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Little Angel By: Light Clark Synopsis: The world can be a confusing place, especially for a little girl. There are so many different people out there, so many places, so many things you can do. Trying to tell the good things from the bad ones can be tricky, but you have to try. Otherwise, you'll end up being a bad girl which will make your father mad, and that won't do at all. After all, all that matters to a little girl is being her daddy's little angel. This is not a TG story, although, it does include other transformation elements. However, it's part of a set up for a series that is, so it is being posted for completeness. Warning: This story is 'technically' set in the Whateley universe. It uses no characters or places from that universe; just borrows a few terms and general thematics. It is certainly not canon. Chapter 01 The very first thing that I ever felt was that I was floating. All around me was this ... warmth that supported me, comforted me, embraced me. It was wonderful, like a thick snuggly blanket, keeping out a cold winter's night. I could've been happy just drifting in it forever. Suddenly, there was light, blinding, painful, confusing. A blurry world faded into view, shown to my newly opened eyes. There wasn't much in that world, just some gray walls that surrounded me on either side. However, in front of me, I could see into a room of some kind. It was mostly empty, very clean, and seemed to be cold and unwelcoming. I was glad that I had the warmth to protect me from its chill. Something passed by in front of me, blurred by both its movement and my eyes still adjusting to the light. As such, it was gone too fast for me to make out what it was, which was very disappointing to me. I hoped that it would come back, so that I could try again. To my delight, it returned a moment later, and this time, it even stopped in front of my little space. The object was a man, one that looked familiar. His name escaped me, though, dancing on the edge of my thoughts but never entering them fully. Not being able to catch hold of the flittering name was frustrating, but it refused to come to me. Agitated, I tried to reach out to the man, but my hand couldn't get to him. It stopped long before, caught on something cool and slick - glass. I tapped at the unseen barrier, annoyed that it was keeping me from this familiar person. Across from me, the man had a different reaction. He smiled at me. It transformed his face, turning it from lined, weathered, and tired to warm, pleasant, and comforting. I loved that smile even more than the warmth. The man did more than smile, though. He also reached out, pressing his hand to the same spot of the slick barrier that mine was pressed against. He had no more luck getting through the glass than I did, but even though we couldn't touch, I was happy. Clearly, the man wanted the same thing that I did, and that was enough. For a time, the two of us just held that state, each wishing they could join the other. Eventually though, the man conceded to the barrier and pulled away. He partially ducked around one of the gray walls on my sides, and seemed to be working with something there. When he finished, he returned to being in front of me with his hand pressed before mine once more. This time, it was me that couldn't keep up the position. I wanted to. I wanted to stay like that until I found a way to get through the barrier. It wasn't possible, though. My arm felt weak ... tired. It couldn't keep my hand there, causing it to drift away. Quickly, that exhaustion spread, filling every part of me, so that only the warmth around me kept me upright. The warmth couldn't keep my eyes open, though. Soon, they had drifted closed, and my world returned to darkness. *********************************************** *********************************************** "Wake up." Sensation appeared in the darkness again, but it was different than last time. I wasn't floating in some amorphous warmth that protected me from the world. Instead, I was laying atop something. Whatever it was, it was soft and cozy. "Come on, wake up." I wasn't just laying on something. There was something on top me as well, also soft and cozy. It didn't cover all of me, though. My head was bare to the world, and so, surrounded by cool air for me to take in with slow, deep breaths. "Just open your eyes." As that instruction echoed in my darkness, I felt the urge to obey it. My eyelids seemed so heavy, though. They didn't want to open. They wanted to stay stuck together as I drifted back into the meaningless dark. All I had to do was just sink into the softness beneath me. It was tempting. "Please." My eyes popped open at that word. When they did, they were assaulted by stinging light, nearly sending them shut again. I fought through it, though, determined to answer that voice's plea. I would make my eyes stay open. "Ah, there you are," the voice breathed in relief as the blurry outline of a face appeared in front of me. "How's my little angel feeling today?" Through squinted eyes, I tried to focus on the face. It was familiar. I had seen it the last time that I'd opened my eyes. At the same time, I felt like I'd seen it on many occasions before that as well, but I couldn't recall those times, just like I couldn't place the name that went with the face. I knew that they existed, though. "Who ..." I managed only that single word in a high, squeaky, little voice before my throat protested painfully. The face, the man, smiled. "It's Daddy, angel." Daddy. Of course, that was his name. How could I have forgotten something like that? How could anyone forget their own father? I felt so stupid, resolving to never forget anything about him ever again. That was the only way that I'd be able to make it up to him. "Daddy," I breathed, feeling my lips curl in an imitation of my father's smile. A flicker of something passed across my father's face - something that looked like ... pain. His eyes even seemed to glisten as if he was about to cry, but it all vanished in a literal blink of an eye. Quickly, he turned, grabbing something before turning right back to me. "Here, drink this," my father instructed, holding something to my lips. It took a moment to recognize the straw for what it was, but when I finally did, I sucked on it without question. Water, cool and refreshing, slid down my throat, quenching a thirst that I hadn't even realized I had. The feeling made me drink faster, eager to gulp down the revitalizing fluid. "That feels better, doesn't it?" my father commented as I drank, earning a happy nod from me. "I'm glad. I would hate for you to ever suffer." I was too busy drinking my fill to respond, not that I knew what to say. I was just happy that my father was there for me. Without him, I never would have been able to open my eyes, learn his name, or quench my thirst. As I drank, my father just watched me, his gaze soft and patient. In spite of that, I felt the urge to hurry, so that he wouldn't have to wait on me. Toward that end, I drank faster, quickly growing satisfied. Once I had, I released the straw. "All finished?" my father double-checked. I nodded. "Yes, Daddy." "Good," my father replied as he set straw and cup aside. "Now, do you think you could do something for me." Again, I nodded, though far more enthusiastically. "Sure, Daddy. What is it?" "I want you to try to sit up," my father told me, making a rising gesture with his hands. "You think you can do that?" Confident that I would not let my father down, I nodded a third time before immediately trying to perform the task. Moving my body wasn't as easy as I'd hoped it would be, though. My muscles felt so incredibly stiff and sluggish. At first, I could barely manage to get my head to tilt up. Then, I managed to get an arm to move, wedging it underneath me. With that, I