The Known Variables
Flickering lights flashed overhead as the emergency ones kicked on. The whirling sound surrounding the train subsided into a slowing swoosh as the suctioned air reversed its opposed direction of resistance. Everything within the metal container halted its variance amongst the friction being placed on the tracks. My fingernails clung to the only ridges raised within the floorboard. Once more, I lost my grip and slammed my back into Benji's leg, which prompted him to jolt awake from the interruption.
He grabs my shoulder before my neck slams back into the pole from the transition in the motion. My Guardian catches the sleeve of my hooded shirt, offering assistance in the most unlikely event. His grip tightens further in its vice as the shadows encapsulate the moving compartment. All the shadows swarm together, causing the compartment to absorb to black within the darkness.
Opening my eyelids, a heaviness flooded through my veins. A creeping coldness which complied with no other compromise but that of bitterness. It disturbed me how fast, how immediate, the response kept me in its grasp. Still, I could feel the awareness as the fear solidified into a procurable wariness of present events. How a set of hands reached out to grip what hadn't existed like before. The realm, in which the two comrades supported my dangerous deeds, vanished within the darkness. And the darkness faded to one of tranquil fog apart from the previous atmosphere. Different, indeed. I had absolutely no idea where the current state of my body and spirit resided, just that it wasn't in the same dimension. It was apart from the peacefulness that governed our universal laws of existence.
"Leila," A familiar voice sings across the smoky pit concealing the ground floor. The figure begins to slowly walk closer to my former energy, which emanated brightly amongst the black and grey. Upon further inspection, I found the being to be outlined with that of a teenage boy, slightly older than myself. With a barren expression, his sullen eyes release their intensity baring down upon me. He looks so, so familiar. The sickened-paleness of his skin lavished into a miraculous glow as though a spotlight shined on his silhouette. His auburn hair gaining a fiery resemblance to a picture that haunted many of my dreams in the dead of night.
"Josh-"
He continues his first sentence without proper acknowledgment of my disturbance. "You've put your trust in the wrong being."
"I don't understand." My eyebrows furrow in worry.
"When the time comes, the one you trust the most will be the first to betray your loyalty. They will not confide in your acceptance of their decision but they will discern the boundary between the two oppositions. Beware of them, of your trust for them. It's their greatest strength against any weapon." As he turns to leave, I notice his trench coat sway from side to side, covering the feathers underneath. Positioning myself upwards, my fingers reach out to grab a handful of his coat, attempting to pull him backwards. His trench coat falls downwards, revealing a set of feathered wings readying their flight.
Gasping at the realization of what had become of him, I surrender the past memories replaying their continuous loop throughout my brain. It was as though my thoughts never forgot the moment he passed beneath those lights. His eyes linger a little longer on mine while he pauses from takeoff. He noticed the sadness laced against those flashes of remembrance. A hand touches my cheek, dedicating a tiny, yet significant, piece of appreciation for my compassion.
Like, I had seen his eyes watching mine rest and wanting any small strength in order to communicate in wake of the beeping monitor. He squeezed my hand as I had fallen asleep even though I tried hard to resist the fatigue. His eyes fluttered back to the monitor as the pulse within his heart began to deteriorate further. The ominous light in the corner chased his attention for the last second as the persistent ringing ensued predominantly over the quiet consuming the endless cycle of reincarnation.
The touch encasing my cheek made the heat rise amongst my face. When I finally open back to his, the observation of the scene kicks in. How old he had already grown, as if he never fully relieved himself from this existence. It sent another wave of emotion to my gaze at his own fate. "Some bright future you got there." I intended to laugh, but the sob choked back the response. "You probably don't remember-"
"I knew you were there. I could feel your prescience." He states firmly. "I know what you've done for him."
"Him?"
"Joshua was my human existence, my mortal fate."
I pause confused. "So, who are you?"
