Of Gods and Men (Updated: 25th Sept)

[Witcher Wolf]

Note: This story is not meant for publication, has not been through my editor and probably won't ever go through one. This is just a sketch with words.

Of Gods and Men

A buzzer sounded and bright white light erupted from behind his eyes again, he stirred from the simple metal bed and put his head in his hands.

The four walls closed in always, the sound of her breath was still a fresh memory in the depths of his fractured mind. The tatters of a bleeding psyche torn and ripped from the constant barrage of questions and repeated accusations.

Why was he being held here, in this place? What had he done, all he wanted to do was save her.

But there are times when the universe puts on a clown suit and dances a merry jig across your almost perfect life, it tips its hat and delivers the immortal line: So long sucker.

Fate will take her pound of flesh and leave you broken on the rack of destiny.

Consider this...if you could have anything you wanted and do anything you could, what would you do? What wouldn't you do?

If you had another chance to put all the bad things right, and set the ghosts of the past to rest, would you?

Flashback...

It was a cold November night and the rain was a hammer against his car's windshield, he drove like a maniac, a weave here and a dodge there – the traffic wasn't too bad, fortunate really considering that one mistake would probably be his last.

The glare from a car's headlights blinded him for a moment, a hand rose to stave off the bright angry brilliance. A wrench and pang of guilt slammed into his stomach as he tried to focus on the speeding vehicle ahead of him.

She had been so angry.

It was his fault.

Now he tried to catch her, to explain and perhaps to say sorry. The elements were not going to make it easy, he felt as though he were being punished for something trivial.

The highway was a snake in the darkness only illuminated in patches now, a twisted and almost living entity that seemed to mock him. The rain had made it look like black glass and while it could be considered beautiful, it concealed another purpose this night.

It was about to become a teacher prepared to deliver a hard lesson.

The car in front of him lost control as if another hand controlled it, a shower of sparks leapt across the bodywork as the vehicle careened into the side of a metal barrier. Her scream matched the inhuman howls of metal being deformed under speed and pressure.

A hubcap spun off in a random direction and bounced several times towards his direction, he swerved to avoid it and slammed on the brakes, his own car almost went into a spin but he was just good enough to avoid it.

By the time he reached the edge of the embankment, all that was left of her vehicle was the spinning cap and nothing but a pyre, engorged by the fuel from the engine. He sank to his knees and wept, his tears became one with the rain.

Two observers watched with a detached curiosity, as if an experiment had been conducted and a result found satisfactory.

“Did you have to kill her?” The first observer said and adjusted his suit, the crisp lines of a government groomed operative matching his cultured tones.

“Yes, you wanted to know if the power could be used to take a human life, your government has its answer – now my question?”

“Go on?” The agent fixed the speaker with a stern look, he studied the other man, a man who wore a shabby trench and a rain-soaked wide-brimmed hat.

“How much is a human life worth?”

“Good question, she was a nobody...but the test has proven that the laws that should govern the use of such power, are simply a figment of the imagination, cause and effect are bullshit Mr. Clayton and you've proven that without a shadow of a doubt.”

“You have refrained from answering directly, Williams.” There was an ice-edge to Clayton's tones. “I'll ask once again?”

“How about ten thousand dollars?”

“For a start, it will do, but if you want me to eliminate anyone of importance, the price will be substantially higher.”

“Of course, I wouldn't have it any other way.”

“Good, we understand each other. I'll be in touch.” Clayton said and turned away, he walked off into the darkness, shrouded by the rain.

Williams put a hand into his coat pocket and pulled out his phone, he punched a number in on speed-dial and spoke into the receiver.

“Clayton performed admirably, he'll have to be watched and some insurance taken out – but all in all, a perfect performance.” He closed the call and tucked the phone away again. With one last look to the pyre that still raged, he gave a wan smile and walked to his car.

He didn't care that someone died, someone's life was ruined because of it, and he certainly found himself convinced that cause and effect were imaginary concepts, created by the great powers to protect their omnipresence and to keep the people in the dark.

If there was a god, to Williams he'd given up and left the ball park for pastures new, that suited the agent down to the ground – he worked for other masters anyway.

Reflected 'red' eyes burned brightly in the rear view mirror for a moment and the black sedan growled into life, he adjusted his tie and smiled.

[Xenia Onatopp- Bale]

Sounds like an espionage thriller. Very exciting, can't wait to read the next part. Excellent work, Wolfy!!!

[MisterAnderson]

More literary ecstacy from the mind of the Wolf.

I see the creativity tap is still gushing @ 100mph hey?

[Witcher Wolf]

Heh, thanks...it was a kind of sketch with words after listening to a particular song from a new PS2 and XBox game by Midway.

Psi Ops: The Mindgate Conspiracy.

The song is 'With my Mind.' by Cold.

downloads.gamezone.com/demos/t11503.htm

You'll need their download util, but it's actually pretty cool. I was getting 53k/sec from it.

[Witcher Wolf]

Half way through the drive back to the Bureau the man's phone kicked into life, it gave a few strangled warbles before he tucked in an earpiece and hit the receive call button.

“Williams here, this is a secure line.”

The voice on the other end could be described as crabby at best, full of impatience and edged with a nasal tone.

“Mr. Williams.” It began. “There has been a recall, we require your presence at headquarters immediately, a small situation has developed we'd like you to deal with.”

He spun the car into a screeching turn and slammed down the brake, reversing and then driving off again in a scream of tires.

“I'll be right there, don't say anymore.”

The line went dead and the agent simply put down his earpiece and phone, tucked them into the glove compartment of his vehicle and floored the accelerator.

It wouldn't do to keep his employers waiting.

It was a good hour's drive to the center of the city and the car's headlights burned away the darkness, shadows leapt away from the bright halogen lamps and scurried into hiding in the sombre alleys.

It was around 1:45am when the sedan rolled into the courtyard of the disused warehouse and nosed into the open garage. The metal door slammed down behind William's car and cut him off from the rest of the outside world.

“Please leave the car Mr. Williams.” A monotone voice ordered him out, he complied and stood back from his vehicle.

A door opened in the back of the room and a singular bright light shone forth, it spread out like a carpet, inviting him to wander down towards the unknown. This was not the first time he'd been back at HQ of course, so all of this was familiar to him – it still provided some 'goosebumps' but when you walked into the room beyond, it was nothing compared to what you'd find.

The warehouse was empty, quite reassuring in one way, but in another William's could feel the tell-tale gnawing at the pit of his stomach. He looked left and right and stood with his arms folded behind his back.

The temperature of the room dropped several degrees, one by one the lights dimmed and went out. It left the agent in the cold and dark, he waited patiently for something to happen, tapping one foot slightly.

Theatrics, that's one thing that had never changed between this world and the other.

Small cracks of light began to form in the dark, they split the shadows asunder with a slowly spreading ribbon of radiance.

