This chapter was originally going to be longer but I felt my readers waited to long. I decided to bring in a Teen Titans character that was never really focused on in the comics and adjusted the theme accordingly. I also decided to add something to the end of the chapters to give it more of the TV series feel that I've been striving to perfect. Enjoy.

Chapter 12

The Fallen

Unknown California Suburb…

Dead, it was all dead. The homes of a once happy suburban neighborhood had been reduced to nothing but piles of timber save for a few houses that were still half standing. Children had once laughed and played on its once safe streets as their parents socialized with each other, but no more. All that was left of the local population was a balding man, begging for mercy.

"Please I'm begging you, let me live," he balled, tears of fear streaming down his face. "I'll pay you anything, just let me go!"

He was snatched up off his knees by his collar and thrust into the face of a young man. The balding man clawed at the arm that was holding him captive, his fingers scratching uselessly at his captor's skin. It was cracked and rough but scalding from what looked like lava pumping through his veins. Every time he tried to grab his arm, he would pull his hands back from severe burns. The man stared up into his captures blood red eyes, but found no mercy within them.

"Please…haven't you killed enough?"

His captor lifted his scaled left arm to the side, brushing against his black raven wing, and a long katana materialized in his grasp. The man's eyes widened in horror as he forgot the scalding pain and grabbed his arm once more. He was then thrust from his captor and stumbled to regain his balance. But he never did as his captor thrust his sword into his chest, piercing it all the way through his body. The man clutched his stomach, attempting to speak but only achieved a mouthful of blood. He then fell to the ground, silenced forever more.

The young man scoffed at his pitiful sight, his sword raised high. "Now it is finished, and I can begin my harvest." His words were cold and unfeeling, a perfect match for his soul. "I now can begin my harvest; your souls shall belong to me, judgment has been passed."

His sword dropped with great speed, it would soon pierce the heart of the man he had just slain. But as his sword fell upon the man, a great light fell from the sky and protected him. The young man was thrown back by the blast, and fell to his knees.

"Silence, you shall do no such thing," came a voice from within the light, its words resonating throughout the Heavens. "Forthese are my Father's children and I have come for them!"

The young man tried to shield himself from the light, but found it encompassed everything. His skin burned fiercely and steam began to rise from his form. "Who dares to confront me," he called, his words displaying arrogant courage.

The light began to fade, revealing a man within its holy light. He was bathed in white robes, which were overlapped at the shoulders to the knees by golden cloth. His skin was a deep blue and he carried a long staff. The staff was made of pure gold and was almost as tall as the man. Near the top, the staff it split off into three pieces, one which ended in a spire with a ring of light and the other two as wings spiraling around the spire.

This man was there in the beginning, hovering over the deep waters of a formless Earth. He was there when God spoke and the limitless cosmos erupted into existence. He has always been there. Some say he is a ghost, an invisible presence that moves mightily over the Earth, calling the sons of men to faith in the Eternal One. And so he comes for he has been entrusted to reveal the truth, the glory and the knowledge of Jesus Christ, and to shine the light of the world upon the mind of man. He is the spirit of the living God, the Holy Spirit.

"Why have you come," the young man spat, trying to hide his eyes from the light burning away at him.

The Holy Spirit looked down at his pitiful sight, and aimed his staff down at him. "Demon Lord Razgriz," he began, his staff beginning to glow with a holy light, "…be gone."

The light cut the air as it impacted Razgriz and he screamed in pain. Light began to pour from his eyes and mouth; his skin began to dissolve from within. It wasn't before long that his voice began to hold traces of femininity. The Holy Spirit ignored Razgriz's cries of pain and turned to fallen population, and returns to his mission.

With a thought a book appears, and opens to reveal the names of the chosen children written in the language of the Angels. One by one, the Holy Spirit gathers the flock to deliver to the shepherd. Their forms begin to lose their color as rings of light rise from within them, ascending into the sky above and into the Kingdom of Heaven. Before long, he completes his role, and the children are secure.

