[center] Kenan Apartments
[b]People are never as they appear… truth beneath the skin is always worse.[/b][/center]

[u]Juan[/u]

Juan clawed, literally, his way to the roof tops. Brick, mortar, and more crumbled from where his nails embedded into the wall along his path upwards, each movement précised and graceful like some cat on the hunt. Twice the sniper had attempted to dislodge him. Twice the shooter had failed and shortly retreated, the glimmer of the scope lost from sight. Juan just kept climbing, his pace hurried by the near hits. Once his hand clasped over the edge, he threw himself over it and landed feet first upon the apartment’s flat surface. He was still unconcern about his appearance, slightly bloody and shirtless, while his eyes flickered to the street’s other side. His vision scanned across the empty roof space and saw nothing. Juan sighed in slight annoyance. 

He twisted about and walking to the far side, his path stopped by the roof’s end. For a moment he braced himself with an inhale before the lanky man started to dash back to start. His feet slapped against the hard surface, each one gained more speed than the last while his breath became heavier in anticipation closer he came to the end. Never once breaking or slowing, Juan’s foot kicked off the roof’s small wall and into the air.

For a few seconds he hovered there. Weightless and definite of gravity as the below, people were mere specks and ants from his great height. It was strangely close to stopping time, a fact he had only experienced once before. His body rushed with adrenaline when his instincts had begun to visualize himself nothing but a blackened smear upon the pavement far below. 

Then, when the world remembered its own laws, he began to plummet. 

In face of his suicidal action, Juan whipped his hand back and let his energy pulse through it. Fire hissed in a race over his arm, curving until it reached his wrist to stretch out into a brimstone like material and finally shaped into a large chained hook. He jerked it ahead where it attached upon the other building’s side and jerked him onto it. He didn’t land softly. Instead he bend his knees to lighten the impact as feet slide along the roof’s surface, dust and dirt kicked up when he finally came to a stop on his new perch. Rising upright, he flicked his hand again to dismiss his weapon. 

Unshaken by his near brush with death his eyes swept over the empty roof. Once…twice, three times total, seeming to ignore the fact it was absence of life on the first pass. [i]Where was Mr. Hotshot? Did he shoot his load and run like a typical one night stand?[/i] It seemed that way from Juan’s point of view. Any trace of the sniper seemed to have vanished like air, something Juan knew was impossible. Personally, if not for the fact his mood was soured, he would’ve easily returned to apartment where he was positive Zi and Emmet having some dirty and sweaty fun. Yet he didn’t like to risk the killer trying a second round or having done all this work for nothing. Grudgingly he reached into his back pocket where he drew a small, red crystal. It had cost him two bags of Emmet’s blood and small wad of cash, but it should do the trick. After all, it wasn’t like he was lacking the materials for barter to replace it. He had Emmet, monthly, rotate his blood with fresh samples else risk it going bad so often the older blood was used for needed supplies though other demons. Sometimes it included…other services as well. 

Juan’s fingers wrapped about the small crystal as he bit his finger, oozing some of his demonic blood on it. In moments it glowed a bright white revealing there was an angelic essence within his area. He unceremoniously held his hand open and allowed the tracking crystal to lie on his flat palm. It spun. Around and around it went, its shape blurred in place before suddenly it stopped. The black pointed behind him, like a compass needle, its surface flashed urgently.

Without a second to think, Juan’s body bent in half and kicked a knee backward when the sniper’s fist lashed at the back of his head. He gave a snarky grin when he felt the satisfying bone crack followed by a male’s yell. “Bad move, little bird.”

Quickly Juan stepped away for distance and twisted about mid-way in his retreat. He finally got a brief glimpse of the young man, the very one who had tried to shoot him twice and managed to nick Emmet, only to see a gun appear within his hand. [i]Damn it…why can’t they make it easy?[/i] Juan complained. 

All he could catch was the burst of sparks when the bullet left the chamber at him. Reflexively, Juan shifted his shoulder, last second, as the bullet whizzed by. It scratched him on the path past and drew his thick, tar like blood from his veins. His lips pursed for a moment then widened into a catty grin. He wasn’t worried about other demons scenting his blood, imp or higher, because he knew how it smelt. Like tar and garbage as a vampire companion once described, an utterly disgusting odor. On the other hand, the taste could’ve been another story. He rushed towards his attacker to prevent another shot taken. 

