Prologue

It was Friday, and a large afterschool grouping of teenagers had gathered inside Little Reef Diner. The premisis wasn't at all too impressive, but quaint, and the kids liked it.

As the radio played a song from New Order, the front door burst open, letting in a group of four rough looking hooligans in punk clothing. One of them was quite large, nearly bumping his head against the lentil. The one beside him was relitively big, but a mere size compared to the big galloot beside him. A third stood in front of them, dressed completely in black leather with two chains wrapped around his waist. His hair was spiked and dyed purple. Thick blue eyeshadow was donned around his brow, while a hefty smattering of black lipstick overlaid his lips. He was, no doubt, the shortest. The fourth stayed pretty much out of sight behind them, but, it was clear that, whoever it was, they had a hunched back. All of them, maybe even the mysterious fourth, were no older then highschool students, and everyone knew. It was Growler and his Two-Bit army, well notorious bullies on the schoolground, but the fourth was beyond them.

Most of the teenagers there stopped what they were doing, gazing in awe and fear at the group as the radio played 'True Faith'.

Growler stepped forward, looking menicingly at those in front of him.

"Wich one of you bozoes is the freak!" He shouted. Pointing sternly towards the crowd.

"Does that include you!?" Came a brave and sarcastic retort from the back. There was a shocked gasp from the many youth. Everyone knew what happened if you talked back to Growler.

As the menice moved forward, the crowd parted hesitently to reveal the brave individual. It was a brown haired teenager, his hair cut short. He was clad in a tattered olive green vest over a cinnamon red T-shirt with baggy, moss green pants. His back was turned to them all as he was enjoying his strawberry ice cream cone.

The little bully stopped just behind him with a cocky attitude, his two lackys right behind him.

"No!" He shouted, "that does not include me!"

The boy sitting down shoved the rest of his cone in his mouth. Some of the kids felt queazy to their stomachs as they heard him swallow it, imagining the brain freeze the cone would give him. Then, slowly he turned his head around to look over his shoulder.

He sounded irritated when he spoke next. "Well, if you wanted a freak, you could have just said 'Hey! Jeff! I'm lookn' for you!' or something like that."

"Huh!" Growler hissed, trying to sound threatning, but really sounding really stupid. "You think your a funny freak! Dontcha' Jeff!"

"More then you."

More shocked gasps from the crowd.

The owner of the Little Reef Diner appeared from behind the front counter. A short, round little lady. "Hey, you kids, take it outside!"

Growler immediatly put on his 'innocent' face. "Don't worry Ms. K.. We're almost finnished here."

Completly believing him, Ms. K. went back to her work, oblivious to what was happening. Growler turned back to Jeff when she was out of sight.

He looked sternly at the eye that was focused on him. "Now listen freak. Your just lucky I'm not here for a fight!"

"Scuffle?"

"No."

"Rumble?"

"No!"

"Scrap?"

"NO! I've got a little bit of a proposition for ya'."

"Proposition? You're not Growler! His brain couldn't handle such extensive vocabulary."

"Shut up!" He motioned towards the fourth member of the group, who was still standing by the door. "Hey! Cyanide! Tell Jeffy here what we got for him!"

Jeff sat completely still, the side of his head still turned as he looked over at the advacing individual. As it came into the crowd, many of the teenagers present gasped at the sight.

The thing was in a great, shreded trenchcoat stained with some indigo coloured ooze. The hunch to its back was more then just bad posture. It was a huge hump protected by a great shell with bright orange spots and several small and oily hairs. Four pointed fingers could be seen on each hand, and six hands were seen in all. As well, it had no toes, just a single jutting claw out of its two feet. A large abdomen coloured in the same bright orange spots, complete with a nasty looking stinger protruded from the bottom of the shell. It was mostly hidden underneath the coat. The face covered by a hood, but holes were made to make way for two pairs of long, thin, anntenea.

The creature called Cyanide stopped right in front of Jeff's stare, but the brown-haired teenager didn't cringe at all.

He stared at Cyanide, as it stared at him. Finally, he spoke to it. "A Poisonous. I'll bite." With that, he got up off his chair slowly, as he had been sitting there awhile.

A sudden flash came at his feet as he swung them out from under the table. The metal of his talons, shone in the reflection of the lighting. A red, metal tail swung back and forth as he stood up. Both his hands were cut off long ago, and were also of metal: sharp, shiney, and leathal. A single green tube connected the bottom of his jaw to the base of his neck. The right side of his face had been scarred perminently several years ago, and was also replaced with metal implants, and so was the right eye. Bright red and cracking mechanically, it swereved around to servay his surroundings. His right ear was torn and scratched, and his left ear was also of a metal implant, running up in a point and ending in a radio anntennea.

