I am an angel who lost their way I am a girl who lost her life I was thrown out of heaven and damned to this world I was thrown out of this world and damned to die I found salvation in a broken girl's body I found a new life with this unusual gift Now I seek my redemption, one day at a time I seek daily joy, though my heart is burdened I keep myself secret, she knows not my name I have a feeling we shall soon come to meet ---------- Pale Alone. Alicia Moore sat by herself in the outdoor section of the coffee shop, contemplating, as she usually did, this and that. It was her hour of mediation; she dwelt on anything that came to mind, be it serious or light. She had a mug of java and a small box of donuts with her; she sat in her wheelchair, as always, since her legs could not function. The serenity of the day went unchallenged until Alicia's third donut and fifth thought of the afternoon. She noticed a robber, very far away, beating somebody and running off with their money. Nobody stopped him or even seemed to notice. Alicia saw it, though, and more than anything, wished there was something she could do. But all she could do was wheel to the bathroom, since she needed to urinate. The robber, meanwhile, was successfully getting away. He had actually planned the burglary well, and knew the area to the point where he could run and avoid police detection. He easily made it into one of the many secret alleys, ducked further into the darkness, and rolled to a stop. By the light of the lazy sun, he opened his bag and inhaled the rich aroma of stolen money—aahh. Success. He closed his bag and stood, his only worry being where to go next. But something was different. He took two steps and discovered that he had been followed after all, and not by the police—by a something. There was no way to describe it, especially in the fragile light, but the man knew that this thing was wrong, and terrible, and that it Should Not Be Here. It even spoke to him, in a voice too solid and frightening to be real: "Give back the money you stole." "What are you?!" he screamed. The figure took two steps—or did it merely hover?—and spoke again, firmer. "Give back the money you stole." The man panicked and tried to run, but the creature was just as fast as he was, or even faster, yet it didn't seem to be in any hurry. It followed him perfectly and kept repeating its only words: "Give back the money you stole." Once, it even emphasized the demands with a chilling "Now." Finally, the robber came to a dead end—definitely not a part of his plan—and tried scrambling his way out. But the figure was already there with him, trapping him against the buildings and the walls, with no way out except through its defenses. He pulled out the gun he had used to rob his victim and emptied it on the creature. It did not move. And the bullets did not affect it. The man screamed, and fell to the floor in cowardice. He begged the monster to spare him, and threw the money at its feet. The creature bent down, plucking the bag of money in one hand and the other, the whimpering robber. It pulled him close, directly to its impassive face, and stared at him with horrifying eyes of lightning. "I will be watching you. Go, and sin no more." The creature dropped him, and before the man could even whimper, it had left. The only indication that it had even been there, that the man hadn't just dreamt it, was a word etched finely into the wall: "PALE" Alicia Moore felt a little better when she came out of the bathroom. She had to wonder whatever happened to the burglar, and if the money had been returned to its owner. Just another thought for her to process...but even that one was broken as a car screeched by, moving dangerously fast. A small group of squad cars were careening after it, and even a few shots were being exchanged. People screamed and took cover; Alicia desperately wheeled herself inside the coffee shop, too frightened to think of anybody except herself. In the midst of the chaos, she felt so powerless... The chase wound through the city, creating havoc and disaster as the cars overturned signs, carts, boxes—things one would expect in a movie, really—and unfortunately, one or two people as well, plus several other autos that had happened to be in the way. The exchanging crossfire blasted anything not run over; the total noise was enough to drive anyone mad, and it looked like there were no signs of breaking the chase. Of course, certain beings thought otherwise. The car wound around a corner, eluding the police for a few seconds—the drivers inside howled and congratulated each other. Suddenly, the car jerked and leaped around as if it had been wounded, while four small popping explosions snatched their