The Lost Ones (IC)

[XxRikaxX]

"Their faces are oppressive and filled with woe

And even though they weep, their presence has a glow

You cannot see them but they're always there

The Lost Ones watch with their unsettling glare

The angels seek for them and the demons catch

But the Lost Ones hide and refuse to be fetched

They scare the humans who still walk on Earth

For they are jealous that the humans can be birthed

Each day is a misery and very un-flattering

As the Lost Ones watch the humans chattering

They cannot speak but only cause fear

To the humans who stand there, who draw near

Such little hope are the Lost Ones' hearts

For it is bleeding and bleeding from many parts

But there could be a glimmer of hope

All they have to do is wait and cope

The archangels will one day deliver them from despair

To all the Lost Ones there, here, and everywhere."

With a flap of delicate, neatly feathered wings, Gabriel lifted to the sky in pursuit of most human’s paradise: Heaven. Numerous stars flashed by her as she traveled towards a particular bright light, no light that nary a living human would ever witness. Now, the path to Heaven was quite an intricate way to fly, but, living since creation, every archangel had it memorized back in forth. That also includes the Bible, the Torah, the Book of Enoch, and others. Gabriel carefully flew left, right, right, left, up, up, down, right, left, down, up, up, left, two paces right, and another left, up, down, and then she would be there. Her tiny wings folded in and she landed on the soft ground of Heaven. Many angels scrambled towards her to ask of news, but she simply shook her head in grief and walked away.

Having such low confidence, Gabriel, not once in her life, had ever admitted she had done a good job. This reason was definitely unknown, for she was the favored angel, she was God’s right hand, and had practically devoted her everything to making all the wars stop. Gabriel doubted her abilities, and wondered why her big brother, Michael wasn’t the favored one. He had the willpower and simple brute strength to cast his own brother out of Heaven, while the Gabriel just watched in terror, quietly praying for it to be over. And after that day, she had wondered if it hurt Michael just as much as it hurt her. Yes, Gabriel remembered the war fondly, a nightmare she would forgive, but never forget. Screaming angels fighting for God, and Lucifer’s angels shoving knives in their backs, tearing away at their flesh, while the archangels tore off Lucifer’s angels’ wings. All the bloodshed, all the pain and sorrow that day…It had casted a great cry all over Heaven and even Hell as well. But the only thing Gabriel wanted to say, no, wanted to scream, was why? Why did it all happen?

Walking along the soft surface of holy ground, Gabriel made a turn to give news to another archangel. Surely they would report it to God for her, lest she hide her face in guilt. All the Lost Ones she retrieved were only half of them. 2 out of 4 in Georgia, 4 out of 8 in Washington, and about 1 out of 2 in New Jersey. Exactly and precisely, the Lost Ones findings were cut in half, and, even so, Gabriel had let herself become discouraged by the whole predicament. Sure, it had been raging on for years, but who could get used to the idea of giving whole effort, but being rewarded half the prize? It even made her a little frustrated and stressed, but that never got her anywhere, or so she was told by God. But even so, life wasn’t as glamorous as any Earthwalker would imagine it to be. Archangels had the greatest burden in Heaven, carrying out tasks, some big, some little, some even that could lead to their end if they didn’t perform it correctly. But they were favored amongst many, so it paid off in the end.

No archangel created by God had ever failed a task that he commanded, so it was all okay. If an archangel had gotten too prideful, like Lucifer, it was Michael’s job to cast it down to Hell and rip off its wings, which Gabriel thought would be quite painful, considering an archangel’s wings were the most sensitive place on their body. But no demon shouldst ever learn that secret, even though the obvious was right in front of their gruesome blood shot eyes.

Scanning the area around her, Gabriel realized there was no archangel in sight, so she sat down on the holy ground that claimed to be Heaven, and shut her eyes for a brief moment. Perhaps Lucifer will give up this game and things could go back to the way they were. Lucifer being down in Hell, the archangels delivering news, God watching his somewhat peaceful world, and a balance between chaos and luxury. That was what Gabriel the archangel aimed for…and she had determination in her heart that she was going to get it, whether dead or alive.

