Ascension of the Angel (3)

[Azrael]

((Many question Azrael's right to judge. Azrael's response has always been, why would God give us laws and punishments if not to enforce them? How can we claim the right to share salvation, and yet say we are unworthy to caste punishment? Azrael has seen the complacency of modern Christianity, and he see's it as a cancer, eating at the people. He has also seen people chant their democracy as if it were a religion in itself. That simply because you CAN do something, or because you CHOOSE to believe something is right, that makes it right. Azrael believes that we all know right from wrong. It's merely a matter of CHOOSING the right over the wrong. Azrael believes that corruption, evil and fanatical beliefs are the result of Christians who preach too much of "Turn the other cheek" and not enough of "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooh". Therefore, to counter the fanatic pacifism...one needs a fanatic killer to keep balance. To enforce righteousness and to remind people the important of it. Even if the only important they will understand is their own lives. Azrael is a predator, ruthless and unreasonable. Because of his apocalyptic actions, many refer to him as "The Wolf of God", as in many religions the Wolf incorporates a giant predator that will destroy the world.))

"If you come any closer...I will rip you to shreds."

"Who are you?"

"I am Gmork. And you, whoever you are, can have the honor of being my last victim."

-- Gmork with Atreyu in The Never Ending Story.






Azrael stormed through the woods, looking very stark and standing out quite plainly as the sun rose. He was still adorned in all his armor and equipment. He had not slept, had not eaten or drank anything. Something was gnawing at his mind.

Epyon.

That voice whispering in his head, pulling him down this dirt road. EPYON. The Gundam that always resembled a dragon. At last to some. But to Azrael, the Epyon had always resembled a crimson angel. Like him, in some ways. Like his old costume.

WHY was Epyon on his mind? Who cared about some Gundam that had been destroyed in a battle long ago? It was POINTLESS. He didn't even know why the BLAZES he was storming west in the woods right now from whatever city he had been! This was so confusing.

"I'll have to add this to the list of MIND GAMES that have been played on me," Azrael snarled to himself softly. This was RIDICULOUS. Ever since he left the Order, it was just one insanity after another, CONSTANTLY! Someone was always screwing with his mind.

Then maybe I shouldn't be holding BACK anymore! Azrael thought darkly. Maybe I should just GIVE IN to what I am, become an avenging angel! I swear, whatever I try gets interrupted and SCREWED WITH! I can't be a SOLDIER, I can't be a PREVENTER, I can't be ANYTHING ANYMORE!

He gritted his teeth angrily as he stepped outof the woodland, and into open plains on his left, a sheer cliff on his right. He frowned a bit and stared out to see, at a distance, some building. It was familiar...

He grabbed his head and roared as he fell to his knees as painful memories began to erupt in side him. Memories of doctors....guards....violence...

...Pain.

Azrael yanked his head back up and glared hatefully at the small speck of a building in the distance. "YOU...STOLE....MY...MIND!" he choked out. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew. Whatever was in the distance was the cause of it.

Then...four seconds ago...

Azrael whirled around, and saw a huge, massive beast come at him. A werewolf?! He spun around and slammed a back heel kick into it's stomach. Azrael started in spite of himself as the creature doubled over from the kick. Azrael grabbed it by the back of it's neck. Whatever it was, it was no monster. He stared at the back of it's neck. Some sort of hole...

Needle hole. Throwing the animal away he frowned. "They got to you too, huh? You're no werewolf. You're a freak. Just like me." He narrowed his eyes as the creature got up, then whirled around as he heard a loud engine.

A tank!

Azrael snarled. The creature was a SCOUT and a DISTRACTION. It didn't matter. Azrael charged at the tank as fast as he could, not even bothering to analyze it. He knew how to handle a tank. Azrael charged faster and faster as it attempted to turn it's head to aim the barrel at him. It was a tank, all right. Old Abrams series. Azrael looked directly at the barrel as he kept closing in on it, estimated the projectile angle, then leapt to the left as fast as he could, struggling not to be thrown off his feet as the round went right past him, the sheer force of it still hitting him like a car almost.

Skidding on the dirt a bit, he regained his balance, then kept charging and jumped on top of it's front part, then leapt up and did a backflip over the gunner's hatch, and landed on the rear side of it. Pulling a grenade out of his belt pouch, he clicked a button on it, making spikes erupt from it, and threw it on the back of the tank, the spikes embedding into the back hatch. Leaping away, he shoulder rolled on the ground to the tank's left as the grenade detonatedl, tearing the thing rear of the tank to shreds.

