For a moment, Jaehyo wasn’t sure he was reading the scanners right.  Sitting at the helm of the Brazen Bastard, he brushed the reddish brown bangs out of his coffee colored eyes and tried again, adjusting the settings just a touch.  When it didn’t change the results, a sly smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.  He touched the softly glowing beacon next to his navigational panel and intercepted the coded, low wave signal coming in at just the right frequency for them to catch.  “Captain,” he called quietly, his soft voice easy to hear in the relative silence of the cockpit.

                One bored, black eye opened as Jiho roused himself enough to look at his pilot with his head still pillowed on his fist.  Bright blue hair framed his pale face, further offsetting the dark orb that peered at the other demon.  “Yes?” he drawled, clearly waiting for the rest.

                “We’ve got an encrypted, anonymous message coming in on the low frequency radar,” he explained, swiveling in his chair to better see the other demon around the arch of his black wings.

                Kicking back from his weapon cubby, Yukwon appeared on the other side of the Captain’s chair and sent a narrowed-eye glare towards Jaehyo.  Spiky, reddish hair sat atop his head, the style matching the sharp angles of his face.  “Probably just a baiting tactic,” he waved dismissively, though he remained in the open to see what else would happen.  It was better than staring at a rarely changing screen in the hopes that some glimmer of prey would appear.

                “What’s it say, Jae?” Jiho murmured, well aware the pilot wouldn’t be passing along a bogus message unless he thought there was something to it.

                Jaehyo’s smile widened, the coldness in his eyes at odds with the almost royal perfection of his face.  “Seems like a couple old friends of ours are taking a little trip through space,” he explained, watching eagerly as both demons perked up at the description.

                “I wanna see!” Yukwon clamored while he bolted from his chair to investigate the message himself.  He slipped by Jiho with practiced grace in the confines of the ship and perched immediately behind Jaehyo – mindful of the resting tail sticking through the seat – to stare down at the screen with one hand resting on the other demon’s shoulder.  The gleam in his gaze matched the treacherously delighted curve of his mouth and he barked a laugh.  “Anonymous my .  It’s the old war ray himself,” he confirmed with a quick check to make sure he was reading the encoding signature right.  It had been modified from when they’d used it decades ago, but it was still undeniably familiar to any who had been privy to the original form.

                At the confirmation, Jiho stirred.  As he pulled himself into an upright position, his other eye opened to reveal a brilliant silver orb set within a scarred socket.  “So,” he hissed with a slow smirk twisting his lips.  “Joongie and Hakyeon have finally left the nest?”

                “Looks like it,” Jaehyo confirmed, swiveling back around to check the approximate coordinates.

                The shift upset Yukwon’s balance and he tugged on the other demon’s bound hair with a muttered, “Watch it!”

                “You watch it,” Jaehyo snapped with a steely eyed glare at his companion, brushing at the offended strands with long, delicate looking fingers while his tail twitched in irritation.  “This is my part of the ship,” he reminded, lowering his voice as he turned back to the screen to add, “Fighting obsessed weapon hoarder.”

                “So!” the shorter of the two bristled.  “At least I’m not a directionally challenged navigator.”

                “You little-”

                “Boys,” Jiho interrupted, smooth as woven star dust, his mismatched gaze sliding between the pair.  “Save it for later.”  It was a simple statement but more than enough of a command to make Yukwon shrug, rustling his wings, and prowl back to his side of the small ship, a similarly whipcord, black tail lashing behind him.  “Where are we going, Jae?” he inquired when the pilot had a chance to start typing in the coordinates for their destination.

                “Looks like… MRD-176-HP-25.  Some planet called Earth,” he shrugged.

                “Never heard of it.  You sure you read that right?” Yukwon called from behind the Captain, staring skeptically at his companion.

                “Of course I’m sure!” the pilot rolled his eyes with a long suffering sigh.

                Yukwon groaned and leaned back in his chair, perilously close to falling out of it.  “What in the star shards are they going to some unfamiliar planet for?” he grumbled, teetering in his seat, seemingly testing to see how far he could go before he did fall.

