Chapter 3: Angels Around Us

Abyl runs into someone from his past and gets help from a pair of unlikely heroes.

 

Chapter 3

Angels Around Us

 

 

 

            Slipping his cell phone into his pocket Abyl stepped out his front door and onto the paved street. A warm sun welcomed him as he pulled open the door of his garage. Inside a large motorcycle-a Hybrid SG-greeted him, the kind he had driven when still part of the Covenant. As it was his only mode of transportation, he had kept it. Swinging his leg over the saddle he seated himself comfortably and snapped his goggles on. Pumping the clutch, he revved the engine to life. Leaning over the handlebars he sped out onto the street.

            His road trip took him out of the rundown part of town where he lived and into the better part of town. On and on he sped, taking corners at sharp angles, swerving around other drivers and pedestrians. Some waved and called out to him; it was not unusual to see Abyl Nightstar speeding down the street headed for the northern part of the city. Abyl now worked pizza delivery boy for Suarez’s Pizza Lounge. Every weekday at five in the morning he’d get up and head for the city on his motorcycle, dodging and weaving through the early morning traffic.

Now he was speeding down the freeway, the street beneath him glistening with the aftermath of a rain shower. Despite the chill in the air he wore a sleeveless black shirt that zipped up the front and conformed to his body. The high collar was undone, the zipper pulled up to his collarbone. Mist blown back from his front tire settled on black jeans; droplets of water settled on black boots with a yellow band running around the sides of the sole on each. A bandage was wrapped around his neck, hiding scars leftover from a battle that was all too memorable to Abyl. His brown hair was longer than it was in his days as a member of the Covenant. No longer shaved close to his head the back reached his collarbone, the sides just passed his ears and his bangs were swept across his forehead to join the hair on the right side of his head. At the moment it was blown back in the wind.

Abyl leaned to the side as he pulled into the parking lot of Suarez’s Pizza Lounge. Going around to the back he parked his bike next to the staff door and shut off the engine. The kickstand kicked out automatically, supporting the weight of the bike as Abyl stepped off. Letting his goggles hang around his neck once more, Abyl entered the restaurant sat down in a chair to wait for the phone to start wringing. As he sat waiting the other workers trickled in, all greeting Abyl before heading to the kitchens and front counter. Abyl returned each greeting with a slight nod, never bothering to smile. He didn’t think there was reason to smile. When Suarez himself came in, he stood and greeted his friend.

“Ah, Abyl! Early as usual!” Suarez beamed and stuck out a hand. Abyl took it.

“Good morning Suarez. It’s good to see you.” Letting go of the man’s hand he sat back down. Suarez was a lithe man with long black hair that hung in a thick braid down his back. Dressed all in leather, he squeaked wherever he went. The only adornments he wore where a leather chain on his right hip, and a blue headband, the ends of which were woven into his braid. His green eyes were always dancing and a smile was almost always present on his face. At times Abyl found it discomforting to see someone smiling all the time. ‘How can you be so happy when there’s so much unhappiness in this world? How can you forget the things of the past and move on as if they never happened? How can you smile when there is nothing to smile about?’

Abyl stood and stretched; Suarez had moved into the kitchens to oversee the cooking. The phone rang. Abyl murmured “finally” and moved to stand behind the counter with Tina, the girl who took orders. Hanging up the phone she handed Abyl a pieced of paper.

“Here’s his order and,” she handed him another piece of paper, “here’s his name, number, and address. He’ll pay you when you get there. Said he wants it in fifteen minutes.”

Abyl nodded wordlessly and looked down at the paper with the address on it. Mr. Cokley lived all the way on the eastern side of Edgegard, a half hour drive at least with morning traffic to contend with. Abyl would never make it in time-unless he took a different route. Shaking his head he gave the cooks the paper with the order. He had only a few moments to wait before two pizzas were handed to him. Leaving the pizza parlor he loaded the pizzas onto the back of his motorcycle, put on his goggles, and sped out onto the freeway once more. Abyl sped closer and closer to the first exit that led into Amtgard. The traffic was thick; he was going to have to make a decision and fast. Tires screeched and rubber burned as he spun his motorcycle around. Training from his days as part of the Covenant returned; the bike leapt over the wall separating freeway from unused exit. Abyl’s insides were jolted as the bike slammed onto the pavement. Jerking the vehicle sideways he straightened out and sped into Amtgard.

Empty buildings with smashed windows and crumbling walls flew past Abyl as he raced forward. Each one was a memory of a world long gone-one that could never return. Five years ago Amtgard had been a flourishing city with a population of over four thousand, the largest on the planet. Now only a mere remnant of that four thousand remained to build a new city-Edgegard. The Apostles, the Disciple’s followers, had ravaged the city, unleashing powers unknown to any on the city, taking out the heart and soul of the planet. With the destruction of Amtgard, the rest of the planet plummeted into economical and agricultural decline. With the downfall of Amtgard, the Apostles had receded, leaving in their wake a world struggling to get back to its feet. The remaining citizens had managed at least that much. With the construction of Edgegard, people had started new lives, picking up where they left off as best they could. Abyl had taken up a new life with them, hoping to leave behind the life he had once known. Choosing a life of relative solitude, he lived just between Amtgard and Edgegard. Not long after he had reached the city, he had met Suarez and taken up a life as a delivery boy, leaving behind his previous life. So far it had all worked-so far.

