16 - The Esper 1 (Enter Archangel Zero)

[ArchangelZero]

Windswept hills melt in fading twilight. Darkness, heavy, oppressive, greets my eyes as I awaken. It's almost palpable; I can smell the night around me. I can feel the chill envelope me, and I can feel the shiver shoot down my spine. I sit up. The cold stone floor has left soot on my cape, a Rorschach (look it up... it's like an inkblot test) pattern differing every night as I move from village to village.

I could swear the stone in my chest pocket quivers. An image flashes through my mind's eye. Three of them. Close by. And Searching.

... No... I won't... I won't let them have it.

My wings are still damaged from my last flight. Careless. They almost had me. I can't generate them for at least another five hours. To fly, I may call upon the potential energy of any area I am in, and transform it into matter. One of my gifts. It took me years to learn to form wings which would allow the human body to fly. A living embodiment of Einstein's theorems. It does, however, take some time to draw the necessary energy, and thus I must wait.

I leap from the window, fleeing with the darkness as the overhead lights flicker and come alive. Fifth floor. Not a problem. I've always been able to do this. I'm not sure why. Something to do with equal and opposite force. Newton, however, never envisioned me.

My pursuers haven't seen me. Their car waits in an alleyway. I sever all their spark plug cables. The sentry the left never sees me. He didn't have a chance. Perhaps I should have killed him, to send a message to those who follow me. I'm not playing hide and seek, or a perverted game of tag here. But I'm not that way. I don't kill unless I have to. He won't, however, be able to walk for a month. Or speak.

I vanish. The stone whispers to me from its place close to my heart. Those who have held it before say it is alive. I am not sure. It almost seems to throb, to beat in time with my own steady heart.

I'm not sure what I can do with this stone. I do know that I cannot, will not let it escape me. I don't know where I should go. But I do know who I have to find.

I am Archangel Zero, and I'm running out of time.

[ArchangelZero]

-Excerpt from a Document from the Ministry of Archeology, The Super City-

... The relic in question was unearthed near the site of a 14th century storehouse, rumored to have been used by the Vatican to store occult items too dangerous, and quite often, too unholy to be kept on the sacred grounds of Vatican city. The relic, which appears to be a large ornamental gem possessing a vein of unknown material at its core. This material is faintly luminescent, and we can only speculate as to how this crystal shell formed around it. The Relic itself measures approximately four inches tall and two inches wide at the thickest point, and is nearly one inch thick. The top and bottom taper off to form a point, giving it the appearance of a crystal found inside a geode, but possessing two pointed ends instead of one...

... The other object recovered was a thick volume with a locked cover, similar to ancient Bibles kept in medieval church sanctuaries. The language has yet to be identified...

... Both artifacts were in a remarkably well preserved state...

... The chest containing them was remarkably free of dust and decay...

... Upon opening the chest it was observed by one archaeologist that the smell of blood came from the musty air inside...

[ArchangelZero]

My Dearest Jessica,

Promise you will not think me mad. I can barely bring myself to write these things to you, though I well know I may never see you again. What you read here is the truth, untainted and full. Please try to believe me.

Now that I think of it, I shall never return to you. I am sure now. I do not even know if I will live through the night. I am not ill, I am not injured, at least, not in any traditional sense. You have never heard me speak in riddles, nor have I ever been one to credit supernatural and unexplained phenomenon. But if what I have seen is purely science, then I will gladly convert to Judaism if I survive.

The relic, that damn relic we uncovered in the Vatican storehouse, that's where it all begins. Just an ornamental crystal. But it must be the cause, because only after it was unearthed did the camp begin to... to... change. My men began to report episodes of unexplained sleepwalking. Several had disturbing dreams, but could never recount them to one another. People would wake up to whispers, and find no one near.

But then came the night terrors. Jessica, do you remember being only five years old? Going to bed at night, terrified of something you KNEW beyond a shadow of a doubt was lurking, waiting, watching just beyond the window pane? I am speaking of such fear as would make you lie still beneath the sheets and try as hard as you could not to breath. I am not a child, I have no illusions of bogeymen or goblins in the closet. For the love of God, I'M FORTY-SEVEN YEARS OLD! But on several occasions, I experienced fear more crippling than anything I had imagined possible. Irrational, unprovoked, and primal terror, which would make me perspire uncontrollably and shiver like an epileptic in the throes of a seizure.

