Okay everyone, some stuff to say here... I realise that a few people have expressed concern about the small part that Noir seems to be playing in this. Let me explain it to you a little bit. Noir, and you, know very little about what is going on here, they are at the moment bystanders, caught in the middle of a ferocious battle. that will of course change later, when they are forced to question for who they fight, at which point their actions will become almost the sole point in the battle. But at the minute, i am trying to express their confusion, that they are forced to continuously react to dangers, instead of hunting them down. SO i do know what you mean, but for the sake of the plot bare with me. I mean it's not THAT bad is it?
Sorry about the HUGE delay, school caught up with me. Also due to a lot of reviews saying so, i shall Keep Young mother and Bunker Fever. A school holiday is this week, so updating could be improved. But school has been affecting these, so after that updating may be sporadic, but i will not give up!
ScriptureIV - The Greatest Evil can often Result from the Best of Intentions. But the Greater Good can Never be Achieved by Evil Intentions.
Kirika walked calmly into their shared apartment, sparing but a quick glance around the empty room. It was more for show, she had known as soon as she had approached the door that it had been empty. Never the less, to keep Mireille happy she began to scour the area to the left, whilst Mireille took the right. No one here, no explosives and not even a threatening letter. Could their chance encounter really have been just that? A coincidence? The idea seemed unlikely, and yet they had not been pursued, and neither had an ambush been left here for them.
Maybe this was another facet of the Soldats, that mysterious organisation that they had been tracking for so long. It seemed to be the only answer for the moment, although how that single man had been able to stop a bullet, much less demolish a street left a few questions unanswered... Bio-engineering?
"I guess they don't know where we live." Mireille suddenly exclaimed hopefully, Kirika couldn't help but analyse that statement.
"Maybe so." Was her only reply, near silent as she drew her gun and placed it down on the pool table, relieving herself of its oppressive weight. As always she waited for Mireille to decide what they were to do next. It was not that she had no idea what they might do herself, but Mireille was the one who would herself put the plans and the search into action. Not to mention that anything she might suggest could just as easily be disregarded by the Corsican blonde.
"Why don't you go check the news, hmm?" Mireille suggested, making Kirika nod without any change in expression and head off to the small televison they had recently bought. Although her exterior showed nothing, she was in fact slightly pleased with how Mireille had addressed her. it was not much, but it had not been an order. Of course Kirika knew that Mireille had meant it as such, and that to refuse would have not been a good idea. But at least it was worded as a request.
It was more than she had expected.
But all such thoughts were quickly banished from her mind when she saw the current news. Mireille soon came to stand behind her, also staring avidly at the screen.
"As can be seen," The news reporter breathlessly reported, "There has been a recent terrorist assault on Paris, the Bastille Tower and part of the Faubourg St Antoine were almost completely destoryed by the blast."
The airborne camera zoomed further out, showing that two great chasms had been ripped through building and road, at right angles to one another and effectively levelling every building in their path. Kirika knew they were not the results of explosives, they were too clean. It looked more like someone had taken a great knife and dug through the landscape.
"The total number of casualties has yet to be determined, but even now rescue teams are scaling the wreckage searching for any survivors. It has not yet been found who conducted this, and as of yet no terrorist organisations have claimed responsibility. The police and the military are looking into the matter as we speak. The president has urged all citizens to carry on as best as they are able and to continue their daily lives.
"Back to Phillipe, who right now has a specialist on terrorist tactics ready for an interview."
"Thank you Ch-"
Mireille snorted a quick laugh as she put down the remote, but Kirika could hear the worry behind her show of defiance. She was anxious as well, although she did not show it. They had seen a single man do all of this, and worse yet that man had obviously wanted them dead.
"What shall we d-" Kirika quietley tried to ask but was quickly interrupted.
"We carry on as normal! The Soldats must be behind this, we find them and deal with them." Mireille must have noticed Kirika's silence for what it was. "What? You don't agree?"
