A knock comes from the front door of our home very early in the morning, much earlier than any service droid typically would. Holding the guard rail, I glance at the holographic pictures hanging on the wall, displaying all our trips in vivid, moving images. Remembering all the fun times we had together always makes me smile.
"I can't wait for Dad to come back, so we can take more pictures." Hoping it's him coming back, I walk down the metal staircase faster until I hear a sudden thud on the wooden floor near the door. Peeking through the transparent, luminescent rails, I see my mom on her knees, tears streaming down her face, covering her mouth with one hand and clutching a yellow letter in the other. A tall man in a military dress uniform, similar to my dad's, stands in the doorway before turning away with slow, somber steps.
"Mommy? Are you hurt?" Walking towards her, I reach out to her and tug on the back of her blouse. Suddenly, she grabs hold of me tightly in her arms. My shoulder turns wet as she continues to tremble, her whimpering growing louder. "Are you okay, Mommy? Want me to kiss it better?" She holds me tighter each time. Confused about what happened, I look over her shoulder into the yard to see the man in Dad's uniform get into his hovering vehicle, its anti-gravity engines humming softly compared to the crumpling of the paper in mom's hand as it lifts off and glides away.
"Did the man hurt you, Mommy?… Don't cry, Mommy, don't cry." I try to comfort her by hugging her back, my hands barely reaching around her. "Stop crying, Mommy. I-I'm sorry, Mommy. Please stop crying." Unable to understand the situation but feeling her immense pain, I cry along with her for hours. The soft glow of the morning sun outside casts a gentle light through the door and windows, making all the moving images on the staircase bleed away.
_______________________________________________________________________
It has been five years since my father was reported killed in action during the first wave attack from the 'Angels of Eden' on the Tigris River. I walk from my primary school to my mom's work alone each day. It is close by, so it doesn't take long, but seeing the other kids have their parents come get them leaves me feeling a bit jealous. Walking through the apathetic security A.I. and check points, the only human security guard escorts me to an empty office to wait for my mom to finish her experiments each day. He is always nice to me and often offers me sweets, which I always accept.
After a couple of hours of waiting for my mom watching the projector clock change numbers while simulating the ticking sounds from the old era, I get bored after finishing my homework. "Let's go on an adventure," I think.
Walking around, avoiding being seen by the other adults, I find myself lost. The whole floor is the same alabaster color, with confusing turns. The walls are smooth and cold to the touch, and the overhead lights cast a sterile glow. 'I swear I passed that vending machine three times already, and that sweep bot is still cleaning that same red stain.' The hum of machinery and the occasional beep of a service droid fill the air. I keep my adventure going when I finally see something fun. My mom's name, 'Mabel,' is on a glass door with some other big words I can't read. 'I think I can give my mom a big surprise.'
The service droid entry hatch was too small for even a three-year-old, let alone me. I wait for someone in a white jacket like my mom's to open the door so I can sneak in and give her a hug from behind. Thankfully, it is always busy, so it doesn't take long for someone to open the door, and it is easy to hide behind an adult. I hide behind every luminescent plant and cabinet around until I finally find her.
I peek from behind a desk, waiting for her to finish talking with some bearded guy so I can give her the biggest hug. They finally finish speaking, and I am about to pounce on her when I see the metal window behind Mom open up.
Inside, I see a man strapped to a bed with a bunch of wires connected to him, with some droids floating around, stabbing weird things into him. The room is filled with the soft hum of medical equipment and the occasional hiss of pneumatic devices. I can't follow what is going on but feel I am watching something I shouldn't, especially when the man starts shaking violently on the table. I decide to run back to the empty office before I get caught. As I sneak back, I see Mom's face, one she never makes at home—cold and apathetic. It hurts to see her like that.
Another four hours pass listening to the ticking sound of the clock before my mom comes into the office. She is always pretty but looks really tired today, but had that gentle smile that she wears at home.
