(Setting: Night's Office. Immediately following her return from the park after Hana's rejection.)
"This is frustrating. This is seriously, fundamentally frustrating."
Night slumped into her chair, the leather creaking under her weight. "First, I get a long-term suspension from the Head of the Council, and the next thing I know, I'm tasked with babysitting a stubborn mortal? Dealing with a 'contract' is already a hassle, but a target with an unbearable attitude? Why don't they just throw me into the deepest layers of Hell instead? Actually—" she paused, glancing at the ceiling. "Kidding. I might accidentally manifest that."
Night sighed, her gaze dropping to the manila folder on the desk. In the sudden silence of the office, her thoughts were deafening.
Internal Thought: But then again... whoever she grew into, and whatever bitterness she developed during her childhood... I hold the receipt for that. It is, at its core, my fault. Who am I to complain?
A photograph slipped from the folder—a candid shot of a younger Hana standing between her parents. Night reached out to pick it up just as the door hissed open.
"Heyyy! If it isn't our promoted Squad Leader!" Lunx leaned against the doorframe, a teasing grin on her face. "Aren't you going to celebrate, girly?"
Night rolled her eyes, sliding the photo back into the folder. "Who has the appetite to celebrate when they've just been suspended for 'violations'?"
"Well, I'm not exactly taking your side on this one," Lunx said, walking over to perch on the edge of the desk. "I mean... a thousand souls in a single day? That's a massacre, Night. And in one country, no less."
"Those souls were corrupted," Night snapped. "I did that nation a massive favor."
Lunx winced. "Euhhh..."
"What?"
"It wasn't exactly... humane."
"No, you're wrong," Night countered, her voice cold and precise. "I performed those tasks while in my human form. Therefore, by definition, it was done humanely."
"Night." Lunx rubbed her temples. "You dropped four hundred of them into an active volcano. Two hundred were put on Judas Cradles. Three hundred were dipped in high-dosage boric acid, and one hundred were eaten alive, bit by bit, by piranhas."
"And let me repeat," Night said, leaning forward. "I did that in my human form. We don't have a disagreement on the facts, Lunx; we just have different dictionaries."
"You and your wordplay, seriously..."
"I have a favorite word," Night whispered. "It's called Equity. More for the less, less for the more. Give grace to the poor, and take the fortune from the filthy and the rich. Equity."
"And what does your 'equity' prove?"
"That if you want to establish a beautiful garden, you have to remove the pests," Night said, her eyes darkening. "You dispose of the rotten fruits before they infect the innocent. Trying to save the already-rotten is a waste of time. At that point, you're just trying to take care of a zombie."
"I honestly don't know where you developed that morality," Lunx sighed. "But since you look happy with it, why should I interfere?"
"It is the morality of necessity, Lunx. If you fail to kill what is already dead, it simply comes back to prey on the living..." Night's voice trailed off into a whisper. "...or at least, that's what I thought."
Lunx noticed the sudden shift in Night's expression—the flicker of genuine weariness—and decided to change the subject. "Sooo, since you're suspended, does that mean they took your wings?"
"Oh, you mean these?"
With a sudden, sharp motion, Night let her wings unfold. They stretched against the office light, shimmering with a luster that looked like silk dipped in starlight. It was a sight that would have been Van Gogh's greatest dream—a masterpiece of celestial anatomy.
"Damnnnn," Lunx breathed. "Look at those bad boys. No wonder the other Angels envy and admire you. Even for an Angel of Death, you do have the prettiest wings in the choir."
"I wouldn't say they're pretty by nature," Night said, preening a stray feather. "I just keep them in good condition."
"Uh-huh. If I could, I'd take mine off and leave them in your care for a month for a 'high-conditioning' treatment."
"I don't feed off pride that way, sorry."
"But seriously," Lunx asked, "how come they didn't strip them? Isn't that the standard punishment?"
"Honestly? I don't know. Only Socrates and Plato could understand our General's mindset. They're probably around the same age, anyway."
"Then how exactly are you suspended?"
Night's eyes clouded as she drifted back to the memory of the Council Room.
FLASHBACK: THE JUDGMENT
(Setting: Hera's Office—Head of the Angels of Death Council.)
Night had entered the office with her head held high. "You requested my presence, Hera?"
Hera didn't look up from her desk. "Night. We need to talk about your promotion. I assume you saw the charters?"
"I did. It was... surprising."
"I am impressed by your support record," Hera said, finally looking up. Her gaze was like ice. "Your brain, your resilience, and your willpower are undeniable. You are more than qualified to be a Squad Leader. We were prepared to assign you your own unit."
"I am grateful you see me in such a light."
