Remial appears in his office, alongside Barbiel and Elizabeth. Without hesitation, the girl spins about and throws a punch at Barbiel. It lands with a hard smack and enough force that it knocks him back a few steps. Ducking under his attempt to grab her, Elizabeth pounces at him and delivers a powerful head butt that pushes him back some more.

She then spins around as she pulls out the pistol that she attempted to hide from Remial. She aims it at him but, before she can even get a finger on the trigger, he rips it from her hands with the nothing more than a flick of the wrist. He is impressed by her astonishingly quick reflexes as she recovers and throws another punch; this one directed at his face. He does not even allow her fist to touch him, though, as he freezes her arm in mid strike.

Her eyes go wild with anger as she attempts to move but is unable. "What the fuck?" she says.

Remial turns to his companion. “Leave us.”

"Yes, sir," Barbiel says before walking out of the single door in office.

Remial turns to his beautiful wooden desk that sits at the far end of the large room. He makes a point to keep it so well polished that it clearly reflects the image of its surroundings in its dark wood. Adorning its legs are exquisitely carved symbols that match those on his own body. Sitting on the desk is an old but well maintained rotary phone, a set of gold pens, and a plaque made of the same wood as the desk that has his name carved into it. It is all set up in precisely the way he wants it, with nothing out of place.

"Now, listen," he says, walking around to the rear of the desk, "and listen well, girl. I am an angel of Heaven and you, a mere human. I could end your very existence if I so wished."

He steps to his chair. It is made out of the same wood as the desk and its seat and high back are covered in velvet cushions of a deep purple. The same level of care has been shown to the chair as the desk, as it is polished to the same level of sheen. Behind it is a large window that is covered with curtains of fine silk that are the same color as the cushions.

"Fortunately," he says as he sits and spreads his arms out invitingly, "I see potential in you."

With a lurch, Elizabeth’s body unfreezes and she stumbles forward. Her eyes narrow as she asks, "Potential for what exactly?"

"To help me win this war, of course."

"And why would I do that?"

Her continued defiance is amusing. "Have a seat and I will explain." He smiles and gestures to the two simple chairs in front of his desk.

She does not sit but begins to circle the room instead.

He notices that her attention is being drawn to his collection. Decorating the three other walls of the office are masterly painted works of art. They depict angels as the great beings that they are, and are some of his most prized possessions.

"Very well," he says, allowing her to admire the paintings.

She stops at one of them and studies it. Remial knows all of them by heart, and that one depicts Azrael, the archangel, wielding a flaming sword and standing amidst a pile of demon corpses. His body is entirely covered in the strange tattoos of his kind. He stands in proud triumph as he holds his sword high in the air while his wings are spread out in majestic beauty.

"Tell me," Remial says, "what do you know of your parentage?"

"Why?" Elizabeth says, but continues to stare at the painting.

"Humor me."

After a moment, she says, "As far as actual memories go, only bits and pieces, really. Mostly what I know is what Connor told me. They died when I was young, back before the world went to shit. Before your Apocalypse."

Remial notices the disdain in her voice at that last comment but chooses to ignore it. "What if I told you that the woman you were told was your mother was, in fact, not?"

Elizabeth moves on to a new painting. "I’d say you’re lying,” she says as she considers the new piece. “And not a really good lie, either."

The new painting shows Azrael carrying out the execution of three demons. One of them is already missing its head and lies in a puddle of black blood, another is about to meet the same fate as Azrael’s sword is in mid swing toward its neck, and the third can only look on in horror and helplessness.

"Do you guys really have flaming swords?" Elizabeth says.

Remial chuckles at this naive notion and dismisses the comment with a wave of his hand. "Artistic license," he says.

She scoffs. "Would be a lot cooler if you did."

He shakes his head. "Back to the topic of your mother," he says. "I am telling you the truth, Elizabeth."

"Connor and I may have our differences,” she says, “but you’d think he’d have mentioned something like that."

"He himself is unaware of this fact," Remial says. "So, too, were your father and the woman you were told was your mother."

Elizabeth continues on around the room. "I’d think she’d remember if she gave birth to me or not," she says as she stops at a new painting.

This one depicts the same angel as the first two. He is protecting a group of wounded and desperate looking humans from a demon horde. In front of him are the bodies of slain demons while dozens more rush toward him.

"Not if her memories were altered," Remial says. "She, your father, and even your brother fully believed that she was pregnant with, and birthed, you."

Elizabeth continues to stare at the painting as she seems to considers this answer. "Alright," she says after a time. "I’ll bite. Who is my real mother, then?"

Remial smiles slightly. "Your true mother, Elizabeth, was an angel."

A fit of laughter takes hold of Elizabeth. After a while, she controls herself enough to say, "You really need to work on your lying skills."

"It is the truth," Remial says.

Elizabeth shakes her head and moves on to a new painting. It portrays a group of humans who are seemingly worshipping the angel with the flaming sword. One woman is offering her baby to the angel. A beam of light shines down on the angel as he holds out his arms to accept the baby.

"Your kind really thinks highly of yourselves don’t you?"

Remial sighs before saying, "Being the offspring of an angel and a human makes you powerful."

Turning to face him, Elizabeth says, "So, that’s why I’m here." She begins walking toward him but stops at the sight of an ornate display case against the wall. Walking up to the case she peers into it.

Inside the case is an expertly crafted sword that sits on a purple pillow that has gold lace along its edges. The blade has been obsessively polished and the edge has been honed to perfection. Angelic symbols have been intricately carved into the blade itself and the pommel is made of gold with a cross guard shaped into angel wings.

"You want to use this supposed power of mine," Elizabeth says, almost absentmindedly.

