The police station felt like a ghost town. The halls that usually buzzed with activity now stretched empty and dark, like a school after everyone had gone home. An emergency across town had pulled away nearly every officer, leaving the massive building eerily quiet except for the buzz of fluorescent lights overhead. The harsh lighting cast weird shadows everywhere, making the empty desks look like strange islands in a sea of darkness.
Angelo slumped at his workstation, clicking mindlessly through paperwork as his computer screen painted his face in an eerie blue glow. He kept hearing Chief Ramirez's words replay in his head like a stuck record:
"Stay here, Angelo. We need someone to man the station."
The way the chief had said it, with that stern look that could make even the feared Angel of Death think twice about arguing, left no room for debate.
Hours had crawled by like snails. Angelo fought to keep his eyes open as rain tapped against the windows, creating a rhythm that only made him sleepier. Red, looking exactly like Angelo but with a grayish tint, had materialized and now lay on the floor making exaggerated snow angel motions on the worn linoleum, his movements getting more dramatic by the minute. Meanwhile, Blue - another copy of Angelo but calmer and more proper - sat ramrod straight at the desk, organizing papers with the precision of a robot sorting mail.
"This is absolute bullshit!" Red suddenly exploded, jumping to his feet and waving his arms at the rain-streaked windows. "We should be out there in the thick of it, showing those criminals what real justice looks like! Not rotting away in here pushing papers like some pathetic desk jockey!"
Blue didn't even glance up as he lined up another stack of papers with military precision. "Perhaps," he commented, his voice carrying its usual philosophical detachment as he aligned another stack with geometric precision. "But administrative duties are the foundation of effective law enforcement. Besides," he added with just a hint of reproach, "orders are orders."
Angelo's eyes drifted to the bulletin board, where a bright, colorful New Light Festival poster stood out like a sore thumb among the wanted posters and duty schedules. His face darkened as memories of Ashford flooded back, unwanted and sharp as knives. The happy decorations on the poster felt like they were mocking him, their cheerful celebration a sick joke compared to the bloodshed they'd once hidden.
Blue watched Angelo's face change while still shuffling papers. "Your discomfort with the festival persists," he observed quietly, his hands never pausing in their rhythmic organization of paperwork. "Though perhaps understandable, this rejection of celebration-"
"Don't play dumb," Angelo cut him off, his voice carrying an edge sharp enough to cut steel. "You know damn well why."
"Indeed," Blue acknowledged, finally setting aside his current stack of papers. "However, I maintain that your correlation between celebration and catastrophe is fundamentally flawed."
Angelo let out a laugh that had about as much humor as a funeral. "Really? Because nothing's changed since then. Every single year brings new 'incidents.' Maybe not Ashford-level massacres, but still. Yet people keep dancing and singing like ignorant sheep to the slaughter."
"Consider this perspective," Blue offered, his measured tone a stark contrast to Angelo's passion. "The moment citizens cease celebrating - that's when terror truly triumphs. Hope and vigilance need not be mutually exclusive. One might argue they're most powerful in combination."
Red, who'd been unusually quiet during this exchange, suddenly sprang up like a jack-in-the-box. "That's it! I can't take another second of this philosophical crap!" His eyes gleamed with dangerous mischief as he edged toward the door like a kid planning trouble. "Time to show the chief exactly what I think of his 'orders'..."
Angelo jumped up and blocked the exit, crossing his arms like a bouncer at a club. "What exactly are you plotting now, you insufferable hothead?"
A grin spread across Red's face that would've made the devil proud. "Remember last month's little kitchen incident? The chief's face when he took that first sip of 'coffee'?" He rubbed his hands together like a cartoon villain. "Time for a sequel!"
"Absolutely not," Angelo's voice carried the weight of command. "Be a good little... whatever you are, and behave. Our shift's almost over anyway."
Red's laugh promised nothing but trouble. "Since when do I take orders from you?"
Before Angelo could move, Red's body dissolved like smoke in the wind. He streamed back into Angelo's body only to shoot out again as a crimson mist, zooming down the hallway while his cackling echoed in their shared mind.
"Oh no you don't!" Angelo's shout bounced off the walls as he chased after Red. His footsteps thundered through the empty station as he followed the trail of Red's laughter down stairs and through dark corridors, always just a few steps behind the floating crimson cloud.
"The kitchen's not even that way!" Angelo yelled in frustration, which only made Red laugh harder.
The chase ended behind the station, where Red floated triumphantly above a line of wet dumpsters like a victory flag. Cold rain pelted Angelo's face as he glared up at his troublemaking copy.
"Got you right where I wanted you, oh mighty Angel!" Red's smoky form rippled like he was doing a victory dance.
Angelo's face scrunched in confusion. "What are you-"
"Bye!" Red squeezed himself impossibly thin and slipped through a tiny crack in an upper window like air escaping a balloon.
