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Baptized in fire



 
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Michael Arch

The room had been filled with a putrid scent. Like that of decomposing flesh and gasoline. Once one entered, they would immediately see the source of it.

The woman was quite beautiful or at least….she had been. Her strawberry blond hair was still up in a bun with diamond encrusted pins. Her dress was a shimmery gold and looked to have cost quite a bit of money. Her heels were also expensive looking. Judging from her apparel, it immediately ruled out robbery. Her green eyes stared into nothingness as a look of horror was forever etched on her face, two canines peeking out of once full red lips.

He sat across from her in a red velvet chair. A glass of champagne hung loosely between his forefinger and middle finger. He was dressed almost as classy as she was, his black Armani coat hung on the back of the chair he sat in and his tie had been loosened and the top button undone, the red tie hanging loosely from his rather toned neck. Cerulean hues stared into the empty emerald ones as he had a look of pure hatred spread across scarred visage.

Finally, words escaped his lips, his voice surprisingly smooth and almost….heavenly.
You are the scum of this world. You walk this earth with such arrogance as if you can’t be touched and act as though your immortality is something of some importance. Where is your immortality now?...Vampire scum.

Slowly the man stood up and he was surprisingly tall, towering over the crime scene at six foot eight. Raising the glass to his lips, he would finish its contents, the bubbly delicious liquid being taken with a strange enjoyment.

Without any warning, the large man threw the glass towards the dead body, the glass shattering against the woman’s skull. Shards spread across her body. He kept his eyes trained on hers as if at any moment she would jump up and attack him. Rolling the sleeves up of his white button, the man moved slowly over to her and knelt down beside her. Hand reaching up to her face, he would comb some stray hair out of her bloodily beaten face and smiled a smile that looked of pure evil.

You are only the beginning. I will reclaim this world for the righteous. I will annihilate everything that comes in my way. Believe that. Your sins have been forgiven, and you will now be baptized….in the fires of Hell.

Rising to his feet, he would walk over to the chair he previously occupied and grabbed his coat. Reaching into the inside pocket, he obtained a pack of Marlboro reds and opened it, producing a single cigarette and placed it between his lips, lighting it with the cheap Bic lighter inside the pack. Taking a long drag, smoke slowly unfurled from his lips as he walked towards the front door of the hotel room.
Slipping on his coat, he would open the door and take one last look behind him. That same disgusting smile stretched across scarred visage as he lit his handkerchief from his coat on fire and tossed it into the room by a now empty tank of gasoline that sat beside the woman. The trail immediately set the room ablaze, making a cross with the woman in the center of it.

One last sentence left his lips as he had taken another long drag from his cigarette.

You’ve now been forgiven. Good luck in Hell.

With that, he exited the hotel room and found his way out of the extremely expensive establishment as the fire alarm went off, causing a large crowd to start attempting to grab their belongings and exit the hotel.

Michael was once a cherished being of pure Light and all things for the betterment of the world. Now there was something completely different about him. Something much…much..Darker.
January 08, 2017 06:54 pm

Michael Arch

After exiting the hotel, his walk didn’t take him too far.

Michael didn’t know what happened. It’s as if the last year and a half had blurred by. His sanctuary had dissipated and he found himself off wandering the world once again. His purpose had seemed rather…insignificant. Then it all changed in an instant. That time had come and gone and he found his purpose once again.

To rid the world of the evil that lurks about. It started with a small coven of fresh turned vampires. Their bloodied bodies piled high still flashed in his tormented mind. The feeling of righteousness had overcome the Archangel and he finally knew that it was his job. This is what he had been brought to this wretched world for.

Michael, you have disgraced Heaven, and for that…you must be punished.

They were the last words he had heard uttered from the heavenly father’s lips before he found himself on Earth…forever. Well, at least for now. That was over a hundred years ago. With the time spent here, he had found friends, made enemies, but never really finding his way to return to his rightful place as the right hand of God.

The cool breeze brought him back to the present and he had luckily reached his desired destination.

-The Tabernacle-

The bar was rather well known throughout the city of Los Angeles. Cerulean hues scanned the crowd outside and he found himself at the front entrance greeted by a bouncer standing in front of it wearing a simple black t-shirt and black slacks, an earpiece easily seen in his right ear.

“You on the list?”

Michael gave the man a smile and would nod.

Michael Arch.

With a quick glance at his clipboard, the bouncer returned the smile and gave a nod of agreement and stepped aside, opening the rather large oak door. “Too young” by Post Malone leaked out into the LA crowd out front as Michael entered, looking around at the crowd and smiled. He had never heard this type of music before, but the words brought a rather sinister smile to his lips. Finding his way to the bar, he would pull out a stool and take a seat, towards the end of the bar.

The bartender matched the bouncer in build, quite athletic and dressed exactly the same. Locking eyes with the new patron, he would shoot a friendly smile and yelled over the music.

“Can I get you anythin’ bud?”

Michael gave him a nod.

Whiskey on the rocks, please.

As he left and quickly returned with his drink, Michael gave another glance around the establishment and shook his head with a chuckle.

If only these people knew what was going to happen.
The last words of the song began to filter through the Angel’s mind.

You know it make me god damn numb, when I see ‘em die so god damn young…

How…fitting.
January 09, 2017 12:27 pm

Caitlyn Noire

Control was a lie in the life of a monster such as herself. Sometimes the wild animal inside her clawed her inner soul until she ran. The signs the beast would overturn her psyche had been more frequent. Caitlyn pursed her lips disapprovingly, but placed a kiss on the forehead of her sons before she departed them in company of a new babysitter. It broke her heart when she hard the temporary wail from her babies on the other end of the door. However, the time apart was needed for their development, and for her to tend to the wolf.

