Alaina: Nephilim

God Damn the fat fuck wouldn’t shut up. Screaming in her head like a damned banshee on helium. High pitched and whiney as fuck.

“Quite yer fucking whining you fat fuck!” Alaina yelled. “He didn’t do shit that you should fire him for, just cause I barfed all over your god damn illegal ledgers? Then quit laundering money for ‘Tiny’ Malone.”

“Fuck you’re a loud son-of-a-bitch!” She wanted to cry it hurt so bad. “I won’t tell about anything else,” she said leaning close to his face and finishing as she screamed in his ear. “If your just SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!!!!!!!”

“Fuck! Gimme the Jack Black from the bottom right drawer.” waving her hand expectantly she slammed her head into the cheap steel desk… Hard. She was crying before hand. And a little less afterwards. Was the ?pain? dulling her ?pain? What the fuck kinds shit was happening here.

Then she Grabbed Randall head and screamed in his face. “I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

She jerked, blood running from her nose as Randall had a seizure and went stiff as a cock on new magazine day. When his eyes rolled up in his head and blood started running from his ears and nose, Alaina sagged and leaned back against the couch, her hand resting in a pool of vomit (hers) and alcohol (his).

“Fuck that’s nice…..” She sighed closing her eyes as the quiet. No it wasn’t dead silent, but it was a lot quieter for whatever reasons the ghosts and demons had finally stopped screaming in her Head and were just a blur for the moment.

Things were moving like bees defending a hive against a wasp attack. Jasmine had put it all into motion quickly and at headquarters, vans were filled and trucks were piled high with heavily armored and armed knights. Orders were shouted, commands were followed, and like a small army, the squads flew out of the headquarters with their tires spinning. They had connections with the police and, even though they couldn't completely explain every aspect of what they did, the police were sure to remain out of their way and to keep out of sight when the knights went rolling. It wasn't so much a secret political wise but it was more of a hush hush type of information. Only the higher ups knew exactly what the knights did and they made sure to work with them and to keep their people going along with them. There were rumors of course, the main one being that the knights were the real men in black. They weren't completely off but they didn't make it a habit to go around erasing minds of those who had witnessed the events. After all, they needed to recruit fresh blood somehow.

As Jasmine listened to her phone ring, she got a ping that she was sure was telling her that the knights were on the move and heading her way and towards the pizzeria. She knew it the knights would work quickly, so she wasn't surprised to get an alert so quickly. What did surprise her was the fact that the phone on the other side of the line actually picked up. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard Kyle's voice on the line. Exactly who she was hoping to speak to.

“Saucy’s Pizzeria. This is Kyle. We’re closed.” He sounded like he was about to hang up and Jasmine had to work quickly before he did. She spoke quickly and sternly, hoping her words would get to him as quickly as possible. She could only imagine the chaos about to ensue there in that shop.

"Kyle Gunner Anderson, you must listen to me and listen well." She spoke quickly, being sure to articulate everything so he could understand even though it was all rushed. "The girl you have with you is Aliana and she is just like you, blessed. The man who is about to approach you is named Michael. He will not harm you, follow his orders and tell him that Aliana needs a sealing. He will understand and know what it means. There are mo-" before she continue speaking, the phone was dropped and Jasmine cursed to herself before she hung up. She listened to the message she had gotten just a moment ago. It read 'ETA five minutes' and then she dialed the number again.

Michael, though an amazing knight, was not always so great and tender when it came to tense situations and young angel born, especially fragile ones like Aliana. She pondered what to do as she pulled Bruno to a pause. She looked around herself. She was sure she could keep walking but it would be easier for the knights to pick her up if her location remained in one spot for them to track her properly. So she took a deep breath and used her cane to feel around for any kind of bench or seat. Luck would have it, that her cane tapped along the leg of a bus stop bench and she came to settle down on it, allowing Bruno to tuck in between her feet. She rubbed at her eyes. Her head still throbbed and she was anxious. She would be happy if this mess ended quickly.

She gazed around, looking for any signs of demon possessed when her eyes settled on the aura of a prophet. It wasn't the strongest prophet aura. Perhaps it was one that belonged to a prophet that didn't completely follow the faith or wasn't aware of what they were. There could be a number of reasons why their aura was as it was, but that still didn't change what they were. They were a prophet. Jasmine sighed before she stood up again and began to walk towards the aura, allowing Bruno to guide her along the way. She had to wait at the side of the street before Bruno would allow her to cross but she eventually made her way towards the boy, being close enough to call out without it looking like some crazy, blind woman was chasing down some poor, unsuspecting man.

"Excuse me, sir!" She called to him, giving Bruno a gentle little tug to let him know she wanted to move faster, "Excuse me! May I have a word with you?"

1923 – Chicago
Ezekiel “Eazy" / "‘Zeke” Corbett – Treasury Department
Knight of the Veil

“Hey ‘Zeke, you seen the new tomato in the typing pool? Smoking hot with a nice set of curves on her.” Samuel commented looking across the way at the girls as they walked in for the morning shift.

“I have observed the ladies of which you speak rather crudely.” Ezekiel replied. “You know I find it offensive, why do you speak that way of them? You should have more respect, what if someone spoke of your own mother this way?”

“I’d smack him in the kisser!” Sam replied. “Then I’s kick him in the jingle berries until he never had kids of his own.”

“So, you would show violence against a man that spoke that way, but you yourself speak that way. Do you not see the wrongness of that?”

“You sure talk weird, ‘Zeke. And what kind of Name is Ezekial anyway? Your father a preacher man or something?”

“Yes, my father was a religious leader of his community, until he died.” Ezekiel replied standing to his full height at the desk. Looking down at Sammy he raised an eyebrow and flexed his knuckles. The nonverbal warning was enough for Sammy. The older and shorter man grumbled about people being ‘over sensitive’ as he scurried away between the desks.

