Alleyway Surprise [OPEN]

[Azrael]

Blood splattered against the pavement of the back alley.

Panting, the Plus struggled to get away, pulling himself forward as his bloody leg, useless, left a trail of red in his wake. He'd never had illusions of Chicago being an accepting haven, but this was never how he'd thought it would end.

A bellow echoed from further down the alley. The Plus turned his head back in fear to see the monster our creature stalking toward him. Blood, the Plus' blood, dripped from its claws as a wry grin crossed its face. It towered over him, close to six and a half feet tall, and its thick blue hide had prevented all of the Plus' attacks from doing any damage. Its tail swished just behind him, knocking over some crates, blocking the two of them in.

<He'll never escape. Never escape. Never escape...>

Michael loved this part. The thrill of the hunt was quite something, but once his prey was cornered, those final moments brought him even more joy. Ridding the earth of these abominations was the only reason he could even live with himself being this way... And with each kill, he felt a little closer to his mission. He still felt sick thinking about what he really was, but in these moments just before the kill, he forgot all about what he was and focused only on what he could do.

Michael quickly closed the distance, allowing the Plus' screams echo around the alley as he finished him off.

*********************************************

A few minutes later, Michael had shifted back to his human form and made his way back to his small cache of things he had had on him before the chase in an alleyway nearby The maze of back alleys in this part of town had always made it the perfect place to lure, then kill, the superhumans, and keeping his stuff nearby was an added plus. He slipped his handgun back into its holster and quietly began to slip back towards the area where he'd ended the miserable creature's life, his apartment a few streets beyond.

As Michael passed the alleyway where the body was still lying in its own filth, he thought he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. Quickly ducking into a nearby alcove, he pulled out his handgun and waited to see who had the unfortunate pleasure of stumbling after him.

[Tamiel]

[googlefont="Amatic SC"][googlefont="Loved by the King"]

i can squeeze, you can shake me
i can feel when you break me

logan holloway

~~~~~~~~~~

Fear had never been quite Tamiel's cup of tea, but he'd been drawn in by the screaming anyway. It sounded human enough, and he'd never really been keen on letting harm come to them--at least not physical. He was already too late by the time he'd arrived, and that was regrettable, but it couldn't be helped. He sighed, the regret already leaving him, and started to walk away to explore some more.

He'd only gotten a few steps when he noticed someone walking away from the scene. Well, maybe they hadn't come straight from the scene, but they were close enough that they must've heard something. He moved toward them, not making much of an effort to keep himself quiet, and watched as they ducked into an alcove up ahead.

Quaint, Tamiel thought, slipping his switchblade out of his pocket and letting the blade spring forth. "Hello?" he inquired, making his voice light and a bit frightened. "I... I heard screaming. Are you alright?"

He hoped that the person in question wouldn't just start shooting at him indiscriminately. He'd hate to get his own blood all over his shirt. He took a few more steps forward, peeking around toward the alcove with his knife-bearing hand behind his back. "I just want to talk. It's okay." He took a deep breath, putting on an innocent and inquisitive face. "You wouldn't hurt me, right? I haven't done anything to you." He took a few more steps forward, drawing his lips together and gripping the handle on his knife just a bit tighter. "If you're hurt, I can try to help. We don't have to go to a hospital if you've got something... that you don't want found out, but I know people who can fix you up. It'll be okay. Just come out. Please."

~~~~~~~~~~

word count:: 302 ::
notes :: none ::
tagged :: Azrael ::
outfit :: white button up, light blue jeans, white converse ::
mood :: devious, serious, slightly amused ::

[Azrael]

Michael froze up. The unmistakeable sound of a switchblade set him on edge, every fibre of his being ready to either shoot or flee. In his other forms, fighting was the only option, but having just fought a Plus made him feel weakened and vulnerable. The sudden arrival of someone else in the area must mean trouble. As he waited, he thought over the possible reasons why the person was following him. This person, whoever they were, must have seen the body lying in the gutter a few feet away. They could be trying to lure Michael out for some sort of questioning… or worse. When the man finally spoke, his voice seemed friendly enough though - not that Mike trusted it. The uncertainty of it all was just unnerving. <Whatever he wants, I won't let him get the better of me,> he thought.

Cautiously, Michael peeked his head towards the corner, catching a glimpse of the other person. He looked like he was in his late twenties, and he had an innocent look upon his face. Michael couldn’t tell right away whether this man was a friend or a foe, but he could tell that there was something off about him, especially if he didn’t seem all that worried by the gun Mike was obviously holding. “I’m… alright,” he responded, locking eyes with the man. “I’m not the one that was hurt… That man in the alley was beyond help by the time I got here. Is that what drew you here?”

