Angel's Boulevard

A Story by Walczak

Marcus; an angel with only clawing memories of his past, after a lifetime of protecting protecting humans, chooses to cast off his role as a protector of humanity and seek out his angelic roots.

“I started my life at the ripe age of eighteen. My memories of life before then have always seemed strange and it didn’t take me long to realize that they were in fact artificial. My first clue was my parents. My memories told me my mother was a librarian and that her knowledge of magic was unparalleled, she could create a storm with a snap of her fingers and calm it just as easily. My father was supposedly a blacksmith; he made all kinds of swords, hammers, axes and other weapons and none were nearly as good at forging or fighting as him. It was three weeks after my nineteenth birthday when something occurred to me about my parents as I walked home. Magic isn’t real and people fight with guns, not swords. I concluded that my mother told me that she knew magic and my father told me that he was an expert swordsman to entertain me. I figured I’d ask them about it next time I saw them, that brought about my second realization. I didn’t know where they were. They existed only in my memories that led me to the conclusion that I was some science experiment or something like that. After I while I decided I was an orphan who had some serious unresolved psychological issues. I was plagued with visions of angels that I took to be just another part of my madness until finally something clicked in my head. I didn’t remember much but it was enough for me to realize who I am, or was. I am Marcus, and I am an angel.”

“After that realization I started to pray at church everyday in the hopes that I would remember more about the eighteen years I never had. Apart from the priest whom I became acquainted with over time I was the only person who ever went to pray there. He was a nice man; he would let me stay overnight when I prayed until it was too late for me to start the trek home. After sleeping there one night I decided that I would find a house for myself nearby so that I wouldn’t bother him any longer, for he said at night he could often hear my screams. There was an empty block of land nearby where over the next year I built my home brick by brick. Halfway through the year he let off that he knew I was an angel; he never explained how. It was the same with names, he never told me his nor did he ask for mine, I simply referred to him as ‘Father’ and he called me ‘Anima Mortis’ or just ‘Anima’ which I figured meant something in Latin but I never asked him what. He eventually started to teach me how to fight and as was the dynamic of our relationship I didn’t ask why a priest new how to fight. This was when I discovered I had powers of sorts, although despite them the father still remained a better warrior than me. I wasn’t able to shoot fire from my hands or summon lightning storms; I was simply better. I could move faster, heal faster, was stronger and could jump higher than any normal human. Once the father thought I was ready we started to clean up the streets of thugs and criminals to protect humans and did so for many long years. We encountered our first demon about three decades in and although it was far more skilled than the father and stronger than me it was nothing more than flesh and blood, a kill shot was still a kill shot whether it could heal or not. Demons became more and more frequent over time after that first one and we moved our focus slowly from punishing criminals to hunting demons. It was after an easy hunt on the eve of my birthday when I noticed another angelic trait I had retained. My friend the priest seemed to have longevity of his own which he thought his proximity to me had given him as he had told me that he was nearly fifty when I met him and he had not truly shown extreme signs of aging until at least thirty years later. Alongside mentioning his idea that his extended life was because of me he had casually mentioned my immortality, which I was not yet aware of. Thinking back I should have realized I was immortal long a go, as since my twentieth birthday nearly fifty years a go I hadn’t aged a single day. Three days later was the day that God abandoned us all, I lost both my faith in God, and in humanity that day. A hell gate had been opened up in the city and we were overrun by demons in less than a day. Any humans that didn’t agree to serve the demons were to be killed. In his old age father could no longer fight so I defended the church by myself for an entire day, the only rest I had was the few seconds between each kill. Only humans tasted me wrath on that day, humans who had chosen to serve the demons, humans who had betrayed their own kind. They were known as ‘lapsis’, or, The Fallen. I left at the first chance I got after that with only one thought in my head; “if God wouldn’t protect the world then why should I protect him? Mankind wasn’t worth my blood”. Instead of protecting the humans I decided to seek out my roots and try to find a way back to my home, if I had one that is. The father came to live with me reluctantly for unlike me his faith was unshaken. He refused to help me search for my home and spent his days in his room reading and contemplating things, slowly growing distanced from me. He persuaded me to keep safe surviving humans from nearby so I started to hunt lapsis and demons that got close enough to pose a threat. I also helped the humans to build a network of tunnels allowing them to have easy passage to me. The father started to run a school of sorts and teach the children; my only condition had been that he had to teach the adults how to fight. What was once my home became a makeshift fortress. Eventually the father opened up to me and told about an angel’s sword, my sword to be precise, I didn’t ask him how he knew about it. After… persuading a few humans I learned that the demons had gotten to it first and after, persuading, a few demons, I learned of its location. Home was within my grasp.”

Marcus had been following the routine at the start of every day for years now. First to be checked and cleaned was always his magnum, he had always liked to think of it has his angelic sword. Its barrel was elongated and a scope had been added for accuracy and it had been customised so a knife could be fitted under the barrel. Next to be readied was Marcus’ twin handguns, these were his angelic wings. One was black and the other white, their handles curved and tipped with curved blades. The barrels of the guns were similarly bladed so that they could be thrown in an emergency if bullets were exhausted. The last gun to be cleaned was his rifle. Unlike the other guns, this had no sentimental value to Marcus, and it wasn’t exactly practical. The scope had been removed and the loading mechanism could be changed to require bolt-action loading. Generally this was just for fun but having an extra gun when there was no time to reload had gotten Marcus out of a tight spot or two. After everything had been checked and cleaned Marcus slung the rifle over his back, buckled on his wings and drew his sword. He had been able to feel the father’s presence behind him the entire time he was preparing and simply chosen to ignore him.
“Anima. You know exactly what I am going to say…”
“Then don’t waste your breath old man” Marcus sharply cut him off as he started to speak.
Marcus nearly regretted his words when he turned and saw the pain flickering in the Father’s worn, amber eyes. Now only the shade of a man Marcus had once praised, revered and almost feared, the Father’s back was crooked and he needed a walking stick to keep himself standing. Occasionally Marcus could see through the veil of old age to a younger man, one whom he had once thought of as his master, his teacher, and more importantly as his friend. Now all Marcus saw was a broken man, another human.