((Hee, you mentioned Duke. That makes me happy. Even if I haven't played him in a while.

...Though a Titan Weapons Duke would be cool...))

((When in doubt, throw more bullets at the problem until it goes away. If firepower isn't working, you're simply not using enough of it.

...Until they actually have time to conduct field research, match it with the reading material back at HQ, and then come back at the problem with the proper solution. In addition to lots and lots of bullets.))

((I don't know what Angel's exact plans are for all this, just the basics, but if these guys do end up going against Rijarin, bullets will just make him mad. Which isn't hard to do anyway. Just for your own OOC reference if and when the time comes, it'll have to be cold iron to do any real damage, and he's a very old and very powerful fae. He didn't live this long without barely sliding through a few close calls with opponents bent on ending his existence. That's not to say these guys couldn't be the ones to do it - and I've always been very okay with the possibility that Rijarin could die to PC's from the time I first made him - but I'm waiting to see what Angel wants to do with him ultimately before I make that decision. If they do get a turn with him, I'll be happy to hand over any info you need ))

_________________
Mizythra: What does the queen actually do these days?
Maelthra: Convenes parliment, feeds her corgies... offers to cut up the prime minister's food for him.
Mizythra: ahahahah. Wow.
Maelthra: srsly
Mizythra: What does the king do? Anything?
Maelthra: Is no king
Mizythra: Well, when there is one.
Maelthra: Same thing, but hopefully with less dogs

((In the post I made at 4:52 forum time, and edited at 4:59 (Just so you know I'm not blowing smoke up your ass and re-editing stuff to my benefit, haha), please note,



APIT is the Armor-Piercing Incendiary Tracer round, and the rest, well, that's pretty self-explanatory. Sarge's unit was specifically stood up to fight supernatural entities, therefore they don't really pack standard ammunition. Standard ammo is what we call a 4-in-1 mix, four rounds standard copper-jacketed ball ammo, one tracer, a nice mix that will generally get anything taken care of. The 95th would carry their ammo in a similar mix, one silver round, one cold iron round, one APIT round, repeated, through the entire magazine. On the plus side, a couple bursts will generally get their point across. On the negative side, they're not going to know what exactly is getting their point across until they start switching to specialized ammunition loads.

On my end, well, they're human. Highly-trained, highly effective United States Army Rangers, trained to defend against paranormal threats, but under it all, they're human. Sarge has an interesting bit of backstory, if you're bored enough to sit through my morbidly obese VV article, but at present, he's a soft and squishy human, with a will that's harder than his bones. ))

(( All this talk of demons and ice faes and people seem to forget the large broading former alien overlord whos still in the mix. Though I do admit I don't know what Angel has planned next for ol' Vorn. ))

_________________

((Vorn is a tool. *flees!*

But, really, if it gets ugly and a character has to die, would you really want to lose Vorn?))

_________________
Mizythra: What does the queen actually do these days?
Maelthra: Convenes parliment, feeds her corgies... offers to cut up the prime minister's food for him.
Mizythra: ahahahah. Wow.
Maelthra: srsly
Mizythra: What does the king do? Anything?
Maelthra: Is no king
Mizythra: Well, when there is one.
Maelthra: Same thing, but hopefully with less dogs

(( No I wouldn't but I don't see him dying ether. ))

_________________

DJ Pheonyx, Idrael and Sarge made their way into Eden, keeping a wary eye for anything suspicious, and it wasn't long before they stumbled upon a woman standing over Ian, raising a dagger over her head. Master Sargeant Morris brought his rifle up and fired after Pheonyx stated quietly, "Disarm, not kill". The round from the rifle tore through Isabelle's hand, sending the dagger flying from her grasp. When the weapon flew away, Idrael and DJ Pheonyx rushed in, the angel drawing his sword and the disc jockey throwing a fireball directly into Isabelle's torso, knocking her off her feet.

"Get Ian outta here, Wings... Sarge, cover them. I'll take care of her", DJ Pheonyx ordered. Idrael was preparing to say something but knew it would simply fall on deaf ears, and MSGT. Morris knew they had an ace up their sleeves with his squad positioned not very far away. Dante moved in between Idrael and Ian as Idrael chipped away at the ice around Ian's legs.

Ian stammered to Idrael but loud enough for the other two men to hear, "They... they got Angelica."

"That's all I needed to hear..." Dante stated and threw another fireball at Isabella, but she rolled out of the way in the nick of time, regaining enough tactical footing to launch several shards of ice at Dante. The fire mutant's body started to engulf itself in fire, melting the frozen projectiles as he purposefully walked forward towards Isabella, "Where's Angel?"

