Disclaimer- I do not own Twilight

BPOV:

I know now that my guardian angel was not one with a halo and wings, but a person. But let not his humanity mislead you. Carlisle is my absolute guardian angel.

There I lay those two months ago, in a crumpled bloodied heap, where he did what all guardian angels strive to do; save lives.

Yes, he injected me with an untested serum that caused borderline mutation in my genes. And yes he had tampered with, and most likely angered the forces of nature by saving what should have been left to die. But he had given me a choice. And the option I'd chosen then was the same I'd choose know; life.

Perhaps I'd be more wary in my decisions now, but living in this way is still preferable to dying at the age of twenty.

"Evening, Carlisle," I greeted, as I entered his lab after a long night.

Only three people in the world knew of this place; Carlisle, his wife Esme, and me. For you see, Carlisle has slightly more…eccentric pastimes than his fellow E.R. surgeons. While other physicians may spend their downtime golfing or curling up with a good book, Carlisle has decided to dedicate his life to the preservation of mankind.

How?

By inventing weaponry, healing tonics and other various knickknacks a superhero may need.

"Bella," Carlisle smiled looking up from some bubbling magenta concoction. I prayed I wouldn't have to drink it. "How goes the hunt?"

"Fine, I guess," I sighed as I unsheathed my hands and face from the black leather gloves and mask. I clenched and unclenched my fingers. "I bit of stiffness, but nothing too bad," I added lazily.

There wasn't much to clean up tonight. Just a potential rape with a splash of drug peddling. Nothing I couldn't sneak between biology cram sessions for that test tomorrow. Crap I have to get up at seven. What time is it now? I checked the metal clock on the back wall. Quarter past four…Life sucks.

"Excellent." Carlisle grinned toothily, radiating fatherly pride—he was the closest thing I really had to a family anymore. I was an only child and my parents were dead.

I noticed him grasping the flask of magenta liquid. Oh please no.

"Carlisle, I'm fine. Really. I don't need any, erm, medicine," I flinched. It reeked of his deadly artificial bubblegum flavoring. It might as well be earwax flavored—like the Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans from Harry Potter.

"Bella," Carlisle warned dully, "This isn't medicine. It's one of my new developments for you. For your scaring."

I glanced in the closest mirror and grimaced. The left half of my face was filled with multiple red and white scars that hadn't healed after the accident. Carlisle had been doing wonders in his work to heal my physical deformities, but we had a long way still. I disdainfully snatched the flask from his grasp and downed its nauseating contents, while pinching the bridge of my nose. Bubblegum my right—well its worth it…

I peered back to the mirror and marveled at its immediate effects. Before my superhuman eyes I could see each thin scar shrink slightly.

"Carlisle, that's incredible! You should market this. Think of all those people you'd be saving from a poor self-image!" I beamed.

"That'd be wonderful, Bella. Unfortunately, the average person would die if they ingested that particular remedy. Superheroes only, I'm afraid." He chuckled sadly.

Carlisle and I had an ongoing inside joke. We referred to ourselves as the superhero and the mad-scientist. He owns a secret laboratory; I fight crime. He's a surgeon by day; I'm a student by day. He's a super genius; I have the ability to absorb and manipulate light particles into raw energy or basic weapons. He saved my life; I save the lives of others.

Comic-book elements? Perhaps.

But this path we have chosen is not one of a glorified storybook.

Our path is one of thankless danger and scornful rejection. We voluntarily submerge ourselves in this cesspool that caters to the public eye of judgment. It is a stress so overwhelming that even the strongest man would be pushed to the brink of madness.

And why do we do this?

Because every life is significant…and more valuable than mine.

EPOV:

"Cullen, what the hell is this?" Mr. Berty grumbled at me, tapping the ashes from his cigar out the window. Those poor pigeons…

"Those are photos of Archangel, sir. You asked for them, remember?" I chose not to look straight into his reprimanding eyes, but rather at his ever-growing bald-spot.

