I'd be sentenced to what part of Hell now? XD Politically Correct Relation Part 2
::stares at the piece:: This took an embarrassingly long time. But between going through final revisions of the first part and major research periods, I suppose it’s unavoidable.
Am slowly developing a plot here. Have a few more characters to introduce before I can go full throttle.
Um, since the first part was generally well received, I’m going to forgo the warning for now. The thing is still surprisingly clean, barring the bad language and equally bad political jokes. I’m not sure when exactly I’m going to start dropping the bombs concerning my theories on the relationships but what the hey; if anything, the majority of those who read it will be pleasantly surprised? ::snort::
This second chapter was written with th_nightengale in mind. For being unable to complete that GW drabble she requested and to celebrate her own acquisition of a Lucifer-muse. I’m so very sorry for the former and absolutely ecstatic for the latter, Em. Hope this meets expectations.
Written for entertainment purposes only.
Continued from:
Part 1 (And if anyone is so inclined, go read it again? Hopefully it will flow smoother since I revised it five times and added about 2000 more words. ::is a self-admittedly sad, sad, person::)
Politically Correct Relations: 2/?
by kasugai gummie
Lucifer Morningstar, Eosphorus, Light-Bearer, Most Beloved of God, First Born, Pride-incarnate, Head Emissary between Heaven and Hell, Prince of Darkness, Chief Administrator of Hell’s Crapped-Up Bureaucracy, He Who Arranged for the Stock Market Crash of 1929 to counter the Era of Good Will, Executioner of Modern Harbingers of Bad News (a recent addition), Satan’s left-hand Confidante and Debatable Best Friend, was feeling just the slightest bit bitter.
And annoyed.
And apprehensive.
...... just the slightest bit.
He almost snarled at one of the many young Fourth Choir trainees who (in their apparent lack of what was recognized as common sense) had the nerve to look at his garb with something akin to distaste. This newest generation had absolutely no respect for their elders! Absolutely _none_!! Ignoring the incredulous “Are we stopping again??” that came from somewhere to his right, he glared pointedly at the sneering angel, drew himself to full height... and in the dark recesses of his mind, cursed once more at the uncaring skies for being First Born.
Being modeled after God, and therefore having to share the same height, simply did _not_ do wonders for his (many failed) attempts at intimidation. Having a physical form that measured six feet and three inches was simply ridiculous when everybody else (angels and demons alike) was at least a good thirteen inches taller.
Obsidian eyes narrowed. No matter. The majority of mankind was still satisfactorily short and he had other methods to fall back on when dealing with insubordination anyway.
Lucifer curled his fingers a little closer to the dense pressure gathering in his palm, intent on rearranging that disagreeable expression into something more acceptable. And since pain was especially manufactured for the corporal world and its denizens, he was sure that the most the fledgling would suffer would be the mild inconvenience of having his face turned inside out and upside down. Nothing big.
He could always blame his arguably infernal actions on Michael later.
Somehow.
The steady weight of power increased as he raised his hand-
An impatient rustle of movement to the side alerted him to Michael’s warning frown though. His rival had shifted his sword from under one of his grandiose wings to pointedly warn him from whatever physical retribution he was planning.
Very unfortunate.
Darting an irate glare at the amber-eyed archangel who returned the displeased look with ease, Lucifer huffed, tucked back a wayward lock of hair to disguise his aborted actions, and dismissed the last vestiges of energy in his hand.
However, the cheeky twit was still regarding him with something bordering disrespect.
Damn.
Deciding then and there that, since violence was out of the question, perhaps verbal abuse could work just as well. Lucifer opened his mouth ready to tell the lower-ranked being just exactly, and in decidedly unholy terms to boot, just what he thought of the other’s bodily functions (or lack thereof). That is, until the convulsive twitch in Michael’s sword arm caught his eye again.
Summoning a barrier took fifty-three nanoseconds. Michael could draw his sword and deliver swift retribution in fifty flat...