Isabella smirked and responded sarcastically, "Wouldn't YOU like to know?". Her insolence was repaid by another fireball into her center mass, stunning her.

As she regained her senses, she saw Dante rushing towards her and then suddenly vanish from her sight, only to be replaced with intense pain as she looked down and saw the swordtip made of fire coming from her lower abdomen and heard Dante's voice from behind her as she felt the flames of his aura start to burn through her clothing and beginning to sear her flesh, "I WILL know... but not from you. You're gonna pass on a message to Demoryel, since I know she is pulling your strings. You will tell her I am coming for her. You will tell her that she WILL tell me where Angel is. Tell her that if a single HAIR is harmed on Angel's head, her existence on this plane or any other will cease. In the immortal words of Biff Tannen... make like a tree and get out of here."

While the verbal exchange was going on, Idrael's sword broke enough ice around Ian's legs away to pull him free from the remaining ice and lift Ian up, placing Ian's arm around his shoulders for support.

Dante's aura dropped and the fire sword dissipated as he forcefully threw Isabelle away from him and near the dagger on the ground. Taking a quick glance around and seeing she is outnumbered and spying the dagger near her, she feigned fear and purposely stumbled over the dagger and surreptitiously grabbing and hiding the dagger on her as she ran away, a thin smirk on her face.

Dante made his way back as Sarge was about to raise his weapon at Isabella, but Dante pushed it aside and told the soldier, "Let her go..." Master Sergeant Morris was about to say something when Dante turned his attention to Ian and Idrael, "Get him to the edge of Founder's Falls and activate his Mediporter, Wings; the reception here is horrible." Idrael, concerned with his celestial brother, nodded and flew towards Founder's Falls carrying an injured Ian to get the needed medical attention.

Dante then turns back to Master Sergeant Morris who then admonishes DJ Pheonyx, "How dare you let a target go like that?"

"This..." Dante replied, tossing the soldier a small PDA-like device, "Knowing her, she WILL run to Demoryel and this will give you her location. Also, since you and the Scoobies are knowledgeable in all things spooky, run a check on that thing, will ya?", Dante sliding his finger on the touchscreen to show a picture of the dagger on the ground to Morris as he continues, "This has become Demoryel's Demon's Run."

The master sergeant was caught off guard, "Demon's Run?"

Dante replied as he walked away, peeling away the fake skin on his wrist covering the one-use micro combat teleporter, "Demon's Run... where a good man goes to war."

_________________

DJ Pheonyx of The Cape Radio
Global Name: @Pheonyx

The sudden thud onto the ground was enough to snap one of the bones in Angelica's wings. She let out a wince and Rijarin smirked. He stared down at her for the moment, then ran an icy appendage that would have to pass as a finger down her cheek. "You. Are ugly," he said coolly. "What that earth-boy sees in you, I'll never know." He gave a snap of his fingers and a puffy cloud of darkness appeared nearby. It seemed to coo a bit in Rijarin's direction. He gave a glance to it and nodded with not so much as a hint of betrayed emotion. He glanced back to Angelica and said two words, "Now, Quanternica."

The puff zipped over to Angelica and bound her to the floor with shadowy tentacles from the Netherworld. The negative energy that encased the Celestial brutalized her--knocking down her resistances. She murmured a prayer to The Holy One and was met with laughter from Rijarin as the words floated from her lips. "Your god cannot protect you here, Celestial. It is not your body I need...it is your soul."

"You cannot have it, Rijarin. Why are you doing this? There is still hope fo---"

"Save it," he hissed. "Save it for someone who cares." Quaternica stood nearby, seemingly giggling with glee. "What does Ian see in you? Hmm?" He stepped closer to her, Quaternica at his heels. "Is it your beauty?" He slide a sharp, icy finger along her cheek, separating the soft flesh in the wake of the trail. "No..." He grinned as the crimson streak began to widen. He began to take slow, measured steps around behind her. "Is it your wings?" He gripped one in his hands and nodded to Quaternica who grabbed the other. "You wish..." Together, they pulled and ripped them from her body. A loud scream echoed through the dungeon in which she sat, bound to the floor by the nethertendrils. Rijarin shuttered with orgasmic glee. Quanternica let out a squealing giggle and began to nibble at the wing in her hands. Rijarin smirked and patted the puffy darkness in the general area of her head. He continued his circle around to the front of her. "Is it your caring heart?" He grinned, his fingers growing into long, sharp, icy knives, primed for stabbing and rending. With a glinting gleam of joy, he grinned and gruffly whispered, "I don't think so!" He was about to jab the fingers into her chest when Jezebeth suddenly appeared in the dungeon, bleeding and severely singed.

