Anger of the Angels

by Thomas Duder

  With the declaration of the Thirteenth Clause, though, he had been given access to the strange, ethereal system that ran throughout all of Neo-Los Angeles, keyed exclusively to his energy signatures. With this at his beck and call, and the five minutes it took to absorb the strangely well-written manual, he was able to deploy his pawns with far greater efficiency than earlier in the night.

  Considering his strange nature, an angelic soul housed in the still-living body of an angel-gened human descended from angelic half-breeds, Karsiel should have represented the pinnacle of physical power and heartiness. So it was that it struck him as being quite strange as he began to feel an ulcer build in his stomach.

  Already, The Shop had torn through his early fodder as if they weren’t even there, even going so far as to waylay one of the strongest mercenaries near the level of the gods.

  There were no other gods. There was only God.

  Karsiel shook his head violently, rubbing at his temples with both hands to stave off the oncoming headache that threatened to cloud his judgment. He needed to retain his focus, shifting the ghostly windows about as he sought his opponents. Reviewing their fight against Cipher, Karsiel once again wondered at the speed of their allies’ reactions, how they simply appeared out of nowhere to thwart him.

  “Frank Todd,” Karsiel grumbled to himself, gazing past the windows to take in the rest of his spacious office, “Is this the power of that demonic Overdrive, then? Could he have, without using foresight, somehow been aware of my movements through sympathetic intuition then?

  Or has some other entity aided him? Or is the Overdrive simply that powerful-”

  There were no other gods. There was only God, and He required these works.

  Karsiel, willing the headache away, turned and gazed out his repaired window, looking out at the nighttime cityscape that sprawled before him. Howard Montenegro had gone completely silent, choosing to simply sulk in a darkened corner of their shared mindspace.

  Karsiel hissed lightly, feeling a sudden calm come about him. Despite how Frank and Dash both had somehow disappeared from the so-called “Overwatch System,” he knew from his own power of Foresight that tonight would be the night all would end.

  He couldn’t see beyond this night, and that was all. To defeat The Shop or simply stall them long enough would net him victory, and with it the spoils that were to gain.

  The greatest force in all of Neo Los Angeles would be his, his victory to be offered unto God Himself, as was the want of all Angelkind.

  “Thy will be done, my Master.”

  Karsiel smiled, gazing benevolently at his own reflection as, inwardly, Howard caught himself from noting too much. He had learned early on that Karsiel could access most of his deeper memories, but not his surface thoughts - so long as he didn’t process it too much, the angel creature wouldn’t notice it.

  For a second, though, hope skittered across Howard’s perception. Having listened in and pieced together as much as he could, staving off insanity as best as he could, he held onto the words Frank Todd had spoken to Karsiel, realizing much that the angelic powerhouse had not.

  So it was that he heard the voice, a strange song, pierce through Karsiel every now and then whenever his thoughts wandered, or his perception began to stray from his insane goal.

  So it was that Howard began to note the finer details.

  “Master, eh?” Howard whispered to himself before focusing, instead, on complex mathematical calculations. If he was going to survive this entire situation, mind intact if not with body as well, then he was going to have to do whatever he could to ensure this little corner of his brain remained his.

  And so, he would bide his time, and wait.

  To strike.

  ****

  Jude backed up against Mara’s firm back, feeling strength racing through her as they both sized up the situation. Having been chased through the shadows, Mara’s power finally broke the illusory spell only to reveal a new pit of trouble.

  Cipher had disappeared, either to go lick his wounds or to harry off after one of the Shopkeepers. In either event, he was no longer Jude’s biggest concern.

  Having rushed their way into the nearby drive-in theater, Jude and Mara ducked and juked their way between parked cars, derelict and forgotten in the Neo age, narrowly evading whip-like spells and worse flung their way out of the beckoning shadows.

  With the Evil Eye activated, Jude recognized the spells they were using: Mage Bolts, their shape and effectiveness augmented by Added Effect skills. The shadows themselves were from the Mystic Magia, psionic in effect though magical in nature - not only did it obscure their enemies, but reinforced their own internal demons, thrusting them against one another in the trembling walls of their own minds and hearts.

