u/Famous_Screen_8407

“Today is April thirty-first, you know what that means.” Nile elbowed Ed. “Huh? Huh?”

Ed rolled her eyes. “God, you’re annoying. And yes, it’s your day off. Did you invite me up here just to rub it in?”

“Whoo-hoo. Bet your ass,” Nile threw her arms up, then flopped onto her back. “And no, I miss my friend.” She said as she stuck her tongue out at Ed.

“Whatever.”

“Hey, sourpuss, you’re the one who took the office job and decided to work on this glorious holiday.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think it’d be so boring.” She lay down beside Nile, staring up at the blue sky. “Besides, I’ve got the backlog down to a decade.”

“Big whoop. Who cares?” Nile propped herself up on her elbows. “Why don’t you come back out to the field? I miss my partner. I hardly see you anymore.”

Ed sighed. “I’ve put in every year for the past hundred years. Same answer: Too valuable where you are. Blah, blah, blah.” She frowned. “It sucks.”

She sat up, looking out over the rolling hills of endless green. She closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the sun sink in, the cool breeze brushing through her hair.

Then she gave Nile a light pat on the shoulder. “Enjoy your day. I’ll be in my office… paperwork. Yay me.”

The only day that doesn’t exist for humanity.
The one day we get to chill.

And I’m spending it on paperwork.

Ed made her way toward the massive black tower stretching upward into nothingness, planted in the middle of the sea of grass. Each step felt heavier than the last.

She took a breath… then hit the down button.

A line of light traced a double doorway before it slid open.

She stepped into a faded wood-paneled elevator. Low, tinny music droned through the air.

She dug into her coat pocket, pulled out a set of keys, and unlocked the cover over a button labeled OTP (Office Tower, Purgatory). With a sigh, she pressed it.

The elevator jerked as it began its descent.

Ed leaned back against the cool wood paneling. “Fuck my life.”

Her shoulders sagged as she watched the floors tick by on yellowed indicators—half of them dead.

No more dealing with humans, they said.
Corner office. Great views. Low stress. Plenty of room to move up.

My ass.

A dull chime sounded as the elevator lurched to a stop.

The doors slid open.

There it was, the worst part of this place.

Right outside the elevator, perfectly framed against egg-white walls, hung a poster of a kitten dangling from a string.

Hang in there. Her stomach turned.

Ed walked into the quiet hall, past rows of identical cubicles, and into her office.

She crossed to the large window overlooking the slums of Purgatory.

“Yeah,” she muttered. “Grand view of shit.”

Ed dropped into her chair and stared at the mountain on her desk. Only ten years. 

With a sigh, she grabbed a folder from the top of the stack.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Don’t come in.”

The door creaked open anyway.

“Hey, love!”

Ed looked up. “Uriel?”

“The one and only.” Uriel vaulted over the desk, sending papers flying as she landed in Ed's lap and wrapped her arms around Ed. “Missed me?”

Ed groaned. “No, and get the fuck off me.” She shoved Uriel away and started gathering the scattered pages. “Why are you here? You hate this place.”

“Can’t a girl come down and spend time with one of her favorite reapers?”

Ed shot her a look. “Ex-reaper. And I seriously doubt you came all the way to Purgatory just to say hi.”

Uriel smiled, then pulled a vanilla envelope from her pocket and handed it over.

“What is this?”

“Just read.”

Ed opened it, scanned the contents, then shrugged. “Okay… and?”

“I need your help with her.” The playfulness drained from Uriel’s voice.

“Why?” Ed glanced back at the letter. “She’s already here.” She frowned. “Murdered.” She handed it back.

“You need to read the back.”

Ed flipped it over and read.

Her expression hardened. She looked up, disgusted. “Holy shit. They did that to her?”

Uriel nodded. “I want justice for her.”

Ed blinked. “What? Why? Their time will come.”

“She was my friend. A good one.” Uriel’s voice tightened. “She loved life. And those fuckers took that from her.”

