Chapter Text
The shadows quivered behind Sora Kaneshiro as she stalked through the night.
Sora always walked with a purpose; she didn't have time to waste meandering through the streets like some simple pedestrian. She was a hero, with places to be and people to save.
Was, she found herself bitterly emphasizing to herself. Not anymore.
Tonight, there was no compassion in her heart, no gentle desire to reach out a helping hand and save anyone. No -- tonight, the only thing she felt was rage.
The golden halo on her head was warped, broken at one end and stained with coppery blood.
Sora's footsteps echoed against the pavement as she stalked across town towards her destination. Once she reached it, she ripped the front door open, quickly descending the stairs to the piece-of-shit makeshift office in the dank basement.
An old man sat behind a desk, a cigarette perched lazily between his lips. "Sorry, sweetheart," he said without even looking up, "office is closed. Come back in the morning."
His words didn't stop Sora's momentum as she came to stand before him. In one swift movement, she slammed something on the wooden desk and slid it towards him. Clearly annoyed by the disturbance, the old man lowered his gaze to examine what she wanted so badly for him to see.
After a brief pause, a twisted smile lit up his expression. "Well," he said, leaning back and taking a deep drag from his cigarette as he turned to look at the girl standing in front of him, "what do we have here?"
Sora leaned forward and grabbed the leather wallet from the desk, snapping it closed to once again conceal the license enclosed.
Hero License: Archangel.
"Get me a job," she demanded, a sharp edge to a tone. "A real job, with someone who's gonna make a difference."
The man, a notorious villain broker named Giran, raised a grey eyebrow. "I dunno of anyone who's looking to hire a bright and shiny new hero, sweetheart."
She ground her teeth, baring them in an expression that no hero would make. "Get me a job," she snarled, punctuating every syllable, "or I will report you, and you'll be in prison before you can even pack up your desk."
Giran displayed another slow, slightly impressed smile. It was quiet between them for a long time, so long that Sora was about to reach across the desk and throttle him. But finally, with another puff of smoke, he reached down to grab a blank contract. "I'll see what I can do."