Chapter 9 (2/2)
The Kneesocks Inquisition
Jacket's Dream
PrologueScanty rolls her eyes; the sisters back at home, in Kneesock's room. "You have to face this fear sometime, Sister! There's plenty of bug-like ghosts that are made and this weakness will get the us in trouble!"
Kneesocks shakes her head. "Not with my gun crazy sister around." She smiles and rubs her long horn against her sister's affectionately. Scanty pulls her head away and looks back at her cooing sister. "I'm serious, Kneesocks. Here, the spell is ready. Do your report and find out information. I'm going to bed." Scanty grumbles, touching Kneesock's horn, sending control of the bug over to her sister, and leaving. Kneesocks sighs and watches her sister leave. "My poor deluded sister. Chasing a boy she is never meant to have."
She says before diving into the spell. Entering Jacket's dream.
(Leaving Prologue, time for a true hero's dream.)
Immediately Kneesocks blends into make herself hidden, and the dream becomes clear. She sees a stadium full of cheering angels, and a lone figure standing triumphant over his victim, his foot planted squarely on the angel's chest, claiming supreme victory. She looks down at the victorious victor, who reaches down a hand, taking his foot off the man's chest and helping him up. Both deweaponizes, making their wings and masks vanish. One has fuzzy pink mittens and the other a simple blue windbreaker. The one on the ground stands with the help of his opponent as his blonde locks fall back into his face. "How's the weather down there?" The victor jeers.
"Shut up, Jacket." The blonde grumbles, his blue eyes looking slightly pissed.
"Come on, Gloves! IT was fun! You nearly nailed me, and you got four points! That's incredible from someone from the melee school going against a ranger! And that vanishing trick?! Where'd you learn that shit, Bro?!" Says the over excited winner, Chaos Jacket.
"A magician never reveals his secrets, so why would a assassin?" Gloves remarks. "Besides, you'd use it against me! I made the trick, you figure it out."
"Don't be a sore loser, man." Jacket says rolling his eyes.
"I'm not being a sore loser. I'm just not telling you my tricks. Besides, if I keep it a secret, I'll finally win next time." Gloves predicts, confident.
"Thank you, Brothers Chaos, for that excellent display of marksmanship and stunning combat! We all hope you both participate in the tournament next week!" An older angel says. "And between you and me, you're both better than most of the other angels in Heaven! Gloves with his stealth, speed, and skill; and Jacket with his accuracy, and aloofness. Together you have a shot for the championship! Instead of just winning the schools' championships, and minor contests, this would really put your skill to the test!" The angel whispers to the gladiators.
"Thanks, Saint Peter." Gloves bows in respect and Jacket nods.
"Don't mention it. Next round will be Brassiere and Wife Beater!" St Peter calls into the audience.
"My name isn't Wife-Beater!" An angel shouts, angrily. "My name is Lawless!"
"No one cares!" St Peter shouts, causing the rest of the crowd to laugh. The brothers leave, stretching their muscles. "Ever think about what you'll name your real weapons when you get rid of those pink mittens, Gloves?"
Gloves grumbles and looks away. "They were white before…just a little bit of blood and my weapons are ruined! Even weaponized they've been having a pinkish glow!" He sighs and looks around as they reach outside the stadium. "Besides, I spent my prize money from the Melee School Tourney on repairing Heaven's Library. I didn't have enough left over to buy a new pair of gloves, so I'm stuck with trainers for now." He yawns and stretches his elegant black wings, stroking the feathers. "Well, later dude. I have some stuff to take care of. Why don't you go back to the practice arena and train for the tournament? I hear that Gabriel the Messenger and Camael the Warrior are teaming up, and you know how tough they are! I think I could easily stealth past Gabriel while you distract Camael for me. Easy kills!" Gloves smirks flapping his wings to clear the dust out of them, from being thrown on the floor of the stadium.
"Wait you're not going to train with me? But we always train together. And you train at night when everyone is asleep! You train all the time, why are you not training now, the Library is closed and you aren't going to train? What is wrong?" Jacket asks worried.
"I uhhh…Remember the last time I went to a tourney for the championship at Melee school?"
"Yeah you won."