"Malachi, former angel of Death." His wings steady their spread as the shock set into my muscles. Opening my mouth to convey the words that refused to form in the present situation, he waves a hand at the attempt. "I'm also a messenger. When the time comes for me to take your soul, I promise I'll be more smooth about my appearance." Nodding a grin at his genuine capture of human emotion made me smile. Still, my arms remained crossed in a valiant effort to displace the grudging regret of trust. Where it was suppose to remain, and in whose hands, could never be expected on our journey.
"Death is real?" Couldn't help but question the obvious. "I thought it was just a rumor people created through the process of evolution."
Malachi chuckles at the line, yet he quiets his laughter almost immediately to suffice the alternating occurrence. "Rumor or not, it's a real process that exists; nonetheless-" A row of fingers clamp onto my right shoulder, distinguishing the reality apart from the dimension. Looking back at Malachi, his face morphed into one of disgusted hostility. Both his appendages for wings outstretched their motion to the farthest corners of the entrapment between the two of us. Just as my mouth opens to ask the question, he spits out one word, one name. "Loki," His eyes fixate on the lengthened glow of my Guardian's outline, which was severely washed out in reach of our conversation. The grip on my shoulder sucks me backwards away from Malachi as he takes flight during the disruption.
Next thing my senses recognize was the stuffiness within the metal compartment of the moving train. The darkness of the shadows had dissipated amongst the glass and walls. That, and my head began to throb unconditionally from the motion of falling through an infinite number of layers, none of which being the solid floor beneath my body. A hand reaches up to comfort the sore as I become aware of the confinement between a pair of legs. Looking upwards at the leaning figure, a smug smirk stares right back at my precise problem. "Did you get the memo about gravity versus equilibrium?" I tilt my head to one side, offering an eye roll. "Gravity is where you loose your balance, apparently failing to guide your path of falling, and landing between both my Nikes." Raising myself up cautiously as though I expected another force to throw my frame against the metal chamber, he continues his meticulous rant. "Although equilibrium requires a special effort on the part of the subject sustaining their balance against those opposing forces, a.k.a. the brakes." Sitting down next to him proved impossible as he just kept smiling. "Of course, I'm excusing outside variables-"
"Like what?" I asked, despite my exposed nerve to reject the curiosity.
He huffs out a sigh of indignation through his nasal passages. "That known variable being your undying infatuation for-" Again, my palm raises to smack his next line but falters once he releases his last phrase. "-my shoes." Shaking my head back and forth signaled an onslaught of a failed opportunist, confronting the least likely of variables on a transportation unit. "-and me." He grins in midst of his harvested moment of reconciliation. Still, I found the courage to smack him alongside his intentional smirk.
"That was the brakes but what caused them to stop, I don't know." Our fellow friend in the hooded trench coat with the faded maroon shirt stiffens his back upon impulse based on the hunch. Almost instantly, the muscle on his bottom jaw tenses with the pressured assault. "Anything unusual seem off to you by chance?" Whether the question was rhetorical or not clearly could have been open to interpretation. Either that, or the heavy breathing materializing next to my side resulted from pure intrigue.
Sinister at first, I shove back the draw from the intake of Benji's breath. He choked out a laugh during the seriousness of it all. After all, we were all heading towards the same path, same fate. But, it also appeared as though a separation in trust had occurred only seconds before when faith was all I had to depend on. And yet, the surprise was the person who mentioned the adequate reaction to his prevailing modesty in the subject matter. Had he mentioned less and no more past the point in discrepancy towards his actual, personal conviction, maybe I would have fooled myself into another qualm about loyalty instead of trust. And, it was far too late to change my suspicions otherwise. So, when my Guardian asked the most significant question because of the possible outcome of mischievous forces preventing our planned execution, I sighed a sorrowful gaze before revealing the true facts left out of our equation based on those inconsistent variables, which in different turns represented balance.
My voice cracks a little as I begin the repercussions of my own actions. Hopefully, he would understand. "Besides the fact that a Rebel angel is standing right in front of us? Obviously, yes." Answering on that note seemed to agitate him further into an exposed explanation.
"Rebel?" Of course, not expecting him to question the fact equally rose a hostel nerve inside as well. "I'm no rebel." Laughing suited his demeanor at the phrase. "And there are much greater threats than Rebels. Those who have fallen and transitioned into the demonic."