                “Doesn’t matter,” Jiho reminded him with a deceptively mild chuckle.  “We’ve got a date with a couple of friends and we shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

                “How far away are we?” Yukwon asked expectantly.

                “Looks like between two and a half to three pulsar days, depending on how much we push it,” he shrugged with a confident smirk.

                “So far?!” the weapons specialist whined, leaning back in his chair again with a frown.

                “It’s not so bad,” the Captain murmured, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees with his fingers threaded together and pressed against his chin.  “And once we’ve said hello, we can see if there’s anything else worth looking into,” he promised, glancing over his shoulder at a beginning-to-grin-again Yukwon before he turned back to nod at Jaehyo.

                “Aye sir!” Jaehyo cheered, locking the coordinates in before ramping up the accelerator.  “Here.  We.  Go!” he crowed as the engines whined, they felt the slight sense of artificial gravity, and watched the myriad pinpricks of light before them turn into glowing streamers as they set out.

                Standing in the dark room, looking down at the peaceful sleeper on the bed, Gunwoo let out a quiet sigh.  After three more days of no technological success of his own and a rather tense stalemate between him and his roommate, he figured it was time.  The angel glanced down at the folded note in his hands and chewed on his lip.  Not willing to set it down yet, he turned his gaze to the rest of the room.  Moonlight filtered through gauzy, soft blue curtains and a nightlight helped give a hint of illumination to the rest of the room.  Gunwoo didn’t need it, but the “Frozen” character set on the dim light made him smile.

                Unlike his room, this one was filled with life and character.  It was ridiculously tidy considering how much stuff he had in it, but everything within indelibly yelled of Kibum.  From the chic idols in designer clothes plastered on his walls to the myriad of stuffed animals sharing his fluffy bed to the vanity desk neatly covered in skin and beauty products, he couldn’t have been more different from Gunwoo, but the angel found his company to be a relief.  Even more so because the human had been a match for his unconscious presence the first time he’d met him.

                The angel had never expected to bump into him in the first place.  He was one of the very few humans that didn’t just flow around him when he walked.  Nor did he let Gunwoo even try to get off without saying something to apologize.  An outraged cry at the loss of his coffee, an earnest reprimand for being rude, and a rightful demand for some sort of acknowledgment forced Gunwoo to take notice of him, of the fierce, grounded confidence and passion that disregarded his alien heritage in favor of common courtesy.  Kibum was genuine in a way that Gunwoo’s position had never really allowed from the angels in the Empire, and he found it both fascinating and strange.

                An awkwardly muttered ‘Excuse me,’ followed by a floundering attempt to resume his wanderings were just as quickly interrupted when Kibum caught up to him to give him back his small money pouch and ‘politely’ ask that he compensate him for the lost drink.

                ‘Aish.  You really shouldn’t be so careless,’ he’d scolded.  When Gunwoo shrugged without offering any sort of thanks or agreement, Kibum had gotten mad at him again.  Back then, Gunwoo didn’t understand why.  Even four and a half years on the planet hadn’t taught him to really value his money.  He’d always been able to get more when he needed.  It certainly hadn’t been an issue in the Empire either.  But when taken to task for his lack of ‘common sense and polite etiquette,’ as Kibum explained, he’d been rather forcefully taken under the other man’s wing.

                “Pissed off and full of fire, you actually saw me,” Gunwoo whispered with a crooked smile, remembering that first day where he’d been made to buy Kibum a new coffee.  But when the other man realized Gunwoo barely had any money left – he hadn’t yet had a chance to get more when he just got into town, he’d become curious.  Question after question followed and with each one, he became more concerned by the whole situation.  Used to just being listened to or bypassed entirely, Gunwoo had been unusually forthcoming in his answers from the sheer unexpectedness of the attention: he wasn’t from around there; he was wandering but didn’t have a place to stay; he had no phone or cards or extra money; and even more distressing for Kibum – he had no friends or anyone he could contact.

