#j scape

 The rain hadn't stopped.

Al flew low over the rising ocean and his broad webbed wings churned up small waves with every down stroke. The demon's shadow stretched over the gray waters as lighting slithered overhead. He couldn't stay in Rudolph's tower—not with all of them there. He wasn't welcome. He'd never been welcome and he'd never be welcome. Anywhere. Eat a few people (with good reason to boot!) and suddenly nobody wants anything to do with you.

But where could he go?

The waters were just going to keep rising and the piles of old rusted cars and wind-worn rock caves that he liked to hide out in had been swallowed up. He touched down on the concrete rooftop of what used to be a factory and panted heavily. Al arched his wings over his head and shook the water from his hair and instantly regretted it. His head throbbed. Their host hadn't had a drink in ages. This rooftop would disappear soon. Then what would he do? He liked to think of himself as a strong flier, but he couldn't stay airborne forever. He wasn't that great of a swimmer either. Light passed overhead and Al counted silently. No thunder came. The light did not fade. He moved one of his wings and squinted upward through the downpour.

What he had thought was lightning turned out to be a gap in the boiling clouds. He tilted his head. Was the sun trying to come out? Whatever it was, it had to be dryer up there. And warmer. Al bowed down on his arms (or what could probably more accurately be called his front legs at this point) and sprang upward. His chunky tail cracked against the cement like a whip and his wings unfurled, carrying him upward. Wind buffeted him and the rain stung his eyes, but after so many long gray days, it would be worth it for a few precious rays of sunshine.

Aloicious had never flown so high. He'd never had a reason. The pale yellow glow grew closer and closer and the swirling waves of the city below grew further and further away. If his wings gave out, at least the water would break his fall—or so he hoped. And would it really matter? Nobody wanted him around.

He briefly remembered Quick Silver, his late brother. He remembered the way the angel had described flying above he clouds. Al had always been a bit too cumbersome to get any real altitude and Silver had teased him for it. If he'd been stronger, if he'd been skinnier, if he'd been faster, then maybe he could have seen the cloud tops whipped up like mountains of ice cream or fluffy snow.

Fuck you, Silver, Al thought to himself. He let a broad, jagged grin cross his face as he felt the light wash over him. I'm closer to heaven than you'll ever be!

He was wrong.

When Al broke through the angry clouds, he did not find a soft rolling valley bathed in sunshine. A harsh wind swept up from under him and blew his wings backwards like a pair of ruined umbrellas. He tumbled in mid-air and let out a shrill cry. However, instead of plummeting like a stone, he found himself falling upward. Upward!

The world became a swirl of threatening shapes for Aloicious. Greens and browns and off-yellows whirled around him in a blur. There was a loud roar like a thousand voices. He clapped his enormous, paw-like hands over his ears. No matter how hard he flailed his wings, he couldn't tell up from down. Suddenly, he landed.

It wasn't the gut-churning sound of snapping bone and tearing flesh that he expected. It wasn't even a splash. It was more of a plumf.

When his yellow eyes uncrossed, the demon found himself upside down against a gargantuan sofa arm. His wings were splayed and his tail fell between his legs and across his face. The green cushion of the couch sprawled before him like some great field and at the far end of it was—no. It couldn't be. Al struggled to right himself. His long black claws hung in the couch material. He pressed his wings tight to his back but refused to let his tail coil around one hoof in fright or submission. He was Aloicious Baxter Cohol and he wasn't afraid of anything.

Not even The Host.

Maurice Hutch had draped himself miserably over the arm of the sofa. It was late and the others had decided to let him have his space for the night. His hair had grown long and unruly, same as his claws. He'd been wearing the same shirt and pants for days now. They were still stained with the blood and muck of battle. The past few months of his life had been utter hell, but now they were over. He was no longer in Trap City. He was no longer under the dainty thumb of Jessica. He was safe in Mississippi. Even though it wasn't the familiar walls of his home in Dogtrot, Texas, his friends—his real friends were around him. And yet—he couldn't bring himself to smile.

Too many things inside of him had been broken.

Tail held out behind him like a wary cat, Al crept forward until he was near his Host's enormous, jean-clad knee. He propped his hands against it and cleared his throat. Nobody he knew, not even Silver, had actually looked upon the Host with their own eyes. He was so big! And the world around him bigger still! They were in a living room. The small analog TV on the coffee table before them murmured with a local football game. A clock ticked on the far wall. Outside, traffic hissed by on a gravel road.

The little demon was captivated until a sharp pang behind his ear brought him back around.

“Hey! Hey, you,” Al called up to the giant. Maurice was only five foot six and had he been on Al's home turf, the demon would have dwarfed him, but as it stood, Al was only ten inches tall. “You up there! How about a drink? My head's killin' me! Plus, you look like you could use one...”

Maurice lifted a hand and brushed the hair away from one of his ears. Al's heart lifted and fell within the same instant. The Host dropped his hand back down to the sofa, nearly bowling Al over in the process. The demon yelped and ducked away.

How dare he! How dare he ignore him, Al, the guy who led him to that perfect amber elixir that solved all his problems? The demon's chest swelled as he prepared what would surely be a devastating roar. When he opened his fanged maw what came out, to Maurice's ears, was something akin to the noise a bullfrog makes when you step on it.

He finally did look down and he blinked sleepily at the miniature him on the sofa by his knee. They made eye contact. Al lashed his tail impatiently.