Then the darkness flew away as the ribbons burst forth into a shimmer of incandescent bright orange flame, and from the center of this mass rose an arch of polished stone.

It stopped with a rumble and a crackle of glittering blue energy, towering over the man in a commanding dark shape. He looked up and up, a light smile on his lips as he adjusted his tie again and stepped boldly into the morass.

It rose to meet him with a long-lost lover's embrace, tendrils of blackness reached out to fold him in their caress. He was dragged down and down, he felt the rush of air past his body but knew that this was all simply part of the process.

[TrustKill]

good stuff so far, yo.

-constantly amazingly high level of detail and content.

[Xenia Onatopp- Bale]

It keeps the adrenalin going. And your work is simply amazing.

[Witcher Wolf]

TrustKill said:

good stuff so far, yo.

-constantly amazingly high level of detail and content.

thanks Trust, go read House of Cards and Memories, if you haven't...there's a bit more to both of those, this is just me kind of sketching an idea that won't get out of my head.

[TrustKill]

ClericWolf said:

thanks Trust, go read House of Cards and Memories, if you haven't...there's a bit more to both of those, this is just me kind of sketching an idea that won't get out of my head.

-heh, i know the feeling. a lot of the stories i have posted in the EC-10 area have come to me under times of insanity (aka boring college classes) and i get an idea. a lot of times the only reason i ever write more on to them is because i cant get the ideas/characters/concepts out of my brain. granted, i rarely finish these "trustkillean master works" as im sure you tend to finish things up better than i do.

-i digress... i'll go check out your other ones. hehe.

[Witcher Wolf]

I finished: Firefall, House of Cards, Breed: Homecoming (novella for the game) and a few other things, a lot of my stuff tends to be one-shot.

Oh and of course, I had to finish the book, Death: Guardian of the Gate, because it was published as a pdf.

[TrustKill]

yeah, right now im waiting on amazon.com to deliver a couple books to me that will help me with one of the stories i posted on here...

equilibrium.proboards17.com/index.cgi?board=EC10&action=display&thread=1077727322

-i got two books that are supposedly spot-on nonfiction accounts of both assassinations and racketeering operations done by the mafia back in the 70's and 80's. they should help me out a lot with some of the criminal element i plan on writing into that story.

edit: sorry, by the way, for whoring out my own stuff on your thread. i promise it wont happen again. hehe.

[Witcher Wolf]

S'ok

I know what you mean though. Sounds some good stuff.

[Witcher Wolf]

The moments turned into liquid breaths of time as all around him the real world turned to smoke and ash, the view that greeted the agent on the other side of the portal was far from pleasant.

A vast plain of sulphurous stone stretched out before him and from it rose many sharp and jagged outcroppings of black, tooth-like rock. The smell was overwhelming and to a normal human being it might make them gag.

But this man was far from normal and to be honest, classifying him as a man would be like trying to say that water was really red wine without the colouring.

The sky was a vague grey and pockmarked with ugly black clouds, they scudded in random patterns of motion over the slate backdrop, providing a disturbing canvas to the eye.

But it was not the sky nor the rock that drew William's attention, no, it was the towering edifice that strived to pierce the sky. A tower of impossible dimensions and stretched black steel and glass.

It was as though the architect that constructed it had been on a twelve month bender of heroin and Jack Daniels. Every reflection was cast off at strange and muted angles, some of them seemed to be parodies of the original image, some seemed to be beyond twisted.

He made his way through this bizarre and nightmarish landscape quickly, he headed towards the towering skyscraper edifice and stood before the main doors.

The doorman, if you could call it that was a misshapen grotesque figure, clad all in black and bearing a fanged maw.

“Go in.” It hissed. “You are expected.”

William's didn't reply, he just walked casually in and glanced about, there were others here, some like him and some like the creature outside. There were other things that were best left to the imagination, some lurked, some crept and some just ignored the laws of the universe and barely existed.

He was however somewhat of an anomaly to the rest of the Bureau's inhabitants, they viewed him as a necessary evil – which considering where he was, could have been described by some observers as the ultimate in irony.

Mr. William's was half demon, born to mixed parents and neither at home in the human world or the darker planes, this suited him just fine of course since he had little love for the frailty of his weaker side. He was a proponent of the Board's plans to conquer the earth and use it as a staging point for other engagements.

Above the mockery of a front desk, replete with a many armed demonic receptionist was a sign that read: Abandon Hope she never was a nice Angel anyways.

The sign changed daily and as William's stepped towards his pre-destined meeting with an elevator, he shook his head. “Demons.” The man snorted. “No sense of humour.”

“What do you expect, they're demons.” The new speaker was a short fellow, about half the man's height and quite wide, he'd got a mop of curly blonde hair and piggish little yellow eyes. His stare Williams noted, could cut steel.

“I know that.” He replied with somewhat of an irritated tone. “Don't think we have met, I'm Williams.”

“I know that.” Mocked the shorter man. “I'm a lawyer, we're paid to keep track of information like this.”

The agent's face immediately soured. “If you'll excuse me, I've got an appointment to keep.” He replied acid in every word. “Sorry to run.”

“No you're not, and mark my words, we'll meet again – in the other world, you can't escape us.” The piggy-eyed man gave a little wave and strode off with the parting shot. “If demons have no sense of humour, and humans have no sense of humour either...what does that make you, the most humourless man in creation?”

“Bastard.” The doors to the lift closed and the agent was left inside the lift on his own, the dark steel walls vibrated with a soft shimmy as the cage moved up inside the tower in the inferno, he passed the time reading the numbers.

664 --- 665 --- 666

Upper level management.

There was a ding and the lift stopped, the doors swished open into a brightly lit corridor.

[Witcher Wolf]

It was a few short steps down this passage and the agent stood before the doors that lead to the 'managements' office. He straightened his tie and knocked once, a cold voice replied and bid him to...

“Enter...”

With mounting trepidation and a slowly increasing heartbeat, Williams stepped forth and surveyed these surroundings.

The room was wall to wall retro 1930's and bedecked like an old bar, before him was a man in a suit and tie, who padded him down for weapons and frowned when he detected nothing.

“You ain't carrying?” He shook his head sadly and snorted at the agent. “Youse a lousy agent, you know that?”

“Whatever, where's the boss, I'm expected?”

The big man pointed to a slender figure tending the bar.

“Oh Christ.”

“Not quite.” Quipped the barman. “But we all have our problems, come on in agent Williams and have a drink, we've got a lot to talk about...you and I...”

It wasn't a request, it was an order...the kind of order that hits you at forty miles an hour, like a runaway truck without any brakes. It caused the other man to wince visibly and he heard a ragged chuckle behind him.

The barman wore a white suit with a black tie, he had short dark hair and looked about twenty five if that, but the eyes – eyes that stared past the man into his soul and beyond, those were as flat black as a matte paint job on a hearse.