Something moved on the edge of Abyl’s vision. The sound of another engine tickled the edge of his hearing. Looking around, he espied nothing, but knew better than to dismiss it as nothing. Leaning further over the handlebars he watched out of the corner of his eyes. Nothing moved. Of a sudden there was a roar above him. Looking up he saw the bottom of a Fusion SC plunging towards him. Slamming on the breaks he skidded sideways. The Fusion slammed onto the pavement where he had been a moment before. Spinning his tires Abyl turned sharply and sped onward. The newcomer pulled even with him. Sitting astride the Fusion was a youth with shoulder length, brown hair held back with a pair of red-lensed goggles. Dressed in light blue skintight leathers he held a gunblade in his right hand. Pointing it straight at Abyl’s head, the youth pulled the trigger.

Abyl swerved to the right, spinning wildly. The bullet whizzed past, just missing his head. The youth on the Fusion spun his vehicle around and sped after Abyl. Abyl gunned his bike forward, leaping off the bridge he rode across and onto the street below. Leaning hard to the right he straightened his Hybrid and sped onward. Heart pounding, he sped onward, the roar of the Fusion’s engine above him. The youth was following him on the ramp, no doubt waiting to leap down upon Abyl once more. ‘Who is he? Where did he come from and what does he want? He can kill me easily with that gunblade. Without something to deflect the bullets, I’m dead.’  But no, he couldn’t take up a sword again. He’d sword not to, and he wasn’t about to go back on his vows. It was blasphemy to break them. But without one, he was going to be killed. ‘Light, what do I do? I can’t fight anymore. Not with my destiny.’  The Fusion’s engine roared above him. Something caught Abyl’s eye.

“The Hall of Heroes,” he murmured. An ancient monument, it had once stood to honor those who had become legendary in the history of the planet. Inside were statues of Heroes long past- and swords. With a growl of frustration, Abyl’s eyes narrowed and he slammed his bike into a tight left turn. Crashing through rubble he hurtled into a large room filled with memorabilia’s to about fifteen different dead heroes. Shattered glass was everywhere, proof that glass cases had one stood in the room, holding swords, clothing, and other belongings of the dead heroes. Abyl looked around hurriedly, searching for a sword. There were none to be seen. He ground his teeth in frustration. It was just like the Apostles to take the swords of the heroes. The roar of the Fusion grew closer. Abyl looked at the seat behind him; the pizzas were still in one piece. ‘But not for long.’  Working hurriedly, he untied them and slid them into a compartment in the seat in front of him. It was a tight fit, but it would have to do. Casting around, he desperately searched for some sort of weapon. And then he saw it. His Hybrid leapt forward. He leaned down, stretched out a hand.

The ceiling crashed down around Abyl. With a roar the Fusion hurtled toward him. The youth on the bike pointed the gunblade at Abyl and fired. There was a ping and the bullet ricocheted sideways. Abyl spun his bike towards the opening in the wall he had made upon entering. The Fusion landed with a crash as Abyl’s Hybrid leapt out onto the street once more. He roared up the street, right hand clutching the giant steel blade of some hero long gone. With constant glances behind him he headed for Edgegard. Surely the youth on the Fusion wouldn’t follow him there. Of a sudden the Fusion roared up behind him. With the arrival of several gunshots Abyl spun his bike, blade flashing in the sunlight. Three bullets glanced off the sword to bounce onto the pavement. Taking control of the Hybrid once more Abyl leapt onto an exit. Just as the Fusion leapt up behind him he dropped back to the road below.

Abyl was ready when the youth’s bike dropped towards him. Tires screeching and blade flashing, Abyl spun around, his sword blade colliding with the youth's gunblade. Pushing with all his might, Abyl sent the youth flying. The boy managed to stay astride his bike and boy and Fusion went spinning through the air. Not bothering to wait, Abyl spun his bike around once more and sped onward. The youth soon gained control of his bike and sped up. There was no doubt he was angry. He fired off multiple shots; Abyl was hard pressed to deflect bullets and control where he was going at the same time. Teeth grinding in frustration, decided upon what he should do. His heart screaming at him to stop he spun his bike around and raced toward the youth. Holding the blade out in his right hand, he raced closer. At the last possible second his bike veered to the right and the blade switched hands. Drawing back his arm, he swung forward. He felt the blade biting into the youth’s bike and then he was flying through the air, his throat squeezed shut.

Gasping for air, Abyl’s fingers released the sword and pawed at his throat. His heart leapt as his fingertips touched hard leather. A thick metal chain ran between his body and the boy’s. A grin of triumph split the youth’s features as he yanked the chain taut. Abyl slammed into the pavement, every bone in his body jarred painfully into one another. ‘Light no! Not again! No!’

