Akting Out

Slow, deliberate footsteps echoed in the distance as they approached. The pain had dulled to something manageable, and Raphael raised his head, opening his eyes.

A winching device vibrated loudly as it started, and the saltire Raphael was nailed to jumped suddenly. Raphael winced as the razor wire that bound his arm and legs bit through his skin, drawing new blood. The heavy cast-iron chain connecting the crane with the saltire slowly lowered Raphael until he was inches from the red-rock cavern floor.  Raphael saw a small pile of glass beneath him, neatly resembling the lower half of an hourglass; the remnants of his shattered right arm.

Raphael grunted, trying to block out the anguish as the heavy chain hoisted the cross, setting him upright. He was lowered to the ground with an echoing BOOM that resonated throughout the cavern. Two more crosses lowered on each side of him. Raphael tried to turn his head, but his neck muscles were stiff and resistant, as though he had been sleeping on the saltire for days.

How long have I been here? A more pressing question entered his mind: Why am I still alive?

The footsteps were drawing closer. There were a number of tunnel entrances ahead of him, and in the weak light of the cavern, it seemed as though some multi-eyed ogre was staring down upon him.

“You shouldn’t have come.”

The deep, authoritative voice forced away the grogginess, and Raphael would’ve stood at attention had he not been subdued. The voice came from his right. Unable to turn his head, Raphael looked as far to the right as he could and let his peripheral vision do the rest. He could barely discern the massive, muscular form of the Holy Sefiroth’s Leader, also pinned down on a cross. “Would you have left me here to die, Metatron?” Raphael inquired.

“Yes,” The answer came quickly. “Then I might have done a happy little dance.”

Raphael chuckled. “You still may get your chance.”

“Eh, I don’t dance anyway,” Metatron growled humorlessly. “Your partner is in bad shape.”

Raphael was too ashamed to admit that he had nearly forgotten about Khamiel. Turning his head to the left proved to be manageable, but what he saw was disheartening; Khamiel had taken a horrible beating, first from the imps, then that seven-armed thing that had beaten them into unconsciousness. Khamiel lay limp, suspended, his head rolled lifelessly off to the right. He had been beaten so badly that blood still poured from his wounds, pooling beneath him. That he was still alive was a testament to his strength.

“So, master strategist,” Metatron inquired sardonically, “You came all the way down here, do you have a plan for getting us out?”

Raphael suddenly remembered Cutler, who was not among them. He better be dead somewhere. “Not yet,” Raphael grumbled.

From the long, narrow entrance to their left, two figures entered. The first one was short and emaciated with a sickly pallor, his shiny black hair draped neatly in front of his sunken right eye. His hands were tucked away in his pockets, and his movements were sudden and jerky, almost as if he was suffering spasms. He jerked quickly, raising his head and looking at all three of them. Raphael knew him instantly: Beliar, King of the Demons, second only to Yin. Though it was rumored he was a fallen Angel, Raphael had a hard time believing it.

The second figure was even easier to recognize; he was taller than Beliar with a better complexion, and well-built. He walked purposefully, his hands clasped behind him. He was still dressed in the jet-black garb of a high-ranking Angel. His expression was perpetually stern, but there were now dark circles beneath his radiant blue eyes.  He was beginning to change.

He had shaved off his long, lustrous blond hair and was now completely bald. His every step reverberated throughout the cavern and the adjoining hallways. This was Lucifer, former Chief Angel of the order of Light, former member of the Immortal Council, former Chief Advisor to Yang.

Beliar quickly stepped to the side, and Lucifer didn’t break stride as he stepped into the cavern. This surprised Raphael; it was almost as though Beliar was afraid of Lucifer. They had met as adversaries repeatedly on the battlefield. In the ultimate twist of irony, it appeared that Beliar now answered to Lucifer.

Raphael took small comfort in that thought, although he didn’t know why.

Lucifer froze as he saw Raphael, Metatron, and Khamiel. “Raphael,” he began, his voice uncharacteristically low and menacing. “I’m sorry. It was not my intention for you to be treated this way.”

