Gabe sat up, Beretta 9mm drawn and cocked, momentarily confused where he was, and then remembering the old church and why he wasn’t in his apartment. His heart raced, and the couch felt damp with sweat, as the light of the TV further down, moved his attention.


    “Again?” asked Dyson’s voice in the dark, headphones on and playing a video game to get out his frustrations.


    “Same damn dream. Alone in a graveyard, I can see in the dark for some reason, There’s this voice in my head telling me to kill, and I follow this voice somehow to a heat signature, a man glowing in the dark. Old abandoned building, top floor near the window. I stand near the edge of this lake and I see the glow of this figure with angel wings. I can see a rifle, so I draw mine to line up, and it’s different. It’s not my gun. It’s some modern variant of an MP5 with a weird green dot scope, and I get ready to take the shot and realize the figure in the window is me, standing with angel wings spread out holding my rifle. We fire at the same time, barrel to barrel. Every time. Shots fire like one sound, flash and wake up just burning up and shaking. I think it’s Mike. I’m Mike in the dream. I’m him shooting at me.”


    “Pretty obvious symbolism, my man. You’re fighting the one terrorist you can’t kill, you feel like you’re just always in his sights, and he’s in yours, but nobody wins. You’re the angel, the Archangel, I mean you came up with that symbolism yourself. You’re scared. For the first time you’re actually scared of your target., and it’s fuckin with you bro.” Dyson sighed.


    “It’s more than that. He’s taunting me…but it’s not…him. Something is getting in my dreams.”


    “Yea, it’s called frustration, being pissed off.” Dyson huffed.


    “No, something literal, is getting inside my dreams. I think it’s her. Nadja. She’s calling me in. Luring me into a face-off.”


    “Don’t, man. Don’t let their mine games and brainwashing get to you. You’re fighting flesh and blood here.” Dyson sighed. “But someone was calling you. Tanner sent like 3 texts while you were asleep.”


    “Shit, why didn’t you wake me?” Gabe asked.


    “You need sleep, it’s fucking 2AM.”


    “I have to go. This could be important. Look, she just texted me an address 3 times. Maybe she’s hurt or needs backup.”


    “Dude, I would have seen her head out if she was kitted up for war, She has my number too, never called me once. It’s a booty call, not a Duty call. How long has it been since Shannon left you? Sorry, cheated on you while you were defending the homeland and then when you found out from her friend, she left you. It’s been a year, Gabe. Go get some.”


    “Tanner has that, Alex guy. She’s not hooking up.”


    “Right…women never cheat, obviously, you would know. Man, we could be dead in a few days, don’t die after a year long dry spell. Die freshly laid. Who gives a shit if she has someone?” he shrugged.


    “I do. But it could be something else important. It’s not like I can go back to sleep anyway.” Gabe said, grabbing his jacket and heading to the truck.


    Gabe checked the phone again, playing his voicemail and feeling something was wrong. He grabbed his M4 rifle, cocking and locking it as he went for a walk down the muddy road where a truck might get stuck. His heart sank in his chest as he stared at the abandoned building, peering out now from behind tree cover and in full view of a lake. The obvious trap, sent him into tactical mode, debating whether tanner was even alive after making the voicemail recording or dead and in no need of rescue. The thought of even a slight chance they kept her alive in there to lure him in was enough to do the trick, but he was not about to go down without a fight. He grabbed his gear and left the truck behind, hugging the tree line to stay hidden.


    Dyson jerked from his chair, looking up at a female figure and almost drawing a gun, as the dreamlike orange eyes and fangs faded to just a human form, a very startled Tanner just trying to wake him.


    “Fuck me, I thought you were that demon bitch. I’m still having nightmares about that.” He sighed, relieved. "She really does get in your head."


    “I couldn’t sleep. I heard movement down here and thought I’d just…talk to Gabe.” She sighed.


    “Seemed important. What did you two talk about?” he smirked.


    “N-nothing yet. I just came down here. He’s not even on the couch.” She puzzled.


    “Well yea he went to find you, you sent him some address and a voicemail, he responded right away.” Dyson said, looking as perplexed as Tanner did.


    “I never texted him, or sent a voicemail.” She said, looking worried.


    “Bullshit. I got Gabe’s voicemail access on my phone. You told him to meet you.” He said, playing the message.


    “Hi, this is Tanner. I really need someone to talk to right now, but not here. I’m sending you the address. I don’t wanna be alone right now.” The voice said, as Tanner’s blood ran cold.


    “Dyson, that’s not my voice.” she exhaled.


    “Sounded like your voice to me.” he said, looking worried.


    “I know, that’s why I’m kinda freaked out, because that’s not me, I would probably know, but it sounds a lot like me…and that’s not my phone number. Oh my fuck, get guns, get that address into a GPS, he’s walking into a trap.” She said, darting to the stairs.


    “Wait…WHAT!? What are you talking about? That’s seriously not you?” he asked.


    “It’s Nadja. I’m certain because that sounds a LOT like my voice, and I know damn sure I didn’t send that message, and the only thing on there that doesn’t sound exactly like me is the slight lisp when she says sending. Play it back and listen. And that’s Mike’s phone number. Gabe is about to die.” She said as he jumped to his feet and grabbed some gear.