"Wait!" she cried, panting.

Rijarin rolled his eyes. "Now what?" He groaned, his head lulling on his shoulders. When his eyes fell upon her, he just started to laugh. "Again? You really must learn how to combat these....humans. I thought you were a powerful demon!"

"Don't start shit with me, fae," Jezebeth growled. "I have no problem rending you limb from limb."

"Please..." he scoffed. "I've been around longer than you. You don't scare me." He eyed her coldly. "Now. What do you want? Can you not see, I'm busy?"

"First..." she panted, "We're supposed to keep her alive, remember? Second....they know where she is."

Rijarin stared at her a long moment. "You know...I'm not sure who is more incompetant--you or Vorn." She bristled. "How do they know where she is?"

"They said they had a lock on her or something. How the hell am I supposed to know?! I can't do anything against psychics except fuck with their brains!"

Rijarin shook his head. "Fine. Let them come. I will explain to the Mistress your complete lack of ability. Do you, at least, still have the dagger?"

"Yes," Jezebeth hissed through clenched jaw.

"Good...then perhaps you're still of use." They glared at each other a moment, then Jezebeth broke off and went her way. "Come, Quaternica. Let's let them find her here...she will be back. ...she has to be...my time grows ever shorter...."

_________________
Love & Celestial Kisses,


DJ Angel, Station Manager
Champions Online: @djangelica | The Secret World: DJAngel
Twitter: @Kryssieness | Facebook: Angelkins | Skype: crymson_fate | YIM: fair_hero | Steam: Angelcakes
The Snowflake Diaries | dA | Ravelry

((I absolutely love what you've done with Rijarin! Can't wait to see what's next!))

_________________
Mizythra: What does the queen actually do these days?
Maelthra: Convenes parliment, feeds her corgies... offers to cut up the prime minister's food for him.
Mizythra: ahahahah. Wow.
Maelthra: srsly
Mizythra: What does the king do? Anything?
Maelthra: Is no king
Mizythra: Well, when there is one.
Maelthra: Same thing, but hopefully with less dogs

"Attention, please, will a representative from E Company, 95th Rangers please report to the maintenance bay? Company E, 95th Rangers, to the maintenance bay, please."

The call echoed over the loudspeakers as the Rangers dragged themselves towards their headquarters shack in the Vanguard compound. After nearly two days of nonstop searching, and the recent events in Eden, the sleepless men were exhausted. Sergeant First Class Begley turned, pointed out Staff Sergeant Sutton and Sergeant Ellis. "That'll be Eagle 1 coming in under tow," he said. "You boys better get on it."

Too tired to protest, the two turned around and headed back the way they had come, headed for the garage where the damaged HMMWV was being towed to.

The rest of the squad slogged through their headquarters door, stripping off their gear as they went. "You know the drill, boys. Weapons maint, then dismissal."

The maintenance was quick and quiet - only the Master Sergeant had fired his old Browning Automatic Rifle, so the men were done quickly.

"Eagle 7, this is Eagle 1-3, over."

Master Sergeant Morris keyed the base station radio handmike. "This is Eagle 7, go ahead."

"Roger, Eagle 7, have received Eagle 1 in maint bay, the Vanguard mechie elements have offered to take care of her for us."

"1-3, this is 7, roger, send them my compliments and my personal thanks. Once that's done, return to the CP, complete weapons maint, dismissal to follow."

"7, this is 1-3, wilco, out."

Once weapons maintenance was complete and the weapons were racked, Sarge had the men fall into their small formation for the close of business briefing. "First formation, Monday morning, 0630, PT to follow, duty formation at 0900 hours. I'll be at home for the weekend, doing research. If anyone feels the burning, pressing need to help, you're more than welcome to give me a hand, but its not an order. You all have my contact information. You know the safety drill - don't do drugs, don't drink and drive, don't beat your wife, and for you single guys, if you're gonna tap it, wrap it." He finished the time-honored weekend safety brief, crude and crass though it was, it was the same safety brief that had been given to him by his old First Sergeant, and had been given to just about every combat-arms Soldier throughout time. Not to let the men down, he issued the same time-honored Friday night dismissal command - "Now get the fuck away from me."

"Hooah, Master Sergeant!" the men replied, before scattering.

As the last man to go home, Sarge set the building's alarms and made his way back to where he had parked his Montego, and began his drive home. As soon as he hit Atlas Park, he pulled over at the Mega Mart and stocked up on coffee. Back in his machine, he made the first left at the light, and the next left into the driveway. He pulled the Montego into the far right garage, locked the door and stepped past the partially disassembled 1959 Cadillac he was restoring for a friend before he continued into his house itself.