                “Thank you for everything,” the angel added in an almost silent voice as he placed the note on the edge of the nightstand in front of his Hello Kitty clock.  For finding him a hotel to stay in that first day and purposely going out of his way to check on the confounded angel.  For being suspicious enough to snoop around as he made sure Gunwoo wasn’t just conning him.  For being maddeningly perplexed about the angel’s situation and ability to exist with his current lifestyle.  And for being honestly curious and open minded when he caught Gunwoo ‘reading someone else’s fortune,’ for a small fee of course.

                “And I’m sorry about this,” he sighed into the relative silence as he turned around and left Kibum’s unlocked room, closing the door gently behind him.  When the other man demanded a reading to prove that his ability wasn’t just a sham, Kibum had been one of the clearest divinations he’d had in a while.  Like a halo floating around him, Gunwoo had seen the fabric of the universe threading from him in such an array of possibilities, it had been hard to narrow down the most likely.  Constantly shifting symbols and runes and colors and numbers hovered around the human.  Eventually, he’d verified that Kibum was in school for something artsy, that he’d recently gotten out of a long term relationship with another man… but it had been mutual, and that he was living by himself.

                It was enough validation to start something, and the session turned into more as Gunwoo realized the brilliant flash of ‘relationship’ wasn’t referring to the fiery passion of romance, but rather to that of friendship.  With him, strangely enough, and he was even more surprised to know he wanted to let it happen, to see what the cosmos were reading into them knowing each other.  Just then, he rather disliked the cosmos but he couldn’t hate them entirely.  They had allowed him to meet and know a man like Kibum after all.

                Gunwoo took another deep breath and leaned down to retrieve his black duffle bag with the majority of his possessions stuffed inside.  He didn’t know if it was sad or efficient that the sum of his existence could almost fit into a single container.  Shaking the thought off, he padded quietly to the front door, put his shoes on, left the key next to the stand at the entryway, and stepped outside.  “Goodbye Kibum,” he murmured, shutting the door with a painful finality that made him sad.  Rubbing the back of his neck, he slung the strap over his shoulder and hurried out to the almost empty streets in the dead of night on a weekday.

                Even so, it didn’t take him too long to find a cab.  He didn’t really have a destination for the driver.  The angel wasn’t exactly sure of the area he wanted to go himself.  He just knew the vicinity his ship was in so he pointed the cabbie in the right general direction and kept adding descriptions as they came to him.  The meter was running so the driver wasn’t too upset, but he was certainly suspicious.  Gunwoo couldn’t blame him.  It was unusual when someone didn’t have any particular destination in mind.  A city or a general vicinity, yes.  Vague directions only…

                “Thanks,” Gunwoo spoke as he gave the man his fare and then some, hoping the extra would make him more forgettable should he somehow manage to catch someone’s attention.  They were close enough to where he had left his ship.  He didn’t wave to the driver as he turned around to head back into town.  Instead, the angel looked across the horizon and then up, peering at the night sky through drifting clouds.  “I know you’re coming,” he exhaled while his hand tightened on the duffle strap.  “But I won’t let you catch me so easy.”

                With a quick exhalation, he tore his gaze away and wandered off the road, trekking into the more rugged terrain that led into gently rolling hills and the occasional grove of trees.  It had been more rugged when he’d first arrived.  The humans were developing the land closer to where his ship was, but unless they were blindly lucky, they shouldn’t have found it.  And if they had, he likely would have heard something about it by now.  As it was, he felt a subtle certainty about where he was going, and he attributed that to his unerring sense of direction.  It worked best with familiar places and items, but could potentially be used for new ones if there was something to help guide him on the other end.

                That more than anything else was why he was currently returning to his ship.  If he was lucky, it had one more invisible run left in it and he’d be able to locate his target without being spotted.  By the humans or his own kind.  If not… he’d deal with it when the time came.  For now, he just needed to find the spot for the hatch.  “Now where was it at around here…?” he wondered aloud, peering carefully at the ground.  Actively divining his way through, he noticed a faint glow appear in sight beneath his feet.  “Ah.  There you are.”