Lucifer’s voice was monotonous and threatening. Raphael always knew that Lucifer was angry—the war had taken its toll on all of them—but he had never seen this side of him before. Lucifer pointed to Raphael and looked down as he contemptuously addressed Beliar. “Who is responsible for this?”

“I don’t know, Lucifer,” Beliar replied casually. “I–”

Lucifer looked at Beliar. “You don’t know?” He moved so quickly that Raphael didn’t see the motion, although it was clearly a punch. It floored Beliar, who was coughing and holding his jaw. Black blood seeped out between his fingers. Lucifer had become much stronger.

“Free them,” He ordered. “While I still believe your life has some value.”

Still clutching his jaw, Beliar stood, shooting Lucifer a murderous look. Lucifer took a step towards him, looking him dead in the eye. “You have something to say, bitch?”

Raphael wasn’t sure what to think of this. Being on the same side didn’t make them allies, apparently.
Beliar walked away from Lucifer and approached Raphael first. Extending his fingers, he made a quick outside slicing motion with his hand, cutting the razor that bound Raphael’s arms cleanly in two. Beliar then squatted and sliced vertically downward with both hands, freeing Raphael from the cross. Raphael fell forward and stumbled in the remnants of his arm. He fell back and leaned against the cross as Beliar quickly made his way to Metatron and freed him. When Beliar freed the comatose Khamiel, Metatron caught him and gently put him over his shoulder.

Beliar made his way back to Lucifer, who looked at Raphael and Metatron before turning and heading back the way he’d come in.

“Lucifer,” Raphael called, standing upright. “What are you doing?”

Lucifer stopped. “Nothing,” He replied, his back to them. “You’re free to go.” He turned to look at Raphael, and pointed towards the small opening ahead of him. “Follow this path until it splits, then go right. Go left at the next turn, and you’ll find yourself in the Eye. Anyone of those mirrors will take you home.”

Lucifer turned again and stopped suddenly as if remembering something. “Oh,” He said. He extended his hand and raised it slowly. Raphael felt a twinge at his right shoulder, and miniscule lights of white and orange began to appear where his arm should’ve been. They quickly multiplied and came together, shimmering so brightly that Raphael had to look away. When the light cleared, his right arm had been restored.

Raphael was speechless; he hadn’t had use of his right arm in so long that he had gotten used to not having it. Now, he was acutely aware of every blood vessel and nerve that coursed through his right hand. Slowly, he wiggled his fingers, and clenched a fist. It was as though it was never lost.

“For your troubles,” Lucifer smiled. He then turned and prepared to exit.

“Hey, Luce,” Metatron barked, pronouncing the name “loose,” as he had when they were still friends. Metatron’s tone was a clear indication that the friendship was over. “You don’t really think we’re going to just let you walk out of here, do you?”

Lucifer didn’t turn back. “Please, old friend. I don’t want to fight any of you. Just go.”

“Friend?” Metatron spat back, offended. “I don’t have friends who do what you’ve done.”

“Fine,” Lucifer swallowed; he seemed hurt. “We are no longer friends. Please leave my home.”

“WHY?” The word escaped Raphael as quickly as it came to mind. “Lucifer, why did you do this? Do you know what you’ve done?”

Lucifer’s shoulder’s sagged and his head lowered. It was as though he had been avoiding this. Slowly, he turned back to Raphael, who couldn’t determine the look in Lucifer’s expression. “We all have our reasons for what we do,” He whispered. “You may not believe this, but I serve the greater good.”

Raphael was dumbfounded. “The—the greater good?! Lucifer, you told Yin how to get to Eden! What good did killing those children serve?!”

“What? Eden was attacked?”

Raphael was surprised at Lucifer’s genuine tone; he really hadn’t known. Regardless, it didn’t excuse him. Raphael was mildly surprised when he pointed at Lucifer with his right hand. “With information you provided, Lucifer!” Raphael accused. “Tell me what greater good that serves!”

