The building's exposed red brick wall absorbs most noises, but it can't help with the poor air quality and vibration, which happens every twenty minutes when a train passes.

The cornered office is located on the second floor, right next to an elevated railroad. It used to be the headmaster room of a boarding school and then a newsroom for the local paper. There have been several renovations throughout the years, but the last one completely changed how the building looks and functions.

All black-grid windows were expanded, allowing a good amount of light to pour in from early morning to late afternoon every day. Black and red velvet curtains drape down to the walnut floor, giving the space a touch of luxury. Many colorful modern artworks are put up to adorn the wall, but the most impressive piece is right in the center.

An extremely realistic life-sized oil painting is proudly hung above the black throne chair and matching ornate desk. It portrays a man in his prime who dressed in a fancy attire that belonged to a long-forgotten time: a Burgundy frock coat and a top hat complete with a cane. The smirk on his face is both arrogant and mysterious as if the man knows all the secrets of the world. His stormy blue eyes pierced through the canvas to startle whoever stood before the painting. The man is handsome—not in a conventional way, but, simply, no one can forget how he looks once they lay eyes on him.

At the moment, that said man is musing at his portrait while enjoying a cup of Irish coffee—heavy on the whiskey. Outside the windows, a single maple tree sways back and forth in the wind, shedding its many dead leaves on the dirty small yard below.

Life has been interesting to Luc. He sits there, reminiscing about what happened in the past year. His plan first came to a halt, and then it was reactivated unexpectedly. He has plotted for what? Decades? Centuries? Luc can't remember. At least Fate seems to finally agree with him this time. Alastair helped him tremendously up until the moment the guy was forcefully taken out of the game. Luckily, though, it wasn't the end. Alastair continues proving himself useful by being the perfect scapegoat. The Garrisons have focused one hundred and one percent of their effort on the human in the past few months. Somehow, Alastair managed to get on Michael's last nerves, and since getting his whole operation destroyed, Alastair has been hunted.

He would've been in serious trouble without Luc's help. It is not in Luc's nature to be kind or merciful, nor is it easy to hide the number one target on the angels' wanted list right under Michael's nose, but Luc manages. He is not who he is for no reason. Alastair might seem like a liability now, but Luc believes the human still serves a purpose.

Everything started when Luc arrived in this city.

Ayham was a giant cesspool with a bunch of brand-new flawed, malleable creatures. It has been his favorite playground. A place to rest. A place to forget.

Father, with His huge ego, always wanted to be loved and worshiped. He found a way to make sure He got what He wanted, as much as He wanted. Humans prayed when they suffered without knowing, or caring, about the source of their suffering. This city was beaming with prayers.

It was almost too easy for Luc, but he knew it was by design. The seeds of lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride were masterfully planted in them from the beginning, accompanied by their limited mortal minds and bodies. Naturally, they never stood a chance. Who could fight the will of God?

Humans were destined to be herded, controlled, and, if needed, destroyed when the experience went wrong. Did that mean he felt bad for them?

Lucifer Morningstar, as they used to call him, has indulged on Earth since before the Great Library of Alexandria got its first books. There was nothing he did not try, no place he did not visit. An ocean of knowledge and wealth came along as an inevitable side effect. Connections. Power. They were only the means to survive. Luc disliked Earthly titles. King, president, chief... They were children's play-pretend labels. Why would he need any of those things when he was the most beautiful Heavenly prince and archangel that had ever been created? A fiery soul. Father's favorite. Grace or no grace, no one could ever deny that.

And that was enough to make Luc bitter.

He had tried countless times to put himself out of misery—earlier when things got a little too much, and later, when it became like a game. He had never succeeded, though. His grace was taken away the moment Luc got pushed out, and with it, all of his powers, but he was still immortal. Being that, the most exciting things became predictable fast. Boredom and loneliness spared no one, especially his kind. Especially Luc. He was never meant to be alone. It ate him up from the inside out and drove him nearly insane. Luc craved interactions, first with his kind, but after some time, anyone would do. Heaven had ignored him for long enough. It must be the ultimate punishment coming from Father's twisted sense of humor.

Luc was forced to live among the inferior species that he despised time after time, from one place to another. For as long as it took, he had to pretend to be one of them. Until Father changed his mind. If he changed his mind.

Luc was trapped. It made him want to struggle, destroy, break, and burn everything down, himself included. Nothing should be left standing. Maybe then, they would notice. However, to do that, he needed real power. A lot of raw, pure, Father's level of energy. Where could he get that? Luc couldn't even teleport anymore.