We are walking past the packed bazaar with people scrambling around to finish their last-minute shopping. The air is filled with the scent of spices and the chatter of vendors. Seeing some classmates running around and playing with the newest polymorph-animal cube made me want to join them. Seeing the look on my face, I guess, Mom suddenly grabs my hand and takes me to the toy vendor.
She looks at me with a soft smile, which makes me really happy to see her happy. Looking at all the toys on the stand, watching all the gadgets move around and light up, made me antsy. Mom hugs me from behind. I love hugs—her warmth, the softness of her hair tickling my nose, and the gentle scent of her lilac-pine perfume always make me feel safe.
[ANGEL SPOTTED. EVACUATE. ALL CITIZENS ARE TO REMAIN HOME OR EVACUATE TO THE NEAREST BUNKER.]
[ANGEL IN THE AREA OF KASKAI BAZAAR]
The speakers start blaring a loud noise, so loud I have to cover my ears in pain. The piercing sound reverberates through the air, making my head throb. People start scattering, running into each other and making everything louder. The chaos is overwhelming, with shouts and cries blending into a cacophony of panic.
Mom picks me up and runs towards the nearest building, her grip tight and reassuring. But she goes from shaking violently from running to a dead stop. I open my eyes to see what is happening and see something unusual.
A beautiful person with bright silvery wings on their back, wearing gold lustrous plates on their shoulders and chest, stands on the road, holding a golden pointed pole. The sunlight glints off the polished armor, creating a dazzling display. It is enchanting to look at them, almost surreal. He is standing over the friendly security guard, who lies motionless on the ground. The contrast between the angelic figure and the fallen guard is stark. "Why is he here?"
I try reaching out, but Mom suddenly throws me towards a revolving clothing stand. It doesn't hurt, but I struggle to get up from the loose clothing. Looking up at my mom, I see her give me a warm, loving smile. I'm confused by what is going on, then I see the golden pole from earlier punch through her chest. Her neat and clean blouse starts turning red, and a spurt of crimson lands on my face. Feeling the warm liquid around my eyes and nose, I touch the substance, my hands shaking. Pushing against the clothes that are still revolving, I struggle to get closer to her to help.
She sees me moving frantically towards her, so she falls on top of me. The warmth that always gives me comfort feels warmer than usual, and her perfume of lilac-pine smells like iron. She softly whispers to me, "Stop, don't move."
I listen to her, as her soft wet hair touches on my face as her head landed next to mine. The beautiful person pulls the pole out of her and walks away. I don't understand what has happened, but a sharp taste of watery iron fills my mouth. I lie still, afraid of disobeying her. It isn't until a man in an army uniform finds me underneath her that I finally understand.
_______________________________________________________________________
Ten years later, I find myself adopted by Mom's coworker, Dr. Marcus, someone I had seen in her research facility before. He introduces me to my now precocious, genius younger step-sister, Isabella. Dr. Marcus is kind to take me in and treats me like a son, pretty much leaving me to decide how to go about my future without much interference. I am grateful for his support, though I often feel like an outsider in this new family.
Isabella, however, is a different story. From the moment I move in, she makes it her mission to involve me in her world. "Come on, Sully, you have to see this new genetic sequence I'm working on!" she says, dragging me to her lab. Despite her haughty attitude, I can't help but admire her brilliance.
She is always pestering me to hang out with her or attend her genetic seminars. I'm thankful that she gives me some of her experimental gene solutions for free under the guise of me being her lab rat, which I don't really mind since it aids me in my goal of having the physique and mental capability to kill the angels. Even now, she still bothers me. Case in point:
"Where are you going now, Sully? I need you around to test my new solutions so I can get government approval." Isabella blocks the front door, stopping me from leaving. She never grows out of her haughty attitude phase as a kid, nor does she grow much either. A five-foot-nothing brat with long blaze red hair in a ponytail and small lens spectacles on her button nose is posturing as if she can stop my five-foot-eleven muscular frame. The image of a chihuahua barking at a bull mastiff comes to mind.
