NOVEL NEXT 2. A Haunting Past
Morning hasn't been kind to Angelo when officer Mike requested backup at Novaria's central park. One thing lead to another, and before he knew it, he found himself dodging boulders tossed around by an angry looking disheveled woman.
She skidded backward, boots carving furrows in the dirt. Anger flashed across her face as she thrust her palms toward the ground. The earth beneath Angelo's feet erupted in jagged spikes, forcing him to leap aside—directly into the path of a boulder that caught him square in the face.
Angelo hit the ground hard, ears ringing as the world tilted around him. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as he tried to regain his senses.
"Well, that was graceful," Red snickered in their shared consciousness. "Want me to tag in before she turns you into pavement art?"
"Stay put," Angelo thought back, his mental voice razor-sharp. "She's mine."
"Yeah, you're doing a stellar job so far." Red's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Too bad I don't take orders from someone who just ate dirt."
Before Angelo could respond, crimson smoke slipped from his body like blood in water, nearly invisible against the pre-dawn sky. The smoke flowed silently behind the earth Auron, who was dividing her attention between the fallen Angelo and Mike's unconscious form nearby.
Her shoulders relaxed slightly as she took a step backward. Freedom was just moments away—until a light tap on her shoulder made her freeze.
She turned to find herself staring into a face identical to Angelo's, but wearing a predatory grin that sent ice down her spine. "Surprise, bitch!" Red's fist connected with her jaw before she could react, sending her flying before crashing into the ground.
She looked up in stunned confusion to see Red standing over her, a pulsing crimson sphere building in his outstretched palm.
The earth Auron recovered quickly, manipulating the ground beneath Red to flip him violently through the air. "Woah!" he gasped as his energy blast went wild, carving a smoking furrow into a nearby tree.
Red twisted mid-air, landing in a graceful crouch as Angelo pushed himself to his feet. They moved in perfect tandem, circling to trap her between them.
"What—what is this?" Her voice cracked with rising panic as her gaze darted between the identical figures. "How are there two of you?"
Angelo approached slowly, wiping blood from his lip with the back of his hand.
"You are looking at death itself," he said, each word precise and weighted with purpose. "Change your heart and surrender now, or face judgment."
Recognition dawned in her eyes, her face draining of color. "You... It can't be... But there are two..." Her voice trailed off as understanding gave way to terror.
"Last chance," Angelo warned, his stance shifting subtly into an attack position. "Make your decision."
"NO!" she screamed. The ground beneath them shuddered as earth and stone began to spiral around her in a protective tornado of lethal projectiles.
Angelo sidestepped one boulder as Red ducked beneath another, their movements synchronized despite the chaotic onslaught.
"You've made your choice," Angelo stated coldly, his expression hardening into something inhuman.
Red's grin widened as his body dissolved into crimson smoke, going back into Angelo before emerging back out again, flowing through the gaps in her earthen defense. The mist solidified behind her, strong arms locking around her neck in an inescapable hold.
"Surprise again," Red whispered in her ear as her concentration faltered. The swirling debris dropped to the ground as she struggled against his grip.
In that moment of vulnerability, Angelo's energy-encased arm drove forward with lethal precision. Blood sprayed across the dew-covered grass as she went limp, her yellow aura flickering out like a candle in the wind.
"Clean kill," Red observed with casual appreciation, releasing the body as it crumpled to the ground. "Not bad for someone who ate dirt a minute ago."
Before he could say another word, Angelo's energy-wreathed hand slashed through Red's neck, dissolving his physical form back into smoke that was forced to return to Angelo's body.
Red's voice cackled in their shared consciousness. "What's wrong, Angie? Struck a nerve?"
"I told you to stay out of it," Angelo replied, his voice like ice as he cleaned the blood from his hands with a handkerchief.
He moved to where Mike lay sprawled on the ground, his snores cutting through the morning quiet. Angelo tapped his face lightly, rousing him from unconsciousness.
Mike's eyes snapped open, a startled yelp escaping him as he scrambled backward. "Sweet mother of—Oh! Angelo?" Recognition washed over his face, followed immediately by relief. "Thank god." His gaze darted around the clearing. "Where's the earth Auron?"
"She's gone," Angelo said simply, his eyes closed for a moment.
Understanding darkened Mike's expression. "Damn... I'm sorry you had to clean up my mess. They always station me in these deserted areas. Guess they know I get too scared and screw things up."
"She put up a serious fight," Angelo said, offering a hand to help Mike up. His voice softened slightly as he squeezed the other officer's shoulder. "You did what you could. Now let's clear the scene before civilians start showing up."
Angelo cast one last glance at the fallen Auron, his expression unreadable as the first rays of sunlight began to pierce the eastern sky.