In a fluid motion, he released his chain and wrapped it six times about the youth. The gun fell from the angel’s grip during his struggles, his arms tried to rip away any the strong binds which held him in place as he grimaced at Juan. The older man just shrugged the efforts off, much to the angel’s rage. No longer threatened by flying bullets or having his face bashed in, he kicked away the gun then paused enough to absorb the young man’s face fully to memory. Made of mostly lean muscle, the kid certainly looked about between sixteen and eighteen, the later seemed more accurate. His outfit was a simple blue jeans and t-shirt with a large sports jersey over his thin frame. If it wasn’t for the patch over his right eye, the other swirled in intense blue with hatred, and the three recent scars puffed over the same side then Juan would’ve considered tapping that. Pity it also included the fact the bastard shot him too. 

“Ah… finally, I get to see who’s fucking me face to face. You know, a guy could feel unwelcome waiting around all this time.” Juan said in a snide tone, yet his voice was kept smoother then velvet. “So, cutie…mind explaining who sent you and why? Or need I start show how rough I can get?” 

“Tch. Keep your filthy hands off me, demon.” came the angel’s expected reply, his struggles redoubled only to cause the chains to tighten. Naturally the boy was green enough his face had turned to his gun’s direction, betraying his thoughts. 
 
That was all it took for Juan to respond. He pulled himself into the personal zone of the bounded half angel, his left hand snaked out viciously gripped a fistful of the black hair and he jerked it down into an uplifted knee. Warm blood from the contact told Juan he had managed to bust the nose, a loud crack was just the sweet cherry on top to ease his frustrations. Juan allowed his satisfaction surge over him like a soothing aloe. Smooth, simple… and effective. 
 
 Immediately the angel’s figure crumbled into the roof, first to his knees until he was hung upright by his hair which Juan promptly released. The boy fell onto to his side. Not concerned if he had killed him, Juan crouched over. His sense of smell was overwhelmed with the copper scent’s strength. An intoxicating one which had made his mouth salivate, his demonic nature eager to rip and tear into the wounded attacker at his feet, but held in check by his disgust of its…brutality. Juan kept his tone light and friendly, almost a mockery air in it when he spoke. “I’ll ask only once more, in a different way: Who sent you and why?” 

 The angel instead motioned behind and uttered two words. “Back pocket.” 

Juan raised a confused eyebrow in question then jerked the angel onto his stomach. He reached his hand into the pant pocket, his mind alert to any tricks or traps. He was cautious as he felt the outline of something thick and flexible under the demi fabric. Slowly and delicately, the demon managed to pull a small, aged leather cover book from its grip. He held it up to examine it and righted himself to standing straight once more. The leather was wrinkled and cracked, nearly appeared to falling off at the crease, with a strange symbol branded in black over the front. A sense of recognition washed over Juan and apparently his face showed it by the angel’s next statement. 

“What, you son of a bitch. Don’t recognize your damn little book?” 

“My, my, did the bird do a little light reading?” Juan asked though he couldn’t stop the curiosity leaking into his voice. “You can’t be serious and tell me this little book is the reason you attacked me, is it? I wouldn’t think you angels would understand its physics after. Not to mention it is such a pitiful reason to get my attention. There’s much more interesting ways, naturally.” 

“Sick fag, should be burning in the afterlife or crawl under a rock. What you tried to do…” The boy tried to jerk his head over his shoulder to face Juan, his eyes burned with righteous fury and renew his struggles. 

“So you understood its principle?” Juan rolled his eyes then took a closer interest. “Very few do. For most, it would’ve been nothing more than theory and the details…utterly terrifying.” 

The angel, still lying down on his front continued to keep his head lifted and repeated his grimace. “I might be young but I’m not stupid. We were taught about essence, what it was, how it was important to the world and what was made of it. I might’ve had to look a few terms up, here and there but I understand the concept. How could you even attempt such a thing? What you did in Project Re-Genesis, if more angels knew… if the Council had any idea of your experiments, then there wouldn’t be place which to hid your sorry ass for long.” 

“Re-Genesis…” Juan seemed to repeat the word, as if the sound would stir a faded memory. He held the book between his hands-the one still attached to the chain- while he flipped through its onion thin pages. It wasn’t easy. Several times he thought he would rip one and shattered the magic preserving spell on the book then and there. If he had, there was little chance to save its legacy. He hadn’t seen it over 200 years after all and time hadn’t been kind to everything else from his hay day.