Even though her life had slowly started to come together again, something important missed from it. Her Julliet. Sometimes the beast walked miles in search of what she could only describe as her soul mate. Not in a romantic sense, but something that dove deeper into her simple mind. The steps from her home and time itself seemed to fuse together. Before long she found herself outside of a bar. Bars weren't really Caitlyn's thing.

-The Tabernacle-

Sonic hearing made the tip of her ears twitch slightly. The thumping of the music inside, the incoherent rambles of the crowd in line. Yet, there was something else there. The chimes to alert a hound that someone soon would meet their end. Caitlyn frowned slightly, and took out her phone to check. A small bubble on her phone told her the babysitter had mentioned her youngest being asleep. She had time to investigate, which inevitably meant she had time to have some fun. This place had to have orange juice. What kind of place didn't have orange juice? Heels clicked against the pavement as she closed the distance between herself and the bouncer. Large blue-green eyes full of wonder fell upon the man, as she blew a few wayward red strands of hair from her face.

"You on the list?"

Caitlyn blinked slowly, and canted her head to the side curiously. "List?"

The bouncer looked less than amused and tapped the list that he had held perfectly visual to anyone who at least could get a glimpse on it. A small giggle parted from her lips, "I don't think I'm on that list. Hi! I'm Caitlyn!" She spoke with a small bounce to her step. The crowd in the line had already grown agitated with her 'antics'.

'Get to the back of the line!'

"Okay. Hello Caitlyn. Since you're not on the list you have to get in line."

Caitlyn furrowed her brows together and stared at the line of grumps to her left. "Oh..okay. But why? They look mad. I don't want to disturb them. I just want some orange juice."

The bouncer's face sunk into a deadpan. Was this woman really this daft? He glanced to the crowd, and back to her face. There was something about it that he couldn't put his finger on. Something that made him actually want to let her inside with no questions asked. Not to mention, she wasn't making any quick movements to deter. "Alright. Look. If you beat me in an arm wrestling match. I'll let you in."

The crowd turned restless at that proposal. Caitlyn lifted her shoulders into a simple shrug and held out her slender arm. Placing her elbow against the clipboard list of names. Needless to say, she wasn't used to her own strength. Soon a humanoid howl left the bouncer's lip as his arm seemed to have snapped in a direction arms were not meant to snap in. "Oh..oh dear. I'm sorry. I.." The bouncer near tears used his headset to alert for backup, while the ignorant redhead just let herself into the bar.

Chaos had happened. Hell was inside, she could smell the sulfur. Heaven was here too. But who was it? Julliet? She clicked to the bar, and excitedly asked for an orange juice.

"Miss. We don't have orange juice."

"How can you not?" Her bottom lip wobbled.

"Because we're not a juice bar." The tender yelled over the loud music, which made her brain hurt.

"Oh..I'll have..water. Water please." The tender blinked at her, but shrugged. He gave her a glass of water, and she pulled out a wad of cash from her dress pocket. "Cheers."

Also from the same pocket came the container of her drug. Orange Tictacs. She shakes the container, and pauses in front of a seated man. She sniffs the air about him, and leans a little closer than she probably should have. After tipping a healthy amount (read:the entire container) into her water, she also took out a packet of Emergen-C to pour into her water. Girl had her issues. "Hello! Hiii! I'm Caitlyn. You smell familiar!" She called out over the music. The statue of the man looked vaguely familiar. Had she seen him during her days as a leader? She took a gulp down of her orange concoction and blinked her doe eyes to the back of the familiar stranger. She knew one thing, and that thing was he looked mighty scary from where she stood.

Minutes later, the realization brightened across her gullible irises. it hit her. What the heck? Did she really tell him he smelled familiar?

January 12, 2017 12:38 am

Michael Arch

The remainder of the burning dark liquid smoothly went down and the clinking of ice within the glass let the bartender know he was finished. Usually they were pretty good on refills, but it seemed he was preoccupied with another patron. It angered the already irritable Archangel, but he waited patiently.

Destruction would come soon enough. A few drinks first seemed fitting.
Then a voice yelled over the music, Beautiful Pain by Eminem began slipping through the crowd within the establishment, and it caught Michael’s attention, only because he knew it was directed towards him. The rather large being slowly turned his head to catch the individual in his peripheral. It was a significantly smaller woman with red hair and seemed to be quite…bubbly.

He shook his head. Now was not the time for conversation.

I don’t know who you are, and I suggest you leave this place within the next five minutes.

The warning wasn’t given in a disrespectful tone nor was it meant to be anything other than a warning to someone he could sense wasn’t someone who needed to be here when the annihilation happened.

Thoughts began to race through the Angel’s head as cerulean orbs began to scan the crowd. It surprised him that these beings…demons, vampires and many more were just living peacefully amongst beings such as himself. It wasn’t something that was going to stay as such for very long.

Michael would make sure of that. Looking down, he realized the bartender had refilled his drink. Raising the glass to his lips, he finished all of its contents rather quickly and slammed the glass down upon the bar. Sighing heavily, he took one more look around and then lowered his eyes to the bar in front of him.

