James Newman walked down the well lit corridor, his eyes glancing briefly at the many insane patients through the window in the cell. Standing just over six feet tall with curly brown hair and dark brown eyes, he looked every bit the respectable doctor he was not.
He stepped into an elevator and waited for the doors to close, saying a silent prayer that no-one would come in. The doors slid shut leaving James alone in the elevator. He pressed the button for the floor below the roof. As the elevator lurched up, James put his black-gloved finger over the emergency stop button.
Just before the elevator got to the floor, he pushed it. Only practice kept him on his feet as the elevator slammed to a stop. James pulled off the white lab coat and suit jacket. Pulling off his tie and shirt, he soon stood in the elevator dressed in black pants, combat boots and a black t-shirt.
James the thief was back.
Studying the rail that ran around the elevator, James realized he'd have about two minuets to get on it, open the panel to the top of the elevator and get onto the roof. Cracking his knuckles, he took a breath and climbed onto the rail.
Quickly pushing open the panel, he climbed on top of the elevator. Pulling out a small flashlight, he turned it on and stuck it in his mouth, shining it on the closed doors. Prying them apart, he climbed through them just as the elevator over-rode his command and slid down.
James rolled onto the roof and stood up, brushing off his pants and taking the flashlight out of his mouth.
"Did you get it?"
James turned around to see a man leaning against the wall, his brown hair slicked back. He was wearing an impeccable grey pin-stripped suit that went with his oddly-colored eyes. In his left hand, he was rolling a large coin on his knuckles. James pulled the tube from the pocket of his pants and extended a hand.
"Money first," he said.
The man tossed the coin up into the air. James automatically caught it, dropping the tube in the process.
"Take that to John Constantine and tell him an old friend want to say hello. Give him this address and you'll get your money," he said, picking up the tube. Turning he walked away, leaving James standing on the roof staring off into space.
"Could you repeat that?" Raphael said in a very high-pitched voice.
"I heard it just fine," a new voice said, although no-one was visible, "quite the drama with Gabriel."
Black smoke swirled up and materialized into a woman. She wad dressed in black that had been artfully slashed to show her skin, but unlike the others, she had no wings. Her hair was dark and cut short, revealing her slightly red eyes. She was leaning against the window, her arms crossed and her eyes half-closed.
"Azrael," Michael said, his voice edged with venom, "what are you doing here?"
Azrael, the Angel of Death, untangled herself and sauntered over, her lips turning up into a mocking smile.
"Who's time is it?" Raphael questioned, his fingers tensing.
"No-one's brother dear," Azrael said in fake innocence, "I just came from a collection and I didn't have time to change. People come so much more easily when I appear like this," she said motioning to her clothing, "although it does tend to get a bit chilly."
"Then why are you here?" Michael repeated.
"One of my helpers," Azrael began, "came to me with the most surprising news: Gabriel's in Heaven."
"Gabriel was about to go to Lucifer," Michael said, "I am not going to allow the Kingdom I have sworn to protect crumble because some Archangel feels the need to backstab us."
"And who are you to dictate what side someone is on?" Azrael questioned.
"I would hardly expect you to understand," Michael shot back.
"Oh I get it," Azrael said, stepping forward. With each step, her shape changed until, standing before them, was a man with long black hair, reddish eyes and long black feathered wings. He was dressed in black clothing that had been cut to fit his wings, "you're still bitter about that whole 'Lucifer' thing."
"Azrael!" Raphael said sharply, asserting himself for the first time, "that's enough."
Both Azrael and Michael had extended their wings, their fists clenched. Both were breathing hard and the air seemed to crackle around them.
"Go on, Leader of the Archangels. See if you can kill the Archangel of Death," Azrael hissed, a grin playing on his lips.
"Michael—" Raphael started forward. Michael's eyes narrowed before he closed his wings and took a step back, leaving Azrael standing there, waiting for a fight that wasn't going to come. Instead of acting angry, Azrael smiled and folded his wings before vanishing in a plume of black smoke.
"I swear, Azrael will be the death of us all!" Raphael cried in frustration.
Angela laughed for the first time since collapsing in Constantine's apartment. Though she tried her best to cover it, both Archangels turned to look at her. Something sparked in Michael's eyes.
"We found the key," Michael said turning to Raphael.
"The key to what?" Raphael demanded.
"To finding Israfel," he said.
"Whoa, whoa, back up a minuet," Chas spoke up, "you want to find Israfel? As in the Archangel needed to bring about the Judgment Day, the Trumpet blower? The one Archangel that even God and Satan cannot find?"
"Yes," Michael said.
Raphael laughed.
"How, pray tell, are you going to find Israfel if God himself cannot?" he questioned. Michael smiled slowly, something that silenced Raphael.
"Through one of his Blessed Ones," Michael said.
"What?" Constantine asked, his voice gruff.
"Each person is Blessed by a certain Angel, as in their Guardian Angels. But some, a handful, are Blessed Ones. They have been chosen by either Azrael or Israfel. These are unique and more cursed than Blessed in my opinion," Raphael said, "and our great Leader here thinks we found one of them."
"No, our great Leader knows we have found one of them," he said. Raphael followed his gaze and let out a groan as everything became clear.
Israfel, Angel
Isabel, Angela.
Raphael opened and closed his mouth several times, but no sound came out. The silence that settled over the room was deafening until someone knocked on the door.
"If this is another Archangel I'm going to need a bigger apartment," Constantine muttered walking over to the door.
