Chapter Forty-Nine

Seconds after Poseidon was struck by lightning, all that remained of the false god was a small pile of ash. The strike had created a large hole in the transparent ceiling above. Torrential amounts of rain were pouring in from the damaged roof, slowly washing away the debris and black char that covered the ground. "His soul, it's been erased," Aeron thought as the color drained from his face. Thanks to his Angelic senses, he was able to tell that Poseidon had simply… vanished… as if he'd never existed. In his shock, Aeron looked down to inspect his sword. According to Satan, the blade had a similar power, but this was something else. The ease with which Poseidon was dispatched was frankly alarming. One might almost call it godlike. As these thoughts swirled throughout Aeron's mind, Zia hurried up to the top of the steps. The ambassador wanted to inspect the fallen Angel's remains for clues. After glancing at the heap, she immediately noticed something shiny sticking out of the dust.

"A… transmitter?" she thought as she picked up the strange device. As she'd guessed, the object was some sort of communicator. However, some irregularities to the machine set it apart from others of its ilk. "That's weird. Where's the antenna?" A vital part of any transmitter was its antenna. Without it, the user wouldn't be able to send messages. All they could do was receive them. Aeron—who was also interested in the bizarre gadget—frowned when he noticed the missing piece.

"It doesn't seem to have been purposefully broken. But, if that's the case, who would give someone like Poseidon a one-way transmitter?" There's no way the fallen Angel had it on him before leaving Tartarus. Which meant that whoever helped him escape had to have given it to him. "If what Poseidon said was true—and he really wasn't the one pulling the strings—then it's possible that this transmitter was how he got his orders." If that was the case, this was an invaluable clue that begged further investigation. "I should probably take a look at it personally." With his Angelic eyes, he'd be able to see things that Zia could not. However, when he reached out his hand to ask his partner for the transmitter, something unexpected happened.

"Ms. Lombardi! Get away from him!" Elizabeth called out as she fired a bullet into his outstretched arm, swinging his hand away. Before Aeron could react, Elizabeth and Kashif were in front of him—blocking his path to Zia and the transmitter.

"Do you mind telling me what the hell you two are doing?" he hissed as he glared at the bodyguards. "I might've gone through the trouble of saving you guys, but I'm warning you, know where you stand." He'd show no mercy to those that attempted to harm him.

"Are you really asking us that question after what you've done?!" Elizabeth yelled as she aimed her pistol right at the center of his forehead.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Weber, but you must understand. Right now, you're a danger to Ms. Lombardi and us," Kashif explained as he took a step back from the confused Angel, which flabbergasted Aeron. Kashif, of all people, knew how strong he was. He had to see that they had no chance at keeping him back. Yet, with that knowledge, they chose to stand in his way.

"Look around you, Aeron. After what you've done, do you actually think we can trust you?" With Poseidon out of the way, Elizabeth, Kashif, and Zia all got a chance to see the true face of his actions. They saw the charred bones—piled up as high as small mountains—and the half-melted buildings—some of which were still oozing a thick sludge of ash and remains. The horror that Aeron unleashed upon Atlantis was not something they could ignore. In one relentless attack, he decimated the kelpies and burned their very souls to ash. At that moment, he became something that Zia reviled even more than judges. He became a Demon.

"They're right, you know," she told him as she drew her weapon. "Tell me, Aeron Weber. Do you truly think that this is what God wished for? All this destruction and carnage, did you really cause all of this for our safety? Or did you decimate this city for your own entertainment?" Aeron didn't even need to utter a word for Zia to know she was right. Even now, when he faced all these accusations, the man didn't flinch. There wasn't even a hint of guilt in the fallen Angel's eyes. Those sharp pupils sent a chill up her spine like none before. Within seconds, she felt her legs start to tremble as if she were being crushed under his shadow.

