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The Enforcer: Between Heaven and Hell

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After the onslaught of angels versus humans, so many cities became shells of their former glory. Broken infrastructure, abandoned homes, destroyed spaces and various debris littered metropolises across the world.

In Seattle, it was no different. What was once the glorious restaurant at the top of the Space Needle was now an abandoned perch above the deserted city. A hodge-podge of equipment, broken tables and chairs were strewn about the now abandoned establishment. Some of the windows were blown out and glass was scattered everywhere.

A small clearing was made near one of the glassless windows. A few crates were set up in a large semi-circle as a small boundary between the clearing and the rest of the chaos. Lanterns and candles were placed on top of the crates, dimly illuminating the area. Within the debris-less space sat a queen-sized bed propped up on cinder blocks. Its sheets were in disarray as if its occupant had a restless night.

With his back against one of the cinder blocks, Michael sat barefoot on the floor with his legs splayed out in front of him. Dressed solely in his black pants, Michael looked disheveled with tousled hair that had grown a bit in the past few weeks since his departure from Vega. He looked like he hadn't slept in a long time and his usually passive face seemed pensive as he stared out of the glassless window. An empty bottle of bourbon was lying nearby while he lightly gripped another half-empty bottle of bourbon in his hand.

It was just past twilight and the clouds were roiling across the darkening sky. Something winged was weaving between the tufts of grey.

Michael took another gulp and then froze as he noticed the shadow of wings in the distance. He tried to concentrate through his drunken haze, wondering if he was seeing things. And then he saw it again as the winged something was getting ever closer.

Sighing, he didn't move. If someone was coming, it didn't matter. It was better if he just stayed put. The regret and guilt he had felt had been beyond overwhelming as he flew at top speed away from Vega five weeks ago. The image of Becca's blank face and empty eyes as she lay dead and broken on the floor still haunted him. It was burned into his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment trying to banish the stray thoughts that flickered past. Thoughts of his terrible actions. His indiscretions. All the regret, the death, the adrenaline, the intoxication of losing one's self…it was…too much. He took another long draught from the bottle. Drinking was the one thing that seemed to stop some of the images that kept coming every night. Finding alcohol had been a task in itself, but Michael had found some in the restaurant's locked reserves.

He stared at the bottle in his lap for a moment and then looked up at the over-sized window as the sound of wings overpowered him. Michael was sure that whoever it was would mostly try to put an end to him. And perhaps it would be the best for everyone if that were the case. Father had abandoned them all for so long. Did it even matter anymore? Alex was probably with Gabriel now after all that had happened. Noma was gone too and perhaps even dead.

And he… he had done something terrible again. His redemption was a lost cause.

A figure landed on the windowsill; a tall dark shadow with dark black and blue wings spread out and overpowering any remaining light from the darkening sky.

Michael looked up at the figure with blurry eyes and a softened look of awe. The bourbon bottle slipped from his fingers and it clattered to the ground as he stayed perfectly still, slumped against the cinder block.

The figure's wings flapped once and then slowly tucked themselves away, disappearing as the darkened one stayed perfectly balanced on the windowsill.

"What did you do, Michael?"

A look of pain crossed Michael's face.