"You mean Demons?" Benji interjects between us.
"Yes," the Guardian states back, eying me specifically before the next statement. "Think of the Rebels as captors who, despite their laws and morals, are in constant search of gratification; whereas, demons possess a more persuasive variable amongst those laws and morals that guide the thought of human perception."
"So, your persuasion is to conceal your identity from us?" I spout these words, intentional on their reliable source.
"I don't know what you-"
Standing up abruptly, I defeat the purpose of finishing his sentence. "-mean?" His lips curl inwards in a reluctant measure of disconnection against the subject. "I think you do, Loki." Of course, he recognized the difference between puzzlement versus gullibility. Which one he had intended for me to express was routed amongst his complete, and total, honesty. "That is your former name as the descendant of death. Isn't it?"
"Whoa," Michaels exclaims underneath his breath. "You're one of the renegade angels who tried to destroy the world? Thee Loki whom that British talking fuck resents as much as your brother?" Again, my arms crossed, bringing my full attention back to my previous protector. It would appear as though we've hit a stalemate, one he had no effort of wheezling out of.
"Unbelievable," Loki retorts right back in my face. "This is your opinion of me as well?" Squinting at the remark hinted at his former innocence and without any type of trademark to his tactic, his stance stands opposing mine with great, and utter, defiance. My face never changed its redundancy in shape against Loki's mirrored, and reformed, distaste despite the current circumstance. "Did the Metatron also mention that before I even got a chance to distance myself from my brother, I was stabbed, martyred, right before the eyes of the Last Scion. My attempt at prevention was what ended my short existence as I became banished twice fold for a crime, for an injustice, I refused to partake in its dominance for destruction."
Adverting my gaze away from the truth, I settled for Michael's Nikes. He stood alongside my shoulder, committed in the set argument. "You're lying-"
"-What reason would I have to?" He fires back, distinguishing a cause opposite of desperation.
"I don't know but I don't fully trust what you haven't explained."
"I've explained all of this before, your awareness is just cluttered by doubt and ignorance. You know not what you are but your purpose, and that's enough for existence to regard as fair."
"Fairness is beyond overrated in my book." Still, I couldn't shake the feeling of mistrust, misguidance. What was your best interest for me?
Silent as my mouth remained, somehow, he was able to comprehend such doubt with a simple response. "To protect you. To protect our last hope for humanity. You have much importance to those who regard your soul as useful for their fated outcome. But, I do not wish harm, nor pain, and I certainly do not wish death upon your destiny. I gave up being the Reaper for the same reasons you question your religion, despite being a devoted Protestant. Your beliefs keep you bound to certain expectations against critical thoughts, which blur your loyalty to those beliefs."
Taking a step backwards, it was clear on the offense which being deserved props for such an analytical view of cynical aspects of free will and thought. It governed my process to discern the fog from the actual smoke. "I didn't know." I sing lightly beneath my pride.
"There's a lot you don't know." A thud comes from the roof of the train, surfacing every couple of feet until they disappeared on the next car. His face closes in upon mine. "A whole other universe exists that you're seriously unprepared to deal with." Screams erupt a couple of compartments down as a frenzy of people bang furiously on the doors leading to the back of the train.
"I take it, that's the universe you speak of." Benji remarks as I stood back petrified of what existed beyond those doors. He stands in front of me while Loki remained hesitant in regard to his alternate shield. Both exchange glances of armored stability against the un-sustained forces at bay.
A crack in the glass forms as a man's back flings into the dividing door to our compartment. I flinch, clinging onto Benji's shoulder blade counter acting from Loki's intense brace against the breakage.
"What do we do?" I hear Benji whisper back to Loki before the door flew in. The two of them separated as the metal door flung down the isle towards me. Due to Loki's quick reflexes, he snatched his arm around my torso and threw both our bodies against the window. The crowd surrounding us dispersed the second the smoke rose from the frame, exposing a gaping hole.
