Disclaimer – It'd be news to me if I received a royalty check in the mail for the TMNT's. If and when I do, I'll let ya'll know, but until then, I only earn reviews. Hint hint. This is Raphael centric and as thick as I can write it. Hope I do him justice. For now, though, you get just a preview of his tormenter – and possible salvation. Bwahahaha There will be character death(s), too, so be forewarned
My inspiration for this story comes from 'This Present Darkness' and 'Piercing the Darkness', by Frank Peretti.
Characters used are actual Biblical angels, with some creative additions.
Unlike Peretti's interpretation, I may add female angels and daemons, if only for dramatics. Yes, this will be a spiritual crossover of sorts, but I hope done in a way where everyone will be able to enjoy, regardless of faith or belief. I do not plan to do a crossover using the plot from Peretti's two conjoining stories, however. This one stands alone.
I don't know how often I will update, as this will be a very complex story and will require a bit of blocking out, so be patient:0)
Rated R for violence.
Genre is drama, spiritual, and tragedy
Italics for thoughts and 'otherworldly' voices.
TMNT's are owned by - well, if you don't know, why are you here? JK
Actually, if you are new, welcome and have fun exploring the best TMNT fansite on the WWW!
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An Approaching Dark
by reinbeauchaser
Prologue
Chapter 1 – It Begins
He shot through the dia-portal and pierced the night sky like a bullet, the brief flash of light his entrance created nothing more than a star-wink. The Hadeanite then executed a gut-twisting three-sixty roll. As he spread his massive, leathery wings, the sail-like appendages caught the thicker atmosphere with a violent jerk. They billowed outwards as they slowed the creature's swift descent, and then the daemon leveled his trajectory and quickly took flight.
While he flew, he stretched his arms and legs, working his neck muscles a bit, and then he inhaled deeply - and nearly choked.
Coughing indignantly, the creature spat, "I shall never fancy this putrid air. How anyone…"
His own skin reeked of sulfur, an aroma more pleasing to him than the clean air he just breathed. Nevertheless, friction from his descent peeled away the last remnants of his realm's atmosphere and his skin prickled in response, but he paid it little mind as he spied the metropolis far below. Back to task, again, the daemon's heart gladden, now, for it was here where he would find what he came for.
Its entrance bold and determined, the creature neither anticipated nor expected confrontation from the other domain, not here, anyway. This city, already fouled with the pleasant taste of spiritual decay, would not attract the Heavenly Realm he feared. It would disgust them to be here, in fact, of this he was certain, which only emboldened the Hadeanite as he flew downwards through the late evening sky. Even the stars above seemed subdued and weakened, their luminous light frail against the encroaching and inevitable doom.
He snarled happily.
Flying silently above the tall edifices, now, the entity scanned the area and listened, his senses on high alert. He chuckled at the mayhem he heard from below, his leathered wings beating soundlessly against the updrafts rising above the city. Down there, neon signs, brilliant as jewels, screamed against the dark of night, their garish colors competing for dominance.
Yet, despite his bulk and otherworldly appearance, the creature flew unseen and unheard from this world's occupants, invisible to anyone glancing his way. The only announcement to his presence had been the dia-portal's opening and even then, it mimicked a simple, harmless star.
Now, he soared almost sylphlike through the lower heavens, his wings cutting silently through the atmosphere, as he took advantage of the wind. The hunt had begun!
Below him crawled the denizens of the city, hurrying along like ants amid the maze of streets and byways. Their presence was the least of his interests, though. In fact, they were of no consequence tonight, so he gave them very little consideration. Of course, on any other evening he would have had sport with these humans. He would have delighted in teasing the more susceptible into situations, causing them delicious and intoxicating torment. It was like candy to the beast, watching how easily beguiled these mere mortals were and how simple it was to manipulate them.
But this night, his mind focused on a different sort of quarry, something far more prize-worthy than mere human suffering. His target, his prey had been a hindrance to the Great Plan and it was his job to usurp its effectiveness. He had to find him, find them if he could, and quickly, too, before the others interfered, before it was too late.
