Task 2: A Different Kind of Interview

Zach couldn't help but feel like an animal being prodded and poked. Angered by the loose movements, and being unsympathetic over how many times he might have accidentally tried to punch one the of the Ultimate's face in. After having been relieved from his quarters-if you could even call them that, more of a place to rot to death, smelled like it too-he was bounding for an exit.

Licking across his chapped lips, the angel moved foreword both because of must and need.

Zachariah still couldn't believe that the mutt Coajn had something or another to do with his new placement. Honestly, if he had the chance, powers or none, the angel would love to take a swing at his pretty face. Yes, let the silicone that held his cheeks together deform, leaving fist indents until he could get one of his minions to fix it.

The idea sent a million and one other ways of hurting the man swarm through his head. All he knew could never happen. Zach depleted as they continued to drag him by the shackles. Obviously unable to be trusting after the little show they had back when he was sitting in his own filth. Where Cameron-who he did in fact learned her name after hours of pestering-seemed to find amusing.

It took three unwilling, and very stubborn guards to unlatch him from the face of the younger of the Ultimates. Obviously it wasn't expected since after all; he was weakened to dirt for five days. Although he wasn't seem coming, it didn't last long as the other one that stood bolted out the door and grappled for any lone guard to rescue and aid.

By the time it had ended, Zach had a broken knuckle and a bruised right side while the Ultimate would likely have a scar going down her temple and a swollen eye for at least a day. Her clothes were ruffled and outrage leaked from every part of her. Like a heated vase ready to combust, sending shards of hatred raining down on all who ever dared decline her power. Visibly shaking, the little Ultimate clenched her fists until her two inch long nails dug deep enough into the crest of her palms that tiny pools of blood poured and left a trail as they walked.

The angel's neck craned to get a better look over the sea of people, both from his party and others. Groups of people crowded into one another, leaving enough space in the middle for one person who he could only assume were stuck and in the same position as him. He pulled tight against the chains, testing their durability and seeing just how well they angel proofed them. From the constant pain, and how the cuffs singed the hem of his sleeve; they were laced with the essence of black orchids. One of the stupidest weaknesses to an angel.

"Fuck you all," he grunted while shaking his wrists for the added affect that only he would need.

His only response was a few chuckles for the other Ultimate who'd manage to go unscathed throughout their disagreement. He was lengthy, limber, and overall looked like a skeleton from a dream a bad night's sleep would conjure up. Just looking at the sickly bronze skin set Zachariah's stomach churning. The way his hair was a light shade of platinum blond so it almost looked white when it hung off his shoulders. With eyes like nightshade, and ears pointed as if an elves' the Ultimate walked with a kind of urgency but still held his signature grace.

Compared to their fortunate fashions, the angel looked like a piece of rag and tattered cloth. Although he was never one to feel self conscious about his looks-because face it, that's the most preposterous and absurd thing-Zach found himself re-positioning the collar of his shirt. Upon seeing this, the female Ultimate snickered but quickly stopped as a bolt of pain struck her temple.

As the guards continued their leave of escorting them to wherever the hell that was, Zach's annoyance continued to rise like a building pressure. The walk seemed both tiring and endless before they finally approached a glass door that was concealed by translucent grooves racing the texture. The two ushered him in and led Zach to a covered vanity that had privacy screen so you could only see the silhouette of his body.

"Undress," was the only word from their mouths before turning on their heels and stalking towards the array of chemicals and assortment of beauty products.

Zachariah couldn't help but open his wings and run the pads of his fingers through the mixture of feathers. Some were stiff and an unworn shape overcoming them from not being released in days. His lips turned down momentarily before fluttering them and allowing some fresh air to coarse through. Although they were usually tethered back and unseen to the mortal eye, Zachariah could feel them with every curve and move, the constant touch of a bulky object laying flat against the mare of his shoulder blades was uncomfortable at least. Though he'd never dare open them in front of Cameron. Past the little alliance they held to not attack each other, that was something personal. More intimate unless the fellow companion was also an angel.

There were so many untold laws and guidelines to live by in each of the realms. Branded into their minds since young children and taught to live by only those. Strictly they'd be brought to sight, sometimes forcefully as in school they learned not the true history of what happened, but what they wanted them to know.