victory song out of the air. The machine squealed down the streets on flabby tires and steel, grinding on the pavement as sparks and curses flew. To add to the confusion, the windows suddenly cracked and shattered, one by one, and the hood was punctured by some invisible, powerful force. The drivers scrambled outside and dove just as their getaway machine turned into a fireball. They were safer in the car. As the four drivers of the car stood up to assess themselves and the damage of the car, one gave a shout as he saw a figure standing before him, terrifying and bright as lightning. It was not tall or bulky, but it radiated an otherworldly aura that sent all four of them to their knees. Lightning flashed above in the sky, twice, and rain started to fall—first in light drops, then in a steady curtain. The creature stood out bright and dry, and soon everybody that had gathered around to see the wrecked car could get a glimpse of it. For the very first time, the creature known only as "Pale" was seen by the public eye. It was like an angel, a fallen angel, bright and fiery with a terrifying presence. The angel had large black wings of the richest flame—neither made like bat's, crow's, or dove's wings, those, but honest burning black flames—and eyes so red that they seemed to bleed. The creature had ashen skin, black short-shorts, and a tight leather tube top that concealed, if angels even had them, secondary sex characteristics—a girl, perhaps? If angels had genders, one would assume this one was a girl, albeit the most frightening one in the world. "Give yourselves up," she commanded to the four drivers. They pulled out weapons and fired. She—Pale the angel, it was assumed—stood perfectly still and never even blinked. She flared her eyes at the four and the guns melted into hot liquid steel. The drivers screamed and scrambled to their feet, each running in a different direction, but with a quick thrust, Pale shot out four ropes and bound their feet. She dragged them close, flew (or jumped) high into the wet air, looped the rope around a street lamp, and let the four joy-riders hang upside down as heaven's tears splashed their faces. Pale descended to the surface again, and was greeted with great awe and awkward applause. The squad cars arrived quickly, but their services were no longer required. By the time their lights flashed ahead, Pale was already gone, leaving her mark once again. For a moment, a few people believed she had never even been there, while others couldn't stop talking about her. In the coffee shop, Alicia Moore watched their activities with a dull expression. She sighed and patiently waited for the rain to end. ......... Julie Smith, better known as the Lurker, ambled into the main room of the Lost compound, yawned (to the sound of her bare feet clacking on the floor), and nearly stumbled as she noticed the unmistakable figure of Mr. White before her, his back turned. She recalled that he had been in that same position since hearing news about the so-called Pale from Marissa, and had literally not moved since. Lurker sniffed at him, crept around until she was facing him, and looked up into his face. His smile had not returned; his eyes seemed lost. She waved her green hand in front of him and sniffed again. "White man, what is wrong? You've been there long time. Feel sick, feel scared, feel tired? Feel not like sitting down? Tell I, maybe I help?" Mr. White didn't answer, nor did he seem to realize that he had company. Cautiously, after sniffing him a few more times, Lurker reached out and touched him by his white jacket. He felt solid, and the unusual scent he had—a sort of "nothing" smell—guaranteed that he was still there, at least physically. She touched him again and gave him a polite tug. "There, there? Miss, amiss? Miss-miss, you miss something amiss? Something is wrong? I think you are thinking. Something is wrong. Tell-tell, I wonder why you are like this." Mr. White remained stationary. He finally blinked, became animated, and looked over at Lurker, patient as a puppy. He gave her a faint, weak smile—certainly not the same eerie one he always carried—and sighed. "I do apologize, young one; I have just been thinking quite a lot since I heard the news." "What news?" "Do you remember young miss Wainright telling me about a person called Pale?" Lurker shook her head no. "Hmm, well, that is what I have been thinking about. I admit, I have been thinking about it for a long time, but I still require even more time before I am ready to come to any conclusions." "How much, how much?" "I cannot say. I will find a private place to contemplate these manners so that I am not disturbing you." "You no worry, I just curious." "Hmm. You are a