"However," Hera said, the word dropping like a stone. "We are postponing it."
Night froze. "Why?"
"While you have the highest reap-count in history, many question your... principles." Hera handed her a stack of files. "These are the reports of your violations within this year alone. We aren't even halfway to Christmas, Night."
Night flipped through the pages. "I see no violations here. Is there a mistake?"
Hera sighed, pointing to a specific number. "9,240. That is how many souls you took before their clocks had run out. And your most recent case? The Philippines. You executed an entire branch of government officials and their allies in a single night."
"I stand by my actions," Night said firmly. "I see no violation in removing rot."
"Night Avione. Remember who we are. We are the Pillars of Souls. We do not interfere with the life-clock. That is the greatest transgression an Angel can commit."
"People who rot on the inside get to live out their full clocks in grace," Night argued, her voice rising. "While gentle spirits are withered away by the infections those mortals cause? I gave the world a favor by removing the burden!"
"It is not your place to judge the lifespan of a soul!"
"Is it because you lack the courage for proper judgment?" Night stepped forward, her wings bristling. "Are you just a coward like the rest? You play it safe, afraid to set a foot wrong to bring true justice! Are we just puppets? Can't we use our prowess to save the world?"
SLAP.
The sound echoed through the office. Hera's hand stayed in the air for a second before she pulled it back, regaining her composure. Night stared at her, her cheek stinging.
"You want to bring justice," Hera said quietly, "but your arrogance puts yourself and everyone else at risk."
"What do you mean?"
"You think the killings were the violation? No. It's the aftermath." Hera scattered the files across the desk. "In Nepal, the three hundred people you killed? They had families. Their deaths left a power vacuum that led to their wives being assaulted and their children being sold into trafficking. In Gaza, the military power you weakened made them a target for slaughter. And here, in the Philippines... because you wiped out the leadership, the House of Representatives was burned. The country lost its policy, its morality. People have resorted to a new level of crime just to survive."
Night stared at the photos of the chaos. Horror, cold and oily, began to rise in her throat.
"You talk of justice," Hera continued, "but you have no morality. You believe your principles are valid, but your arrogance makes you a disciple of hypocrisy. This is what your 'equity' has done."
Night remained silent, her wings drooping.
"You are suspended. Your wings will remain, but you are forbidden from leaving the Earth dimension. If you try to cross the threshold, the consequence will be painful. You'll end up like Icarus, Night. You will fall."
"So... my only punishment is that I'm grounded on Earth?"
Hera grinned. She reached into her drawer and pulled out a unique, velvet-lined file.
"Remember those thousand people you killed on that cruise ship? It seems your judgment was a bit too 'judgmental.' You included the innocent. Meet Hana Mondschein."
Night looked at the photo.
"Her parents were government officials," Hera said. "They were on that ship. Their bodies were found with piranha bites, alongside the criminals you targeted."
Piranhas, Night thought, a sickening realization dawning on her. One of the hundred. I put her parents in that water. It wasn't collateral damage. It was my plan.
"What have I done?" Night whispered.
"You love manipulating the life-clocks of mortals," Hera said. "So, do it properly this time. Use a contract. Extend her life. Protect her. You remember how, don't you?"
"A soul-binding contract," Night said numbly. "Maximum three-year duration."
"Maximize it," Hera commanded. "Aside from your 'equity' killings, we've tracked a series of deaths—diseases that don't match our records. It means something not mortal is killing humans. Since Hana is a Mondschein, her family data is the key to finding this culprit. This is your mission of redemption, Night. I have huge trust in you... make this a success."
"I will."
"Dismissed. And Night? Tomorrow, your wings won't fly higher than the clouds. Pack your things. There's a hideout on Earth for our kind. Stay there."
PRESENT DAY
"Woah," Lunx said, shivering. "Shivers to my timbers. That is wild."
"It is," Night said, staring at the photo of Hana. "Now that I've seen the aftermath... I feel guilty."
"For the people you killed?"
"To some... to her," Night corrected. "Not for the rotten ones, but for the innocent people who get caught in the wake of my 'justice.' I realized I took too many steps in the wrong direction. I have to make it right. And I'll start with that kid."
Lunx smiled, placing a hand on Night's shoulder. "I'm glad I'm witnessing your progression. I'm proud of you, friend. Give it your all!"
"Thanks."
Lunx's watch beeped. "Oh shoot, I have a meeting at HQ. I gotta fly! Bye, Night! Good luck!"
"See ya."
Night watched her friend disappear, then turned back to the photo of the girl in the park.
"Right," Night whispered, her eyes hardening with resolve. "I still have a doll to persuade."