He supposed he could afford to behave some more.
Lucifer ignored Michael’s exasperated “I don’t believe this” and dutifully rephrased his reprimand with less vulgar terms. “I hope you don’t have any problems with your personal space because I’ll be invading it for the moment regardless,” he began unceremoniously, leaning towards the pristine whiteness of the Fourth Choir angel with an elegant shit-eating grin plastered on his face.
“Now let’s clarify a few things: I’m older than you. I know more than you. I can blow you into non-existence twelve times over,” he murmured in an ominous dulcet tone he usually reserved for Demon Lords who were double his size and who had also failed to submit their Y2K reports on time. “But that would just jump-start the next scheduled Apocalypse five hundred eons early. I don’t think you’d want to be responsible for that, hmm?” He indulged in the growing uncertainty and sudden inexplicable panic in the angel’s eyes and allowed for his sugarcoated threat to sink in before turning to leave.
“Feeling better?” Michael offered after they had departed wordlessly and were quite some distance away from the shaken angels. His open amusement at the discomfort that had darkened the other’s pale countenance ever since they set foot in Heaven’s outer sanctum intensified. “That was the twenty-eighth trainee you’ve managed to demoralize today. At the rate you’re going, I’d say you have a pretty fair chance of breaking the record you set during the midst of the fourteenth century.”
Lucifer glanced at his opposite with a sardonic expression. “Has that really been recorded?”
“Well, Jophiel found it important enough to have it entered into the archives.”
“And knowing Jophiel, his version of my indiscretion is one-sided and incomplete,” Lucifer snorted indelicately. “Unless of course he actually found a first-account witness who could help him trace that incident back to when Leviathan ingested Asmodeus’ favorite mirror... which I highly doubt, since the pixie killed off all the lesser demons in his four hundred cubic-feet of personal space.”
“... And so?”
“Can’t make the connection can you? The imp who’d been carrying Gabriel’s forewarning of His spring-cleaning schedule was one of the unfortunates caught in Asmodeus’ tantrum. Then three months later, when the dead started pouring in out of nowhere and unannounced, Samael reminded us why he agreed to be the poster boy for Wrath.”
“Is _that_ why you felt compelled to reduce the entire Twelfth Order to tears when you visited afterwards?”
“Hey, _you_ try dealing with an influx of Damned souls from an impromptu plague, unprepared and then get chewed out by your superior. That stress has to go _somewhere_.”
Michael fell silent as he acceded to Lucifer’s point. In fact, neither spoke again until after they walked past the border separating the outer sanctum and the inner sanctum. Instead, Michael spent this time to analyze his dark-haired antithesis from the corner of his eye as they glided past the remaining training grounds and preparatory buildings.
It wasn’t obvious to the untrained eye but to Michael, the differences between them were sharper, more tangible than ever.
When a sudden odd and misplaced motion caught his eye, he fought the urge to blink.
Did Lucifer just fidget? That was so... mortal.
“You’ve picked up some interesting habits.”
Black eyes darted to mirror the same gaze that was being directed at him. “Blame it on Adam’s progeny,” Lucifer snapped while his sweeping wings seemed to pull tighter against his black clad back. A few of the glossy feathers twitched spastically.
One red eyebrow hiked up eloquently.
Ignoring the mocking expression, Lucifer ran a hand through his hair for perhaps the sixth time since they entered divine territory, a clear sign of agitation to those who knew him well. They were nearing the Inner Gates already, and the familiar sight of looming white pillars and massive structures wrought from mother of pearl framed by an endless sky was distressing to say the least. The last time he walked through those Gates was five years ago... and he remembered walking through them frustrated and not quite coherent.
The distance between them and the center of the Inner Sanctum was almost negligible when Lucifer stopped moving all together, much to his escort’s annoyance.
“Hey...”
Michael gave into temptation and pinched the area between his eyes. “What is it this time?”
