Chapter Twenty-Four

The four beings sat around the table. The windows were shut and covered.

The only door to enter and exit the shop was closed and secure with seven

different locks. It was a dark room, barely lit by a candle in the middle of the

table. Abdul was too cheap to pay for electricity. “So,” sighed the arms dealer,

“you need information. Ares, you are a very dear friend of mine, but what in

Lucifer’s name makes you think I’d say anything to you. Have you known that

Spine troopers are killing anyone they find suspicious. They don’t even need a

warrant anymore. Knowing that, what makes you think I’d talk.”

“Simple,” answered the Angel of Power, “I speak your language.” Serael

pulled out a pouch from his left pocket, opened it, and pulled out a small, fine-cut

piece of diamond, no bigger than a marble. He closed the pouch afterwards. “How

did you get that,” Metatron whispered into Serael’s ear. “Same way I got that robe

you’re wearing,” Serael whispered back. “Alright, I’m listening. Keep talking,”

commented the greedy Abdul with his eyes fixed on the diamond as it twinkled in

the dim light. Serael, with blue eye whites, shook the pouch gently. “Alright, I’ll

talk,” surrendered Abdul. Serael quenched the crook’s thirst for wealth.

Abdul stared at Jasper. He turned back to Serael. “Why does your friend

wear a mask,” the dealer asked Serael. “He’s very insecure about his appearance,”

grinned Serael, “He has an extremely low self-esteem. So, I wouldn’t mention it

much if I were you.” Metatron laughed at the comment. “Jerk,” muttered Jasper.
 “Anyway,” continued the Angel of Power, “the information?” “Yes, the

information,” asked Abdul, “What is it you wish to know?” His hand slowly

edged to Serael’s pouch set on the table. To his dismay however, Jasper picked it

up. “I haven’t been in here awhile,” said Serael, “and these two are brainless.

Who is the new head?” “Nara,” the greedy arms dealer answered, “She is the

current head of Spine. Ever since Mastercheif Dezzick’s trial and execution, her

heart has grown cold. The only thing to warm it would be the traitor, but Ares,

you were there, he is dead.” Serael nodded in agreement. Abdul continued, “Yes,

The former Madam General is now the Mastercheif. Samyaza handpicked her.

She is now the poor, beaten puppy whom Samyaza has on a leash. He has

thoroughly brainwashed her.” “You cannot thoroughly brainwash someone,”

Serael interjected, “Anyway go on. Where is she right now?” “Patrolling the

streets, like she does every day,” answered Abdul.

“Alright,” said Serael, “What can you tell me of this mythical angel whose

supposed to fulfill some prophecy of Heaven?” “Serael,” sneered Abdul, “The

bastard is just as crafty as a demon. They call him angel of power and angel of

judgment. They nickname him the angel of the second death. He fights like no

being ever before. He kills in cold blood. Every demon hates him. Every demon is

afraid of him. No one ever crosses blades with him. He is like Samyaza’s

counterpart. Both of them are phantoms of the night. There are reports saying that

Serael can be in two places at once. He is angel, but he thinks like a devil.” “I

see,” yawned Serael, “Well, I must check in. Abdul, do you have spare room for

us to spend the night?” “Yes Ares, upstairs. It is the one on the left,” answered the
dealer. Serael took the pouch out of Jasper’s hands and tossed it to Abdul. “Ares,

may ask to know why you need the information,” asked the dealer. Serael looked

at him, thinking of he should say. Five seconds later, he answered, “I need Nara’s

assistance to hunt down my next target: Serael. Thank you, Abdul, for

everything.” Then, the Angel of Power turned and walked upstairs with his two

comrades.