A/N. As I'm starting from the beginning, you don't need to have seen this story's inspiration to understand what's going on. All of the characters are the same. I changed the names as an equalizer, but if you've seen Angel Beats I doubt you'll have trouble figuring who is who.

Michael blinked. The night sky shone down on him; a sea of shimmering stars reflected down on his widened eyes.

He sat up, dazed. There was this… feeling, a feeling that something had been waylaid. There was something urgent he had to do. He rubbed his temples. But he couldn't remember.

Couldn't remember… Mike's eyes widened. Wait a second, how, what the hell… What was going on? He couldn't remember what he'd eaten for breakfast this morning, the color of his underwear, even his own name! What was-"

"Ah, good. You're up. Took you long enough," a warm voice rang out.

Mike looked up, startled. Then his jaw fell.

Crouched mere steps from him, was the strangest girl he could ever remember seeing (wait, he couldn't remember any girls… but he knew she was strange? What?) She was balanced on the balls of her feet, clad in a curious form of school uniform. It looked like the kind off of raggedy extra that students were forced to wear if they'd misplaced their usual suit. Except, in place of a skirt, she wore many-pocketed jeans.

And while she smiled at him, she was casually adjusting the position of a shining, poised sniper rifle.

Mike scurried away from the apparition, feeling his back scrunch up against a wall. He pushed himself up shakily. "What… what are you…"

"Howdy, I'm Winifred. Or as most people call me, Fred. I'm the leader of our group here, the Afterlife Battlefront." She frowned reflectively, her short noise scrunching. "Well, at least, that's what it was called yesterday. I think it might be the Dominators United Battlefront, or maybe we agreed it be Guerrilla Battlefront. I can't quite remember, but…"

She glanced back at her weapon, and adjusted, refining its aim at a low courtyard that lay below them. "Hey, this is kinda short notice, but would you consider working with us? We can always use more people. There's no entry fee-"

Mike blubbered. Who on earth was this chic? This looked like a school, in the night air he could still make out the shapes of several looming school buildings. What did she need a weapon for? And join what, the psycho killers club?

He walked towards her cautiously, speaking softly (he'd heard that that could calm dangerous animals). "Hey, calm down man, hang on. What are you talking about?"

Winnie pointed down simply. At the bottom of the stairs, slowly traversing the moon-lit courtyard was a young girl, around their age.

She was petite, with long straight hair, and an expressionless face of innocence. As they watched, she stopped, and looked around with a gravity strange for someone so young.

"That," Winnie hissed, "Is the enemy. Angel. In this world, you must fight. If you don't fight, if you follow Angel, you will be obliterated."

Mike's eyes widened, and looked at the sniper, becoming angry. "Are you crazy? You're not actually thinking of shooting her, are you?"

"Well, she hasn't made a move yet, but-"

"I won't let you! This is ridiculous!" he looked around frantically. 'There has to be someone around here who has some sense."

As he spoke, they heard the sound of trotting footsteps approaching in the night. A lanky, grinning youth burst out from under a lamplight, waving at them. "Ah Fred! How's it going recruiting the new guy?"

No. That's it for me. Mike started jogging down the stairs, shaking his head. "I'm out of here."

He bounded down onto the courtyard, and made his way to the would-be target. She held him in a steady beam of hazel eyes as he approached.

"Hey, hey!" he exclaimed as he reached her, gasping for breath. "You, you're in trouble. There are these nut jobs up there. I'm sure, but I think they might be trying to shoot you! They said something crazy, something about how you were an angel!"

She tilted her head as she replied in a subdued, low tone. "I'm not any kind of Angel. " She paused. "I'm the Student Body President.'

He snorted. "Thought it was something like that. Idiots."

He patted his light brown hair heavily. "Aw geez… I don't feel so good; I think I might have hit my head. I can't remember anything. Do you know where the hospital is?"

She continued to gaze at him, unblinking. "There are no hospitals."

He paused. "Huh? What do you mean?"

"There are no hospitals. No one ever becomes sick."

"What the hell does that mean? Why wouldn't people get sick?"

The moon broke out of the clouds overhead, casting the pair of them in an ethereal silver glow. The girl was still, her hair blowing softly in the night breeze. She spoke softly, so that Nick could barely hear.

"No one becomes sick, because everyone is dead."

Michael stumbled back, hackles rising as he tried to cover his shock. "Wha- Hey, you're in on this too! What's up with you guys, what are you trying to pull? Are you why I can't remember anything past five minutes ago?"

There was no reply.

"Hey, answer me! If we're all dead, then prove it!"

The girl hesitated, and then nodded slightly. She stepped towards him slowly. He quickly scrambled backward, just in time to hear her utter a curious phrase.

"Guardskill: Hand Sonic."

As she spoke, a breeze whipped up, and in that sudden gust, something incredible occurred. The air around the girl, "Angel's" hand shimmered, and what appeared to be code, streams of 1's and 0's, all twirled around in a blue vortex. They quickly conjoined, and in a brilliant burst, a short blade appeared conjoined to her wrist, its polished surfaced winking at him in the moonlight.

Mike gapped, dumbfounded. "What… how?"

But before he could move, the girl flew at him, faster than he could imagine, and the icy blade plunged straight through his-

A/N. Throughout this project I'm going to be recreating the story of Angel Beats in novel form. However, the original story was actually cut off, it was mean to be much longer. So I'll also be using this awesome chance to expand; with deeper stories behind more of the characters, more villains, and, well, more time spent on some of the relationships. You know who I'm talking about. Stay warm.