All His Angels Are Starving

Once, on her way to school, a tragic incident disrupted subway services all over the city. Someone had jumped onto the tracks.

Jenny waited nearly an hour at their station for a train. When it finally arrived, every single car was already packed. Yet everyone waiting at the station, to get to school or to get to work, forced their way inside. Nobody waited for the next train in New York City; it was always rush, rush, rush.

The swelling tide of people forced her into the subway car, and she struggled to find a pole to hold on to. There was hardly any room to breathe; she'd taken off her schoolbag and held it between her legs, praying desperately for the train not to stall underground. It was hot, bodies pressed her from every side, and she could feel their breath on her face.

She tried to listen to her music, eyes shut as the lights overhead flickered, and the train thundered through the Manhattan underground. It swayed and rocked, and elbows bumped into her, arms brushed her shoulders, and people shuffled awkwardly. Everyone squeezed together to form a disgusting blob of limbs and sweat.

Someone grabbed her hip.

At first, she thought it was an accident. It had to be an accident. But the fingers lingered. They crawled up her sides, under her sweater. Nails scratched her gently. A moist palm massaged her lower back, the fingertips teasing the waistline of her jeans.

She'd wanted to scream. Wanted to turn and smash that person in the face with her phone. To tell someone. Anyone. But there was hardly room to breathe, let alone move away and escape.

She'd done nothing. She'd stood, unable to act, motionless except for the rocking of the train as it hurled through the tunnels, and someone felt her up.

At the next stop, the commotion of moving people allowed her to escape. She pushed deeper into the train, no longer trying to be polite. A lump threatened to burst out of her throat. She found a spot beside one of the closed doors and leaned against it. She didn’t look around. She didn’t glance at anyone; she couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. What if the person who’d touched her was staring back?

She kept her focus on her shoes, trying to delete the sensation of being in her body. The way her skin burned. She wasn’t here. She wasn’t real. She was just another fixture, a part of the train as it shook and screeched and thundered.

She didn’t speak to anyone for the rest of that day. She didn’t participate in class. She didn’t eat lunch. She'd wanted to burn out every skin cell that had been touched. Wanted to remove it with a potato peeler or cheese grater. It wasn't hers anymore. It belonged to that stranger.

And worst of all, she'd hated herself for not saying a word. For not fighting. For not shouting or screaming. But would anyone have heard her over the roar of the train? Would anyone have done a thing?

What should she have done?

What should she do now?

The angel's tongue slid into one of her nostrils. She felt the heat of her blood rising to her face. She felt the sensation of it slipping out, as though a vacuum was attached to her nose. Her blood and its saliva dribbled down its chin and dropped into her mouth so that she could taste the rottenness of the Angel's breath. She didn't shut her eyes, even as the sucking lifted her head off the table. All she saw in its white emptiness was the hopelessness and dread she'd always known.

She knew she could do something. She could hit it with her shield, push it off with her leg. She could exhale flames. The pain had faded; all she could feel was the draining sensation that burned the middle of her face. It only paused to swallow.

But her body no longer belonged to her. It wouldn't respond no matter how much she wanted it to. She was back on that train on that terrible morning, trapped in her flesh as someone else claimed it and made it theirs in the worst possible way.

Her blood left her body one suck at a time. She couldn't tell how much time had passed. How much blood did she even have left? Her mind went blank, and darkness overtook her before her eyes flew open and she was face to face with the Imperfect Angel again. The way it hunched over her, it was almost like the creature was trying to resuscitate her with CPR.

When finally it stopped sucking and its lips separated from her face with a sloppy wet sound, she was surprised to still be conscious. She couldn’t feel her body. Couldn’t move.

The creature slid off the table and stomped away, the tremors reaching her through the floor. She stared at the wriggling sacs on the ceiling, a dull silence ringing in her head.

She heard hissing. She heard retching. She didn't dare to breathe. She wanted to vanish. She wanted to not be.

You must not surrender.

The message burst through her thoughts like a ball of flame. Visuals accompanied it. She saw Susan, and she wasn't sure if she was imagining things or if Eve was revealing the present, but Susan was covered in blood. Fresh blood. Her nose was broken, she was crying, clutching her cattle prod and sitting on the floor.

No...

Jenny's fingers twitched. She could still taste the angel's sour breath. What can I even do? What can I do? Is Susan safe?

Susan Brown is an active participant in the Survival Challenge.

I'm going to die here...

