#sand001

Red colors the wall of the alley, a body falls to the floor. As Belial had thought these humans had nothing of use inside of them . . . No power sources their organs were all the same- weak and mushy.

Another man yells, holding a broken pipe out towards the archangel- in the darkness of the city night, his single blade giving off a beautifully pale light. Illuminating sweat, tears- maybe? His eyes are shaky, panic ridden.

A grin breaks across Belial’s face, oh no- it’s happening.

“That’s it . . . ! That’s it! That’s the look!” A power grip wraps around the man’s throat, immediately throwing him off the ground- the impact against the nearby wall would stir up dust all around them. A blade hanging just over the archangel’s shoulder as he stares him down. “THAT LOOK!”

He covers his face with a free hand, laughing. This was the look he wanted to see on the singularities face. The absolute fear not of death but of inevitability. Knowing no matter what happens it’s all over for you.

“You’ve given me something nice . . .” His thumb changes position ever so slightly, pressing up against the main artery. His nails just barely piercing the man’s skin. “So I’ll make it quick.”

“M-monster!”

Another laugh. He’s shaking his head slightly.

“No. I’m so much worse than a monster.” Monsters were directionless, no thought- no appreciation for the art of it all. “Well . . . I guess it might be hard to think of words in this situation.”

The blade moves forward without hesitation- slicing deep into the wall. The crimson liquid covers the archangel’s face and chest- and then the body joins its friend on the ground. But something’s wrong . . . There’s another . . .

He turns, his face barely lit by his own blade- once against resting over his shoulder, the pale red almost matching the darker blood now covering him. He can’t make out who it is at the end of the alley, but someone is there.