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Modern Day Devils - Chapter 13
By Snake - Mark
Mark walked away from the group slowly, leaving them in confusion. He wasn’t sure if they would see him fight, but Mark was a man of last words, even if they were cheesy. As he approached the staircase door, Mark grew more cautious than before. His heart seemed to speed up rapidly and his mind grew blank.
Footsteps echoed down the staircase, moving slowly. The echo sounded like that of a God walking, reverberating against the walls as if it were something important. Mark kept his position against the wall, out of the view of anyone walking down the stairs. The head of the teenager turned towards the direction of the noise as he backed himself up against the wall. The echoing footsteps seemed to come through the wall, until they stopped.
Mark listened harder, listening for the resonance of somebody walking on the ground. Unsure of whether or not the sound of those in the cafeteria was drowning out any other noise, Mark grew uneasy and pushed himself away from the wall. With his hand reaching towards his back, he stepped into the doorway quickly. It was empty. Mark’s eyes shot up to the top of the staircase where he found the source of the noise.
Standing at the top of the first set of stairs was what seemed like an angel. A white aura surrounded a pale body, a white robe covering the body of the entity. Two white wings unfolded from its back, the featherlike look of the wings making the figure look all the more angelic. Two arms hung at its side, gloved hands gripping the edges of two small daggers. The daggers were too white, the handles, though, colored a dark black as if they were corrupted by hatred or greed.
Mark stared up into the eyes of the angel, two dead eyes staring back at him. No pupils, no color, just a dead stare that seemed to look through him. Knowing what was to come next, Mark tightened the hand reaching to his back into a fist. The blade of his sword materialized in his hand and, without hesitation, he swung it down over his head and held it steady in front of him.
The angel retorted by crossing his arms over his chest, holding the daggers flat against him. His colorless eyes closed, his knees bent, and his wings spread to their fullest. Knowing what was to come, Mark reacted, placing his left foot behind him and holding his sword to the side.
Instead of attacking, though, the angel spread its wings and flapped them once, pushing itself off the ground a bit. Mark reacted quickly, pushing himself off with his back leg. He ran up the stairs, the tip of his sword dragging against the brick wall beside him. By the time he reached the top of the stairs, the angel was gone. It had vanished completely.
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The teen swung himself around quickly, looking to the bottom of the stairs, and to the top of the next set. There was still no sign of the angel. Mark stood still, perking his ear up a bit. Complete silence. That’s when it hit him. There were no sounds coming from the cafeteria, not even the slightest murmur of speech. A sense of panic rushed through him. This is what the angel wanted. It wanted him distracted.
Mark threw his sword down the stairs, the blade sinking effortlessly into the linoleum floor. Without another moment’s hesitation, Mark jumped up onto the metal hand-rail and began to slide down. He kept his balance perfect, using his left hand to keep himself from rubbing against the wall. Before reaching the end of the banister, Mark pushed himself off with his legs and flew through the air for mere seconds before he manipulated his movements, causing him to roll onto his side. His sneakers hit the wall and, in a seemingly slow motion, he ran down the wall, pushing himself off before he reached the ground. He landed on his feet, his knees bent. The handle of the sword was exactly where his hand had stopped, and all he had to do was close his fingers around it.
The hazel eyes of the teen shot up, piercing the cafeteria. He scanned the room, watching as countless students started to back themselves up against the wall. Mark’s eyes refocused and two angels were visible, walking towards the students and faculty, causing them to cower. Lying motionless on the ground were several students and adults, most probably slain while trying to be heroes. A slight sigh of relief left the teenage hybrid as he came to the realization that he didn’t know any of the bodies that littered the ground.
Mark stood, his arm jerking to pull the sword from the ground. The floor cracked a bit, the noise of the linoleum breaking was just enough to grab the attention of the two angels. The angel on the left, the one Mark had seen on the stairwell, nodded towards the other then brought up one of its daggers and pointed to their nuisance. A sly smirk crossed Mark’s lips as the second angel approached. Its hand reached to its waist and from it drew a small sword that materialized from nowhere. Swinging the first blade in Mark’s direction, the other hand reached across to the other side of its body and pulled another small sword from thin air. With a small jerk of his head Mark lunged forward, his sword leading the way to the target. The angel dodged effortlessly, almost as if the white feet of the entity never touched the ground.
Mark spun where he was to face the angel again and was immediately greeted with the shining blade of a sword. The blade swung down on the teenagers left shoulder, but never connected. Mark swung his shoulder back to the right and watched as the first blade hit the ground. Before the angel could retreat its sword, Mark placed his foot on the edge of it, keeping it against the ground as the angel pulled.
The second blade came swinging at his face, causing him to limbo underneath it and nearly lose his balance. The angel pulled on its sword again and Mark lost his footing. He floated in the air a second before he began his decent back down to the ground, his back being the first thing that would hit the ground. Not wanting to end up on his back in front of his enemy, Mark reached over his head, his blade in both hands, and dug the tip of the blade into the ground. With the blade sturdy in the ground, the teen used his upper body strength and pulled himself into a brief handstand. Lowering himself down onto the ground feet first, Mark pulled his blade from the tiling and smiled at the angel (who, if it had expressions, would have one dumbfounded look on its face).
In what seemed like anger, the angel charged, both small swords swinging in its hands. Mark paused for a second, briefly examining his options before he devised a plan. His arm stretched to the side of him, the tip of the sword pointed towards his adversary. Mark waited another second before closing his eyes and kicking his own foot out from under him. He fell to his back just as the angel’s blades would have sliced into him. The angel, confused at what had happened, continued running over the teen.
The tip of Mark’s blade, now pointed at the ceiling directly over him, struck something soft and pliable. A warm, thin liquid began to pour down on Mark as he lay on the ground. His eyes opened slowly and he looked up to see the angel impaled on his sword from the stomach down to what should be its groin. Pulling the blade from defeated enemy, Mark slid himself out from underneath the angel. His arms pushed him to his feet and he turned quickly to see whatever was inside the angel fall down to the floor in a waterfall-like fashion. A mix of red and white liquids splashed against the ground, and soon after the body of the angel followed.
Mark turned his attention from the angel to the crowd of people. He was relieved to see that the first angel he had seen had once again vanished, most likely unwilling to fight the demon/angel-teen. Examining the mass of students and teachers, Mark noticed only two expressions on their faces: fear and confusion.
5/20/2003 5:07:11 PM
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