“Williams, how long have we known each other?” The opening patter was as good as any and it made the other man cough.

“When I first sold my soul for that really big bust, ten, twenty years ago?”

“Right...and you're one of my top men, you know that.” The barman took a glass and filled it with something that looked, smelt and thankfully tasted like whiskey. William's didn't stop to consider what it might be, he drank it in one.

“Glad I am still useful.” He said as he put down the glass, the man before him filled it again and smiled.

“We have a serious problem developing back there, you know what it is?”

Williams shook his head and gave his employer a wide-eyed look for a moment, before he obediently downed the next drink. “No idea, but I figure you're going to tell me?”

“Hope...agent Williams...Hope is out there.”

The man spat his drink out before he could half finish it, checked none had landed on his suit and then looked in horror at the splashes on the barman's clean, crisp, perfect attire. “Er...oh shit...”

“Not to worry, it'll clean out...a little like blood does.” A nonchalant hand waved and the barman flicked a finger, the whiskey stain mixed with saliva drifted into a vaporous mist.

“We are talking about, the Hope, right...not just hope...hope?”

“Yes agent, not hope...hope...I've had no problem crushing hope in that pitiful little excuse for a world that you live in.”

“But Hope, is another matter.”

“I thought we'd had her killed?”

“We did.” The barman said with a whisper of exasperation in his tones. “We had her...hung, drawn, quartered...burned, blasted, buried...buggered and beheaded.”

The last few comments made Williams wince even more.

“But she keeps on coming back.” The barman tapped a rag on the bar a couple of times and let out a long sigh. “I want to know why this bitch is my continual fly in the ointment? Why she won't just give up the ghost and pass beyond the veil...I want you...yes that's right, you...to air her out, smoke her ass and bury her so far under the earth that she'll be archaeology when they find her in a thousand years time!”

“Me?” Was all the agent could say. “How the he...how am I going to do that?”

“You're a resourceful man Mr. Williams, you'll think of something...and if not, well, then there's always that eternity with Bubba that's in your contract if you fail to complete your assignments.”

Williams went pale, as pale as a shroud lain on the corpse in a morgue.

“Glad we understand each other buddy.”

[Libby]

I've held off reading this for as long as possible - can't stand the suspense from one post to the next - but since I've some time off, I succumbed....and now I have to wait again!

You've called this a sketch, but it contains some of the most inventive and jaw-dropping descriptions yet, equal to - and in places, dare I say, surpassing - some of the stuff in Memories and even Wyrden (Aaargh! Heresy!) Such new, creative uses of simile and metaphor..oh, I could go on...

Just post the next bit and put me out my misery! ;D

[Witcher Wolf]

It was like someone had handed him a death sentence with the words 'Happy Birthday Sucker' imprinted on the paper. He fixed the barman with a flat stare, turned to walk away and left with the final comment of. “That was low.”

“Bubba'll be waiting sunshine.” Came the reply and that was followed by a peal of delicious laughter, a few clinking glasses cemented the fact that the cosmic joke was on the man who walked out of the door.

In stone laden silence the agent made his way back to the lift, the banter between him and the lawyer still clawing at the edges of his mind, topping this was the thought of having to eliminate Hope.

Then it hit him, not quite like a professional boxer but close, the thought of a man who he'd met previously. Why didn't he think of it before, he'd hire this guy to 'off' the woman and all would be well in the world, he would have patted himself on the back but unlike some of the other inhabitants here, he only had two arms.

Mr. Clayton would do it, after all he'd killed a woman in cold blood who he didn't know, just to demonstrate to Williams his effectiveness in the field of telekinesis.

By the time the lift reached the ground floor, the agent was smiling again and he even took the time to whistle up a tune, this really got on the lawyers nerves and the piggy little man shot him an acid glare.

“Still in the land of the living I see.” The lawyer snarled. “Well, it looks like someone has something to smile about – you know that you're coming up for repossession soon don't you – I might see if I can't get a prime spot in that head of yours.”

Williams went cold, but it wasn't the cold of fear – it was the cold of anger and he grabbed the lawyer by the throat, lifted him up and shook him violently. “Listen you pigswill sack of shit, there's only one thing living in my head and that's the one the boss put there – now if you want to go and argue/plead your case with him, I suggest you go do that.”

He hissed down the piggy man's ear. “But if you ever so much as try and get into my mind – I'm going to forget that part of me is human, and rip your fucking throat out by way of your ass – do I make myself, absolutely...fer-fucking...clear?”

Stunned by the sudden ferocity of this attack and verbal barrage the lawyer could only nod weakly and pop his mouth open and closed, like a goldfish yanked out of water for a few moments.

The agent put the man down and continued on his way, the whistling continued and he reached the doors that lead back to the outside.

The rest of the foyer watched the man leave with approving nods and some of them took the time to cheer, before they were swallowed by the sound of the roaring fires outside of the building – the doors closed behind him and Williams let out a sigh, his eyes flickered for a second and then returned to normal.

He'd get even with that son of a bitch if it was the last thing he did, but he'd wait his time, he was a patient man and if he pulled this assignment off regarding Hope, he'd get a promotion for sure.

Williams, the Dark Angel, he could hardly wait.

In the war between heaven and hell there were soldiers, victories, defeats and casualties.

The eternal conflict between good and evil waged across the millennia and very often drew into its embrace, those who were innocent and those who were in need of a higher calling.

In a night of storm, rain and bleak understanding, the man who had lost everything came to the edge of insanity and despair. The buzzer sounded again and the metal bed underneath felt almost real.

He was dimly aware as the days passed of people, people of all colours and creeds, they came to him and smacked him with a bunch of questions. They weren't questions about where he'd been the night of the accident, not the questions the Police ask, they were different – personal.

A catalogue of his life lain before him like an open book with a number of bookmarked pages, these people knew it all and they quizzed him endlessly. In and out of the 'Land of Nod' he passed, until he was rudely awoken by the final buzzer and his head felt like someone had just dropped a grand piano on it.

“Jack...wasn't it?” A voice rang off to the left hand side of him. “Do you know where you are?”

“In a cell, in some precinct, but you don't look like a cop.” The prisoner replied with a cast-iron tone to his voice, he put his head in his hands.

The man in the khaki shorts and Hawaiian shirt gave a crisp, sharp, laugh and shook his head, drawing a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it – he smoked a few times before replying.

“No, not a cell, this is Purgatory...you're dead Jack, dead as you can ever be.”

“Jesus.”

“No, but I know him, he's got a thing for redemption and well...to cut to the chase, you're going to be working hard to get it.”

[Xenia Onatopp- Bale]

This becomes more and more suspenseful. You're really a genius, Cleric Wolf.

[Witcher Wolf]

It took Jack a few moments to get this into his skull, the enormity of what he'd just been told rang around his head like ten bells.

“You're shitting me, this is a con right?” The man couldn't take it in, even though he tried really hard.