Scrambling back to his feet, he ran over to the hole he blasted through the back, and leapt in. Three surprised crew men stared at up him in horror, only for Azrael to slash the throat of the one to the right, slam the head of the one on his right into the bulkhead, brutally crushing his skull, then rushed forward to the third, frantic crewman and driver, and grabbed his head , twisting it back and forth in a frenzied fashion, breaking his neck bone repeatedly, then tossing the body aside. The gunner up in the gunner's hatch began to scream repeated obscenities.

Grabbing the controls, Azrael made the tank swerve to the left and towards the cliff, then scrambled out and leapt out of it, letting it fall of the cliff and tumble down until it crashed and exploded. Landing on his face, he quickly pushed himself up and looked around irritably. Definitely something else. Where the blazes was that werewolf?!

Standing up, he looked around. Nothing. Touching that button on his helmet, he switched to infared vision. In the woods, he saw a small heat signature, with footprints that ended about where he had engaged the werewolf. It had left, apparently.

Not my problem, Azrael thought to himself, then clicked the infared vision off. Storming back down the dirt path, he eyed that speck as it got larger and larger. Whatever it was, it had answers. And Azrael was going to get them.

ONE way or another.

[Azrael]

( Pain is the cause of many things. It can be the cause of self destruction. It can be the cause of self preservation. Pain will always be a defining factor. It can unlocks emotions on a deeper level. And there are many types of pain. But sometimes it can be our strength, our reminder. What keeps righteousness and honor first and foremost. Like a spanking to a child, or a swat to a dog, painfully reminding them of what happens when you do something wrong, sometimes pain can bring a type of discipline. When there is too much pain, sometimes the result is insanity. Godless insanity. But when pain becomes your strength, your passion, it becomes something else entirely. Perhaps passion of angels...)

"Only the insane have strength to prosper. Only those who prosper, may truly judge what is sane."

--John Gareth, the Trial of Alucard

"I hate this place."

It was the only thought that echoed throughout Azrael's mind as he walked towards the large, four story building. He glared hatefully at the symbol of the Order of St. Joseph etched in the glass double doors leading to the lobby. He clenched his fists, then his teeth as he said angrily, "Somehow, I'm not surprised."

He had never seen this building before. He never knew that the Order had science buildings or labs, but then that wouldn't surprise him. Heck, he was a produce of their twisted mixture of false religion and maniacal science. So it did not surprise him. But he still wasn't sure what was waiting for him, but he hated it immediately. He never got any good from the Order. In fact, the Order had a habit of TAKING what little good was in Azrael's life.

He slowly stepped towards the dark, unlit lobby and opened the double doors with both hands. He looked around at the place, dark as night had come in. Activating the nightvision in his helmet, he quickly surveyed around the area. He frowned for a moment. Something was causing the hairs on the back of his neck stand up straight. That didn't happen for no reason. Something was very wrong here.

"You should be more careful how you enter...Sean." A voice so familiar, a voice he always found eerily like his, seemed to hiss from the shadows. Blinking for a moment, Azrael turned to hear boots thunking on the hard linoleum floor. What stepped forward looking some a different version of his own armor. Sleeker, smoother. Green with circuit-like shaped engraved around it. A dark gray breastplate of thick, hard armor on his shoulders with the golden symbol of the Order on the front, black boots and gloves, and a smooth, black helmet devoid of any face completed the picture. "You were so eager for a fight...so CONFIDENT you can defeat any opponent, you walked right in without doing a thermal scan. So angry...so quick to fight. You were ALWAYS like that."

Azrael stared incredously at the armored figure. It wasn't the armor...but the voice, the stance, the way he walked. Resentful, brooding, jealousy incarnate at times... "Kevin?," Azrael said softly. "That you...little brother?"

"Indeed it is...BIG brother," Kevin said with more than just a little bitterness in his voice. He slowly removed his helmet, and what was once a handsome, beautiful face, was now something that looked far older. No...not older. Almost...skeletal.

Azrael stared at him incredously. "I left you for dead last time. At the cathedral in Swizterland. I had HOPED you had survived... I didn't want to go that far. You and I were NEVER like real brothers, but I always saw you as another type of victim of the Order. What...happened to you?"

The familiar, sadistic smirk crossed Kevin's features. "Not as pretty as I used to be, am I SEAN? I WAS dead. My body had already started to decompose. But the Order had been searching for a way to resurrect the dead. So old Azrael's can train new Azrael's. Maybe one day... only need ONE Azrael. One step closer... to a true divinity." Kevin's voice seemed almost thoughtful at the end. He narrowed his eyes hateful at Azrael's helmet. "I found if FUNNY, in the beginning you know. That father and the Order favored YOU as a child. While mother favored me. Then after you killed her and half the Order, THEN...I was important to them."

