She watched as his form became smaller and smaller in the distance, but so intent on that she was, that she didnt notice that the surroundings had changed once more. She now stood inside a clean, well-kept place, and a few seconds later she realized that she was in a hospital. She walked into a small room, devoid of patients or workers, and looked out the window. Angela was about to turn away, when she noticed a hovering form approaching the window from outside. She saw as the person started to pick up speed, and almost yelped in alarm as he came right at her in a blink. Insangel threw herself backward, and the large, round form of Newton swooped to a stop just in front of her, having gone straight through the window in ghost-like fashion.
So, done with him, are you? he asked expectantly.
Uh, you mean Mystic? Yeah.
Ah, is that who he looked like to you?
Hmmm? What do you mean, looked like to
Oh, its not important. Not as important, as, say, whats going on right now. He said, and nodded to focus her attention to matters behind her.
Just then, two orderlies wheeled a patient into the room, and Angela quickly saw that it was herself she was staring at. She had just come out of an emergency surgical procedure, and still looked the part. Spectating, she stood, and watched herself breath slowly, in, out, in, out.
I look terrible.
Oh, I wouldnt say that, now. The large man said in a chin-up, trooper! fashion.
I would. I thought... I thought that I was dead right now, and thats why I was seeing those... things. I mean... am I? Or am I about to?
Hmmmm, well, I guess that all depends.
Depends? Depends on what? On all of this Christmas stuff? And why is that all around, anyway? Its after Christmas already, by months now.
Well, apparently, your thoughts dwell on it. Dont look at me like Im some kind of leader in all of this. Im just a guide.
But why a guide for this? Itd be better if I check out now. Christmases, life, everything, what did any of that ever get me? I mean, I dont have anybody! Christmas is for people, and togetherness, and friends, and family. Nobody cares about me. Whats any of all that got to do with ME?!
She looked at him for answers, but all Newton said was simply everything.
Angela just stared, and watched as he floated out the door into the hallway. She jaunted over to keep up with him. So, wherer we going now? she asked quizzically.
You tell me.
Angela looked around, and noticed that they were no longer in a hospital medical bay, but instead, were inside a small entry-room she knew well.
Im... back. Its... in our ready-station, in The Zone. Wed come back in this way, and in those doors, wed... celebrate.
Celllll e bra tion time alright! Newton spoke/sang, to a tune he mustve known, and threw himself toward the mentioned room. Angela went in as well, and was surprised to see that there were several Vanguard Scouts and other soldiers in the small cafeteria, enjoying a little Christmas party. She felt like she was coming back, to someplace familiar, and warm, and wondered if this is how it felt to have a real home, and to return to it. Looking on the walls and ceilings, she recognized the decorations from Christmas day, the one just passed, the day after... It would mean that she had just been shot, and taken away not even a day before.
She walked around the room, remembering faces and names, smiling at her fellows antics. Oh, theres Davis, he could do amazing things with the MREs, oh, the MREs were already so good to begin with, but it wasnt good enough for most of them, so theyd get him to work on a meal when they could, it tasted so, so good. Hed always have something ready for me when I came back in from a scout-stint, and wed all
She was stopped mid-reverie by one of the men loudly barking to the only female soldier in the room hey Santiago, cmon, do it! We got music all ready to go!
She quickly replied go to hell, drooler, this chica don dance fo you!
Ah, youre too much like one o the guys! the gruff man yelled back. He turned to the man standing next to him, and Angela then saw that man may have been a bit presumptuous. The grizzled man was talking to a fellow that looked like he had never shaved a day in his life.
He must be new here, and new to adult life, too Insangel said to Newton. They listened as the large man spoke to the boyish new scout-trooper.
Oh, you shoulda been here when Angel was here, last May. We were partying on Cinco-de-Mayo, and she did this dance, oh it was... she was amazing.
Angela blushed fiercely as she vividly remembered what he was talking about.
Whoa, whats the story, mornin glory?! Newton chided. Cmon, out with it!
It took a few prods, but she did start to share the details. I had been back a few days, and those of us here found out that a bunch of us Scouts still out in The Zone were coming back at the same time, on the fifth of May. So, we threw up some decorations, and I
well, I found my standard issue bra & panties, and set up a tarpaulin center-pole in the middle of the room, and I
gave em a show. We celebrated almost all night, oh, I danced with every guy, but they were all sweet, I always felt like I was their little sister, you know
protected. Even Santi there got into it that day a little bit, dancing with the guys, though she never likes to admit it.
