I don’t want to do this job, but I don’t really have much choice in the matter. As slow as business has been lately, I’m not really in a position to turn down pay. At least not over suspicions. If this request had come in 3 months ago, I’d have thrown it out immediately. For one, I like to know who I’m working for, and the request arrived in a simple white envelope labeled “Victoria” with no return address and no indication of who sent it. For another, the package I’m to retrieve is in some no-name shithole neighborhood. The kind of place where nothing of interest ever happens and even the residents barely know the names of their own streets. Which means I’m either being vastly overpaid for a bullshit penny-ante delivery run, or someone’s trying to avoid being noticed. Given the anonymity of the request, it’s pretty obvious what I’m dealing with here.

It clearly doesn’t pass the sniff test, but if I don’t bring in some kind of income soon I’m gonna get evicted. Which wouldn’t be the end of the world, there are places I can go, but it’d be a headache I’d rather not deal with right now. So I’m walking down one of those streets that no one in the world could point to on a map, looking for an alley that should lead me to the warehouse where my quarry is currently being held. The request assured me there’ll be resistance once I get there, which I could’ve guessed based on the circumstances of the job. The question is, what exactly is it that’ll be waiting to intercept me? Who am I stealing from?

This alley up here on the right looks like the place. The narrow trench cut through a dense lot of thick-packed warehouses is already veiled in shade despite the sun still being visible from the street. It's exactly where you’d go if you wanted to avoid being noticed by anyone who matters. I step into the gloom, relying on my darkvision to easily navigate, and locate a doorway set into the wall to my left. The large air conditioning unit set into the wall just past it stretches most of the way across the alley.The door opens easily into a small, empty room, and I note the faintly glowing runes placed around the walls. I don’t recognize all of them, but based on the ones I do I’d guess they dampen any sound coming from inside the building, probably knock out wireless communications as well. Shouldn’t have to worry about any interruptions, at least. I guess they’re more worried about word getting out than they are about getting robbed. I make sure the first door is fully shut before opening the second one, and it’s a good thing I did, because as it swings open, the room fills with the sound of an explosion.

I dive forward through the doorway into a room full of large steel crates and barrels. Clustered together a little ways into the room are three men dressed for combat, with plate carriers, black rock-like horns protruding from the tops of their heads, and large firearms in their hands. Apparently it’s the mob I’m stealing from, and it’s something pretty fucking valuable if they’ve got three combat demons guarding it with shotguns. All three of them have drawn a bead and fired in the split second since I opened the door, and one of them even grazed my shoulder. The spread on those things is fuckin’ wide. I must’ve moved a good 6 inches by the time the pellet struck me, and the shooter is only, what, 10 feet away? I sneak a glance at the wall around the door I entered through once I’ve taken cover behind some sturdy-looking iron crates, and see unnaturally perfect concentric circles of tightly-spaced dents. Looks like they're packing some kind of enchanted choke, perfectly guiding the pellets to cover a wide cone of fire without any sizable gaps. This should be interesting.

First things first, I tie up my hair and open my eyes. All of them. Additional ocular structures sprout into existence across my face, down the back of my neck, around my shoulders. This is why I wear a tank top, of course. It might not offer the most protection, but it allows for perfect situational awareness.

Well. Near perfect. I grunt in annoyance as the eye closest to where the pellet hit me doesn’t want to open all the way. It's a minor wound at worst, and the eye didn’t even materially exist at the time, there’s no reason it shouldn’t be able to open now. Irritating. I crack my neck, steel wings springing into being from each of my shoulder blades. Orange flames blaze from between my razor-sharp feathers to propel me faster as I dive to the right and roll behind a different crate. Along the way, I survey the entire room around me, save for the roughly five degrees to my right that are covered without redundancy by the eye that isn’t cooperating. That’s fine, I chose my destination to mitigate the problem, ensuring that the faulty eye is facing away from the enemy combatants. Predictably, three more shots simultaneously ring out shortly after I emerge from cover. I’ve already landed back in safety before a single trigger gets pulled.

I press my back against the metal behind me, pulling the currently-inert handles of my blades off of my belt and running my thumbs over the runes set into them while I consider my options. None of those options involve me not having them in my hands, after all, so I might as well grab them now. The guards have spread out, which is troublesome. My wings can probably tank one hit from one of those guns if I play it right, which I will, but two is definitely too much, and if I rush one guard both of the others are likely to seize the opportunity. I wish I could afford explosives right now, it’d make this so much easier.

Since I don’t have a grenade to toss over my cover, I do the next best thing; toss one of the handles out as if it were one. As expected, all three guards are too busy hitting the deck to do anything as I jet across the ground, a curved, flaming blade bursting to life out of my remaining handle. My sickle emits a horrific hissing sound as the air around it becomes superheated faster than would be possible without magic. The one sitting in the middle of the floor activates as well, not for any practical benefit. It’s just got the same activation rune as this one, I can’t turn one on without the other.

I skid past the guard and swing my arm out to hook the tip of my blade up under his ribcage, dragging him with me as I land in my new cover. The horns jutting out of his head dissolve, indicating that the flaming piece of metal lodged into his internal organs has done its work. I briefly consider grabbing his shotgun, but decide against it. For all I know, the thing’s got some gnarly copy protection enchantments on it, and I’m not much good with guns anyway. Most combat angels aren’t.

