Inked Wings
Eight Event

Eighth Event – Crossing Paths

“If I’ve learned something from video games, it is that when you meet enemies, it means you’re going in the right direction.”

The whole team gathers inside the garage.

Linda pushes Scaramouche in a tank on wheels. Cosmin walks in parallel with Lusa, eyeing her then and again.

Loek eventually pushes and shoves him into her, who puts her arm around him.

Lusa smiles.

It was decided they will go rescue Noel as a group. Alexei and the Doctor will remain behind.

Martha goes into one of the ships. She sets course for Grant City. The screen interrupts itself and the AI sends her a message.

‘Is everybody present?’ Loek looks around. ‘Where’s Angel?’

Linda purses her lips when a piercing howl fills the garage: ‘Motherfucker!’

Martha slides out of the ship she previously entered.

‘Alexei, check the status of all engines! Now!’ She calls, anger clearly present.

Alexei checks, then announces in a casual manner: ‘They’ve been disabled not long ago. Also, a ship’s missing.’

Martha throws down her fists. ‘Motherfucker!!’

The missing ship is currently on its merry way. Angel checks again the last position of M.E.A’S mother ship. Public position, since their systems are built to oppose tracking attempts. His hand scrolls to infinity.

‘Rash execution but very well.’ The Doctor remarks from behind.

Angel halts. ‘You saw it coming.’ His hands drop down onto the panel.

He only listens, steering away from facing his father.

The Doctor hums in approval. ‘May I inquire about the reasoning behind this escapade?’

Angel deeply sighs.

‘Don’t answer with a stupid excuse, please.’ The Doctor reminds him.

Angel focuses on the screen in front of him. It is the camera surveillance placed at the ship’s beak. They are passing stars. Falling. They are dying.

A common sign that there must be Eldritch-ez nearby.

Angel presses a control to open camouflage and autopilot.

Only in case.

‘Honestly, I never would’ve agreed you guys to come...’ He smiles, head pointed down. ‘But y’all were so insistent that for the first time in forever – I thought I had so much control and enough talent to...to get you all through this, without any real risks – consequences, I mean.’

‘You did, we’ve disabled tens of bases with little to no concern, no -’

‘Except Hashem’s dead. And by now the kid’s probably too, melted in a Oven room.’ Angel’s wings squirm. ‘I thought I was ready to take the risk, to handle the consequences this brings – but I’m not.’

A raspy breath. ‘I’m a coward.’

‘You’re not.’ Doctor insists. ‘Lungelo, look at me.’

Hesitant, Angel does.

His dad smiles softly. ‘I love you. Do what you have to do...but no more.’ He enters the escape pod. ‘It’s all right to simply – move forward.’

The gates close. The pod is launched into space, coordinates set within its AI.

Angel’s wings relax. ‘Thanks, Dad.’

He picks up his cloak device, his portal gun and something more.

/]/]/]/]/]

Limited by Grant City grounds, M.E.A’s mother ship moves close to the dysfunctional forests, right at the border of the city. The wind calmly whistles.

Two soldiers are tasked with watching the low point recordings. A new one loads, from mere seconds ago. There is a person sitting meters further from them while screaming through a speaker. The braided man has set a hologram which quotes the usual saying: “Murderers do not deserve freedom nor power.”

One of the soldiers clicks their tongue. ‘Aah, another one.’ They lean in over the panel at their disposal. ‘Activate the magnate.’ They instruct their partner.

The protestor raises a gun, braid caressed in the newforming current. They shoot.

A line of light reaches the mother ship’s defense shield, known for its indestructibility.

Bright, red-pink lights open and fall on the man. The current roars alongside a deep horn. The continuous sound echoes through the sky and sends vibrations through the soil.

Bits of grass begin to distort under the magnet while the man, the protestor, is being pulled into the air and flinches at the second horn, now more ear-piercing.

Once inside, the soldiers seize him, his belongings confiscated. ‘Throw him with the rat.’

/]/]/]/]

Noel sits. His eyes gradually blink. He is more awake than ever despite the heaviness of his head and neck still being present. With his lucidity comes a flow of emotions such as panic, regret, guilt, longing and underneath all those, there is comfort.

Noel is very, very torn. He finally has time to reflect and to rest his body from the mental toll it submerged because of his restlessness. Somewhere deep, he wishes he was needed by somebody…and maybe he could have found comfort in that somebody sooner. But not.

His hands carry his face.

The room lights blink, an entrance making its appearance in front of him. The two soldiers kick the stranger inside. He falls on his knees. The entrance shuts.

Noel’s hands slide off his face, his brain is processing. Their eyes meet.