Newtons eyes had widened and he rolled his eyes and head back as she finished the story, his face a beaming smile. Oh, man, and I missed that?! Oh, fate, how cruel art thou.
Angela was smiling as well, and glanced back to the sergeants conversation with the very young new trooper.
Yeah, shoulda been here...
So? Wheres she at? he asked loudly, expecting that she would appear if enough people asked about her. Wheres Angel?
The room suddenly became dead quiet, and all eyes turned toward the young man, who immediately became ill-at-ease. The sergeant just turned away, while another Scout walked up to the new fellow. He physically grabbed the young-mans shoulders, and pointed them toward the front of the room. When he saw the small table with a picture in a frame sitting on it, he took a step towards it. The Scout who had just come over then stiffarm-palmed the young trooper in the back so hard it would bruise the next morning, propelling him toward the small table. Angela walked up there, too, to see.
On the table was a picture of Angela in the dark-grey with deep purple trim coverall fatigues, kneeling near the center of a group-photo of the rest of the scouts assigned to this unit. They were all smiling pleasantly, the picture having been snapped after an especially tough battle that they had all lived through.
Just as she read the message, a voice from one of the troopers sprang up, saying To Angel. He had raised his cup, holding it high, and quickly everyone followed suit. The wings over our shoulders. Godspeed.
After that, Angela and Newton heard the conversations all around the room, that were meandering around various stories and happenings while she had been around. Here, one man was alive because she had broken radio silence to tell him to get away from his position ASAP just before a platoon of Rikti walked directly over his position. And there, a man who got to go see his wife on his wedding anniversary, because Angela took his scheduled two-week recon leaving the same day she had returned from two weeks in The Zone. And of course, the stories of the infamous Cinco-de-Mayo.
After a time, she heard the sergeant again talking to the young man from earlier. We watched over her. Theres two stiffs out in The Zone in Vegas-graves, two pencil-necks in white coats that came around asking questions, demanding to see her, have her handed over. He let the meaning of his words sink in to the private, who soon gulped down the lump in his throat. We watched over her, but that was because more than we ever could her, she watched over us. Somethin you oughtta remember. That, and: theres plenty of wasteland space left. The private gulped again, and then decided that he had seen enough for one day, excusing himself.
Angela said to her guide, Newton: I was shot... the day before Christmas. It was like... my horrid life was trying to tell me something. As for the guys, though... I never knew... how they felt.
They were again in the hospital room where her present self was recuperating from dire injuries, standing on either side of her comatose form. But still, that was only one group of a few scouts, and Im not even with them anymore. Now that I havent been there in a while, itll be like it always is. Not one person who gives a toss what happens to me. Newton just sighed, and shook his head ever-so-slightly side to side a couple of times. Angela suddenly felt like she had just said something wrong, and then looked around her, side to side.
Directly behind her phantom self, was Abbie, sitting next to Insangels still form. Angela watched as she reached a hand, lightly touching her shoulder. Angela. Don't you dare give up on me now. I-- We need you too much for that. You're a part of the team."
Angelas stomach folded in on itself, as she heard and watched Abbie stay by her side. Newton spoke up. And how do you think you got here? An ambulance wouldve gotten to you about 15 minutes later than wouldve lasted. She just remained silent, deep in thought. And were they not fighting their own... demons... do you really think she would be the only one here by your side? He laid a soft, assuring hand on her shoulder. be a shame to bury the flower before it had a chance to bloom. Take it easy, kid. He said, and then floated out of the room and down the corridor.
She held her head in her hands, deep in thought. There was so much to think about. What had happened, what was happening now... It was a little while before she looked up again, to find that she was back at the Two-Six. She looked around, and then realized that something was a little off about the place. She then realized that it was because the building looked... well, derelict. Only a single small lamp on at the unmanned desk, nothing running anywhere, the silence spoke volumes. Only uninhabited places were this quiet. What had happened?
