Akting Out

Day One: Night
“No moon out tonight.” Sira whispered.

Uriel was so engrossed in monitoring the Seraphim inside that he hadn’t noticed the sun set. “What?”

Sira looked at him and gave a sly smile. “No moon.” She repeated. “It’s a good omen.”

Uriel looked up to the night sky. Not one star was present, and the sky was an eerie, black canvas. Uriel looked back at Sira and realized he could barely make her out, save for her predatory green eyes, eager for what was coming. Uriel remembered his days in the Holy Sefiroth; soldiers often referred to nights like this one as “Black Nights”. Black Nights were somber events, during which the Sefiroth predicted that skirmishes would be particularly bloody, and that an unusually large number of lives would be lost. It was a prediction reinforced by fact; soldiers who went out on Black Night didn’t often come home.

Valkryies, most of whom had been Sefiroth before Odin chose them, saw Black Night differently. They saw the starless night as a chance to fight an epic battle; a chance to affect history. This was why Sira had been chosen; it was never the victory she enjoyed, it was the battle and the chance to make a difference.

Uriel remembered thinking that the first was an admirable trait, but the other would probably get her killed. Instead, she had become a Valkryie. Looking at Sira’s penetrating emerald eyes, Uriel spoke in a low growl. “I guess the things we do should never see the light, should they?”

He couldn’t be sure in Black Night, but he imagined that Sira grinned.
“Have you got my back?” She asked, peering inside to the seven Seraphim and captive family.

Uriel cracked his knuckles, looked at her, and nodded his head. “I’m ready…Go.”

Sira pivoted and became more than a black specter in the night as she stepped into the cabin; the candlelight danced across her black armor. The loose metal that protected her feet clanked as she stepped onto the hardwood floor. Uriel peered in to watch the event unfold.

The Seraphim and the family – a man, woman, girl and boy – became aware of her. The Seraphim rose and faced her, their shock turning to aggression. A flash of fear shot through Uriel. Valkryie or not, seven Seraphim is a lot to ask of anyone…

For a moment, Uriel thought about rushing in, but his military training kicked in: he would not deviate from the plan.

The Seraphim reached—for their hips?! As though trapped in slow motion, Sira reached her right hand towards the captive, bewildered family. “LOOK AWAY!!!” She shouted.

It was a gamble; the Seraphim could have taken the hint not meant for them. Uriel knew what was coming. He could only cross his fingers as he threw himself away from the door, moving into a squat position and covering his lowered head with his hands.

The sound of thunder being drawn across the sky joined with the pained, terrified screams of the Seraphim. The light was so bright that Uriel could feel it pressing into the back of his head. He closed in on himself, pressing his head to his knees and clenching his eyes shut. The light encompassed him along with the entire cabin. For moments, the Black Night was overtaken by Sira’s Light Nova.

Uriel forced his eyes open. He had missed the worst of it. Although he still couldn’t see clearly through the white haze, he knew his vision would be better than the incapacitated Seraphim. Scrambling to his feet, Uriel turned back to the door and rushed into the cabin.

He first noted Sira, laying unconscious on the floor to his left. The Seraphim were still standing, but they were completely incapacitated. They were writhing on their feet, their hands pressed to their eyes as they rocked back and forth in complete blindness, begging for mercy.

“MY EYES! MY EYES! MY–” Uriel flew towards the first Seraphim and connected a solid right hook with the boy’s jaw. The boy spun once before swaying like a buoy on the sea, then collapsed to the ground. Uriel turned, driving his elbow into the back of another Seraphim’s neck; that one instantly fell to the ground. He took the third Seraphim and grabbed him by the robe to hoist him up. The Seraphim was in such agony already that he either didn’t feel Uriel, or didn’t care that he was being lifted. Uriel bashed his own head into the nose of the Seraphim, and let the officer drop to the floor. Uriel grabbed the fourth officer by his arm and removed his left hand from his eye. It appeared that the boy’s pupils had been obliterated. Uriel struck the boy with a chopping blow where the neck met the shoulder. The boy immediately became silent and fell. The fifth Seraphim nearly fell into Uriel’s arms in blind panic. Uriel crouched so the boy’s midsection was at eye level and struck him so fiercely that his fist nearly went through the officer’s stomach. As the air ripped from his lungs, the boy clasped his stomach, unable to scream as he fell to his knees. He collapsed onto the floor. The sixth of the Seraphim was a pretty young blond who cried as she screamed, completely lost in terror as she heard her comrades being struck down. Uriel took hold of her, wrapping his arm around her neck and placing his hand at the back of her head. He pressed her head against his forearm and tightened, giving her head a slight jerk to the left. Because her brain had been so suddenly deprived of oxygen, she would wake with a migraine, but at least she’d wake up.