"I didn't say that."
"But you don't agree." This time it was more of a confirmation than a question. Kirika took a moment to choose her words, not wanting to anger her partner.
"It seemed like more than them, they have never attacked like this before... I just have a feeling it's not them."
"If not them... then who?"
"..." Kirika couldn't answer that. She was just sure that it was not Soldats who had done this.
"We should find that woman!" Mireille suddenly exclaimed, making Kirika look at her for a moment, before remembering the red haired woman who had apparently saved them, or had tried to... she had warned them at least. Kirika nodded and made a small sound in the affirmative, it was as good a plan as they could make in this situation.
But where could they find her?
"I'll have my contacts look into it, I'm sure someone will know something." Mireille suddenly spoke, walking away to her computer with a short flick of her hair. Kirika left her to it and calmly turned back to the blank black screen of the television, using it as more of a concentration aid as she analysed the night slowly to herself. First the Angel, and then the strange man. There was no such thing as coincidence in the underworld.
"I've got a lead." Mireille exclaimed from across the room, shattering Kirika's chain of thought as she turned to regard the woman who was wearing a surprised expression. A lead? Already? Impossible, how could she have found what she wanted not two minutes into her search... "I have to leave to consult my contact." She spoke again, making Kirika's suspicion grow. She was sure that Mireille was not going to sell her out to the Soldats, or that she was doing anything that would negatively affect Kirika's own health. But why she wanted to go out, alone, when they had been attacked not half an hour ago...
"I'll go with you." She offered, knowing what Mireille's reply would be, but letting it be known that she didn't like it.
"No, you stay here." The blonde's voice was calm yet soft, telling her that there would be no argument on this topic, and yet apologising for it.
Nor did Mireille give her any time to object, simply picking up her bag and quickly exiting the apartment, closing the door carefully behind her.
Why was Mireille lying? What has she really gone to do?
Should she follow? Her first reaction was to do so, until she looked out the window and saw Mireille climb into a taxi cab. By the time it had pulled away it was already too late. Still showing no facial emotion she turned to regard the silent computer.
With not a single bit of guilt she sat down in the seat and began the long trial of hacking Mireille's accounts...
"By order of the Divine Council of Heaven you are to be executed."
The words continued to sound in his head, like the tolling of some great bell far in the distance, shaking his core and reducing him to just a quivering leaf in the wind. No, he could not believe it, could not take it all in... how? Why? The questions screamed inside his head, but there was no answer for them, there was no answer in the faces of those who would become his executioners.
"Why?" He shouted, the fear making his raise his voice in anger, almost hoping to scare them into saying it was just one big joke. But their faces remained impassive, unmovable blocks of uncaring stone.
"The Divine Council of Heaven has ordered your death, thus you are to be executed." The warden's voice was soft, not a sympathetic or caring soft, just a calm, quiet voice that suggested he cared neither way. That he would do his duty no matter what that was. But something didn't make sense...
"The divine council? Who are they?" He screamed to the two, who remained unperturbed, "The Archangels rule Heaven, ever since the Seraph's late death!" There was no council... Raphael, Michael, Gabriel and Uriel ruled the Divine as a team. Making decisions together with the best of their knowledge... had they made themselves into a council? How much had happened in the few days he had been missing...?
"That information is of no concern to the Fallen, by order of the Divine Council you are to be executed." That accusation shook him to his very boots. Fallen?
"No!" He denied without any anger, only a supreme fear and sadness, he was no traitor! "I am not a Fallen, I am loyal to the Divine! Please let me explain!" He begged fo the two statue like figures. Throughout his entire speech they had stood stock still, never once caring, never once listening.
"Our orders were not to obtain an explanation, they are to execute you. Prepare yourself-"
"NO! Wait, take me to Lord Michael, he will know what is happening!" Ramiel interrupted suddenly, knowing that Michael would protect him and see him cleared of such a false charge.
