"You obviously have prior military experience." The leader of the monkeys mused, observing Raffe with a calculating look in the dark room. The stench of sweat, fear and his own blood clogged Raffe's sinuses and he rolled his shoulders, taking a deep bored breath as he stared down the soldiers standing guard in the four corners of the dank room. Their guns were locked and loaded, stances tight with adrenalin and anxiety as they stared at what they assumed to be an exceedingly large man. If only they knew, there would be more bullets wasted on Raffe than he assumed they had used in all the time they had been pulling together their little Resistance scheme.

Raffe stared down the leader with a withering glare as he was peppered with questions and big speeches which meant nothing to him. He was already planning his escape, and would be out and back on the road to the aerie before they even noticed he had gone. Finally back to his people after so many millennium away from them. Finally he could return having completed his mission. Kill the Nephilim monsters. Oh he had killed, but he was positive it hadn't been the children of his Watchers. No, the small creatures he had flayed open with his sword had nothing of his brother's blood in them. But monsters they were.

His back burned something fierce and he hoped the black shirt he had ripped from a monkey and the dark sweater he had taken from a broken-up store would keep the leaking blood from showing. If the stains bled through, he would be up shit creek without a paddle. He needed to find a surgeon. Maybe it was too late? Could he still re-attach his wings after so long? And would anybody be willing? After all, it had been so long…

Eventually the leader, Obadiah, gave up is insistent questioning with a weary sigh.

"Perhaps you will be more talkative by morning." He murmured, almost to himself, and ordered his soldiers to tie Raffe to one of the hard beds in the corner. Ropes – he would be through them in seconds. Obi paused in the doorway and there was a terse moment of pregnant silence, before he uttered five words that Raffe had dreaded.

"Use the cuffs as well."

Human food, Raffe had decided, was disgusting. He had vivid imaged of feeding it to hellions and watching them suffer. But it was calories and he needed to build his energy up if he were to continue the healing of the throbbing wounds where his wing joints were severed.

Humans were also very noisy.

In the cramped cafeteria he felt a pounding in his temples as their shrill voices vibrated through his ear drums. An assortment of Daughters of Men had surrounded him at the table he was seated, and he felt his skin crawl as one laid a hand on his forearm. He shot her a glare and the silky smile she had plastered on her face weakened, fear circling her irises before she backed up cautiously.

How his Watchers had fallen in love with such pitiful, scrawny beings was beyond him. Why sink to such level when there are perfectly... perfect angels available.

A low murmur suddenly spread through the room and the doors burst open dramatically, two identical red-head boys swaggering in with matching mischievous grins stretching their soot-stained faces. They ribbed a Daughter of Man trudging between them and she shot a murderous glare at the one on her right, before pushing ahead and aiming for a table near where Raffe was seated. He watched with quiet disinterest, unable to prevent his brain from marking down her few traits. She walked with an awkward limp to her left leg which he assumed was a fresh injury by the way the skin around her mouth and eyes tensed with each step, as if she wasn't yet accustomed to the shooting pain which was evidently present. Her dark hair was pulled back loosely from a gaunt face, milky-skin smeared with greying soot. And brown eyes that he would have associated with mud if it weren't for the fiery shine burning from them. Her strides were determined, muscles taut, as if ready for a fight at any moment. But the smile that graced her face was so rare it turned Raffe's stomach to a block of sharp ice. He watched as a young girl stretched her arms from a metal wheeled contraption, a similar smile stretching her pixie face. There was still enough innocence in that smile for it to be completely genuine, pride and relief shining in her eyes as her gaze surveyed the older girl.

"Ryn-Ryn," she exclaimed as the older girl took her into a warm hug, resting her cheek against the young girls head.

"Paige," she sighed, relief evident on her face. Relieved for what reason, Raffe pondered silently.

"Did you get them? Did you find mum?" the young girl, Paige, asked curiously as she settled back in the metal frame. The older girl ruffled her hair, perching on the edge of the table and resting a heavy boot on one of the oversized wheels of the other girl's chair.

"We made some damage, but nothing worth bragging about."

"And mummy?"

A tense moment passed, a frown creasing the older girls face, lines etched into her forehead. Finally she shook her head gently, squeezing Paige's shoulder reassuringly. Her knuckles were red raw, scabs refusing to heal as the clotted blood was parted with every move of her hands. Dark hues of blue, green and purple blemished the otherwise unmarred skin.

Obadiah swept into the room next, and Raffe arched a coal dark eyebrow as he watched the man embrace the girl. She stood stiffly, arms out to her sides and a cagey expression on her face, mouth scrunched up distastefully. Obi pulled back and rested his hands on her shoulders, holding her at arm's length and looking her over.

"We have much to speak of Penryn."

Unusual name, Raffe mused as the girl gave a sharp nod before turning on her heel and walking with Obi out of the door, the twin boys flanking them. A strong name.