Slowly, my men began to go mad. They would attack one another, claiming to be avenging angels, bent on the destruction of sin and transgression. I killed three of them myself. Jessica, you know me. I... deplore... violence and bloodshed. But I killed them. Shot them dead and left the corpses to rot. They... they just wouldn't... wouldn't listen... I told them to calm down, but they just kept coming...

I know it was the Crystal the caused this. How am I so sure? Because each and every one of the men who've died have claimed to serve that which is imprisoned within. I will bury the chest again. I must. I do not know if have the strength of will or body, but I must TRY. This unholy wretched thing must be put back in the earth, or I fear what it could do.

If I cannot banish it back beneath the ground, I will send it to a friend of mine in the Super city. Surely they shall know what to do with it.

My love goes to you, but I cannot come home. I know now that I haven't much time to live. There is one other thing I have forgotten to mention. The eyes. The eyes of those who've gone mad. At first I assumed it was only a bizarre ocular infection, but now I know, because the whites of my eyes have begun to turn black, just as all of the others did. And the skin infection... the diamond shape on my forearm, it too has begun to manifest.

The book found with the crystal shall also be sent to the Super City. After writing this, I am sure I do not have the strength to bury the cursed thing.

Goodbye Jessica. I must go. My time is short.

Thank you. Goodbye.
Gordon

[ArchangelZero]

I concentrate. I can feel the space around me pulse. The energy builds, weaving around and through my body. I conjure up a mental image of a man I have not seen in years. When last we met, we were enemies. But the events of the present overshadow our minor... disagreements. I speak. One word, as I project to him a flash of my image.

Zero.

I break the connection. I know he heard me. I could sense the brief glimpse of fear in his mind as I spoke. Brief and weak, but fear none the less. I'm used to that, and I enjoy it.

I fly. The black wings spread themselves to the starry night, and I glide toward the City in the distance. Ghostly feathers cut the wind and carry me through the heat rising from the Desert of the Dead. I can sense X far to the north. I will meet up with him in time. First there is something I must do.

[ArchangelZero]

I sit atop Midgar and read. The thick volume in my hands emanates an aura darker than all of the sins committed down in the alleyways and rancid streets. This is an ancient tome of forbidden lore, older even than I.

Which, by the way, makes it pretty damn old.

According to the reports I... liberated... from the Ministry of Archeology, this is the same book which was found with the gem I am currently burdened with. I cannot read it. I am here to find someone who can.

I suspect the writing to be... not of this world. And in this cesspool of a city, I sense one who is not of this world. The Phoenian. He may be able to understand this. I have rudimentary telepathic abilities. Nothing terribly refined, but enough to learn any dialect in short order. I need to probe his mind and physically speak to him in order to learn the language. A few minutes should be all I need.

Of course, if it turns out that the book is NOT Phoenian, then... well, I'm not sure what I'll do. Yet.

Time to visit the church. I leap from the tower, and fall to earth.

(OOC: This is NOT the church in FF7 with Aeris)

This is where I go to pay my respects. Here, in the heart of my enemy's own city, I give tribute to my fallen hero.

Some call him "The Warrior of Prosperity." Ha.

I call him Brother.

...

Heh. I told you I was old. Two-hundred and thirty, to be exact. I was twenty-six when I became what I am today. Not all at once, mind you. It took a while to notice I didn't age anymore. Oh, I'm not invulnerable, but... well, I'm ageless. Forever frozen at a youthful twenty-six. When I saw my brother die in that battle, when I watched the Senator strike him down with the cursed sword Hades, my life was forever redefined. He watched me as he died. His eyes flashed, and... something... came out of him... and into me.

I am not the warrior of prosperity. I am not the heir to that great power. But whatever was within him, it bequeathed part of itself to me. That's were, I believe my powers come from. I know the rules of the element. I know it must go to the one who slays the warrior. I have no explanation for what happened. I only know that there is some power in me which I cannot explain.

I walk up the aisle of the sanctuary, and kneel at the altar. My black silhouette is strangely out of place in what was once a holy place. But I must have guidance. This stone, this relic I am carrying now, it is bigger than the petty differences between myself and my enemies. It is bigger than the Senate. I can feel it. It's power is seductive, whispering to me in dreams, and images flickering across my subconscious.