started to push myself up. It was a slow and trying process, but eventually, I managed to get myself upright. "Good job, angel," my father praised, his smile seeming to grow even warmer at my success. "Thank you, Daddy," I responded politely, returning his smile with one that I hoped was equally warm. "It didn't hurt, did it?" my father inquired. I shook my head. "No, but it was hard. Everything's so stiff." "That happens when you sleep for a while," my father informed me. "And you've been asleep for a very long time." That information confused me. Had I been asleep a long while? I couldn't remember falling asleep. I couldn't really remember being awake either, just that one time when I'd been floating in warmth. It had been a lot easier to move then. Maybe that had been a long time ago? I hoped not, because that would mean that my father and I had been apart for a long time, and I didn't want that. "Are you ready to try the next thing?" my father asked. "Mmhmm," I hummed, eager to please. "If you do it, I'll give you a reward," my father promised. Excitement filled me at the prospect, eliciting a delighted chirp of, "Yay!" My excitement only increased as my father reached out, slid his hands under my arms and lifted me up. For a few amazing moments, I was suspended in the air as my dad twisted around and bent over. Then, my feet touched down on the floor which was very cold. "Eep!" I squeaked at the cold, curling my legs up under me to keep them off the chill. "Cold!" "Just try to bear with it, angel," my father told me. "Kay ..." I mumbled, willing to at least try to tolerate the icy floor for my father. Slowly, I uncurled my legs, so that my toes just barely rested on the ground. My father nodded in approval. "Now, I'm going to let you go, and I want you to stay standing. Okay?" "Okay," I agreed, eager to earn my reward. Slowly, the pressure of my father's hands under my arms lessened while the pressure on my toes increased. The stiff muscles in my legs had to start working to keep me upright and balanced. They were pretty good at the first one, but when my father finally released me completely, I found out that they weren't so great at the latter. I overbalanced forward a bit, stumbling a step before managing to catch myself. There, I held as still as I could trying not to fall. "Did I do it?" I asked after a few moments, daring to hope that I'd succeeded. "Yes, you did, my little angel," my father replied as he straightened up. Hearing that confirmation, I looked up to smile at my father. For the first time, I noticed how much bigger and taller my father was than me. He seemed absolutely huge, a great tower of strength that was watching over me. "Are you ready for your reward?" my father asked. I nodded eagerly. "Uh-huh!" Once again, my father bent down, dropping to one knee. It made us much closer in height, but he was still taller than me. I barely had time to notice that, though, before he leaned in and wrapped his arms around me. The warmth of his hug enveloped me, full of emotion and strength. As a reward, it was too much. I felt like I had to give him something back. Raising my arms, I wrapped them around him as well, doing my best to mimic his loving embrace. *********************************************** *********************************************** A savory smell full of depth and seasoning tantalized my nose. I wanted to go see what was causing it, but my father had been quite explicit that I was to wait. As such, I sat at the the table struggling to sit still while I waited for the source of the delightful aroma. In an effort to distract myself from the smell, I looked around, taking in the sights of the house that I was in. Unlike my father, it didn't look familiar, making me think that he must have moved while I was asleep. At the same time, I couldn't seem to remember any other house of his either. While I couldn't remember it, the house was a nice one. It was large, cared for, and well furnished. The room that I'd woken in was apparently my bedroom, and had been on the second floor, not too far from my father's room. There were several rooms on the first floor as well, a dining room, a living room, and of course the kitchen in which I now sat. My father had showed them all to me before instructing me to sit at the table. The only place that my father hadn't shown me was the basement. All he had done was show me the door that led down there and told me not to go through it without him around. It was apparently very dangerous there, and he didn't want me getting hurt. I was happy to oblige, because I didn't want to get bit by any of the spiders that I'd been informed resided down there. "Here you are, my little angel," my father announced as he walked over, setting a small, plastic plate and cup down on the table in front of me. "One scrumptious omelet with a side of the best juice ever squeezed from an orange." After that declaration, I just looked at the plate, head tilted to the side. It was fascinating to look at, all shimmering and golden with little wisps of white trailing off it to vanish into the air above. It smelled amazing too, causing me to lean in a little closer to envelop myself in the mouthwatering scent. "You're supposed to eat it, silly, not look at it," my father teased. "Oh ..." I mumbled, my cheeks burning with heat. Reaching out, I grabbed the small fork in my hand, using it to poke at the blob of yellow on the plate. The mass of egg parted easily, tearing off into a piece that was small enough for me to jam it into my mouth. It tasted even better than it smelled. "Mmm ... 'ewicious" "Thank you," my father replied, bowing his head slightly. "Don't forget to drink the juice too." Nodding at the instruction, I eagerly grabbed the cup in my other hand. It wasn't very big and had a plastic lid on top with a small spout rather than a straw. The spout required me to tip the cup back to get at the juice within which was as delicious as the eggs. While I alternated gulping down eggs and juice, my father sat down at the table next to me and watched me eat. Like when I'd woken, he had a smile on his face as if watching me was the best thing in the world. It didn't make much sense to me, but I was glad that he was happy. "What would you like to do after you finish?" my father asked suddenly. The question seemed like an easy one, but when I searched my mind for an activity, it came up blank. It wasn't just that nothing seemed particularly appealing, but that I couldn't think of anything at all. The only ideas that came up were sleep, eat, and drink. "Whatever you'd like, Daddy," I answered, figuring that he would come up with something fun. My answer seemed to be fine as my father's smile never wavered. He just nodded in acceptance. "Well, how about this? Did you like it when I picked you up earlier?" "Yeah!" I blurted happily at the memory. "I felt like I was flying!" "What if you could fly on your own, would you like to do that?" my father inquired. The very idea filled me with excitement, getting me to nod energetically. "Uh huh!" "Then that's what we'll try," my father stated. "But first, you have to finish eating." With the promise of fun in the future, I went at my food with even greater speed than before. It wasn't long before the plate and cup had both been emptied. When they were, I held them up proudly, while chirping, "All done!" "Good girl," my father complemented, patting me on the head before taking the plate and cup away from me. "Go wait on the couch in the living room for me. I'll clean up in here and be right in." Hopping from my chair, I scurried into the other room. In my excitement, I barely noticed how much easier it was to move about now as my body steadily loosened up. Instead, my focus was on what it would be like to fly all by myself as I plopped onto the couch, kicking my feet in the air in anticipation. Before