Snippet #858792

"So you showed up," called a man's voice from the darkness. "Honestly, I thought you would run and never look back. It certainly would have been the intelligent thing to do."

"Now you're gonna insult my intelligence?" The young man with purple hair, dressed in black, stood on the top of the building. He turned halfway to his opponent, displaying a big smirk on his face. "I'm not afraid of you. I'm more powerful than you are."

"Ha! More powerful than me? You're not even half my age. I can tear you apart with little effort."

"You're right. I am younger than you. But you see, that's to my advantage. I'm at my prime, and you're growing weak from battle. You may have been stronger than me a few hundred years ago, but face it. You're getting old."

The rage building up in the other man was intense. A bright white glow covered him, and white wings appeared on his back. He was dressed in a white robe and carried a heavy axe on his back. His wings carried him a few feet into the air. "Arrogant little punk! I'll show you just how weak I really am, Rotem!"

Then Rotem's appearance changed as well. Black wings appeared on his back, his fingers become long and beast-like, and his teeth were sharp as knives. He rose to meet his challenger in the air. The two spirits clashed with incredible force. The angel swung his axe at Rotem, but the swift demon evaded and sent a punch rocketing to his opponent's face, which was then blocked and countered. They both seemed evenly matched, but Rotem's smile showed his confidence.

"Wipe that stupid grin off your face!" said the angel.

"Is that sweat I see on your forehead?" Rotem was pleased to see the angel rapidly wipe his forehead. "Need a break, Old Man? We can take five if you want."

Angrily, the angel tossed his axe like a boomerang, and when he missed he charged and grabbed Rotem by the shoulders. The two struggled, falling and phasing through the top of the building and into the small convenience store inside. The angel sent a powerful punch into the demon's face, and for the first time, Rotem looked concerned.

"Oh... No you didn't."

Rotem pointed his right middle and index fingers at the angel. "No one touches my pretty face."

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A red-headed man dressed in business attire walked into the room of the ruined convenience store. Shelves were pushed over, crevasses made on the floor, and a burn mark on the wall, framing the shape of a man. The chief policeman greeted him.

"Wow. Somebody sure made a mess of this place."

"This is a weird one, Stocker. This woman here reports witnessing a murder. She says she saw the man stabbed near that burn mark over there. She ran to call the police, but when she returned shortly before we arrived, the body was gone. No blood, no finger prints, we don't even have a clue who died here."

"And what's with the burn mark?"

"That's another thing. The witness claims to have seen the killer release lightning from his fingertips and into the victim. Can you believe that?"

Gary Stocker looked at the witness, who met his gaze. Then he turned back to the chief. "I believe her."

"But how can someone cast lightning from their fingers? That's impossible!"

"Impossible or not, she believes it. And there is, indeed, a burn mark on the wall. This certainly is very strange."

"There's another thing, detective..."

"Oh, joy." Gary said sarcastically. "What else do I need to know?"

"The witnesses described the victim and the murderer for us. She claimed that the two had wings, like angels."

Gary turned and left the scene, and the chief called after him. "Where are you going?"

To this, Gary replied, "No body, no murder."