"One, none of your business and my name is Rayleigh Solomon, not Sully. I played with you all yesterday at the holo-ball rink. Two, forcing your step-relative to take unsanctioned meds is against the law. Three, you being a small, smart brat with a haughty attitude is no longer cute as it used to be… meaning that I'm gonna pick you up out of the way." I do just that. As soon as I reach my third reason, I pick up my ninety-pound-if-wet step-sister out of the way by her collar. Seeing the flabbergasted expression on her face always makes me chuckle, much to her chagrin.
"H-How dare you treat a genius like this! I'm telling Dad when he gets home." She childishly stomps the ground, her face turning red with frustration, which only makes me laugh louder as I wave her goodbye.
"I'M SERIOUS!… SULLY!"
_______________________________________________________________________
"Sixteen years old and still running to her dad for every little thing. I feel sorry for whomever decides to marry that whining firecracker. She might be a savant when it comes to genetics and a green thumb in business, but I have my own talents as well." I mutter to myself as I walk outside the city limits that's surrounded by three hundred meter high barriers erected along the city's periphery for fending off angel attacks by using the restricted maintenance tunnels.
The smell of sewage, mold, and scurrying rats always overwhelms my senses. "Having eidetic memory along with echopraxia and using my mother's technological know-how, allows me to perfectly execute every fighting style and means I need to kill those damn featherbacks."
The journey to the forested region three hours out from the city gives me time to reflect. The city's towering buildings and scattered hover-vehicles gradually give way to dense trees and the sounds of nature. The air becomes fresher, filled with the scent of pine and earth. My thoughts drift to the countless nights spent training, honing my skills. The determination to avenge my mother's death burns brighter with each step. The rustling leaves and distant calls of wildlife provide a stark contrast to the chaos of the city.
Entering the forest clearing, I finally meet up with the person who taught me the various combat techniques I've practiced for the last four years. "Good evening, Captain Yoskovich. What do you have for me?"
"What's good about it? We just lost India from an Angel blitzkrieg and internal sabotage; zealots infiltrated their military." Yoskovich snuffs his cigarette with his boot as he leans against his jeep and throws a file on the tailgate. "Speaking of, twenty religious zealots and one angel are currently housing themselves in a shack on a mountain twenty clicks from here."
I pick up the file and go over the satellite images of the area and the profiles of the people suspected to have sided with the Angels of Eden, completely unfazed by the news about India. "I need the experience, but why doesn't your government use their augmented soldiers to deal with these traitors? Even if the angel is wounded from the newly developed plasma blade your government borrowed from me, it's still an angel that bullets and knives bounce off of."
"Their hands are tied due to some political bullshit that's above my rank to question. I chose you because we are aware of what you've been doing every night for the last four years. The number of zealots has dwindled a lot over the years in this area, strangely enough." He lights another cigarette with a knowing smile that seeps with ill intent, practically screaming that his government would expose this fact to the public.
"But more importantly… look at the last page." I look at the last page to see a face that has haunted me for the last ten years. My fists clench as my heartbeat quickens. Without thinking, I crumple the file in a fit of anger.
"Looks like you accept."
"Not quite."
"Hah~. The hell else do you want?"
"I want the augmentation procedure done on me."
"…tsk, if you die, it's on you."
"Whatever, I'll be using my mother's materials anyway."
"Your mother is the only reason, we approached you in the beginning. I'm done with this. Just finish the job first, then we'll talk." He gets in his jeep and hauls ass back to base kicking dirt up and scaring the sleeping birds away, leaving me to walk the distance to the objective on my own.
_______________________________________________________________________
After hiking through the forest and bramble for a couple of hours, with the new moon high in the sky, I finally reach the old mining facility. The dense foliage and uneven terrain make the journey arduous, but the sight of the structure gives me some relief, knowing I'm on the right path. The facility is a relic from a bygone era, with rusted metal beams and crumbling concrete walls barely holding together. Vines and moss have overtaken much of the exterior, giving it an almost post-apocalyptic feel.
