Episode 8-1: The Angel's Lantern

It's been weeks since we last saw Archer, even his occasional attacks on us have stopped. Clyde is already healed up and ready to go thanks to that super serum, and Carlotta agreed to take us back, but not before a heated negotiating session. There were obviously new conditions to be met, and we even had our own needs that were discussed. In the end, we're on the team, just not in good graces. We could never underestimate Archer, but we can't give him too much credit either. Some of the plans we've come up with for his capture have repeatedly been shot down simply because someone had to say, "He'll never fall for that," or, "He's too good for this to work." The bastard could be watching us right now, and we would never notice until it was too late. Paranoia has become common sense.

Hartford, Connecticut: Clyde's Apartment

I sit down in Clyde's apartment. The table in front of me is riddled with scattered papers and blueprints all out of order and impossible to organize. Clyde comes back from his kitchen with a beer in his hand and a couple of aspirins for his onslaught of recent headaches. It's the lack of sleep that causes them, but he won't listen to a word I say about staying alert and healthy. He's running himself ragged, and that's not good for the quality of work.

"So," he starts, "where did we leave off?"

I rummage through the papers and find the one with the bourbon stain on it, "I think it was this one."

He sits down with a lazy slump and snatches the file from my hand. His eyes follow the text with a serious lag, and he pops the aspirins in his mouth, swallowing them with the help of his beer.

"Clyde, you seriously need to get some sleep."

His red and laggy eyes lift from the paper, "I'm fine, Troy. I've already told you that."

Well if there is one word to describe Clyde, it would be stubborn, "Look, I want to catch him just as bad as you, but we're not going to get very far if we're running on empty. We need a break, you need a break."

He takes a large chug from his bottle, "This isn't really something that we could push on the back-burner."

"I'm not saying to take a vacation. Just a small relaxation time period. Get some rest."

He breathes a hefty sigh, "You're not gonna quit, are you?" I shake my head. "Okay, you win. I'll take a nap, but you wake me up after three hours pass. Deal?"

"Deal!"

He gets up from his spot at the table and slowly makes his way to his bedroom. The truth is that I'm not going to wake him up, he needs way more sleep than just three hours. I'm just going to follow the advice and let sleeping dogs lie. There's still the matter of where Lula disappeared to. She was sedated right before the explosion went off, and the last person she was with was Archer. It's hard to tell if she's even on a side, she seems the type that's got her own agenda in all this.

I look around Clyde's apartment. He lives a minimalist lifestyle, leaving his habitat pretty empty and spacious. Nothing fun to do around here at all, not even a TV to watch. I find myself exploring a bit more and land in another room that appears to be a home gym. All the weights were set up pretty high, and there's no way I could lift any of these. It's really quite astonishing to realize his strength, he must be a superhero off duty. My phone rings and the flashing screen displays Carlotta Adams, and answer it quickly to avoid waking Clyde.

"Hello?"

"Hey, how are you boys doing on progress?"

A progress report already? "Well, we could be doing better."

"So you came up with squat too?"

"Haha!" My laugh came out more nervous than I wanted. "Are we in trouble?"

I hear her pull away from the phone and agitatedly grunt. "No, I'm just concerned with this whole situation. I'm still too paranoid to let any other agents in on this mission, so this workload is divided by just the three of us."

"Right, because you never know who could be on his side."

"Exactly, but this problem is beginning to push back the entire company's efficiency. People will ask what's going on unless you two start taking some of these cases and relieving some of this paperwork."

"A case? Right now? You serious, Adams?"

"Don't act like I should be the one working around YOUR schedule!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," sarcasm apparent. "I thought that a super stealth ninja gunning for my life would cut me some slack around the office."

"Well, you thought wrong! Now get your furry asses down here now! If you're quick enough, I'll even let you pick the mission." The line cuts, she hung up on me.

A steaming growl escapes me in my small temper tantrum, but I manage to calm down for the sake of professionalism. It's difficult for me to believe that Carlotta would pick her company over my life, but the more I think about it, the more it seems real of her. I know deep down she wants to make emotional decisions, but she has way too good of a head on her shoulders. It's all about what would be the most practical action.

I check the time. 15:03 hours. I knock on Clyde's bedroom door before opening it. He lays passed out deeply on his bed, face buried in the pillow, and snoring that could match my grandpa's. He's so tired he even left his shoes on. I inch toward him cautiously and gently poke his back in an attempt to wake him. No reaction, so I push a little harder.

"Hey, time to get up buddy! Adams wants to send us out of state again!"

