Chapter 11 "Lonely Day"

The door to the boy's room flies open and Garterbelt roars at the sleeping teens. "ANGELS!"

Jacket bolts upright and Gloves yelps, his limbs spazzing and he falls off his bed at the foot of Garterbelt facedown, his slender half naked body covered with just the sheet giving the priest the stirrings of an erection.

Gloves lays there, his mind fuzzy from hitting his head on the hardwood flooring.

"Ahem." Garterbelt clears his throat and tries to avert his gaze from the nearly unconscious angel. "Four powerful ghosts have been reeking havoc in the city! Stocking has already volunteered for the one in the market places, Panty has been called at her sleazy motel to take a hit on the one in the slums. That leaves one in the residential areas near the slums and one in Daten City Park near the high school."

"Dibs on the Park." Gloves mumbles into the floorboards. Jacket merely shrugs, still too tired to care. "Thanks for the heads-up, Garter. We'll get dressed and be ready to kick ass in about ten minutes."

Garter raises his fist, ready to scream at them for their laziness but realizes what was said. "Wha-?"

Gloves looks up at Garter, recovering his senses. "He means we're getting up and ready. We'll leave in ten minutes to fulfill our orders and eliminate our targets, Garter-sama."

"Oh, uh…" Garter starts, confused at their obedience. "Right, well. I'll be downstairs if anyone needs me or additional information." Garter bows and leaves the room, reverently shutting the door behind him.

Gloves pushes himself up, dropping the sheet and wanders to his dresser in his simple black boxer-briefs, his pale skin practically a phantasm in the darkness. He takes his three remaining Heavens from his dresser and one from Jacket's, to replace the one he taped to Jacket's bike, and puts them in his mouth while he dresses. The Heaven's energy tingle against his canines and clean his teeth while he dresses, a trick he learned in Heaven when he lost one of his teeth after winning a fight and put it in his pouch of Heavens. The gold coins jingle together as he slips on a pair of simple black jeans and a black wife beater. He spits out the coins into his hands, slipping them into his pocket as he threw on one of the red and black plaid shirts. He straightened his hair in the mirror while his brother repeated a similar process with his white clothes. Both sit back on their beds at the same time, slipping into their shoes. Gloves with his black socks and black converts, and Jacket with his normal white socks and his white and gold running shoes. "Here, brother, your breath reeks." Gloves smirks, as he stands, flicking a few Heavens from his brother's drawer at him.

"Ha ha ha. Very funny." Jacket rolls his eyes, popping one of the Heavens in his mouth. "Sho, how't you shweep?" Jacket asks around the coins.

"I slept well, brother. It's been a long time since we shared a room, but at least you don't snore anymore." Gloves grabs his namesake from his nightstand, his body visibly relaxing as he slips the fingerless gloves over his pale calloused hands, always feeling safer with a weapon. Gloves grabs his brother's jacket and tosses it across the room to him, and Jacket catches it effortlessly putting it on.

Gloves goes back to the mirror, grabbing his goggles and putting them on over his forehead. He grabs his studded wristbands and puts them on. He turns to see Jacket with his arms crossed, seeming to wait for Gloves.

"Ummm, what's up?" Gloves tentatively asks.

"Who do you think would win in a fight? A ninja or a samurai?"

"Well duh the ninja! That's nearly like asking if a cowboy would win over an indian! They were TRAINED to kill samurai! Even without the upper hand they'd win."

"What if the ninja was fighting one on one?" "The samurai has a huge chance. But still the ninja wins." "Why?"

Gloves smirks. "The ninja is smarter. Anything else?"

"yeah, Gloves. My bike is in the park. I need a lift." Jacket reminds him.

Gloves looks at his hands to see the studs a dull orange, flexing his fingers. "Oh.. Well damn it." Gloves mutters. "Ah they need to charge." Gloves clenches his fists and they turn bright blue, making the studs on the gloves slowly turn to their normal silver color. "That's it. Feed."

Jacket stares at him, kinda lost. "Um, Gloves, what are you doing?"

"Talking to Studs." Jacket stares at Gloves as if he grew a second head. "You're talking…to your gloves…"

Gloves nods and smirks. "Well, I used up all their stored energy in my fight with Stocking last night. I used a form I didn't know about and it seems to have drained them, so I'm letting them use my excess energy to restore their strength and hide my power level."

Jacket looks at him then his gloves. "Where'd you learn that and why do you do it?"

Gloves's hands stop glowing and he flexes his fingers some more. They flash green. "It's a trick my old teacher taught me. It's so that I can hide easier and be less noticeable in a fight against supernatural beings."

Jacket shrugs "That's your way. I'll let people see my energy so they have a warning of what they're messing with."

Gloves walks to the window. "Yeah, well I also learned in Heaven's Library how to use my gloves as detectors. Purple means ghosts are nearby, various shades of blue mean angels and their power levels, a flash of green means they're ready to rock and roll, and orange, of course, means their power is drained and they need to charge. We should get going. I want you gone before I have to fight my ghost. It has been a while since I fought one on one. I feel a little rusty."

Jacket laughs. "Dude, I think you spent maybe too much time in that library. You know too much."

