Fallen from Grace • Chapter Six

Angelico woke up slowly. At last, the sunlight in his eyes forced him into complete consciousness. He knew he was in a hospital. They had a certain feel to them. No matter what planet or moon he was on, hospitals always felt the same.

He knew he was in pain, but he could not feel it. He would be hurting soon. He was on a table that would be used for a check-up, not for surgery. He was laying face down, and his body was not responding to his commands. His arms dangled over the sides limply. He could only move his eyes back and forth. His view would not change enough to tell him who was touching him, which he sensed more than felt.

"Who's there?" he asked, the words shaking on their way out.

"It is me," said an unfamiliar, female voice.

He strained his eyes to the side as much as he could. A pair of woman's hips was all that he could see. Well shaped, curving up into a thin waist. It was not a bad view, but he was still wondering who it could be.

"Who?" he asked again. She stepped back until she could be better seen. Angelico's eyes scanned her frame. He was not yet at her chest when the curly tips of her long, brown hair gave away her identity. He could not see her face. "Arianna." She was wife and assistant to the local doctor/gladiator Dr. Sergeon.

"You are right." She moved back to fiddle with Angelico some more, her hips darting in and out of view.

"Do you have a newspaper I could read?"

"No. There is no newspaper on the moon."

"Could you turn on the TV or radio or something?"

"Sorry. There is no television on the moon. There is no radio on the moon."

"Where do you get your news from?"

"People," she said without tone.

Angelico moaned as something hurt for the first time today. That is, really hurt, not just that lingering promise of hurt to come. "I wanted to find out what happened at the end of my match."

"You do not remember?" Arianna asked. It started off as a sentence, and then the tone of her voice shot up unusually high at the end to prove it was a question.

Angelico thought a moment. "The last thing I remember I had won the fight."

"You did win," she said. Then she did something to his back that made he feels like his spinal cord was being played like a cello.

"Then I'd hate to see the loser."

"Yes, he is dead." There was no remorse or glee in her voice, she was indifferent to his outcome.

"Dead? What killed him?"

"He is still in the office of the coroner. It seems someone during the crowd riot put Mitomycin in the wound you inflicted, preventing any healing."

"Crowd riot?"

"Yes. After the Mad-Man threw the rock at you, they stormed the arena floor and pounded on him. Six people died, including The Mad-Man."

"By-the-Ophidians!" Angelico called himself the guardian of the people, and if people were dying on his behalf...but his mind shifted tracks. "Threw a rock at me?" he asked, trying hard to remember it. "Was I ok?" If he could have moved his head, he would have shaken it at his own question.

"Your wings took most of the damage. That is lucky for you, as my area of specialty is cybernetics. I am fixing your wings right now. However, you are ailing with bruises and internal bleeding. I cannot help you with that. You need a mystic healer, like Doctor Sergeon."

"How is the doc?" Angelico had not seen him since a bomb Dr. Sergeon dropped shattered a vial of an incredibly strong virus in his pocket.

"He is in a coma." There was no remorse or glee in her voice, she was indifferent to his outcome.

"Coma? Is he ok?" Again, he wanted to shake his head.

"The only person on the moon who could heal Doctor Sergeon is Doctor Sergeon, and he is in a coma. Paramedics have taken over the responsibilities of Doctor Sergeon. A couple of mystic gladiators are also trying to heal him."

"I'm so sorry," he said consolingly.

"Why? It is not your fault."

Angelico felt his face flushing. "No, it's just, your husband, in a coma, you must be devastated." She made no response. Angelico wondered if that was an invitation.

"Your wings are finished," Arianna said. "A small section of your spine, closest to the connection point, was fractured. I have replaced this with titanium. This will make your back stronger and your wings more responsive."

"Thank you," said Angelico. At once he regained movement of his body and felt the pain he was in. He groaned as he stood.

"I apologize for the pain. There is little I can do for you." From a nearby cupboard, Arianna produced a bottle that rattled just once. She moved so smoothly as she walked that it remained quiet until Angelico took it into the hand. "These are the most effective pain killers on the moon. You will take one every eight hours, or as needed."