“I wish I was, I really do.” The guy in the shirt took a chair and rolled it around so he could do the classic sitting astride it and lean on the back. “You're in deep Jack, you lead a troubled life and you've done some really bad things.”

He blinked a couple of times and just looked at the speaker with an open mouth. “What the fuck are you talking about, I've done nothing wrong!”

“Easy there cowboy and let me tell you about how things work, oh, yeah...I'm Gabriel by the way, not /the/ Gabriel, well, not the old Gabriel.” He blew a few strands of smoke into Jack's face for effect.

“Start talking and this better be good, or I'm walking.”

“Whatever.” Gabriel gave a snort. “You're not going anywhere pal.”

He reached over and took a thick ledger from a nearby tabletop, opened it and began to check it over. “This is the record of your life, everything you've ever done is in here...everything you've ever failed to do is here also.”

Suddenly Jack began to get a tumbling feeling in the pit of his stomach, the kind of feeling that you get just before you're about to go over a really big waterslide. Or you're at the top of a huge roller-coaster.

“You might think you lived a kosher life, but that's the way of the old system, and that to be honest was really lax.” This was all going over Jack's head and Gabriel loved every minute of it, he revelled in the confusion and the serious lack of understanding in the man before him.

“I...I don't get it, I was never unfaithful, I followed the Commandments almost as well as any human could.”

“Well yes, but that's the trick Jack, you have to know what to do and what not to do...inaction is also a crime too, only last week you walked past two homeless without giving them a single cent.” Gabriel smirked a little and patted the other man's knee with his left hand. “It all goes downhill for you I'm afraid.”

The prisoner couldn't believe this and he blinked again and again. “Fuck you and this system, if this is what Heaven's like...you can shove it!”

“Now now, that's going to cost you extra.”

“Screw the extra cost.” He tried to get up but couldn't move, he was forced to sit and listen , he couldn't move a muscle.

“Now you're sitting comfortably, we'll continue.” The Angel shook his head and continued to smoke his cigarette. “You ignored numerous cries for help, thinking it better to walk on by than be a Samaritan, bad monkey.”

Jack snorted just the once and earned a sharp jolt of pain through his body, as if someone connected him to the national grid.


“Focus Jackie boy, focus.” Gabriel gave him another pat. “Now we come to the argument between you and your wife, if you had of walked away buddy, she'd still be alive – it was your fault she'd dead and you're going to stay in Purgatory because of it.”

That really was it, Jack tried to slug his tormentor and earned a series of painful jolts that shot through him again and again, until he was on the bed howling in agony.

“You could have saved her Jack, you let her...die!” Gabriel repeated and stubbed his cigarette out on the back of the man's neck, Jack was beyond that pain and in a whole new world of it.

“Your file is rank Jack, it stinks like the soiled underwear of the devil himself...hell, you could be an agent of his with the right push, you're a piece of work – I've seen shit that looks cleaner than you buddy.” The Angel grabbed the sobbing figure and slammed him upright on the bed.

“And we're not going to go into your dreams pal.” He hissed.

“My...d...dreams?” Was Jack's weak reply and he struggled to get out of the grip, the grip that seemed to set his skin on fire.

“Well you asked.” Gabriel let him go and sat back down, opened that file again and let another smirk roll onto his lips. “Massacre, mayhem and murder...all in here, shootouts, bestial transformations and bloodbaths. Face it Jackie boy, your immortal soul is as tarnished as your mortal body.”

“What do my dreams have to do with anything, fucker?” The man snarled and pounded his fist onto the mattress. “They're just fucking dreams!”

“You may think they are, but they're a window to your soul's true desire and wow...Jack...you have aspirations that would make old Charlie blush.” Gabriel laughed slightly and waggled his finger. “In fact you make Adolf Hitler look like a Saint.”

It was at that point that the man sat back against the wall and curled into a little ball, all his fight seemed to leave him and he closed his eyes – this was a dream, that was it, he'd wake up any moment now and everything would be alright.

“Sorry bunny, but them's the breaks, you really screwed the pooch on this one bud, but you know – we're not so bad, we'd still let you in but you'll have to do a job for us in return, do it and you'll be redeemed.”

“Do what?”

“The job, man you really need to listen more...another black mark on your record, but I'm a forgive and forget kind of guy – plain and simple, we want you to kill a man. A bad man, a man that makes everything you've done look like Kindergarten stuff.”

“Isn't killing evil?” Jack smirked at the Angel.

“Not when it's done in the name of the Almighty.” Gabriel gave another wink and lit another cigarette, he was a habitual chain-smoker and Jack thought it made him look like a Pimp. “Your kind has been killing in the name of Our Father for centuries, you should have no problem with that.”

“You're a real piece of work and so's your system.” The man said and put his head in his hands again. “I'm fucked if I do your dirty work and I'm fucked if I don't!”

“Yep, pretty much, but we'll wipe your slate if you do us this little favour.” Gabriel grinned like the cat that just ate the mouse that was going for the cheese dipped in milk.

“Got no choice, but on one condition?” The sly human sneered at the Angel and met him eye to eye.

“Oh this I gotta hear, shoot?”

“You tell me how I got in this shithole?”

“Oh that?” Gabriel made a 'pschwah' sound with his mouth and waved his hand. “Better than that buddy, I'll show you...you ever had a flashback?”

“Yeah, when I was in Nam...what do you think?” Jack replied with sarcasm dripping from every word.

“Funny guy...well...hang on tight hero, because this is going to cook your buns!”

[Witcher Wolf]

A spiral of memory kicked into life inside the facsimile of Jack's skull and he slammed his head down onto the bed, it felt like he was in Egypt and about to be mummified, they'd just shoved those red hot hooks up his nose and were pulling his brain out in bits.

Any retort he could think of was drowned out in white-hot fire as behind his eyes everything burst into a brilliant light. All he could do was hang on and pray for this sensation to end.

Gabriel smirked a little more and drew a long slow draw on his cigarette, speaking with a raspy whisper. “I love this part.”

The rain was dancing on the edges of the skyscraper, a dim mirror of something in the tortured man's past was trying to reflect the why/when/wherefore of a recent tragedy. It snaked down the steel and glass of the building, twisting in dynamic eddies with the wind.

The light dimmed and the scene was laid out before him in crystal-clarity.

A familiar player stood on the edges of the building, before a step could take him to safety or plunge him into the treacherous abyss beyond.

A silver locket, her locket, was dropped over into the darkness and it spiralled down, the face of the woman he cared for stared back at him, captured in timeless and ageless glory before it vanished into the rain.

Lightning flashed just the once in the sky and another shape looked on, this one was the most beautiful thing Jack had ever seen. Outlined against the backdrop of the skyline, a woman stood dressed in white and gold, her eyes were like flawless amber and her hair reminded him of spun gold.