He locked his front door, watered his plants, poured himself a pint of Guinness and hung up his ACU top before heading to his library. He browsed his shelves for a while, looking for a place to start his research before settling on the old standby - Spengler's Spirit Guide, one of the most recent and comprehensive guides to the supernatural world in existence, published by a renowned scientist from New York in the late 1990's. Sarge kicked his boots off, put his feet up on the couch with him, took a sip of the Irish stout, and began to read.

Bleary-eyed, Sarge sat up suddenly, knocking the heavy book off his chest. He reached for his sidearm on his way up, stopped in mid-draw when he realized the big handgun wasn't strapped to his thigh. He looked, but it still took him a minute to realize that he was in his own library. Still feeling brain-dead, he shook away the last remnants of his dream and swung his feet off the couch. He checked his watch, found it was close to 0830 and was surprised he had slept so late.

He scooped up the fallen guide, picked up the half-full pint of stout he had neglected to drink in its entirety the night before, and shuffled to the kitchen, where he poured out the pint and fired up the coffee maker. Idly flipping through pages he sighed as he noted the sheer number of daggers created for different purposes throughout history. One specifically to have an effect similar to a stake in vampires, one to bind angels and demons to a different realm, one to cause the target's blood to boil instantly, so on and so forth. He came across a similar-looking dagger, but raised an eyebrow when he read the description - he had serious doubts the users of this current dagger were interested in swapping their targets' souls with those of chickens.

Taking a sip of coffee, he continued to read.

*****

By Sunday afternoon, he had found and confirmed the existence of several similar daggers through his reading material. Spengler's Spirit Guide and the older Tobin's Spirit Guide were the most helpful - between the two he had narrowed the dagger down to three possibilities. All three daggers appeared similar and had similar functions. There was the Bane Dagger, the Dagger of Anathema and the Dagger of Pain, all three of which were unique. None seemed to have been made by human hands on Earth, and it was widely speculated that these three were likely made by another entity on another plane of existence, and had found their way to Earth by supernatural means.

What he really didn't like was their purpose. These daggers had been made specifically to bind the souls of the supernatural entities known as Celestials, although what they were bound to wasn't entirely clear. The other piece of information that bothered him was the lack of known procedures to reverse the bind. Then again, his research material had been written by humans who frequently engaged the supernatural as adversaries, and even wanting to reverse a dagger strike was likely unprecedented.

Nevertheless, he made copies of his information, donned his coat and hat, holstered his Colt and headed out to see if he couldn't find Pheonyx and the rest to share the information.

"There it is!" Idrael announced, pointing to, what appeared to everyone else, a void on the horizon. "That is the place," he glowered.

"Are you sure?" Dante asked with some trepidation and disbelief. "I mean, there's...nothing there."

"I am and there is," Idrael spoke calmly. Deep inside him, though, he could feel it. He could feel the evil lurking there. Michael had trained him well. Michael had taught him what to look for--what to look out for. As he lead the team closer, the looming and foreboding manor materialized onto the mortal plane. The rest of the party stopped and blinked, but Idrael continued forward. "They must be stopped."

"Whoa, slow down there, Peter," a voice chuckled from somewhere behind them. Idrael swung around, face distorted into a glower. He know what was meant--Peter, the obstinate one--the one who had to be the first to rush in to everything. As Idrael rounded, he blinked a moment and was surprised to see Gabriel standing before them. "Well, don't look so happy to see me, Idrael!" he smiled.

"What are you doing here?" Idrael asked flatly.

"I'm here to help you," Gabriel replied. "I haven't seen or heard from Michael in a while and I thought I'd come help you get my sister back and see if we can't find him in the process."

Idrael stared at Gabriel for a very long, uncomfortable moment. Gabriel just smiled to him. Without saying a word, Idrael turned around and heavily stalked toward the manor. "...of all the people to send....it had to be him..." Idrael muttered. Everyone was on the ready as they approached--Idrael, Dante, Matthew, Jules, and Gabriel. Idrael led the team, this time, if only because he could see more clearly than the others with him--with the probable exception of Gabriel. As they approached the door, Gabriel stayed Idrael's hand on the door.

"Let me..." he murmured, locking eyes with Idrael. Idrael set his jaw and glared. Gabriel responded, "Idrael, she is my sister. She'd do the same for me. Let me go first. Besides, if anything is inside, they'll attack me and I can withstand much more than you." He punctuated the left-handed compliment with a grin.

"Fine," was Idrael's curt response.

As Gabriel pushed the door open, he glanced left then right, then spoke feebly, "H-hello? Suriel? Are you here?"