  “Shit, I have GOT to stop thinking like that!” Jude grunted, feeling the Spook Squad-reinforced training slam shut the walls of his lust. His primitive desires held in check, he sighted carefully down the barrel of his customized weapon, the edges of the chakram-stabilizer glowing golden as he exerted his own ki into the minor, government-issued artifact.

  Firing only once, he ignored the surprised grunt of both victim and her nearby compatriots as Jude entered into a battle Trance. Drawing the glowing chakram of both guns against one another, one pointed up and the other down, Jude calmly and politely began to spin about in place, his arms and body taking up stances that had been drilled into him through both physical exertion and mental reinforcement both, the peak of FBI training, taking a shot at the end of each movement.

  Keeping himself moving from side to side yet never too far from a mental circle, Jude either took killshots or harried the foes who had foolishly surrounded him. Though the artifact-chakram ramped up the capabilities of his Evil Eye, the snap judgment and precise shooting capabilities were all his own, drilled into him by the finest that the government offered and demanded.

  And demanded he did: at one point he clearly saw several foes running to the side, seeking to escape his flurry of shots. A single shot rang out as he instinctively fired, already in motion for the next target and completely ignoring the result as he took the foot of the lead runner, sending them into a sprawl and the other two tumbling to the ground hard.

  Without looking directly, already sighting on a new target, he saw through his peripheral vision as Mara, in slow motion to his tortured gaze, cannonball-slam into an opponent, her elbow already spinning towards the hooded man’s groin. Within that fraction of a second Jude realized that she wasn’t attacking to kill, and in the next fraction he realized that the flow of magic wasn’t coming from their attackers but the hoods themselves.

  Growling to himself, he changed the trajectory of his shot in the next fraction of a second, instead taking the shoulder of a mumbling attacker. Spinning them through the air, he fired his second shot and ricocheted a bullet off of a nearby car, nearly clipping Mara’s hair only to catch another rushing attacker in the clavicle. Mara, her foe crumbling to the ground as she neatly bashed his groin into paste, spun and neatly sent the shot target into the air with a quick grab-and-scoop of the man’s ankles.

  In such a way did Jude continue to spin about in his Gun Dance, fatigue beginning to settle in quick and hard yet to maximum effect: with each movement he made, yet another body went down in a successful shot. Uncrossing his arms, he fired a barrage of bullets and grit his teeth as the unnatural flow of ki finally emptied from him, the Fae demigoddess hunting her chosen targets in complete synchronization to his own attacks.

  Bodies groaned and writhed on the ground, clutching targeted limbs or non-vital areas, the shock of his attack having severed their link to the strange, enhanced hoods that covered their faces.

  Panting, Mara approached Jude as he slowly wound down to one knee, crossing his arms and dipping his head as he ended the Dance. Licking her lips slowly, Mara purred, “Innnnnnteresting. I’ve seen this technique before.”

  Jude panted, slowly dipping low to bow his head to the ground, groa
ning, “Yeah, but it’s not like I have the energy to keep that up, ma’am. I can only really use it in an emergency, and with the proper amount of Battle Heat, I reckon.”

  Mara chuckled as she sauntered to a nearby, groaning assailant, tearing the hood off to reveal the confused housewife underneath. Gripping her forearm, the woman looked up at Mara through long, black bangs, her blue eyes only now once again registering her personality, “Who…who are you? What happened?”

  ”Now now, darlin’,” Mara murmured, gently applying her own form of Illusory Magia to compel the woman to calm. Behind her, still on the ground, Jude moved slowly but certainly as he used his smartphone to call in emergency services. Mara, noting this with approval, immediately moved onto the next body - even with the emergency teams moving in, it would still take time to settle the confused citizens, once again in their right mind.

  Giving Jude time to recover himself a little, Mara continued to move from one body to the next, a touch here or there allowing her calming Lethe ability to keep them pacified. Though it would drain her energy reserves further, she figured her part in this done for now - she had helped The Shop out in a pinch and had kept casualties as low as possible.