fine young lady." He gave her a more genuine smile, turned around, and began walking until Lurker could no longer see him. She whistled to herself for a few seconds, and walked in the opposite direction. She figured that either Marissa or Shalis would know the most about Pale, and paid them each a visit. The Technomancer was not around—Alisti bluntly informed Lurker that she was off cavorting with Namie again—and Marissa was in the middle of a sparring session with Rancor. That left Kagemusha, and even though Julie had not been with the others for very long, she knew well enough to leave the antisocial girl alone. She couldn't even begin to understand computers—her diamond-hard fingers would destroy the keyboard anyway—so with nothing else to do, she went outside and ran around the compound until she wore herself out. The showers, she noted after returning, were occupied. Lurker's curiosity would've gotten her in trouble if somebody hadn't intervened. DON'T. "Don't what?" she asked, turning to face Disintegrator. The handicapped girl gave her a scowl. ENTER. "Don't enter?" She nodded her head faintly. "Why, why? I need a shower. I have been running a lot." WAIT. "Why, what for?" PEOPLE. "Others not like I in shower with them?" Alisti sneered. NO. "Why, what for?" PRIVACY. "I still don't understand." Lurker tilted her head to the side like a puppy. Alisti visibly rolled her eyes and decided it would be her job to distract the girl. SNACK? "Yes-yes, running made I tired." Lurker followed the debilitated girl into the kitchen, where Rancor had left a few things out. The girls took whatever they could find, hardly leaving anything left, and nibbled on their food until the showers were open again. Lurker discovered that it had been Namie who were hogging them, though for what reason, she didn't know. She gave her a merry thanks and dove right in, drawing a bath and singing while she did it. Scrub away, scrub away, I wash all of my dirties Wash them, watch them, swim away so far Scrub away, scrub away, I clean all of the filthies Then I use the towel, singing like an owl Hoot-hoot, hoot...hoot-hoot, hoot... Marissa was informed that Lurker wanted to talk to her about her discovery earlier. Unfortunately, Wainright didn't have anything new, or even anything at all—just a name, and the suspicion that Mr. White knew more than he was letting on. Rancor got upset over her food being eaten, and for the first time since she came, she demonstrated to everybody just where her nickname came from by throwing a huge fit over the stolen goods. Even Alisti, immature and deadly, didn't want to cross the rancorous woman during her tantrum. Nobody did, and left her to fume alone. Merry eventually shut herself in her room and refused to come out. When she could, Lurker slipped a letter of apology that Marissa had written for her (since she couldn't write herself) underneath the door, and ambled off to help the others with their daily activities. Now that there were seven people underneath the same roof—and that would probably increase—tension became high, friction became greater, and more conflicts arose as cabin fever sunk in. The individual personalities of the girls—wild, dangerous, simple, short-tempered, antisocial, whatever—only made things worse as time passed. Most of the girls were thankful that at least one of their number stayed out of their path, but if they knew where she was going, they would've been a lot more concerned... ...... "Every time somebody sees her, she disappears. The first few times, nobody thought twice about it, but people have gotten wise. They are finding more and more signs of Pale's presence after she leaves the scene of a crime, and just today, there have been several people who saw her with their own eyes. One was interviewed; she stated that Pale resembled an angel, but not the ethereal kind, not the gentle, feminine images of beauty that do so grace false art and conception. No, this angel was a horror to behold: the woman thought it was a fallen angel." "What's all this got to do with me?" "Nobody has been able to find Pale. This last time, they say she vanished—and yet she is always there when there's a crime. There is no discernable pattern to her comings and goings; its randomness makes it all the more difficult. I am looking for her for reasons of my own. I believe she will be the most integral part of our organization, the ultimate and maybe even final member of ‘The Lost'. I want Pale, and I want you to find her." "Why me?" "Because with your abilities, there is nothing you cannot see, nowhere you cannot go, nobody who can hide. Even I am restricted. If I had the ability to find Pale, I would have done it myself, but there are