Butterflies and Hurricanes
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   "Get off me, i'm fine. Seriously, I'm fine!"
He pushed the doctor away lightly, trying to make his words physically evident. His eyes darted to the bleachers, watching a boy about his age with long black hair lean over and murmur something to a menacing man. The man seemed to grunt in response, cold red eyes glaring down at the doctor. Gabriel pulled the doctor's arm, putting the man's frail frame behind the angels in a defensive posture.
"Gabriel, what are you doing?" the man huffed, nimble hands still working with a cloth, needle, and thread to clean away some of the dried blood coating the angels' neck, shoulder, and head. Apparently his two knocks into the metal framing had split some part of his head open. "Just finish up before the match starts." he sighed. The doctor looked to his work, obviously offended in the angel's disregard to his worrying.
  He couldn't care less as his eyes stayed to the menacing man. Tall, lean. Black hair, long, one grey strip of hair for bangs to the side of his face, the rest of his bangs coal black. Red eyes with hatred weighing on them... Saith Amadalis, king to the Underworld. Father to Gabriel Takata, Zaruska Amadalis, and Semioko Takata. Not to mention the latter born Felsmere Amadalis and four various children born of different women besides Lacarion.
  The one beside Saith was blotted from his vision by choice. The more he though about that boy, the riskier his mental health in the coming fight became. Long black hair, cream eyes from blindness. Intelligent looking glasses. Hell-style robes over a tall and slender body. It was typical for all etherials to be very tall, and very lean. It was a natural-born body type for them. Not to mention flying was a great weight loss activity.
   The angel finally looked away, the announcement declaring the beginning to the battle. The large area, sizing roughly two football fields across, was coated in clean grass.

His opponent was Yurosawa Takata. One of Lacarion's chosen three angels. She, along with two others, guarded over the planet Terra as guardians. This one, notorious for being a horrid shrew, was controller of storms and lightening.
  She was standing ten yards away, glaring furiously at Gabriel. Her clothes were elegant. Gold armor, blue sashes of the finest material, all bearing the Heaven crest. Was there a rule about wearing your nation's clothes or what? Apparently he missed that memo, seeing his overly human looking clothes.
  His hand flew out swiftly, knocking the doctor off balance. The man, just having finished sewing the gaping wound in Gabriel's head shut, fell easily down. He looked shocked as he fell, eyes wide behind reflective glasses.
The angel's face was suddenly cold and emotionless, eyes looking out to his opponent. The second the doctor's feet were off the ground sparks flew up from every blade of grass. The yellow lights lit up the setting sun's dim sky. The lights flew and cracked, electricity blowing off every blade of grass, off every grain of dirt. All of it summoned by the girl. Her long blonde hair flew back from the force, the static aimed right at the angel.
  He didn't move, body still in place after pushing the doctor away. He would have been able to dodge easily, had he not pushed the man aside. But yet, had he not pushed the man aside surely the doctor would have suffered the blow instead.

Understanding this, he stared up with wide eyes, glasses crooked, to watch the angel tense, body crouching down slightly to bear the thousands of volts of electricity currently forcing it's way into and around his body.
   once the lights vanished and the power surge on field died away, the angel straightened his posture. The doctor had gotten swiftly to his feet and backed away to the sidelines once it had stopped.
   "What's wrong, half-brother, worried over hitting a girl?" she snarled, confidently stepping up to Gabriel.
"We're barely even cousins. Don't relate yourself to me." he sighed coolly, not a single emotion displayed on his face as he spoke. "You ARROGANT little-" she hissed, teeth gritting as electricity flew out from her barbie-esc body. He glared down into her shock blue eyes.

She disgusted him so much... prissy, obsessed in being "perfect". She made every Terran girl cry from envy. Perfect hair, perfect face, perfect body... It was sickening to him.
  He, who had been built in the image of perfection. He, who could do no wrong. He, who had no practical flaw. How ironic that he, a product of perfectionism itself, hated someone who was naturally what he had been built to be.
    He tensed slightly, taking the severe shock treatment without a word. She should try the doctor, Irishida's, shock therapy. She was nothing compared to him. And he didn't even use magic.
"I want this to be quick." he sighed, for once voicing how he felt.

  She smirked disdainfully and scoffed at him. "Oh? Then don't move, i'll knock you out easy."
So a knock out was a win? He hadn't even glanced at the rules. He only knew about all this from his father. Their agreement...
  His fists tightened as she withdrew a sword from a sheath on her hip, hidden under a blue sash and plated with gold over sharp metal. Small silver strips ran up the blade's middle. Something to conduct electricity, obviously.
She channeled the current without difficulty, slashing the sword effortlessly at him. The attack hit as he didn't move. The slash cut a large tear in his top, exposing a well kept body underneath, Pale skin turned red as blood formed at the thin cut. None fell down though, the cut barely deep enough to draw the droplets of blood it had.
   
  "As I said..." he sighed, for once being extremely patient with her. He stepped toward her as he spoke, not stopping until their bodies touched and he was in her face completely, looming a good four or five inches over her. "I do not care about you learning from our fight..." his hand was up in a flash, fist clenched as hi entire arm swung up, hitting her broadly in the side of the head. He turned his body in the strike, sending her flying across the field until she skidded to a halt in the dirt. He stepped slowly still, casual about it all, approaching her and speaking as if in a normal conversation with someone. "..All I care about is finishing this and going to go lay down. The longer you try to win, to angrier I get." she was struggling to stand, leaning on the hilt of her sword, blood running from her head, over her right eye.
  He stopped again once they touched, glaring down at her.

