She considered it. "It probably should. But I'm not naive enough to think I'm special just because I was first. This isn't a relationship – it's a transaction that happens to feel really fucking good."
[Melissa's Perspective: Pragmatic]
[No romantic attachment forming]
[Ideal situation for repeat encounters]
"You're handling this remarkably well," I observed.
"I'm good at compartmentalizing. It's how I survived my ex." She set down her coffee. "But I do have one request."
"Name it."
"When you're in town, when you need another... session... you come to me."
I couldn't help but laugh. "Deal. You'll be my home base."
"Good." She glanced at the clock. "You should probably go soon. I have a friend dropping by this afternoon, and explaining you would be... complicated."
"Understood." I set down my own mug and moved to where my ruined clothes from yesterday were still crumpled on her floor. "These are destroyed."
"There's a thrift store two blocks down. They'll have something."
She disappeared into her bedroom and returned with a handful of cash. "Take this. Consider it payment for the best night of my life."
"I should be paying you," I protested, but she pressed the bills into my hand.
"Angels need money too. Besides, you saved me from a lifetime of thinking mediocre sex was normal. That's priceless."
I kissed her then – deep and thorough – pulling back only when we were both breathless.
"I'll be back," I promised.
"I know." She walked me to the door, wrapped in just her towel, thoroughly ravished and not caring. "Be careful out there. And Cain?"
"Yes?"
"When you come back, bring your A-game. I want to see what fully recovered angel feels like."
I grinned. "Fallen angel, but challenge accepted."
I left her apartment, walking down the hallway wearing only the towel from earlier. A neighbor – middle-aged woman with a dog – stopped and stared. I nodded politely and kept walking.
Let her gossip. It wasn't my problem.
The thrift store was exactly where Melissa said. I found jeans, a black t-shirt, boots, and a leather jacket – all cheap but serviceable. Changed in the dressing room and paid with Melissa's cash.
When I emerged onto the street, fully dressed and mostly recovered, I felt almost normal. Just another guy in the city. No one would look at me and think "fallen angel."
Which was exactly the point.
[Status Update]
[Power Level: 2% - LOCKED]
[Fragments Collected: 82.2/1000]
[Safe Haven: Established (Melissa's Apartment)]
[Next Objective: Investigate The Crimson]
[Hunt bigger prey]
[Build your power]
[Prepare for what's coming]
I pulled up the mental map the system provided – somehow it had integrated with my divine senses, giving me perfect navigation of the city. The Crimson was downtown, in the warehouse district. A 30-minute walk, or I could try public transit.
I started walking.
The exercise felt good, and I needed to get familiar with this world again. Last time I'd been on Earth, cars were barely a thing. Now they clogged every street, and humans walked around staring at glowing rectangles in their hands.
Progress. Or something like it.
As I walked, I tested my restored abilities subtly. Enhanced hearing picked up conversations from blocks away. Enhanced vision let me read license plates from across the street. Enhanced strength made every movement effortless.
At 2%, I was barely scratching the surface of what I could do. But even this fraction made me dangerous.
The warehouse district was exactly what it sounded like – old industrial buildings, some converted to apartments or clubs, others abandoned. The Crimson occupied a nondescript building with no signage, just a red door.
I could feel it before I even approached. The tingle of supernatural energy, wards and protections woven into the very walls. This was definitely not a normal bar.
A bouncer stood by the door – seven feet tall, muscles on muscles, eyes that glowed faintly amber.
Werewolf, if I wasn't mistaken.
"Cover's fifty," he growled.
"I don't have fifty."
"Then fuck off."
I let a tiny trickle of divine energy leak out – just enough for him to sense what I was. His eyes widened, the glow intensifying as his wolf recognized a predator.
"Or," I said mildly, "you could let me in, and we can avoid the part where I embarrass you in front of your employers."
He stared at me for a long moment, then stepped aside.
"Start any shit, and I'll rip your throat out."
"I'm sure you will."
I pushed through the red door into another world.
The Crimson was packed even in the middle of the day. The clientele was diverse – I spotted vampires, shifters, witches, even what looked like a few minor demons. All of them trying to blend in, to pass as human, failing in small ways only supernatural senses could catch.
The bartender was a vampire – pale, elegant, probably old. She clocked me immediately, her eyes narrowing.
I took a seat at the bar.
"What can I get you?" she asked, her voice carrying a faint accent. Eastern European, maybe.
"Information."
"This is a bar, not a library."
"Then whiskey. Neat."
She poured, slid the glass across. I sipped, letting the burn distract from the multitude of predatory gazes I felt on my back. Everyone here was trying to figure out what I was.
"You're new," the vampire observed.
"Very."
"And very bold, walking into a supernatural bar dressed like a mortal, reeking of sex and human woman."
I raised my glass to her. "I like to make an entrance."
"You're going to make a corpse if you're not careful. We don't like unknowns here."