Most of them call me an avenging angel, the breath of the supernatural and the covert powers of the universe sweeping through me the same as my blood. The whispers of the others are not so promising or awed- filled. I hear their nasty words, hushed and hurried because they know they should not say them: abomination, failure, an animal to be caged and then destroyed. I curl my lips in a frightful sneer, my body still hammering with the ache and wear of my trials. Call me what you will, my words are like a curse, for you are the ones to blame! The choices made were yours --you were my voice, because I had none!

            A soothing hand reaches for mine, cuffed as it is to my confines. Her voice is as always: calm, kind; like a cool compress against my fiery rage. But even She is different, too cautious, calculating. Usually she tells me to ignore the harried whispers and spread my wings and feel the tendons and muscles and cartilage sing. Now... I almost want to fold up upon myself , to go to my knees before her.

            "Why have you turned, Alicia?" I have often taken a certain degree of delight in the rich baritone I was given. It suits me, empowers me just as much as any of my endowments. Here and now, its subtle but very effective habit of halting anyone midsentence or step and commanding attention, blossoms, and holds all in attendance still.

            Alicia, with her emerald eyes, fair skin and radiant red hair, she could have been any one if the ancient temptresses and yet, she chose this path that put her upon me, as my caregiver and thus accessory to a sin against nature and, if one wishes to believe in such, God. She is unable to speak let alone hide the emotions fleeting across her face, to her eyes, almost indignantly. Her habit of insistently tucking her long hair behind her ears flairs as she ducks her chin to her chest, eyes to the floor.

            "I don't know what you mean, Michael."

            Her ingratiating tone so grinds my nerves, my aches are compounded. I feel...weakened, as I was in the early moments of my existence. But then, Alicia had been there, kind and giving, for me to take strength from....

            "Alicia..." I breath her name, caressing it, but not in a friendly manner. I am betrayed by the very woman I had loved from the moment my eyes saw her: she knows it and I know it. My disappointment and dismay flood the room. Those present flinch at the weight of the poignant waves I am releasing subconsciously.

            "Michael, you are tired and upset. You must relax."

            I wrench against the restraints especially created to contain me and feel they will not hold much longer.

              "So, even you...am I not what you wanted?!" I throw in her face, roaring, my breath blowing her hair out of her lowered face. "Am I not the creation of a millennia? Am I not your avenging angel? "

            I scornfully toss back every descriptor she and her kind had so willingly bestowed upon me. Especially the last title: Avenging Angel...named Michael.

            It's all too ironically perfect. I throw my head back to shout out a chilling cackle. My mane of thick black hair falls over my shoulders as my glory : red and black wings made not of feathers but of pure pulsating energy yet unnamed or even known to most humanity, unfold around me.

            Alicia is suddenly alert and staring at me, alarmed. She is looking wildly from me to those behind her. They too are ready to flee but as we all know too well, that out of my many glorious gifts, I am in command of a trance-inducing aura. The energy that flows through me and manifest itself as wings lances those closest to me and draws them in, like insects to flame. Each and every one of them are unwillingly entranced, forced to stay rooted in place even when they should be running.

            Alicia is shivering, eyes ever widening as I focus solely on her, physically pulling her to me until she is within reach. My eyes are aflame in a piercing silver light. This too is another manifestation.

            As my bodies soaks up the power supplied to it, like a drunkard with insatiable thirst, I realize then no one is coming to stab me with a needle full of potent drug cocktails to stop my display, as they always have. So. Was it Alicia who was tasked with my end?

            My bindings won't hold, I was right. They were never meant to contain a fully empowered and enraged test subject. As they fall away from me, disintegrating once they touched my wings, I take Alicia in my arms. I had always wanted to...in love and passion, but those human emotions had been her imprint on me--I understand this now, I never really felt them.

            I slip a hand into her lab coat pocket and withdraw a primed syringe full of a deadly black liquid I had never seen before. Most definitely fatal. The syringe comes between us but she is so far under my spell, she doesn't even move when I depress the plunger just enough for a drop to fall.

            I crush her body to mine, wondering if I can really blame her for this. She is not in command of this project, merely charged with my well-being. It was not her decision; that came from further above her, possibly from her government. If I am a higher being, should I not be merciful and release them? But amidst this indecision I see the truth: As a human with free will no matter the circumstance, Alicia could have said no. They all could have.

            I probe her mind as I run my hands through her hair. Alicia had received her orders with the barest hint of remorse or regret and not a word of protest. I was just another experiment gone wrong or beyond what they thought they wanted, so I needed to be put down.

