Azrael

Azrael was exhausted, lying on the ground beaten and bruised. His wings curled pitifully around his body, and he knew he looked pathetic.

This was a mission given by God himself, but Azrael was very tired. He felt like nothing he did mattered, like every day he spent of his life fighting evil was just a day wasted. And he knew that if he got up and tried again, the cycle would only repeat itself.