Death was coming quickly. And they didn’t even know it.
January 12, 2017 06:10 pm

Caitlyn Noire


When Caitlyn spun her head to look at the patrons, it spoke minimal promises of peace. That was life as it was now. Would the realm remain indifferent & harmonized? Would one side annihilate the other? Would the sleeping ones ever return? Her mind echoed like the tabloids she had glanced over time from time.

Her attention turned back to the man in the corner. Five minutes? She chose the next couple of seconds to blow bubbles into her bizarre orange creation. The glass removed from her lips, so she could state the obvious. "You didn't say please. Why five minues?" She inquired over the loud music. That at least meant she had another song limit to annoy him, but the songs themselves didn't seem to amuse the redhead.

The pressure started at the bottom of her back, and crawled up her spine. The pending victims Hell would try to collect whispered in her mind. With each spark of electricity that touched against her bones. By outer appearance she flinched slightly, only because the noise from the music stressed the whispers of the damned. Five minutes hadn't passed yet, as she finished her drink. Outstretching her hand to clink the glass onto the bar, as her blue-green eyes stopped on a figure. Not the man she had taken to pestering, no.

This one was dancing. This one was laughing.

This one was dying.

Her eyes returned to the serious corner man, and furrowed her brows together. The song was nearing the end of its bridge. The jovial smile had left her lips and they had settled into a fine line. Then turned her eyes again in slow motion, perhaps that one wasn't the only one to die.

There's no spoiler alert, because everyone dies.
January 14, 2017 01:27 pm

Michael Arch

“You didn’t say please. Why five minutes?”

He let her words linger within his damaged mind, letting them sink in. Slowly, a smile crept upon his lips as cerulean hues locked with the bartender. He smiled uneasily back. Michael gestured for him to come closer as if to ask him something over the music, just as a strangely fitting song began to fill the establishment. “Down with the sickness” by Disturbed rang out, the crowd upon the dance floor drew more patrons, dressed in a sort of punkish attire.

The bartender leaned slightly over the bar near Michael and was taken by surprise as a large hand grabbed at the back of his neck with a strength he had never seen in all the centuries he had been alive.

He was a blood sucking demon. And it was obvious they both knew it.

Michael then commenced to repeatedly slamming his head into the beautifully crafted bar, blood splashing all over the Archangel’s visage. Two people next to the angel had witnessed it and both leaped upon him. They were a decent size, but it didn’t phase the warrior as he pushed the now bloodily beaten bartender to the back of the bar. Turning around in a swinging motion, Michael was able to get the two off of him with little to no trouble.

Turning to face them, the Angel smiled once more.

As one of the patrons came at him, he was met with a now empty whiskey glass to the head, causing him to back away, both hands covering his face. The other watched this occur and stared at the Angel wide-eyed.

“Why are you doing this? This is a place of peace for all.”
The Archangel shook his head.

It is a place for you to mingle amongst the righteous and infect them with your hellish ways. Not anymore you filth. I will rid this world of all of you if I have to.

This angered the man standing before Michael and he angrily yelled out as he jumped at him. Michael moved quickly to the side and caught the man by the back of his collar and raised him off of the ground a few inches. Bringing his lips to the man’s ear, he whispered.

You’ll die last, do not worry. I’ll make your death a slow and painful one, Abbadon. You’ll return to the bottomless pit and tell Lucifer what I have done here.

With quite impressive strength, the man was thrown clear across the bar, crashing into the wall of seemingly endless liquor bottles.

By now, the entire establishment was aware of the situation and the music had been turned down slightly, all eyes now upon the Archangel.

Perfect timing.

Focusing his attention back onto the crowd, Michael spoke.

You all disgust me. Choosing to mingle amongst the scum of the earth. I will not tolerate this behavior. Not anymore.

A brave soul burst through the crowd, an ancient looking sword in hand and leapt at the Angel, but quickly fell at the Angel’s feet, smoke unfurling from the hole between his all black eyes. The barrel of the .45 gripped in the hand of Michael was unfurling the same smoke as he stood there before this crowd. Shaking his head, he began walking towards them.

You are all going to die tonight.
January 17, 2017 12:06 am

Camille Rameau

The Tabernacle

The funny thing about this evening, was that Camille had arrived ahead of almost everyone else. Everyone. When she slinked her way into the nearly empty shell of the institution, there was a small, scattered amount of people already there. Half in the bag nearly-homeless. Dancers. The bartender. The petite girl sits somewhere towards the back, rooted into a hard metal chair at a circular table- somewhere between the entrance to the kitchen and the furthest pool table from the front door. Her unpolished finger traces slow circles around the mouth of her scotch glass, eyes darting back and forth between people as they slowly begin to pour through the doors.

Camille was not accustomed to the fast way of life that the city of Los Angeles centered around. She spend the majority of her time back and forth between Bloemfontein and Moscow, and the burbs of Eastern and Southern Europe had a much different feel than America, especially the larger cities. New York could even be described as mild compared to LA. People here were large and loud, most particularly when it came to the way they lived their lives. So open, and in your face about their beliefs. Their preferences... Their race. The Angel could not remember the last time she walked into a bar anywhere East of London and vampires and demons danced so freely in public, flaunting what they were for any Realm citizen to see.

Perhaps this is why the Carpathian tribes of vampires survived for thousands of years without being destroyed.

Subtlety.

There was absolutely none of that here.

The last time Camille had frequented the streets of a city with little to no finesse... Well. There was a young little vampire hopeful who never lived to achieve her dream, and her death was both gratifying and delectable.

