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 Arkhangel: Light of the Third Rome

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big boy soup

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PostSubject: Arkhangel: Light of the Third Rome   Tue Feb 28, 2017 6:23 pm



Arkhangel #1
Moscow, Russia
January 2007




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PostSubject: Re: Arkhangel: Light of the Third Rome   Tue Feb 28, 2017 11:23 pm



Arkhangel
January 17th, 2007
1:13 AM


"And in those days shall men seek death, and shall not find it; and shall desire to die, and death shall flee from them." - Revelation 9:6


Blizzard conditions were in effect in Moscow. The snow, rushing violently through the Moscovi night, as aided by the frigid wind. The city, as a result of the blizzard, was already booming with the echoes of racing emergency sirens, and impatient vehicle horns. Truly, a city in Europe that never slept.

All the while, in a lone alleyway, five Moscow Police Department officers stood in an alleyway, content with the doughnuts and coffee that had been bought with the blood money, greed, and general sinistry of their recent past, as deemed verdict by Arkhangel, who stood high above the alleyway. The crimson-caped vigilante was perched, as he observed from above.

The Moscow Police Department needed no introduction to Arkhangel. He had experienced their corruption, their sinistry, against his expense as a youth on multiple occassions. Although, the norm had changed as of late; there was a growing evil. More and more, week by week, day by day, Dr. Miron Kosyak's stroke to himself seemed to be less, and less like a coincidence, and more of a divine call to arms.

There was no mistaking it. The spirit of an archdemon, of an unknown name, was active in Moscow. Although, obviously not in his full-physical form; that would instead imply a more hellish landscape for Moscow. The archdemon had likely taken possession of a human host, and what better host than a figure in the Moscow Police Department? An organization, bordering on being an extortion-based  business, already riddled with corruption, and immoral politics. The archdemon no doubt sees to return to the physical realm once more, after an untold and unfathomable number of years of eternal damnation.

The time for scripture was over; the demand for action was seemingly compelled to Arkhangel. Thus, The Crimson-Caped Vigilante leaped from his perch, his hands helt tight to the ends of his cape to slow his dissent, as he lets go of these ends mid-flight, dropping to the concrete with an audible thud. Each, and every single one of the fivefold officers dart a glance in the thud's direction. With their startled faces alone telling the story, they are appalled at what they see, as they drop their food and drink; scrambling for their firearms, as the vigilante is soon to find himself surrounded and outnumbered, as the officers scream in Russian. For a brief moment, the only sound being the violent gusts and whistles of the wind, as deliberated by the Blizzard, as all is at a standstill.
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