Angelo shot upright in bed as the police radio crackled to life, static cutting through the silence of his apartment.

  "Officer down! Mike requesting immediate backup at—AHHH!" The transmission ended with a deafening boom that made Angelo's heart hammer against his ribs.

  Orange energy flared around him as he leaped out of bed. A smoky tendril shot from his body, snatching the radio receiver with surgical precision.

  "Location! Give me your location!" Angelo barked, his knuckles whitening around the receiver. He held his breath, the seconds stretching like hours as he waited for a response.

  The radio crackled again. "Eastside Park! Got an earth Auron on my sights—scratch that—she's hunting me now!" Mike's voice came through in breathless gasps. "Please hurry!"

  Three energy tendrils erupted from Angelo's body in perfect synchronization, grabbing his uniform and shoes in one fluid motion. He dressed with practiced efficiency, muscles already tensed for the coming fight.

  "Finally!" Red's voice echoed through their shared consciousness, practically vibrating with excitement. "Been dying for some action!"

  Minutes later, Angelo was soaring between buildings, his smoky tendrils latching onto ledges and pulling him through the pre-dawn air. The cold wind bit at his face as he moved, his eyes scanning the horizon for signs of the confrontation.

  He spotted them as he approached the park—Mike's distinctive red aura flickering weakly as he dodged massive chunks of earth being hurled by a yellow-glowing figure.

  Angelo landed in a crouch behind the attacker, taking in the scene in an instant. A woman with dirt-streaked blonde hair was launching boulders at Mike, her face contorted with rage.

  "Get away from me!" she screamed, her voice cracking as another boulder formed at her command. "I warned you to back off!"

  "It's over," Angelo's voice cut through the chaos like a blade. "You're surrounded. Stand down before this gets worse for you."

  The woman whirled around, her yellow eyes widening at the sight of another officer. Without hesitation, she swept her arm in a brutal arc, sending a massive chunk of earth hurtling toward Angelo's chest.

  He sidestepped it with practiced ease, returning fire with two concentrated energy blasts. The earth Auron slammed her foot down, raising a wall that absorbed his attack with a thunderous crack. In one fluid motion, she split the barrier and launched both halves at him.

  Angelo's eyes narrowed as he calculated the trajectory. He rushed forward, timing his movements perfectly to leap between the flying chunks of earth. Energy coalesced around his fist as he closed the distance, driving a devastating punch into her stomach.

  She skidded backward, boots carving furrows in the dirt. Anger flashed across her face as she thrust her palms toward the ground. The earth beneath Angelo's feet erupted in jagged spikes, forcing him to leap aside—directly into the path of a boulder that caught him square in the face.

  Angelo hit the ground hard, ears ringing as the world tilted around him. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as he tried to regain his senses.

  "Well, that was graceful," Red snickered in their shared consciousness. "Want me to tag in before she turns you into pavement art?"

  "Stay put," Angelo thought back, his mental voice razor-sharp. "She's mine."

  "Yeah, you're doing a stellar job so far." Red's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Too bad I don't take orders from someone who just ate dirt."

  Before Angelo could respond, crimson smoke slipped from his body like blood in water, nearly invisible against the dark blue pre-dawn sky. The mist flowed silently behind the earth Auron, who was dividing her attention between the fallen Angelo and Mike's unconscious form nearby.

  Her shoulders relaxed slightly as she took a step backward. Freedom was just moments away—until a light tap on her shoulder made her freeze.

  She turned to find herself staring into a face identical to Angelo's, but wearing a predatory grin that sent ice down her spine. Red's fist connected with her jaw before she could react, sending her sprawling into the dirt.

  She looked up in stunned confusion to see Red standing over her, a pulsing crimson sphere building in his outstretched palm. "Surprise, bitch!"

  The earth Auron recovered quickly, manipulating the ground beneath Red to flip him violently through the air. "What the hell?" she gasped as his energy blast went wild, carving a smoking furrow into a nearby tree.

  Red twisted mid-air, landing in a graceful crouch as Angelo pushed himself to his feet. They moved in perfect tandem, circling to trap her between them.