                Activating the microunitranscoordinator, Gunwoo was rewarded with a faint vibration through the ground.  He took a step back and pulled the portable holoscreen from his bag, activating the device so he could synch with the ship again.  Once the connection was established, he tapped the screen and flinched when the dirt around where his ship was began to vibrate, shaking and shifting like a liquid.  Slowly, the gleaming personal space transporter appeared from the ground, slipping through the binding surface like a snake slithering through sand.  Fragments of soil cascaded free to fall back into place, looser and lower in the ground, but otherwise appearing undisturbed.

                Gunwoo stepped close to the hovering ship and placed his hand on the cool, smooth side.  “I’m back.  Did you miss me?” he wondered with a soft smile on his lips while he took in the elegant configuration.  The shape resembled an upside down wing at rest with the ‘feathers’ acting as the boosters.  Reinforced feathers at the top and bottom provided layers of protection from above and below while the crown in the middle was where the engines fired.  On either side were folded up wings that had the ability to extend and grant additional speed and maneuverability with the optional boosters and flaps.

                He wasn’t surprised when it didn’t respond to his voice though.  The angel simply tapped another button on the holoscreen and watched as the side port above the nearest wing circled open, allowing him access to his ship.  Gunwoo grabbed his duffel bag, clambered on top of the wing, and slipped inside, feeling very much as if he’d come home.  “Alright Nishtival,” he whispered the ship’s name, so called after the burning comet that passed Mikhaelis around the time he was born.  “Let’s see what we can do,” he added, bringing her to life with a wave of his hand over the console.  Gentle, golden light illuminated the cockpit and breathed warmth into the desolate space it had been.  The screen hummed into existence, refraction panels on the front of the ship adjusting to reflect the area ahead while maintaining the defensive integrity of the hull.

                “Can you do one more run?” he hummed, fingers flexing over the invisibility activation button.  Taking a breath, he carefully pressed the button and waited.  Everything quieted down and the lights dimmed, making Gunwoo hold his breath.  Like a flickering candle on the verge of going out, he felt Nishtival tremble at the power draw on her system, struggling to balance necessity with desire.  “Come on,” Gunwoo encouraged, leaning forward slightly as he remained standing at the helm.  The ship dipped once, the power nearly going out, and then she caught herself just above the ground.  Golden light blossomed slowly, suffusing the cockpit with greater warmth and Gunwoo grinned.  “That’s my girl.”

                He had the greenlight for invisibility so he finally took his seat, wincing at the shape of it.  The carved out parts were no longer needed and it only served to remind him of what he’d given up.  Taking the controls in his hands, Gunwoo guided Nishtival off the ground and started moving, keeping her low but steady.  Once they were moving, he took one hand off and opened the panel next to his chair, reaching in to retrieve the modified helmet attached inside.  Wires connected to the ship followed, settling around his shoulders awkwardly when he put the device on, blinking several times to get used to the altered vision.  Connected directly to his ship, it boosted his divination ability with the latent magi-techno energy in the construction, giving him the equivalent power of when he still had his wings.

                As such, it strengthened his directional detection ability.  After numerous divination attempts to find Myungsoo’s location had failed, Gunwoo had given up on that aspect, but something Junhong had said stuck with him.  The young man explained that the headquarters that meetings were held in and the research center he had to visit often were likely in two entirely different areas.  A&D Corporate headquarters was easy enough to locate but under heavy surveillance in both the private and public eyes.  Even if he did manage to find Myungsoo there, chances were less than slim he’d be able to see him in person, much less talk.  Which meant he had to find the research center.  It was likely just as guarded as headquarters but… recently, when he’d been divining for answers, thoughts of the research center had been providing some interesting results.

                Even now, he had the feeling that there was something there he needed to find.  And he didn’t think it was Myungsoo.  He didn’t really know how to explain it, other than like calling to like.  It was an uncomfortable sensation.  Almost as if someone familiar was hurting or scared and they needed help.  But he didn’t know anyone that would be held in the center.  Still, it was a lead and if it helped him find the location, he would follow that cosmic thread as long as he could.