He saw his past self turn to look at her and whisper. “I'm sorry.”

Jack wanted to reach out and take the man by the shoulders, to shake some sense into him but he realised, this was just a flashback – a single moment in his life caught by the camera-lens of his eye and immortalised in his soul, part of a long train of events etched into his psyche.

But the woman in white wasn't looking at his past self, she was looking at him, not through him, at him. Was he there at the moment of his own death? A ghost to his foolish step into oblivion?

She shook her head sadly and turned her back on him, Jack wanted to cry out to her and almost did but a voice whispered in through the wind.

“Baby, those who lose hope, I can't help at all...you have to want to be helped Jack, before I can do anything.”

Suddenly he was falling, fast and hard, screaming with his past self as the plunge had been taken. The rain spattered on his face and felt like a thousand knives being driven into his skin, the scream trailed off as he felt the mortal's shell give up the ghost – heart stuttering from the immense forces applied as he fell.

Then the impact that smeared him like a pizza across the sidewalk below, the dizzying feeling of being somewhere above himself and not knowing where to go.

A bright white light and he was back on the bed again, if he could sweat he would have, but he just looked at the Angel and gave a hiss. “You son of a bitch, you could have just explained it?”

“Those who do not experience a thing, can't ever hope to understand a thing Jack, cosmic law number 325...it's a bitch, but that's what you get for taking your own life.”

That once more smacked him upside the head hard.

“Oh.”

“Oh shit...I was a suicide, how the hell could I be so stupid?”

“Hey it happens, don't beat yourself up over it...we're here to do that.” Gabriel gave him an encouraging smile laced with acid tones.

“Thanks, I don't think. I guess you want my answer to your proposal now?” The man said defiantly and rose from the bed to look down on the other.

“Oh, sure.” Gabriel waved his cigarette and gave Jack a winsome smile. “Make my eternity?”

“Fuck you, your system and your god.”

“Ouch...that's a lot of fucking and some of those things can't be fucked with Jackie boy.” The Angel shook his head. “I really didn't want to play my Ace in the hole, but well, you're right – why should you help us, we've got no hold over you right?”

The man suddenly didn't like where this was going and he snarled at the Angel. “You fucker...you really would?”

“In a heartbeat buddy, all's fair in love and war Jack, and when the war is against the devil and his scumsuckers – we don't play footsie.”

“Your soul might not make it into heaven for all you've done, but your woman on the other hand – such a pretty one in life, be a shame to see her end up in the wrong place. I hear that hell can really screw a being over you know, it's not all tea and cookies down there.” Another whirl of smoke trailed into the air and Gabriel gave the man a winning smile.

“Bastard.” Jack lost it, he went for the Angel again but passed right through him to smack on the far wall, he turned again to be confronted with a figure in a suit of black and red armour, holding a flaming sword.

“Look motherfucker, sit down or I'm going to put the hurt on your immortal soul so that if Satan did take you in, he'd think he'd already assraped you twice previously...do I make myself clear?”

Jack slid down the far wall and closed his eyes.

“Better, now the deal's this, you do what we want and we make sure you and your pretty get into heaven, you fuck with us and we'll lose you in Oblivion – got that?”

“Yes.” Jack replied meekly and didn't dare to open his eyes.

“I can't hear you.”

“Yes. I got it, ok, just fuck off and leave me to get some rest.”

“Sorry pumpkin, no can do.” The Angel chuckled a little. “You're up and the home team is making another run, adios amigo, oh and do me a favour...when you get to Earth? Make sure you wake up quick and run like fuck.”

The man wasn't given enough time to react, he was once more surrounded in a bright glow and the pain shot through him again. He was getting sick and tired of being abused by this 'holier than thou' asshole.

He landed hard on something wet, solid and slick with rain. A bright light erupted before him, no two bright lights – he'd seen them before somewhere, something in his memory fired into overdrive and he rolled to the side just in time.

The truck sped on past and blasted a few tones from its horn in irritation, while the man lay in the sidewalk coughing and shaking – he'd almost been killed and all the jerk could do was 'toot' his horn.

Gabriel put his foot down and drove the big flatbed out onto the open road while the stereo thrummed out the song: Road to Hell.

“That's my boy Jack, quick on your feet, you're going to need a lot more though.”

[Witcher Wolf]

The horn sounded again against the night sky and was soon drowned out by the distance and hammering rain. Jack looked at himself, covered in mud and blood.

“Yo homie, whassup?” A couple of gangers had stopped their car near the sidewalk and they peered at him over the top, they had red bandannas and bad-boy leers.

“What?” Jack was still trying to make head nor tail of what had just happened, now he was wondering if he just had a bad dream and he'd come back home to his wife and everything would be ok.

“Man, this guy look whack?” One said. “I say we smoke him and rifle his pockets?”

“Bin dull tonight, looks like he's got nothing worth takin anyways.”

A couple of nines popped into their hands and they gave each other a quick hand slap, before unloading both clips into the guy standing on the sidewalk. He danced a wickedly staccato jig before tumbling down into the cold water face down.

“Wooo-YEAH, now that's what I'm talking about.”

The door to the car opened and the bad-boys stepped out, they were about to move forwards a couple of steps and check their prize. They'd have made it too if it were not for the fact that two sharp reports snapped out and the ground before their feet churned in a sudden impact of broken pavement and road.

“Mother fucker!” The lead ganger yelped. “Check our six?”

His friend thumped him on his shoulder and their eyes tracked across to a new player, someone who'd just stepped out of a side alley.

“Momma.”

The white and gold finish of a modified desert eagle lifted to the woman's red lips and she blew the smoke away from the barrel, a tumbledown mass of sun-spun golden hair cascading for a moment across her shoulders.

Every inch and curve was captured in the purest white leather from a waistcoat to a shirt and looked pristine as if it'd just come out of a fashion models' collection.

A long billowing ivory coloured coat flapped in a minor breeze, as the still smoking eagle was lowered towards the ground.

Searching amber eyes like those of a curious cat were set in a perfect face, slightly tanned skin and a flawless musculature rounded off the image of this woman, her long legs caressed by tight white-leather pants.

Both ganger's shared a look of pure unbridled lust for a moment before the nines were raised again.

“What you want woman?” The bigger of the two snapped out in challenge. “Playing wid guns is gonna get you killed, what you be shooting at us for?”

A slender golden brow rose in apparent amusement and when she spoke it was as perfect as her figure and looks.

“I thought this was a shooting competition, you know, the kind you guys always like to have to show which metal penis is bigger?”

They both exchanged looks again and the usual mentality took over, the kind that requires the only reflex to be a quick motion of their trigger fingers. Only they'd forgot one very important thing, in the movies you reload when it's dramatically important, in real life you reload when you run out of ammo.

Click went the trigger, the woman in white gave them a wicked looking smile, it flashed as pearly as the gates of heaven.

