Let me start at the beginning. I was not supposed to be here. I swear.

Now that is what every person in here says, that they don't belong there and it was all some kind of mistake. But of course, I did mean it in that moment when I was asked. I came from a good family life, a wealthy family life to be honest, and yet here I was at this prison with nothing else to my name. Sure, someone would cry about it.

But for me? I was more on the satisfied side with it.

The way I got into this prison was more on the shady side, you can ask several people and you'll get several different answers. I'll be honest, the way I got in here was a bit on the shady side. But here I was, in my own cell there in the back of the metahuman area of the prison, thinking that this was the place that I was going to die in.

God, it sounded pathetic.

The sound of someone banging their fist on my cell door woke me up from my daydream that I had, in which I looked over and I saw the small door that they placed in my regular cell door opening, a pair of eyes looking right at me. I thought they were going to tell me something that was usually a slur against me, then again I was used to me given my ability and all. But they said something else that made me look at them in confusion.

"You're being transferred out."

I moved out from my cot against the wall and I walked over to where I could see the man's eyes, in which I knelt down to get a better view of him there.

"Transferred out? What does that mean?" I asked him.

"It means you're moving to a new prison." I looked at him with more confusion on my face. It sounded off, like it was not supposed to happen since I was in this prison for a reason.

"Why?" I asked him, hearing him snort.

"Fuck if I know," he replied, slamming the sliding door shut.

That happens to be a recurring theme for me as of late.

Belle Reeve Prison

Louisiana

"Coming through," I was escorted through the main doors that lead into the prison, some of the guards were right behind me as I took in my new home. I was still confused as to why I was there in a new prison, but I was not one to ask questions when I knew they would spit in my eye later on. I was just quiet, seeing the guards that were on watch look at me in confusion and interest at the same time as I walked pass them.

"What's with this one?" One asked under his breath.

"Who knows," another replied, then seeing the full straight jacket I was wearing, now looking more intrigued than anything, "She's nuts?"

"She's a metahuman, dumbass," The guard who was escorting me said to him in a lower register, "She's strapped down for your protection."

"From what? She gonna go ape shit on us?" The first guard asked as we were still walking. I stayed silent, not wanting to engage with their tall tales about me and their myths. I knew they were myths, and all I could do was play the part for their sake and for my own.

"No, she'll shoot out her wings at you," The guard warned, the others going silent as I was taken to my cell there.

That's right, I had wings. They were given to me, by an Angel.

It's not a tall tale or some kind of revelation that someone would get in church, believe me. This was something that was handed to me in the worst kind of situation imaginable, not because I was a sinner, but because someone thought I deserved a good way of life with this gift. I remember that night like no other, the few times that I would remember something from the past with such clarity. It was dark, it was cold, and I was on the verge of death. But something, or someone really, saved me. Sure it sounds like I was high or drunk off my ass, but its the truth. I only have the truth to hold onto these days.

A voice, clear as day and sounded so pure that it made my own heart melt, spoke to me as I was out cold by almost being assaulted, or worse, because of a few drunk passersby. The person saved me, I knew that since the pain was no longer there. Even with me bleeding out on the floor and almost so close to death, I heard the voice as if they were whispering in my ear.

"You have been spared, child."

After that, I was knocked out by something, some kind of gentle and yet soothing force that made me go out cold. It felt like someone was placing me in a deep sleep, no longer in pain and no longer bleeding out, and once I woke up I was in a hospital bed and something engraved to my back like a brand.

But it was a tattoo, a tattoo of wings.

That's right, I'm a walking talking Angel. I was not sent from Heaven, and before all of this happened, I was on the fence when it came to religion. But I was chosen by an Angel, who was sent by God apparently, and I wasn't the only one that this has happened to. God had plans, what kind pf plans I had no clue, but all I knew was that I was one of the ones chosen to be a walking Angel among the living on Earth. One of many.

Believe me, it sounded beyond real. There was more to this than I wanted.

I was escorted to my new cell, in the metahuman section of the prison. I could see how it looked a bit rougher around the edges compared to the regular part of the prison with the regular prisoners. The doors opened in front of me there, in which I was about to go in when one of the guards stopped me, placing his arm on me there and I looked at him in confusion.

"Someone wants to talk to you," He said to me.

"Who?" I asked, hearing some footsteps behind me, almost like heels were walking on the floor and over to us. I looked past the guard there as he stood still, holding onto my arm still.

"There's not need to hold onto her like that, she's not a mental patient,"

It was a woman that was walking over to me with what looked like to be a business suit there and a briefcase there in her hand. Someone else was walking behind her, a soldier who looked tough and almost having a hard exterior. But clearly, she looked like she was in charge with how she was approaching me. She looked at the guard now, almost in a stern way as the guard spoke up.

"You don't know about this prisoner, ma'am," He warned her in a calm way, but the woman didn't not at all. She wasn't phased with what the guard was telling her about me.

"I know more about her than you do since I was the one had her transferred here, so I suggest you release her before I make you," I looked at the guard in a hesitant way as the woman said this to him. Slowly he released me there, in which the woman now looked at me directly in the eye. The man behind her was eyeing me up and down in my straight jacket as the woman took a few steps over to me.

"I take it that you're not mentally crazy," She said to me in a calm manner, since she too was looking at my straight jacket with a hint of uneasiness there. I shook my head now as she tapped her foot there against the concrete wall.

"So let's get this thing off of you, and I can see your little trick that you can do."

