Michael lifted his head to face the rain. Drops of water rolled down his cheek. "Isn't it funny how the rain can still hit me? If I were any other angel, I wouldn't have to feel the cold. I wouldn't have to feel the chill running down my spine. I wouldn't have to feel... so alone." The strip of cloth across his eyes was soaked. He reached up to remove it, but stopped.
"Can you feel it, Mickey? They're here."
"Yeah." Mickey sounded serious for once. "How are you feeling, by the way?"
Michael lowered his head. He shook his wings free of the water. "Apprehensive." Michael reached for the damp blindfold. His hand dropped to his side again. "Why so serious, Mickey?"
"Shut the hell up, Heath Ledger," Mickey said. His voice was mocking and spiteful once more. "Your depression spread to me, you see? The longer we stay fused, the easier it is for me to lose my own charming personality. The same goes for you, emo-kid! Whoever has the stronger soul will take over the other's - you see? Right now, you're freakin' weak. Aha-haha! Can you imagine another one of me around? Aha-haha!"
Michael clenched his fists. His nails dug into his gloved palm. "Then while I still have my sanity, I better get things over with. How much more time do we have to wait?"
A few moments of silence passed. The rain and constant roars of thunder were the only things heard. "They're here! Hurray!" Mickey laughed wickedly. "Can I go first? Please? Aha-haha!"
"Will you be able to fight blind?" Michael touched his blindfold. He almost wanted to remove it. "I... I don't want to remove it."
"I can see through it, dipstick. I won't get ya beat up too bad, Michael! Let me go first!"could see through the blindfold. His vision, however, was clouded and abnormal. There were no colors except for shades of gray, black, and white. Mickey was color blind.
Michael was now the silenced one. "Is this really how Markers see? Are they color blind?"
"Aha-haha!" Mickey's voice was even more obnoxious out loud. "Naw. I'm just messed up, you see? Doesn't the name of my species become ironic when its thrust upon me?""Anyone in particular that you wanna see die? How about that Eight guy, huh? Want him dead?"
Michael hummed slightly. "He'll be our greatest enemy. Both of us might need to see some action before we bring him down. We can let the other angels deal with the drones - let's head straight for Eight when he drops out of the sky. Hit him with anything and everything you've got, Mickey. I'm countin' on ya."
"If I can't kill him, who can? You? Aha-haha!" Mickey crossed his arms. He took a look at himself. "You can see what I'm seeing, right? Wanna switch visions with me and tell me how good I look?" Mickey stared at himself blankly.
"Sure, I guess. Why do you want to know, though?"
"Just tell me the colors of my own appearance. I just want to... imagine." Mickey shut his eyes. Michael opened them with his own will - Mickey removed the blindfold for him. Michael stared down at his body.
"My black gloves are now... pink? Wow. Everything I was wearing are now shades of pink. That's pretty much it, Mickey. Of course, my skin is purple. I never that my clothes would change." Mickey reapplied the blindfold while Michael withdrew his control over vision.
"Thanks." Mickey sounded grateful. "I'm gonna be serious for the few minutes we have before the battle. Do you remember when you were alive?"
"Yeah. It didn't happen that long ago, so I haven't forgotten. Did you forget?"
Mickey shrugged. "Not much to remember. Born in a village, killed by tuberculosis. Turned into a Heart Angel and went solo for awhile, never knowing where exactly to go or what to do. I was captured by that Salotinni guy; he killed me shortly after. Dying once is bad, Michael. Dying again is even worse." Mickey relaxed slightly. "I ended up as a Marker after my death and tried to run away. Salotinni caught me again, and ever since he kept me in that cage."
Michael felt sympathy creep into him. "I'm sorry about all that, Mickey."
"Two hundred and twenty seven years." Thunder boomed overhead. "Seven years at life. Two hundred and twenty at death."
Silence ensued. The wind was frighteningly strong. It blew at loose trash, sending it flying. It howled eerily. Lightning crackled in the sky. The rain beat the ground steadily.
Mickey lifted his head. An explosion echoed in the sky. It didn't sound like thunder. "They're here." He brightened up at the thought. Mickey smiled wickedly. "Finally - I get to kick some ass!" Mickey spread his wings. He propelled himself into the sky and flew towards the first explosion. A cloud of purple mist seeped out of the sky.
"Aha-haha!" Mickey's arm twitched violently. A sword shot out of his palm. He caught it with the same hand and held it deftly. The hilt was fashioned into the shape of a diamond. The handle had bloody bandages wrapped around it. The blade was rusty and curved at the end.
Mickey picked up speed as he flew. He saw Markers began to appear from the purple mist. He smiled even wider. "Are you aware of a common trait shared between Markers, Heart Angels, and Soul Angels, Michael?" His right hand gripped the sword tighter. "We all have these things called 'Spirit Weapons' inside each of us." The distance between the large group of Markers and Mickey began to close.
"These weapons represent our souls and personalities. Do you see my own?""I'm just as tortured as you are. Even worse, probably. Aha-haha! This is my burden - I share it with my enemies by slaying them with it! Aha-hahahaha!" Mickey crashed into the nearest Marker, thrusting his sword into it as they collided.
