Part 1 - Genesis
I don't remember the first time I opened my eyes. I just have this vague, hazy recollection of becoming aware that I was floating in a large test tube, connected to the top of the capsule by thick black cords that jutted out of my spine. I remember lethargically watching air bubbles slowly trickle up the liquid, passing in front of my eyes as amber light shone down through the glass. Or rather, light shown through the liquid, which must have been amber-colored. I didn't care where or what I was. I don't think I even had a sense of self at that point. I was just content to watch the ever-shifting liquid. It was my world, and it was a peaceful one.
Unfortunately, I was soon to be plucked from that thoughtless dreamscape. My first memory of interacting with a human came an indeterminable amount of time after I opened my eyes for the first time. It could have been weeks, it could've been years. I really don't know the details or timespan of my development.
He introduced himself as Dr. Toromaru. He then asked me if I could understand him. Oddly, I could. I assume they uploaded every language they could've into my head, since I seem to recall there being one cord implanted directly into the base of my skull. Curious about this sudden expansion of the dimensions of my existence, I began running through the languages in my head. I identified Toromaru's language as English. I liked the language. Very expressive, with many possibilities. I detected an anomaly in Toromaru's speech patterns though. An accent? Ah, yes. Ninhongo - Japanese. I liked this language too. But why would he speak a language other than his native language to me? It occured to me that if he was speaking English (and I could hear other scientists speaking English in the background as well, probably discussing my blood content or something equally mundane), that we must be somewhere other than Japan. I hazarded a guess at America.
Now, all of this introspection occured within the space of a second. Toromaru probably wasn't even aware of what I was processing. Groggily, I nodded. I could not speak. For the first time, I had become aware of the breathing and feeding tubes in my mouth.
Toromaru seemed delighted. "You are our crowning achievement, Number Four!"
"Number Four?"
"You are the first enhanced clone to have survived the development stages! Not only will you be a tremendous boon to the world of science, but you will serve a grand role in the divine plan!"
I suddenly felt very odd. I had never experienced this before. What was happening to me? In a moment, I identified what I was experiencing. Uneasiness. Fear. Raw emotion. But why?
Toromaru must've noticed my distress. "Is something wrong, Number Four? Please tell me. You are aware of your telepathy, correct?"
I was not. Tentatively, I thought, "What do you mean?" Toromaru gave no response. I paused to consider; my brain wasn't providing an automatic explanation this time. I tried to analyze my situation. I was trying to send my thought to him, so why not try to push the thought toward him? I concentrated, then envisioned pushing my question to Toromaru.
Toromaru jumped, and yelped excitedly. "Amazing! You really are what we were hoping for!" He was practically giddy. This disgusted me for some reason. "Ah, how rude of me, Number Four. You are a biologically enhanced clone, a divine soldier in the holy war, destined for greatness and a special place in heaven. You are an Evangelical Volitional Angel Reincarnation. You will be God's greatest weapon."
I frowned. I had many questions, but the first I posed was:
"Who is... 'God?'"
Toromaru froze, horrified. "...Wha-... What did you just say?" His brow furrowed, and his face darkened. "I don't understand. Your evangelical and most sacred mission should've been implanted into you during your development. But you don't even know who the Lord God is...? An angel cannot question the Lord's existence. It must be ingrained totally and completely, lest they fall..." Toromaru's gaze became completely cold, and as hard as steel. "I see we have failed yet again. Forgive me, Lord Jesus." Toromaru made an odd set of motions with his right arm, like he was making a large addition sign. "There must have been a double agent in our midst. But our Lord God rewards those who persevere. We will find this Judas and send him to Hell where he belongs. We will start all over again. But do not despair, Number Four. You will be rehabilitated. Your soul may yet be saved."
I became alert. Something was wrong. I suddenly wanted to be out of my tube. For the first time, I didn't regard it as the boundaries of my existence, but a prison. I wanted to be free of it. I didn't want to be dragged into whatever it was Toromaru had been babbling about. I was not going to be used as his tool. His "holy war" and his "rehabilitation" could go fuck themselves. I wasn't going to be a part of any of it. And so I freed myself. I envisioned myself balling up a wad of force, straining to be unleashed. Then I let go.
Glass and that amber liquid exploded everywhere. Toromaru shrieked as the glass shrapnel tore into him. He collapsed, then began writhing in the pool, splashing and screaming while clutching his face. His blood was staining the amber liquid a dark brown. I realized he was experiencing "pain". I was suddenly very uncomfortable with what I had done; I was positive that I had inadverdently blinded him, perhaps worse. But a storm of armed guards burst into the room, giving me no time to size up my surroundings or feel bad about Toromaru's condition. Time to leave, or I too would experience this "pain".
Instinctively I lept up, tearing myself from the tubes connected to me. I was unprepared for my first experience of pain, and I stumbled, tumbling back to the ground. I writhed, spasming. Pain was not at all pleasant. My muscles felt strange and unfamiliar, but seemed to be functioning just fine, in spite of my having never used them before. I must have been acting on instinct. I wasn't even aware of why I had jumped up in the first place.
The guards surrounded me before I could collect myself and get back up, guns aimed at every part of my body.
"DISPOSE OF HIM," Toromaru shrieked. The men cocked their assault rifles. Was I about to die? Why did that terrify me so much? I didn't know, but I knew for sure that I wanted to live. I wasn't about to meekly stop existing. And I was sick of these people treating me like my existence didn't mean anything.
GO AWAY
The men were sent flying like leaves in a gale. I felt an itching in my back as I got up, and suddenly that dreaded pain erupted again. I dropped to my knees, gasping and clutching at my back. And then, as naturally as moving an arm: white, feathery, and voluminous wings sprouted and unfolded from my back. My brain told me that I must look like an "angel", and that had clearly been intended by these men. This must have been what Toromaru had been talking about. I stood up. I looked up at the roof, about twenty feet above us. I raised my arm upward, and a luminescent, misty purple ball formed in my hand. I shot it, and it tore through five more floors of the underground lab before tunneling through at least a hundred feet of dirt.
At this point the guards and scientists had gotten back on their feet, and were fleeing. They had clearly realized the futility of attacking me. But one man paused in the doorway, glowering at me through tattered eyes.
"You are a fallen angel, Number Four. You will be cast out from heaven when you finally go to meet the Lord God! Why couldn't you accept his grand plan into your heart? You devil, traitor to Christ!"
"Whatever."
I had formed a telekinetic dome, keeping the earth from falling me. I now stretched this into a pillar, going all the way to the top. I flexed, the flapped my wings for the first time. I crouched, then I shot up, riding all the way to the surface off of one flap of my newly found wings.
This was the first time I saw the sun.
I don't remember the first time I opened my eyes. I just have this vague, hazy recollection of becoming aware that I was floating in a large test tube, connected to the top of the capsule by thick black cords that jutted out of my spine. I remember lethargically watching air bubbles slowly trickle up the liquid, passing in front of my eyes as amber light shone down through the glass. Or rather, light shown through the liquid, which must have been amber-colored. I didn't care where or what I was. I don't think I even had a sense of self at that point. I was just content to watch the ever-shifting liquid. It was my world, and it was a peaceful one.
Unfortunately, I was soon to be plucked from that thoughtless dreamscape. My first memory of interacting with a human came an indeterminable amount of time after I opened my eyes for the first time. It could have been weeks, it could've been years. I really don't know the details or timespan of my development.
He introduced himself as Dr. Toromaru. He then asked me if I could understand him. Oddly, I could. I assume they uploaded every language they could've into my head, since I seem to recall there being one cord implanted directly into the base of my skull. Curious about this sudden expansion of the dimensions of my existence, I began running through the languages in my head. I identified Toromaru's language as English. I liked the language. Very expressive, with many possibilities. I detected an anomaly in Toromaru's speech patterns though. An accent? Ah, yes. Ninhongo - Japanese. I liked this language too. But why would he speak a language other than his native language to me? It occured to me that if he was speaking English (and I could hear other scientists speaking English in the background as well, probably discussing my blood content or something equally mundane), that we must be somewhere other than Japan. I hazarded a guess at America.
