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This time I might not make it.
Each chord was pressed upon with delicate movement. A talent which subdued the fire which raged within the angel. It wasn’t something she bragged about; being in touch with music. Her fingers danced slowly over the ivory keys as her fingers moved in sync with her mind. There were no music sheets which she was reading upon. In fact, her eyes weren’t focused on anything. They had no need to be. Each movement of her dainty fingers perfectly executed a sweet symphony which echoed throughout the quiet building. High walls and sporadic instruments lined the property, all with their own detailed rundown of their individual origin. It was something Azazel should have had for herself. A permanent warning sign to be presented everywhere she went. Perhaps many souls could have been saved if she had one.The sound of helicopter propellers could be heard in the darkness of the night. If she had managed to break into the Museum cautiously, Azazel would have been able to continue pirouetting her fingers over the piano bones which gave her gentle notes in return to her soft handiwork. A sombre moment for the angel who lived her life in continuous carnage. The melody she played only just drowned out the noise coming from the alarm which rung from the front entrance, ultimately giving her location away to anyone who was seeking for it. They say that one of the first signs of insanity is accepting your behaviour without emotion. A reason why no concern swamped her angelic frame when she heard the building being breached. It may have been dark, but she sat by the window; the moonlight highlighting her divine silhouette. Just an angel playing piano on her own, in the dark. What was wrong with that? Azazel continued playing, even with the sound of parading footsteps coming up the stairs. Several riot vans had pulled up outside and out of them poured armoured mortal men, guns out of their holsters and ready to be fired. The barking from chained dogs which accompanied the humans was chilling for a criminal. But she continued playing. As if she was deaf to what was happening. Eyes glistened in the natural light which poured onto the petite female. The established clavier even shimmered against the light of the moon, and then soon against the flashlights which were perched on top of the assault rifles as they illuminated the room. “Freeze!” The commanding officer demanded aggressively as she found herself surrounded. But she continued playing. “Freeze and put your hands up where I can see them!!” The middle-aged male shrieked again. A quiet hum left Azazel’s lips, her eyes closing over as she came to the end of the consonance she played. It was unknown whether it represented anything for her. Whether it was made up on the spot or was a melody she had learned in a past life. But as her finger stroked the last key slowly, her eyelids flickered open once more, nodding slowly towards the SWAT team who must have been mentally cheering for finally having her in their grasps. Azazel slowly rose to her feet, pushing the stool back against the weathered wooden flow with her calves as her hands slowly rose. In the white light which shone on them, dried crimson painted them, and the keys of the piano she had been playing. The men took no hesitation in bombarding her, several of them daring to put their hands on her as they thrusted her fragile arms behind her back and she found herself restrained. A sinister giggle came from her pale lips, Golden locks tattered, and face stained with tears and droplets of blood; some which were smeared from her jawline to her neck. Her dress seemed fitting for an angel, white material which flowed over her body with no restrictions. No one knew what she had been up to that evening. What was going through her mind when she had committed yet another murderous act and then deciding to break into a museum just to caress musical instruments. It was unknown but she had clearly hit a revelation in her life. But she had been caught. And she gave no care in the world for it as she was dragged out of the building and into a reinforced van. All she did was consistently laugh to herself; the sound being enough to make even the darkest soul feel uncomfortable. - - - - - Four walls. Four white-washed, boring walls. Most people would use this time to reflect on their actions, or perhaps behave even more erratically – lashing out at their captors for their own silly mistakes. But not Azazel. She was almost at peace as she sat on the bench which was expected to be her sleeping and living quarters until sentencing. Wings pressed against the wall as she rested her crown against the stone, she gazed up, a glimpse of the midnight sky visible through the small, shatterproof panel which was her only barrier from the pokey room to her freedom. Sapphire orbs analysed the situation. She knew it would be easy for her to escape. She had inhumane strength on her side. But she was patient. She wanted to make a scene. She loved the attention. “Franklyn Jennifer Montague. Time to go. If you play nice, so will we.” She rolled her eyes. There were two types of people in the world. People who called her Azazel. Those who knew her true, mental state. Knew what the petite woman was really capable and how detached she was from all emotions. And then there was Frankie. Sweet, alluring Frankie who just wanted to get her leg over... right? After all, there were no survivors from those who fell for her charm. No one who could confirm or deny if she was a lustful animal, or just a murderous monster. It was unknown. “Oh, is that so?” Azazel responded, illusive voice bouncing off the walls as a dark smirk crossed her lips. A sly side-eye was flashed at the two officers who unlocked the reinforced door and cautiously wandered in – their own sexual desires driving their curiosity. She didn’t blame them. She was proud of how easy people fell for her beauty. It was her most prized weapon. No heavenly blacksmith could give her anything more powerful. She slid herself off from her state of comfort and rose to her feet, her devilish smoulder still plastered across her pale lip. Azazel approached them both, a delicate finger raising and placing itself on the first officer’s chest. Like a child in a sweet shop, he grinned smugly that she had chosen him first. Finger danced up his chest slowly until it reached his jawline. Her captivating gaze that of the male who already had his hands fondling with his belt. But by doing this, he lacked the concentration he needed to pick up on her other hand raising swiftly and gripping the other side of his face as she now clung onto him. The ordeal took about less than a second, as she jolted his head to the left with such a force which caused his spinal cord to shatter and disengage with the rest of its length. It was a quick death – she was never a fan of waiting.
An evil cackle left the lips of the gorgeous blonde as the second officer leapt over his colleague who now laid in a crumpled mess as he lunged for her. The only thing guiding the foolish man to her was the moonlight which broke through the window and highlighted her elegance. Before he had chance to lay his perverted hands on her, Zel had already grasped the mortal by the follicles which came from his head and used him as her human battering ram. Forcefully grunting through gritted teeth, she launched him at the window. She often forgot her own strength as like a bowling ball hitting 10 pins, the mortar which sealed her in crumbled as the wall shattered completely. Luckily for the building, she was only one of hundreds of inmates so the newly created portal from the glorified cage to the world didn’t cause any further damage than to the man’s body who then fell from the 4th floor she was on and to his death – provided his shattered bones didn’t already lethally puncture an artery or organ.
Azazel awkwardly grinned to herself. She wasn’t expecting that to happen that easily, but she brushed the situation off quickly. She had to get out of there and quickly. The cheering from inmates down the hallway could be heard as they had assumed something in their favour had happened. But she didn’t have time to give out autographs. Following the cold breeze of the night, Azazel was quick to take flight, jumping out and up towards the roof, hearing them draining sirens as soon as she did this. The rest of the police force must have just found the bodies and the gaping hole in the wall so she was lucky to have just missed being caught. Perching herself on the roof as she landed quietly, her eye gaze narrowed, glancing up from her crouching position as she noticed her sister who seemed to have ironically arrived. “You missed the party, Azzy. Thanks for all~ your help.” Azazel sarcastically muttered as she straightened her posture with a grin. She knew she had been getting under Azrael’s skin recently with her uncontrollable tendencies. The only positive out of this was the fact they had given her clothing; oversized grey tracksuit jumper and jogging bottoms hugging her figure where ever the thin material could. If she wasn't so pretty, she would fit right in with the crowd of being a deluded criminal. “I forgot this would attract your sort of attention.” She mused, referring to her deadly tactics. It was just force of habit but more than reasonable in her mind.
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