"Sorry to keep you waiting!"- Pit, in Kid Icarus, Chapter 1

A/N: Hey, guys! Sorry about the wait :P My house flooded this weekend and I haven't been motivated to do shiiiiiit. For my next post, I will be putting out two chapters! YAY!

These two next chapters will be a part of the 'Wind Spirit' Arc. Hope you all enjoy :)

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Dark Pit missed being an angel.

No, don't try to point it out—it wasn't like he actually was one, not anymore. Sure, he could fly, but not by himself. His wings were dead when he was without the help of a goddess, usually—but now was not usually. Now he didn't have his dead wings—now, he could actually fly.

But, above missing being an angel, he specifically missed having skin. The feeling of touch wasn't even present; at the state he was in, he didn't even feel numbness. He felt as if his body felt the same way all over because that was precisely what he was all over—the same thing. Swooping down from the sky with Pit, at speeds that he didn't even think were possible, the winds no longer rushed through his ears and messed up his hair because he was the wind. No weight, no feeling at all; just the subtle awareness of consciousness and thought.

But, as he had pointed out before, there was one thing he didn't miss about his own, solid body; the inability to fly on his own.

"Whoo-hoo, yeah!" Pit cried out next to him. Though he couldn't very well see facial expressions, Pit's voice in his mind enabled him to picture what his face would look like almost perfectly; a face of pure joy. Dark Pit could almost imagine him fist pumping the air. And it only made sense; Pit's only wish would be to fly all by himself. Dark Pit knew that, as well as Viridi and Phosphora and Arlon. It was no secret. This moment—this whole day, as a matter of fact- would be like heaven to him.

And these precious moments Dark Pit also cherished, for he did not feel this free since stealing Pandora's powers for himself.

Not even Viridi was here to spoil it for him. His thoughts were uninterrupted and untainted by curses or belittlements that Dark Pit would usually be subject to if he was in his angel body. But he wasn't. As he did what might be counted as a nose dive (if Dark Pit had a nose), he saw the world, all small green shapes for trees and large gray expanses for mountains, and spread out his hands as if he could embrace it all right then and there. He wasn't happy, no; but he came pretty damn close to it if he could say anything about it.

Somewhere in the distance Dark Pit thought he could hear something faint that was calling out to him. He wasn't sure how he knew the language, but it was there all the same; whispering and rasping. There were a lot of them, and it was sort of hard to figure out what was being said, but eventually he believed he got the gist of it; and pulling and pushing, the urgency of their talk, trying to get him to listen, to understand, to come and join them. It sounded almost like wind.

"We're venti," Dark Pit said/thought, because he was pretty sure he didn't have a mouth or anything like that.

Pit had heard him. "We're—what?"

"Venti," Dark Pit repeated. "That's what the wind spirits call themselves. Can't you hear them?"

After a moment of hard contemplation, Pit told him that he thought he could. Dark Pit sought to remember how he was able to figure out what they said so easily—soon he figured it would just be like second nature to him, like slipping on a glove, since he was a wind spirit himself now.

He scored the land that lay before them, trying to place identity to the plethora of voices within his head right then and there. Now that they were wind spirits, they'd be able to not only see each of them individually, but communicate with each one of them as well. Soon he was able to locate the city that Palutena had told them about before they had left to go on their mission—the one that was hidden in a small nook in the mountain side, overlooking a grand forest filled with tall pines. With the time that they had been given, they were to stop them from terrorizing the town, figure out a weakness that the winds were liable to, and find and defeat Jana before it was all too late, all while trying to figure out the new gaseous bodies that they had been given. It seemed like a rather impossible task, for someone who preferred to stick to the shadows like him.

"There's the town!" Pit said, pointing and nearing the place below them even as the words exited out of his mouth. "Come on, let's go check it out!"

And before long, Dark Pit was following his twin to the situation at hand.

The town was mostly empty, and for a good reason too. Chilling sounds of the wind moving from building to building ransacked Dark Pit's ears, tearing up each house they passed through. The two angels stayed at the edge of the city, watching their progress. It chilled him to think about how the people living there made it out of the town; he could only hope that they made it out safely.

"They seem to be looking for something," Pit said cautiously.

Dark Pit had to agree. With each house they left, a bunch of the dark wind spirits would congregate at the entrance of the house and discuss something. Their voices were angry, that much he could tell, and after a while they would disperse themselves and pick their way towards the next empty house that they hadn't ransacked.

Dark Pit figured they were onto something with this, but he didn't much feel like sacking a human town just to figure out what the heck they were even doing there. Just as the angel was about to turn to his twin to try and discuss a plan, the lighter one suddenly exclaimed with a great cry of delight:

"Magnus!"