A door opening and shutting startled her, coming from behind. She saw that it was Col. Mustard, coming in with a box under one arm, half full of file folders with varying amounts of paperwork. As she looked, though, there was something wrong about him. It was Col. Mustard, that was a surety, but he weighed even more than before, by nearly another hundred pounds, and he looked ten years older. Just the walk up the steps from the car had him huffing, so he sat the box and files on his old desk and caught his breath. She could see his breath making fog in the air, it looked like it was not only very cold outside, but it was fairly cold inside as well. A minute later, he opened a file cabinet, saying merry Christmas, guys, and put the file folders into the cabinet. He then reached in, and pulled out a file marked: INSANGEL. He thumbed through the items, stopping at the back, to an old and worn picture of her in shades and leather jacket in front of the PPD HQ. Quietly, he said only one of em that ever said my name without it comin out like they were sayin screw you. He looked a moment longer, and then put it back, and closed the cabinet drawer, saying so long.
Angela watched as he looked around a final time, before making his way toward the door. He pulled out his keys, and suddenly dropped them, wincing in pain and clutching his chest. Fear crept into her as she watched his fear grow with the realization of what was happening. He padded his pockets like he was looking for something, and then looked toward his car. A cell-phone left behind? He then started stumbling, deciding to crawl across the floor, to get to the phone sitting on the desk. Angelas fists were clenched, and she started talking, even though she knew he couldnt hear: keep going. Dont stop! Go! Her heart sank when he slowly sat himself up against the front side of the desk, seated on the floor under the window he looked out of for so long before. She watched, as his eyes closed.
She then had the sensation that she was not alone, and looked to her left, and saw... it? It appeared to be a person, but wrapped in dark grey robes, with a face that was completely obscured by hood & shadow. Help him! she yelled. The other phantom only stood mute. HELP HIM!! again, nothing. GDn you! She screamed, lunging at him, but only passing through him as immaterially as she had passed through others this day. She turned back toward Col. Mustard, who took one breath, before letting it out one final time. Angela turned to look at her third spirit guide. [censored]! What the HELL could this possibly serve?!
Again, the phantom in cloaks said nothing. Then, everything started shifting around them, reforming into the interior of a small cabin in the woods. They watched, as an orange-clad, overweight man toting a ¼ full whiskey bottle walked slowly over to a calendar hanging on the wall. All of the days leading up to December the 25th of 2027 had been crossed off. The man who was obviously Wyld Pyre picked up a marker, uncapped it, and was about to place an X over the day, when he decided not to make a mark after all. Instead, he took a swig from the bottle, and after swallowing, spat some of the liquid onto the calendar, then snapped his finger, flinging a jet of flame onto it. Merry F---ing Christmas he spat out.
A female voice came down the stairs soon after. The hell are youoh, foroh, spirits, preserve meDrinking AND the fire?! Cant you just spend another year moping around here, like a good little burnout?! Angela looked toward the stairs, and saw that it was the tall form of one of the sword-wielding women, Quex. Wyld answered back immediately.
F--- you, lo-jack The warrior-woman continued down the stairs, but Angela then noticed a gleaming, metal device attached to her left ankle. She expected the response to elicit a thunderous tirade, but just as she seemed about to erupt, the fire died out of her eyes, and she just turned her head towards another part of the cabin. Walking to the back, into a tool & storage room, out of sight from Wyld, she slammed her fists into the workbench, and stood, in silent frustration.
Just as Insangel was about to ask about them, again her surroundings metamorphosed, swirling until they became the scene of a grisly bloodbath. There were easily a dozen victims, all having either energy burns, or horrific lacerations, or both in the moderately-sized apartment living room. Angela recognized them both quickly, as Jaded Secret and Warpshroud. She was relieved to see that they both looked physically well, in fact, they both looked much better in this future time, their bodies showing a lean, strong state obviating constant, high-output use. Only... their faces were... she couldnt place it... almost as if they were emotionally switched off. As she looked around the room at the recently-inflicted carnage, Angela wondered if she would retch or vomit in this form, as the number and method of deaths in the room sickened her. She then heard a voice, but oddly, neither of the women had spoken. You sure got used to this arrangement of ours, didnt you Jade?
