Inky ^beta

One step too close to the shack and the Gentle Spy’s plans were thwarted, first by a blinding flash and then by the angel floating before him. The very first feeling to strike him was complete, almost helpless confusion. Sure, it wasn’t his first time meeting an angel in his travels, but he couldn’t imagine an angel visiting a monster like Brutal for anything but his execution; that made his first words even more puzzling.

“You are not welcome here,” Pure floated higher, chest puffed the small amount he could to conjure false courage. “Please, leave.” His wingspan was magnificent, glowing brighter than ever before; he only hoped it was intimidating.

“..Pardon? We have yet to formally introduce ourselves. I am-”

“The man in the photos, I know who you are.” The angel crossed his arms, already fed up with their unexpected visitor.

That made Gentle pause again. If he’d seen the photos, surely the angel had been staying with Brutal for longer than he’d ever suspect; perhaps the freak wasn’t being exorcized, after all. “Photos..? Then, you know of mon Brutal?”

Pure wasn’t pleased with that response- or the man in red in general, it seemed. “Oui.. and he is not yours. I am quite certain he does not want to see you.”

It was only a matter of time before Gentle would match his energy. “And who are you to know that for certain?!”

“I am his guardian angel, sworn to protect him under the lord’s oath..” The angel recited his duty like clockwork. “Tu n’entreras pas.”

Pure himself was calm, soft spoken even when faced with a man he could almost admit to despising; the voice inside his head was not so graceful.

”That.. connard! Who does he think he is? Mon ange, just once.. Let me give him a piece of our mind.” Unfortunately for him, said angel didn’t budge.

“You must be mistaken. Brutal does not need protecting..” As Gentle stepped to one side, Pure followed. “I will only say this once.” His gun did the talking as he lifted it up towards the floating angel, watching his eyes widen even though he refused to yield. “Stay out of my way.”

“You do not listen. I am not letting you through, no matter what you threaten me with.” He balled one fist and held his cross with the other, swallowing the demon’s urge to slap the weapon out of Gentle’s hand.

The man in red was also not one to back down. “Very well.”

Pure didn’t feel it until long after, though he knew Gentle had pulled the trigger from the ear splitting sound and his vision spinning and crash landing against the desert sand below. He could hear the freak step around him, only barely through the noise of the bullet making his nerves scream and plead.

The eruption of his eardrums seemed to pay off as the pest of an angel immediately lost flight and crumpled into the sand below. His pupils had gone, only leaving an ever dimming light in his eyes that went out as soon as he'd stepped over to inspect the damage.

It was a perfect blow between the eyes, as he'd been trained to do. The holy fraud had a permanent frown, dismay and disparity washing over his features as all functions seemed to stop in his fragile body.

There was no pulse, wings and body limp. Once the brief inspection had concluded, he scoffed and threw the wrist he held into the ground.

"Pardon me," Gentle made sure to crumple one dirty glove under his shoe for good measure, before he was finally finished with the pathetic excuse of a guardian and continued his path towards the freak he was here for.

”Get up.” Though the angel’s lips parted slightly, he made no effort to move with the first command. ”Do you hear me?! I will not allow that infidèle to get to Brutal.”

“Autre voix.. It hurts.” His voice was nothing but a bleak, miniscule murmur against the desert floor; sure, he was physically spent, but it was the emotional turmoil that made the Gentle Spy’s intrusion so much worse than the BLU Medic’s indiscriminate torture. He wept for no one to hear, the sand beneath him soaking his tears.

”You are not this weak.. lève-toi!”

The other voice was right. By some greater power- he wouldn’t admit it was willpower alone- the bullet wound had healed, his regeneration abilities sent into overdrive while he struggled to stand. Meanwhile, the rest of his strength had been allocated to the light wall that the man in red unexpectedly bumped into, an effective barrier between Gentle and the man he sought. When the freak turned around to confirm the worst, Pure was limping toward him, caked in desert filth and painted a chilling blood red over much of his perfect white suit; Gentle, who despised even a drop of blood on his own outfit, couldn’t fathom such a fate. Even then it was hard to tell the angel wore white at all, between the blood that remained from the missing wound and just as much dripping from his nose and his lips.

