Okie dokie! Once again, I am so sorry for my laziness! Hee. Yeah well anyways, WHO REALLY READ THIS STUFF ANYWAY?! ON TO THE REVIEWER ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS!!
To Katz Go Moo: Heh… Don't die! Um… Thanks for your support!
…And um… THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR REVIEWING! waves to everyone Remember kiddies, if you haven't already, please vote for your favorite character! I love Baal. Erm… Hot Pockets taste good. Oh yeah! And those who've been waiting for angels? Well, here they are!! …Finally… Yay! I also finally got my stories to ITALICIZE!!!
Disclaimer: Arg…Nope, I don't own Blizzard's Diablo or Squaresoft's moogles or anything for that matter… OO
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-The moogle prances, saying, "Day 12, kupo!"-
As an agreement with all of the girls, Salem distinctly remembers saying they would help the guys go to school- they were too eager to go to school to be American-in exchange that they help them do their homework. 'These lucky foreigners,' thinks Salem, referring to the fact that her boyfriend and his siblings had not known anything about school.
She shifts the black backpack hanging from one shoulder and sits down near Kyra and Rika in the classroom. To keep an eye on them, Salem had also requested that her 'foreign' friends stay in her classes. It is fate that every one of their strange group happened to be in almost all of the same classes. Meanwhile, Selena would be in the care of a baby sitter…since daycare centers were out of the question…
"Hello class. Welcome back from your Spring Break. How was it? I hope you all have your essays," says the teacher.
She is known as The Fuzz. No, not because she was a police officer of any sort, even though she strongly enforced the law of preserving the natural 'wildlife' (including the protection of local birds, the squirrels, her class pet gecko named Bob, and the seven species of roach infamous to the school), but she is known mainly for her armpit hair (you may barf now) and the ten pounds of wig nestled like a dead, obese cat on top of her head. She is a heavyset woman who wore mainly green skirts and talks to herself during the extra minutes of class. She also has huge crooked teeth that made her look as if she would bite your head off literally if you forgot an assignment.
"Geez. What's with the beaver in the wig?" Salem can hear Brian whisper to her. She stifles a fit of laughter that threatens to earn her a detention.
Ah. That's what she likes about him. His sense of humor, his laid-back personality, his outgoing, 'no-fear-of-death' mood. Well, he isn't one of the most muscular guys, but the whole 'big n' bulky' isn't her type anyway. She silently passes a note saying simply 'Behave' on it and snatches a glance at Rika and Melvin. Although he doesn't look as if he needed to go to school, Melvin had still agreed to accompany her. Now he looks a few years younger in Salem's eyes, finally wearing normal clothes in comparison to that priestly robe he wore everyday, sharing those overly large headphones and swaying to whatever music they are listening to with Rika. She feels happy for them.
Same with Kyra and Derek. Derek is caring, outgoing, and seems pretty happy with his life. It is a perfect match for Kyra who had suffered a recent 'break-up' in a relationship with some jerk who ran off for some other prissier, and saner, women. The problem is that this guy still goes to the same school and Salem hadn't much liked him in the first place. It seems to her as if Derek was heaven sent, healing poor Kyra's broken heart.
Salem doesn't even know of the irony that her mind had produced.
-The moogle stares at the imp and starts randomly doing the wave, shouting, "Meanwhile, kupo. Do the wave kupo!-
Tyrael didn't know which was wore: spending a whole month on the earth searching for three demons with the most infinitesimal chance of luck while his searches were still fruitless, or this crummy bar he was currently in. It is located in the downtown only a few miles from the Three's current residence, where drugs, where drugs and chaos reigned supreme.
The bar atmosphere smells of smoke, 'Typical of humans,' thinks the angel in disguise. He is tall and slender, his smooth face perfect of wrinkles. The angel's hair is a neatly combed wave of short, blond hair that glistens in the smoke-fogged light and he is wearing a pure white trench coat with white leather shoes. The shirt and pants under his coat are…you guessed it… white. Despite the odd harmony of color that his garments possessed, his well-groomed appearance that was granted by being a servant of the Heavens seems normal. He could've been a celebrity of Hollywood, though he lacked the evil to be one. In fact, the only thing that drew most of the stares to him was the giant, sheathed sword held by a strap to his back.
