May 25, 2009

Chapter 5: Finale (Pt.2)

Armored and black winged men stood near the glistening doors. Their postures were alert, ready to pounce. They would not share in the action that they had hoped for. Disappointed expressions crossed the spots on their faces where their helmets did not conceal. Greg eyed one suspiciously, a relatively young Soul Angel born in the 1900's, from a distance.

Michael tapped him on the shoulder. "Shouldn't they be happy? They get the easiest job!" Greg shook his head slowly.

"We have been planning this for centuries. Every single one of us had the hint that we would all be partaking in the action." His eyes strayed to the ever-changing city buildings. "Those twenty Soul Angels have no idea how important their task is. I chose the strongest, aside from five in each of the three battle groups, to stay there. I pray that luck is in our favor this night," he whispered. Michael turned his attention to the only door out.

"I understand now. They'll be swarmed..." Michael's expression hardened. "They don't even know, do they?"

"I didn't have the heart to tell them," Greg said slowly.


---


Ryan hovered a few feet in the air. He twisted his body to face his group. "Everyone ready? Are you just as pumped as I am?" A roaring cheer answered him. "Then let's fly!" He pointed in the northwest direction. Angels buzzed by him, flying as fast as they could. Ryan caught sight of Michael.

"The center throne room is just straight ahead. I'll see you back at the doorway!" He smiled. With amazing speed, he chased after his comrades to the Head Council's Regalia.


Michael gawked at the sychronized operation. More angels appeared in his peripheral vision, headed to the center. Greg stopped before Michael.

"What are you waiting for? Let's get this over with." Greg said. Michael jumped into the air and flapped his wings. A smile formed on his face.

He rushed past Greg, leaving him in his dust. He did not hear his friend follow him. Michael glanced to the side, catching sight of Greg taking an indirect route towards the center. Straight ahead he saw the flashes of metal striking metal. Michael drew closer. Four white winged angels surrounded a black winged angel. The Soul Angel wore the same helmet as he. Michael hefted the large sword resting on his back then charged. He gripped it tightly. When he was a few feet away, he lifted the sword high into the air and let loose a mighty yell.

One Heart Angel turned in time to see his doom. Michael dropped the sword down on his head, slicing clean through. Bright orange blood gushed out from the wound. The body floated limp for a moment, then faded. The injured Soul Angel thrust his sword into an enemy before him. The remaining two fled while the wounded one dropped to the distant ground below them.

Michael stuck out his hand to the Soul Angel. "What's your name?"

"Peter," he answered. He shook the proffered hand then removed his helmet and let it drop to the ground. They heard a faint cracking sound, and looked down. The Heart Angel was unconscious from the blow. Michael lifted his head to face his ally, and a familiar face met him. "I'll be goin' with ya to the throne room."

Michael, a bit dazed, nodded in response. Peter smiled then brused past him towards their destination. Michael stared in confusion. After a few moments, he shook himself from his trance and followed with a brisk pace. His large sword hung loosely in his relaxed grip.

The pair picked up speed as they passed by lined up buildings. Their were nothing but blurs as the two barrelled on toward the throne room. A large, cylindrical shaped structure with four prongs pointing to north, south, east and west loomed in their view. It grew in size as they approached it.

"Where are the others who are helping us out?" Michael questioned as Peter came to a stop.

He faced the top of the building. They were at least a hundred meters away. "The plan was to be as 'elusive' as we could be. I'm thinkin' that Greg and them others are distractin' them Hearties so us can make it in." He turned to Michael. "You the Peacemaker, right? Is a good day to fight, ya!" Peter cheered, raising a fist in the air. Michael laughed.

"Why are you acting so strange?" he inquired. Peter stared blankly.

"I ain't actin' no weird-like, no," he answered. His tone was very forced, as if he had trouble speaking English. "I be the same as I ever be, ya," He nodded. Michael dropped his head in confusion.

"Nevermind. Let's just break our way in while we still can!" The pair tore off at breakneck speed once more.

The distance closed. The building seemed to triple in size by the time they were twenty or so meters away. They saw no opening on the structure. No windows could be seen. A single doorway could not be located. "I is thinkin' we is gonna have to break building in," Peter suggested.


"There's nothing we could throw. Maybe we could wait for Greg?" Michael glanced from left and right.


Peter laughed loudly. Inappropriately loudly was a better term. "Just cover me, I got a plan nicely thought!" He rushed forward. Peter clenched his fists and put away his sword. With a ferocious shout, he thrust his hand into the wall. He followed up with the other hand, starting out slow. The sound attracted others, and soon, Heart Angels were upon them. Peter kept up his pace, increasing it when he felt comfortable. The wall began to crack.

Michael pushed forward with his wings, stopping next to Peter. He held his sword steady, keeping the Hearties at bay. "How long will this take you!?" Michael yelled. One Heart Angel lunged at him - he slapped him away with the flat edge of his sword.

"Justa keep fightin'!" Peter's fists were wrecking the wall. Michael gritted his teeth as two Hearties rushed him. The rest jumped onto him as the oppurtunity arose. He wriggled underneath the grip. He let out muffled cries as they assaulted him with their weapons. Michael expended the last of his strength; he closed his eyes and began to fall. He felt a sickly warm hand grab his wrist, followed up by the whistles of a sword slashing through air. Michael forced his eyes open.

Peter, with black blood spilling from his knuckles, carried him up to the entrance he had made in the structure. The Heart Angels were gone, and he assumed they were killed. The sword in Peter's hand, glowing from the bright orange blood of the Heart Angels, was held tight in his iron grip. He smiled. "Let us be goin' now, ya?" Michael smiled back.

"Thank you. And yes, let's roll!" He ran down a white corridor. As he traversed down multiple hallways and paths, he realized the whole building was the single color of white. Peter kept close to his side. He put a hand in front of Michael, halting him instantly, when they had come across a large, black door. The two drew their weapons slowly.

Peter bent down to place his mouth next to Michael's head. "They is here," He whispered. Michael crept closer to the door, reaching for the handle. His pulse quickened. He could feel a drum beating in his mind.

His companion beat him to it. Peter broke the door as he ran straight into it. Michael jumped back in fear when his eyes saw what lay in the room.

The room was in a circular fashion. It dropped down like a spiral. On the outer edge it was higher elevated. The floor stooped closer to the center. Michael inched forward, seeing through the slit in his helmet desperately. An altar was erected in the dead center of this chamber. On it stood a small, dark brown-skinned boy with white shaggy hair. The white wings flapping idly at his side betrayed who he was.

He lifted his head to face the two. A light beaming down from a hole in the roof enhanced his features. He raised his hands, palm facing up.

"Welcome, Michael. And to you too, Peter. I wish you were a different Peter, though. I miss him ever so much," the young boy laughed darkly. "Shall we begin?" He jumped from the altar with fists raised above his head. A blade appeared from thin air in a flourish of silver between his hands.

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