The Angel of Earth

by

Rodford Edmiston

Part Nine

The island had been claimed by a multinational group of empowered who called themselves The Eruption. They scheduled a press conference at the UN in New York, where the leaders of that organization and the group announced that they were the newest nation recognized by that body. A nation also named The Eruption, and made up entirely of empowered persons. Moreover, this was a nation which had sprung into existence full-blown on a new island. The speakers bragged that not only had the newly-born island previously been uninhabited and even barren, but that it hadn't even existed before their effort! This was correct; several members of The Eruption had combined their abilities to cause a volcanic seamount in international waters of the remote Pacific to erupt and build itself tall enough to stand above the waves. Work to enlarge their newly created nation was still underway, but was proceeding. Slowly.

Melody was there, of course, but was just one of many reporters covering the event. She was particularly interested in the leader of The Eruption, but had no chance to interview him. At least, not at the announcement.

"With our own nation, there is no limit to what we can do," said Clastic, their current and so far only leader, thanks to being the primary organizer of the group. As well as being the primary source of their new land. "All empowered are welcome here, regardless of their legal status in their homeland. When more arrive, we just make more land! Since all this is new, no nation has claim to it except ours!"

There were many people in multiple nations who already threatened action against this group. When legal experts noted that none of those making the threats were in nations which had prior claims in that area, the experts were shouted down by those making the threats. Removing this insult from the face of the Earth was more important than territorial laws!

There were some valid criticisms regarding the focus on empowered with no mention of allowing people who weren't to live there or even visit. The reply was that all the rest of the Earth was for the unempowered. Which did not go over well with most of those listening.

The UN's statement that the new nation known formally as The Eruption was a recognized member, was at best ignored by the new country's opponents. Many nations rejected this information with insults directed at the UN for spreading it. However, the builders (literally) of the new island had cleverly arranged mutual protection pacts with several countries before announcing the existence of their country. Those nations which objected to the very existence of the empowered would be fools to act against The Eruption. Unfortunately, many nations were run by fools. Some of those leaders were eager to prove this.

Fortunately, few of those making the threats currently had the authority to declare war. Even fewer were in nations with the ability to project significant force that far from their homeland.

* * *

The convoy proceeded slowly, in broad daylight. Neither of those was an option. The way was made more difficult by barricades, some deliberate and some simply the ruins of previous attempts at bringing relief supplies to those who so desperately needed them. Good lighting was needed to see their careful way, and headlights at night would have been even more noticeable than a slow convoy during the day. Attempts without visible lights on overcast, moonless nights using infrared viewers for the drivers and defenders had been tried, detected and attacked. As well, the rebels were more active at night. Not that the day was safe...

The General, watching the convoy, knew all of this. He was, in fact, responsible for most of it, including being able to detect infrared illumination. That had been done partly through stolen equipment, and partly through his own powers. Powers which he had never even confirmed to his men. Let them see his miracles, and wonder what else he might do

He could not let this convoy through; it would be bad for his image among his supporters, and among all those fighting for him. Therefore, he had arranged this ambush. A rare, daytime attack in response to a rare, daytime convoy. He raised his baton.

Before he could make the downstroke which would signal the start of the operation, a series of explosions rapidly raced along the top of the ridge behind which his forces waited. The blasts were large enough kick up a huge amount of dust and sand and gravel, and even sent several people - among them the General - flying.

Furious at this assault, the General quickly jumped back to his feet and scanned for the attackers. The startled convoy was now racing by, so quickly that his men could not regroup in time to make the assault before the vehicles were past. The fire hadn't come from them. It had come from above! Planes? No, this was a no-fly zone, which the UN forces observed even though it helped him far more than them. Artillery, then? From where?

He extended his senses. His abilities were not as overt as those of the more physically combative empowered, but they were very useful to a military leader. Just now, they were telling him to look up.

The General knew that was nonsense. There were no planes above - even if they weren't against international agreement, he'd hear them - and whatever had caused the barrage, it was over. Still, he'd learned to trust these empowered hunches.

He looked up... and froze. A figure circled lazily overhead, riding the thermals. Not a bird; a man with wings. That was all those with him could see, but the General could tell the man had long-hair, and was wearing robes and sandals. The wings, of course, attracted the most attention. Though definitely avian in general form, he could clearly see that the grey wings were unlike those of any bird, being partly dovelike but with a strong infusion of hawk. The base feathers where they attached at the small of his back ran down almost to his ankles, spreading to act as a tail.

