When Things Go Wrong [Remiel]

[Nicholas Foster]

Sometimes Nicholas hated his job.

Most of the time, he murdered people who deserved it. Criminals who tried to muscle in on territory they should have left alone. Corrupt officials who started demanding too many favors. Cultists who gained control over powers they didn’t understand. Nicholas never rejoiced in his kills -- but snuffing out that sort of lowlife didn’t exactly keep him up at night, either.

And then, just when he thought nothing could bother him anymore, something like this came up. Something which tugged on the frayed thread still attached to his conscience.

Sylvie. Nicholas could see her up ahead, hurrying through the park. Occasionally, she stopped and glanced from side to side, furtive as a prey animal. But she had no idea that something deadly followed her through the darkness. She’d never know anything was amiss, until she felt a cold hand on her shoulder.

Poor Sylvie. Not the brightest girl, but sweet. When being damned didn’t live up to her expectations, she’d decided to warn the world. And she’d actually convinced some newspaper reporter to meet with her. Frowning, Nicholas shook his head. How could she be so stupid? Did she really think that the people who ran Midnight Cabaret wouldn’t find out what she was planning? Did she think that they wouldn’t try to stop her?

Nicholas’s orders were simple. Follow Sylvie to the rendezvous point. Kill her. Then, for good measure, kill whoever showed up to meet her. And Nicholas would obey those orders -- after all this time, orders were all he had left. But tonight things would go a little differently. Tonight, in honor of Sylvie, he’d give God a chance.

Sylvie stopped beside a park bench and glanced around once more. Slowly, Nicholas began to decrease the distance between them. However, when he was just a few paces away, something rustled in the underbrush and Sylvie spun around. For a moment, she looked like a rabbit about to be trapped under a predator’s paw. Then she realized that the shadowy figure behind her was only Nicholas -- that nice vampire who handled security. Fear vanished, and the relief which took its place nearly broke Nicholas’s heart. “Oh, it’s you. I thought it might be a mugger. It’s so scary out here after dark.”

Now was when he should have done it -- smiled, and nodded, and gotten close enough to snap her neck. But Nicholas didn’t. Instead, he reached into his jacket pocket. Then, pulling out his notepad, he showed Sylvie the single word he’d written on it.

RUN!

At night, surrounded by the empty expanse of Central Park, it was almost no chance at all. But Nicholas gave it. And Sylvie didn’t waste time. A shrill scream tore from her throat even as she turned to flee. Silently, Nicholas counted to three.

One...

Two...

So much for God. Nicholas barely needed to run. Lunging after his victim, he clamped a hand over Sylvie’s mouth and held her tight. For a few seconds, she continued to struggle, like the worm which doesn’t quite realize that it’s already been impaled on a hook. Nicholas could hear her heart thundering in her chest. He could smell her sweat washing away the scent of her perfume. Then, with tears running down her cheeks, Sylvie went limp.

Nicholas did his best to keep the beast at bay. But during moments like this, the beast was all that existed. Baring his fangs, Nicholas plunged them deep into Sylvie’s throat, and began to feed. Warmth. Nicholas would have purred, if he could have. Keeping his lips pressed tight against her flesh, so that no drop of the precious liquid could escape, Nicholas sucked the fresh blood into his body. For a few precious hours, he could feel warm again.

Lost in his hunger, Nicholas was temporarily oblivious to his surroundings.

[Remiel Smith]

It really wasn't his fault that he constantly sought out light in the darkness, that was part of his nature. As the gloom of night descended on the Big Apple, Remiel had sought solace in a well lit dinner, conveniently placed across the street from the Office of the ATILAG.

Of course the office was always open for those who came seeking redemption at any hour, but it could also be a dreadfully boring place, especially when nothing of relative importance was happening. Hence the reason why the Head Redeemer now sat "eating" dinner and exchanging small talk with the waitress.

