Back for more eh? Mwahaha. Umm.. Yeah. Finally, another chappie for all of those who still read this fic. :D Whoo! I'm sleepy… Anyway, once again, thank you for all your reviews! I'm at ONE HUNDRED reviews now! YAY! However, it makes me sad to say that I can't acknowledge reviews anymore in this fic (except for the private response) because of that law they passed just recently on this site. Wahhh… Oh yeah, and a hug to all those who reviewed! Hooray. :D (P.S. Don't explode Salem/FF/Anime Fan!)
Disclaimer: I wish, I wish, I owned Blizzard and Squaresoft but I don't. Blah. I also wish I was a fish!
-- "Back at our heroes, kupo," the restless imp states.--
Kyra sits in her bed, still conscious, her hands folded behind her head as she stares up at the ceiling of her dark room. She focuses on a few infinitesimal cracks above her imbedded into the ceiling, but her mind is focused on the same hum-drum voices tickling the vestiges of her thoughts; a voice telling her that she was in grave danger, a danger beyond whatever she could comprehend. Another voice is telling her about that closed door in her mind, making her know that something was there but she just didn't know what, an annoying sensation that all three girls shared since their forgotten experience at the daycare. Outside, the solemn, solitary moon gazes through her window.
She shakes her head and gets up, seeing as she couldn't sleep, heading out into the living room. As she nears, voices can be heard from ahead.
"You guys are still up?" Kyra asks, seeing Melvin typing furiously fast on his laptop, working on his alleged religious website, Brian watching the screen with his eyes while trying to follow the words and failing. Obviously the guys had changed hurriedly back to their proper attire moments after the incident that afternoon. Little Selena is up as well, appearing from her sister's room, carrying used tube of lipstick.
Brian looks at the approaching Kyra, having received a sizeable headache from watching the racing words. "Yes, we are up. Why are you?" he asks quizzically.
"Eh. I can't sleep," she shrugs. "Musta' been all the caffeine I drank this morning. Hey Selena," she turns to the guilty-looking child. "What are you doing with that lipstick?"
"Les' just say 'dat Sawem will look prettier tommowo," she smiles.
Kyra shrugs again. "Oookay… Hey, where's Derek?"
"He is trying this 'sleep' you speak of," Brian replies.
"Oh." Kyra's brow furls, but she decides to ignore his strange talk. Instead, she stalks off toward his room with no particular intention other than trying to get some sleep. With the purpose of waking him, she hops into his bed. One of his normally-eerily-green-pupiled eyes slides open as result from the wakening.
"K-Kyra? Is there a problem?" Derek asks, slightly worried for his 'potential mate'.
"I can't sleep," she says in a cute, pouty-ish voice.
Derek smiles and nods, placing a reassuring arm over her shoulders. It must have been this caring gesture or the warmth of his closeness, but, for the first time in a long while, she fell instantly asleep. And they lay snuggled there all throughout the comforting night.
--"Boy, the author sure is lazy, kupo. Next day kupo," the moogle says. The imp looks angrily at the moogle saying, "You speak blasphemy kupo!"--
In the morning, Brian awakens to the sound of a scream and would've rather enjoyed it, had it not been his girlfriend's. Getting out of the bed, in which he never slept, he stalks over to his open door. Just then, he is almost bowled over by two forms whizzing past his doorway. He follows them, noticing that it is Selena being chased by Salem, whose face is scribbled upon by dark lipstick marks. He shudders inwardly. 'Well, that was scary,' he thinks to himself.
"Ah, the weekend…" Rika says, appearing from the kitchen, trying to ignore the warring siblings. "Where's Kyra?"
Before he can answer, Kyra waltzes out from around a corner. "Yo chili-cheese eatas'! What's up?"
"Ummm.. The sky?" replies a baffled Brian.
"Good one," Rika says.
Kyra bounces away, all happy-like.
"What's wrong with her?" Brian asks, as she hops away.
"A lot of things," Rika sighs.
Then, Derek appears from the same direction as the bouncy blonde, looking happier than usual. The demon of destruction looks at his younger brother with a 'what-did-you-do-to-her?' look and Derek sends him back an 'all-I-did-was-hug-her' look, if such a thing were possible. Brian shrugs. 'I'll never even begin to understand these strange humans and their emotions,' he thinks to himself.
