024 + FOR ALL HAVE SINNED AND FALL SHORT OF THE GLORY OF GOD [video]

[trenchcoatedly]

[The video opens with a burst of static. After a second, it lowers itself to vaguely tolerable white noise. The video is still entirely static, though Castiel's voice can be heard above the drone - low and pained, emotional where he's usually expressionless.]

You don't exist. Angels don't have souls. You are just an effect of this place is having on me. The strength of the magic to affect an angel...

[A pause. The static and white noise clears. The video reveals... fingers. He may have turned it on by accident. He fidgers with it, and now you can see his face! Which looks haggard and awful, by the way. He turns away from the camera, staring at something unseen. Every few seconds, his whole surroundings shift, like he's teleporting every others step. He keeps looking over his shoulder, checking for his pursues. Eventually he steps and stares back at them with haunted eyes.]

What I did to you....I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I....I was so dumb, and foolish, and stupid, choking on my own ego... I deserve to die. I deserve oblivion. I know! But I keep... I keep coming back. He wants me for something, don't you understand? How can I be expected to do something if you're still here?

[The video drops into white noise and static again. Castiel's voice sounds like a ragged pant. Even though video's gone, his voice is clear.]

That isn't true. That isn't the case and you know it. You know it. Father can't be wrong. He gave the planet to them. He loved them and they loved Him. And what they did, they did for love of Him. And what I did, I did for love of Him! To find Him, and to save them.....

But...

You're wrong! I know you're wrong! I know it like I know He is there!

I know, I know....

[For a second, the video returns despite the loud static. Castiel looks focused, a cold kind of discipline in his eye. Then, the white noise becomes an unbearable whine before the transmission abruptly ends.]

[SPAM]

[Castiel looks a little drunk - spending half his time staggering around and the other half taking long, flying steps. Occasionally, he looks over his shoulder and shouts things in a mixture of language - English, Aramaic, Enochian, Italian. What feels like static electricity is radiating off him. He's pacing around the hotel, never staying in one spot for long. Whenever he does see another creature, though, he looks like a deer in headlights.]

((OOC: Castiel broke his communicator, so he won't be able to reply to any communications for a while. Spam away!))

Comments

[theonlyresponse]

[By now, his only purpose is to find Joker, whose laughter seems to ring out from all the corridors, everywhere at once, mocking him.

He turns the corner and he sees - Anya, whom he promised to protect... this is Jason all over again, he's failed, failed --

The laughter in his ears dulls into a whisper; with a roar of rage, he attacks Castiel.]

[trenchcoatedly]

[Castiel doesn't even look at Bruce; he keeps his glowing eye socks focused on Anya's choking and sputtering, slowly (and intentionally so) squeezing the life out of her. He does, however, move one hand from her throat. That hand curls into a fist, with light streaming from between his fingers. He throws the bolt of light (well, it's really more force at this point, just a flash from his hand) at Bruce.]

Wait your turn, ape.

[theonlyresponse]

[He's thrown backwards by the force, and hits a wall, momentarily stunned. But he's back on his feet, ignoring the pain, focused only on his goal. Bruce attacks again.]

[trenchcoatedly]

[Castiel makes a low rumble of irritation and hurls Anya off like a rag doll when Bruce comes at him again. He catches the first fist that's thrown at him and squeezes, finger bones and joints crunching and shifting outside of their places under the onslaught of pressure. Then, with the other hand, he grabs Bruce's forearm, twisting his whole arm the wrong way. The bones pop audibly, and worse when he pushes on the whole thing to send Bruce flying back.]

[Then he goes to retrieve Anya, picking her up by her throat out of whatever debris she may have landed in.]

I believe you were telling me how we were like you.

[Squeeze.]

Go on.

[fridgetothefire]

[Her head is ringing, and she can't tell if it's oxygen deprivation or concussion or both, not that it matters at all. Every breath stabs - she must have cracked ribs when she landed. But she clutches his wrist with her left hand, socket still intact, strains to hold her weight by her arm instead of her neck enough to gasp out an answer between whimpers. She shouldn't antagonize him but she doesn't care, Bruce got hurt because of her and she wants to die and she hates this glowing powertrip more than anyone since her brother. If she can cause him even an ounce more grief, it's worth the agony.]