Sometimes he wondered if New York was the slowest city (in terms of soul redemptions) he had yet been posted at. Business was slower than it usually had been in recent months. The Management Upstairs was beginning to question why their quota of souls was thinning. Remiel could not at the moment answer that question, since one, he was not omniscient, and two, he really didn't know. But the stench of the damned was painted all over this city. There was something up, but what was it? God in all his mysterious wisdom and power, was not shedding any light on the matter.

He knew better than to assume it was luck that his question was answered by the prickling of the hairs on the back of his neck. As an angel he did have the ability to sense when evil was near. Standing abruptly from his bar stool, he made his way out the door, and once out of the view of mortals, his form disappeared. In a brief span of a few seconds, he glimpsed a rerun of the murder that had only just occurred.

His blond haired form appeared only a few feet away from where the beast stood draining its victim's life blood. A disgusted scowl marred his pleasant features. He had arrived too late to save the already damned girl, and at this moment her soul was probably headed straight into the lake of fire.

"A dark being killing one of its own? How curious..." his words were meant to jar the vampire from its feeding frenzy. Had he just been led to his first break in this mysterious puzzle the demons seemed to have weaved? In the amber glow of the street light that pooled around him, black shapes lengthened into wings spreading from his shadow's back.

[Nicholas Foster]

Nicholas heard the words. His human side understood their meaning, understood the danger they presented. But the beast was in control. And the beast wanted to keep drinking. For a moment, the two forces warred against each other, until Nicholas finally managed to tear his fangs free from Sylvie’s flesh. She was nearly drained anyway -- dying or already dead. Nicholas let her limp body fall from his arms. Then, with blood trickling down his chin, he turned to face the person foolish enough to interrupt a vampire in the middle of its kill.

For those sensitive enough to pick up on it, angels bore a very distinctive scent: incense, and honey, and the way the air smells right after a thunderstorm. If Nicholas’s nose hadn’t been clogged with the lingering aroma of blood, he might have detected it more quickly. But he was still lost in the euphoria which followed each feeding. And so, when Nicholas looked at the creature who’d addressed him, he saw only a mortal man. Probably the reporter Sylvie had intended to meet. Drawing his lips back in a silent snarl, Nicholas took a step toward the stranger, prepared to make his second kill of the evening.

And then Nicholas saw the wings. So, God had come to Sylvie’s rescue after all -- too little, too late. How very typical. As he stared at the angel, irrational rage filled Nicholas’s heart. He wanted to scream. ‘Curious’? It’s not ‘curious’! It’s tragic. It’s horrible. Your boss created this world. Why can’t He fucking fix it!?

But Nicholas hadn’t reached his current age by luck alone. Even for vampires, immortality required more than drinking blood and staying out of the sunlight. It required knowing which beings could rip you apart without breaking a sweat. And angels fell solidly into that category. So, rather than pursuing a religious debate, Nicholas turned and ran. He wouldn’t return to Midnight Cabaret unless he felt sure he wasn’t being followed. But there were other hiding places.

[Remiel Smith]

Just as he was expecting, he had caught the vampire off guard during its blood lust. The creature advanced toward him, threatening him. A snarl was evident on the vampire's features, blood reflecting in the dull light of the street lamp off those animistic fangs. It wasn't the first time Remiel had encountered one of them, so he half knew what to expect. A nasty retort, an attack even. Most of them mistook him for a human, and that suited him just fine.

The man moved closer, stopping when he noticed that Remiel was definitely not human. But the angel was surprised, the vampire didn't speak, he seethed... Being angry, that was something Remiel understood from these creatures, but this one almost seemed... remorseful? And then he turned to run.

Righteous anger burned in the angel's chest, a tingle of energy working its way up his spine. "You damned are all the same!" He raised his voice, "cowards, you will all burn!" They were harsh words, but these beings deserved every one, they had gone against their own creator. For that they deserved their punishment. He took only a second to mutter a quick prayer for the woman that lay dead on the walkway, he would return soon anyway, this chase wouldn't last for very long. Or so he thought.