"We blew that place apart!"

"Like a volcano!"

"Ka-boom!"

"It was magnificent-"

"A work of art-"

"Fireworks-"

"Bombs-"

Obi glanced at Penryn and she raised her eyebrows at him, as if to ask how she was supposed to keep the Tweedle Twins in line. Of course, they generally followed her orders. An unlikely alliance/friendship had formed and the twins usually listened to Penryn. And they had in fact listened when she said to blow the place to pieces. It was like an atomic bomb had gone off under the building. The soundwave blew her off her feet and she landed awkwardly, scraping the skin from her arm and left leg which had suffered a sharp jolt and was refusing to work properly for her now. A cloud of smoke and flames had engulfed the buildings. Unfortunately, the majority of the flying bastards had escaped. But she knew for certain that a few of them had burnt up in the blaze and were dead. It was a small victory, even if it hadn't been the intended outcome.

DeeDum went into a back-and-forth detailed description of the mission, with Penryn occasionally popping in her own ten cents feeling as though she may as well add something to reassure Obi of her involvement and leadership. She thanked her lucky stars that DeeDum never mentioned their brief detour from the mission. Curiosity had always been a plague through humanity, and the three teens had been twitchy and anxious as they fought to stick to the plan. Eventually it became too much, and they decided to go for a quick peek into the aerie. What they had seen was more than disturbing, and Penryn feared that the images were seared to the insides of her eyeballs. Sleep was going to be cursed tonight.

The debriefing was over quickly, but as she made her way to leave Obi called her back. Tensing she shot the Twins an 'oh shit' glance before closing the door behind them and turning to the leader warily.

"Yes sir?"

"We have a new recruit," Obi eyed her, before settling himself on the edge of a table and resting his palms on his knees.

"That's good …isn't it?" she asked curiously, seeing the weariness waring on Obi's face.

"Perhaps I spoke too quickly… what I mean is that we... detained him after one of the scouting groups found him wandering near the camp. He could be a valuable recruit, but I haven't managed to get through to him. He isn't responding well to me, and I fear-" He cut himself off suddenly, his gaze holding Penryn's and for once she noticed just how fatigued the older man was. It wasn't too surprising, what with the weight of humanity sitting on his shoulders, but he always carried himself with such confidence it was hard to imagine him being beat down and dog-tired. But by-god did he look exhausted in that moment.

"Sir?"

"You've always been better with the warriors Penryn. You know how their minds work, and believe it or not a lot of the men round here have a grudging respect for your skills. You have ability and promise beyond your years, and you intimidate men over twice your age. Yes, I'm sure they'd like to see you removed, to feel more like a man again. But they care too much for their own safety to threaten yours."

"Skip the flattery Obi, what are you trying to say? That you want me to recruit this guy for you? As if I'm not doing enough of your dirty work." She replied sarcastically with a roll of her eyes, and Obi felt a jolt as he was reminded once again of just how young this girl really was. Just a teenager and he trusted and respected her more than, well, any of the other men and woman his age.

"I want you to convince him to join the Resistance. It could make a big difference to our chances."

"Chances of what? Defeating the angels? All because we've got one more guy willing to fight for us?"

"If he turns out to be anything like you, I'd be inclined to say yes."

Wrinkling my nose, I kicked my boots through the pine needles scattering the grounds of the camp as I headed towards the lavatories. The smell was already bad from here. Thank fuck I had been promoted into the firing ranges where I taught our soldiers (anybody willing to hold a gun and shoot it) how to use the different weapons we had at our disposal. If anybody dared challenge me, I also got to through a few punches to put them back into their place. I was never a violent girl, surprising when I look back on my home life, but since the angels had invaded a deep fury was bubbling just under the surface of my skin and screaming to be let loose. If the chance ever came about of getting a hold of an angel, I don't think I would ever be able to look at myself again. Dreams of ripping them apart, plucking each feather and sawing through joints had woken me in a sweat many a night.

And then there was Paige. I would do anything to keep her safe. She was the reason we had joined the Resistance. As much as I hated to admit it, they were our best chance at survival. They had food, shelter, water and a sense of purpose. She was safer here than if we were to continue running through the streets like rats or struggling through the forest with her wheelchair.

DeeDum appeared at my side out of thin air and I rolled my eyes as Dee swung an obviously pick-pocketed knife in my view.

"Spymasters, I have a much more fulfilling mission in store for you." I goaded and could practically see their ears perk up in interest. "We have a new member to the camp. Your mission is to help me find him, and then I have to recruit him." I grumbled the last part bad-naturedly and they let loose a matching chuckle.

"Aww poor Ryn-Ryn,"

"Having to make nice,"

"I pity the poor bugger,"

"He has no idea what he's in for,"

"Is Obi out of his mind?"

"Sending you instead of the charming twins?"