Maurice closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ugh...” Whatever Horas had given him to sedate him had been way too strong. He'd have to yell at him when he had the energy. The vampire turned away again and groaned.

Al deflated. How could this be happening? He was the biggest, baddest, most influential voice in all of Collaboration! The Host had seen him! He'd looked right at him! And...denied him.

Spirits momentarily crushed, he turned and flapped down to the hardwood floor. He passed between the pillar-like legs of the coffee table and wandered until he found the kitchen. A plane of black and white squares stretched before him. Sheer cabinet cliffs rose all around and the mesa of a table rose, obscuring a slowly turning ceiling fan. The white monolith of the refrigerator hummed in the corner and the sound reverberated through his hooves and hands as he walked across the cold tile.

Once he reached one of those tall wooden walls, he sat down and tucked his wings under his ratty denim vest. The flight through the clouds had tired him out. He panted again. Al slowly rose an oversized hand to his barrel chest. His heart was slamming. He wasn't scared, though.

Al was never scared.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there and stared deeply into the fluctuating wood grain of the cabinet door.

High above on a shelf, two figures peered down at him. One wore what he insisted was a holy king's garb but was really just a bath robe and pajama pants. The other was dressed in a smart pinstripe suit with a tie.

“Poor thing, he's been there for ages...I wonder where his better half is.”

“Maybe he ate him.”

“If you're not going to help, you can go back to being lazy and worthless in the cookie jar.” Harmony brought one of his wings around and buffeted his brother.

Havoc fought at the feathers and spread a couple of the white primaries so that he could look down at the little scene on the kitchen floor. “I'm just sayin', he looks like a guy that eats other guys, y'know?”

“And you look like a...well, I'm not going to stoop that low.” The angel drew in a self-important sniff. “I'm going to go say hello.”

And with that, Harmony adjusted his halo and took wing. Havoc leaned down and watched his brother's descent. He sighed, spread his own red, leathery wings, and followed suit.

When Harmony's sandals touched down on a large black tile, he daintily folded his wings and coughed into a fist. “Excuse me, I noticed that you've just jumped ship and-- you...you were...” The angel stammered. His halo fell crooked for a moment. Al had finally broken his staring contest with the cabinet door and turned to look down at him. Harmony only stood at his most regal, perhaps six and a half inches high. “You looked much smaller from far away...”

“I get that a lot,” admitted the larger demon in an empty voice. It boomed in the presence of somebody on his own scale. He was well aware of how he and his Host didn't match up as well as other Voices might.

Havoc's hooves skidded to a stop beside his brother. He lit up a cigarette without missing a beat and puffed out a small plume of black, pretending to be unimpressed. “Don't let him bug you. I can see you's is clearly busy there starin' at the wall.”

“It's...alright,” Al rubbed the back of his neck and looked around uneasily. “S' just kinda weird and all...”

“What is?” Harmony had to keep himself from crooning over the big galoot. He was very clearly rattled. He needed guidance! Someone to show him how Outside worked. Someone like him! “Don't you worry about a thing; we'll take care of you.”

“That's um...okay.”

Havoc puffed away on his cigarette as he watched the exchange. Something didn't feel right to him. He took a step back as the larger demon climbed to his hooves. Al stood at a hunch, obviously too hop-heavy to stand like a normal man. If his arms didn't weigh him down, that chest of his surely would. He self-consciously puffed out his own chest. Havoc, as well as his brother, was a bit of a twig.

“You don't have to be shy,” insisted Harmony. “I'm Harmony and this useless creature is my brother, Havoc.”

“Al,” Aloicious replied. “I'm not shy...not really. I'm just a little weirded out.”

“Why's that? I guess if this is your first time Outside, it can be a little overwhelming!”

“It's not that...” Al wiped his nose off on his arm and let it hang slack by his side as he stared down at the two other Voices. “I'm just not used t' breakfast introducin' itself to me.”

“Come again?” Harmony said in a thin, flutey voice. A single feather drifted from his shoulders.

“That's a shame,” Havoc grabbed his brother by the shoulders and dragged him backwards. “We just stopped serving breakfast!” He beat his wings and tried to jump start his and his brother's escape.

Al dropped onto all fours and fanned his own wings out. He was worn out from his journey and his emotions felt like somebody had shaken them all up and dumped them out over the floor like Legos, but when food presented itself to him so willingly, he couldn't just let it go. The cannibal grinned a wide, ugly grin.

Pride aching, Harmony realized that his brother had been right for once and soon joined in the escape effort. He took wing and followed after Havoc just in time to be missed by a grand swiping leap from Al. The larger demon landed hard on the linoleum and let out a loud, agitated hiss.

“I told you! What'd I tell you? I told you!” Havoc puffed as he fled for the very top of the upper cabinets.

Harmony scrambled up next to his brother and turned to look down at Al. The demon was pacing on the floor like a tiger in a cage and looking for anything he could climb. Those wings of his were far shorter than his and his brother's but they had thrown his hulking body up into the air well enough. Harmony could only imagine what a little R & R would do for their new enemy. “He's...he's crazy,” breathed the angel.

“Somethin' like that,” agreed Havoc. He looked across the room and through the open kitchen door. There he could see Maurice—battered, meek, unassuming Maurice. They had both watched him since the day he showed up on their doorstep and he had no idea how something so vicious could come out of...that.

“Havoc. Havoc, where'd he go?”

The demon snapped out of his daydream and looked at his brother. “Wha...?”