A Demon With Wings

Six

The next day, I make sure to sit as far away from Goodie and the child psychopaths at breakfast. I sit near Gabby and Angela, and watch them sweet talk as I devour my toast.

Evangeline sits down next to me. "Hey Captain," she smirks. "Just a quick update from the All-Father. We're changing codes again, because nobody is experienced enough for it to stay the same. Like Skyward, her codename hasn't been edited for years."

Amber. Her memory brings knives into my heart.

"Go on," I say, grabbing a notepad and pen from my pocket. I've been taking it wherever I go, partly because I'm on mission, and mainly because I love to draw.

"Maybe if you apologize for yesterday's prank?"

God, I hate her puppy-eye look!

"No. I'm proud I pranked you!" I say.

As a fight is about to commence, luckily for me, Trixie takes this time to interrupt.

But unfortunately, she's acting weird, as always.

"Merry Christmas, everyone!" she says in a falsely enthusiastic voice. Then, her voice turns to sour. "Has anyone seen my war hat?"

Yeah, I've personally left every piece of her armour except the helmet at Trixie's door. She's obviously seen them, seeing that she's wearing her breastplate, and arm and leg linings. Her titian dreadlocks are combed and held back from her forehead by a huge clip.

"Evangeline took it," I say without hesitation.

"Orson stole it," accuses Angel at the same time.

"I had a sleepover at hers," I invent. "There were red hairs outside her room door."

That's all Trixie needs to hear. She asks Angel in her silkiest voice, "Did you steal my war hat?"

"Nope?" Angel replies, intimidated.

Trixie rolls her silver eyes. "Evangeline Youngspire, don't lie to me. I'm not crazy, and I'm not stupid."

I highly doubt that.

"I didn't steal your stupid war helm, Alluni!" Angel screams. "That's the truth! Stop bothering me!"

I pretty much ignore the drama until Trixie gets a knife out.

Fucking little psychopath!

"Confess, or we'll do this the hard way!" she declares.

Evangeline's chocolate eyes slit in determination as she gets her own knife out, but it's immediately evident who is the better fighter.

The anti-swearing Angel is no match at all for the drakon slayer. Trixie is tougher, faster and more agile. And she is laughing like a maniac, of which she is.

Trixie is now on top of Angel, with a knife at the ready. She disarms Angel, and starts to slice down.

I instantly know I can't stand by idly. I don't like Evangeline at all, but this is...what did my father call it, a gentleman's honor? I think that's it.

I ambush Trixie from behind, and slash at her with my sickle. She flails about and tries to fight me, but I have caught her off guard. I push my sickle towards her neck.

"Trixie Alluni," I say angrily yet clearly. "Why are you doing this?"

Trixie gives me an insolent smile. "Big bad Youngspire stole my war hat," she replies happily. "Naughty, naughty!"

What. The. Actual. Fucking. Fuck! This is not what I signed up for when I joined the organization!

Trixie smiles that sweet, innocent smile at me again. "Can I have a biscuit? You know, for honesty?"

Bitch. Fucking bitch.

"Trixie, you're insane," I scramble for words. "Why are you doing this?"

"Naughty Evangeline took my war hat, so why can't I take her life?" Trixie asks, a little too innocently.

"Because taking an angel life is wrong!" I roar at her face. "Plain wrong!"

Trixie shrugs. "I kill drakons, Orson. You kill Shirams. Why can't I kill a little angel?"

"Because it's wrong to kill one of your equals!" I snap. Then, I give myself a few deep breaths, and a moment to calm down. I decide to let Trixie go. "Evangeline, return Trixie's helmet and apologize. Trixie..."

"Yes?" asks Trixie, now boredly sticking a knife through the tablecloth as if nothing had happened.

"You disgust me," I say. "Apologize to Evangeline, and try to act...normal."

After an afternoon of plotting and planning, over a thousand story requests from Goodie, and over a million Trixie v.s. Evangeline catfights, we've finally come to a conclusion.

My codename is now Roger Blake. That at least makes sense. Kevin's is Jeffrey Hawk. Facepalm. Evangeline's is Ivory Flower. Facepalm facepalm. Goodie's is Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. Facepalm facepalm facepalm. And Trixie's new code is Puppy Girl. What in the name of Jesus fucking Christ?!

I am so officially pissed.

We've decided to take the Miners first, then the Guardians of Whatever Shit They Consume, and finally, the Councilors of Something That Starts With a 'C'.

Pish. No comment.

As promised, we have to set out at sunset. As captain, I arrive at the gate first, to make a good first impression. I check my bag as I wait for the others.

Change of clothes? Check.

Toiletries? Check.

Flashlight? Check.

Sickle? Check.

First-Aid Kit? Check.

Rations? Check.

Cell phone? Check.

High-tech communicator cleverly hidden inside a "gameboy"? Check.

In a few minutes, Goodie runs up, dressed in a...is that a princess dress? If yes, where the fuck did he get that? Is he even a fucking boy? Or is he genderfluid and I don't know?

"Goodie, for fuck's sake!" I yell.

"Orson," he says. "I'm wearing this to the Gold Miner Hunters! They're gonna love me!"

I facepalm. "FOR FUCK'S SAKE GOODIE WEAR SOMETHING PROPER OR I'LL PERSONALLY DRESS YOU, YOU LITTLE SHIT!"

Just then, Kev runs out with backpack, dressed appropriately, to my relief.

"Goodie, we'll be running around having fun. Are you sure you want to be dressed like this?" asks Kev in the gentlest voice I've ever heard.

How come I didn't guess that shy, soft-spoken Kev was good with children?

Evangeline comes out to me, smelling like a mixture of lilies, sea salt and flour. I scan her braided hair and fancy outfit in distaste.

As soon as Trixie the psycho comes as well, I'm relieved.

"Ready, guys?"