Rain poured hard over the entirety of Las Vegas its surroundings. It had been storming for almost an entire day by now. Nobody could explain the reason for it, all the meteorologists were expecting another clear and sunny day. Being in the middle of a desert the city drains had not been designed for such a downpour and were quickly filled to the brim, reaching their limit and overflowing the excess into the streets. Small rivers of dirty water mixed with cigarette butts and other small trash started to form and flood over the roads. With the raging storm also came lightning and thunder, and entire parts of the city went dark as the power grid couldn't keep up. The nearby Hoover Dam was forced to empty its reservoir, for fear of the storm coming over and flooding it.
With the water and the blackouts came the chaos. The countless rats that made of the sewers their home were pushed into the surface, swarming the streets and attacking anyone that got nearby out of desperation. Several streets had to be closed and entire police departments were deployed to maintain a sense of law and order. But it wasn't enough.
Dozens of police cars patrolled the roads and entire squads walked the streets but still, numerous petty criminals took advantage of the darkness and the chaos to violently assault and rob on liquor shops, gas stations, jewelry shops, and even private homes. As the night and the storm went on, the sound of screams and gunshots echoed over the streets, but barely anybody could hear them, for the deafening thunder drowned them all.
If anyone was praying, not even God could hear them now.
The Strip and the big and imposing casinos were not affected at all, while most of the city flooded, the casino moguls and crime lords sent their armies of goons and workers to keep the tide and hoodlums at bay. Using everything at their disposal they pushed the water and undesirables away from their precious dens of decadence and directly onto the people below. And it worked flawlessly. The storm of the century, as some people were already calling it, did not turn bad for the gambling business, in fact, it was pretty good, everybody who was on the nearby streets quickly scurried onto the countless Casinos that the sinful city offered and their cocktail bartenders and card dealers welcomed them with open hands.
Far away from the city, far away from the storm, a black Cadillac Eldorado drove across the desert, its powerful engine roaring as the driver pushed the pedal to the metal and changed gears and left behind a trail of black smoke and orange dust. The driver dangerously left the desert behind and entered into the roads that lead to the city, almost crashing against a car that was nearby. The copilot looked at the storm in front of them and shook her head.
"This isn't good." She whispered.
"Erratic and unpredictable weather is never good. Something big happened." The driver added as he searched for a cigarette among the pockets of his duster with his left hand.
"Here." His companion said, as she gave him one of her own smokes and light it up for him.
"I will never understand why you like this kind of tobacco." He said, exhaling a long column of grey smoke from his nostrils.
"Reminds me of home." She simply answers, letting a bit of Irish accent show as she spoke up.
The driver smiled and nodded as he focused on the road ahead. He continued driving far over the speed limit, swerving between cars and almost hitting most of them as he moved the steering wheel from left to right. Completely unfazed the girl next to him started looking in the glove compartment and grabbed from inside a small black book.
"What's our cover?" She asked.
"Federal Bureau of Investigation." He answered as they entered into the edge of the storm, throwing the half-smoked cigarette over the window, sickened by its taste.
The woman passed several pages filled with fake IDs and badges made for the two of them. On that little black book, there was enough fake documentation to keep them imprisoned for decades, there were driving licenses for all of the States of America, and even some from nearby countries like Mexico, there were even Library cards among other things. Finally, she found what she was looking for, a set of golden badges and IDs that marked them as federal agents.
"Wow, they look real." She said, as she detached and grabbed them from the book pages.
"They are real." Answered the driver, signaling her to stay quiet as they finally entered the city borders and turned on the police radio installed in their car.
The radio operators could not keep up with the incidents and calls that the citizens were reporting. The policemen had been spread too thin and most were forced to ignore several calls and crimes, not due to inaction or malice, simply because they were too powerless to act. There were rumors of the military being mobilized, and by the looks of it these rumors would become true very soon.
Distant gunfire could be heard all around them along with the sound of crashing windows and rocks being smashed against cars. Most of the streets continued without electric current and the only source of light around were the many cars that had been lit on fire. Around them, most shops and businesses had been vandalized and looted and some were even burning down. The scenery was kind of surrealistic; it looked and felt like a nightmare, like a battlefield. Suddenly, a gin bottle violently crashed against their windshield. The redheaded woman next to the driver grabbed her Smith & Wesson Model 39 pistol from her leather holster and cocked it.
"Calm down. It’s just a drunken idiot on a powertrip. The car is heavily armored, we will be alright, and remember, we don't want to blow our cover." The driver said, softly lowering her weapon.
Grumbling under her breath she holstered the weapon and sank in the leather seat.
"I hate this city, I hate that I've been assigned here." She muttered, trying to distract herself by looking at the different driver's licenses that had been made for her, and at the many different fake names, birthdates, and places of birth that had been written on them.
