It was a while before anything happened.

Then there came a run of sudden sounds as the elevator whirred to life and every soldier in the area came rushing over. A couple shouts from the leader, a woman who was surprisingly not Kell, and most of them backed up, taking position on either side of the doors.

I got up. Though this likely wouldn't be much worse than a spat, I wasn't too keen on getting involved unless I knew I could make a difference. I took a few steps closer, but stayed off to the side.

The doors opened slowly, a fault of the aged machine. It was deathly quiet. I guess we were wondering if they would have their hands up, coming to surrender.

It was so quiet that I began to think that was the case- no one moved. Then, something must have happened- shots were fired. About three soldiers formed an arc around the doors, firing rapidly.

Things seemed to be going well. I couldn't see anything important, just hear the shattering sounds of each shot. It felt like it had gone on too long, that there was no way anyone could have survived it. But they kept going anyway.

I walked a bit further, to where Kell was standing apprehensively. "They must be dead, right?" I asked.

"If they were dead they would have stopped."

"Angels can't survive that many-"

There was a terrible kind of sound then, like metal, and then like flesh meeting metal.

While two of the soldiers had been reloading, an angel had stepped forward and cut the throat the one still firing, taking a bullet in his shoulder as he did so. He fell on his knees, but swung his jagged edged sword again, slashing at the legs of one of the soldiers. The other one hurried to finish reloading, but before he could fire his head was split open by the ax of another angel.

Jesus fuck.

There was blood everywhere. The angel with the ax was soaked in it. The one on the ground was worse.

More angels began to emerge from the elevator, each one armed with an angelic weapon. Even the fallen ones, though I had been taught using one relied on having Grace.

I was really starting to feel that fight or flight concept so many people like to talk about. And I was really leaning towards flight. No time seemed to have passed until I noticed, around the corner, Micky leaning over and taking careful shots with a pistol.

A pistol? Is that all we had left? God, the moment they found him he was going to be dead.

I fell into my lupine state and made a run for it. Hellhounds were famous for resisting pain, for surviving bullets and taking on angels. I would be fine.

Actually, my gut was certain I wouldn't be, but I chose to ignore it.

My body was a shape of solid smoke, a curly furred abomination of God. I leapt at the first angel I reached with long black claws and impractical teeth barred, and fell onto his chest. I busied myself with ripping his throat out, metal stinging my imaginary throat as I tried to get as little flesh as I could on my tongue.

Something smashed into my side, and I fell off my feet. The angel with the ax had impaled me, not quite breaking through my impossible flesh but chipping into it. I struggled to stand as he raised his ax again for another swing, and I felt another sharp sting in my side, a spear piercing my flesh.

I whined, twisting about rapidly hoping to knock the ax-wielder off his feet. I could barely keep focus- the angels had surrounded me, another brandishing a sword near my snout, ready to plunge it through my throat.

Then, with a sort of half snarl, another hellhound came to my rescue, barreling into the ax-wielding angel and toppling the others right over.

I knew it was Kell by the large grey scar carried over from his human shape, traveling down his head and ending past his snout. He looked at me once, maybe evaluating injury, before going in for the kill, tearing open the chest of one of the angels, his muzzle coated in red as he switched to his next target.

As a hellhound, I was a somewhat taller than the average person. Kell was gigantic, a little under twice my size. In his human form he wasn't one to carry his demonic traits, but they were apparent here, curled black horns that shined like carapaces and dark teal scales interrupting scarred skin and greying fur.

I considered running away. Kell seemed more than capable of handling things, and he was assisted by the ever-determined Micky, Kelsey from afar, and a sure backup on the way. There was only about eight angels total, and they were steadily dying.

Before I could fully commit myself to the idea, Kell howled with pain. One of the angels holding a too-long pike had pierced straight through him, entering from one side of his muzzle and sticking out, coated in dull black blood, from the side of his head.

Angelic weapons burned demons. I had heard that once. The wound was smoking, slightly, and Kell snarled as he tried not to fall, his current action forgotten. The angel who had stabbed him recalled his weapon and struck again, this time cutting through the back of his neck.

I ran forward as he did, desperately reaching out and catching him by the mid-section in my jaws. I bit down without forethought, and felt his ribs crack and crumble in my maw, bones poking against my gums as my teeth pierced his flesh.

One down, there wasn't time to think as I hurried to the next angel, raking my claws down his face and trying not to realize what I was capable of. Killing. You know.

It was for the greater good. Kell lay on the ground, incapacitated and bleeding out, back again in human form. The remaining soldiers had come a little closer, and by the time I was struck in the head by some sort of blunt weapon- a hammer, I think- I fell into blank unconsciousness content that my bloodlust had ensured victory.

I was in a hospital when I woke up properly. I had had fleeting visions of other things- people carrying me, talking to me, moving me. The cycles of day and night.

But the first time I was properly aware of my surroundings, I was glad to confirm I was in a hospital. Every part of me felt sore, and most of my right shoulder and back was wrapped in gauze. I couldn't so much as move my upper body without feeling a sharp tug of pain.

