Sunlight streamed through the gaps in Angelo's apartment blinds, painting thin stripes of golden light across his rumpled sheets. His muscles screamed in protest as consciousness dragged him from sleep, every movement a sharp reminder of yesterday's sparring match with Red.
"Everything hurts... again," Angelo groaned into his pillow, forcing himself to sit up despite his body's vehement objections. His newly issued uniform hung on the closet door, still carrying the crisp scent of fresh fabric - a stark contrast to his previous one that had ended up shredded and blood-soaked.
Blue's measured voice echoed through their shared consciousness, carrying the weight of gentle reproach. "Perhaps engaging in combat exercises with Red was ill-advised, given your injuries have barely begun to heal." The words hung in their mental space like a professor's disappointed sigh.
"Funny how you weren't protesting when you had the chance," Angelo shot back, fighting down a wince as he adjusted his collar. The fabric scratched against the barely-healed wound beneath.
"I was occupied with matters of far greater intellectual significance than your physical altercations or resulting injuries," Blue replied with clinical detachment that somehow managed to sound both precise and dismissive.
Angelo let the comment slide, his mind drifting through the whirlwind of recent events. In just one week, his world had transformed completely - gaining and losing a partner, battling terrorists, confronting a serial killer, achieving evolution. The invitation to live with Bill's mother still weighed heavily on his thoughts, each memory tinged with bittersweet complexity. It felt like a fever dream, yet the aches in his body confirmed its reality.
The morning routine passed in a blur of muscle memory, and soon Angelo found himself soaring between Novaria's towers. His evolved forged energy tendrils gleamed orange in the morning light as they latched onto passing buildings, each leap carrying him closer to the station. Other Aurons traversed the city similarly, the sight of their varied auras painted the cityscape like an artist's palette.
Finally, his boots touched down before the precinct's imposing facade. The building's architecture spoke of authority and permanence, its stone walls weathered by years of service. Angelo's gaze lingered on the entrance, memories of that stormy night flooding back - Vincent Morrow, the rogue water Auron, whose death may have set everything in motion. Or perhaps fate would have found another catalyst; there was no way to know.
The moment Angelo stepped inside, conversation died like a candle in vacuum. The usual bustle of police work ground to a halt as every eye turned toward him. The weight of their stares pressed down like a physical force, making even the infamous Angel of Death shift uncomfortably. The air grew thick with tension, broken only by the soft whir of ceiling fans and distant ringing phones.
Near the center of the room, a cluster of officers had gathered around someone like moths to a flame. But even their attention diverted, heads turning to track Angelo's entrance with a mix of wariness and curiosity. A deep voice cut through the silence, filled with casual authority.
"What's the holdup? Move aside." The crowd parted, revealing a figure that seemed more suited to a rock concert than a police station. He wore a leather jacket adorned with gleaming metal spikes, a skull with yellow eyes emblazoned across his black undershirt. His torn jeans and spiked boots completed the rebellious image, while his dramatic haircut - long enough to cover one eye - added a final theatrical touch. Every detail of his appearance seemed calculated to provoke, from the perfectly distressed leather to the precise angle of his hair.
"And you might be?" The newcomer's voice carried the easy confidence of someone used to commanding attention. His posture radiated casual superiority as he looked down at Angelo - both literally and figuratively.
Red's voice crackled through their shared consciousness like static electricity. "This wannabe rock star is getting on my last nerve. Show him what's what, Angelo!"
Blue's response manifested as a soft mental snort, his silence speaking volumes about his opinion of the situation.
Angelo's eyes shifted to burning orange as he sized up the stranger, his energy vision revealing impressive power flowing beneath the theatrical exterior. Several nearby officers flinched at the transformation, but the newcomer held his ground, meeting Angelo's gaze with unwavering confidence. The air between them seemed to crackle with unspoken challenge.
"I'm Angelo," he replied, his voice carrying the chill of a morgue. "Though some know me as the Angel of Death. And you would be...?"
"Joe," the taller man drawled, his stance radiating practiced nonchalance. "Rock star by day, Evolved Auron by night. Or something like that." His lips curved into a smirk that suggested he was used to recognition following his introduction.