Zachariah shivered at the idea before pulling the rest of his clothes off. They stuck to his body with sweat and dirt encrusted between the seams and particles of the material. It disgusted him to know that he'd been rotting in sick for days. Pulling the oily roots of his hair, Zach knotted it back in a small bun before exiting the curtain, uncaring if they saw his naked form.

The muscles inside his tone arms rippled with his movements. Abide he had been with little food you could barely call crumbs, it didn't stop him from constantly moving, running in circles if must to build up stamina.

If the Ultimates were shocked by this, they didn't show it and instead motioned for him to step towards the little circles of supplies they created. It looked like they were performing a cult ritual from the latex gloves they wore, to the burning candles next to them that made the room smell of garland. As Zachariah neared them both, he half wondered why he was actually going along with this instead of rebelling the first chance given. Though, the idea would be stupid. Although they only availed the powers of one of the realms, together they were much more strapping then him alone with their range of abilities.

It was clear that the female harnessed the powers of his people, as well the guy that was standing approximately as far away as possible from him relished in demonic. "If we must act like suitable beings, I think it's in my right to know the names of my two captives," The angel asked, taunting them to respond.

"Fair warned, we're not the ones you should be worried about," she chastise.

Almost as if he was fed up with the both of them, the male spoke with a superior authority that ranged on, towering over each with his deep voice. "I'm Dasitrol and this is my comrade Eleanor. Being alive for three decades leaves me with no room for your childish rounds."

That shut Zachariah up completely and left him to feel like nothing but an annoyance. With Ultimates, the elder they were, the more power they could master. So being alive for nearly that long not only was substantially tremendous, but a threat to him. As they continued to clean the angel of all possible blemishes from tiny scars to grooming his wings, Zach could think of nothing but what he was about to face. Anything that had to do with this much labor and preparation was something that he wished never to be involved with.

Guilt guided him along, the feeling of dread rising from inside his throat like a bile of vomit. His tongue seemed to be twisted, words that wanted to be said vanished along with any sense of direction as they laid him flat on his back. The sterilized table numbing his senses. After everything, the last thing he wanted was to close his eyes and sink into an rest-filled sleep but he couldn't stop his eyes from drooping as his shoulder sagged further, becoming all too familiar with the way their hands glided across his face. The area they seemed to spend the most time on.

After the initial greetings and formalizing names, none of them spoke again until they eased him up and was told to redress in the clothes they'd picked out for him to wear. While walking towards the pile of clothes that were folded crisply, Zachariah caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

Stopping mid-step, he almost gasped at the sight before him. Two crestfallen eyes stared back judging him for what had become of him. His eyebrows were neatly brushed and finally had an actual shape instead of their continuously bushy way. His hair had changed from retched and wild to a tamed, considerate pull back. Pushed to one side, the pieces that always stuck up, conformed with the rest and settled with a small wave separating it as a whole. The scruff that had formed while being locked away from civilization had been trimmed until it only looked like a shadow. Zachariah suddenly seemed older, more broad with a knowing look that he'd seen death. Given it even.

His face burned and so did the rest of his body. Something sparked inside of him and it was something more than anxiety. No, he felt sick and wanted to puke up everything he'd ever eaten while in here. His heart pulled against it's barrier inside Zach's rib cage. When his hands began to quiver, anger filled. The anguish becoming the temperament, in a way to neutralize the sudden burst, his lifted his fist and punched the mirror.

As expected, it shattered and sent little pieces in the skin around his knuckles. A pulsing sting emitted just as Eleanor rushed to his side. A scorn was set in stone as she toyed with his now limp hand. Shrugging her away and setting towards the clothes, all the buzzing that had once made him want to rip out his hair, silenced. Just the sound of Zach's heavy breathing and the shuffling of clothes.

Everything about it felt awkward and uncomfortable. The ill chosen shirt made him look like a bohemian male modal as it did nothing. Literally because it was none existent. In it's place was a scarf that was low enough to reach his ribs, but not bulky as he expected. Pants tighter than his actual skin stopped just above his ankle and loafers were placed on his feet. Dasitrol took it as his duty to paint runes up and down the sides of his arms and along the top of his torso. In the angelic scribes, golden dipped paint created swirls and wispy lines.

