The room was dark, but a few candles gave off a dim light, illuminating the room.
The flames flickered over luxurious things. These items were only possessed by those who earn seven figures a month or more.
Basically, filthy rich.
Silk patterned curtains draped down from the makeshift walls in this room.
And there at the center was a mahogany office in pristine shape. It was as if it had been transported from some corporate executive company.
Then, reclining across that were plush pillows and a moody romantic atmosphere created by hot girls.
Yes.
Stunning females, every last one of them were wearing their birthday suit and were looking at the man in the middle with faces full of sheer adoration.
There were at least six of them, probably more in the background.
They floated with dreamy, languid movement, their eyes full of hearts rather than pupils if this was an anime.
Each glance that they gave to the man was full of worship and longing.
Like teenage girls gazing at their beloved K-pop star.
Except, every last one of them were more than hardcore fans… and definitely no clothing.
"Vincent," sighed a beautiful brunette, who looked like she could have been a model before something the world went to shit. "You're so great."
"So powerful," said a redhead, her voice husky with adoration. "So beautiful."
In the middle of this harem anime fantasy was Vincent Cross.
The guy appeared as if he'd just walked off a mafia film and determined that the end of the world was simply another business venture.
Expensive, probably more than most men's automobiles at a time when money still had meaning.
His hair was slicked back like a gangster from the 1920s.
He wore gold rings on every finger and a shiny platinum watch.
He seemed to radiate "I'm the bad guy and I'm having the time of my life."
Vincent reclined in a giant leather chair like some sort of emperor of the modern world, one hand cradling crystal glass full of old whiskey.
The other hand caressed the hair of a blonde who was purring with his touch.
"Such a lovely night," Vincent whispered, his voice as silky as a con, twice as insincere.
"Don't you think so, my darlings?"
"Everything is lovely when you're here," the blonde sighed wistfully.
"You're my everything, Vincent…"
Vincent laughed, the tone full of contentment.
Dude was living large while the world burned into hell.
*BANG!*
That was when the solid wooden door came crashing open like the Kool-Aid Man had decided it was time to make an entrance.
One of Vincent's men broke into the room, he looked like he had just run a 25k marathon with zero rest.
This hunchman's name is Derek.
"Boss!" Derek panted, attempting to wind his breath back in while at the same time not glancing at the naked ladies.
"Boss, they're back!"
Vincent's face stayed calm, but his eyes immediately went hard.
Like, "you're dead if you spout any bullshit" hard.
"Derek, Didn't I tell you to knock before coming in here?" His voice was smooth but razor sharp to the point that the ones hearing it would make their skin tingle.
"But, Boss, t-this is important!" Derek stuttered, still attempting to gaze anywhere but at the harem.
"Jin's team has come back from their supply run!"
"And?" Vincent drank his whiskey slowly, as if the conversation wasn't worth listening to.
"They brought visitors, Boss. Five of them!"
That got Vincent's attention.
He placed his glass on the table with a type that meant somebody was going to have a very nasty day.
"Visitors?" he repeated, as if Derek had just informed him aliens had descended.
"What sort of visitors?"
"... uh."
Derek's mouth began to do the thing where it opens and closes but no noise is produced.
Like a fish trying to describe quantum mechanics.
"Well?" Vincent's tone contained enough threat to unnerve a serial killer. "I'm waiting."
"Four of them are human," Derek struggled to get out at last. "Three were teenage kids. A-Another is a scrawny man, probably in his late 20s…"
"And the fifth?"
Derek went pale.
"B-Boss, this is going to sound totally insane, but…"
"Derek."
A single word.
It was spoken so quietly it sounded more like a whisper.
… But somehow more threatening than a death metal show.
"The fifth one is an angel, sir."
"..."
The silence was so painful to hear.
Vincent glared at Derek as if he'd just said the moon was constructed of cheese and he had pictures to prove it.
Then, gradually, he began to laugh.
Not the kind that's entertaining humor.
The type that serial killers were probably taught to do in mirrors.
"An angel," Vincent said, his voice dripping with each syllable. "You're saying Jin returned with a real angel."
"I know it sounds insane—"
"Derek, how drunk are you at the moment?"
"Stone sober, Boss! I swear on all that is holy! That lady has wings. Real wings… Large white ones like in those holy paintings…! And she's…"
Derek then hesitated. He was searching for the right words to say. "... She's the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on."
Vincent's laughter abruptly stopped at this point.