Time goes by much faster than the Angel realizes. Two, three glasses of scotch pass her lips, and while alcohol doesn't affect her in the same way that it would a 'normal' human, it creates a fluidity in her movement. It loosens her up just enough so that should the need for action arise, she would remain virtually uninhibited. Exactly the way she liked it. Camille preferred to keep her mind switched to 'indifferent', as it serves her well.

Almost too well.

Her bitterness was minimal, but she did keep herself reminded of her responsibility as both a crew leader and member of the Realms political prowess. There were certain things that she could not do, and many things that she would need to consider when acting outside of her jurisdiction.

She was, after all, a long ways from home.

For now, she settles for simply watching. Although, unbeknownst to her, that probably wouldn't last long.

Cami doesn't notice at first the way the air seems to shift when he comes around. Even though it's only a split second, time slows. Her hearing dissipates. The god damn smell of everything around her changes to something more familiar; a place she hadn't been in a very long time.

But as quickly as the sensation had overcome her, it's gone again, and she can only crinkle her nose in confusion as she moves her body abruptly, sitting forward and looking around before her eyes settle back upon the doorway. She rolls her dark gray sleeves up, her sweater doing little to keep her warm as the shivers keep coming. Every time someone walks by her carrying the stench of the undead, it earns another crinkle of her features, and the deep seeded chill embedded further into her bones. But it doesn't bother her. Not really. Camille was use to the cold.

She welcomed it.

It's not actually until she sees an incredibly familiar face that she becomes especially affected one way over the other.

That's... It can't be.

Caitlyn?

Outwardly, Camille appears confused. For the first time, she's downing the rest of her drink as though it were a shot. The girl tucks stray strands of hair back behind her ears, pushing the unkempt tangles of waves away from her face. She wonders if Caitlyn is here for the same reason that she is, but remembers that her closest confidante is never as likely to partake in any of the extra curriculars that Cami fancied.

She doesn't think.

It's when she finally moves from her chair that she's beginning to question everything.
Every single thing that she knows.

The vibrant (in more ways than one) red head tries to order a drink, and exchanges words with a stranger. Nothing to be suspicious about, and so Cam doesn't think anything of it.

Stop. Stop now. Do not go any further.

The Angel stops in her tracks, an inky black darkness exploding in and around her irises. As her fingers begin to flex at her sides, she feels a familiar warmth growing against the ball of her palm. A sharp intake of air is swallowed down, lips pursing. Teeth grinding.

Watch. Watch them. Prepare yourself, little bird.

It didn't matter now that there was some confusion that settled over her mind. The strongest voice within her mind had exercised its control, and she was not in the habit of disobeying. Whether it be because she couldn't or wouldn't, remained to be seen. However, it suddenly feels like someone presses slow motion over the entire evening. Blocks of time felt like they had condensed into mere moments, and then all at once things become very sluggish and... Clear.

Raised voices. Panicked expressions. Pounding. Shouting.

Blood.

This is the language that Camille speaks, and she's suddenly very glad that she ended up here, of all places. Who could really be sure how long that feeling would last?
January 22, 2017 01:38 am

Caitlyn Noire

The beast's internal monologue had already begun. The moment the violence of Michael started. It beckoned to her, it told her it was coming out. In the term of the realm it was mistaken, her human conscious hadn't grown in ranks. No. It was the beast inside the delicate cage inside her mind. Blue-green eyes widened as the bartender's head flattened under Michael's large palm.

"Stop. You don't have to do this." She had whispered loudly while in ear length hopeful hopeful to leave an ounce of peace in the bar. Her caring gaze had already started to hold the wall of liquid tears. Caitlyn wasn't strong enough to witness the retribution of the realm. Why did he want to ruin the peace that this place had? Why couldn't he see it? The beast inside her circled and whispered to her harsh observations.

'Survival. The war is not over.'
'No, no the war is over.' she argued subconsciously as her eyes had been locked with the archangel.
'Think of the fallen.'
'No, this is wrong.'
'Think of your children.'

Hysteria had broken out around her, as bodies slammed into her trying to escape. One of the hidden demons paused to her side, and she felt the cold metal of a barrel press against her back. "You were with him."

She broke away from her mental battle, long enough to comb at her eyes with her nails. "I'm not. I.. I just wanted orange juice." She murmured through a cracked voice. These type of situations Caitlyn thought had ended. The sensation of threat had been alleviated from her life. In a short second she had been driven back to the teenage girl in midst of the attack that would change her life forever.

The wolfess turned as the shot fired off, her hand found itself wrapped around the demon's throat as she lifted him off the ground. With the strength of the beast, she slammed the humanoid body into an imprinted crater made of broken ground debris. The innocence lost behind the protector, she stared at where the bullet had struck with a carnal growl. Stiletto heel now against the man's throat as she stabbed it through and twisted it among the muscle.

Bones underneath her soft flesh had started to break apart and reconstruct. Veins bulge out from her muscles, as she chuffs at the rest of the club including Michael himself. The beast cared not for alliances. Everything was out to get it, and the archangel was no different.

The blood dripped from her dress as the panic flickered in her irises like a dying light bulb. Caitlyn. Beast. Caitlyn. Beast. The stiletto heel had become lunged into the neck of the demon that shot her, and so she left the heels where they were. Her bare feet slid across the ground as she made her way toward the chaos. Arms slinging to connect with any bodies that even came near her.

