Et tu, Angelus?
Golgotha Tenement Blues
He'd been forty days and forty nights newly freed in the world when he decided to destroy it. The rage had been boiling in him since the beginning of time, he thought, but only now -- after his thousand years under the earth -- did he feel compelled to act upon it. Which was how it was when he went looking for the Voice. It was the best place to start, he thought. The place wherefore it began so should it end.
Which was how he wound up at a small bar at the end of the alley he'd recently been lying in, soaking in the filth of those whom had taken the light of God away from him. It could have been anywhere, of course. But here was no better or worse than that.
So he had pushed his way through the scratched and shot door, blithely ignoring the petulant "No Smoking" sign as he put one end of the cigarette he had made from the butts of others between rancid-black lips and inhaled, the tip bursting alight in sheer terror. No-one noticed him enter; surely if they had they would not have been so calm. Not every day does the herald of the Apocalypse come strolling into the local watering hole.
He found what he was looking for hidden in a back corner, clad in black and looking older than he remembered, but still recognisable. He approached, and we met by eyes the colour of infinity.
A pause, and then, "Lain."
"Alex."
Of course, they hadn't know these names before now; just as Lain had not known that the sallow-skinned, black-haired man before him was the one he was looking for. The last time he had seen this... Alex... he had looked far different, full of God's glory and big ideas for the world. So had he, Lain thought dryly. A lot had happened between forever and now.
"How long have you been lurking around?" came the gravel-scraped voice of Alexander Richard Enoch as he turned lazily back to the bar.
Travis Lain -- for that was who he was now, though he hadn't know it before entering this place -- took the seat next to him, poured himself a glass of the scotch he hadn't asked for but which was nevertheless sitting on the counter in front of him.
"Not so long," he answered. "The Creatures woke me."
Alex snorted. "So full of life and of themselves, those ones," he said, slightly wistful.
"I almost destroyed them."
A nod. "I know. We all felt it when you pulled yourself from the earth... though not many knew what was happening."
There was another pause. Lain took another drink.
"So... how are you finding it? This world?"
"Not for much longer at all I think," he answered, stubbing the burn-out cigarette on the sleeve of his jumper, watching the polyester melting back into its constituent plastics.
"Oh?"
"This place needs to burn." He scowled at the cigarette-hole as if it were to blame for it all.
Alex simply sighed. "That time of the year again, is it?" he asked.
Lain growled. "This is not what we wanted for this world."
"No."
"So many gifts were given... and all squandered..."
"Yes."
"These... fools, these mortals wallow proudly in their sin like swine in filth."
"They are... flawed, yes."
Lain brought a hand down hard enough on the counter to make the empty bottles lined up there topple over and roll to the edge. "Flawed? Hah! Diamonds are flawed, Alex. These... these animals are vicious, proud, wilful, destructive... they presume to know the mind of God, Alex. They have no true faith, no true concept of the divine... Corruption festers among them like pus in a boil..."
"And I suppose you are the lance for that boil?" Alex's voice was dry.
Lain glowered. "If that's what it takes... if no-one else will act, then yes. Yes I will gladly take on this role. I will purify this place, scorch the earth with fires and make it whole once again. If no-one else will stand besides me, then so be it. This is something I must do, it must be done if this place is to be restored back to how it was... back to how He intended it."
Alex regarded Lain for a long while, finally he took a sip from the bottle in front of him. "Careful, Lain," he said. "You know who you sound like..."
"I know," Lain growled. "And I'm beginning to think he was right..."
"Lain..."
He turned to Alex, regarded him with eyes like balefire. "Are you with me, Alex? I can do this alone, but I would prefer us to be fighting side by side once more after so long an absence..."
What could he do against those balefire eyes? He always had been the weak one.
"Very well," he said, though his shoulders were slumped and he could not bring himself to meet his companion's eyes. "I will do this for you, Lain. But only this."
Lain nodded.
"So," Ales asked after a while, feeling the dread build in the pit of his chest. "How is it to be done?"
"Let it be the way they want it. These animals are prepared to put words into the mouth of God" -- and here Alex blanched, though did not speak --"so they may die by them."
Alex nodded. "Very well. You understand I am under certain... obligations?"
"I will take these into consideration."
"Very well."
"We will need agents," Lain said.
Alex nodded. "I will call up the Living Creatures, they are... adept at that sort of work."
"Good. It begins then."
"Yes, it begins."
Lain rose sharply after that, bottle of scotch clasped firmly in one hand, fresh cigarette in the other. He stalked out the bar like a man possessed, and -- Alex supposed -- in a way, he was.
His boots left scorched patches on the filthy floorboards.
Alex didn't ask what Lain himself would do. He got the feeling he wouldn't like the answer either way.
He watched the acrid smoke curl out of the boot prints which were beginning -- to him at least -- to look more and more like hooves.
"So," he repeated, to no-one in particular. "It begins."
And then, for the first time since he'd entered oh so long ago, Alex stood up from his stool and made for the door.
He had work to do.