Inked Wings (16+)

TWENTY SEVEN - Guilt And Stitches

/ Angel's POV /

Time decides to be a bother, exactly like my brain. I cannot concentrate on one cursed thing.

I can't check the records, I tear up. I can't reassemble new explosive prototypes; an awful feeling swoops me off both my feet. I'm as angry as I've been all day, except now I am lucid enough to realize the jackass things I do. Breaking the kid's, probably number one belonging, was overstepping. One of my top five. He is right...I am an asshole and a coward on top of it.

My body shakes.

Fuck, I did not even have the guts to tell Dad myself, or the others at that.

I don't want this...My productivity can't crash like this. I'm not having it; I'm not giving up now.

My fingers move quickly, searching on my screen. I scroll through my contact list, doing so very fast actually. I soon find Morgana's dial. I call her, tapping my foot to concentrate on the sound, rather than the vortex of thoughts happening in my head. They are not helpful thoughts.

A little while passes, when she finally answers me. Stars, about time, no?

'What is it, Angel?' Her tone sounds defeated, bothering me more than I am already.

'Any updates?' I cut to the chase, avoiding the screen, ignoring her annoying tone.

'Ah...wouldn't you like to know...'

'Don't – don't play with me on this, Morgana.' My head is shaking, my legs impatient.

Her puffing her chest rings loud. Irks. At least she responds soon after.

'Our third outpost is dealing with – well, here is the situation...MEA overtook the prison and is now holding hostages for ransom. We would technically need assistance, if that's what you're getting at.' She explains. 'You need rest, not this, Angel...'

'Where is this happening?' I search through the map data.

'Stars, Angel -'

'It's Viaya, right? I'm heading there right away.' I close the unnecessary screens, reopening them seconds again and again. 'I'll be in an emergency pod, it will be faster.'

'You're coming alone?'

That – I stretch my head, cracking some sides – That annoying tone...

'Hah.' I nod.

'For what? Don't you think you need some time to process -!'

'Just shut up!' I snap, then right after my body jolts.

That pisses her off, showing the murder eyes. 'Lungelo!' She raises her voice.

She is really, really mad at me.

'Fuck, sorry...I don't want to hear it, that's all!' My hands gesticulate nonsense.

She rubs her palms against her face, letting out a deep sigh. Her head falls back.

'You're tired of this, I know. Same, so just give me the green light to do something with myself.' I pace around, my wings dragging me and my shoulders giving up.

'Alright, boy. Put on your gear, you're gonna classic Angel this shit.' She motions.

Oh, ho...it has been a while. Have not been assigned to break ins and outs for the front "terrorists" since I was Noel's age...I groan, a roar slipping out of my jaws.

'Take the board, the bombs and put those layers in your hair again, will you?' The vibe shifts, her voice less strained than moments ago.

I snicker, feeling my eyebags deepen. 'No, no. I'll have Lusa do my hair like back then if that'll cheer you up.' I offer my hand, more hypothetically than anything. 'Deal?'

'Yeah, right.' She pretends to shake my hand. 'I'm sending you the coordinates now.'

'Thanks – and sorry, again.'

'Just shut up and don't call again.' She sends me the link when the call closes, hating my guts right now, most likely. It will pass, just like the last thirty times I have pulled her nerves.

My wings flutter. I stretch my arms, linking my hands.

'Hoo...time to crash some skulls.'