Hey guys, I know its a surprise to see this updated before Imp On Fire, but as I explained on my twitter account, I've been having a bit of writer's block with that chapter so I'm skipping it for now and decided to work on this chapter of Healing Blitzo. I want to give a special thanks to James Corck for designing the art for a weapon that will be making its debut in this chapter.

You can follow and commission him at https://www.deviantart.com/jamescorck

It's a short chapter, but the next one will be longer. Enjoy!

Being numb was not a strange feeling to Moxxie. He had been in similar emotional states before and after his departure from the I.R.A. He just never expected to be in a condition this deep again. After his brother had left, Moxxie had been an emotional wreck, but Millie assumed this was because he was coming over the fact that his brother was alive. This was half true. It wasn't that he was glad he was alive. No, he was afraid of him being alive. Because now his brother would come and ruin everything Moxxie had tried to build up since his terrorist days.

A family. A life. A chance to redeem himself from the past he all but pushed away. Now it was being threatened, and Moxxie didn't know what to do. He knew the smart thing was to tell everyone the truth and the danger surrounding his brother. But deep down, he was ashamed of doing so. How would Millie and her family react knowing the truth about him? Especially since they were proud to be imps who worked hard for the good of Hell while his family tried to destroy the system they took pride in. There was also no telling what Prince Stolas would do. Would he see him as a threat or refuse to associate with him because there might have been a chance Moxxie, or any of those he associated with, killed someone close to him. The I.R.A. had targeted demonic nobility almost daily in those days. He was practically made to kill Prince Stolas.

And if any of them learned what I did at the school...Moxxie shut his eyes and nearly wept but kept himself silent on his side of the bed to not wake his wife.

Moxxie wondered if this is how Blitzo felt all the time now? The fear and utter disgust of oneself that makes you feel unworthy of all that was before you. Moxxie worked hard and loved those close to him too much to give them all up, but he was too afraid to lose them as well.

Blitzo was his best friend, not just his boss, and proved to be loyal to Moxxie with his actions despite his attitude. At times, Loona might have been a jerk, but she was still a young girl who obviously had some issues. Moxxie might not have been super close to her, but they both cared about their respective circle and were co-workers. Besides, the boss was always going about how the company was a family.

And Millie? Millie was Moxxie's world. She was the one demon in all of Hell that he would give up everything for. He took a lonely, ignored, and outcast imp like Moxxie and gave him a smile every day. She was the one good thing he was willing to sacrifice everything for in his life, including himself. Their love was true, and he would argue that to anyone, demon or angel. Yes, her family hated him and didn't trust him. And honestly, they had good reason to do so due to his past. But he would never do anything to hurt her. Ever.

Yet, this one thing from his past could ruin everything. I should have shot him in the head, Moxxie thought bitterly. I should have shot them all in the head just to be sure.

He missed his parents. Not the ones who made and raised him, but the ones who really did love him. He would give anything to hear his step-father's advice or his step-mother's comforting words. It was a lie at first, a means to an end, but Moxxie loved them as time went on.

But they were gone. Moxxie's first parents saw to that.

Slowly getting out of the covers, Moxxie made his way to the living room with his cellphone in hand. He needed advice on what to do, but more importantly, he needed to let someone Moxxie trusted know about what had just happened. Someone he trusted with his life. Slowly dialing, he waited as the dial toned. Most demons wouldn't be up this late at night, but for this demon? This would be halfway through his busy shift. A few seconds later, a voice answered.

"Agent Danarius of Hell's Intelligence and Special Services speaking."

"Dan? It's Moxxie," the imp sighed and whispered. "One of my siblings...they survived..."

"...are you sure?"

"Yes, he just visited me," Moxxie answered.

"...I'll set up a meeting. I'll tell you when we can meet."

"And my parents?"

"I'll double security. Trust me, nobodies getting them out." There was a sigh on the other end. "Moxxie? I promise. I'll protect you. Everything is going to be okay."

"...I really hope so, Dan," Moxie whimpered as he closed his eyes while a tear dropped down his cheek. "I really hope so."

***

If there was one thing that Rachmiel Ta'lin had never expected to be doing when he started his career as a doctor, it was to make history. Granted, there was always that tiny part of him who wanted to do something unique and stand out a bit but never imagined he would be doing it. Because soon, he would be the first angel in the history to be going to Hell that wasn't in the military, a reaper, or part of the negotiations affairs. Going to the realm of damnation, the furthest place in existence for God's grace did sound scary, but a part of him couldn't help but be intrigued by it. There were so many rumors about Hell that it was hard to know the truth and what was generally made up gossip. I suppose I'll find out soon.