--

Matthew River jumped off the bus in New York City, breaking into the crowd of crude and shrewd people. The greyish New York sky did not fit his light sunny hair well, as his emerald eyes were a problem in that too. Cocooned in dark jeans and a grey hoodie, he had on the perfect clothes for blending in and decreasing the chances of being discovered. Recently, about six days ago, Lucifer had encountered yet again, another demon who seeked for a medium's assistance. This made the 19 year old flee the scene, and has been on the run ever since. Now he was in the famous American city, NYC, a great place to confuse any demon, considering there were millions of people here. But even so, he had a wary feeling that these people were just as demonic as real demons.

As Matthew gazed around, unusually taller than other people in the strings of crowds, he pushed his way through and walked into a hair salon, hoping to conceal himself from any danger. Just because he was surrounded by things that seemed like people, didn't mean they were people. So, the boy just plopped down in a red chair and waited for awhile, waiting for the crowd to clear out.

[spineripper123]

Grim sighed as he sat back in a chair, inside the guard house of a cemetry he was currently working at. He watched as a group of people came inside the cemetery carrying a coffin, followed by weeping relatives, friends and others. Grim knew exactly who it was, Mary J. Thompson. Age 25, single, killed in a car crash. Why you ask? He was the Grim Reaper, he was there when she was killed. Actually, he escorted her soul. But now, you might wonder. Why is the Grim Reaper working at a cemetery? Doesn't he have better things to do? In fact, Grim didn't like working there at all but it was the only thing he could get to mask his identity. Ever since Lucifer created a mission to convert all the Lost Souls to demons, he had been hiding there ever since. He guessed that the Lost Souls can easily be found in the cemetery for obvious reasons. Suddenly, sound of bells echoed inside Grim's head. Guess the time has come that someone should die. Pity the soul. Grim then knew that the location was in NYC. Unleashing his true form, he vanished and later reappeared in the midst of a crowd of people in NYC.

They couldn't see Grim because of his Cloak of Death but that's not important, what's important was the identity of the person who will die. Looking at the incoming crowd, Grim saw his target. A woman who looked miserable, guess she was having problems. Grim saw that she was heading towards a hair salon. Ann Hark L. Robinson, age 31, divorced.

"She won't reach it in time." Grim chuckled as he waved his hand and out came the thing that would kill her. A robber.

The robber dashed madly at her as he tried to tug her bag away from the girl. However, the girl resisted and with no choice the robber shot her and her body dropped to the pavement. With only three steps away from the salon. Pitiful.

Grim approached the corpse as people swarmed around the dead body. With a reach of his hand, the soul came out as he grabbed the girl's soul.

"You're coming with me Anne. I am the Grim Reaper." Grim chuckled.

[Shiftipher]

Up the stairs, down the stairs, through the living room, into the kitchen, back to the living room, up the stairs once more. The life of Miss Molly Gwyn was not exciting, nor was it enough to keep her satisfied. The only thing that could possibly keep her satisfied was if an infant were to suddenly appear in the house, but that was never going to happen. The house was for sale once again, the last family had fixed the place up nicely, but they left in such a hurry they even left the furniture. The ghost of the woman was passing through the main room for the umpteenth time today, carefully swaying around the pricey furniture. She knew quite well she could simply go through it, but it made her feel better to move around it, as if she still was alive and had to worry about such things. Her long, delicate fingers traced over the soft, honey colored suede, the lack of feeling made her eye close as a sigh escaped her shapely lips.

Molly made her usual route, through the couch, to the stairs. She held the dark wood of the stair railing, hand gliding over the rail as she floated up the stairs. She didn't move her legs much, she was becoming a bit lazy as each moment made her more and more melancholy. Finally, her presence dusted the top floor, eyes finally flicking open and gazing over the dull premise. She wasn't fond of what the last tenants had furnished her home with, but at least it was different. Miss Gwyn made her way to the nursery, gently placing herself in the only thing over 5 years old in the house; a white, antique rocking chair.

