"What? Nightmare's gone?" Mephisto morphed from an elderly gentleman into a crimson, horned figure, blood oozing from three waist wounds.
"No clue. Not one demon came back to report," Satanis said, his antlered head and half-blue, half-red face forcing an expression. His waist bled blue.
"With Nightmare gone, we should check. Hell's short on hands," Darkness said, deadpan, wrapping his cloak to hide his own waist wound.
"Whoever took Nightmare rivals Cyttorak," Satan said, still human-looking, elegant despite black tar seeping from his waist, staining his white suit.
"If Mephisto hadn't stuffed Zarathos into that Spirit of Vengeance, he'd be perfect for scouting," Satan added. All eyes turned to Mephisto.
Zarathos was formidable once, but Mephisto lost him—sent him out himself, split into fragments across Earth.
"Let's go see," Mephisto said, dodging the topic. Betrayal by his knight wasn't his plan.
Andariel, wielding Oathkeeper, was slaughtering demons. The lack of messengers wasn't his fault—Nightmare dragged them all into the dream realm.
…
"Are you really doing this?" Constantine asked, bound tightly and placed in the pool where Isabelle died, surrounded by the group.
Rumlow, holding Balza's head, drew Mammon's summoning array per its instructions. The Ancient One and Bul-Kathos hid in another dimension, watching to catch Heaven and Hell's plans and deliver a harsh lesson. Bul-Kathos craved a punching bag.
Luke stared at Balza's head, fascinated. A pencil stuck in it, yet it spoke—demons were wild. He'd accepted a talking head, forgetting he caused Balza's predicament.
"Where do we find an angel?" Constantine struggled, citing Corinthians: only an angel with the Spear of Destiny could free Mammon.
"There's always an angel involved. When Mammon shows, an angel will too," Rumlow said, nearly done with the array, fed up.
"Where's the Spear of Destiny?" Constantine pressed.
"It's here!" a ghostly voice announced—the hidden mastermind. An angel.
"I thought I'd see what an angel looks like," Luke said, disappointed, looking up.
Angel clutched Constantine's amulet, praying silently.
"You still believe in Heaven?" Matt asked softly, stunned she kept faith knowing an angel caused her sister's death.
"Gabriel, it's you!" Constantine, roped up to curb rash moves, flopped like a fish out of water—his "Splash" skill failing.
"The Sorcerer Supreme watches Earth. You dare?" he shouted awkwardly upward.
"Why think she doesn't know? Maybe she approves," Gabriel's ethereal voice replied, masking panic with a flimsy excuse.
"Murderers, abusers, greedy—sinners confess, and the Lord embraces them. Only humans get this! It's unfair to the truly faithful! Why do humans get love just for repenting?" Gabriel's voice grew angry, tinged with pity. "I'll bring Hell to Earth, to show not all deserve His kindness. After it burns, He'll take the righteous to Heaven. Not everyone deserves forgiveness!"
Gabriel appeared, met with silence.
"So angels are half-winged, bloody, with swollen faces? Not like the storybooks!" Luke said, disappointed.
Bul-Kathos glanced at the Ancient One, eyes saying, "Your work?" She nodded, silent. Gabriel couldn't show her mirrored face now.
"Why my sister? She was kind, devout, hurt no one—why die for your goal?" Angel roared, nearly breaking her voice.
"Sacrifice is a virtue, child," Gabriel said calmly, ignoring Luke.
"So, chop it and be done! I want to clock out!" Rumlow grabbed his axe, stepping toward Gabriel.
"Is it insane?" Matt wondered, drawing his axe, doubting this mangled angel's authenticity.
In the other dimension, Bul-Kathos, expressionless, focused on Andariel's Hell rampage. Just an angel and a demon—no big deal.
"I feel like I'm pregnant! I love my mom; she had it rough!" Constantine yelled, his belly swelling, snapping the ropes. Mammon had entered him when Gabriel arrived, his face grim.
(Chapter End)
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