“Please, cease.” Remaining upright was just as much of a chore as maintaining his powers, yet the barrier between the freak and the shack persisted. “As I said before, I am quite certain..” He interrupted himself, coughing up another spurt of blood and trying not to double over; the angel strained his voice only to speak loud enough. “Brutal does not wish to see you! He is at peace at the moment.. You will only disturb him.”

“And, as I said before..” Gentle bit back, equal parts frustration and disbelief. “That man does not need protecting! Are you even aware what he is capable of-?”

“Yes, it.. is quite disturbing, however I won’t stop him.” There wasn’t a hint of doubt in Pure’s voice; from the other side of the barrier Gentle did not see a holy angel before him, but an absolute madman. “I have seen it all.. Pourquoi tu m’interroges? You yourself understand his ways. You walked away, I did not-”

Pure realized the error of his ways much too late, though by the time the freak in red had sliced clean through the barrier and sent him to his knees with a swift, efficient kick to his shin he couldn’t exactly run. Somehow, Gentle kept getting angrier; and still, the angel couldn’t bite his tongue. Perhaps it was that nagging voice inside of him, or a hint of jealousy that made him too devious for his own good.

“Don’t you dare.” The freak scowled down at him, gripping the stained white mask by the back of Pure’s head to lift his face and meet his unperturbed, defiant gaze.

Though he certainly wouldn’t back down from his most sacred duty of protection, it was his newfound sharp tongue that was getting Pure into even more trouble. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t hide his contempt for any longer than he needed to; everything about the bitter, backstabbing man that broke Brutal’s heart made his blood boil hotter than the depths of hell. Now, the traitor had the audacity to condemn him for his loyalties?

”Oh, how I long to rip him apart..” Pure didn’t respond, nor did he disagree; he was beginning to find reason in Brutal’s ways and the words his other half fed him, making peace with thoughts that absolutely horrified him.

“Quel genre d’ange a cette attitude ‘meilleur que toi?’”

The angel in question didn’t have any rebuttal for that, especially since apologizing was nearly out of the question; he held his head up to stare right back at the freak’s disgust with too much pride for his own good.

Gentle was quick to wipe that confidence off of his face, one swing sending Pure into complete shock; as much as he wished to resist, the holy one still remained undeterred.

”Why must you be so stubborn? We both know we possess the power to be rid of him in the blink of an eye…”

“Non, I will not resort to such violence.” The angel murmured, seemingly to no one. “I-“

The second punch wasn’t quite as hard; the freak had been caught off guard by the declaration, and how truly demented Pure was proving himself to be. Even so he’d managed to make the angel’s nosebleed even worse, enough for him to lift a glove to his nose and survey what stained the black fabric.

“You still.. Do not intimidate me!” If he wasn’t so stubborn, as the other voice had condemned, and dedicated to his duty he would’ve doubled over, hunched over himself then and there to accept defeat. But that simply wasn’t him, he wouldn’t go down without a fight any more; when Gentle reached for his gun again Pure noticed, wielding his magic just in time to deflect each fire midair.

“Yet you are holding out on me, why?” He fired again at the angel’s leg as he tried to stand, though the bullet still didn’t break through Pure’s iron defenses.

Something inside of Pure was beginning to break; some barrier, some filter that kept his tongue from speaking sharp like the prongs of a pitchfork. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand my motives.. After all, you were the one to leave.”

Fed up with the gun, Gentle slid it back to reach for a different weapon. “I will silence you, filth!”

“I’d like to see you try-” Pure was giving himself much more credit than he was due, for he froze in confusion as soon as the freak disappeared before his very eyes. “Where..?”

“Right behind you.”

