*Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and ideas….and the plot bunnies in the corner. Harry Potter and Legion's characters, places, and anything else are not mine, I make no money from writing this. Please don't sue, I'm a poor college student that has no life and way too many video games.*
"I feel that there is an angel inside me whom I am constantly shocking."
- Jean Cocteau
Chapter One
Los Angeles, USA
December 23rd, 2010
1:02 a.m.
The moon was waxing, not quite full in the nearly cloudless sky. A dog barked from behind a chain link fence as sirens blasted loudly down the streets. Glass shattered from somewhere behind, periodic gunfire echoed down the alleyways. The wind whipped past him, wings flapping lazily, just enough to slow him down.
Michael landed hard, tumbling onto the pavement as his hands scrapped along the ground to catch him. He forced himself to his feet, body protesting at the abuse. His tattered cloak hung limply off his shoulders as blood ran slowly down the side of his face. It was harder than he thought, escaping heaven to come here, unnoticed. He had run into several Angels, but they wouldn't be able to set off the alarm for a least a few more hours. He made sure of it.
It hurt, having to fight his brothers and sisters, most of which he had trained himself. But he didn't regret it. Father had told them to love humans, and he did, with all of his heart…he didn't know how to stop.
Something had recently changed though, in the last eight years. Ever since that night, when something had gripped his heart and Gabriel had stood by him worried, Michael knew that he needed to get to Earth. He just didn't know why. Once, he had tried to explain it to his brother, but Gabriel didn't understand this need he had. Something was down there…waiting for him.
The Archangel shook his head, pulling himself from such thoughts. Now was not the time. Deep set blue eyes darted around, taking in the brick walls of the alley. Michael glanced the way he had come, but there was no one following him. Thunder boomed loudly in the night sky, drowning out the chaotic sounds of the city around him for just a moment. Seconds later rain began to fall in a down pour.
He kept his face turned up, relishing the feel of the water washing away the blood and sweat. It was several millennia since he felt rain on his skin, but he couldn't dawdle, there was no time.
Sirens wailed, blue and red lights flashing across the wet brick and puddled water. Michael ducked behind a dumpster, leaning heavily against the wall. Breathing harshly, he started as a loud bark came from his left. He brandished his ornate knife, blade inscribed in his people's language, wishing he had not left his sword behind. But it was just a dog, chained behind the fence and of no consequence to him other than it was annoying.
Michael pulled his attention from the mutt, ripping his jacket open, fingers digging into the slick material. His wings stretched out uncomfortably behind him, bare chest quickly became soaked, dark tattoos upon pale skin. He grabbed the knife, staring at it only for a moment before he pulled it across flesh and bone. It only took seconds, wings gone, disappearing, bloody knife clattering upon the pavement.
The unearthly scream that rose from his battered throat was torturous, drowning out all other sound. It choked off as a blue halo lowered upon the collar over his neck. The loud click of a latch, it fell to the ground as he collapsed from the pain. Blood mixed with rain water, swirling together as it flowed down a drain.
O0O~O0O~Page~Break~O0O~O0O
Los Angeles, USA
December 23rd, 2010
1:36 a.m.
Face pinched in pain, Michael walked out of the alleyway. The trench coat stuck uncomfortably to his back, still bleeding from the wounds. Michael gazed intently at the store front across the street, light flickering sporadically. It read Happy Toy Co. and Imports, Korean symbols written above translating to roughly the same thing.
Inside it was cavernous, a Costco of sorts for survivalists. A lone guard armed with a pistol and flashlight patrolled between the vast aisles. A squeak distracted him, torch darting down to light upon the doggy chew toy he had stepped on. Reaching down, he grabbed the little red sumo wrestler and squeezed it, smiling briefly, before the skylight broke apart above him. And then only darkness.
Michael rolled the guard over, unconscious but alive. He quickly disarmed the man before he made his way to the dirty bathroom, nearly ripping the first aid box off of the wall. Black trench coat falling to the floor, Michael threw the supplies into the sink, sorting through it quickly. Blood dripped down his back, obscuring the dark tattoos that covered his entire body, ankle to neck in beautiful Enochian writing. The language of the Angels.
He tore open a package, threading a curved suture needle with fishing wire. Michael turned, gazing over his shoulder into the mirror; he took in the horrific wounds that gapped open at both shoulder blades. Hands steady, he hesitated only briefly before he brought needle to flesh, pulling it taught as he began to stitch the wound closed.
Within seconds blood began to pool upon the floor by his bare feet. He grunted, holding back a scream as the needle pierced skin again and again, choking as he bit his tongue. It took him several minutes to finish with the left shoulder blade, bloody hand grasping the porcelain sink in a punishing grip as he awkwardly tied off the stitch.
He stood there for a few moments; head down as he breathed deeply to slow his rapidly beating heart. Seconds later he grabbed the suture needle again, rethreading it with the wire, before he shifted, exposing the other side.
