Inked Wings (16+)

ONE - An In

/ Angel's POV /

6:08

The current of the wind is still going strong in Garston City. The days spent here are no less than "airy" at the city's current altitude, its skyscrapers leaving large paths for strong currents. I sit at the top of the News building, sensing the warm light rays of dawn.

I adjust my leg onto the antenna I have hid behind a moment ago. This prosthetic desperately needs a redesign, having outgrown the edgy print. Still, it's optimal for my line of – work. My mask rests over my nose inside-out, the imprint of the Rebellion's logo invisible.

Mine's worn out by age anyways, as well as the nametags resting 'round my throat. Since MEA had taken down the old army as a whole, the system of the – universe – had fallen at their feet. I spit whenever I spot those perky ads: "The Mutant Extermination Army is no longer in service. All of our inhabitants can rest at ease and, therefore, show their support to us - W.P.A (Worldwide Protection Army)." Such a lazy facade.

I scoff. My peers often tell me "their outposts are too risky to approach".

On the other hand, their satellites are easy to disable. MEA relies strongly on Risen Energy power. Yet, disabling the power would not only affect their troops but whole civilizations, people, children. Normies and Mutants alike. Yeah, that option is not even in question.

That's why I suggested we directly confront them. "Too risky." Even Doc. said so. Still, Dad told me he could find me an in. Now, I'm waiting for him to bring it up.

I'm tired of civil activism. Fliers won't stop soldiers – my intercom buzzes – speaking of...

'Yes?' I instinctively respond.

'Are you wandering somewhere off to dreamland again?' Martha teases me.

I grimace. 'You spot somethin'?'

'I sent you the location.' She hung up. Another way of saying, "hurry".

I pick up my hoverboard, separating it from the magnet inside my cloak, right at the middle of my spine. I hop on it and skyboard my way throughout the city. Full of noise, from all the neon signs hung up. The wind pushes my hair into my face. Still, I make it fast.

I reach a poorly lit neighborhood, filled with empty houses. A person trips down, inside one of the open alleys. Three MEA policemen have them surrounded.

I carefully land on the nearest roof and peek from behind an ad sign.

The hooded person turns out to be a young girl. Can't figure out why she is facing aggression from her appearance alone. Two policemen play as Lookout, the one approaching the girl with bad intent. 'I've heard you're the one displaying propaganda on our stations' He sounds like he's smoked 20 Lucid bars within the last hour alone.

"Propaganda." I almost let out a laugh. Hypocrisy is amusing from time to time.

'I – I didn't do anything illegal.' The girl is crawling away, obviously afraid.

I pull my hood over my head.

The policeman reaches for something.

And a thud breaks his momentum.

One of the policemen on his right falls over, a green substance covering his mutilated face. Steam leaves his lifeless body. From the darkness behind their feet, Linda's T-rex eyes stare back at the startled smoke addict. He raises his gun, laser fully charged.

I swiftly knock him off his feet, causing him to pass out. As fast, I return to my hiding spot.

The other lookout has turned to see what just occurred while pressing his index finger against his intercom: calling for backup.