Angel’s wings dash, his cloak breaking.

Noel’s eyes slowly go wide and his pupils slide from side to side, whereas a small arch forms in his chin, under his lower lip. His lips part. All of this seems surreal.

The cloak once masking is disappearing, piece by piece, which gives the impression of disassembling an elaborate puzzle. Angel’s true face is revealed. There is gentleness.

Noel squirms, having processed reality. His lips tensely stretch. He jerks back.

Noel’s back slams the wall and causes a loud sound.

Because of the apparent fear, Angel goes at a slow pace. ‘Hey, kid,’ Softly, he says.

Noel balances himself by lifting his body. He goes to say something but stops himself quickly.

‘I’m sorry about that time.’ Angel apologizes, standing still where he was thrown. ‘It was an asshole move, I was wrong. Look, all I want is to get you out of here, then if you say so, you won’t have to deal with me ever again.’

His wings sit proud, reflecting his emotion of success. He is successfully repeating the patterns of a genuine, true apology. His father once taught him, because Angel is unable to properly word his feelings. But he tries, by using facts.

Noel shifts again. ‘You...’ His voice is a rasp. ‘...don’t care.’

Angel’s wings come together above his head. ‘That’s not true. I care about you.’

Noel shakes his head. ‘Liar. You just don’t want my blood on your fake hands. You want to get rid of this burden as soon as possible.’ Sarcasm sneaks into his tone.

‘You’re not -’ Angel bites his lip, then he exhales. ‘Look…we both have been distant and I’ve been colder than I should’ve. I took it out on you because I was afraid. I didn’t want to get close to you because I feared to get attached, all for it to end with…’

‘Go on.’ Noel hugs himself, too dizzy to put up a hostile front.

Angel squeezes the nametags hanging around his neck while averting his eyes. ‘Most people I meet, I lose. I don’t want to get attached to another corpse.’

‘That’s stupid.’

‘It’s serious to me.’

‘Still stupid. You broke the last thing I had of Abi…’ Noel swallows. ‘For that?!’

‘I was sixteen!’ Angel pulls on the nametag. He drags it again and again while he breathes. ‘I joined the army before it was taken down. I made a friend, he was my family far away from family!’ The nametag flutters. ‘He was sniped right in front of my eyes!’ Voice breaks.

Panic crosses his face. ‘That kinda stuff sticks to you, in more ways than one!’ Angel catches his breath. ‘It doesn’t excuse anything, it only makes me go insane day by day. I’m too afraid to let more people in when I expect the people I already have to be killed. The worst thing is that I can’t do anything about it…’

‘I do care about you, Noel. It’s simply how it is. I…but the last thing I can handle – is losing more family to murder.’ Angel locks eyes. ‘Did you get anything from what I’m sayin’?’

Noel lifts his shoulders. ‘...sorry about your friend.’

Angel’s face relaxes as his wings drop low. He nods.

Noel continues. ‘You still an asshole, though.’

Angel smiles. ‘Yeah, I know.’

The led inside the room suddenly turn to a vibrant orange. Heat emanates.

‘What?’ Noel looks up.

‘They plan to burn us to a crisp.’ Angel explains.

Noel repeats with a graver tone. ‘What?’

Angel shrugs. ‘They don’t have a camera in here for a reason.’

He crawls closer to Noel. ‘I want a do over.’ He offers his hand. ‘This time I will be braver.’

Noel moves into a crouching position. ‘I’ll try to not be too much a smartass. No promises, though.’ He shakes Angel’s hand. ‘You owe me for accepting your bullshit right now.’

Angel holds Noel’s hand in place.

‘I am getting you out.’ His jaw moves left and right.

Noel gives up on questioning him.

With his other hand, Angel picks up a device from behind his lower row of keen teeth. ‘This will be a bit like an earthquake, and loud.’ He presses the small, obsidian trigger.

His hand pulls Noel closer when the whole surface underneath shakes. A bomb goes off.

Seconds after, the lights turn red and the alarm blares inside the mothership.

‘When did you even have the time to? -’ Noel stands when Angel does.

‘We wait for the soldiers to check on us. I will -.’

Behind Angel, the entrance to the room slides open.

Angel turns to it. ‘Huh.’ He takes a step. Noel follows.

Suspicious, Angel throws the trigger into the hallway. It hits the floor with a quick marble sound.

Angel frowns, his eyes becoming wild.

Blood lights reflect on the blue-silver walls.

He blinks. ‘It’s clear. No time to lose.’ He rushes outside.

Noel yelps at the delayed force. He runs to catch up to Angel, whose grip on him hurts.

The corner of Noel’s eye meets another gaze.

Kinkade watches back.

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