long, my father came in and sat down next to me. "Now hold still," he instructed as he leaned over me. I did my best to follow the instruction, freezing in place. It almost didn't last, though, when my father suddenly pulled my hair forward so that it slapped me in the face. "Thbbt! Hey!" I blurted as I swiped the long, sunshine blonde locks from my face. "Sorry, angel," my father apologized, chuckling softly. Once I'd pushed the hair off to the side so that it wasn't in my face, I returned to sitting there as still as I could. It wasn't an easy task, though, as I could feel my father's fingers tickling the back of my neck. Occasionally, I would squirm or giggle, but he never reprimanded me for it. He just kept at his work. After a short while, there was an audible click, and something that had been wrapped around my throat was pulled free. The moment after the click, I felt an unpleasant tingle start to tickle at my fingertips and toes, like little pin pricks. It didn't stop there, either, but spread up my arms and legs, growing more and more intense until I could barely feel my limbs at all. When it finally reached my torso, it penetrated deep, stabbing into my chest in agonizing waves. Doubling over, I clutched my hands to my chest as tears filled my eyes and air was desperately sucked into my lungs while agony filled me. Slowly, the pain and tingling started to fade away. As it did, my breathing slowed, turning to deep ragged breaths as I sobbed. Eventually, the torment had dimmed enough that I could feel my father's arms wrapped comfortingly around me, keeping me safe and warm. The tingle never quite faded completely, though, leaving my body feeling like there was something buzzing around inside of it, eager to be let out. "I'm sorry, angel," I heard my father apologize. "I'd hoped that it wouldn't hurt that much." "What ... what?" I gasped, feeling so confused and betrayed. "Why would you ... ?" My father partially released me so that he could pull back and turn me to face him. "I didn't want to, but sometimes we have to do things that we don't want to do." That answer didn't really make much sense, but I nodded anyway. "Kay ..." "Good girl," my father praised me, rubbing the top of my head affectionately. "Now, are you ready to fly?" Reminded of the original purpose for what had happened, my tears dried up, replaced by excitement. "Yeah!" "You should be able to do it now, just imagine yourself floating up, but not too high," my father instructed. With that information, I closed my eyes and did exactly as I was told. I imagined myself getting lighter, floating up into the air. I also made sure that I didn't go too high, just about a foot up before stopping there to hover. "Open your eyes, angel. You have to see this," my father commanded. Immediately, my eyes popped open, as my focus turned to my father. A moment later, my focus shifted again as I felt a sudden lurch followed by the sensation of falling. The moment after that, I bounced against the couch cushion. Watching me topple from the air, my father couldn't help but laugh. "You have to remember to keep flying, silly." "I would've if you hadn't distracted me!" I whined, pouting indignantly. "Ah ah, good girls don't pout when they fail. They try again," my father chided, wagging a reproving finger at me. "You're a good girl, aren't you?" Reluctantly, I nodded. "I'm a good girl." "Then try again, this time with your eyes open the whole time," my father directed. Without closing my eyes, I tried to picture the same thing as before, floating up to hover above the couch. It wasn't easy to do, especially when it started to work. The moment I lifted off and started to drift higher, my wonder very nearly sent me crashing right back down again. I refused to fail a second time, though, forcing myself to maintain my focus. Soon, I was floating at eye level with my father. Only then did I celebrate. "I did it, Daddy!" I cheered, looking down at the gap between my butt and the sofa cushions. "Very good, angel," my father complimented. "Now, we're going to work on doing a little more than just hovering ..." *********************************************** *********************************************** I watched as the fuzzy green ball arced lazily through the air toward me. As it moved, I concentrated, gathering my focus for when it drew close. When it was only a couple feet away, I imagined a shield in the way, blocking its path toward me. In response to my thoughts, the air in front of my face shimmered before being filled with a pale, translucent, white circle about two feet in diameter. When the ball struck that disc, it rebounded as if it had hit a wall, bouncing back toward its thrower. It didn't quite make it all the way there, hitting the ground at my father's feet. "How was that, Daddy?" I asked, eager for approval. Unlike flying, the task of reflecting the ball had taken me more than one failed attempt, and I felt like I was finally getting the hang of it. "That was very good, angel," my father complimented, bringing a smile to my face. "I'd like you to try one more thing then we'll take a break." The idea that we would be stopping soon was a little disappointing to me. I'd loved having my father teach me all the things that I could do. Even then, I was floating above the ground rather than standing, because I was having too much fun with it. The ball game was fun too, and he'd promised me that there were other things as well. I wanted to learn them all. "Do we have to stop?" I asked, almost begging. My father nodded. "Yes, angel. You've only just woken up, so I don't want you pushing yourself too hard. After this, there will be no more flying, deflecting things, or anything else until tomorrow." "Aw ... but I'm having fun," I whined. "And we'll have more fun tomorrow, but only if you act like a good girl and stop complaining about it," my father promised. "You can do that, can't you?" I nodded reluctantly. "Yes, daddy." "Good, now, this time I want you to imagine something a little different," my father began his instructions. "Instead of a shield to block the ball, I want you to imagine a sword. When the ball gets close, hit it with the sword. Can you do that?" The request sounded simple enough. I knew what a sword was, a long, sharp blade. It shouldn't be any different to imagine than a shield. "I think so." "Alright, then here it comes," my father warned before tossing the ball at me. Following the arc of the ball, I focused on how I was going to react. First, I needed the sword, so I imagined a long slim blade extending out from my wrist and down over my hand. The air there shimmered as just such a blade extended, made of the same pale, translucent, white glow as the shield. From there, I just had to wait for the ball to get close enough. Bursting into motion, I slashed across in front of me, catching the ball in mid air. There was a problem, though. My sword just slashed right by without altering the thing's course, so it was still sailing right toward me. I was so surprised that I couldn't even think to put up a shield before the ball bopped into my forehead, splitting into two perfectly matched, little halves as it bounced off to roll on the ground. "Ow ..." I grumbled, reaching up to rub at where the ball had hit me. "That was very well done, angel," my father complimented. "But the ball hit me!" I protested. My father smiled. "I didn't say anything about the ball hitting you, only you hitting it. The shield is for stopping things from hitting you. The sword is for hitting things." "Oh ..." I mumbled, glancing at the sword. I didn't like it as much as the shield. After all, it had ruined the ball, plus I'd gotten hit. I figured that I just didn't get what it was for yet. "Does that mean we have to stop now?" My father nodded. "Yes, but that doesn't mean we'll stop having fun." "Really?" I asked