The Wayward Son

Walking away from the waterfall of clouds, Remy sighed. He was tired. He'd just now come back from Earth, and he was already anxious. The silence of Paradise was deafening to him. Thousands of angels flew in between the clouds to whatever destination they had, but not a single one made a sound. Not one said anything to another.

This was the only thing Remiel truly hated about his home. No matter where he was, he had a preference for action. With that thought in mind, Remiel turned right and flew towards the arena.

Arena was just the name it was given. The small circle with only a rope as a boundary was nowhere near an arena, but it did serve as a good source of entertainment from time to time. Around the arena stood a dozen or so stern angels here to kill a few hours. None of the angels were cheering. They were too self-conscious to stoop to such levels, but Remiel knew that inside, they were all roaring like football fans at the two angels within the circle.

Angels Remy knew to be called Gaspar and Jezebel were wrestling in the clouds, trying to submit the other. Landing, Remy retracted his wings and stepped into the crowd.

“Whose winning?” he asked the nearest angel.

“Gaspar seems to be,” the angel replied and looked to Remy’s weary eyes. “How have you been, Remiel?”

“Rebellious. You?”

The angel laughed, “Not as bad as you I hear, but I do miss the buzz of Earth often. I haven’t been down in weeks. Who won the superbowl?”

“Didn’t watch,” Remy admitted, “I had a date.”

As the two conversed, Gaspar held a rear naked choke strong around Jezebel’s neck. Jezebel gasped for air and gripped at whatever holds he could manage, but found nothing. Without much other choice, Jezebel planted his feet on the ground and pushed backwards, sliding Gaspar across the clouds towards the edge of the ring. Gaspar flinched once he realized his opponent’s plan and let loose Jezebel’s throat. Keeping his momentum, Gaspar grasped the ground and spun, planting a foot in Jezebel’s chest. Jezebel had no way of blocking. The angel simply took the blow and flew to the outer reaches of the arena, leaving Gaspar victor.

Barely making any noise, the surrounding angels applauded the victorious angel and waited patiently for the next two angels to volunteer. Bored, Remiel stepped into the ring and looked around. Each angel looked wary. They all knew who trained Remy in combat and knew that only Gabriel and Michael ever really had a chance against Remy.

Remy sighed and looked to the still angels. “I won’t use my hands,” Remiel promised in hopes of getting any opponent.

Thankfully for Remy, an angel bearing blonde hair and green eyes gathered enough courage to step into the ring. Remy didn’t know the angel very well, but did know his name was Jerahmeel, though everyone called him Jeremiah, and that he was second in command to Abbadon, the captain of the guard. Jeremiah would be no small task to face, especially without hands, yet Remy relished in the challenge.

“Shall we?” Remy asked and crossed his arms behind his back.

Jeremiah nodded, “Yes. We shall.”

Without another warning, Jeremiah struck, nearly flying a knee towards Remiel’s face. Remy ducked and spun around the knee smoothly and waited for Jeremiah to turn. As his opponent did, Remiel lifted his foot in an arc towards Jeremiah’s head. Jeremiah was fast, and without having to even glance over his shoulder, he lifted and arm to catch Remy’s leg.

But to fault, Jeremiah found no leg to catch. Mid-kick, Remy dropped his leg and swept his opponent’s legs. As Jeremiah tumbled, Remy spun an inch above the ground and brought his other leg onto Jeremiah’s chest, sending him into the clouds even harder than intended.

Any human would’ve realized that there was no winning, but that was not the angel way. Jeremiah would fight until he was beaten, not stopping any sooner. Recovering, Jeremiah looked at Remy across the arena. The teenage appearing angel hopped from foot to foot happily, enjoying the first bit of exercise he had in awhile.

Shaking off a headache, Jeremiah charged Remy again, but made a mistake this time. The green eyed angel underestimated Remiel’s speed. Before he managed two steps, Remy was on Jeremiah with a knee raised. Before Jeremiah had time to react, Remiel planted the knee in his chest and sent him sprawling out of the ring.

Remiel smiled and enjoyed the silence of the crowd. It was maybe a one minute fight and Remy had just ended it without his hands. Needless to say, they were amazed.

“Well, my student doesn’t match up to you, child,” a low toned voice broke into the silence, “May I try?”

Everyone turned quickly, staring at the robed angel striding towards the arena. Jeremiah was the only one not to move. He knew the voice all too well. Abbadon was coming. The captain angel was much like others in appearance, bearing black hair and brown eyes, but Abbadon radiated power that most feared. This was a good thing too, for Abbadon was the Angel of Destruction and among the elite of the Hierarchy. Even Remiel knew better than to take his presence lightly.

“I thought you didn’t fight hand to hand anymore, Captain?” Remy questioned the angel.

Abbadon smirked, “I do when need be, but I wasn’t challenging to fisticuffs, my friend.”

Without letting Remy speak again, Abbadon tossed a blade to his opponent. Remiel dutifully caught the blade by the sheath and inspected it. A normal angelic blade. Three feet in length, thin, and kept within in silver sheath, only the gold hilt could be seen, while the deadly sharp silver blade stayed hidden.

Remy knew the challenge and looked to Abbadon, who was in front of him wielding a similar blade but black rather than silver. Remiel dropped his stance and clutched the hilt tight. Abbadon did the same. Neither moved. It was a competition of speed and will. To strike too soon or too late would give the other quarter to win. Matches like this have been known to last for hours. Any sign of movement would cause both angels to draw, yet neither of the current combatants even had their eyes open.

Remiel listened and waited. Abbadon did the same. The clouds rolled lazily around their feet. The angels surrounding all stood in awe at the focus of the two. Then, in a flash of blinding light reflected from the blades, they struck.

The once hardly moving clouds were now in a frenzy, blasted from the ground around the two in a dome. The quiet angels had all kept their composure and waited for the dust to settle. As the clouds fell back to Paradise, the match was revealed. Remy and Abbadon had switched positions in the arena and were now back to back, their back heels near an inch from each other and their blades still sheathed.

Neither Remy nor Abbadon moved, but before anyone admitted loss, Remiel laughed. Straightening his back, the young angel turned and faced Abbadon, who had done the same. Abbadon smiled and bowed to Remiel before walking off in silence.

Remy watched the Captain of the Guard leave and then loosened his shoulders. With another laugh, the robes wrapping over his shoulder fell, revealing a small scratch on his chest.