Archangel? More Like Archenemy! (ON HOLD)

Chapter 2: Liar

Marley opened her eyes and blinked slowly, shaking the muffling grogginess from her head. She felt like she was incredibly hungover, like someone had replaced the blood pumping in her veins with vodka. Stoli Elit, no less.

Marley stood up, wobbling as her equilibrium refused to cooperate with her. She brought two fingers to her temple, applying pressure to the right spots to eliminate the headache in her head, just like how her uncle trained her.

Getting a good look at her surroundings, Marley realized that she was in a room. That was it. Gray, concrete walls, no doors, no windows, just a box with a lonely light bulb hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the obscure room.

"Finally up, Munchkin?" a deep, velvety voice said from behind her. Marley spun in a circle, ready to knife whoever was in the room with her. She could still feel the bump of the blade on her belt, pressing against her side.

"You! You-! You put me in here!" Marley cried angrily. "Is this some kind of prank? Did you drug me after you threatened me?"

"Ah. So you do still remember last night," the same voice mused. Marley could literally feel him smirking, even though she was the only living thing in the room. The light bulb flickered, and when it came back on to a steady glow, a steel table, a chair, and a hooded figure appeared in the room.

"Last night? How long was I out?" Marley growled, hunching over.

"Not my fault that you have a low tolerance for antipsychotics," he scoffed. "Now, sit."

Marley ignored his last comment, and crossed her arms. After moments of silence and Marley staring into the black wall inside the hood, she spoke. "I have questions."

The figure sighed deeply, and stuck a hand into the hood. His gloved hand disappeared behind the wall, and by his wrist movements, he looked like he was rubbing his forehead. "I'm being generous. You get three. Fire away."

"Who are you? And I don't want some smartass answer. I want a title, an explanation, and a name."

"I already explained all of that when we met."

"That was kind of a traumatic event, if you forgot."

"Yes, I do remember. You hit me in balls. Hard."

"Well, at least you're blunt."

"Very."

"Answers."

Sigh. "Fine. As you know, I'm a Fallen Angel. More emphasis on Fallen, less on Angel. Don't expect fairy dust shooting out of my ass."

Marley nodded, arms still crossed, left hand at her right hip and running her fingers up and down the ivory handle of her knife.

"I'm not telling you my real name, so call me Apollyon. It's what most people call me."

"Apollyon? That's a mouthful. I'll call you... Queen Bitch."

Apollyon gasped in mock horror. "Queen Bitch? If anything, I'd be King Bitch."

"Alright, King Bitch. Back to the story. Why are you here?"

Apollyon suddenly growled furiously, slamming his fist onto the metal table. "You know exactly why I'm here!"

Damn, was this dude bipolar or what?

"Then you know exactly what my answer is," Marley responded calmly without batting an eyelash at his sudden outburst.

"I am not here to discuss, Munchkin. Either I leave with a signed contract, or you don't leave at all."