As with all rundown residential areas in cities with more money than sense, a park had been built not far from the pastor's church. Predictably for all except the misguided politician leading its creation, Leaf's Crossing Park had quickly become a dealer's hotspot. The playground designed to bring joy to the area now saw nearly as many passed out addicts each day as it did children. Thankfully, the groups weren’t usually there at the same time.

Enlil strolled casually through the park, taking in its sights. He spared not a glance at the men and women huddled in or under the colorful yet faded plastic slides he passed. Instead, he watched the shape of the trees in the wind and the sound of wildlife in this place. It was still here, he saw. Despite the bleak atmosphere, birds were not put off by the troubles of man. A few pigeons pecked through left out trash and squirrels ran through unattended overgrowth.

When Enlil arrived at the tree covered hill in the park's center, he was not alone. A pair of men slept in piles of blankets next to a large, shaggy black dog that raised its big head as he approached. Enlil nodded once towards it in acknowledgement and the beast sniffed at the air. He waited. A moment later, the dog laid its head back down on its large paws and snorted. A chuckle escaped the big man, but went unnoticed by the sleeping pair.

Setting up the celestial summons took Enlil a relaxed five minutes. The dirt he had taken with him from the church's consecrated grounds left his pockets to form a loose circle in front of him. With his right hand, he drew three smaller circles within the first, then a six-pointed star within the lower-right circle. At its center, he traced a few runes and spoke a word almost as old as he was. Power rumbled in the air and an emanation in the earth traveled rapidly away. The dog' ears went up, but soon settled when nothing else happened. Enlil folded his arms, leaned against a tree, and waited.

Enlil had been debating on which of the angels he knew to call upon ever since he slew his first demon in centuries. He knew the true Names of a number of the winged beings, but that didn't mean he was on good terms with all of them. In his line of work, that was pretty much inevitable. Even the few he had worked well with in the past were unlikely to respond well to a direct calling. Angels were fun like that. Still, he knew one at least that had a soft spot for him. Thirty minutes later, she arrived.

"Enlil-shi, still alive I see?" Asked a melodic voice that sounded like it could carry a choir on its own. Its owner was a tall, fair-faced blonde woman in simple clothes. Blue jeans and a simple white shirt that ended at her muscled upper arms. Faint white scars showed on her arms, a few more than he remembered. The woman had no shoes on, but then, angels never did.

Enlil smiled warmly. She had used her old title for him, a term of respect. Some things at least remained the same in this world. Though he was curious at the lack of a sword at her side. The warrior he had known rarely went unarmed.

"Briel, wonderful to see you again. Did your people get my offering?" He asked, though he knew the answer. A wounded demon sent heavensward? It would be intercepted, questioned, and sent back down to the Pit within an hour. If the angels were feeling merciful that day, anyway.

"So you are the one who offered up that hellspawn?" Briel laughed in amusement, the sound as full of love and life as that of a newborn child.

"I saw the mark, but it’s been a long time since you sent us bounty. Almost as long as it has been since you were seen. We’ve been waiting for someone to claim it. " The angel added a questioning tone to the end of her second statement, but moved past it quick as a breeze.

Enlil shook his head slightly at her unasked question. It was too soon to speak of his imprisonment. The immortal still did not know who he owed for his little entombment, and it was always possible someone was listening. Business first. Talk later. "I am here for what is owed." he said formally.

Briel nodded almost imperceptibly, then her appearance changed. White light shone from eyes and a shimmering golden light danced underneath her fair skin. Her hair changed from strands of blond to the tapestry of golden fire he remembered as part of her angelic form. With a voice of holy authority, she spoke the ritual words as she held her hands in prayer. Loosely translated from celestial, the words were: "By Heaven's Mandate, we accept thine given bounty."

Bright light shot from her clasped hands and suffused him. Immediately, Enlil felt the energy begin to renew his much depleted stores. An ache in his mind that had been there so long he had forgotten the constant pain of it began to eas away. The immortal could feel his lost strength finally begin to return…

All too soon, it was over. Barely seconds had passed. The light faded from Briel's hands and her form returned to normal. Enlil sighed internally. He knew the lower demon hadn't been worth that much. Still, even a small drip of energy was better than the near nothing he had left.