Ed watched her jaw clench, a flash of rage beneath the playfulness. “Then why don’t you handle it? Or ask Nile?”

“I would love to. Trust me.” She leaned in. “But I have… obligations. And Nile told me to come to you.”

Ed raised an eyebrow. “Obligations? You’re a stripper.”

“Yes, obligations.”

“Like what?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Uriel…”

Uriel sighed, then gave a small, crooked smile. “Lucy’s family drama. Long story. I’ve got to be there for my girl.” She nodded toward the letter. “Which is why I need you to handle this.”

Ed studied her, the quiver in her lip, the grief just under the surface—then sighed and held out her hand. “Give it.”

Uriel launched over the desk again, sending papers everywhere, and grabbed Ed’s face, peppering it with kisses. “Oh my God, I love you, love you, love you—you’re the best.”

“Stop, stop, fucking stop! Jesus, you’re worse than Nile!”

Uriel stepped back, beaming.

Then she lunged again, wrapping Ed in a crushing hug. “You’re the best.”

“I know.” Ed shoved her off. “Now get the fuck out of my office.”

Uriel bounced on her toes, all smiles, before heading out.

As she stepped into the hall, Nile was already leaning against the doorway.

“Hey.”

Uriel smiled and pulled Nile into a tight hug. “God, I miss you, girls.” She leaned in, her voice dropping. “We have to get her out of here. I miss the old Ed.”

Nile nodded. “Working on it.” She turned to Ed with a grin.

“You two suck,” Ed said. “You know how much work I have.”

Nile shrugged. “What’s one day? Two, max?” Nile gestured to the mountain of paperwork on Ed’s desk. “Compared to… that?”

Ed exhaled. “I don’t know. It’s been a hundred years.”

Nile slipped the letter from Ed’s hand and read it. She flipped it over.

“Holy shit… those fucks.” She looked up at Ed. “You have to take this. It’s right up your alley. These assholes deserve the Ed touch.”

Ed took the letter back. “Brandon, Henry, Timothy… and Joseph.” She glanced at Nile. “You really think I can take on four?”

“You’ve taken on twenty.”

Ed shifted, fidgeting with the edge of the paper. “It would be fun… I just‌,  don’t know. It’s been so long.”

Nile stepped closer and pulled her into a hug. “I want the old Ed back. I want to see you smile again, actually enjoy yourself.”

She pulled away, gesturing around the office. “This? This isn’t you. If not for me… then do it for yourself.”

Ed sighed. “Can I think about it?”

Nile sighed. “I guess. But don’t take all day, okay?”

Ed nodded.

Nile pulled her in for one last hug. “Love ya.” Then she slipped out.

Ed walked back to her desk and stared up at the ceiling.

I really hate both of you.

A soft knock at the door.

“Um… excuse me, ma’am.” The voice was timid and fragile. “Miss, um, Miss Nile said you wanted to see me.”

Ed lowered her gaze to the young woman standing in the doorway, practically shrinking into herself.

“Who are you?” Ed asked.

“Um, um, Caroline. Caroline Williams, ma’am.”

Ed exhaled. “Of course you are. Uriel’s friend.”

“Who?”

Ed grunted. “Glitter’s friend.”

“Oh, yes, ma’am. She’s my friend,” Caroline brightened.

Ed shook her head. “Goddamn it, Nile,” she muttered under her breath.

“ma’am?”

“Nothing,” Ed gestured to the chair. “Please sit. We were just talking about you.”

“We? Ma’am?”

“Yes. Uriel and me.”

Caroline stiffened. Her eyes welled. “Miss Gli…miss…did they get to her too?”

Ed reached out and took her hand. “No. They didn’t get to her. Uriel… I mean, Glitter.”

She hesitated, then sighed. “Fuck it. You’re already dead.” She met Caroline’s eyes. “Your friend, Glitter. Is not what you think she is.”

Caroline's shoulders relaxed. “Um, what do you mean?”

