The Divided Guardian [Cursed Anti-Hero, Progression, Dark Fantasy]

Angelo stood outside the plain concrete building, double-checking the address on his phone. No signs, no markings—just another forgettable structure in the city's administrative district.

"Ha! Hope this isn't another damn interrogation room," Red's voice crackled with dark amusement in their shared mind, "'cause if it is, the old man just threw a massive wrench into your whole setup."

Angelo studied the building's bland facade once more, his jaw tightening. "Every problem has a solution. Let's see what we're dealing with before we panic."

The elevator carried Angelo to the designated floor, where Chief Ramirez stood talking to uniformed officers near double doors with observation windows. The chief's weathered face turned toward Angelo the moment the elevator opened.

"There you are." Ramirez straightened, coffee cup in hand.

Angelo approached with measured steps, hands in his jacket pockets. "You promised somewhere comfortable, Chief. First glance has me wondering if you kept that promise."

Ramirez swirled his coffee before taking a sip, then gestured toward the observation window. "Cast those worries aside, son. This is one of our deluxe monitoring suites." He peered through the glass. "Small kitchen, mini gym with equipment, living room setup complete with television and gaming console."

Angelo pressed his face to the other window, scanning the interior. Red's voice perked up immediately. "Damn, even got hardwood floors! Fancy!"

But Angelo's expression remained flat. "You forgot to mention the cameras covering every square inch. Also, there's a bathroom in there, right? And I'm assuming it's not wired or anything."

"Don't be ridiculous," Ramirez waved dismissively. "But if you camp out in there too long, we're gonna have questions."

Red materialized beside Angelo in a swirl of crimson smoke, his predatory grin already spelling trouble. "What, having stomach problems is a crime now?" He turned to Angelo with mock concern. "Good thing you never got me that pizza you owed me."

Angelo and Ramirez rolled their eyes in perfect synchronization. Angelo ignored his chaotic counterpart and muttered, "Guess sparring's off the table in that cramped space. Meditation will have to do."

Ramirez's cup stopped halfway to his lips. "Wait—you're planning to use your aura in there?"

Angelo shot him a questioning look. "Obviously. What did you think I'd do, sit around picking my nose? If I'm stuck in a box for hours, might as well get some training in."

Red's cackle echoed through their mental link like he'd heard the world's best private joke.

The chief fumbled for words, his authority wavering. "But... You... Fine! But if you break anything in there, you're covering the damages yourself!"

"Relax, nobody's ever broken anything just meditating." Angelo waved off the concern.

Blue's voice drifted through their thoughts with academic curiosity. "I wonder if that statement holds true for higher-ranked Aurons. Arch-level practitioners would likely cause considerable disturbance through meditation alone, given their energy output."

"Don't start with the lecture, blueberry," Red cut in.

Angelo's patience cracked. "Can we please get this over with?"

"Right, yes." Ramirez cleared his throat. "I need Blue visible too. Both of you need monitoring."

Red's amusement was palpable. "You know he can hear everything you're saying, right?"

Ramirez sighed heavily. "I swear, no matter how long I work with you three, I'll never understand your... situation."

Azure smoke poured from Angelo as Blue took physical form, offering a respectful bow. "Please do not concern yourself with the complexities of our existence, Chief Ramirez. We recognize how unprecedented our circumstances appear."

The chief straightened his shoulders. "Right. Well then." He clapped his hands together and opened the door. "In you go."

The three entered the studio space. Red immediately claimed the television, channel-surfing with the enthusiasm of a kid in a candy store. Angelo rolled out an exercise mat and began his physical routine. Blue discovered a small study area and settled in with a book, adjusting his posture to perfect scholarly form.

Hours crawled by, every movement captured by multiple camera angles. Angelo periodically shifted to meditation, his evolved aura flickering gently—just enough for training, not enough to trigger property damage and give Ramirez a heart attack.

