Fredric strode through the barren wastes toward the town. It had been years since the war had ended, it had been terrible, with the aftermath even worse still. Now remote communities like the town he approached had become the only view of civilization. As he strode past the gates, he made for the bar. He needed a drink, badly. Ever since his Fall, he had gained almost an immunity to the intoxicating affects of alcohol. This he used to his advantage often. Most angels didn't have that ability, with other, more powerful traits. But he used his to an advantage, to find his targets and bounties, and collect them. He worked for whoever payed most, and as he sat down in the dark and seedy bar, knew he was on mission.