The next vision unfurled like dark angry clouds spreading wildly, rumbling with thunder and flashing lightning. The three-headed figure blossomed into the forefront of her mind, shimmering golden and transparent. Jenny was floating again in that darkness, in that other world where she'd met Eve.

Each of Eve's faces shifted, a blur of eyes and noses and lips. The center face settled, and Jenny recognized the exasperated look of her mother, the wrinkle on her forehead when her brows furrowed. It spoke with her mother's lips.

I chose you for a reason.

Well, you chose wrong. I'm fucking done. It's game over, she thought, with an ugly bitterness. She'd convinced Susan to think about this as a game, she'd tried to trick herself too. But now it was over.

Lightning flashed, searing her from the inside. The three-headed figure drew close, so close that her mother's face was suddenly right in front of Jenny's. She flinched but couldn't float away.

You are mine, Jenny Huang.

You are capable of so much more than you permit yourself to express.

What are you even-

Quiet.

The force that word moved through her like a torrential downpour. Her mind trembled and came apart and reunited.

At every turn, you choose to stop.

You sense your growth. You sense the possibilities of what you are capable of. But then you hesitate.

I don't-

Your memories spill through me, Jenny Huang.

All your life, hesitation is your response when anything goes your way. You reject yourself. You push away every opportunity that presents.

The flurry of visions that burst like fireworks made her head spin. She saw every crush she ever had. Saw her feelings for Susan. Saw herself attempting art, attempting music, attempting to write stories. She saw the frustration, the fear, the way she left everything half finished, half touched. From one thing to another, trying and never completing. She even saw herself fighting. Trying her new skills and testing her new strengths, only to stumble.

You bury your emotions and convince yourself you can feel them later. You let yourself fester and fade and rot.

Why must you always wait to be free?

The visions blurred. She was crying in bed, counting the days till she could set out for college and move away.

I don't know, she whispered.

In the next vision, she hovered in front of the library. She saw herself storming down the hallway, cutting through the Tarnished Angels with ease. She saw the fight she'd just lost to the Imperfect Angel, saw what she could’ve done differently. She saw her skills in action. Her throw. Her burst of speed. Her flames. Her hatchet.

Your true self itches for release. Yet, you let yourself stumble. Buried deep within your soul is a yearning desperate to be unleashed.

Jenny held her tongue. She wanted to argue. To shoot back. She was worthless. Incapable. She can't do this. She can't. She was only good at rushing in blindly, and if someone wasn't there to hold her hand, to have her back, to pick up her pieces, then she was useless. She just can't do it on her own. She's not strong enough not-

I have tasted your dreams, Jenny Huang. I have feasted on your nightmares. I know the textures of your sins and prayers.

I have watched. I have listened. I have chosen you for my purpose.

But what if you chose wrong? I’m... All I do is mess things up. Whenever I try, whenever I care too much, I just...

At your current stage, humankind can only evolve so many abilities before their minds collapse.

But you command several skills. Skills beyond the current prowess of your growing body, but you have willed them into existence nonetheless.

I was just... I just doing things I’ve seen before.

Have any of the Imperfect Angels expressed such a number of abilities?

She remembered the angels in the stairwell. The burst of speed that she'd emulated. She remembered the other angel gorging on itself to heal. Eve was right. They weren't using many skills. They were relying on brutish strength and straightforward attacks.

I thought... I thought that was because of you. Because you chose me or something. I thought you were helping me and making me stronger. So I could give birth to you.

But Eve ignored her.

An average human at stage ii would have one. Perhaps two.

Whereas you have not yet been restrained by your capacity for growth.

The other two faces stopped shifting. She saw Oliver with his glasses. Susan with her blue hair.

The only thing stopping you, that has always inhibited you, is your self-doubt.

That is your eternal enemy. That is why your element is flame. You burn brightly then vanish, too afraid to continue burning.

A hand touched Jenny’s cheek. She looked at each of the faces in turn, stopping when she noticed the tears streaming down her mother’s cheeks.

I have chosen you because you are my best chance. I have made you mine, but in truth, I am bound by you.

If you fail, then I shall fail.

So you need me? whispered Jenny, a strange warmth filling her with the three-headed figure's golden shimmering light.

Our fates are intertwined.

Blue light flooded the space; Jenny opened her eyes to see the room completely basked in the glow. Light pulsed from the cocoon, each one brighter and brighter. Eve blinked out of Jenny’s mind. The table shook as though the earthquake had struck again, and she turned her head, blood dripping down the side of her face, to see the Desecrated Angel moving inside the large sac.