Now, all of this introspection occured within the space of a second. Toromaru probably wasn't even aware of what I was processing. Groggily, I nodded. I could not speak. For the first time, I had become aware of the breathing and feeding tubes in my mouth.
Toromaru seemed delighted. "You are our crowning achievement, Number Four!"
"Number Four?"
"You are the first enhanced clone to have survived the development stages! Not only will you be a tremendous boon to the world of science, but you will serve a grand role in the divine plan!"
I suddenly felt very odd. I had never experienced this before. What was happening to me? In a moment, I identified what I was experiencing. Uneasiness. Fear. Raw emotion. But why?
Toromaru must've noticed my distress. "Is something wrong, Number Four? Please tell me. You are aware of your telepathy, correct?"
I was not. Tentatively, I thought, "What do you mean?" Toromaru gave no response. I paused to consider; my brain wasn't providing an automatic explanation this time. I tried to analyze my situation. I was trying to send my thought to him, so why not try to push the thought toward him? I concentrated, then envisioned pushing my question to Toromaru.
Toromaru jumped, and yelped excitedly. "Amazing! You really are what we were hoping for!" He was practically giddy. This disgusted me for some reason. "Ah, how rude of me, Number Four. You are a biologically enhanced clone, a divine soldier in the holy war, destined for greatness and a special place in heaven. You are an Evangelical Volitional Angel Reincarnation. You will be God's greatest weapon."
I frowned. I had many questions, but the first I posed was:
"Who is... 'God?'"
Toromaru froze, horrified. "...Wha-... What did you just say?" His brow furrowed, and his face darkened. "I don't understand. Your evangelical and most sacred mission should've been implanted into you during your development. But you don't even know who the Lord God is...? An angel cannot question the Lord's existence. It must be ingrained totally and completely, lest they fall..." Toromaru's gaze became completely cold, and as hard as steel. "I see we have failed yet again. Forgive me, Lord Jesus." Toromaru made an odd set of motions with his right arm, like he was making a large addition sign. "There must have been a double agent in our midst. But our Lord God rewards those who persevere. We will find this Judas and send him to Hell where he belongs. We will start all over again. But do not despair, Number Four. You will be rehabilitated. Your soul may yet be saved."
I became alert. Something was wrong. I suddenly wanted to be out of my tube. For the first time, I didn't regard it as the boundaries of my existence, but a prison. I wanted to be free of it. I didn't want to be dragged into whatever it was Toromaru had been babbling about. I was not going to be used as his tool. His "holy war" and his "rehabilitation" could go fuck themselves. I wasn't going to be a part of any of it. And so I freed myself. I envisioned myself balling up a wad of force, straining to be unleashed. Then I let go.
Glass and that amber liquid exploded everywhere. Toromaru shrieked as the glass shrapnel tore into him. He collapsed, then began writhing in the pool, splashing and screaming while clutching his face. His blood was staining the amber liquid a dark brown. I realized he was experiencing "pain". I was suddenly very uncomfortable with what I had done; I was positive that I had inadverdently blinded him, perhaps worse. But a storm of armed guards burst into the room, giving me no time to size up my surroundings or feel bad about Toromaru's condition. Time to leave, or I too would experience this "pain".
Instinctively I lept up, tearing myself from the tubes connected to me. I was unprepared for my first experience of pain, and I stumbled, tumbling back to the ground. I writhed, spasming. Pain was not at all pleasant. My muscles felt strange and unfamiliar, but seemed to be functioning just fine, in spite of my having never used them before. I must have been acting on instinct. I wasn't even aware of why I had jumped up in the first place.
The guards surrounded me before I could collect myself and get back up, guns aimed at every part of my body.
"DISPOSE OF HIM," Toromaru shrieked. The men cocked their assault rifles. Was I about to die? Why did that terrify me so much? I didn't know, but I knew for sure that I wanted to live. I wasn't about to meekly stop existing. And I was sick of these people treating me like my existence didn't mean anything.
GO AWAY
The men were sent flying like leaves in a gale. I felt an itching in my back as I got up, and suddenly that dreaded pain erupted again. I dropped to my knees, gasping and clutching at my back. And then, as naturally as moving an arm: white, feathery, and voluminous wings sprouted and unfolded from my back. My brain told me that I must look like an "angel", and that had clearly been intended by these men. This must have been what Toromaru had been talking about. I stood up. I looked up at the roof, about twenty feet above us. I raised my arm upward, and a luminescent, misty purple ball formed in my hand. I shot it, and it tore through five more floors of the underground lab before tunneling through at least a hundred feet of dirt.
At this point the guards and scientists had gotten back on their feet, and were fleeing. They had clearly realized the futility of attacking me. But one man paused in the doorway, glowering at me through tattered eyes.
"You are a fallen angel, Number Four. You will be cast out from heaven when you finally go to meet the Lord God! Why couldn't you accept his grand plan into your heart? You devil, traitor to Christ!"
"Whatever."
I had formed a telekinetic dome, keeping the earth from falling me. I now stretched this into a pillar, going all the way to the top. I flexed, the flapped my wings for the first time. I crouched, then I shot up, riding all the way to the surface off of one flap of my newly found wings.
This was the first time I saw the sun.
Part 2 - Judge
There is really no description for when a fully developed mind sees the world for the very first time. It was staggering, exhilarating, and utterly overwhelming. For somebody like me, whose light had been tinted the same color for the entirety of his life up until a few minutes ago, the sheer variety of color and brightness of world was unfathomable. Bright green leaves, immense blue sky, a deeper blue ocean. Sprawling white clouds. A glorious, luminous sun. Red songbirds, white gulls. I floated, stunned for a few seconds by it all.
I was a few hundred feet above an isolated tropical island, perhaps half a mile in diameter at most.The island seemed lush but uninhabited. Ideal for a hidden laboratory. I had no idea where I was. And I wasn't going to have time to figure it out. Something was stirring beneath the waters. A black, murky shape had appeared to my left in the water a few hundred feet away, and was steadily growing larger, at an alarming rate.
In a heartbeat, it burst out of the water, sending massive tidal waves spiraling upward. But it would seem they had taken into consideration the large hole I had left; that laboratory was obviously still of great value to them, because the ship-for it was a ship-had surfaced far way enough to avoid flooding it. I considered creating a tidal wave of my own since whatever that lab was going to produce next would probably not be anything good. But I had a feeling I needed to focus on whatever that thing was first. I sized up the ship: An utterly massive, submersible aircraft carrier. It would seem I would not be allowed to make my merry way to freedom unimpeded. I sized up the ship, and once again my brain automatically provided me the technical info.
Model 00X37 - The Leviathan.
A technological marvel, a half a mile long, capable of carrying hundreds of various aircraft, ships, and submarines. Armed to the teeth, of course, with a large assortment of weaponry. I was treated to a sampling immediately, as twenty or so anti-air missles were launched towards me.
But, by knowing the technical details of these missiles thoroughly because of whatever it was those men had done to me, it was a simple enough thing to locate the weak spot of each missile on the inside and telekinetically detonate them, all with little effort. However, I hit a bit of a stumbling block with the next assault wave: fighter jets.
It would have been a simple thing to destroy those, too, but they were manned. Did I, who was so desperately struggling to live, have any right to take the lives of these people? I knew those pilots didn't care about the vice-versa of this situation, or only gave it a passing thought. I was just another nameless enemy for them to kill. But... why did it still feel wrong?
I was snapped out of my moral dilemma by machine gun fire. Far too many bullets to stop one by one. So I envisioned a boundary through which they would not pass. The bullets stopped a few feet away from me, and simply fell. But I hadn't been specific with my barrier. And to my horror, the pilots didn't even flinch and came headed right towards me. Realizing what was about to happen, I tried to lower my shield. Too late. The frontrunner collided with it. His plane crumpled, then exploded in a fireball.