“Oh? Did you boys forget that this isn't a hong kong action film?” Her own gun flicked up and she grinned like a cat about to pounce.

“You stand accused of murder of a raggedy man, in cold blood, to settle a macho pissing contest.”

The two gangers were trying to reload their guns quickly, one of them accidentally nudged the other one and they both dropped their clips.

“I don't hear any sirens?” She said. “Which means that in all likelihood you pair of hopped-up bong-smoking homeboys are going to get away completely free.”

“Shoot the bitch.”

“You shoot the bitch, you reloaded!”

“I ain't reloaded, cause you knocked my arm dumbass!”

“Don't you bitch at me!”

“I ain't bitching at you, just fucking reload and peg the ho while she's still yakkin!”

The woman paid scant attention as the two gangers fumbled with the muddy clips to try and insert them into their rain-soaked guns, the water on her own dripped a couple of times and she snorted.

The cross she wore around her neck, a cross of gold, glinted under the streetlight and she pulled the trigger.

“Time's up, judgement has been passed and you pair of shit heads are going on a one way trip to meet your maker. With any luck it'll be someone like Gabriel, I hear he has a thing for boys like you.”

It was a pair of perfect shots, one bullet for each of them and she hit their heads dead-center, right between the eyes. They didn't suffer and they didn't even know they were dead until their bodies smacked hard on the ground and they were left standing – looking down at the slowly spreading pools of blood.

They could still see her and she could see them, right before the ground seemed to open up and they vanished into a spiralling vortex of inky blackness.

Hope's eyes turned on the sprawling figure of Jack, and she walked over, her long coat flapping just above the ground. Not even a single spray of water on it, her boots didn't leave a print in the mud.

“Turned you into a teabag.” She sighed. “I'm sorry raggedy man, but...”

Jack coughed and the woman stepped back a few paces, already her finger tightened on the trigger, it was only silver-white recognition that stopped her from unloading into the body. She knew him and she'd seen him before.

The roof several months ago.

“Well don't you turn up in the most unlikely of places Jack?"

[Witcher Wolf]

By the time they hit the coffee shop the rain had turned from a spattering downpour to an angry wind-driven storm, lightning battled for dominance in the dark arena above and poor Jack was soaked to the bone, not as though that would kill him, but it wasn't very comfortable at all.

“Go to the restroom sugar.” The woman said as they padded through the door. “I'll order us up some nice hot coffee, you'll find some clean clothes in there.”

“Ok?” The man wasn't about to argue, he figured that if she were an Angel she could pretty much do anything she wanted, so he left a trail of wet footprints leading all the way to the men's.

True to her word there was an empty cubicle and inside he found a complete set of new clothing, not to mention a thick waterproof coat and a set of new shoes. Gabriel hadn't even sent him back wearing shoes, tightfisted manipulative bastard was all that Jack could think as he swapped outfits.

When he returned there was a large pot of steaming hot coffee waiting for him and two cups, the woman in white sat across the way and chewed on a bagel.

She looked up and smiled a little shyly. “Now that's better, you look almost human again.”

“After coffee.” Jack quipped. “I might feel almost human again.”

The big man behind the counter put down a massive pastry in front of the man and nodded to the woman, almost as if he knew her, he was about to walk off when Jack caught his arm.

“You got a knife and fork for that?”

“Yeah buddy sure.” Garfield chuckled and slapped his forehead. “How could I forget something so simple, be right back.”

The owner of the coffee shop was a middle aged man and he looked a tad overweight, he had a jowly face and bright blue eyes – some might have said his smile was infectious and it looked odd on such a huge guy.

After a few sips of the dark brow liquid Jack sat back and regarded his table companion, she was flicking through a magazine as if she didn't have a care in the world.

“So how'd you feel now?” Her eyes were half shaded by the pages. “Or you still confused?”

“A bit.” Jack lied and then shook his head, reaching for his coffee again. “A lot – I mean, look at me. I was what? living the American Dream until a few weeks ago and suddenly I find that I'm dead, at some unholy judgement session with the angelic equivalent of Hawaii-5-0 being told that my wife's soul is in jeopardy unless I do them a job?”

“Sucks doesn't it?” There were trickles of sympathy in the Angel's voice and she let out a long slow sigh, taking a bite of her own pastry.

“Understatement.”

“Heaven and Hell?” She said and put down the bagel. “What's the difference, I mean Hell is probably the most likely to let you in for nothing, they want you in. Heaven on the other hand is like an elite club for the most pompous motherfuckers in cosmic history, it didn't used to be like that – it meant something at one point.”

“Let me get this right, Heaven isn't what it used to be?”

“Ask Elvis, he's been in Hell for the last few years?”

Jack's coffee left via his nose and he started to cough/choke, he blinked a few times at the Angel opposite him and mouthed. “You're shitting me?”

“Yep, but it was worth it to see the look on your face. Elvis was a hitman for the Shroud of Turin for a while, that's the name of the group that Gabriel now heads up, not the old Gabriel – oh, you look confused again?”

“Got that right.”

Garfield dropped the eating irons on the table and stalked off again with a chuckle. “She's like that buddy, don't worry.”

Jack turned his head to say something but the big guy was already back behind the counter and serving a customer.

“He's not?”

“Not what?” The woman grinned at her companion.

“You know, like you?”

“Ever see a fat Angel?”

“Well, no, but up until now I didn't even think you existed.”

“Point made?” She winked a little and shook her head. “I love your kind Jack, you're so deliciously easy to confuse.”

“Joke's on me I guess.” He began to devour his pastry like a greedy man about to eat his last ever dinner.

“More than you know sugar, more than you know.”

[Libby]

This is definitely getting more interesting with every section. Can't wait for the next bit!

[Witcher Wolf]

A silence settled over both of them for a while and Jack concentrated on filling his (to him) empty belly, while Hope sat and kept an eye on everything else.

Garfield rubbed down his counter with a cloth and served a number of other customers, he was a dab hand at doing the typical '100-tasks-at-once' that most people in his profession could do.

A few songs drifted by in disjointed melodies playing on the shop's radio and outside the window, headlights traced through the storm. It was of course only a moment's respite in the heady new life that Jack was about to experience.

“Can you help me understand all this?” He asked hopefully as he finished the last bite of his pastry. “No jokes, no quips...just some kind of idea?”

The edges of Hope's voice were soft and like feathery down. “Ok, where to begin. You committed suicide Jack, a couple of weeks ago you got to the top of a big building and you leapt to your death.”

“I kind of figured that, but thanks for confirming I did the asshole thing.”

“You did, it was fucking stupid dummy – suicides don't have rights in the afterlife, not anymore.”

The sharpness of her tone and the content of her tirade stunned him into silence and he replied somewhat sheepishly, after a while. “Ok, sorry, go on?”

“Heaven got to you first and put you in Purgatory, it used to be a kind of resting place for the spirits of those who met with untimely ends and violent deaths, those that weren't earthbound of course.”