  "What—what is this?" Her voice cracked with rising panic as her gaze darted between the identical figures. "How are there two of you?"

  Angelo approached slowly, wiping blood from his split lip with the back of his hand.

  "You are looking at death itself," he said, each word precise and weighted with purpose. "Change your heart and surrender now, or face judgment. Your choice."

  Recognition dawned in her eyes, her face draining of color. "You can't be... The Angel of Death? But there are two..." Her voice trailed off as understanding gave way to terror.

  "Last chance," Angelo warned, his stance shifting subtly into an attack position. "Make your decision."

  "No!" she screamed. The ground beneath them shuddered as earth and stone began to spiral around her in a protective tornado of lethal projectiles.

  Angelo sidestepped one boulder as Red ducked beneath another, their movements synchronized despite the chaotic onslaught.

  "You've made your choice," Angelo stated coldly, his expression hardening into something inhuman.

  Red's grin widened as his body dissolved into crimson smoke, going back into Angelo before emerging back out again, flowing through the gaps in her earthen defense. The mist solidified behind her, strong arms locking around her throat in an inescapable hold.

  "Surprise again," Red whispered in her ear as her concentration faltered. The swirling debris dropped to the ground as she struggled against his grip.

  In that moment of vulnerability, Angelo's energy-encased arm drove forward with lethal precision. Blood sprayed across the dew-covered grass as she went limp, her yellow aura flickering out like a candle in the wind.

  "Clean kill," Red observed with casual appreciation, releasing the body as it crumpled to the ground. "Not bad for someone who ate dirt a minute ago."

  Before he could say another word, Angelo's energy-wreathed hand slashed through Red's neck, dissolving his physical form back into smoke that was forced to return to Angelo's body.

  Red's voice echoed mockingly in their shared consciousness. "What's wrong, Angie? Struck a nerve?"

  "I told you to stay out of it," Angelo replied, his voice like ice as he cleaned the blood from his hands with a handkerchief. "Next time, follow orders."

  He moved to where Mike lay sprawled on the ground, his snores cutting through the morning quiet. Angelo tapped his face lightly, rousing him from unconsciousness.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Mike's eyes snapped open, a startled yelp escaping him as he scrambled backward. "Holy! Oh—Angelo?" Recognition washed over his face, followed immediately by relief. "Thank god." His gaze darted around the clearing. "Where's the earth Auron?"

  "She's gone," Angelo said simply, his eyes closed for a moment.

  Understanding darkened Mike's expression. "Damn... I'm sorry you had to clean up my mess. They always station me in these deserted areas. Guess they know I get too scared and screw things up."

  "She put up a serious fight," Angelo said, offering a hand to help Mike up. His voice softened slightly as he squeezed the other officer's shoulder. "You did what you could. Now let's clear the scene before civilians start showing up."

  Angelo cast one last glance at the fallen Auron, his expression unreadable as the first rays of sunlight began to pierce the eastern sky.

  A few hours later, not far from the park, Novaria's police station hummed with activity. Officers hurried through corridors with coffee-stained reports, phones rang incessantly, and the constant tap of keyboards filled the air. In his office, Chief Ramirez stood by the window, the permanent furrow in his brow deepening as he spoke into his phone.

  "Another one?" he said, disapproval evident in his gruff voice.

  He listened for a moment, then nodded. "That's all for now. Keep me posted." He paused as the person on the other end spoke again. "Yes, please send him in. Thank you, Vivian."

  Hanging up, he sank into his chair with a heavy sigh. "This has truly gone too far."

  A knock interrupted his thoughts.

  "Come in," he called, straightening his posture and schooling his features into professional neutrality.

  The door swung open to reveal Sleeser, his yellowish-orange hair as spiky as ever, his casual stance betrayed by the tension in his shoulders.

  "Heya, Chief," Sleeser greeted with a half-salute, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"

  Chief Ramirez fixed him with a knowing stare. "I'm assuming things didn't go well with our Angel of Death yesterday."

