Horus

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It was just a routine patrol, they'd said. It'd be fun, they'd said.

But what, really, was fun about wading among a sea of blackened souls? Some of them made Angelo's look goddamn white by comparison, something he was still trying to get over in his mind. The man had murdered, multiple people by the looks of it and yet his soul was just a deep grey. His powers were probably a bit out of use but come on now...

And, of course, he hadn't been expecting to be fucking chased through the alleys, or else he would've worn more equipped shoes.

Some crazed idiot had decided they'd taken a dislike towards casually strolling police officers. This idiot also had a gun or two, and a bone to pick, and really liked the thrill of the chase and... augh. Fucking fun, they said.

"Angelo!?" Aaaaand he'd lost sight of him.
 

Romi

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Technically speaking, Angelo could choose who he was invisible to. It was a nice bonus, but it worked in a very specific way. First, he made himself invisible to everyone, and then he selectively made himself visible. The problem was that it was very hard to do while focusing on not getting shot.

It wasn't until Tybalt called for him that he realized he was invisible, and he made himself abruptly visible. The next time Tybalt looked, he'd be there, ducked around a corner from the lunatic.

"We're going to have to shoot him, we can't play nice. Someone else is going to get shot." If someone hadn't already. Diving for cover would get them out of the way, but it didn't stop stray bullets from hitting buildings.

"Give me until three, and then I'm going to try and get him in the knees." He was a damn good shot, but he wasn't perfect. More than that, he wasn't sure just how good a shot Tybalt himself was.
 

Horus

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Oh please, if he lost Angelo already--

"Shit!" He practically tripped into him when he scrambled around the corner, the blond seeming to have appeared out of nowhere. Or maybe he did. He seriously had no clue; neither of them had used the extent of their powers yet up until this point. Their cases had, so far, been relatively tame.

"I'd gladly give you three, but do you think he would--" He didn't get to finish off his sentence before, glancing over his shoulder, he saw the man take aim.

At that point, there was obviously very little time to come up with a game plan. There wasn't quite enough time to turn and shoot back, they were running down a narrow alley with nothing to duck behind, there were no turns for a few more meters at least...

There was very little choice for defense at this point. This was sooner than he would've liked.

The sound of ripping skin or fabric or both filled his ears for a moment; there was most definitely a sharp pain in his back that quickly subsided, but he immediately noticed what was left of his wings were too wide for the narrow alley. All the better, he supposed.

There were five of them; once upon a time he'd had six wings, but one had been ripped clean off during his descent from heaven. The five that remained, though still obviously feathered and white, were rather tattered looking. Tybalt rarely had them out unless there were emergencies, and he figured this could count as one.

His wings pressed against the brick on both sides of him, essentially blocking off their side of the alley. There was the distinct scraping sound as a bullet hit his wing and bounced off, similar to the sound of a projectile hitting a sheet of metal. "Make it goddamn quick, Angelo."
 

Romi

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Angelo was expecting Tybalt to turn, draw his gun, and provide cover fire. He was not expecting wings. He was not expecting wings that could reflect bullets. Thankfully, a lifetime of shooting at people and getting shot at had given Angelo damned good instincts, and even though a decent sized part of his brain was screaming something along the lines of 'WHAT THE FUCK HE'S A GODDAMN ANGEL???', the part of his brain that operated his gun made him dive, hitting the ground on his shoulder and taking two shots at the target's knees, aiming right under Tybalt's wings.

The first hit, doing serious damage to the target's left knee, and the second hit went wide, slamming into the wall and sending a shower of plaster through the alley.

He didn't wait. Even though his shoulder was hurting like hell, he slipped out from under the wing, dodging forward and going straight for the dropped gun, kicking is hard enough to get it well out of reach of the target.
 

Horus

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Tybalt didn't have an issue with his wings. At least, not any serious issue other than the fact that they reminded him of his former glory. Okay, so maybe some problem with his wings. He wanted them whole again, but it would be a long time until then. They no longer hurt him, and the one missing wing was no longer sore at the stump that was left. He just didn't want to go strutting around with them out.