Head cocked to the side with his left hand lightly supporting the side of his face, Lucifer looked the very picture of intellectual pursuit. “I couldn’t help but notice certain changes made to the environmental designs. Is it just me, or did Jophiel rearrange those cirrus clouds again? And the backdrop colors. They seem... different. I remember the gold shading to lavender, not violet.”
Michael stared. Incredulity. The urge to just smack Lucifer upside the head with a pillar never seemed more appealing than at that moment. “I think it’s just you,” he stated flatly. “And you should really stop stalling; you weren’t Created with Attention Deficit Disorder. Besides, I can guarantee you that your sidetracks are going to reduce Gabe to tears soon.”
Lucifer didn’t even bother to rise to the gibe. Instead, he continued to appraise the glorious view of the walled city with something akin to detached concentration. Only the occasional tensing of his wings indicated his continued discomfort. “You know, I’ve never seen Gabriel actually cry. But I suggest you go tell him to save the waterworks for someone who might actually care. Meanwhile, why don’t you just humor me, will you? I’m still reacquainting myself with all the more obnoxious changes....” He trailed off and tilting his head to the other side, eyes never leaving the picturesque city. “Something _must_ have been bothering our favorite interior designer. What was it though?”
“You’re doing this just to spite me for saving Elvis’ soul, aren’t you? And would you _please_ stop speculating on Jophiel’s mental health?” Michael gritted out slowly.
Lucifer ignored him and went blithely along. “Could it have been that the Feng Sui wasn’t agreeing with his Zen? Or did seeing the cirrus lie so close to the pillars twist his delicate sensibilities into knots?”
“My delicate sensibilities are perfectly primped, pressed, and gorgeous, thank you very much.”
A pregnant pause was given way before Lucifer and Michael both turned to look behind them in the direction of the flippant comment. Neither gave any indication of surprise when their twin stares met with smiling hazel eyes.
“Unfortunately, however, my good mood can’t be completely shared by others. Chamuel’s sensibilities for instance...” The amused expression on Jophiel’s olive skinned face held the slightest hint of bewilderment. “Just what exactly _did_ you do to him Lucifer? Last time I remember him being this disagreeable was when Michael Jackson’s name somehow found its way onto the ‘Admitted’ roster.”
“That pulled off rather well didn’t it?” Lucifer said with an indulgent smirk before nodding towards Michael. “Not my fault though this time.”
“I made him erect a Gate in the opening I made in Lucifer’s wall after dissembling his door,” Heaven’s Commanding General explained with a snort. “I think the fact that there was nothing remotely resembling a door knob left offended his sensibilities.”
Lucifer followed up that statement with an indelicate sound of his own. “Opening?? You destroyed the oak frame and a good chunk of the insulation too. Face it Michael, you beamed an asymmetrical _hole_ in my wall.”
Jophiel smiled. “That’s almost exactly what Chamuel was muttering about an hour ago. Asymmetry and the unaesthetics of entropy...” His smile widened further. “That, and how Gabriel will somehow find a way to chain you both to desk duties for the rest of the century if you don’t walk through those Inner Gates within the next few minutes. From what I understand, Gabriel has been expecting you two for quite some time now.”
Heavy silence.
Seconds later, flickers of uncontrolled light began to lick up from Michael’s divine halo and said being with the flickering aura whirled on an expressionless Lucifer. Colorful and lurid words not suited for the pristine cleanliness of Heaven rent through the air.
“-going to STOP your pretty-assed STALLING and MARCH that fucking super-sized piece of narcissistic ego THROUGH those pearly Gates or else I’m goin-”
Lucifer twitched the corner of his lips into a miniscule smirk after having sidestepped the flare of force that ripped from the redhead angel’s form. “Aaw... You think I’m pretty?” he interrupted in a coy murmur, much to Michael’s continued aggravation. “I’m touched.”
“.... SHUT UP,” Michael grounded out before checking himself and taking a deep breath. “I’m going to give you ten seconds to enter the Inner Sanctum without any major bodily damages. You can fly, walk, crawl, dance, FLOAT for all I care, through the Gates. Starting now. Ten.”
