Ever met an angel? You probably have and never knew.

I will let you in on a little secret. Angels are dicks. Now let me be clear here… I am not talking about the whole “messenger of god” type of angel. You dont meet those. They tend to stay wherever they come from. No.. the angels on earth are the fallen.

But wait.. wouldn’t that make them demons? No.. they where not so bad as to get cast into hell, but neither were they good enough to stay where they come from. You will notice I dont say heaven.. that’s because I have no idea where they come from.. and they ain’t talking.

So back to earthbound angels. Tell me.. even if you are basically vary good… if you are trapped with humans for eternity or untill something kills you.. what do you do? Well… you get vary… vary…. board. And what do board Angels do? They screw with people for no other reason than they can, and that it amuses them.

It’s not always malicious, sometimes they help people get what they think they want. Sometimes that’s great… sometimes it turns into a God dammed nightmare. That’s the thing though, they dont care if it turns out good or bad. They just spin the wheel and want to see what happens. We are the greatest interactive TV show ever.

I can hear you thinking it. “But if they do things that turn out bad… wouldn’t they be bad?” I will answer that in two ways. First, they gave you want you wanted, that in itself is good not evil. It comes down to intent. They had no intention of hurting you. If it happens to work out that way, not their fault. Free will is a bitch. Second, if you watch a horror movie, are you evil? No? Well that’s how they see us. Sometimes a comedy, sometimes a tragedy, always entertaining.

So yah.. dicks. Not because they would set you on fire. But because they would much rather watch you burn than put you out. Or they may put you out just to see how you act now that your all covered in burns.

At least with demons you know where you stand. Them, evil. Us, good. No far flung plans just to see us squerm. They just want to hurt us, make us suffer. And while they are a whole big dufflebag of assholes and hate… at least they are strait up evil. Angels? Who knows…

So it’s best to steer clear…. unless you cant. And that’s where I come in. I have the dubious honor of being able to see them for what they are. And they know it. And because of that they have tormented me. For you see, there are not many that can see them for what they are. And when they find someone who can.. it’s like the best toy ever. Just because its different from all the other toys.

They tormented me growing up, and of course no one believes a child that says angels are makeing his life hell. And that just amused them even more. I grew up.. and I tried to run. To get away from being constantly toyed with. It didnt work, they always found me.

Finally.. as I was nearing the end of my sanity I found a book. Old.. filled with blasphemous ramblings of an insane monk. The leather cover was scared and burned like it had at some point been set on fire. Pages yellow with age and ink faded almost to nothing. But in it.. there was a secret. Angels bound to the earth.. while hard to kill.. could die. And it told how to do it.

First you needed a demon. Only they knew how to make the poison that could weaken them.. make them mortal. Its actually much harder to find a demon than you may think. We humans are capable of some pretty horrific things all on our own. One out of a hundred thousand cruel and evil people is actually a demon. And its usually not the one you would suspect.

For me it was the 2643rd truly rotten individual that I found that turned out to be the real deal. And whew… she was a piece of work. Hidden in plain sight, English teacher at a highschool. Yup.. you always think your English teacher was evil. Just so happens this one actually was.

She was sleeping with her students and a few adults. Male and female, but only those that were in good relationships. And then blackmailing them, using them and finally destroying Their faith in love. Ripping apart their relationship, isolating them from their frends and family. Oh yah.. she was real all right. And all I had to do to get her to give up the poison was hang around attracting angels.

Demons by their vary nature are full of passion and emotion. Shure it’s a passion for corruption and evil.. but it’s still passion. Angels on the other hand, are cool and calm. Unflappable self confidence and easy charm. And demons… hate that. Angels dont actually give two craps about what demons do. But the reactions of people being tortured by a demon are amusing to them. And demons hate them even more for being used for entertainment.

She gave me the poison. Even told me the secret to makeing it. All you needed to make more was a burned angel feather. But here’s the catch. Angels only drop their fathers when they die. And I hand just enough of the poison for one dose. I had to make it count.

