Army of Sin - Season 2 - The Gathering

Prologue - All a Matter of Persepective

Location: Training grounds...

1 year ago

"Again!" came the order.

His side burned, a fresh wash of blood coating the bandage around his midsection.

"Do you think this is pain? No mortal, you have felt nothing yet," came a voice from above where he lay.

The younger of the pair blew out a hard breath tilting his chin even as his insides screamed.

"You keep thinking of pain in mortal terms, yet you are no longer fully mortal."

"Aye sire." Breathing deeply, the youth rose to his feet before sinking into a fighting stance once more. There was no point in dusting off the gravel that clung to his body; he knew it would be moments before he was right back there again.

He launched himself at the older man who stood before him. He could not, would not stop, not when the alternative was death.

His body spun on its heel, the force of the blow to his jaw freezing his attack. Putting up a valiant effort to shake off the blow, he kicked out blindly in the vicinity of the older man who caught his leg in a pair of forceful hands and twisted. That pitiless wrenching of his ankle caused him to cry out in pain.

"Angels are faster and stronger than you can currently imagine. To survive, you must imagine greater." "Yes sire," the young man replied, breathing past the pain.

"Stand up."

"On what? My ankle is glass at the moment," the youth responded, his Russian accent coming through heavier in his frustration.

"Imagine greater. Stand up!"

Fine, the young man thought, let us try it your way. Closing his eyes, he imagined his body free of pain and more powerful than he had ever felt it. Pushing to his feet, the bare-chested young man subconsciously prepared for the onslaught of pain as he rested his weight upon his injured foot. His eyes snapped open in shock only to latch on to the warm, swirling brown of his tutor's eyes. The signature buttoned blazer his tormentor wore earlier was neatly folded in half and draped over one arm.

"So you see Alesky, you are no longer completely human. Fear not," the older man added after a pause,

"In the coming months you will become even stronger and your perception of life shall change."

The young man's breath grew harsher as excitement bubbled within him. What was this? Who was he to receive this blessing?

"Oh and not to worry, when your training is complete, the first order of business will be to right an injustice," the man spoke with a menacing glint in his eye.

"Anything sir, anything; for I owe you my life."

"I know," the man in the dark brown chocolate hat though covered in dust replied, "Come, Alesky, show me what you have learned," he beckoned, no change in his casual stance. His teacher's blazer still hung over one arm, feet shoulder width apart. His free hand beckoned the mortal who was not so mortal anymore, into striking range.

This time, the young Russian went willingly.

➖➖➖

Henrí looked down upon the now sleeping young man as his body recuperated. Alesky's body bore many bruises of different shades upon his pale skin, yet Henrí knew they would all be nonexistent by morning. This young one has a nice fighting spirit, the older man thought to himself. Russians, even the Russians living away from their motherland seemed to possess this same ferocity. The flow of the young man's mother tongue in his moments of frustration reminded Henrí of another Russian woman he had once saved. She was now the proud mother to three adopted children while living out her retirement in the twin island Caribbean Republic of Trinidad and Tobago. Yes, Henrí mused to himself, Russians were bred differently... even those angels who observed and oversaw that part of the world held this same fighting spirit. Hm... there must be something in the water.

Turning away from the recovering young man who was yet to take up his position as aide to a fallen angel, Henrí slid into the familiar comfort of his tailored blazer, ebony in colour before sliding a matching fedora onto his head. In this chess match of immortals - one that found Henrí exiled from even his own fallen brethren - Alesky could well come to play the pivotal role of a 'Bishop'. Henrí stepped out into the cool embrace of the night, his weak, immortal body feeling none of its chill, as his measured gait carried him to his next destination...

END OF EPISODE