All at once, there was a sound much like the atmosphere being rended in several directions at once. Demons spilled out of every shadow within the room and headed straight for Gabriel. He let out a cry of surprise and began flailing, trying to fend them off. He pulled a dagger from his belt and fiercely drove it into the chest of one of the demons. Idrael and the rest watched as time seemed to hang suspended for the moment, the demon burst into a billion pieces in a cry of anguishing terror, and then all the pieces reform into a mist, which then appeared to be sucked into the dagger itself. The rest of the demons halted their attack, turned, and ran in terror, screaming. Idrael stared at Gabriel.

"What is that?" Dante asked, trying to break the very uncomfortable silence.

"The Dagger of Anathema," Idrael said cooly. "It is the dagger Celestials all fear. It will destroy their bodies and capture their souls."

"...so, wait, we're fighting angels?" Matthew asked in confusion.

"In a sense," Idrael spoke. "Demons are fallen angels. How did you get the dagger, Gabriel?"

Gabriel's cheeks reddened a bit. "I found it. After they--" he was cut off as Samael slammed into his back. The dagger flew from his hands into the eagerly awaiting hands of Abigor.

"Let's get out of here, brother!" Abigor growled. Samael grinned and dashed after Abigor, the two tossing the dagger between them as they ran.

Jules rushed to Gabriel's side, "Y'alright, Gabe?" the accented voice came. Gabriel nodded, gasping for air.

"Just...got the .... wind.... knocked outta me...." He righted himself and dusted his robes, then looked over his shoulder. There on the floor in a slowly growing pool of blood was Suriel. "Suriel!" Gabriel shrieked and ran to her side. Idrael was on his heels. Jules checked for a pulse.

"She's alive...barely..."

"Let's get her out of here," Matthew murmured, trying to figure out the best way to move her.

Idrael stroked her hair a moment, one arm resting on a knee. Michael's sister...The Compassionate One...he may not have cared for her methods, he may not have seen her as The Leader, but she was still of The Leader's blood. He pushed to his feet and walked to the door, wings shivering at the thought of what happened to Angel. Gabriel watched, a very subtle grin creasing his lips. He strode to Idrael, his eyes full of concern. "Idrael...we need to find that dagger. If we don't, you know they--"

"They will not have the chance," Idrael snapped, his eyes never leaving the horizon. "Let them come. I will take them all and I will show them the righteousness of Holy Wrath."

Gabriel smiled, giving a soft chuckle. "Calm down, brother," he said, clapping his hand on Idrael's shoulder. Idrael's head snapped to stare at Gabriel. Gabriel blinked; Idrael did not. Awkwardly, Gabriel removed his hand from Idrael's shoulder.

"We. Are not. Brothers." Idreal sneered out. "And do not touch me again," he added, turning his face back to the horizon. He heard some rustling behind him and a soft, accented voice speak to him.

"Uh...w-we cin't move 'er, Idrael..." Jules whispered. Idrael turned around and looked down upon Jules, then over to the situation at hand. With long, purposeful strides, he went to Suriel's side and checked her over.

"You would not be able to do so, no," he confirmed. Dante opened his mouth to protest as he had removed her, easily, from the clutches of Vorn and Jezebeth. Idrael, however, stopped him. "This time, it is different. Her soul is the dead weight; not her body. I will take her. You lead the others back to Paragon." Dante nodded and motioned to the others to go with him. "Gabriel," he spoke as they began their exit. "Send out heroes to find that dagger." Gabriel smiled slightly and gave a nod. Idrael stood over Angel and stared down at the nearly-lifeless form below him.

Jules turned back, "You gonna be okay?" Idrael simply nodded. "Is she?"

He closed his eyes and lifted his face toward the heavens, then looked to Jules. "She needs to be. This is not her destiny. Now go."

After Jules was out of sight, Idrael leaned down and whispered something in Angel's ear, then picked her limp form up in a fireman's carry and began the trip to Paragon.

_________________
Love & Celestial Kisses,


DJ Angel, Station Manager
Champions Online: @djangelica | The Secret World: DJAngel
Twitter: @Kryssieness | Facebook: Angelkins | Skype: crymson_fate | YIM: fair_hero | Steam: Angelcakes
The Snowflake Diaries | dA | Ravelry

Somewhere on Striga Island

"Goddamn it, 42, stop shoving!"

"Oh, right. Why is it always my fault, huh?"

"Would you just shut up for once in your life?"

"I'm just sayin'...this is a bad idea."

"I'm just sayin'...shut the fuck up."

Clearly, there was not going to be a victor in this argument. Even the Council members who normally made it a habit to eavesdrop and then attack the conversationalists when the conversation grew wearisome backed slowly away from these two.