Michael did a quick survey of the area before noticing something else – the man seemed to be hiding something behind his back. Alarm bells ringing, his voice grew harsher as he continued. “I’m not looking for trouble here, but I can’t say that I’m reassured by your… body language. What exactly do you want to talk about? I’m not exactly in the mood for small talk right now.”

[Winter Cardwell]

Winter was out of her element in Chicago, that was for sure. It was busy, busier than she had anticipated. The cab ride away from O’Hare to the complex alone had almost put her in sensory overload. Still there was plenty to see and do even after her visit to her aunt. With that oh-so-successful visit out of the way she was taking her time with exploring. Winter had already bought a few postcards and sent them off to her friends in London with the missive of wishing they were there, eaten a gourmet sandwich from a food truck, and spent most of the afternoon people watching in Millennium Park. Eleven o’clock rolled around before she had even really realized just how late she’d been out. “Rookie mistake,” she had muttered to herself as she hurried away from the park and into a cab.

By the time she’d gotten close to her hotel she felt more than a little exhausted, chalking most of it up to the combination of jet lag and a bit too much sun. Winter was still muttering to herself when she heard a scream, the sound filled with absolute terror. Ignoring the prickling feeling at the back of her neck she tightened her hold on her purse and turned towards it rather than away. Whoever had done it probably needed help. Three more turns and she had effectively gotten herself lost. One more and she’d stumbled upon a scene that most definitely not the source of the scream that she had heard. Even in the low light of the alleyway she was able to tell that both men held weapons. All she had was mace.

“I heard a scream,” Winter called out as she caught the tail end of what the man with the gun had said. She motioned vaguely behind her and made a face, the picture of sheepishness, determined to play up her obvious out of towner status. “An’ I got myself lost tryin’ to find it. ‘M so sorry.”

[Tamiel]

[googlefont="Amatic SC"][googlefont="Loved by the King"]

i can squeeze, you can shake me
i can feel when you break me

logan holloway

~~~~~~~~~~

Tamiel slipped the knife carefully with the blade still out into his back pocket in order to lift his hands up in front of him in a gesture of innocence."I was just worried you were going to hurt me. I wanted to be able to defend myself if you did. I don't mean any harm, I promise. I just wanted to make sure you were alright." He stopped, then nodded in earnest. "Yes, I heard the scream. I thought it might've been you, but I suppose I was wrong. I can stop bothering you now, if you'd like."

Upon hearing Win's voice, Tamiel stiffened and turned his gaze to her. Just being in her presence was making him uncomfortable. Some sort of angel, then, and he had to be prepared to fight for his freedom even though he already knew he'd lose. His breath shook as he stepped away from her. "What are you?" he murmured, looking her over. If she had telepathy, he was already screwed, so it was very nearly a moot point, but he figured he'd ask anyway on the off chance that she didn't and he could still escape with his life. "You're not... human. You're something more, I can tell. Something divine. What are you?" He kept up the innocent and frightened facade. It was all he had to cling to at the moment. He stepped back a bit more, his hands starting to shake. "I'm not looking for a fight, but I'm not afraid of getting into one if you're going to try to hurt me or something. I've heard stories."

Lies weren't getting him out of this one, he could feel it, but it didn't hurt to try, he supposed. He took a final step backward and braced himself, looking between the two and trying to regulate his breathing. This was about to get ugly.

~~~~~~~~~~

word count :: 313 ::
notes :: none ::
tagged :: Azrael, Winter Cardwell ::
outfit :: white button up, light blue jeans, white converse ::
mood :: scared as heck ::

[Azrael]

Michael relaxed a little when the man put the knife away, but his grip didn't loosen on the gun. Countless encounters with Pluses had taught him to expect the unexpected, and there was something he couldn't put his finger on with this strange man. "I'm fine, and I don't need any help, so unless there's something else you need from me, I’d like to be on my way..." Mike began, before noticing a woman arrive behind the other stranger. Her accent instantly gave her away as a tourist - not a threat, at least for now.

What startled Michael was the stranger's reaction to this new person. His words erased any ease he had found in the past little while, replacing them with anger and determination. He wasn't sure what this new woman was, or how this other man knew, but she wasn't human. An abomination. A creature that shouldn't exist in this world. Whether she was actually a Plus or one of the other countless creatures that roamed the earth, it didn’t matter. In the end, they were all monsters in the eyes of those who mattered. Unless this woman was a friend and not a Plus, he was going to have to go in for a fight. It was his mission to deal with these sorts of creatures, and he would do just that.