"Hello, brothers!" Mickey yelled. The Markers only stared blankly at him. They were unsure whether to retaliate or congratulate. Mickey slashed at another Marker. "I'm not on your side, you see?" They reacted then, charging at him. Mickey smiled wickedly and met them with his rusty sword.
Mickey already started taking over. Michael remained silent and let his hold of himself free. He turned into a spectator, watching out of the eyes of Mickey. Mickey really Mickey smiled. He flexed his muscles. They rippled slightly as the purple hue shifted to lighter shades at the tension. Mickey looked at his weapon so that Michael could see.
---
Macie stared up into the sky. "What is that?" she asked Missy. "Why is the sky turning purple?"
"That's a sign that a large group of Markers are arriving, Macie," she replied. "Is our big hero already up there? I think I see some fighting."
Macie stood up slowly. Her small hands formed into fists. A stern look crossed her face as her wings opened up slightly. "Michael! We have to go help him!" She jumped up, starting to fly.
Something hurled at her. Before she could react, a purple meteor tackled her to the ground. She lay spread eagle, struggling to rise. Her body felt heavy. The thing that had attacked her slowly rose to a stand. It looked like Eight, but much more slender. It had a different hairstyle, too. "Oops. I'm so sorry, little girl, I didn't mean to - wait! You're that Heart Angel, aren't you?"
Macie brought her foot up swiftly. She attacked with enough force to stun him momentarily. Her kick landed in his groin, and the Marker bent over in pain. Macie scrambled to her feet. She held both of her hands up to the sky. In a flourish of silver, a giant wooden cross materialized and landed heavily into her waiting hands. At the bottom end was a six inch handle wrapped in white cloth. A sling was attached to the length of the cross. She held the handle with one hand and the sling with the other. Macie held it out before her menacingly.
The Marker waved his hands in surrender. "No, no! I didn't come for a fight. I was just looking for a safe place to wait out the battle. I don't want Eight or Two to drag me into this pointless slaughter, so I came here. I didn't know anyone else was here." The Marker scratched at his head. "I'm Nine."
Macie's eyes widened. She burst from her stance and swung the heavy cross at him. It struck him in his side and knocked him down. Macie lifted it up with a grand gesture and then brought it down with a raging cry. It smashed into Nine square in the chest.
The Marker winced. "Damn! That hurts!" Nine shoved the cross off of him and got to his feet. Macie took a few steps back, staring at him curiously. Nine brushed his chest free from any dust. He rubbed it gently. "I really don't mean any harm! Please!" Nine hung his head in surrender.
Macie rested the cross on the ground. It was taller than she was. "You're a Marker, though, aren't you? Why aren't you killing and being heartless like the rest?"
Nine sighed. "I don't want to be a Marker anymore, kid. It sucks. I want to be a Heart Angel again, like... you." He stared at her with bright eyes. "I won't fight you, either. If you were a Soul Angel I wouldn't have hesitated. I just don't want others to suffer like me. Do you see what I'm trying to get at?" He dropped to a knee, then to a sitting position.
Macie's spirit weapon disappeared. "You're nice, mister. You're not mean like the others." She sat down across from him, still eying him suspiciously. "But you're one of the nine generals of the Markers. Won't someone find out what you're doing?"
Nine shook his head. "I'm a master of illusions. I am currently using my power to fool my brothers and sisters into thinking I'm fighting right there beside them. No one can ever see through my power."
"Then how come I can see you?" Macie asked. Nine stared at her blankly. Macie's eyes widened with realization.
She jumped to her feet, but it was too late. A heavy blow hit her in the back of the head. Nine - the one sitting calmly - disappeared. He appeared behind her, looking down at his fist. He blew it free of dust. "Idiotic girl."
"Idiotic boy!" Nine looked down at Macie. Her appearance had changed - she had taken the form of a Marker. It was Missy. She did a handstand and twirled her whole body around, flailing out with her legs. She struck Nine in the face with her feet.
Missy pushed herself from the handstand onto her feet. She jumped at Nine with a smile. "I don't get to fight cuties so often, nowadays! I hope I haven't gone soft!" Nine swung out with his clawed hand. Missy twirled in midair, dodging the attack, and landed on the ground. She charged forward and stabbed her own claws into Nine's stomach. She tore his body from there, using both hands now.
Nine fell to the ground, defeated. Missy crawled next to him, staring into his eyes. She ran her hand across his chest. "I'm so sorry, big boy. I don't like killing cute boys like you." She giggled. She brushed her hand against his cheek. Missy dug her claws into his face, then ripped another three wounds into it. Nine screamed in agony. He disappeared as the sounds of his scream faded.
Missy licked her claws with a giggle.
Nine appeared twenty feet from her, breathing heavily. He held a hand to the wounds on his stomach. "Damn! I couldn't use my illusions quick enough." He hobbled away slowly. He opened his wings and flew away shakily.
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