Then the beast stopped. It turned in slow motion to regard Camille. The flicker of humanity in her large irises lost beneath the bulk of the monster. Caitlyn's neck turn crooked, as her lips parted to unleash the inhumane howl of the hound. Enough to carry over the lowered tunes of the club music.

It spoke not. It continued to grasp onto bodies and toss them to the side. The begging of some of the younger crowd pierced into her ears. Caitlyn struggled internally for her control, but she failed to understand that control was nothing but a lie. The voices of the mob needed help, but didn't they understand?

The war was far from over.

January 22, 2017 02:17 am

Michael Arch

The Angel stopped where he was as fast as he had moved at first. The handgun had cooled and his eyes darted from face to face at the establishment. Cerulean orbs finally rested on a woman’s face a bit towards the back of the club. His eyes locked with hers and an eyebrow raised slightly. She looked familiar. Through damaged psyche, Michael tried to find a person with this woman and associate the two. She was going to be in the back of his mind, this he knew. A place he had not been in almost a thousand years. The beauty of heaven drowned him in feelings of guilt and wrongdoing, but it was washed away by his current anger.

Returning his fiery gaze to the crowd before him, he then noticed the woman, or, what was a woman. He heard her howl and sighed heavily, shaking his head.

The wolves and the angels had long been allies, but their beastlike tendencies always proved to be the dominance in their minds and would usually end in blind raging attacks. Though, Michael was well aware they were usually able to control them after quite a few years of good training. His eyes were trained on the beast and he simply moved out of her way as she commenced her beastly attacks.

Strangely, a smile crept upon the Archangel’s lips. Raising his .45 as the crowd was now concentrated on the woman, he began firing shots off, each bullet hitting an individual. Head shots. Despite the part of the crowd that had started exiting the building, there was still those who wished to stay and fight. Some sort of act of courage.

A bold and pathetic move.

As the bodies started dropping, the others took this time to begin advancing towards Michael, seeing as he had steered his way from the beast in the room.

Two male vampires, now clearly identifiable from their facial features contorting into what was far from their original beautiful faces, leaped at the Angel.

One’s claws dug into the right shoulder of Michael, and caused him to drop his weapon. There wasn’t any pain shown in Michael’s face, and as he was about to swing his left hand around to grab the disgusting trash upon him, the other grabbed it and would attempt to rip his arm from the socket. Michael let out a roar of disgust and anger as he used his strength, which was much more than the two could ever fathom, and lifted the vampire up off the ground with his left arm and tossed him off. Looking at the other one as it had sank his fangs into the angel, Michael took a handful of his hair and pulled his head away from his shoulder and ripped him from his own body. With a quick slam, the vampires face met the marble dancefloor.

There was a sickening crack, but Michael didn’t stop there. He then repeatedly started to bash the being’s head into the floor, his skull starting to shatter within skin and soon there was hardly what could be described as a head. Michael stood once more and his gaze fell upon he crowd, who now realized what was happening.

As soon as the realization hit, they all followed right behind the fleeing others and there was a booming laughter from behind them.

Where are you going my friends? The party was just starting.

Reaching into the pocket of his coat, Michael produced a Zippo lighter, black in color. Flicking it open and bringing the flame to life, he would toss it towards the bar. The different types of alcohol that had been poured upon the floor during the entire chaotic moments of exiting were now brought to life as a fire erupted, now engulfing everyone within its flames, blocking the exits in the process.

If you don’t die by my hand, the fires will bring you to the place you should have stayed once your lives ended. The darkest and fiery depths of Hell.

He had been giving too much attention to the crowd that he had not noticed the being behind the now lit up bar. Abaddon looked to be a very handsome man, or at least, was, before the encounter with Michael. His demonic features soon were easily visible. His eyes had returned to their yellow color, engulfed in a blood red that was once the whites of his eyes. His teeth were a collection of sharpened ones now. His skin looked as though he was seriously burned, and of course, hell would do that to a being over the course of thousands of years.

You f—kin’ pathetic Angel! I’ll kill you like I’ve killed your brothers and sisters in the past!

The Archangel turned to face him, and would nod.

We can only hope, Abaddon. Because if you do not kill me here, your death is going to be the worst of them all.

This was going to be a statement Michael was going to make with the deaths of all of these lowlife beings, and everyone was going to hear it. Starting with Abaddon.
January 22, 2017 10:20 pm

Camille Rameau

The entirety of figurative hell breaks loose before her, and for a while all Camille can do is stand and watch, taking in everything that happens around her. Some strange, insanely tall man springs into action, and all around him there are demons reacting. Once they become afraid, and aggressive, she has no trouble seeing them for what they really are. Their human faces seem to melt away, leaving a physical mask of eternity long sin and corruption in its wake. The commotion excites Camille, and not just in an emotional way. Her body begins to react, and though she has become both adequate and adept at calming herself, the levels of hostility in the room threaten to throw her out of control. Once Caitlyn finds her, though, it would appear that she had been tipped over the edge.

Her ginger haired friend regards her in a most animalistic way. Had they not been in the middle of an evolving scuffle, she feels that this beastly woman would have stopped to sniff her, or regard her with a certain kind of pack like comraderie. But right now it only succeeds in flipping the fight switch inside of her mind, and does absolutely nothing for the flourishing glow of her essence beneath a thin, pale layer of skin. Like a drop of ink imposed onto the calm of freshly drawn bathwater, an explosion of gracelight laces through her veins, beginning at the tips of her fingers and entwining through her bloodstream.