certain...obstacles in my path. You are, then, the next logical choice. Besides, if you go by yourself, you may find her easier." "What if I don't want to do this?" "If you help me, I guarantee on my word that your mother will walk away from the hospital in perfect health. Amielle, I know that this is what you want more than anything. I can make it happen. But you must do this for me first." Stalker snarled. "You're the worst bastard in the world." "And yet my offer still stands." She growled, but lowered her defenses and her pride. For her mother, for her history, she would do anything—yes, even whore herself, or put herself in danger, or even socialize with the scum she called humanity. She would do it all, and more, and now here was a guaranteed offer, dangling in front of her like... Bait before a fish? But she had no choice: Amielle Yeshua Celestino would accept the job. "Fine. I'll take it. But you better live up to your word." "If you succeed, child, you will get everything you want, and more." Stalker left, clouded by shadows and doubt. And his smile returned in full force. ......... Amielle had too many questions and too few answers as she wandered and searched. Pale—who was it? Did this angel, this fallen angel, have a connection with Mr. White? Why was he so interested in her? He had never shown such chilling passion before, so why now? And why send her out there, and why alone? For that matter, who was Mr. White anyway? Amielle didn't know, and she had reason to believe she'd never know. All she knew was that it was her responsibility to find Pale, wherever she was, if she even existed. She would have to do it, for her mother—there was no other way. She shivered and pulled her hood over her head, giving it some protection from the chill of evening. She wrapped her arms around her chest and walked against the slow, bitter wind, weaving through stragglers. Here and there was tragedy: a man gunned down, an orphan crying, police cars gathered around a home, blood on the street, a single mother begging for money...and she didn't care, Amielle didn't care about any of it. Let the humans kill themselves. Let them starve, let them rot, let their stupidity lead to their end. They deserved it. Nothing else in life mattered except her mother, and once she was healthy, maybe... Amielle squeezed her eyes shut. The future was damning, and hope was a knife. She could only walk and search, knowing every action was in vain. The process could take her years, maybe her entire life—long enough for all those questions to drive her mad. Fitting—if she ended up in an asylum, so much the better. She had already lost her mind, so let everything become official. She didn't care. Just find the stupid angel-girl, say farewell to the pathetic Lost, and try and survive in the cruel world with her mother. "Please, anything will do," said the single mother, begging louder. She was ragged and filthy; a young boy clung to her leg. A chipped bowl was thrust in Amielle's direction, holding just enough coins to count as a handful. Amielle snorted and slapped the bowl away, scattering the coins everywhere. "Get that filthy thing out of here!" she snapped. The woman wailed and bent down, in spite of her bad back, to retrieve the bits of money she had been given. The boy wept and put his dirty fingers in his mouth. Amielle snorted and wished they would just hurry up and die already, useless things. She was tempted to spit on them and kick the mother, but she had other things to do. She turned her back on the two and went about her business. "Here, let me help you," she heard a calm voice say. "And take this. It's not much, but it's all I have." "Bless you!" cried the woman. "God bless you!" Amielle turned around in time to see the figure recoil at the mention of God, and slink away slowly from the woman and her son. She and Amielle locked eyes—red upon amethyst—and stared at each other. The girl had wings, black wings, and they appeared to be made of the purest, darkest flame. Amielle swallowed, amazed at her unusual fortune. Either this was Pale or she was in need of a new pair of eyes. "You should be more kind in the future," said the angel-girl. Amielle gawked. "You're Pale, aren't you?" "That I am." Amielle felt at a loss. Just glancing at the angel-girl made her feel both uneasy and peaceful, horrified and happy, guilty and blameless. She drew in a deep breath as she continued to stare at the creature. Their eyes met and dove for each other; the history of a fallen angel and the history of a phantom collided and entwined. Shadow stood up against shadow, and neither could speak. "There are people looking for you." "I know." "Do you know why?" "I have an idea." "Why?" "You don't