"Um, who?" Dark Pit said, properly confused. He followed Pit's line of gaze. His eyes landed upon the largest, buffest human he had ever glimpsed, with shoulder length black hair and a mean looking face. He looked pissed off about something, and was stomping through the streets like he had someone he wanted to kill. Dark Pit blinked. Strapped to the guy's back, was a thick, metal sword, probably a club. Dark Pit was surprised that the guy could carry something that looked like it weighed so much—it had to be at least half a ton. Then again, the guy was a giant.

He looked over to Pit. "How in the world do you know this guy?"

Pit didn't answer him, but actually called out the guy's name again. The guy named Magnus made no move to identify the source of the voice, which was weird, since in this part of the city, there didn't seem to be as many winds spirits. In fact, none of them seemed to bother the giant man, and whether or not Magnus recognized that Dark Pit could tell. It just seemed like he was on his way to find something—or someone—just as much as the wind spirits seemed to be.

"Okay, so it seems like this guy might be the best bet we have in figuring these things out, but I still don't want to—" It was then when Dark Pit realized that he was talking to himself. The angel had actually made his way over to him, this guy who was a big as a mountain, who looked like he's killed both people and monsters.

"Pit—wait!" Dark Pit zoomed his way over to the overexcited angel. Magnus had made his way towards the center of the city, where the noise from the wind had raised to a crescendo. Up ahead, Dark Pit could see the city covered with litter from their passing destruction. The energy in this part of the city was electric, and Dark Pit could feel all of the hair on his arms standing up with electric activity. Suddenly, Pit crashed into the giant, and the man he called Magnus lay sprawled out on the ground in bewilderment.

"Magnus—Magnus, it's me!" Pit said, his incorporeal spirit swooshing all about the man on the ground.

Magnus looked around, his eyes wide. "What in the world—was that?" he grunted.

"It's me, angel-face!" Pit said, right in his ear.

Magnus covered his ear with both hands. "Argh-damn wind spirits," he muttered lowly. "Get away from me, I don't have what you need."

"What is it that they need?" Pit said, his excitement overpowered with curiosity.

"Pit-Stain—he can't hear you," Dark Pit said, coming over to him. "I doubt that he can ever see you. Step away before he—AHHH!"

For Magnus was now swinging his long-ass club at the two angel-turned spirits. "Out of my way!" Magnus threatened, getting up on one knee. When the two angels didn't bother him again, he stood on both feet, and continued to make his way.

Pit's breath was coming out in gasps. "M-Magnus-?"

"Pit-stain, what were you thinking?" Dark Pit said, breathing just as hard as he was. He was pretty sure none of them were hurt, seeing as they were both invisible and without solid form, but the experience was still jarring, and he felt lucky that he didn't lose a limb. "Who was that guy?"

"His name is Magnus," Pit told him, a touch of sorrow in his voice. "I met him when I confronted the Dark Lord Gaol for the first time. He helped me defeat her—and helped me out again, back when I was stuck without my body in the whole Chaos Ring business."

Dark Pit was completely lost. He had almost forgotten where Pit's previous adventures had taken him. They sounded too bizarre for him to make sense of right now. Dark Pit decided to let it slide.

"I'm going to pretend any of that made a lick of sense. So you think this dude will be able to help us?"

"Of course. He thinks I'm annoying, but I know he'll help me if I need it."

"That's the thing—I don't think he knows it's actually you, Pit-for-brains," Dark Pit explained to him. Pit didn't seem so sure. "I mean—come on, I can barely see you as it is. Our forms as wind spirits don't show us as we actually are."

"Then how do I speak to him?"

"I don't know—maybe we can—"

Dark Pit stopped at the sound of a series of shouts coming up from the center of the city.

Dark Pit looked up. Magnus was nowhere to be found, but Dark Pit could take a stab in guess where he would be. In one of the largest of buildings they could see, the two angels saw at least a dozen wind spirits shooting in and out of it, flying from windows and diving back in with renewed speed. It didn't just sound like Magnus was in there, either; another, more annoyed and high pitched voice yelled out from the building as well, calling for help.

Dark Pit despaired. Either Magnus was flaying some poor human victim with his humongous sword, or the wind spirits were attacking both of them. Either way—

"We have to help them," Pit said, his voice set with determination. "Hurry, before something happens to them!"

And Pit was off, Dark Pit on his tail.

They got in easily. What met them on their way in was a situation that would require a little more skill, though.

Within the mass of swirling wind spirits, Dark Pit could make out two figures. He was pretty sure one of them was Magnus—one could not just dismiss that hulk of a dude so easily. It looked like the wind spirits had found what they were looking for on the other figure. He was surrounded, his figure being pushed back and forth between two dark wind spirits who looked as if they were playing a deadly game of table tennis. The others about them whipped around the man's figure rapidly, tearing at his clothes and pulling at his hair.