He had been scratching his brain for centuries. His mind continued to get older, while the desire to throw the biggest middle finger to Heaven burned hotter. Luc only needed one chance before going down for good. When the War happened some twenty-odd years ago, watching Heaven pour garrison after garrison down made Luc jump for joy. Those angels seemed disposable enough. What if he could borrow a little bit of grace from a garrison? Or two?

Angel grace was a very powerful substance. Luc needed fuel for his big boom. Their grace might just be enough. They never cared about him anyway. Why should he care about them now? What war without collateral damages?

It was awesome to watch the War from a safe distance. It was his favorite pastime activity. For once, Luc found himself a team to root for. Heaven. Of course, he always rooted for the winning side. But then, out of nowhere, they decided to have a ceasefire.

Why? Father, why?

Humankind was a disgrace. They didn't deserve a chance. Every single one of them was as treacherous, ignorant, and filthy as the last. They took every gift given, no matter how valuable or beautiful it was, spat on it, and turned it into something ugly. Then, they blamed their misfortune on the ones who had given them life. They were a bunch of liars, thieves, and backstabbers, but Heaven let them live. For some reason that was beyond Luc.

Luc leans back on his throne chair and sighs. What a shame that, for all the time his siblings are here, they have done so little. They could've made a brand new Earth together if they wanted to. Michael knows how. He was there when Father made the first one. He was born with the privileges and superior power of the Firstborn, only second to God, but look what he's done. He chooses responsibility, structure, and balance instead. What a terribly dull offense, but also very Michael.

That's why words couldn't describe how surprised Luc was when he discovered his brother's situation with the domesticated companion. What's her name again? Michael took in a few, then it reduced to one, then that one companion became the permanent figure next to Michael for a few years without any sign of being tortured or abused. So unlike him. As a matter of fact, she got the best treatment any human companion could get from an angel master. Surprise, surprise.

His brother was one of a few who strongly disliked Father's new creatures. He was just better at hiding it. Typical pleaser. Luc sometimes found it hard to believe how close he and Michael were at one point, spending every second of the day together, understanding each other without a spoken word. Michael had raised him. He was also the one pushing him out of Heaven. How ironic, but that was not the point.

Luc had his hands deep in many unexpected places, so the amount of information he collected was remarkable. Not only Michael, but many of his siblings had also given in to their 'curiosity'. Some even abandoned their ranks to play house with humans.

Luc had to give the Earthly creatures credit. They were exciting. Tantalizing even. It was very different between observing them and living with them. The last time Luc experienced it was a while back. That short-lived moment was one of the most beautiful and regrettable memories he has had up until now.

How angels loved, it was as if they were destined to receive the shorter end of the deal. It was rarely a change of heart. Once they gave themselves to someone or something, it became the focal point of their existence. It was amazing yet terrifying how their obsession could become. For the archangels, God's First Children, it was only worse...

Three hesitant knocks on his door pull Luc out of that train of thought.

"Come on in!"

He answers with enthusiasm, but anyone who knows Luc well enough should know that is not a good indicator of him actually being in a good mood.

"Sir... It's me." Alastair hesitantly pokes his head in from behind the door. Half of his body is still outside in the hallway as if at any second, Luc can jump out of his seat and pounce at him.

Luc would very well do that if it benefits him in any way. However, it doesn't, so he turns around in his chair and smiles charmingly. "Well, well, well, look who the wolves have dragged back to me. I thought I would never see you again, old friend."

It is as phony and dramatic as Luc usually acts, but cold sweats start to roll down Alastair's back. He knows the man who sat in front of him doesn't have an ounce of mercy and hardly any tolerance for failure in his body. It is a mystery why Alastair is still alive, truly, but he takes that.

"Yes, sir... I can't thank you enough for taking me in and treating my wounds..." Alastair stops to lean on the door and catch a breath. Speaking only this much takes all of his reserved energy, and the pain starts to creep back in.

Alastair pants. The fire from Michael's attack destroyed half of his face. He inhaled so much smoke that they almost couldn't revive him. Most of the skin on the left side of his body is severely burned. Fluid is leaking out from under all the bandages even now. Each movement sends a flaring pain throughout Alastair's whole body and makes him want to pass out.

The plan he hatched turned out to be a disaster. It was mainly an eager attempt to prove his value to Luc. Alastair knew Luc wanted to have his hand on Michael's domesticated companion for some unclear reason, so he would be the one to deliver the girl. It was supposed to be easy, no hiccups. Michael was angry at the girl for stealing his weapon, so he kicked her out as soon as he found out. What Alastair never anticipated was Bobby Singer. He went out of his way to protect the girl. Oh, Alastair knew it was Bobby's doing. That geezer always ruined his plans. But why? Why would he risk his life for someone he barely knew? Someone who should be disposed of? Meet up with Michael face-to-face at The Swan was a bold move. The archangel could've easily smitten him to ash just for being Bobby Singer. The crimes he committed against the angels in the past decades were more than enough.

