My Rebel Angel (Editing)

God Thinks

Warning: violence.

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A light sparked from the tip of Don's pipe. The small light illuminated his face as he took a smoke. He carried Mallory and laid him down to lean on the street post. He pocketed his pipe and examined the crowd.

Don inched closer to the group, with an unsettling grin plastered on his face and his fingers fidgeting as his hands dangle in his sides. His eyes piercing straight into their souls, judging their sins. He slowly looked at all of them and spoke calmly, "What do you think you're doing?" 

"Doing God's work!" the bald man proudly yelled, waving his knife like a madman. "How about you? Defending a fucking freakshow!" 

Don's mouth briefly glowered, then came back to his calm composure. "If you think you're doing God's work, you are doing it horribly. Believe me, I know." 

"Why would y-you..." The bald man stuttered.

The blonde man presence became suddenly unsettling to the spiteful gang. They don't know why a skinny blonde wearing a suit feels like facing an angry demigod, but they all brushed it off. His voice abruptly broke into a commanding and lecturing tone that echoed throughout the alley. "You know, I like to watch Mr. Rogers. He once said, Love isn't a state of perfect caring. It is an active noun like 'struggle.' To love someone is to strive to accept that person exactly the way he or she is, right here and now - and to go on caring even through times that may bring us pain... Honestly, I could never be like him." 

The light of the cigarette vanished. Light emerged from countless eyes appearing  at every part of his skin. He revealed his true form. "...MOTHERFUCKERS."

The gang collectively gasped in horror. After their shock, they decided to attack the strange creature covered with glowing eyes and four wings in the dark. The  middle-aged man pulled out his gun and shot Don, who just stood like it's all nothing. 

Don held the  middle-aged man up, crushing his throat with his fingers. Blood splattered on Don's face. He dropped him to the ground and faced the others as the wounded man clung to his throat, gasping and choking on blood. Don grinned a bit as he wiped off the blood in his face with his handkerchief. 

The teenager and the hooded man jumped at him. Don struggled slightly, then stopped as the eyes on his body became morbidly dark. The teenager's eyes widen as Don's body gone up into flames. He quickly let go as the fire ran up to his arms. The teenager became engulfed in flames and shrieked in agony. They desperately try to put the fire off, but the flames has swallowed them whole until they collapse into the wet cement ground. 

The bald man leaned at the wall from shock and frozen in terror from what he just witnessed. As Don glanced at him with a wide grin, he ran off for his dear life. He unfortunately stopped at a dead end. A shadow emerged from the wall, prompting him to turn around with his tactical knife. 

He saw nobody, until Don appeared at his back and broke his arms by force, dropping the knife. Rain fell as the bald man pleaded for mercy. Don stared at him indifferently and pointed the knife at him. "How dare you plead for mercy, but you didn't gave pity to the people you hurt and killed. You all threw stones to the one who you all witnessed sinned, yet the people who stoned have sinned themselves. I am tired of people like you." 

"Please! Forgive me!" the bald man cried out loud. 

Don pulled him by the shirt and whispered lowly. "God forgives. But I don't."