hopefully. "Really," my father assured me. "I have a movie ready that I think you'll love." *********************************************** *********************************************** Somewhere in between wakings, I felt like I had a dream. I couldn't say what happened in it or even who was in it. There was just a vague sense of happiness there. I wanted to cling to it, to stay that happy, but that isn't the way of dreams. Instead, I woke to the first rays of dawn streaming into my room through the window. Almost as soon as my eyes were open, I popped upright, buzzing with energy and excitement as the pleasant dream faded out of memory. I was so excited that I nearly flew out of my bed before remembering that my father wanted me to walk whenever I didn't need to fly. I didn't really understand why, but a good girl does what she's told. Resorting to normal movement, I hopped out of bed and immediately raced out of the room. Down the hall I went before bursting through the door to my father's room. Unlike mine, it was kind of dark thanks the blinds being drawn to keep out the dawn. It wasn't dark enough to keep me from seeing my father sleeping in the bed, though. "Wake up!" I squealed as I pounced onto the bed and the man sleeping there in. "Gah! What?!" my father gasped in surprise as he jerked awake from the impact. His confusion quickly turned into an annoyed glare when he saw. "What are you doing, angel?" "You said we could play more in the morning. It's morning. Sun's up and everything!" I told him, a little upset at him getting annoyed with me. "We are going to play, aren't we?" Rubbing at his face wearily, my father nodded. "Yeah, but not quite yet. Daddy needs more sleep." "But you promised!" I whined petulantly. "Alright, just give Daddy like an hour," my father mumbled. "Otherwise he won't be any fun to play with." I slouched down into a pout. "What am I supposed to do for an hour?" I don't know if it was the pout or the question, but I saw my father's shoulders slump in defeat. "Alright ... we can play now." "Yay!" I cheered in delight. "Now, get out so Daddy can change clothes," my father instructed. Happily, I moved to comply, hopping off the bed. That was as far as I got, though, before something caught my eye. Rather than turn toward the door, I stopped and reached for the night stand by the bed to pick up a picture frame. In it was a picture of a young woman with the same sun colored hair that I had. Beside her stood a younger version of my father with a awkward smile on his face as he looked more at the blonde than at the camera. "Why's your face look so silly?" I asked my father, giggling at the dopey grin that he had in the picture. "What? Oh ..." my father mumbled as he saw what I was looking at. When he continued, his voice sounded weirdly heavy and soft. "I was nervous." "Why?" I inquired. My father reached over my shoulder to point at the blonde in the picture. "Because of her." "Oh ... who is she?" I questioned. "That would be your mother," my father informed me. The answer had me blinking in surprise. Of course, it made sense that I would have a mother, but unlike my father, this woman didn't look familiar. There was no sense of rightness within me when I thought of her as 'Mommy'. Still, I liked the idea of having a mother. "Where is she?" I continued my questions. "Gone," came my father's reply, voice so low and heavy that it made my heart ache just hearing it. "Taken away by very bad men." "Can we rescue her like the princess from the movie?" I asked, looking up hopefully. The look on my father's face crushed my hopes before he even shook his head. "No. We can't." "Oh ..." I mumbled, sniffing slightly as I rubbed at eyes that were starting to burn. Picking me up, my father pulled me onto the bed next to him. Once I was up, he kept one arm wrapped around me while the other took the picture from my hands. He didn't take it away, though, just held it in front of me. "You know, you look just like her when she was little," my father commented. Hearing that, I looked down at the woman in the picture, trying to see the resemblance. I couldn't, though, not because I didn't feel like there were similarities, but because I couldn't really picture myself. We both had the same hair color, and my father said that we looked alike, so I knew it had to be true. That seemed like it was a good thing, because she was very pretty. "Now, how about you go play in your room so Daddy can get ready?" my father suggested. "Kay," I agreed, hopping off the bed again to go back to my own room. There, I hopped onto my own bed, trying to think of something to do while I waited. Nothing much came to mind, though. Looking around my room didn't help much either. It was mostly empty, just a bed, a dresser, a night table, and a ... As my gaze trailed over the closet, I stopped. I'd poked around in there a little the day before. There were mostly just spare clothes inside, though, so I'd quickly lost interest. Clothes weren't the only thing inside, however. There was also a mirror. Slipping off my bed, I walked over to the closet and pulled the door open. On the other side was the mirror that I remembered. It had seemed unimportant the night before, but now it it let me see myself. Looking at my reflection, I supposed that I did sort of look like the woman from the picture. We had the same sunny blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Our faces looked similar, but mine was rounder and smaller. If I looked beyond my head, though, that was the end of the similarities. I was a little girl, short and skinny. I didn't have any of the rounded bits that my mother had. I wondered if maybe I'd get them when I was older. I sure hoped so. I wanted to be every bit as pretty as her so that my father would make that goofy face again. *********************************************** *********************************************** Wind blew through my hair as I shot upward, chasing after the wayward tennis ball that my father had launched straight up. It had a massive head start, already dozens of feet up before I could react to its angel. It didn't matter. I caught it in a flash, hacking it in half with my sword before drifting to a stop and turning back toward the ground. A good hundred feet below me was a large field with trees all around it. It had taken a while to get to, a long boring drive that had been hard to tolerate. It was so big and open, though, giving me so much more room to fly around than the living room. I supposed that made it worth the trip. In the middle of the field stood my father holding a weird bazooka like weapon. With that, he was launching the balls into the air for me to chase down, creating an amusing game. If a ball touched the ground before getting hit, he scored, and if I got it first, I did. To further complicate things there were two colors of balls, green and yellow. The green ones had to be cut with the sword, but the yellow ones I had to bounce off a shield. If I got it wrong, he scored that ball instead of me. At first, he scored a lot, but at the moment, he hadn't scored for several dozen balls. That didn't mean it wasn't still fun, though. That was why I was a little disappointed to see my father beckoning me toward him. Disappointed or not, I dove quickly, dropping down to float in front of my father. "What is it, Daddy? Are you mad you're not winning? I could let a few of them fall if you want." My father chuckled at my offer. "No, angel. I'm not mad. We've just been at this a while and I don't want you to over do it. It's time to go home." "But -" I started to protest. My father leveled a hard look at me that instantly shut me up. "Good girls don't complain when it's time to stop." Looking down contritely, I nodded. "Yes, Daddy." "Now, set yourself back on the ground. I have a treat for you," my father told me, pointing a finger