Part One: Revelation From Uncle Gabriel's Mentor
The StealthOps House | Sylvanoria, Elf Territory
Tuesday, January 2, 2035 | 13:00 EST
It's been exactly two months since Alaesa was made Governor of Sylvanoria, and since then, all we've been hearing about is movement down at the front. Upon hearing about it, I immediately sent SpyderBot into enemy territory in SpyMode to get intel on the enemy, because this new movement may spark new battle down there, and we need to be ready for it. That also means that for as much help as we've got, we're in dire need of more. And I know whose help we're going to need. Which means that I need to talk to Malaya.
13:30 EST
Thirty minutes later, I see her flying by. So, I join her in the air, careful to steer clear of her razor-sharp feathers.
"Oh! Hi, David," she says, her expression brightening, and turning to face me without stopping.
"Hey, M. What's going on?" I ask, returning her rather infectious smile.
"Nothing much. I was just doing some praying."
"Anything new from the Source?"
"Not as of yet. But I'm still listening, all the same."
"Speaking of which, I was wondering if you could send word to Michael, or someone up there, and tell them we need some reinforcements down here. I have a feeling that we won't be here much longer."
"I'll see what I can do, but know that Michael won't do anything without permission from the Most High. And if Michael doesn't do anything, the others won't. But, I'll try. No promises, though."
"That's all I can ask," I say, fistbumping the cherub and making a b-line back to the StealthOps House.
17:45 EST
I'm working on a concept for a companion to the SpyderBot--a female MantiDroid--in my and Alexa's room, when I hear a deafening thunderclap right over the house. And I would have no qualms with that--if there were cumulonimbus clouds in the sky. But there aren't. So I drop what I'm doing, quickly suit up, and race outside to see what's going on.
I check in the front yard, and then I make my way over to the backyard, and I take a look around. Then, I hear and feel what seems like an explosion behind me, and I turn around, stanced and with IceBolts at the ready in preparation for the worst.
Once the smoke clears, I see brilliant chrome-silver armor, man-sized wings with razor-sharp blades for feathers, jet-black hair, and vibrant blue eyes.
"Michael!" I yell, powering down, relaxing my stance, and standing up normally. "Oh, man, don't do that! I could've flash-frozen you!"
"But you didn't," he replies, walking toward me and smiling.
"But I could have. You, among others, know that my line of work makes me paranoid by nature. What's going on?" I ask the seven-and-a-half-foot-tall ArchAngel Commander.
"Your request through Malaya has gone through the proper channels."
"... Yes...?"
"And the GodHead will intervene, on your behalf. But only because demons are involved. How many are there?"
"Um, approximately between seventy-two thousand and seventy-two million."
"Okay. The GodHead will be sending the Assassin and a small portion of her army."
"Incredible. And, purely out of curiosity... just how many soldiers... exactly... are we talking about, here? Minus General Amitiel?"
"Seven hundred twenty... exactly."
YOU ARE READING
The PulseTeam, Book Two: Evolution
Science FictionEvolution picks up where Origins left off, continuing the story through the eyes of the younger of The Pulse and Pulsate's two children, their fifteen-year old son, David Nathanael Allen, III. David, III knows who and what he and his older sister, J...