With that his human form projected forward, as if driven by some unseen force. The vampire he followed was quickly disappearing into the night, but it would take a lot more than that to shake a redeemer off of his back.

[Nicholas Foster]

“...cowards, you will all burn!”

The words rang through the deserted park like the clanging of a church bell. But Nicholas didn’t stop to debate them. A coward? Maybe. However, Nicholas intended to put off the burning part for as long as possible.

Nicholas ran. He ran without breathing, without sweating, without doing any of the things which slowed down normal human beings. His feet touched the ground so lightly that he was almost dancing. His eyes pierced the darkness ahead, allowing him to easily dodge around obstacles. Under normal circumstances, Nicholas never had trouble making a swift getaway.

But he’d never been chased by an angel before.

Without warning, God’s agent suddenly appeared in front of Nicholas -- so close that only a sharp swerve kept Nicholas from ramming into him. Frantically, Nicholas jabbed at the angel with his elbow, hopefully blocking any attempts to grab him. At the same time, he veered off in a new direction. His heart didn’t pound. His lungs didn’t ache. But Nicholas did feel the stirrings of an emotion he hadn’t experienced for a long time.

Fear.

Well, fear of death meant that he still wanted to live. That was actually a reassuring discovery. Unfortunately, Nicholas didn’t have time to dwell on it. His mind was focused on making sure that his newfound desire for survival remained a viable possibility. He could keep running all night without tiring -- but he couldn’t teleport. Sooner or later, the angel would get close enough to press an attack. And things would go downhill from there. Nicholas needed to change the rules of their little game.

Most people, if asked, could name some things which harmed vampires. Garlic. Crosses. Holy Water. On the other hand, the vulnerabilities of angels were much less publicized in popular lore. But Nicholas knew them. Angels were creatures of good -- they needed to follow specific codes or risk falling. And the greatest of all codes demanded that they protect humans.

Nicholas scanned the horizon as he ran. The emptiness of the park, which benefited him so much when he killed Sylvie, had now become a liability. He’d developed a plan. But he needed to get somewhere with more people. And he needed to do it before the angel caught up with him.

[Remiel Smith]

He watched the retreating form of the vampire, just as his own body raced after him. If one would have blinked, they would have missed Remiel's disappearance and subsequent reappearance right in the creature's path. A move to grab the vampire faltered as he swerved from his grasp.

A bright, ivory white crept across the angel's human eyes, leaving no trace of a pupil. As far as he was concerned, this creature he was hunting was just one more dark being that the demons utilized to defile the pure soul's of God's creations. It was his duty to save as many of the Holy Father's children as he possibly could, and one vampire was not going to deter him from that.

Remiel saw the vampire seemed to be heading for a way out of the park, possibly toward his master's dwelling, of course, he didn't think this one would be so foolish. He would have to stop him before he did anything further. He teleported again, this time compensating for the vampire's next reaction, which he gaged to be another quick swerve. With unnaturally quick reflexes, the angel mimicked the swerve and thrust his right hand up to meet with the vampire's throat, hosting him from the ground in one swift move.

Bits of his appearance seemed to constantly shift; soft golden curls framed his face, the next second it was his normal disheveled hair, wings flared from his back, only to disappear the next second. His eyes remained constant, however, and fixed on the vampire's face. The smell of searing, dead flesh was soon apparent as his grasp on the vampire began to burn it's flesh with the pure holiness of God and Heaven.

"Who do you work for?" Remiel demanded, voice seemingly calm, but white eyes blazing with righteous fury.

OOC: Sorry for the lateness, stuff just keeps piling up XD darn school!

[Nicholas Foster]

Nicholas released a silent howl of agony when the angel seized him by the throat. The holy being’s touch burned like fire, causing flesh to blister and blacken beneath it -- only the small circle shielded by Nicholas’s Medal of Saint Michael remained unharmed. A fresh kill always made Nicholas particularly sensitive. Now, he felt the stolen blood in his veins begin to boil.

