Part 1

"5 For You have made him a little lower than the angels,
And You have crowned him with glory and honor.
6 You have made him to have dominion over the works of Your hands; You have put all things under his feet..." Psalms 8:5-6

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"We've been fooled!" Lucifer tossed away the parchment in his hands, the gilded roll landed in a corner. Fluorescent fonts burned like embers on the foil to leave a dark scripture imprinted. "That's a privilege that corresponds only to us angels! Why had He made human the recipient of immeasurable admiration? What have we become, babysitters?" The magnanimous archangel fluttered his golden wings, making the room to quiver.

"You must be careful master, He can hear you. He knows the secrets of our thoughts." Azael, the second one under his command, warned the Angel of Light, swallowing the heavy lump in his throat, eyes like amethyst widened, his voice breaking hoarse with nervousness.

"I don't care!", Lucifer socked on the table in front of his, the wood cracked under his fists. "That I want! He must had known the extension of His designations because it's all in His perfect plan! We were conceived before, ours is the power to rule the universe, the stars and every world existent. To our solely presence every creature trembles and we're considered gods amongst all gods!" There was heavy and bitter resentment in the tone of his speech.

"He is God! Who are we to contradict His will?"

"We are mighty angels, His right and His left. To us He owes order over chaos. We've fought for eons to preserve His realm and what's our reward? For I am Lucifer, the most beautiful of everything created. For me the stars rise and shine and galaxies spin around. I'm the commander of all legions. Mine is the right to govern over all creatures of lower rank, but now, we've been replaced by this new man born!" A furious angel pointed to the parchment on the floor. "Read it by yourself Azael. That's our fate."

Obediently, the archangel picked the gilded roll up in shaking hands and read aloud the text, "Then God said, "Let Us make man in Our image, according to Our likeness; let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, over the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth." So God created man in His own image; in the image of God He created him."

"We're nothing but buffoons and servants now, and 'tis something I will not allow. No one, not even God Father will ever humiliate me or my kin! Summon the legions to assembly at the Heaven atriums. Today we'll declare to war!"

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His purple eyes glowed with unnatural tenderness staring at the lady crossing the street. It's not the first time he'd seen her, busy talking on the phone, on her way to work. The streets, a jungle of glass and steel, bursted crowded that morning like every morning, while Azael stood on a corner watching her pass by.

Dressed in a tailored suit, his favorite way to 'patrol' the city and not precisely to ensure order, but to guarantee chaos. As one of the highest Hell commanders, the demon was assigned Manhattan as headquarters decades ago. Going undercover, looking like a too gorgeous yet an ordinary human, he blended well in daily acquaintances and business, the best way to do the job: injecting the heart of New York with a fitting amount of sin and evil. All in his favor as it was permitted after the Babel Treaty, named after that confusing yet most hilarious event. Sodom and Gomorrah was his own doing too, and even he realized that he might had gone a bit too far with that, it endorsed a some progress in terms of diplomacy and external affairs between Heaven, Hell and the so called mid-point, the Earth.

In the end, free will was a too precious gift to keep hordes entertained, but only to the accepted levels of corruption. The last time Azael overdid on his duty, Michael was sent to stop him. World became a boring place after Napoleon's demonic possession and bringing Hitler to power was quite fun, but it was no joke to have the most powerful archangel chasing after him. Fight was so brutal that... well, it's well known what happened at Hiroshima. Always a safe bet to blame Americans for every disaster in modern times.

The beautiful lady hustled across the avenue, her black stilettos weren't an ally, yet she managed over the uneven pavement and the sewers caps. "Today the damsel in distress will meet her hero." Crooking half-way his lips up, Azael mumbled determined, making his way down the sidewalk. Eyes fixated on the woman, he walked on the opposite side of the street. Darting at a hobo sitting on the next corner, he snapped his fingers. The vagabond sprung up, ran towards the lady and snatched her purse.

A cry choked in her throat, as she watched with impotence the robber fleeing down the sidewalk to cross the street. There, in the most heroic fashion, Azael intersected the man, knocking him to the floor with a single blow. Bag in hand, the angel strutted towards the woman who stood staring in awe how this stranger had saved her day.

"I think this is yours, ma'am", beaming a self-reassuring smile, Azael handed the bag to the startled woman. "Are you okey?"

"No...yes... I'm still shaking", the brunette stuttered, her honey colored eyes watered as she tried to compose herself up. "Wow, thank you, Mr..."

"Azael, my name is Azael.

"Azael", she repeated his name in a whisper. "I... I'm Celina."

"Great to meet you, Celina... Are you sure you're fine? Look, why don't I invite you a tea or coffee, to sooth those nerves down."

"Oh no, thank you. I'm good. I must go back to work, I'm already late..."

"I'm sorry, but I must insist. I don't see how you'll be able to go back to work like this. You're still shaking", Azael modulated his tone, both alluring and persuasive. Celina looked at him with attentiveness. "I don't see a problem with you arriving an hour late."

"Please, don't worry. I'll be fine. I'm still a little shocked, that's it. I've got an important meeting..."

"You wanna bet?" He cut her off, a bit of pedantry in is voice. "Where do you work at?" Azael grabbed his smartphone.

Celina gave him a pry look. "I work for Perkins and Associates", arching an eyebrow, she looked at him dialing.

Index finger pointing up, he told her to stay quiet and wait. Her features grew with curiosity. "Bill, hey man it's me Azael..." her jaw dropped to hear he was talking with her boss. "... yeah, I'm good, and you?... awesome. Look, I'm across the street with one of your employees, Celina. She's been attacked and robbed... yes, she's a mess right now. I'm gonna take her for a chamomile tea or something... sure. Great. She was so worried about being late..." her eyes widened perplex. "...I'll tell her. Thanks bro." Azael hung the phone gazing down at her, his face glowing all triumph. "Told you. Let's go for that coffee."