Still, hellhounds were resilient. I'd probably be set to recover in a few days.

Time doesn't go by correctly in a hospital room. A nurse noticed I was awake and told me it had been maybe three days of being half aware, but otherwise I barely had the energy to inquire what had happened. It took two more days for me to mostly heal, for my wounds to close into nasty looking scars. Where I had been hit in the back had festered into a dark grey and unseemly spot across my backbone, and where I had been hit by the spear was now a black dot with jagged lines radiating out from it on my hip.

My muscles were still sore, but I could walk fine, and according to my nurse I'd be nearly good as new in a couple more days.

"We'd actually prefer to keep you a day longer, but we need the beds." My nurse said to me as I was walking out the door.

"Has something happened?" She gave me a look that plainly said yes. "Do I want to know?"

"Going to be rather hard to avoid." She ran a hand through her curly hair, twisting her fingers in it. "The rebels took the southern block."

"What?" I exclaimed. "How'd they..."

"I don't quite know what happened. Been trying to avoid reading the papers. But I do know they had reinforcements. And hellhounds of their own." The nurse said. "And there was another bombing, and riots in the streets... the military willingly gave them the south. Now they just stand on the border, guns raised and shouting propaganda."

"What about the people who lived there?"

"If they were loyal to the state, they were evicted. We have a lot of refugees right now. Not as many as we should."

"Have the rebels... released a manifesto yet?"

She shook her head. "They just keep promising change, justice, and new leadership."

I frowned. I wasn't a particularly rebellious spirit, but I could have done a lot better creating a brand.

"It's safe to walk around, right?" I asked.

"You should be good as long as you avoid the border. Though there is a notice out to try and stay off the streets."

"Heading out then." I said. I was given my clothes; my jacket had a huge, unbloodied tear on it but otherwise they were wearable. I had my phone, too, which I turned on.

Surprisingly, there were no texts from Micky. I guess this once he did know precisely where I was. I called him.

"Hey. Just getting out."

"Yeah? Sorry I wasn't there waiting. Have you heard-"

"Yes." I said impatiently. "I just learned about the south."

"No. Have you heard about Kell?"

I followed Micky's instructions to a section of rooms. Outside one of them was Christina and Micky.

"Kelsey's in there now." Christina said forlornly.

"Can I..." I pointed to the door.

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something." Micky said, surprisingly formal.

Or maybe not surprisingly. Having a comatose, critically injured friend sobers anyone up.

"Yeah?" I was slightly dreading this.

"Up on the roof. Let's go."

He made small talk as we headed up, conversing about how I was doing and what the situation was like in the city, but there was a heavy tension throughout, like he was severely burdened by what he was planning to say next.

The moment we passed through the doors to the roof, a dingy place with a couple folded up chairs and some stray garbage, Micky blurted out, "I'm way too gay for you."

"I think there's a more proper way to say that."

"Political correctness be fucked, Robles."

"I can't speak for you personally, of course, but you do have a long history of having sex with women. I'd say you're more bi."

"Whatever. I really, really like you. And it bothers me a lot." He was talking fast. "I always knew who I was, what I was- so it's painfully annoying some skinny, ugly idiot like you had to go break that."

"I'm going to take offense to that." I said, trying to keep a neutral voice. "And you're not exactly good looking yourself."

"Yeah. So I'm not really sexually attracted to you. But I really like you. I've never been friends with someone like you? Someone that I just want to protect. That I always want to talk to."

"I like you too, Micky. But I'm straight."

"I thought I was too! I don't know. Maybe this is just the gayest friend crush a straight guy can have. But I want to spend time with you."

"I'm legitimately heterosexual." I said. "I mean, I consider myself to be open in my sexuality, willing to try new things- but god, I've barely kissed a girl before."

"Have you kissed a girl then? Or just barely?"

"I have. Twice."

"Impressive." Micky grinned. "See, you really could use more experience! And I'm not really talking sex. Just a date, you know? Just getting dinner somewhere. Seeing if it works out."

"Man, I really like you as a friend. But... I'm just not particularly gay? Or interested in dating, right now. Too much shit going on."

"Yeah, I can get that." Micky said. "I just mean, sexuality is such a weird thing, you know? I don't really think it's fluid, but there's so many scenarios out there, and it's different for each of them. Like, even at my worst, if Kell was interested in fucking me, I'd have been fine with it. He's a good looking guy, right? I'm not blind."

"Why do you even like me?" I asked, "I don't get many people admitting they have a crush on me."

"How many?"

"You."

"I don't know why I'm into you. I've had better friends. I've known better looking men. But there's something consistent about you. You're just there whenever I need you." He paused. I didn't have much to say. "It doesn't hurt that you've saved my life a couple of times."

"You're a good guy, Micky, you know? I just don't want to deal with this... right now."

"Or ever, right?" He smiled. Then clutched my hand, squeezing it for a second before letting go. "I'm not a great guy. Still trying to figure myself out."

"You're getting there."