The sword's name is Azurewrath. Tyrael recalls how it was crafted by the divine mixture of steel and diamond. A turquoise gem glistens in the center of the hilt and the two guards (???) jutting out above hilt were stylized wings. When in battle, it would be engulfed in a harmless, azure fire that seared demons to a crisp, hence the name.
Right now he is sitting on a stool in the bar, surveying the rowdy humans against a background of glowing neon signs advertising other things beside the brands of beer that were available. A television set above the rows of bottles in the bar blares on about a petty game football.
"Hey, you wash' shumtin'?" says a scruffy, old bartender from behind the grimy counter, polishing the inside of a glass with a dirty rag as all bartenders do.
"I am sorry to bother you sir but have you seen any juvenile delinquents around here?," the angel asks, looking down from the TV. The bartender glances around the room as if to say, 'Have you looked around lately?' "May I have some tea too, please?"
All around, sweaty men gamble or drink beer or smoke or watch the game and shout rudely. Some stare at Tyrael but he ignores it. Others settle for a game of pool, cigarettes poking from the sides of their mouths, hot ash decorating the floor.
"I'm shorry shir. I ain't never seen no JUVENILE delinquents. And we ain't got no tea. Shee, when ya' goesh to a bar, ya' gotta buy beer."
"Er, then what do you have?"
"Well, yoush can try our new tequila vodka beer mix special," the bartender inquires.
"Comin' right up." The bartender stalks towards the bottles on the wall.
A drunk group of guys suddenly break into song like some odd musical. "Oh! Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall! Ninety-nine bottles of beer!"
"Oh boy," the archangel groans and receives his drink. He places his hand down on the hard wood counter and a few silver coins flop from his hand and make a few revolutions before dropping like dead soldiers to their sides. The bartender looks at them strangely then scoops them greedily, muttering about foreign currency.
"Take one down,
"pass it around,
"Ninety-eight bottles of beer on the wall!"
'Man, am I thirsty," thinks Tyrael. Unfortunately for him, immortals just happened to drink a lot…
-"At school, kupo," the imp says, looking rather bored.-
'Well, they sure are comfortable in this school,' thinks Rika. She is eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, watching as the boys converse at their table, as it is now lunchtime.
The cafeteria is loud with the voices of students and smells of by-product food waft in the air. Long tables with stools serve as the dining tables and Rika struggles to find a place to put the rest of her lunch down on the dirty, stain-laden table. Salem sitting to her right is busy munching on chips, talking to Brian and Kyra, sitting across from her, eating cold cafeteria pizza, is busying herself by completing some last minute homework. Derek beside her, Rika notices, has begun taking a liking to the food, especially to the questionable meat dish, which causes her to lose some of her appetite. Brian and her own boyfriend insist that they not eat.
The black-dressed teenager sighs and feels content just to be with her friends.
And then it hits her.
'Can demons truly be my friends?,' she ponders silently.
She had deduced that perhaps even Melvin was a demon, but it was only a secret for her to know and she would never reveal it. 'Besides, it's just a silly, little superstition.' Of course Salem wasn't a demon, she'd known her for five years, ever since their sixth grade year, as they are now Juniors in high school. And Kyra is mainly just a sugar-high, frosting-loving girl. No problem there.
Rika wolfs down the last of her sandwich. She has vague notion that something big would happen in her life sometime this year, and she thinks she knows what it might be, according to her troubled dreams. Before she can stop it, she is thinking of it, an alien idea invading her thoughts.
The war that would affect all planes of existence…
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Okay, that's all. Go home now. Oh? You're already home? Crap…Nevermind… OO Ummm.. Yes, how does thou liketh it-th so far-ith? Remember, reviewing (and no flaming) makes the writer of this fic VERY happy and she will send you muffins if you do!!! Um…That was random…Anyways, here's the votes so far:
Salem: 2
Brian: 4
Selena: 2
Derek: 2
Kyra: 4
Rika: 3
Melvin: 2
Ta at…