Neiva hugged her knees to her chest, watching the flames with quiet contentment. "You know something?" she said softly. "Today was completely crazy, but... I think we actually did some good out there."
Sol stretched his long legs toward the fire's warmth, his silver-white hair catching the flickering light. "The fearsome Angel of Death making personal calls to rock stars and feeding hungry families?" He shook his head with a smile that carried genuine warmth. "If someone told me this morning that's how my day would go, I'd have sworn they were nuts."
Angelo said nothing, just kept poking the fire with a stick. His expression was distant, lost in thought. Red materialized beside him in a swirl of crimson smoke, immediately grabbing his own stick. "Bet I can make more sparks than you!" he declared with his trademark wild grin, attacking the fire with chaotic enthusiasm.
Sol watched them for a moment before leaning forward, curiosity burning in his eyes. "You know, I've got to ask – what's the real story behind the whole Angel of Death thing? When did you actually start using that title?"
Angelo's shoulders tensed slightly. "Interesting. When we first met, you knew exactly who I was. Now you're playing dumb?"
"Oh come on," Sol spread his hands. "Everyone in Novaria knows about the Angel of Death and his famous 'surrender or die' ultimatum. But that's just surface stuff – I want to know why that specific title."
Angelo sighed, his stick pausing mid-poke. "For your information, I didn't pick it. People just started calling me that, and eventually I decided to own it."
Sol's jaw actually dropped. "No way! Are you serious?"
Red's laughter carried wicked delight. "Shocking, right? Our dramatic Angie would totally have picked something that fancy himself if they hadn't beaten him to it."
"Who's 'they'?" Sol pressed, clearly fascinated.
Angelo shrugged, trying to look bored but not quite pulling it off. "Started on social media, spread to the news. Pretty soon even the criminals were using it. That's when I figured I might as well embrace it."
"But why Angel of Death specifically?" Sol wouldn't let it go. "I mean, that's pretty dramatic. Why not something simpler like 'The Executioner' or 'The Killer'?"
"Maybe because my name's Angelo?" Another shrug. "Though I don't know how random people online would know that..."
"Wait." Neiva straightened suddenly. "You mean you don't know?"
Red's grin somehow got even wider. "Oh? Sugar-tits knows something we don't?"
Sol shot Red a disapproving look, but Neiva didn't even flinch. "Guess I do," she said with quiet confidence. "I did a lot of research on the Angel of Death when I was... you know, looking for you."
Angelo gestured for her to continue, genuine curiosity replacing his forced disinterest.
"It's all about how you operate," Neiva explained, her voice growing stronger. "People noticed that you always give criminals a chance at redemption – even the worst ones. And you actually keep that promise. When someone surrenders, you don't hurt them at all." Her expression darkened slightly. "But if they refuse your mercy..."
"They meet their end," Angelo finished quietly. "Without fail."
"Exactly." Neiva nodded. "Merciful like an angel, but delivers judgment like death itself. That's the name's roots."
Angelo stared into the flames, letting that sink in. Sol watched him with growing intensity before asking, "So what's the real story behind your approach? Why give them that choice at all?"
Angelo's eyes lifted to meet Sol's, orange firelight reflecting in his steady gaze. "If staring death in the face doesn't change a man, nothing will."
"I heard you say that to Dilan," Sol acknowledged. "But what does it really mean to you?"
Angelo was quiet for a long moment, the fire crackling between them. "Survival is the strongest instinct we have – humans and animals alike. If someone can look death in the eye and still choose evil... they're beyond saving. No point letting them continue hurting others."
Sol lifted his chin. "Is that where your conviction comes from? The strength to kill anyone – even someone as young as Dilan?"
"It's never easy." Angelo's voice carried the weight of old pain. "Taking a life is a burden that never gets lighter."
"Then why do it with such absolute certainty?"
"Because if I spare someone who goes on to kill an innocent person, that blood is on my hands too." Angelo's gaze returned to the flames. "I'm choosing the lesser burden."
Sol's eyes drifted to where Red lounged against a log. "What about you two? Do you and Blue agree with his methods?"
"I just like violence," Red announced cheerfully.
"Of course you do." Sol sighed. "And Blue?"
"Blue's... complicated," Angelo admitted. "He keeps his opinions pretty close to the chest."
"All we know is he's a nerd who likes nerdy things," Red added with a snicker.
A soft "How rude." drifted through their mental link.
Angelo's mouth twisted in a smile that held no humor. "I get the feeling we don't exactly see eye to eye on the whole Angel of Death thing."
"Then why does he go along with it?" Sol pressed. "He didn't try to stop you with Dilan. And no offense, but I doubt you'd have much success if that powerhouse actually decided to intervene."
