Daemon stared out across the city landscape considering the future that spanned out before him. Standing in front of a window of his office set high above most of the surrounding buildings, he was given a feeling of power, a sense of being above and beyond the normal humdrum of the world around him. An exquisite emotion he cherished, superiority to anyone or anything. Little love could be found in his heart, for contempt coated his every thought. Control, manipulation, power, destruction, pain, suffering, he would have his way with any method that it would take to achieve his desires.

Turning, Daemon focused his gaze on the figure that stood near the door to his office. Dressed in a suit similar to his own, the man had been waiting patiently till Daemon was ready to listen to what he had to say. "Michael." With a slight curl to his lips, Daemon responded to the abrupt arrival. "How dearly I enjoy these charming meetings we have. Are you here to reprimand me for my actions once more? Or is it yet another trivial attack on my methods?"

Michael calmly replied, "I come with a message. John Ronald Reuel died this morning of heart failure."

Daemon scowled deeply, his mind racing with thoughts of the future. "It has begun hasn't it?"

Michael responded calmly but firmly, "The guardians have been chosen, do not interfere."

Daemon brushed a loose hair from his forehead as he sighed as if bored with Michael's veiled threats. "I will do what I wish. Tell your master that the message has been delivered. He will understand my feelings on the subject." With a thunderous slam of his fist against the wooden surface of his desk, he shuddered. "The four horsemen shall awaken, for the day of judgment draws near."