"Well…I didn't get the champion title, though that was what I won, I only got the money. The guy I beat took his loss to heart and is taking it out on me by teasing me, though he knows if I challenge him he'll lose no matter what." Gloves says looking away. "He convinced the judges that…I don't deserve the championship. But hey, who needs all that jazz?!" Gloves laughs and preens his feathers. "Same old, same old. Since beginning school. I just don't want to make it worse." He says, staring his brother in the eyes intently.
"Do you want me to take care of him?" Jacket asks, crossing his arms.
Gloves shrugs. "Do what you want. I need a shower anyways. Just…don't do anything stupid, dude. Later!" The strange angel says before jumping into the air and flying away, his mighty sleek wings taking him to the rain clouds nearby to relax.
Jacket walks across the street to the practice arena, looking around at the angels congratulating him on being the Ranged School's champion, and buying a huge bachelor pad, where he throws some parties, with the money he won last week. Jacket smirks and crosses the gleaming gold archway in to the practice arena. He goes up to the test dummies, a couple of thin flat bronze cut outs that repair themselves over time, and takes his jacket off, whirling it around and turning it into a bolt action rifle. Sighing, he takes the clip out and puts it back in, basically "reloading" his starter weapon.
"I can't wait to get an actual freaking weapon. This flimsy little piece of shit can barely become a rifle, with the little amount of power it lets me use. Like how Glove's pathetic mittens can only use a little bit of his power and become very dull stilettos or small chakrams. They're only effective enough to get points in the stadium to win."
Jacket mumbles, taking aim and firing, blasting a small hole in the center of the target's head. He cranks the bolt and fires another nickel-sized shot into the target's heart.
"Ha ha ha, did you hear about that black-winged freak, Gloves, lost another match in the arena today?" A jockey well built angel in a white shirt, white skirt, and thick bulging muscles and auburn hair barks to the two angels next to him. Practically Disney Hercules, if you get the picture. Jacket turns and looks at the group on the left side of the arena, being the only four here besides some dozing drill instructors in the stands. Most of the other angels must be in the stadium watching the matches. The gruff looking angel, Jacket observes, is obviously the leader of the three, and must also be an idiot, due to the dull look in his eyes.
"Yeah, what a loser! That punk's tiny daggers are no match for your Spartan short sword, boss!" "Yeah, he won by a miracle in that championship! He is a fleck of dust in your gust of wind!" the losers crow, and the leader's pride practically glows in Jacket's eyes.
Jacket rolls his eyes and shouts at them. "Hey! Big guy! What's your name?"
The angel guffaws and looks at his lackeys. "Me?! How do you NOT know who I am? I'm the mighty Jockstrap the Immovable!" He proudly proclaims, the ignorance of his claim practically making Jacket retch.
Instead, Jacket scratches his chin thoughtfully. "Hmmmm… Jockstrap…Jockstrap… I think I HAVE heard of you… but where?
One of his cronies try to answer, "He's only the CHAMPION of the Melee School! Not to mention one of the five finalists for the Championships of the Melee School!"
Jacket smirks on the inside, knowing perfectly well now where he heard about this loser. He snaps his fingers as if a thought occurred to him. "Ahh, I know who you are now! You're THE gladiator that took on the whole Melee arena a month ago, challenging HALF the students to a fight against you and your two friends, and WON!"
Jockstrap laughs and nods. "That's me."
Jacket smirks and laughs. "Then you're ALSO the same Jockstrap that went to the finalists in the arena, and took half them out one on one until it was just you and one mysterious angel. The SAME Jockstrap that lost in the first TEN SECONDS of each of the three rounds against Gloves! Wow!"
Jockstrap's face slowly turns red as Jacket continues. "It was the quickest matches anyone had ever won! How FRUSTRATING it must have been to be this angel's EASIEST win of the day! And HOW many Heavens did he win for beating you?" Jacket thinks, crossing his arms and tapping his chin, looking up thoughtfully.
Jockstrap practically trembles in rage and slams his fist against the wall, leaving a crater in the wall. "That emo FAGGOT got lucky!"
"Lucky?" Jacket inquires, confused. "I heard you had barely raised your sword the first round and was in the middle of your battle cry when he scored the necessary 5 points by simply RUNNING PAST YOU! "A Blink of an EYE!" They said! I wonder what an angel of such vast talent would spend his winnings on? Food? Women? Ambrosia? Weapons? A nice place on Cloud Nine?"
