[M] The Vengeful Angel 1x1 (Ashen and Sparkz)

Mary went to the nearest Goodwill and bought a pair of sweatpants for the angel. She held the pants up to herself as a sort of guide to the proper size. She hoped that these would be okay. Next, she searched for some boxers. Once again, she guessed the size. She walked over to the shirt section but thought better of it. With his wings, the angel wouldn't really be able to wear a shirt comfortably. But she could deal with a shirtless man since she does tattoos for shirtless men all the time. It's the pants that he really needed.

Once satisfied with her purchase, Mary headed home. She briefly wondered if the angel would really stay or if he would just wander off into the sunset, so to speak. She made it back home and unlocked the door. "Alright, buddy. I got some pants and underwear for you. I need you to go into the bathroom and put them on." She paused for a moment as she turned around to shut and lock the door. "I really shouldn't have to say this... but... you got to put the shorts on before you put on the pants. Understand?"

Mary turned around and dropped the bag with the clothes in it out of shock. "Okay, pal! Get my Mary away from your dick!" she stormed up to him and snatched the statue from between his legs. She inspected it and saw that he had fixed it with some glue. Within the hour she had been gone, the glue had mostly dried. She looked over the cracks and realized that now some paint would cover the cracks and fully restore the statue. "....Amazing..." she murmured before carefully setting it down on the table where it originally rested. She looked at it for a moments before remembering that she had a naked man behind her.

Mary then quickly grabbed the bag of clothes and shoved it into the angel's arms. "Alright, angel! March to the bathroom and get dressed so we can have a real conversation about why you are naked in my home!" She turned him around and pushed him towards the bathroom. She prayed that this mess would clear up soon.

He was finally pulled from his work as he heard the door open. The woman was back, and this time, she had a bag in her hands. As she showed him its contents, Matteo cocked his head. He remembered how clothes worked, but he couldn't exactly recall why they were so necessary. He was perfectly capable as he was. But if it would stop her from freaking out, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Besides, she had gone out of her way to get him something nice. He had to find a way to return the fa--

He jumped when she yelled and suddenly he looked down at the statue between his legs. She grabbed it so hastily. Mary...? It was Mary, wasn't it? How had he forgotten the mother of God? She was standing upon the world, and on a serpent; it was the replica of a statue he had grown up around. The woman's rage seemed to subside soon, especially as she admired his handiwork. "S-sorry," he mumbled. "I... I did not mean offense, I just... I wanted to fix it." Perhaps this was why he had never been allowed freedoms at the Institute. Even when he was trying to help, he still managed to screw something up.

He was once again startled as she shoved clothes into his hand. He looked down at them as she was pushing him towards the bathroom. "You... You invited me here..." he said quietly. Once in the bathroom, he looked down blankly at the shorts and... pants, right? He put on the boxers first, just as the woman had instructed. They were loose and perhaps a little worn out, but he didn't care. Next came the pants, which he slipped over the shorts. There was a zipper there, and a button, but the zipper was not budging. Matteo fussed with it for a few minutes before finally he was able to cover it. He then exited the bathroom looking much more presentable.

His eyes fell over the woman again. "I do apologize to you for the trouble," he said. "Last night, I was lost, and you came to me. I thought, well, I thought you could help me. I have not... I have not been here in years. In many years, I think. I look so different, I hardly recognized. Erm. I do not know where here is. I do not recall ever being here." He was struggling to remember, but that only gave him a headache. "But you offered to clothe me, and so you invited me here, and I stayed. You remember this, sì? Oh, I never did... intro... in..." He paused. "I never introduced myself," he said, then offered his left hand. "My name is Matteo Agnusdei. I, um... Pray, what year is it?"

Mary waited for the angel to come out of the bathroom. The poor guy seemed lost and she realized that she wasn't really being the nicest host. But now that he was going to wearing pants, she could focus a bit more on the person rather than avoiding seeing anything she would prefer not to see. Her sighed. She supposed that she should apologize to him for her behavior. But she didn't really remember inviting him in so she couldn't really be blamed for her behavior right?

