Oliver: The Dark Angel

From atop a tall hill, hidden under the leaves of a drooping tree, a blue-eyed brunette man wearing a black suit watched the road through a pair of binoculars. He’d chosen a good hiding place, albeit a really dirty one, he thought to himself. His suit was going to be covered in leaves and pollen. He pulled the binoculars down and ducked into the underbrush as a silver car approached a house on the street. The car slowed down and entered the driveway before parking. Two people walked out- a man and a young boy holding a bright red backpack. They entered the house. Oliver had already done his research on the family. The mother wasn’t secretive about her identity. She often posted pictures online of her smiling next to the food she’d cooked or baked, and otherwise boasted no talents. She was not prideful, but her achievements made her happy. A typical housewife who, once wounded, would be all but finished. The father was not quite as outspoken as the mother, but he’d bought a firearm recently, most likely to protect himself from the city’s most prominent threat to middle-class families with young children. Furthermore, the father worked for Kronus Technologies, which made him quite a valuable target in his own right. As for the child, his behavior would be a little more unpredictable. Oliver stuffed the binoculars into his belt pouch. He pulled at a rope in his clothes- his black blazer unfurled into something resembling a long-tailed coat. He unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a blood red waistcoat underneath his white shirt. His blue eyes changed color, becoming as red as garnets. Large black wings burst forth from his back as he pulled out something else from his belt pouch- a sword hilt. He twisted the gem on the pommel- it folded out into a greatsword. Oliver Perch and the Dark Angel were one and the same. But while one was the name of a man foresworn to keep up appearances, the other was the name of a man off his leash, using the full extent of his strength- the one this whole city feared. Angel, they called him, because “Dark Angel” was too long, apparently. He didn’t mind- angels and demons were two sides of the same coin, as his existence served to prove. “Now,” whispered the Dark Angel, “how to best crush them?” He’d already come up with a plan, having studied the house’s floor plan and the behavior of the three people who lived there. They had security cameras all over the house, a measure they installed only about one year ago. They were connected to the home network, and their collected data could be viewed on their tablets and laptops. They did so whenever they heard a suspicious noise. The man spread his wings and launched himself into the air, deftly maneuvering between the tree branches until he reached open air. It was simple- the wings themselves were closer to a mind-controlled jetpack, with the feathers serving to aid in precise midair movements. He hovered over the house before descending onto the roof, landing on top of it with a pair of gentle clicks from his boots. He found the gable above one of the security cameras and walked over to it. He sat down and listened, letting his foot block the camera’s view. A strange noise, and a blocked camera. The first thing they’ll do… Angel’s eyes widened as his symbot-enhanced hearing caught footsteps running up the stairs. He quickly stood up. … Is run up to investigate. Angel jumped off the roof and flew to the other side of the house, landing in front of the front door. One punch and the front door lock broke clean off, allowing him to throw the door open. Now, how shall I introduce myself? When he opened the door, he found the child and his mother frozen in fear, like a pair of deer in the headlights. Angel smiled. “Sorry to barge in like this!” He walked into the house and approached the mother. The mother snapped out of her stupor, and began looking for anything that could serve as a weapon. She found something- a large wok. She took it in her hands and swung it at his head. The wife is weak, Angel thought, and the wok isn’t quite the weapon she thinks it is. He sidestepped her swing, then grabbed her arms when she went to swing it again. They struggled against each other. She shouted for her child to run. Angel managed to pull the wok out of her hand and throw it aside. Then, he shoved her against the wall and pulled out his sword. The impact made the child scream. The woman managed to dodge his first attack, but as she tried to scurry away, he struck her side with the sword. She collapsed, screaming in pain, before he sunk his blade into her stomach, ending her life after a few painful moments. Blood pooled onto the floor as he pulled his sword out. The child screamed again as Angel’s gaze shifted to him. “Oh, stop screaming.” Angel threw the child a few bitter words. He turned around as he heard footsteps approaching. The husband had appeared- he was pointing a pistol at him from the top of the stairs. His eyes wavered when he saw the dead body lying next to him. “If you’re going to shoot me, do it,” Angel said. “I haven’t got all day.” The husband fired his gun. Angel raised his metal wing- the bullet bounced off. As the child ran away, Angel stowed his sword on his back and set his sights on the husband. By the time Angel had reached the top of the steps, the husband had disappeared- he