"Archangel, yes…" He mumbled, then slammed my photos to his large oak desk. "Then why do they look like a rat's ass? It's just darkness and big glowing white spot."

"Sir, you know as well as I that all light disappears around Archangel. She sucks in all the light around her to make her bow and arrow. See that's what the white spot is," I said pointing to the photo on top of the small stack.

Seriously, who the hell does he think he is? He should get up off his fat ass for a night and try to snap a few photographs of a light absorbing superhero that moves nearly at the speed of sound.

Suddenly, Mr. Berty's grimace morphed into a toothy grin and he chuckled heartily.

"Forgive me, but I don't understand what's so funny," I asked confused and irritated—mostly irritated.

"Boy, you think Archangel's a woman?!"

"Yes," I defended. I wanted to stand my ground but I felt the blood stain my cheeks. It sent the cruel editor into another bout of laughter at my expense.

"And…and why do you think so?" He managed, wiping the tears from his eyes. I hated this man.

"Well Mr. Berty, I don't think so. I know so." I seethed through my teeth. Just keep your cool Edward…You need this job.

I really did need it. I didn't want to rely on Carlisle and Esme for anything more. Medical school tuition already cost them a small fortune. I couldn't ask them to pay for everything else. I am a grown man—well if twenty-three counts as fully grown. I believe is does.

"Alright boy, how do you know?" Mr. Berty mimicked. His giddy smile could only be rivaled by that of the Cheshire Cat.

I cleared my throat loudly. "Well, I've been…studying her a bit." I admitted reluctantly.

"Studying?" Mr. Berty cocked a devilish eyebrow.

"Well I've found that she has…sparked an interest in me. I've sort of taken up the enigma as a…hobby." I explained as I yanked my collar with my index finger to release some heat. Why was it so damn hot in here?

"And what have you found, Cullen?" Mr. Berty pushed, feigning some genuine interest. I was almost certain that he was just looking for a comical story to share at the office Christmas party. After all, what could be funnier than some superhero obsessed nerd? I'd show him that I'm dead serious—that this is nothing to laugh about.

"Well, I've interviewed a few convicts incarcerated with her aid. Taking their word and glimpses of my own, I have come to the conclusion that she is a woman between the heights of five foot and five foot six, with a waist measurement between twenty-three and twenty-eight inches. Her nationality is unknown, but by the accent and tone quality of her voice I have come to the postulation that she is native to the area and of either a Hispanic or Caucasian background. Her agility proves that age-wise she is most likely between the ages of sixteen and thirty, though most likely in her early twenties. Finally, she is only seen between the hours of 8:00PM to 4:00AM which seemingly suggests that she either has a stable occupation or is a full time student." I smirked as I finished.

Mr. Berty gawked at me with the most dumbfounded expression. He'd frozen still as a statue, his powdered jelly donut dropping from his mouth mid-bite. I simply smiled back at him, knowing I'd won. After what seemed like forever he'd regained his composure and straightened his tie—He'd never be able to wash out the jelly stains on his shirt though.

"Well, Boy," Mr. Berty cleared his throat, "That's an impressive theory you've concocted there."

"Thank you, sir." I nodded.

"You compile that into an article for me, and I can get you the front page for this Wednesday—and a nice fat check for your bank account," Mr. Berty managed, seeming quite out of breath from my rant. It was almost as if he was reluctant to admit defeat, but I was the undeniable winner.

"I'll make sure to do that, sir," I nodded again and headed for the door.

"Oh, and Edward?" Mr. Berty called after me. I turned around to face him.

"Yes, sir?" I asked.

"You really need to find yourself a girl, kid." Mr. Berty smiled.

I rolled my eyes.

I already have Mr. Berty. Her name is Archangel.

A/N: Edward's gonna be so fun to write in this story :). Anyway, please review. It would make me very happy. Next Chapter Edward sees Bella, so get excited!

Thanks for reading!

-Tetra