The word 'powerhouse' made Red's usual grin vanish, replaced by cold fury. Before he could speak, Blue materialized beside them, his perfect posture a stark contrast to everyone else's casual sprawl. The clearing fell silent as they waited for his response.
"I believe you've misjudged my character," Blue said with scholarly precision. "Whether I share Angelo's views is irrelevant. I cannot simply declare one perspective right or wrong."
Sol nodded slowly, but Blue wasn't finished. His expression grew darker than Angelo had ever seen it.
"Furthermore, you've made another incorrect assumption," Blue continued, each word crystal clear. "I do not value human life as highly as you believe. My passion lies in unlocking the universe's mysteries. Those who do not contribute to that pursuit..." He let the words hang in the air like smoke.
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Sol leaned back against his log, firelight dancing across his thoughtful face. "So you three at least agree on one thing." He studied them. "But what I'm really dying to know is how it all started. Something must have triggered such an unshakeable view of justice."
Angelo poked at the fire, sending sparks spiraling upward. "You're really going to make me talk about this?"
"Come on, Angie!" Red's predatory grin somehow got wider. "You're already halfway down that rabbit hole!"
Angelo ran a hand down his face like he was trying to wipe away memories. When he finally brought his fingers together in front his face, everyone could feel the weight settling over their little camp. Even the crickets seemed to quiet down, like nature itself was holding its breath. Blue's azure smoke streamed back into Angelo without a word, clearly not wanting to relive whatever was coming.
The fire crackled softly as Angelo stared into its depths, seeing something far beyond the dancing flames. "It happened during the New Light Festival back in Ashford, my hometown. About six years ago now..." His voice grew distant with memory. "Back then, Red and Blue couldn't take physical form yet. We all thought they were just... you know, voices in my head."
[Ashford 6 years ago]
The setting sun painted the sky blood-orange, mixing with thick smoke that rose from burning homes and trees. Screams filled the air – some from terrified townspeople running for their lives, others from Aurons locked in desperate battles.
A much younger Angelo stood at the entrance to the town's shelter, carved deep into the mountain's side. His hair was shorter then, his nose not yet broken, but his eyes already glowed that distinctive orange when his powers stirred. His heart hammered against his ribs as he watched his home descend into chaos.
"Angelo, get inside!" Thomas, one of the town elders, grabbed his arm. "This is no place for a child!"
"But Sleeser's out there!" Angelo's voice cracked between determination and fear. "What if he needs help? I've got powers now – I can fight!"
Thomas tightened his grip. "For heaven's sake, boy! You're not even thirteen! What could you possibly do against these terrorists?"
Orange light flickered to life around Angelo like a gentle flame, giving him strength beyond his years. He could easily break free now, but Thomas's next words made him hesitate.
"Think about young Sleeser," Thomas pleaded. "If anything happened to you, it would destroy him."
Angelo's eyes filled with tears as he stared at the ground, teeth clenched. "Yeah? Well at least everyone else in town would be happy!"
Thomas's expression softened with understanding, but his grip stayed firm. That's when the voices started – the ones Angelo thought lived only in his head.
"Ditch the old geezer!" The first voice crackled with wild energy. "Prove yourself! They'll have to see you as a hero then!"
Angelo's head snapped up, hope flickering in his chest. But a second, gentler voice cut through: "Don't be stupid. Sleeser's the only one who truly cares for you. Thomas is right – your death would break him."
"Don't listen to that coward!" the first voice argued. "He just wants to hold us back!"
"Be reasonable!" the calm voice grew stronger. "These are trained killers! We're just a child!"
The argument raged in Angelo's head until he couldn't take it anymore. With a frustrated scream, he yanked free from Thomas and ran toward the burning town.
"ANGELO, NO!" Thomas's cry followed him into darkness.
"This is crazy – turn back!" the gentle voice pleaded.
"Keep going!" the fierce one urged. "We can catch them by surprise!"
The scene that greeted him stopped Angelo cold. Bodies lay scattered across streets he'd walked every day of his life. The air reeked of blood and smoke. Aurons clashed with deadly force, their powers lighting up the growing darkness.
"Don't freeze up!" the wild voice commanded. "People need saving! Sleeser might be in trouble!"
"This was a terrible mistake," the gentle voice whispered, subdued by the horror around them.
Movement caught Angelo's eye – a woman bolting from her hiding place, running blind with terror. But she wasn't alone. Another figure leapt after her, power crackling around them.
"They're going to kill her! MOVE!" the fierce voice screamed inside Angelo's head.
