A/N: I am Far Cry 5 Trash and I have no regrets. Fuck, guys, I've never even played the Game, BUT~! I watched all of the FC5 Cut Scenes in movie-like format (the one I watched was 3 hours but I saw a vid that was closer to 5) and OMFG can I just say that irl I would just join the fucking cult. I'm not even kidding, I've been having creepy-realistic nightmares/dreams dealing with that fucking video and Joseph is waaaaaaaaaaaay too intense for me, smh.

...Also, FUCK Jacob and his mind-fuckery bullshit music box. So much Nope.

So, anyways, I wanted to add my own fic to the fandom, and, hopefully I do it some justice!

So, WARNINGS for this Fic!

If any of you know anything about Far Cry 5, you will know that it can be reeeeeeally Intense (CoughJosephCough). This fic is the same. There will be violence, Abuse, murder, torture, attempted Rape (No ACTUAL rape, though) and a LOT of Religious Themes and things that would totes be Blasphemy IRL. So be prepared and take care of yourselves, okay?

So, yeah, Enjoy!

Angel's Wings

.0.

Angel Brook's earliest memory is the birth of her first sister when she's three. The cellar she and her Mother lives in is lit only by the yellow bulb hanging bare from the ceiling. Father hasn't been down in two days, so Mother's face isn't as bruised, but she looks like shes glowing as she settles the surprisingly heavy weight of the newborn baby onto Angel's skinny legs.

"This is Mercy, my Angel," Mother whispers to her, gently taking her tiny hand within her own, broken-fingered grip, to press Angels fingertips tenderly to the newborns blood-flushed cheek. Baby Mercy whimpers. "She's your baby sister now. You have to protect her, understand? Big sisters always protect their little brothers and sisters, just like Mothers protect their Babies, alright?" Slowly, Angel had nodded, tracing those soft, red cheeks carefully, frowning in concentration and Mother pulls her towards her chest, to lean against her body supportively.

"Father's gonna be mad she's not a boy," she whispered; the bony arms around her tighten, tremble hard, only once, before gentling again. Mother pressed a kiss to her head.

"You let Mother worry about Father," Mother orders softly; Angel can only nod and obey, just as she always does. Father is scary and violent and filled with hate, but Mother is strong, stronger than Father, because even when she bleeds and breaks and cries, she is never angry or hurtful back. Mother whispers stories in Angels ears, about Forgiveness and Patience and Hope and Faith.

"The Lord Giveth, and the Lord Taketh Away," Mother always whispered to her, "but never more than we can take, Angel. Never more than we can Endure. All suffering ends, sweet baby, and one day, far from now, we will walk through the pearly gates into Heaven and know only Love and Light and Joy. I swear this to you, my Angel, my little Light."

And Angel Believes.

^.^.^.^

Her next clear memory is when she's six. It's the first time Father beats her. She's lying on the ground as his belt hits here again and again and again, and she is sobbing, crying out and screaming from the pain, but she endures. In the corner, Mother is unconscious, gray and wan and the whole left side of her face one swollen, pruple bruise. She'd only just finished cleaning up newborn baby Joy, who is scared silent pressed between their Mothers side as little Mercy curls over her, blue eyes wide with fright and tears leaving clean marks down her face. Father was furious, yelling and screaming about how weak Mother was, how stupid and weak, and how dare she birth him a equally weak and pathetic girl. He only stops lashing Angel when his face is flushed dark red and wet with sweat, muscles trembling and blue eyes almost black with hate.

"I will get my Son," he hisses into the cellar, as Angel struggles with the fogginess of her head, the gray stone floor under her stained red. "I will get my Son, or so help me God I will kill you all and start anew." He turns and leaves, and the cellar is silent but for Angels rasping breaths and baby Joy's muffled whimpers. There is a shuffling sound, and then there is Mercy, clumsy toddler fingers patting at Angel in fear, her other hand clutching the blanket that baby Joy is wrapped in, dragging the newborn behind her like some children clutch their stuffed toys.

"Sissy?" Mercy whimpers; Angel lets out a shaky breath, and tries her best to smile at her little sisters, because they are frightened and she has to keep them safe, has too.