A few hours later, not far from the park, Novaria's police station hummed with activity. Officers hurried through corridors with coffee-stained reports, phones rang incessantly, and the constant tap of keyboards filled the air. In his office, Chief Ramirez stood by the window, the permanent furrow in his brow deepening as he spoke into his phone.
"Another one?" he said, disapproval evident in his gruff voice.
He listened for a moment, then nodded. "That's all for now. Keep me posted." He paused as the person on the other end spoke again. "Yes, please send him in. Thank you, Vivian."
Hanging up, he sank into his chair with a heavy sigh. "So he failed talking some sense into that boy, hm."
A knock interrupted his thoughts.
"Come in," he called, straightening his posture and schooling his features into professional neutrality.
The door swung open to reveal Sleeser, his yellowish-orange hair as spiky as ever, his casual stance betrayed by the tension in his shoulders.
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"Heya, Chief," Sleeser greeted with a half-salute, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"
Chief Ramirez fixed him with a knowing stare. "I'm assuming things didn't go well with our Angel of Death yesterday."
Sleeser's smile faltered. "That obvious, huh?" He ran a hand through his spiky hair. "What gave it away?"
"Another fatality this morning," Ramirez said, rubbing his temple. "Third one this month." He leaned forward, chair creaking. "The boy may lack raw power, but his technique is deadly. And that's on you."
Sleeser shifted in his seat, a flicker of pride crossing his face despite everything. "That's why I recommended him."
"Well if I'd known he'd start playing judge and executioner on every street corner, I'd have slammed the door in your face!" Ramirez stood, hands planted on his desk. "Yes, crime rates dropped. Some criminals even turn themselves in before he finds them. But others? They're desperate now. And scared criminals are unpredictable."
He paced behind his desk, shadows deepening the lines on his face. "Half the city calls him a hero. The other half, A murderer with a badge. The media is having a field day with him! Every day brings another headline about the 'Angel of Death' – savior or menace?"
"How's Angelo handling the attention?" Sleeser asked, straightening papers on the desk to avoid Ramirez's glare.
The chief sank back into his chair with a sigh. "That's what worries me most. He's completely unfazed. Convinced he's doing the right thing."
"Can't you just..." Sleeser hesitated, gesturing vaguely with his hands. "I don't know, fire him or something?"
The chief let out a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, his hand dragging down his face. "Believe me, I wish I could. But his method grants him protection."
"How's that?" Sleeser asked, eyebrow raised.
"He tells criminals to attack him first," Ramirez explained, frustration evident in his tight grip on his armrest. "Because of that, every outcome—even death—falls under self-defense. The laws protecting Aurons in the line of duty tie my hands completely."
Sleeser nodded grudgingly with understanding.
Chief Ramirez crossed his arms, the leather of his chair creaking as he leaned back. "Honestly, I just can't figure out what made him this way."
Sleeser's normally playful demeanor vanished in an instant. "You really want to know?" His voice darkened to a tone that made the chief straighten in his seat.
Their eyes locked in silent challenge before Ramirez gestured for him to continue, curiosity winning out over caution.
With a heavy sigh that seemed to come from his very core. "It pains me to admit this, but... this is partly my fault." Seeing the chief's eyebrow shoot up, he quickly added, "In my defense, I never imagined he'd take things this far."
"What did you do?" Ramirez asked slowly.
Sleeser's fingers tapped a nervous rhythm on the table. "You remember the Inferni terrorist attack six years ago? In Ashford?"
"Of course." The chief's expression softened, memories of that tragedy tempering his anger. "Nasty business. Many casualties." His voice gentled further. "Did he lose his parents during the attack?"
"No, Angelo was always an orphan," Sleeser explained, not noticing how Ramirez's eyes widened at this information. "Lost his parents to an accident when he was just a baby, from what I understand."
"Kid was just twelve when the Inferni attacked... poor bastard..." Sleeser continued, gaze distant as he revisited painful memories. "A fresh Auron, still figuring out his powers. Red and Blue hadn't physically manifested yet, honestly even I thought he was just hearing voices."
He paused, noticing Ramirez's suddenly vacant stare. Sleeser waved a hand in front of the chief's face, concern replacing his usual confidence. "Chief? You still with me?"
Ramirez blinked rapidly, refocusing with visible effort. "What? Oh, right, Red and Blue." He picked up his coffee mug, turning it in his hands. "I know them well at this point. Especially Red." His expression soured as he gazed into his cup. "Can't tell you how many times he has swapped the sugar and salt in the break room."
A ghost of a smile tugged at Sleeser's lips, but he straightened when Ramirez's next question came.
"What exactly are they, really?" The chief leaned forward. "I've never seen anything like them. Some kind of split personality made real somehow?"
Sleeser scratched the back of his head. "I don't think so, honestly."
"Could they be the result of an evolved aura ability?" Ramirez pressed, mind visibly working through possibilities. "Though Angelo isn't evolved, correct?"
