Armour for Justice?

" I am a man who believes in second chances, Camael. A man who sees potential in the Fallen"

As obscene as his words were, they held the truth. The Director was the only one who could make it work, and he prided himself on obtaining Camael.

His noble actions were smoldered with fear, and a constant reliance on rationality blinked in his feeble mind.

No one knew his name, he preferred his life a mystery beyond comprehension. Although it seemed he had good intentions for Camael, it was only greed that drove him forward.

Greed for power was all he wanted. Rising the ranks of power, he made his name as the head of defense for terrestrial activities.

Nations feared the corrupted mind of the Director, none saw hope in going against him. His yes was solely a yes! And his no had no rejects.

Since no one knew his name, nor where he came from, they called him the Director. Or simply Director, for his enemies who met their end slowly.

A man of his word he was, a staggering bull with blood-flickering eyes was his temper. His staff chose to stay away from his affairs and only heeded instructions.

The Director had a stable life in the past, and his parents were wealthy among the few. He was always oblivious to the things of the world.

However, fate stuck dearly through his childish mind, on the day he saw a burglar stab his mother.

Deeply through the center of her breast, the dagger sank, with cries of agony following afterward. His Dad had no beginning nor an end, a death so simple, it was an accident.

The mighty Director of affairs and defense became an orphan at a young age, and his hopes for a bright future turned stale.

Walking towards the edge of a bridge, he decided death was a loving end to his pain. A drive of passion for revenge stemmed firm through him when he saw a murder on the same street.

" I will kill them all.", he threatened with a pale face.

These words repeated daily, flickering in his head like LED lights. They constantly reminded him of the pain he endured, and how futile life was.

So he chose to climb the ranks of the security system, and the higher-ups found his talent was tremendous. A load of resources was pushed into his affairs, bridging the feeble gap of weakness.

And here he was, menacing in his way. Life pounded him dearly into a steel of fire, and his words roared with authority.

Man of valor, straight in his morals. An accolade full of mystery was his cabinet. The Director was his name, and all feared his encrypted mind.

Walking towards the feeble body of Camael, he sighed. Caressing the metal suit that stood beside the fallen angel, his words were sharp, but soothing in their way.

" This would be your rebirth. You can't expect to win against a god with just skin", he marked.

Camael's resolve stood firm, he had no space for regrets. Walking aimlessly towards his benefactor, a spiraling urge for justice blossomed within.

" I will end the suffering ", Camael affirmed.

"You might as well do it with fully functional armor. Although your memories might seem fuzzy, your battle sense is still sharp. Drench your boiling anger within the steel skin beside you, and take your place as the purgatory of death."

These words seemed clear like poetry, sweet as honey, but firm in authority. Nothing but a spark of anger fueled effortlessly within Camael's heart, and he walked gently towards the steel suit.

It had been built firmly with titanium, purged in the flaming harness of the earth. Fire had molded its kind into a devastating weapon of destruction, and its holder had a power beyond.

"Beyonder! That seems more like it. ", the Director answered.

The Beyonder was a name far forgotten in the age of time. It was given to the beings unknown to the realities of the world, and with each step lay great power.

Satisfyingly, a Beyonder had once again sprouted among the very few. An angel nonetheless, whether it be foreign, was greater in power than a super soldier.

The staff gulped in amusement, their unsettling curiosity began baring its fangs. A murmur of uncertainty strolled through the room, asserting each person of the creation of a new legacy.

" This is the birth of a new legend"

" Certainly, the maximum output of the suit is 500%"

" It was created to raise humans into the superhuman age, and now it's in the hands of an angel??"

" Mercy, I pray he becomes our salvation"

On and on, the murmurs of the staff continued rustling within. The time to rise once more had dawned, and the progenitor was ready for battle.

Stable and calm, were the steps of Camael as he strode unto the pedals which lay before him.

He turned his back into the shell of the armor, and its tubes struck his alien skin. Drawing deeper into his flesh, it sucked the foreign juice lurking in his arteries.

A grin of pain continued afterward, nevertheless, he shook any thoughts of stopping. He believed he was the only hope mankind had. Yes, in an intriguing fact, he was.

There was a gasp of suspense surrounding the audience, with focused eyes they watched, thinking of what would happen next.

Steam of smoke sprayed out of the gaps lurking within the suit. It closed slowly, like the gates of hell, pressing onto the face of the fallen angel.

Gasps of pain were heard in sharp sequences, and they stopped suddenly, sending a chill down the spine of each member watching.

Memories, as dull as they seemed, were as powerful as drugs. Camael had none of that, but his newly found resolve was enough to keep him moving.

With his pacing heart, a gleaming eye of battle glared, and the still suit began moving. Fear enveloped the room once more, but the Director stood still amidst the chaos.

Firm steps were all they needed. Firm steps of passion and motive, of an unending urge to purge the apocalypse. The fallen angel had risen once more, and this time he became the Beyonder.

It seemed purpose had once found itself within the corps, and the Director smiled a hasty one out of habit.

" Finally, the sleeping angel has arisen. Go once more, to the endearing battle which awaits you."

A slight nod was seen from the Beyonder, and it looked above. Mechanical wings, lost before had sprouted once again. However, it was with human technology, and mythical power had blended with mortals.

A new power, unknown to everyone, yet menacing to enemies. It surged like the outburst of a volcano, as the wings broadened effortlessly.

The staff walked back in fear, their legs crippled from the sight of the mythical being. It was not known to them, nor the Director that creation was a beastie talent.

Angels above watched in worry within the heavens, they mourned their kind. For he had become a different kind than he already was, and his counterparts clenched their teeth in desperation.

With a leap, he broke through the roof, with a surge of flames strongly binding around. A single person crossed his mind, and all he wanted was its death.

"Loki!!"