Tears flowed in torrents, spilling a wet, salty sheen across the angels' delicate cheeks. Right next to them, drops of dark blood trickled down the predatory, yet also defeated, faces of the devils. The noble beings, apostles of good and evil, eternal opposites, were the same again. Just as before the fall, except that then they were united by the joy of divine love, and now by suffering and hopelessness.
"Next!" roared a powerful, bald barbarian, while two others brutally led the beaten angel away. They threw him facedown to the ground. One kneed him, the other held his arms tightly.
"Give me the chain," croaked the chief torturer. A pretty, though shoddily made-up and disguised girl brought a silvery coil of metal. As if by accident, she tripped and dug her heel into the fallen man's ribs. The angel screamed, but instead of mercy, all he received was a burst of guttural laughter and a series of crude curses.
"Hold on tight," the bald man helped the girl securely grasp and bend her feathery, snow-white wings, then began to chain them with all his might.
"Ready, next..."
Mephisto stood alongside the beautiful angel, but he didn't think of distracting her, or even asking her name. They walked wordlessly, like hundreds of other heavenly and hellish creatures. They were loaded onto freight cars and taken to the big city. The weaker ones fainted every now and then, some screamed and howled in pain, a few wept, the rest suffered silently.
They disembarked at a large station filled with indifferent, hurrying people, rats, drug addicts, and obtrusively flashing advertisements. With their chained, broken wings, dirty, injured, and pale, they must have stood out, but no one paid them more than a few seconds' attention.
Old coaches took them to some office. They entered one by one, through wide doors that creaked shut mercilessly. No one left.
Mephisto again saw the same angel he'd been walking with recently. There were several people ahead of him. Like the others, she entered the building and didn't come out. Finally, it was his turn.
Beyond the door was a perfectly normal hallway. A stiff young woman in a gray business suit and glasses led him to one of the offices. There, a young man with a perfectly tailored suit and impeccable manners was already waiting.
"Coffee, tea?" he asked politely, but Mephisto declined, shaking his head. He hated this little man as much as he hated all the others, and the pain only intensified that hatred.
"I understand you're not in a good mood." I see you haven't been treated well, but please understand, it's hard to find people with the right attitude who are willing to take care of you.
Mephisto remained silent, so the young man continued his tirade:
"It's all because of so many of you, and because of those wings. We decided to take you in, but you can't fly, you can't stand out like that. Isn't that obvious? It would be best to amputate them, but you know they'll grow back soon, so we're managing this way. Sure, it's uncomfortable, but I'm sure you'll get used to it. My assistant will take you to the warehouse. There, you'll receive clothes, some money, and a housing assignment. Would you like to ask anything?"
Mephisto remained silent, so the man summoned his assistant, who directed the devil further...
He emerged from the building on the other side, straight into the street. He was wearing jeans and a loose, nylon jacket that quite well concealed the membranous wings tied at his back. In his pocket was the apartment key, and in his backpack were several canned goods, a wallet, documents, a cell phone, and an alarm clock that would summon him to work tomorrow. The air stank of exhaust fumes, and the people of sweat and cheap perfume...
He sat in his armchair, cooped up in his m3, tired from work. He sipped a not-so-good, but strong beer and leafed through a tabloid newspaper that effectively soiled his hands and mind. In the accident chronicle, he saw a photo of a familiar angel. She was lying on the sidewalk, in an unnatural pose. They wrote that she had thrown herself off a skyscraper...
Mephisto felt strange. On the one hand, he wanted to act, to bend the rules, to rebel and fight, but on the other, he didn't care. Dazed, he walked along the busy sidewalk and dispassionately watched the people passing by. Cars stood in a massive traffic jam on the street beside him, honking their horns hatefully. Up ahead, behind a red and white ribbon, workers seemed completely unconcerned, slicing through the asphalt with a special circular saw.
"What if..." A desperate, senseless thought buzzed in the devil's head...
He sat in a pub until evening, sipping beer. No one joined him, but Mephisto just wanted to be alone. Well after dark, he staggered out into the street. The noise had subsided considerably, there were no cars in sight, and all that remained of the people were a few whores milling back and forth...
With some difficulty, he adjusted and locked the saw in the position he thought best. With a loud whistle, the blade began to rotate. Mephisto turned, crouched, and carefully leaned towards the blade. It jerked a little, sparks fell to the ground, and a terrible clamor echoed between the houses.
"They'll probably call the police soon for disturbing the peace," he thought, but he didn't worry and touched the chain to the saw again. He pressed harder, but it didn't quite work. If only he could see what he was doing...
"Wait, I'll help you." Mephisto looked in disbelief at the long-legged blonde with angelic hair, lips aflame with bloody lipstick, and large, sad eyes. The whore bent down, ignoring the fact that her short skirt exposed her buttocks, grabbed the chain, and precisely aimed it at the blade...
The pain was excruciating. Her wings were numb, several bones were cracked, joints were broken, and a membrane torn. Mephisto gritted his teeth and forced himself to try again. The wings slowly spread. The whore smiled sadly.
"Good luck."
He looked at her again. She was an angel... once. She could try too...
" "Goodbye," he replied, and slowly, a little hesitantly, rose into the air. Already above the rooftops, he saw the blue lights of a police car and officers staring at the night sky.
"I don't give a damn about you all!" He screamed as loudly as he could and soared higher...
Mephisto shed tears of blood again in pain, but he was free, and that gave him strength. He didn't give up as he watched with horror how his master was dealt with on Earth. For several days, he watched Lucifer, carrying a briefcase, run through offices and pubs, retreating into his own shell, only occasionally peeking his head out during visits to the psychoanalyst. Then he flew away and tried to forget. From behind a cloud, he watched as several workers nailed a god to the western patch of sky. Long nails immobilized the all-powerful one, and above him hung a sign reading "GOD." "
Now everything is clear!" The workers rejoiced. "God exists; we know where to find him, what he looks like, and what he does. And above all, he doesn't interfere with anything.
The long ladders were pulled down, and a sad peace reigned in the heavens. Planes didn't fly here, and it was too high for birds.
"Maybe he should free him?" Mephisto thought, but he didn't. In the end, it was his victory. The great father had lost...
Mephisto was alone. He landed in a quiet forest, far from towns and villages. He had no desire for anything. He watched as the she-wolf taught her pups the more difficult art of killing...
The sniper was far away, but he had excellent training, an excellent rifle, and excellent eyesight. He put his eye to the lens and pulled the trigger. The silver bullet whistled toward its target. It flew precisely between the branches, past the tree trunks. With a dull thud, it struck the chest, penetrated, and tore through the tissue. The startled she-wolf and her offspring fled deeper into the forest.
Mephisto slowly folded his wings and died.
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