Inked Wings

/ Angel’s POV /

6:08

The current of the wind is still going strong in Garston City. The days spent here are no less than “airy” at the city’s current altitude, its skyscrapers leaving large paths for strong currents. I sit at the top of the News building, sensing the warm light rays of dawn.

I adjust my leg onto the antenna I have hid behind a moment ago. This prosthetic desperately needs a redesign, having outgrown the edgy print. Still, it’s optimal for my line of – work. My mask rests over my nose inside-out, the imprint of the Rebellion’s logo invisible.

Mine’s worn out by age anyways, as well as the nametags resting ’round my throat. Since MEA had taken down the old army as a whole, the system of the – universe – had fallen at their feet. I spit whenever I spot those perky ads: “The Mutant Extermination Army is no longer in service. All of our inhabitants can rest at ease and, therefore, show their support to us - W.P.A (Worldwide Protection Army).” Such a lazy facade.

I scoff. My peers often tell me “their outposts are too risky to approach”.

On the other hand, their satellites are easy to disable. MEA relies strongly on Risen Energy power. Yet, disabling the power would not only affect their troops but whole civilizations, people, children. Normies and Mutants alike. Yeah, that option is not even in question.

That’s why I suggested we directly confront them. “Too risky.” Even Doc. said so. Still, Dad told me he could find me an in. Now, I’m waiting for him to bring it up.

I’m tired of civil activism. Fliers won’t stop soldiers – my intercom buzzes – speaking of…

‘Yes?’ I instinctively respond.

‘Are you wandering somewhere off to dreamland again?’ Martha teases me.

I grimace. ‘You spot somethin’?′

‘I sent you the location.’ She hung up. Another way of saying, “hurry”.

I pick up my hoverboard, separating it from the magnet inside my cloak, right at the middle of my spine. I hop on it and skyboard my way throughout the city. Full of noise, from all the neon signs hung up. The wind pushes my hair into my face. Still, I make it fast.

I reach a poorly lit neighborhood, filled with empty houses. A person trips down, inside one of the open alleys. Three MEA policemen have them surrounded.

I carefully land on the nearest roof and peek from behind an ad sign.

The hooded person turns out to be a young girl. Can’t figure out why she is facing aggression from her appearance alone. Two policemen play as Lookout, the one approaching the girl with bad intent. ‘I’ve heard you’re the one displaying propaganda on our stations’ He sounds like he’s smoked 20 Lucid bars within the last hour alone.

“Propaganda.” I almost let out a laugh. Hypocrisy is amusing from time to time.

‘I – I didn’t do anything illegal.’ The girl is crawling away, obviously afraid.

I pull my hood over my head.

The policeman reaches for something.

And a thud breaks his momentum.

One of the policemen on his right falls over, a green substance covering his mutilated face. Steam leaves his lifeless body. From the darkness behind their feet, Linda’s T-rex eyes stare back at the startled smoke addict. He raises his gun, laser fully charged.

I swiftly knock him off his feet, causing him to pass out. As fast, I return to my hiding spot.

The other lookout has turned to see what just occurred while pressing his index finger against his intercom: calling for backup.

A claw taps his shoulder. When he turns around, Martha slices his throat with her spade-shaped tail. ‘You might want to put pressure on that.’ She watches him lose consciousness. It takes her a moment before she realizes the girl is now full-on sobbing.

‘Oh darling, be not afraid,’ Martha baby talks.

‘Linda and Martha are here to protect you.’ Linda approaches her slowly.

‘Are you… the Rebellion?’

Martha smiles. ‘No time to chit chat.’ She looks at Linda.

Linda has her tail wrapped around the girl when she runs off.

Martha gives me a glance. ‘You coming?’

‘Leave no trace behind.’ I tilt toward the East.

‘Careful not to break their heads.’ She exhales smoke while her eyes light up and the scales on her palms heat up. Martha’s fire surges amongst the whole alley, leaving behind a pyromaniac’s work. It reminds me. She joins Linda, whereas I go deal with the backup.

“Can’t let them catch up to the girls.” I tell myself. Actually, I also wish to deceive them. “Rebellion’s Dove had no part in this.” Which technically would not be a lie.

I ride my hoverboard at full speed, sliding through the streets. The 4 to 8 police people come to view. I smirk under my mask. Faster than any of their reaction time, I blast through them. They fall like dominoes. Except one. The first to shoot.

‘Stop right there!’ The mutant raises his gun.

