Michael: Last Angel of Earth

"So if you get this key, what about us? What do we do?" asked Vanhildr.

"Get a feel for this City. Find out what you can. Meet its people, anything. Once I get the armor and sword, you can guarantee that Xathaniel and Lucifer will come for us with an army. And we will need every time to prepare," said Barjon. Taking his leave, he maneuvered through the narrow passageway and back into the main necropolis room. Taking the flight of stairs back up, he made his way through the Vatican and onto the roman catacombs. Back with the others, they quickly followed behind and left the Necropolis themselves. Once back in the Basilica, Pope George went to work showing the guests the whole history of the Vatican. Margret and the others were amazed to learn about the Vatican's rich history. They were shown all the rooms that filled and occupied the robust structure.

After getting a brief history lesson, the Pope took them outside the Vatican, allowing them to explore the rest of the City. Lawrenz and Cathrin went back to the battlements and ramparts of the city walls. As for Barjon's friends, they decided they wanted to explore a little more. Constanza took Margret, Fiona, and Colum to see some of the other buildings that inhabited the City, along with meeting new people. Their first stop was the Apostolic library. Established during the 1400s, it is one of the oldest libraries globally and houses more codex, prints, and incunabula than anywhere else. Entering the courtyard, they were greeted by the head library, always eager to meet new visitors.

"Good morning, Sister Constanza," said the Librarian gleefully. Constanza replied with a smile.

"Good Morning to you too, brother." She then turned to Margret and the others. "These are our new guests from yesterday. They wish to see more of the City," she replied. The Librarian smiled and motioned the newcomers to explore their beautiful collections. The young woman and the Irish soldiers were stunned by the Vatican's amount of knowledge and history. As they walked through the library, they passed other people reading or checking out books. Just then, Marget and Colum noticed that they were missing Fiona. Retracing their steps, they eventually found her in one section sitting on the floor, heavily invested in an unknown book.

"What are you doing?" asked Colum.

"Reading a book, and a perfect one at that," she replied. It was a little-known fact that Fiona was a huge bookworm. Even in the military, she often found time to read her favorite book or magazine. That had not changed even with the end of the world. As she flipped through the delicate pages, Marte and Colum were again greeted by Constanza and the head librarian.

"I see your friend has found our medieval section," hummed the Librarian.

"There is still more to see," said Constanza.

"But-" interjected Colum.

"Let her enjoy her reading. She will still be here when we come back," chuckled the sister. Following the nun, Colum and Margret left their friend to read as they explored the Vatican. They arrived at the small town square at the City's far end, going out the back way. It was a small marketplace, with most of the structures being renovated into tiny homes for the families that lived in the walled City.

"How many people live in the city Constanza?" asked Margret.

"Just under a hundred. Most of them have jobs around the City. These include radio medicine, military duties, monastic training, and more. The remaining live in peace within our City."

"Such a small number," said Colum. Constanza nodded her head in agreement.

"Aye, it is small. We used to have several hundred living in the City at the start of the cataclysm. But as the years passed, that number had greatly divided. Still, we make due and keep living freely and in relative peace." Greeted by the locals, Constanza took them to see the various shops and stores in the area. Limited to a small venue, there were still plenty of choices for the humans. One shop, in particular, caught the Irishman's eye, a weapons shop. Heading towards the shop's direction, Constanza and Margret followed suit. Opening the doors and jiggling the bell atop the store's wall, Colum felt like a kid in a candy shop. Back when he and the others still served in the Irish army, Colum was the guy who always wanted to try the latest weapon that rolled off the presses. Because of this, he earned a nickname amongst the team, the bullet leprechaun, as he never allowed anyone to try the guns. Eyes darting all over the place, his mind raced at the endless possibilities. They had everything from handguns to revolvers, MSGs to shotguns, and rifles to high-powered bows. His daydreaming was soon interrupted by the store's owner.

"Hello, can I assist you with anything?" said the owner with his Italian accent.

"I'm looking for something big and bold," said Colum. Without replying, the owner went under the counter and pulled out one of his latest creations, a prototype high-powered crossbow. Colum's eyes widened with excitement. Grabbing the handle, he felt the bow's weight in his hand. As he attempted to draw back on the string, he found difficulty pulling it back barely a few centimeters. Grunting, he tried once more and failed again. In the background, Margret and Constanza giggled at his frustration.

"Is he always this stubborn?" asked Constanza.