She turned around as the angel exited the bathroom. She sighed in relief when she saw that he had gotten himself dressed properly. As the angel spoke, she felt worse and worse about her behavior towards him. As he introduced himself, she thought about his last name for a moment. It seemed familiar.... then she remembered, it was the same last name of the woman he was looking for. She looked at his left hand and awkwardly extended her left hand to shake his. "My name is Mary Alden. And the year is 2015. You're in Indianapolis, Indiana."

Mary took in a deep breath as she prepared herself to apologize. "Honestly, I don't really remember inviting you in. I was so drunk last night, I barely remember anything. So I apologize for my behavior this morning. But seeing a naked angel in my living room was not something I was prepared for. It's obvious that you have been lost for some time so I'm sorry that your first human contact was with a drunk woman." She offered him a smile. "But, I'm glad that the pants I got you fit."

"Matteo? I do have a few questions for you, though." She started as sat down. She motioned for him to sit as well. "Your last name and the last name of the woman you are looking for are the same. Is she your wife or mother or something like that? And secondly, what happened to you? How did you come to be in Indianapolis? And thirdly, are you really an angel?"

The year is 2015.

This woman's words, they were a joke, weren't they? Frantically, Matteo scanned her face to detect the lie, but she looked clean. If it really was 2015, that would explain the facial hair, but... He had lived there for six years? Six years? He had missed out on all but one of his teenage years. In fact, if what she was saying was true, he was a twenty-year-old man. What? He was so appalled by this revelation he hardly heard her apologize. When he did look up, she was saying something about his pants. He looked down at them blankly. He was six years in the future, and she cared about his pants?

This woman--Mary Alden, she'd said--gave him little time to think things over. He raised an eyebrow when she said she had questions. Despite all his circumstances, he laughed out loud at her first. Matteo shook his head and muttered an Italian apology, then let her finish before tackling her questions. "Margaret is not my wife," he said grinning. "She was... the woman who gave birth to me. She is the one who sent me off to the Institute, and the one who gave me..." He flexed his wings, a disgusted look on his face. "To answer your second question... My mother believed I was a gift from God. That is what Matteo means, I think. All my mortal life she believed I was an angel, and finally she sent me to the Institute to regain my wings. As you can see, it was successful, in a sense. But only after hundreds, perhaps thousands of surgeries. Millions of animals have been sacrificed for this. I cannot tell you how many times they have failed, but each one hurt a little more. One failure led to permanent brain damage. They are... They were sick people. And they have created a monster who has no place in this world."

He turned away from her with a sigh. There was a sad look on his face. He was trying to figure everything out. Had no one noticed him missing in that time? What of his friends from before? Did he have any? He shook his head and turned back to her. "I know not how I came to Indi... dianap... Here. I don't know. I am from a small town in Ohio." He couldn't even remember how far Ohio was from Indiana. "And your third question... I have stopped giving it thought, long ago. I suppose some would say I am the first man-made angel, but there is no place for me in Heaven nor Hell."

Matteo wandered over to a window and looked at the world outside. So this was Indianapolis, 2015. He wondered how much a world could change in six years. How had he gotten here? And where was the Institute? Had he really blown it up? Then maybe his mother and the scientist really were dead... He turned back to Mary. The poor girl hadn't signed on for this. He could only imagine what was going through her mind. A grown man, with his own wings, the mentality of a child, and the most basic understanding of the way things worked. He couldn't do this to her. "If it would be simpler, Mary, signorina, I can leave. I do not wish to trouble you."

When Mary told him what year it was, she noticed that he seemed to be in distress. But she was taken aback when he laughed when she asked if she could ask him questions. Fortunately he let her finish asking her questions before he answered. She was a bit embarrassed when he said that Margaret was is mother, not his wife. Though, looking at him, he did look around her age and possibly a bit too young to be getting married.

As Matteo explained what his mother thought and did to him, she gasped. "That's terrible!" She was more than appalled to hear the price of his mother's madness. Thinking that her son was an angel and then made her own son be tortured in order to give him back his wings. It wasn't right. And here Mary thought that her own mother was crazy, but her mom was nothing compared this Matteo's mother.

When he turned away from her, she caught the sad look on his face. "Ohio isn't too far from here..." she said softly as if to reassure him. "If you know the name of the town you're from, we can just look it up and get you there. That is... if you really want to go back there. Angel or not, everybody deserves a home." She said to him earnestly. She offered him a smile as he tried to say that he would be leaving.

