Chapitre 1: A Normal Day For A Nephilim
Sitting on the furthest chair back in the lecture room, I leaned forward, resting my head on my hands while I watched the professor write down the different muscles and what each of them did.
I'd also wanted to help people. Fix them up and put them back on the field, so to speak.
You could even say I was obsessed with helping people. Back when I was a kid in Primary School I used to carry around a small bag of medical supplies (mainly plasters and gauze) and I'd help any of the kids who fell down and got hurt. Put that together with my good looks, tall body and approachable demeanor and I became pretty popular quite quickly.
I remember catching some flak for it when I was in Secondary School - people would always take the piss out of me for carrying around plasters and gauze...but they'd soon stop it when I helped wash, clean and bandage up a somewhat bad cut or scrape, or when I was there to keep them calm when I found one of them stabbed under some bridge and I helped staunch the blood flow and call an ambulance for them*.
(*A/N - Might seem like an exaggeration but knife crime is pretty brutal in England. At least where I live. It's not uncommon to machete-wielding psychos as well. So it's not out of reality to find a stabbing or be on the end of the stabbing if you piss off the wrong people.)
As I grew older, I delved more and more into medicine and what you could do for someone when something bad happened. I learnt to set broken noses and how to re-align broken bones and then set them with a splint. Ever since I was a kid, I was like a man-possessed. I was around 15 when I really became determined to become a Doctor. Or at the very least a Nurse. Both would allow me to help people.
Which is why I took a scholarship to Metropolis University, one of the biggest and most well-renowned Universities in the world. I took my A-Levels in one of England's best Colleges, so Metropolis University took me in without too much trouble, offering me a scholarship.
I was also what you could call physically gifted as well as academically gifted. Whether it be physically or mentally, I adapted to things quite quickly.
Even now, I was bored in class because I'd already memorized the muscles of the body and what they're used for. In the end, I'd only really taken Anatomy because it was a good minor to have when I tried to get into Medschool. But there was yet another reason I was pre-occupied during class.
The news I'd received two weeks ago and the subsequent awakening it'd caused in me. Then there was what happened a week ago...
I closed my eyes and tried not to think about it or how it'd most likely happen again sometime soon. What had happened that day was a stark reminder that I was no longer a normal student and I craved that normalcy to return.
Alas, how could it return? I was a Nephilim, after all. Half-Angel, Half-Human.
Closing my eyes, I leaned back into my mind and delved into the memories of everything that had led up to me finding this out.
You see, ever since I turned 18, I'd began to feel weird. Like something was growing inside of me. It continued to grow and expand inside of me until a week or two after I started college, whatever was growing inside of me burst open and through me. It spread out like an invisible wave and an ungodly pain assaulted my entire body.
Then I blacked out.
When I woke up the next day, I wasn't in my room anymore. Instead, I was seated at a dining table in some sort of high rise building.
Across from me sat a tall man with black hair, well-groomed facial hair and dark brown eyes. He was a good-looking guy and had a natural charisma around him. As I looked at him now, I leaned back into his chair, sipping from a glass of whiskey and smiling as he watched some cheesy comedy on the flat screen TV not too far from the table we were at.
Just as I had been about to call out to him, he turned to look at me and his eyes lit up. In one fell swoop, he put the glass down, turned the TV off and stood up from his chair. He walked to me and before I could get up or move away, he slapped a hand down on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze, "I see you're awake, Nicholas?" he spoke with an English accent I wasn't used to hearing in the States.
What followed was me freaking out and the man who introduced himself as my Uncle trying to calm me down.
He briefed me on my origins, who my parents were and why I was raised in an orphanage instead of with them. It was a lot to take it - and I do mean A LOT - but after having him speak to me for a few hours, I began to open up to the things he was saying. Plus he showed me his wings at one point and after poking my forehead and discharging some sort of energy inside my head, wings burst out my back as well...sooo, I had to admit that at least some of what he said was legit.
He also gave me a brief rundown on the powers I'd be developing over time.
Super strength, super speed, super durability that bordered on invulnerability--A lot of 'super' versions of what I already had, basically.