"Father NEVER favored me," Azrael snarled back. "The elder is to be the Azrael, and the younger to be a secondary or supplemental. The Order decided that, not me. Don't blame ME for that. But mother DID favor you. I always assumed that's where your sadistic streak came from." Azrael slowly clenched his fist with one hand, then removed his helmet with the other, showing his own face. Scarred somewhat, could have been handsome were it not for the naturally harsh expression he had. "Made me wonder if we could have been brothers if she wasn't around. And if you would have HUNG me!"

"I thought I won that day." Kevin's smirk disappeared. "Thought I could be Azrael. Mother told me to do it. Told me God wanted it. When you came back... I knew fear that day. And I knew I could NEVER be Azrael. But I wouldn't BELIEVE it. Battle after battle, you left me broken, beaten...and finally DEAD. Then the Order chose to complete their experiment on me." The arrogant smirk returned to his face. "A mixture of medical science managed to bring me to a point where I was alive. But my body was already about to decompose. I was literally ROTTING while still alive. Without this suit, constantly feeding me these special types of steriods and hyper-nutrients, I wouldn't have lived through the week." He slowly lifted a black hand and clenched it into a tight fist. "But it also enhanced my STRENGTH. My SPEED. My STAMINA. And being half a corpse has ONE advantage. I feel...NO...PAIN." The last few words came out through Kevin's teeth.

"Why are we DOING this, Kevin?" Azrael demanded, gripping his helmet in his hand. "WHY? Are we both slaves to the Order still? Constantly living and fighting by THEIR rules? Is that was this is, the Ritual of Purification? 'Put Elder and Younger against one another, whoever lives may retain the way of Azrael'? This is POINTLESS! I'm not their PAWN anymore!" Azrael set his jaw, then said softly, "We don't have to fight each other anymore. You want the title of Azrael, then TAKE it. I don't want it anymore."

"That's not it at all," Kevin said softly, lowering his head so that he was looking up at Azrael, eyeing him intently. "This suit wasn't made to be EQUAL to you, but to be SUPERIOR to you. I already HAVE my title. Azriel, angel of death. But to ascend to ARCHANGEL? Ohhh, I have to do something ELSE to acheive that, SEAN." He lowered his voice to a hushed awe sounding tone. "Haven't you wondered why they keep throwing things at you, instead of posioning you? Or killing you in your sleep?"

Azrael frowned thoughtfully. Kevin had a point. Why DID the Order keep coming after him, even after Azrael just walked away from one of their catherals and forget them? Why always the direct face-to-face confrontations? From cyborgs, to mutations, to his own brother...

"They're afraid of you, Azrael," Kevin all-but-whispered. "You're a legend. You broke the Order. You destroyed the Elders. They came at you with all they had at their peak. They put you through battles that they had never seen any other man--or Azrael--- go through before. And you kept COMING at them. They played mind games, put up advantages on their side, picked you at moments you were weakened. They hurt you and put you through so much pain, they had never seen anyone, man or angel, go through before. And you just kept COMING at them. They attacked at you, assaulted you, hunted at you, like no one had EVER gone after someone before. And you just. KEPT. COMING. FOR. MORE."

Azrael stared at him for a moment, narrowing his eyes. It seemed like Kevin almost literally...looked up to him. He believed what he was saying, that was for sure.

"Their second highest divinity rebelled against them. The most Holy of all Orders. And then...bested them." Kevin still went on, in that hushed tone. "Even if some posion or stealth technique worked, it would only prove that the MIGHT of the Order was no match for Azrael! The Order has suffered greatly. They can only muster a FRACTION of the power they had. You did more than hurt a religious sect. You crippled the very RELIGION of the Order of St. Joseph itself. People won't BELIEVE in it anymore. They follow YOU." Kevin slowly lifted up a finger to point at him, almost accusingly. "So they needed to prove your INFERIORITY. THEN kill you. They needed a new weapon. A warrior, an assassin. An angel of DEATH, that could not be stopped. They chose ME. I've been to DEATH and BACK, 'Azrael'! But Azriel can live only after AZRAEL has been defeated and sent back to the HEAVENS!"

Kevin's finger began to shake, and he slowly lowered his arm, clenching it into a trembling fist. "They put me through ALL of your training. The visions of MURDER. RAPE. EVERYTHING! Do you remember everything they did to you as a child?! I went through it ALL!" Kevin's voice became a louder, angrier tone. Almost shouting. "So that I could break you down and DESTROY YOU! To give me the RAGE and STRENGTH to STOP YOU! Now I finally have a PURPOSE! A LIFE! Something no one could give me! Not mother, not YOU! It's worth it to me! The nightmares you must suffer as well! The pain and anger swirling in your mind, it's WORTH IT TO HAVE A PURPOSE!!!!"