Mary touched his arm. "Hey, listen Matteo. You can hang around here for a little bit longer. I have an inflatable mattress and some extra pillows and bedsheets. You can sleep on that as we try to find where you're from. Maybe your batshit crazy mother is still alive. As for that... Institute as you keep calling it? We need to find a way to report that to the police or FBI or somebody. What they did to you and all those animals and people isn't right at all." She smiled at him. "I promise that you won't be a burden. Just... try not to break anything with those wings of yours okay?"

There was little he could do about her gasp, or the anger that seemed to follow it. What was done was done, and now Matteo had these wings growing from his shoulder blades, and a history of abuse to boot. There was nothing they could do to change that now. Even if Matteo would give the world to avoid it, it was all permanent.

He cocked his head at Mary again. If Ohio wasn't far, he could go home easily. He just needed to know the name of the town... Did he know the name of his town? That gave Matteo pause, and he soon grew aggravated at his faulty memory. Did he even want to return? What was waiting for him there? Would his friends remember him, even though he did not remember them? He considered that for a long while. If not in Ohio, and not in Indianapolis, where did he belong?

The angel was shocked to hear Mary offer her home to him. He turned up to her and gave her a gracious bow. He tried to remember what FBI stood for. They were... an advanced police force, weren't they? When she mentioned his wings, his cheeks reddened a bit and his eyes went straight for the Blessed Mary statue. "Sorry," he mumbled. He turned up to her again and shook his head. "You don't have to worry about reporting the Institute. I destroyed it. I destroyed the entire building. Perhaps both people in it. The blood on my body last night, it came from there. They spent years torturing me, so I ruined their research, and I left. Their science experiment learned how to fight back, even if it did take... six years..."

He was getting angry. His hands were balling to fists and his wings were extending. His voice was quiet, level, but it was laced with rage. He may have destroyed their work, but he wasn't done destroying them. Suddenly his wings started flapping, and he was lifted into the air for just a moment before hitting his head on the ceiling and falling back to the ground. "Ohi!" he cried, clutching his head. He looked around, as if he had forgotten where he was. "I got... how do you say? Pulled away?"

Matteo took a deep breath, and as he let it out he released his pent-up anger. When he was calm again, he looked back to Mary. "I do apologize. This is very unusual, eh? To be greeted by such... such a freak, and one with such bloodied hands. I assure you, Mary, I will not hurt you. I cannot hurt someone who has shown me such kindness. Though, my words must mean little to you." His eyes suddenly lit up as an idea came to mind. "I can work for you! I, uh, I know not how many things work, but I am a quick learner, and I would be repaying you for your kindness, yes?"

Mary grinned as Matteo bowed to show his gratitude. She was happy to help. It was her Christian duty to help a person in need and Matteo was certainly in need of some major help. He's gone through more things than she thought humanly possible. Though her grin faded once he began to explain that the Institute that had tortured him was destroyed by his own hand. So she was harboring a criminal now. Great.

But was he really a criminal? Could he really be blamed for his actions? Six years he was tortured and his integrity stripped so inhumanely. The poor thing didn't even realize that clothes were a thing that was necessary! She watched as he extended his wings and started flapping. She stepped backwards in awe and a hint of fear. The anger in his body language and voice were crystal clear. Anybody were harbor ill feelings if they were tortured. But to go as far as to kill? Mary knew that she didn't have it in her but then again, she never had to go through anything like what Matteo did.

Mary snapped out of her thoughts as Matteo hit his head on the ceiling. "Pulled away?" she asked. "I think you mean 'carried away'." She inspected his face for any sign of lasting pain. "Are you okay?" she asked but realized that he probably had gone through worse so she let it drop. She waited until he calmed down again to touch his arm. Once he finished speaking, she begin to talk.

She smiled a little as she spoke. "Yes, this is a bit unusual... but we are not exactly usual people. You have wings... well... me? I have tons of tats and piercings and yet and I am very much religious... in my own way. The only thing I want in return for everything I'm doing for you is to keep my house clean, okay? Try not to make too much of a mess. I'll acclimate you back to society and catch you up with everything that has happened. Alright? Do we have a deal, Matteo Agnusdei?"

