Chapter 6

August 23rd

Date Unknown – Location Unknown

"What's your name?"

Delta looked around. She had led the ragtag group of refugees through the white corridors, in search of an exit. They'd made a brief detour into a side room to collect clothes, and now everyone was wearing baggy, light green gowns. They looked suspiciously like hospital gowns.

Delta was probably rather lucky they laced up at the back, as she didn't see how she could have worn it otherwise. All the laces above her hips were open, allowing her wings to stretch behind her while still keeping the essentials covered.

The query had come from a young girl, about fourteen or so.

Delta shrugged. "He called me 'Subject Delta', but I don't think I like that name. Feels wrong."

A brown-eyed man stared at her. "Don't you know what your name is?"

"Nope," she shook her head, "I don't remember anything before I woke up in the cell." She was short, her tone impatient. She knew she probably sounded terse, but she couldn't help how uncomfortable she felt discussing the blank clouds that filled her mind where memories should have been.

"But you gotta have a name!" the girl insisted. "A really cool one, like one of those State Alchemists."

Unbidden, a memory flew from the depths of her mind. Half-formed and hazy...why did the phrase 'State Alchemist' make her think of metal?

"I don't know, I'd prefer a normal name. Something like 'Wilma', 'Wendy', 'Winny'…"

The girl looked outraged at the very thought. "People with super-powers can't have ordinary names!" She gazed admiringly at Delta's wings.

'Like 'em, kid?' she thought, 'With all the pain they caused me, I'm glad someone does.'

"How about; Wing Woman?"

Delta wrinkled her nose. "Thanks, but no thanks."

"Bird Girl?"

"Not really."

The girl's brow furrowed, and she thought for long moments. Then her eyes lit up. "How about…Angel."

Delta pondered it, rolling the sound around in her mind.

"...become my warrior, my messenger...my angel."

She nodded. "Angel…I like it."

"You're Angel from now on," the girl nodded decisively. "And I'm Michelle…this is my Mum, Sabah." She tugged a dark-eyed woman forward.

The newly-dubbed Angel smiled, beginning to relax. "Well, is everyone clothed?"

Murmurs of assent from the party.

"Then let's get the hell out of here."

oooooooo

Date Unknown – Location Unknown

Walking down another of the seemingly endless corridors, Angel was tempted to scream out loud. Where the hell was the way out? She tried to think logically.

'If I were a mad scientist, where would I put the exit?'

A sound cut through her bubble of concentration like a knife through warm butter. Someone was crying.

Angel whipped around, looking at the group behind her. Several of them started, surprised by her sudden turn.

"Do you hear that?" she asked.

A chorus of shaking heads. Yet the sound only seemed to grow clearer to Angel, the sobs becoming more distinct.

"Someone's crying," she whispered, and spun around again, following the sound.

She didn't have to go far. A door labelled 'Examination Room 6' loomed in front of her, and she opened it.

At first, Angel didn't know where the crying was coming from, but then she spotted the boy cowering under a metal table, trying to fold himself into a corner.

She crouched down, peering at him...and the boy's appearance shocked her.

He was clothed in a long sleeved shirt and trousers, but it was not his state of dress that drew Angel's attention. It was his features.

His skin was pale as snow, his hair so blonde it was almost white, and his eyes were the palest blue Angel had ever seen. Not that she'd seen many, but she figured there had to be over sixty people in their little group, and none had eyes that came even close to his shade.

Something whispered in the back of mind, a dim, clinical voice, sounding as though it were reciting a medical textbook.

'Albinism is the lack of pigmentation in the skin, hair and the irises of the eyes, carried on a recessive gene...'

She tried to concentrate on the voice, tried to dredge more information from the secret recesses of her mind...but it was gone. Like a shooting star, appearing and then disappearing in the space of a moment.

"Hey...what's your name?" she smiled, trying to put as much reassurance into her voice as she could.

"E-Earnest."

"Well, Earnest, my name's Angel, and we're working on getting out of here. Want to come along?"

"Where's my Dad?"

Angel shrugged. "I don't know, what's your Dad's name?"

"James Mangeli. I don't like my Dad...I don't want him to be here."

The name made the hairs on the back of Angel's neck stand up. She could have sworn she'd heard that name somewhere. But where?

To her surprise, a woman behind her spoke in her ear. "He's the man who did this to us."

