User blog:ThisIsXenon/GGaD fic -- Chapter 1

Chapter 1 Micah was running from a group of guards and certain death.

He had said that the mission was too dangerous. But had the others listened? Nope. As always, his protests had been ignored. And, of course, he was handpicked by Damian to go on the mission. It didn't matter that Micah wasn’t a good thief, or that Clay had wanted to do it. Since Micah complained, Damian appointed him. He could almost see the snake shapeshifter’s smug grin now.

Bastard.

Micah vaulted over a low fence, buying himself an extra second or two while the guards freaked out and tried to jump it. A bullet whizzed inches from his head, rippling his hair. He ducked and tucked the heavy book he carried under his arm.

That book, black leather with gold embossed lettering, was the reason for this mission. Micah couldn't read the lettering, but he knew what it was all the same.

''The Book of Corruption. ''

Damian had gone over the description so many times that Micah could practically recite it in his Damian-voice (which didn’t really sound like Damian at all but was still fun to mock him with).

“It’s black,” Damian had said.

“I know.”

“It’s got gold letters.”

“Yes.”

“It looks hella old.”

“Duh.”

“And it’s heavily guarded.”

“Oh, of course!”

Damian had narrowed his eyes. “Are you sassing me?”

“Is that a question you really have to ask?”

The point was, yes, Micah knew the book, and he would escape with the book or die. No quarter, no mercy. The Corrupted Deities didn’t do, or didn't know, mercy.

The guards were gaining on him, so he decided to shift and save a little more time. His back twinged, and then Micah was off of the ground, beating his wings furiously to gain more height. The guards shouted as their target suddenly went airborne. Micah clutched the book to his chest as bullets streaked through the air.

Just a little father, come on….

The entrance to the keep -- a manor that was originally a training ground for the world’s best assassins -- was a few blocks away, on the outskirts of the city. Most of the city was under non-Corrupted Deities’ control, but everyday the CDs took a little more. A block here, a street there, seemingly insignificant wins that were beginning to add up. That’s why Micah’s group’s base was at the Keep, even though Micah had never wanted to see it again.

Micah cursed as a bullet zoomed by his head, and went into a dive. He could see the keep now, the tall silver fence encasing the manor. He probably didn’t have to use any of the gates. He could just land in the courtyard and--

Something hit his left wing.

Micah felt the bullet lodge in his wing joint, and then the entire appendage locked up.

He was falling.

He tried to straighten out the other wing, but that sent him into a dizzying spiral that torqued him into an alleyway. He crashed to the ground.

He laid there for a second. Everything hurt. Something felt broken. He was slightly surprised that he was still alive.

He sat up with a groan, and checked for any broken bones -- there were none, surprisingly. He'd have some absolutely mad bruises tomorrow, but nothing was broken.

What luck.

He stood with a wince and listened for the guards. They were probably headed this way now. The Keep had been within view when he crashed, so he guessed it was a street or two over.

One great thing about the city was the double ended alleyways. Micah ran out one end just as the guards spilled through the other.

Micah recognised this area of the city. He turned left onto a regular street, then cut right into a short alleyway that rammed right into the wall of the Keep. The gate there wasn’t actually a gate, it was just an enchanted portion of the wall that would let any member approved by the Keep in. As Micah approached, the bars bent to allow him entry. He ducked through the hole and ran through.

Another perk of the Keep was that it hid all evidence of people inside. The place always looked deserted from the outside, which meant that most people left it alone. It was mostly deserted on the inside as well, but that didn't matter.

Micah jogged along the path to one of the many entrances. At least, he hoped it was an entrance. Some of the ‘entrances’ were actually specially designed booby traps that killed off ignorant assassins. Micah had watched someone go through one of them, and cleaning up the aftermath was not pleasant.

He reached the door and tried to let go of the book to knock. Unfortunately, his shoulder had locked up as well, and his arm was clamped around the book. He kicked the door instead.

A few moments later, Calidi opened the door. “Ah, I thought you were Bellator. I was tempted not to let you in.”

“Nope.”

“You made it.”

“With the book,” Micah added, stepping across the threshold. Calidi closed the door.​​​​​​

“And a bit beaten up,” he observed. “You’re dripping blood on the floor someone just cleaned.”

“Got shot in the wing. I’m fine.”

“Are you now,” Calidi lifted an eyebrow. “Can I see the book before you bleed on that too?”

“Well, the book is kind of….stuck to me, at the moment,” Micah explained his shoulder issue as Clay walked into the room.

”Those guards must be getting better at hitting stuff if they can shoot you from the air,” Clay remarked, digging roll of bandages and a knife out of his satchel. “C’mere.”

Micah shuffled over, his wings too big in the small hallway. Calidi ducked to avoid being smacked in the face. Clay inspected the wound.

“I’m going to have to dig this out,” he announced.

“Of course you are,” Micah muttered. He sat down on the floor with a huff, and Clay inspected the wound for another minute before sticking his knife into it.

Micah had felt a lot of different types of pain, but this was new. This pain zinged through the left side of his body, causing him to double over.

“Stop moving, you're gonna make it worse,” Clay said.

“It gets worse?”

Clay probed the wound, and Micah almost threw up, the book sliding from his hands. Calidi swooped down and picked it up.

“Don't open it,” a new voice warned. Damian. Clay’s knife slipped -- he’d flinched at the sound -- and Micah cried out in pain. “I don't know what's in it.”

“Wasn't planning to,” Calidi replied.

“What happened to Micah?” Damian asked boredly.

“I got shot at getting your stupid book,” Micah snapped, then hissed as Clay dug his knife in again.

There was a dull clink of metal on tile, and Clay sighed. “There we go.”

“This book is vital to our operation,” Damian hissed. “This is not a ‘stupid book.’”

“Listen, you--”

“He’s just pissy because he got shot, Damian, stop fanning the flames,” Clay said, cutting off Micah’s angry curse. He started bandaging the wound. ‘Micah, d’you think you’ll be able to put these wings away when I’m done?”

“Yeah,” Micah replied, glaring at the floor. He couldn’t see Damian, but he could only imagine the fang-filled smirk that he was shooting at Micah’s back.

Calidi moved out of view, probably handing Damian the book. Clay tied the bandage, and helped Micah to his feet. Micah folded his wings closed, and felt them fade into his back.

Damian was staring at the book, running a finger along the lettering.

“Scared to open it?” Micah challenged.

“No,” Damian replied. “Just want someone to check it first,” He tossed it to Micah. “Run this by your dad.”

“You are scared.”

“If you aren’t, then you can open it up right now and look through it,” Damian cocked an eyebrow.

Micah stared at the heavy book. It tugged at him a little, agreeing with Damian, asking him to open it and devour the information inside-- Micah tucked it under his arm and stormed off, ignoring Damian’s dry laugh behind him.