Addie
The Angels don’t care about what time is convenient for you- they show up when they show up, and us Lifelocked just have to work around it. This time, my phone starts ringing it’s telltale song- a high humming of synthetic voices- at four in the morning. I stumble across the hotel room I’ve been staying in for the past three months, fumbling for my phone on the desk to get it to shut up. The humming stops, thank the gods. On the bright screen, I stare with watering, sleep-stuck eyes at the message.
ASTRID; Arrival, 0415: ARIEL to inform of next position. YES/NO?
I can be presentable in fifteen minutes. I respond YES with a grumble as I type. Always takes a bit to get the body working when I wake up unexpectedly. Sometimes, even when we’re on one of my jobs, Eli takes it in his dreams. He’s still asleep by the feel of it, and I decide not to poke at him. No use waking him up for a meeting I can handle myself, there’s no decision to be made, and besides, he gets jittery around Angels face to face, and the last thing I need is foreign adrenaline messing up my everything.
I haven’t met Ariel before- not that it really matters, the White Angels don’t make use of familiarity. That’s more the territory of Reds and Greys, from what I’ve heard- but once one sect has claimed you, you won’t hear much from any others.
Astrid Tealucked, property of the White Angels- the price you pay for being saved.
Right now the price is mildly irritating. Flick the light on, wait for the broken bulb’s lightshow to stabilise. I won’t be sorry to leave this place. Bed, desk, kitchen, bathroom. A green couch so hard I’ve started using it as an extra table. I grab the hairbrush from the arm of the couch and start detangling my hair. If they want Astrid-whose-hair-lays-flat, they should give me more than fifteen minutes.
I give the room a bit of a tidy, toss the takeout box from yesterday into the bin. No use having something to eat at this hour, but… a cup of tea wouldn’t go amiss. I’ll offer some to the Angel- they usually don’t accept the offer, but it’s polite. From the containers stacked in the cupboard amongst the mugs, I select the half-empty bag of pura. I’ll have to buy more before I leave, if I get the chance. The family who sells it goes to the effort of marking each bag with an image of the plant itself, violet flowers clustered along an outstretched stem. It’s nice, in this country of minimalist everything. It’s the closest thing I’ve found in this world to my favourite tea back in the world we came from. Do Angels miss things like that, I wonder? Foods from the worlds fallen to the devils? Do they try to salvage what they can, see what can grow on similar planes? I should be careful thinking questions like that- too direct of a thought and I might wake Eli.
While the jug boils, I find my change of clothes- there’s the white dress shirt, ironed and hanging in the cupboard where Eli made sure to have it ready. When a surprise visitor could show up at any time, it’s best to have your outfit on hand. I grab onto the armrest of the couch for balance as I struggle into jeans shrunken by a too-hot dryer- at least the couch is useful for something. There- presentable enough, according to the warped reflection in the cupboard’s mirror. Not that the Angel wouldn’t be used to Lifelocked showing up unpresentable, but… the jug clicks off, steam hissing and rumbling.
I glance at my phone- 4:12. Perfect timing. The tea will be ready just as Ariel walks through the door, and if she wants a cup, it’s easy to offer.
The water turns quickly from clear to auburn as it contacts the leaves- within a few minutes, it’ll deepen to a burnt red. The smell of it, reassuring and sweet, billows up from the cup. It’s a steadying routine. Breathe in, breathe out, wait for their arrival. There’s nothing else to do. There’s no way of knowing what the Angels will want of us next. More bookkeeping? Another series of Experience reports about the world we came from? Writing up advice for people in similar situations to us? Or do they really just want Eli’s talents again, rather than any skill I can offer them?
Three sharp knocks ring out against the door. It’s here.
The Angel stands in our hotel room, gaze unwandering. It mirrors the appearance of the average passer-by in ()- dark skin, dark eyes, hair falling around their round face in loose curls. Some Angels try hard to behave human- this one doesn’t, and if it were passing us in the street, I’d spot it at little more than a glance. It hands me a folder before even introducing itself.
“Welcome. Would you like a cup of tea?” I ask as I take the folder.