toward the ground before walking over to the car we'd used to get to the field. Disappointed, I did as instructed, ceasing my flight. A moment later, I dropped lightly onto the grass, looking down in annoyance. I didn't like walking. It was so much slower and more difficult than flying around. Plus, if I flew everywhere, I wouldn't need to wear shoes. A stray splash of color in the field of green caught my attention, causing me to walk over and crouch next to it. There, I saw two things, a yellow flower, and an odd puffball of white that looked sort of prickly. When I poked it, though, it proved to not be prickly at all, but rather soft and explosive. A few little white pieces got knocked off by my touch before getting caught in the faint breeze. As they drifted away, I crouched there, staring at the plant in surprise. "Ah ... that's what you're playing with," my father's voice remarked from behind me. "You should try plucking one of the white ones and blowing on it." Curious, I did as instructed, reaching out to tug one of the white topped stems free. Holding it up, I puffed on it, sending half of the white pieces blowing off. They sailed through the air in a cloud for a ways, before finally drifting apart. "You're gonna have to blow harder to get them all in one go," my father noted. I got ready to do exactly that when he suddenly tapped me on the shoulder. "Later. Treat first, otherwise it'll melt." Frowning at the half finished puffball, I shrugged and let it fall. "Kay." "Good girl, now try this," my father replied, handling me a stick with a big brown bar on top of it. "It's very tasty." Mention of taste meant it was food, so I bit into it, only to find out that the inside was very cold. The moment it hit my mouth, I scrunched up my face and held my mouth open, trying to get the cold to touch as little as possible. "At's col'." My father chuckled at my reaction. "Yes, it is, but that's part of the fun. Just stick with it." Trying my best, I moved the blob of cold goop around in my mouth to get it to melt. As it did, I noticed that it didn't just make my mouth cold, but tasted good too. It was very sweet and smooth, enough so to convince me to take another bite. This time, I went with a smaller nibble, one that was much easier to handle while giving me all of the taste, causing me to moan softly in delight. "See? Tasty, isn't it?" my father asked. "Mmhmm," I hummed, too busy eating to use actual words. *********************************************** *********************************************** "We're going to be doing something a little different today, angel," my father announced, as we once again found ourselves in the out of the way field. "But I thought we were going to get to play the ball game again?" I questioned, a little disappointed at the change in plans. I'd really liked the ball game. "I said we were going to play a ball game, but it's a different one," my father explained. "I'm sure you'll like it just as much." A slight pout invaded my lips, but I nodded in concession. "Kay." "Good, now, you know how I use this gun here to shoot balls right?" my father asked, getting a nod from me. "You're going to try to do something similar today." Furrowing my brow, I looked at my father in confusion. "But I don't have any balls, Daddy." "You're going to make them just like you did the sword and shield," my father informed me. "But I can't shoot either of those," I argued. "That's why you're going to have to learn," my father told me. "Now, what I want you to do is hold your hand up and point it at that block of wood I put over there." Nodding, I did as instructed, raising my hand with the fingers spread and palm out. I pointed it across the way to where a log had been stood up on end in the grass. It wasn't small or far away, so I figured it would be easy to hit. "Good, now, just imagine something shooting out of your hand really hard and fast," my father directed. Another nod preceded me trying to do exactly that. It wasn't as easy as the sword and shield had been, though. I had to focus harder, going to the point of scrunching up my face as I tried to visualize it. Then, I felt something kick against my hand, causing me to jerk back. Rather than a ball, like I had imagined, a brilliant white beam shot out, slicing through the air. To my disappointment, it shot wide of the log, searing off a ways before finally hitting the ground. When it did, my disappointment vanished. In the distance, the ground burst apart, disappearing into a cloud of white fire, dirt, and wind. A thunderous roar echoed back from the blast, assaulting my eardrums. It was joined by a palpable force that rocked me back on me heels as the wind raced by. After that, the wind and fire faded, leaving just a haze of dust floating in the air. "Very good, angel," my father complemented, somehow, completely unsurprised at the massive explosion that I'd just created. The lack of surprise made me assume that the result was expected, but that didn't mean I was ready to accept the compliment. "But I missed." "Everyone misses their first shot," my father told me. "The important part is that you managed to shoot at all." "Oh," I mumbled, allowing myself a little smile. "Now, it's time to practice," my father informed me. "First, you have to hit the piece of wood, but once you manage that, we'll play a game with the balls where you have to shoot them out of the sky. That sounds fun, doesn't it?" I nodded excitedly. "Yeah!" *********************************************** *********************************************** "Alright, you ready for this?" my father asked as he sat down on the couch next to me, a big bowl of popcorn in his hands. "Uh huh!" I exclaimed eagerly, looking forward to our usual nightly movie after a day of practice. They were always so enthralling. "Then here we go," my father replied, scooping up the remote to press play. A moment later, the movie appeared on the screen, starting into the opening credits and logos. As it did, I nestled up against my father, using his side like a big warm pillow. At the same time, I snaked my hand around to scoop some popcorn out of the bowl then stuffed it in my mouth. Soon, the movie proper began, and I was quickly wrapped up in the story. It was about a boy who wanted to spend time with his father, who for some reason wasn't around. He wanted it so much, that he prayed for a miracle, and somehow, it was granted. Seeing how it was granted was the part that really got to me, though. On the screen there were angels, helping the boy and some older men play a game called baseball. I watched the angels with utter fascination, seeing them zip around through the air helping the players. They were amazing, doing the same kind of things that I could do. They were even called angels, just like my father always called me. There was just one difference that I could tell. They all had wings, but I didn't. A frown creased my lips as I was pulled from my enjoyment of the movie. It just wasn't right that I didn't have wings. I could fly. I could do all the stuff the angels in the movie could and more. I helped my father, or at least would if he needed me. I should have wings. At that thought, something twisted painfully in back, eliciting a gasp from me. It was followed by another, causing me to curl up as if it would keep the ache away. It didn't, as more and more twists and shifts wiggled around within me. "Angel, what's wrong?" my father asked, worry in his voice. He even slid off the couch, kneeling in front of me to look at me with concern. "I ... I don't ..." I gasped between hisses of pain. A loud crack was joined by a piercing stab of agony that arched my back and forced a scream from my lips. It was followed by the sound of tearing, then there was just silence. In that silence, I could feel a dull ache from my back along with something else - like I