"Thank you," said Angelico through gritted teeth. He pushed through the pain until he was on his feet. He was tempted to take a pill, but he was going to prove to himself he was stronger than that. He glanced down. Among brownish-blue and yellow swelling, he saw he was still wearing his loincloth that he normally wore solely for fights. "Do you have any clothes I could borrow?"

"I have traditional hospital gowns, but I fear they will not fit over your wings."

"I'll see what I can do." Arianna left the room and returned seconds later with the hospital garb. Angelico was expecting a gown open in the back and pajama-like pants. What he was given was a sheet with three slits in it.

He was struck with a great, terrible idea. "Could you help me put this on?" He asked.

"Certainly."

"You know, I shouldn't be wearing this uniform I fought in. Could you...? I can't bend over." He had seen movies start this way, and with her husband in a coma, it just seemed the right thing to say. She removed his uniform, then covered him in the toga while he was still cringing from the first moment of pain. He decided it was for the best that nothing had happened between them just then.

"I am sorry. The cloth will only fasten over one shoulder. I cannot bring this side around because of your wings."

"That's ok," said Angelico with a smile. "It feels secure enough. Just cut off the other strap."

"Certainly." She did so, bowed her head to wish him a good day, and left the room.

Angelico admired himself in the mirror. He liked the toga. It made him feel like a Roman emperor. He was no longer the gladiator; the gladiators fought for his amusement. However, it was only the toga he liked in the mirror. His hair had lost its curliness, matted down with blood. Both of his eyes were swollen; his nose was puffy and bent slightly to the side. In the lightest of places, his skin was jaundice yellow; in other places, it was as dark as burnt toast. He looked like an old banana. This went against the public image that he put so much work into. Angels weren't bruised and bloody, they looked magnificent before, during, and after a battle. He wanted to slip into his hotel room before anyone saw him. He put on the hospital-issued sandals that Arianna had brought him and left through the back entrance.

* * * * *

Angelico was still within sight of the hospital when a courier shouted his name. The courier was half the height of Angelico. It had four legs, four hands, but no arms, "You're Angelico?" Its voice was fuzzy like a bee buzzed around in his mouth.

"Yes. Would you like an autograph?"

"The Dogma Arena Agents would like you to speak with them in their office. I have an official decree from them requiring you to come right now."

"Oh, I was just..." he saw the signed and stamped paper swinging in the courier's armless hand. "Ok." The stadium was across the street from his hotel, it was on the way.

He found an alley behind a string of shops, and wandered down there, thinking no one would see him. "You're the gladiator," said an elderly woman. She held a device like a small telescope to her eye to see him. "Yes, yes, you come in my shop."

"Oh, I'd love to, but I'm on my way to see..."

"No, no, you come in. I have stuff for you."

"Oh, well..." 'Guardian of the people,' he thought to himself, 'guardian of the people.' "Of course." There were more scents than he could smell at once floating around the store. Many struck him as luxurious if by themselves, but in unison, these scents were atrocious.

"Your skin," said the elderly woman, dragging a crooked finger down her face. "It's off-color."

"Yeah," Angelico smiled, "I took quite a beating in the last..."

"I fix it now."

"Oh, ok." She had two bookshelves full of various cosmetics, all of which seemed to be sold in bulk. She held up jar after jar next to him. The jars were clear, and the shade inside was easily visible. "I'm an Autumn Snow."

"No, too dark. You're a Tagni-Dander now."

"I suppose I could try..." She was rubbing him on all visible skin with the concealing makeup. He was transforming from an old banana to a blanched carrot right before his eyes. Her fingers were rough, and she pushed the makeup on him hard. Although that did produce an even color, on top of his bruises and burns it was excruciating. He was willing to suffer for his work, and he did like his new skin tone. "How much do I owe you?" he asked when she was finished rubbing him down.

"You pay nothing. Tell them you use Circe's cosmetics."

