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Humans

I snap back from my thoughts confused about what had just occurred. I can now just barely make out the words on the red building. Darkness had surrounded me on all sides. I step out of the archway to study the area. The whole street was softly lit by the full moon that now dominates the sky. The soft lighting brought forth the reality of this place. Destroyed buildings float in-between the shadows, holes were just barely visible in their sides. Impenetrable darkness lay within, sending nagging fear into the back of my mind. I know there is nothing in this world anymore, but the thoughts will not leave me alone. I allow the thoughts to drive me forward down 8th avenue.

Though the street is not well lit, I am able to still make out a few words on the ruins I passed. To my left, a depiction of two women hung on the wall above an overhang. The woman on the left had been horribly defaced, the only visible feature was her eyes and a pile of flowers and fruits adorned her head. The one on the right was intact but black scars marked her face, turning the once beautiful picture into something to be pitied. In-between the women were letters. Dark red banners with a single tan letter spanned 3 windows. I assume that it was meant to be 4 but the 3rd banner had long since fallen or had been intentionally removed. The sign now read “COA” and I could not think of any letter that would clarify the word's meaning. Underneath the banners hung a familiar picture, hanging from the wall by one corner. It was the same red heart that I had seen on the green board once I crossed the queens boro.

The heart rests above an entryway, relatively small compared to its neighbors. The dim light of the night piercing shallowly into the broken windows, revealing dishes and clothes that had long since been left to ruin. Unlike the building with the statues, not much of what used to be here is left. What used to be well stocked is now bare, only the useless and trivial items remain. It took the end of the world for the children of Adam to realize what was important. Yes, these children had thrown away and destroyed what made this world beautiful. The thought hurls me into a rage. The children of Adam deserve this. The anger swelled in my mind. I hang my head in frustration. The walkway is deeply cracked, large grey rocks resembling an unfinished puzzle. I reach down and collect a rock from the cragged pathway, testing the heft in my hand. A deep urge overcomes me and without hesitation I throw the rock into the window.

The satisfying sound of broken glass greets my ears as the rock makes contact, the glass bending until spiderweb fractures burst across the surface, ending just as suddenly as it had happened. The resounding echo quietly succumbs to the vacuous silence of the empty city. I stood in that deafening silence, my rage unsated, and turned away from the window to continue along the street. These people truly didn’t understand the beauty of this world. For all the wondrous things they created, they couldn’t comprehend the simplicity of these works. The children of Adam would rather dull themselves with poison than accept their world for what it is. The further I walk down the road the more evident that becomes.

The children would gather at what they call bars, and drink bottles of this poison to escape from reality. It was an obsession for them, whole days were put aside for collective consumption. People would ruin their lives just to have another drop of it. Along this road I pass a number of bars, each with a different theme and even some which someone could purchase bottles to take with them. Yet, these people still cried out for help from on high to aid them, to save them. They brought this upon themselves. What did these children of Adam say? “God helps those who help themselves.” I pass another bar, a black leaf hangs high above the street, underneath is the word playwright. The covered entry is narrow, chipped statues of women are carved into the support columns. Across the entirety of this patio were bottles, most are shattered and weathered while others sit empty on the ledges of the window. It’s no surprise that they would cower in this place. Maybe the world was much better off without these…

HUMANS

“Humans, my lord?” asked a confused Barachiel. The seven Archangels kneeled in the throne room of the High Temple. The throne room was made completely from white marble material and pure gold highlights. Golden braziers lined the hall with a large central brazier that sat in front of the throne of God. The high ceilings of the throne room did not detract from the enormous splendor of the throne itself. A high back golden chair, scroll work inlaid in silver, stood on a raised dais. The sheer enormity of the chair was dwarfed only by the one sitting in it. Michael could feel his father’s gaze on his brother, his eyes unmoving from the ground he knelt on.

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“Yes, Barachiel. Humans are the most important resource in creation if only because of the power of a soul.” The almighty explained, his voice was a thunderous thing. “They exist to help ensure the worlds remain linked. Recently however, the corruption from demons has increased, causing an imbalance in that link.” Father finished. His voice trailing off in discontent.

Michael knew as well as any other angel that souls are what give strength to the army of heaven. Those who are worthy, join the ranks of angels while the others join in the holy chorus, giving spiritual strength to heaven. Michael had heard the reports from Uriel, corrupted souls had become an epidemic, spreading like a virus. Hell's influence on earth had become more prominent recently. Brazen daylight raids and demonic possessions were all too common a sight in Michaels intelligence reports.

“What of this latest attack? Did we find any trace of who led the attack?” God asked, addressing Michael. His voice was a thunderous boom of agitation.

“I have a squad of angels looking into the incident as we speak my lord. I should hear back from them shortly.” Michael dared not look up from the floor as he replied. Tension grew in the room as God contemplated his throne. Nervous shifting began in the room, the throne angels began a light chant to disguise the sound. The angels waited in anticipation for the words and orders of God.

A deep sigh came from the throne, a sigh of resignation. “I require a private council with my general, chief, and head of the guard.” His voice was stiff, the sheer authority of the words was intense. At once the throne angels bowed and exited the chamber, chanting the praises of God as they left. The other Archangels followed suit after them. The enormous chamber that was the resting place of God was now only occupied by God and the heads of his armies. “I could not sense the events of the slaughter that took place.” God spoke, dry and full of anger.

The three angels sat stunned, the gravity of the statement weighed heavily. Michaels head rushed. Was it even possible for God to not know the actions on Earth? What, or who, could be more powerful than God? Michael could see from the looks on his brothers faces that they were thinking the same.

“I believe Lucifer and his minions have found a way to obfuscate themselves from my sight. The thought alone is enough to unease me. He could cause untold damage if left unchecked. I have no choice to but to cull humanity and separate this corruption at its source. I shall starve the demons of their sustenance."

The room lay silent, what was anyone to say to such a command.

“Yes my Almighty.” Came Gabriel’s bellow. It echoed across the room and fell again upon the angels before God reclined. Michael sat in his thoughts. Such an absurd idea, but...

He acted before he understood his intentions. He found himself looking up at the bottom fringe of the Lord’s tunic. His forehead sore with the pressure of the marble floor.

“Father, how could such a thing be possible? It is your humble servant’s opinion that IF such a power existed then its existence itself was befouled of all reason and thought. Surely not even Lucifer is capable of such depravities as to shatter the heart of Hell and unleash the full force of Chaos into this plane. My Lord I beg your leave to research the matter myself before we send such a tremendous commitment of troops to this task.” After the last word left his mouth, his head landed back to the marble with a slight tremble to the ground.

There was silence. It stretched on in the infinite expanse of the room in the eminence of the Lord of creation. Michael understood the wave of energy that was directed at him. He knew none would dare move their eyes or glance in any direction after such a display. The wave of anger and cold resentment came from all directions simultaneously, the only refuge from the fire was the cool breeze that whispered praise and comfort in my ear.

“Be brazen and steadfast in your service to the Lord dear Angel.”

The breeze and heat of judgement faded from the room.

“You give wise counsel, General and battle master. To allow the forces of Satan to elicit a response in our wrath would be a foolish thing indeed. I shall leave it you Michael. However, should this question have no discernable answer.” The Lord paused. “I shall have Gabriel recruit those he can and bring forth my final Judgement.”