Third Host: Amitiel

May 11, 2008

Amitiel shoved open the heavy door with a grunt of pain. The engine room was a crowded dirty mess, though most of the machinery was silent. The only thing churning away was a heavy duty gas generator shoved in a corner and jury-rigged into the ships electrical system. Amitiel shook his head. The engines were hollowed out shells, anything worth salvaging already pulled off of the boat. He worked through it, shoving aside pieces of metal looking for anything useful. So far unless he hoped to beat a hole in the side of the ship with another chunk of metal, it looked bad.

Which was when the lights flickered and dimmed. Amitiel looked to the generator, but it was still going strong. Shadows flickered across the lights behind him and Amitiel spun, leveling the rifle. Nothing. He turned in a slow circle, keeping the weapon ready. Bits of shadow continued to creep toward him. The angel cursed under his breath and dropped the rifle, drawing his revolver and emptying the bullets still in it. He into an inner pocket, pulling out a speed loader and shoving it into the gun.

“Come on out, puppets,” said Amitiel, snapping the chamber back into place. “You’re in here to force my hand, so come and get me.”

A vaguely human shaped shadow lunged at him from on top of one of the engines. Amitiel’s shot tore through it’s center of mass, sending it crashing to the ground writhing, a horrible keening noise echoing out of the figure before it melted back into the surrounding shadows. The rest swarmed. Amitiel managed to get off two more shots and drop two more shadow creatures before they hit him. The first slammed into his chest and sent him backwards over a larger bit of metal scrap. Amitiel twisted as he fell, throwing the shadow aside before landing with a curse.

He managed to put a bullet through another as it leapt toward him, but three others followed suit and started ripping into his flesh. Amitiel screamed, lashing out with the but of his pistol, but more of the creatures swarmed in on top of him faster then he could drive them away.

Blood blinded him and pain lanced through Amitiel’s body. The trap was too well thought out. The only thing left was to spring it and hope he could spring it hard enough to break straight through. Light ripped through the shadow creatures and their dying screams filled the ship as Amitiel rose up through the disintegrating shadow, wings the color of soot and looking tattered. He flapped down hard and threw himself upwards and before making contact with the ceiling of the room, explosions ripped through the ship. The force smashed him aside and into the shell of one of the engine as water flooded into the room. Amitiel could see the sigils flaring to life around the room as water flooded over him. He closed his eyes and settled back as the ship lurched toward the bottom of the bay.

Until something changed, he was going to be stuck, so he focused on thinking. Someone big wanted him out of the way, but either not enough to try and kill him or they didn’t have the means to kill him. The effort and skill in the trap certainly argued against the not being able to kill him, but angels weren’t really well known for dieing, so he left it on the table. Still, it seemed more likely that they needed him for something later, which meant that he just had to be patient and wait for his chance.

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