Ed leaned back slightly. “All you need to know is she very much enjoys the company of humans.” Ed shook her head, “among other things.”

“She’s not human? What um what is she?”

Ed chuckled. “She’s… well, she’s one of a kind.” Ed smiled. “She’s an archangel… fallen archangel.”

Caroline said nothing. She just sat there, stunned.

“I know it’s a lot,” Ed said, softer now. “But you can take some comfort in this: Glitter loves you. And she has asked me to be your retribution.” A faint, cold smile touched Ed’s lips. “Your retribution will be terrifying… and absolute.”

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u/Famous_Screen_8407 — 16 days ago

Hunter gasped as his eyes snapped open, squinting up at the blue sky. His ears still rang.

Ash drifted down like snow.

The distant thunder of war rolled on.

His hands shot to his abdomen.

No holes. Good. But… how? The Tiger had me point-blank.

He rolled onto his stomach and lifted his head.

Two Tiger tanks burned in the distance—one of them half-melted.

“What the…?”

He turned, looking back. Three Shermans still burned, thick black smoke rolling off of them.

Okay. Remember that.

He grabbed his M1 and started crawling toward the Shermans.

“Jones? Baker? Rodriguez? Anyone?” His voice came out low, raw.

Nothing.

“Shit.”

He pushed through the smoke, slid into a foxhole, and drew in a shaky breath, rubbing his eyes.

Then it hit him.

Where is everyone?
Where are the bodies?

We were the last four.

He swallowed.

I was out in the open. Jones was hit. No way Baker and Rodriguez moved everyone.

Okay. The unit came through. Picked them up. Missed me.

Yeah, that tracks.

He stared through the haze at the melted Tiger.

Then explain that.

He leaned back, closing his eyes.

Think, damn it. Think.

He snapped upright, shouldered his M1, and held his breath, listening.

There.

A woman’s voice. Faint. Distant.

What the fuck is she saying?

He strained to hear—

“Du… du… Mose… du musst—”

Fuck the Germans.

He scrambled out of the foxhole and ran.

Ran and ran, never looking back, until he burst onto a road.

Fuck. Wrong way.

This is not good.

Shit.

He turned, scanning down the road. Nothing. The other way, nothing.

A branch cracked to his left.

He spun, rifle up.

“Show yourself!”

“Du musst dich bewegen.”

Same voice, clear now. Closer.

“Fuck.”

He turned and ran until his lungs burned and his legs went numb.

He dropped to his knees, sucking in air, then rocked back.

A war-scarred village stood before him.

Yeah, definitely the wrong way.

He forced himself up, steadying his breath, and moved toward it, rifle raised.

“Bonjour? Anyone? Hello?”

Nothing.

He eased down a narrow cobblestone street, passing buildings gutted by fire or reduced to rubble, toward the village center.

Water still flowed from the fountain.

He rushed to it, scooping water into his mouth.

Relief washed over him. He let out a breath and sank down beside it, shoulders loosening.

Okay, now what?

He scanned the village.

Movement in a doorway.

He shot to his feet, rifle up.

“Zeig dick! Mon…tre-too!”

“Bonjour…” The voice was small, frightened. “Americin?”

“Yes, yes. American.”

A small boy stepped out. Filthy. Shy.

“English?”

The boy nodded. “Li… little.”

“Where is everyone?”

The boy turned and pointed to a large barn at the edge of the village. “Germans take.”

Hunter followed his gaze. “Why?”

“To burn them.”

Hunter’s jaw tightened.

“Why haven’t they yet?”

The boy swallowed. “Waiting for SS… They want to watch.”

“Do you know when the SS is supposed to get here?”

“Morning.”

Hunter glanced at the setting sun, then took inventory.

Four clips. One knife.

“Shit.”

“How many are guarding them?”

The boy held up four fingers, eyes fixed on the barn.

Hunter knelt. “I need you to go hide, okay?”

The boy nodded.

“Good,” he stood. “Well… here goes nothing.”

The boy watched as Hunter made his way toward the barn.

