Chapter Text
Normally when Adam woke up it was to crisp, clean air. Maybe the sound of birds, if he hadn’t drunk himself into a hangover the night prior. Maybe the sound of Lute pounding on his door because he didn’t turn up to work on time again.
But never has he woken up to the taste of smoke tickling and scratching at the back of his throat, to the feeling of debris scratching at his palms and back. Heaven didn’t have any of that shit.
Adam groaned, lids peeling open uncomfortably with a hiss.
The first thing he saw was red - a violent assault to the senses, if you asked him. Red sky, red chunks of destroyed buildings scattered randomly near him. Then he saw the pentagram in the sky, and next the distant silhouette of the Heaven Embassy.
It was like a jolt to his still waking system. The Heaven Embassy? The Heaven Embassy they had in HELL?
He was scrambling to his feet, muttering curses and insults to nothing and no one. His robe was torn and messed and his wings felt like dead weight on his back. Everything was sore. Everything ached.
“The fuckk..?” His voice was scratchy in his throat. Adam frowned.
He rubbed at his throat and straightened up fully, golden eyes scanning his horizon. Yep, clumps of mess and destruction. Yep, far too much red. ‘Hell’ to a ‘t’. And.. No Exorcists. No other angels, not even a FEATHER drifting by. Where the fuck was everyone? No - more to the point. Why was ADAM here?
He sniffed, rubbing at his nose. It came away a mix of gold and red. He frowned and rubbed the back of his hand against the side of his robe. Adam.. opted not to think about it. Definitely just blood from the sinners they fucked up earlier.
Lute was definitely going to hear about this once he got back up. SOMEONE was gonna hear about this. Leaving Adam behind? What, because he got.. a little banged up? A little scratched up?
He scoffed, lip curling with irritation. Adam glowered at the memory. Lucifer’s kid got the jump on him, so what! If HE hadn’t been there it would’ve been no contest. Easy and done.
..But, y’know, to complain to any of the angels up there he was going to have to actually GET up there. So he started walking.
Debris crunched under his shoes with every other step. He couldn’t see any silhouettes of people around, but he COULD see the outline of a town. Buildings. Still devoid of people, but it was on the way to the Embassy, so it became his first destination.
It was a typical town for this shithole. Not entirely well built shops.. Motels.. Benches.. Angelic weapons..
Angelic..
Adam stopped.
There was a sinner just up ahead, holding an Angelic spear like they’d never even seen a butter knife before, holding it awkwardly to their chest. Like it was gonna bite.
Normally Adam would laugh at the sight. His lips still curled upwards - then loosened into a scowl.
“Hey!” He barked, automatically walking for the sinner, his hand outstretched expectantly. His wings strained into a vague flutter. “The fuck’re you doin’ with that?”
The sinner jumped. Almost dropped it. Dark eyes turned to his, observing him in a panic. They gripped it tighter to themselves, but they were breathing hard. “I found it first! Mine!”
“Yours? Hah! Only reason it’s yours is if it’s the one cutting your head off, dipstick!”
“Mine!” The sinner just kept repeating themselves, holding it tighter and tighter. The tip of the spear almost grazed their jawline with how close they were holding it to their person. Idiot.
Well.. It’s not Execution day. But SOMEONE left the head of the army down here. (Lute). Who’s gonna blame him if he had to force his way out of Lucifer’s den of wayward souls?
“MINE!”
“Ew, are you foaming?”
They were, and Adam got all too good a look at it when the sinner suddenly lunged at him. Swinging the spear in wild abandon, cutting through air - but only air. Adam’s entire body might be protesting at all times, but his instincts were far too sharpened to let some idiot with a pointy stick cut him.
He ducked back immediately with a grunt. He tripped on his robe. “Fuck!” Broken chunks of stone scratched at his palms as he rapidly straightened himself.
“I - I found it! ME!”
“I fuckin’ heard you the first time!”
Another swing, far too high over Adam’s head to even NEED to duck.
His hand jerked upwards, grabbing it by the pole it attached to. His grip was tight even as his muscles protested. Adam grimaced, hissing. “Makin’ me work.”
He shoved it back, watching the blunt end hit the sinner right in the gut and send them stumbling back. Winded. Adam took the opportunity to rip the spear from their hands and into his.
Where it belonged.
He blew out a breath.
When HE swung it, it met its target easy and fast. The pointed shine of Angelic metal pierced and cut through the sinner’s eye. Everything rapidly gave in and caved away and soon he could see metal glinting on the other side of the sinner’s head.
It went all the way through.
Adam tore the spear out with a pant and the sinner collapsed in a mess of blood and gore, partially caved head the first part of their body to meet the ground.
He shook the blood off his new weapon without sympathy. Serves the fucker right, he thought. Where did they even FIND this? Whose bright idea was it to still leave their weapons AFTER they found out how those sinners killed that first angel?
Whatever.
He’s keeping it, now.
His wings still felt heavy. They SHOULD feel light, as connected to his structure as his arms and legs. Instead they felt weighed down, like someone had tied a brick to him while he was out. He tried not to think about it.
Maybe he.. sprained.. Something? Can you even sprain wings?
Adam rolled his eyes, forced his mind to clear and kept walking. He didn’t run into any other sinners, just a lot of empty streets and the OCCASIONAL building that hadn’t been wrecked by by the most recent Extermination.
His reflection caught his notice out of the corner of his eye, passing by one of those such buildings, and he paused in front of its large window.
Adam tilted his head and turned to face himself fully.
There it was. Him. Adam. The First Man. Head of the Exorcist’s Army.
There were the dark robes, the spear, the wings.. If he’d stopped his inspection there he would’ve been content to keep on walking. But he didn’t, so when he saw his FACE everything stopped. His skin prickled, bristled, and his breath froze in his lungs.
There were the tufts of his hair. There were his long curled horns. Etched into his skull, as surely part of his head as his eyes, or his hair. It would’ve been familiar, out of place, but - he wasn’t wearing his mask, it’d been DESTROYED. But.. here he was.
Adam reached a slow careful hand up, pulling at his cheek. Fluffy. Vague fur. He ran his fingers through his hair, pulling at the darker-than-brown tufts. The horns didn’t budge when he pulled at them. There were markings on his face vaguely resembling the old patterns of his mask. His face - his skin - was a mix of black and red fur.
His eyes were dark and black, just like that sinner he’d fought.
His wings were heavy. He looked.. He.. looked..
“I have to get to the Embassy. Now.”