The Fall

[Lenaara]

It was a lucky shot by a young man no older than twenty. Old, antitank rifles were hidden under the ruins of a city, covered with rock and fallen walls, from above the weapons were concealed in such a way that it seemed that it was a mere part of a ruined building. With no one visible in the streets and not a sign of life, the town looked serene and abandoned for years. Looked.


The young man was proud of himself, his heart surely filled with joy, as he saw the winged being fall. The creature fell onto a patch of soft grass, it softened the fall, but even so the wings of the being lay around it at odd angles. It seemed like the creature had wrapped the wings around itself like a cocoon when it fell in order to protect the main body, so the wings took most of the fall damage. It was amazing how it even managed to survive.


The humans, dressed in what looked like scavenged military uniforms, circled the fallen being. Their guns, taped around the shaft with duct tape to allow the long knives and blades to stay up top for stabbing purposes, aimed at the Angel.


One of them, either the bravest or the dumbest, tried to pry the broken wings open with the tip of his gun. He, and three others, were then taken away by others, bleeding due to stab wounds that were covered by their hands in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding.


At least that, Ellenia thought before passing out into a healing shock despite her attempts to stay awake, would help her drag these bastards to hell with her.


The humans were lucky, too lucky in fact. Hitting an angel with a gun was easy, their bodies usually broader in shoulder for males, and their wings spanning four feet wide; however, hitting a moving angel in their vital spots was damn near impossible. Head or vital organs were good enough to kill an angel, let them bleed out even to keep them alive long enough if needed. That young man managed to hit the creature in her chest, puncturing a lung, and then the bullet went out the other end and hit the main bone in her wings.


The female angel woke up from a dull ache, pain radiating from her arms and legs up. It was hard to breathe and with every breath the angel wheezed. At first, she did not move. Only listened, her breathing still fast and deep as it was before while she was in the coma like healing state.


She could hear people moving, some of them yelling while others only whispered and mumbled or stood silent. Someone yelped when another shot from their gun. Others said something, attempting to yell, but their voices were too raw to understand what the human was trying to say. Ellenia forced her eyes to open and looked around.


It was impossible to move. At all. The humans had pinned the angel to the cement ground with what seemed to be huge nails, and those nails pierced the angel’s wrists and ankles. One slight move, even breath, and the pain radiated from the bleeding holes. It was excruciatingly painful. They pinned her to the ground with her back up, the wings also pinned to the ground but with what seemed to be chains, so the woman’s face was forced to turn to only one side. The cold seeped from the ground and onto her skin, underneath her bloody clothes.


Humans were walking around her. Gathered in a circle, they were herded like sheep by those in military uniforms. Those in military uniforms were obviously in charge, forcing others to obey their orders under threats of their guns. The ‘sheep’ were huddled together, pressing their bodies against each other for warmth, their dirty clothes and skin rubbing against others and sometimes leaving red or black traces. It was disgusting to even look at them. They were very thin, their cheeks and eyes hidden within the deep sockets of their faces caused by lack of food, and they moved very slowly as if the air was water.


Slaves, surely. No one would take care of their own in such a way. But then again, these were humans.


The place of gathering looked like a square, wide and surrounded by half ruined carcases of cement houses. Now, once on the ground, Ellenia was able to see that underneath those ruined roofs people lived – it was possible to see them standing in the windows, other windows were covered with poor excuse of curtains, and some buildings were obviously used on a daily basis due to how well kept they seemed from the outside. Whatever this town was, it was inhabited by slave traders.


Suddenly, someone stomped against Ellenia’s back with a heavy boot. Right on top of the bleeding hole left from a bullet wound.


“Ya awake there?” the man spat and Ellenia felt the spit landing against one of her wings, “don’t pass out on me again, hon, we’ve got a show.”


A pair of boots stopped before the woman, and one of their tips moved Ellenia’s head from side to side. “Hey, stay awake there, yeh?” the other man said and then hit the ground with something made of metal.


Her eyes moved up and stopped once the familiar object was seen in front of her. It was her spear, the one that she used to defend herself when the humans had caught her, and the human held it in his hands.


It was impossible to tell how much time had passed after her capture. Could it even be called capture? The way she got shot, the way she failed to kill every single human who was around her was simply idiotic. At the memory of that Ellenia took a deep breath and relaxed against the concrete.


The news of these slave traders surely spread like forest fire. Not many manage to capture one alive, and once they were captured the angels are tortured to death, their wings and feathers traded for provisions or slaves, or even weapons. This is what humans were forced to degrade to. This is what the angels forced them to degrade to.


The human who held her weapon moved, and the ending of her spear hit Ellenia against the side of her face. The force made her body jerk and the woman hissed through gritted teeth, as due to the jerk her ankles and arms moved and forced more blood onto the concrete from the wounds caused by huge nails, and the pain blinded her.


A whistle in the air and a small gust of wind moved above her. The other human beside her caught the spear, turned it with the blade down, and waited. Other two humans, also dressed in the military like uniforms, came up empty handed and then crouched down beside the pinned angel. They forced Ellenia’s wing to move from beneath the chains, moving it away from the body, and then held it like that, fully open against the concrete.


“Hope ya enjoy this,” the man behind her said with obvious glee, and then moved.


The pain was too much. The woman was barely able to choke down the scream that spread across the streets, echoing through the half empty ruins. The dozen slaves cheered on, despite their position within this slaver society, and the other half a dozen slavers with guns moved their guns up in the air and cheered as well. All of them realised what two full wings from an angel meant – a month if not more of food from traveling merchants.