"Our orders do not involve taking you to the Archangel Michael, they are to execute you. If you are a true son of Light you will face your punishment with honour." The wardens finished as one, speaking together. At that moment the two of them both drew bright white sabres, the edges so sharp that they seemed to cut the very air itself.
"NO, Please wait!" Ramiel screamed as they both drew back for the killing strike.
"By order of the Divine council you are to be executed."
"STOP!" He screamed.
"Serve in light and die in peace." They intoned as the silvery swords descended upon him, making him close his eyes to ward away the sight of his death.
"You must not die this night Ramiel... of the order ... of Michael. Run. RUN!" The voice screamed in his head, like the groaning of a thousand organs, more powerful than anything he had ever heard before. It was a command, and one that had to be obeyed. "This is all i can do to aid you..."
Screams reached his ears, twin shrieks of unique agony, and when he opened his eyes he saw that the two Wardens were sick, one leaning against a wall and the other on his hands and knees throwing up violently. They looked at him balefully, fully assuming that he had caused their agony. Ramiel's own vision had fading spots in it, as if a bright light had flashed suddenly in the room, which could have easily happened. All this thought took but a moment, and in the next he was already running.
The voice did not return as Ramiel barged open a closed door, seeing the exit to the building ahead of him. This time he needed a disguise, something to hide him from the suspicions of the humans. It was simple enough, a moulding of reality and thought that clothed him instantly in simple blue trousers and a black sweater. Even his hair had changed, becoming a deep black but still hanging behind his head in a long ponytail.
It was all illusion, he could still feel his robes flapping against his legs as he ran, his thick boots still thudded on the pavement despite that he seemed to be wearing white trainers. But it would fool the eyes, and that was all that so many mortals relied on. The streets were still crowded as he threw himself onto them, instantly submerging himself in the crowd to avoid detection. He kept to a fast walk, pushing through irate mortals that cursed him constantly, but paid them no mind. He was making his way to the pier, it would be less crowded there, he was sure of that. Even though that would make him more obvious it would also give him more time to think. Plus it was a fairly pointless place to go, meaning that the wardens might overlook it. He didn't dare hope that they might let him escape. They were far more persistant that that.
A twinge in his brow made him look up, it was almost like a sudden jolt of electricity. Instinct.
There ahead of him, dressed in a plain white shirt and light denim jeans was one of the wardens. His face just as impassive as it had been before, showing no emotion as he stared into Ramiel's suddenly frightened eyes. The road was closed. As the warden calmly and slowly reached for a concealed weapon Ramiel took flight to the side, pushing through angry crowds as he strove towards the less populated streets of Paris. Places where he could see his enemies coming.
Enemies? They are my allies... my only family, my only friends. Where else can I go? The women? Those two humans are too dangerous for any to be around, I need somewhere where I can think in peace.
Somewhere, anywhere... where he could be alone. Time, that was all he needed.
It took less than two minutes for him to reach the more open streets, dodging between the scattered trees among the quays of the Seine. There were not as many people here as on the other streets, only a scattering of mortals rushing to their next destination. But he didn't have the time for that, he still needed to get away and lose those Wardens. Taking a deep breath he quickened his pace and ran to the left turn ahead of him, which would hopefully take him further away from his pursuers.
He hit the corner at speed, placing a quick arm on the edge of the wall before using it as a lever to spin himself around. And froze. Standing before him was the Angel's twin, dressed in similar clothing, a dark grey pair of trousers and a white shirt, a small glistening knife clutched in his fist. Behind him he could already hear the other angel walking to a halt, content to have him captured.
End of the road, Ramiel thought cynically to himself as he tried to keep both Wardens in his sight, which was made difficult by their positions, he had to have his back to the wall. Which in fact turned out to be a door.
Ramiel couldn't help but smile, if faintly when the door swung open and he stumbled inside, he looked to be in a small diner, with a few tables set out and customers sitting and eating with industrious haste. Ramiel only saw the metal door at the other end of the room, surely there would be another exit?
