C.R.O.S.S. - Deo Gratia

Chapter 1
Memento Vivere
Remember that You Must Live

When Cassandra blinked her eyes open, the light filtering through her room was a little harsh, even muted by the eggshell tulle curtains. She hated those damn curtains, really and truly. Out of all the things in her comfortable domicile, those curtains were the one thing she had not got around to replacing. It was not like money was an issue. It wasn't. It was that they had been there from day one when she moved into her new quarters and for some stupid reason, she had not coordinated them with the rest of her bedroom.

It was a dream bedroom. A squishy waterbed, trendy modern furniture that she'd dreamed about in magazines, and a spacious closet with clothing kept warm by a special heater to chase away the pervasive cold that seemed to seep into Valhalla City from the frigid crust of Callisto's terrain. It snowed every day here. The expense of keeping the entire colony warm was entirely too much and put a strain on the machines that kept the chilly colony from the frigid chill of space. But then, in rough comparison, 0° C was balmy compared to what the locals called "the outside temp". A gaze through the hated eggshell curtains revealed a curl of frost on the window panes. The only summer day in the colony would not be here for an entire month yet Cassandra woke up hoping there would be a malfunction and it'd be warm enough to go out in something less than head to toe fur.

As she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, the thick purple satin comforter rolled back on the pristine white sheets beneath. Her mind registered the delicious scent of breakfast being cooked and the faint sounds of a piano in the living room down the hall. Her companions were up and on some level, she dreaded having to go out there. Ever since she'd been "purchased" by Hand of Heaven, one of the most notorious crime syndicates in the colonies and indeed, on earth, her life had never been the same. Every now and then, she would still wake up, gripped by the same terror that clutched her heart a year ago when she awoke to an entirely new existence. No parents, no family, no friends, no familiarity, not even human anymore. Now she was a "junior operative". Over the course of the year, she'd been broken down, rebuilt (literally and figuratively) into what the Hand wished her to be. Despite all that, she still felt like a 16 year old girl. Nevermind that she could take apart and reassemble her petite Jackrabbit semi-automatic blindfolded in under a minute. The Jackrabbit or "Bunny" as one of her more acerbic roommates called it, was small, had little kick, and needed clips for 12. Perfect for a nervous teenager with a better chance of shooting herself in the foot than actually aiming where necessary. She had felt herself change below the surface. Her reflexes, her mind, her very subconscious had been reworked and... programmed to do certain things without thought. When she walked into a room, she automatically knew how many steps to each exit, the quickest route in and out of a room, possible weapons in the room, how to make the most inane things deadly, and worst of all, how she could kill each and every person in the room with her in under a minute.

Her reverie was broken by a discordant clash of piano keys, a loud thud, and then the most wretched cursing.

"Tabris, you motherfucker! If you put your nasty cock on my shoulder one more fucking time, I am going to shove it so far up your ass, I'll be brushing your teeth with your junk!"

And that, without a doubt, was the vulgar sounds of Arael. The subsequent sounds of flesh meeting flesh were distinctly his but the peels of mixed laughter and pain were undoubtedly those of his assigned partner, Tabris. Their interaction was of course, far from healthy but really, that never stopped either one of them from engaging in it.

"Guys, Rahmiel will have our asses if he finds out you guys have broken more furniture!"

And right on cue, there was Sandalphon the Mediator trying to break up the juvenile antics of Tabris and the fury of Arael.

"You know, I find it amusing that the guy who will "have our asses" is named for the angel of mercy. Seriously, what is he going to do? Smack our hands and send us to bed without supper?"

And there to continue the problem, Tabris.

"Shut the fuck up, all three of you!"

And there was the end to all of it, brought by none other than Ouestucati, the group's very own handler and trainer. Oats, as the other three called him after a weary and drugged up Cassandra tried to pronounce his name, was usually exceptionally patient and an excellent teacher. His chief job was to ensure that they all worked as a team and that meant all kinds of things including sharing the condo with them. Oats was one of those teachers that knew how to present the material in such a manner so that the student could learn. Of her teachers, Oats was her favorite and seemed to adopt a father figure role to her that he enjoyed.

In the ensuing silence, the mellow tones of Ouestucati filtered under her door. The voice was kind but the words slammed into her with all the force of random space debris.

"You will wake Ms. Cassiel if you three continue to shout."