Something stabbed Uriel in the left of his abdomen and just below his shoulder, and his body jerked with the impact as he grunted. He would’ve thought himself shot by arrows, but he had been hit with arrows before; these were smaller and their impact was more forceful. He looked down to see his injuries, which had begun bleeding. There was no twang to indicate a bow had been fired. Whatever had shot him had gone straight through.
Uriel looked up. The last of the Seraphim—their leader, he guessed, due to the extra red stripes along the shoulders and arms of his robe, used one arm to cover his eyes. With his free hand, he was pointing something at Uriel, a black ivory object Uriel had never seen before. Something tore through his upper right shoulder, and Uriel realized as blood gushed through the new wound that the weapon was soundless.

Uriel forced himself to stay silent. The Seraphim was firing blindly; that was Uriel’s only advantage. Uriel took a hard step to the left. The leader bought the bluff and trained his weapon towards Uriel’s feint. With the weapon off of him, Uriel quickly took a wide, silent step to the right and dashed in a curving pattern toward the boy. Uriel grabbed the arm that held the weapon by the wrist. Locking the arm out straight, Uriel threw his forearm into the back of the leader’s elbow. The boy screamed as the weapon fell from his grasp. Uriel took him by his robe, spun around once, and then with everything he had, hurled the leader upward. The impact of the boy hitting the ceiling was enough to shake the cabin. As the leader of the Seraphim fell, he groaned, and Uriel caught him, turned, pivoting, and hurled the boy into the cabin floor. The boy landed with such force that his legs flew into the air, but when they fell, he became silent.

With the Seraphim out of the way, Uriel staggered, reeling from blood loss as he clutched his worst injury at the top of his shoulder. Seven Seraphim. Not bad for an old man…
Uriel exaggerated and he knew it: he wasn’t old, just worn out…but he needed to hang in for just a little longer. Just long enough to make them answer for Eden…he made his way to the weapon that had struck him three times and stooped to pick it up. The family was still huddled in the far right corner of the room, and Uriel could hear the little girl whimpering. She was whimpering, doing her best to stay silent. Uriel wanted to say something reassuring, but words failed him. Dealing with these people was better left to the Thanatonians or Valkryies anyway.

Uriel examined the weapon curiously. It was mostly white with black splashes, and almost weightless in his hand. The weapon was almost an L shape, but the shorter end—the end the Seraphim had been holding—was bent at a slight angle away from the longer end, which was about two hundred centimeters long. The weapon had moving parts, both of which were metal; there was a curved, steel insert on the underside of the long end, and when Uriel gripped the handle, he saw that his index finger fit comfortably around this curve. What is this thing?!

“Uriel…” Sira spoke weakly as she regained consciousness. She was looking up at Uriel fearfully. “Uriel…you need to give me that.”
Uriel looked at her, unsure of what to think. Still holding the handle of the weapon, he pointed it at her for her to take, but Sira immediately cowered, holding her hands up protectively. “Not like that!” She said hurriedly. “Take…the long end…and give it to me by the end you are holding.” She said it as if their lives depended on it. Uriel was suddenly aware of his injuries again.

He did as she told him. Sira took it cautiously, getting to her feet as she slid the weapon into the rear of her armor.

“What is that?” Uriel inquired.

Sira looked at him uncertainly, but he persisted. “Sira, you need to tell me what that is.”
“I can’t.” Sira finally replied, regretfully. “It’s–”
“If you say ‘private’ I swear by Yang I will knock you out.” Uriel growled. Sira looked up at Uriel, who took a step toward her. “That thing just shot me. So whatever it is, I want to know about it, and I want to know right now, or you and I will have a very serious problem.”

For a moment, Sira seemed to question whether or not she could deal with Uriel as an adversary. Reason won out, and she exhaled. “We call it … gunnery.” She explained as though being broken after a long interrogation. “We—the Valkryies—started developing them after what happened in Eden.”

Uriel raised his eyebrows, intrigued. “Go on.”

“Think about it, Uriel – a weapon where all you have to do is point and pull. The days of drawing back, straining yourself to hit your target? They’re done. And the miniature arrows we use for projectiles travel almost fifty times faster—and farther—than anything thrown.”

Uriel nodded. “I see. But that doesn’t explain how the Seraphim got them.”

“I know.” Sira spat, frustrated. “Gunnery is still a very private project, Uriel. Only a few of us in the order know. Not even Lord Odin knows.”

Uriel looked away, fear creeping up in the pit of his stomach. “Have many of these have you produced?”

“One hundred and seventy-four.”

Uriel’s fear rose as he whipped back to look at Sira, who returned the look with knowing regret.

“Uriel…” Sira said slowly, “This one? The one you gave me?” She shook her head. “We didn’t produce this model. All of our gunnery is white.”

Uriel cursed under his breath. Secret weapons, powerful enough to injure Yang himself, in the hands of these damn children…
“Then where did they get these?” Uriel asked.

“We made them.”
Both Uriel and Sira turned to face the man who had answered their question, the head of the family. Flanked by his family, they had come out of the corner and now stood in the center of the room. The daughter, youngest, held her mother tightly, her arms wrapped around her waist. Everyone else looked as though they were trying to be brave.

