REVELATION
Chapter 3: A Blast From the Past. By the time that John had exited the religious establishment, night had fallen completely, blanketing the world in a vast darkness that did little to quell the busyness and anxiousness that still continued to consume people who scurried around left over from the day. The air was cooler, a great relief from and starkly contrasting with the fiery heat that had lain heavily over the day from the moment that it dawned, until the last few seconds of sunset. The breeze was up, chasing an unnatural chill down John's spine as he grappled with his long dark coat, tugging his arms into the sleeves and jerking at his collar until it stood upright, shielding his neck from another assault by the rapidly cooling night air. He had done what he had come to do. He had seen to it that his friends would be given a proper send off. A final parting gesture of goodwill, thanks and love. Both Chas and Beeman had deserved a decent burial at the very least. And he was the one who should do it for them. He owed them that, if not more. He'd never be able to repay them for everything they had done for him, without question or qualm, well, perhaps a few complaints on Chas' part, but that did nothing to diminish the fact that they had both done more for John than he could ever return. And so, proper, decent burials were the very least, but the very last thing that he could do to show them that he appreciated what they had done for him throughout their lives. With the details sorted and the knowledge that their selfless final acts of altruism had secured them a place in Heaven, John found his step decidedly lighter than it had been in a long while. The tension that he had been carrying like the weight of the world on his slim shoulders was alleviated, if not entirely slightly at least, putting a spring in his step and a quirk in his smile. The words of the archangel Michael were still a great cause for concern, however, and John found his frown returning as did the pressure of worry upon his chest as he mulled them over. A woman in red and purple? He had seen several women that very same day clad in those very same colours, making heeding Mikey's words of warning as easy as finding a needle in a haystack the size of a football pitch, and that was not easy in the slightest. In fact it was virtually impossible what with most normal women changing their clothes as often as he went through packets of Nicorette chewing gum. He sighed, shoving his hands deep into his pockets as he turned a wary eye about him, before taking off at brisk pace, heading for home. It was just like a half-breed to be so annoyingly helpful and yet completely useless at the very same time. He could have been a little more descriptive than simply saying 'be wary of a woman in red and purple'. What the Hell was that supposed to mean anyway? Apparently only Michael, Raphael and God knew and he would be his bottom dollar that they simply enjoyed sitting on high and watching him struggle and strain his way to a conclusion that often meant only trouble and pain for him! "Thanks again, Mikey!" John mumbled, shooting a withering glare at the dark, cloud scudded sky. He received his reply in the form of great fat droplets of shockingly ice cold rain, falling slowly at first, but gradually picking up speed and force until they pelted him like tiny sharp knives. "Wonderful!" he hissed under his breath, pulling at his coat lapels again and quickening his pace. "Great! It's real easy to tell that I'm favoured!" he swallowed his sarcastic words, forcing his head down to prevent the rain from obscuring his sight, quickening his pace a second time until he was jogging through the sluicing sheets of frigid water. The numbing rain pelted the floor forcefully in time with John's footfalls, each droplet making a ferocious sizzle as it hit it's mark, until the night was filled with what sounded like the hissing of a thousand snakes warning away a predator. John continued his mad dash, dodging deftly past the people who huddled together at the side of a wall, awaiting entrance into a popular club. The rain still managed to soak them, though. Girls clad in barely there skirts and revealing, low-cut tops that sparkled and shimmered in the neon lights of the club. Some were blatantly not even the legal age, only there to get drunk and high and picked up by some random men that frequented the venue. John shook his head at the antics of his fellow humans as he passed by, giving in them a wide birth, skirting them and stepping off the curb into the puddles forming on the road. They didn't see the bigger picture, they didn't understand that their so called "fun" was liable to get them sent down in the end. They wouldn't have heeded him if he had warned them, however. He'd probably come away with black eyes and a bloody nose if he did. Yep, and old Lou would have loved to join that party. His minions were the ones who were most likely giving those girls a push towards choosing the most provocative outfit that they could find, or making the men knock back just one more bottle of beer before slipping that pill into an unsuspecting girl's drink while she went to 'powder her nose'. Influence. And there were no angels there to counter it, to bring the scales back into balance. "S'cuse me." John's shoulder thumped into another's, winding him slightly and making his head snap into the other man's direction as his hand tried to rub the ache from his tender collar bone. Ruby red pupils flashed at him from a painfully familiar face, lips quirked wickedly at the corners in a visage of scornful amusement. "On no, excuse me!" his voice was a silky s ever, the gleam in his eyes just as jeering and suggestive. His hair, slicked back immaculately, seemed invulnerable to the rain as did his dark, slate-grey pinstripe suit. The shock was clear on John's face, it must have been for the demi-demon before him smirked wider and more wickedly. He shouldn't have been surprised really, deep down. Nothing should surprise him anymore from the things he had seen in his relatively short life. And just as swiftly as he had arrived, the demon was away, mingling with the growing, boisterous crowd and disappearing before John could even register what was going on. "Balthazar…" he hissed to himself, finally, slightly disbelieving. Something was going down, something big if Lucifer was resurrecting scum like Balthazar, who was an old hand at causing mayhem and trouble. Wearily and warily, John turned his back on the place where Balthazar had disappeared, still massaging the pain from his shoulder. His time to confront the demon would come soon enough, of that he had no doubt in his mind. He would still have to keep his eye fixed firmly upon that particular minion of Satan, but at that moment, all he wanted to do was get home and get out of the God forsaken rain! -:o0O0o:- What do you think? Look out for an update either tonight or earlier! Thoughts?
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