The woman stumbled and fell. Her attacker approached slowly, savoring her fear. Angelo stood frozen, his young mind unable to process the scene before him.
"DO SOMETHING!" the voice raged.
"I... I can't..." Angelo's whole body trembled.
"Look left – there's an axe! It's our only chance!"
Angelo's eyes found the weapon, lodged in a fallen log. His hand shook as he wrapped fingers around the handle, pulling it free. The terrorist raised a fire-wrapped fist as the woman screamed.
Something snapped inside Angelo. With a high-pitched battle cry, he charged. The attacker started to turn, but too late – Angelo's axe bit deep into their back, cutting through cloth and flesh and bone.
The terrorist's scream of pain cut off as their power winked out like a snuffed candle. They crumpled, dragging the bloody axe from Angelo's trembling hands. The woman hugged her knees, sobbing, splattered with her attacker's blood.
Angelo stared at his red-stained hands, his mind struggling to understand what he'd done. Suddenly he could hear steps approaching, making Angelo's head snap up before strong hands gripped his shoulders, spinning him around. Sleeser's face was pale with horror as he stared at his blood-covered student.
"I had to," Angelo whispered, his voice cracking. "He was going to..." He swallowed hard, "One of the voices told me..."
His breathing turned rapid and shallow as the reality of what he'd done crashed over him. Blood-slick hands clutched at his head, smearing red across his face and hair.
"I killed him," Angelo gasped between frantic breaths. "I'm a killer... a murderer..." His eyes lost focus as tears cut clean trails through the blood. Both voices in his head had fallen silent.
"Angelo! ANGELO! LOOK AT ME!" Sleeser shook him, ignoring the blood that covered his own hands.
Angelo's legs gave out as his power flickered and died. Only Sleeser's grip kept him from collapsing completely.
"What am I going to do?" Angelo sobbed. "What am I going to do?"
"Listen to me," Sleeser's voice was firm but gentle. "You are not to blame for this."
Angelo's tear-filled eyes finally focused on his teacher's face.
Sleeser took a deep breath. "These terrorists knew exactly what they were doing. They knew death was a possibility, but they chose this path anyway... Listen..."
Then Sleeser spoke the words that would shape Angelo's entire future: "If staring death in the face doesn't change a man... nothing will."
"What... what does that mean?" Angelo hiccupped through his tears.
"It means you took the life of someone who chose evil, even knowing they might die." Sleeser's expression was heavy with meaning. "And by doing that, you saved an innocent life. Don't carry guilt for doing the right thing."
"So... I'm not a murderer?" Angelo's voice was barely a whisper.
"No, Angelo. You're a hero..."
[Back in the present]
The campfire had burned lower as Angelo finished his story, casting gentle shadows across stunned faces. Even the forest seemed quieter, like the trees themselves were processing what they'd heard. Red had climbed up to perch on a branch above them, his gray-tinted form barely visible in the darkness.
Sol cleared his throat, trying to find words. "That's, uh... that's really heavy stuff."
Angelo just stared into the dying flames, his voice distant. "I joined Novaria's police at sixteen. Took about a year before that motto came back to me. After that..." He shrugged. "Well, you know how the story goes."
"Man." Sol ran a hand through his silver-white hair, clearly struggling to process everything. Beside him, Neiva hugged her knees tighter, her expression dark with understanding.
Red's wild laugh drifted down from his perch. "Guess fucked up childhoods make fucked up people! Who would've thought?"
"Can't argue with that." Angelo poked at the fire with a stick, sending sparks dancing upward. "But I wouldn't have kept going if I didn't see the Angel of Death making a real difference."
"Yeah?" Sol leaned forward, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer. "Like what?"
"Crime rates dropped like a rock once word got around." Angelo's stick traced patterns in the ashes. "Turns out being really tough on criminals actually works. Go figure."
"That all?"
"Well, that and the fact that I never saw the same criminal twice – alive or dead." Angelo's eyes reflected the firelight. "Proved my approach was working. The ones who chose to change really did change. The ones who didn't..." He shrugged again. "My gut says they would've crossed my path again if I'd let them walk away."
"We'll never know for sure though." Sol tilted his head back, watching stars peek through the branches. "Hard not to wonder if some of them could have changed, given more time..."
"I believe in Angelo." Neiva's quiet voice carried absolute certainty as she hugged her knees tighter. "He made the right call with my parents' killer. I trust his judgment about the others too."
Sol just hummed thoughtfully, lacing his fingers behind his head as he studied the night sky. The fire crackled softly between them, painting everything in gentle orange light that somehow made the darkness beyond their circle feel deeper. Sometimes the hardest truths came wrapped in simple words, spoken around dying campfires in the middle of nowhere.