She took a sip of her coffee and a bite of her bagel and continued to speak.

“Now anyone who is a suicide who ends up in Purgatory can consider it an eternity sentence, with little hope of parole, being reborn...still with me?”

“Yeah, for now.”

“Good – it's a start, ok, so you took your own life and ended up as Gabriel's bitch.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry, but it's the truth, now clam it and let me go on.” She sighed a little and tapped the man on the end of his nose. “You want to know or not?”

“Just a little frustrated.”

“Poor honey, ok, now pin back your ears Jack because this is how the new system works.” Hope cupped her coffee in her palms and began once more.

“Suicides have no rights and that meant that Gabriel could ask of you what-ever he wanted, you walked into that one sadly. But worse than that.” The Angel gave another little frown before she spoke again. “You are now held accountable for every moment of your life, everything you do...you fail to do and even better – everything that happens in your dreams.”

“I was told yeah.” Jack put his elbows on the table and grumbled into the remains of his drink.

“It's a sick system sugar but that's the way it is now and well, I can't say that I'm happy about it, but I can't do anything. There's no place in Heaven for my kind, too human for them – a fallen Angel with clipped wings.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“It is no biggy hon, compared to what happened to you, hell it's minor stuff.” She reached forwards and patted Jack on his hand. “I can understand why you gave up, I just wish you hadn't...”

“I was only human, lost everything, what else had I got to live for?”

“Her.” Was Hope's reply and the sadness in her voice could have made the happiest man on earth cry.

“Way to turn the knife, but I get your point Hope.” The man sighed into the dregs of his mug and his expression turned into a scowl. “Now Gabriel has me where he wants me because of the soul of my wife?”

“Bingo babe.”

“Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, right?” Jack snorted again and his scowl deepened. “What can I do about it, if I don't kill someone for that jackass, she's never going to be free?”

“Big problem honey is that what happens if Gabe tries to change the deal, all he's got to do is alter the terms and you're back to square one. It's how the rat-bastard operates.”

“Shit.”

“Deep Jack, very deep.” The Angel put down her drink and fixed the man with an amber stare. “You can't do much at the moment, you're going to have to play along with his little game and find out what he's got in store for you – but I'm offering to help you, but you have to trust me.”

“What choice do I have?” He flicked a sugar cube with his middle finger and it shot across the table. Hope caught it between her two fingers and popped it in her mouth, biting down.

“I'm not the one that's cut your options babe.”

“I'm willing to go on a little faith.”

The woman began to laugh a little and Jack shot her an acid look. “What, what's so funny?”

“Oh I had two sisters at one time, Faith and Charity.”

It was a good job that the man wasn't drinking coffee again as the Angel before him quipped that line.

“There's that confused look again.” She laughed loudly once more and patted his hand again. “You'll get used to it, one day big guy.”

“I get the feeling that I'm going to have to.” He muttered grouchily.

[MisterAnderson]

Just got around to reading the rest.

The plot thickens....great stuff Wolfenstein!

[Witcher Wolf]

Thank-ee Mr. A, look for a big update soon folks.

[Witcher Wolf]

So here he was, caught in an aeons old war between heaven and hell, sitting with a drop-dead gorgeous woman who just told him the truth, in a very round-a-bout way. Yet he still felt as though the whole universe wasn't just laughing at him but it was also dancing a tango on his tombstone.

Gabriel had him over a barrel and he didn't much like the feeling, he was always in control and to have so little input into his destiny 'pissed him off' in more ways than one. But for now he was going to have to trust someone and do something, she seemed like the best bet.

“Alright.” He said and pushed his plate aside. “I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

Hope smiled brightly. “Sugar, honey, you just might have saved your ass.”

“I never did understand those terms, I'm not exactly the classic attractive type or the sweet type.” The man snorted and reached into his jacket pocket for a cigarette. “So do you know what happens now?”

“Well...not quite, I expect he'll contact you in some way, make a few snide comments, threats and set you on the path to your 'redemption'...” She made the classic finger-quotes sign and shook her head. “If you're unlucky, he might decide to throw a test your direction.”

“A test?” Jack's cigarette flared brightly as he lit it. “This keeps getting better and better, feel like I'm goin round in circles.”

“Oh but you are.” The Angel stood up and stretched lithely before she adjusted her coat and flashed him a final smile. “I'll be watching out for you though Jack, don't worry...but I can't be seen around you, not just yet – don't want to tip him off.”

“Right.” He blew a trail of smoke exhaling deeply. “See you around gorgeous.”

“Ooh, flattery.” She tipped a wink to the proprietor and left out the back door, striking up a soft whistle as she went.

The man caught Garfield's attention and the big guy moved over, he was like a large friendly tom cat, prowling the alleys between the tables.

“What can I get ya?”

“Coffee, black, no sugar and a bacon roll – to go?”

“Comin right up.”

The exchange was only a few seconds and the big man went back to his counter, he missed the pair of thug-types that were crossing the road, one of them shoved his hand into his back pocket, a glint of steel for a moment.

Jack saw them and Hope's earlier words echoed in his head, what if this were a test...what was he supposed to do, he couldn't go around randomly beating thugs up. It was a good way to end up back in a cell.

He would have to play the waiting game and watch what happened, perhaps it was a test of restraint?

Garfield returned with Jack's order and turned his back on the door, he walked towards the counter again and went back to sorting out pies and pastries.

The bell rang above the door and two heavy set men entered, they had switchblade smiles and their eyes were deader than a flattened hedgehog on a country road. They stunk of booze and weed, not a very good combination.

Jack took a quick look around the cafe and appraised the environment, no other customers and a good few big windows. He cracked his knuckles and then went back to sipping his coffee, just like any regular joe might, trying to appear oblivious to their menacing demeanour.

“How's about you put the money in my bag pop?” The first spoke and his accent was thick with snide tones, unmistakable intent lingered darkly.

Garfield gave him the once over and put down a box on the counter-top, it was a big thick metal one – a lockbox of some sort. By the look in their eyes Jack guessed they thought they'd struck gold.

“Nice and easy and we don't have to use our pieces.”

Ah there is was, the metal dick reflex – the age old cliché of every bastard who's been given access to a gun and told there's nothing that you can't take by force.

“I don't want no trouble.” Garfield's mouth said so but his eyes, they were the stone-cold eyes of a man who'd done some kind of hard time in a cell, a man who'd got secrets and skeletons a plenty in his closet – a man who didn't mind adding more.

Jack tensed a little as he caught this expression and flicked a brow in the big man's direction, but he was forced to wait and watch as the other guy sat down opposite him and stole his bacon roll.

“Nice night huh?” He said between mouthfuls. “You drinkin that?”

He stole Jack's coffee too.

You can steal a man's soul, his life and his memories all in one foul swoop, but there are some lines that you just don't cross – the second heavy managed to cross two of them in Jack's case.