Michael could've punished Bobby Singer the way he did him, but for some reason, Bobby Singer was spared.

It hurts. Right now, Alastair has nothing left. His assets have gone up in smoke, and he looks like this. Damaged. He needs Luc's protection more than ever and a new plan. That's why he came here as soon as he woke up from all the pain meds. Alastair has known Luc since before the Resistance was formed but only started working with the man fully after the failed attack on Michael at the restaurant.

Luc promised to lend Alastair a hand in his personal vendetta. All Alastair has ever wanted is for every single angel to be dead and gone. That is his life goal. He will never forget the sounds of his wife and children's screaming when their house was engulfed in the sea of fire. It was a week or so into the War. He should've died with them that day, but some cruel god kept him alive. A part of Alastair, however, the part that made him human, was gone forever.

He needs Luc. Alastair wants that sweet revenge, but he needs to stay alive first. He has so many enemies, and with only a handful of loyal soldiers left, they would all come for him and eat him alive.

Luc has a unique relationship with the angels as far as Alastair knows. The man has some business with the Councils but also orders assassinations and kidnapping of their angels every other week. It is unclear what his agenda is, but Alastair just makes sure he fulfills his part of the deal with Luc. That's how he has kept their partnership going for years.

Luc is staring at him at the moment with open mockery and clear calculation. His cold blue eyes make Alastair highly uncomfortable. Alastair has never thought he would be in this position today—under someone's mercy.

"Damn, Michael made a mess out of you, huh?" Luc chuckles. "What should we do about this?"

He speaks slowly. His index taps to a rhythm on the chair armrest. Yes, what should they do? What is the best way to benefit from all this? Alastair is pretty useless at this point, but one thing Luc has learned: Never underestimate a man who has nothing to lose. Luc would not be Luc if he didn't try to squeeze the last drop out of every lemon. He knows, many times, that desperation is the best motivation.

Luc plays with the ruby ring on his middle finger, focusing on its blood-like quality. A long time ago, it was a part of a pair. The necklace has been long gone with the person he once held dear, and now, the ring exists alone, just like himself, as a reminder.

The premonition he had last Tuesday night comes to his mind once again. It is another side effect of Luc's leftover grace. The premonitions happen quite often, and, most of the time, they are useful. Luc has used them to navigate and make many important decisions in his long existence on Earth. This specific one is different, however. First of all, it is not about himself or things that happen around him as usual. Second, it manages to scare him.

Luc sat in his office that night, going through the numbers like every other night when the premonition came. He was used to them, so when the first sign of one approached, Luc took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The vision showed Michael standing by the Gate, holding a small, moving bundle in his arms. It was so bright, even for Luc's eyes, so he couldn't see what was inside the bundle. In the sky, two identical suns, each emitting a very different energy, appeared and then disappeared within moments. Everything then turned upside down. All bodies of water: oceans, rivers, lakes... poured down from the sky as if someone had just flipped over a bunch of giant cereal bowls. New lifeforms sprung up everywhere, combined, and then devoured each other at lightning speed. Angel wings, with no angels attached to them, flocked together and tried to escape, but they couldn't outrun whatever it was. So bizarre, but premonitions usually were. They required a lot of reading between the lines.

Most of the time, Luc could understand them instinctively, so this time, he believed no difference. The message was clear: The end was near, and Michael played a big part in it. Luc put two and two together with the information he had newly received about Michael's favorite plaything. He had no doubt in mind. There would be a Nephilim. Michael's.

According to the Laws of Heaven, it is forbidden for angels and humans to mix blood. All nephilims must be tracked down and destroyed as soon as they came into existence, or chaos would ensue.

However, nephilims are not a new phenomenon by any means. A lot of mingling has happened throughout Earth's history. The War only brought two kinds closer. Luc would not blame his brothers and sisters for getting a little loose. At the end of the day, rules are created to be broken. On top of that, nothing significant would come from offsprings of low or middle-level angels with humans, but Michael's Nephilim would be very different.

A Nephilim always possesses greater power than its parent. Michael, with his infinite grace, if chooses to produce offspring with a human, could create the kind of creature that never existed before. A new god. That thought terrifies Luc.

For a new God to be born, the old one must die.

That is how things worked. The order of nature. Suddenly, blowing everything up seems much less important. Luc doesn't want Father to die. He just wants Him to come back and look at him one more time. In Luc's mind, it is better to have an absent father whom he can resent and blame everything on than to not have one.

Before he can throw his last tantrum, Father cannot die.