Horror dawned on Angelo's face as he realized he'd been played like a fiddle. The whole chase had been a trick to get him as far from the kitchen as possible while leaving Red free to cause chaos. "RED, YOU BASTARD!" Orange light exploded around him as his aura activated. He spun on his heel and raced back toward the station entrance, his powers letting him move faster than humanly possible. But deep down, he knew he was already too late.
Meanwhile, Red zoomed through the dark hallways like a kid who'd just pulled off the perfect prank, his smoky form practically dancing with satisfaction. He could hear Angelo's angry footsteps getting closer with each second. As he looked for a shortcut, something caught his eye - a door with a frosted glass window, barely visible in the dim emergency lights.
Red floated in front of a door, squinting at an old brass sign that read "ARCHIVES" like he'd just found buried treasure. Without hesitating, he slipped through the doorway like smoke through a keyhole. Inside, the room stretched deep into shadows, packed with rows of metal filing cabinets that reminded him of soldiers standing at attention. Everything was covered in dust so thick it looked like gray snow, and the air smelled like old books and secrets. Only a single dirty window let in light, making the dust dance like tiny stars.
Red took solid form, his troublemaker's grin looking extra wicked in the darkness. Those metal cabinets seemed to call to him, promising juicy secrets behind their rusted handles.
"RED!" Angelo's voice boomed in their shared mind like a mental megaphone. Blue jumped in right after, trying to sound calm but clearly worried: "Don't you dare disturb those files!"
Red responded by mentally sticking out his tongue, like a kid ignoring his parents. He looked around the pitch-black room, muttering, "Can't see shit in this creepy tomb." His red aura lit up like a ghostly flashlight, throwing weird shadows everywhere that made the place look like something out of a horror movie. "Not great, but it'll do."
He started yanking open drawers like a kid ransacking a toy chest, sending dust flying everywhere in gray clouds. "Nope, boring, seen it, don't care..." He tossed files around like confetti, getting more impatient by the second.
"You're going to get me fired!" Angelo's panic echoed in their mind as they heard him running through the station's confusing hallways, trying to find his way to the archives.
Red snorted like he couldn't care less, but then froze as something caught his eye. One folder looked older than the rest, its edges soft like worn paper money. "Hold up... Ashford? This is from..." His voice trailed off as he counted backwards, and for once, his usual cockiness vanished. "Eighteen years ago..."
The folder felt heavy in his hands, like it was weighted down with dark secrets. Red's normally steady fingers shook slightly as he opened it. His red aura grew brighter without him meaning to, lighting up the damning words like they were written in blood:
"Laboratory explosion... two casualties confirmed... husband and wife..." Each word hit like a hammer to the chest. "Initial investigation indicates... deliberate sabotage... high probability of homicide..." His usually loud voice got quieter and quieter, until he was barely whispering. "No evidence linking specific individuals or groups, but foul play strongly suspected..."
The door exploded open so hard the cabinets rattled. Angelo stormed in, orange light still flickering around him from his chase. His face had already gone white as a sheet from hearing Red read the report in their shared mind, but seeing the actual proof that his parents were murdered - that changed everything. His hands shook as he took the file from Red, who didn't resist.
Angelo's eyes raced over the text while their combined red and orange auras made the room look like it was on fire. The air seemed to get colder as the truth sank in.
Blue tried to be the voice of reason, though even he sounded shaken: "We must approach this rationally. This report alone doesn't prove-"
"IT PROVES THEY WERE MURDERED!" Angelo's shout made dust rain from the shelves as his orange aura exploded outward, scattering papers everywhere like autumn leaves.
Red's face twisted from its usual mischief into pure rage. "We hunt them down," he growled, red energy crackling around his clenched fists like angry lightning. "Whatever it takes, whoever they are - they pay for this. All of them."
Time seemed to slow down as Angelo stared at the report that shattered eighteen years of lies. When he finally spoke, his voice was cold as ice: "No one can know we found this. We investigate quietly, carefully..." His eyes met Red's, both burning with the same fury. "And when we find them..."
He didn't finish, but he didn't need to. In that dark archive lit by their angry red and orange light, they understood perfectly. The Angel of Death had just found something very personal to avenge.
Blue turned back into smoke, automatically streaming back to Angelo through the empty halls like water finding its way home. Their shared mind buzzed with tension while Angelo and Red tore through more files like men possessed.
"There has to be something else here," Angelo muttered through clenched teeth, yanking open another drawer so hard it almost came out. His orange light made the shadows dance crazily across the dusty cabinets. "They must have found more than this."
"Whatever evidence exists wouldn't be stored here," Blue's thoughts cut in as his smoke form wound through the halls. "Archives are for paperwork, not physical evidence." His blue smoke finally reached them, melting back into Angelo like food coloring into water.
"Maybe there are other reports hidden in here somewhere," Red said, suddenly serious as he dug through another stack of yellowed papers like a man searching for buried gold.
Then Angelo's radio crackled to life with a burst of static, the harsh sound cutting through their investigation like a knife - forcing them to put their search on hold, at least for now.