Carried away. Matteo awkwardly scratched at his head again. English should not have been so hard to grasp. He nodded and thanked Mary for asking about his well-being. Really, he wasn't feeling so hot. He had quite the headache, and his wings were hurting. He had too many thoughts rushing through his head and it was hard to keep up with them all. But the angel was trying to keep calm. He didn't need to worry Mary any more, and besides, he'd been through pains that were far worse than this.

He didn't know what tats were, but he knew the piercings were referring to the metal objects and rings sticking out of her body. Perhaps the tats were the paintings on her skin? "I think they are pretty," he admitted. "They are better than the scars I have." He looked around her room nodding. "I can keep it tidy. The Institute was pristine. I will only have to mimic that." As if to prove as much, he walked over to her table and brushed some dust from its surface with his wings. "They're useful after all," he muttered to himself. She said his full name and he looked up, smiled. "Aye, I think so."

He walked back to her and hesitated. "Society," he repeated. "I... I know nothing of today's society. I had no idea six years were passed while I was there. I was just... I was just a boy last time I was here. I don't know when that changed..." He rubbed his eyes, hard. "I... I do not know the name of the leader of our country. I do not know a single celebrity. I do not know... anything. And my mind, my head, the..." His words faded. He looked towards her bathroom. "Might you know how to remove blood from wings? I do not know how to work much of what is in this house. It is all so... so new. So different. As if I am living in the future."

Mary grins at him when he complimented her tattoos. "Why thank you! I think they're pretty as well!" She looks over his skin and inspected his scars. They certainly were numerous and vicious looking and told of his many years of torture. "Well... I can help cover them if you like. Either with ink to disguise it or even with some makeup to cover it up. If you want to, that is. I'm not pressuring you or anything." She smiled at him to show that she was indeed sincere about her offer.

She watched as he dusted her table off with his wing. They truly were amazing. But she couldn't let him use his wonderful wings as dusters all the time. "Alright. Cool! I can show you how to use some cleaning supplies and stuff. To help make the cleaning faster. Alright? Then we can truly devote some time to catch you up on history." She smiled at him though she found it truly tragic as he explained the state of his memory and knowledge of current events. "Hey... It's not a big deal. That's why we have the internet. To catch you up on things. And I will be right here to help you, okay? And besides... it's not everyone you can travel to the future."

She listened when he asked if she knew how to clean blood off of wings. She grinned. "I'm a girl, silly. Of course I know how to clean up blood." She grabbed a stool from her kitchenette and carried it to the living room. "Sit down. I'll help you clean yourself. Then I'll show you have everything in here works." She grabbed a bowl and filled it with cold soapy water. She grabbed a washcloth and walked back over to Matteo and set the bowl on the table. "Alright... do you mind if I touch your wings? I'm going to need to in order to wash off the blood."

Matteo looked over his scars again, a new fascination in his eyes. To cover his scars... He hadn't even considered such a thing. After all, he was never around people. But now that he was free, what would happen? Would he be mingling with crowds? Would they be grossed out at his scars? What about his wings? He looked back to Mary. Even if she could cover all his scars with her art, she'd have a hard time covering his wings from view, too.

He was glad to hear Mary would be willing to teach him better ways to clean. She was being patient with him now, and he admitted that he quite liked this treatment. He would have to make it up to her, somehow... Matteo looked up and tilted his head at the mention of internet. "That is," he murmured, trying to remember. "The internet, it can be used to research, or go on social media, such as... such as... Facebook. I do not know that I remember how to... use it. We need... a computer, no?" The angel looked around the room for one. "Or we could venture to a library. Though..." His wings drooped and he shook his head. "Never mind."

He didn't understand her comment about blood. What did being a girl have to do--Oh. Matteo's eyes trailed down to her groin, and he shifted uncomfortably. Color rushed to his cheeks and he looked away. Dumb question. He listened to her walk off, and when she reappeared he looked up. "Huh? Oh." He untucked his wings and let them sweep the floor. "I do not mind you touching them. They do not hurt, not anymore. The scientist made sure of that." He reached back to touch one. It was the softest thing he'd ever touched, at least, that he remembered. The red spots stained the otherwise pure white of the fluffy appendages. Matteo knelt on the floor, as if to pray. He even crossed his hands, a force of habit. "Thank you," he mumbled. "I, ah, I am sorry for troubling you so."