Red's derisive laughter echoed through their link. "Famous? Never heard of this poser!"
"As if you follow current cultural trends, Red," Blue interjected with philosophical disdain.
"Who asked you, blueberry?!" Red's indignation flared hot enough to make Angelo's temples throb. "Whose side are you on?"
"I maintain no allegiance beyond objective truth," Blue replied with desert-dry precision.
"Cat got your tongue?" Joe's voice carried a hint of triumph, mistaking Angelo's internal dialogue for hesitation.
"Will you two shut up?" Angelo thought furiously at his counterparts. "Your bickering is making me look worse!" Aloud, he kept his tone carefully measured: "No, I was simply trying to recall if I'd heard of you. Strange... nothing comes to mind."
A muscle twitched near Joe's eye, the first crack in his cool facade. The tension in the room shifted as officers watched the verbal sparring match between the infamous Angel of Death and their apparent celebrity guest. The stalemate might have continued if Red hadn't materialized behind Joe, mischief radiating from every particle of his being.
"Red! Stand down - I know that's you!" Chief Ramirez's commanding voice boomed from above. All heads turned to see him standing on the upper level, arms crossed and expression sharp enough to cut glass. Joe spun in surprise, finding himself face-to-face with another Angelo who had frozen mid-motion, clearly caught in the act of something dubious.
Angelo met the chief's stern gaze as his eyes faded back to brown. "The three of you, wait right there," Ramirez ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
As Chief Ramirez descended the metal stairs, his footsteps echoing through the suddenly emptying space, Joe's eyes fixed on Red with a mixture of disbelief and professional curiosity. The morning light streaming through the windows caught the metallic spikes on his jacket, sending tiny reflections dancing across the walls.
"What exactly am I looking at here?" Joe gestured toward Red, his carefully maintained rock star indifference cracking slightly.
"None of your business, rock boy!" Red shot back with characteristic aggression, causing Joe to blink rapidly as if trying to reset his vision. For once, Angelo felt a surge of satisfaction at Red's attempted disruption - seeing the self-assured musician's composure slip brought him an unexpected pleasure.
Chief Ramirez approached their small group, his weathered face carefully neutral. "Angelo... it's good to have you back," he said, his gruff voice carrying the formal politeness of someone addressing a necessary but troublesome asset.
"Liar," Red's accusation echoed through their shared consciousness, picking up on the underlying tension between Angelo and his superior.
The chief gestured toward their leather-clad companion. "This is Joe Sturm, one of the Evolved Aurons assigned here in response to Novaria's elevated threat level." The fluorescent lights overhead made Joe's carefully styled hair gleam like polished obsidian.
"He doesn't look anything like an officer!" Red burst out indignantly, his words slightly muffled as Angelo caught him in a swift headlock. "Look at him - he belongs at a concert, not a police station!"
Joe's eyebrow arched elegantly at the sight of Angelo apparently wrestling with himself.
"Please, ignore him and continue, Chief," Angelo managed, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity while restraining his more volatile aspect.
To his surprise, Chief Ramirez seemed almost amused by the display. "Actually, Red makes a valid observation," he said, his tone shifting to something more formal. "Joe isn't a traditional officer. Evolved Aurons - or Advanced Aurons, as they're also known - can enter into contracts with the government through the Triple A - the Advanced Aurons Association."
The chief began pacing slightly, his polished shoes clicking against the floor. "The arrangement is quite comprehensive. Monthly salaries, benefits packages, vacation deals - but in exchange, they're on call when the Association needs them. Now that you've evolved, Angelo, it's an option worth considering."
Joe's eyes narrowed as he reassessed Angelo. "Wait - this guy's actually evolved?" Disbelief colored his voice as he gestured dismissively. "I thought he was just some weird anomaly with a split personality disorder."
"Why you-!" Red renewed his struggle against Angelo's grip, his fury practically radiating heat.
"He was talking about me, not you!" Angelo hissed, trying to maintain control of the situation.