"That FAGGOT spent the money on repairs to the fucking Library! As if a swordsman needs to fucking READ how to swing a SWORD!" Jockstrap roars, his jugular bulging in rage. "A perfect kill." Gloves would say emotionlessly. Jacket thinks. "Get them mad so they can't control their actions easily, and strike when they are too weak from overexerting themselves." Too bad don't follow your book, Gloves. Jacket smirks.
"Well, maybe idiots like you couldn't understand the meaning of priorities, but it seems clear to me that if the Heavenly Library, which holds all the information ever archived in the known WORLD falls into ruin…how would we ever learn anything about our targets on earth? How would we educate our intelligent students? Not that you'd know, Jockstrap, but the Library is where we train our BEST students with spells and abilities the rest of us are… unfit to learn." Jacket says with little ease, remembering Gloves bringing up his selection one night, a few weeks ago. He was so excited. I haven't seen him that happy in so long…
"Idiots like ME?!" Jockstrap exclaims, practically busting a blood vessel, his fists tightly gripped. "What about the practice ring! What about new weapons for trainees?! What about the Pegasus Stables?! My Mare sleeps cold every night! I bet that FAGGOT never thought about the animals we have!"
Jacket glares, walking to the other side of the ring, a little pissed. "Not when dolts like YOU keep trashing places when you've had too much Ambrosia! And every angel who gets assigned a Pegasus has to keep their OWN stable! The reason your mare is cold every night is because you spend all your money on booze, and BARELY enough to feed your damn horse!" Jacket shouts, getting angry with this moron's incompetence. "I've read most of the reports on the Melee School's so-called "Champion". I don't understand why they would bother keeping such a lowlife as the school's Champion. Such an honorable position does not belong to a drunk high breed! It belongs to someone who has earned it!" Jacket shouts, stabbing the angel in the chest with his index finger, accusingly. "That title belongs to GLOVES!"
Jockstrap growls and glares Jacket dead in the eye, pushing Jacket's finger off his chest. "Gloves won't ever get shit from me. That FAGGOT can go to hell!"
Jacket growls and clenches his fist, getting real tired of hearing his brother be insulted. "Well, I can just give all of the reports I've been given about you. The multiple accounts of unnecessary fighting, countless drunken misdemeanors, and the crime of soberly throwing your damn feces at the Golden Statue of the Goddess, and calling OUR Goddess such profane names?! Maybe THAT will get you kicked out of your position in the school, and put you back in your place as an under class weakling."
"Such lies! Who told you these untruths?!" Jockstrap's voice drops to a normal level.
"Oh, I don't know, maybe a little raven told me. But can you imagine what would happen to such an intolerant inbred angel with a drinking problem? How LOW would they rank you after the reports started getting to the heads of the school?" Jacket alludes, glaring intensely.
Jockstrap spits. "You don't scare me none, asshole! And the Goddess can go to hell for the slut she is!"
Jacket lowers his head, and the shadows fall over his eyes, and it is his turn as he trembles in indignant rage.
"I'm going to let you in on a secret, Small Fry." Jockstrap starts. "The Goddess? She slept around with so many people, we forgot how many long time ago. When she came into power, she had one of the most powerful angels as her lover, a certain traitor to our race, Samiel MourningStar. *(pronounced: Sam-EYE-el)*" He says spitting on the ground. "After him, she never had another lover. What could such a traitor do that she would never want to have another lover? Clearly our Goddess isn't the brightest of leaders." He growls.
Jacket lashes out and grabs the shirt of the angel, pulling him in close, breathing into his ear jaggedly. "I'll give you ONE LAST CHANCE." He starts, his voice clear and angry. "To stop insulting my family. That "emo faggot" Gloves?! He's my BROTHER. The Goddess is OUR mother, and not the way the rest of the angels mean. She LITERALLY gave birth to us, so I'd watch your mouth from now on, cause I'm not afraid to kick your ass to make my point! And TRUST me, you're just lucky you haven't talked shit about the Goddess in front of Gloves, cause he'll give you a fate a thousand times worse that what I'm about to bestow upon you."
Jockstrap spits in his face and Jacket shoves him away. Jockstrap growls and clenches his fist. "I'm as scared of you as I am the practice dummies!"