Or maybe it was the ten-foot-tall demon hulking, seemingly unnoticed, towards the pair.

Either way, the Council members nearby made like shadows at night time. The arguing was interrupted by a clearing of a throat. As Mini-Aerial 42 turned around, a fist knocked her to the ground, unconscious. Aerial frowned and stared coldly at Vorn. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Vorn just grinned. "Delivering a message."

"Alright, messenger boy...what do you have to say?"

With a smirk and a dismissive gesture, Vorn replied, simply, "Turn around."

Everything went dark and only the inhabitants of Striga heard the fading scream.

Somewhere in Independence Port

"You will not win, Idrael..." Abigor wheezed.

"Oh? You sound confident," Idrael sneered back. "Especially since...you're losing." With that, he struck the demon once more, drawing the Sword of Truth across his belly. The howls of the demon echoed off the tall buildings throughout the port, but fell in a muffled thud into the water. "Try again in a thousand years, Abigor!" Idrael allowed the power of the heavens to infuse him--to flow through him--to enliven him. In a fit of holy wrath, he scooped up the demon in one hand, ripped the fabric of the universe with the other and cast the beast back into the fiery domain of Hell. As his body returned to a more normal form and his eyes dimmed, he caught the sound of someone crying. Looking to his left, he saw a small child--a girl of about 6--seated on the steps to her apartment home. He watched her for a moment, then walked over to her. "What is the matter, little one?" he asked in a gentle, tender voice.

"I'm lost..."

Idrael smiled. "I will help you find your way..."

Golden Giza, St. Martial

"Really? Jou vould be villing to blow up die Giza ... yust für mir?"

"You don't know much 'bout me if you think I wouldn't," Dante replied. Demoryel simply laughed. She fixed her eyes on him, blocking out everyone else in the Rave Room and slowly stalked toward him. She smiled as she approached; her gait was slow and swaggerly, her hips swaying just enough to accent and just a bit more pique curiosities; her arms hung loosely from her shoulders, moving freely as she crept in measured fashion toward her target. She stopped just in front of him and ran a finger along his jawline, "Meine Liebe..." she began, leaning in closer; her eyes were half-closed--'bedroom eyes,' some called them--and her lips were full and ready to engulf his in a Kiss.

Without batting an eye, he spoke into his wristband, "Abort the missiles." She chuckled and continued to stroke his cheek; he swatted her hand away from his face. "Don't even think about it."

With a dark chuckle, she lowered her head, eyes still held fast to his, "Too late...." She grinned, drawing the tip of her finger to her teeth as she just stared at him. She was mentally undressing him...and scalping him...and skinning him...and disembowling him...truly, her fantasy was nearly orgasmic. She turned on heel and sauntered back to her place on the stage. Not long after, Rijarin appeared and grinned to her. "Guten Abend, meine Hertz," she grinned. Indicating Dante with naught but her eyes, she murmured, "I need a new hat." A new, devilishly handsome patron near the bar heard her, grinned, and offered a couple of his blades. He would be useful later.

Rijarin grinned, "Ah, yes. He's not quite your shade, my dear." Demoryel gave a mock-pout. "Fear not. We will have plenty of uses for him."

"He vas going to blow up die Giza," she informed Rijarin with feigned fear and horror.

"Really!" Rijarin responded in kind. "Whatever made him stop?"

Demoryel smirked, "Die same ting dat vill be his downfall...his love of die people." They both shared a laugh. Dante slipped out of the Giza, armed with what he needed.

Pocket D...Later

"Idrael, how did things go with Abigor?"

"He has been disposed...for the next thousand years. And Demoryel?"

"She's still up to her bullshit. She doesn't have the dagger, though."

"Neither did Abigor."

Dante frowned, "So. That leaves Samael and Baal...have you seen Aerial?"

"I have not," Idrael stated flatly. Dante frowned a bit. "She will be fine, Dante."

"Yeah, I'm not so sure. It was a mistake to send her alone."

"She went with her clone...and she has divine protection," Idrael reminded.

"Still sh--"

"She's gone..." a small voice came from below the platform. "They....they took her...why her? ....why not...why not me? Why not both?!" Idrael and Dante leaned over the railing, then both rushed down to Mini-Aerial 42's side. Both men knelt by her. "...why did they take her and not me?" She asked again.

Idrael frowned, "I do not know, little one. I do not know."

"Perhaps," Dante began, "They needed you to give us a message?"

"Message? I'll give them a mess--ow....as soon as I heal..." She let out a whimper and leaned against the men.

