"Here in the forest, dark and deep,
I offer you eternal sleep."
-Anonymous
-Ω-
Los Angeles never really quieted, and as the sun dipped below the horizon and a smattering of stars emerged from their slumber, the city continued to hustle and bustle. Cars and taxis honked as they clustered at stoplights that never seemed to change, and the windows in apartments and stores were still alight. People rushed this way and that, racing to and fro on their journeys to nowhere, and the streets were alive with the clicking of heels and the babble of voices. A rainbow of fabric rustled, handbags were rifled through, memories were made, pockets were picked, friendships were forged, and sins were counted one by one. It was as corrupted as it was beautiful, and the blond young man could see why it had appealed so much to Lucifer.
LA was neck and neck with New York City as they competed for the true title of "The City that Never Sleeps", so it was wasn't such a supernatural occurrence that the young man was still out and about at this hour. Though it wasn't as crowded as it usually was when the moon slept, he was still surrounded by tons of people milling about. Hopeful gamblers, flirting couples, aspiring musicians, and people looking for a good night out all congregated on this very sidewalk, very much unaware of one another as they kept their heads down low while making their way to their next gig or to the bar. The young man's hood was pulled over his head, cloaking his face in shadow, and headphone cords ran from his ears to a device in his pocket, giving him the illusion of just a normal teenager on the street, possibly going to one of the local strip clubs or something of the like. Only when he passed under a streetlamp did the deception crumble to dust, because one look at his shadow would announce to the world that this man certainly was not human. Two gigantic wings sprouted from his shadow's back, one of which's feathers seemed a bit crooked and damaged, and the light seemed to wreathe his head in a halo, though any mortal who just so happened to notice singled it out as a trick of the eyes..
His shadow was indistinguishable from the other people's shadows as they meshed and blurred together on the sidewalk, and the young man was well aware that when the crowds began to thin, he had to take cover, lest his plumage be noticed. He knew where he was going, though; he'd finally pinpointed an exact location after three days of desperate searching. It was genius, he had to admit, but the next part of the plan that was going to be executed was even more brilliant. His angelic grace was hidden by the steady human glow that his vessel emitted, despite the fact that the soul that had previously inhabited the body had been locked away these previous eves, shoved down and contained despite its constant fighting. Every single demon and fallen angel was on guard for traces of angelic grace in the area so they could up and run at the first sign of the heavenly host snooping around, but wat if that grace was disguised? They didn't think twice about little freaky coincidences that hinted towards seraph activity, even though he was pretty sure that Lucifer had told them to investigate everything. Looking at the street signs, he broke away from the crowd and veered onto an unlit side street, though any bystander would be able to see the blue glow of his eyes as they pulsed with hallowed power.
Alone and separated from the masses, one would be able to really remark on how fluidly the young man moved, as if his feet never touched the ground and grace was etched into his genes. That last part was true, and the angel used it to his advantage, stalking through the shadows like a panther towards its prey, his footsteps never making a sound on the pavement. Then he heard voices up ahead, and he immediately clung to the wall, his blue eyes flashing with divine light for a single moment as he tilted his head to listen. From this distance, a normal human would never be able to overhear the conversation, but he was not what one would consider a "normal human".
"I've already told you no; neither I, nor my fallen angels will join your cause," snapped a very feminine voice, and he sensed the tattered grace that must've lived within her. A fallen angel.
"You're making a big mistake," a man growled in reply, demonic judging by the state that his soul was in. "He will win, and you will be destroyed along with all the heavenly host." The eavesdropper rolled his eyes at the words, knowing fully well that their army was nowhere near as powerful as it should be to achieve their goal.
"I'm not on Heaven's side. Or Hell's. We are to remain neutral in this matter," the young woman replied in a very irritable but formal tone, which made the young man immediately think 'fallen fire angel', since almost all of that group of angels was known for their incredibly hot-headed temper, though they were also known for their ability to reign them in.
"Only cowards don't pick sides," the demon snarled, his tone accusatory. "Come with us and you'll have a chance to live. Lucifer doesn't like cowards."
"I'll pass, thanks," the fallen fire angel scoffed, her agitation almost tangible. "We'll just be Hell's goons, their infantry full of expendable soldiers. In no way are my fallen angels expendable, thank you very much." The blond had to admit that he was confused; 'my fallen angels'? What did that mean?
"You should be willing to die for our cause! Heaven wronged you!"
"Heaven did no such thing," the female voice replied coolly, "We were acting insubordinately and therefore were cast out. I helped get everyone back on their feet and I go around making sure that they don't nurse grudges, because grudges create things like you." She made a disgusted sound and the demon growled low in his throat, a threat of a fight if the fallen angel didn't back off. It was an empty warning, the eavesdropper knew, because fallen angels were one thousand times more powerful than demons, their shattered grace still more powerful than the souls of every demon combined. He was beginning to put the pieces together now, from the context of the conversation and prior knowledge he'd picked up during his stay here. That fallen angel was Rachel.