And every muscle in Angel's body went stiff. Her arms locked, her legs tensed, her wings spread involuntarily.

James Mangeli was the man who'd done this to her...and his son was crouched right in front of her.

With an effort, Angel calmed herself down. Fury wouldn't encourage the poor kid to crawl out of there. She felt so sorry for Earnest, having that kind of man for a father...

"Your father's gone, Earnest."

The relief that spread across his face spent a sharp pang through Angel's heart. His arms extended to grasp her proffered hand, and Angel noticed something. Most of the skin she could see was pure white, but the exposed flesh of his right hand and left leg were darker, as though they had been burnt. Had Mangeli used his own son in his experiments?

For some reason, that nagged at Angel's mind. A boy with a right arm and left leg that were different from the rest of his body. But they hadn't just been darker skin, they had been...

Angel tried to grasp that memory, but it was already leaving. Like grains of sand slipping between her fingers, the more she tried to hold it, the faster it fled from her.

Earnest crawled from under the table, grasping her arm tightly. Angel gave another reassuring smile.

"Do you know how to get out of here?"

He shook his head, "Dad never let me leave. He said it was dangerous."

'I'll bet,' Angel thought sarcastically. 'Dangerous for him, if you told someone what a nutcase your father was.'

"I think it'll be okay," was all she said.

With another to swell their ranks, the erstwhile prisoners resumed their search for an escape rout.

oooooooo

August 23rd – Marketplace, Central

Lost within the maze of the underground laboratory, the prisoners had been unable to find their way out. Until Angel took matters into her own hands, and simply blasted the roof away.

She'd been able to fly through the hole, and had ferried the others to the surface one by one. That had bothered her – not the monotonous lifting, but that she'd even been physically capable of it in the first place. She was sure her chest and back weren't thickly muscled enough to provide that kind of lift, and even if she had the necessary strength, she should have needed a run-up. She should have needed a very long run-up to gain enough momentum to lift both herself and someone else into the air.

But she hadn't. She'd been able to fly straight up through the ceiling as though there were an industrial fan beneath her.

But Angel didn't have time to contemplate her strange powers of flight. They had to figure out what to do now.

They'd emerged into starlight, in an open area obviously meant to serve as some kind of marketplace. She'd heard people talking, claiming that they were in a place called 'Central'.

The name seemed familiar on her tongue, but Angel had other worries at the moment. The pitiful group from the lab were gathering around her like kittens huddling up with their mother. And now, Angel wasn't sure what to do. She'd freed them, sure, but she hadn't been prepared to take responsibility for a group of frightened refugees.

But what else could she do? She felt as though their bond of common suffering somehow connected them...made her want to take responsibility for them.

"Do any of you have anywhere to go?"

A few shaking heads were scattered throughout the crowd, but the majority were nodding.

"Well, you should probably go there."

A woman with brown hair and dark eyes touched her shoulder gently. "What about you? What will you do?"

'That's a very good question,' Angel thought ruefully.

Something nagged at her mind, something she had to do. She held very still, as though afraid of interrupting the ripples of thought. And it came to her.

James Mangeli had to be stopped.

And she would be the one to do it. From their confrontation in the cell, she already knew he was afraid of her powers. She didn't really know why she felt so driven to bring him down, even with what had happened to her, it was like there was something else...something she had to do for someone...

Angel shook her head, realising that the woman was still waiting for her answer.

"I'm going after Mangeli," she finally replied. "I'm going to stop him."

The crowd looked at her with a certain amount of awe. And also, closure. As though, now that they knew she had a purpose, a goal, it was okay to leave her. Around her, people began to disperse, leaving in two's and three's, drifting into the depths of the city like smoke.

But the woman remained. As did Earnest, and at least fifteen others.

Angel looked at them. "You should go," she repeated, "I don't have anywhere to go."

"Neither do we," the woman said softly.

"I'm going to try and stop James Mangeli," she warned.

"Then we'll help you."

Angel stared at them, feeling the stirrings of anger. Why couldn't they listen to her? Didn't they realise she would be bringing them into danger, into situations where they could be injured, even killed?

But she did not speak any of her thoughts aloud as a sudden understanding came to her. She would need help, and if they wanted to stay with her, it was their choice to make. She couldn't make it for them.

Angel sighed. "Come on, we'll have to find somewhere to eat and clean up."