Apparently whatever else I'd get would only be revealed with time.
After that, it was time for me to ask questions. And boy...did I ask a lot of questions. Understandably, in my humble opinion.
After getting some basic questions out of the way, I tackled the big bad one.
"Who was my father?" was what I asked. My uncle, who revealed himself to be Lucifer (big shock there when he neither had goat legs or horns), had implied my father was where I got my holy heritage from, so I decided to skip right to the point. And I'm being honest here when I say what I'm about to say:
I wasn't very pleased with who my father was. Or rather, what he represented. That's what I wasn't pleased with. Understandably so, I hope.
I remember Lucifer pausing at my question, the cogs in his head visibly turning as shown by his frozen expression before it transitioned into an awkward smile, "Now, I'm probably not the best one to break the news to you, Nicholas," I remember him saying, "But if you want an answer, I'll give it to you." As he said this, I remember him downing the rest of his whiskey in one gulp before putting the glass down and giving me my answer, "Your father went by the name Don while he was down on Earth. Even up in Heaven he usually went by it as his full name was rather stuffy. His own words, not mine," Lucifer held up his hands, trying to lighten the tension in the air with a bit of levity, "But his full name was Abaddon. He was the Angel of the Abyss and usually nicknamed The Destroyer...so not exactly a benevolent Angel, really."
I kinda can't remember anything else after Lucifer said that. Not for a few paragraphs, anyway. I was just kinda struck by the realization that whoever my father was, he had some pretty nasty stories about him.
Abaddon was literally THE Destroyer. He destroyed and killed shit as a part of his status quo...and he was my father? It was quite a stunning realization that maybe I wasn't too much different than him. I thought this because while I had a need to help people, I had an equally bad temper. One I kept under control through rigorous control exercises. The amount of times I'd nearly used my bigger size and naturally higher strength to beat people when angered wasn't something I could count on my hands even if I had another pair.
Alas, I hadn't done so because my empathy usually won out over my anger...but the realization that maybe I was a little too like my biological father was a stark one nonetheless. I remember finding myself thinking 'Maybe the apple didn't fall too far from the tree' and such a thought was scarier than any I'd ever had.
I finally began to tune back into the lecture as I didn't want to think too much about my origins anymore. For now, I just wanted to be a normal student.
Opening my eyes, I watched the professor begin to say his finishing sentences, indicating that I had homework to do tonight and that the lecture was over.
Mentally chiding myself, I began packing my things up before standing up just as everyone else was standing up. As I stood, I found myself looking toward a group who'd gained my interest even before my Nephilim origins came to my knowledge. A small group of what looked like well-knit people who enjoyed each other's company - It wasn't a rare sight, honestly. Some people just hit it off quite well and became close quite quickly.
But these guys were different. They gave off a...different air.
Something, maybe my instincts, told me they were interesting people.
But enough of staring at a group of people like some sort of creep. Walking toward the exit of the lecture hall, I felt a few somewhat intruding stares coming off a few girls and even a few guys, and I couldn't help but sigh a little.
I've been naturally good-looking ever since I was a kid and it had only gotten better (or worse, depending on your perspective) as I grew older and my looks lost the baby fat that covered them. But ever since I awakened my Angel side...my looks became too good. I was like a model you'd see on a magazine. Put together with my tall frame and athletic body...and you got a combination that got me a lot of attention from the girls on campus, and like I mentioned, even some of the guys.
I mean, it's flattering, sure...but I'm really not the lustful type of guy. Neither am I a homosexual or bisexual. I'm attracted to women but at the point I am in my life currently, I can't really find it in myself to focus on getting and maintaining a relationship. After all, I'd only recently discovered that I was a Nephilim, you know? I had a lot on my mind. Too much for me to focus on a relationship anyway.
Leaving the lecture hall and ignoring any looks I got, I walked through the college halls before I got out of the main building. Once out, I turned left and began heading toward the dorms.
Looking up, it was getting a bit late, the sky rapidly darkening earlier than usual as per the usual winter days. Picking up my speed, I soon found myself on a surprisingly empty pathway. Instantly I felt a bad feeling and stopped.