He regarded Derek's face with the face of a detective questioning a suspect in a murder case.
Derek was never a good liar, and currently he appeared terrified shitless.
Which meant he wasn't lying.
"Show me," Vincent stood up from his chair with the kind of smooth ease that hinted he was more deadly than his pretty-boy looks indicated.
"Boss, perhaps you should—"
"Show me," Vincent said again, his voice indicating that arguing was not on the table.
He smoothed his tie and pulled up his suit jacket, going from harem anime hero to menacing crime lord in roughly two seconds.
"And Derek? If you're messing with me on this, I'll feed you to the next B-list monster we come across myself. One limb at a time."
Derek nodded so vigorously his head appeared to be about to detach itself.
Vincent trailed after him for the door, but not before he'd sent one final look down the room at his roster of beauties.
"Don't move an inch, lovelies," he warned with a grin from a horror film. "Daddy'll be back soon."
The women all breathed as one, their gazes trailing after him with the sort of religiosity normally reserved for saints.
***
The camp was like someone had opened up a military base, a refugee camp, and a medieval castle, and dumped them all into a blender and hit "mix."
What was once a warehouse complex had been remade into humanity's most desperate Pinterest project.
The outside walls were a patchwork of whatever the survivors could scrounge up.
Concrete barriers that likely once directed traffic.
Shipping containers stacked like the world's most depressing Lego set.
School buses turned over on their sides and loaded with rubble because apparently that's what school buses were for now.
Even a couple city buses had been welded into the perimeter, resembling giant metal caterpillars who had fallen asleep.
The entrance gate was this huge steel door that resembled something that belonged in a bank vault.
Maybe because literally it was out of a bank vault.
Surrounded by watchtowers that were essentially scaffolding and plywood glued together with prayer and duct tape.
The inside of the entire facility was regimented with the kind of military organization that left you questioning whether or not this person had OCD or just really, really enjoyed straight lines.
Lines of tents and haphazard shelters laid out in immaculate grids.
Cooking fires in appropriate places because apparently fire safety was still a thing even during the apocalypse.
There was even a makeshift play area where children were playing.
… Which was either incredibly heartwarming or incredibly depressing depending on which way you chose to look at it.
But even with all that, there was this tension in the air.
Like everyone was just waiting for "when the next drop of water would fall" kind of tension.
Or in this instance, for the next savior to arrive and save everyone's day.
And at the moment, every single member of the camp was looking at them.
Specifically, they were looking at Aurelia as if she were the second coming of Christ and they were all greatly, greatly religious.
Despite her armor encasing most of her holy hotness, she still resembled someone who'd just exited a fantasy game where the character-building sliders had been cranked up.
Impeccable posture.
Movements that embody gracefulness.
And the wings.
Holy shit, the angel wings.
They looked like something from a Renaissance painting, but they were bigger and grander.
They were definitely real.
"Is that really an angel?"
"Check out the size of those wings."
"She's so lovely I think my eyes are watering."
"Do you think she's here to rescue us?"
Nero felt all the glares like someone was prodding him with little needles.
This was much worse than when people gazed at them walking down the street.
This was dozens of stranded survivors staring at Aurelia like she was their own miracle.
'This is gonna be a problem,'
The last thing they could afford was to find themselves the focal point of some bizarre angel cult.
He opened the telepathic connection to Aurelia.
'Hey, any chance you could get rid of the wings? We're getting a tad too much attention here.'
There was a moment's hesitation, then Aurelia's proper mental voice replied.
'Lord Nero, my wings are part of my form. To fully eliminate them would involve—'
'No no, I mean—like… Can you just make them less… winglike? Please?'
Another hesitation.
For a moment, a frown was plastered on Valkyrie's face, but soon nodded as if she understood.
'I… see your point.'
Relief flooded Nero.
Then instantly panicked when Aurelia's hand reached for her sword.
'—!!! Whoa, whoa, WHOA! What are you doing?'
'You asked me to make my wings less conspicuous. The most effective way would be to cut them off. They grow back within a few hours—'
'NO! Don't cut your wings off in front of all these people! That's not making them less conspicuous, that's creating a horror trauma!'
Aurelia stopped, hand remaining on her sword hilt.
'What I mean is… can you retract your wings inside your body?'
'Ah. You want me to just fold them back into my physical body. That is possible.'
'Yes! That! Please do that and not the horrible amputation thing!"
'Understood, Lord Nero.'
