There exists in this world but two kinds of beings; those of flesh and bone, the living, and those of spiritual manifestation, the angels. Without the clearly insignificant existence of the living ones, the angels would not be of form, depending on the death of a living being in order for an angel to be born. Due to this fact, special angels are designated, called Guides. Guides, as their name implies, guide disembodied spirits of the living to Prophet, an ancient machine known to have given birth to all angels since the beginning of time. With the sacrifice of a living spirit, an angel is born in the name of the Guide, forcing them to resign their position to properly care for the child, only to quickly be replaced by another qualified angel. In all of time, only one Guide has ever failed that mission, and this is the story of that angel and the chaos they proceeded to bring about upon the world..
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"I never loved you, all you were to me was something that I could use for sex. So forget me and die already." Showing absolutely no sign of fear or remorse, pity or sympathy, the man squeezed his finger, effectively pulling the trigger back of the common black-cast handgun he was holding. All that came after that was a loud gunshot, ringing through the ears of the murderer, and the blunt thud of a lifeless body a second afterwards. The woman had fallen backwards, blood dripping down her face and mixing with the tears that she had been crying when she had still been alive, testifying her absolute and undoubted love for the man who stood before her holding a gun. The blood began to run on to the hardwood floor under the body, almost as if an endless red river had began to run out of the hole in the woman's forehead. Shortly after the floor began to cover with the thick blood of a human's head, a relieving sigh came from the man. He slipped the handgun in his pants and stepped into a carpeted room a few feet away, plopping down somehow casually, a delightful yet tasteless smile on his face. "I should've said something a bit more flashy...not just lie to her face and then kill her blatantly," he scolded himself. "But I guess it can't be helped, she's dead now anyways," he continued, "I guess I should get out of here before one of them gets here." What was surprising was that the man wasn't as concerned about the police as he was about these other people he was talking about, walking out of the apartment building and waving to a passing police car as he stood around the corner, waiting for a sign of their arrival.
Meanwhile, back at the apartment a small girl who seemed to be otherworldly approached the now cold and and pale-faced body of the woman. The girl plunged her hand into the woman's skull, physically passing through it and pulling out an otherworldly looking doppelganger of the dead woman, propping her up. Her eyes were completely blank; nothing on her mind because nothing could be on her mind. Almost as suddenly as the girl had appeared, she disappeared with the woman. Back out on the street, the man's eyes suddenly widened as an image of the woman he had just killed appeared in his mind. "Welcome home, darling" was what she said, over and over as she slowly faded away. The man smiled tastelessly again, turning around and bounding up the stairs back into the apartment. He closed the door softly, slowly approaching the area that dead body and pool of blood had been when he had left, and let out a single, maniacle laugh. The body of his wife Sahime, whom he had just murdered, was no longer there, and neither was the blood. "I am Kaosu...the hand of God!" he blurted out, drawing out and pointing his gun at the ceiling. There were three words amateurly etched into the side of the gun that were visible clearly at a certain angle. It said simply, 'Angels aren't perfect.'