Story 01: Destroying Angels

Chiaki Matsuda reclined in her favorite chair in the whole world; the chair she 'acquired' after that Idol assignment. Still in her costume, her apathy and self destruction ran higher than a balloon in a hurricane, a bottle of cheap gin half gone clutched in a hand at a careless angle. It was raining outside, storming in fact, the tear shaped drops splashing against the window and sliding down in torrents. A loud thunderclap drummed on, right before the big presentation. It was too early for this sort of weather, as if the heavens were crying and throwing a tantrum all at once. The vindicare known as Chiaki Matsuda, Murderface, and possibly a thousand other names long forgotten, narrowed her eyes a fraction.

She was destroying angels. Pinky's fallen angels damned to black eyes and mass murder, but angels nonetheless. Two were already gone, thanks to her, and her comrades' efforts; notably Misaka, the technomancer and sniper extraordinaire. Both reduced to fertilizer, but destined to never help grow a single flower. They're pushing up radar antennas and splinters, on hard concrete and plush carpeting.

Chiaki took a slug of the gin, grimaced and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand - that hand, the one housing her precious soul. No, not precious, she smirked, not my soul. Her thoughts turned to Pinky.

Pinky. A great black and pink question mark that constantly nagged at her like poison ivy. A greater daemon dressed up as a goddess but unable to hide her sadistic side, which ran deep. Deep enough to taint. The black haired vindicare looked at her shield, tempted to timestop just to have a chat with her. In her gut she knew 'she' would be there, waiting, with that smirk that pissed her off to no end, ready to taunt and tease with a girl's innocent voice. That girl's innocent voice. Her heart skipped a beat. No, she shook her head, now isn't the time. She had a long day. A long life, filled with misery and betrayal both outward and inward. She couldn't remember a single happiness, besides pancakes and their forbidden whiskey impregnated cousin. Was she born from despair?

A laugh slipped from her liquor flavored lips. Then another. And another. Laughter from someone insane filled the room. No. She shook her head again, she had to be professional, even in the quietude of her own abode. Professional. Professional. Professional!

She took a big mouthful of gin, swallowing with a slight grimace. Professional. That's all she had really going for her. She didn't get to where she was without that. And she'll need it plenty for the future ahead.

She was an angel herself, proven by the golden deagle, but like Lucifer she'll upset the balance. Keep on killing angels. Keep on stripping the enigmatic layers of this mystery until all is revealed. Until she has been paid for her efforts. Yeah. Payment. A couple of grief seeds, and a couple grand. That's all she needed. Oh yeah, pancakes, too. Treat Mami to somewhere nice, maybe a high class restaurant, and get fluffy pancakes filled with sweet, sweet batter.

The bottle's liquid remains sloshed down her throat. Destroying Angels. Pinky's Fallen Angels. All of them precious lost souls loving the same damned thing, and she had to kill seventeen more.

"The flesh of fallen angels, huh?" Chiaki murmured, a slasher's smile etched ear to ear that Pinky would be proud of. She'll scatter the flesh of these fallen angels city limit to city limit. She'll be the one good enough to meet Pinky, and she'll expand her third eye to see the light of day.