Angel's Descent (With Rive)

At a Plantation just outside the City....

On the balcony of his study, the Reverend Jacob Cassius sipped brandy on the rocks while overlooking the plantation of the Radiant Cult’s compound. The leader of the Fellowship wore civilian clothes, a pure white suit along with a hat, a most Southern attire to blend in with the local culture. His beard and moustache were neatly trimmed. He was reading the local newspapers about the incidents of people going missing, sightings of ‘angels’, and how his group the Radiant Fellowship was gaining good publicity for their charitable works among the economically neglected rural towns in Louisiana.

A young, pretty blonde nun opened the door to the study and approached the Reverend with a respectful gesture. “Excuse me Reverend. The newest acolytes have arrived, Fifteen families in all, a total of eighty souls. About Sixty adults and twenty youngins.” She said in a southern belle accent.

“Excellent, excellent sister. Make sure they’re all settled in.” Cassius said, speaking in a rehearsed Southern Gentlemanly accent.

“Also, the ...representative... is here to discuss important matters with you.” The young nun added, a pale figure in a business suit following behind her.

“Well, is that right? Send him in then.” He said, slightly annoyed but hiding it. This was new grounds now, with new rules. The small cult was not ready for all out war.

“So. This is the home of the kind Reverend Jacob Cassius. How... Dixie.” The man walked in without wiping his dusty shoes, looking down on the nun with scorn. Nonetheless, the Reverend stood up and shook the man’s hand, reluctant as he was.

He pats the young, sharply dressed man on the back and offers him a seat. “Let’s talk, son, about those employers of yours... and their business in the fine towns my charities work in.”

"So, this is where they've been ghosting off to. How...Quaint." Muttered the alate figure in the sky, not all that far off from the compound below. Fully adorn in his armored costume, Ciro hovered motionless in the sky with his arms crossed over his chest, his wings beating behind him. Having caught word of the recent disappearances in the area, Ciro had to admit that it made him more than a little curious. Over a hundred people, at least, just vanished without any explanation as to where or why. Yet, it was more than simple passing interest that brought him here. He sought to build an heroic reputation and he was never one to pass up an opportunity.

His pale yellow eyes scanned over the property and its inhabitants, trying to piece together what exactly was going on. People were off working in the fields and whatnot around the old, very southern estate and they didn't exactly look like they were being held captive. Still, the fact remained that they had to be the missing people he was looking for, he was sure of it.

Spotting two formally dressed figures standing on a balcony below, Ciro figured that one of them had to be in charge. He sought answers and they were likely to be the men to get them from. Or at the very least, the men he would beat into the dirt to find out who to get answers from. Descending from his airborne position, he shot down to meet the two. Landing upon the banister of the balcony, Ciro perched himself and stared the unknowns down. He let several seconds of silence pass before speaking up. "Ciao."

As timing would have it, Ciro would see the man in the dark business suit just leaving. The Reverend walks out to the balcony to greet him, seeming to be expecting his arrival.

"My, my, if it isn't the angel of the deep South. I've been expecting you. Please, come in and have a seat." He pulled out one of the baroque designed steel chairs, pouring him a glass of the expensive brandy he was drinking.

"Do you drink? You must be thirsty, flying around in the hot Louisiana sun... staying away from the civilized places. What brings you here finally, oh agent of the divine?" The Reverend's southern accent gave way to a much sterner European one, as he awaited Ciro's answers. He was not going to preach yet; he was going to listen.

An unseen eyebrow raised underneath Ciro's headgear. Apparently his sudden appearance had been anticipated by the mysterious stranger. Not entirely surprising as it was probable that word had reached him about the 'angel' people had seen around and he just put one and one together. What was surprising however, was that from his choice of clothing alone, he'd have pegged him as an American Southerner without question, but then his voice was distinctly European. He couldn't quite make out which accent exactly, but he'd spent enough time traveling the continent to recognize it. The man and whatever operation he was running was a bit of a mystery, and Ciro hated being left in the dark.

"Don't mind if I do, Sanders." Hopping off the railing, he stepped into the room. His wings disappeared into his back as he accepted the offered seat. If the man wanted to sit down and talk, he wasn't about to object. Not often someone you might just be about to kill offered you a drink. Well, except for when he was still in Italy, where that was fairly common. With one hand the villain removed the spiked helmet from his head, with the other he grasped the provided glass and downed the brandy like cheap scotch.

A satisfied sigh escaped him before he answered. "I think you know why I'm here. The divine doesn't look too kindly on abduction after all. Ahem, 'Chi rapisce un uomo e lo vende, o è trovato nelle sue mani, sarà messo a morte'...Or in English 'He that stealeth a man, and selleth him, or has been found in his hands, will be put to death'." He paused. "Got anything to confess, mister...?" Civilized and cautious he may be, friendly he was not. He didn't like the fact that this man had expected their meeting, so he was very much hoping to get him talking.

Cassius remained calm and collected, standing up and paced about as he gave his exposition.

"Mah boy... everyone who comes to this place does so for mutual protection. I kid you not, anyone is free to come and go as they please, ask any one of them down there right now. There is a growing problem that you might not be totally aware of, since they only come out at night, in the most remote towns where the sheriffs can't handle all of the disappearances."

He took a dramatic pause, and looked out the balcony to his plantation, tended to by the honest folk from all over the area. The men building, the women harvesting, and the children playing.

"...Son, you're an angel with wings... I suppose you'd believe in vampires? Because... I kid you not, the South is crawling with them now. Followed a coven here from Eastern Europe, and while I am able to protect those who come to my plantation, I cannot protect the whole of Lousiana without striking directly at the Coven."

"My boy, what I'm saying is, I need... your help. I need an ally I can work with in these dark times... and I'm willing to give you a very rich, comfortable life if you'd do so."

Remaining seated, Ciro's eyes followed the man as he paced the room. Patiently listening to him as he gave his side and admittedly he wasn't surprised to hear that the people here weren't being held against their will. They all did seem pretty content after all. There was the possibility that there was more going on here than could be seen, but the people here weren't in obvious danger then there wasn't a point in bothering with them.

His interest in this whole mess was declining rather rapidly as the cult leader continued to speak. Sure, he was willing to take on a cult to boost his superhuman image, but vampires were another story. As the reverend seemed to expect, it wasn't hard for the meta-human to believe that vampires could actually exist. The world was a messed up place, if he could exist, why not bloodsucking monsters of the night? Of course believing in them was one thing, but he wasn't about to go walking into a coven of them for a little positive publicity. For all he knew one vampire might be his match, let alone a group of them.

Suddenly, his interest was rekindled with the promise of wealth. For the promise of a rich and comfortable life, there was very little the faux angel wasn't willing to at least consider. It wasn't like the man couldn't back it up, if the fact he owned a plantation didn't make clear enough. "Okay, you've got my attention." Raising from his seated position, his helmet tucked under his arm, Ciro followed the man out to the balcony. "If the money's good and you actually keep your word...I'll see what I can do about your bloodsucker problem." Placing the helmet back onto his head he finished. "But the money better be good old man. If you're sending me into the lions den without making it worth my while, I won't be happy."

The Reverend went to the bookshelf and opened a small latch box, and took out a wad of cash, a money brick, made of 100 pieces of fresh $100 bills. He placed it down on the table between them.
“Consider this a new membership Bond for the first three months of our new partnership. Once our missions take off, you are welcome to whatever spoils you find among our enemy's... possessions... or persons.”

He also takes a good, closer look at Ciro, eyeing him over in his costume, then his face. “Someone like you could be a powerful symbol for this group’s mission... but we’d have to... change a few things; just cosmetic changes, nothing really serious mind you.” He paused, thinking a bit more.

“A good American angel will probably be blonde with blue eyes too.” He smiled and chuckled to himself. He looked at Ciro, and made hand gestures as he spoke, his tone rising into an orator’s charismatic voice, pitching an idea. “Yes... you could be a shining, golden herald, a bringer of divine justice... come to banish the night of evil. It’s perfect...”

He went to the intercom system on the wall and called for sisters Grace and Glory. Minutes later two nuns came into the room from a different door, coming from their bedrooms. Before Ciro were two tall, ponytail blonde, pale-tanned blue eyed women wearing nun habits, their modesty concealing their gene-enhanced bodies, but not the sheathed broadswords at their side. They made no comment, not even any emotional response upon seeing a full fledged angel in their midst.

“Boy, these are my two wards, Grace and Glory. Girls, I want you to give our guest here a makeover. He’ll be joining our demonstration two nights from now, and I want him to look like an angel... or how those hillbillies think an angel would look like. Get my artisans to make him some golden armor as well. We can get him real armor later, just a costume for now.”

“Yes, father.” They spoke in unison, unblinking, hinting at malevolent natures. They stand by the door and await Ciro to accompany them to the makeup booth, and later, the armory.

