Micky staggered in less drunk than usual, and not at all high. He still collapsed on the couch with exhaustion, however, and sighed loud enough to drown out the TV for a few seconds. Then he flipped over.

"Why does my couch smell like perfume."

"We had some unexpected guests." I said.

"Like ladies?"

"Like teenage girls."

He groaned. "I'm dead."

"Have you even been working? I thought all this rehearsal stuff was just you sitting around and gossiping."

"It is. And I am so tired."

"Seriously, name one work-like thing you even do there. Why do you even need a rehearsal? I was under the impression you guys were just holding... a panel or something. It's not exactly an opera."

"We don't need rehearsal. It's supposed to be top secret, but it really isn't shocking for me to tell you the celebration is going to be nothing more than a few videos, speeches, and a bunch of people talking to each other about the past. Boring as hell. We're just pretending to need rehearsal as an excuse to hang out and drink."

"You drink too much."

Micky put his hands up like he was warning me to back off. "My body, my choice." He said. "Besides, demons are pretty resistant to alcohol."

"That's not true." I pointed at him and he gave a mock look of offense.

Before he could speak, Cecil spoke up with a dehydrated voice. "Actually, it is true."

"That's bull." I said.

"No!" Cecil looked over at me, clearly not very interested in the subject but determined to argue it out. "It's entirely true. Demons are resistant to everything. Disease and drugs- medication and alcohol included. Angels even more so."

"What?"

"When's the last time you knew someone to get a cold?"

Micky seemed surprised too despite arguing for his point a moment earlier. "I dunno." He wiggled his hands around. "Maybe... I swear it's happened. Anyways. We don't do a thing in rehearsal. You guys should come tomorrow."

"No." Cecil said immediately.

"Come on! It's a lot better than sitting in my house and... hanging with teenage girls? Now that I think about it, that's a really creepy thing for you guys to be doing."

"It was Amy, you know, that one girl who tracked me down at work earlier this week?" I explained the rough of what had happened to Micky, who became progressively more engrossed in the story as it came closer to the present. By the time I was done, and had said that Amy was definitely in the tunnels, Micky was leaning forward with his mouth gaping open. It made me extraordinarily uncomfortable. I was not that good of a story teller.

"Dude! We need to grab her."

"...No?" I tried saying. "It's not my business if a spoiled kid acts out against her insanely powerful father. Like that's one hundred percent something I want to stay one hundred feet away from at all times."

"Well, I'm going. I could stand to gain some favor points with the Lexingtons. Michael hates my guts, and by extension, so do most of the angels."

"You spend most of your conversations bragging about how many angels you've killed."

"True. But if Michael endorsed me, they'd have to be okay with that. And besides, knocking off a few rebels is a good way to build credit with most of higher-level government types."

"How much credit do you need?"

"Credit is like money: You can never have too much of it. And it's best when it's hoarded." He stood up dramatically, and leaned in to place a hand on my shoulder. There was a silence between us. Was I supposed to speak? He removed his hand. "We're going to rescue and or remove Amy against her will from some underground rebels, Martin."

"That's a shitty idea." Cecil said. I guess he wasn't part of Martin's plans. I had a small bit of suspicion that Micky was jealous of Cecil and I, which was strange since... it was just strange. Cecil and I didn't have anything going on to be jealous of, unless Micky only thought we did- which would imply that Micky had some sort of crush on me. Which would be strange.

Micky was staring right at me. I got up and sighed. I hated the idea of being a pushover- but I totally and completely was one. The reality was that I preferred doing things I didn't enjoy over disappointing people.

I think I was blushing, too, as I put on my coat and walked out the door with Micky. Like, god, now I had to get awkward because I imagined someone had feelings for me. Suddenly standing next to him was fraught with concerns of how close we were. Except I didn't have a crush on him or anything, so I was mostly flustered by imaging how he was feeling.

I'm not gay, so I really hope Micky didn't have any sort of thing for me. Also, he was about twice my age, and that was weird. I decided to try and focus on something else.

"How are we going to find her exactly?" I asked.

"Just go in there. Find her. Celebrate afterwards." He was smiling as he said celebrate, and for a second I was again caught up in the whole 'clearly this guy is in love with me' feeling cycle before remembering how stupid that was.

We waited in the elevator for a long couple of minutes. Micky was smiling, sort of fidgeting in place and occasionally snickering to himself. It was an irking habit, and I placated my concerns with a blanket of annoyance.

He was clearly was too excited about this as he rushed to the city's edge. God knows we had no idea where underground these rebels were, but Micky just hopped on the elevator and went for the only available floor, Wrath. There were a couple excavated floors they might have been using, I pointed out to him, but he seemed pretty content with Wrath.