Gentle’s voice was barely noticed in the blur of the angel being grabbed from behind and the assassin’s blade slicing clean across his neck, letting him drop to his knees again as he gurgled some attempt at a prayer. Part of him believed he was asking for such a cruel fate by fighting this battle; the rest of him was reeling in agony, overcome by pain he’d never experienced in his nearly eternal lifetime. He should’ve been prepared for fights like this, spending so much time with a man as bloodthirsty as Brutal. His entire life revolved around a man dead set on murder.. Why hadn’t the heavens prepared him for this?

As the light dwindled his thoughts locked back onto Brutal, the time they’d spent together and the quaint little life they’d built. Then he remembered: he wouldn’t give it up for the world.

Pure regenerated much faster this time, forged in even more determination and a scowl that would’ve sent anyone else running; his opponent just seemed annoyed.

“My god, you don’t die..”

Somehow, the angel managed to look even worse than the aftermath of his first death, nothing short of a walking corpse with the blood from his neck dripping from the end of his dangling cross. “Despite your actions, I will not kill you either. Just go.” His stance was not a threat, only a promise that he’d continue to put up a fight if it meant keeping the freak out.

“Like you could, anyway.. You have not shown me anything except pitiful defense.” Gentle could barely manage to look straight at the crumbling angel, despite the fact that he’d caused the suffering Pure had endured. He was used to his targets going down quickly, pardoning himself before he’d leave them to rot in one piece. Never in his worst nightmares did he dream of something this gruesome by his own hands. “Is that monster truly worth all of this pain?”

“Every second.” Pure stumbled towards the freak like a zombie, lifting his hand begrudgingly slow to rest a blood soaked glove on Gentle’s shoulder without warning. “Surely, he is worth more than being left behind.”

“Erreur de la nature!” The man in red hissed, shoving Pure off to assess the damage of the obviously deeper red hand stain before he lunged at the unsuspecting angel.

Gentle did not consider himself to be a cruel man; not even gruesome, he normally considered his kills tame at worst and polite at best. Pure was a different story; the angel managed to hit a sore spot every time he spoke, surely the most loose lipped deity of the heavens he’d ever met. And he dared to stand between Gentle and the man he’d long ago loved.

This was no kill. When the assassin reached for Pure’s throat again he was not out for blood; he would make the wretched angel pay, choking the life out of him until air was a forgotten memory.

“You truly are pathetic.. Standing here, covered in your own blood..” His grip tightened; clearly by this point, he didn’t care that the angel’s blood had seeped into his own gloves. “Does it not disgust you? After this petty display, how could you even dare to call yourself a ‘guardian angel’?” Even when tears streamed down Pure’s face, the freak was unphased. “Hmph.. Makes sense, that he’d get a defective one.”

”We don’t have to take this.. please.” It was probably a good thing that the angel couldn’t reply to the other voice, considering he’d almost agree with the idea. ”Let me show this connard what we can really do.”

Still, Pure endured. He squeezed his eyes shut, imagining Brutal and convincing himself that this was the same horrible feeling as the tether that lured them together. When that didn’t last he focused on where his hands had landed on the freak’s wrists, slowly but surely prying free just enough space for his lungs to make a break for fresh air.

“Try.. all you want. You cannot hurt me..-” He gasped again, eyes shooting open to make sure Gentle heard him loud and clear. “..As much as you’ve already hurt Brutal.”

As Gentle started to give up his grip unconsciously loosened, although he didn’t let the angel go just yet. “You don’t even know his name.. Stay out of our business. For your own good.”

“Non, it is my job to protect him.” His own hands squeezing the freak’s arms as hard as he could manage was the most aggression he could even comprehend enacting. “It is your fault you left him behind. Your threats mean nothing to me.”

“You selfless imbecile.. You cannot even do yourself a favor when your life depends on it. I hear hell is not so kind.”

“..You would know, traitor.”

Truly, finally relenting, Gentle scoffed with disdain as he recoiled and set the angel free. “I see it now, what he sees in you.” He traded the blade for his cigarettes as he told his tale. “I was just like you. Faithful to the end, I’d swear..” The freak blowing the smoke he exhaled directly in Pure’s face made it all the more difficult to restore air to his lungs. “Until he became too much to bear. I can’t imagine an angel like yourself will last very long, anyway. Il est futile.”