Lucifer lowered his head as if thinking while Beliar watched him intently—hoping to find some trace of Lucifer’s old loyalties and use it to reclaim his former position. Raphael wondered what occurred that resulted in Beliar’s demotion. When Lucifer shook his head, it was as though the last of the good in him was washed away. “Yes, those children died,” Lucifer said quietly, talking to himself as much as everyone else. “But those deaths caused Yang to finally realize that conflict cannot be solved with promises and rhetoric!” He seethed the last words angrily. “And it’s about damn time.”

Metatron sat upright. “So you know about the Archangel plan.” Raphael stole a quick glance at Metatron, surprised that he had known about it. Lucifer scoffed as though the answer was obvious. “Of course we know, Metatron. I’m the answer to that plan,” he paused, looking back at Beliar as if he was a pet. “Well, me and my dog, here.”

Lucifer shifted his glance between Raphael and Metatron as Beliar glowered at him. “The humans wipe each other out, Yang wants to talk,” Lucifer uttered angrily. “The Asgardians and Olympians go to war, Yang wants to talk. We lose loved ones to the enemy every single day, Yang wants to talk.”

“Your brother made his own choice,” Raphael interjected. “He was warned against going off on his own, he did, and what he was warned of came to pass. His fate is a result of his choice.”

“Are you saying it’s HIS FAULT?” The force of Lucifer’s words echoed throughout the chamber, and the power that he generated caused his clothes to shudder as though he was caught in a sharp breeze. A quick flash of fear shot through Raphael; Lucifer had never been this powerful before.

“Yeah, it was his fault,” Metatron challenged. Raphael exhaled, wishing that his commander wasn’t always so eager to take an enemy down. Lucifer might very well be beyond them now. Metatron lowered Khamiel to the ground and moved to stand beside Raphael. “Is all this—the fancy new powers and quest to prove how tough you are—is all this meant to make up for the fact that you couldn’t save your big brother?”

Lucifer was visibly shaking now, and Metatron grinned. “Ah. So sad.”

Lucifer closed his eyes, and again Raphael felt immense power pass through the room as Lucifer composed himself. After hundreds of battles, Raphael knew how to read his enemy, and Metatron was allowing a need for revenge to get the better of him; Lucifer’s power was beyond even the Seraphim now.

“You…” Lucifer began, his voice quaking. When he opened his eyes, they were blood-red. “When Yin is restored to power, there will be no more war, no more conflict, and no more senseless deaths. Imagine that; the Universe the way our father intended it.”

No one said anything. Lucifer’s eyes slowly wandered over towards Khamiel. The same lights that had restored Raphael’s arms now swarmed over his unconscious body, enveloping it momentarily. When they faded, Khamiel groaned, and slowly pulled himself to his feet. Metatron snickered and looked back at Lucifer. “You overestimate yourself.”

“Perhaps,” Lucifer shot back. He removed the top half of his uniform and handed it back to Beliar, who obligingly took it, bowing. “Let’s find out, shall we? I believe I’d like to take you up on your offer.”

Khamiel’s bewilderment quickly passed when he saw Lucifer and Beliar. “Lucifer?” He asked, shocked. Lucifer nodded as Beliar stepped back. “Yes, old friend. It’s me. I’m afraid you missed all of the conversation, though.”

Lucifer took one large step and jumped straight into the air, shooting his legs out in opposite directions. He achieved a perfect split, catching both Metatron and Raphael cleanly in the head. As he descended, he fired his left leg out in front of him, and struck Khamiel in the chest with his heel. All three were floored.

“Amateur,” Beliar whispered as he watched Lucifer. “Do you remember nothing of what I taught you?”

Raphael was dazed; it was as though someone had hit him in the head with a brick. Metatron was already getting to his feet. “Lucifer,” Metatron said hungrily, a full grin on his face. “I’m going to take you over my knee.”

Lucifer stepped into a backstance, and beckoned. “Come for me then.”

Raphael quickly got to his feet, pulling Khamiel with him as Metatron charged after Lucifer. Of the three, Metatron was the strongest and most experienced; the most Raphael and Khamiel might do is soften him up.