“Tu as bien fait,” a woman said.

She stepped up behind him and placed a lollipop in his hand.

They stood there, watching Hunter as he crouched behind a stone wall and disappeared.

The woman smiled. She unwrapped a second lollipop, slipped it into her mouth, then turned and walked away.

Hunter crawled to within a few yards of the barn, taking cover behind another low stone wall.

He drew a steadying breath, slipped off his ammo belt and dog tags, and set them aside.

Then he pulled his knife… and waited.

Voices drifted from inside the barn. German.

The creak of a door opening, his muscles tensed. 

Footsteps came his way. 

His pulse quickened, his grip tightened

The footsteps stop at the wall. 

Zip, then the sound of water hitting the wall.

Zip, the steps started heading back.

Hunter slipped over the wall behind the German.

In one move he drove his knife into the base of the German’s skull, not letting the body hit the ground and drug him back over the wall

Fuck you’re heavy.

“Schmidt… Schmidt.”

Fuck!

Muttering in German, then the rattle of rifles, bolts cycling.

Hunter pulled his M1 close, inhaled, and popped up.

Two shots. Two men down.

A flash.

He spun. Pain tore through his shoulder.

Didn’t matter.

A bolt cycled close. Kar98k.

He raised the M1 one-handed and fired.

The recoil knocked him flat.

Did I get him?

A wet wheeze came from the other side of the wall.

Got him.

Pain shot through him as he stood. He reached over and touched his left ‌shoulder. A huge gash was carved into his deltoid.

“This is not good.” 

Holding his shoulder, he made his way to the barn, and the locked main door.

“Of course.”

He looked around and found a pipe and wedged into the lock with his good arm and popped it off.

Inside huddled men, women, and children,

“I’m American, you are safe come, you’re safe 

They looked at each other with confusion

“American?”

“Yes, come, come, you’re saved now. Um vane…vane.”

Well, at least until sunrise, I’ll get there when I get there.

They stood and slowly made their way to him. The men shook his hand, the women and children gave him hugs.

One woman stopped and looked at his shoulder. “Come with me; we need to tend to that.”

“You speak English?”

“Yes, now come, oh and by the way, it’s vien not vane, but nice try.”

She guided him to a small clinic on the village square, windows blown out, outer walls scorched black, and eased him into a chair.

“How does an American get this far behind German lines?” She asked, digging through cabinets.

“We’re behind German lines?”

“Yes. About three kilometers.”

“Fuck… didn’t know we made it that far.”

She pulled up a stool beside him, setting a tray of supplies within reach.

“We’re out of anesthetic. This is going to hurt.”

He nodded.

He grimaced as she began cleaning the wound.

“Where is the rest of your unit?”

“Don’t…” he grunted, “…know. I was knocked out. When I woke up… everyone was gone.”

She kept working. “How did you get here?”

“I heard…” He flinched. “…the Germans. Ran. Ended up here.”

“I see.”

He looked at her. “You need to get everyone out. The SS is coming at dawn.”

“Yes. We know. They told us.” She continued stitching. “Hopefully our elders are getting everyone organized.”

Snip.

“All done.” She glanced at him. “And you, American—what do you plan on doing?”

Hunter stared at the floor. “Don’t know yet.”

“You can come with us.”

He took a slow breath. “No. Can’t.”

“Why?”

“When they show up and find four of their own dead, they’ll level this place… then hunt you down.”

He dragged a hand across his face.

“I’m going to stay behind. Draw them to me.”

“Fuck my life.”

“How?”

Hunter looked up.

“I’m going to shoot at them.”

She drew a shaky breath and stood, wiping at her eyes.

She stepped in, wrapped her arms around him, and kissed his forehead.

Then she turned and walked away.

At the doorway, she paused.

A glance back.
A small nod.

Then she was gone.

He sat there, swaying in the chair.

“Sorry, Mom. Sorry, Dad… doesn’t look like I’m coming home.”

He closed his eyes and took a slow breath.