"Let's take a look, shall we." I pull my binoculars out and peek over the boulder hanging over the cliff face to witness the group of traitors prostrating themselves in front of the building's hangar door.
"What the hell are they doing? Why aren't they patrolling like they usually do?" I mutter to myself, my eyes narrowing as I try to make sense of the scene. Staring at this display for a couple of minutes, I notice an odd gold glow emanating from the zealots' bodies, leaning towards the building. "The fuck is that?"
A chill runs down my spine. "Whatever that gold stuff is, it's not good for me, I imagine. Hopefully, this device I made works right, so I can get a jump on that wounded featherback." Touching the brace on both of my arms, a small blue half prism appears on them, with the prisms facing in opposite directions from each other. "Capturing the image from behind in one and projecting it forward with the other should give me a rudimentary cloaking shroud like that ancient movie creature 'Predator'." I love those old movies involving humanity winning against invaders with bare minimum intel and tools.
The forest is eerily silent, the only sounds being the branches swaying and the distant muttering of the zealots. I take a deep breath, steadying my nerves. The stakes are high, and failure is not an option. My mother's last moment flashes in my mind, fueling my determination. I activate the cloaking device, feeling a slight hum as it powers up. With cautious steps, I begin my approach, blending into the shadows, approaching the rusting hangar door..
The muttering becomes louder as I approach the rusting hangar door of the old mining facility. The structure looms ahead, its once sturdy metal now corroded and covered in patches of moss. The ground beneath my feet is uneven, littered with remnants of mining equipment and scattered rocks. The air is thick with the smell of rust and damp earth.
The prospect of fighting twenty people first before facing a living angel is a fool's errand. The traitors keep performing subtle bows as they prostrate, similar to Buddhist monks, their breath pushing the dirt underneath. The dim light filtering through the cracked windows casts eerie shadows, adding to the tension of the moment.
'The musty air inside is stagnant, where even breathing seems to alert everything inside. Did the angel actually come in here, or is this a trap instead?' I think as my mind races with hypotheticals, observing all the conflicting information that goes against the baseline I have established from doing similar tactics for the last four years.
Cautiously stepping deeper into the interior of the building, I avoid the hanging rusty chains and random tin and glass jars on the floor. The faint blinking lights from the city skyscrapers barely penetrate the building, casting fading shadows that make every step feel like a potential trigger for disaster. The interior is a labyrinth of old mining equipment, conveyor belts, and storage containers, all covered in a thick layer of dust and grime. I finally see him.
The man who murdered my mother is just sitting there, his back turned with his wings covering his entire body. Those weird golden strands bleed through his feathers. Gold-speckled blood drips from his right side, but the only thing that really catches my eye is his spine. 'It's exposed. It removed its armor.' Delight swells in my eyes at the prospect of drilling a plasma blade into his back, like he did to my mother. It is sweet karma in my mind.
Silently stepping towards the target, I nervously keep checking the braces and the plasma blade, making sure nothing is amiss. 'Steady, steady,' I chant to myself, the mantra the only thing keeping me from making a mistake. The sight of the angel, ever growing closer, makes my heart race. 'Is it meditating?' I can see the ridges on its spinal column, the individual barbs on its feathers twitching with each heartbeat.
I take a shallow breath, focusing on the task at hand. My hands tremble slightly as I precisely aim the blade between the thoracic vertebrae. My goal is clear: to cripple the angel and dissect it… alive. The thought of what I could learn from this creature fills me with grim determination.
'What I learn from this will help everyone in the world. No one will suffer… like I am.'
My strike is sure and true. The plasma blade makes contact with the angel's skin, sending sparks flying as I push upwards between the spinal gaps. The blade sizzles as it meets the resistance of the angel's flesh, similar to rubber hitting steel, and then a spurt of gold-speckled blood erupts, hissing as it touches the searing blade. The angel's wings twitch violently as it sits there, triggering an instinctual fear in me to back off. But whether it's the heat of the moment or my years of experience kicking in, I plant my feet firmly on the ground.
