Falling From Grace

I slowly opened my eyes, finding my whole body paralyzed from the pure agony which cased every inch of my flesh. I groaned as I tried to sit up, only to have the already-atrocious pain increase further in my ribs, making me cry out in anguish. As I just lay there on the floor, I suddenly noticed the crowd of faces poking over the edge of the giant crater in the floor. Hang on, crater? I thought in shock, looking around to see the giant round dent that I had apparently inflicted into the ground, as I was lying in the centre. I felt too weak to form words, so I just waited for one of the stupid mortal beings gathered around the scene to actually decide to do something to help me.
It seemed like forever, but one person finally stepped forwards and climbed into the crater before approaching me slowly, looking extremely cautious. It was a man, looking to be about 5'11", with fluffy raven-black hair like my own, only his was parted down the centre and was kept out of his face via a black headband with white patterns on it. He wore a sleeveless jacket, made of some sort of semi-shiny black material, and it was dotted with studs along the edges. His face was one of complete shock and disbelief as he gazed down at me, and I didn't blame him; who wouldn't be shocked by seeing an Angel lying in a crater, covered in his own blood? Well, Fallen Angel, now.
The man finally arrived beside me, and he stared down at me for a few painfully long moments, before he crouched down, making it a lot easier for me to make eye contact with him. I froze as he spoke.
"The Prophet... It's good to see you again," he murmured with a smile, only loud enough for myself to hear him. My mouth dropped open in shock, and my brain finally clicked and I realised who this man was.
"The... The Destroyer?" I croaked weakly, unable to say anymore. A goofy grin made its way onto his lips, showing the slight gap between his two front teeth, and he nodded.
"Yup, it's me. Don't call me that here, though," he whispered as he picked me up, being extremely cautious to hurt me as little as possible, though his attempts were pointless as pain continued to surge throughout my whole body like hell-fire. He carried me out of the crater, shoving his way through the crowd of humans that watched ceaselessly and mumbled to each other frantically, trying to figure out what was happening. Foolish mortals, I thought to myself angrily as a tiny growl escaped my lips. You have no idea what kind of powerful beings are hiding among you. We didn't get far before the pain and blood loss finally got too much for me to handle, and my consciousness faded into blackness once more as The Destroyer carried me to wherever on Earth he planned to take me. I knew I could trust him, though.

When I finally regained consciousness, I found myself lying in an unfamiliar room. There were bandages wrapped around my chest and shoulders, covering the gashes in my back from where my wings had formerly connected to my shoulder blades, as well as bandages wrapped around any other severe wounds that I had received from my rather ungraceful landing. All of the bandages were stained with blood. I grunted softly as I pushed myself up into a sitting position, looking around the room. Two of the walls were painted a pastel green colour, while the other two were a darker forest-green. The bed upon which I lay was newly-made, though there were now a few patches of blood from where my wounds had been pressed against the sheets, which were a snowy-white colour. There was some sort of large, black rectangular box which sat atop a chest of drawers. It had various buttons running along the lower corner, and I assumed that each button performed a different function. I had no clue what it was or what it did, though.
Finally, though, my eyes rested on something, and for a few moments I was convinced that I was hallucinating from the blood loss; there was a framed photograph hung up on the wall beside the bed, so it was right beside me, and it had three people within it, arms around each other and smiling, laughing. Three people. Three friends... My friends. The Deviant, The Destroyer, and The Mystic. They're... They're all alive? I thought, sitting there staring at the photograph with my jaw hanging open in shock. My friends are alive!

Just as I managed to shuffle to the edge of the bed to stand up, the door to the room swung open and I saw that same face from before, gazing straight at me. He shook his head and walked over to me.
"Don't stand up," he said firmly, "you're still too weak from your wounds." I looked up at him, eyes wide, then looked back at the photograph on the wall.
"You're... You're all alive...? How is that possible?" I mumbled, half to myself. The Destroyer sat beside me on the bed and looked up at the framed photograph. He was silent for a few, long moments, as though he wasn't sure how to respond.
"It's... a long story," he muttered finally. "You'll find out in time, and you'll learn to live in this world as we have." He sighed, running his hand through his fuzzy hair, and stood up, walking towards the door. Just before he left, he paused and looked over his shoulder at me with a devilish smirk upon his lips.

"By the way, you're gonna need a new name."

Notes