I know it is evil. And I think I know what it is.

But I must find the Phoenian before I can be sure.

[ArchangelZero]

Nijol and Fink were drunk. They were very drunk. And, thanks to the truly pathetic quality of education in Midgar's slums, they were also quite stupid. So stupid in fact, as to decide tonight would be the perfect night to burn down the old church near the hole they called home. At first, they considered using alcohol to start the fire, but decided it was too precious to waste. After all, getting drunk wasn't cheap. So the settled on gasoline. They were pretty sure you couldn't get drunk from consuming gasoline, although, as Nijol remarked, a friend of his had tried it once.

It took them almost two hours to siphon the fuel out of an old generator they'd found in the scrap yard. Neither was particularly coordinated to begin with, and the booze didn't help at all.

For some reason neither could remember, they decided to go inside before they began spreading out the gas. Probably, they had wanted to take a piss, and thought it funny to relieve themselves in what had once been a holy place.

They saw the black silhouette kneeling before the altar. There was a single, flickering overhead bulb in the ancient room, which most likely was older than either of the two men. It provided just enough illumination to make out the pallid face of Archangel Zero, eyes closed and hands clasped.

Fink was the first to speak. "Hey, ***hole, what the hell do you think yer doin'?"

Nijol slurred his words. "Ain't been no God here since..." He trailed off, unable to complete his own thought. Shrugging, he took a sip from the flask he carried in his coat.

Fink was the larger of the two. "You gonna look at me, dumb____, or are your jus' gunna sit there n'til I have ta introduce myself?"

Zero didn't move.

Nijol had recovered his thoughts. "Were gonna burn this place ta th' ground, man. Gonna be able to see it clear over in Sector 65."

"There ain't no sector 65, you dumb____. Give me that _______ bottle." Fink grabbed the flask and brought it to his lips. "...empty... Aw, hell..."

He tossed it at Zero. It struck him on the leg. He didn't move.

"Wus yer problem, anyway, huh? Get outta here our your _ss'll burn with the resta dis friggin' __hithole." The drunks both pulled switchblades from their coats. "Hey, I'm talking to you, you lousy son of a-"

The light bulb overhead burst.

In the ghostly light filtering in through the broken, ancient stained glass windows, the two men could see the black figure slowly turn his head. All of the darkness in the sanctuary seemed to wrap itself around the thing now barely visible. Head half turned, one bright, devil's-red eye scanned the two drunkards.

A whisper flashed through the heads of both vandals.

"Wrong night. Wrong monster."

Fink was the closer man to the figure. Two luminescent daggers seemingly drew themselves out of the pitch black air. Two demon eyes were visible now. The eyes moved with the dagger, as they swung through the air to lodge themselves in Fink's belly. He didn't have a chance to scream however, before his head was severed by another blade, which was then returned to its unseen sheath.

Nijol lost control of his bladder as the two wicked knives appeared to pull themselves out of the headless body. In the glow cast by the blades, a shadow darker than the surrounding blackness could be seen moving toward him... no, Nijol realized. The light wan't coming from the blades. It was coming from the monster's eyes.

The knives disappeared into their sheaths. Nijol was seized by night itself and hurled to the floor. He could feel breath on his face. It was cold. Devil's eyes gazed down at him. Another voice, audible this time, whispered in an even, threatening tone, inches from his face. "Go home. Sober up. Never come back here. Tell everyone... this church... is still protected. And as for God... I am a much more vindictive guardian than he." The figure sniffed the air. "Alcohol. In your breath." Nijol gulped. The figure spoke again.

"Alcohol... is quite flammable."

Fire burst from Nijol's nostrils and mouth. He could feel the heat burning his throat, cooking his mouth. And then it was gone. He couldn't scream.

"Perhaps," the Archangel Zero said," you should warn others in writing."

The next thing Nijol knew, he was lying outside the bar where he'd been earlier in the night. He could barely breathe. The fire had burned him inside. He would live, however, and tell everyone to stay away from the old chapel. Stay away from that monster. No one ever found Fink's body. There was no trace of blood. There was, however, the man's switchblade, embedded in the altar.