Once it is complete, the Holy Spirit turns back to his fallen foe. He is now wrapped in a white, sleeveless top and skirt. The black raven wing had now been replaced by a wing of a dove, and the once frightening skin features he had bore were now fully healed. The Archangel Razgriz had finally surfaced.

Razgriz rose, her legs struggling to keep her upright. She clutched her head, and her white hair fell into her face. She brushed it aside, and her gaze fell upon the Holy Spirit. She immediately got back down to her knees and bowed her head. "Oh Holy Spirit," she said, her voice shaking, "I am humbled to be in your presence."

The once fierce soldier of light, now a figure of serenity and compassion, gazes down on the Angel with a smile. "I am glad to see that there is still a part of you that still seeks the path. But I am also angered at what you have allowed yourself to become."

Razgriz looked up to the Holy Spirit, but her eyes still could not bare the brunt of his holy presence. "I…I am afraid I do not understand."

The Holy Spirit motioned to the field before them. "Take a look around; see all that you have caused."

Razgriz did as she was told, and gaped at the horrifying sight. All the homes destroyed, the dead littering the once lively streets. It was almost too much to bear. "But I have not, I did no such thing," she pleaded, unaware that he could see right through her empty words.

The Holy Spirit looked upon her with great displeasure. He raised his staff to hear and she cringed before it. "Your words are twisted with deceit and bathed in distrust. You say you are an Angel of the Lord yet here you are, lying before me." Light shone from the staff and trailed to her forehead. Suddenly a translucent image of her alter ego appeared before her, mirroring her stance. It almost shocked her how even through all the scarring and deformity; they still slightly resembled each other

"Holy Spirit," she began again. "I'm afraid I still don't quite understand."

The Holy Spirit let out a sigh, disappointed in her actions. "Razgriz," he said, his voice losing its sense of compassion. "Have you become so entwined in your lies that you have begun to believe them yourself? Have you blinded yourself to the point that you do not even recognize yourself?"

Razgriz looked to him in shock, but he returned her with a stern glance. "You know what I speak of; do not fool yourself any longer Razgriz, fallen angel of Heaven."

The Archangel was about to speak, but she quickly fell silent. She did know what he spoke of; she could not hide it any longer. She had buried it deep within herself till the point where she'd almost forgotten on it. Razgriz wished she could, but nevertheless, it was a part of who she was.

"Razgriz, once a revered angel in the courts of the Father, conspired with a traitor. Deep he planted the seeds of deception within you, until you chose the follow the words of a sinner rather than the words of the Father. You chose to fight for him when he tried to reach the throne of the Father, and for that you were banished from Heaven when Michael struck the final blow, and were stripped of your name," The Holy Spirit told her, narrating her life.

What he said was true, Razgriz had betrayed the Father and for that she was punished. She and all the other Angels who chose to follow Lucifer were cast out of Heaven by the power of God. The crashed to Earth like meteors, their body's becoming scarred and deformed from the experience. They scattered, all seeking safety among the shadows and grabbing whatever they could use for shelter. Not a one begged for forgiveness, some even saw this as a mark of honor and abandoned their names to show their defiance.

Throughout the centuries, some did decide to go back to their Father and beg for forgiveness. Razgriz was among them, but she was still afraid to return. She remembered how much it pained her to be in his presence, all her shame and sins laid bare. As legion as they were, she was forgiven. Her ugliness melted away, her body made anew in the holy light of the Father, and she was once again an angel in Heaven. But even though she was forgiven, she was not allowed to reclaim her name, Ari. She was not angered, for it was a sign she was no longer who she was. Though her name was devilish sounding, she stuck with it. But it was not the only thing she kept.

"Though our Father spared you an eternity of suffering, you still clung to what you once were, and so it harbored within you until it gained a strong grip over you're judgment," The Holy Spirit continued. "Instead of expelling it, you tried to disguise it, hoping that a different gender would fool your creator. In making him so, you have caused yourself to let down your guard, allowing him to become his own entity. Again you tried to suppress him, hoping that device made by the Teen Titans would do away with him forever. But you were wrong, and now you can no longer control him. He has begun to great for you to control. Razgriz…you need help."

