Chapter Text
“I have an assignment for you, Michael.” Came the monotonous words, loud in the otherwise silent room of the temple.
Michael almost made a sound of surprise, but stifled himself- He knew being the last one out of the room meant the assignment had to be important. Or at least, he hoped it was. The angel didn’t spend 6 years in college, just to not become a Guardian Angel.
Weeks, months spent poring over diplomacy documents and codes of ethics, reciting the words of God Himself that he would one day relay to the humans of Earth, proving himself beyond expectations in the combat rounds in the hopes that one day, he could be commended for it for more than just a 100% mark. Michael worked hard to stand here, in this moment, in front of a guardian mentor, sent to manage the new recruits, to receive an assignment he no doubt deserved to receive. Whatever it was, it required privacy and patience, perhaps even congratulatory comments. Would he be given to a human of great importance, like a president or royal? Perhaps someone who’s had historical significance reborn, or even someone who is destined to be more than what others say? Would Michael even be sent to somewhere other than Earth itself, across the cosmos to a life-form he couldn’t yet understand?
“Their name is River,” Who? “A human with little faith, if any. A sinner, for sure- Arson, theft, violence of any nature, really.” The mentor stared down at the clipboard clutched in pale fingers, apparently reading off the list of various crimes against God this ‘River’ has been committing, with a flippant expression. Their voice did not waver, nor was there any sympathy to it. It merely echoed off of the marble walls, columns and bare-bones of a roof.
Michael physically deflated, disappointed beyond belief. Is this really what he was assigned to? Some sinner that already sounded not worth his time? He had better things to do, humans to convert, demons to fight, than this trivial trite! He deserved better than this, he worked for better than this. What could Michael really do for someone as obtuse as this one already sounded? He was ordered to be invisible, undetectable, so that whatever influence he had wouldn't be direct and would be genuine on his ward's part. Only, Michael didn't know how he could possibly steer someone led so astray with mere works that could be passed off as good luck and- Why did he study for this again?
“-before the dawn. Michael? Are you listening?” A swift whap upon the young angel’s head was enough to knock him from the introspective stupor, jerking in place and gaze snapping to the anger-filled visage of his mentor. Michael put himself together quickly, and replied.
“Of course, your resoluteness. I take this assignment with great appreciation.” Michael almost bowed before deciding against it. It would have been too...Ah, what was the word for it? Suck-up? Yes, that sounded right. Michael was met with a less intense stare, as the mentor retracted and held out a folder, presumably on the human he was given. Michael took it, but did not open it. He held eye contact then with the other, hoping to pose as confident as ever. Or perhaps he should be more charming than that, if it would get him a better job.
“Go, your start is at dawn. You shall not come back unbidden or without great cause. Ezqellie will be stationed to a pair of twins in the same city- If you have questions, go to her,” The mentor turned, shoes clacking on fine marble flooring as their two sets of wings fluttered, “Farewell, and good luck.”
Michael sighed. This is going to be a long stretch of time, for however long this River will live...
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Alright, so the orientation didn’t go THAT well- But there was hope yet! Michael felt optimistic as he descended down into Earth, expertly maneuvering between the clouds. If he played his cards right, he might score a different assignment. Perhaps the guard is short staffed still, and he can get placed elsewhere, someone more befitting to his skills. The angel hoped to the heavens and back that something would tear him away from the slums of humanity’s worst.
‘Don’t think that way now, Michael. Hold onto the hope, just wing your way to victory- It came so easily before, why wouldn’t it now?’ The angel thought, brow set in a determined furrow. As he neared the location of his assignment, the pit in his stomach absolutely did not settle. What he would give to be back in college at the moment...
A burst of unexpectedly strong wind blew him off course, and struggled to compensate. Wings startled and his mind in a sudden panic, they curled up tighter around him. Losing altitude at an increasing rate, but too low to regain any of it, Michael threw flight to the wind and settled on protecting himself. Bracing his arms around his head and neck, he let himself drop.
The first thing he felt was the impact- Incredibly painful and he’s entirely sure it’s concrete that he hit and it broke something. The second thing was the skidding, velocity an unkind force of nature to both his pride and his skin. Michael didn’t stop until he collided with the lip of the surface, likely a roof now that he thinks about it, further damaging his ribs. Finally out of the tide of motion, Michael groaned- This is how the first day is going to go, huh? That’s fine. This is fine. Everything is fine. Michael sat up slowly, hyper-aware of each pulled muscle and growing bruise across his body. Hoisting to wobbly feet, the angel set to look around.
It was definitely a roof, that was for sure, and out in the middle of nowhere. He couldn’t be certain, but the large expanse of concrete roofing created a picture of a warehouse, and the decrepit nature of it betrayed its age and lack of use. Is this where the human is supposed to be, in some dumb warehouse that probably hasn’t been touched in decades? Whatever the location, it was stupid and Michael was already having none of it. Despite his levels of pain, he made way to the ground floor, stumbling across the roof to get to a nearby ladder.
Only, he didn’t make it quite that far.
Shuffling feet caught on an upturned portion of concrete, chasing the man to stumble forward, waving his arms about in attempt to regain balance. It didn’t work, at least not as well as he hoped it would. The action managed to catapult him not forward towards the floor, but into a nearby open pipe protruding from the roof. Michael was stuck halfway into it, torso twisting to get himself out, but only succeeded in granting himself more pain and a yelp that echoed in the metal pipe. A few more movements dedicated to escaping only sent him in further, and eventually lost all purchase and slid down all the way. ‘Curse my shortness-!’
Hurdling down wasn’t much different than his previous fall from grace, so to speak- Only it was more controlled and he bumped into the bends of the vents much more often than he did the roof itself. Each impact was sure to flower another bruise, and by the time Michael tumbled out of the vents, he felt like a hacky sack and a slinky at the same time. The angel groaned face first on the floor, not even bothering to move until every nerve ending stopped screaming at him. Which took a while. It wasn’t until he heard voices that Michael shot up, ignoring the pain in favor of finding the source of said voices. Wherever they were, one of those were bound to belong to his assignment. With a huff of indignation, Michael stood and walked, robes billowing behind him.
This was definitely a warehouse, alright. Large, open space, made of nothing but crude and cold materials that poorly held against nature and time if not given the proper care and maintenance. There were dozens, hundreds of cracks along floors, walls and columns, and every bit of metal in this godforsaken place was rusted and if you listened closely, you could almost hear them screaming ‘Tetanus.’ Michael wasn’t about to find out if earthly diseases could kill him, so he walked faster, turning down a hall that seemed like a good choice, if the ever growing voices were an indicator. They were close enough now that Michael could make out a good few of the words, and already he didn’t like this situation.
“-So then we can grab the goods, and hightail it outta there in the truck. You got it in good shape, right, Em?” A rough, hyper voice said. A shuffle could be heard, faintly. Michael scrunched up his face slightly, stopping just outside the room he was sure these people were in.
“Yeah yeah, of course I do. Got it running last night, with the oil we snatched up.” An accented woman replied. Michael couldn’t remember what exact accent it was, not that he would ever need to.
“Ya better, or else this plan is goin’ to shit.” Michael’s guts did a flip at this new one, whoever spoke up- Instinct told him that this was the one. Those words belonged to the assignment, Michael’s personal prison sentence. Swallowing hard, he didn’t want to round that corner but he had to, he had to face his reality. The longer he idled there in the doorway, the deeper the pit in his stomach was going to dig itself. Inhaling deeply and holding it there, Michael braced himself and shot into the room, stopping only a foot into it to gawk. They were still talking, to the Heavens they talked, but there they were-
River Johnson. Michael's assignment.