The VIP lounge washrooms in Addis Ababa International airport were clean, and that's all they were, clean. The urinals were no different from the regular washrooms, the aerosol spray and the toilets' odour had mixed up disgustingly, but it was better than the smell in the regular washrooms at least. That alone was enough to make it bearable to use them.
But that wasn't why Davis had come to the washroom. The person who'd been following them since they landed had taken a bathroom break. Heralds of Life were meant to be the most intelligent beings on the planet, but they had somehow hired this numbskull to intercept them.
The man was Angelo's height, at foot shorter than Davis who was seven feet tall. He was lean but built, in his late forties. He was wearing a beige sleeveless coat with a white shirt and black trousers, the airport's uniform. From what he'd overheard from the bar, he was American. The color of his skin could not hide his accent, no matter how often he tried and failed.
Davis was leaning on the sink, his bullet wound on his side was still sore despite having healed up mostly, when he heard the door to the stall behind him open and watched the man's surprised look disappear as quickly as it had come. The giant smirked, this was going to be easier than he thought.
The man walked up to the sink on Davis' right, his hands trembled as he opened the tap and Davis froze only for a moment when he looked into the man's eyes through the mirror. They were dark and empty, with the slightest hint of malice. Yet his hands didn't tremble with fear, it was a joy
"You're not winning any Emmys you know," Davis said after a moment of staring into each other's eyes.
"Excuse me?" The man said in about the worst accent Davis could imagine.
"You're not winning any awards, your acting is terrible."
"Really?" The man said, "So is yours." He dropped the accent.
"At least I tried," Davis said closing the tap which had been running for no particular reason.
"Are you kidding me?" The man said, "I had to work on that accent for ten minutes, then get rid of the actual bartender's body? So much work!"
"So that's what you did to him. I was wondering where you got that uniform." Davis said standing up straight.
"Anyways, let's get this over with, someone important is waiting for me."
Davis smacked the blade out of the man's hand almost lazily. It was a quick cold move that would have caught anyone by surprise and left them bleeding out on the bathroom floor. But Davis was a Herald, his instincts were heightened beyond human limits, and he'd filled them with muscle memory, his opponent wasn't nearly as lucky or skilled.
The knife skittered across the floor and stopped in front of a bathroom stall that opened to a white old man who must have been a tourist in pulling up his pants. He cursed when he caught Davis and the other man staring at him. Davis quickly returned his attention to the other man who did the same.
They had a staring contest while the old man waddled in between them towards the sink. Waddled for literally forever. He finally managed to open the tap but took another eternity to waddle out of the bathroom, muttering profanities at the two relatively younger men as he left.
The moment the door swung shut behind Davis the man dove for the knife and Davis met him with a caterpillar boot to the face before he could reach it. He picked up the knife held it in his left hand while the would-be assassin lay sprawled on the ground tending to his likely broken nose.
Davis folded his arms and leaned on the door.
"So, who sent you?" He asked despite already knowing exactly who it was, Ivan tended to hire regular mercs to do his dirty work.
"You broke my fucking nose man!" The man shouted,
"Don't be so loud, you don't want civilians to hear you now."
The man stood up in reply and charged. Davis swung into the man's punch and got his nose once more. The man howled and fell to one knee.
"You know what, forget I asked that. Second question..."
Davis watched the man attack a third time and turned away from his punch but caught his arm by the wrist and snapped it over his left knee with his right hand. He watched the man writhing on the floor in pain, tears rolled down his cheek as he cradled his broken left arm.
"Now you've been very rude. Interrupting me before I finish speaking, trying to kill me... But see, I'm not a sociopath or anything, I don't like watching you writhe on the ground." Davis said squatting above the man, spinning the knife in his left hand.
"My second question, who are you?"
***
"So, what are your superpowers?" Angelo asked as if he wasn't completely intrigued.
"Excuse me?" August asked looking up from an Ethiopian airlines pamphlet that he seemed genuinely interested in.
"I mean so far, I've had my mind messed with from the inside and seen very bright lights. Is that it? Is being a Herald of Light being a walking light bulb or is there more?" Angelo asked.