Gasps were heard as Aurelia's wings began to fold. They appeared to have merged with her back until they were completely gone.
She looked more human now, albeit still striking enough that people began to wonder about their choices in life.
"Did she just… where did they go?"
Someone asked, sounding stunned and perplexed.
"Angels can do that?"
"That was so cool!"
"... She could really retract them, huh?"
Nero had to mutter.
'I guess it's like getting an arm cramp if they keep it retracted for too long.'
Never once did he see the angel before him do that.
He hadn't had time to think of a way to explain the crowds' questions before Jin and Sarah slid up beside them.
They both gave the appearance of having just finished a sprint, which was not good for anyone in considering the temperature.
"... Sorry. Had to report to command. Let them know we arrived in one piece."
Jin apologized for the wait, but she kept glancing between the crowd and Nero's group looking like she was waiting for something to happen.
"And?" Kaito asked.
"Our leader would like to speak with you," Sarah said, nodding towards Aurelia. "All of you. He's… very interested in your friend here."
'I bet he is,' Nero thought skeptically.
"He should be here any—"
"BOSS!"
The yell was from somewhere close to the central building, and the response was instantaneous.
The crowd began to break apart like Moses was going to part it.
"THE BOSS IS COMING!"
"Make room!"
"Boss Vincent!"
The name spread through the crowd, and Nero saw people's faces were a strange combination of respect and terror.
Like they didn't know whether to bow or flee.
And then Vincent Cross emerged from the shadows, and Nero knew why.
The man appeared to have walked out of a mafia film and concluded the apocalypse was merely another venture.
High-quality suit that managed to appear freshly pressed.
Hair that seemed to be styled as if he had a personal barber somewhere within the camp.
And a grin that consisted of all teeth and no warmth.
"Well, well," Vincent said, moving towards them, his tone with that smooth assurance of a man who'd never known the word no.
"What have we got here?"
His glance swept over their circle, obviously measuring them up.
But when his eyes found Aurelia, they hung.
And held.
And continued to hang in a way that made Nero's eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Jin says you're travelers," Vincent went on, holding out his hand to Nero. "Vincent Cross. Elected representative of this tiny piece of surviving camp."
Nero took his hand, observing the strong handshake and the way Vincent's eyes kept being drawn back to Aurelia.
"Nero Walker. This is my friend: Kaito, Haru, Yui, and Aurelia."
"Aurelia…" Vincent said again, as if savoring the name.
He focused all his attention on her, and his grin grew more… predatory.
"And you, my dear, are apparently an angel. That is right?"
Aurelia nodded once, her face giving nothing away.
"Fascinating," Vincent said. "Derek said wings, but I had to believe it myself to see. Would you give us a little demonstration?"
For an instant, Nero imagined Aurelia telling Vincent where to stick his ask.
And she did,
"I apologize. I only follow commands from Lord Nero."
Vincent looked at Nero, to which Nero chuckled as he said,
"Show them, Aurelia."
The angel finally nodded.
*Flusssh…*
Her angel wings then unfolded in a fluid motion.
The crowd went wild.
Gasps, shouts, some people actually collapsing to their knees.
Even Vincent's politician face cracked for an instant, his eyes widening with real shock.
"Incredible," he whispered. "Absolutely fucking incredible."
Aurelia folded her wings and made them vanish again, resuming her more human demeanor.
"Forgive the request," Vincent replied, his smooth smile emerging. "But during times like this, you need to authenticate wild statements. Can't have people running around spreading rumors, I'm sure you understand?"
He hesitated, face growing more somber.
"I also want to apologize for Marcus previously. Jin briefed me on his actions. That sort of crap doesn't reflect what we're all about here."
'Sure it doesn't,' Nero thought, but maintained his neutral expression.
"Thanks for the apology," Nero outwardly replied.
"Good, good," Vincent nodded. "Now, I am sure that you must have your questions concerning our little community here. And I surely have my questions on your… extraordinary situation."
He gestured towards the main building.
"How about continuing this somewhere more private? Standing out here isn't so great for long conversations. Too many ears, if you know what I mean."
The invitation seemed reasonable enough.
But something in the way Vincent had phrased it made Nero's danger sense begin to scream.
This was a man who was accustomed to being able to have whatever he desired.
And currently, what he desired was rather glaringly Aurelia.
The question was: what, precisely, was he going to do about it?
'Looks like this Camp has more dark lore into it.'
Nero's weeb instincts were tingling.
***
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