Chapter 1
"What the heck am I going to do? The paperwork is increasing. I have to write a report, no, a dozen reports to POCs of all the different teams, the emergency service, the HR, the people at finance department, the weapons department and my supervisor. And listen to this, I can't recycle the same stuff, because finance doesn't want to know about the body count, the HR doesn't want to know about the weapons used, the weapons head doesn't want to know about I don't know what. And they want two copies of the reports – typed and handwritten. Seriously, kill me."
"Crap! That sounds terrible."
"I know"
"What are you going to do?"
"You ask as if I have an option to leave all this workload to someone else. To top the experience of being overloaded, I even have a deadline along with all this."
"Why did you even take this job?"
"I wish I could remember. I got stuff to do; I will call if I survive."
"Sure bro! Don't worry about others. I will make sure no one disturbs you."
Marcus sighed. Today was the crappiest day in the history of crappiest days. Make that week. There was a territorial battle between the Avons and Lanchals. There were casualties on both the sides and both the parties had stolen weapons from the Angels.
Why was Marcus worried?
He happens to be one the Angels. And Angels are the only creatures who follow a corporate style of governance and they are the ones who keep peace between all the other creatures.
Why?
Because the universe hates Marcus!
He looks at a knife with great longing and for the nth time wishes that he were a mortal or at the very least an immortal who could be killed. But no, only Angels can kill angels and if anyone wanted a suicide, there was a procedure to be followed for that as well.
He wishes that God would come back and do something about it.
After looking at the sky for about ten minutes and not noticing even a small sign of heavenly outrage, Marcus went back to his laptop and started typing, things.
