Crisp white snow crunched beneath Castiel’s feet as he looked around at his new home. Everything was white and plain to the horizon where the mountains rose up seeming to reach for the heavens. Heaven. The Angel recalled shortly after that he had been looking for Raphael and his Angels down here. It seemed however, that it had been a trap, and Castiel had fallen right into it. He was weakened, and couldn’t leave. In the distance, he saw a lone figure, and pulled out his gleaming angel blade. He was not yet sure if it was an angel or an inhabitant of this frigid land, but he had to be prepared. While he walked, it became colder and colder, and snowflakes flurried thickly from the sky above. Castiel could feel the cold, and he was shivering. It bit him, this cold and he grew more and more anxious as he neared the figure ahead of him.
Castiel was worried what could be happening in Heaven. Was Raphael already there, wreaking havoc on Castiel’s soldiers? His Angels were without a leader, and everyone had seen what happened when the leader, Michael left. The Angels needed a leader, and in times of war without one, they would all be lost. Raphael would sure trounce his forces if Castiel did not return to Heaven soon. He needed a way out of this place first however.
But now, Castiel was nearing the figure before him. When he was only a few feet away, he faced the possible advesary and demanded an identificaion in a gruff voice. “Are you one of Raphael’s?” Castiel could only see the outline of the figure in the horrendous blizzard. The angel blade was poised to strike in Castiel’s hand, and he waited for the moment of truth with anticipation.
Mondo hated the cold. He always had, actually. Ever since he was young and his parents stopped coming home everyday and then all together. Even when he’d fallen to his knees and cradled his older brother’s lifeless body in his hands and screamed and especially when he’d been all alone, living in a house where he could not even afford heat. All those times, he’d despised the frigid weather and even more so, the snow. If anything, it was just a nuisance. He couldn’t ride his bike out in the snow nor would he ever think about risking it on the ice. It was an inconvenience, he liked it hot. In the summer where he could spend all day working on Kawasaki or riding in the open air with the sun beating down on his tan shoulders, that’s where he’d rather be now. Not this hideously bleak mountain side in the middle of fucking nothing. “This is bullshit…” The biker cursed to himself, glaring at his visible breath as if willing it to dissipate faster. His hands were numb as was his rosy nose and cheeks. The tips of his ears burned. He should have worn a scarf and gloves like Kiyotaka had advised. Well, too late now.
Having thrown caution to the wind, Mondo stomped through the snow, mumbling profanities to himself. He should have just stayed back at his freezing ass cabin. It would have been better in comparison to what he was in now. He was losing all feeling in his feet now and wondered what the signs were for hypothermia. Pausing mid-step, the gang leader felt himself so stiff. He noted the sound of crunching footfalls and stopped breathing. He grit his teeth in rage. Was someone really trying to fucking kill him right now? Had they really followed him all the way out here to off him while he was in such a foul mood. “That’s not a good idea fucker…” He spoke loud enough to be heard over the roaring wind, chuckling angrily to himself. “Ya’ may wanna turn the fuck aorund now before I bash yer brains in and leave ya’ ta’ freeze.”
To his annoyance, the steps did not stop. They didn’t even falter. There was no fear to be held, but it didn’t matter. Whoever dared to mess with him was going to regret it. He wasn’t about to be looked down upon, nor would he go down easy. Pulling his shoulders back, he set a furious look upon his face and tried to look intimidating, but it was hard to do that when he couldn’t even turn around without slipping and falling on his ass like a fool. “God-fucking-DAMMIT!” Feeling his rear go damp within seconds, he let out a cry of frustration and flipped the sky off. It was only in those last few moments that he remembered he had company. Maybe he could pretend his little tumble had been intentional? Keeping himself seated in what felt like a foot of snow, he clicked his tongue and trained his gaze to his shadow. “Who the fuck ‘er you? Why the shit are ya’ followin’ me?”