Over the shouts and screams of the people hurrying to vacate the bar, Caitlyns beast yells out, and takes off in a rush, leaving Camille behind to dig herself out of this oncoming mess. From the folds of the bar, a voice comes:

"Hey, do you see that? That freak's with the big guy. Get her!" Although they were wrong, the bright light omitting from her was recognizable only by others who shared a residence in the realm. The supernaturally inclined. Once two separate men start at her, her heel digs into the floor beneath her, and she cements her place against the old, ratty wood of the building. As the first man runs at her, arm pulled back and ready to swing, Camille's fingers curl into a ball against her fist, fingernails pressed so tightly against her skin that a slow trickle of blood begins to pool at her feet. The unmasked demon prepares his attack, assuming that Cami, in all of her small, angelic glory, is helpless against his strength.

What an unfavorable assumption. With moments to spare before she is flanked by the other attacker, Camille's hand comes out in front of her, and where one may have landed a punch against her asailants chest, her frozen shards of daggers for fingers slice through his thin shirt. Like hot steel to butter, she breaks through his bones and tendons, cracking and snapping sounds filling the air around them. With ease, she penetrates the cage around his aortic cavity, fingers wrapping around his heart while hot, black blood poured down her forearm.

Teeth bared through an increasingly angry snarl, The Angel grasps and pulls at the still beating heart, and its pumping against her palm while the man crumples to the floor. As the other attacker slowed to a stop, Cami gives him no time to turn and run. The heart goes flying in his direction, and would have hit him directly in the face had he not swatted it away... Successfully distracting him for long enough that the black-stained girl had the opportunity to lunge. Her small legs muscle around his torso, trapping him with the strength of her thighs as her chilled hands find a place against either side of his head.

Crack.

They fall to the floor, his doughy body softening the fa beneath Camille.

There's a large, excited smile that now graces the curve of her lips, so deep that it threatens to touch the corners of her eyes. This was what she lives for. The complete and total annihilation of everything and anything that doesn't deserve space in this universe. Sometimes her criteria would seem unreasonable, but that was a debate set for a later date.

Having garnered the attention of more than one thing and person in the immediate vicinity, Camille takes her black-bloodied arms and stomps her way to the front door of the bar, grabbing a runned down excuse for a wooden chair and breaking it over her knee. She waves the sharp shards of wood around comically, steel reeling with excitement. She wonders how many of these b-astards had managed to escape so far. Wonders how many haven't made their way out the front door yet...

All of them. Kill them all, little bird.

That is exactly what she would do without intervention, no questions asked.
January 23, 2017 11:52 am

Caitlyn Noire


The beast shredded the small conscious voice of Caitlyn. As the woman's voice whispered in her predator dominated mind.

'Leave. Stop.'

No. It was time for them to recognize the monster Caitlyn Noire could turn into. Shock waves crackled up her spine, as it curved into a hunchback. Her fingernails unattached as the ivory sharpened bone exposed itself in curled like fixtures of canine unguis.

The whispers of the damned, the cries of the cowards, the praying of the reformed. All of them magnified in her ears, making the beast infuriated. It kept one controlled eye on the angels that were in the bar, and the howl was likely misconstrued. Unfortunately for the docile redhead, she was afflicted with two different curses.

The hound had howled, while the wolf continued to try to domineer her actions. It helped the mindset of the predator recognize where the hellhounds were. Without even a pause she had broken away from Camille, and dove forward with a growl. A few brave souls tried to block her towards where she was aimed to go to. She leapt and spun upwards over them, her nails dug into the flesh of their necks as it made a diagonal slash of their flesh. Just to make sure of their demise she loomed over them.

Only to pick them up by their finely shredded throats, and use her lips to curl back so she could land her canine teeth into the full face of her attackers. Blood sprayed some red, some black, across her face. The guttural growl continued as she finally saw the other hounds. Most seemingly trying to show their masters' a way out. Not tonight. Not on her watch. She spit out the demon spawn from her mouth, and the whites of her eyes turned into the direction she heard the nails scratch against the ground.

For a brief second her turquoise irises realigned as she stared in the direction of Camille & Michael. Speechless. The small turn of attention and one of the club goers had sunk the bottom of their foot into her expanded abdomen. Where the sore from the bullet throbbed. Thank the supernatural siblings for the gift of adrenaline. The pain was there, but it as nothing compared to having her body rip itself apart to create what she ultimately was - the black beast.

Caitlyn's arms tightened around the leg muscle of her assailant and pulled them forward. Her nostrils flared as she turned the leg straight up into the air. Talon-like nails curled around the humanoid appendage, before she yanked it out of socket. Using her weight she sank with the body towards the ground. Like a wild animal her claws raking the screaming victim's flesh like a paper shredder.

Quite to the contrary the beast wouldn't leave the vicinity, because it recognized Camille. In fact, it started to notice the crowd shift between angels. The demons had dispersed trying to flee. Their hysteria had turned into realization. If they didn't find a way out now, there was no escaping the eradication to come. The flames had entrapped some of the demons that wished to live their last remaining minutes in their lie. In their falsely promised second changes, or in the meat suits they had bargained so many souls with.

The beast chuffed with annoyance, as it lifted and crushed the body that had been below it. With inhumane strength she flung it forward to the backs of those that tried to defy the order of the night. The other raked torsos were kicked with the bottom of her foot into the pit of flames. The hellhounds watched on as she secretly restored her own New World Order among the beasts condemned to the fiery existence.

