Inked Wings
Fourth Event

Fourth Event - The Trigger

“It is only a lie if they have a right to know.”

Inside the Generator room, on the elevated boiler, Angel rests. He is accompanied by Linda, who is looking after his wound and patches. Angel stretches his back, then Linda warns:

‘Careful, don’t force your muscles.’

Angel lays on his back. ‘Right.’ His fingers fidget around a cache he usually uses for his explosives, yet he plays tricks with it this time.

Linda paces behind him, chasing her tail. ‘Another foul and you will be on Lusa’s Dark List.’

‘Likely. She will never let it down, unless I get her to pity me…’ Angel thinks.

Linda hums with a smile.

Both get comfortable in each other’s presence, Angel’s muscles relaxing and the itch on Linda’s scales is coming to a stop. This peace is interrupted by foreign steps. They sense someone else in the room with them, a new presence.

It is Noel. He is walking below the boiler and is carrying a box in his embrace. He searches around him. Linda goes to call his name but Angel swings his wing close to her face.

She shakes her head, questioning. Angel shakes his head harder, his eyes frantic.

‘Don’t be childish.’ Linda mouths, annoyed. She pushes his wing away from her.

After he hears his name, Noel takes a few steps back while looking up. He spots her.

‘Climb the ladder there.’ Linda shows him. Noel does as told.

Once he reaches the top, Linda helps him up. ‘Hi,’ she says.

Noel exhales. ‘Hey. Doc’ told me to get y’all these.’ He hands her another roll of patches and a bottle filled with medicine. ’It’s — like — vitamins for the nerves.’

Linda flashes him a dimpled smile. ‘Linda and Angel thank you. Wanna see something fun?’

Behind her, Angel is refraining from protesting.

Noel shrugs. Linda shows him where to sit, near her sibling.

‘Linda will show you.’ She signs for Angel to throw the cache, currently between his teeth.

Angel closes his eyes in resistance but complies. ‘Watch it closely, kid.’

Once the cache is in the air, Linda launches some of her acid.

The cache blows into colorful smoke. Green, Purple, Black. Noel eyes her a bit, tilting his head. He remains quiet when Linda signs for Angel to hand her another. Angel shifts into a sitting position, scavenging between the low feathers of his right wing.

‘Hold out your palm for me.’ He addresses Noel.

Noel tries to throw the other cache as far as he can. Linda hits it fast, the view imploding into blue, yellow and red hues. Noel lets out a short laugh. ‘Huh.’

‘Here, try this one next.’ Angel hands him yet another one.

‘Do you just carry these around?’ Noel takes it, speaking in a light tone.

‘Just today.’

The third one blows into both rose smoke and liquid. Pleased, Noel shifts back, his palms coming together as a grin makes way. ‘Where’d you get these? They’re hype.’

Linda points to Angel. ‘He makes them when he’s bored.’

Noel meets Angel’s gaze. He takes a second before looking away and clearing his throat. ‘Oh. They - they’re alright.’ He stands up. ‘I’m bored. See ya.’’

Noel flees the room.

Angel thins his lips. ‘Thought he wouldn’t like it.’

‘He liked it. Do you think it scared him that he did?’ Linda moves closer to her brother.

‘It better did. Doubt he’ll join in and act like you’re his siblings like you all delusion yourselves to have become lately.’ Angel hisses and Linda snarls.

‘Linda doesn’t like your bitchiness. We are excited for a new person to love -.’

‘Don’t say that - it’s a strong word.’

Linda pouts and shoves the medicine against Angel’s chest. It falls on his lap.

‘You’re just as scared as Noel.’

Angel watches her put physical distance between them.

He plays with his necklace and name tags, thoughtful.

[]/]/]/]/]

Angel fully recovers, while he and the rest of the Aves refrain from going outside or facing any window or glass which sunlight can penetrate. It is that time of the full circle, two cycles passed.

Noel isolates himself in his room, occasionally holding easy, short conversations with Angel once the day passes. Noel stops his walks to The Doctor, excusing himself with the following phrase:

‘There are more important things I need to focus on.’

Whether the light is dim, or there’s complete darkness, Noel embraces it while he plays the game on his screen. He passionately binges levels, beats as many as he is able within a day.

Noel allows himself five-minute breaks thrice a day and one hour and a half of sleep. It is far from healthy but he is incredibly serious about it, dedicated to his private goal.

Angel drops him food, refraining from conversing. The day after his injury is healed and his prosthetic replaced, he goes to their room, fretting. He watches the kid, thinking aloud.

‘Got time to talk? A more serious talk?’

Noel does not respond, transfixed on his play.