I was stunned, and even moreso when my shield was overloaded, and the flames passed through, reaching their maximum distance a foot away from me. This was the first time I realized a direct correlation between my telekinetic powers and my emotions. But I had no time to reflect on this development, as the other jets' bullets were now about to reach me. To complicate matters, the Leviathan had opened up its main deck. A gigantic turret was starting to rise out of its maw.
I dropped, propelling myself with my own telekinetic power, just barely avoiding the hail of bullets. As I fell, I saw the debris of the first jet falling alongside me. I could've sworn I saw the pilot's charred corpse amongst it. Why had he run straight into my barrier and gotten himself killed? I gritted my teeth. "You stupid asshole!" I screamed. "Why didn't you get out of the way?! Why'd you throw your life away?! Did it mean so little?!"
Unfortunately, my moment of indiscrete anger had exposed me. The fighters had already circled around and repositioned themselves, and while the Leviathan had not readied its turret yet, it too had added to the barrage of machine gun fire with its own on-deck weapons. I wasn't seeing much choice but to raise another barrier, but I knew the remaining pilots would fanatically hurl themselves into it. I was becoming very frustrated at my situation.
STOP IT
And just like that, things came to a screeching halt. Everything within a about of a hundred feet's distance was frozen in place. Or at least, the planes and the bullets did. The Leviathan was outside of my sphere of influence, and was continuing to fire away with its machine guns. Its turret had finally emerged completely, and was now trained on me. I was becoming increasingly tired. I couldn't keep this up for much longer, and the steady stream of bullets was continuing to sap my strength as they too were halted by my zone. And somehow, I knew that the people on the Leviathan wouldn't so much as blink at destroying their men in order to shoot me with that turret.
The turret's barrel began to glow white. A nuclear weapon, of frightening development and power. Whoever had created this thing was not only leagues ahead of the world governments technologically, but must have had an unbelievable amount of resources. And yet, in spite of all my technical knowledge, my brain refused to provide the name of what company or person was capable of this. Not that I had time to mull things over.
I dropped the zone, sending it into the ocean before releasing it. The planes would be out of commission. One less thing to worry about. Unfortunately, I wasn't prepared for the sudden acceleration of the bullets at the very edge of my zone, which sped up at a nonsensical rate. I managed to move and avoid anything fatal, but my right side was torn up. Pain coursed through my body. I really did not like pain. I almost blacked out, and began to fall, partly due to a weakened consciousness, partly because of a shredded wing. The latter problem fixed itself almost immediately though, as did all my other injuries. I shuddered, then gasped as my injuries healed themselves in the space of a second. Auto-regeneration.
I brought myself to a halt, floating about fifty feet above the ocean. The Leviathan's nuclear cannon was fully primed, and aimed right at me. I was exhausted, barely able to keep myself afloat. It seemed inevitable. I couldn't fight back. I couldn't escape. I was about to die.
I don't want to die.
I had barely lived. I had been outside of my prison for all of ten minutes, and spent each of those fighting to stay alive. Didn't I deserve better than this? Shouldn't I have a chance to live? These men didn't care. They didn't understand, or chose not to. Fuck them. I'll make them scared. I'll make them fear for their lives, and remember how precious those lives are to them. Maybe then they'll understand. Who gives a fuck if I have to overpower a nuclear weapon. Maybe I'll die, but I'll sure as hell go down swinging. These men would be made to understand.
I outstretched my arms. I had no idea what I was doing. But I was resolute. I was determined.
The turret fired.
A pale light formed in my hands.
Light of Judgment
The two beams collided. My jaw dropped; I had quite literally no idea what I was doing or how I was doing it. I didn't even know how I had known what this "Light of Judgment" was called. The information had come from a different part of my mind than those technical readouts.
The beams were evenly matched, but my mind was starting to go blank. I was sure that I was going to give out at any second. I became afraid. Something snapped. Something primal started to drive me. I let out a fierce howl, and pushed even harder with the Light of Judgment.
The nexus of the two beams shimmered, then exploded outward with monstrous force. I was sent flying upward by the backlash, battered and near-death. It would be a long time before I landed anywhere, and it would hurt. Badly. But I could smile, because I knew I had escaped.
The last thing I saw before I blacked out was the Leviathan shrinking into the distance; sinking, with a massive hole punched through it. I felt a pang of regret. It was certain that I had killed a large number of them. But maybe the ones who survived... maybe they would understand. That was the second-to-last thought that went through my head before I blacked out.
The other was, "Or maybe they'd only see me as a monster."
There is really no description for when a fully developed mind sees the world for the very first time. It was staggering, exhilarating, and utterly overwhelming. For somebody like me, whose light had been tinted the same color for the entirety of his life up until a few minutes ago, the sheer variety of color and brightness of world was unfathomable. Bright green leaves, immense blue sky, a deeper blue ocean. Sprawling white clouds. A glorious, luminous sun. Red songbirds, white gulls. I floated, stunned for a few seconds by it all.
I was a few hundred feet above an isolated tropical island, perhaps half a mile in diameter at most.The island seemed lush but uninhabited. Ideal for a hidden laboratory. I had no idea where I was. And I wasn't going to have time to figure it out. Something was stirring beneath the waters. A black, murky shape had appeared to my left in the water a few hundred feet away, and was steadily growing larger, at an alarming rate.
In a heartbeat, it burst out of the water, sending massive tidal waves spiraling upward. But it would seem they had taken into consideration the large hole I had left; that laboratory was obviously still of great value to them, because the ship-for it was a ship-had surfaced far way enough to avoid flooding it. I considered creating a tidal wave of my own since whatever that lab was going to produce next would probably not be anything good. But I had a feeling I needed to focus on whatever that thing was first. I sized up the ship: An utterly massive, submersible aircraft carrier. It would seem I would not be allowed to make my merry way to freedom unimpeded. I sized up the ship, and once again my brain automatically provided me the technical info.
Model 00X37 - The Leviathan.
A technological marvel, a half a mile long, capable of carrying hundreds of various aircraft, ships, and submarines. Armed to the teeth, of course, with a large assortment of weaponry. I was treated to a sampling immediately, as twenty or so anti-air missles were launched towards me.
But, by knowing the technical details of these missiles thoroughly because of whatever it was those men had done to me, it was a simple enough thing to locate the weak spot of each missile on the inside and telekinetically detonate them, all with little effort. However, I hit a bit of a stumbling block with the next assault wave: fighter jets.
It would have been a simple thing to destroy those, too, but they were manned. Did I, who was so desperately struggling to live, have any right to take the lives of these people? I knew those pilots didn't care about the vice-versa of this situation, or only gave it a passing thought. I was just another nameless enemy for them to kill. But... why did it still feel wrong?
I was snapped out of my moral dilemma by machine gun fire. Far too many bullets to stop one by one. So I envisioned a boundary through which they would not pass. The bullets stopped a few feet away from me, and simply fell. But I hadn't been specific with my barrier. And to my horror, the pilots didn't even flinch and came headed right towards me. Realizing what was about to happen, I tried to lower my shield. Too late. The frontrunner collided with it. His plane crumpled, then exploded in a fireball.
I was stunned, and even moreso when my shield was overloaded, and the flames passed through, reaching their maximum distance a foot away from me. This was the first time I realized a direct correlation between my telekinetic powers and my emotions. But I had no time to reflect on this development, as the other jets' bullets were now about to reach me. To complicate matters, the Leviathan had opened up its main deck. A gigantic turret was starting to rise out of its maw.
I dropped, propelling myself with my own telekinetic power, just barely avoiding the hail of bullets. As I fell, I saw the debris of the first jet falling alongside me. I could've sworn I saw the pilot's charred corpse amongst it. Why had he run straight into my barrier and gotten himself killed? I gritted my teeth. "You stupid asshole!" I screamed. "Why didn't you get out of the way?! Why'd you throw your life away?! Did it mean so little?!"