Silence. He's extremely sleepy, and it only makes me feel more guilty about pulling out the self-defense cattle prod he hides under his bed and zapping him on the small of his back. He spasms out aggressively, but the effects don't last that long.

"What the hell's the matter with you!?" he screams while snatching the taser away from me. I only smile at him; I didn't think of what to say after I did it. Needless to discuss, he got his revenge rather swiftly on me. After the horsing around was done, I filled him in on the phone call I had earlier, in short breaths I might add. Getting tased seriously messes with your bladder.

*** *** ***

Ispio Headquarters: Adams' Office

"Firstly," I say to Adams, "I'd like to apologize for getting snippy on the phone."

"Apology accepted," she says. She looks down at her desk where five files have been laid out for display. "Okay, you two can read these and pick one."

"I think we should get one where a disguise isn't so necessary. Don't forget that Archer still has all my clothes."

"So that's why you smell funny," says Clyde.

"Shut it! He's got yours too!" I grab a file off the desk, and Clyde picks up another. We read carefully, understanding the case's premise and possible methods involved. Obviously, a list of factors would judge these cases, one of them being how far away we'd be transported. The further, the better.

"How about this one?" says Clyde holding the file in front of my snout. I pick it from his hand and read it carefully. It involved shady locations and isolated contacts, and the distance is enticing. A disguise wouldn't be necessary for this scenario. The location is Iowa, just barely in our jurisdiction.

"Is this another ghost story to chase?" I ask.

Clyde rests his chin on my shoulder to look at the file with me. "It says that at midnight, an angel with a lantern appears at the gates of a mausoleum in the local cemetery. Religious goers make the trip to Coralville and challenge the angel for admittance to Heaven. Needless to say, they're never seen again."

I give the file to Adams, "Sign us up. Oh, and we'll need winter equipment for this one."

*** *** ***

Coralville, Iowa: Oakland Cemetery

"Damn, it's cold!" I say, shivering furiously under the puffy jacket Adams commissioned me. It's weather like this that makes me wish I was born as an Arctic Fox instead.

"It's not much different from home, it's actually more South than Connecticut," Clyde says while checking his watch. It's almost midnight, and we have our equipment set up to spot even the smallest movement made at the mausoleum gates. So far there's been no activity, but I'm expecting that for this whole case.

"Easy for you to say, I bet all that muscle keeps you nice and toasty."

"This helps too," he says while presenting his favorite flask to me and taking a sip.

"You've got a serious problem there, pup."

"I wouldn't call it a problem..." his voice trails off as he stares silently towards the gates. I look too, gawking at the hypnotic bright orb gracefully hovering around in the falling snowflakes. The light is entrancing, and I even feel warmer with its presence.

The sound of screeching tires pulls us back to reality, and we duck behind the bushes we're stationed at. Car doors slam and heavy footsteps approach the gates. It's a couple of guys; one human, one anthro mouse by the look of his tail. They're both carrying what looks to be medieval swords; the blades and handles are decorated brightly with ornate patterns and biblical references.

"No, wait-" I say trying to go after them. Clyde pulls me down and shushes me.

"Hang on, we need to know what happens."

He hands me a pair of night vision binoculars while already looking through his own pair. I join in on the spectator sport, watching the two men charge through the gates and after the ball of light. We're too far to hear them talk, but their mouths are moving furiously. My guess is they're shouting. They both point the tip of their swords at the lantern and open their mouths in what appears to be a battle cry.

Suddenly, the lantern takes the form of a person; a woman covered in angelic, white robe dances gracefully around their swinging blades, expertly dodging all shinks and swooshes. The leaps and twirls she does make it look like she's defying gravity itself! How is she doing that?

"Clyde, we should-" he's already running towards the fight, I get a late start behind him. I don't know whether to go lethal or not, but I see that Clyde already has his gun drawn. He bursts through the gates with his massive shoulder, and I narrowly make it in before it closes behind him. The snow becomes deeper and more obstructing, making our pace slower and more fatiguing. I stare ahead, watching the angel disarm the two men simultaneously, and flinging them against the stone walls. That's not normal human strength, she's got to be juicing on something.

A shiny, silver dagger is pulled from her sleeve, and the moonlight gleams off of it in such a way that I can only describe it as holy. The two men stay put on the floor, staring frightfully at their oncoming demise slowly hovering above them. Clyde is ahead of me, and even he is still too far to do anything. He stops in his tracks and aims his gun, but pulling the trigger only lets off the clicking sound of a gun jam.

Disbelief covers Clyde's face, "Dammit!"