Gloves scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Hardly. I've barely scratched the surface of the books they have in there, and I've only read like ten or twenty of the spell and technique books. That's why I had to save the library. I want to be a wetboy."

Jacket bursts out laughing. "A what?!"

Gloves rolls his eyes again. "A wetboy. In my favorite book series, a wetboy is the ultimate assassin that can use magic to practically turn invisible, walk on walls, and magnify their strength and skills. And because they're so few and so great, as soon as they take a contract, the victim is referred to as a "deader" because they're as good as dead. Assassins have "targets" because they sometimes fail."

Jacket doesn't bother restraining his laughter, falling to the ground with his eyes screwed shut. Gloves growls, irritated and kicks Jacket in the back, knocking the air out of him. "Don't mock me!" He snarls and opens the window, climbing out onto the ledge.

"Fucking dick!" Jacket spits out.

Gloves flicks Jacket the bird, "Pompous prick. Get your own ride." Gloves snarls and leaps off the ledge and down onto his bike. Gloves revs the engine and drives away.

Jacket gets up, recovering his breath and heads to the door, more than a little aggravated. He throws open the door and hears a thud resound solidly from behind the dark purple wood. "OWW!" a shrill voice screams and Jacket pulls the door back, looking behind it. "What the-?"

"BAKA-GLOVES!" Screams the owner of the previous voice right before the flat side of a katana collides with Jacket's head.

"FUCK! OW!" Jacket shouts, falling again to the floor in pain, clutching his head.

"Oh my. Sorry Jacket." Stocking mumbles softly, putting Stripes back on her leg, and extending a hand to help Jacket up. "I thought you were your idiot brother."

"Well, NEXT time, look before you swing!" Jacket grumbles, rubbing his head. He takes her hand and sees the bruise on her cheek. "Oops. My bad. I guess we both need to be a bit more careful." He apologizes as well, standing.

"Yeah I guess so." She brushes it off and attempts to look past him into the room. "Is he still in there? I need to talk to him."

Jacket moves away from the door and rubs his head again. "He kinda…Jumped out the window." He mutters.

"WHAT?! Just cause we had a fight he killed himself?!" Stocking screams, grabbing him by his jacket's collar in a death grip, her eyes wide.

"Ak! No! He jumped out onto his bike! We're not THAT far up! If anything, I'm closer to death than he is!" Jacket exclaims trying to push her hands off.

"Oh dammit!" Stocking curses, releasing her hold on Jacket as he fixes his collar. "I knew I should have barged in after Garterbelt left!"

Jacket breathes a sigh of relief as the wrinkles in the leather vanish. "But Gloves would have been near naked." He reminds her.

Stocking glares at him. "All the better. Maybe it'd have been you flying out that window instead." She smirks evilly.

Jacket slowly inches away towards the stairs. "Ooookay. You crazy. Almost as crazy as he gets to be. I'm going downstairs now. I'm going to grab a bite and be on my way. I've got shit to kill."

"I'll join you. I need something sugary to fill me up before I leave. Maybe some chocolat pancakes with syrup and powdered sugar." Stocking mentions thoughtfully. Jacket cringes and sticks out his tongue. "Blehk. That sounds way too sweet. I'll just grab a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal or something."

Stocking glares at him. "TOO SWEET?! Blasphemy! And coffee is disgustingly bitter and stains your teeth."

Jacket smirks. "Gloves drinks coffee."

Stocking huffs and crosses her arms, glaring out a window as they tromp down the stairs. "Just another one of his few flaws." She mumbles.

"FEW?! And I thought HE was delusional! Hahahahahahaha! At least he knows his own weaknesses!" Jacket laughs.

"Like what?" Stocking looks back at him curiously as they walk into the kitchen.

"Sorry, I don't just give that kind of information away." Jacket shakes his head, still smiling.

Stocking smiles mischievously. "If I marry your brother, you know we'll be in-laws right?"

Jacket processes this as she shuffles into the kitchen. "…Madre de Ois!"

(I don't speak Spanish so forgive me if that is spelled wrong.)

"…Dammit I want my coffee." Gloves curses and his stomach grumbles in agreement. "Hush, you. You'll have to wait till later. The streets aren't running rampant with ghosts and my "deader" is somewhere in the park over there. I saw something the other day that interested me and I want to see what they have. Maybe it'll make me feel more at home. Besides, I don't have to worry about paying rent anymore and possibly my purchase will send someone to heaven and I'll get bonus points for it." The angel's eyes scan the shop signs as he drives his bike past at a safe pace. "It's a bit funny though. As much as people down here preach about how wonderful Heaven is and that it's a paradise, it has problems just the same as anywhere else, and I find I don't miss it at all. The only difference between here and Heaven is I cannot fly and I don't stick out as much. And people aren't as afraid. Really, the only thing I miss is my wings. But here…here I can kill things. Here, me fighting actually means something. Sending restless spirits into the next life, exterminating evil. It has meaning. It's not grand, but I enjoy the danger. It's…pretty sweet."