Her once green eyes were staring out of the large, wrap-around window at the surrounding world. The white, antique crib, bought to match the chair, was empty, waiting for a child to warm with the soft, wool blankets that lined it. The only thing the translucently pale young woman could think about was where her baby was. The precious child that should be sleeping in the empty crib. The single candle that would light up the dark home of Molly Gwyn If only somebody could tell her -- no, if only somebody could convince her the baby was gone, maybe she would finally be able to drift away from sitting in the miserable home of love and betrayal passed.

[Evil Tofu]

"Why, it's quite scandalous Irene." Two women, both in their thirties sat in bright red leather chairs placed in front of a counter top with a large mirror reflecting their wrinkly faces right back at them. On this counter were many tools; scissors, razers, hair gel, hair dye, pins, clips, shampoo, conditioner and even a small spray bottle of water. Atropos was standing behind the woman who was speaking, cutting her hair swiftly with a pair of gold plated scissors. "Julie's husband was apparently seen at the local bar down on Fourth Street with who other than Julie's own maid Marissa." Atropos ignored the gossiping of the two women and proceeded to spray the lady's hair with water. She kicked a little dial on the bottom of the chair, pushing it further up into the air for her to get in closer. Lachesis walked out from the staff room, wearing a white sleevless shirt and black tights. She had a similar pair of golden plated scissors in her hands as she approached the other lady in the spare chair.
"Sorry for the wait. I found the spare scissors." The lady ignored her, too engrossed in the gossip her friend was feeding her.
"If you ask me, it's Julie's fault. A man like Robert is very loyal to his spouse; she must have been having an affair." The two women nodded at each other, much to the annoyance of Atropos who was trying to do their hair.
"Keep your head still, love." The lady muttered an apology, and Atropos delivered the last cut before removing the protective clothe which was covered in black hair.
"Lovely as always." The woman praised Atropos, standing up from the chair and waiting by the door.
"Would you like me to cut a little bit more off the fringe?" The lady shook her head, holding her hand up to say that the job Lachesis had done was fine.
"You're getting better, dear. You're still not quite as good as your sister though." Lachesis walked back into the staff room, removing a broom so that she could sweep the remainder of the floor.
Not as good as Atropos? We're the same person.

Clotho handed back the direct change to the old ladies as they exited the salon.
"Have a nice day." When the door closed, Clotho let out a sigh of relief and pulled a bottle of whiskey out from behind the counter. Popping open the bottle, she took a large swig out of it before having it confiscated by Lachesis.
"Not until we finish work." When she said 'work' she meant the conversion of Lost Souls.
"We haven't seen a Lost One in over a week. Loosen up a little." She snatched the bottle back, but quickly hid it as a young man with sunny hair entered their salon.
"Welcome to the Three Fates. What can I do for you today?" Lachesis grabbed the bag out of the rubbish bin and walked out of the shop. Opening up the larger bin around the corner, she threw it in before hearing the loud bang of a gunshot. Running back to the front of the shop, she saw a robber suddenly shoot a woman square in the chest and then run off. Even though she couldn't see anything, she felt a presence in front of her.

[spineripper123]

Grim chuckled as he lifted the soul. Apparently, the woman was quite restless and vengeful. Her soul full of spite, to hell then. Grim touched the air with his scythe as a black portal appeared(invisible to normal humans). Grim then shoved the soul into the portal where it is now damned for all eternity. Grim sensed another presence, another powerful presence. Somewhat demonic. Following the trace of power, Grim was shocked as he came upon the hair salon.

"Interesting." Grim mumbled as he transformed into his human disguise. He then went in the salon as he sensed a tremendous power inside. Demons? Angels? Clairvoyants? Very interesting indeed.