know?" Amielle shook her head. Pale gave her a tiny smile and extended an ash-gray hand. "Follow me. Let's go somewhere we can talk in private." Amielle never trusted people, and she never accepted an outstretched hand unless she needed it, but something made her touch it, take it, and be whisked away to a secluded place. The hand was cold and lonely; she could almost feel Pale's soulless void in her touch. "Let me first ask you your name," she said as they came to the secluded place. It was on the rooftop of a skyscraper, high above the surface, where all manner of sound and distraction were lost. Amielle and Pale sat down on the hard surface, each trying to make herself comfortable. Stalker answered with her real name, the one given to her at birth: Amielle Yeshua, which was later changed to Celestino. Her face turned a little pink as she realized what she had done—she had never told anyone her real name before—but in Pale's presence, she felt it necessary to be more...real. "Amielle," said Pale, nodding once. "I am Pale, pleased to meet you. Let me now ask who is after me." "A man in white," she answered. "I don't know his real name; I just call him Mr. White." "A man in white..." Pale trailed off and stared into the dark sky, where the sun had left and the moon took control, however briefly. A cold wind combed her short black hair, flapping it like a flag. Pale was motionless until Amielle interrupted her. "Do you know him?" She nodded her head, which was no surprise. "How?" "You would not believe me if I told you. Let me just say that I know he is looking for me—and that he cannot find me. He is...unable." "I dunno. That guy seems capable of anything." "Well...he was forbidden to search for me," she answered. "And if he is forbidden to do anything, he cannot do it. A higher power dictates us both. But this does not mean that he cannot enlist the aid of others to help in his search." "So I..." She trailed off just as Pale nodded solemnly. Amielle swallowed darkly. "And the others? Were they being used?" "Everyone in his debt, in his power, or even in his path is, at some point, being used in a fashion. The others you mentioned, are many of them good at finding things?" Amielle became sick to the stomach all of a sudden. This puzzle was being solved at an alarming rate, and frankly, the solution sounded dire. "One has psychic powers, another mastery of machines. I myself have power over shadows. There are plenty more who could be used to look in secret areas." "I see." Pale became silent and stared into the distance again. She spoke, unchanging: "These people you mentioned...they are similar to you?" "Vaguely. We're part of a group called ‘The Lost'." "Oh. And I suppose I would be considered ‘lost' as well, since I'm unable to be found." "Most definitely." Again, contemplative silence. "Why is he looking for you?" "It's one of his purposes in this world. I can say nothing more. He has four purposes; one is to gather people like you, the Lost, though I can't determine the reason. Maybe it's entirely good, or maybe it's entirely evil. Another purpose is to find me, that much I'm sure of. It's also his duty to eliminate a certain biological weapon that is rumored to be arriving here in this world very shortly, but I don't have any more details." "A biological weapon?" Pale nodded. "Living, breathing, and killing. That's all I know. Alpha's priorities included eliminating it so that it does not pose a threat to this world." "Alpha?" Pale stared directly into Amielle's amethyst eyes. "One of his names." The shadow-girl made a face. "He has others. As many names as he has faces. Alpha is simply the way I address him, but we both know who we're talking about." Amielle nodded her head. "Mr. White. So what will he do once he finds you?" "I cannot say." "You mean you don't know?" Pale shook her head. "If anybody finds me, and knows who I am, and where I came from...I will be doomed beyond redemption. I'm already lost; I believe he simply wants to ensure I stay lost. Ultimately I will not be like one of you; I will truly be gone, forever." "...That's awful." What surprised Amielle the most was that she meant what she said. A lost soul, damned and beautiful—a fallen angel, once knowing light, now cast down into the darkness of the world... Just like her. "Yes," she answered. "And as I said, if anybody discovers who I am and where I came from, and how I got here, I shall come to an end. It is just...Alpha seeks me with greater interest than anyone else, and he has resources that may enable him to find me." "But he's forbidden to seek you out, right?" "That he is. If he can find me, he has the right to do as he pleases. If he cannot, then he will do nothing, except