"Well, at least the company is alright isn't it?" He said, playfully poking her shoulder with his elbow as he continued driving deeper into Winchester.
"Can't complain about that I guess." She answered giggling softly at his nudges.
"So, what does the report say?" He asked, trying to keep her mind busy.
The redhead went again into the glove compartment and grabbed from it a folder, inside there is a small report of what had happened and what their mission was.
"Ahem, let me read it for you again. Yesterday at 3:41 AM a sudden spike in aetheric energy had been detected, followed twenty-two seconds later by another spike of near equal measure. The epicenter of the energy waves had been triangulated to be in Winchester, an unincorporated town in Las Vegas. Following the anomalous energy readings a storm started to form over the city of Las Vegas, no storm of this magnitude or duration was projected to happen, and no storm like this has happened over the city since records started, nor does any of the legends of the ancient local tribes speak of storms this big. Knight Jesús Maltés and Squire Winifred O'Hara are to impersonate Federal Bureau of Investigation agents and personally inspect the area in the search of anomalies and yadda yadda yadda. Then there are several satellite images of the area, graphics of the spike in energy over time, the prediction of the weather and the real weather that ended happening... pictures of...flying birds?"
"Several birds can detect aetheric energies, just like some dogs can detect earthquakes. Migrating birds before their time can be an indicator of something unnatural going on. I mean, imagine a swarm of birds flying away, they are not flying as they usually do, they are nervous, screaming loudly and overexerting themselves to leave the place as fast as they can. Don't you feel a sense of dread from such an image?" Jesús said, as he finally reached their destination and stopped the car.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
"Y-yeah..." Winifred answered kind of scared.
"Good."
Jesús put on his hat, grabbed the fake badge and ID, and went out, ignoring completely the pouring rain. Winifred followed shortly behind, instead preferring to use an umbrella. The streets they were in were not being as vandalized as many others were, but it was just a matter of time. There was a police car near them, its red and blue lights bringing a speck of illumination in an otherwise dark street.
The duo descended across a concrete slope and reached the underside of a bridge, near them there was an overflowing canal, entire wooden trunks, shopping carts, and other debris being violently dragged by the muddy waters. It was hard to say if these waters carried corpses as well, but deep inside they all knew that it sure did.
Two policemen were crouched under the bridge, using their flashlights to illuminate something and looking around as they talked between them. When they finally heard the Jesús and Winifred walking they were caught by surprise, and quickly turned around and got their dominant hands over their pistols.
"Halt!" The oldest of the two agents screamed. A man in his late fifties, tired-looking, with a beer gut. It's clear that he is near is retirement, and this day has been an endless nightmare for him.
"Agent Daniel Martin, and Agent Irene Miller from the FBI. What have we got here boys?" Jesús said as he showed them their fake badges.
"Uh...nobody informed us of the federals getting involved." The old policeman replied, skeptic of them.
"Please, look at the city. At this rate, even the Marines might show up at any time." Winifred replied.
"Since when does the FBI accept women into their ranks? I don't believe it!" He barked back.
"Look. You have a city on fire around you and you are doing nothing about it. You better tell us what have we got here so we can do our job and you can finally be of some use to the many citizens of this city that pay your salary with their taxes. Or else I'll accuse you and your wimpy companion of being Communist sympathizers and send you two to the most remote police station in all of Alaska to clean toilets with your tongues until the end of time. Am I clear?" Jesús threatened, with a suave yet incredibly terrifying presence.
"Y-yes, sir. It's...It's just a couple of hobos that killed each other. Perhaps for a bottle of wine, they have deep wounds. A neighbor saw them and called us about it. They were not under the bridge when we found them, the rain had poured over them for several hours by the time we came. Most of the blood that they had must be now outta their bodies and dragged away by the rain. And their bodies are bloated and full of water. I say we just dump them in some grave and call it a day."
"You will say nothing." Replied Jesús.
The bodies were indeed bloated beyond recognition. They had no identification or anything that might have helped to identify them. Their clothes were old and dirty, but it was hard to say if they had been stained and weathered by the storm if they had always looked like that. All in all, they were complete John Does.
"Go back to your cars and attend other incidents. We will take it from here." He ordered the two policemen, who didn't question it and went back to their car, happy of not being near him anymore.
"Jesus..." Whispered Winifred once they drove away. "I've been with you for a couple of years already and I cannot get used to how threatening you can turn. Remind me of never getting on your bad side or to owe you money."
Jesús smiled softly but otherwise ignored her, he continued observing the two corpses and their nearby makeshift camp near under the bridge.
"What do you think that happened here?" Wini asked then, taking Jesús out of his concentration.
"It's hard to say, I've some theory, but I sincerely hope that I am wrong. Go to the trunk and bring the reader and... the glasses."
