madame moiselle
❁ listening to lullabies ❁
Ezrael, the God of Innocence and Life
Ezrael saw his chance of escape when Farley left the door of the airtight confinement open, leaving to see the commotion. Ezrael slipped out, getting a look of the Resistance's base. The hallways were tunnels of dirt, most of it covered in stained pieces of metal. Electrical lights flickered, making the entire thing look pasty. Ezrael instantly noticed a jagged, sharp edge of metal peeling off the wall. He adjusted his chains against the edge, and with some effort, managed to break the chains that bound his hands together.
Suddenly, Ezrael heard the noises of battle not too far off, and knew he had to get there. As he ran threw the halls, guided by the sounds, he came across what looked like a poor version of a medical office. The thought of Vixen came instantly into his mind, and he entered the place. He saw tarnished hospital beds, and a bunch of hospital gear he did not know the names of. Some of the equipment was on the floor, broken. It seemed the explosion had a bigger effect on the medical office than it had in his cell. The figure of Vixen entered his vision, and he approached her in a hasty manner.
"Vixen!" Ezrael saw his friend in a cast, one on her ankle, and one on her wrist. Vixen looked tired, and seemed as if she was just in deep thought, but was otherwise fine. "Ezrael!" exclaimed Vixen, sitting up. "Did you hear the blast? A battle's going on! I have to get there, hurry! This is what I've training for! It's my chance to--"
"To what?" interrupted Ezrael, staring at her. Vixen halted her ramble, blinking. "To..." Ezrael didn't need to hear the rest. "I need to be there too," he said. "You stay here. It's the safest way to keep you alive." Vixen shook her head vigorously. "No! Let me come with you." Ezrael shook his head, denying it. "Not a chance. You're injured, and you can't even defend yourself." Vixen's face lit up with a mischievous smirk. "Actually," she responded, smiling as she began taking off her casts. "Wait--what?" Ezrael stared in bewilderment as Vixen revealed her wrist and ankle. They seemed in almost perfect condition, healed in such short time.
"Future tech medicine," was all Vixen said. "The nurse gave me a medicinal drug that speeds my natural healing factors by triple. From the future, obviously. It's great, but if consumed too much, you'd die."
"But are you sure your injuries are completely healed for the battle?" asked Ezrael, not sure. "Yes, of course. Now let's go." Vixen's answer was hurried and passive; it made the young God wonder if she was actually telling the truth.
Alas, there was no time to ponder on the matter further. Another wave of ferocious sounds of battle echoed throughout the halls, making the two rush towards the bloodshed even faster. Ezrael kept an eye out for Vixen, watching how she carried herself, how she ran. She seemed fine, but it did little to silence Ezrael's worries and suspicions. Finally, they made it to the attack.
The assault scene was horrific. The halls were splattered with the blood of mortals, the floors littered with dead bodies. The scene was flooded with countless numbers of assassins, all weapons drawn. Ezrael noticed the General, watching the bloody sight with satisfaction.
Both Ezrael and Vixen watched as hundreds of assassins flung themselves to one prominent figure in the whole thing. Ezrael recognized the devil horns and large frame of Lucifer, adorned in his demon armour in all of it's glory. He was covered in wounds and golden blood, and it was a terrible sight. Despite his state, Lucifer was grinning through it all like the fiend he was. Ezrael watched in fear and awe as the Hellspawn grabbed the tips of swords and spears barraged at him, and flung them to the ground. Lucifer's threat sent chills down the young God's spine. "I'm going in," said Vixen, grabbing a bloodied long sword on the ground. "But--" protested Ezrael. Vixen silenced him with a look. "Don't get killed," was all she said, a hint of a smile on her lips. Ezrael watched Vixen head into the fray.
Don't get killed, repeated Ezrael mentally, sighing. Easier said than done.
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