Rachel, the feisty fire angel who'd went against her parents' orders all day every day, descending to Earth without orders, and mouthing authority. She'd been one hell of a basket case in Heaven, but on Earth…she was a legend. The fallen angel who harbored no envy or hatred of her home world, and therefore went around the country on foot to gather up others who had fallen, making sure that they weren't corrupted and festering by their own emotions. She had a band that was at least three hundred strong and growing. They would be an unstoppable force if they decided to rebel, but were somewhat hippies, believing in peace and nonviolence, especially towards humans and angels. Demons seemed to be another matter altogether.
"I will let Lucifer know of your fifty-first consecutive refusal, and maybe this time he won't be as merciful," the demon cautioned menacingly, his voice revealing just how foul a creature he was as it sounded like several people talking at once. "Goodbye, my little Poughkeepsie." There was a loud popping sound and the smell of sulfur reached the blond's nose, which he wrinkled in disgust.
"Yeah, right. You said that the last fifty times you came to me and you're still here," Rachel grumbled to herself, sounding even more fed-up than before, "And why do you keep calling me that?" Her receding footsteps signaled her departure. That was good, because little did the fallen angel know that the entrance to Lucifer's underground castle was right underneath her. Demons couldn't teleport; his disappearing had merely been the demon entering the castle, and Poughkeepsie just so happened to be the code word to get inside. The angel had been monitoring this very place for a while now, and his face broke out into a grin as he went over his plan once more.
The disguised angel crept towards the place where he'd heard the conversation go down, looking around warily for any guards or security cameras. There was one, trained on the exact spot where the demon had been, and with a flick of his wrist the camera burst into flame, the wires sparking and crackling. He only had a certain amount of time left before the guards arrived, knowing that something was wrong if the camera powered down like that, and he ran to the spot, his heart nearly beating out of his chest as he clenched and unclenched his fists.
"Poughkeepsie."
-Ω-
Lucifer was enjoying himself immensely, considering he had an armful of affectionate mate. He was lounging on his throne with Perseus pliant and happy in his lap, nuzzling the crook of his neck and breathing in his scent. His wings were wrapped protectively around the black-winged angel, who didn't seem to mind as he snuggled into Lucifer's chest and gave a happy chuff. The Fallen King was grooming Perseus' feathers, picking out all the dirt and excess oils, from the beautiful black plumage. The messenger angel's wings were gigantic, and had Lucifer not been an Archangel he almost certainly would be jealous of them. Then again, he'd never seen completely black wings before, and Lucifer's blood boiled when he thought of all the prejudice his mate must've been subjected to. It made him growl low in his throat, and Percy gave him a concerned look before shrugging and returning to his task of diligently scenting Lucifer's neck.
The Archangel loved his mate, loved grooming his mate and listening to the content sighs; getting preened was like getting a massage for angels. He loved watching Percy smile, and even though his eyes were a bit glazed and lifeless, he was absolutely perfect in every way. He could see why Michael had eyes for him, and it made Lucifer all the more triumphant knowing that he could have the messenger angel and his eldest brother could not. He was absent-mindedly combing his fingers through the feathers when suddenly Perseus wriggled a bit when he scraped his fingers over the underside, which was obviously sensitive, much to the fallen Archangel's glee.
"Are you ticklish, Perseus?" Lucifer accused, quirking an eyebrow and smirking devilishly.
"No," the messenger angel replied, though he was grinning that cheeky smile that clearly stated he was lying, his slight dimples all the more endearing to the fallen angel. "Don't do it or I might accidentally slap you. I'm the kind of person who goes into seizure mode when they're tickled. And we're on a throne, mind you, so we don't have room for that."
"Are you sure?" Lucifer asked, digging his fingers into the feathers and causing Perseus to thrash a bit, laughing.
"Yes, I'm sure!" the angel cried, trying to get away from the sensation, but Lucifer's wings held him in place. The Archangel was just about to exact the worst form of Tickle Torture (that sounds vaguely sexual, he thought) on his mate when the doors of the throne room flew open and Porphyrion stumbled inside.
"There's been a breach, sir!" the fallen angel bellowed, his spear in hand and his breastplate dangling haphazardly from his chest. Lucifer leapt to his feet so quickly that Perseus toppled off of his lap with a squeak of surprise, though the Archangel did check on his to make sure he was okay.
"What do you mean by a breach?!" Lucifer snarled, his eyes flashing black for a moment as he raised his skeletal wings. He feared for his operation and didn't want the whole thing to go up in flames, but his basic biology was screaming protect mate, protect mate, protect mate. The black winged angel was looking from Porphyrion to Lucifer and back again, his expression a bit terrified but clearly wanting to remain strong, a rock for the Archangel to lean on.