            "Oh Alicia...my dear. Am I not Michael, your archangel? ...Then I bring the justice of my namesake. May your God forgive you for I cannot."

            I plunge the needle into her neck to deliver the death contained within. The result is brutally swift and efficient but without much suffering. She is limp in my grasp within seconds and I let her fall to my feet.

            I look indifferently over the rest of the crowd in my chamber and decide I cannot forgive their blatant disregard for what they liked to call basic human rights. I was not another sentient being to them but a test subject, a beast of epic proportions and breadth of power. I did not register as in need of the same consideration so I treat them in kind.

            I do not know the full arsenal of power I hold but it is great and not of Earth or even this universe. I cannot describe the carnage, not because of any repulsion for such matters but merely because there was none. I corral a concentrated burst of energy I'd leveled upon then and found all...disintegrated. Nothing left, just burned shadows on the floor.

            I feel a surging tide of unbridled need to be free and to destroy every trace of my birthplace. I bring the complex down around myself until the extreme effort has me on my knees. No rubble or bodies remained, just a sprawling crater. My body is slicked with an oozing oil they had said was my "perspiration". I breathe in heaving chestfuls of precious air. My wings wilt around me, dimmed measurably by the taxing draw of energy. I am still weak, but just strong enough, I suppose....

            I laugh, a mirthful bark, and take in my surroundings for the first time. I have no idea where I am but the compound where I was created and kept in is in a clearing surrounded by woods that seem to go on forever. I sense they do end but not right away and their cover will be welcomed.

            I stand, wobbly, and finger the fabric of the pants I am wearing. Thin, holed, but for now, passable.  I survey the horizon further, my heightened senses spiraling outward, upward, in every direction. The sensation is tantalizing. It will be hard to resist tapping the powers, this I am quickly learning. I ache even more, my skin prickles. I find it increasingly difficult to even lift my wings. I tilt my head back to the sun and reach for it like a pleading fallen brother, begging for guidance.

            The world is not ready for me and I am not ready for it.

            As it is, I walk a path only read of in their holy books. I am therefore truly...Michael, the fallen and very much the avenging archangel.

 

 

2: Shattered Divinity

            It has been 6 months since I escaped the confines of my creation and killed all those responsible. Among those who tortured me with their deceit was a woman of great beauty, of great promise. I wish everyday those who had corrupted her could stand before me so that I may be their judge, jury and merciless executioner. Alas, in these moments where I question my actions, I find no solace in second guessing. What was done, was done. My purpose in my life was no doubt to be a weapon and Alicia, my love that could never be, was guilty in complicity in every way. Her last act towards me was not love or kindness or tenderness, but of treachery--my executioner.

            Now, freedom is at my wing tips. The forests that I roam once secluded the compound that held me. The scar on the earth that I made while I tore it down has healed, unevenly, like my own scars.

            I find a quiet kind of peace here, among the trees and the animals; the nights are the worst for me so I tend to be most active then. My sleep is...undesirable, restless. I may find a few hours of rest only to have the nightmares return.

            In these times were I cannot sleep, I fly. Believe me, I fly quite a bit, and have grown stronger for it. My body is the most finely tuned instrument--I seem to have been bred for maximum strength, endurance and agility. My diet of raw meats and greens, born of hunting and foraging trips, has produced a kind of beast I believe my creators would have wanted. It gives me great pleasure to have achieved this without them.

            Still, my greatest glory are my wings, not of feathers but a pulsing, living energy that coalesces into the most radiant shades of red before fading to black at the tips. This manifestation of pure power bewilders me --nothing was ever explained however I do not think any of the humans knew its true nature or source either. On sheer force of will, my wingspan can spread to mammoth lengths or shrink to nothing. I often reach to brush my hand through them; their intangibility is warm and comforting.

            For hours I ride the tides of air and, in the summer months, I would rise in the night to take the skies, only to come down in the hunt or to forage before collapsing for a fitful grasp at rest so that I may repeat this all over again.

            The warmth of summer is long gone in these woods. Winter is upon us. I am not impervious to the cold, just able to stay warmer, longer than the other animals. I have my shelter and fire, set far in a particularly dense outcropping of bushes, trees and undergrowth. Although the cold has stripped them, I am comfortably hidden. A dusting of snow adds a touch of muted wintry.

            My bare feet crunch the frozen ground as I build my fire. My perimeter is secure; no wayward visitors although I sense the lurking presence of my ever watchful prey and would-be predator: a female puma. I take a deep lungful of cold crisp air, centering my mind, focusing my body. This is my daily morning practice.