I continue my way up, moving in zigzag patterns. None of their lasers touch me. One does scrape my board on the back. Which annoys me, I won’t lie.

In the end, I disappear beyond the clouds.

10:12

In the technical room of our shack, I wipe my hoverboard, now restored. The 3D machine does its job, I have to say. Good, that blast did not hit the board’s engine.

I hear the door open.

‘Damaged, again?’ Dad brings in a pile of restored parts. Garbage, if he did not know how to manage and recycle them.

I nod.

’Martha told me you disguised yourself once again.′ He gestures at quotation marks.

‘Mmm.’ I check to see if the board is ready, tilting it on a side.

‘I need you to run an errand from me,’ he eventually says.

‘What kind?’ I lay the board.

’Reconnected with an old friend of mine. Thought you should pay him a visit.′

He is using the “that” tone. He finally brings it up. I shoot him a curious look.

‘Who is this friend of yours?’ I then ask.

Dad presses a few files on his screen and a photograph’s hologram opens in my face.

I take a step back. There is a man, a “normie” by the looks of it. He is smiling, holding his baby close in his arms. They look like a normal family.

‘What’s – the errand?’ I say slowly to hide the doubt rising inside me.

‘He needs to return me a chip of old folders, that’s all,’ Dad chuckles.

‘That’s. All?’ My mind settles on the last part.

Dad confirms. Afterall, he might not be bringing it up again.

I sigh. “I’m reduced to a mailman.”

My fingers rub against my forehead. “What a waste of time.”

16:30

You have arrived. Welcome to UNWIND District. We wish you a tremendous stay.

The Metro arrives at the station, the ads of MEA are closing and the doors slide open. Pretty fancy for a third world district. Silver walls, modern “comfy” seats.

This time I wear a beanie, hair hidden under it; a cheap hoodie and I put a Mask over my skin, changing it into something different. We only have one piece of this expensive tech.

I follow the map Dad specially downloaded on my mock screen. Past the first street, the District shows its true self. Rusted buildings are covered in either tame or eye-catching, classical graffiti. There are uneven roads, revealing dirt and plants. On the few windows left, people have carved initials. Reminds me of Hidden City.

A message pops up on my screen:

YOU HAVE ARRIVED.

I squint my eyes. They fall onto the mansion in front of me. It looks like an ancient library, more than a home. No gate? This person is brave.

I walk up to the door. There’s no ring or alarm system visible, so I knock.

I inhale and slowly exhale. I really have come all this way for an old folder…I’ll need to learn how to refuse Dad’s requests now and then. He does like junk. If he wants those files, then they must mean something to him. I crack my knuckles. It’s been a minute.

I knock again, being left without other options. I can’t fly or skate my way to a window and out myself, nor can I go around the building since its sides are glued to the limiting walls of the neighborhood. It’s that big, correct. A creak happens. I snap out of it to find the doors slide open. My wings perk up the slightest bit and I immediately suppress them low, under my hoodie. They will be painfully sore after this. I’m used to it by now.

I’m past the entrance now and – sure thing, this is a museum without exponents. I flinch.

The door slams shut. The sound echoes around the whole place, shaking it and making me feel the vibrations of that force. I sigh. Deep sigh….I’m really trying to distract myself with words. Helps with the paranoia. I try the door. Locked, of course.

‘Sorry about that.’ Someone greets me from behind. ‘Old Bessie has a loose wire.’

His voice sounds – fine. It’s like Dad’s…soft.

The man, slightly older? Compared to the picture at least. He has his hands crossed behind his back, his shoulders even. He is wearing a…tuxedo, an old model.

He seems to be quite the pristine and pretentious.

‘In what time are you living, I wonder.’ I begin with a sarcastic remark.

He smiles. ’Codes easy to tap into. I tend to avoid accessible technology, unless I made it.′

The man offers his hand.

I shake it. ‘You can call me -’

‘Angel.’ He beats me to it. ‘I’m Ade. Harl’ used to tell me all about his little ones.′

‘You and – Doc’ must be close,’ I say.

Ade nods. ‘Were. Naturally, we grew apart.’ He turned around and signed me to follow him. ‘He notified me of your visit so I had time to adjust a few things to my program. Have something to show the partner, no?’

‘You - are you talking about the folders?’ I bluntly question him, trying to confirm one of the doubts springing inside me.

’I’m talking about my hobby. I’m a “Tackler”.′

A hacker. My eyes spark up. ‘I’m guessing you’re known for breaching servers.’

