How to Save the World and Other Illegal Shenanigans

The Charming Adventures of Vance And Amiel, Vol. 1

He placed himself directly in front of the building. Through the windows, he could see all of the glasses and bottles burning up, falling off the shelves only to explode into more flames. His eyes fell to his stool, right in the middle, worn thin by all of the time he'd spent on it.

It was starting to get hot, so Vance got to work.
Raising his hands, he began to force the flames back into the building. It's much harder work than he would have thought. They pushed back, growing stronger and stronger as they eat up the dry would of the building.

There's some sort of explosion, and the fire surged toward him, just barely missing him. His eyebrows singe slightly. To his left, he hears some sort of groan. Vance does a double take as he sees a long blonde man laying on the ground, a bottle of the liquor variety clenched in his hand.

"You there!" Vance yells, grunting as he forces back the fire. The blonde man slightly turned his head. "What in God's name are you doing on the ground? Can't you see the fire?"

"I'm not doing anything in God's name! I'm doing it for Amiel!"

"Who in the world is Amiel?"

"Me, you thick-headed tomato!"

The man rolled over, clearly annoyed that Vance would have the decency to tell him to move out of the way of the fire, which isn't getting any smaller. Vance grunts once again as he returns to managing the flames. They continued to get bigger, except for maybe the one little corner that Vance managed to put out. Vance grunted. He looked down to the blonde drunk who referred to himself as Amiel, as if he were some sort of angel or something.

He tried to call out to the man, who appeared to be passed out drunk, but it was too late. The fire leapt out and fell on top of him, bringing charred wooden beams with it. They crushed the man underneath, leaving no evidence at all. Vance opened his mouth to say something, but what was there to say? You can't say anything to a dead guy.

To his complete and utter surprise, the beam lifts up and flies away, revealing a very awake and very pissed Amiel underneath.

"Can't a guy get any sleep in here?" He complains. He propped himself up on one arm and made a vague gesture at the burning building. Immediately the flames disappear with a loud pop! He points at the wood, flicks his wrist, and the building repairs itself. Within seconds The Golden Toe Tavern is back on its feet, and looking almost better than it did when it burned down.

Without a backwards glance, Amiel laid back down. Vance, mouth completely open, walked and stood over the man. Sure enough, Amiel is snoring softly, clutching the bottle to his chest like it's some sort of teddy bear.

Vance kicks Amiel in the side.

"Whaddyawant?" Amiel mumbled, rolling over slightly. "Goway."

"How'd you do that?" Vance demanded. The man shrugs noncommittally from the ground.

Vance kicked him again. "How did you do that!"

" 'M an angle," he said. He coughed, then pointed a finger as he corrected himself. "Angel."

"Sure, and I'm Magic Master Supreme." Vance crossed his arms. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to sleep, obviously, but." Amiel laid flat on his back and looked up at Vance, squinting an eye. "Did you do all of that magic stuff? Was that was you?"

"No, it was the dog over there."

"Oh, then I need to go give him a commendation, let me just--" Amiel tried to sit up. Slowly, and with excessive difficulty.

Vance face palmed.

"Of course it was me! My God, you're drunker than I am!" Amiel just stared up at Vance. He pointed a finger. He shook it several times as he searched for the words.

"Do you want to work for Heaven?"

Vance blinked. He never really thought there was even such a thing. If there was, he was much more positive that he was going in the other direction, though. Hell was really more his thing, granted that he was a prolific drinker and did nothing but sit around and complain. But Heaven? Well, they're supposed to be the winning team. Maybe it's for the best.

"Sure?"

"Mkay." Amiel struggled to his feet, wobbling for a second before centering himself right in front of Vance. He looked him in the eyes. "Are you sure?"

Vance was a bit taken aback. Why wouldn't you want to work for Heaven? They're top of the job board. Even the king and queen work for them. And everyone else. Gee, Vance would be above all of them. That'd be amazing.

"Yeah. Sign me up."

Amiel shrugged, then cleared his throat.

"Father, Son, Holy Spirit" -- Amiel crossed Vance-- "head, shoulders, knees and toes" --Amiel pat Vance on his head, shoulders, knees, and toes as he sang-- "Heyyyy, macarena!" With that, Amiel slapped Vance across the face.
Vance stumbled, feeling everything spin around him as Amiel's slap-imbued powers of Above began to run through him. This was what Heaven felt like, he assumed. He felt very light, so much so that he could barely feel his fingertips. His head felt quite light as well, and he watched as Amiel's eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

"Maybe I hit you too hard. Oh, well."

"What do you mean, hit me too hard?"

"It's your, um, the--" Amiel couldn't find the word, instead opting to run his hands through his own hair. "It's a wee bit paler than I would have hoped."

Vance pulled a longer lock of hair in front of his eyes and yelled when he saw that it was an ancient white. "Dude, what the heck?" He froze. Did he really just say 'heck'? Since when? Who even says that?

"Yeah, there's no swearing on this side. Sorry, bud." Amiel shrugged. He raised his bottle to Vance before walking back. "Good luck!"

"What-- you're just going to leave me here? Like this?"

"Why not?" Vance blanked. Amiel raised his bottle again. "Cheers!"

And that was the first time Vance met Amiel, who successfully managed to turn his excitingly lame life into something that could quite possibly do something good in the world.