There was no time to think of what might happen, and no time to look for another opportunity, ignoring snide glances and suspicious looks he forced his way through the waiter staff and customers and pulled open the door, before entering the kitchen area and pulling the door closed with a loud clang.
Nobody looked at him.
The kitchens, if the long metal benches and assorted cookers could ever be called that, were attended mercilessly by a small horde of cooks and other staff, and there was not a glance spared for a strange new man entering the room. Nearly.
"What do you want here?" A young male voice asked curiously, making Ramiel look to the left, to see a young man almost the same height as himself. Bright green eyes stared into his own. Not having enough time to think up a satisfying answer, Ramiel could only tell the truth.
"I need another way out, I'm being followed!" The desperation in his voice, if nothing else seemed to satisfy the human.
"This way." The young man urged, grabbing his arm and dragging him through bustling staff and numerous dark corridors, too fast for Ramiel to make any distinction of where they were going, too fast for him to even orientate himself. Before any understanding could come a large door was opened and he was thrust out into bright blinding sunlight. He turned to see the door closing behind him, made of hard steel. "Go, get out of here." The voice of the man echoed from behind the door, before Ramiel took his advice and ran. He didn't doubt that the Wardens would be back on his tail soon enough, and he knew there was only one place he could go.
Even if he didn't want to.
Deep in the suburbs of Paris a middle aged man had set his sights on his prey for the evening. A young looking girl in a long green coat was to be his next toy... before he killed her that was. He would show those bastards for trying to arrest him, they wouldn't be so damned arrogant when bodies showed up on their doorsteps...
Deciding there was no time to waste he jumped out and swung his fist towards her face.
She avoided the blow with contemptuous ease.
So surprised was he, that he failed to even see the knife that planted itself in his throat. His eyes widened as he looked down upon it. But she was not even near him! She had thrown it? Suddenly afraid he scrabbled at his throat, trying to dislodge the knife that had already killed him.
The young girl walked away. Never once looking back.
Ramiel's heart was racing as he leant against the white door for a few moments, it was a small miracle he had been able to remember where the place was, let alone get there unaccosted. It was as if the Wardens had simply given up on him.
This was a bad idea... they might kill you!
Yes, they might. But going home would defenitely kill him.
He opened the door.
The first thing his eyes focused on was the barrel of a black gun, pointing directly at his head from across the room, despite the distance he held no doubts that the bullet would hit it's mark. The owner of the gun was a short black haired asian girl, who was sitting at a computer. She wasn't even looking at him. A moment later and the gun lowered, even though she never looked at him she knew who it was.
He didn't know if he was angry or pleased that the other one seemed absent. He felt that this was the more dangerous of the pair... but at least she was quiet. By now the other one would have demanded to know what he was here for...
Sighing slightly he walked slowly into the room, accepting her silent invitation. He didn't make any aggressive actions, he felt like he was in the presence of a sleeping predator, that any sudden moves might send her into a killing rage.
Resigning himself to a long wait he simply sat at the stool by the window, content to let his mind wander over other, more important things.
Divine Council...
who are they? What are they? The Archangels rule Heaven...There is no council...
Execution...
why...?
Treason...
how...?
Fallen Angel...
But i'm not!...
They believe it...
Why...?
What am I supposed to do? How can I fight this war against the Fallen if my own allies will not accept me? I can't just die, I refuse to. But I will be killed if any Angel sees me...
I need a purpose. Without purpose I am nothing. Purpose defines who I am.
So what is my purpose?
His Avatar had come this way. He knew that, he only hoped he had survived. After all, there was little that someone in his own position could do without raising suspicion, attacking the Wardens so recklessly had already been a bad move. But he could not allow his only advantage in this to die.
He was following a trail... it was already a good three hours old but that did not matter to him. He could see every footstep that had been made since almost a day ago, and one pair stood out among all the others.