Twenty minutes later Ezekiel was on patrol, he’d passed the Equestrianism tests so he was allowed to ride a horse. And he’d provided his own so the city gave the animal room and board. People were starting to move towards automobiles and perambulation machines so finding horses that could tolerate the noise and jerking motions of the twice cursed machines was a god send.

Ezekiel was unmarried and had no living relatives so everyone was trying to get him with someone foxy and swinging. Even if ‘Zeke was a stiff upper lip.

With a metal shield covering his lower left leg from the knee downwards, he had a Colt 1911 on his right leg within easy slapping distance, and a rifle behind the shield. He also had a few knives and brass knuckles for the less polite encounters he had.

He didn’t do partners, and the few times he had they hadn’t lasted. Not with the number of times he got shot at. He’ already been the target of a hit with a ‘Chicago typewriter’. Three weeks Jim Colosimo got whacked in the alley next to his business when Zeke had gunned him down and ripped the demon from his still twitching corpse. No one saw what happened and no one ever got charged, not even an innocent patsy, which had been rare as shit.

He’d gone on the take from Capone, giving the man some insider wisdom and keepin’ him slightly safer, and in exchange ‘Zeke got money and when certain people/demons go whacked, they got cement overshoes. As long as he didn’t go after Capone or his people, Capone was thrilled. The mobster figured Ezekiel was a hitter for another faction. And it was a win/win for both.

The raid hit the Brothel at nine pm, Ezekiel walking in and taking a seat and a drink at eight-thirty a girl was on his lap ten minutes after, and by the time the rest of the Agents hit the front doors he knew who was inside the building, and where they were at. They even had men stationed in the sewers and the buildings next door and across the street.

Thirty-Five prostitutes, several gangsters, a bunch of stupid business men in the wrong place at the wrong time. Twenty kegs of Coffin Varnish, a dozen cases of gigglejuice. Several judges and attorney’s, a couple of coppers on the take, and enough Tommy Guns to arm the Treasury Department in Chicago without making them spend their own lettuce.

After that hit Ezekiel took a bonus and added it to his stash. He’d even met a girl in Chicago that made him consider a life, until a heist and drive by between Capone and one of his rivals ended it.

After Capone was brought down he slipped away through the Order of the Veil and found a new station, and life, in Europe.

1918
Brooklyn, New York
“Kalan” & ‘George – Knight of the Veil’

Running down the street and alley’s of Brooklyn Kalen was doing his damnedest to escape the Knight chasing him. The Damned bastard had a blessed blade and knew how to use it as well.

A dozen cuts and he couldn’t heal! Grabbing a coach ride by jumping on the runner board. That son of a whore was gonna kill him if he didn’t get him off the trail soon, and he had a DAMNED HORSE!!!

He heard the explosion and the punch in his back. Punch? It felt like he’d been hit by a burning cannon! The second blow knocked him from his stolen carriage ride.

Stumbling Kalen ran for his life, blasting the door to a residence from it’s hinges with speed and strength no human could muster. Running through the house he went through a kitchen window and rolled across the yard before he was up and running again.

Left, right, left and left straight and yes.. there..

Keys jingled in his hand he felt a third explosion take his right him, bone and wood from the door spreading across the carpet and white washed walls.

Falling to the floor he started laughing. Yes. Fuck yes!

And then a shadow crossed over him from a gas lamp in the street. “You failed asshole! You can’t get me now!”

Stepping forwards the Knight stopped at the threshold, something was off. Reaching out the dark haired giant slid his fingers along the invisible barrier. “Exlain this, demon…” The man said as his fingers slid across nothingness.

“Awe, the Knight’s an idiot?” Jalen mocked. “It’s a Temple asshole!”

“This is no temple!” The Knight known as George declared.

“Wrong! We rip babies from their mothers bodies and sell them to rich folks that want them. Well, sometimes we sell them. Sometimes they just get eaten. Or sacrificed. The Sanctuary is in the basement. The walls were inscribed with prayers to HIM before they were painted. The framework is made using the runes of olde. This is a Temple… to H.I.M.!”

“HIM? This is no Holy Place dedicated to His Infinite Majesty, you misbegotten demon!”

“No You stupid blind, ignorant inbred fuck!.” Kalan corrected bursting out laughing with a few giggles thrown in as well. “H.I.M.! His INFERNAL Majesty!!”

“Grinding his teeth ‘George’ began to reload as The Demon’s eyes grew wide. “You can’t come in here!! “

“I don’t need to,” ‘George’ said rather calmly as he fired from outside the building. Right Knee. Left Knee. Right Shoulder. Right Hip. Left Hip, Left Shoulder. Each shot was burning fire in the Demon’s skin.

And then he heard the shot that that didn’t make his skin and bones burn. Instead the shot blew apart a gas lamp in the hallway. A second and third lamp.

He could smell the gas filling the hallways as he lay there. Fucking Knights. They all should burn in the Halls of Hubris. The Seventh Level. Close to the Dark Lords swollen shaft and unholy farts.

Reaching into a pocket George pulled out a box of fire sticks he used for the lamps at work, or the fireplace at home.

Using his thumb he snapped hard and fast, lighting the matchstick with practiced ease and with a soft laugh ‘George’ tossed the match and watched as the hallway detonated, filling with fire before the building burned to the ground. It took hours, the demon was blamed. Careless, smoking, a gas lamp snuffed by a gust of wind.

Afterwards, ‘George’ read in the papers about the Planned Parenthood, the second in the nation and the founder. The picture in the paper was the demon in human skin. A demon had started a company that murdered babies….

Alaina: Nephilim

Sitting in the Social Workers Office she didn’t rock her heels anymore. She didn’t have hopefully spirits or a smile, the chipper cheerful kids avoided her.

She was being kicked out of another house. Reaching into her bag she popped open the bottle and took four pills for the day. They didn’t work, it was stupid.

Nothing stopped the voice, the screaming in her head. Being in forests and lakes helped a lot, at least it wass softer and quieter there, but school or crowded places made it worse.

