Work Text:
Angel’s Mercy
No mercy would be given. Bleeding hearts and begging would be ignored. Gabriel knew his role and would perform it in his usual expert way. The Lord expected nothing less. He would receive nothing less. Gabriel was nothing if not a perfectionist. He prided himself on his ability to exact punishment to those whom deserved nothing less.
This abomination was a bad influence on decent God-loving people: A Satanical cult created by Lucifer himself to corrupt and damage human minds and blacken the purest souls.
Gabriel led his horde of warriors to the lair where the cult resided. It was a curiously quiet place, almost peaceful. Under other circumstances, Gabriel thought the land would be a beautiful sight to behold. A diverse collection of greens, lush and buzzing with life as the trees swayed and insects flitted about as the brilliant golden sun began to set. The wonder of his Lord’s creation never ceased to astound him. And yet, such evil atrocities could still flourish in this place of goodness.
The Lord was ever watchful of such explosions of sin and blasphemy. Where mortal people could not temper it, His Heavenly warriors would be sent to clean up. Religious clerics with their holy books and words of righteousness could never conquer true evil. Only those chosen by Him could wreak vengeance. Gabriel was always glad to go. Always eager to do his Lord’s bidding.
He would often find himself seeking out his Lord’s presence, just to feel the venerable power He exuded. He wouldn’t dream of ignoring his Master’s call, no matter where he was or what he was doing. He couldn’t imagine anything being more important. The One who sent him had created the laws, had forged the very concepts of morality before the world was even made, and before mankind had been a glimmer of an idea in His head.
He would go unquestionably wherever his Lord sent him, and he would do whatever was asked of him. He had slaughtered newborns and decimated cities at God’s will. In years past, fire and brimstone was a favourite method of the Lord’s for meting out destruction. Gabriel could only think fondly on days past. Such traditional methods were never called upon these days.
The only thing he had ever silently questioned was the sense of freewill his Master had given humans. He had never fully understood why. He had watched as so many humans turned their backs on God’s love and infinite wisdom, simply because they had the capacity to believe whatever they wanted to. They also had the capacity to be loving and compassionate, and yet, Gabriel had witnessed such abominable atrocities by the same people who claimed to value their freedom.
Despite the horrors mankind was capable of; his Lord would very rarely intervene. It was only during times of evil influence from Lucifer, that he would send the Dogs of Heaven to meet the Hounds of Hell.
Humans were so easily corruptible. The Devil would always find a way to influence the weaker minded mortals, especially the ones who refused to embrace the love of God. Such a refusal was foreign to him. He could feel the presence of his maker’s love at all times, and it comforted him. He was never truly alone and he would never want for anything. He could not imagine living like an ignorant human. He could never turn his back on the Lord, who gave him life; the one who had created his soul.
His contingent of 20 followed him onto the cult’s land without question. They watched for movement inside the brick compound. A single light illuminated a large window and Gabriel could see people milling about. He had no idea what they were doing. Preparing for a meal, or perhaps cleaning up after one. His imagination sparked to life as he pictured them preparing the room for some demonic ritual. He imagined them exposing their divinely created bodies as they descended into the depths of sin and ritual depravity. Would they drink each other’s blood? Would they make a live sacrifice? Tear the throat out of some poor helpless animal, or destroy the virtue of an innocent young girl? Despicable!
Whatever they had planned, Gabriel would be there to quash them. The only lives to be lost this night would be those of the cult.
With wordless efficiency, he and his comrades made their way closer to the building and took their places. All eyes fell to him to signal the moment to strike. Usually, if they were sent to obliterate an entire community, stealth wouldn’t be needed. But, with a group of Demon summoners, surprise was the key. He didn’t want them to know they were coming and run the risk of them trying to trick them with their evil spells.
Gabriel stepped forward and peered through the window. There was only a handful of people seated on various chairs and cushions within the room. Less than 10. More were no doubt in other rooms of the property, but his trusted companions would take care of them. Gabriel and his closest warriors would focus on this room of corrupt souls.
The people inside seemed to be simply… talking. Some were laughing. All were still clothed, and he couldn’t see any books or paraphernalia occluding to their real purpose here, but they could easily be hidden somewhere. Perhaps inside a protected cupboard. Perhaps they were waiting for the stroke of midnight. His Lord had warned him of the falsity of innocent masks. Humans under evil influence could be tricksters. They would not trick him.
Once the sun had set, Gabriel made his move. The window before him was nothing but an obstacle, and he quickly demolished it to access the room. The people screamed as the glass shattered. They tried to run. His fellow Angels saw to those who tried to run from the building. They were methodical and ruthless in their task, and Gabriel had yet to lift his sword.
