"So I hear you've fucked shit up."

"Thanks Michael."

"Personally, I don't think so. It was a good move on your part."

"Thanks Michael."

We were having tea in his odd smelling apartment. We being me, him, and on my insistence, Mannie. She didn't like tea, and instead was feasting quietly on biscuits.

"It's up to Kell if I get to leave this voluntary confinement or not, but... Ha! Guess it's up to me now!"

"That sure is one way to view things."

"Just trying to keep an optimistic attitude." Michael winked, which left me feeling somehow unclean. "Kell was a friend of mine. At least, I liked him. Didn't really care for me. I'll miss him."

"He's not dead." I said, like that helped in any way.

"Yeah, but close enough, right? He got my name right, but you know that even if he gets better he'll never be the same. Brain damaged, yeah?"

"I think his condition otherwise was fine though. Like, the bleeding seemed over with."

"He's old, and on his way out. Basically wilting! Or rotting. Decaying. He'll be gone in a year or two thanks to this." Michael sipped his tea. "Least Christina's going to be single again. I was betting on outliving Kell, but this is earlier than I expected."

"You can't actually fucking think that." Mannie joined in sharply.

"Chill Ella, I jest. I said I liked him. I'll mourn him with the rest of you. I'm just trying to be positive- think of the good things always, right? Couple months from now I might have a girlfriend."

"There are certain scenarios where thinking positive is inappropriate." I explained, like perhaps this might've been a social cue Michael had never learned. "Death is one of them."

"What's so special about Christina anyway?" Mannie demanded. "First Kell, now you. I realize it's been years, but... is there really something so great about her?"

"I like her. She's my friend. I only date people I like." He shrugged, and then asked serenely, "Are you jealous?"

"Fuck off Michael. You can answer half the questions you ask." Mannie said, uncommitted.

"Oh wait," I said, finally remembering. My mind was in enough of an over-worked haze that it had taken this long. "You and Kell were friends! God. I'm sorry. Though I don't know if there's really anything I can do..."

"Why dwell?" Mannie said simply, closing her eyes for a moment. "I just want Michael to..."

"I can't do anything." Michael said.

"You know-"

"I don't!"

"Should I leave?" I asked. I was used to conversations that largely ignored me, but that didn't mean I was comfortable with them.

"How about you stay?" Michael said nervously.

"What?" Mannie exclaimed. "He's not going to help you!"

"I kind of think I should leave." I said, standing up and putting my cup in the sink.

"No, wait." Michael called after me. "Don't leave. Where would you even go? What are you even doing, Blake? Is there really something else that requires your attention."

He was right, rather unfortunately. I was intent on avoiding Micky until the afternoon's events had blown over, and spending time with Ria and Adeline was bound to be boring. No offense to either of them, but they were essentially locked in my apartment with only the TV for entertainment. And that was mostly broadcasting depressing news reports and safety bulletins right now.

I didn't want the rebels to be my business, meaning my current vague course of action was to avoid them and any other compromising political happenings. Which left very little to do in a city currently rife with tension.

My only real friend was Micky. Things with Mannie were still weird, as always, and out of the rest of my acquaintances, Kell was the only one I could count on to not pressure me to do things.

And well, unfortunately, he was not an option at this time.

What was I trying to work at, anyway? What was I trying to do?

My life had very little meaning at this time. Important, but heading nowhere. Goalless. My only role in this world seemed to be 'peaceful optimist outsider that everyone is, at least, fairly friendly with'.

God, I needed to meet new people.

I sat back down. "Mannie, why do you say in a simple, polite, and concise sentence what you are expecting from Michael here." I probably sounded half dead. I was about feeling it too. "It is obvious he either doesn't know or doesn't remember."

"Thanks Blake." Michael said. "You're such a nice guy."

"That all I am? A nice guy." I watched Michael's face carefully for his reaction.

"Yeah. That's sort of the point. That's why we need you." I spun around. I hadn't expected Mannie to agree.

"I'd like to be something else though." I said.

"What?" Mannie asked.

I couldn't think of anything.

"Anyway, Michael," Mannie continued, "I'd really love for you to stop being such an asshole. Actually, wait, you've always been one- but I'd like you to be the lovable sort, not the disgusting and frightening kind."

"It's called freedom of expression, Ella."

"Why do you call me Ella?" Mannie said, pained.

"Because Phinny used it." Michael said slowly, like he had been caught in a lie.

"Look," I said, "Mannie, why don't you just say what you want? Just tell Michael why this matters to you do much."

"It's really hard to be exactly who you know you are." Mannie said. "You're not a therapist, Blake."

"I'm starting to feel like a marriage counselor."

Michael sighed, looked Mannie in the eye, and then immediately looked away again, staring at the wall beside him. "Sometimes, when something is hard, it's best to... not bother with it at all."

"I just want you to... either acknowledge you hurt me and never do it again, or remember me. And stay exactly the same."