Angel exhales, leaving Noel to his business and heading to Alexei. His friend assures him the next base is just as easy to disassemble, the sixth flawed system.

‘This is what they call pure luck.’ Alexei mentions. ‘But something is…off.’

Angel reassures him. ‘We’ll see it through. Right now, let’s enjoy the easy victories.’

‘Are you not suspicious, at least a little?’

Angel shakes his head, averting his eyes. ‘Not really.’ He lets out a strained laugh.

‘I -’ Alexei stops himself. ‘Morgana’s waiting for you on the line.’

Angel makes a noise, then whimpers: ‘Got it.’

Minutes pass. Morgana voice chats him, interrogating. ‘Everything set for tomorrow?’

Angel nods. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Is everyone ready for tomorrow?’

‘The uniforms are solid, the plan’s in order, the people are determined. Relax, Morgana. We’ve got everything under control. My bombs are working well, by the way.’

Morgana presses. ‘So, everything is alright?’

‘Yes,’ Angel says.

‘Are you?’

A pause.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean…’ Morgana does not finish her initial sentence. She sighs. ‘I’ve heard…about your injury. Did you cause trouble?’

Angel’s tongue clicks. ‘...How’s your end?’

‘We’re managing. More and more fights, riots, etcetera, spur out lately but nothing we cannot handle. I’ve heard little kids take down ships and kill soldiers themselves.’

‘You sound worried.’

’Merely frustrated. ‘Kay, I’ll check on you in a few days. Fingers crossed this time the incident isn’t well covered.’

‘Yeah…’

‘Good night, Angel.’

‘Talk later, Morgana.’

Their call is ended simultaneously.

Angel rubs his temple sides, next to his ears.

Later in the night, he takes off two of his prosthetics. His arms feel heavy, despite the fact they are designed to fit him in the utmost efficiency, comforting and genius manner.

‘They still smell,’ he says, setting the AI to clean them pre-pulling the two off.

Torso feeling lighter, Angel decides to enter the Observatory. He is alone in the room.

The galaxies’ thousands of stars reflect in his black eyes. He sits down, near the open window and proceeds to admire them.

Any movement is terribly slow on the other side of the meter high glass. Angel cracks his head.

‘Am I interrupting something?’ Hashem knocks.

‘You are not.’

‘Do not mind me then ~’ He sits down, next to Angel. He is holding a bag of sour candy bars.

‘Want some?’ He offers.

Angel checks himself. ‘Hand it to me.’

Hashem pulls the one, his hand stopping in front of Angel’s mouth.

Angel bites and grabs it. He uses his lips to push it further between his teeth.

Hashem chuckles. ‘That’s rare.’

‘They smelled so they’re off.’

‘I didn’t mean the prosthetics. I meant you, admitting you need help.’

‘Is this the beginning of a diss?’

‘No,’ Hashem laughs. ‘Nevermind, what do you mean they smelled? Did you touch the walls of the sewers, you unfortunate soul?’

‘No, they smell like red metal.’

‘They stink of blood?’ Hashem chews.

Angel confirms with a hum.

‘I don’t have a good answer to that…’ Hashem rests the bag on his knee. ‘Hmm, maybe – it’s a sign you should take in consideration, being so bothered by the smell of blood so suddenly.’

Creases appear on Angel’s face.

Hashem glares. ‘Do not make that face at me, I’m just saying. I’m just saying…’

They chunk another round of candy bars.

‘Did Morgana scold you like she said she would?’

‘She interrogated me. Scold me…what for?’

‘I don’t know, she said something but I forgot.’ Hashem snorts. ‘Did she - did she sit on that platform so she would be seated higher and appear more menacing?’

‘It was a vocal only call.’

‘Aww, I wish I could’ve re winded the recording to see but eh…some other time.’

‘Maybe be less envious of her? She’s more flexible than you, so what?’

‘It’s not about that. It’s about the time she called me shortie when we were the same height. I’m two inches taller than her!’

Angel grimaces.

Hashem smiles. ‘Being petty is fun. I get bored sometimes, you know?’

‘I don’t get it but whatever.’

‘Aight,’ Hashem stands up. ‘I’m gonna leave you be. Think through my advice.’

‘You provided no advice whatsoever. Also, you don’t have to leave.’

‘I know you want me to stay - stop making faces at the truth,’ Hashem points out. ‘But I need my rest. Am responsible for the hardest part of the job, after all…’ He stretches his hands.

Angel looks down.

‘Which is dealing with you all pains the ass.’

Angel smiles. ‘Go sleep and shut up!’

‘Never!’ The doors close behind Hashem.

The following morning arrives. Angel shakes himself, ready to tackle another day.

