Season One - Episode One (S01E01)
'Wayland'
Theme Song:
Filter - Hey Man Nice Shot
***
Prologue - Part One
‘God loves you.’
‘Yeah? Well, tell him I’m flattered, but no th-‘
He suddenly flew across the alley, slamming into a building wall and collapsing in a heap. He had almost managed to bring his head up, some seconds later, but the other man was already next to him, squatting. His hands rested easily on his knees. A metallic cross dangled between the fingers of his left hand.
‘Well, now, that’s blasphemy. You don’t get to deny His love.’
He stood up, and looked into the clear night sky.
‘Monkeys. Monkeys never change. You know… Sean… I could tear the skin off your body. Inch by inch. I could reach into your mind and show you some… truly terrible things. You would die screaming, after a long life of screaming in a strait jacket. I could fillet your friends and family, and force feed them to you. The punishment I can deliver unto you for your disobedience is limited only by my patience. He has seen it fit to empower me with this task.’
Sean snarled and laughed, simultaneously, through his broken mouth.
‘F-ing angels… What don’t you understand, ****bird?! I – can’t – help – you. I don’t know who did it!’
The angel was holding him up by his hair in an instant, as Sean struggled in vain.
‘Sean, baby, I’m not sure you understand your predicament. The rules that protect the other vermin of this rock aren’t in play, here. You’ve left His sight. You know that, right? Consorting with that unholy filth has tainted you beyond salvation or redemption.’
Sean continued to struggle, ‘I don’t know! I don’t know who killed him!’
The angel pressed his face up against Sean’s, and licked the human’s cheek, ‘You’re scared, Sean. That’s good. Monkeys always had a sense for mortal danger. Fair to say, you’re in it. Tell me something, Sean. Tell me anything. Tell me the wo- Hmm… That’s funny, Sean,’ the angel licked his lips, ‘… tastes like you’re scared of something else more than me. Which, given what’s about to happen, is strange.’
The human muffled a cry of pain, ‘Raziel… Raziel, it doesn’t matter. It just… it doesn’t matter. You’re already dead. You just haven’t noticed yet. You’re all dead… You’re all dead…’
Raziel chuckled, ‘Hold on there, midnight cowboy, you’ve got me quaking in my high tops. Who are you working for, huh? Is it my lost brothers? Lucifer’s whores?! They didn’t do the deed, but maybe they signed on the dotted line? Was it them?!’
Sean laughed, as the blood poured down his face. Raziel casually put two of the human’s fingers in his mouth, and bit down. Hard. The human screamed, but the angel’s hand was clamped around his mouth tight.
‘Shhh-shh-shh. No squealing. They’re gone. They’re gone. Tasted kind of like chicken. Did you know, Sean, that we – His first children – don’t mind the taste of monkey flesh? It’s an acquired taste, sure, but once you’ve got it there are few things quite like it.’
Sean was crying. ‘Ohhh… you rotten ****… Ohhh, you took them… you rotten ****… Stop… Stop…’ The sobs were coming thick and fast.
Raziel considered the prone form for a second. ‘No.’
He took Sean’s hand again, unhinged his jaw, and thrust it into his mouth. His teeth were like razors, and when he bit down the human’s hand came off instantly, and disappeared. The angel swallowed the hand whole, after a few attempts, while Sean’s eyes rolled in the back of his head, his body rigid from shock. Raziel wiped his mouth nonchalantly. His grip on the arm with the bloodied stump was like iron.
‘Don’t worry, Sean. You won’t bleed out. What’s that, you’re passing out from the pain?’ He leaned over, and put his mouth on the human’s. The latter suddenly inhaled and started coughing.
‘I can’t let you sleep, Sean. I’d like to, but I still need something from you. Feel free to share, before I take the next bite.’
The human was sputtering. ‘Stop… Just stop… Please… All I heard was… something… from the Feylands… It was something fey…’
Raziel leaned in, ‘Come again, Sean? I don’t know if I heard you right. Something fey? You’re saying a fairy killed Lord Raphael, the Seraph of the Moon Palace, the Binder of Azazel? A damned fairy killed the Lord of All Healing?! Stripped his essence bare?! Rendered him null in God’s creation?! That’s what you’re saying, Sean? A fairy did it?!’ The angel seemed furious.
Suddenly, he snapped his head up in surprise, and stared into the dark of the alley. He sniffed the air. There was something there – something just beyond his senses. He let the human’s head loll back and stood up. Before him, the darkness soon began coalescing, taking shape. Within moments, it was a man. A man wearing a grey, hooded jacket and matching trackies, his face obscured.
‘Now what might you be, filth?’ the angel tilted his head, his eyes pure murder.
The figure standing before him continued to do so, perfectly still. Its hands were in its jacket pockets. Finally, the new arrival also tilted his head, in imitation of the angel.
‘Not a big talker, then? I see. You’re an ice cold kind of guy. Little old angel like me can’t impress you, oh darkness incarnate. What do you think is going to happen here? You don’t even get the flimsy protection He offers these worms – these monkey worms – to shield you from me. I will paint this alley whatever colour your ichor is, you dirt. Angels don’t fear the dark! The dark – fears – us!’
Raziel moved with inhuman speed, advancing on the jacketed being. His subsequent death scream was cut very short.
***
Elsewhere, four men sat around a simple dinner table. It was in a room that resembled an apartment in the inner city – a bit run down, a bit grimy, and the floral wallpaper had long overstayed its welcome – but appearances belied its true nature. One of them, a man in his early sixties, opened a book that came into being as he reached for the cover.
‘This is not right.’
A much younger man with brilliant blue eyes and not a hair on his head spoke without turning it, ‘Concur. Something is wrong.’
As the older man flipped the pages of the book, a third nodded, ‘More deaths. A celestial has been rendered null in Delhomme. Another in Ecko Park. Do we know anything?’
The fourth man stayed silent. His eyes were closed.
The first spoke again, ‘The Host will be baying for blood vengeance. They will send kill teams. Whoever their eyes fall on will suffer terribly. Was it the Legion?’
The second shook his head, ‘Unlikely. They fight over their Argument openly. And they do not annul.’
The third man took his turn to speak, ‘Then who? Who could do this?’
The first answered, ‘A better question is who would be foolish enough to. What of our contacts in the Feylands and the Deadlands?’
Blue eyes shook his head, ‘We have heard nothing.’
The fourth man opened his eyes, suddenly, only to reveal he didn’t have any, ‘We are dead. We are dead.’
The others turned to look at him. ‘We are dead.’
The man with the book closed it, ‘What is the meaning of this? What are you talking about, brother?’
The eyeless one continued, upping the volume gradually until he was shouting, practically screaming, ‘We are dead. We are dead! We are dead!’
The others rose as one from the table, appalled.
And then, they were, in fact, quite dead.