Angel and Demon

Demon: The Warehouse, Apartment 1A

She was a real fighter they tell me. I have not been allowed to see her in days, maybe. The risk is too great. She is yet to learn who I am and what I will mean to the words of freedom. When she does, it is unlikely anybody will stop her. Thier experiments will be pointless.

I am guided through Apartment 1A to see the new bird. I will remain behind bulletproof glass for thier concern. Nobody believes I would be the one to attack her. They are correct.

She now wears the standard outfit for our kind, modified to fit around our wings. The deformity is considered to change out biological structure, therefore changing our species. It is a plain colour, and I cannot decide where it used to be white or if they never tried to make it so. Either way, it is disgusting.

It doesn't appear that she is too distraught. I will not be authorised to know anything about her. Knowledge equals power. It could help me win. For now, she will be referred to as Angel, like I am, Demon, her counterpart.

She sits off the bed she has been given. A sign of defiance. It means nothing to me. I will win our fight. I do not wish to be hubristic, with pride being my weakness like many before myself, but I see the outcome of this.

She has never trained, her mouth is likely to be her only defense. Her hair, which arrived bouncy and bright, suggests a lack of confidence, or a sense that she must adhere to the expectations of others. Her wings, now dry and fluffy, are unused. She knows not how to use them to cut into her opponent. She never will.

Scientists, or psychologists watch my reactions, to see if there is any glimmer of anger or resentment. I have been mostly stoic since soon after I arrived. This is something I will not change. I will have no weakness for these people to discover.

When I am lead away, they are disappointed.