The formula is essentially the same: Angel is the guide, alternatively, their lookout. Alexei provides them with essential information in real time. One team, (this time being Scaramouche and Lusa), play the distraction, considering the layout of the respective base. Another is Linda and Martha, who will ‘play for time.’ In simpler terms, they will stall the backups M.E.A recently provides their military camps with. Lastly, there is Hashem, accompanied by Loek and Cosmin. Hashem will create a direct way to their powerplant. Everything is set, everyone is in position.

They manage very well despite Angel timing them strictly. Things pan out according to plan.

Long story short: Lusa and Scaramouche demolish their towers; Linda and Martha kill multiple soldiers without being caught or announced; Loek and Cosmin shield Hashem, whose hands are pressed against the wall in the far east. It takes him seconds longer than normal.

‘Come on, double H.’ Loek taps his claws, checking their surroundings again and again.

‘You’re gonna break your neck like that.’ Hashem pushes his weight against the wall.

‘I’ll check if the connection is still good.’ Cosmin opens his screen. ‘Angel’s gotta let us know if we have visitors…’ A moment passes. ‘Screw me -.’

Loek trembles. ‘Fuckers cut the line again?’

Hashem states. ‘It’s more like interfering with the signal -’

Both interrupt him. ‘Shut up, H.’

Hashem rolls his eyes, cracking his fingers. ‘Give me another minute, tops.’

Thuds thunder the halls. Soldiers carrying their weight echoes inside the room the third team is occupying. Loek stretches his shoulders, cracking his limbs and wings. ‘Shit…’ he whispers.

Loek stands between the door and his family. ‘I’ll keep them off you, hurry up.’

‘Do not pull that rot again, idiot. I’m almost done.’ Hashem hisses.

Loek literally hisses back. ‘There’s no time.’

The echoes are coming closer and closer.

‘Guys, calm down.’

Loek takes off, exiting the room in a rush. Yells and fire come from around the corner.

‘They’re too many!’ Cosmin concludes. ‘Wait here.’ He signs Hashem.

‘Do not fucking dare -’ Before Hashem can scold him, Cosmin joins his brother.

Hashem unsticks his hands from the wall, almost fully rotten to the core. He runs after them.

Gloves off, he trips the first soldier he clashes with. The soldier screams, disintegrating from leg to neck. They drop dead to the floor. Cosmin rolls on the ground, a shot wound apparent in his shoulder. Loek is out of sight, for that moment alone. Hashem dodges the shots other two soldiers take. He passes Cosmin and brushes his fingers on the ground.

The rot nearly collapses the ground from underneath their feet. They lose their balance.

Hashem grabs their arms and pulls them closer, spitting in their face. The two watch his intense, red and blood-shot eyes, their flesh falling off with their armor. Hashem’s heavy breathing breaks the new silence. His body jerks, turning to Cosmin, who is watching him with big stars in his eyes.

Hashem yells, painted in rage. ‘How many times do I have to tell you moronic fucks -?!’

Blood.

Splatters on the walls. On the old corpses, on Cosmin’s fingers and cheeks.

Flesh is ripped layer by layer. Three. Under three seconds.

Cosmin freezes, staring at how Hashem’s headless body falls at his knees.

The aftershock fills the halls with a snapping sound.

A soldier waves the barrel of his gun, charging it for another take. He is taken down by Loek before he can even try. The thud they leave behind echoes in what seems the cruelest, ironic manner.

‘Bro -!’ Loek crawls to Cosmin. ‘Are-you-okay?’ He halts, noticing it.

Loek’s shaking visibly worsens, holding back a gag. With all that, he jumps and grabs Cosmin by the wrists. He means to speak but all that comes out is breathing.

Cosmin is not moving, just now blinking. With each blink, horror crosses his face.

The realization settles in. ‘Ah,’ He leans in. ‘Hashem…’ Waterfalls form over his cheeks.

He reaches for his brother, but Loek holds him tight. ‘No, you can’t - Cosmin.’

Loek holds him tighter when Cosmin begins to squirm.

‘Agh!’ Cosmin’s nails scratch the floor, his upper body slipping from Loek’s grip. ‘Urgh...’

Cosmin screams. ‘Hashem, Hashem!’

Hashem’s body begins deflating, mold traveling his skin.

‘This place is coming down. We’ll die if we try to -!’ Loek glimpses his view. He refuses to look again. ‘We’ll die if we touch him now! There’s nothing…! I’m sorry, but we have to go!’ Loek’s claws deepen in the material of Cosmin’s clothes, forcefully pulling him in a strict hold.

Cosmin screams much louder. Loek shakes him. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry!’