He had come this way. Judging by the prints someone had led him trhough the building behind and out into this alleyway.
He searched around a little more.
The wardens too had soon followed, they had not come through the building, but from the path to the left.
Again it took him a few moments to pick out their individual prints, but once he had he could distinguish them from all others. Such was his gift, that none other had.
Too much had happened... too quickly as well. In the space of two days the entire structure of the Divine Sanctuary had been changed, and with that change came problems...
Strange... another set of prints follows the Wardens...
Quickly he sped up his pace, covering maybe four miles before he found a sight that made him freeze in shock, his sapphire blue eyes widening.
The Wardens were there, the both of them. Each was laying calmly in an abandoned alley, their arms crossed over their chests and their faces pale. Too pale. He knew as soon as he neared them that there was no life within them anymore.
"Who could have done this..." He wondered aloud, his voice resonating deeply in the complete silence of the alley. As he stepped closer he expanded his perception, letting his unnatural senses wash over the buildings around him. Humans, mortals, hundreds all around him. But there was nothing and no one with an aura that spoke of the strength that would have been needed to slay those two...
The wounds that had killed them were similar. One was a small hole in the heart, but not made by the weaponry the mortals preferred, rather it seemed to be from a very sharp adn thin blade. The other had his throat cut, again by a thin blade. But the question was... who by?
Not a Fallen. No Fallen would arrange the bodies so respectfully, and they would not stop at such simple wounds. Rather the entire bodies would be torn to shreds. So the only solution was... someone had protected his Avatar... someone had saved him. But not where he knew of it. As far as his Avatar knew he was still chased by Wardens... Perhaps it was time to let him know what had happened... Why he was hunted?
But there was no time left... Mortals were approaching. It was the matter of only a few seconds to call Divine Fire down upon their dead bodies and to cremate them, leaving no evidence of the Angel presence for the Mortals to pick over. After all, it would do no good for them to find the truth.
I had best report to the Divine Council... they will want to know what has taken place this night... and where I was.
When the three youths walked into the alley, they saw nothing other than an empty alley and a slight dust upon the floor.
Why did he return?
The thought played in her mind. Yet Kirika knew she would not ask him, in all truth she considered finding out where Mireille had gone to be more important. After all, his troubles were his own, and she doubted he would thank her for interfering.
Already she had cracked into two accounts, and unless she was lucky it might take a much longer time than anticipated to find out what information her partner had received. The firewalls on Mireille's accounts were very efficient. I did not even know that I could hack into computer systems... how many other things have I forgotten?
Why had she suffered amnesia? It was a question that haunted her all the time. If she had hit her head, or fallen then she would not have been laying on a bed, and with fake documentation for her history. She seriosuly doubted the cause of her memory loss would be so innocent. But how, and why would someone invoke amnesia inside her? Was it even possible to make someone lose their memory? If so, then who would do it to her? Not anyone who wanted her as an ally, maybe previous enemies had sought to limit her effectiveness by wiping her memory clean?
But still, who could just make you forget?
Another account opened before her eyes, listing hundreds of e-mails that Mireille never seemed to delete, perhaps for reference purposes. The newest was simply labelled: "Terrorist Bomb in Paris." Hesitantly she opened it.
I know the truth.
Meet me at Les Deux Magots at 10pm.
- Your Friend.
Kirika leaned back in her seat.
It was 10:06.
There was nothing she could do to help Mireille now. Nothing she could do but hope.
Wheew, probably rather confusing. Thanks to everyone, Lain included and I hope you'll review and forgive me for the delay. Hey to Nico-robin, if you're still there, your reviews gave me a good idea of trying to keep certain questions asked within the chapter. Nice one.
Also to all, i have changed my e-mail address due to the fact that i am changing internet providers soon. So if you ever e-mailed me, I am now Cavartiash (at)hotmail .co .uk