He sat on the comfy seat as he traced the source of power. There were women inside, apparently the owners. There was also another guy there. Maybe there was a lost soul there... Better to investigate.

Grim surveyed his surroundings. Hmm... There might be an angel around here somewhere. Suddenly, a ringing sound echoed in his head. A Lost Soul was near... A restless one at that. Inside a for sale house. That can wait, Grim needed to find out the source of this power.

[Uffizi]

Manifestation

The waters of Lake Erie were calm, and unaffected by the schools of bluegill and bass trafficking beneath its mirrored surface. A rather large big mouth bass propelled through the waters intimidating its smaller kin to scatter in different directions. The simple creature was mesmerized, as its kin were, by an unfamiliar creature to its world. A worm. Plump, and writhing in distress the worm was impaled thrice, upon a wicked metal hook. The hook was well concealed within the worm's innards, and it was suspended in the water by a near-invisible string that lifted vertically to the surface. The bass had no conscious thought besides: hunger. Impending doom washed over the nightcrawler worm, as the large bass gobbled the creature into its maw.. A mistake. Searing pain erupted throughout the bass' maw as a wicked metal hook ejected itself through the upper lip. Now, writhing much like the recently ingested worm, the bass swam frantically in circles, searching for a hiding spot. Perhaps, the cover of the seaweed would prove sufficient.

Buferd M. Bucelli, an elder in his society, said society being mankind. He was a frail man, age sixty-four. Mr. Bucelli grimaced as he attempted to reel in whatever he had caught. It would be the first catch of the day on a rather disappointing day to say the least.
"Come on ye old sum bitch!", Mr. Bucelli trash-talked.
His bony hands turned a whitish hue, far different than his tanned Italian complexion, as he gripped tightly on his fishing rod with his left hand, placing in firmly into his stomach for leverage. Mr. Bucelli spun vigorously clockwise on the reel with his thumb and index finger. Tongue pinched easily between his lips the man squinted at the surface of the water. He was winning the battle.

Exhausted, unable to continue the struggle, the bass found itself being dragged closer and closer to the surface. A dazzling light blinded the creature; emitted from a large globe of infernal torture. Uselessly wriggling, the bass discovered it could not breath once it broke the surface. Oddly, its last sight was that of a ugly creature, with a sinister smirk upon its face. An unfamiliar cold washed over the defeated fish.

"Woo hoo!". Mr. Bucelli declared.
Placing his right thumb over the bottom lip, he pinched his hand together while simultaneously removing the hook with his left hand. Suspending the trophy-worthy bass in midair, Mr. Bucelli chuckled at his luck. A marlboro cigarette found its way into the mouth of Bucelli, and the man was eager to light it; after placing the bass into a bucket of chilled water. Inhaling deeply, Bucelli flopped down into a folding chair on the docks of Lake Erie. He peered through his spectacles across the water, admiring its stillness. Seagulls chattered from the skies above, drifting majestically through the smooth skies.

Little Augie M. Bucelli, age seven, ran down from the wooded scene to find his grandfather relaxed in his folding chair. Augie caught his breath placing a hand upon a pine tree before treading down to the beginning of the dock.
"Ye catch anythin' papa?", Augie annouced as he approached the bucket beside his grandfather.
"Little Aug, ye know yer papa doesn't go down without a fight! Check inside the bucket at what I caught a little bit ago.", Buferd Bucelli beckoned while inhaling some more from his cigarette.
Little Augie looked intently into the bucket of water, and saw the defeated fish floating, dead as can be, inside the bucket. What Little Augie didn't realize is that this was no ordinary fish, no, in fact this was no ordinary being at all.

The Archangel Raphael directed his bulbous fish eye upwards towards Augie Bucelli, an unfortunate "Lost One", and cleverly hidden from the all-seeing eye of Heaven. Augie looked in confusion as if the fish were peering into his very soul, his childish fervor seemed at a stand still. He felt an overwhelming sense of exhaustion wash over him. Little Augie yawned, and without speaking distanced himself from his grandfather, Buferd M. Bucelli, spinning around and slowly walking back towards the woodland.