"Zia, you can't be serious," the Cherub started as he took a step towards the terrified ambassador. "I mean, sure, I know what I did was brutal, but I did what I did to save you and your comrades." Even if it was only for the course of that brief exchange—for the span of those few words—Zia seriously believed that he was regretting his actions. His tone, look, quivering voice, and other signs all pointed to a sense of guilt. However, that was little more than a mask. Zia knew quite well that he didn't care, but, at the same time, she could detect that the Angel was remorseful about something.

"I guess he's guilty about throwing Kashif into that pillar," she thought as she bit her lip. Periodically, Aeron would glance over to the bodyguard with that same worried expression. Each time he did, Zia felt a sharp pain in her heart. She knew that, in his own way, Aeron did care for them, but, in the end, she knew that his drive to satiate his desires would always come out on top. That was just how he was, and it was because of that hunger that she couldn't bring herself to trust the fallen Angel.

"Ms. Lombardi, what do you think we should do?" Elizabeth asked. It wasn't like they could stop Aeron with force; they weren't strong enough. This entire situation was more like a futile cry of resistance, like that of a young rodent attempting to flee a starving hawk. It was a situation that Zia couldn't find an easy path out of. As, after all of this, it wasn't like they could simply continue to accompany the man. From here, they'd have to go their separate ways. That she knew for sure. However, that left a significant question on all their minds: how could they escape? At this point, locating the Scale would be practically impossible without the Bureau's assistance. Their only lead was now little more than a pile of ash. To continue their mission, Zia would have to find a way to summon a staircase back to Heaven. But, without a working transmitter, that was simply impossible.

"Wait a minute," Zia thought, her eyes wide, as she looked down at Poseidon's one-way communicator. Something about it caught her attention, and after taking a closer look at the device, she found out why. Most sanctioned transmitters had an emergency beacon attached to them. When pressed, the Bureau would immediately be notified, who would then summon a staircase directly to the signal's source. All their transmitters—including Aeron's—had this feature. However, since their transmitters seemed to be completely cut off from the other realms, none of their emergency beacons worked. But, as luck would have it, Poseidon's did.

"Hey, Zia, did you find something on the transmitter?" Aeron asked, causing Kashif and Elizabeth to turn their attention towards her.

"I think I might've just found a solution to one of our problems," she announced as she holstered her pistol and raised her free hand to the beacon. Without wasting a second, she pressed her thumb against the bright red button, activating the device. Elizabeth, who at this point realized what she'd discovered, could only gawk as she watched the clouds above part.

"Is that what I think it is?" she asked as a warm ray of sunlight flew down from the exposed heavens. Zia nodded.

"Yes," the ambassador whispered as a familiar gilded staircase shimmered into existence. "It appears that we're going home."

As the shining stairwell slowly lowered itself to the charred marble floor, Aeron couldn't help but wince. The holy aura that wafted off the steps burned as if he was standing before the sun. Before it turned his flesh to slag, he jumped back and hid behind one of the many sapphire pillars. "Oh right, I nearly forgot. I'm a fallen Angel now." In the eyes of the Almighty—and especially his blessings—dethroned Cherubs were treated like devils. "How tragic… were my many years of service worth so little?" In the back of his mind, Aeron knew that this would happen. By shooting himself, he committed an unforgivable taboo against God and his kingdom. That said, he couldn't help but feel a little betrayed. He'd served Yahweh faithfully for centuries. Hell, the entire reason he did what he did was partially to save Zia and her bodyguards! Was that little detail simply overlooked? Was that act of goodwill not good enough to warrant his actions? Apparently, by Yahweh's standards, that seemed to be the case.

"So, Heaven truly has abandoned you," Zia exclaimed as she stared at Aeron, the light of God's golden staircase to her back. "I'm not surprised, after what you've done, it's only fitting that you'd be cast out." The tone she used when speaking those words was heavy. It was clear that she didn't trust him anymore; however, at the same time, she seemed… sad. "How in the world am I going to explain what happened to Jeremy and the others?" she thought as she looked longingly up at the sky. "The Bureau's top judge, the Templar, falls from grace? It sounds like some sort of cheesy headline," she chuckled. Sometimes, reality was stranger than fiction.