"Where isss it, where isss it?" the wind spirits hissed. From what Dark Pit could see, they were not touching the man beside Magnus directly, just whipped around him at fantastical speeds, as if they could not get too close to him either. The same didn't apply for Magnus, though. He thought that he and the wind spirits were in on him for the same reason, for it looked like the other man was trying to twist from Magnus' choking grip as well as from the wind's elusive grasp. It was absolutely chaos, but a closer look at the scene made the angel's sympathy suddenly go down the drain . . .

"Ha!" Dark Pit found himself jeering. "Serves him right!"

Pit turned slowly, his face the picture of absolute horror. "H-how could you say that? He needs our help!"

"No . . . they'll be fine." Dark Pit didn't want to face his incriminating look. He just wanted to live this moment and savor it for a while longer.

"Y-You know that guy, or something?"

"Hell yeah! That jerk tried to kill me!"

"He what?" Pit exclaimed, not believing that Dark Pit got attacked by a human, of all things, and almost got killed by one too.

"His name is Sterling," Dark Pit said, enjoying this moment. "He's that assassin that Viridi and Palutena were talking about, the one who rudely interrupted me when I was trying to get a hold of Pandora's Box!"

"That's him? But why do the venti want him?"

"Beats me. Maybe they want something he has?"

"That has to be the only explanation. . ."

But Dark Pit barely heard him. Sterling's white blue eyes were wide with terror, frantically trying to pull free from the venti who surrounded him.

It was then, however, while Pit was trying to get Dark Pit to snap out of it and actually try to help him come up with a plan that Magnus stopped trying to strangle the assassin and overheard the two angels talking in a language that he could actually understand.

"Oh no . . . that voice . . . it sounds horribly familiar . . ."

"What voice, Magnus?" Sterling asked, his neck still in Magnus' iron grip. "Please don't be hearing things. That would mean you are even less in the head than you already are . . . making matters worse for Sterling."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Magnus replied, sneering at him. "That was Angel-face's voice, I know it . . ."

"It was me, that was me, Magnus!" Pit said, overhearing them overhearing. Pit turned to Dark Pit. "Didn't I tell you he would hear me?"

"Sure you did," Dark Pit said, rolling his eyes.

"Magnus." Sterling was talking. "There's no one else in the room but you and Sterling, and these pesky wind spirits Sterling seems to be getting tired of very quickly."

"No, I would recognize that voice anywhere," Magnus grumbled, looking around the room unsurely. "Unless . . . arghh! That's angel's always been playing tricks on me!"

"No, I'm not, Magnus!" Pit said. "I'm really here!"

"That being as it may, Magnus," said Sterling, looking extremely uncomfortable. "Why are you here, other than to come and choke Sterling to death, once more?"

"These crazy winds want you for something, don't they?"

"Whatever it may be, Sterling assures you, Sterling does not possess what they seek."

Magnus gave him a hard, scrutinizing look. Sterling stared back at him, his face neutral, though his neck was still in Magnus' possession. Magnus relented. "Get out of here, eh?" he demanded, shooing the wind spirits away with one hand. He dropped Sterling then, and the two began trying to drive the venti together.

But they just wouldn't let up.

"I have to make him see me!" Pit said frantically. "Dark Pit, how do I make myself look solid?"

"What? How should I know? I've been one of these stupid wind thingies as long as you have!"

"He hasss it, he doesss, he doesss!" one of the wind spirits hissed with urgency. They seemed on the brink of getting what they wanted from the assassin.

"The warlock, he liesss, he will not show it to usss!" Another hissed.

"Sterling does not have what you are looking for!" the assassin said, shooing a few away with one his knives.

"Come on Dark Pit, you're usually better at figuring out these things than I am!"

"Then just—concentrate for once!" He thought he sounded a lot like Viridi right then, nagging and unhelpful. "Clear your mind, Pit-for-brains, and concentrate on what you want to do! Make him see you!"

Pit's form grew still. He didn't have a face, but Dark Pit figured if he did have one, his eyes would be shut tight, and his face would be scrunched in concentration. Gradually, Pit's true form shimmered into being.

The angel opened his eyes (for Dark Pit was right; he had closed his eyes in concentration) and looked down at his figure. Galvanized with new resolve, he looked at the swirling figures of wind spirits and took action. "HEY GUYS!" Pit said loudly next to him. The wind spirits turned to look at him—each of them in various forms of human, angel, and horse likeness. "I FOUND IT!"

All of the venti turned to look at him. "Where?" A dozen voices demanded at once.

"O-over here!" Pit called, and turning into an arbitrary direction, led the angry wind spirits away from seemed to be Sterling's house. When Pit had left, Dark Pit found himself in the same room as a mercenary and an assassin. Just perfect. He weighed whether he wanted to reveal himself to the two like Pit had done or if he just wanted to keep looking like some ghostly non-corporeal spirit.