Angrily, Kevin forced his helmet on his face. Azrael quickly donned his own and took a defensive position. "Kevin, don't make me DO THIS!"

"It's too late, BIG BROTHER!" Kevin shouted, then pulled out a large sledgehammer made of some sort of metal. Kevin pressed a button on the handle, and the head of it began to hum and turn red as it heated up. "Only ONE of us is deserving of the wings of an angel! AND IT WILL BE ME! FIGHT ME!"

Azrael aimed his guantlet at him...then stopped, and lowered his arm. Then, taking a Tae Kwon Do stance, he watched as Kevin ran forward, screaming. The mental training has unhinged his mind, Azrael realized. He can't control his rage yet. So all it takes is one little move...

Azrael waited for the right moment, then ducked a side swing from Azriel, and stepped to the left, leaving his foot out for him to trip over, sending Azriel clusmily and quickly face down on the floor.

And he's eating linoleum, Azrael finished his thought to himself. Can't get too cocky. He IS stronger and faster than before. But he lacks my training and experience.

Azriel pushed himself up, then moved with surprising speed. He lunged forward and thrusted his sledgehammer into Azrael's breastplate, sending Azrael flying through an office door in a splinter of wood. Landing with a thud, he laid there and waited as Azriel lifted his sledgehammer up high and ran toward him. At the right moment, Azrael reached up and grabbed Azriel's wrists as the sledgehammer came down. Putting the bottoms of his boots on Azriel's stomach, Azrael pushed up with his legs, and rolled with the momentum, flipping Azriel right over him.

As Azriel landed on his back, his sledgehammer fell out of his hand, and began to cool off immediately. Azrael scrambled up, and ran over, executing a front kick into Azriel's chest, sending him slamming into the wall. Not wasting any time, Azrael grabbed Azriel by his wrist and the collar of his breastplate, swung around and threw Azriel flying out of the office. In mid-toss, Azriel grabbed Azrael in the same fashion, and used the momentum to pull Azrael with him, making Azrael stumble and trip over him Azriel's body when it landed. Azrael landed on his back, and as he saw Azriel start to get up, thrusted his foot into the back of Azriel's knee, knocking him back down on the ground.

Rolling away, Azrael got to his feet as he waited for Azriel to get up to. Strikes are practically useless since we got so much armor on, Azrael thought. Grappling is going to have to be the way we do this. Throws, sweeps, etc. Keep that in mind.

Azriel apparently didn't think of that. Blinded by his rage, he swung his fist at Azrael, only to see Azrael shoot in, and grab Azriel's legs and yank them out from under him in a Double Leg Takedown. Quickly jumping on top of Azriel's torse, Azrael sat down on him, and grabbed Azriel's wrist.

Azriel put his feet flat on the ground, and arched upward, thrusting up with his hips to toss Azrael off of him. Azrael scrambled up, then grabbed Azriel by the back of his collar and belt, then slammed his head into a wall, stunning Azriel. Getting full up to his feet, Azrael then dragged Azriel and threw him bodily into the opposite wall. Azriel bounced off of it and landed face first on the ground.

Dropping on his belly, Azrael wrapped his head around Azriel's neck and started to squeeze.

"You can't choke me, Sean," Azriel sneered. "I DON'T BREATHE." And with that, he ran forward, ramming Azrael into the other wall. Azrael grunted in pain, then grabbed something...what was it? Azrael looked down and saw a hose of some sort on the back of Azriel's armor. Whatever it was, it had to be important. Pulling at it, he felt it snap, and spray a digsuting, stinking black substance all over the floor.

Azriel screamed and began to move around frantically. "N-no...ugh..." he slowly fell to his knees, trying desperately to stop the fluid from pouring out. Azriel began to make desperate crying sounds, then stopped and began to laugh. Laying down on his side, he let his helmet come off his head. "Ah...it's finally over.";

Azrael stared at Azriel for a moment.

"Looks like...I'm free now," he said, his voice struggling as he felt his body slowly, very slowly, shutting down. "Maybe...maybe it's better this way. I'm tired of his war. Tired...of our rivalry. Tired of coming up short..."

Azrael slowly knelt down next to him, apparently thinking hard on something. "Where's Epyon?"

Azriel turned on his back and looked at him. "Wha?"

"Epyon," Azrael said crisply. "Where is Epyon?"

"Destroyed, long time ago," Azriel said hoarsely. "In the battle with Libra and the White Fang, remember?"

Azrael frowned behind his helmet. He was telling the truth. He let out a sigh. No help from him. "No... You're not free. And neither am I. Not YET." He pulled Azriel over on his stomach, and grabbed the hose on his back.