"An unauthorized visitor has entered the castle, my Lord!" the demon replied shakily, knowing that the bearer of bad news had the chance of being destroyed in a fit of rage. It'd happened to two demons already. He certainly didn't want to be next. Instead of replying, though, Lucifer drew his sword from its sheathe, five feet of Stygian Iron that was glowingblack, pulsing in time with the Archangel's heartbeat. One of the most powerful weapons in all of Heaven and Hell at his disposal.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Move out!" the Fallen King bellowed, and Porphyrion practically scrambled out of the room, thanking whoever was listening for the sparing of his life. The fallen Archangel snapped his fingers and no longer was he in his tattered white suit, but decked in full angelic armor. His breastplate was embellished with filigree and worn over a white tunic, with greaves and sandals and a roman belt, where he strapped his sword. He turned to Perseus and saw the hard-set resolve, and slight fear, in his mate's eyes. "I'll be back soon, honey, just got to deal with this," he said softly, kissing the angel's forehead, however Perseus wouldn't settle for just that and covered Lucifer's lips with his own, drawing away all too quickly as Lucifer's body ached with the loss of contact.
"Be back soon. I swear to God I'll fucking kill you if you die," Perseus growled, and Lucifer chuckled before charging out of the throne room and towards the danger. The black-winged angel paced for a good minute before settling down onto his smaller throne, his fingers tapping against his thigh nervously as he awaited Lucifer's return.
The Archangel raced down the winding halls and passageways of the underground castle, his face hard-set and his eyes completely consumed by an inky black. Porphyrion ran ahead, leading the way, and more soldiers poured from the halls until there was an entire army thundering behind him, all hungry for blood. The intruder wouldn't stand a chance, especially if it was a human unfortunate enough to say Poughkeepsie on the hidden teleportation pad, which was a thing of Cherubim creation and had been slightly modified by the brains of Lucifer's operation. The Archangel's head pounded and his blood leapt and roared like an animal as the army ran as one, feeling nostalgic of the War in Heaven, when he and his brothers and sisters had fought like a single being, so knowing of the other they didn't even have to speak; they just knew. Of course, this army was a lot less coordinated, consisting more of demons than fallen angels, but they'd been trained to soldier ahead together, and that was all that mattered. Lucifer found that he'd missed the rush of adrenaline and the bloodlust bellowing in his ears, and if only he could still fly. Then it would be perfect.
He'd have to cope for now, because at that moment Porphyrion called for a halt and the entirety of the combatants screeched to a stop, all eyes going to the lone figure that stood in front of them. The young man, who reeked of human, was cloaked in a hood, but the army could see the burning of blue eyes underneath it. Lucifer sensed the ever so miniscule glow of angelic grace within, and automatically knew that this wasn't a human, this was an angel in a vessel. He'd only barely opened his mouth to call for his troops to step down when the angel raised his hand. A blast of force knocked the demons to their backs, and the fallen angels, who were immune to the grace, all grabbed their ears and screamed as the piercing whistle of an angelic voice ripped through the air.
Lucifer, though, was unaffected, and he smirked at this angel's audacity. He may be at full power, but Lucifer had once been an Archangel. He'd be weakened within the human body, unable to fly or to call upon reinforcements telepathically, and Lucifer smirked. That immediately faded when the angel took off his hood, revealing a face that was none other than Jason. Jason Grace the angel hunter. How this angel had managed to get the boy to say yes was a mystery, but that didn't matter as Lucifer flicked his hand and the angel went flying into the far wall, so hard that it made an imprint within the plaster. A shame, Lucifer had liked that wall, and now the angel was going to have Hell to pay.
"What gives you the audacity to come here?" Lucifer asked smoothly, his voice crooning and smooth, his serpent's whisper that he'd used to lull Adam and Eve into a trance. The angel froze, and for a moment his overwhelming confidence was replaced by fear. It disappeared moments later, but that was all Lucifer had needed to see. The angel clambered to his feet, his eyes narrowing as the Archangel circled around him like a vulture ready to pick off his remains, but there was clear uneasiness in his expression, a hesitation that showed that he wasn't as confident as he appeared. When he didn't reply, Lucifer threw his head back and laughed a hearty laugh. "Did you, puny angel, actually believe that you alone could defeat me? I assume that Heaven has no idea what you're doing as of now?" The angel averting his gaze was enough of an answer. "I have to admit, your trick with the vessel was very, very clever." Lucifer raised his arm and the angel launched into the air, held suspended by his neck. "But not clever enough."
The army was beginning to come back to their senses, every single one of them snarling but wary of the angel's power. They needn't be, though, because Lucifer's grace was overwhelming the other angel's, tugging and pulling at the strands to test the waters and then consuming it. The angel wouldn't be much of a problem for now. Porphyrion let out a bloodcurdling roar, his eyes blazing, and the others followed in suit until the room was alive with the shrieks and howls of bloodthirsty demons and fallen angels. He turned to Medusa, who was watching the angel hungrily, and ordered, "Take him to the prisons and give him a nice welcome." For some reason, the angel was smiling, but that wouldn't be for long as he let go of his neck and he fell to the floor, gasping, and the guards dragged him away.
Little did they see a blue-white light consume the blond's eyes, a sign of an angel leaving its vessel, and an unconscious Jason slump in their grips.
-Ω-
(A/N) Please review :)
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN PJO