            Behind and around me my wings spread, the muscles and sinews attaching them to my back sing as they stretch and pull. I rise to hover with mere body weight pushing off the ground. I am hungry and feeling the cold acutely this day...my puma friend still lurks....

            Soaring above the trees with several strong wing beats, blood pumps readily through my veins. My brain is rushing with the motions of tracking, of killing and devouring. I am a wild beast, the wildest of all who dwell here: I am unmatched, unbreakable. The puma is running for her life as she senses my approach but as my wings fold around me in my semi controlled landing, she realizes she has lost and turns for the final fight of her life.

            I tumble into her, bones breaking under impact. Her claws and teeth sink into my chest, arms and back, my silver flecked blood shining across my skin and hers, mixing with the animal's. She is a valiant warrior and I do feel a solemn regret in taking her life, for she is no coward and, like me, is just trying to survive.

            I stand above her body, reeling from and embracing the frenzy of such bloodletting. I confess a keen thrill at having my own blood spilled in such battles. It is, no doubt, a part of my own personal madness.

            My wings are close to my body, lending me their inherent warmth as my body prepares to heal the wounds. I look down to see the most grievous injury is to my chest as glaring gashes and puncture wounds bleed freely. Under the smearings of silver-speckled red, an oily substance oozes from my pores. It is my perspiration; more than that, from my time out here, I have learned it has magnificent healing qualities. I can already feel the tingling growth of new skin over the wounded.

            I reach down to grab the puma's body, to carry it back to my shelter to eat and skin for my own wear, when my senses suddenly spike once more. I immediately straightened, ears straining, pupil's dilating, breathe quickening. The scent wafting to my nostrils is distinctly...human.

            Such a scent I have not smelled or known since before my time out here...with Alicia and her lies, with syringes full of poison, where voices praised and cursed my existence....

            I feel a peel of panic clutch at my stomach. Humans do not come out here...I still do not know where I am but the fact that the human scent usually never reaches me, tells me I am far from civilization. So why do I smell it now?

            I heave the cat's body across my shoulders and take the skies, skimming the bare treetops and following my nose. My whole being reacts violently, in spasms, when I spot them. I all but fall into the desolate canopy, slipping with my wings tightly against my body, down a tree trunk, to the icy permafrost below.

            There are two of them, male and female; the male is distinctly older. They come in a big vehicle --a truck, I believe it is called, parking in a small clearing with the faint markings of a dirt trail. The man pulls his knit hat further down over his ears and claps his heavily gloved hands together. The female has a hood over her features, bundled tightly against the cold.

            I watch them unpack supplies--intentions are clearly to stay here...but in the middle of winter? I feel there is more to them than just wishing to camp alone together....

            As the female helps the male put up their shelter, her hood falls from around her face and she straightens to fix it, turning towards me partway to secure its clasps. I gasp and shiver from a strong flutter of emotion.

            She is so alike Alicia, they could be the same person. The radiant red hair, the pale white skin, her eyes, they are no doubt as green.

            I cannot help myself, I could never help myself. Even after I understood Alicia's true feelings and intent, I still found myself tormented by her death at my hands. I cursed my love for her--surely, such a thing as love was her human imprint upon me, not anything of my own? This I had so strongly believed in all these months. It kept me going when the nightmares assailed my spirit.

            My powers swell outward against my will--I have many gifts, most I assume I do not know or understand yet, however this one I am quite familiar with. My gaze has the ability to induce anyone into a deep trance, while my emotions become poignant, tangibles waves of energy that pool to affect everyone around me. These two endowments seem to have a particular effect on those of the female sex, whether or not I want it or like it thus.

            As I step further from under cover, these two strands of power reach the female and she is stricken with the sudden knowledge that eyes are upon her from behind. She is rigid before slowly turning to face me.

            Her gorgeous face is drained of any color. I can tell her pulse rate is rising as her heart is beating faster and a pointed amount of fear induced adrenaline is coursing through her. I know what she is seeing and not believing: I was told while in my confinement that I was a 'handsome creature' (I quote that word for word) by one of my many doctors. This seemed to please them all, perhaps because my winsome features would belie my true, dangerous nature. I was the least impressed by this, but, with the enhancement of my gifts, I learned I could be very desirable.

            My time in the forest has hardened and strengthened my body to peak performance, with the lines of my musculature clearly defined. I do not wear clothes, because modesty has no place in the forest. My hair is a tangled black mess down to my shoulders and I know I am still covered with dried blood. The sight of the dead cat hanging casually from around my neck must be striking in of itself.