"Huh?" Azriel said groggily. "Wha...what are you doing?"

"I'm TRYING to save your miserable LIFE," Azrael said irritably as he put the two peices of hose together, then held it in a fist as he dug into his belt.

"What?" Azriel exclaimed. "But...why?"

"I'm not living my life like this anymore!" Azrael pulled out peices of cloth originally intended to make a torniquet, and began to wrap it around the hose, making another type of tourniquet. "I saw our father suffering, living a life he knew was a lie. I've spent most of my life feeling like I HAD to. I may BE an angel of vengeance. I may BE an assassin. But I fight for ME. And for MY God. Not some madmen in clothes. This madness ends NOW. I'm not playing their game anymore."

Azriel went quiet for a moment, then laughed as he rolled over. "You always have to win, don't you?" He stared at up his elder brother with his skeletal face twisted in a smile. "Always the better FIGHTER, always the better ASSASSIN, now...now you're the better MAN."

Azrael looked at him, then picked him up, putting his younger brothers arm over his shoulder and helped drag him to the lobby. "You know what the formula of the steriods you need are?"

Azriel nodded, breathing a bit hard. "Yes...thought I might need to. In case they ran out or something."

Azrael helped Azriel stand up as he brought him out into the cool night air. "There's a swiss bank account. One I keep with our family's earnings from Ireland in it. I changed the pass code so the Order can't use it anymore. The pass code is Tallgeese. Just in numbers, not letter. Should be more than enough to purchase what you need to make more of it. And find a new life."

Azriel looked up at him with his sunken eyes and said, "You... You forgive me?"

"Why not?" Azrael turned to look at him. "If you had been born first, I might have ended up BEING you. We're both victims. I was given a chance. Now I'm giving it to you." Azrael stepped away, then motioned to the forest and night sky. "Go. Find a new life. And leave the Order out of it."

Azriel smiled. An excited smile as he started to walk away.

"Remember, you're not what they made you, and you're not a supplemental to me," Azrael called out to him. And with that, he turned around and walked back in the science building. He had to find Epyon.

[Azrael]

(( From beginning to end, Azrael has always done what the Order did NOT want him to do. Rebellious and angry, he seemed at first to be the character that angry teenage children desired to be like. The type you wouldn't want your children to be anything like. Then, as he shows his faith and moral reasons for doing what he does, his spirit and warrior's sense of honor, he seems to become something else. It's not often you can find a character that composes so much anger, anti-authority, violence...yet at the same time, honor, devotion to a divinity, and morality. The yin and the yang, though many would agree Azrael is far from in complete control of it. Indeed, rather than be a balanced yin and yang, his seems to be one that fades in and out of each other, overlapping crudely at times. Imperfect. And perhaps, that's what makes him as charismatic as he is.))

"All that most maddens and torments; all that stirs up the lees of things; all truth with malice in it; all that cracks the sinews and cakes the brain; all the subtle demonisms of life and thought; all evil, to crazy Ahab, were visibly personified, and made practically assailable in Moby-Dick. He piled upon the whale's white hump the sum of all the general rage and hate felt by his whole race from Adam down; and then, as if his chest had been a mortar, he burst his hot heart's shell upon it."

-- Moby Dick, Herman Melville

Azrael continued to walk down the hallways of the labatory, lit through the windows by moonlight. There was something utterly evil and terrifying happening here. Something in his gut gnawed at him, like an animal tugging at it's owners heels to get it's attention. Azrael knew far too well what that was. It was something telling him to leave. To run away. But he couldn't. No more than a shark could ignore the smell of blood, nor a bear hibernation in winter, nor a wolf the desire to howl at the moon. He had to know what it was.

And that voice, driving him insane. Or perhaps, to a mere deeper level of insanity. That voice demanding to find Epyon. To know where it is and to merge with it, in some fashion. He had to know what it was, where it was. It was some bizarre obsession tormenting his very mind. It was too late to walk away. The moment he looked in this direction, he knew he had to be here.

He reahed an elevator at the end of the hallway. He frowned as he looked at the cold, silver doors, then pushed the button for down on the side to it. Nothing, not even the light turning on. Somehow, I'm not surprised, Azrael thought to himself. Then he dug his fingers between the two doors, and forced them to open with visible effort and a grunt.

Stepping into the dark room, he stood still for a moment. Then whirled around as the doors closed behind him.

Why did THAT not surprise me either, Azrael thought darkly.

Hearing a hum, the lights above dimly lit and it slowly began to move down. Standing still and staring at the doors he waited very tensely as the elevator began to come to a gentle stop. The metal doors slid open, to reveal a hallway with cold, dark steel walls ending in a curve to the left. And a dim, red light at the curve.