To any observer, they appeared completely normal. But Ramirez had no idea that Angelo was listening to something from miles away—one of his energy constructs positioned near the stolen police radio, feeding him every emergency report:

"Armed robbery at Crystal Street general store. No Auron division available. Dispatching local units."

"No good."

"Domestic hostage situation on Maple Avenue turned out to be false alarm."

"Not what I need."

"Lightning Auron escapee from Samantha's Rehabilitation Center—" Angelo's muscles tensed, ready for action until the voice continued, "—Auron division unit already responding."

"Damn."

Then finally:

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"Two Aurons robbing Greenwald's Bank in the town square. Multiple hostages confirmed. Requesting negotiation team immediately."

Angelo's eyes closed as his aura flickered with controlled intensity. To anyone watching the surveillance feed, he was simply meditating. But elsewhere in the city, his real work was about to begin.

Miles away from the surveillance studio, near Novaria's sprawling landfill where mountains of garbage stretched toward the horizon, a makeshift grave cracked open. A wooden coffin buried in the earth split apart like something from a horror movie.

A figure rose from the dirt—black jacket, oversized hood pulled low over a masked face. Only burning orange eyes pierced the darkness beneath. Energy wings unfurled from its back with mechanical precision as Angelo's puppet took to the skies.

"Heh, heh, heh." Red's cackle echoed through their shared mind, though his physical form remained glued to the television screen. "Showtime, baby!"

"Shut it. I need to focus," Angelo muttered back, sweat beading on his forehead as he struggled with Red's remote control technique.

The puppet soared through the afternoon sky until the town square came into view below. Police vehicles formed a perimeter around Greenwald's Bank, their megaphone crackle carrying on the wind.

"State your demands!" an officer called through the speaker.

A fireball exploded through the bank's front window, glass raining onto the sidewalk. "No Aurons!" the robber shouted back, his blue aura crackling with violent energy. "Send in any glowing bastards and everyone dies!"

The puppet touched down silently on the bank's roof. Angelo's mind raced through possibilities, then focused on his chaotic counterpart. "Red, I need backup here."

"Oh, now I'm useful? What happened to me being a parasite who drains your energy?" Red's mental voice dripped with smug satisfaction.

Angelo's jaw tightened in the surveillance room, but he kept his meditation pose steady. "Fine! Don't help! When innocent people die, that blood's on your hands!"

"Alright, alright, don't get your panties twisted. I was just messing with you."

The puppet stretched its arms wide. Orange and crimson smoke poured from its body like liquid fire, streaming through every crack and ventilation shaft in the building below. Within seconds, colored gas filled the bank's interior.

"What the hell is this?!" One robber's voice turned shrill with panic. He pressed his shirt over his nose and screamed toward the windows. "ARE YOU TRYING TO POISON US?! I'LL KILL EVERY HOSTAGE IN HERE!"

"THIS ISN'T US!" The lead negotiator's megaphone feedback screeched. "STAND DOWN!"

Hostages screamed as the robbers raised their hands—then froze as the gas suddenly hardened into glowing barriers. Energy bonds wrapped around the criminals like glowing rope, pinning their arms and blocking every attack aimed at the terrified civilians.

Before anyone could process what happened, the puppet crashed through the ceiling in an explosion of plaster and debris. It landed in a crouch, orange eyes blazing as it rose to full height like some avenging spirit.

The robbers struggled against their glowing restraints, cold sweat streaming down their faces as a recorded voice filled the air: "You now stand before justice's messenger—the Angel of Death! Surrender and find redemption, or resist and face—"

"Shit." Angelo's concentration wavered as he fumbled with the puppet's internal recorder, cutting off the speech mid-threat.

The robbers stared at the bizarre figure in stunned silence, fear written across their faces but shock keeping them frozen. Time was running out before police would storm the building.

An orange energy scythe materialized in the puppet's grip. It raised the weapon with deliberate menace.