"Actually, I meant both of you freaks," Joe replied with casual disdain, examining his spiked rings as if bored by the whole exchange.
Red's fury exploded at the insult, his violent thrashing nearly breaking Angelo's hold. "LET ME AT HIM!" he snarled, his rage making their shared form vibrate with barely contained violence. "I'LL SHOW THIS POMPOUS PRETTY BOY WHAT A FREAK CAN DO!"
"ENOUGH!" The chief's voice thundered through the station, making both Angelo and Red snap to attention like cadets at inspection. "Yes, Angelo recently evolved, and you'd do well not to underestimate him. He's proven his capabilities repeatedly - sometimes to my considerable dismay." The last words carried a hint of grudging respect.
"Chief..." Angelo murmured, caught off guard by the unexpected praise.
"Whatever," Joe waved a hand dismissively, his multiple rings catching the light. "You wanted to discuss my arrangement?"
"Indeed. Let's continue this in my office." The chief's expression grew serious as he turned back to Angelo. "For now, resume your regular duties. But understand this," his voice took on an ominous edge that made the air feel heavy, "Evolution changes things. When an Evolved Auron is involved in a fatal confrontation, it triggers an investigative committee. There can be serious consequences. Consider yourself warned."
As the chief and Joe ascended the stairs toward his office, their footsteps fading into the general buzz of the station, Angelo felt something cold settle in his chest. "Tch," escaped through his clenched teeth.
"Is this truly such a significant concern?" Blue's analytical voice cut through their shared consciousness. "Do you find yourself so driven to deal death?"
Angelo's internal response crackled with frustration. "I'm not like Red - I don't kill for pleasure! My actions serve a purpose. Those beyond redemption will only return to their crimes once released. If I spare them, innocent people die later. In the grand scheme, there's blood on my hands either way - I'd rather it be the criminal's blood than that of future victims'."
"Simple solution - just fight without evolving," Red suggested, his bloodthirsty eagerness palpable in their shared mind.
"I suspect mere possession of evolved abilities is sufficient to trigger committee oversight," Blue countered with philosophical precision.
Angelo moved through his day mechanically, but the weight of this new reality pressed down on him like a physical force. The mundane tasks of police work - filling out reports, reviewing case files, conducting routine patrols - all seemed to blur together as his mind grappled with the implications of these new restrictions on his evolved powers. The familiar halls of the station felt somehow different now, as if the very air had changed with his understanding of his new limitations.
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Evening painted Novaria's skyline in deep purples and oranges as Angelo prepared to leave the station. The day had passed without a single criminal incident - a fact that left him with an uneasy feeling about his future as an evolved Auron. Just as his aura began to flicker to life around him, his phone's sharp ring cut through the quiet. The name on the screen made him sigh.
"Her again? What is it this time..." he muttered, thumb hovering over the answer button.
"Um... Hello, Angelo? You there?" Neiva's voice carried a nervous energy that immediately set him on edge.
"Yeah, what now?" He couldn't keep the exasperation from his voice.
"I, uh... I need your help." Her words came out in a rush, pitched higher than normal with anxiety.
"Why, what did you do?" Suspicion colored his tone as he imagined what trouble his self-appointed investigator might have found.
"It's a long story..."
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[Yesterday Morning]
Sunlight streamed through Neiva's apartment window, catching dust motes that danced above her cluttered desk. "Perfect! Thankies!" she chirped into the phone before hanging up, determination blazing in her emerald eyes. Her fingers flew across her laptop's keyboard, the gentle tapping mixing with the distant sounds of city life floating up from the street below.
"Okay Neiva, think this through," she coached herself, pulling her brilliant red hair back into a messy bun as she dove into her research. Multiple browser tabs opened in rapid succession as she pieced together information about Ashford.
"Small town... near Ashen Forest..." she murmured, clicking through satellite images. "The mountainous terrain forces you to circle around to reach it. That's not particularly helpful." Maps and local history articles covered her screen as she tried to understand the scope of Angelo's hometown.
Her brow furrowed in concentration, connecting dots. "A simple town like this... a sophisticated laboratory seems out of place, especially hidden in a basement." She tapped her pen against her desk rhythmically, mind racing through possibilities.
