“I have stewardship over the special cases. You might not remember much about the war, but we’ve met before.”

It came back to him in a flash, just a glimpse of a battle, terrible beyond imagination. They fought across a bridge of light between the stars, with the being before him wielding pure energy as if it was a flaming sword. “You . . .”

The archangel nodded. “It’s been a long time. You’re still just as stubborn as before, which is why you were offered The Deal to begin with. We need something like you to stop the things like Kurst. You may be an aberration in The Plan, but he threatens to break it entirely.”

“Don’t underestimate Kurst. He’ll crush mankind if given the chance.”

“Mortal life is fraught with perils and tests, but everything on The Plan is for their own ultimate good. Much like you, our current threats are off The Plan. This is why we’ve allowed you to fight the battles that mortals aren’t equipped to. . . . It turns out today is your lucky day, Franks. An inspired soul has taken it upon himself to repair your sorry corpse. They’ve saved your life. This isn’t MHI’s fight. Keep them out of it. They have a different purpose waiting for them.”

He didn’t really want their help anyway. “Fine.”

“Good. You will require assistance. There are still a few humans who heed the old ways and who are aware of The Deal. I have sent a message to one of these to assist you. His name is Michael as well . . . No relation. Congratulations, Franks. You have been granted a temporary respite in order to deal with our current problem. No reaction? Normally, this would be where a repentant man would say thank you for another opportunity.”

Franks just grunted in response.

“We’ll meet again. In the meantime I will continue to review your history in order to make my recommendation about what to do with your immortal soul. Do you have anything else to say for yourself?”

“Quit screwing around and send me back. Those demons aren’t going to banish themselves.”

* * *

Franks was no longer in the white interview room. He woke up to find himself in an icy cold room with concrete walls. Bright lights were shining down on him. There were small metal doors along the wall and drains on the floor.

He was in a morgue.

Only one eye was working. The empty feeling in the other socket told him that eye had been cut out. His chest had been opened and his armored rib plate removed, exposing his internal organs. He tried to move, but discovered that he was strapped down. Not that it would do much good, since the awakening nerve endings told him that he was missing both arms and one leg.

He was in a morgue and he was being dissected.