Guardian Dear: Chapter 2 – A Saint in Training

Chapter 2 – A Saint in Training

My guardian angel flies me to the city I was heading to. It is called the Jewel of the Desert, or just Jewel, a city in the Columbian Union known for making people rich. Originally, it was because of mining, gambling, prostitution, and its criminal dealings, and now, it’s not famous for mining. In the present day, it is additionally famous for its concerts, chefs, game shows, comedy shows, and more. It’s a stage where people come to make money and become famous or leave more broke than they were before. It shines brightly in the night and even brighter in the day because of its lights that never shut off or grow dim.

“The glitz and glamor hardly hide the crime and evil below its surface. We will smoke it out and punish them all,” my guardian angel says.

Show me to them, and let’s kick some bad guy ass! My guardian angel dive bombs us into the ground. I think we’re about to crash, but we instead phase through the ground as if we were immaterial ghosts, and head into an underground casino and marketplace where drugs, weapons, and people are being sold. Because of my appearance, I immediately attract everyone’s attention, and my mind goes blank. I’ve fought in celebrity boxing matches for show, but I’ve never fought for my life before, especially like this. Uh, can I get a little help here?

“Allow me to do most of the work,” my guardian angel says as my move moves on its own.

My legs and arms move at blazing speeds, decapitating heads from their necks, cutting people in two, and slicing multiple limbs off of people, while setting them on fire. The flames from my body leap out from me to engulf the guards and superhumans that surround me. I then fly up into the air, and the tip of my swords spreads apart to spew flames like flamethrowers to burn the area and block off the exits. I feel sorry for these people since they are killed or burned to ash, unlike me, who was burned until I repent. The only people unharmed are those who were being sold. The slaves can run through the fire, unharmed, while the living flame targets their captors.

“These people got their second chances. The reward of sin is death, and every second they breathed was another chance they had to listen to their conscience and repent,” my guardian angel explains.

Looking down, my eyes are drawn to familiar faces. One is a young girl I remember seeing on that secret island, who is now dead on the floor. What was she guilty of?

“She was a tortured soul who hated the life she was forced to live. When she encountered you, you told her to enjoy the life she had since it was nothing but never-ending pleasure, and she did it. She’s been long dead before your arrival and in Hell.”

Is she in Hell? A young girl like her?

“She’s past the age of reason, and knew what she was doing was wrong, but because of the torture she went through, and what you said, she gave in to the evils of sin, and will eternally pay for it.”

I force myself to look away from the girl and turn my eyes to the body of a man I used to collaborate with.

“He used the money both of you made to buy slaves for his personal clubs and parties.”

If I knew he was doing that, I wouldn’t have collaborated with him.

“Would you? You’re no stranger to making a thousand excuses to justify making money and getting what gives you pleasure.”

Okay, I get it. I was a horrible person, so let’s get back to my penance. Thankfully, I fly up through the ground and to the next location, a series of alleyways I recognize that’s filled with cars of people discreetly dealing in pleasure. I stand on a rooftop above them and let a single flame from one of my swords fall to the ground to make the entire place go up in flames. I’m unable to move as I stand motionless, hearing the screams of people below and watching them writhe in agony. My vision zeroes in on one of the men down there, a familiar face despite the horrible burns all around him. Why am I focusing on him?

“He was a prostitute you frequented. You liked frequenting him because of the way he dressed like a woman and made you feel,” my guardian angel says.

What was wrong with that?

“Pleasure is not a good in itself, and sex is only for child-making between husband and wife. Nothing more. Everything else is vain and suicide of the soul.”

Everything in my life was vain, like you said, right? I might as well have not lived during those years, and just started here.

“God has allowed you to live in sin and regret it to become a better witness against it.”

Can we allow more of my friends, family, and associates more time to repent? I beg you to give them more time.

“Your prayer is sent to God. They will have more time.”

You got an answer from Him that fast?

“There’s no real distance from Him and us. He’s closer to us than we are to ourselves.”

That doesn’t make much sense to me, but I’m glad they have more time. I’m lifted into the air again and head into the city this time. Of course. A city built on crime should have criminals operating in plain sight, and I head to one of the most legal criminal businesses in the world, a casino; however, I’m surprised that I don’t head to the backrooms or corporate offices. Instead, my body focuses on targeting the seemingly normal people on the casino floor, both the workers, guards, and gamblers. Why them? They aren’t doing anything illegal.

“Not all sin is illegal, but all sin is evil, and must be punished sooner or later.”

What sin are they guilty of? What about what we just talked about? I thought you said that you were going to give the people I knew time? I see people here who I’ve worked with and did innocent collabs with for charity, who never got involved with the shadier things I’ve done.

“All sin is death to the soul. That father is a prominent evangelist for a false religion, that mother over there is spending all her retirement money on gambling, so her children won’t have it when she passes, that young man is an alcoholic, that young woman cheats in her gambling addiction to earn her living, and that couple are horrible examples to their children, leading them to Hell with them by their example and beliefs.”

But they’re keeping to themselves and their circles, aren’t they? Why am I brutally cutting them up and burning them like the criminals who were involved in human trafficking?

“Everyone’s sins hurt not only themselves, but others by failing to love themselves and others properly. The parents who don’t raise their children properly make the world a worse place because their children will follow their example and be just as bad as their parents, usually worse.”

How am I supposed to be a hero like this? Everyone is going to hate me like how they hate the Dominion for pushing their beliefs onto others.

“Your only goal is to do God’s will and your penance. Nothing more.”

As expected, superhuman heroes come in and try fighting me, and just like everyone else who fights me, their attacks have little to no effect on me. The bullets from guns slow down to a halt as soon as they land on me, and all physical attacks end in the fire on me spreading to my attacker and burning them to ash.

“They’re sellouts and heroes in name only. You’re doing a service to the city by killing them. Speaking of false protectors.”

I suddenly fly outside of the casino as it explodes and falls over into the neighboring hotel. My body then heads headfirst into a group of cops. An explosion that comes from within me engulfs everyone around me. Walking out of the firestorm, I see a crowd of people who gasp and take pictures. Why is my appearance changing back to normal? Almost everyone here recognizes me now and is throwing a hundred different questions at me.

“Talk to the crowds. It’s what you’ve wanted,” my guardian angel says.

Putting on my best smile and face, I say, “Hello, everyone! Yes! That being who looked like an angel made of fire was me! Thaddeus! I’ve been rooting out criminals and punishing corrupt cops and heroes all night, and promise to do so until every last villain gets what they deserve.”

Some of the questions I hear ask me about, “When did you get these powers? How did you know those cops and heroes were corrupt? Were you responsible for all the explosions going on tonight? When did you get red, orange, and yellow eyes?”

To answer as many questions as I can, I say, “My guardian angel gave me these powers. He’s the reason why I know they were corrupt, but if we were to be honest with ourselves, we’d say that we all already knew that. Yes. I am responsible for all the trouble going on tonight. When am I not? I don’t have a hero name, yet, but I’m willing to take suggestions.”

News helicopters show up, police backup, and other heroes. This might get a little messy, so I’ll probably need you to activate my powers again, guardian angel.

“I’m going to activate them now. I was waiting for this moment.”

What do you mean?

“You wanted to become famous, right? Well, here’s your moment to shine.”

My body starts to catch on fire again and transform back into the form that looks like my guardian angel. Energy builds up in my body until I explode and start spewing flames like some sort of human volcano, killing many instantly, setting others on fire, and leaving few unscathed. What is this?!

“Your ticket to fame, or rather, infamy. The country, if not the entire world, will know about you now. Isn’t this what you wanted?”