We came out at this little junction of collapsed ceilings that always revved up my claustrophobia, and turned into a still tight hall. There weren't any real detours along the way, just a narrow and dusty hallway with a couple of worrying cracks on the walls. Micky kept looking around though.

We came to the pit room. I guess there were a few suspicious detours to be had here, and Micky seemed to have the keys- he grabbed something jangly out of his pocket and went right for an always-locked white door on the other side of the room.

He unlocked it and went inside. I followed.

"You know, if it's locked, it's probably unlikely any rebels are using it as a base." I said as Micky felt the wall for a light switch. "Unless they all have keys to this place as well."

"The keys were produced for The Few. It's not impossible they could have gotten one of the... like sixteen out there."

He flicked on the lights. The room was very empty, a white room with a couple chairs stacked in the corner and a couple scuff marks that indicated there had once been other furniture. One wall was a one-way mirror looking into another white room, this one containing some dusty torture equipment.

"This is all very 'antique Hell', but I'm not seeing any revolutionaries." I said.

"There's still another place to check." Micky said, and he didn't lock the door when he left. He walked to the staircase that led to the bottom of the pit- the one I always relied on- and took it down. I followed as cluelessly as ever.

He skirted around the edges of the pit, avoiding the tired dark eyesore that was the actual rift. At the bottom of the pit, right against the wall, was a small indent and a set of fine metal doors. I'd always seen them, but I'd never bothered to examine them before.

Micky again had the key to unlock them, and quite enthusiastically discovered the lights were already on inside. The room was a meeting room with a couple of old blood splatters staining the floor.

Micky pointed to a coat in the corner very quietly, and began to walk with a slight tiptoe. The room was quite small, so if anyone was hiding, I'd think they'd have already known we were here. He pulled open a door- a closet- and then gave up his tiptoeing when he found it to be empty.

"Come on then." He sighed, and opened another door to another hallway. I really didn't have much to input on this little adventure we had just experienced, so I stayed quiet.

We took another long ride to Pride, and Micky slumped against the wall as I nervously looked at him every few minutes. I really couldn't stand to leave him this disappointed.

"If I was part of rebel group, I wouldn't choose such a tiny or... easy to find hideout. They probably found a pocket in the collapsed tunnels or something. You could check there."

"That's actually a good thought. Ya know, I've heard there's whole hidden rooms in the maintenance tunnels." He pointed at me. "You're pretty small."

"You are too?"

"We could get right in there!"

He hurried out of the elevator the moment it came to Pride, and hurried along the city edge until he came to the underground's entrance again.

"I'm not very good with tight spaces."

He stopped and looked me right in the eye. "Where'd that come from?"

"Claustrophobia? It's really a very common-"

"Don't be such a fucking pussy, Martin." He slapped me on the shoulder and kept walking.

I kept following. "I'll wait, and I'll walk around Lust and that burned library with you, but I'm not going to crawl in some dark little box."

Micky was running from small indent to small indent looking for an unlocked doorway, and finally he found one. I walked over, and he gestured for me to go in.

"No." I said.

"Jesus, Martin! Get in there. I need you to go in first."

I kind of laughed. "Even if I was going to go with you, I definitely wouldn't go in first! I'm terrified as fuck of tiny spaces and the dark."

"You're a grown man! Get over your fears and get in there. And besides, you're a hellhound- I need you to protect me."

"You're the top military guy."

"Yes, I have my gun-"

"You have a gun?" I said, alarmed.

"I have my gun, but you're a hellhound."

I stood still for a moment.

"Get in there."

I got in there. I guess. As previously mentioned, I'm way too weak-willed. At least it's only gotten me killed once so far.

I was somewhat comforted by the fact that I wasn't alone, and Micky was actually very loud as he crawled behind me. By focusing on his grunts and occasional swears- and yes, that was somewhat weird, but I wasn't thinking of that right now- I was able to stay somewhat calm. My heart was still racing, but I was able to move forward.

It wasn't as small as I had thought either. It was still terrible, but I didn't have to crawl for very long before the ceiling opened up and I could nearly walk.

"How long are we going to do this?" I asked, and Micky shushed me harshly.

Eventually, there was light, and I was fully able to appreciate the awful little vent I was climbing through, with all its dead spiders and dust. I sneezed with what was probably instinct. Micky shushed me again.

There was slowly more light, and the shaft abruptly ended in a little rock crevice. It smelled of rust, and Micky ran into me as he scampered to stand at my side.

Beyond us was a hole illuminated by the harsh and regular glare of florescent lighting and containing three dead angels.

"This is someone's hideout." Micky whispered excitedly. "Probably the killer, which is going to give us even bigger cred for killing him."