"Do you know where they took her?" Dante asked 42.

"I do," Idrael interrupted. "And I know where the dagger is, now. Call Master Sergeant Morris and the rest of the team. Consider the other staff at the station. We will need all the hands we can get. This will not be an easy task."

"Is Aerial gonna be okay?" 42 asked weakly.

Idrael put his hand on her head, and without looking at her, vowed Aerial would be returned.

Meanwhile...Under Devil's Peak

"So, Aerial..." Samael began. "Where is your boss...Suri-el?" he practically spit out her name.

"I wouldn't tell you even if I knew." A backhand drew blood from an already bruised cheek. She looked up at Baal and sneered at him. "You're just a fuckin' fool." He raised his hand to backhand her again, she flinched, Samael stayed his hand. "No need for that. Not when we have something better. It seems that Celestials all have something in common."

"What's that?" Baal asked, dumbly.

"Their wings. And, we've seen what happens when they are ripped from their bodies..." Samael looked back to Aerial and caressed her face with the back of his fingers. She struggled to pull away, but found the bonds were too tight. Samael let out a deep chuckle. "I wonder...perhaps we should be kinder to her?"

"Kinder?!" Baal spluttered in surprise.

"Yes. Rather than rip them from her body, breaking every bone...why not cut them off her?" Samael looked to Baal, grinning.

"Cut...them..." Baal began, not understanding. Then it hit him like a light bulb. "Oh, right. Yes. We should cut them off her."

Samael facepalmed as Baal turned around to grab the cutting utensil. He knelt down to look Aerial in the face, "Good help...so hard to find, don't you agree?" He chuckled as he mimicked 42 getting sucker-punched and crumbling to the ground. Aerial grew fiercely angry and struggled against the bonds that held her fast to the specially designed wall. Baal turned around, grinning. "Are you ready, Baal?"

"Indeed!"

"Then let's get started..." Samael stood up, kissed Aerial's head and walked behind her, gripping both her wings tightly in his hands. Without warning, anesthetics, or fanfare, Baal slammed the Dagger of Anathama down on her wing, creating a groove and began to slowly saw. Aerial let out several cries of pain that turned into screams. By the time the dagger had hewn through the first wing, Aerial was weak. Samael grinned. "Let's give her some time. We'll check back in a few minutes." He let Baal walk out the door, first, then stood and observed the angel. Something isn't right... he thought to himself. She is still here.....

From the other side of the brace, he heard a muffled sound. He grinned slightly and stepped forward, "I'm sorry, dear, speak up...I couldn't hear you."

"F...f...fuck. You..." she finally managed to get out. "Angel will be here...with her friends....and you....are so dead. How's the Lake o' Fire for a million years sound, fucktard?" She looked up at him, sneering and nearly laughing. Samael, now furious and flustered, grabbed the dagger and began to hack away at the other wing. With each slam of the dagger into the flesh, bone, and muscle of the remaining wing, Aerial let out a cry of pain. When Samael was half-way through the wing, he threw the dagger aside, gripped the wing tightly in his hand, and in a furious rage, ripped it from her body. Baal was just in time to have her blood splatter all over him. He sizzled for a moment, letting out his own scream of pain, staring at Samael, helplessly. Samael, sneered, then grabbed another dagger and threw it into Baal's heart. His physical form burst into flames, then crumbled into a pile of ash.

"Fuck you, half-breed!" Samael sneered, rounding on her. "I will kill you myself!"

"Go ahead and try. I double-dog dare ya."

He lunged for her, but was stopped short by a shield to the face. He shook out his head and turned to face his attacker. "YOU!" he growled.

"Let her go!" Idrael spoke forcefully.

"Take her. She's of no use. You, on the other hand... Michael's bitch...." Idrael bristled. "You know what happened to him?" Idrael set his jaw. "The question is better asked...what didn't happen to him!" Samael let out a laugh and rose to his feet. "He's not your concern anymore. Dead. Just like Suri-el will be. This one," he indicated Aerial, "is a half-breed. No use for half-breeds. Take her."

Idrael motioned to Sarge to get Aerial out of her bindings. He kept his eyes on Samael. Jules attempted to stabilize her while Matt and Dante checked around to make sure no one else was coming. Idrael noticed the pile of sizzling ash on the floor. "Kill you partner? So very you." Samael sneered.

"You have no idea what's coming," Samael murmured. "You have no idea the forces against which you say you and your shit army is going to win. You are not prepared..."

"Save it," Matthew stated. "That line's been over used." He rolled his eyes and as his gaze fell on the floor, he saw a bone, silver, and ruby handled dagger lying on the floor. He surveyed the situation, quickly, then made a dash for the dagger, scooping it up and hitting his mediport system. Idrael and Dante looked at each other, then grinned. Idrael looked back to Samael who now stood in horror.