Breathing heavily, I cling feverishly against the restraint. "Try to be more aware of your surroundings. I can't protect you when your soul remains in the hands of someone else."
He motions for me to follow the path of screaming people. At first, I take a mental note at the comment. Ben freezes on the spot, noticing the reaction to the phrase. "Apparently, hostility runs in both directions." Intending the pun to be deliberate, Loki squints in a conclusive manner of confusion.
"We should probably run, now." Another blast comes from two compartments down. A fast-rising, explosive fire burned high with hungry flames consuming as much material before diminishing a second later. The smoke which rose with those ashes were released abruptly as though the oxygen had been replaced indefinitely. It deafened the curdling sound of corrosive flesh being incinerated. Again, Benji motions another plead towards our departure to the nearest exit. "We should go. I think we should go."
As nervous as he resented his nature of fear, I decided to probe and poke back at exactly where my soul resided. "Funny that you mention my soul belonging in someone else's hands. Malachi didn't seem too fond of you either."
"Seriously," My great protector urges us to reconcile. "You have to have an argument right now when we're in peril?!" Still, Loki and I glared at one another.
"Malachi was once a Grigori, always looking for more power above what he deserved. Deceitful character after he was tried as one of the Fallen, although the Council considered him admirable for his service of useful information about those who rebelled." He comes close, breath almost colliding with my own intake. "He is no mercenary; I assure you. And what you fail to recognize past his mask is what you've chosen to accept of him."
"Hey, vengeful being of babble-fucking on!" We turn to acknowledge the situation at hand. "Huge fucking-chaos; little time for chatter." My friend's eyes began to widen at the figure descending through the hall of compartments, slowly making a direct line towards us. "What is that?"
"We should go." Loki demands while Benji and I stand, side by side, mesmerized by the creature of sorts.
"What is that thing?" I question as Loki grabs my shoulder, spinning my body in the opposite direction. Turning back around, I grab a hold of Benji's shoulder in order to guide him to safety.
The three of us raced in past the horrified passengers, offering minor assistance in mobility. Whatever it was began to close in quickly. "I think the question you're searching for is: what are they?" Okay, now that his gauntlet had been tossed down, you think he would be more sympathetic amongst the people trapped upon the unknown threat.
"The door is locked!" Along down the line, a passenger shouts through the crowd before absolute mayhem broke out. "We're tapped!" Another scream erupts from the front of the back exit.
"What now?" My hands fly up in the air, terrified of the outcome that predicted its pre-determined demise. We were trapped, backed into a lone corner of solitary, awaiting an eminent death.
When all hope had shoved its thoughts to the farthest reaches of our minds, Michaels got this weird grin across his face. And as he reveled in his own hapless future where we survived, Loki adhered the expression to his face as well. Confusing all the more, they exchanged a quiet understanding, of which I couldn't comprehend. Maybe my senses were stirred one too many time until I couldn't tell a difference between absolute glee and absolute fear. Such a sad comparison to be misunderstood on my behalf, but it counted against my lucky stars to have two, such noble and considerable, beings in front of me willing to risk life and limb. And, of course, I retracted the amount of nostalgia as the glass window shattered upon impact from Benji's leg. Loki took note of the act and busted out another, sending a message to the passengers down the row of seats to do the same.
"Are you sure we can't fight this thing?" Benji remarks, having one leg perched outside the open window.
Loki takes a draw back from the silent screech that penetrates the air around us. "I can hold it back with my bullets, but my flaming sword would be a much better defense in killing thus beast."
"Good to know." He sighs, offering a hand out to me. My fingers wrap around his while looking back at Loki.
"Are you sure about this?"
"No," Loki states, cocking his revolver back after filling the chambers. "But our options are limited, Lae."
"You don't owe me anything; you know that right?" A loud roar came from a plane overhead as my voice muted itself despite the effort. It was crucial he knew he wasn't bound to my soul.
"Maybe not, but I have more respect for the being whose future is still bright and promising." The reference to Josh before his life ended and how he proved to have lived up to his destiny. A tear jerked against my eyelid and faded when the screech sounded once more. "Go," He ordered while Ben tugged my arm further into freedom. Before we exited, I mouthed out a simple praise for his sacrifice. His lone nod confirmed the status of his acceptance of the message.