couldn’t tell where he’d gone. Angel’s eyes glowed as he activated heat vision. His contact lenses- controlled with his mind, like his wings- could do more than change color; they could sense the changes in temperature around him. Including the recent movements of an adult man. Due to his position at Kronus Technologies, Angel, as Oliver, had already eaten lunch with the husband. This man was not a violent sort, and maintained a realistic view on things. Those kinds of people weren’t fun to kill. Like the wife, he’d probably be wounded once and then go down quickly. The big and stupid ones Angel had battled would not back down from the challenge, making the kill all more satisfying. He had them all figured out- they’d take one look at him and think that he wasn’t strong in the least. Then, rising to the challenge, he would drop his sword and fight them. Usually, such men didn’t have strength-enhancing symbots like he did, meaning in a fistfight, he always won. And if, by chance, they managed to get a hit in, the revenge was always sweet. Taunting them with their own weakness, snapping their bones in half with his raw strength, or even killing their spouses before their eyes and watching their spirits break- his sadistic heart loved it all, especially when they begged for mercy afterwards. Unfortunately, men like his current target were more clever, choosing tactics over brute strength. They knew when they were in a fight that they couldn’t win. But Angel already knew how to win. Angel found what he was looking for- a heated figure hiding behind a wall. He drew his blade and turned around before walking into a different room. He took note of the fact that no gunshot had been fired at his head- the husband must have not been very confident with his shooting skills. Then it’s an ambush game, Angel thought. Whoever attacks first loses. The way to force him to attack first is- Angel pulled a pistol from his coat and fired at a window three times, shattering the glass. To make him think I’m chasing his child. As expected, Angel heard footsteps. He stowed his gun and hid behind the door as the husband approached. Then, when he was about to descend the steps to the ground floor, Angel spread his wings and dashed forward, shoving him down. The man tumbled down the steps until he reached the bottom. Before he could regain his senses, Angel’s giant sword had already torn his heart in two. Angel dragged the body to that of his wife and left it there. At the very least, the police would find the two of them quickly. The last objective is the child. Angel retracted his sword back into its hilt. He stowed it on his back and stepped outside. He activated his heat vision. There was a figure hiding in the forest behind the house. Judging by its size, it was almost certainly the child he was after. Suddenly, the figure began to run away- the child had noticed him. He laughed. This had happened before. If they didn’t hide, they ran as far as their little legs could carry them. Angel spread his wings and launched himself into the air, watching the child’s figure stumble through the woods. To play the part of the monster to a child was a sport few others got to enjoy. He’d hunted children time and time before. Sometimes when the child ran, they brought a knife with them. He’d let the child stab him a few times before he knocked them out cold. It wasn’t like that kind of wound could kill him anyway. Sometimes they would cry and beg not to be taken away. He’d pick them up and try to soothe them (being covered in blood rarely helped) before knocking them out. The boy was aware that he was being chased. He ran as fast as he could. Angel followed him with no effort at all for about twenty minutes, until the boy’s legs were so fatigued that they couldn’t move. He collapsed on the ground. Angel landed on the ground and approached him. “Are you going to come peacefully?” he asked. “Or will I have to force you?” The boy tried to fight with his arms as Angel picked him up. His blows did nothing to his skin, merely distracting him while he pulled a can of knockout gas from his belt pockets and sprayed the contents on his face. A few seconds later, the boy passed out. Angel turned his head when he heard sirens. Yes, it was likely one of the neighbors noticed the broken front door. It was best he leave before the police arrive. … The boy slept soundly in Oliver’s car. It was surprisingly easy to smuggle a child into another part of the town, as long as you had a car. Oliver pulled off his bloody coat and shirt and put on a fresh one. He started his car up and drove away. He’d be taking his private helicopter to the island on the weekend, with this fresh capture and three others he’d captured during the week. There, they’d await their purpose. He wasn’t the Dark Angel for no reason, after all. Every single person he killed, and every child he kidnapped, was for his vengeance- vengeance against the monster that destroyed his life. The monster sitting at the apex of Kronus Tech. Oliver sighed. The weeks were long and lonely. He wanted to see his son again. The child superheroes- the Ducklings- were becoming quite the thorn in his side. And then there was the matter of the final piece of the puzzle, necessary to achieve his desired ending. He decided he’d get home, and soak his wings in a hot bath, before deciding what to do next.