Chapter One

Jason had no idea what brought him so far out of his way that night, he was usually very strict in his routine. His own territory, known as the Hill and one of the most dangerous areas of the city next to Crime Alley, was where Red Hood ruled. But tonight, he had found himself venturing further into Gotham than he usually went.

It was very early in the morning, and seeing as how Jason didn't really have a day job, that fact didn't bother him, it was merely an annoyance that he would be getting back home much later than he usually did. He was hungry. But his instincts kept tugging at him, an innate sense that something was wrong, and whatever that something was, was important.

Before long, Jason found himself standing across from a cathedral-style church. It looked old, made of granite and marble columns with cherubs and fountains and large, stained glass windows. The doors were twice as tall as Jason, and four times as wide, carved with pictures of angels and painted with flaking, gold paint. Whatever was inside that church, Jason knew had led him here. And if he knew anything about churches, they were all either cults or evil or both.

The doors were unlocked and opened silently when Jason pushed on them. The interior was just as ornate as the exterior, and just as wrong feeling. It was dark and empty, lit only by rows of sickly-sweet scented candles lining the altar. There was a giant cross in the centre, twelve feet tall, with an oddly life-like statue of a six-winged angel on it, his hands nailed above his head, his wings nailed out to the sides and his feet nailed below him in a crude take on the crucifixion of Jesus.

Jason crept closer, eyeing the gold paint that dripped from the statue's form into a large basin that had been placed under him. As he got closer, he began to realise something was wrong. Why would they be collecting the paint? And...why could he hear a faint rasp of breathing from the thing?

The sound of a door closing loudly and several footsteps approaching forced Jason to take cover behind the first row of pews. He didn't know what was going on, but he knew he had to find out. Two priests and a nun emerged from an archway to the left of the cross. Jason watched from under the bench as they approached the thing, the taller of the two priests holding a lantern. The nun looked young, trailing behind with her head down.

"His claws have grown back already." The taller said, voice soft and emotionless. "We shall have to remove them again tomorrow." Jason pulled a face. That thing was alive! What the fuck were they doing to it? Removing claws? "See if the poison has returned."

Jason watched as the second priest moved to check, shifting the white, gold-stained blindfold the thing wore out of the way to examine the creature's eyes and face. He jumped when a low, pained whine echoed through the building. "Not yet, Brother. Perhaps the purification is finally working." Purification? Just what was going on here?

"How much blood has he let?" Bloodletting?!

"The basin is only half-full." The man let out a disappointed hum. "Not nearly enough to repaint the doors." Jason's mind flashed back to the flaking gold he'd seen on the church doors and he felt slightly sick. That was this thing's blood? "We shall do our best to collect it all during the treatment tomorrow. Sister, we leave him in your care." The nun bowed her head further as the two priests left. Jason had heard enough. Whatever was happening here was definitely a cruelty that had Jason not caring what the thing on the altar was.

He moved out from his hiding place as soon as the two men were gone and snuck up on the nun, who was preparing what Jason assumed to be holy water or something and pressed his gun to the back of her neck, hard enough to leave a mark. "If you scream," he whispered in her ear, "I'll shoot your throat out and leave you to die choking on your own blood."

To the girl's credit, she only nodded calmly, if a bit shakily. "I won't scream," she whispered back. "No one would come anyways." Jason blinked. What the hell happened in this church?

"Sit," he ordered, gesturing to the nearest pew and the nun went calmly and sat, watching Jason, her eyes flicking between him and the gun and the altar. "What is that thing?" Jason asked, jerking his head back to where he knew the being was nailed.

"He is an Angel," the nun murmured. "At least, the Father says so."

"And you don't believe him?" Jason quirked a brow. Why be a nun if you don't believe in angels?

"He says he isn't," she said, looking at the so-called Angel. "I thought he might just be saying it to escape the Purification process, but it's never worked. So it must be true. Although, if he isn't an Angel, I don't know what he is."

"And why is he here? What the hell have you been doing with him? What's this 'purification'?"

The nun swallowed and looked down. "Thousands of years ago, it was said that an Angel would be struck down from Heaven, and that God would have charged us with Purifying Him of all His imperfections, His Demonicy, the reason why He was banished. And, four years ago, an Angel fell. Just like it was prophesied. We were told that once he was Pure again, He would return to Heaven and reward us all for our work, that we would be Blessed by Him. But I don't know how much of that is real anymore.

"The Father and his priests have been...Purifying the Angel for four years, and every time they remove his horns and tail and claws, they always grow back quickly. Nothing they have tried has worked, but they're still convinced that he's an Angel! They worship him, but they are so cruel. They bleed him and use it like paint, like holy water. They think they are doing God's work. I think they are wrong. But I'm just another puppet in this scheme, I could never do anything."

She stared imploringly into Jason's eyes. "But you can! You have to take him away from here, I worry this place will kill him!" She clasped her hands together. "Please, sir. I don't want to stand by and watch this anymore." Jason swallowed. He looked at the nun, who was nearly in tears, regret and guilt written plainly on her face. Then he glanced back at the 'angel', whose gold-coloured hair covered his face. Finally, he sighed. He holstered his gun.

Getting the angel off the damn crucifix was hard. For one, Jason was not twelve feet tall and could not reach where the angel's hands and wings were nailed. The nun had fetched a ladder from behind the altar, and it made Jason sick to think what they had probably used it for. Once the angel was freed from the wood, he collapsed to the ground with a harsh 'thud', his wings and limbs splayed, hair fanned out.

Jason ordered the nun to keep watch while he knelt beside the angel, gently arranging his many appendages to a more comfortable-looking position. God, how was he supposed to get him out of here? He looked thin, but with the added weight from six wings, Jason was sure he wouldn't be able to carry him out of here. Which didn't leave him with many options. He wavered, before finally pulling a small phone out of his jacket. He pressed a contact number and held the phone to his ear.

After three rings, the person picked up. "Jay, what's wrong? You never call–"

"Dick, I need your help. Bring your car to my location. And uh, maybe put some towels in the back or something. And not one word to anyone about this, got it? I wouldn't call you if I had any other choice."

"...Yeah, okay. I'll be there as soon as I can." Dick hung up, and Jason was left looking down at the unconscious angel, thinking how in the fuck he was going to explain this.