Unfortunately, my moment of indiscrete anger had exposed me. The fighters had already circled around and repositioned themselves, and while the Leviathan had not readied its turret yet, it too had added to the barrage of machine gun fire with its own on-deck weapons. I wasn't seeing much choice but to raise another barrier, but I knew the remaining pilots would fanatically hurl themselves into it. I was becoming very frustrated at my situation.
STOP IT
And just like that, things came to a screeching halt. Everything within a about of a hundred feet's distance was frozen in place. Or at least, the planes and the bullets did. The Leviathan was outside of my sphere of influence, and was continuing to fire away with its machine guns. Its turret had finally emerged completely, and was now trained on me. I was becoming increasingly tired. I couldn't keep this up for much longer, and the steady stream of bullets was continuing to sap my strength as they too were halted by my zone. And somehow, I knew that the people on the Leviathan wouldn't so much as blink at destroying their men in order to shoot me with that turret.
The turret's barrel began to glow white. A nuclear weapon, of frightening development and power. Whoever had created this thing was not only leagues ahead of the world governments technologically, but must have had an unbelievable amount of resources. And yet, in spite of all my technical knowledge, my brain refused to provide the name of what company or person was capable of this. Not that I had time to mull things over.
I dropped the zone, sending it into the ocean before releasing it. The planes would be out of commission. One less thing to worry about. Unfortunately, I wasn't prepared for the sudden acceleration of the bullets at the very edge of my zone, which sped up at a nonsensical rate. I managed to move and avoid anything fatal, but my right side was torn up. Pain coursed through my body. I really did not like pain. I almost blacked out, and began to fall, partly due to a weakened consciousness, partly because of a shredded wing. The latter problem fixed itself almost immediately though, as did all my other injuries. I shuddered, then gasped as my injuries healed themselves in the space of a second. Auto-regeneration.
I brought myself to a halt, floating about fifty feet above the ocean. The Leviathan's nuclear cannon was fully primed, and aimed right at me. I was exhausted, barely able to keep myself afloat. It seemed inevitable. I couldn't fight back. I couldn't escape. I was about to die.
I don't want to die.
I had barely lived. I had been outside of my prison for all of ten minutes, and spent each of those fighting to stay alive. Didn't I deserve better than this? Shouldn't I have a chance to live? These men didn't care. They didn't understand, or chose not to. Fuck them. I'll make them scared. I'll make them fear for their lives, and remember how precious those lives are to them. Maybe then they'll understand. Who gives a fuck if I have to overpower a nuclear weapon. Maybe I'll die, but I'll sure as hell go down swinging. These men would be made to understand.
I outstretched my arms. I had no idea what I was doing. But I was resolute. I was determined.
The turret fired.
A pale light formed in my hands.
Light of Judgment
The two beams collided. My jaw dropped; I had quite literally no idea what I was doing or how I was doing it. I didn't even know how I had known what this "Light of Judgment" was called. The information had come from a different part of my mind than those technical readouts.
The beams were evenly matched, but my mind was starting to go blank. I was sure that I was going to give out at any second. I became afraid. Something snapped. Something primal started to drive me. I let out a fierce howl, and pushed even harder with the Light of Judgment.
The nexus of the two beams shimmered, then exploded outward with monstrous force. I was sent flying upward by the backlash, battered and near-death. It would be a long time before I landed anywhere, and it would hurt. Badly. But I could smile, because I knew I had escaped.
The last thing I saw before I blacked out was the Leviathan shrinking into the distance; sinking, with a massive hole punched through it. I felt a pang of regret. It was certain that I had killed a large number of them. But maybe the ones who survived... maybe they would understand. That was the second-to-last thought that went through my head before I blacked out.
The other was, "Or maybe they'd only see me as a monster."
Part 3 - Angel
"See, Papa? I told you I found an angel!"
Groggily, I came back into consciousness. I was immediately wracked with waves of pain. I was starting to fucking hate pain. I curled up into a fetal position, and draped my wings over myself like a cocoon.
"Oh my God..."
The overwhelming nature of the pain subsided quickly enough. I still ached, but at least I was starting to be able to focus again. Slowly, I opened my wings, then looked around. I was at the bottom of a trench roughly ten feet deep, furrowed from my collision with the ground. It seemed to stretch for about a mile behind me. Wheat was swaying in a light spring breeze. The sky was sparsely populated with wispy clouds, and the sun was shining brightly. And at the top of the trench stood two people. A tall man, mid-age. Muscular, with scruffy brown beard and hair, and sharp eyes. His mouth hung open as he tried to believe what he was seeing. His companion, though, was quite excited. A young girl, probably six years old at the oldest, with bright eyes and brown pigtails.
I stared at them, pondering what to do now. Was it bad that they had seen me? Would Toromaru and the people he was working with do something to them if they had found out they had seen me? I didn't know. But even if I had known a course of action, I was a mess. I doubted I could fight off the man when I was as weakened and injured as I was. For the first time my injuries weren't healing themselves. My body had already healed any life-threatening injuries, but I was still battered, bruised, and cut up. I groaned. I could barely even move without a resurgence of agony.
The girl hesistated, then slid down the slope of the trench.
"Anya, wait!"
The girl walked up to me, then crouched to get a better look.
"Are you hurt, Mr. Angel?"
"Anya get away from that thing and get back up here this instant!"
"But Papa! He needs help!"
The father gritted his teeth, then jumped down into the trench. He plucked up the girl and placed her on his shoulder, then turned back to me and glowered.
"Who, and what are you?"
I was quiet for a moment. I didn't know what I really was, outside of an "EVAR", whatever that was. And who I was? An even more difficult question.
"I... don't really know," I murmured.
"Papa, I told you, he's an angel!" The girl pouted. "You keep telling me Mommy's angel now! What if he's her friend?"
Both the father and I were startled by this. "Wh- what?" I stammered. The father had an empty, stunned expression on his face. A moment later, though, his look became one of heated fury.
"Alright then, Mister Angel, tell me then, do you know my beloved? Do you know why that so-called God robbed her from us? Would you care to explain why my darling girl never got to meet her little brother?!" He was becoming more and more enraged, and was screaming at the top of his lungs now. "Or perhaps you would like to tell me how we're going to get by when you just wiped out so much of the wheat I make our livelihood from? HMMMM?"
The girl was in tears. "Papa... pl-please stop."
I was silent for a moment. After some thought, I said, "I know nothing about God or Christ or life after death. I'm no angel. I'm just a convincing fake. I killed men today to keep my own life. I can give you neither answers nor vengeance, because frankly I don't know if there's anything you can even take vengeance against. As for your wheat... I am truly sorry. I did not intend to cause this damage."
The man fell silent and just stared at me in total wonderment.
"Well... what do you know... an angel who doesn't believe in God." 'Believe'? What did he mean by that? And the way he said it, I had a feeling he didn't either. And the girl had said that he had told her that her mother was an angel. Why had he made that up?
"Like I said, I'm not an angel."
"You... you don't know Mommy?" The girl asked timidly.
"I'm afraid not, child."
The girl rubbed her eyes dry, sniffling. Then she looked back at me, suddenly determined. "Well... Mommy would want me to help you, even if you aren't her friend!"
I was stunned. I don't know why. What she said shouldn't have had such an impact on me. But nevertheless, my eyes were watering. Was I... crying?
The father was equally shocked. Then he saddened. He thought for a few moments, then walked to the edge of the trench and set his daughter down. Then he turned back to me. He stooped down, grasped my left arm. He hoisted me up and pulled my arm over his shoulder, then dragged me to my feet. Pain shot through me again, but I didn't care. I was too fixated on the tears that kept steadily pouring out my eyes. He began to walk me up to the top of the trench.
Why was I crying? Why was this so important to me? Was it because these were the first people I had met who hadn't tried to kill or manipulate me? I didn't think it was as simple as that. So why?
We reached the top. The man must have noticed my wings were dragging on the ground, because he asked, "Can you retract those?" I didn't know. So I tried. My wings shivered, then slowly folded back into my body. The skin closed back up quickly. It hurt. I had reached my limit, had finally hit my pain threshold. I blacked out.
I think I was still crying.