He stepped inside and spread his wings to their full size, the enormity of them casting dark shadows across the walls. As he surveyed the room with an emotionless eye, he saw someone huddled in the corner. A woman: Dark-haired and bare-footed. As he stepped closer, her eyes widened with fear. Her terror was warranted as he unsheathed his sword. He was momentarily curious as to why she hadn’t run. Perhaps she sensed her end was near. He was well aware of the irony his kind invoked. Angels were thought to be a peaceable race, but in his current garb, he knew he looked more like a Merchant of Death. Metal armour and leather bracers. Daggers sheathed at each ankle. Dark grey wings, instead of the snow white people often expected. He had seen many images that humans had conjured in their imaginings of angels. Little, fat, naked cherubs with rosy cheeks and glittery wings. Tall, beautiful young men, with white robes and golden halos. He looked cold, deadly, and merciless; every bit the trained killer. And he knew it.
He was no longer the merciful guardian who appeared to the young virgin girl to tell her she carried the son of God. He was not here to guide and protect. He was not here to offer words of wisdom and a shoulder to cry on. He was not here to help the frightened girl give birth and bless the child with God’s love. He was here as God’s most faithful death-bringer.
As he drew nearer, he caught the flicker of sadness that appeared in her vibrant green eyes. His hand flexed around the instrument of death he carried and he prepared himself to strike. One single thrust would end her evil life. He felt buoyed with his sense of purpose. He was doing his Lord’s will.
The young woman slowly outstretched a pale-skinned hand. His eyes hardened as he watched her. His eyes bored into hers, but she continued to reach for something. He blinked as tears rolled down her cheeks. He’d seen tears before, on thousands of other faces. Humans always tried to beg for their lives if they could not run. It was pitiful really. Humans would preach about dignity and decorum, and yet, they couldn’t even die as such.
Even as he looked down on the pitiful form before him, the pleading look in her eyes seemed to intensify. He suddenly found himself unable to look away. He was reminded of a human expression. The eyes are the windows to the soul. Until now, he’d always thought of such sayings as nothing more than drivel. A soul couldn’t be seen by looking into such meaningless organs.
But, her emerald eyes held more than simple colour. His sword hand lowered, though he couldn’t recall thinking the command. His grey eyes were still fixed upon hers as they glittered in the candlelight. He felt suddenly overwhelmed by the brilliance of the light emanating from them. Her innocence was more than a mask. He could see her purity and goodness: Her eternal soul. He was shocked at the light. He had expected to see and feel all of the evil and blackness her soul should radiate, like a thick fog. He’d encountered so much evil as his Lord’s most trusted mercenary, that he had prepared himself to face it head on. He had expected spells and evil trappings. He had expected to feel the cloying malevolence of her sinful soul. He couldn’t feel any of that. He could feel only the light radiance of her guiltless soul.
He couldn’t kill an innocent soul. He couldn’t send a soul to Hell if it had committed no sin. The hand still reached for him and his sword almost dropped from his closed fingers as his gaze flickered to the glinting golden cross around her neck.
His mind raced with questions he had no clue how to answer. Was she really evil? Could his Lord have been wrong? Was she the sacrifice? Was she truly a woman of God? Should he leave and return when he was sure?
What if the Lord was angry? Would He be angry if he spared her? Would He be angry if he didn’t?
The confusion was maddening, and he could hear his companions in the background conversing amongst themselves that all others within the building had been despatched. He had to make a decision. Her innocent eyes still pleaded with him.
How could some simpering mortal sway his hand in such a way? It was a spell! It had to be! His Lord had indeed warned him of the tricks those touched by evil could play. It must have been a powerful spell to have stopped him in his tracks! He tried to ignore the piteous looks she still gave him as he gripped his sword with renewed vigour. The appearance of purity was still very present in her eyes. Such dark magic!
He turned his head to look at his subordinates as they entered the room. They looked back expectantly. They were not affected by her evil powers and he felt rage build within his chest at the thought that he had fallen under her influence so readily. He, a servant and messenger of God! The mightiest and highest of all angels!
This woman would not remain under the Lord’s reverence. She did not deserve to be a member of the human race. Only those with a pure heart and soul deserved that honour. He would do his job. He would not be swayed by this mortal temptress any longer!
Her lips parted as his sword found its mark and her eyes became dull and lifeless as her body slumped against the wall and her head dropped to the floor. His mark, of course, had been precise. He was merciful, after all. The innocence was gone. Gabriel felt triumphant in breaking her demonic spell over him.
He nodded to his compatriots. He heard them file outside and ascend back to God. His eyes fell to the body of the woman once more. Her raven-haired head had settled beside her, and the lifeless eyes gazed up at him. The golden sparkle of her cross caught his eye. It sparkled from its place on the floor, the chain as limp as her body. A simple symbol of faith. Was it another trick? Perhaps he would never know.