The Holy Spirit looked down to the fallen angel with caring and extended his hand to her. Razgriz reached out to take it but as soon as her hand grazed his she withdrew and cradled it as if it had been wounded. Upon realizing this, Razgriz began to weep. Her tears trailed down her face and her arms, wetting the pavement beneath her. "I am so sorry," she wept, "I am beyond help now."

"Silence," The Holy Spirit commanded. Razgriz flinched at this sudden outburst and did as she was told. "Be still your tongue, for it shall only deceive you. You are never beyond help for the Lord shall never abandon you," The Holy Spirit corrected, giving hope to the broken angel. "Judgment for your ill actions has been executed, but you did not turn to spiteful ways in retaliation. Instead you asked for mercy, and so you shall receive it. You have helped many and set them on the path, now it is time for one to help you." The Holy Spirit lifted his staff up to the sky, parting the clouds as his power reached up to the Heavens. "Do not grow weak of heart, for I shall bring to you a champion!"

And with that the Holy Spirit ascended into the sky, a crack of thunder signaling his absence. His image painted across the clouds as he traversed the sky, seeking out the Lord's chosen warrior, for he had foreseen this day and planned it so. And it was not long before he came to him, his presence hidden but message as clear as day.

Puerto Rico…

A boy, no older than fifteen, was kneeling before an alter. He had long, waving brown hair and equally brown eyes. He wore a white robe that had a slight overhang across the shoulders, and black knee-high boots. Set before him, which he supported with both hands, was a tall wooden cross. He murmured a slight pray, and then rose and said a final: "Amen." He turned to leave, putting his thoughts to rest and returning home. His prayer was for his deceased parents from whom he gained his Irish and Puerto Rican heritage.

He crossed his heart once as he exited the chapel and headed back to his home. It had been a long day, he was tired at it was getting late, but tomorrow it would be time to rest. His boots clicked across the unpaved road, and his eagerly altered his path as young children native to the American territory ran and played. He soon came to the hut that the village had given to him upon his arrival, and he quickly entered and removed his clothing. He then replaced them with his sleeping clothes and pulled the covers over him as he sat down upon his bed.

He murmured a final pray before he closed his eyes and began to drift off to sleep. But his sleep was not peaceful, but filled with sadness. Images of the dead littered every corner of his mind until it finally focused on that of a young woman. She was in great agony, as a young man who had spawned from her left shoulder was desperately trying to consume her. Both looked like a two headed person fighting with themselves. The two of them fought bitterly for supremacy, but after some time it looked like the young woman was finally giving in. In fact it began to look as though the young woman welcomed the change of hands. And in an instant she vanished from existence and the young man smiled with satisfaction and turned his gaze to the specter.

The religious young man awoke from his dream with a start, his chest heaving in and out with every breath. He was sweating and he quickly tore off his clothes to cool him. He then sat there, his head in his hands, wondering what the dream meant. He thought of the woman and how she had so willingly given up. He tried to focus on her face, to see if it had been someone he knew. And suddenly it came to him through the darkness.

"Razgriz…"

He tore the covers off of him and stepped over to his trunk on the far side of the room. He removed the oaken cover and set it gently onto the floor. He removed a pair of clothes that were similar to the ones he had worn earlier that day, but these were made of a finer material and had a belt strung across it that attached to belt. Strapped to the belt was a sword, its grip firm and hilt gold plated, sheathed in leather. And at the bottom of the trunk was a golden cross, identical to the wooden one he had carried earlier that day. It appeared it was time for him to be Kid Crusader once again.

Coming Up Next: "Setting Fire To My Soul"

Disclaimer: Kid Crusader is not my creation but belongs to D.C. comics Teen Titans Series. The character Razgriz belongs to me but the name belongs to Project ACE's Ace Combat 5.