Using all the strength in my arms and hips, I plunge the blade deeper. The resistance is immense, and my muscles strain under the effort. The angel's body convulses, its feathers flaring out in a desperate attempt to shake me off. The golden blood sprays, splattering my face and hands, its metallic scent filling my nostrils. I grip the handle of the blade tighter nearly cracking the metal, resin grip, refusing to let go.
Unable to maintain the strain on my body, I let out a primal war cry, the sound echoing through the hangar. "AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH, DIIIIIIIEEEE!" The blade sinks further, the heat and pressure overwhelming my senses. The angel's spine cracks under the force, and I feel a surge of dark satisfaction. 'This is for my mother,' I shouted in my mind, images flashing back to her final moments. 'For everyone who has suffered because of these creatures.' The bastard falls face down, its wings limp exposing the hole in its spine with the blade still sizzling digging deeper.
…
The sound of heavy breathing resonates in the empty building, almost echoing. I lean against a beam to stabilize myself, bending over in fatigue. "Fuck, that was insane. Just stabbing him once drained me. I can't even imagine what it's like on the frontlines against battle-ready ones." I glare at the patch work ceiling, trying to stabilize my breathing, preparing to deal with the twenty bastards out front. "I never met you, Dad, but fighting these featherbacks openly takes a higher caliber of man. I hope I can become that… Why aren't those bastards running in yet?"
Turning my eyes to the only corridor in the building, I see something straight out of a fantasy. A large, almost liquid gold stream flows in the air phasing through the malformed containers towards the angel. Watching this surreal scene freezes me solid, unable to process this magic-looking bullshit. I remain stationary, trying to come to terms with what is happening. The liquid gold listlessly meanders towards the angel's wings. A slow glow emanates around the wings.
As I watch, I notice something that chills my heart. A finger twitches.
"SON OF A BI-" The wings spasm violently, generating a shock wave pushing all the dust, garbage and slams against me, pushing me against the beam I am leaning on. My breath is knocked out of me. The rusty chains on the rafters falling from the wind pressure. The angel slowly gets up from the ground in a horror movie fashion, standing upright. Its eyes snap open with a fierce fiery glare, and an earth-shattering roar bellows from its mouth, revealing sharp, glistening teeth.
"OOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa~"
Startled and hoping it doesn't see me, I scramble to my feet, heart pounding, and hid behind a container. 'Stay calm, stay focused,' I tell myself, trying to keep my emotions in check. I activate my braces to buy myself some critical moments of reprieve. Covering my mouth with my hands to stifle my hyperventilation, I feel the cold sweat drip on my fingers. Hearing the angel's footfalls moving slowly, I peer around the corner to get a sense of what is happening.
The naked angel walks lethargically with slouched shoulders, almost as if it might collapse at any moment. Its silvery-gold wings, now tattered and dripping with golden blood, twitch erratically as the blade shimmers inside its wound. Nudging a tin can on the floor, it creates an unusually loud rattling noise. A silvery-gold wing slices through the air, effortlessly cutting a forty-one centimeter (16 in.) steel beam with a fine polish. The falling beam's collision stirs up dust and debris, creating a dark plume and even more noise. Like a rabid dog, it uses its wings to ferociously slice the plume clear, restoring visibility. Its eyes, burning with a fierce intensity, scanning the area, but they seem unfocused, as if blinded by rage and pain.
'What can I do against that?!' I scream internally, regretting not bringing more tools with me. 'How arrogant to think a scalpel and some ramshackle braces were all I needed to kill a nearly dead bastard angel.' My fingernails dig into my palms in self-anger until they bled. The aimless footfalls persist in the area, ironically confusing me enough to calm my mind.
"What is it doing? Why not leave or call for its servants?" Ensuring the braces aren't damaged from the debris, I stand up from behind the container to get a clearer understanding of the situation.