This, however, was a considerable exception.

He turned, keeping his wings tucked close to his body just in time to see Angelo kick the gun away. The man had been subdued, but he didn't know for how long. You don't mess with crazy, after all, so he was quick to call for some backup and perhaps the ability to stuff him in the back of a car to be taken in.

He got his cuffs out, sauntered over as if it were no big deal and slapped them all without a hesitation.
 

Romi

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Tybalt was, as far as Angelo was concerned, too goddamn casual. He'd just been... well, shot in the wings (although that seemed to do fuckall), and the fact that he even had wings... Angelo's first instinct was guilt. He'd been raised catholic, and while he wasn't really practicing anymore (he wasn't even clear if there was a church on the island), seeing a literal angel was enough to make his brain immediately start running through the Lord's Prayer.

Only it hiccuped less than halfway through, because his brain had caught up with his eyes. Five. Five wings? Tybalt looked lopsided, and it wasn't hard to figure out that there was a missing wing. Plus, they looked... well, they didn't quite look like angel wings probably should have. They looked... tarnished. Diminished. Like... well, like he was fallen or something.

So wait, he was partnered up with a fallen angel?

He leaned against the wall, letting his breathing return to normal. He was going to be tired as hell once his adrenaline ran out, and it was already starting to wind down.

"Explains the whole judgement thing." He muttered under his breath, letting Tybalt book the guy.
 

Horus

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It was natural for his wings to assume their positions when he wasn't paying attention to them; two huddled like a crown over his head, another two over or off to the sides of his chest and another two wrapped around his legs. Well, there were two, anyways. The lowest right wing was the one that had been torn off.

The two middle ones wrapped around his arms and chest as he leaned down to cuff the man, a scowl planted firmly on his face. He'd been shot at and it pissed him off, even though his wings shrugged the bullets off like raindrops.

"Oh, shut up." He growled, finally finishing up and taking a small step back, hands on his hips. His wings continued to twitch and flutter around him as if they had minds of their own. "We got the guy, reinforcements are coming. Nothing to be worried about."
 

Romi

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As tense as he was at the time, by the time they got back to the station he was just tired. Adrenaline did that to a person, and while he was slightly more tolerant of adrenaline than an average person, it still made him want to go lie facedown in bed for a few hours.

They'd turned over the suspect to backup and headed back to the station, giving their initial report the way they had to any time anyone shot a gun. Angelo even had a few mandatory days off, which was required anytime an officer fired their gun. Not that he particularly needed it - beyond the adrenaline rush, he was fine, and he dug around his locker, pulling out anything he'd need the next couple of days.

"Have to say, the wings explain a lot." He mused aloud, not looking at Tybalt at the moment. They really did explain a lot, but they opened up a lot of questions as well.
 

Horus

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Thankfully, everything else went exactly like script. They booked the guy, backup came, they stuffed him into the back of the car... When it came down to paperwork, Tybalt filled it out with barely a blink. He was oh so used to this, and the fact that he'd done this multiple times before helped. Of course, Angelo didn't seem entirely new to this either. Good, so he wouldn't have to drag him along, then.

Tybalt's locker was just a few down from Angelo's, and he barely glanced up from digging through when his voice made his way across the cold room.

"Does it, really?" Well, perhaps it did. It was more or less a nonfactor for him now, and he pulled out an extra shirt so he could take the ruined one off and pull it over his head. His back looked ridiculously terrible, even after pulling his wings back in.
 

Romi

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"Yes." It made a lot of sense to realize he was literally a creature of judgement. He wasn't judgemental any more than any more than you would describe an individual human as two legged. That was just how they were - or at least how certain angels were, and Angelo would have bet dollars to doughnuts that he was one of those kind.

He couldn't help but lean back slightly, checking out Tybalt's back as he peeled off his shirt. So shoot him - he couldn't help but take a look at how his wings joined up. About what he'd expected, only there was way more scarring, and it was pretty obvious that the missing wing was missing because it'd been ripped off.

"Your back matches my front." He muttered under his breath. At least they matched. Knowing Kiara, she probably set it up this way on purpose.
 
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