Heading northwest from the southern tip of Manhattan and with his face cast downwards, he quickly scanned the tops of each roof and each balcony, his eyes sharp, his senses keen on his prey. He knew what to look for, what to smell. He had memorized every detail of his target. It wouldn't be long; he could sense it. With eyes that could see to the very heart of any man suffering his attention, anyone worthy of his interest, it was only a matter of time before he found whom he was seeking.
Suddenly, a cry of alarm came to his ears and, for a second, it distracted him from his quest. He glanced downwards quickly, hoping to bear witness to the scene below. He recognized all too easily the fear in that scream. Then, he could smell it and so he tracked, his smile wide, his tongue raking ravenously over his dagger teeth. Soon, he caught sight of a woman, far beneath him, in an alley, struggling against two men. The creature knew what type of woman she was. The Hadeanite snarled approvingly.
Nevertheless, she screamed for help as the men assaulted her.
The daemon watched and his own heart quickened when she broke free, trying to escape the men.
"A chase! A pursuit," he growled happily, but the sharp report of a gunshot sounded and the woman instantly fell, her blood splayed along the dirtied ground where she rolled to stop. She tried to stand up, but her attempt was slow, pained, but the men were upon her in seconds, ripping at her clothes, tearing them off, having their way with her – even as she lay there dying.
Finally, the Hadeanite heard the whisper of her death groan – and he smiled in satisfaction. "One more for the covenant," he cheered.
Yes, this was his playground, where those of his world cavorted merrily from one haggard soul to another, causing mayhem and destruction wherever they went and with whomever they found. And this woman was a perfect example and those who feasted on her a bright hope for his Hadean realm. Still, he didn't have time for such frivolity and so he pushed onward, determined, forcing himself to avoid distraction by such temptation.
After all, temptation was for them, not him.
Unexpectedly, a movement far below caught his attention and so he banked left to verify it. He sensed something recognizable and he quickened his breathing. Could it be?
Circumventing a communications tower crowning one of the taller skyscrapers, the daemon scanned his immediate area. His experienced eyes studied the many rooflines for something in particular. Then, certain of what he saw and what he sensed, the creature hovered expectantly for a moment, licking his lips in anticipation – waiting. The sounds of the city below faded away, the creature holding its breath in anticipation.
Whatever he had seen, however, had slipped within the shadows and, for a second, he lost sight of it. The Hadeanite cursed under his breath. He knew it had been there, he was sure of it. He wondered if maybe he had been mistaken, too eager, possibly too anxious to start his work. He snarled in disappointment and growled deeply in anger. It was obvious the woman's plight from moments earlier had distracted him, diverting his attention from his more important task. He berated himself then, wondering if his master had sent spies to cause him to fail. It wouldn't be too surprising. Already, three had met their fate similarly.
But, then he saw it again as it leaped into the moon-born light once more, running across the rooftop.
The Hadeanite heartened.
His prey emerged between shadows and evening-glow, moving quickly, running as if not wanting anyone to see it.
The one above chuckled, amused. It was like watching a child as it stole a cookie from the fabled cookie jar – and believing its actions unobserved.
Nevertheless, the runner continued sprinting, heading westward along the shorter building next to the skyscraper. It seemed unfettered with concern, too, while the winged creature above hovered, waiting, watching. As the Runner cut across roofs and traversed over the city in that way, it leapt over short dividing walls separating similarly sized structures, all buttressed together in a neat seamless line of concrete and steel construction.
The Runner was obviously quite familiar with his route, taking each obstacle with ease. Above him, the creature sensed his prey's destination, his purposeful stride announcing his haste. The Hadeanite had watched too many runs like this not to recognize the difference. Yes, this one was in a hurry and he knew that those who hurried made mistakes!
As the winged entity pushed away from the skyscraper and took flight, it tracked The Runner. It was a most unusual prey and it fascinated the Hadeanite. He was curious with interest, continuing to follow and watch the one below, intrigued that the Runner never seemed to falter, his pace even and experienced – and still oblivious to his pursuer above.