his other missions. And here he sent you, and you found me. Or," she added with a faint smile, "maybe I found you." Amielle's face turned pink as Pale beamed at her so mysteriously, and she forced herself to look away. Human beings disgusted her, so perhaps it only made sense that an angel, even a fallen angel, would captivate her and make her think pleasant thoughts. Amielle did and did not want to look at Pale, because she instantly knew, right from the beginning, that this was the most beautiful creature in all of existence. "So will you turn me in?" she asked quietly. Amielle's throat tightened in anticipation. She had a horrible choice before her, and already there was inevitable conflict promised down each path. Simply put, she could either hand Pale over to Mr. White and to judgment, and save her mother; or she could help Pale somehow, and keep her hidden, and risk her mother's demise. More than anything, she wanted her mother to be healthy, to be with her until a more natural death took her back to her beloved, and she had vowed to do everything possible to get that. But looking deep into Pale's soft red eyes, staring at her haunting gray face, seeing her wings radiate a cool jet flame, hearing her mature, calm voice, simply being around her, one fallen angel with the other...it made the decision all the harder. Amielle suddenly felt compelled to help Pale, to be with her, to protect her, and perhaps even to die for her. But there was also her mother, the only person left in the world she honestly loved. Would she sacrifice that for a stranger? What would her mother say? "If I do," she breathed hoarsely, "my mother will be healthy again. Mr. White promised." Pale nodded her head quietly, a girl of strength ready to accept her destiny. "I see." She stood. "I would have resisted any other way, but after hearing that, and being with you for a little while, I'm ready to give my life for her. Amielle, I think I know why you refused that woman any kindness earlier: you yourself have never felt kindness from others, you've never felt love. Every moment of your life was misery. You want to grab hold of the one ray of light left to you, and since it is in my power, I will give myself up so you can have this. I'm ready." Pale touched the other girl on the shoulder, so gently that she started crying. Amielle jerked back and ran her hand over her eyes. She snarled at the angel-girl and spat viciously. "Shut up! How do you know all that, anyway?" "Because I have secretly watched you for some time now. I am, in a sense, your guardian angel." "Nonsense!" "Believe what you will; I have seen your pain a fraction. And I have pain too. But I deserve what I will get, and you do not. Gentle Amielle..." "Stay away from me!" The black sword came out...and Pale put her arms around her. "I leave my fate in your hands." Amielle blinked. Her face felt wet. Tears? The sword vanished. She took a deep breath, and hoped she wouldn't regret her decision. ......... "Mr. White, sir? I'm no longer able to contact Kagemusha. I think she's disposed of her earpiece. I've even asked Marissa to see if she can't contact her—no luck." Shalis Torth shrugged and resumed her work, trying to see if there was some other thing she had neglected. Her ally had been out for two hours going on three, and no word had came from her. Granted, Kagemusha wasn't exactly the dependable type, but she worked quickly and efficiently, especially if her "bargain" with Mr. White was on the line. But now... "Keep trying," he said. "This is most unusual, even for her. Everyone, put everything on hold—your top priority now is finding Kagemusha, and if possible, Pale herself. Everything else is inconsequential." "Um, I think maybe Namie found another candidate for our ranks." "I said," he hissed darkly, speaking evenly and slowly, "everything is inconsequential, miss Torth. Find Pale and Kagemusha. Now." The Technomancer snorted, and was given privacy to resume her search. The other members of the Lost looked at Mr. White as if he had gone mad, but one stare from his wicked smile turned them back to their duties. He left them, quietly and unseen as always, and entered into a section of the compound that few others knew existed. Before him was a very old, very tall man, lean with age and muscles, wild with years and countless visions. He knelt until he was commanded to rise. "Ezekiel," said Mr. White with a smile, "I believe it is time to step up our search for Pale. If you would not mind too terribly, I would like for you to assemble the rest of the Dead Zodiac." "Master Thirteen," he said with a bow, "I obey your every command." ---------- To be continued...
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