"If the angel killing guy is anywhere near here, I'm getting the fuck out. Actually, no matter what, I'm getting the fuck out. You should too. Those are three dead bodies."

"They're recently dead." Micky had gotten down to his knees to examine them properly. Three men with brightly colored wings laying in a pile. Stabbed through the chest. Smelling terrible.

I was semi-used to the dead at this point, but their presence was never welcome. Dead bodies- like, come on, what's more terrible? They're just the worst. There's a lot of existential horror involved with them, with the whole idea of a full life taken, and then there's just real horror in that they smell bad and blood is scary.

Micky stepped over them and I carefully followed. I wasn't just being a sheep now- Micky probably did need me to protect him. I didn't doubt he was good with a gun, but there's really a limit to how much skill is involved with wielding a gun anyways. As a giant dog thing, I could at the very least break up most fights.

There were luckily no more bodies in the room. There were quite a number of signs of activity, though, like blankets and cups and not dusty furniture. The place was quiet besides a faint humming.

There were two paths branching from the main room divided by legitimate office cubicles. One of them was semi-blocked off by what seemed to be hasty plywood planks. The other led to a long hallway, this one laced with doors.

We went through the first door and was immediately greeted by a barrage of loud classical music. A few people were sitting on a number of couches. If it wasn't such a dumb thing to worry about, I would have wondered how they got all those couches into the room. Piece by piece, I guess? It seemed like so much work-

Anyways. I didn't know everyone in the room, but sure enough, Amy was one of the three I did know, along with Alex and Julie. She was reading a book, and looked up at me a few seconds in.

"What?"

One of the men in the room started talking to me in Angelic, clearly ushering me away. Micky burst into laughter. "Three of you are already dead!"

It was a really bad time and place to burst into laughter. And occasion. One of the angels drew a gun- I guess he didn't have those famous magical blades I had always heard about- and just fired right at us. No words, no warning. No chance for accusatory dialog. What kind of monsters were they?

I turned into my hellhound form and Micky dived behind me. Unfortunately, I couldn't speak like this, and I doubted Micky was going to have any more tact than he had already displayed. I changed back, Micky still hiding behind my shoulders.

"We didn't kill them."

"Oh." Someone said softly.

One of the angels looked very confused. "Who is dead? Who killed them?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. You should probably check."

He got up and came to the door, maybe waiting for me to lead him. I was very thankful the situation had deescalated so fast. I took him to the bodies, and he quietly looked at them. Then he faced me.

"Visvikes. Iacsaeus. Ikhiii. They are the dead." He picked one of them up. "Can you become wolf? You can carry the dead."

I did as he said, even though I had little desire to get blood on my fur. He placed two of the dead on my back and carried the last one gently. He walked very slowly too, most likely on purpose, and was mumbling something under his breath.

We returned to the couch room after what seemed to be a solid ten minute march. But before we reached it, I knew something was wrong- I could smell the stench of blood quite keenly. I kept quiet at first, figuring the whole blood-stench might have been because of the dead bodies on my back. But when we returned, I was less surprised than my angel companion to find the death toll had grown.

Everyone was on the floor, which seemed more and more reasonless the more I focused on it. Why drag everyone to the floor? And yes, they clearly had been dragged there- dragged and then killed, I'd say, as the couches were close to spotless.

Everyone was on the bloody floor, dead. The angel with me let out some sort of fearful noise that reminded me of a hiccup. I tried smelling the air- maybe I had some kind of dog-like ability for scent-tracking? But all I got was blood. Way too strong blood. I turned back to a human and let the bodies fall to the floor.

"So it wasn't us." I said to the angel. He glared at me, perhaps upset I wasn't more upset.

"Where's the Scorpio?" He said. He was talking about Micky. I actually didn't know where he went- I guess he had stayed behind while I went to fetch the dead. But I really doubted that he would kill the teenagers as well as the angels, or succeed even if he tried.

I walked into the room. The killer had probably come from down the hall, where we hadn't checked. The blood was really pretty deep for blood, at least that was my impression. I tried not to spend too much time looking down.

I found Micky on the other side of the room, face up and behind a couch. He wasn't dead, just unconscious with a large welt on the side of his head.

To be sure, I checked the pulse of everyone in the room. Most of them were dead- and the angel busy collecting them into a pile scowled at me for touching them- but the teenagers had all been knocked out. No doubt the work of the angel killing species racist guy then. Fantastic.

I grabbed the non-dead and placed them on the couches. "Can you watch them for me?" I asked the angel. "I'm going to look for the guy who did this."

"Pine." He said, nodding.

I left Pine with the knowledge he was probably going to get killed later, and shifted back into a hellhound, bounding down the dark halls as fast as my dog-shaped legs could take me.