Magnus looked in the direction of the venti exodus. He looked confused, not mean, and in that moment he suddenly didn't seem as menacing as Dark Pit first labeled him to be. He looked more . . . well, hardened, Dark Pit thought. And, whatever that was supposed to mean, it gave Dark Pit the thought that maybe he didn't have to be so distrusting of him after all.

"I could've sworn that was Angel-face back there," Magnus said, his face still wrinkled in confusion. Sterling, next to him, began to gather himself together, straightening out his clothes and smoothing back down his hair.

"Yes, Sterling could have sworn, as well," the assassin said, procuring from the inside of his tunic a small, drawstring bag.

Magnus looked at the bag in dawning comprehension. "You-!"

"What are you hiding?"

The two reverted their gazes to the back of the room. Dark Pit floated there, looking more like an angel than a formless venti, and waited for an answer.

Magnus' eyes furrowed. "Angel face?"

"No, that's the other guy," Dark Pit said, seeing no reason why he would try to hide his annoyance. Sure, they were almost completely strangers, but that didn't mean he couldn't be rude to them, did it? "You've got me confused for the other guy." He jerked a finger behind him. "He was the one who drove all of those wind spirits off, leaving me here . . . Pit-stain has the illusion that you may be able to help us in our next mission . . . " He leveled his gaze on Sterling. "Though if it wasn't for him, I'd let those winds tear you apart."

Sterling grinned his ice-cold smile. "My angel, that would be most unkind of you. But Sterling is pleased that you have decided to let us keep our lives."

Magnus looked at the two of them, back and forth. "I don't even want to guess at the history you have together . . . but answer me this, Other-Pit; how did you and Angel-Face get turned into wind spirits?"

"That's . . . a long story," said Dark Pit, unsurely. He wondered at how much information he should lease to the other guy about their mission down at the Overworld. "It's a story for another time, I think. What matters right now is the why. We came down in disguise to figure out how to defeat these things, these venti."

"Yeah, well, that's what I'm here about, too," Magnus said, turning a hard eye to Sterling. "I figured he would have something to do with it, but the guy's not budging."

"You're right," said Dark Pit, glaring at Sterling as well. "He was there at the opening of the Box, and if it weren't for him, I'd have prevented the wind spirits from getting lose."

Sterling seemed to be enjoying the attention. "Sterling is a humble assassin trying to make his living," he said. "Sterling did not mean to get in the angel's way of saving the world. Sterling was only trying to get his next meal." He shrugged, holding up his bag. "Sterling predicts that the bag has what they want. Though what of the contents of the bag, Sterling has no gathering."

Magnus was skeptical. "What do you mean by that?"

Sterling tossed him the small bag. "Sterling does not know what lies within its contents."

Before Magnus could see what was in it, however, he was interrupted.

"I'm back!" Pit said, coming through the window. "Magnus, remember me?"

"How could I forget?" Magnus said with sarcasm.

"How come you didn't just give the stupid venti what they wanted?" Dark Pit questioned Sterling. "They were persistent enough."

Sterling seemed to not have heard him, though. He was looking at Pit, his pale blue eyes glittering in interest. "Another angel?" he said. "Another prize? And more wings to sell, to keep for reward? Sterling's curiosity has been pleasantly piqued."

Pit looked at him with surprise. "Dark Pit," he said lowly, "I don't understand a word this guy is trying to say."

But Dark Pit very well did. "We'll deal with him later," Dark Pit said. "Right now, we just need to use him for information." And with a shove, Dark Pit had Sterling against the wall. "Now, answer my question, and do it without looking at my brother, for Medusa's sake."

It was not a request. Sterling looked unhampered at being threatened by the angel, however, and answered in apparent ease. "Sterling's last kill had ended in disaster," he replied. "Though a bit of a long shot to begin with, Sterling's targets have been getting more and more scarce. Sterling soon happened upon this treasure, which he had been planning on selling for a nice penny soon enough. Here in this town, as a matter of fact, before the venti decided to take it over and drive everyone out of it. Everyone except for Sterling, for he apparently had what they were seeking."

"Figures," muttered Magnus.

"Might as well and see what's in the pouch, then," Pit said.

Dark Pit loosened himself off Sterling so that he could see what happened when Magnus opened the pouch. He soon learned to regret it, however. Once Magnus loosened the bag, Pit and Dark Pit darted back involuntarily. He hissed. Pit looked close to jumping out at Magnus and tearing out his throat. "Close it!" Pit spat. "Close it now!"

And Magnus did.

He and the lighter angel were breathing hard. Dark Pit couldn't explain what had just happened. He was only certain of one thing:

"That's what we use to destroy the wind spirits."

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A/N: It's looking like this chapter and the next are going to be in Dark Pit's POV. I know he'll like that; he was getting a little jealous of Pit having two extra chapters to himself during that Seafloor Palace Arc.