"I would like to train you to use your power for yourself." Remial stands and crosses the room toward Elizabeth.

Tearing her eyes away from the sword, Elizabeth shoots him a quizzical look. "Why would you do that?"

"Because," he says as he reaches her, "I believe that, once trained, you will aid me in this war we currently find ourselves in."

Elizabeth laughs at that statement. "This war you find yourself in," she says. "Why the hell would you think I would help you?"

Remial reaches out and lifts the glass top of the display case. "I am the only one who can help you unlock this power that resides within you." He reaches in, grips the sword’s hilt, and gingerly lifts it from the case.

Without taking her eyes from the sword, Elizabeth says, "What’s to stop me from using it to escape?"

Remial grins and flips the sword over. He catches it so the flat of the blade perfectly balances on his outstretched index finger.

"I have faith,” he says. “Faith that, in time, you and I will be able to move past our differences." He flips the sword again, catching it by the hilt, and holds it out for Elizabeth to take.

She slowly reaches out and accepts it. "Not likely." She takes a few practice swings, the sword almost whistling as it slices through the air.

"Let me train you, Elizabeth," Remial says. "If we do not see eye to eye by the end of your training, I will allow you to go free."

Elizabeth shoots him a suspicious look. She holds the sword out for him to take back. "Alright,” she says, “train me. But do not count on me ever seeing things your way."

"All I want is the chance." He places the sword back in the case and closes the top. "I cannot help but notice that you are taking all this new information surprisingly well."

"I don’t believe what you’re saying for one second,” she says. “But, I might as well play your game while I figure out how to get out of here."

He smiles before turning back to his desk. "You are a cocky one."

"So, what now?" Elizabeth approaches his desk.

"Now," Remial says, "You go to your room and get some sleep. You begin your training tomorrow."

"Jumping right into it, then?"

"It took longer than we expected to find you," Remial says. "You are already three weeks behind the others."

"Others?" Elizabeth says.

The door to the office opens and the Barbiel walks in.

"Barbiel will escort you to your room," Remial says with a dismissive wave.

Barbiel grabs Elizabeth by the arm.

"What others, Remial?" she says as she is hauled out of the office.

"Get some sleep," Remial says as Elizabeth is taken through the door. "You will need it," he adds as the door closes.

Left alone in the office, Remial pulls open the bottom left drawer of the desk to reveal a dozen or so manila folders. His fingers flick through the folders before stopping on one in particular. He lifts it out and closes the drawer before setting it on top of the desk. When he opens the folder, the first thing he sees is a picture of Elizabeth.

She is younger, and has shorter hair, but the emerald eyes are a dead giveaway. Setting aside the picture, he picks up the stack of papers underneath. They are a record of her various traits and notes on her. Everything from hair color and height to known aliases and temperament have been noted. As he turns to the last page, he reaches out and picks up one of his pens. Under the heading labeled ’TRAINING’ he writes ’UNDERWAY’ before replacing the pen, placing it perfectly back in line with the others.

"You found her."

"Laylah," Remial says as he looks up.

She is stunningly attractive, even by angel standards, with the body of a dancer. Despite not even using her wings, which are a pure white, she seems to glide over the floor with footfalls that are as silent as they are graceful. The tattoos that decorate her body are works of art that serve to accentuate her beauty as well as display her angelic status.

Her lips curl into a small smile. "Tell me, Remial. Do you truly believe you can control her?"

Remial closes the file in front of him. "I do, yes." He opens the drawer and replaces the file. "Do you not?"

"She is not like the others," Laylah says as she drops into one of the chairs.

"That is the point,” he says. “She is much more powerful than they will ever be."

Lazily stretching herself out in the chair, Laylah lifts her legs over one of the arms to let them dangle in the air. "Which means she is better able to resist you," she says.

A flash of irritation crosses Remial’s face but he forces it away. "I appreciate your consideration," he says, "but I am unconcerned."

Laylah laughs. "You should be," she says. "I can sense her defiance. It burns red hot within her."

"She will be turned to our cause"

"Like the others have?"

"I am aware that some of the recruits still resist us," Remial says. "But that is only because I allow it. Soon, they will all see that our way is the only way."

"You think she will see that, too?"

"She will be the one to open the eyes of the others"

Laylah rolls her eyes and rises from the chair. "If you say so," she says. "This is your experiment, after all." From behind her back, she produces a manila folder and tosses it onto the desk.

"You tracked down another one." Remial says as he picks up the folder and flips through it.

"I did," Laylah says. "Though it seems the demons got to him first."

Remial closes the folder. "No matter,” he says. “We have her now. And we have enough other recruits to not have to worry about finding others." He takes the folder and places it in the bottom right drawer that contains more manila folders, though less than the other drawer.

"What of me, then?" Laylah says. "If I will no longer be tracking down potential recruits, what would you have me do?"

"You will train Elizabeth."

"Do you not think that a waste of my talents?" Laylah crosses her arms. "Training a human is beneath me."

Remial eyes her. "You will do as instructed," he says in a tone that does not invite argument.

Laylah glares at him for a moment before uncrossing her arms. "I am here to serve.”

"Good," Remial says. "You are dismissed."

Laylah nods and spins on her heel. She exits as swiftly and gracefully as she entered, leaving Remial alone once more.

Standing from his chair, he turns toward the window. With a flick of his fingers the curtains slide open. He steps forward and looks out.

The city of Los Angeles is spread out before him. It has been decimated, with no building taller than two or three stories left standing, save for the one he is currently in. His office is on the top floor of what was once a hotel in the middle of the city. On top of the hotel, in massive neon letters, is one word: REVELATION.

Next Chapter: Black Rock