                Adjusting course slightly, Gunwoo became aware of the ground eventually falling away, replaced instead by a vast expanse of water.  Through the eyes of his ship, he watched, sensing the abundance of possibilities in this world.  Few certain happenings were clear, lacking in the cosmic energy necessary to make such things come true (the humans called such instances in this world ‘miracles’), but it was rife with choices.  So many it was almost overwhelming.  He felt the strain on his mind, pushing against his ability to sift through the information, and focused solely on the call ahead of him.  It didn’t make the other sights disappear, but they became manageable for the time being.

                Little by little, the pull got stronger, and as the sky began to lighten with the first rays of dawn, Gunwoo realized he knew where it was coming from.  Pulling the helmet off with a tense cry as he clenched his eyes shut, he set the covering down and took several calming breaths.  With his other hand over his eyes, he laughed bitterly.  Had he really gotten so weak that he couldn’t even handle a short divination run in his own ship?  The knowledge clawed at him and he had to swallow the sharp bite of disappointment and regret.  “You chose this,” he reminded himself forcefully.  “To be free, remember?” he growled, fingertips digging into the sides of his face as they curved like claws.

                Despite everything he’d experienced in his stay on Earth, sitting with his head bowed, ship hovering over the ocean mere miles from his target destination, Gunwoo felt anything but free.

                Doctor Seokjin Kim stood in front of the reinforced, one-way mirror containment unit with a clipboard in one hand and his brown eyes fixated on the figures within.  A small team of scientists were attending to the heavily sedated and tied down subject DS017-CB1.  The name on the sheet next to his subject identification was written down as Taekwoon Jung.  Seokjin adjusted the thin glasses to rest higher on his nose and started rifling through the pages of notes before him with a slight frown.

                Dozens of biopsies, blood tests, physical tests, mental tests, brain scans, CAT scans, MRI scans, and nearly every other test he could think of had already been run on the subject, but nothing yet could explain his ability to do things a human should not be able to do.  There had been no identifiable genetic markers on the original angel and demon DNA to indicate that any anomalies like they were seeing now had transferred over.  It had been three days since they’d both been taken into custody and so far, they had confirmed the subject’s ability to somehow hold people in place without actually touching them.  The newest ability he’d shown was also an increased healing capacity wherein his cells underwent a rapid regeneration process through an exponential expenditure of energy resulting in the production of heat that should have cauterized his wounds at the same time.

                In fact, that was why he was pinned to the table in the latest series of tests.  Initial tests of his abilities had proven useless.  Subject DS017-CB1 had been unresponsive and despondent about his condition.  He was unwilling to work with them in trying to figure out his new abilities so other measures had been enacted.  Through trial and error, it had been discovered that when he was under duress, he was much more likely to successfully exhibit his hold person ability.  But because he was so much faster and stronger than any opponent they could set against him, even with bound wings, they’d had to resort to distance attacks in a confined space.

                On one hand, the experiments revealed he had to see someone to be able to affect them, which had resulted in successful holds for those only partially hidden.  On the other hand, it also meant that the subject had to maintain his defensive abilities for prolonged periods of time.  Even if he wasn’t entirely human now, he had been one previously and so his body could not maintain the exercise, resulting in his being injured.  Of course Dr. Kim wouldn’t have let him die so soon, but even before he could send in the suppression and healing squad, the subject had apparently instinctively resorted to another ability at his disposal: the aforementioned healing with the extreme release of heat.

                “Ah…” Seokjin sighed, tapping his pen on the board with a frustrated expression on his delicate face.  “How can we replicate these abilities if we can’t even identify their genetic markers?”  For a moment longer, he observed the team continuing to work, putting samples in tubes and vials and other containers before carefully storing them in portable storage compartments.  Taking another breath and holding the board to his chest, Dr. Kim turned around to exit the room.  The sliding door whispered open at his successful biometric scan, and shut just as quietly once he was through.  Only then did he wander down the sterile, heavily reinforced metal halls to another similar containment unit.  Another biometric scan allowed him entry to see the back of Myungsoo as he observed subject AS015-CB1 within.