It was really bad when she was sure she was hearing what people said in their heads. ‘Useless child.’ ‘Poor kid.’ ‘She’s faking it.’ ‘Attention seeker.’ ‘Glory Hound.’ ‘Cheater.’ That came from the class after she got a hundred the day after transferring to a new school.

The original cops thought she’d killed her family during a psychotic break. Until her stomach had been pumped. No bite mark matches, no stomach contents of human flesh. She didn’t have the height, or strength, to do what had been done.

The cops and social workers were usually thinking she’d last until she was eighteen and then she wasn’t their problem anymore. Nobody wanted to help her, they just wanted her to go away.

So she did. One night after her new ‘house and family’ were asleep she slid from her bedroom window and vanished into the night.

The next day and Police officer and a Federal agent (A Knight and a prophet) showed up. Nine hours….. if she had waited just nine more hours.

Charon’s eyes lingered on Jasmine as she approached, reading the weariness in her posture before she even spoke. Her aura, always vibrant with purpose and focus, seemed strained under the weight of her responsibilities. He knew that kind of tension, the constant need to be in control, to keep everything moving and in line. The city’s rush continued around them, but it felt distant here, where they stood. His presence subtly manipulated the flow of the moment, creating a space where the noise and pressure couldn’t quite reach. It wasn’t an escape, not completely, but a momentary break in the storm.

“You’ve been running on fumes, haven’t you?” Charon asked quietly, his voice carrying a calm that contrasted with the hurried energy around them. “Always moving, always making sure nothing falls apart. But there’s only so much one person can hold together before the weight starts to wear you down.” He stepped a little closer, just enough for his words to feel more personal, more direct. “You don’t need to keep pushing like this, Jasmine. Not right now. You’ve set everything in motion. You’ve done your part, and for the moment, that’s enough.”

He let his words settle, watching her with a careful gaze. Charon wasn’t here to fix her problems or offer grand solutions. He knew that wasn’t what she needed, not from him. What she needed was a chance to stop, if only for a little while, without feeling like the world would collapse without her constant attention. “You’re always thinking ahead, always trying to stay one step in front of the chaos. But right now, you don’t have to. The knights are in motion, the plans are already underway. Let them take the reins for a while.” His voice was steady, offering her something rare—permission to stop, to rest, even if just for a few moments.

Charon glanced down at Bruno for a moment, then back to Jasmine, noting how even her loyal companion seemed attuned to her unspoken exhaustion. “I can feel it in you, the strain. You don’t give yourself enough credit for how much you’ve already done. You’ve been leading, commanding, holding everything together. But even you need a moment to breathe, Jasmine. Even you need a break.” He wasn’t pushing her, wasn’t demanding anything. He was simply offering her a place to exist without the constant pressure of having to be in control.

He knew all too well how hard it could be to let go, even for a second. To stop meant to risk losing the grip you’ve fought so hard to maintain. But Charon also knew that no one—not even someone as strong as Jasmine—could keep running forever without burning out. “You’ve carried this burden for a long time, longer than most could handle. But right now, you don’t have to carry it alone. You’re not the only one fighting this fight. Your knights are with you, your team is with you. And for once, you can trust them to keep things moving while you take a moment for yourself.”

He let his gaze meet hers, the quiet intensity in his pale eyes grounding the words he spoke. “Tell me what’s on your mind, Jasmine. Whatever it is, I’m listening. No judgment, no expectations. Just talk, if that’s what you need. Or don’t. It’s your moment. But you deserve to have it.” He wasn’t here to push her toward any decision or action. He was simply offering her a break from the relentless pace she lived in, a moment to stop without the weight of the world pressing down on her. And in that brief pause, he hoped she would find some of the rest she so clearly needed.

When Jasmine approached the man, she felt a shift in the world and for a moment, she paused. The world grew slower, quieter and she took a moment to peer around herself. It felt like she had just stepped into the eye of a hurricane. It was calm and it made her nervous. Her eyes locked once more on the prophet in front of her, questioning her own intentions now. What had she just gotten herself into? Was it possible for prophets to be this powerful? Who was this man?

When he asked if she had been running on fumes, Jasmine felt her breath hitch for just a moment. She shouldn't be surprised that a prophet would have knowing insight into her, she had just not expected the man to turn his insight onto her and ask about her. Jasmine had always been the runner, the planner, the one in charge. If things were happening, people always turned to her to ask 'what next' but no one ever turned to her and asked her 'are you alright'. She- she wasn't expecting that. Not in the least. It took her aback a moment as she tightened her grip on Bruno's harness and straightened more. When he told her that she didn't need to keep pushing, she gave a small shake of her head. What did this man know? Of course her knights were in motion and things were moving in the proper direction but there were so many things that could easily spiral out of control. What would happen if Michael scared Aliana too much? What if her powers grew too much again and she lost control. She had lost one knight already. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if she lost a knight and two angel born. Her whole body was tense just thinking about it. Her anxiety pulsed from her live waves of heat and she almost felt the need to pace in front of the man. She felt a lecture coming on. Who was this man? Who was he?

"You don't seem to understand. There is still so much that needs to be handled. There is a child in crisis in that building and if she loses control for even a moment, this whole mess will implode on itself. It doesn't matter how many knights are on their way there if they're not fast enough. We need to bring this crisis to an end as quickly as physically possible." She practically twitched with the need to pace, to move, to do something, anything! She knew that if she settled for even a moment- if she settled for a moment, it will all collapse down on top of her like a tidal wave that has been hanging over her head for years. It was as if the sword of Damocles hovered just over her shoulder and if she had a misstep for even an inch it would take her head clean off.

When the man offered her a moment to speak, she shook her head fiercely and took a turn to leave the area. This wasn't what she needed. What she needed right now was to climb into that escort with her knights and go retrieve the two angel born but Bruno, who usually was very diligent in keeping up with her, didn't move along with her and she fumbled over him and tripped up. She fell down to her knees next to Bruno with a surprised yelp, her now scrapped palms pressed hard into the cement below. Her jaw was clenched so tight, she was afraid her teeth my crack from the pressure of them but eventually, her hands curled into fists and she sat back on her heels as tears welled up in her eyes.