Stepping out of it, he felt something in his stomach twist. He stopped for a moment and put his guantleted hand on the wall. He didn't want to do this. He REALLY didn't want to do this. Something was screaming at him to turn around and run away while he could. But he had to know. He had to know WHERE EPYON WAS.

He stood himself up and took a deep breath, then marched straight down the hallway and into the red, dim light. He didn't care what monsters lay before him, he would have to face them sooner or later. He stopped and froze as he stared at something...bizarre.

It was the exact same laboratory he had visited the day his brother died. Perfect, except for the tube in the middle with the infant in it. Everything else... the machinery.

Azrael shook his head for a moment and blinked. No, not the same. Something was wrong. Was that a flashback? The one he had been in had had animals. This one had....mobile suits, collected like an army in formation taking up one leftside of it. On the right, crates full of weapons, explosives, ammunition. And in the very middle....

A shock of machinery. Mechanical arms, some with lasers attached, others with tools, some in glass cases, other open to view and touch. Azrael numbly stepped into the vast room, and look around at it. It just was...wrong. Something terribly wrong.

"So you're here," A voice grated.

Azrael started, and looked around confusingly. Then he noted a large....thing...stepping out of the shadows to his far right. He looked like some sort of cyborg. He was...familiar, to say the least.

"Abbatoir?" Azrael said in shock. "You're...still alive?"

Abbatoir smirked with the half of his face that was still human and nodded. He wore the red robes of a divine brother of the order, and hood. His right hand was practically the same as a small version of a Leo's right hand. So were both his legs. Mechanical sounds of whirrs and heavy thuds made the noises of his footsteps as he walked over to one of the devices. "Indeed I am. I was not at the laboratory when you trashed it. Thus, I was not there when it blowed up."

"I...I saw you," Azrael said softly. "I saw SOMEONE."

"Just as you are not the first Azrael, I am not the only Abbatoir," The cyborg said, peering at his machinery on a table. "Just as we keep ones in Asia, Europe, and the Middle East, so with Elders, and Abbatoirs. The Order lives."

Azrael stared at the laboratory again, taking it all in, and said, "What is all this?"

"The beginning of the end," Abbatoir said calmly. "A war we shall rage. You were not informed of it. But it will be your redemption. To join us on your Crusade."

"And just what the BLAZES makes you think I'd come back?" Azrael snarled back at him, his fists clenched angrily.

"You have nothing else," Abbatoir said. "All that you have, all your riches as a lord and skills, you owe to the Order. You have nothing to return to, or embrace save it be from the Order." He continued to speak calmly, not even looking up from the machinery.

Azrael blinked, then shook his head. "Where is Epyon?"

"What?" Abbatoir did look up this time, to stare at Azrael in confusion.

"EPYON," Azrael snarled again, then demanded, "WHERE is it?"

The look of confusion on Abbatoir face was genuine. "Epyon was destroyed some time ago. By Zechs Marquis in the war with the White Fang. You know this."

"Don't lie to me!" Azrael snapped and marched over to him. "I know it's still around somewhere! WHERE is it?!"

Abbatoir frowned at him thoughtfully, then turned back to his machinery with a dismissive flick of his hand. "Must be some corruption in your programming. You were originally trained to pilot the Epyon, whose schematics we had stolen from OZ. This new programming we imputted in you must have somehow activated an older implanted thought in your mind. One that laid dormant for some time, apparently."

"What?" Azrael said softly, and stared at him in horror. "You...programmed me AGAIN?"

"Indeed," Abbatoir said, then walked to another table, turning his back on him. "The Order was in disarray as to what to do with you. You are an Azrael. The second highest divinity in our Order. A most blessed and holy being, an angel among men. Many wanted you destroyed. But past attempts have failed, and we believe it to be because you are indeed a worthy heir to the title of Azrael. But it was upon us, by letting your mother live against the rules of the Order to dispose of the Azrael's mother."

Abbatoir peered in a glass case for a moment, and frowned. "Your brother was imperfect, and the unborn Azrael was destroyed, though we admit by accident."

Azrael felt a stab of hurt in his heart at the remembering of the unborn brother's death, but he continued to listen to Abbatoir.

"We felt that female comfort was one of your largest problems," he continued. "Your mother, your sister. They seemed to have affects on you. Some of the Order wanted you to be restored. Others wanted you destroyed and replaced. A compromise was made. We assaulted your castle. You put up quite a fight, but since you deny your angelic power, you could not defeat us. We took you and the woman to the cathedral here in Canada."

