three
“Jones, Williams. In the ring.”
Captain Moore’s voice echoes through the room, pulling me away from the bleak pit my mind drifted off to. Xavier’s face says that his train of thought was not dissimilar.
When it comes to sparring sessions, Xavier and I always fight each other first. We like to get extra aggressive before switching to other partners and toning it down a little.
We find great amusement in the looks on our colleagues’ faces when we both walk away from the ring salivating blood.
“Are you ready to get your ass kicked?”
My lips curve and my brows rise, a feeble attempt to lighten the heaviness that’s settled over our conversation.
We square up in the ring, Xavier standing tall as always to “assert his dominance”
or something equally ridiculous. At six foot inches, he’s nearly a foot taller than me, and worlds, does he love to remind me of it.
Being as vertically challenged as I am means that my opponent is almost always larger and stronger than me, but that’s how I’ve always trained to fight.
I’ve had to invest more time into every aspect of training: lifting weights, making sure my technique is perfect, and, most importantly, increasing my speed.
Though most think my size puts me at a disadvantage, that’s ironically what makes it the opposite. People underestimate me; they always have. I’m quicker than most, but the best weapon I have is that fighting is all I know.
We don't hesitate before both lunging forward, our first punches perfectly in rhythm with each other. Xavier and I have fought together a thousand times before, and it's hard for one of us to gain the upper hand.
We switch up our fighting style and move with a grace and force meant to test each other. We look for flaws in the other’s movements, predictability. Our sparring time is mostly just to force ourselves to fight differently and use techniques we normally wouldn’t.
Xavier feints to the left, before throwing a right hook. I expect it and block before landing several punches to his abdomen. Xavier staggers back, but quickly regains his balance and lunges forward again.
For a while we continue to exchange brutal blows, neither able to to gain the upper hand. When Xavier kicks my side, I stumble and hiss at the shooting pain through my ribcage. I growl in frustration and kick backwards.
He manages to swivel out of the way with just a moment to spare and drives his elbow into my ribs as he passes by.
I groan in pain, but I don’t let my step falter. I throw a series of quick jabs to his face, and though he blocks most of them, I move relentlessly and drive him backward.
I switch to driving my knee with brute force into his abdomen. It only takes one moment for Xavier’s step falters before I take that opportunity to sweep my leg under his feet and knock him to the ground.
I don’t give him even a second to roll to his feet. I drop to my knees, straddling him. Simultaneously, I draw my blade from my belt, holding it at his throat and declaring victory to all the horrified onlookers.
Xavier groans and raises his hands above his head in surrender. A feral smile tugs at my lips as I stare down at him. I’ve always loved to win.
“You two are fucking insane,”
I hear Captain Moore mutter behind us. “How you haven’t accidentally killed each other is beyond me.”
I tuck my blade back into my belt and roll off my friend. Blood drips from Xavier’s nose and my mouth. We both look like we’re on death’s door.
I push up to my feet and hold my hand out to Xavier. “Better luck next time, champ.”
I wink at him as he takes my hand.
Xavier shoves me to the side and shoots me a death glare. “Piss off or I’ll fire you.”
I chuckle as I follow him off the mat. “Ahh, the high road.”
Just as Xavier opens his mouth to rebut – with something entirely inappropriate, I’m sure – Captain Moore steps between us. “Jones, I want you in the simulator.”
My eyebrows shoot high. “I haven’t trained with the rest of our unit yet.”
Moore crosses his arms and his brow furrows. “Training structure has changed. Only one sparring session each. We’re focusing more on simulation training.”
I know exactly why we’re being thrown into the simulator. I know exactly why they want us to focus on real-world situations, but he doesn’t know that. “Why would they change the training structure if we’re still not being deployed into the field?”
Xavier nudges me in the side as if to say, Knock it off.
Moore sighs heavily, a sound I have become very accustomed to throughout the years. A sound he reserves just for me. He has previously labelled me as “annoyingly inquisitive with a mouth that needs to be sewn shut”.
“Just do what you’re told for once, Jones. If you have concerns, take it up with your sparring partner.”
He nods towards Xavier, who is preoccupied with wiping the blood off his face.
If they want to send us out into the field, they should be giving us as much time to prepare as possible. How can we prepare if we don’t even know it’s happening?
A couple of people from my unit stand around us, looking as if they’re contemplating my question. They don’t know what I know, but they should. They should have a choice.
Layla stands still as a statue, frowning. She joined the AIA a year ago. She was previously a medic, but has grown to become a great fighter. Layla’s taller than me by several inches, and she has a determination and drive that constantly surprises me, but… her kindness is her weakness.
This job can’t afford any weakness.
I reach out and squeeze her arm, snapping her back to reality and locking my gaze with hers. I think for a moment that I see tears glistening in her hazel eyes, but she pulls herself together quickly. I flash her a reassuring smile. I will always have her back. She wipes a strand of copper hair off her face and tucks it behind her ear before returning my smile.
Xavier joins me as I head towards the simulator. I look up at him every couple of seconds, unsettled, my mouth opening to speak before shutting again.
“If you have something to say, we both know you’ll say it eventually, so just spit it out already.”
He doesn’t look at me as he says the words.
I shoot him another sideways glance. “Why don’t they just tell us what’s going on?”
Xavier grabs my arm and pulls me towards the changing rooms, checking each stall to make sure we’re alone before slumping against one and rubbing his face. “We’ve received reports that there is an angel who has been breaching the agreement.”
My brows pull tightly together. “They’ve been coming to the city during the day?”
The one thing that has let us live a somewhat normal life for the past two years, the one thing that has given us comfort, is knowing that we have the day. During the day, we are safe.