"I don't think brains were supposed to function as long as ours have." Michael said. "And I think that... I know that... I've never really been right about something. And I really wish there was a way to fix that about myself. I wish everything wrong with me could be fixed, and that I didn't need constant attention and reassurances of love, that I didn't have impulses, and that I could read a fucking book."

"That isn't what I asked for."

"Mannie, I'm not illiterate. I just have dyslexia. I was just a slow kid who didn't want to learn. But at a certain point, your personality belongs to the people around you, and you start having to live up to... expectations. I'm definitely mentally ill, but I'm two hundred years old. I've gotten better. But I still want to follow the same groves I've carved for myself, you know? I want to be the impulsive, hyperactive cult rearing idiot who thinks girls are scary and latin is actually a cool language."

"Just get the fuck over yourself then."

"I have to get out of here for that, Ella." Michael glanced over to me. "Blake? Please leave."

"Right." I said, happy to go but unsure of what to do next. "Good luck."

I flopped onto my bed with enough force that Ria, who had been sitting on the edge, fell onto the floor.

"God, gone for five days and this is how he greets us!" She said, climbing back onto the bed.

I pushed her off. "The carpet is plenty soft."

"How are you?" Adeline asked.

"Oh. Well. I'm doing well, but I'm a bit bored."

"You say that to us. The two girls who have been stuck in one apartment building for the last five days." Ria said.

"I've been injured and half unconscious for four of those days."

"Ah! Yes, you've been unconscious, but at least you got to miss the last few days. Skipped all the boring parts."

"From what I've heard, I wish I had been around. A lot of stuff has happened."

"Bah, it's all Hell politics. I thought it'd be more fun, you know, news about people with horns, but mostly it's eons of talking that rarely leads to any sort of satisfactory result."

"You were on the TV." Adeline said.

"In general, or today?" I said, lying on my back. "I'm not surprised. I ran into some angry angels and admitted Michael was alive."

"Most of the news suspected as much. God, I'm going to have to start every sentence with that phrase. Watching the news is basically all I do, if you don't count the two hours a night channel seven plays black and white movies." Ria said. "But yeah. Cpholiel Spoon is a real big fan of Michael, the angel guy, so he's been ranting every morning now about how he's secretly alive."

"Has there been any... fallout since I mentioned that? I was just talking with Michael, actually, but he's been isolated long enough that he's gone a bit stir crazy." I thought back. "Actually, more like stir sane. I still don't know what he's planning."

"There was a shooting after you left the border, and maybe four people total from either side are injured. All angels, so they're fine."

"Everyone in this city is very calm about bodily injuries." Adeline said.

"Angels and demons have high pain tolerance and fast healing. You guys are probably halfbreeds though, which is why I still don't want you wandering the city."

"We're running out of food."

"You can get groceries with me then." I didn't really want to leave my bed, but got up. "Here. Let's go kill some time." I put on my coat and waited for my adopted sisters to do the same.

"You know, the city is probably safe enough for you two to wander on your own." I said, leading them through the streets. "I'm just worried the rebels will break through and attack at some point. But you'd probably be fine."

"According to the news, they're too weak for that."

"That's probably propaganda."

"Eh, it brings me comfort."

Food was mostly rationed in Hell, and generally pretty limited to canned food- stock always fluctuated, as it was hard to get a consistent food source for a secret city. I think someone in Hell maintained all imports by buying truckfulls of food and having them be deposited in some empty field. It was expensive and suspicious, so I used to lackluster and odd meals.

The cycle change was the only time Hell could do things with no repercussions, and I had heard how this was where they got the majority of their supplies- food, clothes, and the like. Whole squads were sent up to loot, steal, and go majorly into debt the weeks before the change, and then they had their work cut out for them carrying all of that into Hell elevator ride by elevator ride.

The grocery was loaded with food. I still had to work off of rations- I usually got food weekly, though I had a few tickets for additional meals. And, of course, my small paycheck did have its uses- most foods were marked strictly for rationing, but there was a lot of special junk food only for cash. I told the girls to pick out whatever they wanted while I picked up the week's ration of canned foods, dry meals and, quite nicely, a small bag of cookies.

Once everything had been paid for, I grabbed my bags and left. "Do you two want to do anything else today?" I asked, heading back to the apartment.

"Is there actually anything to do in Hell?" Ria said. "Besides get gravely injured."

I thought about it. "Yeah, I guess there is only the bathhouse, and a good number of bars. I haven't really been doing anything since I arrived here but work and then sit around while more important people told me intimate details about their lives. I suppose we could go for a walk."

A couple gunshots rang out from the south.

"...Or not." I said.

Ria, meanwhile, looked delighted. "Can we go to the front lines? I want to see some action! The news always censors it."

I raised my eyebrows and looked to her. "I swear, this city does something to teenage girls. Inspires some kind of bloodlust. I know another girl who-"

"It won't be dangerous." Adeline interrupted. "You're a hellhound."