Sighing, I turned around and spotted a man in a long beige trench coat leaning against a lamp post. He was smoking a cigarette that was nearly finished and yet the ash stayed on the end of the cigarette without falling...but that couldn't be right. It looked as if even the smallest of movements was taken it would fall, which meant that man had been there, perfectly still. How come I hadn't seen him?
The blond-haired man looked to me, slightly taken aback and seemingly because I was standing where I was. He quirked an eyebrow, "Have I got something on my face, mate?" he asked, his scouse accent somewhat strong but also mixed with a bit of a cockney accent which balanced it out, letting me understand it a bit better.
Now that I looked at him...he looked pretty beat. He had a black eye, blood was pouring from his nose, he had dried blood around the corners of his mouth and his clothes were ripped and somewhat dirty.
How hadn't I seen that as soon as I looked at him?
Pushing passed my confusion, I answered, "...You look pretty beat. You get jumped or something?" I asked in return.
Hearing my English accent, the man smile, revealing a somewhat bloodied smile, "Ah, yeah, I did. Some big bastard gave me a hook right across the face," he laughed, seeming at his own circumstance, before he seemed to realize something, "...I didn't see you walk passed me, mate. You get onto this pathway through some secret alleyway or something?" he asked and my suspicions were quickly becoming more real, alarm bells ringing in my head.
"...I didn't see you when I walked passed you either," I let my worry slip into my voice and the man's eyes instantly narrowed, like he understood something I didn't.
I was unsure why I was speaking to this man, despite the dangerous feel he gave me, but I was pretty sure I was about to experience for a second time what my uncle had warned me about after he told me about my heritage.
Demons.
Long story short, Lucifer had left hell. Without a ruler, no doubt. Which caused massive unrest in the Demon populace and without someone to control them, they went a bit hectic.
I asked him why he couldn't just go back...but he didn't answer my question directly. He instead asked me if I'd like to go and sit in Hell doing nothing for eternity. I got his point when I looked at it like that but even then the selfishness kind of struck me a little...but then again, from what I'd gathered from my limited exposure to my uncle, he wasn't one who cared for things like selflessness or denying himself what he wanted for the greater good.
What this meant for me, as the only alive Nephilim on Earth, was that the Demons wanted to take me to Hell and make me the new King/Ruler of Hell. Why? Because Demon's couldn't rule over Hell. Apparently that's how God made it. Instead, if they could bring me to Hell, they thought they'd be able to push my leadership in certain directions to get what they wanted.
I mean, I didn't totally understand why they wanted me to become Ruler but I knew one thing: I didn't wanna go to hell. Plain and simple.
As I thought this, a deep and sadistic-sounding voice echoed eerily through the pathway, "The bastard half-Angel son of The Destroyer and the John Constantine who I've been chasing for the better part of a day...? This might just be my luckiest day yet~!" the voice originated from the...everywhere around me. I looked around and found where it was coming from in more specific terms:
It was coming from the shadows cast by the setting sun. Inside each of the shadows were countless mouths, each filled with countless murky black teeth. I couldn't explain or tell how I could see or differentiate between the shadows, the mouths and the teeth...I just could.
Every shadow was like an eldritch horror.
But I found myself with a surprising lack of fear. An instinct I hadn't known I had was kicking in. An anger I couldn't hope to control spurred forward as I looked at the eldritch mouths filled with their sharp, shadowy fangs. Without being able to control it, my wings burst from my back and I felt my halo burn to life above my head.
Their golden sheen and luster burned the shadows, destroying any semblance of the demon within.
I snarled, my anger taking a hold of me. But before that could happen, I wrest control from my instincts as I saw a shadowy figure rising up behind the man who was presumably called John Constantine.
Just as I was about to call out for him to dodge, I saw him smirk.
"Lucky day?" he said, "You need to re-define what you think luck means, mate," was the snappy wisecrack he said before he lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. Spectral chains appeared from nowhere and grabbed the shadowy figure, restraining it.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone