✓ Heavenly

081. Who Wins The War

"And you are one of those horrid creations, Venus Rosario. A mixed breed, a bastard. Angels overestimate you, you are nothing but a weak, little girl who doesn't know what she's doing. Tell me I'm wrong." They watched Venus wriggle in their grasp and chuckle. "Oh, I forgot. You can't."

A ray of blue light struck Metatron in the side. Caught off guard, Metatron shot their head toward the crowd of witches and wizards crowded around the scene of Venus and Harry's deaths. "Who did that?" Nobody answered the archangel. "Your silly spells don't affect me, nothing will help your fiends except the sweet, sweet release of death."

"Now," Hermione whispered. The crowd all swung their wands and like they'd silently rehearsed, shooting the stunning charm straight at Metatron with the gunpower of at least a hundred witches and wizards. The force shot Metatron back, making them stagger back and as a result, dropping Venus on the ground.

Coughing and hacking, her throat was left raw. Venus dragged herself away from a mildly-injured Metatron, who'd already begun to stand up to give herself enough time to recover. The archangel pulled out their blade as they approached Venus again, with the intent of killing her dragging Venus by her feet and pressing her legs against Venus' so the girl couldn't move. "Your friends just pissed me off. I was going to kill your quickly, but it can be slow."

"I doubt it." Venus mocked. Metatron grabbed her throat again, just to keep her from talking until she got what she deserved. "What'd you think will happen if another one of your angels decides to leave your leadership? Do you think they're all loyal to you?"

Metatron gripped harder, picking Venus' head up and slamming it against the concrete. The young witches' eyes wandered off toward the crowd being held off by guard angels after their stunt, fighting to try and fire more spells to save her. Venus looked back at Metatron. "My team's loyal, actually loyal, it's kind of in our blood. But Angels? If they can try and kill their own kind's kin, imagine what'll happen to you."

Venus grabbed Metatron's hands, slowly ripping them off of her throat. "I am the daughter of Astrid Rosario and Sirius Black, apart of the Order of the Phoenix and more power than every angel in heaven and every demon in hell. You? You're just a pawn, a character in a book and you have nothing to fight for." She stuffed her hand in her pocket, pulling out the vial of god's grace. Just before Metatron could realize what she was holding, Venus used all of her force to throw it as hard as she could against the ground, shattering the glass and letting the grace spill out onto the ground.

"The grace!" Metatron cried out, dropping Venus and crawling toward the disintegrating grace. She made attempts to scoop it up but to no avail, the grace was gone. "Are you insane?"

"Who cares? You would've made a terrible god. So not like the one we hear about from our parents or the bible or the koran, or any form of religion ever."

"It didn't matter, I'm so much better than that ball of nothing! All about keeping the cycle linear, making sure everything is perfect when everything went to shit under their charge!"

Venus scoffed. "What would you have done? Solve world hunger? End racism? Give us world peace. You are an egotistical. . ." she made it up to her feet and kicked Metatron straight in the nose, ". . . power-hungry. . ." sending a swift kick to the archangel's stomach, ". . . psychotic bitch. Who's going to lose to an eighteen-year-old bastard."

Every time the archangel sent a punch it was either dodged or blocked by the girl. The tactics that worked back in the forest were backfiring on Metatron, now that Venus decided not to fight with her fists but with her words. The girl dragged Metatron to the center of the turf, throwing her down in front of Voldemort. He commanded his team to stop Venus but was met with whimpers of terror instead. "Cowards!" He cracked a killing curse in Venus' direction, but the green flame burnt out once it hit her. "Impossible. . . what's stops a killing curse?!"