"See, Papa? I told you I found an angel!"
Groggily, I came back into consciousness. I was immediately wracked with waves of pain. I was starting to fucking hate pain. I curled up into a fetal position, and draped my wings over myself like a cocoon.
"Oh my God..."
The overwhelming nature of the pain subsided quickly enough. I still ached, but at least I was starting to be able to focus again. Slowly, I opened my wings, then looked around. I was at the bottom of a trench roughly ten feet deep, furrowed from my collision with the ground. It seemed to stretch for about a mile behind me. Wheat was swaying in a light spring breeze. The sky was sparsely populated with wispy clouds, and the sun was shining brightly. And at the top of the trench stood two people. A tall man, mid-age. Muscular, with scruffy brown beard and hair, and sharp eyes. His mouth hung open as he tried to believe what he was seeing. His companion, though, was quite excited. A young girl, probably six years old at the oldest, with bright eyes and brown pigtails.
I stared at them, pondering what to do now. Was it bad that they had seen me? Would Toromaru and the people he was working with do something to them if they had found out they had seen me? I didn't know. But even if I had known a course of action, I was a mess. I doubted I could fight off the man when I was as weakened and injured as I was. For the first time my injuries weren't healing themselves. My body had already healed any life-threatening injuries, but I was still battered, bruised, and cut up. I groaned. I could barely even move without a resurgence of agony.
The girl hesistated, then slid down the slope of the trench.
"Anya, wait!"
The girl walked up to me, then crouched to get a better look.
"Are you hurt, Mr. Angel?"
"Anya get away from that thing and get back up here this instant!"
"But Papa! He needs help!"
The father gritted his teeth, then jumped down into the trench. He plucked up the girl and placed her on his shoulder, then turned back to me and glowered.
"Who, and what are you?"
I was quiet for a moment. I didn't know what I really was, outside of an "EVAR", whatever that was. And who I was? An even more difficult question.
"I... don't really know," I murmured.
"Papa, I told you, he's an angel!" The girl pouted. "You keep telling me Mommy's angel now! What if he's her friend?"
Both the father and I were startled by this. "Wh- what?" I stammered. The father had an empty, stunned expression on his face. A moment later, though, his look became one of heated fury.
"Alright then, Mister Angel, tell me then, do you know my beloved? Do you know why that so-called God robbed her from us? Would you care to explain why my darling girl never got to meet her little brother?!" He was becoming more and more enraged, and was screaming at the top of his lungs now. "Or perhaps you would like to tell me how we're going to get by when you just wiped out so much of the wheat I make our livelihood from? HMMMM?"
The girl was in tears. "Papa... pl-please stop."
I was silent for a moment. After some thought, I said, "I know nothing about God or Christ or life after death. I'm no angel. I'm just a convincing fake. I killed men today to keep my own life. I can give you neither answers nor vengeance, because frankly I don't know if there's anything you can even take vengeance against. As for your wheat... I am truly sorry. I did not intend to cause this damage."
The man fell silent and just stared at me in total wonderment.
"Well... what do you know... an angel who doesn't believe in God." 'Believe'? What did he mean by that? And the way he said it, I had a feeling he didn't either. And the girl had said that he had told her that her mother was an angel. Why had he made that up?
"Like I said, I'm not an angel."
"You... you don't know Mommy?" The girl asked timidly.
"I'm afraid not, child."
The girl rubbed her eyes dry, sniffling. Then she looked back at me, suddenly determined. "Well... Mommy would want me to help you, even if you aren't her friend!"
I was stunned. I don't know why. What she said shouldn't have had such an impact on me. But nevertheless, my eyes were watering. Was I... crying?
The father was equally shocked. Then he saddened. He thought for a few moments, then walked to the edge of the trench and set his daughter down. Then he turned back to me. He stooped down, grasped my left arm. He hoisted me up and pulled my arm over his shoulder, then dragged me to my feet. Pain shot through me again, but I didn't care. I was too fixated on the tears that kept steadily pouring out my eyes. He began to walk me up to the top of the trench.
Why was I crying? Why was this so important to me? Was it because these were the first people I had met who hadn't tried to kill or manipulate me? I didn't think it was as simple as that. So why?
We reached the top. The man must have noticed my wings were dragging on the ground, because he asked, "Can you retract those?" I didn't know. So I tried. My wings shivered, then slowly folded back into my body. The skin closed back up quickly. It hurt. I had reached my limit, had finally hit my pain threshold. I blacked out.
I think I was still crying.
Part 4 - Home
"So, you're finally awake."
I awoke in what I could only presume was their house. I was tucked neatly into a bed of moderate size. I was wrapped nearly head-to-toe in bandages, some of it quite shoddily. It was a sparse room, with a bed, two wicker chairs, a ceiling fan, and grey carpet. The man was sitting in a wicker chair, and the girl was nestled in his lap, sleeping against his chest. It was hard to read the man's expression.
I experimentally flexed my arm, then slowly unwound one of the less loosely-bound parts of my bandaging. The skin of my arm was completely smooth, flawless. It would seem I had made a complete recovery.
"How long was I asleep?"
"Four days."
I considered this. Something seemed wrong about that, as if I knew I shouldn't have fully recovered that quickly. Tentatively, I flexed my arm again, then lashed out as quickly as I could. This startled the man, and he almost fell out of his chair, braced to protect the girl. I was relieved that he managed to avoid waking the girl, but I wasn't sure why.
"Oh... uhm... sorry."
"...What was that for?"
"Just... testing."
As I had thought, my strength hadn't fully returned. I was at maybe thirty percent of my maximum ability. But no need to concern them about that.
We both sat staring pointedly away from each other for some time. Finally, as I had grown too uncomfortable due to the silence, I quietly asked, "Say... can you tell me... who... or what... exactly is God?"
The man was surprised, then frowned. "That's not an easy question to answer. God is different things to different people. Some people believe it's an entity that created everything and guides it. Some believe it became man and sacrificed itself for our absolution. Some think it is life itself. And some think it doesn't exist."
It took me some time to digest this. So God wasn't just some person pulling Toromaru's strings. At least, I thought that was what the man meant. "What do you believe?"
The man was quiet for some time, then said, "I used to believe in God. Not devoutly, and I didn't pray to him, but I still thought he was out there, and that he was looking out for us. I stopped believing that when my wife died in childbirth. But I couldn't bear to tell that to Anya. She still believed in God and angels and heaven. She could still cling to that faith. So I let her. I couldn't bear to take it away from her. So I went on telling her that beautiful white lie. For her happiness."
Now it was my turn to be quiet for some time. "Can you tell me... what I should believe?"
"No. No one can tell you that. It's something you have to come to understand for yourself, based on your own experiences."
I thought about what he said. Did I believe in the God Toromaru had spoken of, who valued me no more than a tool and had a "holy" war planned? No. Did I believe in a God who was looking out for me? No. Did I believe in a gentle God? No. I knew far too much about war for that. What about an uncaring creator God? This idea I did not reject out of hand, but did not like either. At the moment I did not believe it either.
Well, having that sorted out was all fine and dandy, but I remembered I had other issues that I should be focused on. For one, I had been unconscious for four days. Four days in which those men must have been searching for me. I was confident that I could repel them if they found me again. But not if I needed to protect these people. It would be best to leave them as soon as possible. The longer I stayed, the more likely they would find me, and these people would certainly be caught in the crossfire. Something Toromaru had said echoed in my head.
"You are the first enhanced clone to have survived the development stages!"
That's right. The first, but probably not the last. They would make others like me. And I feared that they would just be as fanatical as those pilots. I needed to get stronger before then. But I had time. It should take them a while to produce more "EVAR"s. And I had a debt to repay here.
The awkward silence was finally broken when the girl stirred, then awoke. She looked up cheerfully at her father. "Good morning, Papa!"
"Good morning, sunshine," he smiled warmly back.
The girl turned to me. "Oh! You're awake Mr. Angel!"
"Yes. Did you help bandage me?" I asked, pointing to some loose strips hanging from my left arm.