“Why? The hundred humans volunteers you willingly sacrificed and all in order to create…create what? A new race, a better way to eliminate my kind, or just the stupidity to play god with human lives? What good is a race if there’s nothing to show for it but dead bodies?” 

“To improve our own race and not all of them died. At least one survived. He managed to have bloodline which spawned over two-hundred years, each showed more magic potential then the last. Only time will tell if my current subject has brought my work to any fruition.” Juan hadn’t bothered to scoff his answer in protest. His sly, cocky attitude seemed to have evaporated like water in the desert. The reason for this, be because of the book’s presence or the past mention, he wasn’t come completely sure. 

“You disgust me. Your race? You’re not human anymore. That isn’t [i]your[/i] race anymore. Now you’re just the very thing you hate. You can’t serious believe your work was a success. It can’t be. Do you know what damage that would cause? To mankind? Even to the very world itself?” Venom was thick in the angel’s words, taunting and spiteful, as he shifted his heavy body to ease the pain scratching at his belly. 

Juan let his smirk return, faintly. “I hold no illusion over what I am now. I’m a filthy, vile little thing but in the end, I still managed to serve a greater purpose towards humanity with my studies. Despite what I am or ever become, I still hold a responsibility to ensure the human race isn’t over run by the likes of you or me. So I can only hope this latest generation might show some little promise. Besides, those little fears you show are nothing more than theories. No concrete proof unless my subject expires unnaturally.”

He took a breath in his pause then continued. “Since you brought my past up...” He looked closer at the angel, his foot pressed into the angel’s back middle to keep him pinned. Juan’s eyes had a sharpened intensity to them now. It was if a carefully placed mask was lifted to reveal the snake lurking underneath. “If you have little objection, might I request you tell me where you acquired it? My precious research?” 

He noted the angel fought a flinch, an expected reaction, and patiently waited for an answer. His free arm had folded behind his back as his posture stiffened into a ridged one. Dread locks shifted across his narrowed eyes, slightly impatient yet enjoying the effect clearly. “Come on. I merely asked a simple question, boy. Can’t you enlighten me?” 

Insulted at Juan’s comment, the angel held his silence for a bit longer. Too stubborn, a credit to his own race, but Juan had little time to play games now. Not if he wanted to get back to work. Another task which had been added to his list since his intrigue to figure out Emmet’s companion’s, Zi, knack for manipulating the angel’s essence. Oh yes, he knew that scent well enough to know it was at least angelic in origins. It could’ve been a number of reasons of how or why she had such a thing in her procession, however, the longer he dallied, the less chance he would have to understand it. There was a slight chance maybe her presence could help him discover Emmet’s true potential. If he had any. 

 He sighed at the arrogance of the hybrid angel, mind shifted into the present task. His hand placed his book within his back pocket while he grounded his foot deeper into the back. The angel gritted against his actions then edged into painful whimpers, shortly after came cries when the spine finally gave way. Crack! Juan smirked in delight to hear the pitiful yells emitted by the stupid whelp who had shot him earlier, a deeper and darker bit wanted to sink his teeth in. [i]Easy… easy, not yet you filthy, greedy bastard.[/i] Juan coaxed more patience out his inner demon before he lifted his foot. The chains had left impressions as the little bones within the wings had also suffered. 

The angel was now a whimpering pathetic ball. Juan allowed the angel hybrid a few minutes to gather what was left of his dignity, noting the ruffled and dirty boy was unable to move anything below his waist. For the interrogation, Juan had purposely paralyzed his prey which meant he had little more to fear. He lifted his foot, and leisurely pull back while he made a jerk on his chain that unwrapped itself, leaving the sniper on his back. Juan eyed him carefully. Most the grey was bloody red and feathers crushed; the fragile bones cracked and explained why the angel hadn’t gone for a head on assault. He was more human than angel as proven by his frail wings, possible merely an offspring between the two. 

It took time for the angel to collect himself. Grunting through the fire burning within his body, he began his retelling over where he found the little book. Even with his mind riddled with agony, his tone was a mixture of gasps and disgust in his words. “I found it in the caverns in Brazil, deep in the jungle. It was a few years back, sealed away under the ground and in some odd…contraption. It already killed three of us when we forced it open. It was how I lost my eye and got these scars…something. It was fast, impossible to get away until…” 

“Ah, the price paid for unlocking it. Next time, you might consider the consequences of such rash acts when you attempt to unlock a hex box. Especially one with a hell hound guard dog.” Juan answered indifferently and recalled how the demonic mutt had likely been starving during all that time. He continued. “Oh well, try not to allow the price your friends paid be wasted because of your vanity and utter brash decisions. Currently you’re dangerously close.” There seemed to be some pleasure in Juan’s voice, despite the iciness, during the last statement. 