Humans...tried to...kill me. Too.

Just...just because. I wasn't right. In the way.

So you can...finish it.

[trenchcoatedly]

[He doesn't answer, but his mouth curls with rage, hands clenching around Anya's throat. He can feel her weak, delicate body crumbling under his angelic might, the small bone and muscles protecting the windpipe folding inwards under his grip, cutting any air supply off. He speaks with gritted teeth.]

I'd be honored out such a request.

[theonlyresponse]

[The explosion of pain in his arm and shoulder would have stopped any lesser man, but he's used to worse, or so he tells himself. He pops his shoulder back into position. There's nothing he can do about the fingers but he has one good arm, and Anya needs him. He staggers towards Castiel, snarling through heavy breaths:] Don't. You. Dare.

[trenchcoatedly]

[Castiel actually looks over at Bruce this time. With obvious intent, he squeezes tighter, staring at the man as Anya's body sags in his grip, the hand that was grabbing his wrist going limp and falling back to it's place. Then, he tosses the body at Bruce's feet, tilting his head to the side. He doesn't speak, but can't you see the dare written in those glowing sockets, Bruce? The angel's hands fall to his sides, light leaking from his skin.]

[theonlyresponse]

[For a moment all he can do is stare at the body in shock.

there's no need to check for a pulse you know a thing or two about dead bodies but he falls to his knees anyway and the hand that isn't screaming with pain puts two fingers on her neck, where her carotid artery should be -

Nothing. She's gone.

He looks at Castiel with an expression of pure hatred he rises slowly, shaking with rage. When he speaks, his voice is quiet, devoid of emotion.] You're dead. [He takes in a sharp breath.] You're dead. [And he attacks.]

[trenchcoatedly]

[Castiel does not appear moved by Bruce's declaration. In fact, he doesn't move at all as Bruce charges him. Drawing his blade is merely a matter of coalescing his power in his hand, mostly hidden under his jacket sleeve. It's easy, with the man being blinded with his agony and potentially delirious with pain, fingers twisted at odd angles.]

[All he has to do is shift forward, stabbing upwards. Humans are delicate creatures, hardly any protection of their vital organs, just a few bones made of calcium and protein-packed muscles. Even a dull blade could run one through - and this utterly sharp one is perfectly capable. He studies the point of it coming out of Bruce's lower back, then turns his glowing gaze to the man's eyes, letting him hang there for a few moments before he jerks the blade back out.]

We do not let your pitiful grief blind us from the obvious, for example.

[He studies the bloodied blade in his hand before looking back to Bruce.]

We do not have your weak bones that crack under pressure and your pathetic muscles that tear so easily. We don't fall at the slightest gash.

[theonlyresponse]

[He's heard this argument before: you're the only one of us without powers but it's never stopped him. Broken bones, bruises, muscle aches, he's bulldozed through all of them. Being stabbed in the gut is new, when there's no suit in between to buffer, but he's still breathing, and that means he still has a chance. His opponent might be an angel, but that body looks human, and might have the same pressure points as a human being. It's the only chance he has.

He lets instinct guide him into one final strike against Castiel.]

[trenchcoatedly]

[Bruce reaches for his vessel - touches him, puts his remaining dirty, unbroken hand on his meatsuit - and Castiel's face twists in an enraged scowl. He takes an offended step back and switches his grip on the blade, stabbing downwards this time - clear through the body again, through the soft organ tissue of a lung. Any attempts for Bruce to come at the angel will just be met with Castiel being further away then Bruce can reach. He holds the bloody blade at his side, making no move to clean it or strike back.]

[theonlyresponse]

[He gasps as the blade pierces a lung, and his hands scrabble uselessly as he falls to the ground, coughing. His vision starts to blur, this is end, but he's got one more promise in him, and he spits it out in fury:] I will... kill you.

[trenchcoatedly]

[Castiel doesn't look down at him. He doesn't even acknowledge the promise. Instead, he just stares down the hallway in silence, listening to Bruce's slowing, wet breathing.]

Maybe you're not as useless as we thought, Balthazar says.

He could be an effective weapon of God, Raphael agrees.

[Then he's gone, leaving only the sound of displaced air and wingbeats.]