"It'll be okay, Mercy," she manages to slur out as her little sister gives up her patting to curl up next to her, dragging baby Joy over almost too roughly, to lodge the tiny newborn between Angels unmoving body and Mercy's own curled form. Weakly, a strange, foggy feeling in her head from pain and loss of blood, Angel manages to tilt her forehead just enough to press against Mercy's dark hair. Breathing raggedly, she licks her lips, and begins to sing, softly, just like Mother did.

"You are my Sunshine,

My only Sunshine..."

^.^.^.^

She's twelve and has five more little sisters to protect and guide and Love. Baby Hope was first, and then baby Charity, followed by almost too-big Honesty, then Patience and finally little Faith, who almost didn't live at all, too small and too early and Father's desperate Hate too Strong. Mother is heavy with another baby, but Father doesn't care, and Angel can only take so much before she's unconscious and she needs to be awake, to keep her sisters safe, Mother Says So so she does her best. Mercy has grown to hate Father, has let her fury and fear swallow her whole and drown out the sweetness that she used to glow with. It makes Angel want to cry whenever Father leaves and her baby sister, her first sister, comes up from her fear with teeth bared and Wrath making her blue eyes turn the same dark color as Fathers. She Prays to the God Mother promises exists, that her baby sister won't fall through her fingers, wont be swallowed up by the same anger as Father, will return to Light and Love and Faith, and, like always, He is Silent, but still, she Believes.

She is only twelve and she is the only one awake the next time Father comes down into the Cellar. She is still and quiet, holding her breath as her fingers tighten around baby Faith, little Honesty is curled against her stomach. Patience has sprawled herself on top of Charity like a living blanket, and Joy is cuddled with Hope beside Mercy against the wall. Father walks past them, straight over to Mother who is sleeping sitting up so that the Baby doesn't lay against the ground. Father wakes her with a sharp kick to the leg, and Angel flinches, curling instinctively around her baby sisters as she watches Father through the dim, yellow light, as he leans over and hisses at Mother.

"If you do not have a Boy, if you do not give me my rightful Son," he hisses, venomously, like the evil Serpent Mother spoke of, the one that was really the Devil in the Garden of Eden. "I will cull the lot of you ungrateful rats, and start anew with a New Mother," he tells her, before the venom slides like true-poison from his lips as he leans closer to Mother, one of those familiar, large hands resting against her large belly with a tenderness that Angel knows will quickly fade. "But give me my Son, and you will prove yourself to me," he whispers, and now he is reverent, crooning sickly sweet, blue eyes gleaming. "Give me My Son, and you will live, help him grow to be Strong and Righteous. I will cull the rats in our home, and we shall raise him up, to stand tall and proud and he will be wonderful," he breathes, and he sounds just like Mother when she speaks of Heaven, speaks of Salvation and Light and Love, and it makes something in Angel shudder, knowing that he thinks of his Heaven as only a vision of Pride and Greed and all the Sins Mother had warned them about in her whispers.

"Give me My Son, and I will give you Life," Father murmured one last time, pressing a kiss to Mothers head and, suddenly, Angel realized how sick her Mother was, how frail with continued pregnancies and beatings and withheld food she was, and fear clutched her heart even as Father left. Mother waited a long moment, staring blankly down at her stomach, before she covered her face with her hands. She didn't make a noise, she barely even shook, but Angel knew what Weeping looked like. Knew Grief and Hopelessness and Defeat.

Carefully, cautiously, Angel settled baby Faith and little Honesty against her other Sisters, and, with silent, limping steps, slipped across the room to Mother. She sat slowly, painfully down, and, for the first time, Mother did not lift her head and smile, as wan as it would have been. She did not pull Angel close and whisper to her of how Heaven was missing her, teasing her about getting lost on her way back to God. Her Mother did not acknowledge her, and Angel, for a moment, felt at a loss.

But...

But then there was, was a feeling. A warmth that unfurled in her chest, filling her up, and Angel curled a hand over the spot where it was strongest, staring at the ground with wide eyes. And, in the silence that seemed to drown her very thoughts, she heard the First Whisper.

And she would never be the same.

A/N: Dark and short, but its only the Prologue. You'll learn more about what happens in Angel's past later on, but I wanted to set up a bit of a background and "Set the Mood" sort of thing. Again, more will be explained later.

Names/Ages at the end of this chapter:

Angel – 12

Mercy – 9

Joy – 6

Hope – 5

Charity – 4

Honesty – 3

Patience – 2

Faith – 1

Unborn Baby – 8½ Months In Womb