“Yes. But that’s not all.”
He pauses and runs a hand through his hair. “This angel – he’s been taking humans. We don’t know where, but one by one, he’s plucking us off. We can’t find any trace of where he takes them.”
I watch my friend closely, noticing the dark circles under his eyes and the long breaths he takes when he thinks no one is watching. He’s exhausted, and he’s… afraid.
I shudder, my arms tightening around my body. “Are they planning on giving us any warning whatsoever, or just throwing everyone straight back into the field?”
“They think that if they give people notice, it’ll cause panic and agents will flee.”
I narrow a look at him that says people have the right to flee.
“I know, Amara, I know. I’m trying as hard as I can to change their minds, but you know what the leaders are like. None of them are in power because they’re qualified – they’re in power because they wanted power. They took advantage of the fact that no remaining politicians wanted to lead. They don’t care about our right to choose to go into battle.”
I shake my head softly, my fists balling at my sides. I want to know how bad it is and ask how many have been taken, but I’m silenced as the changing room doors swing open and quiet conversation follows. Xavier and I straighten and turn to watch Sam and Kate saunter in, towels flung over their shoulders.
“What a surprise to find you two in here talking, not training.”
Sam’s tone reeks of disdain as he stops at his locker in front of us, smiling smugly. He’s never respected either of us. Even with Xavier as his boss, he still acts as if he’s above him. It has always grated me deep in my core.
“Please fire him.”
I smile up at Xavier, only half joking.
The smug look on Sam’s face drops quickly, immediately replaced by contempt. “Sad that I didn’t get to beat you up today, Amara?”
He tilts his head to the side, his tone cold. Kate snickers beside him.
I blow him a kiss. “More than you know.”
Sam is a man of brute force. He used to serve in the navy. He’s your classic “don’t mess with me”
kind of guy, but he struggles to have anyone’s back. Kate is a great fighter, too; she’s built like Sam, with a gaping hole in her heart where her empathy glands should be. The two are usually joined at the hip like Xavier and me. They think alike, train alike, and piss me off alike; but Sam pulls the strings.
I can sense Xavier rolling his eyes next to me. He nudges me from behind. “Get your ass to the simulator.”
Chuckling, I follow his direction. Xavier never used to be much of a rule follower; this responsible side of him is still new to me. I’m unsure how I feel about it. Though being friends with the director sure has its perks, such as getting a heads-up on our early death sentence.
I gear up for the simulator, pulling on the wetsuit-like haptic suit and scanning the weapons wall. There are weapons made for the simulator, reflecting those that we use in the field. Today I choose to train with the orb: a cylindrical rubber device that imitates the handle of a frost blade.
The frost blade is our favoured weapon, as it was designed purely to kill daemons. I have trained with it for a year now, but I have never had the chance to use one in anything other than a simulation. Frost blades have a retractable titanium blade that glows a bright blue. The hilt is circled by ultraviolet lights that are so powerful they project UV rays over the blade. Daemons are nocturnal creatures who turn to ash if exposed to too much sun. They can be out in the daylight for a short amount of time, or if it’s overcast, but that much direct UV radiation and they’re toast.
“Simulation will begin in .”
Standing in the simulator, I close my eyes as the room slowly turns to darkness around me.
“Two.”
I take a deep breath.
“One.”
My eyes snap open, expecting to see a daemon hurtling towards me. Instead I find myself somewhere in suburbia. Abandoned cars litter the roads, and most of the surrounding houses are torn to pieces. In the distance, smoke billows into the sky, twisting and turning from a small projection of light into the blackness of night.
The only other source of light is the moon, which casts eerie shadows throughout the street. They distort as I walk, shifting with more than just the movement of the trees.
Something strangely familiar creeps over me at the sight of it all. I’ve been here before, years ago, back when we were still trying to fight.
The smoke comes from an old factory that became a nesting ground for the angels. I was here mere hours before we tried to blow it up. The only damage we caused was to ourselves. My team had been sent to daemon hunt; we had no idea what was about to unfold. We never expected to see angels hovering in the sky, illuminated by the red of the explosion, hands dripping with human blood. The winged beasts tore ferociously through teams of soldiers, ripping limbs from bodies as punishment for the attempt.
That day was the first time I truly accepted that they were nothing but monsters.
I weave through the cars carefully, trying not to dwell on the strange feeling that grabs at me. Typically, the simulator creates realistic but hypothetical situations, playing off your fears. It reads your vital signs to see what raises your heart rate the most and uses that to test your ability to think quickly in high-pressure situations. So why has it recreated a day from my past?
Broken glass crunches behind me, whipping my attention around. I expect to see the gruesome face of a daemon headed towards me, but the street is empty.
With each step I take, my heart constricts tighter, my choppy breathing only making it worse.
I step around the last few scattered cars into the open street and clutch at my chest.
Bodies lie one on top of the other, all the way down the street. The cement buildings are stained dark red, the lifeblood of hundreds painting their walls.
At the end of the street stands a tall, dark figure, wings stretched out to either side. An angel. Large, powerful, and terrifying.
“This is because of you.”
His low voice sends a wave of paralysing fear over me. “They’re all dead because of you.”
The fear becomes overwhelming in an instant. I will myself to take a step toward the angel, but I’m no longer in control of my body. I can’t move – I can hardly even think.
Twisted shadows race towards me, clouding my mind in a blanket of black.
“What’s going on?”
The voice is muffled and distant, but I still recognise it. Xavier.
“Pull her out.”
“But she hasn’t —”
Moore argues.
“Pull her out, now!”
Xavier’s voice grows louder, but it still feels so far away. He feels so far away.
I’m pulled into the darkness as my body crumples to the floor.