"It's like picking a grizzly bear over a kitten."

They let loose a hoot of laughter and I stopped in my tracks, fisting my hands and resting them on my hips as I waited for them to stop laughing. These boys would be the death of me, forget about angels. Grins stretched their faces and then they relented and pointed towards a dark-clothed figure helping to dig a ditch.

"That would be your man. Good luck," they grinned, before turning and sauntering off.

Heading towards the man, I felt uneasiness shifting restlessly under my skin. He was huge, bigger than any man I had met. Muscles bulged under his dark shirt, and I noted that there seemed to be extra padding around his chest and back. Bandages maybe? From what…

Striding up, I fought the urge to cross my arms – a classic defensive move, showing discomfort and fear. There was a soft murmur from the other men, and I felt the eyes of the woman piercing my back as they scrubbed at the giant loads of washing. I had spent a few weeks with them, but after a few fights had been drafted into the Resistance Army where I got to put the burning rage to good use.

The man stiffened, as if sensing me, and turned to look at me over his shoulder. Something flashed across his face, an emotion I couldn't read, before he turned and leant on the spade, eyeing me cautiously.

"Follow me," I commanded, spinning on my heel and heading towards one of the storage buildings. There was a pause and I glanced over my shoulder, grinding my jaw at the stubborn set to his face. "You can either come now, or after you've spent another five hours digging trenches and dealing with faeces. Makes no difference to me." I shrugged, hooking my fingers into my belt loops and reassuring myself that the heavy weight of my knife was settled in one of my pockets. For a moment, I think he may just choose the latter option, if only to be frustrating, but he sets his spade down and follows me into the building.

Opening a door to one of the rooms, I eye the table and two chairs and stiffen, feeling like this was going to turn into an interrogation. For lack of a better option, I lead him into the room and lean against the table.

"Take a seat,"

"I'd rather stand." He replied sarcastically, his deep voice rumbling in his chest, close to a growl.

"Suit yourself," I shrug, shuffling onto the desk and resting my boots on the seat of one of the chairs. "So where are you from?" I ask, hoping to ease up the tension in the room. He raise an eyebrow, as if to say 'seriously?' and I pull the knife from my pocket, flipping it open and shut, needing something to do with my hands as restlessness itched its way through my body.

"Okay how about a name? If not your real one, then pick something I can call you." I suggest, looking up as he leans back on the door. Suddenly I become aware that he is a very large man and I am a very small girl. It's always been an issue, but since coming to the camp it hasn't been such a dangerous matter. There is always somebody to watch your back, if not always for the right reasons. But the chances of being assaulted or raped are considerably reduced, next to non-existent. If not for the weekly fights for people to bet on and let off some steam.

And here is a complete stranger who nobody has any information on, leaning against my only escape route.

"My friends call me Wrath of God, my enemies call me Please Have Mercy." He replies with a snarl in his voice and I grind my teeth.

"Okay then, I'll call you Mercy." I reply, feeling the snarl work its way up my throat and tempt my lip into curling. I had no time for jackasses. "So Mercy, I'm Penryn and I've been roped into trying to convince you to join this fine establishment. Two questionable meals a day, roof over your head, clean clothes, and safety, what more could you ask for?" I say, spreading my hands, knife lying flat against my palm.

"Your safety is just an illusion," he replies, crossing his arms over his chest, biceps straining against the sleeves of the shirt.

"Probably, but it's better than being on your own out in the woods, or being caught by a gang in the city." I point out, though he looks like somebody who would put Bear Grylls to shame and intimidate any gang member into wailing for his mummy. He raises a coal black eyebrow and I sigh.

"Look, the more of us that band together the greater the chances of survival. I'm not saying we'll ever be able to remove the angels, but believe me I'll fight until my last breath to rid our world of them. And I know that seems impossible, in fact it most certainly is, but we have to at least try. We can't let them have our world, they don't deserve it. All they have brought is death and destruction. Our people are scattered, but if we can get enough to join together we might be able to make a difference. Surely you want to show the bastards what you're made of? Better to go out with a bang, than cowering in a corner waiting for death." My voice grows stronger with each passing word, but the bored expression stays firmly rooted to his stubborn face. A sharp pain engulfs my hand, and I glance down, sucking in a breath as I realise that I have curled my palm around the knife, slitting the skin tenderly. Blood flows freely down the heart lines, deep crimson against soot-stained ivory. Blue and purple veins criss-cross like rivers under the skin, merging together on the underside of my wrist where the skin is thin and stretched tight, before branching off to different directions of my body.

"You won't be forced to stay. We can't risk having any disloyalty here. But if you choose to leave, be aware that it will always be viewed as nothing but cowardice to reject your duties to protect the only home we have. And when the End of Days comes, you'll feel nothing but bitterness and remorse and fear for not spending the end of your life surrounded by people who tried their hardest to defend and conserve our world."