Ben and I touched ground outside the tracks before I had a change of heart. Instead of following the natural instincts of survival, I rebelled against its prior commitment, attempting to keep me alive and well. My foot breaches the ledge to the window as I hoist myself onto the top of the roof. The frenzy consuming the rush expedited their natural instincts, guiding them in the correct direction for safety. Something picked at the back of my mind based on the fearlessness that captivated my attention on top of the steel entrapment.
"What are you doing?!" My fellow protector screams above the rest of the drowning noise. "Can't we at least talk about this?!" Seeing the gaping hole of entry compartments down, I jogged off at its mark in the train. Benji sighs before following my persistence amongst our escape.
When I came to the ripped shreds for metal, it dawned on my senses just how serious the damage was. Whatever this being was, would surely rip my fellow guardian to pieces. His fight would be lost amongst this battle. "Holy-"
"-Shit," Michaels finishes for me.
"Unbelievable how big this thing is." My mouth fell a gape to circumstance of chivalry.
"Let's go." Ben turns to leave, and I grab the hood of his collar in order to pull him backwards. "-or, we could descend through the huge, gaping hole where the stench of death prevails." I tilt my head to the side with a grimace. "Either way, I hear the afterlife sounds like a good place. Of course, as long as flames don't incinerate the flesh from your bones first."
"Ben," I sigh. "Sometimes sarcasm doesn't mask the scent of fear." He smiles a big grin, somber in the comeback. "And, you reek something fierce." My feet clap to the ground in union with the phrase as he retorts back.
"Hey," Sniffs envelope his clothes as he checks the repercussion of the notion.
The tips of my fingers grace the ridges in the floor before I stand up straight, affirming my immediate surroundings. Parts of the metal shaving from the rooftop appeared melted to the floor. Hot enough to still leave a severe heat burned to my skin. I winced at the minor pain as I looked onward at the repetitious hole, giving way to the traveled path which the screeching creature took leave. One lone memory prompted the response towards my next action. Although the example was not as shinning or great as most of my response.
Shortly after my first caretaker, Sarah, had vanished from my everyday life, I fell into the hands of a very patriotic couple. The mother had forgone ovarian cancer during the break, which her husband was ordered overseas for discretionary work. She recovered, having the knowledge that she never would bare a child of her own because of the damage. When her husband returned to discover his wife's health condition, he proposed the idea of adoption to her. It saddened her thought of acceptance since the soul purpose of being providers meant providing for a child of their own flesh and blood. So, I came into the picture on a sunny day where the American flags reigned supreme: Memorial Day. And to make matters worse, the wife resented me upon first impression.
To her, I was a constant reminder of the children she would never bare, never mother and never love. The sadness was too unbearable for her to begin to accept me. But having a heart like so little do during the adoption process, she signed her name onto the document.
One day, her husband gave me his guard cap. He smiled as I tried to keep a hold of it in the strong winds. The skies had been dark and gloomy all day, persuading us to take cover inside the local grocery store down the road. His wife raced up to the building and as I ran to catch up, the wind blew the hat off my head.
"Leave it." The husband ordered me.
I felt awful since I knew he trusted me with something of his past. The wife took one glance at the scene and entered the building. She didn't like me and she wouldn't if I didn't retrieve the hat. I turned back around, reaching for the frayed fabric decorated in camouflage. When I did, a truck barreled down the pathway on the street, heading straight at me. I tried to get out of the way in time but failed. A set of hands pulled back on my shoulders, shoving me to the curb. All I remember was the distinct glow of the man's skin. As I opened my eyes wider, I realized the wife had come back to assess the situation. She kept hugging and kissing me, crying that she was sorry for not holding my hand as we crossed the street. Her husband stood off at the store watching but upon closer inspection, I found tears flowing down the side of his cheek. I kept looking around for the man who pulled me out of the way; the man who kept me alive. But amongst my sadness, I found him gone.