The General stared. That had to be one of the empowered, but he'd lived his life in a fairly small area and rarely studied anything but what would immediately aid his desires to master and rule all around him. Who could this be? Was the intruder alone? If so, the General would crush him for his impudence.

Then he heard the murmurings. "Malak." That brought forward a memory, which made sense of the winged figure. The General's blood ran cold. If someone so powerful were opposed to him... No. Ridiculous. People with such power were myths. No, that figure must be some sort of drone, sent by whoever was behind the artillery barrage to intimidate his followers.

"Ignore that decoy," he said, as the winged figure continued to circle with no further activity. "Gather your equipment. We will regroup, and raid whoever they are foolish enough to give aid to. Move!"

Above, the winged figure heard the shouted words, and made plans.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the physical therapy section of the Aaron's clinic - also named, confusingly, Haven, which was why it was rarely referred to by name - a very special client was being treated by a very special therapist.

Mindful of the long, central feathers which acted as Malak's tail, Mini carefully climbed onto his back. She parted those long feathers, and literally sat on his rump. While this might be considered erotic under some circumstances, there was no salacious intent. Or, if there was, both parties kept that carefully in check.

Mini began massaging the thick layer of muscles above the small of his back, around his wing roots, over the truss-like extensions to Malak's pelvic girdle which supported his wings. Neither the bone structure nor the muscles were something found anywhere else in the animal kingdom, and would have driven both ornithologists and traditional human anatomists to distraction.

With the muscles now relaxed, Mini put the heel of one hand in just the right spot over Malak's spine, where his wings connected on either side. She put her other hand on top of it, and carefully leaned in. There was as gradual building of tension, then a sudden, loud pop. Malak grunted, and gave a sigh of relief.

Grinning, Mini repeated the process in a different spot on his spine. Over and over, always only where her treatment was needed.

"That was wonderful," said Malak, when she was finished. He rose, donned his robes, and changed to his human self. "Thank you, Liz. I don't know why, but that always works better when I'm in my winged form."

"Just part of my job," said the small, dense woman, grinning.

"Well, it's a service I need, and I'm glad you could fit me into your schedule," said Aaron, smiling. "No-one else here is strong enough to do that. Even the traction machines come up short."

"Any time, big guy," said the little woman, grinning. "It's nice to have a customer I don't have to treat as fragile."

"Well, now I feel fit for tonight's event. Thank you, again."

* * *

People in fancy dress and colorful costumes swirled around the ballroom floor in time to music from the live orchestra. Others, similarly dressed, socialized at various locations, including around a row of tables laden with food and drink. Everyone was on their best behavior. There was no alcohol allowed in the dance hall. Which hadn't kept some people from imbibing before the event, but anyone obviously drunk was skillfully diverted to a separate room with a free bar.

Melody had been reminded of the upcoming gala in one of her conversations with Aaron at the Repository. This was a charity fundraiser with a long tradition, lasting several hours on Labor Day, and even having live radio and 3V coverage for much of it. The bulky camera took up much of the space on the balcony, where the newspeople were located. Normally, such a high-society event would be covered by someone else at The New York Glory, and the society editor was, indeed, in attendance. However, he was a participant at the event, down on the dance floor, socializing. Getting assigned as the reporter who would actually cover the charity ball had been easy for Melody. She had dressed her best for it. Unfortunately, she was not able to show this off.

The event was big news, even in New York. It was more important for the notice it garnered for the causes it supported than for the actual money donated by those in attendance. Though that amount would definitely help the group of charities the event was held in honor of.

As usual for this particular gala, many of the participants were empowered who had for whatever reason found favor with the press. This included many in the entertainment industry. Crunch was here, as he had been many times before. Of course, the whole point of this event was to raise money for a conglomeration of charities. The more popular the guests, the more people who paid attention, and the more who donated.

Annoyingly for some - including Melody - the members of the press who were covering the gala were kept off the dance floor. In fact, they were definitely sequestered, in a balcony overlooking the event but separate from it. The isolation made them feel like second-class citizens. Melody thought that was a strange attitude, since the charities depended on the free publicity this event garnered for much of their money. All the newspeople on the job - reporters for newspapers and magazines, radio and 3V announcers sometimes going out live - could observe the participants, but not interact. The situation for them was very much "look but don't intrude."