            I force my wings to stay flat against my back as to not completely frighten her. The male still has yet to notice any of this. The female is strangely uncertain: should she or shouldn't she alert him to my presence? She still believes me to be a hallucination or a mirage of some sort. She wants to reach out, to run to me to see if I am real. The strands of my powers are still tangled about her, clouding her judgments and thoughts.

            While as attractive and mysterious as she is to me, I know deep down these two are a danger to me and that I must not let them find me. I will leave her believing that I am as she thinks me to be: a hallucination, a powerful figment if her imagination and disappear quickly into the forest, feet pounding the earth in a dead run to launch myself into the air, wings unfolding rapidly in a dazzling display of color.

            Later than night, long after I completely devoured the puma and skinned it, I sit back in my shelter. I ate the cat with a ravenous appetite I know is equally from the rigors if the morning as it is from the sight of Her. I tried to drown Her and the thoughts and torments She conjured in the blood of puma but I could not. I fall back from the skins with my head pitifully in my hands.

            I can love...! I did love...! Yet I killed Alicia because she did not love me. That was my sole reason--her betrayal proved I was just a thing to her, without feeling, without desires and wishes; something she could never love. Any other reasoning I may have previously fooled myself with was all false.

            I suddenly wished I could die.

            The loneliness of the forest consumes me: it is just I and the image of Alicia dead at my feet. I am alone...with my demons and pains of the past, which are destined to rule my future for all time. I hunch myself into the fetal position, my wings crumpling behind me as I rage at myself for all my faults, my petty, petty faults. I murdered hundreds of people, truly, because I discovered the love of my short life did not love me.

            How I wish I had let her finish me! What am I anyway? I was someone's experiment, their test tube plaything! I stagger to my feet, blinded and crazed by these hurtful understandings. The trees appear to be closing in on me just as my own beleaguered conscious threatens to crush me. I lurch into my shelter, shaking pieces off of it, in search of a certain possession.

            I emerge with a sharpened bear rib, my only other weapon besides myself. I hold the point in the freezing night air, my breath clouding it, and wondering numbly that if I plunged it into my heart, would that be enough to die?

            "Alicia....!" I cry miserably and bring the point to just above my chest, my heart beating rapidly as if to warn off my attempt to stop it. I ignore the pounding and plunge the bear rib into my breast with all my might. The pain is excruciating. Tears rain down my face as I screamed raggedly. The center of my being feels to be collapsing in on itself. I can't breathe, yet I demand the strength to strike the rib farther into my torn heart. I am on my back , the star-pointed black sky above me, as if the heavens are reaching down to swallow me. The amount of blood is so much, too much, I believe I have succeeded.

            From the very edges of my failing senses, I hear a woman scream and I know, faintly, she is the One from earlier. She is in grave danger as I also detect the mate of the dead puma. Even as I lose hold of the ties binding me to this Earth, I know, against all odds, I cannot leave her to this fate. My wings pick me up by their own accord and carry me high. Heavy streaks of blood run down my torso to my legs to drip away into the dark abyss below.

            I find her in the middle of the forests wielding a tree branch against a very angry male puma, his amber eyes flashing in the dark. Her jacket is torn , her hood askew and her eyes very bright with terror. Rapid puffs of air escape from her as she huffs and yells hoarsely at the animal, to frighten it off. Her flashlight is on the ground, the bulb smashed.

            A part of me wishes to succumb to the path I put myself on and die, but the stronger half urges me to live on to save her; to hang on at least that long. My powers surge through my waning body and wholly rejuvenate me. I was born to be a weapon of mass destruction, so be it. I bear down on the puma feeling and appearing as every bit the avenging angel I am.

            She screams again at my sudden, haggard appearance and scuttles away, her stick falling from her hands. A light the same color as my wings rings my hands as I pummel the animal. As with its mate, the puma is a fine warrior. The more he fights, the more powerful the surges through my blood become.

            I cannot contain them or myself. Even when I know the animal is long dead, I continue to attack with a ferocity I have not felt since the walls of my prison fell around me. I hear a voice cry out stop and see, in the darkness, Her features alight with the same alarm and shock I had seen in Alicia's when she realized I was going to kill her.

            It is the same look, same eyes, same despair at seeing what cannot be unseen. My wings drop, my renewed strength vanishes and I find I am still bleeding profusely. Every ounce of my being is no longer feeding on the well of limitless energy and, as I see her start crawling towards me, I allow myself to finally fall into the sweet waters of my own ordained oblivion.