Chapter 4: Dark Angel

From the minute her eyes opened, the other Angel knew the swap had worked. She curled her fingers and moved her head from side to side. Hell yes! She hadn't felt corporeal since Asteria's last torture session in hell, and that wasn't something she was eager to do again. But this? She marveled at how strange it felt to be back in the real world, not just watching through Angel's eyes. Energy seemed to course through her veins with the sudden swell of consciousness. This body—their body—felt stronger since the last time she'd been in it. Well, a lot had changed since then, so it wasn't exactly a surprise. But she couldn't stop the wicked grin that broke out across her face.

This was going to be fun.

Wiggling the rest of her body parts, she found everything seemed in working order, then she slid her head in a full rotation to take in the surrounding white, ultra-sterilized room. At least it wasn’t a dungeon. She had already mentally prepared herself to wake up in a dungeon because these were the Titans after all, and while she didn't trust a damn thing Asteria had said…she still knew better than to trust people she didn't know. Tantalus had been proof enough not to trust people she did know.

And anyway, they'd abducted her. They'd saved her life, but surely that wasn't out of the kindness of their hearts. So, they wanted something, and she needed to figure out what.

Glancing back around the room, she looked for any signs of where she was. There were no personal items, so it couldn’t have been a bedroom. Was it a hospital room? She slid back to sit up against the metal backing of the bed. Thank the gods she was alone.

What should she do with her first taste of freedom? Should she portal back to hell and give Hades a mini heart attack? Should she go home to Tali and work through a few fantasies? Should she stay and figure out what kind of fate awaited her with the Titans? She didn’t know a damn thing about them, and that piqued her curiosity.

Or should she just run wild and play? Everything felt limitless for once in the entirety of her strained existence. Sure, she still had to figure out how she would kill Asteria, but that wasn't the only thing to live for. It was her first taste of life, and she planned to experience as much as she could.

Those limitless options seemed to freeze momentarily as the door opened and a lanky boy walked in, cradling a clipboard and muttering curses to himself about drawing the short end of the stick. His red hair hung sloppily over his boyish face, like he hadn’t expected to compose himself yet. There certainly wasn't anything wrong with him except his youth, which was difficult to decipher. He had the face of a teenager, but his mannerisms implied he was much older. Strange. Maybe they aged slower? They hadn't been human once, like the gods. They were something else entirely.

Watching his movements as he entered the room, she realized he must not understand the threat she posed to him. She watched as he immediately inventoried the drawers and cabinets, all without checking for her first. Foolish. And brave. And reassuring in its own way. She had expected aggression, maybe blind fear, but not dismissal. Was he the man that had helped her? In a thin overshirt made of silver chains and loose-fitting leather pants, he seemed more fit for a battlefield than a recovery room. It was the same clothing the Titans had worn when they invaded the involution, but he wasn’t one she recognized. How long ago had that been? Days were hard to track inside Angel's mind. She scooted to the edge of the bed.

Much too late to have stopped her if she wanted to attack him, the boy turned when the bed groaned, dropping whatever had been in his hands.

She smiled. Perhaps a bit too wide, judging by the color of his face.

"Shit, you’re awake! Hyperion!! H-Hyperion! Don't you dare bite me!" The boy jumped nearly out of his flesh as he yelped and scooted back out of the open door so fast, she almost missed it. Shit, show less fang next time, she mused to herself, or she could show more, and really have some fun. Would they all be that alarmed? Oh, that would be too easy, she purred to herself.

She shifted toward the edge of the bed.

The next figure through the door was a grown man in every aspect of the word. He had close-cut blonde hair, trimmed at the base but shaggy on top, piercing honeyed eyes, and a powerful jaw that seemed clenched hard enough to hurt. Dammit if she didn’t love a firm jaw. It seemed like they were passing firm jaws out at the immortal table because every god had one. And it would seem the Titans had them too. Her eyebrow raised in excitement.

Her current company didn't seem to find anything about her exciting though, as he stood a little too close to the doorway, his hand clutching a powerful bow to his hip while he assessed her. Hyperion, the boy had called him, was tall with shoulders that nearly spanned the whole entryway. She immediately studied him for weaknesses, as Asteria had trained her. The thought would have undone Angel, but not her. She could accept that some of what had been done to them was useful.

His agility would be a weakness. Anyone that bulky would be slow, she decided—maybe even clumsy. She really hoped she wouldn't have to kill him because she really enjoyed looking at him.

"You’re awake." His intense, accented voice had her skin buzzing. His true language, whatever it was, gave his voice a roughened slant she instantly loved. She wanted him to speak again, maybe in her ear next time. Was she just horny or what? Technically, the body had been laid before, but not this mind. And that, she decided, would need to be remedied quickly. She didn't need the distraction of her body. Again, she really hoped she wouldn't have to kill him because he could do the job with ease. A sly smile crept along her face.

"It’s been a long time, Angel." He addressed her with a gruff, slightly annoyed bite that she didn't like despite the accent. What had she done to make him speak to her with such venom? Whatever—the important part was that his statement begged a more important question. Was she going to keep Angel’s name? Technically, they were both Angel…but the more she thought about it, the more she realized that, as the doppelganger, the name wasn’t really hers. She couldn’t just name herself, could she? Should she choose something all her own? It was obvious he knew her from the years of repeated loops, and whatever had happened in those loops was enough to make his eyes burn as he looked at her. Would it seem odd to declare herself as something other than the woman he already knew?

Advantages and disadvantages were weighing on her mind. Technically, this was the beginning of a new age for Angel, for both of them. This was a special occasion, so she should do something symbolic. "Technically, the name is Angel, but you can call me Dark." She swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

"Dark? What kind of name is that? What kind of fool do you take me for? Your name is Angel. There's no point in trying to trick me, we’ve met before too many times to count." the edge in his voice seemed to sharpen again with whatever memories he'd summoned.