Ade chuckles. He presses his finger against a tapestry, activating an invisible door. He steps aside. I enter it, a thrill down my spine. Hah! Of course, Dad chose my side.

‘Did you think of something amusing?’

‘Hm?’ I watch him close the door.

‘You were wearing quite the sly expression.’

I shrug him off. Then, I finally noticed my surroundings. On my right is a wall kitchen and on my other side are stairs. There is a hall farther, past the kitchen and stairs.

‘In the future I will remember to sort my office. Until that day comes, I will have to leave guests waiting here. I will be right back.’ Ade enters said hallway.

I purse my lips, waiting aimlessly. It is eerily quiet. I stare at the hall, darker than where I’m sitting, with neon, floor lights installed. “If Dad trusts this guy, I do too. Don’t overthink it.” My wings are shaking. My ear twitches at light footsteps.

Once again, I turn around to a stranger. This time my eyes meet with a kid’s. A teen. He is wearing a piercing. He looks small for that, around thirteen years old?

While we maintain the awkward eye contact as he goes down the stairs, I take his features in. Properly. I recognize this kid, being the baby from the photo. I see…Dad really has not talked to Ade in long. The kid breaks eye contact as soon as his feet are off the last step. He makes his way to the kitchen counter, leans in to grab a tube of something from the higher compartment, then proceeds to give me a stare down-up. He focuses on something.

For a second, I open my mouth in order to greet him. The manners Linda keeps reminding me to practice. But - This kid stares down and up at me; all to go quiet for a moment to tell me the following: ‘Your hair looks like a crinkled tissue.’ And he leaves.

???

Isn’t my hair – oh, a few strands came loose.

Still – what the fuck, kid?

Worse is his insult is quite accurate, now that I take a good look at my hair. Screw with it.

‘Angel, you’re welcome to come in!’ Ade calls from the hallway.

‘Err…sure.’ I enter his office. It looks like Dad’s: wires scattered everywhere on the ground, numerous screens and - It is dark in here. Unable to help it, I grab a string of hair to check on again. My sudden interest in my appearance proves odd.

‘Is everything alright?’ Ade sits down at a desk.

On it is a big…computer? A physical screen, huh. These are rare.

I nod. ‘You have kids?’

His face lights up. ‘Ah,’ he then lets out a sound of realization. ‘You must’ve stumbled upon my son, Noel. Hence why you seemed restless. Did he say something rude?’

‘Not rude but - weirdly true?’

‘He tends to be blatantly honest. It’s nothing personal.’ Ade smiles.

I go closer to his screen. ‘Figured.’

He opens a tab, where a list shows up on the screen. Full of names I recognize. ‘Are these all you desire to approach?’ He points to the screen, eyeing me.

‘They’re – lots.’

‘You don’t have to go for each one. There are key bases I selected for you. Bases which if destroyed or disassembled, would add a considerable handicap to MEA. It would certainly draw the attention of the Founder, even.’ Ade explains whilst I can’t breathe.

I feel restless in a very good way. At the same time -

“Still, so many lives ready to waste – hah !”

I don’t get off on killing. If I had the choice, I’d avoid it. ‘You have a way to breach all of those key bases?’ Yet the excitement in my voice is very real.

‘Of course. See this sign?’ Another tab shows on the screen. He points at it.

‘There are other “Tacklers” who work for MEA, so consequently I had to mark my work.’ Seriousness rings in his voice. ‘If you spot this sign, you’ll know I’m around.’

His logo looks like the moon from ACRYLIC District, but tweaked with. I memorize it and the definitive features which might separate it from copycats. I must be careful.

‘Should we cover everything we need to discuss today?’

‘Yes. Otherwise, it’ll be dangerous for us both.’

Ade visibly agrees.

19:00

A ring thunders the mansion.

‘The doorbell?’ I look up as I say it.

Ade stands.

‘Would you be a dear and check on Noel real quick? He is in his room upstairs. Purple door.’

I tense up. ‘Unexpected visitors?’

He smiles. ’Would you be a dear?′

My eyes squint, thinking of dealing with whoever came myself. That might go terribly wrong though. I would easily jeopardize him, if I am recognized.

I cave in. ‘Yes, I will stay with him until you come back.’ I specify his request for confirmation.

‘Good.’

This is serious.

I use the stairs from earlier to reach the second floor. I make my way left. Street Lights peek through the windows. It’s getting dark. This whole mansion is dark enough as it is.

I reach a purple door with lots of stickers cramped on it. The kid’s room.

I raise my fist.

I knock.