Jacket spins his rifle, turning it into an Olympia, the strongest gun his starter weapon can create. "Draw your weapon, Asshole! I only need one shot to finish you!"
"Such arrogance!" Jockstrap declares, reaching under his skirt pulling his weapon down and stepping out of his yellow "man" thong. Turning it into a yellow stained short sword, that's angelic blue glow is covered with sweat stains.
(This is why I didn't make gender swaps.)
"Ugh, dude, really?! That's fucking disgusting!" Jacket cringes, wrinkling his nose in disgust.
"You challenged me! Now YOU are going to see the might of a Champion!" Jockstrap declares.
"Might huh? If my brother could beat you in less time than it took for you to raise your sword, what do you think I'll do?" Jacket sneers and cocks his gun.
"Raaaaaaagh!" The moronic angel roars, speeding across the arena with his sword raised, using his wings to propel him faster than his muscular legs can. "Gloves got LUCKY!" He shouts, sword lowered to the side of his head, ready for the slash to strike down his enemy. Jacket stands still, a smirk plastered on his face, his shotgun laid across his shoulders. The cocky smile infuriates the buff angel, as he brings his sword down for the blow. Jacket's gun snaps to block the sword, the barrel of the gun being utilized as a shield against the blow, like a sword, and he smirks. "Lucky, huh?"
Jockstrap snarls and shoves on the sword, pushing Jacket back and swinging his sword around for strike after strike, hammering into Jacket's gun. The calm angel frowns and parries the sword, and drops to the floor, kicking out Jockstrap's feet out from under him. Jockstrap falls to the ground and groans, rolling on to his front, getting on all fours.
"Stay down, or be prepared to face the consequences. Your tarnished sword is no match for the skills I've trained against with my brother. Your strength is simply no match for my skillz." Jacket warns calmly, propping his gun back up on his shoulders calmly again.
Jockstrap growls and staggers to his feet, shaking himself of his instability, and grabbing his sword from where he dropped it, swinging it around himself and turning it into a scimitar.
Jacket sneers. "Idiot. I was going to let you go so you wouldn't embarrass yourself in front of your comrades."
Jockstrap slashes the air, his arm getting faster with the lighter weapon, allowing for extra distance with the longer blade. He charges and slashes a number of times at Jacket, who jumps away, but feels a warm trickle go down his pulsating cheek. He puts a hand up to his cheek while his attacker watches him, and he pulls away his hand to see the glowing red blood flow from his cheek. "What the-?" He says before he rolls to the side, dodging about five slashes from Jockstrap. Jacket growls and rolls away, trying to kick Jockstrap's legs out from under him again. Jockstrap grunts and jumps into the air, flying away, his powerful wings carrying him high above the atmosphere, near the sun.
"Yeah, you might as well run away! Just make sure you don't get too close to the sun, Icarus! No one wants to peel your miserable hide off the stadium floor!" Jacket shouts at the sky, a little irritated.
He hears Jockstrap's cronies laugh and he looks at them, glaring. "What?" They laugh and point up into the air. "You idiot. He's not running! He's preparing his signature attack, Blinding Comet!"
Jacket looks up in time to see a fiery streak about to clash into him with a lance. "Shit!" Jacket shouts, pushing his gun up to block the blow. Their weapons collide and Jacket shoves the lance away and, with the butt of the shotgun, he knocks the angel in the side of the jaw, sending him crashing to the side. Jacket pants and stands straight, going over to the fallen angel, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, lifting him into the air.
Jockstrap stares at him, surprised. "You blocked my move… Ass."
Jacket smirks. "I told you, I trained for far worse than you. Now, will you leave my brother alone, and declare him the official Champion of the School of Melee? I'm asking nicely, here. I could be demanding it." Jacket alludes, lifting the barrel of the gun under the Jock's chin.
The moron spits on Jacket's face and growls through gnashed teeth. "That emo brother of yours will NEVER take my place as the Champion."
Jacket closes his eyes angrily and wipes the spit off his cheek as the cut heals. His eyes flick open and he glares daggers up at the imbecilic angel in his grip, outrage pouring out in waves from Jacket. Jockstrap sees Jacket's eyes and gasps, trying to pull away, his friends fleeing the arena. "Ah! Those eyes!"