He smiles and his eyes find his goal. "Aha! There it is!" He exclaims happily, pulling the bike to the side of the road and parks, taking his goggles off. He runs into the store, looking in the window. It's a simple music store, selling everything from albums and headphones to guitars and drum sets. In the window, on prime display is a pair of sleek black guitars. Each feature a flaming trio of white skulls on the bottom right corner smiling up grimly at the angel, as if acknowledging an old friend. The two guitars, a bass and a normal electric, have green guitar strings that stand out from the black back ground. The shape of the guitars is sleek and angular, with curved triangles making up the head and the base. The shoulder straps are black as well, with skulls circling on it with blue fire streaming behind them as they chase the skull in front of them. Gloves sees enough room on the guitar to etch in his own design with the skulls if he desired.

He runs into the store and goes to the shop keeper, dumping his fistful of Heavens on the table, gesturing to the guitars while talking speedily. The shop keeper, David, in his early thirties or so, with short black hair and bold brown eyes talks back to the young angel, perhaps questioning him on the source of his finances, not wanting the wrath of God, or worse the Anarchy angels, to fall upon his humble business. Gloves turns his left namesake into a shuriken, and that's enough proof for the owner. He takes three of Glove's Heavens and waves him off, and the angel whoops in delight. He grabs his spare coin and rushes to the windowsill, grabbing the normal electric, leaving the bass for another time. He loops the guitar strap around his neck, setting the guitar itself across his back like a sword, and waves goodbye to the clerk, excited. Gloves starts walking towards the end of the street, about three blocks away. He pulls out a pair of black earphones and an old battered MP3 player he'd bought long ago in Heaven. The beaten black casing has a solitary white skull on the back and the screen has a wide impact crack from when an angel tried to stab Glove's leg to get an advantage on him in a match. Though cracked, the screen was still legible and Gloves was not one to waste money. He plugs one into the other and puts the buds in his ears. He changed the band from Creed to Linkin Park, playing "By Myself" one of his favorites. He turns it down to half volume. Loud enough to cover up some street noises but not loud enough to blow the old speakers or hurt his keen ears.

He changes Studs 1+2 into dull stilettos, using them to drum on his legs and passing objects, singing along to the song. He passes by a pair of metal trash cans and he spins around on a whim and drums on the lids as he passes, the resounding clangs matching the beat of the song. Out of the corner of his right eye he spots a figure dashing behind the side of a store he just passed.

Gloves frowns and lowers the volume of his earphones with his thumb. He wills the small dull knives to turn into balanced throwing knives and slowly approaches the spot where he saw the figure. "Hello?" he calls out, raising one of the knives cautiously. The park is right across the street, no less then thirty meters away, so it could very well be the ghost he was sent to kill. If the ghost was attacking customers and the shops, well…that'd displease our dark angel very much. He turns his left hand knife into a dagger to parry any attack made, and whirls around the corner, weapons raised, and teeth bared, testosterone pumping. In his mind a battle already playing out, where many people are hurt and a building or two is destroyed. Eventually he comes out the victor, beaten and bloody, with the ghost's Heavens in his bleeding fist. Unfortunately, not a soul is in sight. Gloves lowers his hands and stands straight, looking around to see if anyone noticed him being an idiot. A small group of teenagers watch him, their eyes trained on his weapons, and evaluating if he's a threat. He rubs his head and wills the weapons to vanish, sheepishly walking away and apologizing. The teens say nothing and watch him leave.

Gloves grumbles and heads into the park, crossing the street. He slips into the shadows of the park's forest, vanishing from the streets. Gloves navigates himself to the spot where Stocking took him last time, figuring a familiar place would be the best place to start. He follows the path to the clearing with the fountain and sees the signs of the struggle that happened between the angels. Warily he scans the area for any sign of danger. Finding none, the angel sits on the wide rim of the fountain, he fishes his music player out. He sets it on his left, changing the song. He claps his hands together, changing them into a single silvery katana, which he stabs into the ground in front of him. Within reach and eyesight, should he need it. Gloves then grabs the guitar and takes it off his neck. Taking one last survey of his surroundings, he looks down at the guitar and starts to strum along to the song. His plan is simply to let the sword's energy draw in the ghost and change color when the ghost is close enough to be a threat. Once the blade turns purple, he'll spring into action.

He eyes the sword for a minute then returns his attention to the guitar. A picture of Stocking flickers into his mind and his mood darkens slightly. He changes the song with a sigh and sings along to it.

"Such a lonely day…" He sings slowly, clearly. His voice reaches over the near empty clearing with ease. "And it's mine. The most loneliest day of my li-I-I-ife." He strums faster, still steady, nodding his head to the beat in his ears and the music at his fingers. "Such a lonely day." He looks up across the clearing, seeing over the treetops from the hill the fountain perches on, and across from him, a school. "Should be banned. It's a day that I can't staa-a-a-aaand."

He starts power strumming when the singing starts and it dawns on him that the school isn't in session and it's still summer. Those days are drawing to a close and the school will be open again soon. He remembers something about school spirits, and not the cheering kind. He logs the thought away as the next part of the song approaches and he tones down the strumming in preparation to sing. He lowers his goggles onto his face and belts out the next stanza.

"Such a lonely day! Shouldn't exist. It's a day that I'll never miss. Such a lonely daay! And it's mine… The most loneliest day of my liiife!"

He uses some magic and amplifies his voice and guitar's volume, pouring his heart into the song, his eyes closed.