Nevertheless, the Hadeanite kept himself in check, aware that this one was more sensitive and astute than man, at least according to its profile, anyway. Although his superiors had said nothing that this one could sense things such as him, the daemon didn't want to take any chances.
As he scanned ahead to see what obstacles the one below might encounter, he smiled when he saw the row of buildings end at an alleyway. The span between it and the next set of buildings was far too wide to navigate and so the Hadeanite's confidence grew. He was certain that his prey would have to stop and so the winged creature made plans to intercept. It would be here where his attack would begin and so he followed along, just a little ahead of him, effortlessly keeping up.
Yet, as The Runner raced across the top of the last remaining building, he sped up rather than slowed. The daemon above snarled in confusion. He did not expect this reaction at all. He was certain that The Runner would be too winded by now and to fatigue to make the jump. And even, so, the gap between the two buildings was too great, especially considering the species of his prey. The Hadeanite watched curiously, his quarry racing headlong towards the building's edge.
Suddenly and without hesitation, The Runner leaped from the edge of the building, vaulting high into the air, his body arched over the alley, positioned head first, as if cannon-launched. Then, it suddenly tucked itself as much as its physiology would allow, The Runner twisting, and then unfolding as he approached his target feet first.
The Hadeanite's eyes widened in surprise but his upper lip curled, too. He was livid. This was not how it was supposed to be. Silent to those indigenous to this world, he roared in disappointment. Frustration edged his howl. This was where it was supposed to end. This was where he would beguile The Runner with temptations. His superiors hadn't said anything about his target's foolhardiness, its willingness to end its life so needlessly.
The creature felt cheated!
Still, he rallied himself, not willing to accept defeat. The Runner had not fallen to the ground, yet; there was still an opportunity. The Hadeanite could still his prey's descent just enough, bring him into that netherworld between events, that heartbeat of time where a thousand thoughts resided before The End came. He could still swing this one's allegiance from the Heavenly Realm, even though the daemon knew this one had yet to know Them.
The daemon fazed just a little, mentally slowing the jumper's catapult, decelerating time for just a moment, to catch every nuance, every detail. If this one had decided to commit suicide, then so be it. Its fate would still be the same as planned. And if that came to pass, then the winged creature would commit to memory every second of his prey's inevitable doom, to recall this moment, in order to give an account to his master. It would not do to return empty handed, no, not at all. He knew his master well and failure was not a word he would want to hear.
As The Runner neared completion of his jump and as the arc in his leap descended towards the next building, to his surprise the Hadeanite realized his prey might very well succeed. He smiled just a little, for it was obvious that this was becoming more of a challenge and worthy of his own talents.
"With injury, he will be more susceptible," he declared wisely, knowingly.
The creature was mesmerized. He knew it took great skill to leap such a distance the way this one just did, most especially considering its species. He saw how the other building in height was shorter by fifteen feet than the one from which the runner had just leapt. Assessing the comparison between the two, he knew for sure his pursued would land in a crumpled and painful bone-jarring heap.
He waited expectantly, preparing to savor the moment.
Yet, at the very instant of impact, instead of buckling with injury, the Runner executed a neat forward roll, traveling a short ways along the black-tarred roof, before leaping up with the fluidic grace of a seasoned gymnast. Quickly righting himself, The Runner continued his sprint across the next line of roofs, resuming the same cadence of his run from before.
Although surprised, the Hadeanite cackled pleasurably. It opened its mouth into a wide, ugly grin. "Yes' he thought, 'this assignment will be most interesting!"
He flew on, then, soon catching up with the Runner. He began studying its movements, now, impressed with it, noting its keen physical condition, how effortlessly it ran despite its reckless acrobatics.
"Only someone exceptional could run that long and still jump the way he did - and land so easily," the creature reasoned, eyeing his target hungrily, "It has proved itself superior in every way to the frailness of man," and it was then that he worried. Concerned, he gasped, "Could he possibly be – immortal?"