…
'It's blind… and disoriented, it appears… perfect.' My eyes shimmer with this revelation.
Scanning the area for anything useful, my mind churns with ideas to kill this thing now while it's weak, before those muttering idiots storm in. My eyes land on the rusty chains on the ground with bits of cloth and oil along with an old minecart on a nearby track. An idea begins to form.
Quietly crouching, I move closer, grabbing one of the chains on the ground and testing its strength. It holds. I loop the chain around the minecart while using random cloth from the ground to dampen any metallic sounds, securing it tightly to pull it closer to the incline. 'The cart is heavy, but with the right leverage, it could pin that bastard down.' I carefully maneuver the cart into position, making sure it's aligned perfectly with the track.
'Alright…all or nothing.' I position the cart at the top of a slight incline, heading right towards the entrance, where the angel is stepping in. I remove the chain and wrap it around both braces, connecting the metal ends to the power source, electrifying them.
Taking a deep breath, I push with all my strength, guiding the minecart faster down the track. The angel, sensing the tremors, turns too late. The cart slams into it with a bone-crushing force, pinning it against another filled cart. The lodged blade thrusts in further, and the angel's eyes widen in shock and pain, its mouth opening in a silent scream. Its lungs is likely punctured by the impact, and its arms are trapped.
I don't waste a second. I leap onto the minecart, its back exposed. Swinging the chain around the angel's neck, I pull it tight, forcing its head back until we are eye to eye. The angel thrashes violently, its eyes blazing with rancor and agony. Its once beautiful face contorts in a mix of pain and desperation, teeth bared in a snarl. I hold on, using all my strength to keep the chain in place.
The angel's wings beat furiously, its body convulsing from the electricity, slicing my back relentlessly. Each strike sends searing pain through my body, but I grit my teeth and hold on. The chain cuts into its flesh, blood spraying everywhere, painting everything gold. The angel's eyes lock onto mine, filled with a burning hatred and a flicker of fear. With a final, desperate pull, I place my foot on the chain, using all my weight. My arms strain as the braces crack under the immense pressure. A blood vessel in my eye pops, and shards from the brace cut into my forearm, the pain searing into my brain.
Finally, I feel a sickening crack through the chains. The angel's body goes limp, its wings falling to the ground, the sound of the plasma blade humming inside its torso.
Panting, I release the chain and fall back, watching as the angel's body twitches one last time before lying still. I wipe the sweat and blood from my face, my heart pounding in my chest. 'It's over,' I think, a mix of relief and disbelief washing over me. The angel's once fierce eyes now stare blankly, its expression frozen in agony.
"It was more of a mindless beast than an intelligent being. Does it have a poor pain tolerance?" I mutter, bending over to catch my breath, in disbelief at what happened. The blood from my arms and the angel drips on my leggings and boots.
Ignoring the pain on my back and arms, I turn my attention to the hangar door, where the zealots had been prostrating themselves. As I approach, I notice the eerie silence. The gold glow that had been emanating from their bodies is gone. I step closer and see that they are all lying motionless on the ground prostrating, their eyes vacant and lifeless.
"The angel must have absorbed their essence or whatever that was, draining them completely," I surmise. I feel a mix of relief and horror. The threat is gone, but the cost is high. I take a moment to catch my breath, the weight of what I've done settling in.
"Mom, Dad, I hope I made you proud," I whisper, looking up at the blackened moon as my vision fades. 'The battle is over, but the war is far from won. I know there will be more angels, more zealots, and more battles to fight.' With a final glance at the fallen angel and the dead zealots, I fall to the ground, out cold.
Moments later, footsteps and jeep lights fill the corpse-filled entrance area. Yoskovich kneels down and picks up my bloodied head. "Well, all that time training you wasn't a waste… Still alive, I see." He blows smoke in my face.
"Guess your payment is due. Oi! Someone here carry this idiot back to our facility and prep him for augmentation… Sigh, and go to his house or hideout and pick up his mother's schematics and parts, per his request."