"Mhmm!" the girl replied, obviously quite proud of herself. I gave a slight smile.
The father cleared his throat. "Well, I suppose we should introduce ourselves. I am Michael."
"And I'm Anya! I'm six years old!" the girl cheerfully exclaimed, holding out six fingers in case I had forgotten what number six was. "What's your name Mr. Angel?"
I suddenly felt strange. "...That man called me 'Number Four,'" I said. I was suddenly very aware that it wasn't a name. It was just a label. "...I don't really have a name."
Anya was shocked. "No name? That's horrible! Papa, should we give him a name?"
Michael considered, then replied, "No sweetheart. He is in a rare position of being able to choose his name. Not many people get that chance. He'll have to find one he likes on his own. Tell you what darling; I'm sure he's hungry, so I'll go out into the kitchen to make some stew, and we can suggest names for him while I'm cooking."
Anya seemed quite pleased with this, so Michael stood up, then gently deposited her in the chair he had been sitting in. Anya began to rattle off names as Michael left the room and got to work. For about twenty minutes she suggested an assortment of names, with Michael occassionally calling out an odd choice from the kitchen, but I didn't feel strongly for any of them.
Besides, I was having a hard time concentrating. The smell of the stew had awakened a very bizarre physical feeling, one that was both unpleasant and made me excited. Hunger.
Some time later Michael came back into the room, carrying two bowls and precariously balancing one in the crook of his elbow, muttering "hothothothothot". He handed one to me and one to Anya, then sat himself down in the room's other chair. We both thanked him, then began eating.
Oh my GOD. TASTE. I had never really tasted anything before. I was finished in seconds. "IS THERE MORE?!" I nearly screamed. Anya and Michael both just stared at me. Embarrassed, I quickly and quietly added a "please". Michael and Anya looked at each other, and then both burst out laughing. Michael got up and got me another bowl of stew. I made it disappear a few seconds later. Oddly, I wanted more but no longer felt a need for it. Odd that it had taken that little food to fill me. But I didn't dare ask for anymore. After all, I still owed them the wheat I had accidentally destroyed.
I wiped my mouth, then asked, "So... about my payment."
Michael, who had been unusually cheerful until this point, became dead serious. "Well, the issue is, with the amount of wheat that was destroyed, we can no longer afford to meet our usual living expenses and hire enough workers to harvest it all at the same time. However, you're clearly quite beyond a normal human. What I was thinking was that you could harvest a good portion of the wheat all by yourself. You'd only need to harvest two workers' worth. And I'd like you to help fill in the trench, which shouldn't be too much trouble for you."
"I'll harvest it all, I don't mind. When will you need me to do that?"
Michael was surprised by my offer. "A-Are you sure? That's far more than you need to do for us."
"It's fine. I owe you both quite a bit."
"Well then, harvest is in one month."
I mulled that over. It seemed like a risky amount of time to wait. But, it was best to keep as low of a profile as possible. "Alright, but let me repair the trench right now." It wouldn't provide much cover, but it was the best I could do at the moment to buy time.
-----
The month passed by quickly. Anya kept suggesting names, but I still couldn't find one I liked. As a result, she continued to call me "Mr. Angel". And I was fine with that. Because as simple as this life was, I didn't want to leave it. I was selfish for feeling this way, but I was dreading the approaching harvest. For the first time, I was happy. I felt like I belonged. But I knew that I was willing to give that up to protect them.
When the day finally arrived, I woke up early and got to work. It took me about two hours to clear the thousand-acre farm of wheat. Michael and Anya were flabbergasted.
Wiping the dust off my hands, I turned to them. Michael managed to collect himself, and stammered out,"Th-th-thank you."
I became sad, because I knew what I had to do next. "Michael... Anya. Thank you for everything. But I have to leave now. If I stay any longer, things could get dangerous for you too. I need to put as much distance between us as I can. I have questions I need to find the answers to. And I'm probably going to have to fight again. I can't allow you two to be put in harm's way."
Anya began to tear up. "Mr. Angel don't go!"
I crouched and tousled her hair. "Don't cry dear. This is something I have to do. I want to stay. I really do. But... there are things I need to do."
"Promise you'll come back some day!"
I was quiet for some time, then said, "I'm sorry, but I can't promise that. I'm heading down a long road now, and I don't know where it will take me or where it will end. I might not be able to reach you again. But I promise you I'll try."
Anya sniffled, then nodded. "Mr. Angel... if you meet my mommy... please tell her I love her. And I love you too Mr. Angel!"
I was taken aback by this. My eyes watered again. I hugged her. "I love you too child. If I meet her... I'll tell her." I looked up. Michael was silently crying as well, although I think he was crying for a different reason than Anya or I were crying for.
"If you want to put distance between us... there's a highway about two miles west from here," he said, pointing. "Stand by the roadside and stick out your thumb out. I'm sure eventually a passing truck driver will let you hitchhike. It's the quickest inconspicuous way for you to travel right now. Now take this and get going." He handed me a suitcase. I checked it quickly and found a few changes of clothes and a little bit of money. I didn't know what to say, so I simply said, "Thank you", and "Goodbye".
It was some three or four hours after I reached the highway when a truck finally stopped. I greeted the driver and climbed in. He grunted in response. We drove for a few hours. Then, although it was mid-afternoon, I had gotten a sudden chill. There was an odd scent on the air. I felt incredibly uneasy, like something bad was about to happen. Best not to get this guy involved if my instincts were right.
"Can you drop me off here?" I asked. I improvised quickly. "My cousin's farm is close to here." The driver grunted, then stopped to let me off.
Not sure what to do now, I decided to keep walking in the direction I had been heading before along the highway. Ten minutes later, I noticed someone off in the distance. He was walking my way. He was a young man, with sharp, shaggy black hair and piercing green eyes. He was fairly tall, probably as tall as me (which is about six feet). He wore a black shirt and jeans.
Eventually we drew closer to each other, and were about to pass by. But he stopped, right in front of me.
The young man smiled.
"Yo."
"Big bro."
"So, you're finally awake."
I awoke in what I could only presume was their house. I was tucked neatly into a bed of moderate size. I was wrapped nearly head-to-toe in bandages, some of it quite shoddily. It was a sparse room, with a bed, two wicker chairs, a ceiling fan, and grey carpet. The man was sitting in a wicker chair, and the girl was nestled in his lap, sleeping against his chest. It was hard to read the man's expression.
I experimentally flexed my arm, then slowly unwound one of the less loosely-bound parts of my bandaging. The skin of my arm was completely smooth, flawless. It would seem I had made a complete recovery.
"How long was I asleep?"
"Four days."
I considered this. Something seemed wrong about that, as if I knew I shouldn't have fully recovered that quickly. Tentatively, I flexed my arm again, then lashed out as quickly as I could. This startled the man, and he almost fell out of his chair, braced to protect the girl. I was relieved that he managed to avoid waking the girl, but I wasn't sure why.
"Oh... uhm... sorry."
"...What was that for?"
"Just... testing."
As I had thought, my strength hadn't fully returned. I was at maybe thirty percent of my maximum ability. But no need to concern them about that.
We both sat staring pointedly away from each other for some time. Finally, as I had grown too uncomfortable due to the silence, I quietly asked, "Say... can you tell me... who... or what... exactly is God?"
The man was surprised, then frowned. "That's not an easy question to answer. God is different things to different people. Some people believe it's an entity that created everything and guides it. Some believe it became man and sacrificed itself for our absolution. Some think it is life itself. And some think it doesn't exist."
It took me some time to digest this. So God wasn't just some person pulling Toromaru's strings. At least, I thought that was what the man meant. "What do you believe?"
The man was quiet for some time, then said, "I used to believe in God. Not devoutly, and I didn't pray to him, but I still thought he was out there, and that he was looking out for us. I stopped believing that when my wife died in childbirth. But I couldn't bear to tell that to Anya. She still believed in God and angels and heaven. She could still cling to that faith. So I let her. I couldn't bear to take it away from her. So I went on telling her that beautiful white lie. For her happiness."