Yeah, yeah, whatever. You enjoy being used, and inflicting harm, you are a weapon after all. I enjoy using you to hack everything bloody. Win-win. It became apparent to Angela that Jaded was actually talking to her sword, which wasnt her usual blade, but was in fact what she had seen in the hands of a wolfman, the Sentrys Blade.
Well, since I agree for the time being, why dont we just mosey 20 ft to our left and finish our work here?
What, we got a live one? I know it isnt one of mine. Jaded said, looking over at Abbie.
Yeah, I got it, the squiddie tried to slip one past us, dont worry, I tamped her back down. Warpshroud calmly walked across the room, and picked up one of the men, who had been lying with a large burn-mark borne of nictus energy on his back. He had been lying still, but was now squirming since he was found out as still alive.
Oh, no, Abbie... dont... dont do it... Angela pleaded. She watched in horror, as Abbie held the man in a vice-like grip by the neck in one hand, and reached back with her other, to measure out the final strike. Oh, god, no, please...
Suddenly, she dropped the man onto his back. Angela breathed a sigh of relief, and then listened to the goings-on again. Apparently, Abbie was in a very heated discussion internally, as she suddenly yelled out loud what she was probably thinking to her other half: I said NO, I dont know what youre talking about, NO, this doesnt look familiar to me at all! and then lashed out with her foot, crushing the mans skull with her thick, heavy-booted heel. As an afterthought, she said to the now-dead man Merry Christmas. And tell your friends: dont mess with the U.S.
Oh, no, Abbie, no, no, no, not you! Sadly, she watched as the duo moved about the room, searching methodically. The Sentrys blade spoke up again.
I still think shes going soft. Were better off without your friend.
News flash. Abbie retorted. I dont have any friends. Just like the two of you. Those days are... long gone.
Just then, Egregore Device walked into the room.
Lets go, were exfil in five. Skipping the next site, probability is too low for a search & clear. Were doin it simple and getting set for our next good prospect. He pulled out a little button on a small, silver cylinder, and depressed it. A few hundred yards away, and across the street, an entire building went up in flames and explosions. Lets go, agents.
Both women answered their acknowledgements, quickly grabbing a few things before running out the door and down the hall. When they were both safely out of earshot, Angela watched him pull out a cell-phone, and dial out.
Its me. Yeah, its fine.
No. Remember, we solved that problem a while back. The alien spends life as a spectator now.
No, not yet, no idea.
They still think theyre U.S. agents. And theyll keep thinking that, as long as you keep the money and equipment rolling.
At least a couple more years.
Dont worry so much, its all fine. We still have Mr. backup ex-Russian-stockpile nuke on-tap, installed in their safehouse soons its necessary.
Yeah. Yeah. Oh hell naw, Im sanitizing that one as we speak.
Alright. And I need the next batch of evidence.
Because Im going to make sure it looks authentic this time, last time it was way too close. Your people suck at this stuff.
OK, will do. ED out.
Angela was numb from all of the things she had seen and heard. She looked over at the spirit, pleadingly, as her surroundings morphed to a bleak area of poorly-kept grassland. I... I dont want this future, for them. Are you showing me... whats already happened? Is this what happens when you die? You see how they do without you? She bit her lip and a few tears that had welled up fell from her face, as she looked down at the floor. What... what about the last one I met? What about... Brian?
She looked up at where the spirit was, and saw that the hooded garments over its head were now gone, revealing the haunting, zombie-like visage of Brian Wincott. She let out a little yelp when she saw his face, as something that looked... dead. Slowly, it started walking toward her. Oh god, Brian, what... what happened? Brian said nothing, walking slowly until it passed by Angela, and then stopped in front of a headstone in what was now their surroundings, a cemetery. It was small, barely containing the words BRIAN WINCOTT 1983 2009. She held her hands over her mouth, as she realized Brian was dead. She turned to look at the spirit, and ask again what happened, but held her breath when she saw that protruding from the spirits back, was a very ornate knife-handle. The wound it inflicted was most certainly fatal. Then, something occurred to her. She looked back at the tombstone. "How can I..." she said, puzzlingly. She turned back towards the spirit with Wincott's shape. "You're letting me... read, aren't you?"