"Oh, sure, thank you."

She patted him on his cheek. "You nice-looking boy. I have a granddaughter; you like to meet her."

Angelico bared his teeth, "I'm always around if I see her..."

"She's half-demon. Very nice eyes. You like her."

"Ok, I'll keep watching for her and..."

"Remember, tell them you use Circe's cosmetics."

"Yes." With concealment in the hand, he was not carrying his medication in, he left through the back door, into the alley. He took one step and was stopped by a woman.

"Well, well, well, Angelico, I was hoping to find you." She chewed gum while she spoke and snapped it when she finished a sentence. "Your hair's a mess! Your face as well."

"Well, I did take a bit of a beating in that match against Brunt." He noticed her hair. It was big, gelled, or sprayed, maybe both. It seemed short, not reaching her shoulders, but it curved out in every direction and Angelico estimated that if it were worn down, it would probably be two or three feet long.

"Come inside, I'll help you out."

"Well..." He knew he needed something done about his hair, and if he was going to run into person after person, he might as well take care of this now. The agents would have to wait.

He followed her inside the salon. There were no chairs, but racks that slanted at a forty-five-degree angle. They looked like torture devices, especially with the various equipment that hung over them. "Now, your hair," she said playing with it. It was unyielding in its crusty, dry state. "You've got the curls thing going, that's cute. But the color..."

"I like this color."

"It may have worked before, but it's all wrong for your skin."

"Oh, this it's a new color I'm trying."

"Yeah, I figured. Now, I'm thinking platinum."

"Isn't that a little bright?"

"Think about the arena. You're usually fighting at night, and the lighting on the arena floor is difficultly dim. You need to go brighter than you want to appear the right shade."

"Good observation. So, you're a fan, then?"

"There are only three gladiators I'm a fan of Rapt, Concussion, and me."

"You're a gladiator?"

"Uh-huh. Long time running, too. I'm Mandissa, The Mystical Phenomenon."

"Yes, I've heard your name. Your fight was postponed the other night for the Shadowed rematch."

She waved her well-manicured hand at him. "Please, the sibling rivalry match? Rapt and I have gone up against each other so much we actually have the whole fight memorized. We're fighting tonight if you want to watch."

"Of course, I need to get pointers for when I'm up against you." This time she snapped her gum at the end of his sentence; perhaps as a way to express she had no more to say.

Angelico watched her hand when she waved at him. "Do you do manicures as well?"

"Yeah."

"And pedicures?" He was already late meeting the agents. He could be later. She spun the rack down started work on his nails.

After nearly an hour's work, he looked better than he had before. It was as if he had had a face-lift. His skin was tighter. His nose was just a bit smaller. His eyes looked like a clear pond reflecting sunlight. He could not help but smile. "Very nice. Thank you. What do I owe you?"

She waved a hand his way. "Please, it's fine. Just make sure you tell them Mandissa did your face and hair."


Feeling like an angel once more, he took the main street towards the stadium. As he passed by the cafe, the manager stepped outside in front of his path. He was tall, shaved blond hair, and had a stern look on his face. His words betrayed his facade. "Angelico! My favorite customer. You must be starved, come, eat a while."

"Well, I should be..." he was hungry. "Of course, I need to eat."

"Excellent. Sit here, in case they come by." The manager pulled out a chair for Angelico to sit. The table was right in front of the cafe, making him conspicuous to everyone who walked past. "We have a special today you'll love. Emones with a phroge gravy. A local treat you cannot find on any other moon or planet in the entire universe."

"Sure, sounds delicious."