Suddenly, she sat up straighter, excitement lighting up her features. "That's it! A project like that would need specialized contractors - permits, equipment, expertise. The pool of companies capable of building a professional research facility can't be that large!" Pride colored her voice as she followed this new lead. "Find the contractor from 18 years ago, trace it back to who commissioned it, and there's our breakthrough!"
The day slipped by as Neiva pursued this angle, her coffee going cold beside her keyboard. Multiple dead ends only fueled her determination. Finally, as afternoon shadows lengthened across her desk, she found something promising - the Construction Projects Agency, a well-established firm with over six decades of matching clients to contractors. Their website boasted of handling specialized construction needs across multiple regions.
She scheduled an appointment, carefully crafting her cover story as she did so.
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Back in the present, Angelo found himself genuinely intrigued despite his initial skepticism.
"An interesting approach, I must admit," Blue's analytical voice resonated through their shared consciousness.
"I would never have thought of that," Red acknowledged.
"That's because you have no concept of how the real world operates," Angelo thought back.
"Hate to break it to you, but neither do you, Angie," Red's mental snicker carried his usual sass.
"Hello? Are you still there?" Neiva's voice pulled Angelo back to the present moment.
"Yes, sorry," he replied, surprised to find himself actually curious about her progress. His original assumption that this was an impossible task seemed less certain now. "So you made an appointment. What did they tell you?"
"About that..." Her voice carried a weight that suggested complications ahead.
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[This Morning]
The Construction Projects Agency headquarters rose like a gleaming monolith against the midday sky, its polished glass facade reflecting clouds and sunlight in equal measure. Neiva's reflection stared back at her as she approached the revolving doors, her borrowed business attire making her look older than her seventeen years. The lobby's marble floors echoed with her careful steps as she approached the reception counter, her heart hammering against her ribs.
The waiting area exuded corporate luxury - leather chairs, artwork that probably cost more than her apartment, and the soft murmur of filtered air conditioning. Neiva crossed and uncrossed her legs, silently mouthing her rehearsed story while trying not to fidget with her borrowed briefcase.
"Diana?" The receptionist's crisp voice cut through her nervous reverie. "The agent will see you now."
"Thank you," Neiva managed, proud that her voice didn't shake as she rose and followed the indicated path to a corner office.
Jimmie proved to be a man who seemed designed for his role - perfect smile, immaculate suit, and an enthusiasm that bordered on aggressive. His office smelled of leather and expensive cologne, diplomas and certifications covering one wall while architectural models decorated glass shelves along another.
"Welcome! I'm Jimmie, and I'm here to make your construction dreams reality!" His handshake was firm but not overwhelming, practiced to perfection like everything else about him.
"H-Hello Jimmie, I'm Diana," Neiva replied, channeling every business meeting she'd ever seen in movies. Her borrowed heels clicked against the hardwood floor as she took her seat.
"How can we help you today?" His smile remained bright and unwavering.
Neiva launched into her prepared speech, each word carefully chosen. "I represent a pharmaceutical company seeking to commission a new laboratory facility. My superior sent me to explore our options." She was grateful for the hours spent practicing in front of her mirror.
Jimmie's enthusiasm somehow increased. "Excellent choice coming to us! We maintain partnerships with dozens of contractors specialized in state-of-the-art laboratory construction. Whatever field you're working in, we can-"
"Actually," Neiva interrupted, trying to keep her voice steady, "there's something specific I need to ask about." She watched his expression carefully as she continued. "My boss mentioned visiting a colleague's basement laboratory in Ashford, about eighteen years ago. Though it's gone now, he was quite impressed. Would you happen to know who constructed it?"
The question caused a barely perceptible crack in Jimmie's professional facade. His smile flickered for just a moment before recovering. "That's... quite specific, and not something I was prepared to address today. This laboratory must have been truly remarkable to prompt such a specific inquiry."
"It was, from what I understand," Neiva leaned forward slightly, playing up her innocent curiosity. "Would your records possibly go back that far?"