"Well... we won't be dealing with most of the vampires directly. No, they would just manipulate the police and the government to blockade us. We have to convince the people to take up arms against the evil that lives amongst them, my boy. We are merely the lights of hope in this sea of darkness.”

He walks up to Ciro and extended his hand to shake. “Welcome to the Radiant Fellowship, son. What do I call you from now on?”

The avarice in Ciro clawed its way to the surface as soon as he caught sight of the wad of bills in the reverend's hands. Any inkling that he wouldn't be appropriately compensated was gone as soon as it came. Picking the cash up off the table, Ciro almost compulsively flipped through the notes, a habit he'd picked up years ago in Italy.Ten thousand dollars for three months of killing a few vampires? It didn't require much convincing to get him to go along with that. Though the fact he was apparently given free reign to loot their corpses wasn't much of a bonus.

His eyes were dragged away from the cash in his hands to the man before him as he continued his pitch, and Ciro had to admit that the guy was charismatic. Nevertheless, he was more than a little apprehensive at the idea of him getting a makeover to become some perfect angelic figure for a bunch of hicks to look up to. Still, he'd get over it. He had been acting like a paragon of all things religiously virtuous and moral since he'd shown up in America, it shouldn't be that much more difficult to look the part.

When the two...assistants, showed up it would be accurate to say that they weren't what he was expecting. Two identical, dead eyed nuns with large sheathed blades weren't what jumped to mind at with the names 'Grace' and 'Glory'. The fact that these two unsettling women were about to give him a makeover was disconcerting. The armored non-angel just stared at them blankly when they spoke in unison. He would have to watch his back around those two, and when his eyes shot back to the old man, he realized he would have to watch the man in charge as well for as long as he was working with him.

Listening intently, he let the man finish his speech, silently and begrudgingly agreeing to the man's plan to deal with the vampires. The man knew infinitely more about what they were up against than he did, so why bother arguing just because he liked being more upfront with his opponents? Besides, the longer this drew out the more he was likely to be paid, so he was set in any case. He could live without the 'lights of hope stuff' though. Grasping the man's hand, he reciprocated the handshake. "You will call be Gabriel. If you have to give me some big flashy name, you can come up with it yourself. I'm just the mascot here." Turning, he started to approach the two women. "Alright ladies, lead the way." He finished, following closely behind them as they walked off.

Gabriel was first taken to a makeup station, where there were cabinets with religious costumes and acessories, wigs, and papers with religious or pseudo-religious sayings. Needless to say this ‘cult’ definitely made sure to take steps to be very genuine and look good doing it.

They worked with an expert speed and began work on his rather short, messy dark hair. Wash, lather, shampoo, conditioner, rinse, then began the hair extensions, then the hair dye. Once they were done, after almost an hour, Gabriel now had long, blonde, flowing hair... and this was just the beginning.

Then came the tan sprays to give him a healthier bronzed look. They also actually apply make up to emphasize his features. Once his physical appearance was satisfactorily upgraded, they proceed to the next area with little fanfare, and an eerie synchronization; they even walk in perfect cadence, as well as swayed their hands at the same angle.

At the landing just above the armory, the twin nuns asked Gabriel to wait. They descend down the few steps and enter the secure room; A quick eye past the heavy door would show the hints of a very well stocked armory, likely enough armaments to equip the entire current population of the compound for battle.

The indistinguishable sisters retrieved for Gabriel a golden breastplate set for him, as well as a silver inlaid long sword. They also assist him into changing into the ensemble.

Glory spoke to Gabriel, though she was mostly indistinguishable from her twin. “After the demonstration, you also have free access to the armory, should you feel the need to equip yourself with ranged weaponry.”

Once they were completely finished with Gabriel he was brought before a full length mirror in one of the manor’s guest rooms. He would behold his reflection a being far from his original form, a masterpiece of aesthetics. There in the mirror stood a tall, blonde, blue eyed, golden-armored angel with glorious wings. His skin had a healthy tan, and he smelled of incense and perfume. As finishing touches, the two nuns groom Gabriel’s wings with expensive horse-hair brushes and apply scented oils.

As they preened the last few square inches of his person, there was a voice, a most sarcastic and smug being that saw the new hero of the Fellowship. A female redhead adorned in a military ensemble, red and black in scheme and adorned in skulls. She was a long haired red head, and quite pretty, were it not for the veritable armory of gun and blade on her person.

“Looks like another special snowflake joined the club... huh, and this one’s prettier than me.”

The nuns finished their grooming and stood silently, looking at the other special member of the Fellowship.