"Where ye going Little Augie?, Buferd asked in confusion.
The elder man stood from his seat and began to walk in the direction of Augie, but was stopped short. Cigarette dropped from the mouth of Buferd, as the bucket vibrated supernaturally, and a scintillating light erupted from within. A frail arm lifted to shield the eyes of Buferd as he took several steps back, tripping over his chair, and plummeting down onto the hard wooden dock. Within the bucket, a metamorphosis took place. Said metamorphosis was rather glorious. Two majestic, white feathered wings erupted from the light, along with flowing red garments. As the light dissipated into a circular halo, which hovered in mid-air; a dashing man, with curly brown locks, and a toned physique stood imposingly over the fallen Buferd Bucelli. Wings extended fully the Archangel Raphael narrowed his eyes at the frail man.

"Your plot ceases here, demon", Raphael announced with a booming, charismatic voice.

Shear horror washed over Buferd Bucelli, a.k.a. the demon Ukavimash.. it was discovered.

[XxRikaxX]

Matthew River had witnessed someone else's life flash before their eyes. A woman just outside the barber shop, had been shot and he saw everything. Matthew's eye's widened and his pupils turned into teeny tiny dots. Where? Who? Who was the culprit? Where is he? Beads of sweat began to form on the surface of his forehead, as he searched through the crowd that surrounded the girl. Then, his lips turned into a taut frown as the medium spotted him. Legends, stories, myths, but Matthew knew the truth. The Grim Reaper was real and standing right infront of him, stealing the pitiful woman's soul. No one else could see him in the shady brown crowd, except Matt. Now the city of New York seemed even gloomier and a cold draft started to seep through the air in the room. Some people shuffled away from the corpse, but others, the Holy Ones, stayed and called the police. A sadness flew into the young man's heart, for he knew shadows loomed around even the most innocent folk. Lucifer was practically at their door. Matt pursed his lips and saw another man probably around his late 30s, walk into the barber shop, with an expression that probably hid all his emotions. For some odd reason, Matthew looked down at his chest to notice his heart was beating rapidly. He had a strange feeling...a feeling he felt everyday, though. Fear.

It was coming from the man sitting across from him, as he was scanning his surroundings. Matthew's whole body tensed up like a statue and he stood up, staring down at the man, but quickly cutting off eye contact. He then turned to the pretty women and gave his charming, winning smile. He could've looked like those preps in highschool with their blonde hair, bright eyes, flashy smiley teeth and a toned body, but Matthew was truly and outsider, an outlier.

"I'm sorry to bother you. You see, I have been travelling near and far...I'm just not used to the city of New York, with the crude people and crowds and stuff, so I came in here to get away and rest a bit. But I'm all better now, misses. Thank you!" He chimed and dipped his head in respect, then gazed at the three of them. Something about them set Matthew River off...and not the good way. He slightly had the same feeling he had with the man sitting in the chair, but maybe a little...more of it? This aura seemed so delicate...slightly like a rose. But, like all roses, they have their thorns. The correct senario for these young ladies, Matthew thought. Beautiful, but deadly. Then it hit the medium. Like that time before, Matthew immediately realized these "people" were demons, and powerful ones as well. Created and crafted by Lucifer himself, Matthew was sure they were in New York City collecting Lost Souls for the Prince of Darkness. Matthew's hands shook and he coughed, gazing downward. Realizing he was still standing there, Matthew quickly nodded to all of them, and walked, no ran, out with his breath quickening. The young man cut a corner and went down an alley way, where he sat next to a trash can putting his head in his hands.