The empowered actually down on the dance floor were clearly divided into two groups. By far, the largest faction was the group composed of those who were involved in entertainment, Crunch among them. The other was made up of empowered who usually avoided such public attention in order to focus on using their abilities to help others, but who were making an exception for charity. Malak was among those.

That didn't mean those in the first group didn't do anything to support those in trouble. Crunch, as one example, was known for his financial support of children's hospitals, as well as his personal, morale-boosting visits to the patients in them. That was why he had been included in the invitations for these fundraisers. It was also why, in fact, most of those from that group who were invited had accepted.

One of the more interesting - at least for some people, such as Melody - empowered entertainers in attendance was Margaret Lath. She was actually a part of the stage show which went on for much of the ball. She was an empowered poet, who could not only write fantastically well, she had something similar to Aaron's charisma. Hearing her read her works was... an unparalleled experience. Especially live. She was on stage early and left soon after her reading. Melody recalled that she was notoriously uncomfortable with public adulation. Which she definitely got here, tonight.

The second group, besides being much smaller, was also on average much older. Of course, that was partly due to the presence of Malak among them. Melody had to suppress a smirk at the thought that part of the reason this event was being held in such a large venue was his wingspan. She noted that he didn't do a lot of dancing. When he did, he was very good at it, but was given a lot of room by the other dancers.

The Master of Ceremonies was frequently announcing donations and pledges. Some were made in person, some by phone or even messenger. Those donations made by people at the Ball went through a slot into the large, armored box on the stage, beside the MC. The pledges were written very stylistically in a ledger on the MC's podium.

The whole program was quite entertaining for those participating. For Melody and the others who were observing it, the event was mostly boring. Because of this, many of the reporters were talking quietly among themselves. The man to Melody's left was a veteran of fund-raising events, but knew very little about the empowered. The man on her right claimed to be an expert on them. He did seem to have a lot of background information on the empowered.

"According to Dr. Wilde..."

"Wait... Doctor Bruce Wilde?" said Melody.

"Yes."

"I met him once," said Melody, nodding. "He gave a guest lecture at the college where I was studying journalism."

"I attended a few of his university lectures as a non-student observer," said the man, William Henderson by name. "I have to admit, most of what he discussed went over my head, but his conclusions were clear and concise."

"I've read some of the science articles about his work, but except for that one guest lecture years ago, I've never heard him speak."

"He stated as fact that many..."

Melody noticed that Henderson suddenly stopped and went wide-eyed. She quickly turned her attention to the dance floor below.

A large number of men and women - many of them masked and a few in costume - had entered the dance floor. They were all armed, most with rifles and shotguns. Which made them very much not a usual group of thugs and thieves, who preferred handguns they could stick in their pockets.

Most of the group quickly and efficiently surrounded those dancing and those watching on the ballroom floor, swiftly herding them into a corner. The new arrivals were very obviously holding the attendees hostage.

"All right people, listen up!" said the obvious leader. He was blatantly empowered, and actually looked like he was on fire. Though the flames surrounding him seemed to be without heat. "Yeah, that includes you, winged wonder. We here for cash and jewelry. Cooperate and nobody gets hurt."

Melody wondered if he new he was on live 3V. Well, he was one of those in costume. In his case that included a mask. Perhaps he did know. He didn't appear accustomed to wearing either the costume or mask he had on, and both appeared to be cheap.

The hoodlums appeared to be rather nervous, and wouldn't need much stimulus to start shooting. Melody was worried that some of the empowered celebrities might decide to take a hand. Given the edginess exhibited by most of the robbers that could lead to a massacre, even if the robbery were stopped. However, most of the empowered performers had never been in a real fight, and were obviously uncertain about going against men and women with rifles. Fortunately, even the tough ones realized that though they might have nothing to fear from guns, most of those there did.

Many took their cue from Crunch. Of the few empowered celebrities who had experience with real violence, he, in particular, had learned a lot in the past few years.

"Stay cool, people," said the strongman, sounding like he was heeding his own advice. "All they want is money."

On top of all that, Malak was radiating calm.