had arms back there somehow. "That ... how .... " I heard my father gasp, seeming even more surprised than the one morning that I'd jumped on him in bed. Lifting my gaze to my father, I saw him staring at me with wide unblinking eyes. Actually, it seemed he was staring behind me. That got me to twist around to look at what had startled him so. When I saw, my jaw dropped. Spread out from my back was a pair of white, angel wings. They were pretty big, each longer than one of my arms and covered in soft downy feathers. Apparently, in the process of sprouting they had also torn my dress, leaving it hanging in tatters on my back. "I have wings!" I exclaimed in delight, trying to move my new appendages. When they wiggled in time with my desires, I giggled in delight, turning back to my still stunned father. "Isn't this awesome, Daddy? Now, I'm just like the angels in the movie!" "But ... how?" my father managed to breathe through his shock. "That's shouldn't be one of your ..." I shrugged, causing my wings to shrug as well. "I don't know. Maybe God granted my prayer like he did for the boy in the film." "You prayed for this?" my father questioned. "Yeah. Well, I mean, I'm supposed to be an angel, aren't I? You always call me one. The angels in the movie had wings, so I thought I should have some too," I answered excitedly. The surprise started to fade from my father's face, replaced with curiosity. "Can you make them go away?" "What?! Why would I do that?! I just got them!" I blurted, horrified at the idea. "Calm down, angel. I just want to see if you can," my father reassured me. "Think of it like one of our games." "Oh ... okay ... I guess," I mumbled, not really enthused by the idea of trying. Reaching back, I rubbed one of the wings just to feel it once in case it went away for good. My father smiled at my acceptance. "That's a good girl. Just think, if you can do this, we'll have a whole new game to play." Intrigued by prospect of a new game, I got a little more motivated to try. If I could make them go away, surely I could bring them right back. Besides, it wasn't like I wanted to disobey my father. If he wanted me to try, then I would. I was already imagining the wings going away before I remembered how much it had hurt to get them. Before I could change my mind, I felt a shift in my back. It wasn't accompanied by the same kind of pain as the first time, though, just a mild discomfort, like a joint that needed to be popped. Without the pain, I was able to watch as the wings pulled back into me. Only the ruin of my dress showed that they had ever been there. "Amazing ..." my father gasped. "And it didn't hurt that time either?" Saddened by the loss of my wings, I shook my head glumly. "Nope." "Marvelous," my father breathed, his voice full of awe. *********************************************** *********************************************** Chapter 02 The first rays of dawn greeted me as I woke just like they did every morning. Stretching my hands over my head, I let out a little sigh of delight as my body loosened up. Once that was done, I hopped out of bed, eager to start yet another day. Rather than rush off to bother my father, I set about getting myself ready. How to do so had been one of the many lessons that my father had given me in the weeks since I'd first woken in this house. Now, every day, I got myself up, took a bath, put on clean clothes, and even got my own breakfast together. As I got ready, I wondered what game my father and I would play that day. There were many different games. Early on they had been simple things like hit a ball or transform part of my body as requested. They'd steadily gotten more complex as time went on requiring multiple different abilities and quick reactions to complete. I loved seeing the proud smile on my father's face when I completed the challenges. When I got to the dressing part of my routine, I made sure to pick a dress that had a low enough back on it to allow me to have wings that day. After I was dressed, I recreated my wings, an act that, after so much practice, now elicited only a mild twinge from my shoulder blades rather than any sort of pain. Once I had them, I took a few moments to just admire them in the mirror, moving my body and them around to see them from all sorts of angles. They didn't really serve any particular purpose. In fact, they kind of got in the way, but I didn't care about that. I liked them. They made me feel like an angel. Because of that, I transformed to have them whenever I could, and the best time for that was in the morning before my father woke. Once he did, we'd leave the house, and I'd been told that I wasn't allowed to have wings outside of the house. I didn't understand why, but a good girl doesn't cause trouble over something like that. After finishing my self-admiration, I folded my wings neatly behind me and left my room behind. A short walk brought me to the kitchen, where I grabbed a chair and dragged it over to the pantry. It provided the height that I needed to get to the box of cereal, something that I could just float up to if flying was allowed, but it wasn't. I quickly dropped that box off on the table before tugging the chair around to get to the cabinet with the bowls. A bowl and spoon joined the box as I went to get the milk, which thankfully didn't require a chair. It was, however, the hardest thing for me to actually get, because it was so heavy, making it awkward for me to wiggle it out of the shelf in the refrigerator. With all the components gathered, I sat down to enjoy my breakfast. Over the noise of my chewing, I could hear the sound of water, indicating that my father was up and getting his shower. That meant that soon we would be off to play. Even after many days like that, I could still feel myself getting excited. Playing with my father was always fun. Once I'd finished eating, I cleaned up after myself, dragging the chair around to where I needed it to put things away. There was an extra stop this time, as I had to use the sink to wash my bowl and spoon. By the time I finished, I could hear my father's footsteps approaching, and quickly retracted my wings, so that he wouldn't even see them. "Ah, there's my little angel," my father greeted, smiling brightly as he came into the kitchen. "How are you this morning?" "Great!" I chirped happily, hopping off my chair to run over and hug him. "I've been trying to guess what game we'll play today." Even as he returned the hug, my father chuckled. "Well, you never will." "Why not?" I asked as the embrace ended, allowing me to pull back. "Because today, we're going to play a game that we've never played before," my father responded. Already excited, my anticipation skyrocketed at the mention of a new game. New games were always the best. Since I didn't know how to do them, they were far more challenging, and more importantly, my father was far more proud of me when I did well at them. "Yay! What is it?! Does it involve the balls?! Will I get to fly?!" I rapidly questioned. My father smiled wryly. "Well, if you'd sit down and listen, I'd tell you." Instantly, I turned, racing over to a chair. Plopping down, I put my hands in my lap and tried very hard to sit perfectly still and quiet. It was very hard to do given how eager I was to learn about the game. "Good, now, do you remember the other day when the batteries in the remote died?" my father asked as he walked over to sit at the table as well. I nodded rapidly. "Yeah. We threw them away and put new ones in." "Very good," my father complimented. "Because that's what you do with things that go bad, you get rid of them. Does that make sense." "Uh huh," I agreed, finding that logic easy to follow. "Now there are more things in the world that can go bad than batteries," my father told me. "The remote control, itself, could have gone bad and we'd have to throw it