  Noting Jude’s shaded looks towards the five he had killed, Mara immediately began to explain, “They couldn’t help themselves, y’know. It’s these hooded artifacts - not as powerful as something Master could make, but powerful enough to get the job done. More than likely they had one or two more nasty surprises too, if we hadn’t taken care of them.”

  Jude frowned but nodded, accepting it quickly, “There’s gotta be at least forty of these’n’s ‘round here. Are they all…I mean, are-”

  “Bespelled? Yes. Against their will. I recognize these hoods,” Mara held the black hood up from a random citizen, a smile plastered on his face as he moved from confusion to placid calm, “Y’see this red eye design on it, like a cyclops? Yeah, these things. This is the work of Cipher’s buddy, a guy called Tandem Hajj. He’s an underground artificer as well, but more of a black-market hack compared to Master. Naw, he may be a hack but he’s good at things like this. These hoods literally hoodwink anyone they’re put on, turning them into an extension of that person. Tandem, himself, happens to be a pretty good Mystic and Illusion Magia, and is probably hooked up to an artifact-machine boosting his mana somewhere nearby.”

  Jude grunted as he took in the scene, realizing all too late, “This was a backup plan! They’re both bettin’ that we’d be too busy takin’ care of these all in the aftermath while they made their escape.”

  “Well, you - I would’ve just as lief chased after Cipher and killed Tandem with my bare hands. I owe him for a couple of double-crosses from back in the day,” Mara blew an errant strand of hair out of her face, “And Cipher owes me big time anyway. Naw, we did what we had to, and they did too. While we might be busy takin’ care of these people, they’re probably wrapped up in just escaping from this thing now that they’ve failed to wrangle The Shop down.”

  Jude considered that then gave her a bubbly grin, full of relief, “Reckon so, ma’am. Reckon so!”

  ****

  Round 4

  Dash whooped as he held tight to Grimcan’s mane, letting the evolved Pooka tear through the streets of Neo Los Angeles at a breakneck pace. Needing to put distance between himself and the attack site, Dash let Grimcan have his head since he, himself, had completely forgotten where they were supposed to meet up with their reinforcements.

  Though he had completely forgotten who they were supposed to meet (nor could he find his ever-present and always-recording phone, tablet, or smartwatch) and had no way to telepathically contact Control, Dash nevertheless trusted Grimcan to take him where he needed to go.

  The streets blurring past, Dash intuited that wherever they were going, it was probably Cool Drive or a hidden safehouse with clothes, weapons and other niceties. Looking forward to not being naked anymore (glorious though the Troll considered himself to be), Dash instead simply exulted in the Hellride he found himself on, flames springing up and dying out in Grimcan’s wake.

  Issuing forth a battle cry, Grimcan met his master’s pleasure with rising fervor, only barely checking himself from springing across dimensions again, instead indulging in them both as he began to race on the flame trails of his own making, forward and back behind himself. All too soon they arrived at their location, and all too soon, Grimcan had to disengage the Hellride, choosing instead to prance proudly down the street as all traces of the Ride simply vanished from existence.

  The Hellride waited, though, tantalizingly close, always tempting him to utilize it once more.

  Whickering and snuffling, Grimcan nevertheless preened as Dash hopped off of his back and began to rub the Pooka down, petting the creature happily and telling him how well he did while taking in their surroundings. Near an onramp and the promised I-101, Grimcan had brought them both to a small sandwich shop that stood on its own within a chain link fence, looking more like a squat house than a shop. Next to it was a gas station, with two more across the street.

  Realizing that this wasn’t a main artery to the freeway but a usually inhabited one after all, Dash kept his wits about him as he nervously felt the kenopsia run rampant through him. Something within him clicked and, for a moment, he saw the souls of the people who would normally inhabit this small, busy segment of the city. Both night and day had their own flavors, and he was certain he had been a part of that sometime…

  For a moment he remembered everything.