"Huh? Yeah, but I still would prefer to keep you two well away from harm."

"We don't have to go to the front front lines!" Ria said. "Just close enough that we can see what's going on."

"Fine. But you're carrying the groceries."

When more gunshots, and even one particularly shrill scream, rung out through the city streets, I tried to convince the girls to turn back to no avail.

The scene at the end of the street was a familiar one, a crowd gathered at the new border, restlessly chattering amongst themselves, one person trying to talk with the rebel guard.

However, this blockade seemed also in the process of dispersing- people were leaving the crowd and heading towards the east, while those staying were still eyeing that part of the city warily. No doubt the origin of the gunshots.

Ria started to walk ahead, and I held Adeline's hand and caught up with her, catching her hand too. As we approached the commotion, the crowd grew dense. I was tall enough to see the street ahead, but I clutched my sisters' hands tight. It'd be easy to get lost in a crowd as confused as this.

I tried to push us to the front, and ended up caught somewhere in the middle. The crowd was surprisingly close together, bound in a nearly perfect line like they were gathered to watch a parade. Standing on my toes, I could see that while the other side of the street mimicked ours, this crowd was actually quite limited, maybe twenty feet wide.

And they were moving, too, just slightly walking towards the south- following, slowly, Michael.

Of course. He strode with what seemed like hesitation, his face too far off for me to properly make out. He had on what I took to be angelic wear, a sort of half toga half dress with golden jewelry, including an odd sort of spiked headband that I had seen goth girls wear before.

He wasn't alone: behind him trailed three other angels, the blonde bodyguard Percial, Cassiel, and his brother Gabriel.

They followed, but it was clear they weren't the main attraction. Similarly, far away, I could see a couple soldiers following the process. A lean hellhound crept a bit closer, weaving through the crowd on the other side, occasionally poking their head out to gauge the situation.

There was a great deal of noise, making it hard to pay much attention to anything, everyone was yelling or whistling, trying to call out to Michael, who merely continued walking with an oddly forlorn feeling to his step. I relayed as much of what I saw to my sisters as we were slowly pushed along with the crowd.

"I don't really see what the gunshots were about." I shouted to them, scanning the people around me for evidence of violence.

"Shot." Someone said with a heavy accent. She grabbed my shoulder and pointed to Michael, and I saw what she meant- he was wearing a sort of odd neck thing, like a scarf without the tails, and underneath it a small trail of blood could be seen. Likely it was covering most of the wound.

We shuffled with the masses for a while, as nothing in particular started to happen. I didn't have a hard time imagining Michael hadn't meant for this to happen, and that this crowd was formed more out of anticipation than any sort of plan.

Every so often, one of the accompanying angels would say something in angelic and Michael would stand still for a moment. Once or twice Cassiel ran ahead of him and nervously scanned the space in front of her.

As the party finally approached the border to the south, Cassiel and Percial ran to stand at either side of Michael, while Gabriel stayed a few feet back and looked generally nonplussed.

The crowd grew quiet as one of the rebels calmly walked up to Michael, gripping her gun securely.

I didn't quite catch what either of them said at first. Even though everyone around me was trying their best to keep quiet, some sort of energy compelled people to keep whispering.

Michael seemed upset at whatever the rebel said, and drew his angelic weapon- a large, rather fancy looking sword. He lifted his neck shawl and pointed to the bullet wound there, shouted again, and then waved his sword in rebel's face.

In response, she cooly shot his brother in the heart. It was a pretty good shot, too, as Gabriel fell right to the ground in a quickly thickening pool of blood. The crowd had a little roller coaster scare of a scream, but at least we all knew he'd be coming back.

This action really pissed Michael off, however. He ran back to check on Gabriel, pointlessly, and then turned around and flipped the rebel off. He shouted a few things in angelic to Percial and Cassiel, and then to the crowd.

Then he spoke in English: "Let's blow them all to Hell, yeah? And the real one. The real fucking place, the goddamn afterlife... teach them a real lesson. You only fall from grace once- the second time is well worth dying for!"

He seemed very agitated- well, obviously, but I mean especially compared to how I had left him with Mannie. I don't think the majority of the crowd agreed with him, honestly, but the shouting was hard to properly discern. Everyone just seemed irate.

He started to walk away, but then turned again. Ran forward and cleaved the rebel guard in half with a single swing of his sword. It was a clean, neat line from the neck to her hip, and her face was caught in an awful surprise as her body fell apart.

Michael was hyperventilating. bathed in blood splatter. He rubbed away from his eyes, creating long red streaks on his face. "I will end." He said loudly and quickly, like it was half a desperate thought he didn't quite believe.

A few other rebels ran forward, and one of them immediately began to shoot. Michael fell to the ground, gasping something. He finally died, and Percial leaned over and gathered the jewelry off his body while Cassiel picked up the bodies.

The procession turned around.