Chapter 33: 15.2 – Marry the Night ~ I’m a solider to my own emptiness.

*Marry the Night by Lady Gaga

Don't forget to listen to the wonderful song! 

 

Timothy glanced up at the cameras in the prison room, counting four in total. He leaned back in the chair the angels offered him and felt his back get stiffer by each hour. He knew that Michael was hoping he could get some information out of the warlock. Warlock to warlock, but Timothy was having none of it. He didn’t even try as the clock ticked by.

He gazed at Pitch sitting on the bed, his head bent down looking at the white floor. Timothy wondered how any prisoner would not go insane here. Everything was white and precise, and deadly quiet. The only thing that made a sound was the swallow breathing and the warlocks’ thoughts.

Timothy didn’t know how long he had been in the small room but guessed it was getting closer to nighttime. He glanced at his small, antique black watch and it read that it was close to midnight. He gave a surprised look, not expecting the time to fly quicker, but he was not complaining.

“So, Timothy,” said Pitch as the clock struck five minutes until midnight, “What made Michael decide to trust you?”

Timothy responded, glad to have a discussion going during all the silent time spent, “I have helped the Archangel before.”

“So did I with Lucifer,” said Pitch.

Timothy wasn’t all that sure what Pitch meant by that, “Do you think Lucifer still likes you?”

Pitch answered smoothly, “If he did, he would've helped me get out of this hellhole by now.” He got up from the twin bed and came to the glass, tapping the glass wall with his finger in a light way, “Katerina told me a while back if I tried to break this glass, I would go into a deep slumber.” He gazed at Timothy, “I wonder if it still works. “

“I wouldn’t try it if I was you,” Timothy said. He pressed his lips and went over to the glass, standing in front of Pitch, just a glass barrier closing them off. He felt this was a good opportunity to ask Pitch some questions, Pitch seemed to be opening up, “Just me how you managed to escape the last time,” Timothy outright asked.

Pitch cocked his head up to the other warlock, “Do you really want to know the answer to that?”

Timothy nodded, “Yes.” He stood there in his black trench coat and his black hair fluffed out.

Pitch turned his back against the glass and leaned on it, directing his head to the left as if he was going to look back at Timothy, “I like how confident you seem that I will answer such a brainless question, Mr. Watt.”

Timothy had read the texts some hours ago that Michael sent him that there may have been a helper, “Did someone help you?”

Pitch’s head smoothed against the glass, feeling the coolness of it, “You are getting warmer,” he replied, grinning ear to ear.

Timothy’s pulse quickened and he pushed, “Who?”

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Pitch swirled around and his lavender eyes sparkled at Timothy’s bright emerald eyes. He lowered his voice down into a seductive whisper, “Don’t you love to give other people a second chance, Mr. Watt? During all this time, I have never hurt any souls or been off the radar. I knew one day that the heroes would figure out I was alive and I thought I proved myself worthy of all the years I kept living. Don’t you believe in second chances?” He smirked and pressed his body to the wall and chewed on his lips, “Certainly Michael’s daughter did.” Pitch took a step back with a wicked smile planted on his face.

Timothy’s heart stopped dead in his chest and breathed out, his eyes gazing shockingly to Pitch’s narrowed eyes, “How did—” But before he could finish the inquiry, he sensed something breaking above him and his eyes snapped up in time to see as glass started to fall in a heavy tremulous shatter as it came down in a heavy pour, but seemingly in a slow motion.

Timothy let out a gasp as he tried to step back, but he was too late, the glass rained down on him. He squeezed his eyes shut not to get them impaled by the shards. The shards razed down on him and he felt pain shoot through his body. Just as he opened his eyes to feel the glass stop falling, he was shot back in a lavender blast of magic, his body arching as he flew back.

Then everything seem to quicken again as he slammed against the wall, feeling his body lurch in horrible pain as he could hear his spine break, but he let his magic expel down his back into healing before he become paralyzed.

Thomas Pitch let out a soft, evil chuckle as he grinned down at Timothy as the alarm came blaring on into a screeching, awful sound. Pitch didn’t even seem to care as Timothy looked nose blooded at him as he grasped at his sides in daunting agony, “Looks like the pretty boy couldn’t stop me.” He squatted down to Timothy as he heard loud footsteps approaching, “Michael isn’t good at picking the right people. Bummer.” He raised his hands as the door blast opened and let his magic electrify the air and paralyzed every angel.

He breezed through the double metal doors and saw the desk angel girl, whip out her sword into a heavenly blaze, “Ah yes, where’s the sword, darling?”

She snarled at him and he waved his fingers to the elevator, letting it stop in its tracks, “Where is it?” He growled and snapped his fingers as the desk girl fell to her knees. He walked away from her as he heard her body slump to the ground.

Pitch ran through the basement, bursting through the doors in a flash. He let the walls explode into million pieces as he flung his hands up, letting the walls crumble into the ground. He saw the glint of steel.

“Pitch!” Michael yelled.

Pitch whirled around and let the walls enclosed between Michael and him and dashed to the sword, seeing it be circled with magic. He punched the magic circle with his fist, all his magic flung to that barrier of magic. He let the shock factor blow the magic into nothingness. The sword floated there now vulnerable and he snatched it up.

He turned just in time to see Michael slicing through the wall, his face twisted in anger, “Pitch! This is enough!” He gasped as he stared at Pitch’s hand, holding the sword.

Pitch chuckled, “Want to play with me, angel?”

Michael snarled, “You can’t hurt me.”

Pitch swung the sword in his hand playfully, “Now I can with this.”

Michael lurched to him, but Pitch let out a bark of laughter as he waved his hands around him. Particles of his magic swirled around like small atoms coming together. The lavender particles touched every aspect of Pitch’s body and as Michael let down his blade into Pitch’s head, the particles burst and Pitch vanished.

Michael sliced through empty air. He gasped, his face stunned by what the warlock had achieved before the Archangel’s eyes. Angels dashed to Michael’s side, but all they were looking at was a basement that looked like it went through a tornado.

 

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