Briel was watching him, her blue eyes clearly worried, but she said nothing. His former student knew better than to ask personal questions. Enlil-shi simply wouldn't answer. Instead, following his earlier lead, the angel treated this like a business meeting. "Are you interested in more work for Heaven today, Enlil-shi?" She asked in a practiced tone. As she did, she noticed the sleeping men off to the side for the first time. Pity leapt quickly onto her angelic face.

"Yes. Are there any contracts of note open in the area?" He asked, following her gaze. He suspected the two men would wake up to a gift after he left. Briel always did have a soft heart.

"Two. Only one worthy of you however. It’s been open for a while. I can do double your standard fee if you’re willing to take it. The other has little in the way of reward, but I would consider it a personal favor." She responded with a speck of fleeting anger towards the end there. Her eyes didn't leave the homeless men. Their dog stirred and locked eyes with her. She smiled kindly at it, and the dog came over to greet her.

Double? After so long without, a boon that large would be a godsend. No pun intended. Enlil already had an idea of what the contract would be, considering how his morning had started. Demons in the open meant angels would be afield as well.

"I'll take both." He said, after a moment of thought. It wouldn't do to appear too eager, even if it was Briel, and even if he rather sorely needed the reward. The immortal also knew a fee that large probably came with stipulations he wouldn't care much for. Angels were strict creatures after all.

Briel nodded and began to bestow scritches upon the head of the four legged good boy. The angel recited the terms of the contract as she did. Enlil had been right. He didn't care for the stipulations. They would be a hamper, but nothing he couldn’t handle. Unconcerned with the subject matter being discussed above him, the dog's tail wagged appreciatively under the angel’s ministrations.

When he had heard all he needed, Enlil asked about the favor. Briel told him the sex trade was starting to expand within the city and with it, a rising number of young girls going 'missing'. She happened to know where a pair were being held. Rescuing them was the favor. Quickly, if possible. As the angel had not directly observed any demonic influence, she could not save them herself.

Angels were forbidden from interfering directly in the affairs of mankind. The sole exception was when acting to prevent or counter the influence of other supernatural entities, primarily those originating from hell. They could be powerful guides and guardians against such threats - but were often helpless against the mundane. Any other interference was blasphemous. An angel that acted in such a profane manner would Fall irrevocably from heaven.

Fortunately, Enlil shared no such restrictions. Briel would break no rules asking for his help, though the angel was restricted in what she could offer in return. Walking the line between indirect and direct assistance was a delicate and dangerous dance when one considered the potential penalty... but it was not her first time doing so. It wouldn’t be her last.

What did make things easier here was her former master's intense hatred for slavery. It was well known in supernatural circles that engaging in such matters could draw his ire if he were in the area and found out about it. The immortal’s penchant for 'interfering' in such matters was something of an open secret. And after what he'd done to the Ottoman Empire… All the angel had to do was point him in the right direction.

And point him she did, to a house just a few miles away. It could be distinguished by the specific arrangement of flowers in front of it. According to the Angel, the number of roses in the arrangement out front were used as a signal to inform other traffickers as to when a ‘cargo’ was waiting. Today, there were two. One for each girl. If the pattern held, by week's end at the latest they would be gone and the roses removed. Briel wanted him to move that up a bit.

"Have you heard from Draeg recently?" Enlil asked after they had worked out logistics for the slavers. He was anxious for news of his scaled best friend. The black dragon had been his staunchest ally for centuries.

Briel blinked in surprise. "You haven't? He was in America about a decade ago. Something about a feud between one of his brood and the fae court of autumn. I call him every now and again."

Enlil's jaw dropped. Actually dropped. He stared at his former pupil with equal parts incredulity and horror. Briel quickly corrected herself when she saw the look on his face. "On the phone, not directly! Heaven's gates, Enlil-shi, I want to stay on Earth not leave it!"

Watson had mentioned phones earlier. A little device you could use to talk to other people if you knew the code to reach them. They were basically greatly improved telegraphs, from what Enlil could tell. If they were as ubiquitous as the boy had said, and why wouldn’t such a useful tool be after all, then it made sense Briel had meant using one instead of engaging in an act that would enrage an ancient dragon. Dragons were many things, but forgiving was rarely one of them.

