Ages ago...
Icarus soared in the golden sunlight, his feathered wings catching the rushing wind and lifting him ever higher. He heard the distant calls of his father, Daedalus, but the wind snatched them away before he could understand them. The sun was warm on his face, and laughter filled his mouth. After being imprisoned in the labyrinth on Crete by King Minos, flying in the open sky, breathing the clean air was wondrous beyond description.
A flicking sound reached his ears as his flight became unsteady. Looking to the wings his father had crafted for him, he saw the wax melting in the heat of the sun and the feathers breaking loose and falling behind him in a wake of aerial debris. His began to lose altitude and plummet toward the deathly embrace of the sea. Flapping his arms to try and recover his altitude only broke away more feathers and increased the disintegration of his constructed wings. It wasn't long before the feathers were gone entirely and he was waving his arms in the open air.
In the instant before he hit the waters, everything around him froze. Although he could turn his head, even twist his body, he remained suspended in place as if hanging in the sky by unseen ropes. Droplets of water, having broken away from white capped waves, hung still and free, clear gems of liquid sparkling in the sunlight.
"Icarus," a voice called. Loud and majestic as a waterfall, the voice thundering through the stillness of the frozen moment made Icarus instinctively flinch. The voice called again with more insistence, "Icarus!"
"Yes?" he answered when he was able to find his voice again.
"You have been chosen," the voice declared.
"Chosen for what?" he questioned.
Golden light brighter than the sun burst into existence before him, forcing him to shield his eyes. From within the midst of the light, the voice called to him again. "Icarus. You have been chosen to receive the wings of an angel. There is a price, and should you decline the wings and the associated costs, time shall resume where it was before we spoke."
"Considering I'm about to drown," Icarus reasoned out loud. "I'd say my best choice is to accept."
The light dimmed to a degree Icarus could see without having to shield his face, and the golden rays withdrew and condensed into the armored form of an angel. A pair of silvery wings, each nearly as long as the man was tall, slowly moved through the air, keeping the celestial being aloft with marginal effort. Solidified sunlight encased the divine warrior in layers of ornate armor. A sword was held ready in the right hand, its blade a polished mirror.
"Do you accept the costs of the offered wings?" the angel insisted.
"I will pay what is asked of me," Icarus agreed.
The angel moved its free hand, and Icarus was turned around in mid-air so he was no longer hanging upside down an instant before impact but was instead standing in the open sky above the motionless waters of the ocean
"Your feathers shall be fifty in number," the angel explained. "And, you shall serve the Hosts of Heaven fifty years for each feather. Long life shall be granted you in order that you may render payment in full. If you should be killed, you shall be restored at the cost of a century of additional time."
"Wait!" Icarus protested.
"You promised to pay the costs," the angel pointed out, raising his sword. "By your own free will, you did strike this bargain. It is by no fault of mine you didn't ask the costs before accepting. The deal was offered and agreed upon. Now, it shall be done."
The angel touched the tip of his sword against Icarus' chest. White flames lit the blade, rushing down the metal and out across his skin. Icarus's muscles tensed as he winced, leaning back as if hoping to avoid the fire. The expected agony did not follow; the flames washed across his skin like a warm rain, leaving neither charred flesh nor blistered skin in their wake. When the flames reached his back, they solidified, stretching out to either side and becoming white wings of such brilliance, a noonday sun on fresh snow wouldn't have shown as brightly. Armor appeared next, though it was a gleaming gold metal rather than what the angel wore. A sword appeared at Icarus' side in a sheath hanging from a belt securely fastened around his waist.
"Your task is simply but vast," the angel explained. "Hunt down the forces of evil wherever they may hide, wherever their twisted deceptions take root. Break their strongholds, vanquish their champions, and destroy them utterly. This is your mission, and until your debt is paid in full, you have no other purpose."
The angel brought his own wings together, and in a lightning flash, he was gone. The world around Icarus resumed, and he soared upward to reunite with his father.
"What happened to you?" Daedalus questioned. He looked closely at the wings. "These aren't the ones I made."
"No, they're not," Icarus confirmed. "An angel gave them to me in exchange for many, many years of service."
Present Day...