Where the hell was the archangels? Gabriel, Michael, and Raphael especially! Don't they know that NYC is packed with people and packed with murder as well? It had only been two times that he met Gabriel, a petite, small, young, child archangel. In truth, she was probably the most modest and low self esteemed archangel he ever knew, but, then again, he only had met two: Gabriel and Michael. Regaining his breath, Matthew stood up on the wet black pavement and looked at the brick wall across from him with graffiti on it.

The demons will not win. He thought to himself and clenched his fists. Anger had taken over fear. Matthew had witnessed many deaths, but he had a feeling New York was going to be the most abundant of all. Putting his hands in his pockets, Matthew walked down the alley way and cleared his throat. Where were the heroes? True, Matthew could levitate a couple of things, but how could rocks defeat powerful notorious demons?! Deciding it, Matthew would contact one of the archangels and inform them of the bad news. Lets hope they take it right. The blonde haired teenager thought to himself and continued to walk.

--

Gabriel the Archangel had a distress signal beeping inside of her head. With urgency, she shut her eyes and tried to make out who was giving someone a signal. Then, realization dawned. No one else could contact archangels in the flesh, except mediums, and, in Gabriel's whole everlasting life, she had only met two and one was dead. So...that means Matthew River was in trouble. Taking a seat on the ground, she put a hand to her forehead, trying to make out what Matt's thoughts were. Inside her mind, other thoughts rambled on and on, and Gabriel was slowly losing Matthew. Tapping the ground softly but fastly, she pursed her lips and clenched her right fist. Pit-pat, pit pat, pit pat, the sound of her tapping put her at ease and the young child immediately saw the destruction unfold in NYC. Is that where Matt had travelled to? Quickly resuming to the subject at hand, Gabriel instantly recognized the Grim Reaper and the Three Fates, who had been unaware, or seemed unaware, of Gabriel's curious quirks. For centuries, the both of them had been spied on by her and she would fully admit it if they had met her in person(an angel never lies).

Quickly dismissing the horrid visions he sent her, she sent something back. The picture was painted quite clearly. The young archangel had sended him a scene of where Lost Ones all around the world were being up for grabs. She then showed him the locations of the Lost Ones in NYC and areas close to NYC. Its up to you, Matt. Help Heaven and you will truly be a righteous man. Now, I would appreciate it if you found each Lost One and, when all of them are collected, bring them to me or any other archangel. But, whatever you do, do not give it to a demon. We can't afford to lose anymore. She sent it to him and stood up, smoothing down her fiery red hair. Lucifer, Lucifer, Lucifer, she thought as if wagging her finger at him in person. With a shake of the head and the downcast look on her face, she took a peak around Heaven. Where were the other archangels when you needed them? She wondered.

[spineripper123]

Grim chuckled as he realized the man that sat across him in that salon was a rare kind of human who could see the supernatural. He then discovered that the women in that salon were the Morai. How exciting.

Grim stood up as he approached the Morai sisters.

"How exciting to see other demons such as yourselves. Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos. Might I trust that you have caught Lost Souls? I know you are just one but you are three pieces apart. But I guess seeing your condition I'll just prepare myself to be disappointed. No souls." Grim sighed as he shifted into his grim reaper form, scythe in hand.

"For now, I've caught scent of a Lost Soul in the next district. But I've got someone to deal with. He can see us and he might call those light winged bastards." Grim growled as he went out of the salon by passing through the walls.

Grim touched the air with his scythe and a black portal appeared, the one named Matthew was in the portal, it seems he was walking around NYC.

"Hmm... His name is Matthew.. His death is still not in order yet. I can't kill him, better dissuade him then." Grim decided as he stepped into the portal, teleporting him to the spot just above Matthew.

It seems they were in a dark alley, perfect for the scare. Grim pointed his scythe at the surroundings, the walls. Everything turned pitch black, all was darkness in the alley. Matthew would see nothing but darkness.

Suddenly, serpent made of flames(illusions) circled around Matthew, lighting the ever endless darkness.

"Greetings, my little friend. I heard you can see us." Grim showed himself, his black cloak flowing in the midnight sky.