out. The TV could also go bad, or the food in the fridge, or the car that I drive. Whatever it is that goes bad, we either fix it or we get rid of it." So far, everything made sense to me, so I nodded along. Naturally, there would be no point in keeping an appliance that didn't work or food that couldn't be eaten. Naturally, you would either fix it or get rid of it. I wondered how it could be relevant to a game, though. "Now, some things are easier to fix than others," my father continued. "You can fix a remote, but you can't fix rotten food. In fact, you can't fix anything once it goes rotten, not food, not drink, not people. They are forever bad. That's why it's so important that you always be a good girl, so that you never get rotten." "I'll always be a good girl," I assured him. A warm smile brightened my father's face at my words. "Yes, I'm sure you will be, but not everyone is, angel. Some people don't care about being good. Some people just do bad until they're all rotten inside. What do we do with rotten things, angel?" "Get rid of them," I answered promptly. "Very good, angel," my father told me. "And with that, we get to today's game, the game that all the other ones have been leading to. You see, angel, there are rotten people mixed in among everyone else in the world - criminals, low-lifes, and brutes. They prey upon the good girls and boys out there, causing all sorts of harm, and so, they have to be gotten rid of. Most good boys and girls can't get rid of them, though, because they're so dangerous. They need an angel to help them do it. They need you." A torrent of emotions swept through me at my father's words. There was fear at the idea that so many rotten people could be lurking outside our home. There was pity for all the other good little boys and girls that could do nothing to stop them. Finally, there was determination to do my job to help. "How do I tell which ones are the bad ones?" I asked. In the time since I'd first woken, I hadn't seen very many other people. Sometimes, I could see them out of the windows of the car, or occasionally, one would be outside or even come to the door to talk to my father. None had seemed bad, though. "You've seen some of their traits in the movies we've watched. They break the law. They hurt other people for no good reason. They lie, steal, and cheat," my father explained. "Those are the rotten people in the world, and I will point them out to you." My father was right. I'd never seen a real person do any of those things, but I had seen what a rotten person was like. He was also right that they were absolutely no good, and in many of the movies the good people got rid of them. "You have to remember, though, that they're dangerous," my father warned. "They don't want to be gotten rid of. In fact, they'll do whatever it takes to keep that from happening. If they try to hurt you, protect yourself with your shield." "I will, Daddy, but where do I throw them?" I asked. "Is there like a big trash can for them?" That question earned a slight chuckle from my father, though, I had no idea why he thought it was amusing. "No, angel. You just deal with them like one of the balls," he explained, adding two gestures, one slicing and one exploding, with his hands to clarify his point. "After you do, someone else will throw them out for you." I nodded in understanding. "Kay." *********************************************** *********************************************** As the sun shone down from above, I just couldn't stop smiling. It wasn't because of the prospect of the new game that my father had promised to let me play. That, I was actually kind of nervous about. Besides, I didn't think it was actually a game at all, but something more serious, like a job maybe. No, what had me smiling was my current activity, walking down the sidewalk, holding my father's hand. Everyday, my father and I left the house together. Normally, though, we drove off to the secluded field to play. This was the first time, we'd gone somewhere else. My father had driven us into the city, not out of it, then, he'd parked the car in a lot, and we'd started walking along the streets toward our destination. The city was not pretty. It was old and run down - the kind of place that showed up sometimes in movies that I'd watched as the 'seedy part of town'. That wasn't unexpected or anything, though. My father and I were there to find a rotten person, after all, and such people were always in the bad parts of town. Bad part of town or not, it was still interesting to me to look around. None of the streets or buildings were familiar. There were people around too, not a lot, but more than I was used to being around. It was my first time being so close to people that weren't my father. Part of me wanted to hide from them, slinking behind my father as I walked. Another part of me was incredibly curious to see what they were like. I ended up somewhere in the middle, smiling shyly at the people that we walked past. They almost always smiled back. Some even waved, which got me to wave back at them. It was fun. "Ah, here we are, angel," my father declared as he stopped in front of a particularly dilapidated apartment building. "Now, do you remember everything I told you in the car?" The question got an immediate nod of confidence from me. My father had been quite thorough on the way, making sure that I had the address, name, and photograph of the rotten man memorized. To be absolutely certain, I recited it as well. "Casey Albin, apartment two-oh-three. He's a heavy- set man, a little taller than you are Daddy, with dirty blonde hair and green eyes. The key you gave me will let me in. After I'm done, walk two streets that way and wait there for you to pick me up." "Very good, angel," my father complimented as he released my hand. "Now, go do your best." "I will, Daddy," I promised before skipping over to the door. As I'd been told, the door was locked, but that wasn't a problem. My father had given me a bracelet with a key hanging from it, so I just inserted that into the lock. It worked perfectly, letting me through the door into the small lobby area of the building. There wasn't much in there, just some mailboxes along one wall, a couple of doors leading off to the sides, and the thing I cared about, the stairs that led up. Bounding merrily up the stairs, I came out into a hallway with dingy carpet that smelled of mold and smoke. The stench crinkled my nose before I covered it with one hand and tried to breath through my mouth. As I walked down the hall, I wondered why the place was so stinky, or how anyone could live with it. After the stairs, it was a short walk to the apartment that I was looking for. Once again, I tried the door, found it locked, and used the key on my bracelet. When I opened the door, the smell got even worse, not only stronger but also adding garbage and spoiled food to the mixture. It was enough to seep through my hand and get me to gag, but not enough to deter me. I had a mission, and I wasn't going to let the other good girls and boys down. Stepping inside, I was greeted by the sight of an apartment that was literally covered in mess. There were empty pizza boxes piled on the coffee table in the living room. Empty take out boxes and dirty dishes littered the counters in the kitchen as well. Even the only occupant of the place, a man, had crumbs and stains on his t-shirt. "What the hell? How'd you get in here?" the man, a perfect match for the picture of Casey Albin that my father had shown me, questioned as he rose from his seat on the couch to stare at me in confusion. "I got this key from Daddy," I answered, holding up the bracelet with the key. Casey blinked in surprise. "Your dad gave you a key to my apartment? Who's your dad?" "He also said you were a bad man," I continued. "Are you?" "What?" Casey muttered, seeming to have not