“Earlier this week, the Global Peace Objective enacted militant blockades around the globe to enforce their International Environmental Recovery Agreement—the IERA—against merchant ships.” He speaks in a no-nonsense way, serious and lacking any distinction. “Within hours of the announcement, the United States president responded to this by promising to ‘use all necessary force’ to exercise the country’s right to maritime law.”
Huh. I thought they’d be announcing the literal red apocalypse horse, not giving a militant status report…
“Yesterday at approximately 2100Z,” he continues, “one such blockade tried to prevent theU.S.S. Moonlightfrom exporting goods to Uruguay, the last remaining country in South America to not join the GPO. While multiple U.S. ships have attempted to reach SouthAmerica this week, this was the first to be escorted by naval battleships, and the first to refuse to stand down under the blockade. The GPO fired first in what we believe were only warning shots, but the U.S. returned with full force. Over the course of three hours, theU.S.S. Moonlight, along with both of its escorts and two GPO warships, was ultimately damaged beyond the point of salvage. They have now fully sunk, and the surviving American citizens are returning home. The current casualty count is one hundred and eighty-seven humans wounded, including sixty-four dead. Are there any questions?”
A hand raises in the audience, and Gabriel nods towards it. “Yes, Shasta?”
“Were there any angel casualties?” The girl asking has warm brown skin and ridiculously long hair, dark at the roots but painted in seafoam green, and wears emerald green robes. A descendant of Raphael, maybe? I don’t know—she looks more Indian than African American.
“No. TwoSpeculatoreswere present at the scene, and they will be returning home soon for a brief recovery.”
A collective sigh of relief ripples through the Elohim.
That says something to me. Five dozen dead humans, and all they care about are their immortal kin? The ones capable of infinitely respawning? I don’t like it.
“If there are no other questions, this concludes my report.” Gabriel waits for a few sparse seconds before sitting down, and the room fills with murmuring.
But the second that Michael speaks again, all the Elohim fall deathly silent without hesitation. “It appears the Red Horse of War is nearly upon us.”
Nearly? I could have sworn Abaddon said it’s already here…
“Do our field agents inside political leadership have any theories on the GPO’s next steps?” the King asks.
“We do have some intel,” Uriel’s strange, melodic voice hums in response. “Though it is sparse. It appears the GPO is waiting on the U.S. to retaliate in full force. New militant alliances are still under discussion.”
“Which is why we’re happy you’re here with us, Semyaza.” Michael turns his chair to look at Semyaza’s side. “Your generals, too. Especially you, Urakiba.”
Who?I really should have taken more time to learn these archangels’ names… Clueless, I follow everyone’s eyes to the person of interest—the androgynous angel with facial features of a high-fashion runway model.
Their wavy hair falls just past their shoulder, accenting a masculine jawline, yet their face is strangely softened by thick lips and sultry, deep-set eyes. Though they might be somewhat pale, they don’t seem to have a specific, notable ethnicity, either. Even their all-black clothes seem to be a strange admixture of fashion from different centuries.
“It’s just Kiba now,” they reply, their voice a perfect neutrality between masculinity and femininity. It has a coolness to it, unbothered by all the attention. “I suppose you want me to use my specialty for your cause.”
“Yes,Kiba,”Michael scoffs. “The quality of our intel could be drastically improved with the unique strengths of your abilities.”
“I know what you are going to ask, and I am not in favor of killing a human in cold blood to assume their place. Even if that human is a politician in the GPO.”
My eyebrows shoot up at the sheer boldness. But, I’ll admit, I love to see it. It seems to irk Michael, probably more than he cares to let on.
“Do you not think the Profuga should assist in defeating the Adversary?” he snaps back, his voice quick and accusatory. “Are you not devoted to serving the Almighty?”
Kiba scowls, and a second later, their entire body melts and shifts into an exact copy of Michael. Despite everything, I gasp—and so does the rest of the room.
All of the Elohim in the stands are unequivocally shocked.
I glance over at them, trying to gather information from their response. Either they don’t have shapeshifters in their realm, or they’re appalled that someone would be bold enough to impersonate their Chief Asshole. I can’t tell which one it is, unfortunately.
“I do not like having my devotion to the Creator questioned,” Kibasays, their voice an identical copy of Michael’s. It even carries the same cadence as his. “My means of involvement, specifically, are what I hesitate on. Even the most loyal of servants should think critically about the orders they obey when it does not come directly from God Himself.”
That last piece is a very pointed jab at the Council’s authority. I know it, and so does everyone else here. It feels like we’re all holding our breath for a few bated seconds, and then… Michael startslaughing.
I’ve never wanted to hear the sound come from him, and I have to fight to keep from cringing. He laughs like a wealthy old white man who just bought his fifth yacht. It’s disgustinglypretentious.
“Ah, I’m sorry, Semyaza. I don’t mean to insult you. It’s just that this one is such a gem. I can see why he’syoursecond in command.” Michael shakes his head, grinning. “It’s been far too long since someone has acted the way you do, Kiba, and even remotely has the value to back it up. As the Archangel of Imitation, I appreciate that you are highly discerning in the use of your ability. Now, be a dear and shift back. I see enough of myself when I look in the mirror.”
Kiba listens, a smug look falling over their returned face.
“If it eases your conscience,” Michael continues, “then Uriel will personally take the soul of the most corrupt politician he can find for you. Won’t you, Uriel?”