“Ptuh.” he spat or tried to, on Juan and winched. 

“Wasting your breath and spit. Nice way to increase your suffering, isn’t it? Hope it was worth it.” Unconcern with the angel, Juan had folded his legs up and settled into a sitting position. The book was out again as he began to skim a few more pages. After some time reading, he narrowed his attention on a key paragraph. It was data from test subject 0, where his thoughts lingered until finally something clicked. After some time had passed- likely close to a half an hour- he snapped the book shut then jumped back to his feet. His eyes lowered hungrily over the helpless angel whose eye widened in panic. Juan’s nostrils flared in excitement while he stepped closer, the angel used his arms and hands to slide himself away. 

He only took a few meagerly inches before Juan slammed his foot into the hybrid’s side and kicked him one again onto his back. The boy whimpered in reply. His body’s reaction crippled by the pain as he fought to be stronger then he really was. It sickened Juan’s demon half to no ends, his boot planted hard into the sternum where he made a hairline fracture. Juan was done playing now. It was time to feast and his inner demon couldn’t wait any longer. 

His chain had long since vanished while he leered over his meal. “Well, I think our little chat is over.”

“P-please. Ahhh, don’t.” Fear had finally settled in the youth’s eyes, the presence of fear and adrenaline drove a nail of desire within Juan’s soul. 

A desire to consume the angel’s essence. It was the primal need of all demons no matter how good they claimed to be, a fact none could ever hope to escape and their curse for being what they are. Abominations all of them. Juan, his mind lost in thought, just let go and his dark half went to work. He made a dark grin in reply to the angel’s pleads then jerked his fingers, now longer and sharp, at his prey’s chest. Instinctively, the youth lifted his hands to stop Juan. Sadly, he wasn’t a battle angel and so, lacked the strength to hold him off for long. Driven by primal nature, Juan increased his aggression. His muscles flexed and coiled, his nails inched slowly closer to the chest. It gained easily more and more ground until the tips broke through the cloth, followed by the skin. The boy uttered another shrill sound with his last lungful of air when Juan’s tips hooked in, the fingers pried the flimsy flesh apart. It revealed the opening along with the bloody white ribs beneath, the damage visible despite the gore, the demon relentless in his digging. Juan wanted something particular: the angel’s heart. 

The angel’s hands still feebly tried to shove Juan away, at least until the demon snarled in impatience then detoured centimeters from the heart. He reached a hand though the opening and headed to the left where the shoulder was on the inside. With a fast, skillful jerk he busted the collar bone and jerked it free. The crackling bone filled Juan’s ears while his pointed teeth showed in a grin, than repeated with the other. Soon the ribs were easily broken, dug out from the skin case, while he continued his feast on the still living angel. Only when Juan was face deep and eaten over half of the inner organs, save the kidneys, did he feel the boy die. Most believed the body dies when the heart is destroyed, but the brain still remains alive for a few minutes, fed by energy and panic to prolong the ultimate fate. The body shuddered and went cold. Shortly, no evidence other than the untouched kidneys would remain. 

He never liked kidneys, a nasty after taste and all that.

While his teeth chewed the last of the stringy, savory meat off the remaining splintered rib bone and sucked the soft marrow inside, the demon sat upon the roof’s edge with a single leg hung over the street. His skin was stained by his messy eating, a thing born out of his habit to binge eat essence. Despite his demon nature, Juan didn’t accept it as a part of him. Instead he saw it more as parasite to tame and train. Never did he indulging in gorging himself on essence unless it was a reward or needed to remain in control, a necessary evil in his life. He wasn’t like those filthy monsters that accepted themselves and made a pitiful peace with their beast, driving their humanity away. 

 Finishing the last of the marrow off, Juan thoughts drifted to the pity he hadn’t had the forethought to bring any Chardonnay along. After a bit of angel, it was the closest he ever came to a little taste of heaven. 
 
Oh well… he still had a few things to do before he rejoined Emmet.