“You know I've killed people for less.” He said and leaned back in his chair, tapping the inside of his coat as if he had a gun.

“You'se what?” The second thug hadn't planned on this, intimidation was always good enough before, but something in Jack's face set the hairs on the back of his neck right up.

The first speaker set his hand upon the lock and flipped the box lid up, a clever man would have turned it so it faced away from him. But those kind of people often drive expensive cars and don't rob small cafes.

As the contents of the box exploded into his face and the searing pain from compressed air and battery acid burned his eyes, the man let loose an ear-piercing scream.

It died on his lips as the proprietor smashed his big meaty hand into the man's nose and decked him in one, he toppled like a sack of wet fish.

Jack saw his table partner going for the inside of his jacket, he was already pissed off from the coffee and roll incident – the nearest item to hand was a fork, so with a quick lunge he picked up the eating utensil and drove it into the man's hand.

Before it would have had a mild inconveniencing effect upon the thug, but Jack had been gifted with a few extras, he was a lot stronger now – so the fork tore through the skin and shattered the bones in the guy's hand.

It was his turn to scream, Jack threw the rest of the hot coffee over him and shoved the roll in his mouth.

“Here fucker, if you want my roll, you can have it and a knuckle sandwich.”

Garfield was picking up the first heavy when he saw Jack punch the other in the face, there was a shattering sound as the man's jaw went and his teeth flew, another blow pulped the aggressor's nose like it was a rotten tomato.

“Man, you're pretty handy in a fight.” The big man said and threw the first thug into a spare chair, throwing a towel over his face. “I don't care if your eyes are burned out you bastard, that'll teach you to screw with an ex-Beret.”

[Witcher Wolf]

OGaM will return soon

[Witcher Wolf]

Jack wasn't listening now, he looked outside and caught sight of a familiar figure waving at him from over the road.

“You gonna be ok buddy?” He said to Garfield. “I got something to take care of.”

“Sure, sure, I know what to do wid scumbags like these.” With that he dragged the one guy towards the kitchen door.

“See you around hero.”

“Hero?” The dispossessed man laughed at that and shook his head. “I ain't a hero, just a regular joe like you pal.”

He pushed the door and stepped into the freezing cold, it had really started to rain. As if the old gods were hammering a thousand iron hammers against the rooftops of the world.

As he got closer he recognised the shirt, garish nightmare colours clashing against the yellow tie. The eyes were hidden behind a pair of round, dark blue sunglasses and the Angel now wore a pair of purple slacks.

“Christ Gabriel, you know how to make a poor fuckers eyes bleed.”

“Back in the land of the living for a few hours and already you're cursing up a storm, way to go homeboy.” He snapped irritably and dug deep into his pockets, tugging out a cigarette. “These will kill someone eventually, and guess what, smoking is a sin – it's beautiful, the devil's ash is what we call it back at HQ, now that's marketing.”

“Sick bastard.”

“Like I said before, the system is on our side.” The Angel lit his cigarette and smirked at the man before him. “You do as we say, wifey goes to heaven in the end.”

“I know the score, what are you here for, pep-talk or just to piss me off?”

“Ouch, I'd like to think our professional relationship had a little more love than that.”

“Isn't it a sin to love?”

“Touche, listen up smart boy and listen good, you're pricking around when you should be on the hunt. “ There was that self satisfied and smug grin again. “You miss the boat on this one and we call in old Stan to see to your darling, and don't think we won't if you do screw up.”

“I hear ya.” There was a low undertone to the man's voice, a dangerous one and he clenched his fingers into a tight fist, the stress on the knuckles whitening them.

“Oh and Jack, you best get some better threads than those old knock offs...what did you do, fuck over some poor hobo and steal his castoffs?”

The rain slicked the man's face and the lines around his jaw tightened, he turned as though he was going to walk away and then whipped around. His right arm swinging in a sharp curve, the action took Gabriel by surprise.

The Angel was caught off guard and his head slammed back as the bigger man's fist smacked into the side of his jaw, he staggered but didn't fall.

Jack was the reason the cocky being didn't topple, he dropped his arm around the man's neck and locked it there. A few more blows rained into his gorgeous face and blood splattered the streets, only to be washed away by the spray of the torrential downpour.

He didn't stop there, he only stopped when Gabriel's corpse lay unmoving on the ground and the scream of a siren burst into life across from him. It was just his luck that as he was stomping his tormentor's head into the tarmac that the Cops arrived.

Jack swore under his breath and turned to run, his foot collided with a trashcan and left a pile of spilt refuse across the floor.

He made a sprinting beeline for the nearest car and punched the window with his fist, the tough glass yielded to his strike, peppering into a splinter of spiralling shards. He didn't notice the torn skin on his knuckles begin to knit together, and the blood stop flowing.

The man was panicking and his fight or flight reflex had switched to flight.

He gripped the steering wheel as the alarm screamed at the sudden violation, he reached under the dash and tore the thing out, hurling it behind him. A few bare wires later and he'd 'hot wired' the car, it sparked into a growl of life and he slammed his foot down onto the accelerator.

Right into the side of the coasting Cop car, he drew a nice tear of metal down his own vehicle and dented the Cops'.

The chase was on, they leapt into action in a scream of tires and a fountain of rain.

Jack's car had a lead and he drove with no lights, he didn't seem to need them, his eyes were picking out details far ahead of the normal.

The police struggled to keep up as their quarry seemed to be capable of almost superhuman feats of reflex and agility. They watched the car spin round corners and nip through gaps in packed traffic – they needed help, backup was called in.

After ten minutes of three cars chasing him Jack was finding a perverse pleasure in eluding their best efforts to block him in, he was driving for his life and something was giving him an edge.

After fifteen minutes there was now a full scale chase and Jack's vehicle was on an Interstate road, doing over two hundred miles per hour. Vans, cars and pursuit vehicles of all shapes and sizes had been called in to stop this once and for all.

Even the searching spot of the air unit kept the prey's car outlined in an almost heavenly light.

Jack was trying to make sense of it all, he'd just intended to smack the guy around a little, he never meant to kill him. Could he kill him?

Questions like this raced around his head as he plunged headlong into the night as if the hordes of hell were on his heels.

In truth, they were...

At least a couple of the Police drivers were agents for the other side and they had begun to suspect something wasn't quite right, when in a daring move, Jack's car vaulted one barrier and smashed a roadblock. His timing was beyond that of a mortal and they almost smelt the power.

But what was the power?

[Libby]

Oooh! Gabriel can't be dead... well, he's not really alive is he? Fascinating turn of events. Way to go, Jack!

[TheMacroprosopus]

To be totally honest, I just started reading this after the most recent addition. So, I'm kinda lost. Why does the angel swear? Just curiousity of course. It seems kinda out of place... That's about it. This is pretty frickin' wicked.