All those years of torment. Of hearing them whisper that it was ok.. they would help me. And then doing nothing as my life feel apart again and again under their influence. Trying to drive me to madness.. or death. You may think I may be mad, that there are no angels.. or demons. That this is all the raveling of a demented mind. Your half wrong. I may be twisted and a bit broken, but its because of them. And they are vary real.

It was one of the ones who tormented me as a child that found me in the empty warehouse. A splash of poison and a quick thrust of the blade… I didnt know Angels could scream. It was like no sound and all sound. A perfect b minor like the ringing of a glass bowl. And then it was done. Silence… before my eyes he slowly began to turn white. Like chalk given form. I quickly bent and snatched two fethers from his wing before they to were changed to white dust. And then he was gone.. the slightest breeze carried the dust away. No trace.. but for the two fethers I clutched in my hand.

One fether I burned to make more poison, the other I stitched into the lining of my coat. I learned something that night. If i wanted to take a fether, I had to be close. No poisoned bullet or arrow. They would be dust before I got to them.

Years past.. then a decade.. the Angels tormented me no longer. No… now they feared me. They made me what I am, and one by one.. they paid for it. Oh.. they tried to fight, to hunt me down. But that takes focus. And they are easily distracted. And they were afraid.

It was in New York where they finaly made their stand. They used one of their own as bait In the train yard. It smelled like a trap but I was not going to just walk away. The angel was in the back of a train car. I could see the fear emanating from him as I slipped inside. He held a spear before him.. he smirked, still arrogant even now. I knew closing with a spear in a tight space would not be the smartest move. But I needed to be quick. No long drawn out fight.

The backpack felt heavy over my coat but i knew it was worth it. I reached back and unhooked a pair of throwing knives. In one motion my arms snapped forward losing them to the wind. He could only block one. He understood that a moment too late. The unblocked blade found his throat. I knelt over him as his features turned that chalky white and began to erode away. Two fethers.. as always, slipped inside my coat.

There was noise behind me, I didnt turn around. I knew they may try something like this. I could barely hear them as they entered the car but their weight reverberated through the steel beneath me. I felt their footsteps through my hand as I braced myself still kneeling at the back of the car. Closer… closer.. more feet.. how many were there? They were yelling something I couldn’t make out but they were close enough that it no longer mattered.

My free hand slapped my chest, connecting the circuit. A small electric charge flew through the strap of my pack and into what waited within. A claymore mine. Strapped to shock absorbers and a steel plate. The noise was deafening. Even braced as I was I still felt the Impact as thousands of metal flechettes coated in poison roared through the boxcar. There was pain in my wrist as I stood and turned. I removed my earplugs as I surveyed the damage. White powder covered everything. There must have been over a dozen. The front two thirds of the car was now a solid white and looked like a kitchen strainer.

There were two left. They rounded the corner of the car and saw me standing amidst the devastation. They must have been outside when I triggered it. Maybe lookouts or guards. They gaped.. “blasphemous! You will pay for what you have done!” Screamed one of them. I sighed and opened my coat. The lineing was a brilliant white, layer apon layer of angelic feathers stitched inside. One from every angel I had put down. I was in no mood for a fight. My whole body ached from the blast.

My voice was quiet but it echoed in the confines of the car “walk away… my coat I warm enough”. As I sit writing this in my tiny loft apartment, nursing a broken wrist and a cup of coffee I have to be a bit grateful that they ran. I’m not shure I could have taken them in the state I was in. Every movement was pain. Even weeks later as I sit here I still have pulled muscles and a knee so brused I am walking with a cane.

I write this now because I know I am safe for a while. Those two will tell others.. who will tell more. They will tell of the man with a coat filled with death. And they will warn them to stay far away from him. For now.. I can rest. And maybe if another who is tortured and tormented finds my words it may give them hope.

Signed- In Nomine