"You wont LET my brother take his PROPER PLACE above YOU, VERMIN?!" Jacket thunders angrily, the ground trembling beneath his feet. Jockstrap struggles to break away from Jacket's grasp as one final drop of pulsing blood falls from his cheek, and hitting his gun, changing the gun from where the blood hit, from it's normal blue to black chrome with bloody spidery sigils everywhere. "You SICKEN me, Scum! You can go to HELL!" Jacket booms, his voice low. "Now, Be-GONE!" He snarls, baring his teeth and pulling the trigger, releasing an explosive force from his gun, far more powerful than it normally should be, the resulting impact launching the angel far into the sky, miles away, though not fatally harming the angel, the crash will probably hurt like hell, and so will his jaw.
Jacket walks away as the angel twinkles out of the sky. (Team Rocket's blasting off agaaaaaaaaaaain.) He sees, out of the bottom of his eye, his gun glowing and he looks down at it. "Whoa, what the-?!" He exclaims, examining his altered weaponry. The letters start to fade away rapidly, but the black chrome remains, reflective enough to show him his blood red inner eyes and a set of receding fangs. "Ah!" He yelps, and drops the gun, surprised. The gun hits the floor and the black chrome leaks out, leaving the normal weapon behind, before shortly turning into his normal windbreaker.
Jacket grabs it and puts it on before running out of the arena, confused.
Kneesocks watches and strokes her chin thoughtfully. "Could that have been the inner "Chaos" factor that Scanty mentioned? Fascinating. He might know the origin of this power, and I could get further information than Scanty got!" She smirks before diving into the next scene, hiding herself.
"Gloves! Bro!" Jacket shouts, pounding on Glove's door. He hears daggers being slid into sheathes and his brother opens the door, his pink mittens glowing with diffusing energy.
"j0." Gloves sniffs, (Lolls if you get the reference to Mega T.) shielding his eyes from the brightness of the outdoors. "Whatcha want, dude?"
"Are you going to let me in?" Jacket asks his younger brother.
"Ummm…No not really. How important is this?" Gloves replies, his eyes slowly adjusting to day light.
"It's about Jockstrap." Jacket replies.
"I don't see how that impudent weakling is my problem. Name calling and minor threats hold no weight if you're too weak to do something about it. The only thing that worries me is he might be spawning more of him… Hmmm… Do me a favor and, if you have the chance, castrate him with a bullet. We need less Jockstraps and more REAL warriors." Gloves recommends thoughtfully.
"I fought him in the practice arena today." Jacket mentions.
"I told you not to do anything stupid." Gloves glares. "For your sake, you better have won."
"Well, DUH, I won." Jacket smirks. "Can I come in?"
"Yeah whatever. The sun is killing me now anyways." The Angel of darkness grumbles, retreating into the shadows of the apartment. Jacket walks in and looks around, the darkness effectively rendering him sightless for a long while. He tries to navigate the room, but hits his shins against the coffee table. "Damn it, Gloves, why does your place always have to be so poorly lit?"
"Two reasons. One is to hone my senses, to make it easier to be stealthy and to train my body to be silent as the grave." Gloves explains from the other side of the room, having passed Jacket a while ago.
"How foreboding. What's the second reason?"
"Makes the bill a lot lighter if the house is darker. I spent all those Heavens on the library and making small changes to it in my own way." Gloves laughs, turning on his coffee maker, the red light on it filling the room with a gentle glow, as a hazelnut-like scent fills the room.
"Really Gloves? Why can't you just drink some ambrosia like everyone else? Why do you order all these human drinks like soda and coffee?" Jacket wrinkles his nose.
"Simply because I don't wish to stumble around blind drunk in the night like the rest of those fools. Caffeine sharpens the senses and quickens the mind. Also, ambrosia can get way too sour sometimes. Besides, you happen to have taken a fancy to Sgt. Pepper." (Beetles reference*)
Jacket rolls his eyes. "That's besides the point."
"You're right. The real question is how many targets do I have and how much will you pay me to kill them before they get you?" Gloves sits on his black cushioned couch, crossing his legs and sipping his coffee, having already poured quiet a lot of creamer and sugar into it, taking away the bitterness.
"What?" Jacket asks, confused.
"You fought with Jockstrap. You know how much of a moron he is. He doesn't take defeat well, no matter how many times you beat up his lackeys, Tweedle-Dumbass and Tweedle-Dipshit."
"But I beat him."
