[ WP ] Do not mistake kindness for weakness .

There was nothing so satisfying as the last scream they made before they died. Their last breath, doomed in anguish. It was like a fine wine, or a wonderful meal. I had heard it hundreds of times before, but each was unique. This time it was a couple, newlyweds, just returned from their honeymoon. I'd had my eye on them for some time, but they left so suddenly. It was good fortune for me though, giving me time to prepare for them. I wanted them to feel welcome after all, this was the start of their life together. She went first; his choice. It spared some of the fun, of course, but I made a deal with the man. I let him choose which one went quickly and which one I would savor. Sometimes the men chose themselves, but often times they chose their partners. Love. What can you do? As I finished with her, drinking in that last bit of despair in her voice, I looked at the man, seeing the eyes wide with fear and red with tears. His voice was hoarse from the screaming, but he still yelled. I loved that part. The defiance. Breaking it... mmm, it was wonderful. He would be slow. Oh yes, days perhaps. 
 
 As I carefully cleaned the blood from my knife, I whistled a merry tune, some jingle from the holidays I think. They wanted me to remember to buy a car, but I found it so catchy that I often whistled while I worked. It was hard to hear over the screams, at times, but I whistled nonetheless. My guests deserved a little tune to accentuate their stay. 
 
 Putting the knife back in its sheathe, I turned towards the man, ready to give him my full attention. Instead of a young, wide eyes man full of terror, there was a very stern looking man sitting in the chair, dressed immaculately in a clean suit of purest blackness. His hair was cut short and styled handsomely, falling just over his eyes. His eyes. Golden pools that shifted to silver as I watched. Those eyes would look wonderful with the others. I idly wondered if they shifted that way even if they were no longer a part of him. I shivered at the thought of finding out. In some deep recess of my brain, some primal voice called out a warning to me. I ignored it. Those eyes were far to valuable. Outside his eyes, his face was offputtingly handsome, the face of a movie star or a model. I had never seen a man so perfect. I had to have him. 
 
 `` Baltraxaz. I finally found you.'' His voice was like the crashing of a great wave upon the rocks, drawing me to it, pulling in with its deep baritone. Anger surged through that voice, along with a deep rightness. Once again, I felt the pang of warning in my head. Wait, who was Baltraxaz? 
 
 `` Who are you, lovely? I do n't recall seeing you before. And believe me, I'd remember.'' I idly drew the knife from its sheathe, ready to make those eyes mine. I did n't want to rush it, but he looked dangerous, and I decided I would n't be able to savor this. 
 
 `` Stop hiding, Baltraxaz. You have played inside this mortal long enough.'' The pang of warning was a pounding church bell in my head, and I involuntarily took a step back as I felt my voice responding. 
 
 `` Michael. Of course He would send you. He was always too far kind to do this sort of thing himself. Weak.'' The man called Michael's eyes flashed with a great rage, and some inner fire, and before I could blink his hand was on my throat, lifting me effortlessly into the air. 
 
 `` Blasphemy would be a very bad idea right now, Balthraxaz. I am already displeased. Count yourself fortunate that my brother could not be here, he would not be so merciful as I am.'' The man's grip was iron on my throat, and I choked against his grip. The inner panic overwhelmed me now, and I found myself fleeing into my mind, desperately trying to hide from those eyes. Even as I hid, I felt something else surging forward. Something that came from the part of me that savored the screams. Something dark and beautiful. It was talking to the man called Michael now. 
 
 `` Ha, the traitor was weak as well. Like his Father. He abandoned us to run home to Daddy.'' My limbs suddenly flashed with fire, and not-me grabbed Michael's arm, twisted out of that steel grip. As I toppled to the ground, I looked through eyes that were no longer mine, and instead of a well dressed man, I saw a great tower of light, six wings spreading from its back and a great spear in its hand. Fire burned over its head, and I as I watched, I felt my skin char under the heat of that fire. Blinking, I saw again the well dressed man, standing calmly as I got to my feet. 
 
 `` Why, Balthraxaz? Why involve the mortals? You were created to punish them, *when they sinned. * You should never have left Hell.'' The man made no more aggressive moves, simply standing there, waiting for a response. 
 
 `` The screams of sinners have a certain flavor, Michael, but nothing like the screams of the innocent. They are the finest vintage.'' Those eyes flashed again and I screamed inside my head. `` Do you know why it took you so long to find me, Michael? It's because all these mortals are weak! They are all such awful sinners that even my killings were but a few drops in an ocean of death. Ask Anziel. You ca n't even tell a demon's work from a man's, they are so corrupt.'' 
 
 `` Not all of them, Balthraxaz. Some, like the man you were about to kill, are kind and brave. He chose the path of pain, in an attempt to spare his love. He chose his own suffering over hers.'' Michael's eyes were blazing now, moving from gold to silver too fast for me follow. 
 
 `` Kindness! Pah! Weakness is what it is. He could n't save her, and he begged me to spare her. He would have run with his tail between his legs if I let him. We would abandon her to save his own life, every time! HE. WAS. WEAK!'' I screamed at Michael, feeling fire surge through my lungs. 
 
 `` I think not, Balthraxaz. He is stronger than you know. Do not mistake kindness for weakness.'' There was a sudden pain in my chest, and I looked down to see the knife, MY knife, sticking out of my chest. As I looked behind me, I saw the man whose life I just ruined staring at me with blazing eyes, clutching the knife in his bloodied hands. I roared, and fire spat from not-my mouth, ready to incinerate the man. Before it could however, a hand clamped over my mouth and I felt the fire searing my lungs. That iron grip pulled, and some part of me tore free, dragged out by his powerful hands. As I sagged, feeling the life ebb away from me, I saw something huge and grotesque squirming in Michael's grip, he raised his hand, and at the edge of my consciousness, I saw that great spear ripped through whatever had been pulled from me. There was an unearthly scream and a flash of light. 
 
 `` Hello.'' I was kneeling in the house again, looking at Michael clutching the body of the monster that had been in me. As I turned to the voice, I saw a man, dressed very much like Michael had been. He was slighter, with longer hair, all white, but no less handsome than Michael. He had the same eyes. The eyes I yearned for. His suit was pure white. 
 
 `` I've come to take you home.'' He reached out for me, helping me to my feet, and I took his hand, pulling forward as my hand struck upward, aiming for those eyes. His kind gesture would cost him his eyes, and I would be free. Instead of pulling him off balance, I felt myself trying to pull down the Earth, and my hand slowed to a stop in front of his face. He looked at me with a sad smile, and then those eyes stared into mine. `` I've been expecting you, Aaron. I heard you likes my eyes.'' Suddenly those eyes shone again and I screamed. I screamed and screamed as I stared into those eyes. My last thought before my consciousness shattered was Michael's observation. You should never mistake kindness for weakness.
