CHAPTER 1
“Areathia, I want a recon of targets last known where-abouts. Do it,” ordered commander Olan.
“What if I’m spotted?” inquired Areathia.
“You’re an Angle, stupid. Don’t be seen. But if you are, engage.”
Areathia nodded to the tall figure dressed as black as the sky above them. She was dressed the same, but cradled a different weapon. He carried a M-82, while her MP5 better suited her. The thought of the reason behind his longer ranged weapon caused a smile, being that he was one of many Angels not blessed with wings. His jealousy was also the roots of his sharp tongue.
They scanned the landscape from atop a tall radio tower. The tower was on the roof of a tall apartment building. The city spanned below them, with the bustling traffic mostly gone, and the late night crowds thinning. The city wasn’t huge; it didn’t have any skyscraper-sized buildings. But it was large enough for drugs, gangs and traffic jams.
The familiar sound of tearing skin signaled the arrival of her wings. And with that, she jumped and took flight, making sure to dodge buildings. She needed to stay low, to lessen the chance of being seen by her prey. To anybody looking up, the only thing to see would be the stars, moon, and a peculiar white winged bird with a light blue stream behind it. If they could see through the light pollution. That was all Areathia showed the people of the surface, the humans.
Areathia tracked the target with her sapphire eyes. He was an old man who owned a liqueur shop. He was nondescript, looking and acting like most any normal commuter. He crossed the road, changing direction, and walked down the sidewalk. The only place of importance down that road was the subway system. She activated her com-link.
“What?!” replied Olan.
“Target’s destination is the subway. What are my orders?”
“Duh, you dumb-ass, engage the target! Do I need to do all the thinking here?”
“No, sir. Engaging target.”
“Oh, just what I always wanted, an idiot who knows to not talk back.” And with that, the connection died.
Areathia quickly checked her weapon status. She checked the magazine to make sure it was securely in place. She remembered loading the first round into the chamber. Deactivating the safety and fingering the selector to three-round-burst, she dove, with speed rivaling that of most planes. She was about to hit the road in an alley near the subway, stopping just 2 feet above the ground, hovering above it. She willed her wings away, and pushed her hair over her shoulders.
As soon as the wings finished re-entering her body, she took off at a brisk jog, knowing that she would beat the old man. Humans ran at the sight of her weapon, but she made no notice of them, intent on her mission. Police would be arriving soon, but that didn’t matter, as long as the job was done right. The old man became aware of Angels when one contacted him for alcohol. Angels weren’t to drink, and the old man had willingly given it to him, in exchange for something still unknown to the executioners. However, they both needed to be punished. The Angel had already been slain, now it was the old man’s time.
A crowd of local commuters exited the station as the new batch entered. It was little more than a concrete platform with a ticket booth at the bottom of the stairs leading in. she saw the old man look back. Areathia didn’t understand why, but he realized she was after him and ran down the stairs. Deciding to minimize collateral damage, Areathia shot a burst into the air, dispersing the crowd. The old man pulled a young woman up and held her in front of himself as a shield. He didn’t realize that executioners were permitted to kill innocents to obtain their goals. Quickly, she raised the submachine gun, and as soon as it leveled, fired her second burst, maiming both the young woman and the old man. The jacketed rounds entered the woman, bursting out her back to lodge themselves in the old man’s chest. Both fell in an expanding pool of their own bloods.
Areathia ran over to the young woman, with the intent of saying a prayer to save her soul, for she had died in the affairs of another. If Areathia were fast enough, her soul would be forgiven and allowed to enter heaven, without wings. Surely the lord did not have enough information to cast her into hell or bless her. Taking a quick assessment, she noticed that the commuters had all fled the station. She could hear police sirens. The old man could wait.
The prayer completed successfully, Areathia walked over to the old man. His eyes flailed, madly, within their sockets. He was choking on his own blood. With a quick assessment, Areathia decided that this was the extent of his remaining abilities. A lung must have been punctured. The three rounds were all evenly placed across his chest in a vertical line, no shot more than half an inch away from another. She splayed her wings, after making them resurface.
“You… You’re an Angel, aren’t you?” the old man’s voice surprised Areathia.
“Yes.”
“Are you going to… kill me?”
“Yes.”
Silence. Then Areathia screamed, “For aiding an Angel to sin, you have become an impurity against the lord, and I, as his blade and voice, damn you to an eternity in Hell.” And with that, she pulled out a ceremonial sword and struck the old man, decapiating him. The old man burned quickly into ashes that blew away in the wind. The sirens grew even closer, and she realized that she would need to hurry out, or risk being seen.
Areathia took one last glance before soaring away.