Everything started shifting again, but this time it didnt stop, instead it picked up pace, and then Angela started seeing a multitude of lives, all marked by varying degrees of misery. Images of the Two-Sixers in their lives, Wyld & Quex in their stressful solitude, Abbie, Jaded, Sentry, and Egregore in their heartless endeavors, began mixing into the cacophony of experiences she was witnessing.
MAKE IT STOP!! Angela yelled at the top of her lungs, shutting her eyes and clutching her hands to her ears.
The images subsided, and when she opened her eyes, she saw that she was back at the cemetery with the spirit, again garbed in cloaking head to toe. Please. What can I do? Please, let me do something, I... the spirit calmly raised one hand, and pointed at the headstone overlooking a freshly-dug grave. Turning to look, she read on the stone:
[ QUOTE ]
ANGELA VANSEN
1990 2008
Taken before flight. Rest easy.
[/ QUOTE ] Just under the epitaph was an image of a nest of chicks, with a mother-bird sitting on the edge, looking towards the heavens.
Oh, no, please, no... she pleaded, falling to her hands and knees. It was so unfair. Unable to read all her life, and now that magic or spiritualism or something was making it possible to read, and it was two tombstones, one of them hers besides. Please, dont make me go, I dont...
The apparition closed the distance between them, intent on her. I dont... frozen in fear, she watched as the spirit moved to her, and then pushed her backwards, into the yawning abyss of her own grave. She screamed once, as she fell, through depths that seemed to never end, the light from above getting smaller and smaller. I dont want to die, please, I WANT TO LIVE!!
She kept looking up at the tiny speck of light that marked the surface world that she had fallen from, reaching out with a hand in futility as the wind rushed by her. Gradually, the air noise subsided, and she had the sensation she was not falling, but was suspended. Staring at the speck of light, she thought that it seemed to be like a star, in the night sky. And then, there were stars. Stars in abundance, she was surrounded in the blackness of space all around, but also all around her were the stars of the heavens. She couldnt understand how they had appeared without her noticing, but they were definitely before her now. She looked, and just reveled at how beautiful the night sky was, realizing she had never really looked up at them very much at all.
Slowly, she started to make out areas of the starfields that had much fewer stars than others, and looked to see how those areas traced around, making curved shapes, tracing lines. She couldnt see a single star move, but somehow, as if a curtain of realization had been pulled away from her eyes, she realized that the stars gathered in lines, depicting
something grand, something greater than mortal ken. As she looked, she saw depicted in stars, the image of a pair of wings, and draped as they were, they created what looked to be the image of a male humanoid attached to them inside, depicted in blackness of empty starfield. She looked, and realized that the stars, the heavens were his wings, and the grandness, the majesty of it all brought tears to her eyes as she stared in wide-eyed wonder.
In a small voice, she spoke to the image before her. I want to live. Please, let me live. Whether its for another 100 years or 100 seconds. Please...
She watched, as a single star that was where an eye would be in the angelic image before her gained in brightness, quickly overpowering everything near it. As the brightness of light enveloped all of her, and whited out her vision, she knew. Somehow, she knew she was going back, getting another chance. Tearfully, she said one thing as her senses slid from reckoning in the whiteness: Thank you.
__________________
whiny woman: "don't you know that hundreds of people are killed by guns every year?!"
"would it make ya feel better, little girl, if they was pushed outta windows?" -- Archie Bunker
EPILOGUE
The vision of Mystic Inferno sat, in a warm, comfy inn bathed in the yellow-orange glow of firelight and candlelight, sitting easily in a large, heavy wooden chair at a dense wooden table. He cradled a cup of piping-hot tea, and the warmth seemed to radiate from the tea, through his hands, and out past his body and into the surroundings. The room had the feel of cozy, social ease, although he was the only one there at the moment.
Soon, the image of Newton walked in, and sat down, sitting at a proffered chair while nodding to Mystic with a smile. Newton broke the silence. This is nice, but next time, its my turn to set the venue. A couch, a living-room, a TV playing, and an ice-cold Mt. Dew can be just as cozy a spiritual setting as this.
Thats fine, for now, just enjoy this particular manifestation of... bliss.
Then, the vision of Brian Wincott entered from the other direction. Just before he sat down, he paused to look around, and almost seemed to... feel... the room about him. This ones nice. He said to the others. Well have to remember this one. He took a seat.
Well? Mystic said. What did we make?