"And if you gooo, I want to go with yoou. And if you diiiee. I want to die with you. Taaaake yooourr haaand aaand waaalk aaawaaayyyy!" He sings sincerely, power strumming the guitar. He sings along with the chorus, repeating it till the final phrase, when he drops the volume of everything down to normal, strumming the guitar as gently as possible.

"Such a lonely day. And it's mine….It's a day I'm glad I'll surviiive." He alters the words slightly and the song ends, and he smiles and the MP3 turns off.

He opened his eyes to suddenly find someone in front of him.

"OHIYO!" the person yells, almost in his face. Startled, Gloves tries to back up from his seat and falls back into the fountain, the earpiece falling out of his ear and joining it's fellow on the rim of the fountain.

"Fuck!" he cries out as he falls backwards into the fountain, dropping the guitar on the grass. The angel is submerged from the waist up in the fountain's basin, his legs propped up against the fountain on the spot where he was previously sitting peacefully. A school of coy fish swim by his submerged head, as he lays there, feeling like an fool for what seemed the third time that day, bubbles slowly flowing out his nose and to the surface. His goggles allow him to see the fish swimming around and around his head, nipping at his clothes and fingers to see if he's edible. He halfheartedly glares at the fish and swat at them, making the school panic and dart around everywhere. He quickly pushes himself up out the water to try and evade the fish but comes out with a long orange and black fish wriggling in his mouth, trying to get free. Gloves glares and turns his head and spits the poor bastard out, climbing out of the surprisingly deep water basin.

The teen looks his age if not a little younger. She giggles at him and covers her mouth. He stands, away from the guitar as to not get it wet, and shakes his head, his now dark brown hair (from being wet) making water fly on the girl, who throws her arms up to protect herself from the water, making a noise of protest.

Gloves gets a good look at her and makes mental notes in his head. She's shorter than him by about a head and looks about as skinny as he is. She has big green eyes, and long dark green hair, with alabaster skin that makes it seem she gets out less than is recommended. Severe vitamin deficiency or very good breeding. Either way, appealing to his taste. She wears black cargo pants and low cut black shirt with a green music note that is slightly revealing. She has on lime green headphones and a few bracelets. The outlines in her pockets seem like she has a cellphone, wallet, possibly a music player, and a hand held gaming device.

"Why'd you do that?" Gloves asks, more than slightly irritated. The water's weight will slow me down in combat if I don't dry soon. Might be nit-picking but when speed is your best advantage, this is bad. He slowly takes off the wet plaid long sleeve, and tries to use his energy to dry off.

"Because it was funny, and I heard you singing. Not bad by the way." She winks and Gloves immediately notices something a little strange. Something about her sound and the way she talks. Like she isn't used to speaking… She picks up his guitar and leans it against the fountain.

"Yeah I guess so. But you scared the wind out my wings!" Gloves accuses, using an old heaven saying. She stares at him funny and it occurs to him it didn't make a lot of sense. He takes off his goggles and straightens his hair. "Wait you're not speaking Japanese!" He suddenly understands, switching to English.

"No, but I can if I wanted to." She says in near perfect Japanese. "Why do you carry that thing around?" she asks, pointing at the katana. "I mean, sure it's Japan and all, but there's really no reason to lug it around like it's the 15th century or something."

"That's my business, miss. I was sent here on a mission, and I need it to finish the job." Gloves grumbles, picking up his blade, letting it's power resonate within him, pleasantly, calming his startled nerves. He grows serious as he looks around, seeing if his trap worked or not.

"So you're what? A killer? A young bounty hunter? An assassin? It is very well my business cause I can easily tell the police I saw a mad man with a guitar running around the park swinging a sword around." She smirks and crosses her arms, thinking herself clever.

He rolls his eyes. "I would recommend you not do that. That'd waste my time and the police's, and then you'd get in trouble for stopping an angel from doing his job."

"Angel? Like the biker gang? That'd explain the motorcycle." She asks, a little confused. Gloves glances at her and shakes his head, still searching the area.

"Wrong angels." He slings the guitar on his back and starts walking away towards the denser part of the woods.

"Then what angels?" She asks as she follows him. He sighs. Yes, follow the psycho with the sword into the woods. It'll turn out juuuuuuust peachy. "The kind that slays Ghosts."

"Ghosts? So it's like a gang war?" "No, Baka!" He facepalms, exasperated and turns to face her. "How long have you been in Daven anyways?! Obviously you're not from here cause everyone knows what an ANGEL is!" he continues walking, and unfortunately, she continues following.

"No I'm not from here, I'm from a small town in America."

"Which state?" He asks, distracted with trying to find his target.

"Texas." "And you've NEVER seen a ghost in Texas?! I mean of course most of the ghosts there are animals but sometimes there's bandits or a nasty cowboy!"

"I lived on a isolated ranch far from town. I didn't get out much. I wanted some space and room to myself so I decided to come here to visit some family. I still don't know what a "Ghost" or an "Angel" is."

Gloves rolls his eyes. "Literally, an Angel. With the wings and the halo and junk." he says, cutting down a few weeds to look around.