Winifred had only been with them for a couple of years, she had been accepted due to her exceptional talent with technology and everything mechanical, and while she had been asked to be an engineer she instead opted for being a field agent, and despite all of their objections she went on and was ultimately accepted and paired with Jesús. He was completely opposite to her, he was born into the group, his parents were Knights, and since young, he had been raised and taught how to be one of them. His... aptitude with technology was pretty poor though, he always said that anything more complex than a toaster ended burning or breaking into his hands, sometimes both at the same time. He preferred the classical methods; tradition for him wasn't only a thing to follow, but a lifestyle. Winifred grabbed a heavy machine from the back of the car and a small ebony case with a set of mirrored ambarine looking lenses.
As soon as she turned on the machine it started to spew static noise and illuminate with countless different lights. Whatever was here, was making the reader go crazy.
“I…I am getting mixed readings here. Could be…could be many things.”
Jesús sighed loudly and cursed under his breath. He hoped this didn’t happen. He believed that technology was important, of course, he did. But at the same time, he knew that some things could never be changed. The glasses, while dangerous, were the best way of knowing the truth.
He walked towards her and grabbed the case with the glasses.
“Don’t…I…please.” She begged him.”
“We have to be sure.” And after saying this he opened the case, grabbed a small decanter from its interior, and observed it. There was a glowing liquid inside; it was an old formula, one that granted true sight for a short period of time. After spitting on the ground and with shaky hands he dropped a single drop of the vial’s liquid onto each one of his eyes. He then squinted hard and grunted, the liquid seeping quickly inside of his eyeballs. A second later his eyes had become pitch black; these were the eyes of a dead man. The usually stoic Jesús shrieked a blood curling scream, one that was so loud that not even the storm could muffle. This was a really painful sacrifice, but it was necessary. His eyes burned, they literally started spewing white flames and started bleeding profusely. His blood was boiling and bubbling around his skin, dark smoke coming out of the bursting bubbles. As quickly as the fire and the blood came they ceased to be, suddenly leaving him with nothing but pitch black orbs instead of eyes. Nothing reflected on them, they felt as windows towards an endless void.
“The glasses…” He asked her, as right now he was completely blind
Winifred quickly handed what he was asking and finally after he put them on he was finally granted Truesight. He now could see the world as it really was, peeled off his skin and gloriously naked.
The dead and bloated corpses were now two beacons of pure light, their bodies made of incompressible shapes and geometries, and the size of school buses. Despite all of his strength and jaded attitude he could not endure such sight for long, nobody could, and only a few seconds later he violently turned back, threw the glasses to the ground, and bent down before scrubbing his eyes to get rid of what coated them. Winifred came towards him and helped him clean himself out with her handkerchief and a small bottle of clean water. When the liquid finally fell on the ground it started to bubble and melt the concrete below. The corpses were smelly enough, but the foul reek of the liquid was overpowering it all.
The creatures from beyond were not to be seen by the naked eye.
Maltés stumbled and sat down on the floor. O'Hara immediately hugged and helped him to lie on the floor and placed a hand on his forehead, checking his temperature.
“My God you are burning.”
“Confirmed; two beta level angels.” He simply said, with a shivering lower lip and a sense of dread and impending doom overpowering him.
“What could kill two angels?” Winifred said, helping him get on the car’s co-pilot seat.
“We need to hurry; their glamours will degrade anytime now. Put them in the back seat. Contact with the Bunker and tell them to prepare the cleansing room. We…” He managed to say before his shivering became too strong for him to bear, and his fever-induced deliriums overtook him. Everything that came from his mouth afterward was nothing but nonsensical mutters.
With a nod, Winifred took a telephone installed above the car’s gear shift and obeyed his instructions. After pressing the Bunker’s secret number only a series of apparently random beeps and a pre-recorded message informing that such a number did not exist answered back, a small deterrent in case anyone called by accident.
“Squire Winifred O'Hara from the Nevada division. We found two dead beta level angels under the road bridge in the route 466 of the Boulder Highway, bordering on the town of Winchester. Their glamours will fade off soon. We are heading back into the Bunker with them. We will need the cleansing room prepared.”
“Understood, agent O'Hara.” Answered an unfazed feminine voice from the other side.
Winifred sighed and covered the shivering Jesús with her duster. He needed the warm heat more than she did. Ignoring the cold and relentless rain she went to the trunk of the car and grabbed a couple of bags and an ax. She needed to bring the angelic corpses before their glamours broke and they turned into their real forms. She needed to avoid that at all costs. Luckily for her, they didn’t have to be returned in one piece, and it was easier to chuck several body pieces into a bag than to drag two water bloated bodies into the back of a car.
With the ax in hand she prayed to whatever power was above for forgiveness and proceeded with the massacre, cutting angelic limbs and bones alike.