He'd made the question wordy to buy time for his ever-slipping sanity.
"Well." August started setting down the pamphlet.
It was seven am, they'd arrived at the airport two hours before and Angelo had been painfully aware of every passing moment since. The airport teemed with life and Angelo sat opposite August on leather seats in the VIP lounge.
"I'll answer the question you really wanna ask. We're safe here, there ain't no need to be worried about it." August continued barely relieving any of Angelo's stress.
"Now as for the other question..."
"Davis was shot yesterday but when we left the plane...?"
"He was damn near completely fine. No better place to start. To become a Herald, a Servant of the Great Guide, there are some processes, vowing your loyalty till death harvest thy soul and all that, but the only one that truly matters is called branding. Yes, I know it sounds very..."
"Cultish? Fanatic-ish?" Angelo cut August off leaning back in his chair.
"Yeah, whatever. When the brand of a deity marks a living being, it turns their body into a sort of vacuum for the deity's power. There's a lot more to it than just that, but I'd need a classroom to explain it better. So anyway, this vacuum sucks in enough power to fill your body and for the first week, it will blend with it, heighten your senses. Multiply your strength five times over..."
"That sounds painful," Angelo said cutting off August.
"That's because it is." August said, "If you live through it, it'll be the most painful thing you have ever experienced."
"If?"
"If. There's a fifteen percent chance you won't make it." August said solemnly. "The number seems too trivial to matter. I mean you're getting superpowers! " Angelo said staring at the ceiling.
"That's until you watch your friends wither and die from the power."
Angelo sat up, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."
"It's fine, let's not bring this up anymore."
"Sure."
"Anyways, another effect of the cosmic energy resting within you is the power that you spoke of, bright flashing lights and all that."
"Is that it?" Angelo asked disappointed.
"Patience," August smirked, "What's happening is much more complicated. When the Deity's energy is fully assimilated with a person's body, they become a Herald, although we of the Great Guide prefer Servants..."
"Fanatics." Angelo coughed
"Whatever. It's not a perfect process, you see, the energy that constitutes your soul is similar to the energy that it's now being forced to mix with. For some people, it's like milk to water, they mix no problem to make dilute milk. For others, it's like oil and the energy becomes poisonous to the soul when they don't mix, killing the person as time goes by. Even then, anomalies occur when the energy is assimilated only partially, such tend to be very weak Heralds or have some ability only they can use..."
"Will you get to the explaining powers part already?" Angelo asked, massaging his temples.
"Sorry, I got ahead of myself, didn't I?"
"Just go ahead" Angelo sighed, covering his eyes with his elbow.
"Okay, so basically, the dilute milk is inseparable, assuming it's only allowed to exist as a liquid that is. When the Servant channels it inside their body, their body is enhanced to exceed peak human body functionality and heals everything but dismemberment and/or actual death. Hell, with the right amount of skill, you can even break down poison in your bloodstream. Externally, it takes a form similar to high-density plasma and can be manipulated at the user's will to take shape, or be blasted like a ..." August paused
"A blaster." Angelo finished for him.
"That was quite the explanation, August," he said sarcastically as he sat up, even though he had been thoroughly intrigued.
"Just what a traumatized teenager required, more trauma-inducing information."
"I'm sorry." August said pulling Angelo from his glare, "I'm a teacher you see, a mentor. It seems that my urge to pass on information may have gotten the better of me."
"That explains a lot. The teacher part I mean." Angelo said standing up.
"I need to get to the bathroom, that sandwich and soda got to me."
"Of course," August said crossing his legs and glancing at the salami and cheese and coke that lay untouched on the coffee table in between them, "Do what you need to do. And find out what is taking Davis so damn long."
Angelo followed the signs to the washrooms only to find an out-of-order sticker on the door. He looked around and saw the janitor walking away. He shouted for him but was blatantly ignored.
He felt someone tugging at the sleeve of the black hoodie august had given him. He turned around sharply to a nervous little kid with tears in his eyes.
"Hey there," Angelo said as gently as he could.
He squatted down so he was at the child's level of eye contact. The child was in a heavy jacket, jeans and the cutest pair of Air Jordans Angelo had ever seen
"What is it?" He asked.