Now it was my turn to be quiet for some time. "Can you tell me... what I should believe?"
"No. No one can tell you that. It's something you have to come to understand for yourself, based on your own experiences."
I thought about what he said. Did I believe in the God Toromaru had spoken of, who valued me no more than a tool and had a "holy" war planned? No. Did I believe in a God who was looking out for me? No. Did I believe in a gentle God? No. I knew far too much about war for that. What about an uncaring creator God? This idea I did not reject out of hand, but did not like either. At the moment I did not believe it either.
Well, having that sorted out was all fine and dandy, but I remembered I had other issues that I should be focused on. For one, I had been unconscious for four days. Four days in which those men must have been searching for me. I was confident that I could repel them if they found me again. But not if I needed to protect these people. It would be best to leave them as soon as possible. The longer I stayed, the more likely they would find me, and these people would certainly be caught in the crossfire. Something Toromaru had said echoed in my head.
"You are the first enhanced clone to have survived the development stages!"
That's right. The first, but probably not the last. They would make others like me. And I feared that they would just be as fanatical as those pilots. I needed to get stronger before then. But I had time. It should take them a while to produce more "EVAR"s. And I had a debt to repay here.
The awkward silence was finally broken when the girl stirred, then awoke. She looked up cheerfully at her father. "Good morning, Papa!"
"Good morning, sunshine," he smiled warmly back.
The girl turned to me. "Oh! You're awake Mr. Angel!"
"Yes. Did you help bandage me?" I asked, pointing to some loose strips hanging from my left arm.
"Mhmm!" the girl replied, obviously quite proud of herself. I gave a slight smile.
The father cleared his throat. "Well, I suppose we should introduce ourselves. I am Michael."
"And I'm Anya! I'm six years old!" the girl cheerfully exclaimed, holding out six fingers in case I had forgotten what number six was. "What's your name Mr. Angel?"
I suddenly felt strange. "...That man called me 'Number Four,'" I said. I was suddenly very aware that it wasn't a name. It was just a label. "...I don't really have a name."
Anya was shocked. "No name? That's horrible! Papa, should we give him a name?"
Michael considered, then replied, "No sweetheart. He is in a rare position of being able to choose his name. Not many people get that chance. He'll have to find one he likes on his own. Tell you what darling; I'm sure he's hungry, so I'll go out into the kitchen to make some stew, and we can suggest names for him while I'm cooking."
Anya seemed quite pleased with this, so Michael stood up, then gently deposited her in the chair he had been sitting in. Anya began to rattle off names as Michael left the room and got to work. For about twenty minutes she suggested an assortment of names, with Michael occassionally calling out an odd choice from the kitchen, but I didn't feel strongly for any of them.
Besides, I was having a hard time concentrating. The smell of the stew had awakened a very bizarre physical feeling, one that was both unpleasant and made me excited. Hunger.
Some time later Michael came back into the room, carrying two bowls and precariously balancing one in the crook of his elbow, muttering "hothothothothot". He handed one to me and one to Anya, then sat himself down in the room's other chair. We both thanked him, then began eating.
Oh my GOD. TASTE. I had never really tasted anything before. I was finished in seconds. "IS THERE MORE?!" I nearly screamed. Anya and Michael both just stared at me. Embarrassed, I quickly and quietly added a "please". Michael and Anya looked at each other, and then both burst out laughing. Michael got up and got me another bowl of stew. I made it disappear a few seconds later. Oddly, I wanted more but no longer felt a need for it. Odd that it had taken that little food to fill me. But I didn't dare ask for anymore. After all, I still owed them the wheat I had accidentally destroyed.
I wiped my mouth, then asked, "So... about my payment."
Michael, who had been unusually cheerful until this point, became dead serious. "Well, the issue is, with the amount of wheat that was destroyed, we can no longer afford to meet our usual living expenses and hire enough workers to harvest it all at the same time. However, you're clearly quite beyond a normal human. What I was thinking was that you could harvest a good portion of the wheat all by yourself. You'd only need to harvest two workers' worth. And I'd like you to help fill in the trench, which shouldn't be too much trouble for you."
"I'll harvest it all, I don't mind. When will you need me to do that?"
Michael was surprised by my offer. "A-Are you sure? That's far more than you need to do for us."
"It's fine. I owe you both quite a bit."
"Well then, harvest is in one month."
I mulled that over. It seemed like a risky amount of time to wait. But, it was best to keep as low of a profile as possible. "Alright, but let me repair the trench right now." It wouldn't provide much cover, but it was the best I could do at the moment to buy time.
-----
The month passed by quickly. Anya kept suggesting names, but I still couldn't find one I liked. As a result, she continued to call me "Mr. Angel". And I was fine with that. Because as simple as this life was, I didn't want to leave it. I was selfish for feeling this way, but I was dreading the approaching harvest. For the first time, I was happy. I felt like I belonged. But I knew that I was willing to give that up to protect them.
When the day finally arrived, I woke up early and got to work. It took me about two hours to clear the thousand-acre farm of wheat. Michael and Anya were flabbergasted.
Wiping the dust off my hands, I turned to them. Michael managed to collect himself, and stammered out,"Th-th-thank you."
I became sad, because I knew what I had to do next. "Michael... Anya. Thank you for everything. But I have to leave now. If I stay any longer, things could get dangerous for you too. I need to put as much distance between us as I can. I have questions I need to find the answers to. And I'm probably going to have to fight again. I can't allow you two to be put in harm's way."
Anya began to tear up. "Mr. Angel don't go!"
I crouched and tousled her hair. "Don't cry dear. This is something I have to do. I want to stay. I really do. But... there are things I need to do."
"Promise you'll come back some day!"
I was quiet for some time, then said, "I'm sorry, but I can't promise that. I'm heading down a long road now, and I don't know where it will take me or where it will end. I might not be able to reach you again. But I promise you I'll try."
Anya sniffled, then nodded. "Mr. Angel... if you meet my mommy... please tell her I love her. And I love you too Mr. Angel!"
I was taken aback by this. My eyes watered again. I hugged her. "I love you too child. If I meet her... I'll tell her." I looked up. Michael was silently crying as well, although I think he was crying for a different reason than Anya or I were crying for.
"If you want to put distance between us... there's a highway about two miles west from here," he said, pointing. "Stand by the roadside and stick out your thumb out. I'm sure eventually a passing truck driver will let you hitchhike. It's the quickest inconspicuous way for you to travel right now. Now take this and get going." He handed me a suitcase. I checked it quickly and found a few changes of clothes and a little bit of money. I didn't know what to say, so I simply said, "Thank you", and "Goodbye".
It was some three or four hours after I reached the highway when a truck finally stopped. I greeted the driver and climbed in. He grunted in response. We drove for a few hours. Then, although it was mid-afternoon, I had gotten a sudden chill. There was an odd scent on the air. I felt incredibly uneasy, like something bad was about to happen. Best not to get this guy involved if my instincts were right.
"Can you drop me off here?" I asked. I improvised quickly. "My cousin's farm is close to here." The driver grunted, then stopped to let me off.
Not sure what to do now, I decided to keep walking in the direction I had been heading before along the highway. Ten minutes later, I noticed someone off in the distance. He was walking my way. He was a young man, with sharp, shaggy black hair and piercing green eyes. He was fairly tall, probably as tall as me (which is about six feet). He wore a black shirt and jeans.
Eventually we drew closer to each other, and were about to pass by. But he stopped, right in front of me.
The young man smiled.
"Yo."
"Big bro."
Part 5 - Brother
"Big... bro?" I murmured.
The young man's eyes gleamed, and he grinned unnervingly. "I'm not one one to beat around the bush, so let me make things explicitly clear to you, Number Four."
My heart froze.
His shirt ripped in the back audibly, and a pair of wings unfolded. Just like mine.
"I am Number Eighteen."
Eighteen?! That many more had been produced, and so quickly? But how?
"So, big bro," he continued. "Let's go," he said, jerking his thumb upwards.
