No matter how boring days were, there was always something interesting happening when nigh felt. At least for someone as cast out of society as Adriel. His little, rebel, soulless life would be a disgrace when spent on living a proper life. Work? Healthy social relations? Meeting with friends? Having a safe place with a roof that didn't have more holes than actual roofing? Caring about eating regularly? Not to mention healthy? None of those was his style. Well, at least not in a normal way. Adriel preferred much darker lifestyle filled with guns, amazing cars and motorcycles, cigarettes, booze and being chased by police. Sleeping during the day and taking part in illegal races. What could go wrong, right?

Well due to Adriels opinion, apparently nothing. And even if he was wrong, there was literally nothing in the whole world that could stop him from living the way he wanted to live. Because there was a part of him that fed on constant anger and disappointment. And that drove him mad for a little bit too long. All the way to the edge actually. Everybody has some limits that once reached, stops them from doing all that stupid, shitty things. Sometimes it's hurting other people. Sometimes it's someone's death. Sometimes it's the threat of your own death. But what Adriel could fear, being immortal? Almost immortal actually, but he liked to consider himself immortal as no gun made by humans could do him any harm. Not even crushing on a bike while going at speed of 340 km per hour. Adriel could only be killed by one of his own kind or by a monster, and saying he was only aware of that was a misunderstanding of the year.

That's why a sight of Adriel in the old, abandoned warehouse near the river wasn't anything exceptional. But there was no rule about when will he come or when will he leave. Sometimes he was there even before race organizer, sometimes he was just sitting in something that long ago used to be a window, but now without a single piece of glass, was nothing more than a hole in the wall, few floors above the ground, yet sometimes he took part in the race. But there was truly no rule at all. He appeared and disappeared just like a shadow or a ghost. More of an urban legend than an actual living creature.

And that's why that night was no different to any night before.

He took his favourite spot in the window on the fourth floor and while smoking a cigarette he watched young people coming from every direction to watch a race or to take a part in it. His own bike was standing in a corner, safely hidden in a cage covered in tatters.

But not only the bike was hidden. Adriel was hiding himself even with a bigger care for details. Living a life at half throttle and always looking back by the arm to see whether his enemies found him or not. Not that many will try, as they were perfectly aware of the difference between their powers. Yet, since he deserted things only turned out worse than ever predicted. And he knew that one day, someone powerful enough could just knock on his door and order him to go and fight. The only problem here was that after the Great War in Heaven, after killing so many of his own kind, after hunting deserters down like animals or worse, he wanted to have nothing to do with fighting for a better purpose. Because there was no such thing. War was always just about establishing dominance and preservation of how the things were before. The "change" was a byword for the "lie".

How ironically the world is constructed to have him on the run so many years later. But for him, that was a good thing. He was one of the finest manhunters of his millennia, or even to say, the finest. He knew how to fly just under the radar without being noticed. He knew where would they look for him and how to fabricate tracks enough well to misguide those, who might have followed him. Yet, he remained calm. He took all the precautions just in case. Adriel knew perfectly that time of hunting down Angels was long passed. Now Heavens have to deal with monsters that they created on their own. Monsters that were just created for sole purpose of helping to track down Angel deserters. Nephilim.

Seeing those filthy, little creatures was more than enough for Adriel's patience. He dismissed every and each one of them from his troop. He was never in favour of creating them. He tried to convince other Commanders that they are able to cope with their problems by themselves. Yet, nobody wanted to listen. They didn't want to put their own subordinates at risk. They needed meat bags on the front line. But they got so much more than they could have ever predicted.

Watching the smoke going up, never reaching the limits of the sky always got Adriel's mind enough to wonder whether he made a good call. He wandered around the filthiest places on Earth, trying to wash his own filth from his body. Sometimes he even dreamt about returning to Heaven, but then usually reality kicked in. And watching smoke trying to go to the place, where he could never go again, always pulled a string of nostalgia in him.