"As long as I have known him," replied Margret. Back with Colum, the Irishman panted and handed the bow back to its owner.

"You know, sir, this does come in a set? Perhaps you would like to see the whole package," said the owner. Colum nodded vigorously as the shop owner returned to retrieve the whole set. Hearing boxes and crates moved around, the owner returned with a large wooden crate on a dolly and placed it directly in Colum's line of sight. Taking a crowbar, the owner removed the front of the box and revealed its contents. Upon first glance, Colum felt he had died and gone to heaven. Inside the crate was one of the last state-of-the-art swat armor made to take down demonic forces. Entirely painted black, the set began with a ballistic helmet to protect against medium-caliber rounds. The outfit's tactical gloves were abrasion-resistant and suitable for shooting anything from a .50 cal pistol to a 50-pound bow.

As for the vest, high-tensile strength para-aramid fibers helped the vest protect organs and gave a sense of battlefield superiority. A primary utility belt complimented the outfit, and lastly, the boots were rugged yet comfy for all-season wear. Accompanying the suit were two other weapons. The first was a rifle with a bayonet. A simple gun in design. However, these rifles were modified to shoot specific rounds that could puncture demonic skin and other formidable forces. Even the bayonet was etched with roman runes to add further levels of an easy victory. The anti-riot shield was your standard riot shield used by SWAT in the old days. Altogether, the modern armor provided ample protection up to a certain point. And Colum desperately wanted to try it on.

"May I?" he asked.

"But of course," said the store owner. Taking the articles of clothing, Colum went into a nearby dressing room and changed. Outside, Margret commented on the armor.

"I did not know the Vatican had such armor," commented Margret.

"We don't. Our friends made those," said the nun.

"Friends?" questioned Margret, raising an eyebrow to which the older woman smiled.

"You're not the only ones to meet the old gods," said Constanza.

The old gods Constanza referred to were working in the Vatican's Museum not too far from where they were. Coincidentally, it was also where Horus and the other mystics were going. Entering through the museum doors, the trio began exploring the luxurious rooms and departments. They explored the museum's Egyptian and Near Eastern Antiquities section. From papyrus to the so-called staircase of Julius III, the artifacts left a better sting for Horus. They all reminded him of home and how, deep down, he longed to return to the warm sands of the desert.

"Reminds you of home?" said a voice. Horus turned and saw a man in a white coat not too far from them. Blonde, shaggy hair awkwardly hung over a craggy, cheerful face. Expressive green eyes, set deep within their sockets, watched longingly over the artifacts he had cared for so long. A tattoo of a small star almost hidden just above the side of his right eye left a beautiful memory of his excellent survival.

"And you are?" asked Ruzla.

"Romulus," said the man. Romulus stood big amongst the others despite his lean frame. He appeared to be much larger and slightly taller than the average human Horus, and the others encountered so far.

"Yes, how do you know?" inquired the Egyptian.

"I can recognize the face of a man who yearns for home. I have seen that face all too well," said Romulus. He then went over, shook each of their hands, and welcomed them to the museum. After the introduction, Romulus acted as the trio's tour guide, taking them around to all the artifacts in the Egyptian wing. While Ruzla and Vanhildr were perplexed by some of the more questionable artifacts, Horus felt like he was walking through the legendary valley of the kings. When they arrived at the nearest eastern antiques, they were greeted by even more staff at the museum. Coming to greet them was a much larger gentleman, more so than that of Romulus.

"Welcome to the Vatican Museum. I am Marus, chief archivist of artifacts of Antiquities," he said. Horus could not place it, but there was something off about him. Gray, short hair hung over a furrowed, cheerful face. Squinting brown eyes, set sunken within their sockets, watched devotedly over the country they've protected for so long. A sword left a mark stretching from the left side of his forehead, running towards his upper lip and ending on his left nostril, leaving a gracious memory of his luck in battles.

"Have we met before?" asked the prince. Marus laughed.

"No, you were but a child. But I did meet your father many eons ago. After all, he was the only Egyptian god left to face us, Romans, during the Siege of Alexandria twice, I might add," said Marus. Horus' eyes grew wide upon the realization.

"Y-You're Mars, the Roman God of War," he stuttered. Mars let out a belly laugh.

"That I am, good prince, and I see you have already met my son Romulus, the founder of Rome herself," he said. Ruzla and Vanhildr turned to the young man, who shrugged his shoulders.

"Then, the others with, are other Roman gods?" asked Horus. Mars nodded.