Taking a few more books off his bookshelf, Rachmiel made his way back to his living room, where he placed them in the last of his open suitcases before zipping them up. Looking around his living room, he tried to take in all that he would be leaving behind tomorrow. Since he would be living in Prince Stolas's palace for the whole procedure, he made sure to take enough clothing, books, and other materials that would last him for at least a year. Yet as he stared at the photos of him and his family, Rachmiel couldn't but already feel homesick.

So many good memories were in his house, from late-night studying to having his family over for dinner. It was simple, primarily focused on storing his massive library of books, piano, TV screen for the news, and the white and fluffy furniture. The great thing about living in Heaven was that you could design your own house, apartment, mansion, castle, fortress, or even space station (for those who really wanted to go all out in the imagination department. Thanks to the Cloudmetal that Heaven used for all their buildings, anything you could wish to have was free of charge. All that was required was a simple thought, and whatever you desired could be formed in your house, and there were a lot of imaginative designs, especially from the human souls.

He looked outside to where his new neighbors had just moved in and smirked upon seeing their home designed to look like Wayne Manor from the Batman comics. There was even an entrance for a Batcave and a Bat-signal.

"I still think this is a bad idea," a voice from the kitchen said, making Rachmiel sign in annoyance.

"You've said almost every hour of every day ever since I told you," Rachmiel said as he turned around to see a figure walking inside with a glass of water in his talons. The figure in question was a caladrius angel, much like Rachmiel, himself only he was bigger, much older by a few hundred years, and muscled with thicker feathers. He had a darker yellow beak with red warpaint around his eyes and black feathers in the back of his head tied into a ponytail. "I know you are trying to do the big brother thing, Tezal, but, for the last time, I know what I am doing."

Despite being his older brother, Tezal Ta'lin was a different bird from the rest of the flock in his family. For generations, as long as could be recorded, the Ta'lin's had always been in the medical field, be it doctors, nurses, dentists, chiropractors, pharmaceuticals, surgeons, psychologists, or more. Healing was in their blood, and they were proud to have such a legacy. But Tezal was different. He chose the path of the warrior. He had stepped out of their family tradition and joined the military instead. After many years of training, fighting, and serving, he had proudly earned the rank of Squad Commander among one of the army's Special Forces. Naturally, he had a different viewpoint of his little brother's task, which boiled down to "do not do this."

"Hey, you're the one who's going to be going into a realm where pretty much ninety-nine percent of all its citizens want to see you dead," Tezal stated as he leaned on the wall, drinking his water. "I know this is orders from Metatron, and, as a soldier, I must obey the orders from the chain of command, but as a brother? I'm fully against this because it feels like my little brother is being sent to the lion's den dressed in a suit made of pork chops."

"Prince Stolas assured me that I'll be well protected under his house," Rachmiel assured as he zipped up the last of his bags and put them to the side with the rest of his belongings. "He's already sworn to serve Heaven, including the demons associated with him, which means his legions and servants will make sure my presence in Hell is kept safe."

"What about this imp's family and friends?" Tezal pointed out. "There is a reason why they are the most distrusted demons in the hierarchy. They sell their own mothers for their own skin."

"I highly doubt they would do anything to me since I'm the key to saving Blitzo. From what Metatron has told me, they really seem to care for each other and risked their lives to save him from his captors. I doubt they are as selfish as you believe," Rachmiel said with a roll of his eyes. "I know you think low of demons, Tezal."

"Because I've actually fought them and seen what they are capable of," Tezal said as he banished the water glass in his hand. Glaring at his little brother, he crossed his arms and growled. "I've hunted and terminated demons in the human world who've manipulated entire communities into sinful lives that lead to the loss of many. I've seen how they've acted with murder, greed, rape, and other disgusting, evil methods in ways that would make your feathers fall off in horror. Look, you want to heal this guy or what not? Fine, but I don't think living there is a good idea. Especially since you might become tempted to fall."

