[quotable_muse] 97 - "... But it only takes thirty seconds to b

[prodigalwatcher]

97 - "Normally, it takes years to work your way up to the twenty-seventh floor. But it only takes thirty seconds to be out on the street again. You dig?" - 'The Apartment'

While I was employed at the Los Angeles branch of Wolfram & Hart, I once estimated that between my base salary, benefits and my access to company resources such as vehicles, residences and so forth, my compensation would have rung in somewhere between one hundred twenty-five and one hundred fifty thousand dollars a year. That amount, based on my observations, was approximately equivalent for the rest of the former Angel Investigations, with the exception of Angel himself.


Although I am not and was never proud to be associated with Wolfram & Hart I confess that I was more than human enough to enjoy those advantages. I replaced my SUV, upgraded nearly everything in my apartment from the floor up, and ensured that my own personal stock of weapons and supplies were at least equivalent to what I could readily put hands on at the office. A large portion of the money was invested in a modestly sized but finely filled wine 'cellar', and the rest was stored away for the proverbial rainy day.

I don't ennumerate the perks to having been employed by an evil multidimensional law firm to express regret for their loss or to boast about my former position. I have related those details in order to give you the proper context, to provide a reader with the correct sense of scale.

You see, we-- that is, Angel and those other of us who stood against the Senior Partners-- have fallen and fallen very, very far.

We're in hell, you see.

It was a grand scheme, to be sure, one of a scope none of us had ever imagined taking part in, and against an adversary with immense advantages over our small band. But fight we did, because we believed in the worth of the goal: not to triumph, not to destroy, but merely to take a stand. To stop the wheels turning, even for a moment as it were, was all we desired.

And stop the wheels we did. And in retaliation, the Senior Partners banished us to hell, along with everyone and everything within the city limits of Los Angeles.

Now, the skies are red and hazy, and constantly dotted with strange flying shapes which now and then dip down out of the air to snatch a victim with their jagged-toothed jaws. Pavements are broken and buildings lean at precarious angles. Fires erupt from broken gas mains and from nowhere at all.

And everywhere the lost, confused and terrified human population turn, there are monsters. Demons of every sort, of every nature, have overrun the city. Some were here already, now free to walk the streets with impunity instead of hiding in the shadows. Others descended upon Los Angeles when it arrived in this dimension.

Those humans who survive are huddled in burned-out buildings or in whatever other shelters they can find. A lucky few make their way to the one or two safe havens that have been established by those with the strength to fight. But even there, existence is hard, dangerous and survival nowhere near guaranteed.

We have fallen into hell.

And if I were not a ghost, I think I might weep.


(529)

OOC Note: Written within the continuity of the "After the Fall" comics only.