RISEN ANGELS
CHAPTER 1: BEGINNING
The sounds of the angels singing echoed in the theatre, creating a warm glow around the City of Frank. Well, technically Frank was dead from Thrax, who was now the ruler of Frank’s lower body. If the cells had a quarter for the amount of tears they let out, they’d all be rich enough to flush themselves out in one single ride. This was mainly because Frank almost died countless times before he actually did. Some cells didn’t even come out of their houses for a long time to deal with Frank’s death.
It mainly affected the cops who vowed to protect Frank no matter what. They felt like they failed badly and quit their jobs entirely. The city mayor, Mayor Phlegmming, was blamed for this reason since he didn’t care for Frank to begin with and was moved to be with Thrax and the other germs down in Frank’s lower body. This made Mayor Phlegmming’s competitor, Tom Colonic, the new mayor of Frank’s higher body, which the cells called heaven, and was stable enough to sustain society and shops.
One day, Tom went down to the lower half to meet with Thrax for a small deal for everyone to be safe. “If you don’t hurt us with your weapons,” He began. “I, and the cops won’t hurt you with our weapons. I just want everyone to be safe and sound.” He hoped Thrax would agree.
“You’re asking me,” Thrax’s voice echoed in the room. “The one who killed Frank, to never attack your people? Do you understand what you’re asking for?!” He stared at Tom coldly while his finger glowed a bright red color.
“I understand. I just want to know if you’re willing to accept it for the sake of your germs and…Phlegmming.”
“You say you’re concerned about every cell's safety, but you don’t bother checking if they’re actually okay.”
Tom was taken aback, but he couldn’t deny it. He hasn’t even checked on a single cell, especially Osmosis and Drixenol, the two cops who tried to save Frank. “I’ll let out some people to check on them. That’s the right thing to do. Right?” Thrax didn’t reply to that sentence. He knew he was lying. People always lie, don’t they? “Or I can host little parties that can cheer people up from their dark times. Or—”
“Fine. I’ll take your stupid deal. Happy?! Now get outta here.” Thrax replied as he headed back down to burn more stuff while Tom headed back, flying towards the busy streets of Frank’s higher body. While most cells disagreed with this deal, others seemed to be fond of it. Only one cell didn’t care and stayed home all the time.
—
Tap, Tap, Tap.
That’s the noise the apartment’s roof would make from a singular paper ball hitting the roof over and over again. Primarily from there being nothing to do and Frank’s death taking a toll on a specific white blood cell who worked for the Frank Police Department (FPD). He assumed he could do everything himself, but he couldn’t and got into trouble almost every day. Now with no police station and nothing to protect, he couldn’t do anything that excited him.
“Letter for Osmosis Jones!”
The mailman's voice startled the now known Osmosis Jones and made him get up from bed and forced him to head outside, where the sunlight blinded his eyes. Luckily, he was able to get used to it and claim the letter that was sent to him. He usually didn’t get letters unless it was something like bills or just some junk mail, but this was different.
He headed back inside and turned on the lamp that sat on his coffee table before examining the envelope. It seemed to have been nicely bent from how there were no mistakes on the paper with neat/cursive handwriting written on the back that read, “To: Ozzy. From: Drix.” Right…Drix. How could he forget? Drix was a cold pill for sure, but he was also sweet and took care of everything through the rules he was told. Jones couldn’t even do that by himself without needing help from anyone! It just didn’t feel right.
Jones felt his eyes tear up and his small wings fluttering slightly. They used to be bigger and better, but they got ripped out by some germs. They luckily healed quickly, but were now smaller than usual. “I miss my big wings,” Jones thought to himself before opening the envelope and reading what Drix wrote in his cursive handwriting that Jones could somehow read.
Dear Ozzy,
Usually, I don’t write things towards others, but we don’t have good communication besides our cell phones. I prefer writing by myself. Anyways, There’s been some interesting stuff going on with Tom. And I don’t know if you know this, but Mayor Tom made a deal with Thrax to not hurt each other. I was planning to meet you over there where the announcement was made, but I couldn’t find you. However, Leah was asking about you and if you were okay because she hasn’t seen you in a couple days. I haven’t seen you either recently. If it’s because of Frank’s death, I understand. You need some alone time to yourself and I figured that you’d be okay eventually. If you wanna get caught up on everything, I can tell you at the new shop down by the station. No one works there anymore ever since the Chief fired everyone after being all pissed off at Frank’s death. Now he works on the brain with Tom as his bodyguard. But that’s not really important. But please try to meet up with me soon. I hope to see you again.
My best regards,
Drixenol
A meet up with Drix seemed…off. How could he talk to him again if he changed so much? Jones changed so much with his wings and small halo that a cell could easily fit on their hand if it wasn’t from the sharp spikes on it. He began to tear up again before drinking some water to cool off. Jones basically never cried until now. Apparently he was a “weeping angel” and yearned for someone’s love, but he didn’t believe that! That was just some junk cells made up since weeping angels were supposed to have big wings, and his were small. And apparently, Drix was a seraphim, but he didn’t understand that concept at all. Seraphims are supposed to have six wings, and Drix only had four! Two small wings on the mask he had over his eyes (that Drix could somehow see through from the mask being invisible to his eyes but not towards others) and two large ones on his back. If he had six wings, Drix would’ve told Jones already. “But I'm no longer there..” Jones remembered before placing the letter down and began to cry silently to not disturb the other cells.
Maybe he did yearn for someone’s love.
—
“Ozzy?"
Jones looked behind him and saw Drix with his small wings fluttering slightly and his smile soft. It was exactly like how he used to smile when Frank was alive. “Hey, Drix.” Jones gave a small smile before rubbing his thumb on his finger. “How are ya’?”
“I’m good now that you’re here with me. How do you feel? Are you alright?” asked Drix while they both headed inside the new store that was filled with new stuff, like a pillow that heats up by itself or a book that can be read from both ways (left to right and right to left). Jones gave a quick nod before looking away. I mean, what else do you do when your best friend looks even better than before? Not that he was an ugly pill before, but he did look a bit more handsome than before. “I read your letter. What even happened?”
"Oh, well there's nothing much. There's the time that Thrax tried to destroy the place before Tom reminded him of the deal, new investors are building lots of stuff at once..." Drix kept describing what the events were and how he felt about it while Jones zoned out and just stared at him. He didn't even know why he wasn't listening to Drix. Maybe he was trying to comprehend how he managed his new look. Maybe it was something else.
Maybe it was something more.
"Jones? You there?" Drix tapped his head lightly. It startled him and made him shake his head. "If you want, we can sit down." They both headed towards some chairs just right outside the shop and sat down. Jones rubbed his head against his fingers before speaking with a somewhat sad tone. "I think i need to head home. I don't... I don't know, Drips." Jones began. "I feel sick and I don't wanna be outside with my stomach telling me to go piss off to Frank."
"...I understand. Let's get you home." Drix said as he headed home with Ozzy while rubbing his back and trying to make him calm down. Sure, it was somewhat helpful, but Jones' head wasn't filled with sickness or anything like that, but instead it was filled with regret and sadness.
He missed Drix. He missed his old life and everything he had. His job, his friends, his life. It hurt him because he should be having fun.
But, he was glad to be with him.