The waitress brought it so promptly, not only must the food have already been made, but she must have been standing on the other side of the door waiting with it. Angelico thought the waitress a cute little thing. If she went with her natural looks, she'd be the girl next door. Long red hair, emerald eyes, a cute, round nose, shapely figure. However, she tried to betray this look by covering herself in a Goth disguise. All of her hair except the first and last inch was dead black, which hung heavy like it was painted. She wore black jeans, a four-armed, low-cut shirt (though she only had two arms, and she had clearly cut the shirt herself), and something pushing up below it. She covered herself in a layer of powder, to hide her freckles and give herself a ghost-like complexion. Instead of a necklace, she sported a collar that had clear crystals all around with fire dancing in them. All of her makeup and there was a lot was the same black as her hair. She struck Angelico as a colorful painting trapped in a black-and-white photograph. She never smiled at, spoke to, or even looked in the direction of Angelico. Angelico winked at her to get a reaction. She pretended she didn't see it, but Angelico saw her roll her eyes. He had made an impression.

Like everything else this day, his lunch was free.

As if it were the magical land at the end of a long journey, Angelico finally saw the stadium where he was to meet the Dogmorian Agents. However, his voyage was not over yet. In between Angelico and the office doors, a small cart stopped. The driver was a small, gelatinous man. He quivered constantly, like a cold Chihuahua. He was a solid orange-red, except for two bulging, black eyes, like two cloves stuck into orange Jell-O. His head always remained forward. No orifice moved when he talked, but he rippled. "Angelico, come with me."

"I'd love to, but..."

"Angelico, come with me." A shiver ran through Angelico's body. Something told him it would be best not to argue.

"Sure." Reluctantly, Angelico climbed into the back of the cart. The cart was something he expected to see on a farm, centuries ago, before the invention of motors. It was wooden, though Angelico could not identify the type of wood. It had an uncomfortable-looking bench where the driver sat. The back was hollowed out, like a canoe. On the sides, there were rubber tracks that stretched around oval blocks. The tracks moved like treads on a tank. Angelico wondered if they had ever heard of the invention of the wheel. An animal that looked like a gigantic dragonfly pulled the cart. Its wings beat constantly, and when it wasn't moving forward, it hovered in a place like a hummingbird at a flower.

The gelatine man gave a command in a language unknown by most races. The dragonfly took off at an amazing speed. The street became a passing blur. Out of the blur jumped a familiar face. She was tall and thin, with short hair that, even at this speed, remained tucked behind her ears. She landed in the cart across from Angelico. Her eyes never strayed from his. She spoke as fast as they were traveling.

"Didn't think I'd catch you."

"Hello, Viv," greeted Angelico. She only ever wanted one thing from him.

"You taught me an expensive lesson. When you say you're going to win, I should not bet against you."

"You should not bet against me no matter what I say."

She leaned in close to Angelico to speak, "Of course, we both know that if Shadowed hadn't hit him with that spiked disc you never would've beat him."

"How'd you know?"

"It's my job to know."

"And when it comes down to it, I suppose that it was the crowd who beat him."

"The victory is yours, no matter how you do it."

"I guess, but they're the ones that killed him."

Vivarine leaned in closer, "The Mitomycin was on the disc itself. The coroners know that, but that would indicate you were cheating by bringing in unregistered substances, so they're blaming the mob."

"How do you know?"

"I know things." She sat back. "So, how are you winning the fight tonight?"

"Who's fighting?"

"You and Shadowed versus Rapt and The Vampyress."

"Oh, well, the usual way."

"Could you elaborate on how? If I could set the odds against a crowd victory, but put my money there, that'd be sweet."

"Already did the crowd thing." Angelico paused a moment, thinking what he would like if he really did have full control over the fight. "Shadowed and I will still be standing, Rapt seriously injured, the vampire dusted."

Vivarine grinned. "I hope so. Don't disappoint." With a hand on the side, she leaped out of the cart and vanished into the blur.


Angelico was thoroughly disoriented when the cart came to a stop. He had no clue where on the moon he was. He looked around and concluded he was on some kind of farm. He stayed in the cart, observing his surroundings until someone came to greet him. Angelico heard him before he saw him. "I'm Rapt."

Angelico looked at the voice and smiled in recognition. His brown hair was long, pulled back into a ponytail. The same colored hair grew on his face around his mouth. He was unpolished and was covered in a fine layer of dust. Otherwise, he looked exactly like his sister, Mandissa. They had the same brown-toned skin, dark, reddish-brown eyes, and a confident but tired-of-working posture.