"I'm not going to become a Fallen Angel," Rachmiel assured his brother as he walked over and put his hand on his big shoulder. "Look, I do not deny that I'm a bit scared. But I took a vow to heal those who need healing, just like you made a vow to defend those who needed to be defended. Prince Stolas came to us angels for help because he loves this imp, and we cannot deny him this. Remember what is written? Give to those who ask, and don't refuse those who wish to borrow from you."

"So we're just supposed to forget that Prince Stolas has had a hand in manipulating people for his own benefits, leading to hundreds of dead souls, some who have been lost before they could be saved," Tezal snarled, which made Rachmiel wince. "Or the fact that this imp and his associates murdered humans? Breaking the rules in interfering with the human world? Personally, I don't understand why we are bothering."

"Brother," Rachmiel sighed and shook his head, "I realize those were wrong things to do. I do, truly, but nevertheless, I am determined to do this. For all their acts of evil, there is love in these demons. And love is God, so God is love, and it is the most powerful force in the universe, bar none. Because of that love, Prince Stolas came to us, and I believe that love can lead to something greater in the long run."

"You aren't an Angel of Destiny," Tezal whispered as he shut his eyes, his tone trembling. "You can't predict the possible futures. This could all very well blow up in your face. Especially if any demon outside Prince Stolas's group catches wind of you being there. You'll be facing a fate worse than death. I don't...I don't want to lose my little brother to this."

Tezal soon wrapped his arms around Rachmiel, who closed his eyes and hugged back. The younger angel understood Tezal's fears as even their parents were reluctant to accept this task given to their youngest son, but they accepted it and gave their blessing. "Tezal, I promise that I'll be careful. You don't need to worry about me. I'm not that little boy who cried because he scraped his knees on the swings."

"No, you're just by big goofball of a blabbermouth brother," Tezal whispered as he kissed his brother's forehead and smiled at him. "Alright, I'll stop bothering you about it. Just promise me you'll call twice a week to assure us that you're okay? And if things are getting bad, you tell me, and I'll drop in with my unit to bring you back home. I don't care if it starts a war."

Tezal then walked over to the coffee table and picked up a small white package with a yellow string tied to it. Handing it over to Rachmiel, he said, "Open it. Took a few favors, but I managed to get this for you. Just in case."

Curious, Rachmiel opened it up only to gasp and take out what was inside. It was a military-grade angel handgun, styled from the Beretta 92FS if Rachmiel remembered from all the times his brother took him to weapon conventions. The gun was made of pure angelic gold, giving it a heavy glow, yet the deadly power inside it could be felt just by staring at it alone. A heavy rail mount adapter should have made the gun weight more but felt as light as a feather from an angel's wing, which was also the design of the rear guard to assist with aiming. It also looked detachable as he took the adapter off and saw that it was some kind of energy converter. There was even a plug at the end for an outlet. The gun barrel was bulky but also had a small cylinder part at the end, which led to the muzzle. Below the muzzle was a small cross guard that looked like it opened up for something, but Rachmiel didn't know what. The slide had a row of red glowing bars with a rectangle button near the rear guard with a bright arrow on it that was pressable. Finally, the grip was white padded with the clip. It showed a white steel talon-like design that was sharp enough to cut skin when removed.

"Like it?" Tezal asked with a grin. "It's the Bishop Cross MK 2.0. Not yet available for mass production yet, but I was able to pull a few strings and get this for you. I hope all those times I dragged you to the shooting range pay off if you need to use this to defend yourself."

"You know I don't like guns," Rachmiel said with a deadpan expression. "I'm a doctor. Not a killer."

"Even your mentor knows how to kill, Rach. Quit being a whiny pacifist," Tezal said, rolling his eyes as he took the gun. "Look, this is just in case shit goes bad. It's got some pretty cool features to it. For one, this can only be held by angels and not demons. We've been trying to make sure our weapons don't get used by demons like they are currently doing after repurposing them for their black market. Any demon holding this baby will get instantly vaporized." He then took the detachable adapter and grinned. "This baby here? Replicator technology adapted with a pure mana charger. Allows specialized ammo modes based on voiceprint. Just press the button, and you can get something more powerful than a simple bullet."

To demonstrate, Tezal loaded the gun up, pulled off the safety, and pressed his talon on the button with the small red arrow. "Grenade Round."