“This is ridiculous. And rushed.”
“Nine.”
“... Aaand you’re reaching for your sword...”
“Eight. I don’t see you moving. Seven.”
“Cosmos above, you can’t BLAME me for not wanting to go back in there can you?!”
“Six. I can. Five. I will.”
“............”
“Four. We had a bargain too. Remember? Bermuda?”
“I suddenly changed my mind.”
“Three. Stop running away.” Michael drew his sword, a nonchalant mask having replaced his previous ire. “Two.”
The Inner Gates suddenly swung open.
“One.”
“MICHAEL!! WHAT exactly do you think you're DOING?!”
All three pairs of majestic wings on the head-Seraph’s back twitched at the shocked voice. The nimbus around his sword spluttered out as his arm lowered to hang harmlessly at his side. “Gabriel,” he mumbled, voice meek and business-like demeanor having slipped away almost immediately.
“We’re going to have a talk later,” Gabriel murmured as he passed Michael, “since Raphael needs to discuss the effects of your training methods on the injury-ratio right now. You go in first.” He went to stand next to Jophiel who nodded in greeting when Michael left. Sky-blue eyes flickered to the one being who looked out-of-place, a lone shadow in a world of light. The impatience didn’t completely fall away, but a hint of compassion softened Gabriel’s face.
“We’ve missed you, Lucifer.”
“Really now,” Lucifer deadpanned, not quite crossing his arms but holding his elbows in front of his chest nonetheless. The air around him churned and withered as he endured the steady gaze.
Gabriel sighed. “And you really don’t need to create a vacuum right where you stand.”
“.... how much of the Host do you have hiding in the surrounding area?”
“Around five battalions worth.”
“And all of them survivors of Michael’s very first training regimen,” Jophiel added helpfully.
Lucifer bit the inside of his cheek.
Outnumbered. Damn it.
He obstinately ignored the identical grins of triumph being exchanged as he started walking into the Inner Sanctum.
End Part 2
Completed: 03/24/05
Am slowly developing a plot here. Have a few more characters to introduce before I can go full throttle.
Um, since the first part was generally well received, I’m going to forgo the warning for now. The thing is still surprisingly clean, barring the bad language and equally bad political jokes. I’m not sure when exactly I’m going to start dropping the bombs concerning my theories on the relationships but what the hey; if anything, the majority of those who read it will be pleasantly surprised? ::snort::
This second chapter was written with th_nightengale in mind. For being unable to complete that GW drabble she requested and to celebrate her own acquisition of a Lucifer-muse. I’m so very sorry for the former and absolutely ecstatic for the latter, Em. Hope this meets expectations.
Written for entertainment purposes only.
Continued from:
Part 1 (And if anyone is so inclined, go read it again? Hopefully it will flow smoother since I revised it five times and added about 2000 more words. ::is a self-admittedly sad, sad, person::)
Politically Correct Relations: 2/?
by kasugai gummie
Lucifer Morningstar, Eosphorus, Light-Bearer, Most Beloved of God, First Born, Pride-incarnate, Head Emissary between Heaven and Hell, Prince of Darkness, Chief Administrator of Hell’s Crapped-Up Bureaucracy, He Who Arranged for the Stock Market Crash of 1929 to counter the Era of Good Will, Executioner of Modern Harbingers of Bad News (a recent addition), Satan’s left-hand Confidante and Debatable Best Friend, was feeling just the slightest bit bitter.
And annoyed.
And apprehensive.
...... just the slightest bit.
He almost snarled at one of the many young Fourth Choir trainees who (in their apparent lack of what was recognized as common sense) had the nerve to look at his garb with something akin to distaste. This newest generation had absolutely no respect for their elders! Absolutely _none_!! Ignoring the incredulous “Are we stopping again??” that came from somewhere to his right, he glared pointedly at the sneering angel, drew himself to full height... and in the dark recesses of his mind, cursed once more at the uncaring skies for being First Born.