"THAT'S where I am?" Azrael said incredously. "The final stronghold of the great and powerful Order....is in CANADA?!" Azrael turned his head and stared in sheer shock and disbelief at space as he laughed and said, "I don't believe it." He shook his head, still incredous to it. "I just don't believe it."

Abbatoir turned around to give him a strange look, then went back to the machinery again. "You'd be surprised what lies here, young Azrael. All the same, yes. This is where we brought you. You and the woman, that things may be set to right. We reprogrammed you, through various purification and mind-cleansing acts."

A painful memory suddenly erupted in Azrael's mind. Of him strapped to a chair moving around in a room full of flashing images. Pain. Horrible pain, coursing through his body, forcing the images to be burnt in his mind, staying there for hours. Straining against the straps on the chair, screaming and writhing. Shaking his head, he let out a roar as he removed his helmet, then grabbed at his head as another one popped out. Of him on an operating table. They severed his arms and legs. Without anesthetic. Kept his blood pumping from various machines so he wouldn't die. Severed them, performed some sort of...cybernetic surgery on them...then re-attached them. All the while, Azrael screamed and prayed to God to help him.

Azrael glared up, his face red and veins bulging as he glared at Abbatoir. "You....you were there... You DID this to me! You HURT me!"

Abbatoir gave a simple shrug. "It was necessary to make you what you are now. For your new armor, and for what we shall prepare you for. We then did similar to your brother, Kevin. Then we pitted you two against each other, to decide what should be done. You are now much more powerful. Stronger, faster, tougher. Smarter, and better reflexes. You will indeed be a true Azrael now. And especially since we disposed of that woman."

"Charity?!" Azrael glared up at him. "What did you DO to her?!"

"We disposed of her, of course," Abbatoir said simply.

Azrael felt like someone just kicked him in the gut. He dropped to one knee, closer to tears than he had ever been since the day his unborn brother died. "You...killed...her?" He said weakly, struggling not to cry.

"Fear not!" Abbatoir turned around with a smile like someone about to depart good news. "Her soul was not sent to the damnation of Hell. We made sure to purify her with pain to ensure she was sent to the heavens. The girl did indeed cry out for you, as if ready to go."

Azrael felt a horror in his heart, and he slowly glared upward, tears spilling down his cheeks. His fist began to clench so hard it shook. "Did you do it to her?" He asked in a voice that was dangerously low.

Abbatoir beamed a magnificient smile like someone who had done a great deed. "Yes, I did. I assure you, for quite some time."

A scream that said what little sanity was in Azrael's mind had just been ripped out tore into Abbatoir's ears, as in the same moment he felt the guantleted fist of Azrael slam into his jaw and send him flying.

Terror could not be a word strong enough to describe the madness, the sheer loss of sanity that had shattered Azrael's mind. The fate of his beloved, his dear Charity had sunk deep within his heart, where there was indeed something still loving and gentle within him. Charity once thought that all that was left of Azrael's humanity was left in the grave of his unborn little brother. She was wrong. It existed in her life, as well.

Cruelty and evil from men had always been the majority of what Azrael had seen and heard from mankind. Now...now all of humanity, all beings, all Christians and religions, all living things save God Himself were subject to Azrael's judgement. Such is the nature, that once you judge a life to be insignificant to the point of killing, you indeed put your own at the same place.

Slashing and swinging his fists and claws violenlty, he tore at the lab hatefully. All the pain and hate felt from the betrayal of Adam and Eve down to this last act of evil had fully swelled in Azrael's heart, and there was no more room for love or kindness. There was no room left for rationality. Forever, would Azrael hurt and ache in his chest. And never again would light be able to penetrate the cloak of hate and anger he wrapped his heart out again.

Fire erupted along the laboratory, electricity sparked and explosions shook the very floors and walls. Abbatoir crawled away in horror, his human eye seeing the true Angel of Vengeance and Destruction come to life, and realized the horrible wrath he brought upon his own head.

Azrael whirled around from the devastation he had caused, tears still streaming from his bloodshot eyes, face contorted in all emotions that are the bane of mankinds existence. Abbatoir was by no means a coward or a sympathic man. But what he saw in Azrael's eyes tore through whatever beliefs of self-righteousness, beliefs of safety, beliefs of life and death ever had, and let nothing in their wake. It was the eyes that scared Abbatoir more than anything else. As the words in Proverbs of the Bible said, "The eyes are the window to the human soul".

Azrael leapt over the wreakage on the floor, and all but pounced on Abbatoir's shaking frame. In fear, Abbatoir tried to strike out at Azrael, only to feel a strong grip tighten on his mechanical wrist. Abbatoir stared in shock as he saw Azrael literally OVERPOWER him. Gripping him by the throat, Azrael lifted him up over his own head and shouted, "They said I was damned! I was cursed! Where they right?!"