The thought did concern him – greatly, in fact – and it wouldn't surprise him if his superior had omitted that bit of detail, if only to torment him. Still, he reasoned, "No, they would not send me on such a foolish quest. I have done nothing to warrant such punishment."
Now confident that the Runner was not one of the 'others', the winged entity flew on. The creature kept a discerning eye on his prey's every move. He had to learn about this one, learn about his weaknesses, learn what brought him pleasure, and what brought him pain. The Hadeanite would learn every detail of this one's life in order to ensure victory.
His grin from before was wider, now, as he revealed his dagger-like teeth in expectation. Yellow-green with decay and thick with saliva, they glistened reflectively under the radiance of the waxing moon. He slobbered and considered his task, knowing this assignment was worthy of his skills. He would corrupt The Runner and bring him to ruin – and to ruin he most certainly would.
And if successful, the Hadeanite would destroy the other members of this Runner's family too. He couldn't help but laugh, then, imagining the honor earned for such a prize as this one. The winged entity reached out and tested his subject with a thought, quickly feeling its anger and resentment. The Runner was furious about something, that much the creature knew, yet it was enough to convince the daemon how easy his task was going to be. He nudged it gently with a false thought, a fear, and found to his delight that the Runner's anger intensified.
"Perfect!" he chortled, pleased with the effect.
He clenched his hands, now, and then flexed his talon tipped fingers, all twelve of them. As he flicked his tongue over razor sharp teeth again in hungry anticipation, some of the fouled spittle sprayed from his mouth. Like droplets of coagulated rain, it fell earthbound. Still, the creature's drool would not last for more than a second, disappearing into nothingness, and leaving no trace of its existence to the mortal inhabitants of this world. He was not born of this world, but birthed from a different realm all-together, a world far older than The Runner's.
In either event, he was sure that once he eliminated his prey and his family, they would be impotent to the approaching conflict. The war could then commence. His Master would finally reign supreme and rule unchallenged through the one he had chosen, the one called Karai.
Through her, Nemesis would be unstoppable.
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As the Hadeanite followed the Runner, miles away from them and hidden within the veil of the Most High two sentries observed the chase. Despite the distance, they had easily witnessed the pursuit from its inception. They now glanced at each other, standing unseen along the top edge of the tallest skyscraper. They nodded once, subtle, insightful, and barely discerning. The two men, stalwart where they stood, looked back towards the gradually disappearing chase.
Gabriel sighed and said to his compatriot, his voice sad yet resolute, "It has begun," and fingered the hilt of his sword in anticipation.
"Yes," Michael concurred softly, his hand on his own weapon as well, "yet, what is to come of it?"
Chuckling, Gabriel shrugged and gave a sideways glance to his friend, "It is for Him to know, not for us. For now, we are only to observe, to see if he will succumb."
"Then, as before?"
"Then as before, my friend; as it has always been."
"It will be difficult – for him and for his brethren, you know that, don't you."
Nodding, Gabriel concurred, "Yes, but he is strong; stronger than he knows…I believe he will succeed."
"What about his temper, though?" Michael asked.
"Did not Peter have a temper?" Gabriel chuckled wryly.
His friend also laughed, "Yes, he did indeed."
As the Hadeanite and his prey disappeared from their view, the sentries seemed satisfied. They spread their wings, taking flight from the building. Instead of heading in the direction of the pursuit, however, they turned north, their heads high and confident.
Down below, however, the citizens of New York City busied themselves along the maze of street, scurrying about, unaware and unconcerned with their celestial visitors. It was business as usual for mortal man, with brutality and greed their mantra.
The two flying overhead never gave them much notice, though, as they had more important assignments than the worries and concerns of the common cosmopolitan. They both knew if His plan worked to perfection, and His plans always did, the conflict would be brief, yet victorious. In the end, the humans below would benefit greatly – whether aware or not.
Just the same, the two sentry's biggest concern was not if The Runner would choose – but when he did, which choice would he make.