"No, he isn't, they're something else entirely," Sleeser replied, shaking his head. "Something we've never encountered before. A friend of mine is looking into it, but so far, we have more questions than answers."
Suddenly realizing they'd strayed from the topic, Sleeser straightened. "But we're getting off track."
"Anyway, during that terrorist attack," Sleeser continued. "Angelo was forced to take a life—a terrorist who was about to kill a civilian." His voice grew rough with emotion. "It was the last straw, Chief. He was just a child on the verge of breaking from years of isolation and bullying. I... I had to save him somehow..."
Ramirez nodded grimly, his weathered face carrying the weight of similar decisions.
"So I told him that some people will never change... even when facing death..." Sleeser's voice trailed off, defeat evident in his slumped shoulders. "Now he's taken my words and twisted them into his worldview."
"Hmm.... I think I understand now," Ramirez muttered, his eyes darting briefly toward his desk drawer. "So just to be clear—Angelo lost his parents to a lab accident, not during that terrorist attack?"
Sleeser froze for a half second—just enough to be noticeable.
He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing with quiet suspicion. "Funny..." he said slowly, "I don't think I mentioned it was a lab accident."
A tense silence settled over the room. Ramirez's fingers stilled on the armrest. He met Sleeser's gaze, masking his reaction with a carefully neutral expression. "Must've filled in the blanks. There was a lab accident years prior, so I assumed..."
Sleeser didn't reply right away. He simply watched him.
"In any case," Ramirez dismissed with a wave that seemed too casual. "I feel I understand him better now." His expression softened but remained determined. "I believe we should find a way to help him without terminating his position. We owe him that much."
"We owe him?" Sleeser repeated, emphasizing the word with obvious suspicion.
"I—Well, yes," Ramirez fumbled. "He's a confused young man, born from unfortunate circumstances. Helping him would be the right thing to do." He jabbed a finger toward Sleeser, clearly trying to redirect. "Besides, you got him here, so what do we do with him now?"
Sleeser stroked his chin thoughtfully, eyes fixed on the desk between them. "For the time being, I think we should limit his involvement with criminals. Only call him when the threat level is high."
Chief Ramirez stood up, considering the suggestion as he walked over to the window. "Hmm... Yes, I believe that's doable." He rubbed his face like he was having a headache from a week of sleepless nights.
"What's wrong, chief?" Sleeser called over, leaning back on his chair.
"Sometimes it feels like everything's falling apart..."
"What do you mean?"
The chief sighed "Reports regarding the Inferni keep contradicting each other. We're running like headless chicken around the security for the upcoming festival..." He shook his head looking exhausted. "Add the Angel of Death to the mix, and you got yourself a recipe for total disaster." He turned to face Sleeser "You're with the military, what's really happening out there?"
Sleeser's expression was unreadable, like he was carefully measuring his words. "All I can say is that they are preparing for something. We don't know when or what yet..."
Ramirez didn't looked convinced, he went back to his seat and crossed his arms, giving Sleeser a sharp look. "We're not idiots, son, they're obviously aiming for the New Light Festival."
"Hey, I'm with you there, but what do I know, I'm not intel division." Sleeser said in mock surrender, "Then again... Maybe they are counting on us second guessing ourselves."
Chief Ramirez laced his fingers "Either way we have to stay vigilant. As for our Angel of Death, we will implement your suggestion immediately. We can at least try to manage that wild card."
Sleeser nodded and stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. "Right then, I'll see what I can do on my end as well..." He walked over to the door, his hand grabbing the handle. "See you around, chief." The chief nodded with understanding, and with that Sleeser left.
Outside the station, Sleeser paused on the steps, breathing in the city air. Above, workers balanced on ladders, hanging colorful New Light Festival decorations.
His mind spun with competing worries as he descended the steps – how to pull Angelo back from the darkness and what the chief's strange behavior might mean. He turned onto a quieter side street.
The sudden vibration in his pocket made him freeze mid-step. Pulling out his phone, he stared at the name on the screen – this wasn't a call he'd been expecting, especially not now. His heart rate quickened as he answered.
"Commander?" His voice dropped to barely above a whisper.
"Sleeser, WHERE THE HELL are you?!" The commander's voice crackled through static, but the urgency came through crystal clear.
Sleeser's mind raced for an excuse. "I was just—"
"Get back here now!" The commander cut him off, leaving no room for explanation. "The situation's critical. We need you—We need Sigma."
Those last words hit Sleeser like a physical blow. Whatever was happening had to be serious.
"Understood," he replied, his voice barely audible even to himself. "On my way."
Ending the call, he cast one last look at the police station. His concerns about Angelo and the chief's suspicious behavior would have to wait. Something at the border needed immediate attention.
With a heavy sigh that carried the weight of too many responsibilities, he started down the steps, each footfall purposeful and quick.