"Doesn't matter. The bastard will keep going after you till he catches you off guard and the odds are all in his favor. So, I'll ask again, how many do I have to kill?" Gloves morbidly inquires.
"None, Gloves. We're Angels. We don't kill each other."
Gloves looks up, staring at the ceiling, growing distant. "Whatever you say, brother."
Jacket frowns, sensing his sarcasm. "Are you alright?"
Gloves smirks. "Same old, same old. Anyways, is there something else you came here for?"
Jacket thinks about what happened to his gun and nods, looking down at his hands, as if they were new and alien. "I think… Something is happening to me… Gloves, you're mother's favorite… Has she ever told you who our father was?" Jacket asks, cautiously. Gloves goes quiet for a few minutes and shakes his head after a while. "No. Why does it matter?"
"Because, during the fight in the practice arena, I was really insulted by Jockstrap and his idiocy, and I became really furious. My weapon changed and my eyes turned red."
Gloves frowns, raising his right eyebrow. "How long did this last, and why wasn't this the more important news?"
Jacket shakes his head. "It stopped when I won and I wasn't as mad anymore."
Gloves looks at him a little confused. "And I thought I was the weird one. That sounds a lot like Wrath, an inner chaos that next to none of the angels have, and very few even get sent to earth for."
Jacket looks up at him. "But why me?" He asks dejectedly as if this was a curse.
"Yes brother…. Why you?" Gloves ponders, scratching his chin, getting up to pace around the room. Jacket leans his head against his hand, watching Gloves pace, drumming his fingers against the couch. "Perhaps…"
Jacket looks at Gloves as he stops pacing. "Perhaps what?
"Perhaps it IS a clue about our father, as you suggested earlier. Only a handful of angels have become Fallen for Wrath, and his since his bad enough to be passed on in genes, he must have achieved a Fallen Angel status. And all Fallen Angels are archived at the Library! I'll go pay a visit immediately!" Gloves realizes, leaping to the door, his wings launching him across the house.
"Gloves." Jacket says, catching him. "Maybe there is a reason we weren't told. And if our father was wrathful enough to get sent to earth, he must have been really dangerous, and they'll be watching us to see if we start becoming like him…" Jacket notions. "Fallen Angels don't get the best rep up here, Gloves. I think that'd hurt our chances of achieving our dreams."
"What dream, Jacket?" Gloves says temporarily confused.
"Our dream of becoming our school's champions! You, as the mysterious Assassin King, and me, as the Marksman Champion! The first set of Champion Brothers!" Jacket reminds him, and Gloves nods.
"Right…I guess we'll just research it if something really bad happens." He mumbles.
Jacket nods. "Agreed."
This news of their discontinued research disappoints Kneesocks, wishing to know more and understand her target. "But if their father had Wrath, I could also research our Demonic Database for Angels with similar issues, but it was only made recently, and has only files passed down through word of mouth for so long, it probably won't be as helpful as the Heaven Library." She sighs.
The scene remolds itself, and Kneesocks can feel some time has passed since the last scene, but she doesn't know how long. It could have been mere hours later since the last dream, or months! Dreams unfortunately don't follow time. The fact barely phases Kneesocks, though, as it probably means little how later this was. She hides herself and sees Jacket, in a room alone, in his suite, reading a letter.
JACKET!
A voice booms, startling the angel, who falls to the ground, the letter, and his halo, flying from him.
"Madre di-!" Jacket curses, barely restraining himself. "Mother? Was that you?"
It is I, Son. You're brother is being sent to Earth for the sins of Greed and Envy.
"What, you mean NOW?!" Jacket shouts, getting up, grabbing his halo on tossing it on his head, his eyes wide.
No, but he is scheduled to be cast out of Heaven and to the Earth on Gabriel the Messenger's bolt on the morrow.
The heavenly voice informs, growing gentle as she breaks the news to one of her sons.
I thought you'd like it if family told you first instead of someone in the masses.
Jacket collapses on the bed, disbelief etched on his face. "There is no way this is happening! Our goals! We were about to finally graduate the academies! We were going to go into private training! We were going to become Champions! There is no way he can be leaving! Even if we do earn the Heavens necessary, we'll have to take up an entire year to retrain for the championships! He was FINALLY going to be a leader next to me! People could finally look up to us, instead of down on us for our differences!" Jacket fumes, honestly wanting the best for him and his brother, wanting what has been their collective goal since they turned eight, to be leaders like their grand mother, and to leader her armies and squads!
