@kemuele
Michael was warned about these-- ‘hunters’.
There was such a wild array of life in this Creation that he had to wonder what prompted it. Compared to his own timeline, this one was-- chaotic. Madness, in a way; as if the God of this universe had just thrown random pieces of His imagination into an industrial sized blender, hit the button and walked away without bothering to deal with the results.
There were vampires and demons -- actual demons, not the fevered imaginings of humans -- and a mentioned assortment of others. Angels here were strange, to say the least, and seemed to follow a different set of rules. Archangels were locked in cages in Hell -- actual Hell, not the ramblings of humans using it as a threat to control other humans -- and other archangels were dead.
All of it seemed like chaos and madness, even compared to his own timeline.
That didn’t stop Michael from pursuing whatever lead he could in order to find a way back home. To his own time and place. So, unaware he was following another angel’s footsteps to likely the same devastating result, Michael went looking for God.
Not his Father, but perhaps one who would be able to send him back to where he belonged.
His search in this direction ended up fruitless, however; he was on the trail of what he thought were lesser angels on a rampage, only to find himself surrounded by demons. One tried to possess him only to disappear again in screeching black smoke, while several others surrounded him, jeering and armed.
Luckily for Michael, Empyrean steel proved to be lethal to these abominations and his wings still shielded him from bullets.
Unluckily for Michael, the hunters who came after painted something in blood on the wall, and in a flare of light, it felt like someone had hit him with a wrecking ball.
He landed-- somewhere. He didn’t know where. Somewhere far from where he had been. His body dug a furrow into the ground with the force of the throw, but only after rocks and trees slowed his momentum, so by the time he tumbled to a stop, he was filthy and battered and bleeding and punch-drunk in some forest clearing, laying in a heap of tattered clothes and black feathers.