    Gabe checked the perimeter, not a sound in any direction or movement. He flipped on the thermal binoculars and pistol gripped the rifle as he scanned the area, the gutted-out building totally empty, and only some rickety stairs leading up to the second floor. He shut the door behind him, bracing it closed with an old wooden chair, so nothing could enter without making a lot of noise and going in through a window. He latched the one window shut that wasn’t already frozen shut with rust, and latched long ago. Securing the area and heading to the stairs, he took very slow steps near the inside wall. The creaking of the old timber unnerved him, making more noise than he would have liked, reaching the top with a rapid arc to look for warm bodies before heading up the rest of the way.


    He did a quick sweep of the floor, one big open area with some old tables and debris, the roof caved in slightly in one corner, No doors or other rooms in the old shelter house, nothing glowing in sight except a small mouse-sized creature scurrying for the one open window, glass long broken and a soft breeze rolling in with a whistle. He softened his steps to listen for the creak of the stairs if anyone approached from behind, as he peered from the window and spotted something by the water’s edge, human shaped and lit up clearly by the full moon.


    Stolen story; please report.


    “Got you motherfucker.” He said, leaning back and assessing the target, zooming in and switching to night vision to confirm, it was Mike. Sig MPX pointed upward, resting on his shoulder, as Mike strolled aimlessly and looked around as if searching for him. He turned away, staring at the treeline.


    Gabe shouldered his M4, taking aim and focused on his mark, locked in and tuning out everything else. A pair of eyes in the dark behind him locked onto it’s target as well, the subtle gleam of steel moving slightly, silently moving closer. Gabe placed his finger on the trigger and felt the cold steel texture ridges on it, and then the cold steel point of a knife pressing gently into his spine, lower back, right between the vertebrae.


    “You take that shot, and I’ll kill you.” Nadja whispered, firmly gripping his shirt collar and pulling him back just to the tipping point of balance, the knife barely in his skin.


    “You’ll kill me anyway if I don’t.” he said.


    “Da. I will anyway. This is true. But I won’t kill your parents and make them watch the video of their other son dying to the same terrorist threat. They will be begging me to kill them once they see what their boys have become. At least Caleb died instantly. Mike shoots to kill, painless, and his victims often never hear the shot. You could die just as quick and painless, a hero’s death. Or I could take my time killing you. Do nothing, put the gun on safety, and let Michael put a bullet in your head. Die standing up and armed like a soldier who knows when he has no choice.” She growled. He clicked the gun to safety, keeping his finger on the selector, pressing back just enough to almost move it into firing position, squeezing the trigger against the safety block hard, so the slightest movement of the safety would fire. Mike felt the crosshairs on his back, taking a second to remember in the dream where his target was standing before making his move. He exhaled, swinging around in one motion and lining up the window, the glowing head sliding behind the reticle and pulling the trigger.


    Gabriel waited till the scoped almost aligned and clicked off the safety, before his trigger finger could pull back, the blade sunk in, pulling his shot off target, and the sharp tug yanked him to the floor. Mike stood holding the MPX, smoke rolling from the suppressor as he sighed and made his casual walk home.


    Gabe gasped, waking up to the sudden jerk of his wrists pulled tightly upward, sending a jolt of pain through the knife wound in his back. His legs paralyzed, hanging below him. Footsteps stomping up on top of a wooden box for height, letting the reality sink in, as the small light on the camera propped up in front of him on a table, blinked slowly.


    “Smile for the camera, Gabriel. You’re not the first angel I’ve killed, but you are the first I’ve been able to play.” she hissed in his ear.


    “You really are the devil, aren’t you?” he sighed, nervously, trying to remain calm.


    “Tonight, for you... I am.” She whispered, plunging the knife into his back at the base of the neck and making a long incision downward. He gnashed his teeth and tried to remain strong and silent as she made several more deep cuts, peeling the skin off his back and folding it to either side.


    “This is what you wanted, Gabriel. So many tours in Iraq, so many voluntary missions, You wanted fame, and to die a hero. You call yourself an Archangel yet you cannot fly. I’m giving you your wings.” She whispered, running a needle through his elbow skin, and stitching it tightly with sinew to the skin from his back, repeating it on the other side.


    “What do you want to know!?” he cried out.


    “Nothing.” She smirked. “I’m not tormenting you for information, or to make you surrender. You’ve already surrendered, I know everything I need to know. All I need is to kill you and leave.” She mumbled. “This is for disobedience, and for fun.” She giggled darkly.


    Nadja made a deep gash through the back muscles from the base of the neck to the small of the back, adding muscle to the wings with a few stitches. She made no hint of reaction to his groans and gnashed cries of pain as she displaced each shoulder blade with the snip of a pair of tree limb trimmers, the crunch of bone sending Gabe into a nauseous delirium. “Stay awake, Gabriel…you’re stronger than that.” She said, waving something in front of his face and then proceeding to make countless calculated cuts with the sheers, down the ribs near the spine, clipping each rib mechanically efficient and fast. She followed a second series down the other side of his ribcage, applying something sticky as she went that sent him reeling with every application, searing hot. With a firm crack, she opened the back of the ribcage, folding it out and quickly securing it with a stitch as he began to wheeze and struggle to breathe.