"Allow me to introduce my friends," said the War god. With a clap of his hands, the others stopped working and got in a single line. There were seven in total. Mars went down the row, starting with Jupiter, leader of the Roman sect.

Jupiter had white, wavy hair almost entirely covering his lean, lively face. Glittering red eyes, set far within their sockets, showed weariness. A scar from the bottom of his right cheek, running toward his right nostril and ending on his chin, left a stinging burden of his luck. He was just as tall as Mars, despite his scraggy frame. Next to Jupiter was Venus, the Roman Goddess of Beauty. Golden, long layered hair awkwardly hung over her handsome, lively face. Expressive brown eyes, set handsomely within their sockets, watch readily over the City they've grown affectionate for so long. A fire had left a mark reaching from just under the left eye, running towards the left side of her lips and ending on her right nostril, leaving a tormenting burden on her adventurous love life. She stood alluringly among the others, despite her subtle frame. Going down the line, Mars introduced two gods that worked in the fields of death and the Afterlife, Februus, and Morta.

Februus had red, straight hair pulled back to reveal a craggy, gloomy face. Darting brown eyes, set a-symmetrically within their sockets, watch delightedly over the homes they've been isolated from for so long. A mustache delightfully complimented his cheeks and left a fascinating memory of his luck in love. Though a purity god of the underworld, he stood alluringly amongst the others despite his athletic frame. As for Morta, she had chestnut, shaggy hair almost entirely covering a chiseled, tense face. Squinting black eyes, set appealingly within their sockets, watch vigilantly over the items they've bled for so long. A wolf paw tattoo was proudly worn below her left eye and left a painful memory of her former love. She stood awkwardly among others, despite her muscled frame.

Finally, reaching the end of the line, the last three goddesses were Fortuna, Virtus, and Disciplina. Fortuna was the Roman Goddess of luck. Blonde, curly hair tight in a bun, revealed a handsome, cheerful face. Shining golden eyes, deep within their sockets, reminisced of fortunes long past. Tribal marks in the form of 2 stripes on each side of the face, running from just above the eyes to the bottom of the cheeks, marks her rank left a bittersweet memory of departed loved ones. A true adventurer among the Roman gods, she stood average among others, despite her subtle frame. Next to her was Virtus, the Roman Goddess of Virtue and Courage. Silver, long hair neatly coiffed revealed a furrowed, tense face. Glinting blue eyes, set narrowly within their sockets, show the beauty and a beast. A scar from the bottom of her left cheek, running towards the tip of her nose and ending above her left eye, left a painful memory of her fortunate past. She stood towering among others, despite her thin frame. Finally making it down the line, Mars introduced Disciplina, the Goddess of Discipline. Disciplina had Black, shaggy hair braided to reveal a skinny, time-worn face. Sparkling hazel eyes, set graciously within their sockets, watched vigilantly over the City they'd sought solace in for so long. Tribal marks resembling a horizontal lightning bolt under her right eye mark her rank but, more importantly, leave a pleasant memory of liberated love. She stood big among others, despite her muscular frame. After introducing the crew, Horus was quite pleased to meet them. It had been years since he met other gods and goddesses. The same went for Vanhildr, who was in service to the gods of Asgard.

"A pleasure to meet you all. I'm surprised there are Roman gods left in Italy. When the Church took over, your followers and teachings were deemed as heresy in their eyes," said Horus.

"We Romans have a way of bouncing back from tragedy," said a feminine voice. Horus looked over Mars' shoulder and saw a beautiful woman. The woman had white dreadlocks tied in a ponytail revealing a chiseled, radiant face. Clear blue eyes, set narrowly within their sockets, watched enthusiastically over the City they'd sought solace in for so long. A gunshot left a mark stretching from the bottom of the left cheek, first running towards thin lips, ending under her right eye, and leaving a lasting burden of lands long forgotten. She stood average among others, despite her muscled frame. Mars noticed the prince's expression and looked behind him. The war god then smiled and walked towards his lover.

"Mi Amor, I thought you were still working in the labs?" said Mars kissing his love. The woman chuckled and replied with a kiss of her own.

"When I noticed none of you came back, I went looking. And I see you have found new friends," she said. Mars and his love returned to the group and presented her to the prince.

"Horus, allow me to introduce my wife, Bellonna," said Mars.

"The Roman Goddess of War? Why am I not surprised," replied the prince.

