Angels and Demons - The First Arc

The supply truck stopped at the checkpoint. Two gray-uniformed men jumped from its back doors and knocked on the glass panes of the lookout cabin. The guard inside shuddered awake, and pulled the lever that would open the gate. As the iron grills descended into the gaps in the metal-coated concrete, the driver fought with the gear stick. The uniformed men accompanied on foot the truck’s advance.

“They’re coming,” Ange said, their devilish smile gleaming despite the twisted shadows the setting sun cast on the brick walls of the alleyway. The young, round-faced kid edged away from the main street, tugging at their oversized jacket. “Everyone ready?”

“Sure.” Briz replied, with a flick of her bright blue hair. Ange expected nothing less from her. Claud, however, merely sighed. Despite being the most likely to make it out of a brawl, the tall, dark-skinned mechanic-turned-smuggler was the least likely to start one.

“Listen…” He started, scratching the back of his head.

Ange rolled their eyes. Behind their back, the growl of an engine grew ever closer. The crunch of gravel under heavy boots followed suit.

“We just… We have to be careful.”

“I know, I know…”

“Look.” Claud pointed at the men - the soldiers. Ange couldn’t ignore that they had guns, and that Claud had a point. Leaning against the wall, Briz scowled as she pretended to care for her red-painted nails. Every weekend, when they met to draw up their plans, she made her opinion known, and it involved quite a lot of knives indeed.

“It’s not as if I’m going to let myself be caught. I’m not new at this.”

“These aren’t the street thugs we’re used to. They’re military armsmen, do you get that?”

“I’m not stupid, Claud.” Ange turned their back to the others, hoping they would follow. “If they fire, we run.”

“You two are such a bore, did I ever tell you that?” With a pounce, Briz was at their side. With a pale hand on their shoulder, Ange stood silhouetted in warm light.

Meters ahead, the black truck drove by, a circular blue logo on its flapping canvas. Simple, really: Claud and them would distract the guards, while Briz sneaked behind it, and took whatever she could carry. Then, they’d disperse, pretend to respect the curfew, return to their boring everyday lives, though only for a time. A few days later they would come together to share the spoils.

With a deep breath, Ange raised a hand. “It is time.”

First, they slung a nearby backpack over his shoulder and, with a running start, hurled it towards the closest soldier. No sooner had it hit his leg, than it burst into a cloud of fiery powder. The explosion might have broken his leg, but it was not powerful enough to kill. Still, a piercing scream rang, and a shout came from the other side of the truck.

Without sparing a glance at his companions, Ange rushed towards the truck. They knocked into the driver’s cabin with a loud thud and crouched before the soldier could spot him. The bearded man, sheltered behind the hood, pointed his gun at Claud. Before he could fire it, they snatched it from his hands.

A loud bang. The soldier’s baton had missed their head by inches. Rage burned in his eyes. It soon faded, since a not-so-gentle touch of Claud’s fist persuaded him to black out. Only the terrified driver left: they had won.

It was at this point that Ange heard the gunshot.

“There was a guard!” Briz warned, as she ran towards them. A bullet ricocheted off the pavement near her. Another lodged himself in the wooden pole of a streetlamp. “Take cover.”

She was wrong. There were three more, all wearing an even more elaborate uniform - had Ange ever seen one of those golden cross-aim badges before?

“They’re just a bunch of kids,” a severe-looking one said. “Search them. But do not hesitate if they try anything funny. Our cargo comes first.”

“Run!” Ange yelled.

Their escape was cut short by two other guards. (Just how many were there!) The three friends were completely surrounded. Ange’s knee’s buckled as one gripped their arms behind their back.

“It was nice knowing you, anyway,” Briz muttered as she too was taken.

Claud giggled in a fit of panic. Ange wouldn’t let it end like this. This… humiliation. Tears came into their eyes as they struggled helplessly against their captors.

It took them a few moments to realize they caused what came next. Afterall, they hadn’t known it was even possible for the ground to open at their command, engulfing the five men with blood-red fire. They hadn’t known the flames would bend to their call, coiling around their palm, burning even brighter even as the moans of pain gave way to charred bodies. No, not even that. Not even bones, only a dark mark on the already dark road.

Briz was the first to speak. “What the hell?”

“Ange?” Claud held up his hands. “Can you hear us? Ange?”

They shook their head. A needle of warmth dug into their chest, as though to pin them in place, their skin prickling in response. They collapsed.

“They’re hot!.“ Claud’s voice sounded distant.

“You don’t say…” Briz?

When had their vision gone this blurry? When had their friend taken them in his arms? Their legs dangled uselessly in the void. In and out, in and out. They couldn’t breathe.

“Calm down. Please. You’re just in shock. Everything is going to be fine. We’re going to collect our bounty, and disappear from this cursed place, yes? You’re going to be fine. Whatever happened, well… We will figure it out later. It doesn’t matter. Let’s…”

“They’re dead,” Ange drawled.

“Yes,” Claud replied.

“I killed them.”

“That was you? Doesn’t matter.” But, somehow it did. Claud, of all people, should understand. For a moment, his face twisted to match the distress in theirs, but soon it regained its composure. “Can you stand?”

“I think so.”

Claud set Ange down on the pavement. They took a tentative step, holding onto the streetlight as he staggered. Around them, the featureless buildings gave no sign of life. Most of them had no windows to betray the life inside, except for the top floors of the skyscrapers, and even behind some of those metallic shutters gleamed. Somewhere up there, unseen pigeons. Down here, the air reeked of smoke and sulfur, though that was perhaps Ange’s fault.

“Guys?” Briz interrupted, jumping down from the back of the truck. “I don’t think this was an average supply truck.”

“I did try to warn you,” Claud retorted.

“Oh, yes… Do you want me to thank you?”

“What is inside?” Ange asked. They straightened up and went to check themselves. Inside, there was a single crate, whose lid Briz had already pried open. It was empty. However, a discarded knife lay nearby, and there was a knife shaped indent in its cushioned interior. “Briz, please remind me of what I told you about touching unfamiliar objects.”

“That I shouldn’t do it, I guess.” A golden blade flashed underneath the sleeve of her tight black suit. “But this one looks harmless.”

“But…” Ange convulsed, and held onto the truck’s inner frame for support. His too-warm palms were beginning to swear. Outside, the night had settled. “Nevermind. Let’s get out of here, and fast.”