Archangel Zero doesn't like to kill without reason. But there are always... exceptions.

[ArchangelZero]

Fire... the fire is burning my flesh. Black fire I cannot see, and screams I can feel but cannot hear. All I hear is the roar. The roar of the creature and the fire are one. I'm crumbling. I'm falling to ashes.
Out of the darkness, a figure appears, eyes of flame and wreathed in black fire smelling of sulfur. Damnation Hopelessness. Terror. And laughter.

It is Bax.

Archangel Zero bolts up from sleep. The stone in his pocket... NO. It is not in his pocket. He is holding it in his hand. The Monster was trying to control him as he slept! He hurls the stone against the wall, breathing rapidly. He... he is afraid. The Archangel Zero is terrified. GET A GRIP, DAMMIT!

Slowly, he strides over and picks up the gem. It is hot in his hand. Very hot.

I'm running out of time... I have to find the Phoenian, before this... before this creature does.

[prodigi]

Prodigi re-appeared outside of a small church on the outskirts of Midgar. He stared up at the old building. Even for a Holy place it still gives off a strong aura of fear. Prodigi sniffed the air. Archangel Zero had been there, he could smell his power, but it was weaker... He was not there any longer... But he would be back.

Prodigi began to walk towards the church, his footsteps echoing in the small street. Suddenly a muffled shout rang out through the night. Prodigi turned to his right to find an obviously injured man running from his house. He ran up alongside Prodigi and attempted to speak for several seconds before Prodigi unholstered his Desert Eagle .50 and aimed it squarely between the man's eyes.

"Make it quick," he said, slowly turning to face the injured man, "I wish not to waste my time on you."
The man swallowed hard and then grimaced from the pain it caused, he opened his mouth again trying to form the words around his injured mouth, "D-D-D-Don't... G-Go... In..." he paused trying very hard to form the word before finally saying, "There."
"Why shouldn't I?" Prodigi asked, cocking the hammer of his Desert Eagle, chambering the first round.
"B-B-B-Because... There's a-a-a monster... I-In T-T-There..." he said pointing at the church.
Prodigi smiled, exposing his now fang-like teeth.

"That's what I was hoping for," he said before lunging at the man and biting deeply into his throat. The man's body spasmed as Prodigi's fangs sank deeper into his jugular. A slurping sound could be heard through the whole street as Prodigi devoured the man's blood. Finally the man's body stopped spasming and went limp. A few seconds later Prodigi dropped the man's body to the ground and looked down at him briefly before turning away, muttering, "There's a monster out here too."

(OoC - no Prodigi isn't a vampire, he just loves the taste of blood - it's a long story which will come up in another one of his other memories later)

Prodigi walked down the street before halting at the church doors. He spread his arms wide and the doors, as if by some invisible force, flew open. A strong wind blew from behind Prodigi and into the church. He stopped for a moment and sniffed the air again, just too make sure Archangel Zero wasn't here now. After all, he thought, I only want to leave a message.

He walked down the aisle of the church slowly, heading towards the altar where he could see a switchblade imbedded. He walked up to the switchblade and yanked it from the wood. He then slowly looked upwards at the blank wall in front of him and smiled. He drew his forearm up to his mouth and sank his fangs into his forearm, puncturing the flesh. He then removed his forearm from his mouth and let the wound bleed freely. He put his right hand into the wound, allowing it to collect blood, and then reached up and began to write on the wall. Once he was done he stood back and admired his work. He was more than satisfied.

He then reached over his shoulder and extracted his sword. He faced the blade down and brought it down hard, embedding it in the grain of the altar. He stood back and admired the effect. Yes, he thought, He will remember who I am.

He then turned on his heel and left the church with only two signs that he had been there at all. The first was his sword which he had left imbedded in the altar, the second was his message.

Tommorow Holds No Hope For You.

[ArchangelZero]

Cyrus is alive. The bastard. Even with the power he recieved, I had assumed that he would be dead by now. But... why has he waited so long before seeking me out? It doesn't matter. He's found me now, and a showdown is inevitable. I have to evade him for a while longer, while I take care of the esper.

When I am through with my task... Cyrus of Magi will know the wrath... of Azriel the Fallen.