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The oval office had been compromised. I knew because I was the one who compromised it.
I was standing over the body of the celibate, atheist president. The dark hues of her face were being framed by the blood from her slit throat as she lay on her back looking up at me. Her feet kicked slower, more of a rub that a kick, and then lay still.
Her throat stopped bubbling.
The hammering on the door was what snapped me back to reality. I could hear footsteps outside and I knew that soon the room would be filled with fireworks.
I made the sign of the cross, activating the transmitters embedded in my forehead, shoulders and torso. They lit up blue, wiped the room with bright light, and I vanished.
Soldiers burst through the expensive French doors into an oval office containing the corpse of a now ex-president, the smell of lilacs, and nothing else.
I arrived in the transportation bay with a double-flash of light and a release of pent-up breath. I was never comfortable on missions that required an instant transport. I’d been reassured by the people that built it, people even smarter than me, that it was safe. Whatever. As far as I was concerned, it just hadn’t malfunctioned yet.
I stepped off of the platform into the receiving bay and was greeted by my fellow seraphim returning from their separate missions. Almost all of them had returned by now.
The top businessmen and politicians in the world were being killed by us and blame was being thrown around by our operatives. The Rapture was well on it’s way to being a complete success until we noticed that Seraphel hadn’t returned from his mission yet.
An alarm turned us to the bank of monitors embedded in the ship’s walls. CNN was playing a clip live from the office of Industrialist Nick “The Shadow” Milovets. He was holding up Seraphel’s head by his long, blond hair. Serpahel’s glowing, blue eyes stared into the camera as his head spun from The Shadow’s hand.
He was screaming into the camera in Czech. He was asking Heaven if this was the best it could do. Seraphel’s wings were nailed to the wall of his office in the background along with what looked like several of his bodyguard mercenaries.
“There goes our cover story.” said Azmareal to my right. I shot him a disapproving look and called up Response and Containment.
Chelarahmel appeared in front me, flickering, with a questioning look on her face. I nodded at her. She frowned, holding back tears, before disappearing.
“Clear” came from the loudspeakers on all decks. As one, we turned our thoughts to love.
Chelarahmel sent an overload command to Seraphel’s transmitters. On the television, an angelic glyph burned bright on the forehead of our dead friend. Nick "The Shadow" Milovets yelped as his hand started to burn. The yelp turned into a scream as his office shuddered.
The screen went white as CNN lost the feed and returned to spouting panicked theories.
Maybe it’s because I was the oldest but everyone on my deck seemed to be holding their breath and looking at me.
“Well, this’ll wake up Hell. Strap in. We might not have time to group and strategize. The humans won’t blame themselves now.” I said. “We proved our existence in their media and moved antagonistically. Father can’t help us now and we’ve broken the covenant.”
I smiled up at them.
“Open the channels”, I said “Let our side know that the end of the world is coming.”
The deck erupted in cheers and started strapping on the armour.
tags
I was standing over the body of the celibate, atheist president. The dark hues of her face were being framed by the blood from her slit throat as she lay on her back looking up at me. Her feet kicked slower, more of a rub that a kick, and then lay still.
Her throat stopped bubbling.
The hammering on the door was what snapped me back to reality. I could hear footsteps outside and I knew that soon the room would be filled with fireworks.
I made the sign of the cross, activating the transmitters embedded in my forehead, shoulders and torso. They lit up blue, wiped the room with bright light, and I vanished.
Soldiers burst through the expensive French doors into an oval office containing the corpse of a now ex-president, the smell of lilacs, and nothing else.
I arrived in the transportation bay with a double-flash of light and a release of pent-up breath. I was never comfortable on missions that required an instant transport. I’d been reassured by the people that built it, people even smarter than me, that it was safe. Whatever. As far as I was concerned, it just hadn’t malfunctioned yet.
I stepped off of the platform into the receiving bay and was greeted by my fellow seraphim returning from their separate missions. Almost all of them had returned by now.
The top businessmen and politicians in the world were being killed by us and blame was being thrown around by our operatives. The Rapture was well on it’s way to being a complete success until we noticed that Seraphel hadn’t returned from his mission yet.
An alarm turned us to the bank of monitors embedded in the ship’s walls. CNN was playing a clip live from the office of Industrialist Nick “The Shadow” Milovets. He was holding up Seraphel’s head by his long, blond hair. Serpahel’s glowing, blue eyes stared into the camera as his head spun from The Shadow’s hand.
He was screaming into the camera in Czech. He was asking Heaven if this was the best it could do. Seraphel’s wings were nailed to the wall of his office in the background along with what looked like several of his bodyguard mercenaries.
“There goes our cover story.” said Azmareal to my right. I shot him a disapproving look and called up Response and Containment.
Chelarahmel appeared in front me, flickering, with a questioning look on her face. I nodded at her. She frowned, holding back tears, before disappearing.
“Clear” came from the loudspeakers on all decks. As one, we turned our thoughts to love.
Chelarahmel sent an overload command to Seraphel’s transmitters. On the television, an angelic glyph burned bright on the forehead of our dead friend. Nick "The Shadow" Milovets yelped as his hand started to burn. The yelp turned into a scream as his office shuddered.
The screen went white as CNN lost the feed and returned to spouting panicked theories.
Maybe it’s because I was the oldest but everyone on my deck seemed to be holding their breath and looking at me.
“Well, this’ll wake up Hell. Strap in. We might not have time to group and strategize. The humans won’t blame themselves now.” I said. “We proved our existence in their media and moved antagonistically. Father can’t help us now and we’ve broken the covenant.”
I smiled up at them.
“Open the channels”, I said “Let our side know that the end of the world is coming.”
The deck erupted in cheers and started strapping on the armour.
tags