Angel - City of Fear

City of: Book 1. Doyle didn't have much with him, even after death. If he even decided to make something else as a neat reminder of him it probably would have been gone in a night. An Irish, half-bred demon who received visions from The Powers That Be. Angel and Cordelia had made a private investigation agency thanks to him; "Angel Investigations: We help the helpless". But one night, one night is what changes his fate and his path to redemption. It began with a chase. And ended in the way Doyle didn't expect...nor did Angel. (Second Angel Fanfiction on Wattpad, posted 3.2.2014) (Completed 6.4.2014) (Cover by EKShortstories)


22. Sometimes doing something bad PAYS with your LIFE

The scene shows Floyd and Cornelia hiding in a huge, dusty vent as officers are running after Andrew. Floyd leans against the wall, grumbling. He grumbles about their foiled plan to actually get in and get out without getting seen. Cornelia smacks Floyd’s shoulder. The Lekochen rubs his shoulder, making a rude remark.

“It wasn’t me who convinced Andy ta bring ya in ta dis.” Floyd makes an excuse, in his lowest voice possible.

Cornelia folds her arms on top her knee’s as she is sitting down beside him.

“Oh, how about the time you used me as bait?” Cornelia asks, her eyes are like daggers to him.  But they are full of promised words and not-so-forgiving vibe comes off from this appearance.  

Floyd laughs, looking away from Cornelia and looks towards the exit that’s being guarded by two men.

“Dat was tree days ago.” Floyd argues in a whisper. “Seesh.” He rolls an eye. “Let it go, Niel.”

The two men are walking back and forth in front the entrance.

 “No.” Cornelia whispers back, argumentatively.  “I could be grieving my grandmother’s death, but noooo,” She waves her hands.  “I’m right here.” She throws her hands up. “Hiding from the officials!”

Floyd makes a face at her.

“And you,” She jabs at his chest. “Saw potential in me!”

“Hey, don’t do dat too hard.”  Floyd raises his voice.

The officer’s attention is shifted towards the vent.

“…This is why I’m going to work alone.” Cornelia pouts, in a whisper as the officer’s aim at the vent.

“Cool yer jets.”  Floyd reassures her, grabbing a weapon.  He flashes a smile at her, confident and so cool as though nothing bad will happen. He voluntarily morphs into his Leckochen form without arguing.   He taps the weapon on his shoulder. “Just follow my lead.”

Sometimes people argue about the word Leckochen and Lekochen, some argue 'Same thing'...Which mostly is what Floyd says.

  __________________ _________________________  ______________________

  At least four days passed since The Boogie Demon Cannibal incident. Doyle put a box under his bed that wouldn’t let anything come in.   Angel had his closet locked. Angel’s bed  (For now on) has lots of boxes under it.  Doyle had learned something had…well…gotten interfered by Hyle, the Copy-Cat Demon.  Doyle took the news rather hard; but Angel let him do whatever he wanted.

 Because if Angel had anyone he actually cared about and they were family; he would go.

 The news is: The Copy Cat Demon  had  helped Dean  track down Doyle’s relatives.

“Geez…” Hyle said, looking around  the room. “Bad paintjob.”

   The curtains behind Hyle are closed.

 “Hey D-d—Doyle!” Hyle stutters, unsure how to greet him.

 Doyle keeps the door open.

“Ya,” he points at him. “Shut up.”

Those were the word that a person wouldn’t hear from Doyle. Not unless you did...something unforgiveable.

“Ya  helped a Killanobi.”

Hyle shrugs.

“So what about him?” Hyle asks, not seeing this as a problem for himself.

Doyle’s eyes have an ‘upset’ emotion shaking inside.

“Ya helped him track down a…” Doyle picks up a black device. His anger is obvious. It felt any moment Doyle could slip into his demon form. “A toddler.”

 “Dearing what’s right to keep ya alpive gets risky.”  Hyle said, with a shrug and in his stereotypical voice.

If Wesley was here, he would be scooting out the room quicker than you could say ‘Life of pi’

 “Ya…Yer heartless.”  Doyle said, taking off his jacket. He puts the black device on his jacket.

Doyle went into his demon form, voluntarily as the door shuts behind him.

“It’s called alpving.”

Our perspective goes outside the room; where we hear punching, the sound of Hyle’s high pitch scream, and a body tumble in fifteen minutes. The door opens by a dirty hand. Doyle uses a rag to clean his hand off. He didn’t have a bruise or anything on him. His shirt wasn’t dirty from beating up Hyle, that’s for sure.  Hyle wipes the corner of his mouth.

“So, why am I heer?” Hyle asks, pushing himself up.

   I am really scared. Hyle thought trying to figure out what he feels scared about him. He never felt scared about someone.  Hadn’t he sent some demons after Doyle? Hadn’t he helped Dean? Why am I scared of a half-breed? Why? Even though he…just…beat me up.

 Doyle walks around the room.

“I already told ya.” Doyle reminds him, picking up the black device. 

Hyle froze.

“Ya helped him hunt down a toddler.”  Doyle said, in a voice that made what Hyle did just sound extremely wrong.  “And ya know what…”

 Hyle glances towards the blinds.

 “I’ll rather see ya as a pile of dust!”  Doyle goes to the doorway.

“What, no, what,no,”  Hyle didn’t know what to say. “What are you dwoing?”

 Doyle has the black device, as he stood at the doorway.

“Doin’ a favour.” Doyle said, putting a finger on the red button.

He clicks the red button.


The sunlight lands on Hyle.

“AHHHH!” Hyle shrieks, as he bursts into flames.

Doyle turns away, and then he walks down the hallway as Hyle screams.


     People who were staying there came by, watching in horror the boy being killed by the sunlight. Hyle screams slowly faded from the hall as the sunlight disintegrated him into dust.  Women who had seen this were screaming, panicking.  Doyle knew if anyone cared about this boy they probably would be glad he was put out of his misery. A boy like that shouldn’t be living the dream, when he helped a demon murder countless people. If anyone like Hyle (With bad intentions) came into Doyle’s life...they would be gone. They would be dead or soon to be.

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