Metatron had so much power in his punches that the sound of his arms cutting the air could be heard. Lucifer crouched beneath a hook punch, and slapped away a reverse punch. Khamiel crouched into a slide, hoping to upend Lucifer. Raphael came in from the left, throwing a reverse punch as Metatron brought his mammoth left hand back towards Lucifer’s head. Lucifer braced himself against both arms and catapulted himself up, jackknifing over Khamiel. Lucifer landed behind them, facing away, his hands clasped behind his back.

There was now nothing standing between the three and the exit. “Leave,” Lucifer ordered. “Now!”
Beliar stood to the left of the exit, observing intently. Raphael shook his head, looking at Metatron. We’re outclassed!

“If you persist in this nonsense,” Lucifer threatened. “I will forget we were ever friends.”

“I’ve already forgotten,” Metatron retorted. His footsteps thundered throughout the cavern as he charged Lucifer. When he came within striking distance, Metatron fired an upside-down palm towards the small of Lucifer’s back. Lucifer merely stepped to the side to avoid it. Metatron slice inward in a blow that would’ve decapitated Lucifer, but he ducked. As he rose, he brought his right arm up high and thrust it into Metatron’s exposed kidney. As the Sefiroth’s leader yelled haplessly, Lucifer leapt up, chambered his leg, and fired the blade of his foot into Metatron’s spine. Metatron was splayed forward and fell to one knee.

Khamiel was next; he charged in, hoping to feint Lucifer into believing that a high jab was coming. Instead, Khamiel spun, crouched, and shot his elbow towards Lucifer’s ribs. Lucifer merely raised his knee, blocking Khamiel’s blow. He kept his leg in the air and wrapped it around Khamiel’s neck. To Raphael’s horror, Lucifer spun once violently—and Raphael heard the bones in Khamiel’s neck snap, just before Khamiel stopped struggling against Lucifer’s leg and went limp. Lucifer went into a kneeling position, and struck the top of Khamiel’s head. Khamiel quickly turned to glass; he was dead.

For the first time in centuries, Raphael was afraid. How had Lucifer acquired all of this—?

The former Angel was in front of Raphael before he had a chance to mount a defense. Lucifer fired his leg straight into the air, catching Raphael cleanly in the chin.

As Raphael fell, he heard several quick popping noises, the likes of which he hadn’t heard before. When he looked up, Lucifer was completely still, his hands in a neutral position. It wasn’t Raphael that had his attention. “Gunnery,” He seethed. “So you perfected it, didn’t you, you Valkryie bitch?”

Raphael rolled onto his stomach. Beliar lay collapsed against the wall, several holes in his body with his head vertically split open. Uriel—Raphael never thought he’d be so happy to see him—was out in front, looking as though he had been in the Lake of Fire. He was flanked by a Valkryie Raphael didn’t recognize, and Cutler, who was nursing a wound in his side.

Uriel was pointing two strange-looking weapons at Lucifer, and although Raphael didn’t know what they were, the important thing was that Lucifer did.

Metatron slowly got to his feet. Upon seeing Khamiel’s corpse, he was immediately enraged, and then he saw Uriel and his company.

“What’s on your mind, Lucifer?” Uriel asked, smiling confidently. “If I fire these things, we can find out for ourselves.”

Uriel’s eyes lowered to Khamiel’s body, and he prepared to fire. “I should fire these things, you traitorous bastard. He was your friend.”

“Yes. He was,” Lucifer spat.

Raphael was already shaking his head. “We need to go.”

All around them, the sounds of a thousand imps and slakes could be heard chittering and screeching from all directions. Uriel looked at Raphael—they would settle their business later—and made a quick gesture with his head, indicating that Raphael should get behind him. Metatron and Raphael quickly complied, and Uriel began to back away, keeping the gunnery pointed at Lucifer. “We’ll all settle up soon.” Uriel challenged.

“Yes, we will. See you soon, old friend.”

With that, Raphael, Metatron, Uriel, Sira, and Cutler turned and went racing up the claustrophobic, winding pathway. Neither Lucifer nor Beliar pursued; there was no need. The minions would catch up to them soon enough.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

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