Impatience lit up in her core as she teetered on her steps, and started towards the direction of Camille.


January 25, 2017 11:04 pm

Michael Arch

The Angel simply stood there for a few moments, absorbing the scene before him. Such hellish creatures wishing to live like mortals. The things he had seen during his time spent here had been nothing but sickening. This only caused the Archangel to train and silently sit by and grow stronger as these strange events unfolded. But now…

It was time to take action.

No more of this sitting by and allowing these creatures to think they can mingle amongst those that have not met judgement yet. Their time would come…

Michael looked over just in time now during his thoughts to catch glimpse of the man flying through the air in his direction. Abaddon. The demon was successful in tackling the Angel to the floor and soon was atop him. The demon’s grin was from ear to ear as he began throwing punches, though they were met by the Angel’s forearms as he blocked a majority of them, one catching him in the ear and causing a ringing to be heard by Michael.

Raising his pant leg, the demon produced a strange looking blade, the metal red in color and looked to be sharpened by hand. His grin couldn’t get any bigger or it would have as his yellow eyes met cerulean hues of the Archangel.

This will be the last face you see before you meet your dead brothers and sis-

BANG!

His comment was cut short as yellow eyes widened, falling back and hitting what was left of the back of his head, which looked more like hamburger meat, fell with a plop.

Michael, blood splattered upon his face, pushed off the rest of the demon’s limp body off of him and stood up. Those penetrating blue eyes fell upon what was left of the now frightened.

Enough of the games. It is time for you all to meet your own judgement.

Standing before them, the Archangel placed his hands together, as though he were praying. Bowing his head, his lips began to move though nothing was heard. Suddenly, as he continued to do this, each and every being present before the three looked as though they were going mad. Each one clutched their heads, their eyes glowing a bluish white color. Falling to their knees, it was now evident if one looked that their eyes were being burnt out of their sockets. A black liquid oozed from them as if they were crying this liquid and soon fell to the floor.

The fire blazed harshly against everyone’s skin as though it was going to engulf its captives, but soon began to die to small flames.

Michael looked to the two that remained and then his gaze fell as he raised his right hand, the one gripping the .45 and lifted his sleeve up, checking his watch. Holstering the weapon within his coat in it’s holster underneath his arm, he looked back to the two once more.

I do not believe we have met.

Cerulean hues narrowed slightly as his gaze singled on the woman who had not begun turning into a beast.

Or have we?
January 31, 2017 07:06 am

Camille Rameau

Camille is this close. This close to destroying what was left of the bars population. As men and women fled towards the doors, some innocent (pending opinion) and others just trying to escape, Cami spins the blunt chair legs between her petite fingers. Her grip tightens against the cheap wood, so tight that splinters were nearly lodging into the palms of her hands. Dark, cloudy eyes which normally shone bright with the might of a thousand powerful oceans, darted back and forth between man and woman. Which would she choose first? Who would she skewer mercilessly? Kebabed until she witness their last, desperate breath?

No one, apparently.

A shot fires off, the sound echoing off of the hollow walls of the building. The thin shell of drywall does little to absorb the noise, and it catches Camille off guard, a growl forming in the depths of her chest at her displeasure. The smell of the smoking barrell taunts her senses, heightened only by the extreme conditions with which she had chosen to partake in. Her hearing. Her sense of smell. It was distracting. The girls attention snaps into the direction of the gunshot, head turned to throw an irritated stare over her shoulder.

Easy now, girl. You may find an ally in him yet.

Her eyes are glued to him though, the voice of questionable reason forced to the back of her mind. The muscles in her arms relax, allowing them to fall softly to her sides, even as her grip remained tight against her makeshift stakes. The mans hands come together in front of his face, palms pressed evenly while his eyes slipped closed. Her gaze falls against his lips, moving quickly, and with a foreboding purpose, even though his words are silent. No one can hear him.

But she can.

At a decible that would kill a human being if their simple ears could hear it - the language if her land. Heaven. Its then that Camille understands exactly why an unrest had been incited inside of her.

The sound of pain now fills the air, replacing the noise of simple commotion that had once existed. Screams of desperation cry out, begging her, Caitlyn and the strange man to show them mercy without words. She would not help them. Nor would he, and though Caitlyn remained out if her immediate line of sight, she assumed the beast was indifferent to their deaths as well.

Although she could easily have been wrong.

The demons begin to bleed. Hot, sticky, black blood oozing from every opening. The were being pressurized from the inside out, a nasty little trick that had easily destroyed a countless number of her kind over many years. Somehow, she remained unaffected. It was clear that she was not a part of the target, but as bodies began to drop all around her and the sounds of silence overwhelm her psyche, Camille starts to panic.

There are few places that Camille felt unsafe- especially with Caitlyn at her side.

Suddenly, this was one of them.

The attention turns towards the two of them, Caitlyn closer than Cami had realized in the height of all the movement and noise. Her heart thumps at what feels like a thousand beats per minute, a rushing flush of realization washing over her body. Her fingers twitch. A small flicker of light beats against the pulse at her palms, fingers curled in where her stakes used to be, but had long since been dropped.

Abandoned suddenly by the darkness that had garnered a hold of her through the entire debacle, the dark coloring of her irises melts away, leaving the bright and vibrant wash of a mid day sky in its place.

She is small. He is much bigger; And while he may not know her from eve, she most certainly understands who he is. Unlikely to cower, but once upon a time easily crushed beneath his boot.