"'Sup with this beatle?" Jeff scoffed, showing off his bronze fangs. Obviously, he was talking about Cyanide. He saw that the creature was carrying something, a jar that looked to carry a pint of some red liquid. It was lined with gold trim, and on it, painted in gold, was the Christian Cross.

Jeff continued to speak. "That's a fancy can you have there. Did you swipe it from the church?"

"You betcha'." Cyanide croaked. Its voice was hoarse, and buzzing like wasps. It held the jar up for him to see more clearly. "In this pint is a little something that could be good for us. Listen up harpy! You know very well that thanks to the mortal's lust for oil, 'We' have a clear shot at this defensless dump." It tapped the gold rimmed jar gingerly with it's green claws. "And this little beauty is goinna help us do it."

"Well, that's a very nice story, beatle." Jeff smirked sarcastically. "But, ya know what? I really don't care for power and pretty things." He sat down on his chair again. "But, I am thinking of having barbique this weekend. And I would really like you to be the platter of honour." All the while he spoke, he smiled with bewildering glee. "Your friends are welcome, too." He pointed a metal claw at Growler and his gang. "I have a lovely recipee for charcoal kadavers."

A loud knock came at the main door. "This is the police!" Spoke a very authorative voice. "We have the place surrounded."

The afterschool crowd seamed more curious then alarmed at this, and looked over towards the knocking. Some were couragious enough to walk foward and look closer. Growler and his gang, including Cyanide, didn't look as calm. They became nervous, and even frustrated.

The cop from the other side continued. "Come out with all of your hands up!"

The shortest of Growler's lackys started at his leader with adrupt concern. "The damn reverend squealled on us!"

Jeff found their anxioty amusing. "Smooth work ace." He cackled. "Thought you Poisonous were good at not getting caught!"

Cyanide glared back at Jeff, a sudden, scratchy hiss emmited from its slimey throat. An insectoid pair of mandibles were visibly shown from under its hood as it did so, but Jeff was not startled in the least. The rags on its back ripped and fell, the huge shell opening up in half, revealing two pairs of fly wings, tinted with green and brown. There came several screams, and a few even went running out through the fire exit. There was some commotion outside as the police officers in back scrambled to catch them.

"I don't care what they say!" Hissed Cyanide. "You Advanced are the most worthless of Dark Angels in Hell!"

"Better then the most cowardly." Quipped Jeff.

Angered and hurt by his words, Cyanide slapped him across the face with a force that sent him careening into the wall. More screams came as the beatle leaped through the big glass window at the front of the establishment.

Ms. K. appeared from behind the counter again. "What did I say about taking it outside?!"

A girl near the window spoke shrilly, still shocked of what happened. "Don't worry...I think the fight is outside now."

Cyanide ran as fast as his stubby legs could manage it, which was pretty good considering he was loosing the cops slowly, but indefinatly. People screamed as it came barraling down the sidewalk, ruthlessly shoving away anyone who got in his path. When it met an intersection, it did not stop to look both ways, just kept going. Two cars were going through at the time. The first one got a mashed fender, the second, a broken windsheild. The driver of this car lost both eyes that very moment from the spray of glass. Cyanide gained more distance as the flow of traffic was able to slow down the police.

Being sure it was out of sight, Cyanide ducked into an empty ally, stopping by a dumpster to catch its breath and admiring the mysterious jar. It couldn't help but test out its strength right there and then, all he had to do was open it. But how was that to be done? Cyanid tried the traditional take, by prying the lid open, but that was fruitless. It tested the jar to see if it was a screw-on lid. No, that wasn't it either. Maybe it was locked somehow. If that was the case, he could pick it easily.

It wasn't given enough time to look for a lock. From the top of the buildings above was a shine of bright violet, and a flash of metal. Cyanide was caught in its breath as it stared up in fear at the creature it had slammed into a wall not so long ago.

Jeff landed at the very back of the ally, only a few meters away from Cyanide. He looked sadistically pleased to see it.

"Hey Cyanide." He chuckled. "What's new? I'd have come earlier, but I had to get my wings from the car." And he spread his silvery pinions, silvery and fine, in very good keep. Two great domes were placed at the palm of his wings, and they were the source of the bright violet it had seen.

Noticing it staring at his metalic wings, he smiled wickedly back at the beatle. "Like 'em? They're anti-gravity. Guess you could use some since you're too heavy to fly with those peices of plastic attached to your back." A crackling, and a sudden show of violet electricity danced on his left arm. What had once been a hand that contained numerous small and twisted knives for finger nails, was a huge chain gun.

Jeff pointed his gunfist at Cyanide. "Care to revoke that'most worthless Dark Angels in Hell' remark?"

Cyanide just stood there, staring into the barrel of the gun with absolute fear untill the police appeared behind it. Turning around, it was no hard equation to deal with. It was surrounded, and it could not go through the brick walls of the buildings.