She looks him up and down as they stop in a small clearing surrounded by trees. "Buddy, I hate to tell you, but you don't have a halo or wings. You must be one sorry angel. Or a nutcase."

"I'm NOT crazy!" Gloves shouts, throwing his hands into the air, tired of trying to explain it.

"That's what they all say. Now calm down dude, you're starting to freak me out with that sword." She watches his sword hand carefully, arms slightly raised. "Wait, why is it doing that?" she asks, her eyes growing wide as she points.

Gloves looks to see the purple warning glow of his sword. "Ah shit." He makes the glow stop and takes off his guitar, giving it to her. "Take this and run! No! Don't ask questions, just run!" he shouts, interrupting her and gripping his sword with both hands, looking around.

"Why what's happening?" she asks, still next to him. Clearly not understanding my order. Gloves thinks to himself angrily. "We're about to be attacked, now run back!" he shouts, pushing her back the way they came, spotting a pair of glowing eyes in one of the trees foliage. Gloves makes a stand, crouching to the ground with his katana ready, waiting for the ghost. The eyes follow the girl instead, it's focus obviously lost.

"Poor choice." Gloves mutters before he leaps into the air, slashing at the eyes. Right before the blade makes contact the eyes vanish and Gloves lands on the branch now unoccupied by the spirit. He whirls around, searching for the ghost, and sees a blurred white shape dashing from tree to tree after her.

"Fuck!" Gloves growls, gritting his teeth as he jumps from the tree. He hurridly changes Studs into two glaives, throwing one in front of the figure as Gloves charges through the trees to get to the girl, who is already out of Glove's sight. Whether or not the glaive hits or distracts the ghost is of no difference to Gloves. Now all that matters is saving the girl from the ghost. He hears a whirring and he holds out his hand, catching the glaive as it returns to him. He looks up at the trees seeing the blur now ahead only by a few meters but gaining speed. Gloves grunts and jumps into the air, using a spin to gain greater velocity for the glaives as he launches one then the other before dropping back to the earth, still running. He runs off a tree and sees the human again, but she's far and the blur is almost on top of her. The familiar whir is back and this time he forms a rushed plan. He stretches his hands out while running and catches the glaives. Then he turns the left one into a grappling claw and leaps into the air again. This time he aims the grapple at the top of the fountain and fires while deweaponizing his remaining glaive. The grapple flies over the girl's left shoulder and attaches itself to the fountain. With a thought, Gloves is sent flying into the air, dragged along by his weapon, his arm practically yanked out. Faster than the blur, he flies. He stretches out his right arm and grits his teeth as speeds it up. He grabs the girl around the back, causing her to scream, and sending them both flying up and over the fountain as the white blur dives and misses them by a hair, denying the ghost its kill.

Unfortunately, this is where the plan has a drawback. In Heaven or any other circumstance, Gloves would have just opened his wings and flown them to safety in the afternoon sun. Without his wings, they're going to fall to the earth like a meteor. Gloves puts his grapple arm around her and tries to use it to cushion the fall as they crash into the dirt, causing soil and gravel to fly everywhere.

Glove's grapple arm and jeans take most of the damage, but the girl is scuffed and bruised. Gloves knows she'll be alright as long as he gets her away from the ghost. He takes a second to rest, his lungs burning and his heart pounding away. She's shaking, freaked out. Gloves doesn't see his guitar but figures he probably doesn't want to know what happened to it.

Gloves pushes her off and gets himself to his feet, moving his left arm in a full circle, feeling next to no pain, but knows he will wake up tomorrow sore as hell. "At least it still works." He mutters, willing the grapple to vanish into his hand.

"The hell did you grab me for?!" the girl screams at him and he rolls his eyes.

"Thanks for the save, Gloves. It's a miracle your arms aren't broke!

Not a problem, stranger! I don't mind that you probably lost my new guitar or what fresh levels of hell I'm going to feel in the morning! As long as your safe, that's all that matters!" Gloves drones sarcastically, limping over to the side to look for the ghost.

"Saving me?! From what, you're crazed delusions?!" She continues to scream, accusing him.

Gloves looks back at her and clicks his tongue, frowning. "Please, keep screaming at me. It helps me out so much. Hell, your screaming might even make the ghost's head explode and save me the trouble!"

"You're such an ass! Is this all just one big way to get back at me for making you fall in the fountain?! Cause I can assure you this is NOT amusing!" She screams more, her raggedy hair getting more messed up. Gloves rolls his eyes and looks out from behind the fountain.

"You never shut up, do you? I wonder if it is a trait inherited by your parents. I can imagine just being in a house with your family and all I hear is "What day is it? Tuesday? Interesting cause I could have sworn I milked the cows yesterday. Hey Ted, want to go shoot some varmints? Paul, you better let the dog out before he starts barking at everyone. Jimmy, you better sit up and listen or the goblins will eat your toes at night! MOM CAN I HAVE A BARBIE?! No, Susan just be quiet and eat your peas. MOOOOOM HE'S TOUCHING MEEEE!" Gloves screams the last one in a high pitched voice, while making yapping motions with his left hand. He gets up in the middle of this to walk back to the girl, still yammering. "Jesus. If I heard that crap all day I'd perform seppuku. I'm sure I'd be let back into heaven with pats on the back."