When he finished, Michael rushed out of the bathroom, quickly finding the clothes section. It took him very little time to get dressed, grabbing a grey trench coat in afterthought, shrugging it on. Black boots laced up, he stalked to the weapon section, searching quickly amongst the racks of guns. He passed many by, grabbing only certain ones and placing them in his duffle bags.
All of his movements were precise, no action wasted. He moved with an old sort of familiarity, a soldier that had been trained for this all of his life, rushing through the shelves purposefully. Both of the bags were filled in no time, and he turned to leave. He stopped curiously, gazing at the door as he cocked his head to the side. It was chained and barred.
O0O~O0O~Page~Break~O0O~O0O
Los Angeles, USA
December 23rd, 2010
2:08 a.m.
Officer Estevez grunted frustrated as he failed yet another level of Angry Birds for the seventh time. He gazed at it in annoyance, his five year old son seemed to play it with ease, and yet he couldn't figure out what most of the birds even did half the time. The radio crackled on and off, lively with activity. It was a busy night.
Officer Burton glanced at his partner before he turned his gaze out to the city's streets, taking in her soaked denizens with a deep hatred twisting his thoughts. They loomed in doorways, camped out on sidewalks, drank in the shadows. Streetwalkers.
"Goddamn animals," he mumbled. "Nights like this I wish I could take a match to this city just so I could watch all these motherfuckers burn."
Estevez laughed softly, eyes still riveted on his phone. "A good ol' boy barbecue, huh?" Estevez glanced up at his partner when he got no reply, taking in the older man's unsmiling face and serious demeanor. He frowned.
"A fresh start," Burton continued, oblivious to the uncomfortable atmosphere filling the squad car. "That's what this place needs," he held up his hand, fingers pointing like a pistol. He aimed it at the people as they passed them by. "Pow! Pow! Pow!"
Burton's dark laughter filled the car, sending a chill down his partner's spine. "Jesus…" Estevez mumbled, turning away from him. "You know Burton, I'm so happy we get to share beautiful moments like this. They really brighten my da-"
An explosion ahead of them cut him off. Fire rushed out of the store front as if it were a living thing. Burton slammed the brakes, debris raining down upon the squad car. Estevez gazed out into the burning building, taking in the gaping hole where the door used to be. It looked like a flaming cross. Eyebrows scrunched in confusion, he watched dazedly as a man stepped brazenly out of the building, two large rifle bags in either hand.
"What the fuck!" Burton yelled, stumbling out of the squad car as he pulled his gun from his holster, Estevez not far behind. "Stop! Drop the bags! Put your hands on your head!"
Slowly, Burton moved from behind the car, approaching the man cautiously. Estevez followed his lead, momentarily distracted as their police radio crackled urgently, desperate voices talking over each other. "Shots fired…code three…Officer down!" In the distance they could hear rapid gunfire, helicopters, sirens, and screaming.
They shifted nervously, gaze darting to each other before returning to the strange man. "It's starting," he told them, shaking his head solemnly. "There isn't much time."
Estevez shot Burton a quick anxious glance, uneasy. Burton's face twisted in anger. "Shut the fuck up and drop the bags now!"
No hesitation, the man in the trench coat raised his arms to his sides, dropping the bags on the wet ground. "Hands on your head!" Estevez shouted, shifting closer. "On your head!"
Slowly, his hands rose to his head, palms lying gently on his skull. "Turn around!" Burton yelled as Estevez began to holster his gun, grabbing the cuffs instead. "Turn the fuck around!"
The man turned around leisurely, completely calm. Once his back was to him, Estevez rushed to retrain him. He grabbed the man's wrist, fingers barely tightening before the stranger spun into action. He moved so quickly Estevez didn't see it coming. A loud snap and Estevez shouted in pain as his arm broke, gun taken, and was spun helplessly around. The pistol dug harshly into his head, his one useful arm gripped painfully behind him, restraining him. He was a human shield.
Burton struggled desperately, trying to find a shot. "Let 'em go!"
"Take the shot, Burton," Estevez bit out, trying not to scream as his broken arm was jostled.
"I said let him fuckin' g-g-g-"
Burton was cut off, hands falling down to his sides as his body seemed to seize, head shaking impossibly from side to side so quickly that it blurred. "What the…" Estevez mumbled, momentarily forgetting his predicament in the bizarreness of the situation. Burton's eyes clenched tightly shut in pain, his whole body quaking as a pressure built up inside of him, burning him. It was forcing him out, pushing him back. Burton was terrified, and then he was nothing.
"Burton?" Estevez shouted, desperate. Suddenly the shaking stopped. His partner opened his eyes, his black eyes. Mouth full of razor sharp teeth, he spoke, an inhuman voice leaving his partner's throat.
"What are you doing, Michael? These weren't your orders."