  Sleeser's smile faltered. "That obvious, huh?" He ran a hand through his spiky hair. "What gave it away?"

  "Another fatality this morning," Ramirez said, rubbing his temple. "Third one this month." He leaned forward, chair creaking. "The boy may lack raw power, but his technique is deadly. And that's on you."

  Sleeser shifted in his seat, a flicker of pride crossing his face despite everything. "That's why I recommended him."

  "Well if I'd known he'd start playing judge and executioner on every street corner, I'd have slammed the door in your face!" Ramirez stood, hands planted on his desk. "Yes, crime rates dropped. Some criminals even turn themselves in before he finds them. But others? They're desperate now. And scared criminals are unpredictable."

  He paced behind his desk, shadows deepening the lines on his face. "Half the city calls him a hero. The other half? A murderer with a badge. The media is having a field day with him! Every day brings another headline about the 'Angel of Death' – savior or menace?"

  "How's Angelo handling the attention?" Sleeser asked, straightening papers on the desk to avoid Ramirez's glare.

  The chief sank back into his chair with a sigh. "That's what worries me most. He's completely unfazed. Convinced he's doing the right thing."

  "Can't you just..." Sleeser hesitated, gesturing vaguely with his hands. "I don't know, fire him or something?"

  The chief let out a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, his hand dragging down his face. "Believe me, I wish I could. But his method grants him protection."

  "How's that?" Sleeser asked, eyebrow raised.

  "He tells criminals to attack him first," Ramirez explained, frustration evident in his tight grip on his armrest. "Because of that, every outcome—even death—falls under self-defense. The laws protecting Aurons in the line of duty tie my hands completely."

  "In the military, we don't have that issue," Sleeser mused, his expression hardening. "We fight to kill, no questions asked." He nodded slowly. "But I see the problem. Auron-on-Auron combat is inherently lethal—the law has to account for that."

  Chief Ramirez crossed his arms, the leather of his chair creaking as he leaned back. "Honestly, I just can't figure out what made him this way."

  Sleeser's normally playful demeanor vanished in an instant. "You really want to know?" His voice darkened to a tone that made the chief straighten in his seat.

  Their eyes locked in silent challenge before Ramirez gestured for him to continue, curiosity winning out over caution.

  With a heavy sigh that seemed to come from his very core, Sleeser ran a hand through his spiky hair. "It pains me to admit this, but... this is partly my fault." Seeing the chief's eyebrow shoot up, he quickly added, "In my defense, I never imagined he'd take things this far."

  "What exactly did you do?" Ramirez's voice cut through the air like a knife.

  Sleeser's fingers tapped a nervous rhythm against his thigh. "You remember the Infernian terrorist attack six years ago? In Ashford?"

  "Of course." The chief's expression softened, memories of that tragedy tempering his anger. "Nasty business. Many casualties." His voice gentled further. "Did he lose his parents during the attack?"

  "No, Angelo was always an orphan," Sleeser explained, not noticing how Ramirez's eyes widened at this information. "Lost his parents to an accident when he was just a baby, from what I understand."

  "You see, back then Angelo was twelve," Sleeser continued, gaze distant as he revisited painful memories. "A fresh Auron, still figuring out his powers. Red and Blue hadn't physically manifested yet – we still thought they were just voices in his head."

  He paused, noticing Ramirez's suddenly vacant stare. Sleeser waved a hand in front of the chief's face, concern replacing his usual confidence. "Chief? You still with me?"

  Ramirez blinked rapidly, refocusing with visible effort. "What? Oh, right – Red and Blue." He picked up his coffee mug, turning it in his hands. "I know them well at this point. Especially Red." His expression soured as he gazed into his cup. "Can't tell you how many times he has swapped the sugar and salt in the break room."

  A ghost of a smile tugged at Sleeser's lips, but he straightened when Ramirez's next question came.

  "What exactly are they, Sleeser?" The chief leaned forward. "I've never seen anything like them. Some kind of split personality made real somehow?"

  Sleeser scratched the back of his head. "I don't think so, honestly."