"Ms. Lombardi, do you think it's okay to just leave him here?" Elizabeth asked as she aimed her pistol at the pillar Aeron hid behind. Before she had the chance to pull the trigger, Zia placed a hand on the girl's shoulder and stopped her.

"There's no need for that. His soul has been damned. There's no punishment we can give him that they can't down there," she told the bodyguard as she turned back to Aeron. At that moment—although it was incredibly subtle—her voice cracked, and her eyes started to water. Since Aeron was perched in the shadow, he didn't get a chance to see her in that sorry state. Yet, somehow, he knew. Chalk it up to a judge's intuition, but he knew.

"I'm sorry," and that was all he said. It wasn't like he could ask for forgiveness. It was already far too late for that. Instead, the fallen Angel just took a crumpled cigarette out of his coat, lit it, and stuck it in his mouth. The cloud of smoke that he breathed out seemed darker than usual. Almost as if it were a mirror to the vestiges of his twisted soul. "You should hurry back to the Bureau and fill them in. I'm sure that Jeremy's worried sick." And that was that. With those few words, they had set off down their different paths. There was no going back now—their time as comrades was over.

"Aeron Weber, before I leave, let me tell you something," Zia started as she, Elizabeth, and Kashif, slowly climbed the gilded spire. "I don't regret the time we spent together. Nor do I regret fighting beside you, but with that said, I am happy that this is our last meeting. Goodbye." There was so much more that needed to be shared, but Zia kept her sendoff short and sweet. Aeron chuckled. That was just like her. Both knew that an overly long argument would accomplish nothing. In the end, the paths they chose were simply too different. With the tie of their partnership severed, Zia turned around and hurried up the steps. Since he couldn't expose his body to the staircase's holy aura, Aeron didn't bother to watch her leave. Instead, he just stayed where he was and simply continued to smoke. Eventually, after Zia was long gone and the golden staircase had disappeared, he finally stepped back out into the open.

"Fuck… what a shitty outcome," he thought as he stared up into the sky. "Poseidon risked his very being for this view. I wonder, was it worth it?" As he pondered that useless question, he leaned over and crushed his cigarette butt under his heel. "Damn, I'm so tired." For the first time, he found himself longing for his bed back in the Bureau. That crappy apartment seemed so far away now—like sand falling through his fingers. "Hmph, there's nothing I can do about it," he muttered as he sauntered lazily out of Poseidon's desolate citadel. With the city's lord gone, not a soul remained in the building. Atlantis had now become a town of the dead, and all it took him was a couple of hours. "That's got to be a new record, heh," he whispered as he rubbed his tired eyes. As he did this, he looked up and discovered a familiar chained door standing right in front of him. It was eerily like the one Satan had used to go to and from Tartarus. Although, this one was far shoddier and looked as if it would fall apart at any moment. The door swung open with a loud creak, leading to an ominous portal. "So, this is how I'm supposed to get back? I've got to say. This is a lot less grandiose than a golden staircase." His complaints aside, this crappy gate was the entrance to his new home. "I guess I'll have to get used to this," he mused as he closed his eyes and plunged into the black void. He felt a jolt of energy rush through his body the second his skin touched the portal. And then, just like that, all his worries seemed to melt away. At that moment—even though he didn't understand why—for the first time in his long life, he felt truly free.

From the desk of Beurt Albere...

The day I joined the Bureau was when I first realized it. Namely, just how different I was from Aeron Weber. I might've been his superior, but—when he and I were in the same room—his presence was suffocating. Honestly, I struggled to keep up. And I think that struggle is what drove me to lay everything at his feet. Because I believed that if I didn't do something to help stall his endless ascent, he'd eventually surpass all of us. And once you climb that high, it's only a matter of time before you reach the summit.