Being modeled after God, and therefore having to share the same height, simply did _not_ do wonders for his (many failed) attempts at intimidation. Having a physical form that measured six feet and three inches was simply ridiculous when everybody else (angels and demons alike) was at least a good thirteen inches taller.
Obsidian eyes narrowed. No matter. The majority of mankind was still satisfactorily short and he had other methods to fall back on when dealing with insubordination anyway.
Lucifer curled his fingers a little closer to the dense pressure gathering in his palm, intent on rearranging that disagreeable expression into something more acceptable. And since pain was especially manufactured for the corporal world and its denizens, he was sure that the most the fledgling would suffer would be the mild inconvenience of having his face turned inside out and upside down. Nothing big.
He could always blame his arguably infernal actions on Michael later.
Somehow.
The steady weight of power increased as he raised his hand-
An impatient rustle of movement to the side alerted him to Michael’s warning frown though. His rival had shifted his sword from under one of his grandiose wings to pointedly warn him from whatever physical retribution he was planning.
Very unfortunate.
Darting an irate glare at the amber-eyed archangel who returned the displeased look with ease, Lucifer huffed, tucked back a wayward lock of hair to disguise his aborted actions, and dismissed the last vestiges of energy in his hand.
However, the cheeky twit was still regarding him with something bordering disrespect.
Damn.
Deciding then and there that, since violence was out of the question, perhaps verbal abuse could work just as well. Lucifer opened his mouth ready to tell the lower-ranked being just exactly, and in decidedly unholy terms to boot, just what he thought of the other’s bodily functions (or lack thereof). That is, until the convulsive twitch in Michael’s sword arm caught his eye again.
Summoning a barrier took fifty-three nanoseconds. Michael could draw his sword and deliver swift retribution in fifty flat...
He supposed he could afford to behave some more.
Lucifer ignored Michael’s exasperated “I don’t believe this” and dutifully rephrased his reprimand with less vulgar terms. “I hope you don’t have any problems with your personal space because I’ll be invading it for the moment regardless,” he began unceremoniously, leaning towards the pristine whiteness of the Fourth Choir angel with an elegant shit-eating grin plastered on his face.
“Now let’s clarify a few things: I’m older than you. I know more than you. I can blow you into non-existence twelve times over,” he murmured in an ominous dulcet tone he usually reserved for Demon Lords who were double his size and who had also failed to submit their Y2K reports on time. “But that would just jump-start the next scheduled Apocalypse five hundred eons early. I don’t think you’d want to be responsible for that, hmm?” He indulged in the growing uncertainty and sudden inexplicable panic in the angel’s eyes and allowed for his sugarcoated threat to sink in before turning to leave.
“Feeling better?” Michael offered after they had departed wordlessly and were quite some distance away from the shaken angels. His open amusement at the discomfort that had darkened the other’s pale countenance ever since they set foot in Heaven’s outer sanctum intensified. “That was the twenty-eighth trainee you’ve managed to demoralize today. At the rate you’re going, I’d say you have a pretty fair chance of breaking the record you set during the midst of the fourteenth century.”
Lucifer glanced at his opposite with a sardonic expression. “Has that really been recorded?”
“Well, Jophiel found it important enough to have it entered into the archives.”
“And knowing Jophiel, his version of my indiscretion is one-sided and incomplete,” Lucifer snorted indelicately. “Unless of course he actually found a first-account witness who could help him trace that incident back to when Leviathan ingested Asmodeus’ favorite mirror... which I highly doubt, since the pixie killed off all the lesser demons in his four hundred cubic-feet of personal space.”
“... And so?”
“Can’t make the connection can you? The imp who’d been carrying Gabriel’s forewarning of His spring-cleaning schedule was one of the unfortunates caught in Asmodeus’ tantrum. Then three months later, when the dead started pouring in out of nowhere and unannounced, Samael reminded us why he agreed to be the poster boy for Wrath.”