Jimmie's fingers drummed once on his desk before he caught himself. "We do maintain extensive records, not just of our direct projects but also projects from other companies, for market research purposes..." He trailed off, clearly weighing his options. "I would need to consult with management about accessing such dated information. Perhaps we could focus on current contractors that I know could meet your needs?"
Neiva felt sweat forming under her blazer but pressed on. "My superior was very specific about researching this particular facility first. What if we scheduled a follow-up after you've had time to check those records? If nothing turns up, we can explore other options then?"
"A week from today?" Jimmie suggested, his tone carrying a hint of resignation mixed with professional courtesy.
"Perfect," Neiva stood, offering what she hoped was a confident smile. "I look forward to hearing what you find." She added a small wink as she turned to leave, immediately cringing internally at her attempt at corporate flirtation.
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"So you're meeting him again next week?" Angelo asked, his voice carrying both curiosity and skepticism.
"N-Not exactly..." Neiva's nervous laugh crackled through the phone, suggesting there was much more to the story.
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Neiva's footsteps echoed softly against the corporate bathroom's tile as she paced the small stall, her borrowed heels long since discarded. "A week? They might reject me anyway. I need those records now!" The fluorescent lights hummed overhead as she settled in for a long wait, checking her phone's dimming screen periodically as the building slowly emptied.
Hours crawled by, marked only by the occasional flush from other floors and the steady drip of a leaky faucet. Finally, when the silence outside grew thick enough to suggest abandonment, she emerged from her hiding place. Her legs protested as she stretched, pins and needles shooting through her feet as circulation returned. The bathroom mirror reflected her determination as she smoothed her rumpled clothes and peered into the darkened hallway.
Like a shadow, she crept through the building's maze of corridors. Security lights cast eerie patterns across the walls, and the soft whir of climate control seemed deafening in the emptiness. Every corner held the potential for discovery, every distant sound froze her in place until her heart resumed beating.
Then she saw it - a room lined with filing cabinets and shelves groaning under the weight of countless folders. "Bingo," she breathed, her whisper seeming too loud in the silence. The door clicked shut behind her with what felt like thunderous finality.
A computer sat on a nearby desk like a beacon of hope in the darkness. "These physical records would take forever to search," she muttered, approaching the workstation. "There has to be a digital database..."
The login screen's pale glow illuminated her face as hope turned to frustration. "Damn it!" Her fingers hovered uselessly over the keyboard. "There has to be a password somewhere. People always write these things down..."
She began searching the desk with increasingly desperate energy, rifling through drawers and checking under mousepads. The sound of papers shuffling and drawers sliding seemed to grow louder with each passing moment. Her breath caught in her throat as the door handle suddenly rattled.
Neiva dove behind a filing cabinet, her heart threatening to burst from her chest. Every breath felt like it might give her away as footsteps entered the room.
"Hello? Anyone in here?" A security guard's flashlight beam cut through the darkness, sweeping across the room. "Must be those pigeons again, always pecking at the windows..." The beam retreated, followed by the sound that would haunt Neiva's nightmares - the definitive click of a door being locked from the outside.
The blood drained from her face as the implications sank in. She was trapped, and calling for help would only land her in more trouble than she could imagine.
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"And that's how I ended up here..." Her voice carried the hollow tone of someone who had thoroughly processed their own idiocy.
Angelo had been holding his face in his palm so long it left marks. "Let me get this straight - you broke in, and now you're locked in their records room?"
"That's... yeah, pretty much," she admitted, shame coloring every word. "Please, I really need help..."
"I like her!" Red's enthusiastic declaration echoed through their shared consciousness.
"Naturally you'd be drawn to someone with such a talent for creating chaos," Blue observed with desert-dry sarcasm.
Angelo's sigh seemed to come from his very soul. "Fine... Send me your location. I'll get you out of there."
"My hero!" Her relief was palpable even through the phone. "Sending it now. Please hurry!" The call ended with a soft click, followed immediately by a location pin dropping into his messages.
