Guardian Angel Read Online

In other words, they die. I should know, my unit has killed more of the sky-born bastards than any other group of soldiers on Earth.   -Alicia Lucard

CHAPTER 1

Alicia and Calypso walked slowly, approaching the third member of their team, G. Gregory-Hawthorne Laurenitis got his nickname largely in part because Alicia hated spouting off such a long name, so G it was. Either way, he was damn deadly with his silhouette blade, which was a perfectly cut sword.

The stringy-haired man carried the blade on his back, along with several of his personal affections which were tied snugly into a leather knapsack. From first glance, G looked as though he were preparing to stand in a soup line, rather than continue the fight against a race of warriors from beyond the stars.

His blade had been diamond shaved and angled to do massive damage, no to mention hand sharpened by G personally on a regular basis. In the event that the silhouette blade didn't seal the deal, he always had his ranger pistol to fall back on. It was a simple design, mostly wooden with only two shots of black powder in the barrel. And while G took great pride in the condition of his blade, the opposite could be said for his sidearm.

Immediately upon glancing at the weapon, it became obvious that he cared little for it. The pistol had seen no action, and when it was in use, the heavy scarring of its wooden shell pointed to the fact that it was getting tossed somewhere.

The truth was, G had long wondered if it would even fire. And it was for that reason that he refused to clean it, shunning the idea of handling the weapon any more than he had to. The Resistance had plenty of sidearms, all of which were a lot more up-to-date. But the pistol he carried, which closely resembled one of a high seas pirate, was a gift from his father. One of his only reminders of a world that once was. So G carried the weapon, along with his love for music, as a reminder to continue the fight.

The city around them, at least what remained of it, bore similarities to a civilization that once thrived. Skyscrapers and transit systems were in place, though Humans had been knocked back into a time of horse and buggy.

Streets were once again equipped with wax lanterns which hung from poles on every corner, requiring a crew of lamplighters to travel through the city near dusk. Some survivors had oil lamps as well, however, with the highly-flammable fuel in such short supply, they generally only burned oil during special events and holidays.

Just as if it were the nineteenth-century all over again, the streets of Washington City were dirty, overcrowded and no longer a place to gather. They were simply means of getting from one area to another, and that was further reinforced by wagons full of armed soldiers for the Resistance. They had taken the place of a police force that once was, and maintaining a suitable life for the survivors inside of the city had proved itself nearly as taxing as the war on those who sought to take it away.

Living in Washington City meant living under the protection of the Guardian Angel grid system above. It was a double-edged sword, allowing them a safer place of living, while forcing them to survive as though it were hundreds of years behind the actual calender date.             

Calypso was a bit more hardcore than G when it came to weaponry, a mini-gun hanging from his shoulder on a thick leather strap. An old relic pulled from a downed combat helicopter, it had been rusted heavily at one time, but Calypso had done a solid job of cleaning the weapon.

Every soldier who was Resistance sworn, at least in Washington City, carried a primary and secondary weapon. It was a standard loadout. And accompanying such a massive gun, one that pulled the warrior's frame a bit lower from the gravity of weight, was a pump-action shotgun. Solid black and basic in style, it was the type of gun that commanded attention. Its unique sound while pumping accepting no less from those around it.

Alicia Lucard was simplistic when it came to weaponry as she stood there with the men, the scorching sun bearing down on them as two Glock-style pistols were strapped to her legs with thick nylon holstering, and well-defined hand to hand combat skills if it came down to it.

Before Invasion Day, she had been an accountant. Funny how her top priorities used to include quitting time, grocery lists and what programming to pack onto her DVR. Now, her short list had been replaced with living every day to its fullest, staying one step ahead of her peers when it came to survival and slaying as many aliens as she possibly could. Aliens! Before Invasion Day, Humanity had questioned if life beyond our own planet was even a possibility. Now we had grown used to a life with them here.

As she began to think back to her days of sampling the newest latte in her office of modernized distractions, Alicia looked up above them and watched Guardian Angel for several moments.

It looked like a series of neon lights hovering above Washington City, but in reality, it was a cluster of low orbiting satellites which emitted electromagnetic pulses on a timer, rendering the superior air capabilities of the Ancients defenseless.

Not to mention, it was damn beautiful. At least to Alica. Much like the society of old had driven to work, passing by life's true beauty with disregard, the society of new had long-forgotten the beauty of Guardian Angel.

The lights of the man-made cloud of protection above burst out every few seconds, each shudder of electromagnetic pulse sending a small wave of color.