Blinking twice confirmed my knowledge of the event. How the man I was looking for across the street that day only disappeared for a better half of my childhood with good reason. So, he could protect me. And how brave I felt trying to return the favor all these years, rendered me catatonic. The first step forward that I took caused me to stumble over loose debris. Cursing only went as far as the silence, which drowned out the previous screams and chatter from before.
"What's your business with her?" I can hear Loki bellow out on the other end as the two voices, opposite of one another, draw me in closer. "She's of no importance to you."
The loud screeching from earlier emanated by the beast transgresses into actual words. "Ever the fucking apple polisher." The beast laughs as his form liquefies to that of a human man in a pearly, white suit and hat. "You know, I heard from down below, the deal they made you and your buddy. Just walk away back to Wisconsin and pretend nothing ever happened. It's safe to say your compadre wasn't as enthusiastic about the idea as you." I slide off to the side of the row of seats, what was left of them, debating whether or not my appearance would be that great of an impact. An arm encloses around my shoulders as I about jump from Benji's grip.
"We made a mistake. Punishment over death seemed highly logical at the time." His fists clench together at the ending line. Whatever had become of these two certainly brought out the worst in my fellow Guardian.
"Ha, death." The man in the white suit mocks back. "What was once your loyal ally becomes your worst enemy."
"At least, I had Allies." Loki retorts.
The man smiles in return to the statement. "So, that's what you call those pot-smoking hoodlums and over zealous brother awaiting the means to an end for world domination. Those, you call Allies?" Loki's face seemed to deepen in its color for the moment. Don't let him get the best of you, I thought back.
He turned in the general direction where Ben shushed me in regards to the shuffling noise beneath my feet. Loki scowled at the reminder of eavesdropping. Later, hopefully, he would remind me how insensitive it actually was. Still, I elbowed Benji back in retribution of the command. Best if you don't instruct me of what to do. Things could get messy.
"I call them friends-" Loki interjects after re-entering the conversation. Somehow, the man saw his attempt at defense laughable rather than noble.
"-Friends are not allies. They are merely good company."
"So, you say." He tilts his head towards the remark.
"Still have that veil over your eyes. How blind it makes you to the known right of compassion. This being you've tried so hard to protect will meet an irrefragable end. And whether or not you so chose to accept that fate is purely heart-wrenching to watch from the sidelines. She is merely flesh and bone with no suitable trait other than her heritage."
"What do you want with her, then." My Guardian insists while crossing his arms. "What do you get out of all this, Azrael?" The man in the white smirks as though he knows the given answer to the question. "Power? Control? Immunity from the Almighty?" Grasping at loose ends, the man touches his nose upon the last guess. Shaking his head, Loki conveyed his angst towards the oppressive manner of disgust and disappointment.
"Righteousness forgoes all former punishment." He laughs. "A world without a ruler is just as pointless as a ruler without his world."
"How the tables have turned."
The man sighs, reluctant to stand down amidst his mission. "And turn, they must. The world doesn't stop revolving until those who are responsible for making it spin, forge their own rule." Checking his watch for the time, his patience deteriorates. "Time is of the essence. I know she's here and I know you're stalling."
"What does my brother get out of this if you plan to take the very last piece for yourself? Surely, he wouldn't settle for less. He's never been that considerate."
Rubbing his palms together, sparks emit from their crevices. My eyes widened further during the process of illusion. Only, this was real. "He's not near as selfish as you paint him out to be. He simply wants the world to be void of pain and suffering. The way he studies your contempt at continuing such tragic existences is beyond what he wonders. Nay, the lesser of what he truly cares about."
Out of the corner of the compartment stands the silhouette of a woman with darkened skin and black hair heightened into the length of a ponytail. She ruffles her jacket before confronting the man in the white suit. He tips his hat in respect of her prescience. Only for a fleeting second before offering a crude sneer in a repulsed manner. "Is that the bullshit you fed Christ when you tried to gain re-entry into Heaven?"
"Was she there before?" Michaels whispers into my ear, confirming my own suspicions about the lady. Instead of answering vocally, I just nod my head back and forth in recognition for a polite response.