Violent thoughts of ripping her head off entered his mind. TEAR HER ARM OFF! NO, THE LEG, MAKE HER CRAWL TO GET AWAY!

She glared up at him, he waited until she did, watching her expression turn from horror to indignant hatred. "I don't care if you live or die..." another hit, this time batting her head with his fist like a baseball and a bat. She went flying and he continued with the slow walking up to her.

DRAG HER AROUND BY HER ANKLE UNTIL IT BREAKS! RIP HER PRETTY LITTLE HAIR OUT! RIP OUT THOSE DISGUSTING LITTLE EYES OF HERS!!

  "I don't care if you're my blood sister, or just some wench Lacarion toys with as a pawn..." another hit, now a knee into her gut. "I will kill you without remorse if you stand against me." His voice was low and smooth, audible only to her. The once chatter filled stadium had grown dead silent since the fight began. He thought about the girl from the registration booth watching and couldn't stop it. A suck grin flew over his lips, stretching them out over white teeth until his lips were forced to part, exposing two demonic fangs inside his teeth, shining at her.
  She gasped, battered figure stumbling back after standing. Electricity sparked up from her hands, building up power in her palms.
  "Stand DOWN!" the phrase echoed off the stadium's bleachers, his voice roaring like a lion over the silence. She had managed to get several steps away from him as she stumbled. He glared at her coldly, and in three easy bounds he had run, in her face instantly. His leg snapped up mid-bound, coming up without hesitation to crack in the side of her head.
  She fell to the ground like a rag doll, eyes wide from the shock of the blow. The hit easily could have snapped her neck. He landed easily on his feet after the hit, a crack ringing through the sky.

The angel girl didn't rise, and the announcer began to count.
    "3 . . . . . 2 . . . . . 1 . . . . . WINNER, GABRIEL TAKATA!"

He walked off without word, face composed and empty again. His head was blank as another crack rang through the sky, the building clouds bursting out as the first few drop sprinkled down, descending smoothly onto the field and everyone around. Staff workers scrambled to erect some mechanism they'd built around the stadium in case of rain. It resembled a giant white tent with large gears and two huge mechanical bases rigging it up over the people.
  A doctor had rushed on field to carry the angel girl away. As he carried her in a run away Gabriel watched her. Her eyes were open barely, and she coughed. She was alive, and hopefully had no permanent damage. In his mind a small thought echoed out, a worry over if he had permanently hurt her. But a stronger, older one over powered it. Who cares if she was hurt? She deserved it, for entering this tournament and being so arrogant against him!
  Shaking his head he let the fighting thoughts fall away from him, forgotten conversations joining it in the recesses of thoughts he refused to spend too long on.

"Irishida?" he stopped in the rain, noticing the doctor hadn't followed him away from the arena. He glanced back and sighed. The doctor had his back to Gabriel, talking to a woman with long brown hair and a cute smile. Maybe he would find someone to love here....that would be nice, the angel thought blandly as he turned back around, glancing up at the raining sky. Several drops hit him directly in the eye before he looked back to the ground. A large hotel loomed over the tents where people still walked and shopped aimlessly. The registration booth was finally shutting down, the woman no where to be found. He thought again of her witnessing the fight. And again he couldn't stop the sick and insane grin the flooded his mouth, nor cold he halt the dark laugh that echoed deeply from his throat. His hand came up as he laughed, cradling the side of his head gently.
  He walked back to the hotel in his delirious state of a battle induced high. The hotel desk man was kind enough, arranging a room without too many question to the obviously pained angel. Had he seen the match to?

Maybe everyone had seen it, so the whole world would know... He stumbled up to his room, locked the door, and laughed to himself. Maybe everyone would now know what was really underneath the angel's smile and perfectly polite words. Maybe NOW his mother would admit she had him as a son. Maybe NOW his father would look twice at him, maybe NOW he could have the spoils and opportunities and CHOICES his brothers had. Maybe now he could be Gabriel, instead of Gabriel Christopher Takata, Archangel in training, Weapon to Heaven.

BEST. YOU'VE GOT TO BE THE BEST. YOU'VE GOT TO CHANGE THE WORLD.

He coughed in his laughter, tears forming and falling slowly again. He stumbled to the bathroom, filling the tub with hot water as he rummaged through his bag. He had cast it aside with the doctor, and was glad that even in his delirious stumbling off from the arena he had managed to remember to grab it up again. Digging through one of the side pockets he found his lighter. In another was his cigarette pack. Stripping away the muddy clothes he threw them aside. He dared not glance twice in the mirror at what he knew would be his ruffled hair and wide eyes. He stuck the filter end in his mouth and lighted it. The smoke flew up as it caught fire and he inhaled deeply, as if breathing in life itself. Easing himself into the hot water he felt the large gape seer from the water. One hand went back, caressing the stitches, while the other rested against the tub's side. Easing down further he sighed, stopping once only his face and cigarette were above water.
  It would take at least tonight and most of tomorrow to do the first round, which he had already cleared. He blew out a mouthful of grey smoke, watching it float up and curl in the air.
   He was hypnotized by the smoke, not noticing the red drops littering themselves into the clear water from his hand. A hand that he had laid to rest on the side of the tub. A hand currently tearing out the wall, plaster, tiles, and grout until the tiles cut his hand, the blood dripping slowly down as the ceramic crunched in his hands.
   He did not notice.