Page 38 of Uriel
“The key,” Helena explains, her voice low and seductive as she speaks to both War and us, “is to make him feel powerful. Desired. Like he’s the most dangerous thing in the room.”
War growls something in response, and Helena throws her head back in a laugh that’s just a touch too loud. “Oh my,” she purrs, “I simply must freshen up my drink. Don’t go anywhere, handsome.”
As she stands, she “stumbles”, sending her glass flying directly into War’s lap. The red liquid splashes across his chest, and for a moment, everything freezes.
“Oops,” Helena giggles, the picture of innocent clumsiness. But I can see the triumphant gleam in her eye. “The binding potion,” she whispers into the comm. “Direct hit.”
War rises to his feet, anger flashing in his eyes. But as he moves to grab Helena, something changes. A look of confusion crosses his face, followed quickly by alarm.
“What...” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. “What have you done?”
Helena’s demeanor changes in an instant. Gone is the flirtatious party girl, replaced by a being of ancient power and cunning. “Oh, War,” she says, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “Did you really think I’d forgotten all your favorite tricks?”
Before War can respond, Lucifer materializes beside them, his easy smile belying the danger in his eyes. “Well, well,” he drawls. “What have we here? Such an undesirablereunion.”
War’s head snaps towards Lucifer, his face contorting with rage. “You,” he snarls. “This isyourdoing!”
Lucifer raises an eyebrow, the picture of innocence. “Me? I’m just here for a business meeting. Though I must say, the entertainment is far more interesting than I expected.”
As the confrontation unfolds, I notice the other patrons of the café beginning to take notice. Whispers ripple through the crowd, and I can sense the growing tension in the air.
“Raphael,” I murmur into the comm. “We need to clear the area. Things are about to get... complicated.”
“On it,” comes his cheerful reply. A moment later, the fire alarm blares to life. As humans and supernatural beings alike begin to file out of the café, Raphael’s voice rises above the din. “Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm and proceed to the nearest exit. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill.”
With both denizens and civilians out of harm’s way, I turn my attention back to the unfolding drama at the center of the room. War is practically vibrating with rage, his human guise slipping to reveal glimpses of his true, terrifying form. But the binding potion seems to be doing its job —his movements are sluggish, his power clearly diminished.
“Did you really think you could overthrow me?” Lucifer asks, his voice casual but edged with steel. “That you could trigger the apocalypse without my notice or consent?”
War lunges at Lucifer, but his movements are slow, uncoordinated. Lucifer sidesteps easily, a look of amused disdain on his face.
“Come now,” Lucifer tuts. “This is just embarrassing. I expected better from you, old friend.”
As I watch the confrontation unfold, I can’t help but marvel at the intricate dance Helena has orchestrated. Every move, every word seems calculated for maximum effect. It’s amasterclass in manipulation, and despite my misgivings about the entire plan, I find myself impressed.
But just as it seems victory is within our grasp, something shifts. War, his face a mask of fury and desperation, begins to laugh. It’s a terrible sound, filled with the echoes of countless battlefields and the screams of the dying.
“You fools,” he growls, his voice deepening to an inhuman register. “Did you really think it would be this easy? That I wouldn’t have a contingency plan?”
Before anyone can react, War throws his head back and roars. The sound shakes the very foundations of the café, shattering windows and sending furniture flying. And in its wake, I feel something fundamental shift in the fabric of reality.
“Oh no,” Helena breathes, her eyes wide with horror. “He’s calling them. The other Horsemen.”
To War’s left stands Famine, no gaunt figure in tattered robes, but a statuesque warrior with sharp, angular features. His burnished obsidian armor gleams with a hungry light, and his eyes burn with the intensity of a thousand famished souls.
To War’s right materializes Pestilence, a lithe, graceful fighter. A cruel smile plays on his lips, promising slow decay and suffering.
And behind War, looming tall and implacable, stands Death. Obsidian armor seems to absorb all light around it. His pale face is hauntingly beautiful, timeless and serene, a stark contrast to the deadly scythe gripped in his gauntleted hands.
The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, united in their terrible splendor. Each one a vision of deadly allure, their very presence warping the fabric of reality around them. The air grows heavy, charged with the promise of devastation and the end of all things.
“Well,” Lucifer says, his usual smirk replaced by a look of genuine concern. “This is an unexpected development.”
As the Horsemen advance, their power radiating in shocking waves, I realize with a sinking feeling that our carefully laid plan has just gone terribly, catastrophically wrong.
“Helena,” I say into the comm, my voice tight with urgency. “I believe it’s time for Plan B.”
There’s a moment of silence, then Helena’s voice comes through, uncharacteristically subdued. “That’s the thing, Halo Boy. Thereisno Plan B.”