  In the next moment he forgot everything.

  Deciding that he was better off not remembering, he sighed as he spotted the customized van of Cool Drive rounding the corner further down the street, merrily making their way to him.

  Opening up the side doors, the squat, well-dressed muscular man grinned down at him. Though Dash had known his name earlier, he had completely forgotten it until it hit him in the next second.

  “Uh…James, right?”

  James Ong, renamed Jimmy Weng when he entered in the special program run by the Spook Squad, laughed and held out a hand, “That’s my slave name, brotha. You forgot us already, Dash?”

  “Hey, hey!” from the driver’s seat the second owner of Cool Drive, Andrew Ngyuen, renamed ‘Andy Ly’ in the same program, called out loudly, “You forgot about us, bro? Forgot about your favorite black-market bros?!”

  Jimmy groaned, cursing at Andy in several languages before settling back in English, “Bro, just fuckin’ put our business out there, will ya?!”

  ”There’s no one around, bro, no one around!” The van began to shake as the larger man maneuvered himself about to the passenger side to poke his head out and growl at his business partner and friend, “Do you see anyone around here BUT The Shop? These guys know us, bro, they know us!”

  Jimmy considered that for a moment, then took in Dash with a quick look, “Hey, you ready for the next part of the plan, bro?”

  Dash took a moment and considered both men, trying to jog his memory. Strangely enough he knew that both were connected through a highly specific spiritual link, one set by Andy’s family, but for what reason he had completely forgotten. Both were a polyglot of different Asiatic bloodlines, but where Jimmy was well-dressed in an impeccable three-piece suit and bald, Andy was darker-skinned with short, black hair, his thick form in white slacks, shirt and kitchen apron. Even while driving, Andy refused to take off his chef’s hat, perched atop his head despite the angle he was currently sitting in, sending fierce glares towards Jimmy.

  Both men were powerful, but for different reasons - Jimmy gave off the feeling of a powerful bodybuilder, whereas Andy’s aura was thick with back-alley brawls and thick cuts of meat. Both, ultimately, had proven themselves time and time again to The Shop, especially now.

  Letting Andy calm down, Jimmy chuckled as he reached to the back of the van and produced a duffel bag, “Hey hey there, kiddies. I got some toys for ya, just as requested and paid for ahead of time.” />
  While both Cool Drive owners fawned over Grimcan with offers of sugar cubes and carrots, noting both how the Pooka at first disdained such treats only to fall to their charms completely, Dash found a fresh change of clothes (Long-legged jeans tailor-made to him and a white wifebeater shirt, as well as a grey duster of tough, unknown material), Dash also found a baseball bat (customized to fit his massive grip), a new smartphone which he immediately turned on to let it rev through its startup cycle, and a strange apparatus that appeared to fit over his shoulders and arms, a silvery exoskeletal structure that ended in a pair of humongous gauntlets.

  Slipping it on with the duster over it, he flexed his hands in the gauntlets, realizing that he knew of this Artifact but not, quite, its nature or how to activate it. Though he was loathe to wear gloves over his claws, he figured he and Frank had probably prepared with this very situation in mind, giving up his naturally sharp and spiky weapons in exchange for blunter attacks.

  So be it.

  Taking in the two large men fawning over his evolved Pooka, Dash took in the last of his notes and recordings, slowly regaining his memories.

  Yeah, this was a long night, but boy, was it fun!

  ****

  Karsiel blinked at the unexpected sound of the private elevator opening, unleashing a flood of violent energy as Frank rushed him, crossing the distance within a heartbeat.

  Though Karsiel had foreseen one surprise after another, he had certainly not seen the Generalist cut across the distance, hurl himself over his desk and launch a hard kick. Moving without thinking, Karsiel’s Foreflex, his clairvoyant reflexive ability, allowed him to block the attack and grab for Frank, only to come up short. Frank, grinning wildly, his eyes hidden behind his Artifact shades, kept his grip on the edge of the table and yanked himself out of reach, only to rotate himself mid-air and drop-kick the desk at Karsiel.