heard me. "Are you a bad man?" I repeated my question. Casey's features hardened. "Alright, I'm tired of playing games, kid. Get out." The lack of answer caused me to frown. I just wanted to make sure that the man was a bad one, but he was being difficult. "Are you a bad man or aren't you?!" "Yeah! I'm a bad man! The worst!" the man growled angrily. "Now get out or you'll see just how ba ..." The man's words trailed off as my sword coalesced at my wrist. He had just enough time to be stunned before I zipped forward, using my flight to move higher and faster than I would have been able to on my own. As I closed, my sword cut across, slicing right through the man from one shoulder to the opposite armpit. The next moment, the two separate pieces of the man were falling to the ground. Coming to a stop, I floated above the bloody mess, looking down at it. "Of course, Daddy was right," I remarked before waving to the corpse. "Bye bye, bad man." With that, I floated back out the door before setting myself down. The moment my feet touched the ground, I was already skipping off down the hall, eager to get back to my father. *********************************************** *********************************************** "How did it go, angel?" my father asked as I got into his car. My response was a disinterested shrug. "Fine." "Fine?" my father repeated the word as a question. "I need a little more information than that, angel." "But that's what it was," I insisted. A flicker of annoyance crossed my father's features. "You followed through on my instructions, correct?" I nodded. "Yes, Daddy. I found the apartment, the man was inside, I slashed him just like a ball, then I came here to find you." "Very good, angel," my father praised, giving me a warm smile. Unlike usual, I didn't really feel all that great about the compliment. "Can we play a different game now, Daddy?" "A different one?" my father asked, quite surprised. It was the first time that I'd ever asked him to play a different game than the most recent one that we'd been playing. "Do you not like this one?" "Not really. It's boring," I admitted honestly. Good girls are always honest. "The bad man wasn't nearly as dangerous as you said. He didn't try to do any of the things you said he'd do. He just stood there." "Oh ... so that's what the problem is," my father mumbled, nodding thoughtfully. "You'll have to forgive me, angel. I went easy on you because this was your first time, but clearly, I underestimated you." I smiled. "It's okay, Daddy. Today was still fun." "I'm glad to hear it," my father replied. "For now, I think we will play some other games. I need some time to find a really tough bad guy for you to deal with. You'd like that right?" Excited by the prospect, I nodded rapidly. "Yeah!" *********************************************** *********************************************** "Alright, angel," my father began as we came to a stop near a building. It was an old cannery that had long since closed down. Oddly, that didn't put it in any worse shape than the apartment building from the last time. "Remember, it's not going to be easy this time, so I want you to take this seriously. If you think you might be in trouble, just run away, and Daddy won't be mad. Okay?" "Yes, Daddy," I agreed, getting a little nervous at how worried my father seemed to be for my safety this time. Perhaps the bad person this time really was dangerous. After a quick nod, my father bent down to give me a hug. "Good luck in there, angel. Go get 'em." Quickly, I returned the hug, always glad for the affection. When it ended, though, I was filled with anxiety. There was no skipping or bounding this time as I left my father's side to approach the building. Unlike the last time that I'd played this game, I had no key, because the door wasn't locked. That allowed me to easily enter through the side door of the building. Inside, was the main floor of the facility, still cluttered with some of the old machinery and material which made it difficult for me to see very far. Fortunately, I could hear the sound of voices, so I just started toward them, meandering through the various obstacles in my path. As I was getting close to the voices, a woman suddenly stepped into view from around a small stack of crates. She seemed to be on her way to grab something from a cooler, but then she saw me. Immediately, she stopped in her tracks, turning to face me with wide-eyed surprise. "What the hell?!" the woman gasped. As the woman stared at me, I quickly looked her over before deducing that she wasn't my bad person. While her clothes certainly gave her the look of a bad person, her hair was purple, not red. Since she wasn't who I was there for, I raised a hand to wave, smiled, and greeted her brightly with a, "Hi there!" "What's going on Val?!" another female voice called out in question. "There's this little blonde girl here," the woman, apparently Val, answered, pointing at me. A moment later, another woman stepped into my view. This one did not get a wave, and even drove the smile from my face. She was on the short side for a woman with the tight, toned physique of an athlete. Like the other woman, she was dressed in a sort of trashy, street tough manner. Unlike the other woman, she had red hair and the face that I'd been told to memorize. "Scarlet Whip," I stated the woman's name neutrally as I gathered myself for what was coming. "How do you know that na-" the woman started to ask, but I was already moving, using my flight to dart forward as my sword appeared. Unlike the man, this woman did not just stand there in shock as I slashed her. Her reaction was quick, smooth, and violent. One of her hands lashed out, but it wasn't just her hand that came at me. As she moved, a glowing crimson whip extended out from her hand, crackling as it came at me. My reaction was just as fast, a sudden lurch left in the air that took me out of the whip's line. The air sizzled as the weapon cut by me, followed by a thunderous crack as it hit the ground. I couldn't see the damage it wrought, but I could feel the spray of concrete bits that were sent flying by the impact. In spite of my dodge, I didn't lose my opportunity to strike, swerving back toward the woman to slash with my sword. Whip tried to twist away from it, but she wasn't quite fast enough to avoid it entirely. A slash appeared in her shirt followed by a bright red line of blood across one side of her ribs. As the exchange ended, my momentum carried me past Whip, where I rolled over in the air to make another pass. My plans changed in an instant as I saw Val and a newly arrived women pull handguns and aim them at me. Desperately, I focused on bringing up my shield. A moment later, I felt like someone had just punched me in the shoulder, followed by a series of roars from the handguns. The roars were followed by pings as bullets hit shield and ricocheted around. One even caught Val in the thigh, dropping her to the ground. Meanwhile, I pressed a hand to my right shoulder. The arm hung limp and there was a throbbing pain there that filled my eyes with tears and made me want to just cry out for my father at the top of my lungs. There was one problem with that. I was still in danger of getting hurt even more. Having twisted around, Whip tried to use her signature weapon on me, and I was too distracted by my injury to try to dodge this time. Luckily, it was no more effective than bullets were against the glowing hemisphere of pale light that protected me. It crackled and spat as it struck, but did nothing to penetrate or harm me. It did, however, penetrate my pain addled thoughts. "That hurt!" I shrieked angrily, releasing my wound to lash out with my left hand. My power kicked against the outstretched limb as a beam of light shot out. When the beam struck, Scarlet Whip vanished into a massive blast of white fire a