"NO!" He shouted.

"Too late," Idrael sneered and with a single slashing blow of his broadsword, he deprived Samael's body of the head. The demon burst into flames and vanished in a puff of smoke.

"We gotta get 'er to th' 'ospital!" Jules stammered. "I'm loosin' 'er."

"Mediport her out," Idrael stated. "Go with her. Do not leave her side." Jules nodded and the two disappeared. "Let us return to Paragon City, my friends. It seems our friend Ascalon has something we need."

_________________
Love & Celestial Kisses,


DJ Angel, Station Manager
Champions Online: @djangelica | The Secret World: DJAngel
Twitter: @Kryssieness | Facebook: Angelkins | Skype: crymson_fate | YIM: fair_hero | Steam: Angelcakes
The Snowflake Diaries | dA | Ravelry

"Matthew," Idrael spoke calmly as he entered the room. "I need the Dagger."

"What for?" Matthew frowned. "I thought we were going to do a ritual or something?"

Idrael shook his head. "We need to stop Demoryel, first. This has gone on too long. Gabriel requested I bring him the Dagger; I am not certain what that oaf intends to do, but...unfortunately, he outranks me." Idrael held out his hand and Matthew laid the Dagger of Anatham on his hand. "Thank you. This battle is soon over."

Matthew nodded. "I hope so. I am tired of my friends getting hurt."

*********

Aerial was sedated. Angel sat by her side, as did Angel's best friend, Jules. Angel frowned as she lightly stroked Aerial's brow. "This has got to stop, Jules. In all my lifetimes, I've never...they've never...." her eyes filled with tears and she buried her face against Aerial's neck. Aerial's hand lightly touched the back of Angel's hair. Jules gripped Aerial's other hand, tightly. Sin paced at the foot of the bed, muttering.

"Don't worry, boss lady...." Aerial managed to get out. "We're gonna get the fuckers."

Angel chuckled through her tears. As she leaned back, Battledog entered the room. "Hey, just came to check on you lot."

"Hey, Dave..." Aerial forced a smile. "We're good. We're allll goooood..."

He gave her a dubious look. "Suuuure y'are. What do they have you on? Percocet? Darvocet?"

"Demorol."

"Good stuff, that." He gave a grin and looked to Angel, "So what is your plan?"

Angel deflated a little. "I don't know, Dave. I'm....I'm not tactical."

"Sarge is. Pheo is. I am. Why won't you ask for help?"

Angel stood and walked over to Dave, place a hand gently over his heart, "Because you are my friends and this war is not yours. This war is mine...and Michael's...and Gabriel's...and now I am the only one left."

"No, you're not," Jules spoke up. "Not th' only one..."

Angelica smiled and turned to her friend, "I know. I have you and Dave and Leah and Dante an--"

"No," Jules interrupted. "Gabriel's back."

Angelica blinked and stared at Jules. "What?!"

"Yeah. 'E wanted us t' git 'im th' Dagger. 'S how Aerial got 'urt."

Angelica narrowed her eyes in thought. "But...it's not been long enough for him to generate and reincarnate...."

"What are you talking about?" Dave asked, gently moving her hand--which was growing hotter--from his chest.

"I saw him....he was the first victim of all this. It was a message to me..."

"You're babb'lin' hun," Jules frowned.

"Yeah, what are you talking about? Matt found the dagger and Idrael's on his way to the station to give it to Gabriel."

"Oh," came Angelica's confused response. "W-well. Let's go to the Station, then...Demoryel should be on air soon."

"Perfect time to get her...." Dave grinned.

"Yeah, she wouldn' expect it," Jules reaffirmed.

"I'm comin' too!" Aerial grinned as she started to climb out of her bed.

"No!" came the collective response from everyone in the room.

Aerial stopped and stared at everyone, then frowned, "Goddammit! Why does everyone have to treat me like some kind of fuckin' invalid! Get the hell outta my way and let me kick some ass! I owe to Angel an' myself, for fuck's sake."

Everyone blinked and looked at each other. "She's back," Angel said. "Let's go."

(( Tune in to Sanctus Seductions on October 2/3, for the exciting conclusion to this portion of the story ))

_________________
Love & Celestial Kisses,


DJ Angel, Station Manager
Champions Online: @djangelica | The Secret World: DJAngel
Twitter: @Kryssieness | Facebook: Angelkins | Skype: crymson_fate | YIM: fair_hero | Steam: Angelcakes
The Snowflake Diaries | dA | Ravelry