“Yes.”
Huh. I’d expected a no. I pour them a cup, flicking through the folder on the kitchen bench while it steeps. Fuck, defence work again? Eli’s going to be furious.
“Defence on (), huh?” I say aloud. “Do you know how long the job goes for?”
“Unknown specifics,” it replies, from its seat at the rickety dining table. “Four weeks at least. There are reports of increased devil activity in the area. We believe appropriate use of Lifelocked can curb the invasion before it escalates. If so, the work will be short. If not, it may be longer.” I place the Angel’s cup in front of it, and take my cup to the table, sitting down and continuing to read. They want us to leave tomorrow- that’s much faster than they usually request defence work, shit must really be hitting the fan over there. I’m used to reading through the overly-formal, choppy writing of the White Angels- I notice a section that looks like it’s written by a Red, and that gets my attention.
“You’re sending our group in with other sects?” I read over it again, just to be sure. Yep, that says Red and White (). The Angel sips at the tea before speaking again, its voice flat and measured.
“The Red sect has effective ()-users. We’ve collectively decided to send our best.” Which means () is definitely going to be there, there’s nothing else that they’ll need her for more than this. Eli will be glad to see her again, I hope. And to meet the best and brightest of the Reds’ Lifelocked… well. That’ll be interesting. From what I’ve heard, Eli is on-par if not above the best of the Red sect, but we’ve never met them to see the truth of it.
“No need to finish your work here. We have another Lifelocked taking care of it from tomorrow.” I wonder if they’ll be staying in this same room- shuffled in as we’re shuffled out. Perhaps I can leave them a note. “Since the last time you were in (), the accommodation has changed. The group will be staying together at ()- staying within the outpost itself is a safety risk.”
“The attacks are that close?” I couldn’t imagine being a civilian so close to a combat point- life is practically peaceful all the way out here.
“It’s a matter of frequency,” Ariel replies. “Excessive combat without rest interferes with the mesh- it’s easier to accommodate you in a protected location than risk loss of productivity.”
“That’s fair.” The Angel downs the rest of the tea- silently.
“The information is confidential. You’ll retain pages seven to twelve.” It says. It will take the rest with it when it leaves. I tear those specific pages out at the dotted line, and read over the rest of the dossier in silence. There are no more questions to ask, and the Angel’s dark eyes drift their focus around the room, its mind as elsewhere as its body probably longs to be.
He doesn’t wake up until half an hour after the Angel has left, lazy bugger. I’m sipping on my tea by the window and flipping through the few pages of dossier I was allowed to keep as I feel him stir to alertness.
What are you doing up so early, what did I miss- the ever-present anxiety in his voice tickles at my mind- then he notices the folder. Oh. Angel?
Angel. Defence mission out on the () Coast.
Oh.
Yeah.
How soon?
Pick-up’s tomorrow morning at nine.
That soon?! We don’t even get to plan you a farewell day… He sighs. It’s always a little hard for him, going from one of my jobs to one of his. He has so much trouble letting go himself that he struggles to wrap his mind around how I can accept it.
It’ll be alright, I reassure. I was getting a bit tired of () anyway- though watching the sunrise like this is a fine goodbye. The buildings on the far side of the street are now tinted with rose and gold, sunlight glancing off metal edges. I can just see the sun peering up above the skyline.
It’s not going to be defence for long out at (). They’ll have me doing attack runs after a couple of weeks. He’s disappointed by this- though he’s brilliant at both, his bodymind meshes with the mech better than any other Lifelocked the White Angels have that I know of. He’d just rather be defending human lives than extending into devil territory to end theirs. Sometimes I think he’d be happier if the Angels were losing the war- up until the devils crashed down on our doorstep, at least.
We had an alright break from it, this time. Eight months is pretty good. I’ve had five and a half of those months, my time doing the () work here, and a few weeks down in () writing up Experience Reports.
I suppose so… He sighs. I take another sip of the tea, feeling his awareness shift around the room. We’d best get to cleaning and packing once you’ve finished your sunrise-watching, he continues, serious now. You’ve really let this place get into a mess.