"Seems you know a lot about these Romans, eh Horus?" exclaimed Vanhildr.

"I heard about them when I was a boy. My father often told me stories of how he would have to defend Egypt from foreign invaders from the north. In our house, at one point, we have murals depicting the famous encounters we Egyptians had with our Roman neighbors. None more famous than the siege of Alexandria."

"So what are a couple of Roman Gods and Goddesses doing at the Vatican?" questioned Ruzla. Mars pulled up a chair and told their guest to sit down. It was a long story.

"What an interesting smell you have discovered," said a voice.

"Keep your comments to yourself," said Barjon. After arriving at his destination, Barjon descended into the earth again. He brushed away many cobwebs and loose debris in the old catacombs. Only walking for a few minutes, the former angel could feel the walls closing in around him. He wished he had someone to talk to as he was down here. Unfortunately for him, he did have someone to talk to, his "shadow." Staying silent for most of the journey, Barjon's Shadow waited and observed all that Barjon had experienced and gone through. Now all alone, the Shadow felt that now was a perfect time to chat with himself.

"You do realize that there is a good chance this key may not exist, let alone the sword and shield," quipped the Shadow.

"The key is here. It has to be," replied Barjon.

The Shadow groaned in annoyance.

"Look, why do you always need to get involved?! What is the point of all this nonsense!" shouted the Shadow. Now Barjon was beginning to grow irritable.

"You'll never understand that it's all my fault! All of this! They are suffering because of me! If you cannot see that-" Before Barjon could finish his rant, he stopped mid-sentence as he stepped through a loose stone in the floor, causing the rest of the pathway to crumble and fall apart. The young Nephilim fell into the dark abyss, landing hard on jagged rocks. Stumbling downward, his skull bashed against a huge stone. CRACK and the former angel's spiral downward slowly devolved into a slow stumble until he landed face-first into a small pool of water. Blood oozed from his skull, covering his black hair. The world around him began to fade, and his eyes started to flicker in and out. Shutting his eyes once, he thought this would be his end. To die in the darkness underneath the last City. However, before death could wrap its wings around him, he heard a faint voice.

"Get Up, Barjon! Get up!" said a voice. Slowly opening one eye, He glanced upward and saw the faint outline of his Shadow amidst the darkness.

"Get up, you Bastard! I don't want to die in this hell hole!" repeated the Shadow. Moving his arms, he slowly propped his body up. Still feeling the sharp pain in his head, Barjon carefully got to his feet. He staggered a moment before getting a proper footing. Running his hand through his hair, he felt the blood-caked patch. After that, he then realized that it was pitch black. He couldn't see his hand in front of his face. However, he did have one little secret that not even he told his friends. Though he was a Nephilim and, by all means, a human, he could see in complete darkness. Blinking his eyes just once, he was able to see his surroundings. Looking around, he noticed he was in some underground cave. A rather large cave, at that. As he wandered through the spacious area, he heard a low growl emitting from the far side of the room. Quickly hiding behind a small boulder, Barjon crept his head over his right side to better visualize where the noise came from. It took a while to pinpoint where the noise came from as it bounced off the walls. Then, zeroing in on his target, he saw what was making the sound.

At the far end of the cave slept a young Varg. The Varg was five feet long and was estimated to weigh between two and three hundred pounds. Vargs had massive heads and powerful jaws, giving their skulls a lion-like shape rather than a wolf. This astonishing but scarce and dangerous creature was a type of mammal. Though young, it was about the size of a short-faced bear and had two legs and arms but no tail.

It had thick, firm skin covered in short, coarse hairs, usually light red or light silver or a combination of these colors. They live in cold areas further north and are extremely rare in the south. They're carnivores, and their giant, powerful mouths, teeth, and narrow tongues were ideal for eating flesh. They're diurnal and rely on their hearing and sight to get around. Possessing long noses, their sense of smell was lacking. Like others, it had large, slanted eyes and tiny, almost hidden ears. They made sounds ranging from extremely high pitched to extremely low pitched and had a minimal range of sounds to indicate discoveries and dangers and otherwise communicate with each other. These creatures were invasive and very territorial. In Barjon's case, this young Varg has decided to make this cave his home.

"Okay, so that's that. Now let's get out of here!" yelled the Shadow.

"No!" He said. He pulled from the ground a clubbing stick. The Shadow groaned.

"You're gonna fight that thing and get the key, aren't you?" the Shadow sighed.

"Yes,” stated Barjon.