Yo~! So, uh, O/./O I never really made a concrete plot, so this is gonna suck (but if you've read my fanfics, they all do, even with a concrete plot. wait. None of 'em have a thought-out plot. O.o) and also, I'd like to give a special thanks to for pointing out a spelling mistake on the word angel, which I had previously spelled angle. What can I say? Spelling is NOT my friend or forte. (^J^)

Chol opened her eyes, uncurled her pearly wings and felt the warmth their silky feather brought with them disappear. She lifted her head and stretched out her limbs, feeling the pins and needles that come with moving sleeping functions. She brushed her wispy, sandy hair out of her face and took to the grey, cloudy skies.

The high world where her wings danced in was filled with angles and bits of debris that flew up into the air as its origin burned. Very many things happened to the charred and grey world where angles and people interacted. Chol often saw small children look up at the sky in wonder at the people that had wings. The land wasn't a desert, but the only parts that had color were the flames that burned what had once been identifiable or the red blood of people who cut themselves.

Chol swerved past floating bits of membranous material and over to where one could get an assignment form some other-worldly being. God, the angles believed that assigner was once called. Now, the workers, the angles, were considered 'Gods' and 'Goddesses'. Stepping onto the large mountain with an ark on it, and going inside the dull and rotten wood building, Chol kicked aside charred rocks and odd lumps of a substance once called 'concrete'.

Entering the worm infested, and half-collapsed ark, she went over to the table, a long block of maimed concrete-material, Chol picked up a flimsy and old paper scroll. On it, it said, "Go to the City of Lights, also known as Paris, and investigate any crimes of the Angel Puinte."