"My daddy's in there." The child said pointing at the bathroom door.
"Well then, why don't we get you in there?"
"But the smelly man said I can't enter. He told me to go back to my daddy and mommy. But my mommy is sleeping in a place called heaven, and my daddy is in there."
Angelo looked between the child and the maintenance sign on the door and made an immediate decision.
"What's your name?" He asked.
"Tyler." The boy said his hands behind his back, twisting about nervously.
"Well Tyler, I'm Angelo, and I'm going to get you into that washroom by any means possible," Angelo said offering his hand for the little boy to shake.
Tyler took it gladly with a wide grin on his face and held it with an iron grip.
Angelo stood and opened the door with his free left hand and entered Tyler in tow. The first thing he saw, was the towering mass of Davis. Then the broken and disfigured heap lying beneath him in a mess of blood and limbs twisted in the wrong way.
Tyler Immediately detached himself from Angelo and sprinted to the man below Davis.
It took a moment for the shock to wear off and for Angelo to realize that Tyler was screaming. And he was kicking Davis and hitting him with all his might. And Davis' voice was somewhere far away, talking, saying words, giving commands
"Angelo!" He shouted firmly and shook the teenager back to reality.
Angelo breathed and looked into Davis' cold brown eyes.
"Take the child to August, he'll know what to do." Davis was saying,
"What did you do?" Angelo tried to say but his voice was a whisper Tyler knelt by his father, sobbing uncontrollably.
Davis must've seen the look on Angelo's face, Angelo nodded at the man on the floor questioningly.
"He's alive. He attacked me." Davis said a blunt look on his face.
"Assassin?" Angelo asked his lip trembling.
"Yes. Human as well, unfortunately for him."
"Davis, that's his son." Angelo pointed at Tyler.
"I can see that."
"I know you can see that, but what the hell are we going to do about this?"
"Not we. Take the child to August, he'll know what to do from there. I'll deal with... this." Davis gestured towards the mass on the floor that coughed as he tried to speak to his son.
Angelo looked at Davis a moment longer then approached Tyler.
"Hey there Tyler." He said squatting down to the child who was hugging his father's torso.
"Why don't you come with me my friend here will take care of your dad. He'll take him to the hospital and the doctors help him."
"No!" The child shouted and hugged his father tighter.
"Tyler..."
"Angelo, we don't have time," Davis whispered right in his ear.
"I'm trying, okay?"
Davis sighed, then proceeded to yank the child off of his father. Tyler kicked and screamed, and Davis squeezed somewhere between his neck and shoulder and the kicking and screaming stopped.
"Don't worry about it, he's only knocked out."
"I've watched enough Tom Cruise movies to know that, what I'm worried about is any children you've come across," Angelo grunted as he took Tyler from Davis.
He felt the frown on his back as he carried the unconscious nine - year old out of the bathroom. He made it back to the lounge and found August reading the same pamphlet, his legs crossed.
The American looked up as Angelo approached and stared moved his eyes between the child on his back and the teenager that held his limp body.
"Davis' doing," Angelo explained raising an eyebrow from August.
"Ivan sent someone, Davis dealt with him in the bathroom."
"That doesn't explain the kid on your back."
"This is the man's son," Angelo explained.
August tossed the pamphlet on the table and stood up. There was not a single sliver of worry on his face.
"I gotta make a phone call." August said, "Stay here, I'll be right back. Anyone asks, you missed your flight and your brother fell asleep waiting."
"What if he wakes up?" Angelo said panic in his voice, "What if he screams and security come here and – and..."
"Angelo, breathe."
"I'm going to jail, aren't I? Then Ivan and his buddies will be free to do to me whatever they please."
Angelo found himself being eased onto the sofa by August, then breathing by the American's command and the anxiety slowly began to dissipate.
"Listen, I understand that what we've put you through in the last two days is a lot. But you need to be strong, because from here on out, your life will be a mess of blood, death, and tears, and to get through it, I need you to be strong." August said his eyebrows pinched together.
Angelo noticed wrinkles on his face.