Instead, I vault over the crate I landed behind and rush toward the center of the room. The other two guards are still on the ground, but they’re just as capable of shooting while prone as they were while standing. I was hoping to grab my other sickle before engaging them, but I’d have to go out of my way for it and now is not the time. Instead I take a twisting leap at the closer demon, sickle-first, and fan one of my wings in front of me, between myself and the guard who’s about to shoot me. As predicted, a full load of magically-enhanced buckshot stings like a bitch but is not quite enough to do serious damage to my steel appendage. The tip of my sickle sinks straight through my target's throat and into the ground beneath him. I extend my other wing out behind me, jetting forward to drag the blade free of the guard’s neck, across the ground, and into the chest of the remaining target. It seems like I surprised him by surviving that direct hit. He hadn’t even started trying to move.

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Once I’m satisfied that all threats have expired, I stand up and deactivate my sickle before latching it to my belt. Its twin on the floor snuffs out simultaneously, leaving a distinctive curved scorch mark on the concrete ground. I take a moment to stretch and close my eyes. Only two of them open back up before I retrieve my second weapon. My wings fold against my back, then melt into it, like they were never there. Now, to business.

It doesn’t take long to find the package I’m after. It’s the only box in the room that looks like it will open easily and can be carried around without the use of a forklift. Which isn’t to say it’s small, the thing stands a good three feet tall, two wide, and one deep. It’s got a simple latch on the front, and some shoulder straps set into the back of it which in all likelihood I’ll need to make use of. I step up in front of it, giving it a quick once-over to make sure it isn’t trapped before undoing the latch. Clearly they didn’t expect anyone to make it past the guards. Now, let’s find out what I’m working so hard to steal.

I don’t like what I see. The box is filled to the brim with small, glass balls with thin, hairlike multicolored veins running through their centers. Doll cores. Which aren’t scandalous in themselves, plenty of witches make their own whenever it suits them. They often have reason to need some artificial help, and there aren’t any ways to animate something for it without a core. But why the hell would anyone need this many? There must be hundreds in here. It only takes one to animate a doll, and redundancy is… not recommended when it comes to this particular component. Every core has to be ensouled via an arduous process of drawing raw animus out of the cosmos and binding it to the veins inside the glass. It’s difficult, it’s tiring, and it’s dangerous. You don’t do it unless you have an immediate need. The cores in this box seem to be inert, currently, but that raises more questions if anything. Who needs this many cores and can’t just make their own, but can handle the activation process themselves?

I’m sure I’m gonna have to devote a lot of time to sussing out answers to these questions in the near future. For now, I can say one thing with certainty. These things aren’t getting anywhere near their intended destination, or my employer, until I know what’s going on. The question now is, where do I take them? The delivery request arrived at my PO box, where I usually accept job solicitations. Hopefully that means my employer doesn’t know where I live, but… it’s a little risky to just assume that. Especially if I’m making off with the merchandise they’re paying me to deliver. I’ve got a few other hidey holes peppered around the underground, of course, but they’ll be pretty cramped with this big old box.

I can figure this out on my way. No matter where I go, the first stage of my route is the same; exit the warehouse, find the nearest manhole, leave the neighborhood without letting anyone see the package on my back. I heft the box up behind me, secure the straps on my shoulders, and make my way to the exit. As I open the door, I’m startled to find myself face to face with… some kid. Can’t be much taller than 5 feet, and he’s scrawny as hell, his tank top hanging loosely off his slight frame. Those wards must keep sound out as much as they keep it in, or I’d have heard him approaching. He was definitely on his way into the building before being interrupted by me coming out, so I’m guessing he’s after the same thing I am.

He opens his mouth to say something and I immediately clamp a hand over it. I turn him around and wrap the other arm around his waist, then drag him behind the air conditioning unit set into the wall next to the door. As soon as we’re out of sight I lean back against the wall and take stock of the area around us. There’s a manhole a little ways down the alley, I should be able t– BANG. The kid reaches out and knocks his fist against the side of the AC unit. I immediately grab his wrist, but I already know it’s too late to avoid detection. I can hear someone approaching down the alley.

The first thing I see is a halo peaking around the edge of the air conditioner, followed by messy blonde bangs and a pair of brown eyes. Goddammit, I really do not need to drag around two hostages today of all days. She starts to ask what we’re doing back here, and I quickly decide it’d be best to avoid making it three. I release the boy’s wrist and fire a quick jab directly into her solar plexus, then growl authoritatively, “Alright, listen up. Neither of you should have seen me here tonight, so you’re both coming with me, quietly. I would prefer not to hurt either of you any more than I have, and I don’t intend to, but I promise I can become very flexible if you give me a reason.” I make sure the boy is positioned to be able to see above my head and let a quick flash of my spiked halo show, to make absolutely certain they know I’m fully capable of making good on my threat. “Nod if you understand.”

Both of them do. I would’ve preferred if the kid had been this compliant sooner, but I’ll take what I can get at this point. “Good. Blondie, catch your breath and then head about 15 feet further down the alley and open the manhole cover you find there.” Her diaphragm doesn’t seem to want to work with her on this, but eventually she manages to catch her breath and follow my directions. The cover seems pretty heavy for her, but my arms are occupied so she’ll have to deal. Once she’s got it open, I drop down underground, briefly picking up the boy and then putting his feet on the ground once my own have connected. I turn back up to the angel, whispering, “Follow me, and close the cover behind you.” She does so, plunging the tunnel into darkness. Well… near-darkness. Her halo is faintly illuminating the area around us and, more importantly, is very visible in the gloom. I’ll have to stick to less commonly-used tunnels if I want to keep being discreet here. That’s fine, I’m sure I’ll manage. I begin to creep down the tunnel, my illicit cargo and unwanted companions in tow. It’s gonna be a long night.