Newton answered I think this ones good. A real keeper.
Weve seen them like this before. Wincott said, in turn. The fun is seeing what happens this time.
Mystic spoke next, as they continued to speak once each, going around the table in the same order each time.
Time will tell.
As it happens, well be there.
Helping them shape their futures.
History will mark their feats.
Opportunity is there for all.
The possibilities are endless.
They sat in silence, and then looked upward toward the ceiling for a moment. Wincott spoke. You old dawg, he said looking up. And you said there was nothing you could do for her. He said, with a smile. He raised a small cup of tea toward the ceiling. Good one, bro.
The three of them then looked at each other. Newtons vision spoke. Well, we started something. Cmon, lets go see what weve made. I bet theyll love it. His smile was like that of a child, about to tear open a Christmas gift under the tree.
The three stood, and nodded to one another. They left in warm spirits, trailing good works in their wake.
__________________
whiny woman: "don't you know that hundreds of people are killed by guns every year?!"
"would it make ya feel better, little girl, if they was pushed outta windows?" -- Archie Bunker
(( This story is my Christmas gift to my fellow posters in The Two Six: season 2. ))
(( It's something I started thinking about a few days ago, and this morning I decided to flesh it out. Just now finished. To my fellow Two Sixers, I hope you read it, and enjoy it for the familiarity of your characters. No need for comments on this thread, it can go down into forum-storage. I'm going to link to our OOC thread and we can yak about it there. ))
(( Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! ))
It was dark all around, and Insangel was basking in the simple pleasure of being surrounded by pure nothing. She knew it was dark, black all around, even if her eyes werent shut. She didnt try to change it, she just kept as-is, hoping that it would stay this warm and secure forever. As soon as she had that thought, then she immediately thought well, what would interrupt
oooo, whoa! came a startled cry, at the same time, someone roughly stepped first on, and then over her supine form. Bolting upright, she looked around, thoroughly confused by what she saw around her. Her cozy repose had been disturbed by none other than Mystic Inferno, as far as she could tell, but what was really bothering her was that she was nowhere near where she expected to be. While the older mage was picking himself up and dusting himself off, she stared at the piles of rubble and run-down, dilapidated structures surrounding them, in a terribly impoverished neighborhood. She was not supposed to be here, but after a few moments, something seemed... familiar... here.
Rassum frassum... just a good cup of... all I wanted, and...
Mystic?! What are youwhat are WE doing here?!
Mystic finished dusting himself off, while saying We? Young missy, we are not doing anything together. I came down here to show someone great things. To impart wisdom. To help them see. That, and a good cup of tea. Now, who might you be?
Who amMystic, its me, Insangel. From the Two-Six! Cut it out, its not funny.
Mystic just stared blankly at her for a few moments, and then turned around and started walking away from her, muttering under his breath. Angela jogged to keep up with him. She was just about to ask him what was going on as she matched pace with him evenly, when he stopped short, his attention on a child up ahead. The little blonde-haired girl, dirty from head to toe, who must have been around five years of age or so, was busily putting the finishing touches on a decorated tree.
Aw, Mystic intoned. Isnt that sweet?
The tree was more correctly a pitiful shrub evergreen, that would probably be dead within the week. But the child had taken to putting scraps of colored paper on it, and straightened out the worst of the bent branches. She continued to work on the tiny plant, her back to the two of them. She was dressed only in a torn, oversized T-shirt, which must have been discarded by someone much bigger than her, so she wore it as a makeshift dress.
Again, Insangel thought that something here was a little too familiar.
You see, said the elder man. She has the Christmas spirit. As he said it, the child had taken something from her lap, and began affixing it to the top of the miniature Christmas tree. It was a typical tree ornament, a globular, gold-colored and shiny piece made out of thin glass. In any typical home, it would be surrounded by dozens of similar items, but here, in this blasted area, in the midst of poverty, it was unique. They watched her now, a little to her left while still behind. She stared at the ornament, and it was obvious that her eyes glowed with a life that only the innocent could produce.
Christmas spirit. She almost spat out the words. Hmmmph. Itll probably only get her a slap in the face, especially in a place like this.
Oh, so you know about places like these, do you? Mystic intoned.
Yes, I came from a place like this. Her hopes will get her nothing but heartache.