"Ok." He said, "Ok, yeah."
"If the kid wakes up before I return, deal with it as best you can. Don't worry about the guards, the head of security is one of ours."
Angelo hadn't been sure what he wanted to say, but he didn't get the chance, either way, August had already disappeared into a corner somewhere.
An hour passed, then two. Angelo gave in and munched down on the sandwich and coke and fetched himself three more. Tyler woke with a sandwich half inside Angelo's mouth.
They stared at each other for a moment.
"Hey..." Angelo started to say but was interrupted by the child's sobbing.
Tyler stayed that way then eventually cried himself to sleep. Angelo had tried soothing him into it and got a kick in the chest for his attempts.
August finally returned after three hours of Angelo just sitting in the lounge. The couple that had been scowling at him had left and a loud family of three had replaced them. A little boy and his toddler sister shouted and screamed to their heart's content while their mother read silently through a magazine.
The American stood beside the coffee table staring at his phone, then shoved it into his jeans and delicately picked up a whimpering Tyler from his chair. Angelo scampered after him as he walked away.
"What's happening?" He asked after making eye contact.
"Sit back down, Angelo."
"What's going to happen to Tyler?
August sighed deeply.
"There's an Ambulance here that's going to take the kid and his dad to a hospital, a friend of mine will deal with it from there." The American said his eyes forward.
"How will you explain what happened to his father?" Angelo asked puzzled.
"He fell from the boarding bridge," August said almost coldly.
"Wow," Angelo whispered.
"What was that?" the American asked.
"Nothing," Angelo said.
"Good, now sit back down."
The ambulance's siren was audible even from the VIP lounge. It grew faint as it carried away the assassin and his son and Angelo had to wonder what sort of monster would casually stab a man, hide the body, and casually hold his son's hand a moment later like he hadn't just committed murder.
The thought of the man's mangled body at Davis' hands made the airport spin. Angelo leaned backward into his sofa and tried hard not to vomit.
August eventually returned with Davis. They resumed their seats opposite him, Angelo scanned their faces for an emotion. There was nothing. Not a hint.
"Now that that's dealt with," August started.
Angelo glared at him. Davis snorted ever so slightly and continued to stare at the floor.
"Angelo, would you like me to continue my explanation?"
Angelo, then, found both these men unfathomable. Words escaped him, he could not even begin to express his disgust. Yet, he found himself conceding, understanding that they had probably done this too often for it to sway them anymore.
This conclusion is what led him to his dumbfounded reply,
"Why not?"
After an hour, he learned that Servants' energy was generally referred to as Light, although the name was insufficient because it was way more than that. He also learned that like there were varying levels of the Light's assimilation, there were also varying levels of control. Some so precise they could even force refraction around a body so that it appeared invisible.
It was a difficult task to learn control, but Angelo was not interested in having these abilities in the first place.
"I wouldn't give up my freedom for power." Angelo had said when August asked why. The conversation had ended there.
They took the six o'clock flight to New York. They had spent the hours before then in silence, mind Angelo begging for his phone from the pair who were immersed in their magazines.
He'd argued that if the Heralds of Life already knew where he was, what was the point of hiding his location?
The pair eventually gave in and allowed him to have it.
Angelo at once connected to the airport's Wi-Fi and turned on his VPN just to be safe. He at once wrote a long message for Ashley explaining less than half of what had happened, then deleted it all again, seeing the silliness of it all.
But he had to tell her something. Anything.
In the end, he settled for nothing but a simple goodbye. Angelo didn't have any siblings. Up until two days before, the only family he'd ever known was his mother. Whatever feelings he had towards Ashley were overshadowed by how he regarded her as a sister. And he was abandoning her.
In the end, all Angelo had used his phone for was music. His playlist, an oddmixture of afro beats, rap, and pop drowned him, and he only came up for air when Davis signaled to him that it was time to leave.
Angelo found himself walking cautiously across the boarding bridge. He smiled inwardly and moved in between August and Davis, their eyes darting left and right between the other passengers.
As soon as Angelo had taken his seat in business class, he had the overwhelming urge to stand up and leave the plane at that moment. He didn't.