"Michael." Not a greeting, or a question. No introduction from her end. Just a verbal confirmation from the hollow of her own mouth.

Camille takes a hesitant step back.

"D-Did he send you? Why are you here? No one had heard from you..." Her words, though soft, run together with very little pause. "You can't be here. How did you know?"

You're doomed now, little angel.
January 31, 2017 10:39 am

Michael Arch

His gaze now singled itself on the only one of the two that had spoken, now completely ignoring the beast in their presence, as if it did not exist in the slightest sense. It was then that everything seemed to bleed away, very existence itself ceased to exist. Now the only two who seemed to be within this troubled world were the Archangel and this woman. Her voice…her words. They triggered something in long since damaged psyche and it was as though a large tidal wave of memory had crashed down upon Michael.

Soon the screams and begging for mercy from those that had perished this day brought him back to his last few moments in heaven. They were one in the same. Thousands crushed by his very hand.

And he would do it all over again.

Michael’s head tilted slightly as she asked her questions, ones he had no answers to.

It had been at least a few hundred years since his disappearance from the beauty he had seen be created by his Father.

Then it hit him…

His Father….

The very entity that cursed him to this world filled with every sin in abundance.

His right hand balled itself into a tight fist, knuckles turning white and a series of pops heard.

Finally he spoke, though his lips never moved. It was as though the words themselves were floating beautifully into the air and would make anyone who was able to hear them never think them to be anything but sheer serenity. It was their language. The language of God’s greatest creation for battle against the darkest of existence.

I have been gone a long time. God did send me here, yes, but not for anything to involve you. Unless you are part of this disgust I have seen since I have been here. I have been cast down from our home. I have lost all connection with our Father….

The Archangel slowly moved over to one of the only barstools still left standing and drug it to where he had been standing and set it down, sitting upon it. Reaching into his coat pocket he produced a pack of cigarettes and placed one between his lips. A cheap bic lighter was within the pack and he used it to light the cigarette. Smoke slowly unfurled from his lips and he continued to talk to the woman.

Gabriel is the reason I am here. He has seemed to grow a like-mind as that of my brother Lucifer and wishes to run heaven with an iron fist. He acquired a rather large group of our brothers and sisters and wished to take our land by force. I was not going to let this happen. By doing so thousands died by my hands. For this, our Father saw it as me doing exactly what Gabriel was wishing to do, and cast me down as punishment. It would seem he is not the all-seeing one as we all wished for him to be.

Taking another long drag, the seemingly silent Angel shook his head.

His eyes never left the woman’s and he fell silent. That was enough of his story. He knew to never tell it all, as he never knew exactly what others intentions were. And even though she seemed to radiate a feeling he had as though when he were in heaven, she could very well be the same as Gabriel had been. Michael knew not of what has happened there since his departure, but he knew it wasn’t anything good in the slightest.
January 31, 2017 01:12 pm

Camille Rameau

Not as all knowing as we thought.

The entire gesture was like a joke to her. Their father had created them for the sole purpose of maintaining serenity in the world. While humanity seemed to idealize the angelic brethren as beautiful and holy visages, the vast majority of them were fierce warriors, bringing the hammer of justice down on the universe with a single swing of the pendulum.

But he was absent. In her thousand years she had never witnessed the holy fire of his song- Had only ever heard through the Arch's what his word had been. While many of them had rebelled, Camille had been caught somewhere in the middle. She was a true beacon of peace within the kingdom of heaven, and with that came a bounty on her head.

Gabriel had tried his best to dispose of her, and now her discovery had begged his purpose. This entire interaction could mean her life. Michael claimed to have no use for her, but he doesn't know just who she is, or for what purpose she served.

One of heavens only true guardian angels.

With her wings went (most of) her power. She was at the mercy of Gabriel, should he ever find her.

But Michael?

He was like a bedtime story, and depending on which side of the war you fought, he was either a savior or a traitor.

Camille fought on her own side.
Survival.

Michael sat easily against the bloodied barstool, but it made no difference. They were all covered in blood and excrements. She eyes the cigarette as the cherry burned red against his splattered face. Fingers tightening and loosening against her palm again and again.

Camille eyes Caitlyn, a secured gaze on her as she scanned the woman's lycan figure in order to deem that she was vetted for survival inside of this whole ideal. She may have been wounded, but she was alive, and that was what mattered to Cam.

Her eyes dart back to the towering Angel, but she remains cemented in her spot. Teeth gritted.

"For all intents and purposes, Gabriel is my enemy." Perhaps not for the same reasons as The Arch, "I have no care for humanity or anything that goes with it. Demons? Warlocks? People? They all serve the same purpose, and its their own."

Her words are verbal, shared between the three of them. Though behind her stare a flicker of flame, and picking up where he left off in the serene and deadly language of their own, she adds freely:

Selfishness. Condemnation. I implore you to find the decency in this world. Have you discovered a shred of it yet, in all of your years? My own refuge was created by my own hand. It exists nowhere else.

His words gingerly indicate that he is not aware of Gabriel's purpose for her, but she cannot take that at his word alone. Camille has found through both many defaults and forthcomings that her biggest enemy had so far been her own kind.

If bringing forth the fires of Revelation is your intention, you've a long battle ahead of you.

Another quick glance at Cait, her hands now relaxed as was the entirety of her stance. When they dart back to Michael, she holds his stare fully, thunderous orbs never backing down.

"And if that is the case... Perhaps we could be of use to each other."
January 31, 2017 01:39 pm
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