"If you don't mind, would you like to die for the better good?" Grim chuckled as he pointed the tip of his scythe at him.

[PainlessSorrow]

She would've been fifteen in one week, if only she'd managed to survive that long. Humans were frail, she was weaker than most, it had been far, far to easy.

Her name was Juliana Simson, she was a freshman in a small town Arizona high school. The youngest daughter of three she always felt she was covered in her sisters' shadows, she was not particularly beautiful or smart, mostly ranging to average in everything-except her emotions. The little thing just couldn't help the water works, she was very easily swayed and confused. She had no friends, a lonely little weed.

All he had to do was kill the previous teacher and assume his identity, none of the moronic humans would notice. So to cheer up such a miserable creature he began to favor her, what lonely girl could resist becoming a teachers pet? Of course he only ended up corrupting her, making her feel so good, filling her with sin. Once she was she was fixed he broke her. He began to mistreat her, blackmail her, make her have to work three times as hard as everyone else to get half as good of a grade as them. It wasn't long before the young girl could no longer bare it.

One week before her fifteenth birthday, Juliana came home and slit her wrist upon a sharp pair of scissors. Allowing herself to bleed to death as she cried her eyes out. After all her parents didn't even need her, no one did.

Lucifer smiled, and empty dark smile one that was barely even enjoying the event that were taking place. He stood now in his original form, both beautiful and evil an Angel filled with blackness. "Come Julie," He spoke softly in a welcoming whisper, much like a lover whispering in the night. "I am going to take you to a wonderful place, there is no longer a reason for you to remain here." How easily he could make it sound like he had these things humans call emotions, how easy it was to deceive.

The young girl felt herself begin to cry, no. She wasn't crying, tears wouldn't come any longer. If anything she was terribly sad that she was still alive. How could she be alive, she'd taken every act possible to make sure this would be her last evening. "Come where?" She wanted to hide, she hated people, they were deceptive and cruel there only ways were that of evil.

A small annoying prick bothered the dark prince, things were beginning to happen somewhere over on the east coast. He would remain here a while longer though, unless it became worse, he had a feeling that if he got to involved he would come across the Arch Angels. "Come with me to heaven of course," He spoke as sweetly as he could, as endearing as he could.

"R-r-really?" The girls eyes widened, there was certainly no way she could be going to heaven after those...things she'd done.

"No." His voice barely changed but a small, thin smile spread across his face, "You are coming with me to Hell. Heaven does not have need of filthy whores." The girl felt a terrifying hysteria creep over her. Hell. She was going to somewhere that didn't exist. This was wrong. "Come." He grabbed her arm and left for his realm, dragging the girl who could no longer even scream down with him.

[Evil Tofu]

Lachesis wandered back into the shop, meeting her two sisters which were having a drink at the counter. Their wine glasses were filled to the brim with the crimson liquid, and she could see their cheeks going red. It was most likely their third glass. Snatching the bottle from them, Lachesis poured herself her own glass and sculled it down quicker than Clotho and Atropos combined. She finished the last drop of the bottle and chucked it across the room into a small, white trash can. The bell atop of their door rang as another presence entered, this presence who Atropos recognised as Death. In a sense, one would argue that both Grim and Atropos were one in the same; from their myths they were both the destroyers of life, the bringers of death and the one who brings judgement. So it was hard for the three sisters to hear Grim think so low of them.
"We've done our part, Grimm. We were created for killing angels, not collecting the Lost Ones. Look around you, the number of Angels in New York have decreased since we started working in the city. Right, Clotho?" Atropos looked over to her more fair skinned sister, who was still staring out the door. She had felt a strange presence along the man who had entered the shop, and Grim only confirmed her worries.
"Let him send the Angels. He'll just be sending them to their demise. The Morai Sisters have never once failed to cut the threads of life for those holy bastards." Clotho watched as Grim disappeared, and the three sisters stared at each other; knowing that things were starting to heat up.