As he was hoisted aloft, Nicholas thrashed wildly, trying to escape. His feet pedaled in the air, but he couldn’t quite kick his captor. Nor could he pry the terrible hand from his throat. The angel held him in a relentless grip. Although Nicholas’s lungs no longer required air, he began panting. It was a psychological reaction to fear and pain which went beyond physical need.

"Who do you work for?"

Despite his discomfort, a bitter smile twisted Nicholas’s lips. The owners of the Midnight Cabaret had chosen wisely when they picked someone to guard their secrets. Nicholas knew that the current situation could end in a few ways. The angel might kill him. The angel might drag him somewhere and torture him for information. But unless God truly worked in mysterious ways, one thing wasn’t going to happen -- Nicholas wasn’t going to speak.

(OOC -- No problem! Life first, I alway say.)

[Coco Moreau]

“Ainsi font, font, font
Les petites marionnettes
Ainsi font, font, font
Trois petits tours et puis s'en vont.”

Coco maternally cradled a little blanketed bundle in her arms. She gently rocked the bundle back and forth and she softly sung the French lullaby. Inside the pale blue blanket was a sweet, innocent little infant. Holding the baby close to her chest, Coco peered down at the child with a sickeningly sweet smile on her blood red lips. The baby was so cute, the Lilitu demon could just eat him up, and she most likely would… as soon as she got back to the Cabaret. Ever so gracefully, Coco meandered through Central Park, taking her more familiar route back to the Cabaret and ultimately the kitchen.

It was one of those nights when Coco had to go grocery shopping and it was not the “quick run to the market” type of grocery shopping. Oh no, it was one to those trips where the demoness actually had to leave the kitchen search the city for special ingredients. It was a chore, but Coco trusted no one else to do it. She had wandered through most of Manhattan, searching for anything that might work well in her cooking. Well luck must have been on her side tonight because on West 59th Street she found the delicious bundle of joy that was now in her arms. The poor thing had been left on the step of an orphanage. Since it seemed no one cared what happened to the child, Coco plucked the infant straight from the step and went on her merry way. It wasn’t like anyone was going to miss it.

As Coco sauntered down the path, her black heeled shoes clicked softly on the pavement. The lullaby had ceased and cute little gurgling sounds coming from the infant took its place. A devilish smile spread across the demoness’s lips as the sound reached her ears. Then the baby squirmed a bit and shifted around in the blanket. The child finally settled when it had positioned itself closer to Coco’s body with its tiny hand clutching the deep red fabric of her dress.

“Don’t worry, mon petit,” cooed the demoness, gently stroking the baby’s head. “I will take good care of you.”

As she continued through the park, Coco picked up the scent of blood, burning flesh, and a rat. Now this rat was not an ordinary rat. Oh no this rat had wings. Unfortunately there was an angel in Central Park. Now normally, Coco would be heading in the opposite direction, hoping to get as far away from an angel as possible. Unfortunately Coco navigational skills were somewhat lax, and she did not want to risk taking a round about route. ‘Maybe I will be able to just sneak on by…’ thought Coco, heading towards the source of the scents.

As drew closer, the smell of burning flesh grew stronger and the presence of the angel grew stronger. She hoped the latter would not wake the baby. That would just be too cliché. To be caught because of a crying baby. Coco quickened her pace. The faster she got out of the park, the better. Then the demoness overheard the angel speak.

"Who do you work for?"

Curiosity got the better of Coco. Silently she slipped toward the scene only to see the holy being clutching what seemed to be a vampire by the throat, hoisting him above the ground. ‘That would explain the blood…’ thought Coco, creeping closer. With a closer look, the demoness recognized the vampire from the Cabaret. If she was not mistaken he worked in security or something like that. Now since it seemed that angel boy was preoccuplied, Coco could probably slip right by, but that would be poor camaraderie. Besides, she held a bit of leverage in her arms.

Moving closer to the angel and her colleague, Coco stated coolly, her French accent sounding in her voice, “Angele Dei… Let him go, s'il vous plait.”

(OOC- I was given the OK to enter into this thread: here)

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