"Ah… of course.” He paused, then shook his head. “I have never used one, though it seems I may need to correct that soon.” Angels could detect direct lies as easily as a foul odor, but that alone was true enough. Besides, immortals were rarely up to speed on current events or gadgets. Most only checked in from their hobbies every other century or so. Briel no doubt assumed this was one of those periods for him.

Briel laughed, the sound like the ringing of bells. "I can tell. Much has changed since you’ve been gone. Mankind has come very far.” There was approval and a touch of pride in her voice. “Here, how about this. When you're done with everything, you can use my library card. Alright? Get you up to speed." She grinned over at him, though the moment was interrupted by the dog’s tongue roughing the side of her face.

Enlil grinned back. His former pupil had come far, it seemed. He was glad she had made her way even after he’d struck out on his own again. Still, something was bothering him. “Where is your sword, Briel?” he asked suddenly, a hint of joking rebuke in his voice. “Have times changed such that angels forsake their weapons on the field?” The immortal ended the sentence with a raised eyebrow.

Years before, this might have caught her off guard. Now, Briel just reached behind her and pulled out a silver-white pistol then put it back in its holster. “I left the sword in the armory. I knew it was most likely you who had called so…” The angel shrugged, the expression more graceful than it was on any human. “I didn’t think I’d need it.”

The implication was clear. As was the compliment. Enlil let the matter drop. There was work to do, after all. He would not let those girls suffer any longer. “I will signal when the house is clear. Light keep you until we meet again, Briel.” The immortal then turned and left without another word.

“Light keep you as well.” Briel responded as she watched him leave. When he had cleared even the limits of her sight, she whispered to herself. "It is good to have you back, Enlil-shi."

The angel deposited some food next to the still sleeping men. Neither noticed a thing. The pair had somehow slept through everything. Their lives must be hard right now. Briel leaned in to each and whispered positive prayers. That ought to get them through the next month or so. She gave the dog another minute of scritches, then with the sound of flapping wings, the angel was gone.

The slaver's house was in a normal-looking residential area. The drapes were closed in every window, but that was the same for most of the houses he passed on his way over. It wouldn't do to linger, even if he had only passed three others on the several mile walk. Instead, the immortal man dressed in a construction outfit walked up to the side door as if it were home.

Inside was another van like the one he had seen earlier today. There were a few metal bits of furniture with many drawers and tools strewn about. No people. Enlil grasped the door's handle and discovered it was locked. What's more, it was round, like the one on the pastor's door had been. Strange, but no matter.

Doors had remained more or less the same throughout history. Their locking mechanisms had changed, but the idea behind them had not. Connect door to something stronger. Enlil tapped a finger around the edges of the door, spaced every foot or so. Seconds later, he nodded to himself and slammed the door three times with a palm strike. Once in the upper left, once in the lower left, and once directly on the handle.

The door bent inwards and splintered with each hit. Metal hinges ripped off the frame along with the lock. Enlil caught the door before it fell, stepped inside, and replaced the door in its original position. The entire sequence took merely seconds, but now movement could be heard inside the house. Footsteps were approaching. Good, he thought. That would save him some time.

The first man opened the garage door with wires leading into his shirt from his head, loud music audible from the ears. He was clothed in just a white shirt and jeans with light blonde hair and fair skin. Couldn't have been older than thirty. He was muttering along to a song when he stepped into the garage. Without pause to see the danger on his right, he headed for the vehicle, keys in hand. On his way, he tapped a button on the wall and the garage began to open with the loud whine of metal on metal..

Enlil moved forward and tapped the button immediately. The large door stopped moving. "What the--" the man began as he reached to pull one of the wires out of his ears. His hand never made it. Before he could get a hand in the way, the immortal's hand reached around to cup his target's mouth and pinch the nose. Then his other hand gripped the man's neck, reaching from the back to grip the sides of his target's neck. In an instant, blood flow to the man's brain ceased just as air flow was halted.

Predictably, the blonde man struggled for a moment, but that was all. A carefully placed twisting jerk of the neck and blondie slumped to the ground. Enlil peered down and checked his work. Unconscious, but breathing again. He would wake as soon as his brain had enough blood to start up again.