“I will never lose my honor, my faith.. I am nothing like you.” Pure shot back instantly, quite confident in his feelings, for once. Gentle found that alone odd, until that energy shifted; there was a glint of red in his eyes; something much more sinister, someone unlike the angel he was staring down just moments prior. “I am so much better.”

In his perplexion turned terror the freak froze, cigarette and all; he never thought he’d witness an angel shatter before his very eyes. “..Whatever you say, démon en devenir. By the way.. There is a blood stain on your suit.”

“Oh?” The angel’s eyes lost their red with just one blink, glancing down at the blood painting almost his entire jacket red and then back up at Gentle with a big, unbothered smile. “That is alright.”

“Ange diabolique.. You have problems of your own, and it seems that they will bloom soon.” The freak didn’t sound so desperate, he only barely pitied the fate that Pure imposed upon himself. “You are running out of time, should you continue to be shackled to that inhumane monster.”

The eerie silence from the usually boastful other voice made it just as clear as his own suspicions that Gentle was right… not that he’d say so, of course. “You are wrong. If you’re finished, please leave.”

The man in red finally smiled back; even then there was no joy painted on his face. Instead he looked sour, wincing back a deep rooted pain that had just resurfaced. “You really do love Brutal, oui?”

Silently, Pure begged for the other voice to give him some sort of explanation or way out of this. Neither of them said anything.

“I did, as well.. He meant everything to me, despite what you may think. Il était à moi, j'étais à lui. Il était mon monde entier… brisé en un instant.” He lifted the angel’s chin from where it lowered in shame, bright red cheeks speaking more than anything else. “You will suffer the same.” With that, Gentle thought to remind him of his place, landing one last punch before he turned to leave. “Au revoir. This will not be the last time we cross paths, I..” Pure heard the freak sniffle back tears, as much as he tried to avoid them. “I will see him again.”

He disappeared in the very same cloak without a trace, nothing to prove he was there at all except for the injuries the angel sustained and the small sheet he’d tossed to blow in the wind. Pure caught it, unsure of what he’d find but surely not expecting a slightly familiar image.

It was the very same five year anniversary photo the angel had discovered snooping through Brutal’s box. He could piece that much together; unlike the first one, there was no scribbling or markings or desperate attempts at erasure. Gentle himself replaced the other copy’s destruction, staring in eternal photographic memory up at Brutal in what the angel could only define as awe. He couldn’t look at it for very long; hands trembling, he turned it over to see if the message on the back remained the same.

The first line was, undoubtedly, Brutal’s inscription.

The best 5 years of my life.

Pure didn’t sit on that note for very long; what Gentle had written beneath it was much more intriguing.

Mon Brutal, I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me someday. I will love you forever, no matter how far I flee. However, this is for the best. Even though I cannot bear your bloodshed forever, never forget that my heart is yours.

Je t’aime, Christian.

The name echoed in his mind over and over. Christian. How ironic, a man so unholy named after the angel’s faith. When he remembered who wrote it, and why it was here, he lost all of that curious optimism, replaced with disappointment as he crumpled the photo and tossed it back to the wind before making his way back inside.

First and foremost, he closed the spellbook left open on the table; he had been in a rush, not even considering the danger of such secrets revealed as he’d raced outside to face their intruder. Sleep spells were easy, after all; the one he’d used on Brutal beforehand was quite effective, though he’d surely wake up soon. Pure was determined not to disturb him, crawling into bed carefully and intertwining with the fast asleep freak as he held his cheek.

Unfortunately for him, Brutal awoke much sooner than the angel had anticipated. Groggy for only a moment, before the smell of blood lured him to alertness. Even peering through the dark, it was easy to see how much of it was covering his guardian angel.

“Jesus, fuck! Pure, what.. What did you-?”

“I protected you, mon cher..” Somehow, despite it all, Pure smiled up at him, heart filled to the brim with pride. “I am elated. I’d like to rest and heal now..”

He went limp, passing out from the exhaustion before Brutal could raise any more questions.