The Worst Morning Ever

Yeah, I haven't been making very many updates. Nothing much has been happening. Even Judas has been quiet... well, until last night apparently.

You see, this morning, I woke up sitting in an alley, my back against the wall, my head positioned so that I was looking out the mouth of the alley and at an expensive black sports car.

Since I'd fallen asleep in my bed, I was obviously pretty alarmed.

Stay

I heard it like a voice in the back of my head. "Judas?" I whispered.

Be quiet and watch

The door to the car opened, and a man in a long black hooded coat stepped out. I couldn't see his face-- he was wearing a gas mask.

I nearly jumped in terror. I remembered everything I'd read about the Archangel.

That's not the Archangel, Judas said. That's just the alpha for this wolf pack. Calls himself Ophilim. He's an Apostle.

"He's a what?"

An Apostle. Chosen specifically by his master to be a servant. Stronger and better than your average wolf.

"Ophilim" stood by his car for a moment, apparently waiting, and then I saw a man approach him. He looked to be somewhere in his mid-twenties to mid-thirties. Caucasian. Brown hair. Couldn't see his eyes. He wore a brown duster, and his left arm was in a cast and a sling. He said something to Ophilim, and the Timberwolf nodded. The two of them walked into a nearby building.

"And who was that?"

Not a clue. If I had to guess, I'd say that's probably Mad Ricky.

"Who?"

Some guy I overheard the Timberwolves talking about. They knew I was tagging along in that guy's body, and kept me out of the loop as much as they could, but I picked up on a few things. Apparently Ophilim's been negotiating with a guy named Mad Ricky. And apparently the Timberwolves are afraid of Mad Ricky.

Now that was bad news. You have any idea what it might take to scare members of a death cult?

I couldn't see any sense in following them without backup or a weapon, so I went home. Judas has given me a pretty good lead. The only question, of course, is why?