“Is _that_ why you felt compelled to reduce the entire Twelfth Order to tears when you visited afterwards?”
“Hey, _you_ try dealing with an influx of Damned souls from an impromptu plague, unprepared and then get chewed out by your superior. That stress has to go _somewhere_.”
Michael fell silent as he acceded to Lucifer’s point. In fact, neither spoke again until after they walked past the border separating the outer sanctum and the inner sanctum. Instead, Michael spent this time to analyze his dark-haired antithesis from the corner of his eye as they glided past the remaining training grounds and preparatory buildings.
It wasn’t obvious to the untrained eye but to Michael, the differences between them were sharper, more tangible than ever.
When a sudden odd and misplaced motion caught his eye, he fought the urge to blink.
Did Lucifer just fidget? That was so... mortal.
“You’ve picked up some interesting habits.”
Black eyes darted to mirror the same gaze that was being directed at him. “Blame it on Adam’s progeny,” Lucifer snapped while his sweeping wings seemed to pull tighter against his black clad back. A few of the glossy feathers twitched spastically.
One red eyebrow hiked up eloquently.
Ignoring the mocking expression, Lucifer ran a hand through his hair for perhaps the sixth time since they entered divine territory, a clear sign of agitation to those who knew him well. They were nearing the Inner Gates already, and the familiar sight of looming white pillars and massive structures wrought from mother of pearl framed by an endless sky was distressing to say the least. The last time he walked through those Gates was five years ago... and he remembered walking through them frustrated and not quite coherent.
The distance between them and the center of the Inner Sanctum was almost negligible when Lucifer stopped moving all together, much to his escort’s annoyance.
“Hey...”
Michael gave into temptation and pinched the area between his eyes. “What is it this time?”
Head cocked to the side with his left hand lightly supporting the side of his face, Lucifer looked the very picture of intellectual pursuit. “I couldn’t help but notice certain changes made to the environmental designs. Is it just me, or did Jophiel rearrange those cirrus clouds again? And the backdrop colors. They seem... different. I remember the gold shading to lavender, not violet.”
Michael stared. Incredulity. The urge to just smack Lucifer upside the head with a pillar never seemed more appealing than at that moment. “I think it’s just you,” he stated flatly. “And you should really stop stalling; you weren’t Created with Attention Deficit Disorder. Besides, I can guarantee you that your sidetracks are going to reduce Gabe to tears soon.”
Lucifer didn’t even bother to rise to the gibe. Instead, he continued to appraise the glorious view of the walled city with something akin to detached concentration. Only the occasional tensing of his wings indicated his continued discomfort. “You know, I’ve never seen Gabriel actually cry. But I suggest you go tell him to save the waterworks for someone who might actually care. Meanwhile, why don’t you just humor me, will you? I’m still reacquainting myself with all the more obnoxious changes....” He trailed off and tilting his head to the other side, eyes never leaving the picturesque city. “Something _must_ have been bothering our favorite interior designer. What was it though?”
“You’re doing this just to spite me for saving Elvis’ soul, aren’t you? And would you _please_ stop speculating on Jophiel’s mental health?” Michael gritted out slowly.
Lucifer ignored him and went blithely along. “Could it have been that the Feng Sui wasn’t agreeing with his Zen? Or did seeing the cirrus lie so close to the pillars twist his delicate sensibilities into knots?”
“My delicate sensibilities are perfectly primped, pressed, and gorgeous, thank you very much.”
A pregnant pause was given way before Lucifer and Michael both turned to look behind them in the direction of the flippant comment. Neither gave any indication of surprise when their twin stares met with smiling hazel eyes.
“Unfortunately, however, my good mood can’t be completely shared by others. Chamuel’s sensibilities for instance...” The amused expression on Jophiel’s olive skinned face held the slightest hint of bewilderment. “Just what exactly _did_ you do to him Lucifer? Last time I remember him being this disagreeable was when Michael Jackson’s name somehow found its way onto the ‘Admitted’ roster.”