"You're just stark raving mad aren't you?" The girl accuses, growling.

Gloves waves his hand and points past the fountain. "No, but he might be. Say hi!"

She turns to see a tall figure dressed in a flowing white and silver robe with black dragons flying across the sleeves and skirt. It also wears long white leggings with the same black dragons on the ends, and white shoes. The figure's face is unidentifiable as it wears a spectacular silver mask over it's face with small holes in the eyes to see. The mask has thin lips, a sharp chin, and a sharp pronounced nose that spews smoke. The lips are curved into a devilish grin with long gleaming silver fangs protruding from four corners. The eyes are the most horrible feature, with bushy white eyebrows and eyes that are deep set and blood red. They have a maniacal look as if one wrong word would send the wearer into a blood frenzy. A good mask to inspire fear in any sane man… Too bad it doesn't work on our angel, but it works damn well on the human, who yelps and runs behind Gloves and hides there, shaking.

"That's one hell of a hallucination, right? A beautiful samurai! You know what? I might just call you Alice, cause I think I might be in Wonderland!" Gloves cheerfully remarks, his fists on his hips.

"Shut up and kill it!" The human shrieks and Gloves throws his hands in the air.

"Again with the screaming! Wow I think I found a keeper. Best. Sidekick. Ever. I think I'd prefer having you as a sidekick than Deadpool. Definite win. No doubt about it."

She shivers and sobs. "Oh now you're crying? Great. Just what I needed. Complete the image and shit yourself cause he's going to kill us both! Happy day!" Gloves cheers as the masked ghost draws his sword.

Gloves gets next her and straightens her back, much to her surprise, and holds her head straight. "You see this, Alice? This is a Ghost! See?! Spooooooooooky!" he mocks, possibly them both. "You want to know how to get rid of it?" He asks her and she stops crying to look at him, questioning his sanity. Slowly she nods and he pushes her away.

"You back the fuck off and let an angel kill it. Now go get my guitar and my other stuff while I take care of it." He rolls his eyes as he claps his hands together, and a blue fire ignites in his hands, from which the katana easily takes it's shape as the flame expands in his hands. The girl looks back at the two beings and slowly shuffles away.

"I'm sorry for the interruption, but who are you? And thank you for being so polite while I had that little conversation." Gloves asks and thanks, sincerely.

The ghost looks at Glove's sword and the fire before speaking, looking into Glove's eyes. "Step aside, warrior. I am far stronger than you and more agile with the blade. Countless years of training guides my blade to its mark. It would be honorable, in this case, to flee from my grasp, to come back when you are strong enough to kill me. My target is not you and my vengeance rests not upon your kind." Resounds a deep, calm voice from behind the mask. The somber tone soothes Glove's mind none, however as many evil minds hide behind pretty faces and masks.

"Yeah, I could do that." Gloves admits. "But let's face it, we both know I wont. But we could start by talking. Who are you? Or rather-who were you?"

"Is your immortal existence worth the fight over a mere human?" The ghost continues.

Persistent fuck isn't he? Focused too. When most ghosts recognize an Angel they tend to attack first and ask questions later. Why is he so different? Why is he giving me a chance to run? Does he fear my strength? No I'm clearly beat up and he has a fair chance. He says we're not his targets, or at least, I'm not. I still cant have a trained samurai's ghost hunting people down in a quest for vengeance. Maybe I can reason with him.

"Not at all. But I cant let you reek havoc on humans just to satisfy your blood lust. I was sent to stop you and that's what I intend to do."

The ghost is still for a moment then nods. "Honorable, but foolish. If you can survive my assault, you'll have the pleasure of knowing my name before you fade from this existence. If you fail I shall gain tremendous power from killing you."

"Careful." Gloves warns, "Don't underestimate me. That's what gets me money." Gloves smirks, pooling up his remaining reserves of energy into his arms, a little drained from rapidly changing weapons so many times.

"Enough talk. My blade shall drink the blood of angels this day!" The ghost proclaims, getting into an offensive pose.

Gloves crouches into a position used by an assassin named Zer0 in one of the games him and Jacket played together. "Come at me, bro." Gloves smirks and the entities charge at each other, till they clash, sparks leaping to the air as their blades meet. They lock and shove with their blades, each being propelled back. They charge again and it's a rain of metal, flashes of steel, and a flurry of blows. The rain of attacks quickly shift into a dance as the fighters circle each other, alternating from hammering away at the other, dodging deadly blows, or rapidly swinging a sword at exposed limbs only to be blocked by a blade of equal speed.

The girl watches from the fountain, the guitar safely in her hands and her hopes lying with the young angel. To her it's amazing, a simple rivalry of ninja versus samurai.

Sweat beads on Glove's brow as he focuses all his energy into making himself faster, relying on his sharp skills and quick reflexes to ensure his position and enough strength to keep a firm grip on his sword. The only way to disarm the young angel is to remove is arm, a fate worse than death to the assassin.

A decapitating swipe from the ghost samurai to the angel's neck is avoided by instinct's dodge and a counter attack to the samurai's unguarded flank is parried by swift steel.