The severed wing was moved from under the chains and away. Ellenia was able to see the two humans move her bloody wing away and the thought of it not being a part of her back was strange, foreign, and stupid.


Blood gushed out of the wound, coating the concrete underneath her. She felt the human beside her move and step onto the raw open wound. Ellenia hissed through gritted teeth, her forehead pressed hard against the concrete to hide the expression of pain and anger. Then, the human who cut off the wing moved to the other side and she felt the cold blade being positioned against the joint that connected her other wing to the back.


@Lucyfer

 

[Lucyfer]

There were many groups of human rebels out in the world, but none were more well known than that group headed by a human named Augustus Lessard. That might be because he also targeted humans—slavers, as well as angels. His group was made up of rebels, and former slaves he had liberated and given a chance to prove themselves.


One of his recent converts, Benjamin, informed him of the hideaway of a slaver camp and led the way to it. It was a few day’s travel, but they knew how to live off the land. Augustus made sure of many things among his recruits—that they knew how to hunt, how to live off the land, and how to read Enochian, the language of the angels.


He’d never explained how he learned the language in the first place, though. Very little of Augustus’s past was known to those in the group, except the few who had been there from the start.


Once the camp was in sight, it was obvious. It was a fenced in area of ruins. “Yep,” Morana, one of those who had been with Augustus from the start, said. She was looking through a sniper’s scope. “Same group. All the slavers are in military uniform, so picking them off ought to be eas….”


“What is it?” The blond leader asked, dropping to a knee as the woman trailed off. He fixed his eyes down at her.


“There’s,” a smile quirked on her lips, “There’s an angel. They have an angel. They’re ripping its wings off. We should wait.” She didn’t look out of the scope, though.


“No, now is a perfect time. They’re distracted.” The blond man rose and looked to the others. “Move, get in, and surrounded the area. Morana, wait for my signal, then shoot someone who looks important. That’ll be the sign for the rest of us.”


Several orders followed in rapid fire to dictate directions to surround. They were a group nearing fifty now, which meant they had the numbers to do such a thing during a distraction. Morana didn’t move an inch, though, but stayed at her vantage point. However, her scope began to follow Augustus as he moved. There was no guard at the entrance, so he just walked right through the front gate. She continued to watch him, as he made his way around the ruins, and got to where the crowd was.


They were on the second wing, and Augustus raised his hand.


Morana fired a shot at the man attempting to cut off the second wing.


A spray of fire rang out at that point to strike the slavers. Augustus, however, moved right to the stage to deal with those around the angel. He wanted the angel alive. It could be quite useful to him. He wouldn’t engage in negotiations for it, though. Rather, he shot first, right after Morana’s shot, to take down another of those at the stage before walking into the midst of the chaos that was breaking out.

 

[Lenaara]

People ran. Scattered in different directions, slaves began running and knocking each other on the ground. Those who fell curled in small balls in order to protect their faces and endure minimal damage, but people ran over them in a stampede. These people moved so slowly before, huddling around each other for warmth, afraid to speak a single sound; now, these slaves were energised by adrenaline in their veins, and fear was feeding their minds. Most of them scattered to the buildings to hide in the safety of cement walls.


The slavers panicked as well. Some, the closest to the slaves, were toppled and run over by the slaves. Few lucky ones got up from the ground, others just lay there. Other slavers, lucky enough to be slightly away from the scene, began pointing their guns at the attackers. First shorts fired at the slaves who were before them attempting to attack their captors and break free. It was chaos, to say the least. Bodies dropped on the ground, some dead and some wounded from being run over or from bullet wounds.


Ellenia watched the scene happen with a blurry vision. The pain radiated from her back and mixed with the dull ache in her hands and ankles. The slaver above her, shot in the shoulder and knocked back due to the shot, yelled in pain as he lay in shock on the ground. The one who shot him was late by just a moment – the slaver moved Ellenia’s spear and the blade cut through the wing easily, stopping only at the end by the bullet. Now, the wing was cut off by two thirds, and Ellenia was not able to feel or move it any longer.


Suddenly, she felt her hand free. Looking up, or trying to, from the ground, she noticed one of the slaves beside her. It was a man much broader in shoulders than any other among both slavers and slaves, his dirty hair stuck to his forehead and neck and the rags on his body were far too small to encase the large torso. This man reminded her of her own kin, the lack of huge wings behind his back, however, gave him away as a human. He stood up and hurried over to the other side, yanking the large nail from her hand with his bare hands. This human was strong, perhaps stronger than any other slave in this compound.


Vision cleared up with the realisation of her hands being free. Adrenaline shot through the angel’s system, moving the pain to the farthest corner of her mind. Ellenia moved, sitting up on her knees, and her hands reached out for the nails in her ankles. The movement was so sudden that the world was a blur, but it lasted for no more than a moment. World spun around her and Ellenia got up on her feet, her hand reaching towards the spear that the slaver dropped when he fell on the ground.


Angel broke free and was on her feet within moments of the black-haired slave freeing her. Her only wing dragged behind her when she moved in the direction of the fallen slaver and her spear sank into his face like warm knife through butter. Pressing her bleeding foot against his chest, she yanked the spear out. Turning, Ellenia rested against the spear for a mere moment. The blood loss was getting to her, it made her vision blur at times, and the world span around her. Even so, the adrenaline helped.


One of the slavers noticed that Ellenia broke free and shot at her. The bullet grazed her forearm, missing, and by the time the slaver had realised that the spearhead had struck his chest and he was thrown on the ground by the force of the throw. Then, the world spun once more and the angel fell on one knee.


Other slavers were shooting in different directions at Augustus’s men, and the leader of the rebels himself.