It looked back at Jeff and pleaded to him. "Get me out of here, and I'll make it worth your while."

"You can make it worth my while by dying slowly and painfully."

"I'll give you anything you want. Anything! Even more victems!"

"I can catch my own toys, thank you."

The more the police waited, the more anxious they became. "Come out, or we'll shoot!" They were all aiming their guns at the two monsters.

Cyanide couldn't take anymore. His shell could ward bullets, but not the rest of him.

"You want this!" It pleaded desperatly to Jeff, pointing furiously at the jar in its grasp. It was still evident he did not, but Cyanide would not take "no" for an answer. "TAKE IT!" And he threw the jar in his direcrion. Jeff barely caught it, but it eventually rested in the crook of his arm. The jar was warm, like a living body, and it's contents were red, dark, and transparent.

Is that blood He thought.

At the human shout of "SHOOT THEM!" Cyanide turned around with surprise. It was the dumbest, and last move it would make. The bullets came, and ripped right through the soft exoskeleton of its belly. It fell to the ground, and died.

Strangely, Jeff laughed uproariously. The police fired at him, but Jeff proved too fast for their bullets. Shooting up into the air, he opened up his own round of bullets at them. These were no ordinary bullets. They showered the first four officers without mercy, covering them in an impenitrable net of violet sparks. One of the officers called in for backup on his portable radio, but was cut off as Jeff swooped down, taking the officer's head off with his talons.

Blood flowed freely around the body, and those that didn't run, felt the edges of his talons.

Once all the officers were dead or gone, Jeff grew bored, and flew off, leaving only one witness.

Reverend Markin had stood out of harms reach, and eyesight of Jeff, and he had seen everything.

The ally where the dead officers and the body of Cyanide lay was cut off by tape and wooden barriers. A whole invesigation team had piled around. The bodies of the officers were torn apart, only the corpse of the big beatle remained in tact. It could not be examined, though. The blood it oozed was none other then bright green poison, and the stench of the rotting body was highly toxic. Two medics had already died just breathing in a small amount of it.

Serveral teams of reporters and cameras had grouped by the scene, staying only as far away as the police told them too, while Reverend Markin repeated what he saw over and over again.

A dark haired girl, only about sixteen, and dressed in bright pink, wandered up to the scene.

One of the officers stopped her from getting too close. "Hold it Miss. We can't allow you too get any closer then this."

"Please officer," the girl started, trying to sound calm and not distressed. "I saw this whole thing on the news, and I just want to know if you found someone I know."

The officer was interested in this tid-bit. "Well, can you describe the person?"

"He's not a person. He's a..." She paused, not really ready to say what she was going to say. "His name's Jeff. May or may not have metal wings. Sort of human-looking. Has dark hair. A red tail of metal. You can't miss him."

The Reverend saw who had come. "Vicky?" He left the officers who were questoning him and ran towards Vicky. He seamed cross, and, at the same time, relieved.

"What happened?" He started sternly. "You were supposed to be looking after Jeff!"

"He was only going out for ice cream, Dad. He's done it many times before. I don't know what got him riled up?"

A curious investigator got in between father and daughter. "Excuse me. But you say you know this...thing."

Vicky moved to say something, but was cut in by the Reverend. "My daughter calls him Jeff, but I still call him a disaster waiting to happen."

"Then, would you know anything about that other thing. The insectoid thing that's lying dead and rotting in the the ally." The investigator moved aside, pointing towards the general direction of Cyanide's body.

Reverend Markin made a deffinate show of aggrivation towards it. "That's the thing that broke into the church this afternoon. It and three other kids..."

"Can you describe the accomplices?" The officer asked, getting a note pad and pen out of his pocket.

"I don't know!" He responded angrily. "I was concentrated on the big green thing!"

"Then could you tell me what they stole?"

"A big glass cylander with golden trim, locked lid, and a cross on the front. It's been in the basement of the church since the fifties, and it is priceless!" He spoke the term 'priceless with exagerated force, as if 'priceless' meant something else.

She spoke to her father with concern. "I don't think he'll use it Dad. Jeff doesn't care for valuables."

"That's not very comforting Vicky." Markin scolded at her. "He's a demon! And a demon can't be trusted, no matter how well you know them!"

Now the reporters got interested, and the Reverend was fronted by a deluge of camaras, lights, and microphones.

"Excuse us Reverend. What did you say that thing was?"

"Have you had any contact with the Devil?"

"If you say demons are among us, have you seen angels?"

"Is the appocolypse near at hand?"

The questions looked like they would go on all night. So Vicky took her leave, wondering away from the crowd and looking up into the stary night. It was true, what her Dad said. With all her decency, she hoped Jeff wouldn't do anything wrong with the item he had in his possesion. But, he had always made it clear that he needed constant supervision to stay out of trouble. And right now, she couldn't do just that.