Blood spattered on the walls of the corridor. Jet tutted to himself, thinking about how badly the so called military angels had planned this. They had bottle-necked in the corridor, trapping themselves. They had only made themselves an easier target, they realised too late. In the end Jet killed seventeen of the twenty angels. Tristan’s sobs mixed with the rattling gasps of the dying angels around them. ‘Get up you useless brat.’ Jet shouted, slapping Tristan with the flat of his sword. Tristan’s own weapons had disappeared half way through the fight as the angel’s words had sunk in. He was killing his own kind. He couldn't be on any side at all, for he would kill his own kind whichever way he chose. Jet’s stony hand wrapped itself around Tristan’s upper arm, pulling him to his feet. Tristan let Jet drag him back to the top of the building, but the moment the demon let go, he collapsed to the hard concrete. Jet nudged him with a foot.
‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Jet growled. ‘You let a great fight pass you by back there. You just allowed yourself to be covered in their blood and did nothing to aid me. Useless fucking immature, insolent, unappreciative little brat!’ Jet yelled, bending over the teenager. Tristan took the words in, but didn't care what they meant. He had lost everything. His father was heartless and cold, his mother had changed beyond recognition in a matter of hours and Jet was an egotistical, pigheaded prick. Though he too was under the rule of another. He was only doing what he had to, Tristan tried to tell himself. But he enjoys it.‘We’re going back. C’mon.’ Jet said, taking flight, not waiting for Tristan to join him.
Tristan sat upon the cold stone floor, surrounded by the blood of his ancestors. Jet took off, leaving the sobbing adolescent all alone as he did so he cursed to himself. Jet's wings disappeared when he reached the demonic headquarters of New York.
"Jet, Sir." She looked over to him, thoughts of her son ran through her mind, but were dismissed almost immediately. "Sir. I have news to report." She crossed her legs, her dress sliding a little way up her thighs. "Japan." She hoped off the table, turning to point at the island. "You see, if we take Tokyo the rest of Japan will fall. To do this I suggest we make camp in the near-by town of Yokohama." She looked over to Jet, who was covered in angelic blood. She could not see wether he was listening or not but chose to continue anyway. "I also suggest, while the fight for Tokyo is ongoing we place a small group of soldiers on the island's of Hokkaido, Shikoku and Kyushu. This way there will be no resistance once the battle has been won."
She smiled, "So, what do you want me to do?" She paused, walking over to Jet. "Sir?" Her deep green eyes met his, no emotion was shared between them. Alice raised an eyebrow, looking at Jet from head to toe. He was covered in blood, the smell stung her nose, the smell of angels. She bit her lip, glancing from Tyler to Jet she wrapped her arms round Jet's neck, pulling herself closer to him. "What do you want me to do?" She whispered again in his ear. She could feel Tyler's stare burning into her. 'Good,' she thought.