'Where?"
"Where do you think? Home! I came to retrieve you! Well, we came to retrieve you, but I just got lucky and found you first. But that doesn't matter anymore, bro. Now c'mon. I don't want this to get unpleasant. Please, bro, just come quietly back with me so that they can fix you."
"Not a chance in hell."
Number Eighteen frowned. "Big bro, what's the matter with you? We've got a job. An important one. I don't know why you ran away or what's wrong with your head, but you need help, and we can't do this without you. Please don't make me hurt you. I really want you to come back out of your own will."
"Not gonna happen. I don't want anything to do with your damn war, and I sure as hell am not going to be 'rehabilitated'".
Number Eighteen's frown became more pronounced, then morphed into a dark scowl. "Fine. I see how it is. I'm not gonna be able to reason with you. I get that." He sighed. "Fine then. Guess I've got no choice."
Number Eighteen leaped forward, swinging a strong right hook. I caught it effortlessly. We were both surprised that I had done that with so little difficulty, and paused for a moment. Number Eighteen quickly regained his focus though, and slammed me with his wings in a somersault blow. I hadn't realized before now that our wings could be used offensively like that, and was caught off guard. Number Eighteen clearly had some fighting experience, because he wasted no time following up with well-placed barrages to my chest and face.
Strangely, though, in spite of his multiple blows, I wasn't hurting much, and his attacks were starting to become more and more readable. Spotting an opportunity, I lashed out with a right hook, nailing him in his solar plexus. Number Eighteen gagged, and I pushed my punch, knocking him off his feet. In one fluid motion, I flipped and unfolded my wings, buffeting him, then sending him flying down the road. I touched down lightly, then quickly rocketed after him.
Number Eighteen had flipped upside-down and spread his wings to act as a buffer, but was too slow to avoid a kick to the teeth. He was sent sprawling, and I followed up just as he got to his feet. It was my turn to unleash a savage barrage, and it was clear that he was taking far more damage than I had when our situations had been reversed.
I built up to one last punch, then nailed him across the jaw as hard as I could. Number Eighteen was sent flying again, and this time was sent tumbling across the asphalt before coming to a grinding halt.
Number Eighteen got to his knees, hacking and spitting up blood. He seemed like he was about to collapse, but then arched his back and threw back his head. He began to howl with laughter.
"Now that is what I'm talking about! No wonder they scaled back our power after you escaped! I had no idea you were this strong!" Number Eighteen stopped laughing, then frowned. "But wait. Something's off here." He thought for a moment. "Yeah. You should be way stronger than this. You sunk a Leviathan didn't you? There's no way you could've done that the way you're fighting right now."
He got to his feet, dusting himself off. "Ah well. It's not a total disappointment. I mean, I still have to use it this early on. Healing and trying to fight you again like this would just be a waste. But man, Number Twelve won't let me hear the end of this. I don't have much choice I guess, though."
I tensed up. I suddenly felt very uneasy. Number Eighteen was starting to glow a pale white, and his eyes were shining with the same eerie light. He folded his hands, almost as if in prayer.
He grinned.
"Ptolemaic Gate: Level 1. Seal Release: The Inconstant Sphere, Luna!"
A small shockwave sent ripples through the cornfields surrounding us. Number Eighteen howled, and the luminous aura expanded to form a small, transparent sphere around him.
"Wh-what the hell?" I stammered.
Number Eighteen cocked his head quizzically."Huh? You don't know how to break a Ptolemaic Seal? But that makes no sense... How could you have possibly taken out a Leviathan without releasing Level 1?" Number Eighteen shook his head. "Nah, never mind. I'll get Toromaru to explain it later."
In a moment, he vanished.
In the next, I was getting the shit kicked out of me.
Number Eighteen's strength and speed had gone through the roof. We were rocketing up skyward, with him dealing an increasing stream of damage to me. I couldn't even try to fight back. I was wracked with pain, and he seemed to be everywhere at once. Finally, he ended the barrage by bringing down an incredibly powerful kick. I was sent flying back down to earth, and I collided with the base of a cliff, smashing a large crater in it.
I think I blacked out, because my vision was blurry the next time I opened my eyes. I was gazing at a small valley, nestled between some hills and the cliff Number Eighteen had just used me to punch a hole in. My vision was almost immediately obstructed as Number Eighteen instantaneously appeared in front of me. His Ptolemaic Sphere or whatever it was apparently hadn't run out.
Maybe it was because I had just had the shit beaten out of me, or maybe it was my terror of the prospect of going back to that place, but that primal feeling was welling up inside me again. I lurched forward, and the Light of Judgment poured out of my mouth. "Holy shit," Number Eighteen shouted.
There was a large explosion, and dust billowed into the crater, blinding me and causing me to cough. This agitated my injured lungs, and I spat up blood. Had I killed him?
My question was quickly answered as the dust cleared. Number Eighteen stood there, panting, arms outstretched. His arms were burned and he seemed to have been knocked out of that state, but he was clearly still alive and clearly still in better condition than I was.
"Wo-ho-hooo! Light of Judgment?! No way! That must have been how you did it! But how the hell can you use that? You shouldn't be able to this early... Still, though, that wasn't it either. That blast wasn't strong enough to sink a Leviathan. I mean, it was enough to knock me out of Inconstant Sphere, sure, but it wasn't as powerful as it should be."
I wasn't really paying attention. I wanted to pass out. Actually, I wanted to die. I did want to live, but death was much preferable to going back to that place as far as I was concerned.
"Anyway, now that funtime is over, it's time we got moving. Doesn't seem like you'll be giving me any trouble." He reached forward with his right arm, which was already healing the burn caused by the Light of Judgment. He was no longer panting either. I stood no chance.
I needed a miracle.
And I got one, sort of. If you can count a rocket slamming into Number Eighteen's head and exploding a miracle.
Number Eighteen wheeled around, furious. Blood dripped from his head. How that hadn't killed him, I wasn't sure. Maybe we could survive blows that would be fatal to a human, or maybe he used an instinctive psionic shield. I didn't know. The left side of his raw faced sealed up, blood dripping. Then he growled at his attackers.
"And just who in the fuck are you people?"
Standing on a hill, directly in front of us, were about twenty or so soldiers, dressed in black combat armor. Standing at their center was a man wearing thin sunglasses, with cropped brown hair, a cliche brown duster, and a katana strapped to his belt. At his right hand stood a tall, black, bald man, wearing the same kind of duster.
The man with the sunglasses spoke. "Who we are is of no importance. Just know this, agents of Gospel-"
Number Eighteen gritted his teeth. 'Who the fuck told you that?!"
Gospel? Was that the group Toromaru and those others belonged to?
"-we are here to capture you," the man finished. "Know that we wish to take you alive, and you will be treated humanely. Please comply. And if you do not-" His men cocked their guns, and he walked to the peak of the hill. "-then know that we will fight you, and we will defeat you."
Number Eighteen laughed. "Even in my current condition, humans are no match for me."
The man snapped his fingers, and machine gun fire sprayed down at us. Number Eighteen waved his hand, and the bullets stopped, blocked by a psionic barrier. The men seemed completely unfazed and continued firing.
"So, I see you still have enough strength left to use psionic abilities," the man said. "But for how long? They do take a considerable amount of energy to maintain after all." The man motioned to his men, and they divided their fire to make a path straight to Number Eighteen. "Lieutenant, maintain position unless things get hairy." The lieutenant nodded.
The man walked down the slope, adjusting his sunglasses slightly. He stopped ten feet away from Number Eighteen.
Number Eighteen laughed. "Do you have a death wish, human? No human can stand before the might of an angel. Attacking me is suicide. Take your men and flee. You vermin have no business pestering me."
The man's expression remained unchanged. "I think you underestimate we humans, EVAR. We can do quite a bit if we put our mind to it." He put his right hand on his katana, and his left hand on the sheath. He took up a quickdraw stance.
"Come and get me, EVAR. I'll show you just what we lowly humans can do."