    “The problem with flying too high, even if you don’t burn up in the sun, Gabriel, you eventually run out of air.” She whispered, quickly reaching into his ribcage and making a series of rapid slashes, spraying blood across her face and sending him into convulsions. The movement stopped and Gabe went limp as she made the final cuts to butterfly each lung like a chicken breast, stitching it to the ribs even after he went silent, just to finish the ritual. She stood back, admiring her work and stopping the recording, stepping into the darkness behind him and getting the second phone, Gabe’s own phone, holding it up like a selfie.


    “Hello parents. Your sons are both with God now, But sadly, only one of them was brave enough to have earned his wings. If Caleb ended up in hell instead, I’ll be sure to give him his own set as well.” She grinned, stopping the recording and plugging it into the laptop on the table to start editing, the sound of a mouse click and Russian opera softly playing as she got comfortable, the pop of a bag of chips opening as the files loaded, and with her still bloody hands she placed a slightly tinted chip in her mouth, crunching slowly and taking her time. The wall of flesh behind her, tapping rhythmically with the drip of blood.


    Dyson dialed again as tanner drove down the old road quickly.


    “Why didn’t he pick up? Gabe always picks up after the first or second call. I’ve called 5 times in 5 minutes, where would you have taken him?”


    “I’d- WHu…I don’t know, she sent the address in the text, not in the voicemail. All I got is Hartwood street because you glanced at it and told me. I didn’t call him, why would I know where I would send him? I don’t lure in people like that, and if I did, I’d have a kill-room, and I wouldn’t be luring in a War veteran on my own team, so I don’t know where on this fucking 12-mile stretch of road, there would be a conveniently abandoned home or business that would be good for luring someone to. The phone rang about half a ring and Dyson picked up.


    “Gabe, what the fuck?” he asked.


    “Gabe is not here right now,” Nadja said playfully. “You just missed him, and so did Michael. We were having a little conversation, if you like to leave a message for him, I suggest you say a brief prayer at the funeral service.”


    “Listen here, you crack-whore from hell. If you have him hostage…” Dyson yelled.


    “Oh, no, he is free to go when you feel like picking him up. I suggest bringing two people to this address. You will not need guns, but you will need gloves and a stretcher.” She said hanging up and sending a message containing a video. Dyson breathed heavily, hovering over the play button and almost afraid to touch it.


    “I need an address here!” Tanner insisted. He punched it into the GPS and sat back, raking his hair back through his fingers and nervously staring at the black screen with the play button and a time reading 5 and half minutes.


    “I can’t click it. Just drive."


    “Play the video, it could be important!” Tanner insisted.


    “I can’t. It’s too dark to see much, but that’s his gun on the ground and his Archangels shirt next to it. He’s already dead. I know it. I can feel it. We’re just heading into a killbox, pull over.” He said, looking lost and dazed. She pulled to the side of the road and waited, Dyson handing her the phone, implying she should watch it. She pressed play and the camera moved to Nadja’s face with an evil smile, a shirtless Gabe suspended by the wrists and struggling, as she paused it. A hint of orange gleaming over the one eye in the moonlight beam.


    “Fuck…he’s already dead. The time stamp says 20 minutes ago. It’s not even a 6-minute video. She’s either gone by now or the place is trapped.”


    “Can we take her down with everyone else loaded up?” he asked.


    “No…not a damn chance. We’re not even military trained except Yuri, we have store-bought body armor, no fancy soldier shit, some questionable rifles and pistols, no grenades or rocket launchers. You guys are way better than us, and she killed your whole team with zero prep work. Gabe is already dead, you think just you and 3 amateur assholes just waking up, with some black market and online ordered gear, can even touch her, especially if she’s trapped the place and knows we’re coming? We go down that road, we die there. If Mike’s there she’ll spare me, and kill everyone else, if she’s alone I’m dead too. That is a trap and we both know it, and you could call up 8 more guys, bunch a fucking green berets, and get them down here at light speed and geared up and still not save him. You’ll just get them killed too. We’ve never encountered her on her own turf and with planning. I’m not going to try that shit tonight. Just say a prayer and don’t watch the video. Hopefully it was quick. I’ll tell you if there’s anything you need to know, or any final words. Let’s just go back.”


    “Mute the video, skip to the end. Just tell me if he’s alive when it stops recording.” He said, trying to keep together. She scrolled and looked away, wincing and scrolling some more.


    “No… We’re just risking our lives for a body. And you don’t wanna see what it looks like at the end.”


    “FUCK!” he yelled, punching the dashboard.


    “I’m pretty sure she killed him before even pressing record.” Tanner lied, holding back a tear. “Shot to the head I think. Kind of her thing. Double tap headshot. gory but painless. The rest is just Nadja taunting and…mutilating the body. There’s nothing for you to see.” She said, closing out and turning around to head back.