The REC gate closed behind me as I was escorted into the large yard that they had in the corner. I was still getting used to the prison there, the new sounds and scents that were there and the new sense of being in a prison all over again as a new inmate. I hated that feeling, hated being in jail in general since apparently I was meant for more than being in jail for the rest of my life.

I felt the guard walk up behind me and unstrap the restraints on me, in which I could feel my arms moving around me again there as they went to my sides. I was wearing a makeshift sleeveless vest there over a cotton white shirt, a zip down the front and two zippers along my shoulder blades on the back that were long enough for my wings apparently. I moved my arms around a bit to get my bones to feel warm again and I walked over to the middle of the yard. I could see some of the sun there pouring down from the sky, the humid feel of the Louisiana sky was seeping under my skin as I breathed in the smog yet soothing air.

"Thank you," The woman said to the guard as he walked out and locked the gate behind him. I closed my eyes, rolling my shoulders a few times before reach behind me a bit to grab the strings that were attached to the zippers along my shoulder blades. Pulling them down, I could feel the cool air against my bare shoulders and skin where I ripped holes into the shirt, and once it was all the way down, I breathed out slowly once more and pushed my shoulders out and back. Something pulled off of me, like a band-aid against the skin but more heavenly than painful. It was aching to do it since it's been awhile since I stretched them out.

My wings.

When I wasn't using them, they were attached to my skin like a tattoo, the start of my wings along my shoulder blades and down the middle with the wings spreading out over to my shoulders and almost touching my arms to my elbows. It was the only way I could hide my wings in plain sight, and they were beyond beautiful to see on my skin. I no longer saw it as a burden to have wings, but they were something I was used to in my daily life. I would stretch them out from time to time, but I haven't flown in a long time since my arrest, and I was itching to fly again. It was a part of me that was given to me, the need to fly and stretch and to be free. I blame the Angel that did this to me, both blame him and thank him.

The wings stretched out as if they were breathing on their own. My wingspan was about 6 feet almost, the feather ruffling a bit from being out in the sun and the air again. The feather colors were almost tinted white and a rustic brown along the tips, the sensation of the cool wind against the feathers was almost hypnotic. it almost made me forget where I was for a second like I was in a dream and away from the prison. In my own sense of peace.

But only for a moment.

I turned around, seeing the woman and the soldier there watching me in intrigue. I wanted to know what they were thinking about me if they were afraid like the others since the other guards had no clue who I was and what I was capable of. But did these two? The woman looked at my wings from tip to tip, walking over slowly now as I stayed still with my wings still out, waiting for her to do something that could either set me off or warn me. Sometimes my wings would think on their own accord, whether I knew it or not. It was an intuition that came with them.

"So, Marley Kelso, you were sent to prison because of these?" She asked me now, not in a statement but in more of a wonder now as I nodded my head slowly at her, "And yet you didn't commit any crime when they man reported you in."

"He thought I was a threat," I reminded her, since she read my file apparently, "I wasn't going to fight him."

"You're not a fighter?" She asked me, almost in an unconvincing way as I folded my wings slowly behind me, feeling them nestled against my back.

"I used to be, back before I got these," I explained, pointing my thumb to my folded wings against my back, "I can handle myself in a fight,"

"Which is why I might need someone like you for a little project I have," She explained, having me raise an eyebrow at her now. She needed me, all because of my wings as she shifted a bit in her spot there at the yard, "I've seen few of your kind out in the world: Literal Angels is what the locals call your kind. We don't know whether you label you as a metahuman or something else out of this realm, but your kind has wings, can heal themselves faster than normal, have some kind of skin armor that can prevent a regular bullet from piercing the skin, admiral strength and agility….let me know if I'm missing anything else."

I stayed quiet as she listed off what I could do as if she knew about me my whole life. But she knew about the others like me, that were chosen to be like this whether we were ready for not. I wondered myself how much more was there, and if they were in the same position as me. She smirked then.

"You weren't born with these wings, and there are more of your kind sprouting up within the years," She went on as I watched her and analyzed her with my eyes, "And yet you're the first one that I was given in my files to look after. Now personally I don't see you as someone who does belong here, but other people are thinking differently,"

"People are afraid of what they don't know or what they don't understand," I explained to her slowly now, seeing her think about ti to herself, "It's harder to tell someone that I was given this ability, I didn't ask for it."

"Well, who gave it to you?" She asked in wonder as I now took a step over to her now, wanting to not tell her anything else but to really see why she was there in the first place and why she chose me of all people to talk to.

"Who are you?" I asked her back, seeing her smile at me as if I asked the million dollar question.

"My name is Amanda Waller. I'm here to offer you a job to work for me and do some good with your wings there," She explained to me, sounding a bit important when she mentioned her name and I cocked my head a there, not understanding at first as to why she was telling me this.

"A job for me?" I asked her, shrugged my shoulders and my wings too, "How can I work for you if I'm a prisoner here?"

"It's safe to say that you're no criminal, and I have ways to have a job offer for you. If you work for me, I can make your stay as a prisoner a little bit shorter." She explained, having em go still there as I was thinking that she was lying. That she was pulling my leg.

"Shorter, as in you can get me out of prison?" I asked, not wanting to sound obliviously shocked. She just kept her stare on me to show me that it was, in fact, true.

"Exactly."

Author's Note: Hey! I'm sorry if it's confusing as to what she has, but I'll dive into her background in the next chapter! I hoep you like it so far! Let me know in a review!