“Well… they’re not going to wait for me.”

He pushed himself up and made his way back to the barn, pausing to watch the villagers as they slipped away.

Pretty sure I’ll get a plaque or something. Shit… didn’t tell anyone my name.

He shrugged.

Oh well.

At the barn, he picked up his M1, checked his ammo, then searched the dead German.

Ooh… P38. Nice.

He stepped into a small side room and stopped.

“Yes.”

Propped against the wall: an MG42.

Four ammo cans.
Two spare barrels.

“At least this makes it a little fun.”

He grabbed what he could and hauled it to a low stone wall opposite the villagers’ escape route.

Back and forth.
Trip after trip.

Then he set to work, knocking loose stones, bracing the gun, feeding the belt, and charging the action.

Now I wait.

The rumble of heavy armor broke the silence as the first rays of dawn kissed the sky.

Ten… fifteen minutes. Tops.

He pulled the letter from his breast pocket and wedged it between two stones.

Hopefully I get blown up. Bleeding out would suck.

His breath hitched as the first tank rolled into view, coming straight for him.

“That’s it… keep coming.”

It stopped.

“Fuck. What are you doing?”

A soldier ran up, pointing toward the villagers.

“Fuck!”

The tank turned, grinding toward them. Infantry followed close behind.

“Showtime.”

He inhaled.

Remember, short bursts.

He squeezed.

Several infantry dropped. The rest scattered, returning fire.

Squeeze. Release.
Squeeze. Release.

The turret began to turn toward him, he didn’t let up.

Squeeze. Release. Repeat.

The first shell slammed into the ground just feet away, dirt and rock blasting over him.

He didn’t stop.

He saw the flash of the second shot.

This is it. Goodbye, world.

A white-hot streak tore in from behind him—

It struck the shell mid-air.

The explosion ripped it apart before it could reach him.

Another streak followed.

punching straight through the tank.

The metal sagged, warped…

melted.

Hunter blinked.

What the fuck?

Squeeze. Release. Repeat.

He didn’t stop.

Then, he did.

He grabbed a spare barrel, cracked open the MG42.

“Shit… how am I going to, fuck it.”

He let it drop, snatched up his M1, and shouldered it.

The stitches in his shoulder tore.

“Fuck it.”

He fired. Reloaded. Charged.

Stop. Reload.

Then he pushed forward.

Ping. Empty.

He drew the P38 and moved into the village, firing at anything that moved.

Something arced toward him.

He glanced down.

Potato masher.

Fuck.

He ran, leapt for a low wall…

The explosion caught him mid-air, slamming him into stone.

Sound vanished.

His vision folded in on itself.

black.

Hunter winced at being slapped in the face

“Hey! Wake up!”

Another slap.

“Hey!”

He squinted, taking a breath

“What the…”

A woman sat in front of him, her nose almost touching his.

“Hi.”

He shoved her back. “whoa! Who the fuck are you?”

She rocked onto her heels, crossed her legs, and smiled.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” she chirped.

“Like a lovesick teenager.”

She frowned. “I’m not a teenager.”

“Huh?”

She leaned forward, elbows in the dirt, chin in her hands. “Can I ask you something?”

“Wait, why’d you skip the ‘lovesick’ part?” He scooted back, pressing against the wall. “Who the fuck are you? Why is your hair purple? What the fuck are you wearing? Is that paint?”

“Answer my question first. Then I’ll answer yours… maybe.”

Some of the playfulness drained from her voice.

“Why did you charge that tank?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Please… I have to know.” Her voice softened, almost pleading. “Why did you charge that tank?”

“They were killing my friends.”

She leaned back, hands lifting slightly as she glanced around. “And these villagers.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“There is always a choice.”

She leaned in again.

“You can choose to… or not to.”

“You always choose to.”

Her eyes locked onto his.

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know; to me it’s never a choice.”

She sat up straight and smiled, nodded, and held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Alex.”

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u/Famous_Screen_8407 — 17 days ago