                “Are you sure your method is the best way to get successful results,” the taller man murmured without looking back, his arms obviously crossed over his chest.

                “I didn’t expect to see you here, Myungsoo,” Seokjin laughed dryly, coming to stand beside him with a curious once over.  He looked strange wearing the mandatory white coat, but his black hair was as partially kept as ever.  Why did he always look like he had bed hair?  Not the messy, annoying kind either.

                “President Cho requested I see what sort of progress you were making while he handles the publicity back at headquarters.  Commander Choi was also quite interested in determining how his men were being treated,” he responded with a side-eyed look that could have cut glass.

                “They’re fine,” Seokjin waved off his concern, going over to retrieve the hanging clipboard with the angel subject’s information on it.  Wonshik was listed next to the identification number.  “DS017 is capable of self-regeneration and AS015 has thus far maintained a successful personal shield that has kept him from harm.”

                One of Myungsoo’s eyes twitched when he saw Wonshik fall to one knee, wings hanging limply around his shoulders.  Another bullet ricocheted off the invisible field around him, but it was clear he was tiring.  Sweat dripped freely from his hairline, spotting the floor around his feet.  His chest heaved with each gasping breath and it was obvious movement itself was becoming difficult.  “And if a bullet does get through?” he questioned with a flat tone.

                Dr. Kim raised one brow and looked at his companion in irritation.  “Even if one does get through, they’re not aiming to kill him.  It wouldn’t be a lethal hit anyway.  And we have scores of medical aid at our disposal here.”

                Myungsoo didn’t respond to that statement.  “What about their squads?”

                “They’ve been put under surveillance but so far, none of them have started to exhibit any additional abilities beyond the wings and predicted physical enhancements.  We still aren’t sure if these aren’t just freak mutations from their longer exposure to the successful splicing or if the new ones will even attain such powers.  We’ll discover their secrets soon enough, Mr. Kim.  Don’t worry,” Seokjin waved dismissively with one slender hand.  “You’ll be able to give President Cho good news in no time.”

                “Why haven’t you tried putting the two subjects in the same room together?” Myungsoo asked, his expression still neutral.

                “Even you know it’s harder to control experiments when there are more factors involved,” the Doctor reminded him patronizingly.

                “True,” his companion conceded with the barest of nods.  “But surely you’ve noticed how close they are.  You must have seen how well they work together despite being of opposing elements as it were,” he gestured, unfolding his arms at last.  “As I seem to recall, Wonshik’s ability appeared when he was trying to protect Taekwoon.”

                “Hmm,” Seokjin hummed, chewing on the end of his pen in thought.  “Maybe.”

                Myungsoo nodded once in acknowledgement and returned to look at Wonshik who was struggling to muster enough speed to dodge the bullets coming his way.  “Take care of them, Doctor,” he instructed without looking over at the other man.  “We wouldn’t want something unpleasant to happen to them, now would we?” he added, waving with one hand as he used the other to activate the biometric scanner so he could leave the room.

                Seokjin made a face at the closed door when the other man left.  “He’s so annoying sometimes.  And creepy,” he couldn’t help but add as he remembered the look in the other man’s eyes.  “Of course I don’t want anything to happen to them.  I need them alive to figure out why these changes are happening in the first place,” he explained primly to the air.  Even as he confirmed that, a chill running up his spine made him look back and his eyes widened when he couldn’t see AS015 anymore.  “Eh?” he gasped, running up to the glass to peer inside.  The test subject was lying on the ground, wings splayed limply over the floor, while a pool of blood slowly began to grow from under him.  “Dammit!”  Without a second thought, he bolted for the phone on the wall and sent a station wide alert.  “We need an emergency medical team in Containment Room 3!  I repeat, we need an emergency medical team in Containment Room 3!”