‘Guys!’ A voice calls them. Martha appears from behind the corner. ‘Guys, what happened — Are you?—’ Her hands slap her mouth. She lies against the wall; head shaking left and right.

The mold covering Hashem extends, reaching the ceiling. Red peonies clutch the surface.

‘We have to go! Now!’ Loek picks Cosmin up and bolts Martha’s way. ‘Now!’ His voice breaks.

The mold chases them. Hashem’s body turns into a bio-weapon. A black hole swallows the base.

The three witnesses make it out. Barely. Behind them, the building is collapsing.

They drop to the ground. That is when a white feather subtly falls in front of them.

Angel lands, stomping it. ‘What’s going on?!’

Cosmin sobs, tight in Loek’s embrace.

Martha stands up, steadily. ‘Umm…’ She does not finish her sentence, holding back a laugh.

Angel’s gaze shifts between the three, counting…His eyes switch to the building, or rather, the ruins still standing. More peonies bloom and decorate the mold.

The expression typical to that of rage overtakes Angel’s face. He keeps quiet, against it.

[]/]/]/]/]/]

The news breaks out. Lifeless, the whole team arrives back on the ship.

Lusa goes straight to the observatory. Linda tries to stop Martha’s uncontrollable chuckles; Martha’s jaw is hurting increasingly. Loek cleans Cosmin up while Angel lets their father know.

The Doctor grimaces, pain in both smile and irises. He offers his help; all the others have to do is reach out to him. Angel boldly tells him it is a stupid offer then exits the room.

Birdie is sleeping during this time, having watched them in the Command Room. She watched together with Alexei, who was the first to find out the moment Hashem’s heart rate monitor dropped to zero, and never spiked in the short time after.

Cosmin refuses to go to the room the trio, now duo, share. Loek walks him to the Observatory.

Lusa is doing the line art of a new project, on the wall on the right, her giant canvas. She takes off the timber, snow goggles resembling an owl. When Cosmin and Loek enter, they are met with Hashem’s sketched smile. Cosmin lashes out, whereas Loek tries to calm him down.

Lusa lets Cosmin take it all out.

Noel is on one of his five-minute breaks. He hears the yells wander into the halls. The boy goes to Doc’, but he is not in the laboratory. Noel returns to the room, ready to continue from where he just left off. An itch pinches the end of his throat. It drives him to investigate further.

Noel heads toward the Command Room, carrying his play-tablet, grasped in his hands.

Ears catch Angel and Alexei’s voices, vaguely processing their words.

‘Hey,’ He catches their attention. Noel tenses at the sight.

Alexei’s tired expression contradicts Angel’s frozen rage.

Noel continues. ‘I’ve heard a fight…what’s going on?’ He stands still, in the hall.

Angel dismisses him. ‘Go back to your room. Someone will explain it to you later.’

‘Maybe tell me now, instead of leaving me hanging?’ Annoyance crosses Noel’s figure.

‘I’ll just tell him-’ Alexei is interrupted. Angel shows his palm, signing him to hold it.

He turns to Noel, his gaze falling on the screen he is holding tight. ‘Maybe you’d already know, if you didn’t waste your time playing a useless game.’

Noel halts. ‘Rude much, asshole? You act like me -’ He interrupts himself, changing the course of his sentence. ‘You…you act like somebody’s died -,’

‘Shouldn’t have said that.’ Alexei pinches the bridge of his nose.

Angel stomps closer to Noel and snatches his play-tablet.

‘H-hey!’ Noel’s hands chase after it.

Angel pushes him with his leg. Noel stumbles and falls.

‘Angel, don’t.’ Alexei warns but is ignored.

Angel raises his right hand, the one holding Noel’s play-tablet.

‘You’ve been nothing but a drag, Noel! Grow up!’ Angel snaps but it sounds wrong.

The screen makes contact with the ground. He smashes it against the floor.

‘No!’ Noel’s wail pierces their ears.

Angel is not perturbed. He breaks the casing further, damaging the internal wiring, pulling with his hands and slamming it again.

Noel jumps. Once Angel lets it rest, Noel tries to crawl after it.

Angel stomps his foot over the pieces.

Noel is forced to back away. He makes eye contact:

‘I hate you!!!’ He shrieks.

Then runs off.

Angel takes his foot away from the mess and turns to leave as well. ‘Alexei,’

Alexei rolls his eyes, bothered by his friend’s tone.

Angel finishes his thought. ‘Throw this junk in the trash.’ After, he is gone.

Alexei rummages through the mess and picks up the chip planted deep inside the skeleton.

He shoves it between his trousers and waistline, hiding it under his top. The rest, he rids off.

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