Twilight had fully descended over Novaria as Angelo's orange aura illuminated the base of the towering office building. His phone's screen cast a ghostly glow on his face as he typed:
> Angelo 7:23PM: I'm here. Use your flashlight to signal your window.
The response came almost immediately:
> Neiva 7:24PM: Okay! 😘
Angelo's eyes rolled so hard they practically auditioned for the circus. "Red, locate the signal and extract her. I'll handle any complications down here."
Red's crimson essence separated from Angelo like smoke from a dying flame, spiraling upward around the building's glass. The dark windows reflected his ascent until he spotted it - a faint flickering light near the top floors. His smoky form slipped through microscopic gaps in the window frame, the darkness of the room absorbing his red essence completely.
Neiva stood alone in the records room, periodically flashing her phone's light. Red materialized behind her, his crimson aura suddenly painting the room in bloody light. She caught his reflection in the window and spun around, heart leaping into her throat.
"A-Angelo?" she gasped, confusion evident in her voice. "I thought your aura was orange..."
Red's predatory grin gleamed in the darkness as his energy tendrils worked the window's latch. "Hey sugar-tits, ready for a midnight ride?"
Down below, Angelo's palm met his face with audible force. "Why did I send him..." he muttered into his hand.
"E-Excuse me?" Neiva's indignant sputter was cut short as Red lunged forward, scooping her up before she could protest. Her scream echoed off the surrounding buildings as they plummeted from the window.
The building's entrance doors swung open, spilling light onto the sidewalk as an elderly gentleman emerged. His carefully maintained mustache twitched as he spotted Angelo staring upward. Following Angelo's gaze, the man's eyes widened in alarm.
"Good lord! Thieves!" he exclaimed, his mustache practically vibrating with outrage.
Angelo turned smoothly, maintaining his professional demeanor despite his internal panic. "Is there a problem, citizen?"
"You're an officer!" The man's voice carried the particular volume of someone used to being listened to. "That red Auron - he just fled from my building!"
"I'll investigate immediately," Angelo replied with practiced authority, his orange aura blazing to life as he launched himself upward.
"Blue, stay here. Make sure he doesn't call this in," Angelo's thought carried clear command. Blue's essence remained behind, hovering near the agitated gentleman for a few minutes before materializing from behind a corner.
"Sir," Blue addressed the man, perfectly mimicking Angelo's voice. "I've investigated the disturbance. Simply another Auron using the building as a traversal point. Nothing suspicious to report."
"Oh... well then," the man's mustache settled as his concern deflated. "Thank you, officer."
"Have a pleasant evening," Blue offered before disappearing around the corner, his form dissolving back into smoke to rejoin the others.
Several blocks away, Red landed on a rooftop with his unwilling passenger. "There you go, you're welcom-" The crack of Neiva's palm against his face echoed across the rooftop.
"How dare you!" she practically vibrated with fury. "I wasn't ready! And that crude comment-"
"Relax, that wasn't me," Angelo's voice cut through her tirade as he landed beside them.
Neiva's eyes darted between the two identical figures, her brain struggling to process the impossibility before her.
"Hahaha, that look never gets old!" Red's cackle only deepened her confusion.
Without warning, Angelo manifested a blade of forged energy, cleaving through Red's neck in one fluid motion. Neiva's horrified shriek mixed with Red's laughter as his form dissolved into smoke and streamed back into Angelo's body, his amusement still echoing through their shared consciousness. "What's wrong, hit a nerve?" Red's mental voice dripped with satisfaction.
Blue's azure smoke reached Angelo and reintegrated with him, then he emerged and solidified beside them, his calm aura casting a steadier light across the rooftop than Angelo's flickering orange.
"My sincere apologies for the confusion, Neiva," Blue's measured tones seemed to deflate some of the tension. "I imagine you have questions."
"What... how are there more of you?" Her voice trembled slightly as she tried to make sense of what she'd witnessed.
"How did you put it earlier? It's a long story..."
The city lights sparkled below them like earthbound stars as they prepared to explain their unique existence to yet another bewildered observer. Somewhere in the distance, a clock tower began to toll, marking the end of another extraordinary day in Novaria.