Michael stepped forward, raising his gun. “What are you? One of the freaks, like the one lying dead in that alley? I wasn’t looking for more trouble, but if you’re here to help that dead Plus, you’re too late. You’re in the wrong part of town, lady. If you’re not human, what are you? And how the hell are you able to just know that, wise guy? Frankly, I’m running out of patience here.”

[Winter Cardwell]

Her eyes narrowed the moment she actually caught what the Englishman had said. Of course. Of course she would run into someone who not only knew what she was but would call her out on it too. She bit the inside of her cheek and sighed heavily. Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Darlin’ I don’t know what kinda stories you’ve heard but ‘m pretty sure that ‘m not anyone you need to be nervous around. In fact, ‘m actually a bit nervous myself.” Winter cleared her throat and shook her head. It wasn’t even an exaggeration. “’M a baker from London visitin’ some of her family.”

The moment the gun had been turned towards her, Winter’s hands were up in the air in surrender. Wrong part of town was definitely an understatement at this point. “I think ‘m gatherin’ that right about now.” She swallowed nervously as she felt her shoulders start to ache from keeping her wings in for so long. “An’ I promise you that ‘m not lookin’ for any trouble either, like I said…I heard a scream. I didn’t know one way or another what the person was I just know they sounded scared.” The fact that she hadn’t answered his question wasn’t truly purposeful. But in light of the current situation Winter wasn’t in much of a hurry to reveal herself. As it was she found herself trying to look for a way out. One that could be made without hurting anyone, hopefully. “Could you please point that thing away from me?” She asked Michael, a slight tremor in her voice as she did so. “ I really, really don’t like guns.”

[Tamiel]

[googlefont="Amatic SC"][googlefont="Loved by the King"]

i can squeeze, you can shake me
i can feel when you break me

logan holloway

~~~~~~~~~~

After years of combat, Tamiel knew when he was outnumbered. He didn't think that the obviously more dangerous man was going to believe him over an angel of all beings, especially if she did reveal herself, so he figured now was as good a time as any to make like a tree and get the fuck out. It was unfortunate that he didn't have teleportation as many other demons did, since he didn't really have much reason to--after all, if he didn't go to Hell much if at all, why would he need the ability to instantaneously get himself there?--but he did at least have shapeshifting on his side, which was probably going to be the only thing that saved him at this point, if anything saved him at all.

"You know, it's been fun, but I think I've got to go. Bye," he said, his voice quivering, and then he was gone and a peregrine falcon was soaring away from the spot he'd stood only milliseconds prior, flying in the direction he'd been facing. It was pretty obvious, given the situation, that the bird was the man that had just been standing in front of them. No other bird would be going to quite such effort to look behind it and weave in and out as fast as it could while still making a beeline for Away From There.

He knew he was making himself a target, but if he could just get away far enough to turn into something else and lose their trail, maybe, just maybe he had a chance of living free rather than dying hard. Assuming, of course, that the angel didn't track him down and try to chain him. Well. In that case he'd have to lie completely low for a very long time, assuming he got away in the first place.

Tamiel realized he was assuming a great deal of things. He didn't even know he was going to make it through the next six feet, not for certain.

~~~~~~~~~~

word count :: 337 ::
notes :: "lol bye" ::
tagged :: Azrael, Winter Cardwell ::
outfit :: bird ::
mood :: nope mode engage ::

[Azrael]

Too many things were happening at once. It was hard enough for Michael to decipher what the Southern woman was saying, beyond completely dodging the question. But he could tell his other question had set off the man too. Now both were on edge, and they both looked like they were going to bolt... had Mike not had the gun. <Great job. Now you're outnumbered 2 to 1. Biting off more than I can chew is a becoming a bad habit,> he thought as he gritted his teeth. <Keep the situation under control. You've dealt with these types before.>

"I'll stop pointing the gun at ya when you give me a straight answer," Michael sneered, taking a step forward. "Answer me! Are you a Plus? Are you something else? What are you?" He began to look over the exits to the alley, mentally calculating how much time it would take to shift and take the both of them on. There were only three directions to run, and he'd already blocked off one. It wouldn't be too hard to herd the pair in one direction and pin them if needed.

As he thought about what he could do, he realized the man was dangerously close to doing something drastic, and before Michael could fully train the gun on him, he was off. Almost out of instinct, Mike snapped his gun upward and fired three shots, training his sights on the streaking bird. The first two shots went wide, whizzing off into the darkened sky, but the third found its target, striking the falcon in the wing and thoroughly winding it. <Another shifter... no matter. He won't be getting away so easily,> Michael thought as he advanced and prodded the woman with the gun. "Move that way, NOW."

