to this mortal frame. Blood red from my mouth, staining a blossom on the fabric.
"I can live with that," he purred, smile sharp.
Taste of copper. A bright pain on my lips, my mouth, coupled with his.
V.
"Forgive me."
John whirled on Gabriel, eyes heated.
"You're asking me for redemption?" he growled. "After you let him kill-"
"To forgive is divine, John," Gabriel interrupted; cautious smile playing on his lips. "I feel I have paid justly enough."
John stared blankly at the fallen angel, balling up his hand. "Yeah? Feel this."
Gabriel fell to the ground, pain blossoming in his jaw again. "Give me a break, John!" he called out, listening to John's footsteps move further away.
"Give me back Chas," Gabriel heard whispered as John left the bowling alley, walking up the stairs to his home.
End.