"Whoa, whoa! We give up!" One robber's voice cracked like a teenager's. "We surrender! Don't kill us—please!"

The puppet nodded once, then lunged forward. Its hands closed around both robbers' throats before hurling them through the shattered window. They landed in a heap at the officers' feet, groaning and defeated.

Police scrambled to cuff the criminals, their auras flickering out as the restraints clicked shut. When they looked back toward the bank, only a pair of burning orange eyes remained visible in the shadows, watching to ensure no complications arose.

The puppet launched skyward before anyone could get a clear look, disappearing into the afternoon haze.

Back in the surveillance room, Angelo remained perfectly still in his meditation pose, appearing completely peaceful to any observer. But miles away, inside the puppet's head, energy twisted around the tiny recording device like invisible fingers pressing buttons.

His own voice crackled through the puppet's internal speaker: "—sentence you to death!"

Angelo's eye twitched almost imperceptibly as he concentrated harder, his energy manipulating the recorder's controls from within.

"You now stand before—You now stand before—You now stand before—"

Finally, the energy settled the device back to its starting position. The puppet flew back to its makeshift grave near the landfill, sealing itself in the wooden coffin. Through it all, Angelo never moved a muscle, his meditation appearing completely genuine.

Red casually flipped to a news channel, his usual mischievous grin spreading wider. Blue did his best to appear absorbed in his book, though even he perked up when breaking news flashed across the screen.

"This just in—the Angel of Death has intervened in an armed bank robbery in broad daylight at Greenwald's Bank. This follows recent rumors of his involvement in a warehouse massacre and his acquittal on murder charges in the Rick Chen case..."

Red turned toward the observation door, his smile turning predatory. "Well, well, well."

Angelo powered down his aura and released a shaky breath, as if finishing an intense workout. He stood and straightened his jacket before looking directly into one of the cameras. "Good enough proof for you?"

In the control room, Chief Ramirez stared at the screen in complete disbelief, a police report trembling in his hands. "My God. There really is an imposter out there."

Angelo headed for the door as Red joined him and Blue dissolved into smoke, flowing back into their shared form. When they stepped into the hallway, Ramirez was already waiting.

"Told you," Angelo said with infuriating calm. "Wasn't us. Just rumors and coincidence."

"I... You have to understand I needed to be certain..." Ramirez stammered.

Angelo walked past him toward the elevator. "Now you can sleep easy knowing the truth."

"We still need to catch this bastard!" The chief called after him.

"I'm sure you will." Angelo's tone carried maddening confidence. "Just make a public statement clearing my name. I'd appreciate that."

"Right, of course. I'll handle that, but..." Ramirez trailed off as Angelo and Red stopped and turned back.

"Something wrong, big boss?" Red prompted with false innocence.

Ramirez shifted his weight uncomfortably. "I thought maybe you'd want to help with the search? You do want this impersonation to stop, right?"

"Ha! If we helped, it'd be cheating," Red cackled internally. "We'd find 'him' instantly!"

Angelo considered the request, then shook his head. "No can do, Chief. I'm leaving town soon—urgent business that can't wait."

"But aren't you concerned about someone running around committing crimes in your name?" Ramirez's voice rose with disbelief.

Angelo turned toward the elevator, calling back over his shoulder. "I trust our capable Auron division will handle it." He glanced back one final time, something dangerous flickering in his eyes. "What matters is that the police know it's not me. Right?"

"R-right... I suppose." Unease crawled across Ramirez's weathered features.

"Glad we understand each other." The elevator doors opened with a soft chime. Angelo and Red stepped inside, turning to face the chief one last time. Red's expression held its usual mischief, while Angelo's carried that familiar rough authority. But underneath lurked something else—something calculating and cold.

As the doors began to close, Angelo delivered his parting words: "If you run into trouble catching this guy though, don't hesitate to call. See you around, Chief."

The elevator sealed shut, leaving Ramirez alone in the hallway with nothing but a gut feeling that something was very, very wrong.