Pretzel's apocalypse

{This ending is part of the Finish the Story Contest, the 27th contest so far. Click here to see the contest… The prompt was crafted by @f3nix this week... Two music pairs: ”Doubtfully" [1.] (Ashley's records, WarioWare DIY) and “Halloween Dream” [2.] (3DS Ashley's Halloween theme).}

Banner done by @f3nix

The Prompt

[1.]

Early in the morning, in the bitey air of an unripe April, fine pearls of rain drew averted trajectories, trying to prolong their run towards the ground. The morning sunlight slipped through them, caressing their lopsided dances.

A freshly baked pretzel perfume mingled with the acrid, yet familiar note of wet tarmac. Similar to the inviting singing of a mermaid, that fragrant smelling trail traveled for blocks coming from who knows where, bringing the illusion of a tasty breakfast at hand.
On Madison, the sound of a distant pneumatic hammer, disinterested in that diaphanous moment of peace, reminded the city of its daily duties. The need to renew the infinite interweaving of order and chaos, the human sap of a monotonous and, at the same time, different becoming.

An old beggar was taking shelter from the drizzle under the entrance of the Met Breuer.
He seemed to come out of nowhere and, in a sense, gave the idea of ​​having been there forever. The shabby headgear with ear-muffs could barely contain the explosion of white hair, gathered in damp, frayed cords due to the persistent drops of aerosol. The festive and bizarre trichological chaos reigning on his head only sharpened the contrast with the fixedness of his gaze, veiled by a cataract under the crusty eyelashes. Forearms and hands rested parallel, laying on a small and unusual pink plastic banquet that seemed to have been recovered from an abandoned nursery.

In front of him, carefully lying on the small pink table, he placed a typical cardboard square. Strangely enough, where a message of help was supposed to be found, not even a "everything helps" decorated the miserable panel which, laconic and brash together, was left naked to look at the sidewalk.
None of the hasty passers-by would have ever bothered to look down at the bizarre old man but, if someone had stopped for a while, perhaps he would have noticed that his open lips uttered a constant chant, a whisper of elusive and continuous vibrations.

"Now the distortion around him has become almost visible, how much do you think it could go on?". In truth, for several hours what had happened under the gray shed had captured the growing interest of two luminescent figures, on the other side of the road. From time to time, they exchanged positions to steal each other the best view. Their feet seemed to slip soft like fog on the cold sidewalk.

"Learn about silence once and for all, Duth. Would it make sense to even just hazard a guess in front of this.. thing?".

"But how is it possible for a human to perform the Chant, or to just gather.."

"And instead, if you bothered to listen, you would have noticed that this supposed human has just added the sixth voice," the archangel interrupted him, punctuating the words as he tried to separate red pomegranate grains from their peel.

"I think we've observed enough, we do not want him to start opening a seal, do we?", he continued, trying to resume his usually compassionate tone, "We have to report about it to Metatron. Stop stalling, let's move".

The old man's eyes suddenly gnawed them, like a blacksmith's hot pincer. Duth did not even have time to finish wondering how a simple homeless had been able to identify them on the subtle plane from which they were watching him.

An Autie Anne's Pretzels van sped in the direction of East Harlem, sprinkling the city with its fragrant trail. For an instant, the driver seemed to have heard a curious song, but he didn't pay too much attention.

The ending by @theironfelix

[2.]

The beggar then stood erect and faced towards the archangels, uttering nonsense. Both were puzzled, yet Autie Anne's Pretzels van parked directly in front of him and went away as quickly. Their mouths gaped and flew out to pursue the van, soon after passerbyers heard a cackling echoing from the alleyway and, soon, the sewers.

Now a van in pursuit, the Archangels coordinated on how to stop the vehicle - then saw it pull into a parking lot. The Archangels steadied their aim, but only saw the personal leaving and dancing outside. Duth commented on how it could be a trap, the other Archangel swooped in with Damascus steel and investigated the van. Which an unshocked Duth stayed unshocked and they began patrolling the area - off in the distance, inside a restaurant, a beggar was eating pretzels and chatting with a nonchalant Witch-in-training with her imp:

"...These are excellent pretzels, gotta say yer magic does wonders to not only disguise us, but better pretzels - gotta say yah improved a lot!... Anyways, yah see these Archangels or whatever? They fool nae but they irrationally tend to forget irrationality. Yah gettin' what methinks of them?"

The Witch-in-training, though nonchalant, was glad and intrigued; the imp still eyeballed the intricate patrol scheme. The beggar followed up:

"Yah see, before they kick the Almighty's Messenger, Gabriel, down from the Heavens, they were coordinated and centralized. A bureau 'twas and damn effectively efficient also - hearin' it from Gabriel, methinks a schism happened and a pseudo-bureaucracy formed by these "new angels." Now us... dæmons have to deal with this; thankfully we still have Lucy Boy runnin' Hell!... Lucifer was always a backup if Heaven collapsed, I mean Lucifer was created in the Almighty's image... That's enough Theology today, Lassie! Time to see yah hex these pretenders with me - maybe one of them turned into a spoon... or a pretzel!"

"Uhhhh... Guys I think we've waited too long."

"Good eyes Red, they're summoning him now... Just means more fun and experience for all three of us, especially for yer training Ashley... Yet yah see: if they cheat, then I'll bring worse - lemme invoke a friend of mine."

With their eyes glowing and their body floating, a Dark Myst was summoned and spoke:

"Ah! Long time, nae see! What perturbs yah?... Crap, now I sense him - peckin' "new angels!" I'll muster me Shu'ulathoi, which I might add was nice of It to pay back Its debts... 'N' whom may these acquaintances be?"

"I'm Ashley, he's Red."

"What lovely names - I've heard small talk o' ye. Let's see if yer really fighters - finally they came!"

Floating slugs with metallic-tube eyepieces and gas masks teleported in, Red jumped outta his seat while Ashley remained unfazed - both knew how deprave they were, Ashley wondered who It was and how It forced subservience to a Dark Myst. But the Dark Myst spoke:

"So Mr. Pretzel, shall we commence th' apocalypse?"

The beggar smiled.

Cited posts:

@f3nix - "Finish the Story Contest: Week 27"

Cited images

@f3nix - "Official Storyteller banner"