"No!" Abbatoir cried.

"LIAR!!!!" Azrael viciously wrenched on Abbatoirs mechanical arm, then twisted it around until in a shower of sparks, he literally tore the cyborgs arm off, both stumps showing frayed wires at their ends. Tossing him down to the ground, Azrael quickly got on top of them. "You want to be PURIFIED, Abbatoir?!" Azrael screamed, grabbing his head and slamming it on the ground. "I WILL GIVE YOU PURIFICATION!!"

And with that, Abbatoir began to shriek and scream as Azrael's claws tore at his face, ripping the flesh and clawing at him. Abbatoir screamed and screamed until his throat went raw as the Avenging Angel slashed at his face like some rabid animal using a cruel method. "THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED!!" Azrael screamed. "YOU WANTED PURIFICATION! LET ME PURIFY YOU, ABBATOIR!! WHEN SHE SCREAMED, DID IT SOUND LIKE YOURS?!"

Abbatoir cried, screaming and flailing. Then finally, Azrael finished the fight. The manner of death was hideous, and despite all the detail in which his torturous purification was in, to explain the death...would be to bestow a certain level of insanity upon the reader as well.

Standing up, his shoulders and arms shaking from his sobs, Azrael stumbled over to the small army of mobile suits. Finally falling on his knees, he gripped his head, and screamed out at the heavens. What he screamed in his native tongue, was not a hateful mockery to God, nor was it asking for help or guidance. Rather, for forgiveness for what he was about to do.

"I have failed...at everything!" Azrael let his head drop, and he never looked so pitiful. Any soul that knew anything of death and pain would have feared his rage. Any soul that knew anything of love or sorrow would have felt tears for his misery. Walking on his knees, almost crawling over to the mobile suits, he saw a small control panel.

"I can't do this anymore..." Azrael pushed himself up, pressing buttons on the control panel. "I brought this on myself. I brought it on my love, Charity. Because...because of all that I am!" He fell to one knee, struggling to control his sobs. "I am so sorry, honey..." he whispered, his jaw trembling. "I'll always be sorry. For what I am...and for what I brought upon you." He grabbed a lever and pushed it up. "This curse ends NOW. I won't let the nightmare continue!"

Again, he pushed himself up on the controls, looking at a large, red button. "The Order keeps coming back...because I am alive. So long as I fight...and breathe...it'll always be here. I am the ground they keep trying to build upon." His tears finally seemed to stop. He sniffled a bit. He reached down to the large red button. "I have to end this. I have to end Azrael." He put his finger on the button. "This is my last duty as an avenging angel. Please, forgive me God..."

A voice seemed to speak out to him. A voice that had no sound. It seemed to cry out to him to stop, to not give up faith in a new life for him. To believe and hold on. But Azrael was broken. He had finally lost the only person left that knew him as a human being. "I'm sorry, God...." he said softly, and pressed the button.

More explosions happened. At the exact same time, every single mobile suit erupted in fire, as Azrael hit the self detonation button. The flames tore at his armor and he felt his body thrust against the wall. Immediately, flames filled the entire room. Azrael pushed himself up in the agonzing pain...then the pain stopped as his nerves were overloaded, and all he felt was an all embracing warmth.

It's okay, Charity, he thought to himself as he was little more than a burning skeleton. It's okay, honey. I'm coming to be with you...

That was his last thought as the fire finally seared all that was left. It destroyed his armor. Destroyed everything.

***************************************************

"Channel 6 news here, broadcasting from Montreal, Canada. I'm standing here at the sight of a private science laboratory that appears to have been housing secret weapons of military purposes. The Canadian government has denied any involvement, insisting it remains peaceful at this time. Two bodies were found, one of an unidentified male that appeared to be CYBERNETIC in design.

"While various government officials are hesitant to discuss details, the other body is confirmed to be Lord Sean Andrew Watts of the Watts Kingdom, in Ireland. Apparently, he is also the once-famous soldier and warrior Azrael Knightquest, who appeared to be a recent Preventer. This has caused a STORM of controversy and conspiracy theories, and one can only guess how this will cause the strained issues of pacifism to worsen. Canadian governmental officials are currently in the process of contacting the Preventers HQ to see if they wish to give him a military burial, and also contact the Parliament in Ireland to see if they have any burial desires. No family members were contacted, as was Lord Sean Andrew Watts...or should I say, Azrael Knightquest... stated in his final will and testament. Various soldiers from the Sanq Kingdom, and former members of OZ have already spoken, claiming if neither were to give Azrael a proper burial, they are willing to themselves."

"In other news, a circus apparently caught fire during an incident in..."