-- "Meanwhile, kupo," the imp says.--
Towards the afternoon, we see that the angels are walking through a crowd, all of the people trying to fit into a small shop with a seventy-five discount off all their shoes, some of which the Wildlife Preservation groups might not be too fond of. All three of them had cast upon themselves an invisibility spell so as not to disturb the rowdy crowd. Being invisible was just fine, the only flaw being that people could still hear you, and walking through a crowd while carrying out a conversation wasn't in the best interest of the populace, since people of the crowd were beginning to question their own sanity.
"Cowardly demons," comments a joyful Tyrael, joyful because it had been a somewhat successful battle against the demons and that they hadn't gotten themselves killed in the process. In fact, if one could actually see invisible angels, they would have noticed that the trio were almost virtually untouched. The only downside to their battle had been that the demons had gotten away just in the nick of time.
Izual grits his teeth at Tyrael's comment.
"I wonder where they've gone off to," says Hadriel while a lady to his right looks around in confusion. "They were quite powerful ones, but they seemed rather… distracted."
Silence closes over them as the seraphim weave through a part of the crowd with a particularly large density. The humans mill about, trying to push their way into the overcrowded shop. The store clerk inside begins to regret having not put up a maximum capacity sign. Suddenly a man bolts from the store, with armfuls of shoes while the clerk tries to push his way through the throngs of human bodies. "Stop, thief!" he shouts, wondering how many times that line had ever worked for anybody.
"Eh, I'll get that," Tyrael says, walking in front of the unknowing man.
"What the-!" the thief says, feeling his legs growing heavy, almost as if glued to the cement. Eventually the cops and the clerk arrive. Tyrael just smiles and resumes his pace alongside his companions.
"Sorry," Tyrael states to the others whom can be seen perfectly through the eyes of another angel, as they clear the mass of bodies, "'Can't help these impulses to do good. It's rather bothersome. Anyway, Did you notice anything… different about those demons we fought yesterday?"
"Actually, yes," replies the talkative Hadriel. "Their demonic auras were much stronger than any of the subordinate demons we've come across."
"Who do you suppose they are?"
It is then that the silent figure of Izual speaks, looking more dismal with his hands jammed in his pockets and Shadowfang's scabbard clinking rhythmically against his hip.
"They were the two warlords and current leaders of Hell's armies."
"How do you know that?" asks Hadriel curiously.
"Simple. The monsters we fought bore the Daemon marks of the bat and the chameleon upon their right hand. In past wars after I was captured and rescued, you sent me on various missions against Hell, Tyrael, and rumor was, back then, that two subordinates of the Prime Evils were to stand against their masters soon and cause the beginning of the civil war of Hell . One was referred to as a great, horrid chameleon who could shift his form to anything he wished without the aid of attaining a body first. The other was as a powerful, winged creature that could only be compared to the form of a twisted bat. As you can see, they succeeded, making them as dangerous as the Prime Evils themselves."
"Excellent deduction Izual," Tyrael says delightedly.
Hadriel speaks next, asking innocently. "Indeed. But by your 'capture', are you referring to that time when you broke into Hell for the Shadowfang and were captured and then Tyrael himself had to rescue you?"
"The same," Izual says, gritting his teeth once more. It is lucky for him that they knew nothing of what had transpired then during his time in Hell, of the suffering and torture he'd had to endure, or of his allegiance to the Prime Evils. He grows quiet again.
Tyrael notices the static between the two. Ever since he'dbegun this whole mission, Hadrielhad becomeconstantly wary of the black-clad angel for some odd reason as time drew on. He, however, trusted the man with his life, for Izual and Hadriel were both his greatest generals and friends in war. "Erm… Changing the subject, I believe I saw some other figures briefly in the room during our battle with the demons. Did you?"
The false angel is surprised by this question, thinking, 'Damn. I can't help it if my masters are reckless fools. Why must I always cover up for them?' Seeing as Tyrael is walking a tad further than the other two, Izual's hands weave faintly at his side as he casts a silence spell upon Hadriel, rendering him speechless.