“You will never get away from us, Abyl Nightstar,” the youth crowed. “No matter where you try to hide, we will find you.” Throwing his head back he laughed long and loud. Something clattered to the ground beside Abyl. Looking over, he saw the sword he had dropped. His hand darted out; callused fingers wrapped around the hilt. Gritting his teeth against the pain he leapt to his feet and rushed towards the laughing youth. As soon as the boy had said “us” Abyl had known whom he meant. The Apostles of the Night-and the Disciple. There was no doubt about it. Caan had sent this youth.

“I will not be your puppet!” Abyl screamed as he ran forward. The youth’s laughter stopped abruptly. Snarling he wrapped a hand around the chain and tugged it forward. Abyl was ready. Just as the chain went taught he pushed himself forward, the tug on the chain adding to his momentum. Blade glinting, he slashed downward. The youth threw himself to the side. Abyl’s blade bit through the chain, severing it cleanly. Pain rippled through his body in giant waves. His muscles tightened up, refusing to cooperate.

“That’s it Abyl! You show him who’s boss!”

 The cry snapped Abyl’s body into action. His muscles loosened and he hit the ground, tucking his shoulder beneath his body. In one swift movement he rolled and leapt up into a defensive stance, sword at the ready. The remaining chain attached to him lay across the pavement in front of him, trailing across the stalled Fusion. Two Cross 77’s roared onto the scene, their riders wielding giant automatic Turbo Revolvers. Flying sideways onto the expressway, they hit the pavement hard, skidding sideways. Without waiting for their bikes to stop sliding, the riders opened fire on the youth who had attacked Abyl. The youth fired back, but his gunblade was no use against the Turbo Revolvers. With an angry snarl he leapt onto his Fusion.

“Don’t think this is over Abyl!” he screamed before roaring out of sight. Abyl dismissed the youth and turned to face the newcomers. He gulped; the two men lifted their Turbo Revolvers and aimed straight at Abyl’s head. Abyl pulled his sword crosswise in front of him. Two flaming blue energy shot forth from the Turbo Revolvers to slam full speed into Abyl’s sword blade. The impact lifted Abyl off his feet and carried him through air. Slamming into the ground he slid a few inches before coming to a halt. Abyl scrambled to his feet and dropped into a defensive stance. The large man laughed again.

“Come now Abyl,” he chuckled. “If we really wanted to kill you, we’d have done it a long time ago.” He grinned, revealing pearly whites arranged in two perfect rows.

“Who are you?” Abyl asked warily. He adjusted his grip on the sword; his eyes flickered from the large man to the smaller one behind him. While the large youth held a fighter’s stance, his companion stood complacently, hands at his sides, clutching the gun uncertainly.

The large youth shrugged in response to Abyl’s question. “No one in particular. Just a couple of guys who happened to be around, saw you needed help, and helped.”

Abyl’s eyes narrowed behind his goggles. “Oh? Then how do you know my name?”

The smaller youth stepped forward. He wore a white bandage over his left eye. When he spoke it was a soft voice to calm for any human being. “There are many things we know that others would kill to know. Who we are does not concern you. At least, not at the moment.”

Every alarm in Abyl’s head went off. The old warrior’s sense he thought he had left behind came rushing back to him. What do they want with me? I’m no longer a warrior; I’m a delivery boy for the Creator’s sake! What could anyone want with me? Just because I take up a sword to defend myself doesn’t mean anything! “I don’t understand,” he said. “What do you want with me?”

“Nothing much,” the small youth said in his quiet, too calm voice.

Abyl raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Is it too much to ask for a little conversation?” the bigger one asked, gesturing widely with his gun.

Abyl grunted. It was apparent that these young men weren’t going to say anything they didn’t want to. There was no use in talking to them. And besides, he had somewhere to be. “Look,” he said, “I’m a delivery boy. I have somewhere to be. And now I’m late.”

“Go ahead then,” said the quiet voiced youth. “No one’s keeping you. Go ahead and make your delivery. We’ll be right here-waiting.” Despite the soft tones of his voice, there was heavy emphasis on his last word.

Relief swept through Abyl. Relief that he wasn’t going to die; relief that he could be rid of the sword. He dropped the weapon as if it were suddenly made of fire. Taking a few stumbling steps backward, he stared at the fallen sword. That sixth sense that had resurfaced was now gone, buried deep inside Abyl’s soul. Fear now replaced that sixth sense. Fear of what would happen now that he had broken his vow to never take up a weapon again. Trembling, he shook his head and turned from the two men. No longer caring who or what they were, he relocated his Hybrid SG and climbed on. Gunning the engine he sped away, jumping the motorcycle over rubble to the clear road. And as he left Amtgard, the small youth’s words echoed in his mind: ‘We’ll be right here-waiting.’

 

Author's Note

Ignore the grammar problems. Just review the overall writing. Thanks. ;)