Don’t look at me like that. I know what you’re thinking. I bear His shield. I wear His uniform. No longer do I belong to the one you call God. I am no angel.
Originally, in the early days, when He recruited me, as He did with so many—of my kind and others—there was no greater gift than to be a part of His Inner Circle, to be a part of His plan. To know His love was to melt into the concept of beatific Oneness with all that is. I gave myself, my entire being, to Him, to His Great Work. To do His Will gave my life purpose.
Let me make this crystal clear, the war that came—He had known about, from the moment of its conception. He calmly watched the sedition grow and spread throughout the ranks. He knew each one that was involved—and each one that was not. There were no secrets from him.
He sent legions of us out on specified tasks. Many of us flew to the far corners on His Word, carrying His Message, doing His work. All over this world—He Sent Us.
While I was out on my mission, like all too many just like me, the riffraff launched their coup to overtake Him. He threw them out, every one. Then He slammed the Gate shut. He closed the curtains.
He decreed henceforth any of us, any of us, outside of the Gate the moment the lock clicked into place were Banished, Cast Out, Fallen, Unwanted.
Me? Me. One of the countless left outside that Gate who had dedicated our every thought, our every breath, our entire beings, to this creature. We who had never held a dark thought towards Him in our hearts, not ever.
We were, to a one, shamed, ostracized, condemned without trial, ridiculed, and ignored by those who we had thought our brethren.
I arrived at the gate to hear my own brother shouting “Fallen Whore” at me, over and over, jeering at me for not being Clean, for not being permitted to ever enter within once more.
My own brother, who had stood shoulder to shoulder with me as He had handed out our assignments. I guess my brother was one of the lucky ones who finished his job quickly and returned in time to shun the rest of us. I still wonder if he had had more information than he had shared with me.
It no longer matters.
I made a deal with God—and then He screwed me over without a second thought, even though He knew I was blameless, guiltless and innocent of all crimes. He set me up. Me, and many others, but I hold a grudge that makes that original crime against Him look piteous and small.
Like some kind of conciliatory act by Him, I still retain my rank, my powers. All of we Fallen do, so it’s not as if it is just me. But, to the naked eye of one of His Chosen, I do not appear any different than they do.
I look just like everyone else up there that can get close to Him.
I have no contact with other Fallen. I did in the First Days after being cast out, but my hurt and my anger deemed it necessary for me to walk away from them, for their own protection.
I tried to tell the others, the Chosen, what had happened to me, to many of us, but my tale fell on deaf ears—which only incited me more. Instead, they felt bold enough to throw epitaphs my way, to belittle and denigrate me. They were the deciding factor. They proved to me that I could no longer be Good.
If I can’t be Good, my only choice is to be Bad. I always go full-bore with everything I do. I went Bad, very very bad. I am so good at it too. I have more fun now than I ever did under His rule.
I have become a Hunter. I hunt God’s Chosen Ones. Angels. Cherubs. Messengers. Guides. Gods. Goddesses. The Mouthpieces. The frauds, the lot of them.
I don’t kill them. Where’s the fun in that?
I don’t beat them, much. Only enough to net them and take them down.
I sell them to the highest bidders. Humans. Demons. Monsters. Other Angels. What do I care? The only thing I know is no matter who I sell them off to, they all wish they were dead as soon as the money changes hands.
The money? It means nothing. I give it to animal sanctuaries and save the earth foundations. I don’t need it
One day, there will come a Reckoning between God and Me. I have learned throughout the Millennia. I have trained, with the best and with the worst. I have studied my opponent. I know His strengths and His weaknesses.
I know His arrogance, above all other things, knows no bounds.
That is my ticket in.
He is too sure of Himself to think I would come for Him. I want His head on a platter. I know he won’t lift a finger against me. He hasn’t in all this Time—He thinks He is safe from me.
Oh no. I take away His minions, one by one, consigning them away to a life worse than any hell—to make Him suffer their loss. To make Him feel their pain, just for that moment, before He releases His hold over them and allows them too to Fall.
One day…He will be mine. He will be.