“Areathia, I want a recon of targets last known where-abouts. Do it,” ordered commander Olan.
“What if I’m spotted?” inquired Areathia.
“You’re an Angle, stupid. Don’t be seen. But if you are, engage.”
Areathia nodded to the tall figure dressed as black as the sky above them. She was dressed the same, but cradled a different weapon. He carried a M-82, while her MP5 better suited her. The thought of the reason behind his longer ranged weapon caused a smile, being that he was one of many Angels not blessed with wings. His jealousy was also the roots of his sharp tongue.
They scanned the landscape from atop a tall radio tower. The tower was on the roof of a tall apartment building. The city spanned below them, with the bustling traffic mostly gone, and the late night crowds thinning. The city wasn’t huge; it didn’t have any skyscraper-sized buildings. But it was large enough for drugs, gangs and traffic jams.
The familiar sound of tearing skin signaled the arrival of her wings. And with that, she jumped and took flight, making sure to dodge buildings. She needed to stay low, to lessen the chance of being seen by her prey. To anybody looking up, the only thing to see would be the stars, moon, and a peculiar white winged bird with a light blue stream behind it. If they could see through the light pollution. That was all Areathia showed the people of the surface, the humans.
Areathia tracked the target with her sapphire eyes. He was an old man who owned a liqueur shop. He was nondescript, looking and acting like most any normal commuter. He crossed the road, changing direction, and walked down the sidewalk. The only place of importance down that road was the subway system. She activated her com-link.
“What?!” replied Olan.
“Target’s destination is the subway. What are my orders?”
“Duh, you dumb-ass, engage the target! Do I need to do all the thinking here?”
“No, sir. Engaging target.”
“Oh, just what I always wanted, an idiot who knows to not talk back.” And with that, the connection died.
Areathia quickly checked her weapon status. She checked the magazine to make sure it was securely in place. She remembered loading the first round into the chamber. Deactivating the safety and fingering the selector to three-round-burst, she dove, with speed rivaling that of most planes. She was about to hit the road in an alley near the subway, stopping just 2 feet above the ground, hovering above it. She willed her wings away, and pushed her hair over her shoulders.
As soon as the wings finished re-entering her body, she took off at a brisk jog, knowing that she would beat the old man. Humans ran at the sight of her weapon, but she made no notice of them, intent on her mission. Police would be arriving soon, but that didn’t matter, as long as the job was done right. The old man became aware of Angels when one contacted him for alcohol. Angels weren’t to drink, and the old man had willingly given it to him, in exchange for something still unknown to the executioners. However, they both needed to be punished. The Angel had already been slain, now it was the old man’s time.
A crowd of local commuters exited the station as the new batch entered. It was little more than a concrete platform with a ticket booth at the bottom of the stairs leading in. she saw the old man look back. Areathia didn’t understand why, but he realized she was after him and ran down the stairs. Deciding to minimize collateral damage, Areathia shot a burst into the air, dispersing the crowd. The old man pulled a young woman up and held her in front of himself as a shield. He didn’t realize that executioners were permitted to kill innocents to obtain their goals. Quickly, she raised the submachine gun, and as soon as it leveled, fired her second burst, maiming both the young woman and the old man. The jacketed rounds entered the woman, bursting out her back to lodge themselves in the old man’s chest. Both fell in an expanding pool of their own bloods.
Areathia ran over to the young woman, with the intent of saying a prayer to save her soul, for she had died in the affairs of another. If Areathia were fast enough, her soul would be forgiven and allowed to enter heaven, without wings. Surely the lord did not have enough information to cast her into hell or bless her. Taking a quick assessment, she noticed that the commuters had all fled the station. She could hear police sirens. The old man could wait.
The prayer completed successfully, Areathia walked over to the old man. His eyes flailed, madly, within their sockets. He was choking on his own blood. With a quick assessment, Areathia decided that this was the extent of his remaining abilities. A lung must have been punctured. The three rounds were all evenly placed across his chest in a vertical line, no shot more than half an inch away from another. She splayed her wings, after making them resurface.
“You… You’re an Angel, aren’t you?” the old man’s voice surprised Areathia.
“Yes.”
“Are you going to… kill me?”
“Yes.”
Silence. Then Areathia screamed, “For aiding an Angel to sin, you have become an impurity against the lord, and I, as his blade and voice, damn you to an eternity in Hell.” And with that, she pulled out a ceremonial sword and struck the old man, decapiating him. The old man burned quickly into ashes that blew away in the wind. The sirens grew even closer, and she realized that she would need to hurry out, or risk being seen.
Areathia took one last glance before soaring away.