"How many?" She asked as she allowed her head to fall back and her eyes to close, a tear now slowly sliding down the side of her cheek as her face pointed to the heavens above like she was asking God himself for the answer. "How many people have to die before this mess is over with? How many good, good men like Rufus have to get their brains plastered on the sidewalk before we can finally end this?" She opened her eyes and they were bloodshot, tears now freely falling down her cheeks and dripping off her chin to land on her jacket below.

She sighed and rubbed at her face fiercely as if she could scrub away the shame of her guilt. “If I keep running,” she started again as Bruno walked up to her, giving a small whine and nuzzling her hand to give her some kind of comfort. “If I keep running, then it never catches up to me. All the funerals, the families, the lost children. If I keep moving then I don't have time to think about it or to question what I could have done better.” She reached out and grabbed a hold of Bruno like he was a life raft in the middle of a raging sea. “I always wonder what I could have done better.” She sighed as she gave him a good scratch behind the ear, falling silent once again and rubbing the tears away from her cheek. It was improper to cry in public, especially her.

Charon remained beside Jasmine, his presence steady and grounding as she knelt on the cold cement. He could feel the weight of her pain, her guilt, and the constant pressure she placed on herself. As he extended his aura around her, it wasn’t just to calm her or offer comfort, but to give her something more—a gift that would help her shoulder this impossible burden without feeling so utterly alone in it.

The subtle shift of his energy was like a whisper against her skin, a soft hum that gently embedded itself into her awareness. It wasn’t overwhelming; it didn’t force itself upon her. Instead, it felt like a slow, steady breath, almost like a breeze, spreading through her mind, heart, and senses. Little by little, the world around her began to take on a new clarity—not in the way she had known sight before, but in something deeper. Shapes began to form, not with hard edges or clear lines, but with the soft bend of energy, the movement of space, the flow of life and matter. Buildings, trees, even the people rushing past in the distance—all outlined in the faintest trace of the world’s pulse, a dull but ever-present sense of how everything fit together.

“This isn’t just another tool, Jasmine,” Charon said softly, watching her closely as she started to take in this new form of awareness. “It’s not about seeing everything perfectly or controlling what happens next. It’s about understanding the rhythm of things—the way the world breathes and moves, the way life flows around you.”

He glanced at Bruno, who nuzzled her hand, ever faithful, and then back to Jasmine. She could feel Bruno’s shape now not just by touch, but by the way his presence folded into the environment around her, as if he were a part of the very air she was breathing. The subtle movements of the streets, the cars, the people—they didn’t overwhelm her. Instead, they bent gently to her new awareness, as though the world itself had softened just enough to allow her this clarity. It was as if Charon had bestowed a part of his own way of sensing things, his ability to read the chaos, to flow with it rather than fight it.

“You’ve been fighting the current for so long,” he continued, his voice low and steady. “But now, you can feel how it moves. You don’t always have to push against it. Sometimes, you just need to understand its flow, and that’s enough. You’ve been strong for so long, but this… this will help you move with the world, instead of always trying to stay ahead of it.”

Jasmine didn’t need to say anything yet. He could see her processing, her mind trying to reconcile what she was feeling with the relentless need to control everything that had been her way for so long. He didn’t press her. This gift wasn’t about forcing a change in her, but about giving her the freedom to move differently, with a little less of the crushing weight on her shoulders.

Charon stood up slowly, but his aura remained, a part of it now infused within her, not in a way that tied her to him, but in a way that allowed her to see the world as he did—subtle, fluid, always in motion, but manageable. The shapes of the world were not just static objects anymore; they were alive with possibility, bending and shifting in ways that could guide her.

“I can’t take away the pain of what you’ve lost,” he said, his voice quieter now but still filled with that same steady presence. “But I can help you see that you don’t have to keep running. You can move forward without being crushed by it. You’ve done enough, more than enough. This… this is a way for you to finally take a breath without everything falling apart.”

He took a step back, allowing her the space to come to terms with what he’d given her. “You’ll never have to carry it all alone again, Jasmine. Whether it’s the knights, the angel-born, or the chaos you’re constantly fighting—this will help you move through it with less weight on your shoulders. And when you need me… you know where to find me.”

He let the quiet settle between them again, the world still gently bending to the new clarity he’d left her with. Charon wasn’t one to linger unnecessarily, but he wouldn’t leave until he knew she was ready. This wasn’t just a momentary reprieve; it was the beginning of a new way for her to exist in the chaos, a way to move with it rather than always trying to outrun it.

Michael de Shade - Knight of the Veil

Looking at the three individuals before him he reholstered the weapon I his hand, the Angel borne had handled the store owner rather more efficiently than he could have. “Ok, both of you lets go. You carry her, since I can’t carry and shot if need be.”

he didn’t care if the boy had issues carrying her or not, he gave an order and expected it to be carried out. This was the way things were. Order and obey.

Leading the way out the back he kept his eyes on the surroundings, his head virtually on a swivel as he paused at the top of the brick steps in the alley. It was clear at least to Human eyes. Looking within and without he pierced the Veil of Neverwhen and Otherwas feeling, listening, and looking for others.

“Move out,” he said gesturing to a vehicle that was pulling up. It had the markings of one of the many Charity organizations in the United States and it was after all a charity, feeding thousands of meals each and every day throughout the country, and during winter it had blankets and more.

But it was also the Order of the Veil. Grabbing the side door, he slid it open as men pulled the girl onto a gurney and slipped an iv into her arm before he could tell them her danger. Obviously, someone else had warned them as well, the prophet from the alley?