Her Spanish accent was laced thickly within her words. "It never mattered to me, but I always had a higher respect for loyalty rather than fickleness. And you, are all types of unfinished thoughts for a Demon."
Again, he places his laughter into a suitable insert between her last words. "Cute. That's what you've come to believe I am."
Her eyes widened ever so slightly before regaining their piercing gaze once more. "I know what you're not."
"And what's that?" He tilts his head to one side reluctantly.
"A God." The woman states point blank. "You're nothing but a worthless, Satancial adversary. And ever since you got kicked out, the celebration has been very bittersweet. In such, that your evaluation of being a decent, supernatural entity isn't of any relevance to the higher-ups. You might as well practice your par fours on the golf course before the reconsideration evaporates into pure delusion."
"Ouch," Azrael's hand flies to his chest in utter shock. "That setback was a minor repercussion to my ignorance. But, I must inform you that even adversaries have much consideration in relevance. Muses have little compared to ourselves."
"Muses created adversaries in case you've forgotten-"
"-which would lead to your ultimate destruction."
A hand raises forward as she denies the fact. "Que sera, sera."
The bucket full of sand flips over in my late memory while I thought back to the song my first caretaker would sing me asleep to. "Sarah," I leak out unexpectedly. A familiar piece from my past was sealing itself back into place.
"Oh, it will be."
"We'll see about that." Loki aims to fire a round into Azrael's chest, causing him to flinch backwards.
"Are you fucking serious?" He picks the hot lead through the lapel of his suit only to groan in retrospect to the disappointing shot of the belated firearm. Ben snatches the chain across my neck, which had been presented to me at my first confirmation meeting. Unresisting, I reached to grab it back as he put an index finger to his lips. "Endurance has made you weak." The Muse moves forward to object before Azrael shoves her against the metal frame to the compartment. With every word, he inched closer to Loki as he fumbled with the gun, trying to reload. "Persistence, dumb. And, compassion-" The gun magically flails from Loki's grip and onto the floor. "-much less intimidating."
Ben scrambles to slide far enough to wrap his fingers around the handle of the gun. Azrael held Loki's chin within his palm, tensing the strain with every movement placed. It was as if he was resisting the urge to look him directly in the eye. Just when I was about to ask Benji what his plan of proposal concluded, he surprised the both of us.
"Intimidate this." Michaels places the cross necklace into the barrel of the gun before firing the weapon. Upon impact, Azrael weakened his grasp on my Guardian, looking at the two of us standing side by side. His eyes changed different hues as his body disintegrated into flames, restoring ashes to the lone air.
"Michaels," I start as he backs away unaware of my intentions towards sentimentality. "You're still, fucking brilliant!" Pecking him on the cheek, he blushes.
Trying to cover up his reaction and brushing off the compliment, he states this. "Glad you weren't attached to that thing. It was the only thing I could think of that was Holy."
"You mean blessed." Loki breaks between us. "Lucky break, kid." He pats my friend's shoulder while shrugging what was left of the chain into my hands. It was such a beautiful cross but if it saves the day from a gigantic beast, Hell-bent on reprising the role of supreme ruler of this known existence, then so be it.
Sarah makes her way towards us, cradling the back of her skull from the wreckage from her body slam. She winks at me first before shaking Benji's hand in gratitude. "He's just mad cuz he wanted to be the one to smite him. Old habits tend to never die hard with him. You did good."
She followed in Loki's footsteps through the train as I nudged Ben again. "Old habits never die hard." I joke while walking off in their path through the rubble.
"What's that suppose to mean?!" I hear Ben yell over my shoulder as a smug smile broke across my lips.
A/N: Leila begins to discover that what she doesn't recall from the past is exactly what governs her future. At least, falling between Benji's feet due to gravity isn't the only discovery made on their trip to Red Bank. Danger lurks from close encounters from those she's learned to place her trust in. But, is it enough to sustain her own balance amongst the misguided information. Old habits are always so hard to break when the known variables present, are a suitable threat on their journey.