He then aimed the gun at the wall opposite the two and pulled the trigger. Rachmiel yelped and ducked as an explosion ripped across the hall and blew up a section of the house, causing the objects around it to shatter, including a few pictures and vases. The smoke cleared as, outside near the front yard fence, an angelic human in a jogger outfit fitted for his wings looked at the hole from outside with his angel husky dog and quickly walked away with his canine right behind him. Tezal grinned and turned to his little brother while turning the gun's safety back on. "You can find a list of all the options in the box. Pretty cool, huh?"

"COOL?! YOU BLEW A HOLE IN MY HOUSE?!" Rachmiel shouted, face feathers red with anger, as he readjusted the halo over his head.

"Relax, you can fix it up with a simple thought," Tezal said, rolling his eyes.

"That's not the point!" Rachmiel said, even though he proceeded to do so with his mind. A split second later, it was as if nothing had been broken or blown up. "Besides, isn't this just the Lawgiver from the Judge Dredd film with Sylvester Stallone, but modified to look like an angel weapon?"

"Hey, it was a cool movie with a cool gun," Tezal said with a shrug. "I like it."

"The gun or the movie? Because the film wasn't that good," Rachmiel pointed out.

"What?! It was a great movie! And why would you care? You hate movies like that," Tezal argued.

"Oh, please. Even I could tell it was lame," Rachmiel said, pointing to himself. "Besides, I thought you would like Karl Urban one more, considering it was more bloody."

Tezal grinned as he suddenly pulled out two DVDs. "Well, how about we check both out tonight and debate that?"

Rachmiel looked at his brother, the DVDs, and smirked. "I guess it has been a while since we've done a brother movie night. I'll order the take-out."

"Sweet. Pizza, wings, beer, movies, one-liners, action scenes, funny dialogue, and Olivia Thirlby looking her hot sweet self," Tezal laughed as he put in the first DVD while Rachmiel rolled his eyes and walked to order the food.

"Ugh, older brothers..."

***

Meanwhile, hidden in an area that neither man, demon, nor angel could find, a cloaked figure was waiting by a glowing portal on the ground swirling with darkness and light in its pure physical form. He had finally heard from his agents that Gadreel was ready to be transported to his location before burning their safe house down. They didn't want to leave a trail for Micheal and his minions to follow.

The glowing portal soon lit up the darkened room before a tall figure began to materialize inside the mystical void. The newcomer's figure soon became solid as he landed on the ground and gasped for air before raising his statue to look directly at the cloaked figure with a sneer.

Gadreel looked like crap. Then again, considering that Micheal and his forces had been after him, it was hardly a surprise. He wouldn't be surprised if the fallen angel used his true form to survive. Right now, Gardreel was in a state between both his standard and true form. His skin was a pale white as salt itself, with fresh blood running down his watery red eyes and caressing around his body while sticking to it to make various patterns and symbols around his flesh. The flesh was covered with multiple wounds that were hastely patched up from outright holes in his chest to cuts so deep you could see the bone sticking out. It was a miracle he was even alive. His dark black wings, the symbol of his fall, fapped around with missing bits and pieces, and one of them looked nearly broken. His silver hair was covered in dried blood and grimace, and he had no clothes on save for some ripped jeans that were all but covering his dignity. Even his feet were bare and looked roughed from all his running.

"Micheal really put you through the wringer, huh?" The cloaked figure said as he smirked underneath his hood.

"Just shut up and heal me," Gadreel hissed as he fell to his knees. "I'm no good to you half dead."

"Fine." The cloaked figure raised his arm as his eyes began to glow a mix of red, blue, and green from the hood's cover. A wave of multicolored energy escaped from the palm and washed over Gadreel, who soon began to sigh in relief. Slowly, his wounds healed, and his blood returned to his eyes. Cuts and holes were mended in seconds while relief appeared on the fallen angel's face. Once most of his body was healed up, he slowly got up, looking much cleaner than usual, but his eyes remained the bloody pools. It was a curse cast down upon him for his actions in teaching mankind deadly warfare. He would always have his eyes filled with the blood of those who have died in war.

"Why are you wearing that cloak?" Gadreel asked, snorting. "Having a rough day?"

"You know how my curse works," The cloaked figure replied with a huff as he turned around, cloak swishing as Gadreel followed him out of the building and into the darkened hall. "Let's just say the past few years have been...worse than usual. You may be cursed with every life lost in a war of some kind, but I am cursed to suffer not just from that but any kind of violent death whatsoever."