Angelico extended his hand to shake. Rapt nodded in response. "Pleasure. Ear we're fighting tonight."

"We'll see." Rapt gestured broadly for Angelico to step out of the cart. "Let me show you around the ranch."

"Ok," said Angelico, and followed. They walked down a dusty path with gated pens on each side. The closest to them housed long, small, hairy, dog-faced caterpillars that crawled and barked near Angelico's ankles. "What's that?" asked Angelico.

Rapt glared. "You'll see a lot of unknown creatures here. My father and I, with help from my sis, breed unique species. This..." he bent over and picked up the dog-faced caterpillar, "This is a santine."

"Like the cracker?" asked Angelico, good-humouredly.

Rapt glared in response. "I assure you I don't know. He is small, and cute, overlooked as harmless by the opponent. However, he is swift, ferocious, deadly." Despite this warning, Rapt continued to carry and pet the santine during the rest of the tour. "Over here is one we are particularly proud of. This is a tagni." It looked like a slightly larger-than-normal housecat with floppy rabbit ears. When it saw them, it arched its back and hissed.

"Cute."

"Cute?" Rapt sounded offended. "This is one of the strongest creatures we have." He took an offensive stomp towards the floppy-eared tagni. This caused it to attack. There was a soft "pst" sound like it was going to whisper a secret. Rapt moved to the side. Angelico's already aching leg suddenly exploded with pain. He dropped to one knee, grabbing his aching thigh, wincing. "Still think it's cute?"

"What happened?"

"It turns the neuropeptide called substance P into a crystallized projectile. When it attacks, it releases them, causing an immense, though temporary, pain in its opponent."

It was a couple of minutes before Angelico could stand again. "Ok, impressive."

Rapt continued to show him creatures on the farm, including the emones and phroge he had had for lunch. If he had known then what he knew now, he'd have ordered something else. Angelico's body had endured a few more pains throughout the tour. "Ok, nice collection," agreed Angelico. "But what was this tour about? Just trying to weaken me up before tonight's fight?"

"I think it's pretty obvious my intentions."

"Oh, of course, but could you elaborate, just a little?"

Rapt sighed heavily. "You are only registered as a war gladiator. That means you have one discipline open. You will train with us how to open portals. We will supply you with all of these animals as your minions. All you have to do is tell them you only use Gahnin Ranch raised minions."

"Oh, thank you. That is a generous offer. But I actually started training in bio-tek sometime back. Though I have recently thought about learning cybernetics to help keep up my wings. Or maybe mysticism, you know healing and such, to go with my angel image. But I can't go into the portal opening. They're the strangest people. Have you ever heard of Leetah..?"

"I'm a portal gladiator. My sister is a portal gladiator. Both of my parents were portal gladiators. There's nothing weird about us."

Angelico's eyes watered with regret. "I meant no offense. It's been a long day; I'm not feeling well. No disrespect, really, it's just..."

Out of almost nowhere, Rapt pulled a weapon. It was like a crossbow, but instead of an arrow, it was loaded with something round, like a glass bowl. It sparkled and shimmered and sizzled. Angelico knew only that he did not want to be hit by it. "Ok, tell you what, I'll think about it." Rapt raised the crossbow so it aligned with Angelico's chest. "I have a meeting with the Dogmorian Agents right now. Just put me back on the cart, send me to the agents, and I'll discuss becoming a portal Gladiator for them. Ok?"

Rapt relaxed the crossbow. "Ok. Tell me tonight after my fight."

"Of course. We're up against each other later, right? We'll talk then." Angelico scrambled onto the cart and did not look back.

Angelico was exhausted by the time he reached the stadium. Agent Smeedle, a grizzly Neanderthal-like man, and Agent Lalox, a hairless, blue man who never spoke, were standing at the door to greet him. Agent Smeedle said, "I was beginning to think you wouldn't show."

