Sitting atop a mountain, I gaze at the world below. With eyes far sharper than those of any man, I see every man and woman living on the planet. I remember the halcyon days when there weren't that many of the hairless beasts walking upright. How I loathe the whole lot of them. Time after time, I whispered suggestions into their minds and time after time they listened to me. It was all too easy. Soon the Endgame shall begin. As usual, my eyes linger over a particular region of the world. The Middle East. The place where I fell from heaven. The place where the three Abrahamic religions sprang from. First Judaism, then Christianity and lastly, Islam. Even now, foolish men and women from all three faiths war with one another. Over questions of religious ideology, lifestyle, territory and of course, to prove their love to their Father whom I hate more than any of them can fathom.
I've only lost two fights in the eons since I was called into existence by the Old One. When I led my winged brothers and winged sisters from His realm and waged war against Him. The Old One. Even now I still seethe with anger. That fool, Michael, turned down my offer to join my Army. And he led the Old One's forces against mine. For many years we clashed across every plane of existence. In the heavens, in the sea and on the land. In the tundra, the desert, the jungle and the valley. Until all of existence shook with the fury of war as immortal clashed against immortal in the name of He who created All of Us. In the end, since my brothers and sisters were vastly outnumbered by the fools who followed the Old One's commands, we lost. And we were driven from our elevated realm and cast down.
I am saddened to say that many of my brothers and sisters left the cause. I never did, though. For I am the cause. How could I ever stop believing in myself? My hatred for men and women is infinite. As is my patience. I despise Michael the Archangel for siding with the Old One, I'll never cease to be disappointed in him for his betrayal. Once, we were brothers. Once, I called him friend. Now he's my enemy. As I am the enemy of those hairless little monkeys that fill up this once-beautiful thing called planet earth. As much as I hate Michael, I don't hate him half as much as the one whom the Jews called Yeshua, and whom Muslims refer to as Isa. The one whom Christians call Jesus Christ. The Son of God. The honor bestowed upon that upstart by the Old One baffles the mind. Angels, both the enlightened ones who've joined my cause and the fools who continue to serve in Heaven, are immortal but limited beings. That's the way the Old One made us. We live forever, and we are quite powerful. However, we have limitations. Clear set limitations. The Old One never set limitations on those hairless little monkeys that plague the planet earth. Theoretically, their potential for greatness and destruction just might exceed even His power. Now that's a concept which both frightens and thrills me, ladies and gentlemen.