"No, HER name is Angel. Mine is Dark. As in the darker…version of Angel. This is our body. I’m the other one, ya know, up here," Dark made a whirling motion beside her head to imply exactly what he was thinking as he looked at her, "You’ve never met me, of that, I can be sure. This is a first for me."

Hyperion made a move to speak, but instead, he stood silently, trying to make sense of what she’d said. He’d only ever seen her in battle, drunk off of bloodlust and half-crazed with grief. Did he believe that there were two of her? It would have been a clever play on her part to instill doubt and confusion. Did it even matter? No, not really, he decided. Her fate was still up to a vote, whether she was Angel or her dark twin. The vote would still have to pass.

"Sorry, Hyperion…is it? About scaring the kid, I won’t smile so large next time," she mimicked the smile she’d used, and he shot her a quizzical look. Was she making a joke? At a time like this? Maybe she was a little off after all.

Dark. He pondered the implications of what she had said. If she really had a personality split, which one had they been fighting all these years?

"You’re completely healed, and they requested your presence in the grand hall…" he replied quickly, ignoring the odd behavior she exhibited, and his own convoluted thoughts. He tossed a pile of clothes on the bed. They wouldn't fit her, but it didn't matter.

"For what? Is it a party? Please say it’s a party…" Dark clapped her hands together in glee, "I'd love to know the occasion before I change."

"Yes…if you like the kinds of parties where they decide your fate. You know, whether or not you should be executed for your crimes against us is the principal topic of discussion…"

"I decide my fate, love." she smiled wider and slid herself from the bed. Looking down, she saw the old bandages peeking through the tatters of her once lovely involution dress. She assumed, based on their placement, it was both to preserve her dignity and cover her open wounds. The sheer number of them revealed how much havoc had been wrought on the body. She sighed.

"Did you dress my wounds, Titan?" she asked with a brow wiggle.

"I-I," he cleared his throat and looked away, "No, I didn’t. No, you have Helios to thank for that. Though, he didn’t have a choice. He had to stop the bleeding while you…"

"Fed?" she watched his reaction. The bob of his throat, the tightening of his grip on the bow, a muscle flexing in his jaw, "I suppose I should thank you?"

"It was a duty, not a kindness," his accent flared and thickened his words as he glared at her. The sudden moment of weakness didn’t go unnoticed though, and Dark decided she would have to continue to press that particular button. His reaction might just be worth it.

"Mm, shame, I'm sure if I was conscious, I would have enjoyed it half as much as you seemed to," was all she said in reply as she studied the terrible state of her dress. She picked up the strange ensemble he left on the bed. This wouldn’t do for a formal trial to decide her fate. She inwardly laughed at the ridiculousness of them deciding a damn thing that would concern her. But she wanted to meet the troupe, so to speak. She immediately ripped the rest of her dress free, no longer burdened by Angel's sense of propriety. Hyperion didn't move, determined never to let her out of his sight like the younger Titan had. She supposed that told her everything she needed to know about their previous contact.

Dark slashed through the bandages until they were in strips around her ankles. Tugging on the oversized clothes until she was covered once more, Dark shook her head. She wouldn't be caught dead dressed like this. She twirled once, surrounding herself in the black mist Asteria had taught her to use. It was capable of much more than pain if the intention was channeled correctly.

Hyperion, surprised at the sudden motion, thought she was attacking. He snapped his bow loose, drew an arrow forth, and fired it to center mass. The tiniest sting of regret pierced his heart as soon as he released. He hadn’t thought—just reacted. That’s what they had all learned about Angel. Attack first, everything else later. Even when he’d opted to bring her here for healing versus leaving her to die, the action sparked a loud outcry among them to kill her instead. He'd assured her his blood hadn't been mercy and yet…she would have died if he hadn't taken her. But here he was, dealing with her death all over again despite his blood warming her body.

They were not killers by nature. They didn’t harm innocents or women, and they didn’t take unnecessary life. But for Angel, they were willing to make an exception. Thus, the second he’d sensed her waking, the trial was called into motion. Would she die by his own hand before she could even stand trial? Would it be better than if they sought to punish her in the same way they punished Prometheus?

Suddenly the mist dropped to reveal Angel in an all-white gown, looking every bit a Greek goddess. Her wine-colored hair—adorned with gold roses and jewels—coiled down her back to spill over her shoulders. She had two gold bracelets around her free shoulder and a gold sash gathered around her waist. He knew it was an illusion and yet, goosebumps rose along his arms.

If it weren’t for the black of her eyes, she would have seemed a harmless beauty. For she was exceptionally beautiful, no one could deny her that. But Hyperion knew better than to trust her pretty face. How many times had that pretty face cost him his own life? Or the lives of his men—his brothers?

The thing that caught his attention the most, however, was what she held. Tightly against the white fabric of the dress, Angel held the loosed arrow. She let it drop as it faded back to the particles of light he used to craft it. Hyperion gasped as he looked closer. The tip hadn’t ever pierced the dress.

He took a deep gulp of spit to coat his suddenly dry throat. That was new. Angel had been many things in battle: savage, and unyielding. But she’d never been controlled. Especially not controlled enough to expect an attack and defend against it in a split second, all while getting dressed. Perhaps he really hadn’t ever met the woman before him. Could there really be two? Her pale brown skin showed the spidering of veins along her throat—veins that now held his own life force.

"I thought you were attacking," he stated, accident slanted and full. The chill of his voice oddly struck her as a kind of relief.

"I gathered," she replied with a smirk, knowing her dismissal of the arrow would render him stunned. "Shall we?" She extended her hand for his and after a moment of severe hesitation, he took it and led her from the room.