[Winter Cardwell]

“I dunno how you like to have conversations but this ‘s overly intimate.” Winter glared at the man as he stepped forward with his gun still trained on her. Her own feet propelled her backwards until her back hit a wall while her hands were still up in the air. “You keep usin’ that word! ‘M not an Abnormal! ‘M not. ‘M just me!” She repeated it a few more times for good measure though some of that may have been her trying to convince herself rather than him.

Anything else that she was going to say was cut short when the other man shifted into a falcon and launched into the night sky. “Holy hand grenades,” she mumbled to herself in surprise. “Okay that explains some of it.” The moment the shots rang out her gaze was torn between the falcon that was quickly falling back down to earth and the man that had shot him down. “No!” Winter cried out, her body instinctively starting towards where the bird of prey was going to land. That movement was cut short when the one wielding the gun prodded at her. Inhaling sharply, she fell silent once more as she moved where he was corralling her.

“Okay I know that this obviously ‘sn’t your strong suit but damn it if you could at least use the word ‘please’ that might help things a bit.” After she spoke, Winter bit down on her tongue hard enough to draw blood. The taste of copper flooding her mouth was enough to have her reel in her sarcasm, something that tended to flare up during situations that were more than a little stressful. “Why ‘s it so important to you to find out if ‘m different?” The question escaped her before she had time to process it, dark eyes trying to catch the lighter gaze of the one who was so effectively holding her in place. Winter fell quiet again before adding in a much quieter voice, “Can I check on him…That was a hell of a fall you just had him take.” Pun not intended.

[Tamiel]

[googlefont="Amatic SC"][googlefont="Loved by the King"]

i can squeeze, you can shake me
i can feel when you break me

logan holloway

~~~~~~~~~~

The demon went down, and he went down hard.

The plummet to the ground was... surprisingly expected, though how hard the ground was wasn't. He let out a small whimper as his form changed back into that of a human, a red stain bleeding through his crisp white shirt and a bullet lodged in his right arm. He leaned up against the nearest building and staggered to his feet, trying to get out of the alley he'd fallen into. Changing shape again was out of the question, and no matter how invulnerable he was, the wound hurt like hell, and the fall had only aggravated problems further.

The man with the gun was going to immobilize him, and then the angel was going to drag him back to the depths of a valley and chain him up or kill him. He didn't know which prospect was worse. Tamiel tapped his head back against the wall of the building he was leaning against, then let himself slide to the ground, his breathing shaky and uneven.

This was it. This was how he was going to die. He didn't know if a last ditch effort to preserve himself would work, but it was at least worth a shot. Pulling out his phone, he pulled up an old picture he'd drawn on an app of an angel-banishing sigil and held it out in front of him. It wouldn't stop the man, and it wouldn't stop the man from shooting his phone, but it would stop the girl, at least as long as his phone was intact. "There is only one thing we say to death," he mumbled under his breath. "Not today." Running was useless at this point, so he might as well try to win the fight and live to heal up and move on with his life.

~~~~~~~~~~

word count :: 306 ::
notes :: none ::
tagged :: Azrael, Winter Cardwell ::
outfit :: bloodstained white button up, light blue jeans, white converse, bullet in right arm ::
mood :: pain and fear ::

[Azrael]

The woman's tone of voice only further irritated Michael. Didn't she realize what kind of danger she was in? The more he heard, the less he was likely to believe her protestations, that she somehow wasn't one of them. The Pluses were always full of shit anyways. "Why don't you and your friends ever learn to stay out of other people's business? Is it really that hard to leave things alone?" Mike snapped. "Maybe if your kind hadn't infected this world like a plague, then we wouldn't be in this situation. But you were the one who chose to come down this alleyway. I guess it was to check on your dead friend, but that’s not my problem. You two should have just let me be"

Michael nodded approvingly as the man crashed back to earth. Ignoring her protestations, he pushed the woman forward with the butt of his gun. "You haven't earned the courtesy of a 'please'," he sneered. "You're going to go stand with your friend anyways, but I don't think he wants your help.” Ahead, he could already see the blood seeping through the man’s white shirt. “Looks like I got him pretty good too."

As the pair got closer and Michael got a closer look at what had become of the other shifter, he was surprised to see him holding out... a phone? He narrowed his eyes to see something was drawn on it, but his usual caution was stunted by the bizarreness of it all, and he burst out laughing. Mike wasn't sure what the drawing on the phone was supposed to do, but unless it was going to start shooting lasers, it wasn't going to stop him. "Put the phone down, before I take it out. I’m done with the gimmicks and the running away."

