"Why's Rumlow here?" Bul-Kathos muttered, puzzled. Those bound by the Oath of Shame should prioritize breaking their chains.
Gulping liquor on a low rooftop, he glanced at the open window of a taller building. Aiming, he leaped, landing beside Angel and Constantine, who were studying the window's writing.
"So that's it," Bul-Kathos's thunderous voice startled the trio.
Rumlow, seeing him, understood the earlier feeling of being watched like a student by a teacher. He hadn't planned to meet Bul-Kathos, but now, what was there to say?
"Damn it!" Constantine's body reacted before his eyes caught Bul-Kathos. He barely suppressed the urge to flee, standing frozen, cursing.
"Twins, and this visible power," Bul-Kathos said, eyeing Angel, seemingly finding a way to Hell.
"Who… are you?" Angel, startled but oddly comforted by Bul-Kathos's presence, felt a rare calm since her sister's death.
"Corinthians, Chapter 17? What's that?" Bul-Kathos glanced at the window's text, ignoring Angel's question, focused on reaching Hell.
Angel shifted awkwardly. Rumlow was more embarrassed. Constantine was ready to bolt.
"Corinthians doesn't have a Chapter 17," Angel said, deflecting.
"In Hell's Bible, it has 21," Constantine said cautiously, eyes locked on Bul-Kathos, poised to run.
"Kid, can you open Hell's gate?" Bul-Kathos asked Constantine.
The Ancient One could only teleport when the gate was open, but Hell's demons were quiet, like timid chicks, not daring to open it. Maybe Constantine, the loophole-exploiter, had a trick?
"No way I've got that kind of power… but I can try," Constantine said, initially denying but caving under Bul-Kathos's faintly furious gaze.
"What do I do?" Rumlow asked, arms crossed, confused. After seeing Hell's demons, he felt he should focus on the task at hand.
"Keep doing your thing," Bul-Kathos said, tossing him a bottle of liquor from his pack. "Demons stink. Get used to it."
The smell was nothing to a centuries-battling barbarian, but for Rumlow, it was jarring.
"The ones in the Secret Realm weren't this bad," Rumlow said, chugging the liquor.
"Those were killed once already," Bul-Kathos replied casually.
…
The Ancient One stood before Gabriel, her expression icy. "Angel, care to explain your injuries?"
Her demand made Gabriel nervous. Their eerily similar faces made the stare-down odd.
"I got careless…" Gabriel started.
Slap! "Try again," the Ancient One said.
Gabriel felt the sting. "The Father will protect me!" Energy surged from Gabriel, a beacon drawing Heaven's power, signaling resistance.
Slap! "One more chance," the Ancient One said, retracting her hand. The absurdity of slapping her near-doppelgänger fueled her irritation, though she knew Gabriel hadn't mimicked her face intentionally.
Gabriel, no mere half-angel or nameless one, was a high-ranking messenger of Heaven's divine voice. Its power wasn't ash to the Ancient One but at least a cricket—now a biting rabbit with Heaven's aid.
Slap! Her magic pinned Gabriel in place, another slap landing. "Your Father wouldn't dare act up in my presence!"
"It was that old man! He broke my wing!" Gabriel shouted under pressure, revealing its mangled wing.
In Gabriel's mind, the Ancient One, wielder of time's might, knew all. Her interrogations, from grilling every angel to humiliating Gabriel, were warnings to Heaven and Hell.
"I don't care about your plans, understand?" the Ancient One said calmly, meaning it.
Gabriel caught her implication: no chaos would be tolerated on Earth. Outmatched, it bowed its head.
"Don't harm mortals," the Ancient One said, vanishing.
Gabriel, half its face swollen, gritted its teeth.
…
"Elder, any way to awaken the demonic power in Angel?" Constantine asked Bul-Kathos in a diner, fawningly.
Having coaxed half a bottle of liquor from Rumlow, he'd warmed up to him.
"Rumlow, stay away from this sleaze. He's untrustworthy," Bul-Kathos said, forking spaghetti.
Angel sipped water delicately, trying to seem less awkward.
"I'm on this case. Looks like it'll take time," Rumlow said, eyeing the food distractedly.
"What about my sister?" Angel asked timidly, more like a scared hamster than an NYPD heavy crimes agent, grappling with the supernatural.
"Let this sleaze open Hell's gate. Done," Rumlow said irritably, wanting no part in this.
"He's got a way in. He tried yesterday, right? Let him ask a contact what's going on."
(Chapter End)
-------------------------
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