Uriel stepped forward as it to accuse, but Sira held up a hand to stop him. “Who are you?” She asked gently.
“My name is Jeremiah.” The man introduced himself, “This is my wife, Alia, and my children, Matthew and Kala. We made that thing—and many more like it—at the request of those people.”

Sira nodded. “How did you come to be here?”

The woman, Alia, shook her head. “We were traveling…the barbarians ambushed us. Our men went to fight them off, but during the battle, there was an avalanche…when we woke up, we were here.”

Uriel exhaled, remembering his own violent passing from Earth to Heaven. This family had passed easier than he had. “And these people,” Sira continued, “They were waiting for you?”

Jeremiah nodded quickly, eager for his story to be told. “We woke up here, in the desert, and they picked us up. They asked my name. When I told them, they demanded I build these…these things for them.”

“And you were able to?” Sira asked.

“Yes.” Jeremiah nodded.

Sira and Uriel exchanged concerned looks. “Jeremiah, tell me.” Sira inquired pleasantly, “What was your occupation before you—back home?”

“I was a blacksmith.” Jeremiah hesitated. “…You’re a Valkryie, aren’t you?”

Sira was surprised. She nodded. The entire family seemed to grow eager. “Are you here to take us to Heaven?”

Both Sira and Uriel were speechless. “We worship lord Yang, ma’am.” Alia said solemnly, “That’s why we agreed to do this; they told us that it was Yang’s order. We knew they were lying when they began to hurt our children.”

Uriel clenched his fists. “The Thanatonians need to be notified,” Uriel Reached to Sira. Her thoughts came back immediately, just as angry. “No,” She mentally spoke to Uriel. “I’ll take them myself.”

Uriel sorted through the new information in his mind, trying to make sense of it all. The Seraphim had found a way to intervene in the passing cycle, and recover the dead before the Thanatonians were aware of them. To compound matters, the Seraphim seemed to have an intimate knowledge of the happenings in the mortal world, as they were able to select those that were suited to help them achieve their goals.

To make things worse, someone had leaked the methods of gunnery manufacturing to them. They were planning something big.
Uriel looked at Sira and realized that she was drawing the same conclusions. She quickly shook her head; this was not to be discussed in front of strangers. The fact that an Asgardian—maybe even one of the Valkryie—was in league with the Seraphim…it was an almost unstoppable combination.

“Who is Rahab?” The little girl asked suddenly.
Uriel snapped to attention, looking at the girl. “What?” He asked quickly, before Sira could stop him.
“The bad people,” She said softly, “They said Rahab was angry. They said he was going to kill everyone unless he got what they promised him.”

Uriel lost his temper. “I KNEW IT!” He bellowed, stomping away. He hoisted one of the unconscious off of the ground, screaming into his face. “DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’VE DONE?! WHAT YOU’VE SET INTO MOTION?! YOU LET THAT THING RUN LOOSE?! YOU MADE ME–”

Uriel shook the boy, who gave no response. He punched the boy once across the face. “YOU RUINED MY LIFE! DAMN YOU! YOU MADE ME KILL ALL OF THOSE CHILDREN! YOU MADE ME KILL THOSE CHILDREN!”

He struck the boy, over and over again, until his face was reduced to a bloody mess. Finally, Sira body-tackled him, knocking him away from the boy’s body. As she sat up, she saw that Uriel was sobbing uncontrollably beneath her.

“They made me do it,” He said, over and over again. “They made me kill them, they made me do it. I didn’t want to, I swear I didn’t, but they made me…”

Sira gulped away pangs of sympathy for Uriel. “What did they do to you?”

When Uriel next opened his eyes, they were crimson. Rage had taken over. He nearly threw Sira off of him as he rose. “The gunnery,” He seethed. “Give it to me.”
Sira stared up at him. Uriel looked at her as if he’d kill her to get it. “Give it to me, NOW.”

Fearful of what he would do if she didn’t comply, Sira reached to the small of her back, pulling forth the weapon so she could hand it to Uriel properly. For a moment, he stared at her accusingly, and then made his way to the other Seraphim. Without hesitation, he rifled through the robes of the fallen officers and collected seven more weapons. That’s why they went for their hips, they were going for these damn things.
Sliding them into his waistline, he glowered at Sira.

“You take them to Asgard,” Uriel ordered. “They’ve earned it.”

“What’re you going to do?” She inquired worriedly.

“There’s got to be a mirror not far from here.” He replied. “I’m going to find Rahab, and he’s going to confess to me what he did.”

Sira was about to ask if Uriel knew what he was about to do, but she remembered that he was now Heaven’s most wanted fugitive, and he was being hunted by the very people that put him in this position. He had no way out.

She nodded. “Good luck,” she managed.
Uriel didn’t reply. He quickly stepped outside, and the sound of a sandstorm was heard as Uriel lowered into a glide and disappeared from view.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

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