I. AwakeningLow voices.Familiar.Frozen in the darkness of what part of him recognized as a bedroom, the archangel strained to determine the owners' intents.Enemies?Then... a low timbre that sounded...just like Michael...Something was calling him to leave the room, to give faces to the snatches of low talk, though not yet did he know whether those faces would be his friends...or his captors.The archangel made his decision. Slowly he raised his body from the bed, testing his arms. They held, and he slipped off silently, slowly making his way to the cracked door, all the while listening tensely for any change in pitch or distance. The closer
after all humanity is gone...