The newspeople on the balcony were likewise calm, but they were also indecisive. Most of them continued to perform their jobs through sheer inertia, though a few were paralyzed. Some seemed to think that because they were on the balcony, above the robbery, they weren't part of it. That they were mere observers and therefore in no danger. Melody knew better. She slowly slid out of her chair, until her head sank below the top of the balcony's low wall. On-one seemed to notice, even on the balcony. On hands and knees - wishing she had worn slacks instead of a dress - Melody moved carefully to the nearest end of the balcony.

She didn't feel a need to take photos, since not only were many photographers already busy documenting the robbery, there was also a 3V camera running a live feed to the associated studio. Instead, she sat on the floor of the balcony and took out her electronic document reader and set it to record sound. She then pulled out the auxiliary microphone, put it on the end of the low wall and plugged it into the reader.

With the microphone discreetly placed and the document reader carefully out of the way, Melody slowly raised her head and resumed watching the scene unfolding below.

With the celebrities - mundane and empowered - crowded into a corner and under guard the burning man moved to the stage at the front of the room. He lifted the massive vault easily from beside the startled MC and carried it to the entrance he and his men and women had forced. Melody noted that Malak had somehow maneuvered to the edge of the crowd of celebrities, putting himself - wings and all - between them and the robbers, while the burning man worked.

"Okay, boys, now get their jewels."

"No," said Malak, spreading his wings to protect the people behind him. "You've got close to a hundred thousand in cash there. Leave these people alone."

"Yeah, I know who you are, angel guy," said the leader of the robbers, only given a momentary pause. "If you know what's good for you and those behind you, you'll stand down. You saw how easy I lifted that safe."

Malak said nothing and didn't move. The other empowered - even Crunch - wisely followed his lead.

"You can't shield all of them," said the burning man, trying to sound reasonable. "Stand down or my guys start shooting. I'll make sure everybody knows it's your fault rich folks died without needing to, too."

Malak still did not move, did not speak. However, Crunch moved to his left wingtip, using his own, tough body to shield a few more of the normals. After a moment, a few of the other empowered likewise worked their way forward to put themselves between the thieves and their victims. The robbers stirred uneasily, but for the moment there was no further raise by either side.

"C'mon!" the burning man shouted, grinning. He might have been trying to show that he was in control, after that low-key display of defiance. He changed his stance, putting arms and legs wide. "C'mon, angel guy! I'll even give you the first move. C'mon! Do something! Come at me, or they all die!"

In a blur of motion, Malak materialized a spear and threw it. The bright-burning point stuck the challenger in the center of his chest and exploded, vanishing abruptly once its charge was expended. The man dropped, alive but his flames snuffed. They had apparently taken the brunt of the blast, but enough got through to leave the man badly injured.

"Is that it?" said Malak, his tone carefully neutral as he addressed the fallen man. "Do you have any objection, now, to your minions releasing the hostages and then waiting quietly for the police? I thought not."

* * *

With the rest of the thieves waiting quietly for the police, Malak healed the leader enough that he could go to jail, instead of a hospital. Meanwhile, the other empowered present disarmed and stood guard over the would-be robbers. Crunch occasionally taunted them. Though he also moved the armored donation box back onto the stage, putting it precisely where it belonged.

Despite attempts by the MC to work up the crowd after the robbers were taken away, the ball was quite definitely over... though not the news coverage. Helping kill the mood was the questioning by the police. Some of the detectives interviewing the wealthy people involved seemed to have a suspicion that this attempted theft was some scheme of theirs. Even a few of the reporters on the balcony with Melody were accused of being part of the robbery. She kept quiet, hiding her notes and the detachable memory module from her document reader deep in her purse. Fortunately, the police didn't go so far as to actually search anyone not obviously involved in the attempted robbery.

Things became even more complicated when agents from the Empowered Matters Agency suddenly arrived. They tried to claim jurisdiction, which resulted in a huge argument. In the end, at Malak's suggestion, the EMA took the one obviously empowered man - the one who had shown the flames - into custody and the New York police took the rest. This was a reasonable result, since the EMA had the means to contain an empowered human and the NYPD didn't.

* * *

After the ball was finally - if reluctantly - declared over early, Melody sought out Malak. Who looked both sad and angry.

"These powers can be used for so much more than fighting," said the bewinged man, sadly. "Yet fighting seems to be all that far too many empowered know."

"There's always conflict," she pointed out. "There will always be conflict."

"Even without powers, there doesn't need to be. However, some people insist on it."

He turned and walked away, exiting the building.