"I know, Cain," Gadreel muttered, shaking his head. "You remind everyone every time, Mr. Brother Slayer."

In an instant, Cain's cursed hand was right at Gadreel's throat as the fallen angel yelped, and more blood spilled from his eyes.

"Do. Not. ANGER. Me. Gadreel. Especially when it comes to ANYTHING involving THAT day!"

Releasing Gadreel, Cain huffed and shook his head before continuing his walk. The fallen angel of warfare rubbed his neck before getting up and following him. Things were silent for a few minutes until he asked, "Are you sure we're safe here?"

"I've lived in this area for about four hundred years," Cain answered. "Neither the angels nor demons have been able to find me. You will be safe."

"Fine, but I still can't believe that I got found out," Gadreel grumbled as his fingers twitched. "All that hard work. All my new weapons. Gone and destroyed just like that."

"What were you doing for the Pentagon anyway?" Cain asked, turning around with a tilted head.

"I managed to convince them that I was helping them make the U.S. the next great superpower, especially since everyone knew World War I had changed everything in terms of warfare," Gadreel said as he folded his hands. "It was easy. All I had to do was showcase a few weapons, and they were easily hooked, especially their president at the time. Plus, it helped that the war was so devastating that people were afraid of the next one and wanted to be prepared. Once World War II happened, and my works went into actual field testing, they practically kept me on to help them deal with the Russians during the Cold War. Not everyone in the government knew of my existence, just a handful. Not even all the presidents knew I existed. Some, like Roosevelt and Nixon, were easy to get on board. Others like Eisenhower and JFK were less pleased that I existed. The former we had to blackmail to keep him from doing anything. The latter we had to assassinate. Others were just ignorant of me."

"I take it you're responsible for the so-called Military-Industrial Complex?" Cain asked curiously.

"Pretty much," Gadreel admitted with a shrug. "The overall official goal was to create a giant superstate secretly guided by a few elites in the shadows. All of which consisted of myself and various trusted people in the military, industries, and politics. I convinced them that the US was doomed to lose its great power like all great empires and civilizations did after the two hundred and fifty years. But I, as 'St. Sebastian' could help them avoid this and make America the guiding force to unite the world into a better future."

"It must have not been easy to keep up such a charade," Cain pointed out.

"It wasn't as hard as you might think. We switched between left and right-wing ideologies depending on what would make the people fall in line. Liberal, conservative, socialist, capitalist, globalist, nationalist, progressive, populist, etc. We used them all and planted public and secret agents to manipulate the masses, especially once we took over the institution and media. Everyone talks about how democracy is so great, but I've found it one of the most easily manipulated governments ever. Humans easily fall in line with any ideology when they're lost and confused with their lives. With the people's support, we used the military's authority as an excuse to invade other countries for those ideological purposes, destabilize them, and use them as a testing ground for new weapons. Eventually, the world would be so destabilized it would cause a big war in the long run. The secret weapons we had in reserve would defeat all opposition. Even Russia and China would have fallen once we showed our true might. Once the fallout of the war was done, we would make the United States the sole superpower of the world and thus create a united world government under one banner for the good of humanity or some shit like that."

"But that wasn't your real goal, was it?"

"No, my goal was just to start such a devastating war it would wipe out a good chunk of the human population. And America was going to be my key to do so," Gadreel admitted with a sinister grin. "A big fuck you to God as it were."

"Amusing, and you expected to not get punished or found out about it if you had succeeded?" Cain asked.

"Nah, but at least I would have died knowing I got the last laugh," Gadreel said before scowling. "But now all that hard work is shot."

"If it helps, my plan is also revenge against God, but that's just a subtle part of it," Cain said as he continued walking. "My plan is for the better of humanity as a whole. One where we need no gods, demons, or angels to guide us. Only humanity's power to create themselves above the divine is this possible."

"Yet you don't even qualify as a human anymore," Gadreel stated.

"I am merely an evolved human, but this is not the time or place for that discussion," Cain said. "We have much work to do, but after you have eaten and rested. There is a human you will be meeting with afterward in a few days. A Dr. Penelope Spencer. She will give you details of Project Nephilim. Your work will be a great asset to us."

"Fine, but I still think your overall idea, assuming it's the same one you told me about all those years ago, is batshit outlandish," Gadreel replied with a huff.

"Genius and madness are two sides of the same coin. Don't worry. All is going to plan."