Gloves gains ground only to lose it and more to a flurry of hammering strikes. Gloves falls to a knee and blocks one last strike before rolling to the side to let the next blow carry the samurai forward. Gloves leaps up to deliver a finishing strike to it's back when the ghost whirls around like lightning and blocks with the blade, sending the angel backwards from the samurai sliding a few feet back.

Blow by blow the duel continues, the blades no longer colliding but merely dancing. Artfully twirling through the air as centuries of training and mastery of sword play fought an angel who's very nature compels him to press on, no matter the odds, to match a superior man's steel with his own even if it costs him his life. The match blazes on effortlessly for what seems like hours, but merely mortal minutes pass! According to "Alice"'s watch the battle has lasted thirty minutes! But it's so mesmerizing she goes straight back to watching.

And suddenly!-all is still. Both warriors stand off, facing each other, swords gripped firmly. Sweat coats the angel and he pants, while the warriors assess their situations.

"You fight well, young immortal!" the samurai admits, "Probably the best I've faced in countless years, even in life!"

"It goes without saying," Gloves appraises, "that you are mightier than most the angels I've met!" He smirks, enjoying the challenge far more than any sane person should. "But I'm not most angels either! And I fear this duel shall end swiftly! I beg of you, will you tell me your name so I may pay homage to your grave and perhaps guide you into heaven when the time comes?"

"Alas, Heaven has not the promise of revenge nor the comforts of battle!" The ghost bemoans.

"But there are brilliant battles fought all the time in heaven! Trust me, for the problems exist everywhere that do in what is known as that peaceful place! It has politics both familiar and strange and both require men of war. Even the school could use a man of your caliber! Im one of the best they had and still I am hardly a match for you! They could use a proper mentor! And why do you stay for revenge? Is not forgiveness a proper virtue?"

The ghost looks at his sword then up to the sky, still in his fighting stance. "Oh, fair young merciful angel. You don't understand."

"I've been met a lot of hardship since my birth, my friend. Tell me what drives you to stay." Gloves pleads, lowering his sword.

"Hardships you have met, but none like this. Tell me, young one. If I am to die here, in midst of noble battle, do I get sent to heaven? Do the people that wronged me learn anything? Do they get the justice they deserve or the mercy of the foul judgment?" The ghost looks back down into Glove's eyes, and the mask has two thick black lines of tears leading from it's psychotic eyes to the edge of it's sharp chin. Gloves is struck dumb by its questions and the pleading look in its eyes. He feels the outrage of unjust treatment and the sorrow of failure heaped upon his shoulders.

"Who wronged you, my friend?" Gloves pleads once he recovers the use of his tongue, the joy of battle wiped clean of his face. "What did they do that made you like this? Tell me of their evils."

The ghost's mask closes its eyes and it kneels on the ground. "It was the Yamauchi Clan. They…killed my master and…sacrificed my family to the demons for power. Their souls…screamed in pain as I was forced to bear witness to their heinous acts. I was left to live, and I swore revenge. I died trying to accomplish their revenge. I only managed to slay their Clan Head before they stopped me." the pain the ghost felt during his life carried over to the angel, who willingly took it in.

"Give me your grief, friend. I will take away your pain." Gloves whispers through clenched teeth, tears streaming down his face.

"Angel…there is but four of the Clan still alive, still powerful. The rest of the entire family split off to lead honest lives. Let me continue my quest. I have slain so many to get them down to this number. So close to fulfillment, I must continue. So tell me, if I die here…do I return to Heaven?"

Gloves drops his sword wordlessly and it stands in the ground. Silently, he goes to the ghost and puts his hand on the ghost's shoulder. Glove's eyes glow purple and he looks into the ghost's eyes.

"My friend…Your honor and your soul is so tarnished by grief and meaningless bloodshed. I can see it now, your soul. It's chained down by the burdens of vengeance and trapped like a rabbit caught in a bear trap still gasping for air. Your sins outweigh your very being… But I forgive you. Release yourself of your guilt and your sin and you shall go to Heaven. Fret not finishing your quest, for I shall be your spirit of vengeance, and I shall free your family's souls from the demons that have held them captive for so long."

The black tears on the mask fade as new white tears of hope and relief flood his eyes. The mask's terrifying face barely hides the joy in his eyes. "What is your name, samurai?" Gloves asks, smiling.

"Hiroki…Hiroki Uesugi." The man finally lets out.

"Hiro…My name is Gloves Azoth Chaos. When you get to Heaven, tell the Goddess, Silver says hi." Gloves smiles and Hiro nods.

"There's just one problem, Silver." Hiroki whispers. "I wont give up without us finishing this fight." He finishes reverently.

Gloves bows and walks across the clearing, drawing his sword from the earth. "Then let us finish this."

"I will not go down so easily, Silver." The ghost informs, standing tall once more, drawing his sword as well.

"I would hope not. Or it would be dishonorable for all of us." Gloves agrees.

"If I lose here, and I do return to Heaven, and the spirits of my family greet me, I shall sing praises to your name." Hiroki promises.

"I shall not hold you to that. Now come, my friend. Your final earthly battle commences." Gloves smiles and he can feel the smile on the ghost's face under the mask.

A petal falls from a blossom on a tree. It slowly drifts downwards, and both warriors follow it from the corners of their eyes. Without a word both make it their countdown and ready themselves.