"Oh no, I was planning on coming right away. But...guardian of the people, you know, I serve them first."

"Good, good, as long as the people love you." Angelico smiled nervously. He hoped Agent Smeedle was not a sarcastic man. Both Agent Smeedle and Agent Lalox gestured that Angelico should sit. All three sat at once, the two agents sat opposite Angelico, across a desk that reminded Angelico of a coffin.

"You're looking well," said Agent Smeedle.

"Trust me, I look better than I feel," said Angelico.

"I'm sorry to hear that. We're doing last-minute shuffling with tonight's matches. Do you think you're well enough to fight?"

Angelico held up and shook the jar of makeup. Realizing he had the wrong container, he held up the bottle of pills and shook them. "These should help."

"Good, good. Originally, we were going to give you the night off, to recuperate. Some of the other gladiators are restless, wanting to get back in the arena."

"Of course," agreed Angelico.

"We're not touching the first match. To spice up the sibling-rivalry match, we're declaring all fights going forward are paired. The Mystical Phenomenon is paired with Concussion. Rapt will be partnering with The Vampyress."

"Ok."

"Now, Amphib and Eel have not fought in a while, and they are currently billed to fight the winners of the first match. However, we think it would be better if you and Shadowed challenged the winners. This will also anger Eel and Amphib, making for a better fight later on against them."

"Makes sense."

Agent Smeedle leaned forward, wrapping his large knuckles on the desk as he continued. "Do you know why we want you to fight tonight?"

"No... because the people love me?"

"Yes, but specifically why?"

Angelico no longer understood the question. "No."

"Good, good. We're trying to keep it low. News of the virus that infected Dr. Sergeon has leaked beyond Dogma. The planet of Dkarthad, in the Raskelon system, has sent a reporter to look into this. I'd like them to broadcast a fight while they're here." Angelico sat bolt upright, completely forgetting all pain. His eyes danced and sparkled like a disco ball. He clenched his mouth shut, wanting to look serious, but a wide, thin smile oozed across his face. There was no hiding his love for the media. Agent Smeedle continued, "We want other worlds to see us and start coming here. We're going to do this through our gladiators. Show them we're simple people but we know how to have fun. You're going to be our poster child. Our golden boy. You are going to attract the eyes of every solar system out there and get them to look our way." Angelico probably could have flown without the use of his wings at this moment.

Agent Smeedle started to knock against the desk extra hard now. "Before we start this campaign, I have to know, is there anything in your past that could potentially embarrass us?"

The light in Angelico's eyes faded, but he forced them to stay wide open and stare on. His smile wanted to recede back into his mouth, but he forced it to keep its shape. His face flushed, but behind the makeup, it was well concealed. A pause would give him away. He would not permit anything to betray his words. He thought up the best thing to say as he was saying it. "I promise you, you can look into all records all over the universe, and you will find nothing bad at all associated with anyone named Angelico." He held his gaze until he received some kind of reaction.

"Good, good." Agent Smeedle smiled a terrible smile full of rotten teeth. He sat back in his chair, laughing. "This will be great. A real-life angel who came to our small moon to watch over us. The media will eat it up, we will actually have tourism."

Angelico was smiling for real now, showing off his teeth, wondering if Agent Smeedle was jealous. "I will give a great performance tonight and will make sure Shadowed does the same."

"Good, good. The reporter is already over at the hospital now. Talk to her while the first match is going on. Convince her to stay. Coax her into coming to the next fight."

"Certainly."

"Good, good." The two agents stood, Angelico did as well. "Of dozen gladiators on this moon, you are truly the finest." Each agent in turn shook one of his arms. Their method of shaking was a violent trembling while squeezing his bicep. It hurt normally, but the pain was exaggerated now in his condition. When Angelico stepped outside, the precious hours of sunlight were coming to an end. The first moment of darkness signaled the first fight of the night. Angelico had to go straight to the hospital, the very point he had started from, without stopping by his hotel room. No rest for the weary.