The words seemed to echo strangely around them. Estevez gazed at his partner in confusion, a deep fear taking a hold of him. "What did you say?"
There was silence for several seconds, before the man holding him hostage, Michael, began to speak. "No, I'm following my own orders now."
"Then you will die along with the child."
"Burton," Estevez shouted, desperate and confused. "You fuckin' know this guy? What the hell are you sa-"
Estevez dropped dead, bullet between his eyes as Burton shot him. Michael dived to the ground, suddenly without cover, as the possessed Officer shot at him, bullets tearing into the concrete. But Michael was faster, standing quickly, Burton's chest exploded as Michael shot him, the impact throwing the man off of his feet, dead before he hit the ground.
Michael only gazed at him long enough to ascertain that he was truly dead before he strode quickly over to his rifle bags, lifting them as if they weighed nothing. He loaded them into the trunk of the squad car and then climbed into the driver's seat. The car accelerated rapidly, heading towards the outskirts. The power began to fail block by block, plunging the city into darkness.
O0O~O0O~Page~Break~O0O~O0O
Paradise Falls, Arizona
December 23rd, 2010
5:52 a.m.
Jeep bolted awake, gasping for breath as the last fringes of the nightmare left him. Sweat beaded down his forehead, mouth dry as he leaned over and switched a lamp on. His room was tiny, the bed almost touching the opposite wall leaving little room to walk. Jeep sat there in a daze, unsure of what to do before he started to feel claustrophobic.
He left the tiny trailer, made even smaller since it had been divided in half for Charlie's use. The trailers were old, nearly ancient looking, the Christmas lights doing little to portray cheer. Jeep couldn't recall them ever moving since they were first stopped there back when he was a child.
The Mojave Desert surrounded them completely, no other sign of life for nearly eighty kilometers in any direction. The predawn light was just bright enough that he could see comfortably around him. Hands stuffed into his oversized coat, he shuffled quietly towards the diner his father owned, the glowing sign bathing him in a green light. He gazed at the backward sign, 'PARADISE FALLS'. A sort of anger and dread crept upon him, but he pushed it down quickly.
"You okay, Jeep?" The feminine voice distracted him, pulling him from his musing. He turned quickly, taking in Charlie's heavily pregnant form as she stood in the other doorway to the trailer. Jeep always thought she was strikingly beautiful.
"Sorry I woke you, Charlie," he mumbled, walking over to her as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stepped out onto the dry land.
"Yeah, wasn't you," she replied, hand stroking her protruding belly as she wrapped the blanket tighter around you. "He's been kicken' up a storm all night. Must know somethin' I don't."
She sat heavily on one of the swings, Jeep sitting on the other facing in the opposite direction. Silence surrounded them for a moment before she took in Jeep's tired posture and the strain around his eyes. "Another bad dream?" Charlie asked him softly, watching as he struggled internally for a moment before nodding his head slowly. "It's just stress, Jeep, that's all. You do too much worryin'. About this place, about your dad…" a beat of silence, a long pause, "…'bout me."
There was a glimmer of a smile across his face as he turned his gaze back to her briefly before they settled on the ground once more. "You're the only thing I like to worry about."
She smiled, giving a halfhearted laugh. "See what I mean? You're worried about a girl eight months pregnant and it isn't even your baby. Now that's enough to give anybody nightmares."
Jeep turned away from her, not wanting to see the rejection on her face. "Go ahead an' make fun of me. Everybody else does."
"C'mon," she mumbled turning back to him. "You know how much I appreciate everything that you and Bob are doin' for me." Charlie turned away, swallowing thickly as she gazed out into the vast landscape. "But a month from now, the baby will have a new family…and I'll have to start thinkin' 'bout what the hell I'm goin' to do with my life."
He shifted uncomfortably, unhappy with what he was hearing. "So you're still goin' through with it?"
She turned to him quickly, gazing into his eyes as he turned away uncomfortably. "I'm not ready to be a mama. Christ, I can barely take care of myself as it is." Charlie dug her feet into the dry dirt, swaying softly on the swing as it rocked back and forth.
"I could help ya," Jeep turned to her, sounding both hopeful and desperate. "I mean, we could do it together, you know? I want to."
Charlie smiled sadly at him, touched by his sincerity, but knowing that it would just destroy them both in the end. "You gotta stop carryin' the weight of the world on your shoulders, Jeep," he turned away, nodding slowly as he tried to hide how much it hurt him when she refused his help.
Charlie stood up, rubbing her arms as she waddled past him. She stopped only briefly to squeeze his shoulder, and then she was gone, back inside the trailer. Jeep sat there a while longer, staring sadly at the ground as the empty swing squeaked loudly from where it swayed next to him.
O0O~O0O~Page~Break~O0O~O0O
Whaaa, no Harry in this chapter. Not to worry, he will feature heavy in the next.
-Theta