Heaven Lost

0 | P r o l o g u e

"And the angels who did not keep their positions of authority but abandoned their proper dwelling-these he has kept in darkness, bound with everlasting chains for judgment on the great Day."

Jude 1:6

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"This has been Alexander Smith of LA Metropolitan News. Have a good night."

"Cut!" the director exclaims. He gives Alex a thumbs up which he receives gratefully with a nod. Alex swiftly drops his wide, blinding, on air smile that has been plastered on his face for the past hour. He sighs in relief, and massages his cheeks. Leaving his desk, he congratulates everyone in the studio for doing a good show. They all return the sentiment.

"That was a great show tonight, Mr. Smith!" people say along the hallway as he walks back to his office desk.

"You did great too."

"That last piece was yours, wasn't it? Amazing research on that!"

"It did take up a lot of my time."

"As witty as ever, Alex!"

"Thank you."

"Your skin tone seemed a bit off during the show, Alex. Don't worry, I'll talk to the new kid."

"Go easy on him."

His lips bend to his thin, sheepish, natural smile every time. His voice oozing with just enough interest to be sincere and indifferent all at once. The swift strides of his feet don't match his calm demeanour. As arrogant as it might make him seem to be, Alex is too exhausted to idly chat even with those of the purest and kindest intentions. Although, judging from the insistent vibrations of his phone throughout the show, there is one person who demands for his time and attention. He brings out his phone from his pocket, and turns off its silent mode.

10 voice mails for each time his phone distracted him. He makes a mental note of leaving it in his bag next time; never mind that he's paranoid about losing his expensive, new phone.

He checks who the voicemails are from, though he has an idea who it is. He plays the first one.

"Alexander Smith! I have huge news, my friend! Call me back."

Then the next.

"Alexander! Call me-"

Then the next. And the next. And the next. Until he plays the last one.

"Fuck, I didn't realize the time. You must be on air right now. Sorry about that. Truly hope you put your phone on silent. Though, you have to admit it would be absolutely hilarious if it isn't."

Alex sighs. He puts down the phone, knowing what the last message would say.

"Meet me at Bacchus at nine. You should be done with your show by then right?"

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The bell hanging from the door rings the moment Alex enters Bacchus. He is immediately hit by a wall of raucous noise from the patrons, sober and otherwise. In his suit and pristine leather shoes, he doesn't fit the profile of a regular Bacchus customer-- even though he is. Alex prefers the more quiet and sophisticated McMahon's three streets away; but he's grown used to the atmosphere in Bacchus with little gratitude for his friend who persistently brings him here. He ignores the obnoxious racket and thick stench of alcohol, sweeping his eyes through the crowd for-

"Alexander Smith! Do you know how long you made me wait?" A woman with honey brown eyes glares at him. He walks to her, sitting beside her by the bar.