“Psychic Scream, energy pulse. Blew out the glass, and bent metal. Formal report after shift. Need Mortal medical for the Store owner in the Pizzaria. She did something. He may have had a stroke or a heart attack. I’ll go back and trash the security and rob the place. Gimme five and call it in. I have a mortal situation on the fourth floor,” he said pointing at the window in a distant building he’d been forced to jump from to stop the demonic kidnapping.

Looking at the Male angel borne he frowned. “If you remember me when you wake up, find me.” It wasn’t much but it was enough of a distraction that the other Knights were able to stick the boy had put him out like a light. Act now, apologize later.

Puriel sighed heavily, more in exhaustion than contempt. Though contempt was certainly still present. Being beholden to these demons was an inevitability—such was the natural consequence of denouncing God Himself and whatnot—but that did nothing to preserve their pride. Puriel did not think themself to be a sinner by any means, but if anything were to damn them, it would most certainly be that. It was a fleshy thing, pride, pushing and stretching in the neck to tilt the chin ever higher. They glared at Agrid’s standing form sideways, a bit diagonally, vignetted by lash and canthus.

Ooo, said Cherry appreciatively. That one’s prettier than the other guy. If she asks me to get naked, I might actually agree.

Having successfully ignored Agrid thus far—Puriel was loath to speak to a demon that might actually approach being their superior—they swatted Cherry’s brain stem. Did you even hear of what she spoke?

Demon shit, she replied sagely. Your problem.

The younger demon having ceased his chatter, Puriel reluctantly considered Agrid’s proposition. It was laughably uneven. The idea that one instance of healing should entitle her to what would likely be months—if not an eternity—of service insulted their intelligence. They were no mortal cultist, trading their life for a mere taste of power. Cherry did enough of that for the both of them. Puriel envied Agrid bitterly. If only Cherry had been consumed as easily as Agrid’s host. They would kill for some quiet. They would die for some quiet, actually, if they didn’t hurry. Such was the trouble with the whole matter—Agrid knew they weren’t stupid, but worse, she knew they needed their body to survive more than they needed their pride to. A difficult threshold to pass, but here they were, having practically leapt across it.

They grit their teeth. They’d rather bind themself to Agrid than that insolent imp. Better the devil you know, right? “I share not your delusions of grandeur,” they spit, shivering at the thought of the Horsemen. “But if it is my service you demand, so be it. Heal me.”

Jasmine felt something settle down on her shoulders like a coat. It sat heavy on her for a moment before it seemed to sink into her very being and vanished. When the man told her that what he had done wasn't just another tool, she looked around herself and with help from the new gift Charon had given her, she could almost make out the world around her. She could see the flow of the energy as it curved around people, buildings, and objects. She could almost make out the outlines of items and buildings around her as the energy curved around their corners. It wasn't that she was seeing the buildings, it was almost like when something was just below the surface of murky water and so caused the flow of the water to warp and ripple around the item, even if it didn't full break the surface.

She sat there on her knees for a moment, her mouth open in awe at the new sight. She wasn't sure what to think about this gift that he had given her. What did it mean for her in the long run? Would this sight only grow stronger as she used it or would this gift only last for so long.

She looked down at Bruno, watching the energy ebb and flow around him. She reached out to glide her hands through the flowing energy that flowed around him but she felt nothing, even though the energy flowed around her fingers. She looked up at Charon as he stood beside her. Her eyes widened at the sight of him and the way the energy reacted with him. Unlike with Bruno and the other things around her, the energy around him was halted and cracking, like it was on the verge of shattering if she looked at it too long. She got a sense that his energy was different than everyone else around her and as she peered up into his face, she felt as if she was looking into the face of someone impossibly old, an immortal who had walked this world before the towering city around her was even conceived. Once again she found herself question, who was this man that stood before her now?

She slowly stood up, unsure of how to proceed. She eventually turned to face him. Her eyes locked onto his face and she took a moment before she bowed her head in thanks. “Thank you,” she said quietly. When he told her that if she were to ever need him, she would know where to find him, she felt it as true. She felt as if this gift he had bestowed upon her gave them a connect of some type. She could sense him, just slightly, like a dull feeling pointing her in the right direction. She slowly nodded. “Yes,” she said quietly, “I think I do know where to find you if I need you.”

There was a buzzing in her pocket and she absentmindedly reached in and grabbed it. She slid her fingers along its screen in a perfected gesture and the ear bud in her ear read out the message to her. “Angel borns have been secured. We are on the way to gather you now and to head back to headquarters.” She let out a deep sigh of relief at the thought of the angel born finally coming under their protection. She turned back to Charon, a calm and thankful look on her face. “Again, thank you. My men will be arriving soon to pick me up. If you want, you are welcome to come join us. We are going to the headquarters for the knights. The angel born are safe in our custody now.”

It was only a few moments more before a van came around the corner and came to a halt at the curb. The side opened and a few knights sat there, watching her and Charon. One stepped out of the van and lightly grabbed her arm to guide her safely to the van. She slowly turned from Charon and faced the van, following the knight's lead as she walked into the open door. Hands guided her to a safe place to sit and her eyes swept over the angel born secured peacefully in the back of the van. The knights kept the door open a moment more as Jasmine called out to Charon. “You are welcome to come.” Eventually, whether Charon accepted the offer or not, the door to the van was closed and they made their way back to headquarters. Bruno settled on the floor on her feet, letting out a long huff as he did so.

Jasmine busied herself by turning to face Aliana. They needed to help get her powers under control and if they could handle it before she woke from the medicine they had given her, all the better. Jasmine turned completely around in her seat and reached back so she could touch Aliana's forehead. “Seraphina Malachi,” she muttered quietly as she slowly drew a small symbol on her forehead, “May this sigil bring you peace and my God in heaven bless you with the means to control these great gifts you have.” She enclosed the symbol in a circle, muttering a few words in Latin before the sigil she drew became visible and lit up brightly. After a moment, it dulled then vanished. That should help keep her powers bound long enough for her to gain control of them. She sighed quietly before she turned back around and settled into her seat with a groan.

She still had a strong headache and she was so darn tired but they finally got everything under control for the time being. She took the time to use her new vision to see how the energy flowed around her people, looking from one person to the other. She wasn't sure how she was going to be able to use these new powers that Charon blessed her with but she was determined to figure it out and quickly. She pondered this as the van continued its way to the headquarters.

Charon remained still as Jasmine processed the weight of the gift he had given her. He watched the subtle shifts in her expression—the awe, the uncertainty, the questions that lingered just beneath the surface. He didn’t need to say anything in response to her quiet thank you; her understanding of what he had bestowed was already forming. The connection between them, faint but undeniable, was there now, a quiet thread that would pull her toward him if the need ever arose. He felt it too, but he didn’t dwell on it. This wasn’t about forming bonds of obligation, but about offering her something that would help her navigate the burdens she carried.

When she looked up at him, her widened eyes catching the strange, fractured nature of his aura, Charon gave a small, knowing nod. He could sense the way she was perceiving him now—how different he was from everything else around her. Where others’ energy flowed and bent, his stood almost still, cracked and ancient, as if it had been shaped by time itself. She was beginning to understand just how old he was, though the full truth of that realization would take time. He saw no reason to explain further. She could feel it—he was not like the others she dealt with.

As she stood, her thanks came quietly, and Charon accepted it with the same calm he always carried. When she mentioned knowing where to find him, he offered her a slight smile, more in his eyes than on his lips. “Good,” he replied simply, his voice low but filled with a quiet certainty. “You’ll know when the time is right.”

The buzzing in her pocket drew her attention away, and Charon remained where he was, watching as she received the message. Relief washed over her as she learned the angel born were secure, and he nodded in approval at the calm that settled into her features. Her work wasn’t done—far from it—but for now, this immediate crisis had been handled. When she invited him to join her at the Knights’ headquarters, Charon tilted his head slightly, considering her offer.

“I walk a different path,” he said softly, his eyes lingering on the van as it pulled up. “But should our paths cross again, I’ll find you.” There was no dismissal in his tone, just the acceptance of their different roles. He didn’t belong with the knights, but he respected her enough to leave the door open for future encounters.

As the van arrived and the knight took Jasmine’s arm to guide her, Charon remained a steady presence until she was safely seated. When she called out to him one last time, extending the invitation once more, he gave a small nod, though he did not follow. The van door closed, and Charon watched it roll away into the distance. His aura, now lingering as a quiet residue in her being, would continue to guide her. She had been given a new way to see the world, a deeper understanding of the energy that flowed around her. It would serve her well, though Charon knew it would take time for her to fully master it.

As Jasmine turned her attention to Aliana, tending to the young angel born with the sigil and prayer, Charon allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction. She was strong—stronger than she gave herself credit for. This new sight would help her, not just in battles, but in moments like this, where understanding the flow of energy could make the difference between success and catastrophe.

Watching her recede into the distance, Charon’s presence in the world seemed to fade back into the background, as it always did. He would continue to move through the currents of entropy, observing, guiding when necessary, but always from a distance. His gift to Jasmine wasn’t just about helping her in the here and now—it was about ensuring she had the tools to see the world for what it truly was. And in the moments that mattered, he knew she would use that vision to make the right choices.

With a final glance in the direction of the van, Charon turned and slipped back into the flow of the city, his presence lingering only in the faintest traces, always just out of sight but never entirely gone. He had given her what she needed, and that was enough—for now.

They- they chose her. Agrid sat up in her seat and leaned forward, her blazing eyes locking on Puriel and their little minion for a moment before a large grin split her face in two. She cackled like an old hag as slithered out of the chair and laid down on the ground next to them. The vial appeared out of a puff of shadows and smoke once more. She snatched it out of the air, her grin contorting into a demented smile.

“This is more than just a healing potion, Puriel. It's hellfire, straight from the pits themselves. It'll do more than just heal you, darlin. It'll empower you but I only have the one. So you should be thankful that I'm willing to give it over to you for your service.” She stood swiftly before she uncorked the vial. The room grew dark as if all the light had been sucked into the fire. Once opened, the flame inside began to grow until it licked its fiery tongues outside of its lid. Agrid reached down and grasped a hold of the flames and it consumed her shadows and dark smoke, turning the flames black as night. The cries of the damned called out from the flames and if you were to look close enough, one could even see small faces of souls as they screamed in the fire.

It continued to consume all light in the room and Agrid's dark magic until there was no light left, the black flame being the only thing producing any light in the whole apartment. Agrid ripped her hand out and it sizzled and smoked. She gave it a shake with a hiss before she crouched down in front of Puriel.

“Prepare yourself fallen.”

She then laid the fire down on their back where it crackled and danced for a moment. With a wave of her hand, the fire began to grow, consuming all of Puriel within its grasp. Every part of them was covered in the black fire now and they glowed like a demonic night light. Agrid backpedaled a few steps, still remaining crouched all the while, her eyes locked on Puriel as she watched the flames hungrily. Oh how she wished she could be the one using those dark flames but she had made a deal, and much like the new demon had said, the Devil's in the details.

Eventually the fire faded and Puriel's body was completely healed. Agrid stood and walked over, examining them like someone looking to purchase a new car. She checked the old wound locations before giving a firm nod.

“How do you feel?”

Michael de Shade - Knight of the Veil
Returning to the police department Michael got hailed as a hero. Apparently they had a link into one of the Mafia Families due to the Pizzeria heist. The Abuser in the fourth floor was muscle and he’d flipped for his ass since he’d never responded to the silent buzzer.

Michael was getting a commendation, his picture in the paper (that wouldn’t due at all) and a speech from the myor. They might even drop Detective 3rd Class on him and a raise. The chief was happy as gumshoe and a hooker untiil he say Michael Drop an Envelope with the Secret Service logo on it onto the desk.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” he’d screamed, as Michael explained he’d applied 6 months ago, and it had arrived in the mail yesterday.