[Winter Cardwell]

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you: I don’t have any actual friends here. I just got here today to see my aunt. I don’t know what you mean by Pluses an’ I’ve never met the man who got my attention in the first place in my life.” Thankfully her sarcasm was finally somewhat curbed. The talk of ‘her kind infecting the Earth like a plague’ confused her. As far as she knew there weren’t near enough Nephilim to do that.


Winter glanced over at the man that was so insistent to believe that this had been some sort of plan. He was young. Maybe close to her age. What had happened in his life to make him this wary of people? “Yeah, I don’t think he’s going to be flyin’ away again anytime soon either.” The blood on the Englishman’s shirt was worrying enough to her. What made things worse, in her mind at least, was that she recognized the Sigil on the phone. Wincing just a little she stopped where she was for the moment, one arm curling around her middle. The sensation of the Sigil trying to do its work wasn’t so bad that she couldn’t work through the pain. She’d done it before without any problem—and in much worse circumstances. Inhaling deeply she righted herself and pushed through the feeling of the Sigil trying to force her away. The fact that it was on the phone and she was only half angel helped some, enough that she was able to get through it entirely to stand next to him.


“’M a Nephilim,” she whispered to him urgently. “Banishment Sigils don’t work on me they just make things really uncomfortable. Are you going to be okay?” Winter took a deep breath and glanced back over at the Shifter with the gun. “I promise that you have my full cooperation an’ I’ll give you any answers I have just please, please put the gun down. N-Neither of us are gonna be able to get away from you.”

[Tamiel]

[googlefont="Amatic SC"][googlefont="Loved by the King"]

i can squeeze, you can shake me
i can feel when you break me

logan holloway

~~~~~~~~~~

As the pair approached, Tamiel held his breath. He hoped that his plan would work. But when Azrael spoke, he couldn't help but laugh. "You're not the one I'm afraid of," he admitted, shaking his head. "This isn't for you."

His smile disappeared entirely when Winter walked right up next to him, both from fear and from how uncomfortable the proximity was, but he didn't move. It was like pressing two same-polarity magnets together. It could be done to an extent, but this was probably about as close as she could get without him being repelled further from the force of the holiness.

Then she said the magic words--"'M a Nephilim"--and everything was fine. Better than fine. He took his phone off the sigil screen and tucked it into his pocket, then removed his shirt as he stood up. "Oh, yes," he breathed, "I will be fine. Just let your uncle Tamiel handle this, and everything's gonna be okay." With his left hand, he pinched the wound where the bullet had hit him until it spat out a bloody hunk of metal, which he then discarded with a grin, turning to the man with the gun. "See, I'm not like others you might've seen of my kind. They can't even get hurt. I don't think life would be half as enjoyable if I couldn't, but I do heal very, very fast. So fast that I'll get back up within minutes of you shooting me down." He cracked his neck, stretched out his right arm, and his smile grew so wide it almost seemed to split his face in two as he stepped forward, putting some distance between himself and the Nephilim even as he made himself a barrier between her and the gun. Then, pulling out his knife, he breathed, "And I'm not going to let you hurt her. So go ahead. Shoot me. I could use a new scar or two."

~~~~~~~~~~

word count :: 324 ::
notes :: *plays fight music* ::
tagged :: Azrael, Winter Cardwell ::
outfit :: light blue jeans, white converse ::
mood :: cocky, protective ::

[Azrael]

Still chuckling a little, Michael kept his gun trained as the woman knelt down next to the wounded man. Mike had to admit, her protestations seemed genuine... And yet this other man, who was clearly one of them, had insisted she was not human. And now she was whispering something to him...

No. He wouldn't let himself be duped. Pluses always had ways of trying to turn things around, to make people like him doubt. Michael refused to lower the gun when the woman pleaded and replied, "Well then, what did you just whisper to him? It certainly doesn't sound like you're just going to cooperate... and you know that I'm not in a mood for drawing this all out"

His attention shifted to the man when he stood up and took off his shirt. Michael stared in shock as the man pinched his wound until the bullet came out, the wound rapidly healing afterwards. Training the gun on the man's head, Mike cursed his bad luck. <Just my luck, one of the healers. They're always a pain in the ass to deal with,> he thought, looking back at the woman, wondering if her ability was the same. <Two healers would be more than a handful...>

As the man pulled out his knife and threatened him, Michael assessed his options. He could still maintain his stance and push harder with the gun. Most healers didn't exactly heal from a fatal wound to the head, but it wasn't necessarily a guarantee. Or... he could shift. It was risky, but in his other form he did have more physical options. "You don't scare me, bud. I doubt you'd recover from a bullet to the brain, so maybe you should take a moment to really think about what you're doing... before you make a fatal mistake."