Zachariah looked absolutely horrid in his words.

"It's time to go," Eleanor whispered softly with her head lowered. Her soft eyes seeped into him and he half felt bad for the mark he left. For the first time, Zachariah actually looked at her without vengeance. Eleanor had let her hair fall loose into waves that angled around her cheeks giving her jaw a more narrowed look. She actually looked beautiful but than again, she did hold the abilities of an angel.

Zach nodded and followed her out the room he'd spent hours in, being pampered. "I must ask before being sent to my death," he spoke in a loose lofty way. "what is it about you I can't help but love?"

Eleanor held a light blush, her cheeks becoming a tinge of rose. Zachariah smirked at the affect he held on her. Of course, she was just another thing to play with. Might as well have some fun considering in the slightest of minutes he'd go through trials of torture. With a dazzling smile, Zach waltzed in front of the flustered girl and kept pace with Desitrol who seemed death to the conversation that just surfaced.

Entering from a side door, the elder of the Ultimates walked first and signaled for the couriers on either side to announce their presence. As they bowed, their tailcoats lifted slightly and their gloved fingers turned over as they acknowledged them. The one to the right caught eyes with Zachariah. In return, a noticeable amount of fear was present, something that after long enough you eventually learned to recognize from a mile away.

Zach sent a sincere nod of his chin towards the male who-with only a few more notches of stress would be shaking. Their silent looks of worry didn't last long though as he turned around with prepossessing twirl and called out, "To pardoned, Zachariah Greyson: Esteem chosen of the Angelic!"

Cheers and enliven hoots were called out as the people below began to cry out with excitement. Obviously encouraging the feeling that they were oblivious to the reason they were here.

"I think it's understandable to tell me just what exactly is happening," the angel faked a smile and leaned towards Destirol.

The Ultimate let out a content sigh and lightly shook his head, "in due time my friend."

As the people among them continued to mingle and fuse into one another, dancing and giving shows of entertainment, a woman rounded around everyone. Tears staining the brims of her eyes. Her makeup which could have been once beautiful was full of yearn and had smeared until she appeared to be a raccoon with bright lips. She wore a dress that seemed almost child-like with nude ball flats. The only thing on her that really popped was the simple tattoo that lowered from her collarbone down into the breast of her shawl.

By the time she reached Zach, she manged to control the flood gates and gripped him by the elbow. She smelled of cinnamon and citrus and he found himself cautiously leaning closer. Zach was a damn sucker for someone who smelled good, one of the reasons he was stingy when Eleanor tried to layer cologne on the sweet of his skin.

"Forgive us," was the last thing he heard before everything was tumbling into darkness and down a hole he couldn't escape from.

"Zephan what are you doing?" Zachariah asked, his voice soft as his pudgy fingers wrapped around those of his older brother. The forest was deadly this time of day and it was hard for the both of them to sneak past the obnoxious snores of Zedith.

"Shh, be quiet," Zephan gave the boy a little squeeze as he led them both towards the cliff. "we're almost there."

The animals crawled awake from their peaceful slumbers to see what the two were doing this late a night. No one walked in the forest, let alone at the young ages of six and ten. The stars glimmered above all along, guiding them to their destination as a turtle would to the waters. The cooing sounds created a haven, allowing them to feel at complete peace as they intertwined and became one as Zephan stepped closer.

The cliff seemed intimidating at the time. Making Zach hesitant to walk any closer than the safe distance he lingered at. Though Zephan wasn't about to have it. With a small smile, he pulled out his arm and offered it to the boy clad in a fleece with the sleeves tugged down over his hands.

Zephan foisted the open air upon him as he spread open his own vintage lace wings and tumbled over the side. Zach was frozen as he watched his brother with awe fly across the sky. Dancing with the clouds and playing with the breeze. He wished to be able to due just that. The fear of flying was evident.

Just like then, Zachariah was too scared to make a move. Now that would change.

He was a soldier of the sky.



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