Unluckily for him, the garage was full of useful items for a would-be assailant. By the time he woke, blondie was bound and gagged with some cord and greasy rags Enlil had found. A decently sized metal wrench was also… 'acquired'. One never knew when a good tool could come in handy.

Another experimental push of the button closed the garage door. Enlil nodded to himself at the efficiency of the simple system and watched as the now-crying man struggled in futility against his bonds. The binding was a simple but nasty affair. The more you struggled, the more you cut off your own circulation. He considered saying as much, but decided learning on one's own made for a better lesson. Then the immortal opened the door and entered stepped into the house quiet as a mouse.

The first thing that struck him was the smell. Berries and… pumpkin pie? Cookies? There was a faint smell of human effluence mixed in with the powerfully sweet scents. And behind it all, the faint scent of two other males. Which made sense as filthy laundry lay in piles strewn around him. Two large machines with circular openings were to his right. The interior of one was whirling and smelled heavily of lavender. He shook his head to clear the smells and strode past the soiled clothing. As he entered the next room, the immortal's eyes narrowed in anger.

The two girls he was here for were chained naked to a brick fireplace, heavy iron collars around their necks. As if they were unruly beasts and not real people. Dark bruises and long, thin red lines from sharp cuts covered their bodies. The locations and abundance of the wounds told him their torments were… frequent. Torn furniture adorned the rest of the room, but the other two were not in it. The girls themselves were huddled together and facing the wall, no doubt trying not to draw more attention.

Enlil took all of this information in at a glance and continued into the room. Large candles burned around the room, which explained the various scents. An open kitchen entrance was to his right, a rather fat man stood inside, his face partially obscured by a white plastic pantry door.

"Forget something, Jason?" Asked the large man as he closed the door. He probably would have said something else, but the wrench had been driven directly into his mouth once the door closed. Teeth broke and blood began to flow. A cry began then died in his throat as Enlil followed his first strike by grabbing the back of the man's head and forcing his arms together. The wrench broke through the fatty neck on the other side and a gurgling cry was heard as the large man fell. Both meaty hands were raised immediately in shaking horror and pain, then the desperate attempt to pull out the wrench began. And the garbled screams. Choking on one's own blood will do that.

Enlil left the dying man and re-entered the other room just in time to hear a door down the other hallway open. A bearded man of similar size to the last stepped into the hallway with a shotgun and pointed it at Enlil who ducked back into the kitchen as it went off.

"You're a ballsy sumbitch, I'll give ya that." He shouted. "Gotcha on my cameras though." The man advanced down the hallway and kept the weapon pointed at the kitchen. As he neared, Enlil kicked his friend into the living room. The shotgun went off again and grey matter painted the carpet. Frightened whimpers came from the corner of the room.

"Shit!" The man swore, stumbling back to gain distance. He continued to backpedal down the hall and tripped, landing with a heavy thud. As fast as he could manage, he grabbed at shells in his pocket to reload the shotgun. He was not fast enough.

A frying pan flew down the hall at his face. The fallen man moved to block it with the shotgun and succeeded, though the weapon nearly slipped his grasp. It was when he tried to move the shotgun back into place that he screamed. Blood flowed from his chest where a steak knife protruded from it. When he'd moved his firearm down, he'd forced the blade down and further in at a rough angle.

Half a dozen knives soon flew down the way to join the first, some tinged with rust or leftover food. Enlil noted with a hint of detached irritation that his projectiles were even more poorly balanced than he’d assumed. Despite his technique half of them bounced off the man instead of sinking in. The other half landed where he'd aimed, center mass.

Movement of any sort became a horrifically painful task with blades in your abdomen, something the immortal knew well. Each twist and shuffle only worsened the internal damage. The best response would have been immediate medical attention and to remain still while leaving the objects where they were. His target chose instead to pull at the knives, screaming all the while. The shotgun fell forgotten to the side.

Though the man would soon die from blood loss without attention, Enlil decided enough was enough. The trafficker tried to plead as Enlil strode towards him, even reached for his gun, but neither saved him. The immortal easily took the weapon from the dying man and grey matter painted the carpet once more.