I couldn't catch Wren if I tried, not with him possessed like that. Alton needs my attention more right now.
The writer dashed to the side to see where Wren was going, instantly regretting it as his movement rubbed on his wound and sent another shot of pain into his chest. He just caught a fleeting glimpse of the teen as he finished scaling down the wall and dashed down an alleyway. Nathan winced, but forced himself to keep going, next moving as quickly as he could towards Alton. He didn't kneel so much as fall to his side, and immediately swallowed back the vomit that threatened when he saw how much blood the angel had coughed up. A normal human would have been dead by now.
"Shit shit shit shit shit..." Nathan muttered, not knowing what to do. Without the fight to focus on, he could hear the commotion on the ground below, the sound of the police assembling. He knew they were going to come up to the roof eventually. How was he going to explain this?
Alton looked up at him, and though he struggled to breathe, gave him a strange sort of smirk, as if knowing his question. "Tell... a story... writer..." he said slowly, nearly inaudible as he lifted his hand and touched the claw marks across Nathan's chest. Before he could ask, pain flared up inside of him again, but he somehow found himself unable to move, unable to scream. He was able to look down, however, and watch in shock as the multiple gashes merged into one, then followed Alton's hand as he moved it over towards his shoulder. The effort seemed to have been exhausting, for the angel's hand dropped soon after that, falling on top of his own chest.
"What the hell...?" Nathan touched the edge of the changed wound and winced again. It was no less painful than before, but it no longer looked like he'd been attacked by some wild creature. Even his clothes had morphed to match the new, single wound.
"Axe..." Alton breathed before he pressed his hand down on his chest and screamed. Until then, the only blood on him had been from his mouth, but now it surged up, spreading rapidly across his chest as his internal injury became an external one. A much deeper gash appeared on his arm and shoulder, his shirt and vest tearing to line up with it. Somehow, he still smiled at Nathan. "Tell a good story," he said, his breathing much better now, but his words still coming out very weak. "But tell Michael the truth." With that, he closed his eyes and his head fell back, the rest of him going limp as he passed out.
This time, Nathan threw up.
Feeling completely disgusting, his whole body trembled as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and he barely noticed the footsteps rushing towards him until he wearily turned back towards Alton. Micah had climbed the fire escape first and was next to them immediately, dropping down to check on the other angel first. Nathan knew he was in trouble when he turned his gaze on him, his hands balling into fists as he barely held back his anger.
"Why did you summon him and not me?" Micah demanded, his voice dangerously soft, barely level as his shoulders began to shake. "What did I tell you about summoning a diplomat when you needed a warrior?"
Other officers were reaching the roof, and Nathan felt slightly relieved when Micah seemed to calm. It wouldn't help them if he flew off the handle now. "Call an ambulance!" he ordered one of the men who hadn't yet climbed all the way. "We have survivors!" Then, before Nathan had time to register what was going on, he addressed him again. "Tell me what happened."
Nathan balked and froze up. Alton had told him to tell Micah the truth, but there were other officers there. Officers who were all now looking at him with keen interest. He could feel himself starting to panic, his heart racing more than it was before. His hands and feet became freezing cold as he stared at all of them and felt the color drain from his face. "She..." He swallowed hard, even though the taste of vomit still lingered in his mouth. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered what Alton had said. "She had an axe," he told them, not realizing he reached for his own wound when he spoke. He began to feel dizzy. "And she took Wren..."
"Get them both to the hospital," Micah said before Nathan could tell them any more. The writer tried to nod that he agreed, not sure what he was agreeing to, but felt himself becoming more and more hazy. So much excitement, he hadn't realized just how bad his injury really was. He felt an officer help him to his feet, but didn't think he was actually standing. He thought he heard Micah demand "Now!" but by then, everything went black...
"I am becoming far too acquainted with this hospital today."
Nathan had never had stitches before, and he had to keep stopping himself from trying to pick at the bandages to look underneath at them. His arm was still incredibly sore, but the pain was nowhere near as severe. He'd already told Micah what had happened, exactly as it had occurred, from Ira showing up and attacking him to Alton changing the appearance of their wounds. "If the Sins hate me so much, I wonder why she didn't stick around to kill me when she had the chance."
From across the room, sitting in the guest chair, Micah gave him an exhausted smile. "I do not think they plan on killing you, at least not yet," he said morbidly. "It would draw too much attention to them. I think they had hoped you would summon Lumiel, which (unfortunately) is exactly what you did." He sighed and sat up, leaning forward. "This game has gotten out of hand, and I believe he is their intended target, but for what purpose, I do not know."
"It's a good question to ask him, when he wakes up." Nathan sighed, closing his eyes. "I don't know what I'm doing in all this. This is totally nuts."
"I know it this is hard on you, Nathan, but to be frank, you are vital to getting us all through this. Whatever the Sins' schemes are, you are pivotal to them."
"There are just... so many questions..."
The writer opened his eyes, looking towards the angel again. Instead of a smile, or even his usual scowl, Micah was watching him with... concern? It was the same look that his friend's back home used to give him when he'd scratch up his arms. He raised an eyebrow inquisitively.
The angel continued: "If you have questions, ask them. I do not know all the answers, but I may be able to give you some of them. It may make all of this a little easier for you."
I highly doubt that, but there is so much I want to know about this... what should I ask?