Well…He shall not be coming back for a long time, Jacket. His sins summed up a total of a thousand Heavens in order to gain admission back into Paradise.
"A THOUSAND?! But just One of the Seven Deadly Sins is a price of only a HUNDRED!" Jacket exclaims, bolting upright.
But you are my sons. You are held to higher standards than all the other angels. If you fuck up, you're price is higher.
"That's such bullshit! We've kept a low profile all these years!" Jacket shouts, standing and pointing at the ceiling, outraged at this unfairness.
Did you not declare unto Jockstrap the Immovable that you were my sons?
"Well….Yeah…" Jacket reluctantly admits.
Cover blown. Sorry, but after that, everyone knows about who you are. And I cannot be seen as a unfair leader. For this, you are to be punished worse than the rest of the angels
Jacket groans and cups his head in his hands sitting back down, the bed bouncing.
….
"What if I go with him?…."
What?
"I said," Jacket stands, "What if I go with him? We can split the cost, and rack up enough dough to get back up here. I doubt it'll take us a year for simple ghost hunting!"
The world goes quiet as their beloved mother thinks about his request.
Both of my sons…Gone from Heaven…Sounds like that'll mean a lot less discord in the city..a lot less destruction in the arenas, and less wild destructive parties from you? Sounds pleasant.
The voice laughs gently.
I'll send you along with him. No doubt you'd quicken his pace to get back up here, but I'll do you two a favor. I have a couple of daughters down on earth, in a city called Daven. I shall send you two there, and you shall split the cost of your sins into four. You shall also help my daughters get back up here. They need to resume their training, and one of them wont be accepted back into heaven if she doesn't get her mind out of the gutter. Maybe you can straighten her out and bring her back to us. Only on these conditions can you go down to earth with your brother and help him.
"I accept." Jacket immediately answers, not a second thought given.
Hold on, my dear child. Are you sure you want to go along with this? To go down to earth, become Fallen Angels, and have your identity tarnished and slaundered? It might hurt your chances of ever increasing your rank in Heaven, or getting help from other angels.
Jacket smirks and takes off his halo. "I simply cannot stay. Say what they will, I can't leave him on his own. When we come back, we'll have something the other angels won't, REAL battle experience. And besides, Mother." Jacket gives a wild grin like his brother, his eyes glistening. "Heaven just isn't the same without the him. And it'll be certainly lacking half our trademark "Chaos" factor that spices up this place."
Very well, my son. The amount for forgiveness is a total of 1200. Once you have collected that total amount, all four of my angels placed in Daten will be retrieved unto me. You may tell Gloves as early as possible to trade information. You will each meet St. Peter at the Pearly Gates tomorrow morning.
Gloves bows and simply smiles. "Thank you, mother." Jacket says and the dreams end.
"Valiant? Jacket?!" Kneesocks murmurs, releasing control of Nelly back to the bug, for it to retreat to safety. "It IS just a dream, maybe that's just the way HE saw things. The memories might be altered…but I doubt it. The thing felt too sincere to be a lie… Interesting.." Kneesocks starts stripping out of her suit, soon standing naked before the mirror, her nipples growing erect in the chilly air. She carefully pulls on her satin night clothes, before slipping into bed.
"I have a feeling that the "Chaos" factor that their father gave unto them might be more than a simple Sin. "Could it be…their father was a-? No, no, no. That's impossible." She waves the idea away, taking off her glasses and folding them, setting them on the nightstand and lays on the pillows. "Tomorrow I shall research the angels sent down for the sin of Wrath in the last twenty or thirty years." She says before falling asleep.
Fans, I wish to thank you all for continued support and loyalty! :D But I still want you to comment and favorite and all that good stuff! :D It helps with the story and spark up some ideas!
Not everyone has heard, but I have some large plans for this story and making it a trilogy! The Chaos Trilogy!
This is DaXlyn Von Darkkon saying good night, and have some crazy fucked up dreams! I know I shall! The I shall be working more on the next chapter, "Lonely Day" for the next update, scheduled sooooon maybe. Might be a four part chapter, or something. Anyways, LATER! Weeeeeew!