Furious Angels (HowAbout & Pygalgic)

[Pygalgic]

It was hovering above the city. People were on the ground, transfixed, staring at this androgynous golden being with its wings and its whale deep voice. Thin, attenuated fingers splayed open as it babbled in some primordial alien tongue, humming and trumpeting. The angel's four wings of fire were splayed open, burning with a nearly blinding radiance. Empty eye sockets bled above its melted wax nose, its thin mouth working.

A horde of locusts erupted from its wings with all the fury of an old testament plague, flying into a great figure eight holding pattern above the mad angel. They sounded like a fleet of Mac trucks growling before the gesticulating angel finally stopped and pointed down to the mass of people.

A few of them were smart enough to run.

At the time Remmy was standing across the street from the woman he had been following for long decades. After all the bodies he had walked over--some skeletal remains and others quickly cooling--he noted with an abstract coolness that she no longer mattered. Chances were, she would not matter for a long time.

Problem one: there was a divine incursion in the public eye. That was anathema. That was the big rule in the Cold War that had developed after the Fall. It was supposed to be kept out of the eyes of most of the mortals. That had made things a little more subtle in the last fifty or so years, but only a little.

Problem two: Remmy could understand what the angel was saying. It was madly babbling nonsense about wiping the slate clean from the Lord's most profound mistake. From the way it sounded, the fallen angel got the profound impression this meant life itself. Which was bad on a variety of levels.

Problem three: the locusts had just moved into a broad wave of fire and descended, crackling, upon the stunned watchers.

It was then Remmy snapped into action. He shrugged out of his bridge coat and dropped it to the ground with a wince. The angel had won it off a Naval lieutenant in WWII. There were few others like it. It had managed to survive since 1945 and the things were just coming into fashion with pea coats and all.

With a wince he moved his hand and willed his Sword of Fire into hand, the accessory no angel could go with out. At that he jumped off the ground, his two wings of light unfurling from nowhere and flew at the mad angel, completely ignoring the demonness he had spent so long tracking.

 

[HowAbout]

She had gone by many different names, taken on different human female forms, usually choosing the one that would please her human prey the most. But her favorite choice was the sweet innocent girl next door look. That was what she'd chosen that night. Long chestnut brown hair pulled up into a bun, dark brown eyes that sparkled with amusement. Dressed in her 'sunday' best, she oozed charm and forbidden sex appeal, even in the g-rated clothing she was currently wearing. It wasn't evil that caused her to cause so much trouble, it was half jealousy and half boredom. She was jealous of the humans that God had given one chance over another at redemption, and deep down -though she'd never admit it, she was hurt that the light or god wouldn't embrace her in the same way. Now add thousands of years of boredom and of course she's going to cause a little trouble..

Her prey that night was a married businessman, but the insane angel distracted her and she let the lucky human male literally slip right through her fingers.

She wasn't at all surprised when the 'goodie-goodie' fallen angel that she'd often fought, chose to come out of hiding to fight the insane angel intent on ending human life. End human life? Imagine how boring the centuries would be if there were no humans to toy with and take out her jealousy on?

Some of the humans that hadn't run away, were in too much shock to move and were in danger of being killed. Normally Aura didn't care (Aura was the name she preffers), but that insane babbling angel had seriously pissed her off. If it wanted those humans dead, then she would just have to ruin it's plans and save them. Or attempt to, this was no ordinary angel.

So while the fallen angel was confronting the mad angel with his sword of fire in hand, Aura quickly grabbed the closest humans to her, her dark wings enfolding around them, shielding them from the locusts. It was the first time in a long time that she'd chosen to say anyone human.

 

[Pygalgic]

The Sword of Fire acted less like fire and more like a sword transmuted to flame, to pure heat. It was in the shape of a long sword with the curving, cleaving sweep of a scimitar near its top. The core of the sword was white hot fire culled from the nuclear plasma of a sun. Remmy's wings of light gave a single great push and propelled him from zero to a hundred in less than a second, his sword sweeping through suddenly empty air.

The mad angel was gone. Somehow, it had teleported while the fallen angel was charging forwardly, recklessly. However, the swarm of locusts were battering themselves against his prey's shadowy wings.

Encompassed over the huddled masses of the mortals.

Remmy dropped to the ground, his sword winking out of existance and his broad wings disappearing pinion by pinion until only the skeletal outlay of his wings of light were left. They too dimmed to nothingness. He stretched his head and realized what he had just done. He had exposed himself, now, in the era of information as an angel.

Bad news.

He took a deep breath, concentrated and blasted an electromagnetic pulse out of his torso, frying electronics within a two block radius. Electricity played from his fingertips, thunder cracks sounding as they lanced out and through the locusts. That was draining, true, but it meant the area was safe.

"Hey! Jezebel!" It had been one of the first names he had known the demonness by. "We needed to talk!" He threaded his way to his jacket and picked it up off the ground. Sixty-six years of use and now it was in tatters, trampled by feet. He dug a small mirror he carried with him and looked over the spider web of cracks.

"Fuck." His auburn hair was in a disarray, his eyes only now darkening to their normal dark brown. He had assumed a variety of forms, but less than his old opponent, namely due to the fact he generally did not leave vast swathes of destruction wherever he went.