  "Could they be the result of an evolved aura ability?" Ramirez pressed, mind visibly working through possibilities. "Though Angelo isn't evolved, correct?"

  "No, they're something else entirely," Sleeser replied, shaking his head. "Something we've never encountered before. A friend of mine is looking into it, but so far, we have more questions than answers."

  Suddenly realizing they'd strayed from the topic, Sleeser straightened. "But we're getting off track."

  "Anyway, during that terrorist attack six years ago," Sleeser continued. "Angelo was forced to take a life – a terrorist who was about to kill a civilian." His voice grew rough with emotion. "It was the last straw, Chief. He was just a child on the verge of breaking from years of isolation and bullying. I... I had to save him somehow!"

  Ramirez nodded grimly, his weathered face carrying the weight of similar decisions.

  "So I told him that some people are beyond change..." Sleeser's voice trailed off, defeat evident in his slumped shoulders. "Now he's taken my words and twisted them into his motto."

  "Hmm.... I think I understand now," Ramirez muttered, his eyes darting briefly toward his desk drawer. "So just to be clear – Angelo is from Ashford and lost his parents in a lab accident when he was an infant?"

  Sleeser froze for a half second—just enough to be noticeable.

  He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing with quiet suspicion. "Funny..." he said slowly, "I don’t think I mentioned it was a lab accident."

  A tense silence settled over the room. Ramirez's fingers stilled on the armrest. He met Sleeser's gaze, masking his reaction with a carefully neutral expression. "Must’ve read it in his file," the chief offered smoothly, but his voice had lost a bit of its polish.

  Sleeser didn’t reply right away. He simply watched him, then gave a slow nod.

  "In any case," Ramirez dismissed with a wave that seemed too casual. "I feel I understand him better now." His expression softened but remained determined. "I believe we should find a way to help him without terminating his position. We owe him that much."

  "We owe him?" Sleeser repeated, emphasizing the word with obvious suspicion.

  "I—Well, yes," Ramirez fumbled. "He's a confused young man, born from unfortunate circumstances. Helping him would be the right thing to do." He jabbed a finger toward Sleeser, clearly trying to redirect. "Besides, you got him here, so what do we do with him now?"

  Setting aside the chief's peculiar behavior for the moment, Sleeser stroked his chin thoughtfully, eyes fixed on the desk between them. "For the time being, I think we should limit his involvement with criminals. Only call him when the threat level is high."

  "Splendid idea!" Ramirez clapped his hands with unusual enthusiasm, pushing himself to his feet in a clear signal that the meeting was over. "We'll implement it right away. Thanks for stopping by, Sleeser. Your help is greatly appreciated."

  "Anytime," Sleeser replied as he found himself practically ushered out the door. He blinked at the closed door for a few seconds, processing the abrupt dismissal before turning to leave.

  Outside the station, Sleeser paused on the steps, breathing in the city air. Above, workers balanced on ladders, hanging colorful New Light Festival decorations.

  His mind spun with competing worries as he descended the steps – how to pull Angelo back from the darkness and what the chief's strange behavior might mean. He turned onto a quieter side street.

  The sudden vibration in his pocket made him freeze mid-step. Pulling out his phone, he stared at the name on the screen – this wasn't a call he'd been expecting, especially not now. His heart rate quickened as he answered.

  "Commander?" His voice dropped to barely above a whisper.

  "Sleeser, where the HELL are you?!" The commander's voice crackled through static, but the urgency came through crystal clear.

  Sleeser's mind raced for an excuse. "I was just—"

  "Get back here now!" The commander cut him off, leaving no room for explanation. "The situation's critical. We need you—We need Sigma."

  Those last words hit Sleeser like a physical blow. Whatever was happening had to be serious.

  "Understood," he replied, his voice barely audible even to himself. "On my way."

  Ending the call, he cast one last look at the police station. His concerns about Angelo and the chief's suspicious behavior would have to wait. Something at the border needed immediate attention.

  With a heavy sigh that carried the weight of too many responsibilities, he started down the steps, each footfall purposeful and quick.