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War: Maniac

That’s right, you angelic bastard: I’m not supposed to be here, but here I am. And this blonde-haired, bright-eyed angel is clearly confused -- just how I like my opponents -- unsure of what to do. I spare him the trouble by charging at him full-speed. When in doubt, go for it. My mount whinnies excitement.

The bastard vanishes in a swirl of stormy shadows.

Interesting. Very interesting. A demon masquerading as an angel? A Prince of Hell perhaps? That would explain the darkness in that one eye of his.

I can’t keep the smile from my face. “Come back out, you coward!” I look around in the dark.

“Guess we’d better check the breaker,” comes a voice from my right. Not the kid -- voice is too old; not the angel -- voice is too young.

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“War,” Death touches my elbow; her voice is soft, but furious. With me or with the situation? I’ll leave that to my imagination; I have prey to hunt.

Another flash, and another, and the voice I do not know swears -- I catch a glimpse of a face in the flashing light. Adult, by human standards, dark hair pulled back away from his startled face.

Who could blame him for being surprised? It’s not often you see an angel and a devil duking it out.

Wait a minute…

“Death…”

Her grip on my arm tightens and she’s whispering a lot of rapid vitriol under her breath -- I do catch a few choice words aimed at Gabriel.

The two fighters hurl themselves back; they’re going to crash into this new development. A familiar face flashes beside the older human -- ah...there you are.