The cocoon bulged and twisted and rippled as the Imperfect Angel lumbered back, hissing. The angel on the ceiling hissed as well, but the cocoon kept pulsing. The floor shook, the sacs above jiggled, and a few of them dropped.

Jenny’s blood had been an important ingredient. She wondered if it was related to what Eve said, how she had a greater capacity than other humans. Did that make her blood special somehow? Was that what the Desecrated Angel sniffed out when it pointed at her?

Her blood ran through that creature’s veins now, and judging by the shift in light, the energy emanating from the cocoon, her blood had given the creature strength.

It would want more.

Jenny’s mind filled with possibilities. She was still injured, still weak, still in agony.

She didn’t have enough Energy for another Potion of Fortification. Without some sort of boost, even if she managed to get to her feet and fight, she’d die. Her fingers clenched into a fist. Her shield scraped against the table. Every movement hurt, but at least she could move.

The Imperfect Angel stomped toward her. Her blood dripped from its exposed teeth. It was going to touch her again. It was going to suck on her again.

Her heart raced. She felt faint. She felt weak. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to be here, didn’t want it to touch her again.

She pressed her tongue against her ruined gums, igniting more pain in her mouth to distract from the paralyzing fear. As it approached, she sifted through movies and games and storybooks. Powers and abilities she'd always wished to have. Flight. Impervious skin. Regeneration. Fire. Lightning.

Her skills so far had been extensions of her own will. She wanted to throw harder and move quicker, and her body responded. She wanted to explode with rage, and that manifested as fire.

She wanted to research all of this, study it to every last detail, and plan out the best course of action. the best way to spend her Energy. The best armor to build.

She wanted to sit with Susan, preferably in Susan’s bedroom, pouring over all the information until they came up with a crazy strategy. But Susan wasn’t here.

Jenny would have to figure something out. In games, there were limitations that guided them. Things they couldn't do or things they could abuse.

But this Guidance System... it was like being assigned a paper, like an essay she had to write on the beginning of The Scarlet Letter. Mrs. Rivera hadn't given them a question to answer. Instead, she wanted the class to propose a thesis and explore their own ideas. It frustrated Jenny to no end.

The angel hovered over her, its face glistening. It was sniffing, licking its lips. It liked the taste of her blood.

Jenny retreated further into her thoughts as the creature grabbed her shoulders and climbed back up. This isn't my body. I'm not here. This isn't happening to me.

What delusion am I convincing myself of...

She'd always escaped into stories, hadn't she? Lies she told herself before going to bed. Situations she imagined as she fell asleep. The books she read, the movies she'd watch, the daydreams she'd have about Susan, about the two of them venturing across fantasy lands.

Eve was right. Jenny had been waiting this whole time. Waiting for change. Waiting for some big meaningful action to change everything for her.

She'd always wished she wasn't who she was. Wished she wasn't trapped in her body, in this world, in this life. She'd always felt like a ghost possessing her body, desperate to break free, but never willing to take the leap of faith.

All her life, she’d compressed herself into a pitiful little ball. All she’d ever done was rot...

Her lips curved into a painful smile as the angel's face drew near. Rot...

She remembered that biology lesson about the human body, how it was capable of such intense strength. Untapped potential that the brain suppressed to protect the body from itself. It was how mothers moved cars or people survived falls from burning buildings. A rush of adrenaline combined with an inhibition of thought, just emotion, just action. Pain no longer part of the equation.

The angel’s tongue found her nose again. Its teeth scraped her flesh, but she didn’t care. Her body was broken and ruined. She was tired of rotting, but rotting was the answer.

Zombies, she thought as the angel began sucking. In zombie movies, the brain rotted away, enabling the mindless creatures to be stronger than they’d ever been as humans.

It would make the pain stop. Hurting was how living beings learned, but she didn't need to learn right now. She needed to survive. To kill. To break free.

This one bubbled up inside her. She sensed Eve’s approval. The notification sent a gentle warmth radiating from the tip of her nose. It felt like receiving a kiss she’d waited her entire life for.

Skill acquired:

Severed Spirit (Tier 1)

 

System Warning:

Severed Spirit (Tier 1) is a restricted skill.

While active, access to Energy and Skills is prohibited. The Body will begin to decay until deactivation.