Almost in answer to her comment, a group of children, who ranged from what looked to be five to ten years old, came toward the little girl and her tiny, decorated tree. The largest boy spoke up when they got to her. Oh, lets see what the freaks doing! The girl had stood up, and was shielding her tree behind her with her body.
Go away! This isnt yours!
Insangel then yelled over to the little girl. Run! Just go! RUN! The small girl, however, seemed to not notice in the slightest. The boy roughly shoved her to the ground, and then laughed.
Oh, look, a kwismas twee! Hey, lets show her what we do to a freaks things! The group then went over and started stomping on the tree in all places, mashing it with their feet.
NNOOOO!! the little girl cried. The largest boy had picked up the round ornament she had painstakingly set atop the tree. Sneering, he dropped it and crushed it underfoot, turning it into tiny splinters of glass. The small blonde-haired girl looked, then held her head in her hands, crying as the other children laughed and departed. Insangel and Mystic continued to watch, and as the girl stood up, dropping her hands to her sides, there under the right eye of the little girl was a familiar, red-colored streak tattoo that almost resembled a fishhook. Angela breathed in sharply, her hand suddenly tracing the identical mark on her own cheek.
That... I... Angela struggled to find the words to describe what she was feeling. The little girl, quite obviously Insangel at a very young age, then turned and ran, off to hide somewhere, a look of sadness and anger adorning her face.
Someones first Christmas wasnt so good, was it? the older man said. Heartbreaking.
Angela quickly replied. Where ARE we?!
Oh, I think you know where. And maybe even starting to understand when we are, too. A time when a little girl lost a little something, but it wasnt the last time, was it?
What do youoh, no...
Their surroundings had changed, and now they were inside the dimly-lit interior of a condemned house, half the roof and one wall destroyed. Insangel looked around, knowingly, and walked to one corner of the hovel. On the wall, suspended by a nail, was a worn piece of paper, with a green depiction of a pine tree in crayon. She knelt, and stared at the picture, which also had two little stick-figure girls drawn on it, holding hand, and several little box pictures under the tree. It was all done in the same green crayon.
I had found a half of a crayon, and hid it safe, for months. And that piece of paper, I almost got caught stealing that, from a deliveryman behind some building. We drew that, to be our Christmas tree. Thats us, holding hands, getting ready to open presents, me and my fr
She caught herself, not wanting to say anymore.
You were about to say, friend, right? Mystic said softly.
Before Angela could reply, they heard footsteps from two children running into the broken-down house. One of them was young Insangel, a little different than before but still very young, maybe six years of age. With her was another little girl, maybe six or seven, with short-cut brown hair. They ran right by Angela without noticing, and giggling among themselves, busily produced two crayons, and started filling in areas of the picture with red and blue.
Angela walked near them, waving her hands near their faces a few times. They cant... see us. Can they, Mystic? The elder just looked on, his head making one slow nod, but she couldnt tell if it was in answer to her, or just something he was doing for his own sake.
They watched and listened for a time, and heard them exchange things they wanted in the future. Little Angela had just finished saying that she wanted to be in a home, in a family, maybe with her friend. Suddenly the spectator Insangels eyes widened to horror. She began to yell at her younger self. Get out! Go, go NOW!! Again, the child didnt hear, but this time Angela wasnt going to just let this be. She ran over to pick up the little girl, and bodily take her from this place. Or she would have, had she not passed straight through the child, as a phantom would. What... what is... oh, no!
She turned around, and at the same time, her younger self was turning around the same way, and then both of them raised their hands up in front of their faces. Only the younger version of herself had an assailant, the darker-haired girl bringing down a chunk of stony concrete down on her in a murderous lunge. Tears filled both their eyes, as the drama unfolded again before the older Angelas eyes. Her younger self then ran, the other one giving chase only a short span before changing direction, and heading elsewhere, leaving the two of them alone in the ramshackle living space.
Another Christmas, come and gone. Oh, my. Mystic said.
Angela stood back up, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her jacket. I didnt do anything to deserve that. Any of it. All of what always happens, especially at Christmas! I never treated anyone even remotely badly!
Mystic suddenly got a sour expression on his face, and walked out of the hovel, moving purposefully quickly. Angela moved in his wake. Hey. Hey! Whats wrong with you?!