“That pulled off rather well didn’t it?” Lucifer said with an indulgent smirk before nodding towards Michael. “Not my fault though this time.”
“I made him erect a Gate in the opening I made in Lucifer’s wall after dissembling his door,” Heaven’s Commanding General explained with a snort. “I think the fact that there was nothing remotely resembling a door knob left offended his sensibilities.”
Lucifer followed up that statement with an indelicate sound of his own. “Opening?? You destroyed the oak frame and a good chunk of the insulation too. Face it Michael, you beamed an asymmetrical _hole_ in my wall.”
Jophiel smiled. “That’s almost exactly what Chamuel was muttering about an hour ago. Asymmetry and the unaesthetics of entropy...” His smile widened further. “That, and how Gabriel will somehow find a way to chain you both to desk duties for the rest of the century if you don’t walk through those Inner Gates within the next few minutes. From what I understand, Gabriel has been expecting you two for quite some time now.”
Heavy silence.
Seconds later, flickers of uncontrolled light began to lick up from Michael’s divine halo and said being with the flickering aura whirled on an expressionless Lucifer. Colorful and lurid words not suited for the pristine cleanliness of Heaven rent through the air.
“-going to STOP your pretty-assed STALLING and MARCH that fucking super-sized piece of narcissistic ego THROUGH those pearly Gates or else I’m goin-”
Lucifer twitched the corner of his lips into a miniscule smirk after having sidestepped the flare of force that ripped from the redhead angel’s form. “Aaw... You think I’m pretty?” he interrupted in a coy murmur, much to Michael’s continued aggravation. “I’m touched.”
“.... SHUT UP,” Michael grounded out before checking himself and taking a deep breath. “I’m going to give you ten seconds to enter the Inner Sanctum without any major bodily damages. You can fly, walk, crawl, dance, FLOAT for all I care, through the Gates. Starting now. Ten.”
“This is ridiculous. And rushed.”
“Nine.”
“... Aaand you’re reaching for your sword...”
“Eight. I don’t see you moving. Seven.”
“Cosmos above, you can’t BLAME me for not wanting to go back in there can you?!”
“Six. I can. Five. I will.”
“............”
“Four. We had a bargain too. Remember? Bermuda?”
“I suddenly changed my mind.”
“Three. Stop running away.” Michael drew his sword, a nonchalant mask having replaced his previous ire. “Two.”
The Inner Gates suddenly swung open.
“One.”
“MICHAEL!! WHAT exactly do you think you're DOING?!”
All three pairs of majestic wings on the head-Seraph’s back twitched at the shocked voice. The nimbus around his sword spluttered out as his arm lowered to hang harmlessly at his side. “Gabriel,” he mumbled, voice meek and business-like demeanor having slipped away almost immediately.
“We’re going to have a talk later,” Gabriel murmured as he passed Michael, “since Raphael needs to discuss the effects of your training methods on the injury-ratio right now. You go in first.” He went to stand next to Jophiel who nodded in greeting when Michael left. Sky-blue eyes flickered to the one being who looked out-of-place, a lone shadow in a world of light. The impatience didn’t completely fall away, but a hint of compassion softened Gabriel’s face.
“We’ve missed you, Lucifer.”
“Really now,” Lucifer deadpanned, not quite crossing his arms but holding his elbows in front of his chest nonetheless. The air around him churned and withered as he endured the steady gaze.
Gabriel sighed. “And you really don’t need to create a vacuum right where you stand.”
“.... how much of the Host do you have hiding in the surrounding area?”
“Around five battalions worth.”
“And all of them survivors of Michael’s very first training regimen,” Jophiel added helpfully.
Lucifer bit the inside of his cheek.
Outnumbered. Damn it.
He obstinately ignored the identical grins of triumph being exchanged as he started walking into the Inner Sanctum.
End Part 2
Completed: 03/24/05