The gang scrambled through the trash filled alleys in a panicked flight, tripping over discarded cardboard boxes covered in water stains and mold, scattering them in all directions. A few of the gang looked over their shoulders to see if they had lost their pursuer in the tangle of back streets and access ways of the old city. There was no sign of anyone, only bare concrete and asphalt. Few of the neighboring shops had lights in working order, so voids of utter darkness between them were common.
"Wait," one of the gang members hissed to his associates. Leaning over with his hands on his knees, the man, barely out of his teens, tried to catch his breath. Five of the six halted and looked back, noticing a lack of anyone chasing them. The last man continued to run despite hearing the assurances from the others of all being safe. Because of his speed, he didn't see the arm in time to stop as it reached out from a side passage and barred his way forward, catching the unyielding arm across his collarbone and dropping him painfully hard to the ground.
Stepping into the main alley, and standing over the gang member he'd just taken down, Icarus dusted off the sleeve of his black leather jacket. His face was hidden by the shadows of the alley, but the gang members could still see his golden eyes as if they were possessed of a light of their own.
"You were warned to change your ways," Icarus reminded them. "You clearly did not listen."
Extending his right arm out to the side, his hand vanished up to the wrist in the empty air. Pulling his hand out of the spiritual world, he brought forth his gleaming sword. A rising mist of pale white light melted through the back of his jacket as the gang members stared at him in unwavering, wide-eyed focus. The mist condensed into his wings, spreading out to brush the alley walls on either side of him and erase any graffiti they touched as he marched toward them. The jaws of the gang members hung agape, and their knees buckled out from under them when they tried to retreat. There was no escape. Icarus' sword flashed as he swung it.
***
Icarus soared into the night sky and landed gently atop a skyscraper's roof, moonlight sparkling off his wings. As he looked at the darkened city, glittering gemstones on a carpet of black velvet, he heard the sirens of emergency vehicles. They'd become nearly a constant backdrop for everything in the city, a ceaseless reminder his work was not done. He sighed as his wings drooped slightly.
"Weary?" asked a familiar voice.
Icarus gritted his teeth. "What do you want, Ralius?"
"You should know me well enough by now to answer the question without having to ask it," the angel replied, folding his wings behind him and leaning casually against the side of a large air conditioning unit.
"You want to serve the will of Heaven," Icarus muttered.
"Nothing else is as important," Ralius told him. "Why are you upset? You've been doing good work these many centuries since I recruited you into the service of Heaven. You've cleared away a considerable amount of evil and protected countless innocents."
"It's not enough," Icarus growled. He hung his head. "It's never enough."
"I wouldn't be so sure," Ralius countered. "Your time of service is nearly complete, and your debt will have been paid in full."
"It's not that," Icarus denied. He looked up, gesturing to the city. "It's them. For centuries, I've been cleaning outs nests of evil, pursing those I couldn't eliminate immediately. What good has it done? Every time progress is made, and humanity starts to come out into the light, they lose their way again, and it all slides right back into the cesspool of sin. Look around, we're headed there again."
"Your frustration with humanity is very understandable," Ralius accepted. "However, this can be a good thing. Out of the greatest darkness come the brightest, most unshakable lights. Humanity has a weakness for allowing things to deteriorate, but they have a history of fighting the darkness back and bringing about near golden ages of justice and beauty. As the world gets darker, those who seek the light will join together. Their frustration, similar to your own, will drive them to make things better. Even if it is only in small communities, they will grow. Remember, even tiny drops can make a vast ocean when they come together. They will serve as a clear example of the difference between the darkness of the world and the brightness Heaven intended."
Another siren joined the chorus.
"And if the world should ignore or reject that example?" Icarus prompted.
"You know as well as I do," Ralius pointed out, "Yours is not the only time that grows short. God will put an end to their misdeeds, and all those who didn't accept the offer of salvation will face judgement. Afterwards, the world will be set right and never stray again."
"A day to look forward to," Icarus agreed.
"Until then," Ralius declared in a happier tone, pushing away from the air conditioner and spreading his wings, "we have monsters to hunt before they can claim any more innocents."
Icarus' grip on his sword tightened.
"Save those we can," Icarus thought aloud. "Vanquish the unrepentant."
Together, the two angels swooped down upon the city.