Cassiel, not Cassandra. Even after a year, the name took some getting used to. She just could not seem to square such an... archaic name with the youthful face staring back from the mirror in the bloom of womanhood and sporting the bitchslap of puberty in certain spots. Shouldn't she have a robe and a harp? Instead, she had a sharp business suit and a Cherry communication headset (so named for the round red bulb that went into one ear and the "stem" that dangled so you could speak). Where was her flaming sword? It was currently in her nightstand drawer with one round in the chamber. Well... at least she looked like an angel, sort of. Bobbed mousy brown hair with a pair of black streaks at the front framed her heart-shaped face. Her skin was a pale pale peach, like a peach covered in frost. She stood about 5'6 (1.6 meters, she reminded herself) and weighed about 147 pounds (67 kgs, again). Her most attractive feature was her eyes, a rich green with natural gold flecks and jet back spikes that ringed the pupil. The doctors had diagnosed it as a very mild form of heterochromia but with it's unusual presentation, they ran further tests and discovered that she was an Energen.

A rustling noise caught her attention as artificial light filtered in from a motion lamp. She looked towards the lamp whose light had been quickly blocked by something large, shimmery, and transparent one second and opaque the next.

Ah yes, here was proof positive she was an angel. A pair of wings had been surgically grafted to her back. Even after a year, they were still healing and required a few minor surgeries to strengthen them so that she could actually use them. They were small right now, easily tucked tight against her shoulder blades but long enough to stretch out and block the light. The unique fiberoptics wired through them allowed her a sort of camouflage if she needed it. So far though, she had little control over what color the wings took.

A knock sounded softly on her door. Her eyes focused on it briefly before a voice called through it.

"Ms. Cassiel? Breakfast is ready. Eggs, ham, toast, fresh raspberry jelly."

"I'll... be out in a moment," she said, resigning herself a little too quickly to a meal with her crazed fellows.

She peeled back the covers and crawled out of the squishy bed. Her steps took her to the bathroom she shared with Sandalphon. He'd been vigilant enough to slide the partition between his room and the bathroom shut. He was always considerate like that. Even the toilet seat, cover and all, was down. The tissues always made it into the trash chute and he never missed the toilet bowl, even when out of his mind drunk. He kept the bathroom spotless and whether this was out of respect for her or just a sense of natural cleanliness, she was not sure. Regardless, Arael and Tabris' bathroom looked like the two bachelors used it so perhaps it was the former.

Without looking up, she turned the tap and splashed some water on her face. The icy water shook her mind from the dusty sleep it rested in and kept her alert. Almost on autopilot, she went about her routine as any normal person would with one notable exception. Not once, for the duration of her routine, did she behold her visage in the glass mirror before her. She knew the contours of her face and head by touch alone and that was enough for her. Her fingers traced the bandanna that covered the Interface Band that she had installed on the very top of her cranium. It looked like a headband made of a glowstick necklace. Not very complicated but what it hid beneath was the mechanism and parts that made her into a Cyber Brain. Her being an Energen made it very easy then to convert her brain's electrical impulses into a machine and control it. It was little wonder then why the Hand wanted her.

Stepping away from the mirror, she turned back towards her room. Her steps took her to her slippers and then into them before directing her to the door to get the robe that was hanging up there. Nevermind that she was clad in pajamas, she felt a robe would somehow shield her even more from these strange four men that she was forced to share quarters with. It'd been a month since she'd been out of the hospital, mostly recovered from her numerous surgeries. Gradually, she was getting used to them.

"Good morning, Ms. Cassiel."

Cass let out a soft gasp. She was now by the breakfast table and all four of her partners were staring at her. They too had assembled in their robes and pajamas, as it was still early and an off day. One by one, her eyes beheld each of her compatriots. On her right, Sandalphon was seated, his blond hair wavy like a surfer's, his blue eyes piercing her unintentionally. He was about 29 and a Psypian. Beside him, Ouestucati sat, his face displaying the kind grin that always put her at ease. Oats had sandy brown hair sprinkled generously with grey as per expected for him reaching his 50's, trimmed in a professional way and slicked back. His kind brown eyes were very light, nearly amber in color. On his right, Arael sat in a dark blue button-up set of fleece pajamas. His jet black hair was pulled back in a ponytail at the base of his neck, a few strands left free to frame his face. His eyes were afflicted with a very very rare phenotype for eye color. They were speckled richly with blue, green, amber, violet, and grey. They were ringed with black, a good solid black. Overall, it marked him as an Etherian, one of the newest breeds of human who were in touch with the ether and closest to the universe around them. Finally, between her and Arael was Tabris, the youngest save for her and a Psypian like Sandalphon. His short brown hair was chin length and had red streaks in it. Not a rich red, but a bright red. His mischievous green eyes darted over Cassiel once, making her flinch a little inside.

"Ah, good morning," she said nervously.

Oats gave her an imperceptible nod and then picked up his fork.

"Now that Team Valhalla is assembled at the table, we may now eat," he said.

Arael rolled his eyes and Tabris was looking at his ham in a fashion that could only be described as malicious. Sandalphon stayed in prayer for a moment before taking a careful bite of his toast. Cassiel looked down at her food for a moment before taking up her fork and spearing a little lump of egg. Cassiel of Team Valhalla, Cassiel thought, that is... me. The new me.