The petal hits the ground. The warriors dash across the field in seconds, swords drawn. A flash of light blinds the human girl and the opponents are each on the opposite side of the clearing from where they started, the final blow landed. All is still and quiet, each bearing his sword in the air.

Glove's left arm and leg explode in bouts of blood and he collapses to the ground with a cry of pain.

"Gloves!" The girl screams and rushes to his side, setting the guitar down. She kneels next to him, his body loosing blood rapidly, his face already drained and paler than normal. "Gloves?! Say something!" she screams at him, tearing up.

He opens his eyes and looks in her eyes. "Again…with…the screaming…" He gasps out.

Hiroki chuckles. "I still got it." He says before his side and neck both burst and he collapses to the ground as well. The honorable samurai dies within seconds as the human rips the plaid shirt of the angel and wraps it around his wounds in a futile attempt to save his life, all the while Gloves watches Hiroki's body.

The remains of his friend slowly disappears from existence (like the tardis) leaving behind his mask, five heavens, and two balls of flame where he was. Gloves watches the balls of flame, extremely confused. One is dark purple and the other is blue. The blue one quickly disappears up into the late sky, while the purple one dances around the ground. The purple fire slowly rolls along the ground towards Gloves, who shakes from blood loss and some fear.

It splits into two different smaller fire spheres that enter through the gashes on his body. One into his arm, the other in his calf. There is no pain, as either remaining beings expected, but a slow warmth that spreads throughout Glove's body. The skin and muscles on his arm and leg reknit themselves, and his wounds are gone with barely a scar left. Though still missing probably a gallon of blood, the angel feels new strength spread through him, and feels himself get lighter. What the hell just happened to me? Gloves wonders.

"What the hell just happened?!" The girl questions him.

"I think…I just sent him to heaven…and he left me a gift…Here, help me up." Gloves asks her, who immediately helps him stumble and limp over to the spot where his friend lay dead. The ground gives off a strange heat and Gloves motions to be set down. The girl sets him down, for once, not asking questions. Gloves slowly gathers the heavens and puts them in his pocket, before turning his attention to the silver mask laying facedown in the grass. He picks it up and looks at the face. It looks the same as before, with the white tear lines and everything, but the eyes are gone. There isn't a strap to secure it to his being but Gloves has a feeling that it'll be fine. He holds it to his injured arm and silver strands wrap itself around his arm, holding it securely in place like a shoulder pad. "Miraculous magic…"

"So, your name is Gloves? Why? I mean, that's a strange name for a Angel." She asks him.

"Again with the questions. This time they're reasonable. Fetch me my sword and I'll show you why I am who I am." He points at the sword laying on the grass. She leaves him and picks up the blade, carrying it over to him. "It tingles."

"Yeah, humans aren't supposed to touch these. It knows your not a threat because I'm telling it not to vaporize you. Hand it here." He smirks, holding out his hands.

She lays it in his hands and he holds it, blade on his left and handle on his right. He wills it to dull and he presses the tip of the blade into his hand, while pressing the base against his other, suspending it by the ends. "Wanna see something cool?"

He winks mischieviously.

She shakes her head and he slams his hands together. She flinches expecting his hand to slide through the metal and bleed everywhere, but it doesn't. The sword is gone and all that remains is blue light. He wriggles his fingers and suddenly there are gloves on his hands.

"So you can turn those into weapons?" she asks, stating the obvious.

"Yeah yeah yeah. Let's get me to my bike. You ask too many questions." He waves her off, and helps her get him off the ground.

"You're going to bike to your home? But your leg is hurt!"

"It's a motorcycle."

"So you're going to drive yourself home?"

"I'll be fine where I'm going."

"You're going to heaven? You have a bike that flies to heaven?"

"Ok, two things. One: Stop. Asking. Questions. It's annoying. Second!, I live in the church on the hill. Go there if you want anymore answers. I'm REALLY tired and I cant spare energy to talk. Not enough brain flow to the head."

"Brain flow?"

"Worst. Sidekick. Ever."

That night, after everyone but Jacket and Gloves are turned in for bed, the two look at each other, beat up and bloody. "So, Gloves, how was your day?" Jacket asks as he crawls into his bed, wincing.

"Fine. I nearly got killed by this man and I got this mask for my trouble. You?" Gloves waves the magic mask and smiles as he drags himself under the blankets.

"I killed a ghost and got this amazing silver bullet and some tickets to a concert." Jacket boasts.

"Cool." Gloves nods. "Hey Jacket?"

"Yeah?"

"Who wins in a fight to the death between a ninja and a samurai?"

Jacket shrugs his shoulders. "Maybe the ninja." He says with a smile.

"Maybe…" Gloves goes silent for a long time.

"Hey Gloves?"

Gloves smirks. "Yeah?"

"Who wins in a fight to the death between a cowboy and an Indian?"

"The cowboy?" Gloves guesses.

"Damn right." Jacket laughs and Gloves laughs with him.

I loved this chapter. Don't hate me for it. XD

Also soon to be posting the prequel to this story, so have fun with that.

COMMENT PLEASE. I love reading anything you put.

-DaXlyn Von Darkkon