It was legit and straight up, granted it came through the Order and a couple dozen pulled strings. But it moved him out of the police line of site. And if anybody did notice him still in town he could just say it was his assignment. At least until they got to old to remember him or the Order moved him again. For now he didn’t HAVE to report to the Secret Service, but he would soon enough. Once the Order decided where he was needed most.

***
Alaina
She spent a number of hours in the hospital bed, bleeding drugs and toxins from her eyes, ear, nose, and pores. And when she wasn’t oozing toxins she was shaking the bed hard enough to leave the floor, and that was without powers involved.

And then there was the stench of the toxins leaving her body. She had enough drugs in her system to kill a dozen mortals. Or a half dozen prophets. Nephilim were hard to kill and immune to drugs and alcohol, but she’d pushed the limit.

And then came the screams. They’d had to move her to the quiet room to stop everyone else but they weren't wordless screams of pain, they were the screams of nightmares and cries of torment.

And then she’d lain in bed like corpse. Medical staff had taken and washed her several times, by the time Michael had arrived at the Headquarters she’d been bathed once, and was on her second round of oozing from her pores.
Taking station at the door he’d watch over her until assigned another task. But for know, she was his problem. Fuck he hoped a prophet got assigned to her soon. Get her fixed up and stabilized.

***

Alaina
Jerking awake Alaina scanned the room her eyes passing over the guy at the door twice before she realized he was standing there.

Staring at him she wondered if he was really there. Sitting up she damned near bared her nakedness before she grabbed the sheet and pulled it around herself.

“Where am I? Who Are you? What Happened? Why’s it so quiet?” She squealed, her pitch climbing the more she asked. “WHY AM I NAKED?!”

@BunniesOfDoom

Fire was no stranger to Puriel. Even in the terraces of heaven, it was their constant companion—to be burned was to be cleansed, to be absolved, to be saved. Now lost to them was a blade of judgment that would extend such holy pain to humanity. They ached with its absence. Fighting with the flesh was so messy. Inconsistent. It was an old friend, then, that greeted them when Agrid produced the vial—it was all they could do not to salivate. Cherry was, for once, silent. Hot light wavered in their blurry vision unmistakably. This was no earthly flame.

“It’s hellfire, straight from the pits themselves,” Agrid confirmed.

Hell and its creations were beneath them, of course. Some weak vestige of angelhood chided them for their obsession. After all, the flames burned black, roiling against their glassy confines in a riot of misery. This demon was poisoning it. Draining the light. Yet… fire couldn’t be tainted, could it? No sin could withstand it. It was all-consuming. Purifying. Fitting, then, that Puriel was named for such a virtue.

“Please,” they breathed.

Agrid’s smug grin grew. “Prepare yourself, fallen.”

It devoured them.

Crackling down the spine, tearing down the arms, burrowing into the chest, growing and growing strong enough to delve through the body and into Puriel’s very being—their soul, if they had one, and Cherry’s, if she kept hers. They cried out, unable to maintain their composure in the face of such an overwhelming feeling. The flames seared away all earthly sensation, all the revolting physicality of a human. No longer were they plagued by the acrid meat of the tongue, the monstrous bend of the knees, the maddening itch of the hair. There was only fire. Dark, agonizing, profound fire.

They could have spent an eternity in those flames. A full-body shudder wracked them as the heat receded, biting sensation back into their flesh. They gasped as if drowning. Bitter cold tore through their lungs. In. Out. In. Out. Grasping for dignity, they opened their eyes.

Ah. Agrid had certainly upheld her end of the deal. There wasn’t a wound to be found, all the damage smoothly cauterized. No pain whatsoever, if one excluded the cold. Curiously, they sat up, and found that the body responded with remarkable speed and alacrity. Agrid hadn’t been lying about the power conferred by the fire. If it persisted… well, it would almost be worth the debt they now owed. Almost.

“How do you feel?” asked Agrid.

Puriel exhaled slowly, avoiding her gaze. Devoid of the fire, it occurred to them that some shame was in order—to be so defenseless in the presence of another demon was mortifying. Not to mention… God, did they say please? It had to be a defect of the body, a deathbed hysteria. It mattered not. They were healed now. Praying their voice betrayed no emotion, they said, “I am well.”

Then, regaining a sliver of arrogance: “It surprises me that you require aid, Agrid. In what manner am I to render my services?”

Jasper “Kalan” Raven
Looking at the two of them Kalen knew it hadn’t necessarily lost, but it’s position was certainly weaker than it could have been. But until destruction took him from the Mortal realm, the chips were still on the table.

“I’d be willing to assist in your endeavor, if you’re willing to have me partake. On a pay by play contract. No formal bindings between us. You ask for assistance, I tell you how much, you agree or don’t.”

Kalan wouldn’t dare suggest an Entity of Agrid’s power or status ever needed help, but everyone did. Once in a while. Unfortunately sometimes it was Mortal’s that did the helping. Disgusting creatures that they were. Favored filth!! So easy to manipulate them and bring them down. As it was every abortion fed him more power.

Oh, So many sins committed in his name!! Hail Lucifer! Ava Satanas!

When Puriel asked about how they could render their services to her and the younger demon also offering himself to service as well, Agrid allowed that dark smile to cross her lips once more. She allowed herself to glide along the floor until she positioned herself to stand in front of the two demons, her hands clasped behind her back. She turned to face them like a general facing down her men. She casually paced back and forth in front of them. “Well, my fellow fiends. You will be pleased to know that I have been very busy at work since the moment I stepped foot into this accursed plane. It took a lot of time and effort but I have found the location of the next seal.”

She stopped pacing and turned to face them, her smile turning vicious and hungry. “Unfortunately for me, it's in a location that I can't simply seal off and get to work.” She waved a hand in front of her, her black smoke rising to linger in front of her, it boiled and shifted until it formed the seal of the knights of the veil. “You see,” she said with a small growl in her voice as she looked at the seal floating before, disdain clear on her features. “These accursed knight have built their headquarters directly on top of it. Which means we have to wipe them out,” she slashed her claws through the seal and it dispersed into smoke and vanished, “before we can get our hands on the seal and break it. As I'm sure you know, Puriel, I am not much of a fighter. My skills lie in the shadows and not so much in the battle field and thus, I need assistance.”