"Nope. Not at all. It could've been all those heat waves playing tricks on your eyes in there," he says, while Hadriel looks stunned and paws pathetically at his sealed lips. He wonders who had placed the spell on him.
"Must've been…." Tyrael shrugs.
"Mmph!" mumbles Hadriel. "Mmmph!"
"What's wrong with Hadriel?"
"Dunno," Izual smiles, "Demon's got his tongue?"
-- "Bite me, kupo!" the moogle says. "At night kupo!"--
While Azmodan was busy cavorting about to work on his own devices, Belial is busy conducting his own search for the Prime Evil's whereabouts from within the confines of an abandoned warehouse at the edge of town, their hidden 'sanctum'.
Unsure footsteps echo in the hollow, ancient building. Belial, sitting expectantly at an old, dilapidated table near the back of the warehouse, leans forward on his elbows. Belial's current 'form' is that of a business man's, all angular features and a dangerous-looking visage. A dim light bulb high up in the ceiling, the only one that worked, casts a gray sheen over everything in the warehouse, including the fearful-looking man who walked through the disused entranceway. The demon folds his hands, waiting, smelling the fear wafting from the cautiously advancing figure like a sweet, pungent odor. It is quite ironic to the demon to see the once proud and swell-headed principal of a school, a man of authority and duty, quivering in his shoes in his presence but here for a purpose against his calling. Humans were worthless creatures, but quite amusing he had to admit.
"So, you've accepted my invitation," Belial says in a voice like a razor's edge. "Do you have the information?"
"Y-yes sir. I do," the thin, lanky man languidly steps closer to the table.
"Please, sit," the disguised demon motions with his hand to a rickety chair across from the table.
"No really sir, I'd rather just st-"
"Sit," Belial slowly lowers his extended hand to the table, and, to the principal's dismay, he lowers into the chair at the same time. The startled man looks around, confused. He pulls up his suitcase of classified school files, each of which contained the phone numbers, addresses, etc. of every student that went to the school Belial and his companion had raided yesterday.
"D-Do you have the money?" he asks shakily.
"Of course," the shape shifter pulls out a perfectly untouched silver case, the light glinting off of it's smooth surface reflecting in the thick lenses of the principal's glasses. While vaguely wondering why someone would pay so much money for a few student files and speculating the consequences of his actions, the greedy man soon forgets his fear, his eyes flickering eagerly to the case like a weasel.
The demon runs his hand once over the case, then the suitcase of files and the case of the money is exchanged. Trying not to show his growing eagerness, Belial waits until the selfish human snatches the case up, nods to him, and steps away into the panther-coat night outside like a weak, bending willow. When the last vestiges of the human disappears, the shape changer snaps his fingers and the suitcase unlocks obediently. He flips through each file hurriedly, the faces of young adults rushing past at a speed that would've gotten a speeding ticket were a cop nearby. Belial nears the end the files and bangs his fist loudly on the table, causing many of the dust-crusted windows to shudder in place. With one swipe of his hand, the files flutter to the floor like broken, flightless gulls.
Belial, angered, listens to the silence of the warehouse, breathing heavily. As he listens intently, he notices that it is not his breathing that stirs the still air. Looking up, he sees a large, black Rottweiler eyeing him from the boarded-up entranceway, it's rippling muscles outlined with moonlight and it's pink tongue lolling in and out of it's bear-trap jaws. Oddly, the moonlight hits it's pupils in such a way that makes them gleam red.
"Diablo's spies…" Belial whispers harshly.
The dog gives a slight huff and turns away, nails clicking against the pavement outside…
Well, so ends chapter 19! Once again, it was short when I read it and after all that work! Gah... Anyway... Yes, I know you're all thinking, 'Great, now I have to wait another millennia for the next chapter.' If you've ever had this doubt in mind… then you must be psychic! Yay! Anyway, I'll try and see what I can get to. School can really eat up time. Anyways, please review and vote for your favorite character if you haven't already! Yay! Thankies! Peace homies!
Salem: 3 (+997)
Brian: 5 (+996)
Selena: 4
Derek: 5
Kyra: 5
Rika: 4
Melvin: 4
Tyrael: 11
Hadriel: 0
Izual: 0
Azmodan: 0
Belial: 0
Moogle: 1
Hobo Guy: 10 (Lol!)