Pain Purity and Apocalypse

Chapter 1: Everything She Loved

Tuesday, May 2, 1993
(Location: The Reaper Nation: Milan, Italy)

     Trinity Augustine is the nineteen year old daughter of President, Norman Augustine, of the Reapers of Restoration Organization; otherwise known as, RORO. In the past, before the peace treaty between the four nations of Demons, Reapers, Angels, and Humans, her father was known by the title: The Grim Reaper, for his world record of most collected souls. Now, as she has come of age, she is training to become a professional Reaper, herself.

Trinity's matted, blond hair sits messily in tight, chin length curls. Her pink, flower hair clip wilts as a dying flower does in fall. Every part of her body has become caked with grey dust, white powdered ash, and copper coloured blood. Her emerald green eyes stare widely, red and puffy from the smoke. What once was a beautiful pink hoop dress, decorated with white ruffles and pretty, silk laces, hangs loose, ripped and burnt. Her home, once the warm and safe Augustine Mansion, now lays destroyed in a similar fashion, standing weakly behind her in a heap of scarlet, painted wood. The red roof and grey walls; The gorgeously coloured garden, all in complete and utter shambles.

Trinity barely escaped the flame's scorching clutches. Now, her knees, bloody and scraped, touch down on the ground with the weight of her hunched upper body. She has no home and no one to turn to— to hug— to be told "everything will be al right, everything works out when we're together." Both her parents perished trying to protect this house. RORO's own president, Norman Augustine, the voice upon the world stage, lost his life at the hands of a single Angel. Trinity's hands quiver on her lap as she closes her eyes. The scene before this mess, before the fire, plays in vivid flashes through her mind:

Upstairs, the sun beamed down from the bright, blue sky with an air of comfort and stability. Her mother, Jane Augustine, sat quietly reading, splayed out across the red upholstered, sectioned couch of the second floor parlour. Jane's blond hair was tied up in a braided bun, round, white pearls decorated the edges, and she wore a wine red dress, tightly fit to her slim figure.
Trinity sat at the large windowsill in her pink, hoop skirted dress, untouched by the devastation that was about to befall. She sat, her chin resting on her right palm as she gazed out across the perfectly symmetrical, circular garden of red and white roses. In the distance, an Angel, male with hair tied back in a red bow, was walking with an alarmingly confident stride towards the manor. His enormous, white-feathered wings fluttered in the dull wind. He adorned a white suit— not the normal suit that an Angel of The Heavenly Court wears, or remotely displayed an air of tranquility. His suit adorned the letters A.O.M.E, printed in rouge, above the breast pocket.

"Mom, is dad hosting a meeting with the law department today?" Trinity asked, Jane didn't look up from her book as she answered, only half hearing the question while engrossed in her book, and in a board and uninterested tone,

"I'm not the one you should be asking, do you recognize them?"
"No, but it's definitely an Angel... He's wearing a suit I don't recognize. If he was here for business purposes, he would have worn the customary letters, RORO, above his breast." Jane put her book down on the glass coffee table, now feeling the bitter chill of concern, and made her way to sit next to Trinity at the windowsill.
They watched as the Angel came closer, as he climbed the white-marble steps and up and across their front porch to the front, double doors.
They heard three, loud knocks... They knew, at that moment, this was not a welcome guest.

Knock... Knock... Knock
Jane and Trinity's hearts beat faster than they had ever beat before, and harder than thought possible. Trinity could feel the colour drain from her face as a dim, orange light pulsed— the source unseen— from the front porch. They couldn't see the Angel, but that glow, that light, the bright colour— it was fire.