She turned her bright eyes to Kalan. She waved her hand again and a shadow visage of the seal formed in front of her. “As for your payment, when a seal breaks it releases quite a bit of energy. That's why it's important that you break it down little by little. If we went in to just destroy it, it would most likely destroy everything and everyone in the radius. But, as I break the seal down, I can capture some of that energy.” The shadowy seal in front of her began to break down, line by line, releasing wisps of dark smoke as it did so. She reached out and grabbed that dark smoke and the visage vanished. She then upturned her palm and that smoke turned into a vial, much like the hellfire one she had used on Puriel. “I can give you that energy as your payment. I'm not sure what it can do for you. After all, it is just solid ethereal energy condensed down into a seal but I'm sure you could find a use for it. Hell, I'm sure it would make one heck of a bomb.”

She waved her hand and the smokey imagery vanished. She turned to face both the demons before her, eyes bright as she gauged their faces. She really hoped Kalan would agree. She would still need to seek out other demons for the task as well but if Kalan agreed here, that would give her a solid starting point to work with. “Well, how about?” She held a hand out for Kalan to shake, a sinister grin forming on her face. “Do we have a deal?”

Jasper “Kalan” Raven
“Yes, we have an accord. An Arrangement of mutual interest. But I want ninety percent of the Energy. And I want the Angel-born that did this,” he said pointing at Puriel. “He and I have a score to settle, and I’m going to rip his head off.”

Unbeknownst to his host, he was already planning on trading in the body. “AS an advance on my payment, I want the power of the Shedim. Transference of host at will.”

"It will make doing your bidding in this matter far simpler and quicker."

Stretching their arms, Puriel looked between the demons—their interest was piqued. They had no idea that the Knights built their headquarters around a Seal. Obvious, in retrospect, but the order could not always be called rational. Good to see it was something of a worthy opponent.

What little offense they took to being used as cannon fodder was quickly superseded by excitement. Alone, it would have been nearly impossible to infiltrate the headquarters. But with allies, even so few, it would be another matter entirely. Agrid was a master tactician—even Puriel could acknowledge that—and while this other creature may not have her level of experience, he was certainly… eager. A good distraction, at least. Liable to kill a nephilim, but at least Agrid thought such things unimportant. If they could accomplish what she asked, they would have direct access to whatever nephilim hid within the Knights’ fortress… perhaps they could even convince their newfound allies to aid them in an abduction. Surely they would find pleasure in “corrupting” an angel. If they had to frame it like a sin, so be it. The angels had to know the truth of God. Not what the Knights told them.

What was that? Cherry’s thoughts wavered like the flames she'd been bathed in. Ah. You’d think she’d have gleaned some knowledge of the occult being an occultist and all, but the chances only seemed slimmer as time went on.

Fire, Puriel said absently, lingering in the possibilities Agrid’s deal presented. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

A mental sigh, loosening the jaw without touching the lungs. I don’t know why I bother.

They stood and moved to a chair across from Agrid’s, hoping to spend the rest of the conversation at least at eye level. The body moved with certainty—an ember guided by the breeze. Energy swelled within them. What a gift! They itched to bend the body, see what power it now held… but no, this was not the time. Patience. Picking at the loose stitching of the armchair, they listened to the boy’s demands with disbelief. “Such confidence,” they said derisively. “What is your name, young one?”

The boy had made changes to her deal. It wasn't unheard of for demons to negotiate but the things he wished for, a sneer crossed her face he spoke. Did he think her a god, Lucifer himself? The shadows in the room roiled as her anger grew. A Shedim and the transference of a host, had this boy lost his mind? Dark smoke rose off her in waves as she slowly took a step towards the boy, pulling her hand back before he could seal the deal with her. She could not make that deal. She did not have the power to do what he wanted and just hearing him mention it made her rage boil.

“Who-” she began with venom dripping from her voice, taking another predatory step towards him, “who do you think you are, eh boy?” The shadows bled out onto the floor, reaching for her like children grasping at their mother's skirt. “You dare!” She took another step forward, her eyes flaring brightly. Her form shifted as the shadows condensed onto her and she grew, towering over the demon boy. “You lose yourself, child!” Her voice hissed out from the shadows, her form all but lost in the black mass that now towered over the young man.

“You want a transference of host?” She let out a vicious laugh that echoed off the walls of the apartment before her form came crashing down around him. Shadows crashed and danced around him like he was stuck amidst a raging sea. There was a deep rumbling from the shadows before Agrid appeared before him, her long fingers hovered just over his chest. Her power crackled between the two of them but she didn't allow her fingers to touch him. Instead, she locked her eyes on his and growled.

“Do you wish for me to rid you of this host? It wouldn't be too hard. I could send both you and this one right to hell and you can start all over again. Is that what you want? A transference of host?” She stepped back from him, slipping once more into the shadows as she pulled them back from around him. They swirled around her like ribbons before they condensed back into her form, a few feet away from the demon boy. “You have what you have. Deal with it and don't ask me to ever do the chore of our lord Lucifer again or I will send you to meet him for your insolence.”

She felt that she had made enough of a show. Usually, she wasn't one to go and make such a fuss but to be demanded of in such a way, especially things she couldn't possibly hope to do, it made her blood boil. She huffed before she crossed her arms over her chest and locked her eyes on the demon boy again. “I can do the power AFTER we have acquired it but if you must have a power increase before we go, I suppose we would track down an angel born for you to feast upon. It would take me no time to find one for you but I cannot and will not go against what was already given to you by Lucifer himself. Do not ask it of me again.”

She took a seat in the armchair, rubbing her temples with a grumble. She knew this could be a pain but she wasn't aware it would be this much of a pain.