Muttering, Mystics words became louder as she jogged up to him.
...nt come to hear lies, fool child. Nows a good time for that tea
Hey! Listen to me, I was right on about that! I dont
Mystic quickened his pace, and Insangel slowed. She didnt understand, and just stared as he walked up the steps to a porchfront-area just outside an eatery, and took a seat. A minute later, although she never noticed anyone server him, or he himself, he was sipping a cup of hot tea. Had she missed it when she blinked? She didnt know what to make of it, so she walked over to him and stood off to the side of him as he looked down the street.
Cures the ails, it does, aahhh. He said, sipping enjoyably from his porcelain cup.
It was then that Angela noticed that there were Christmas decorations up on the walls, and on the banister of the porchfront. Again, something seemed familiar to her about the surroundings. wherewhen are we, Mystic? This isnt the same time as where we just were, is it? she asked, a little knowingly.
Hmmm? Mystic hummed. How should I know? I came here to get a good cup of tea. Maybe you should ask why you came here?
How Idamn it, old man, you brought us here! Why are you
A metallic crash cut her off, the sound drifting out from the open door of the eatery. A moment later, two girls ran out, their arms laden with several bread-rolls. They ran, scrambling over chairs and tables, and hot on their heels were two waiters giving chase. The girls were in their early teens from the looks of it, and both wore fairly long, unkempt blonde hair, as well as dirty, well-travelled clothes on painfully thin bodies, minus shoes or socks. They would almost be mistaken for twins, at a distance, they were so similarly shaped in body and facial features. However, while one, obviously a younger Angela, wore her trademark red streak tattoo, the other had a deep, black streak tattoo instead.
As they ran into the street, a flatbed truck rumbled past them, a bit slowly, but starting to accelerate. They both threw their armloads onto the back of the truck, and jumped up to ride the back away from their pursuit. Young Angela pushed herself upward, and landed on the flatbed on her knees, and started to scoop up the bread that was rolling around. Her companion also landed on the bed, but suddenly the truck took a pothole on one set of wheels, and the bouncing jounced her right off of the truck. She reached up, and with both hands, grabbed the bumper, body trailing behind her. Angela! she called.
Young Angela looked over at her, and then at the bread in her arms. A moment later, she dropped the bread and then reached over to take the others hand, but she was already gone. In the few seconds she had waited in consideration, the girl had lost her grip and was now lying in the street, the two waiters grabbing her roughly. Sitting on the truck bed, she watched, along with Insangel and Mystic, as the waiters handed her over to two large men in thick, black and dark red combat armor, their bladed maces at the ready as they manacled her and led her away.
Angela dropped her head in shame. Those two looked like they had been running together for a while, Mystic said. To be left, like that, tch tch tch.
I hadnt we hadnt eaten in five days. Five. Days. You show me to act any quicker whenoh what would you know aboutI
She looked at the two young girls lock eyes for one last time as the truck turned down a far off street, the other girl now being put into a vehicle obviously headed for incarceration facilities.
Oh, god, Kyrielle, Im sorry! she called after the girl, even though she knew it would be on deaf ears. Im sorry, I shouldnt have waited, I shouldnt have left you! Angela sank to her knees, as a few tears dropped from her eyes.
A soft, but firm hand on her shoulder let her know that Mystic had stood up and come over next to her. And on Christmas day, again. Oh, my.
Angela looked up at him. Im sorry I the way I talked to you. Youre right, I wasnt always right, or innocent.
In the most gentle voice she had heard him use yet, he said dry your eyes, child. Im all done here. Time to go on. She stood up obediently, and walked beside him for several minutes, mollified in thought. Soon, he stopped their pace and looked in her eyes while he held her hands in his own.
To Angela, he said Tea. A good leaf, piping hot, fresh from the kettle. Be surprised what it can do for you. Remember, and be well. He then let go of her hands, and turned around to leave. She sensed his intent, and called after him.
Wait, Mystic, I... I thought you had someone you needed to help.
He stopped, and turned his head partway toward her. And perhaps... I just may have. Well see..
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whiny woman: "don't you know that hundreds of people are killed by guns every year?!"
"would it make ya feel better, little girl, if they was pushed outta windows?" -- Archie Bunker