"Aw, shit," Azra groans as his boot squelches in a pile of horse dung.

"Literally," a man cackles raucously from across the street. Azra snorts. He pulls the scarf off his neck and throws it to the ground, holding his breath as he rubs the bottom of his boot against it.

What a literally shitty way to start a bounty hunt.

The choking, smoke-filled air of 1814 London, Earth 84, reeks overwhelmingly of coal and tar, so thick Azra could chew on it. He could have asked Murr for a gas mask before making the dimension hop, but the report said the atmosphere didn't require one, and Azra only ever brought the essentials for his bounty hunts. That meant his blaster, his watch, and himself. Tougher A-grade bounties warranted better gear, but this was an E-grade bounty, so Azra was confident in his abilities.

His all-black attire consists of a leather jacket, skinny jeans, fingerless gloves, combat boots, and a holster for his blaster. Azra hasn't made any effort to disguise himself. With his dark, tawny skin, hazel eyes and messy black curls, he'd look entirely out of place even with the proper outfit. Thanks to his watch's tech, he's enveloped in a holograph that makes him appear like an average denizen of Earth 84's London, right down to race. He looks like a typical, Victorian London street rat, sporting baggy clothes and a tattered cap. The watch helps translate, too, so he can understand the dated language and slang, and they'd hear him speak like a regular citizen. However, the tech wasn't completely foolproof: it couldn't trick other Betweeners, and it didn't manifest anything physical, like the scarf Azra's using to wipe shit off his shoe.

Speaking of which, the scarf isn't his; he'd taken it off a rich-looking gent earlier in the day. Stealing it was a cinch. It hadn't helped much to block out the smells of factory fires and excrement of all sorts.

With his boot somewhat cleaned, Azra leaves the soiled scarf on the road and continues on his way. He checks his watch and destination coordinates to make sure he's going in the right direction, then heads into the slums.

Azra runs through the bounty info as he ignores suspicious glances while he walks. His target is a man named Barney Dines. Being an E-grade bounty, Barney's not particularly dangerous, but he's wanted dead all the same. Barney Dines, born and raised here in Earth 84's early 19th century London, is a heavy-set man with an ugly mug, a greasy cap of brown hair, and a history of extreme aggression. He's lost his job countless times, regularly gets into fights, and spends his free time either drinking or paying whores. The brothel Barney frequents is in a thin alleyway, nearby a decrepit pub called The Thirsty Duck.

Azra stops at a corner and glances up at the sign. Someone's scraped away at the 'u' and changed it to an 'i' so the sign reads 'The Thirsty Dick'. Azra grins, then heads down the alley to its right. It doesn't take long before he reaches a dead end, where there's only one door to his left: the brothel's. He glances at his watch — Barney's not due to arrive for a bit.

"Who're you," says a voice from behind him. Azra turns to see three men, too young to be full adults, lanky and thin with wisps of chin hair and glass-bottle shivs, the handles wrapped in scraps of fabric. The one at the front cocks his head. "Haven't seen the likes of you 'round here before."

Azra smirks. He can read them easily: he's a stranger in their corner of town, and if he has anything worth a penny on him, they'll stick a knife in his gut and rob him of all he's worth. He doesn't need to read their history to know that. Plus, he'd noticed them trailing him from several blocks away.

"You're in a bad place at a bad time," he says, and makes a shooing motion with his hands. "Best turn yourselves around. Go on. Git."

They sneer. "We'll be the judge of that," the leader says, and holds up the knife. "You got any coin?"

"None you can spend," Azra replies truthfully. There's a bang and a muffled yell from behind the brothel door — Azra's gaze slides to it, then back to the group. "Last warning: Leave."

"Let's get him," one says, and they charge. The brothel door bursts open in their path, and through it comes Barney Dines, growling loud complaints and dragging a struggling boy by the collar. The boy tries to break free, but Barney shakes him hard enough that the boy moves like a bobble head. Barney's sour expression turns from Azra to the three teens, face pinched in a scowl.

"Who're you? Scram if you know what's good for you," Barney snarls. Azra laughs as his would-be robbers turn tail and flee, obviously knowing Barney by reputation. He cuts it short when Barney glares at him.

"What're you laughing at? I'll kick your head in," Barney demands, heaving the boy in his hands towards the dead-end wall. The boy yelps as his arm hits the brick, and he collapses on the ground, trembling. Azra looks at Barney, eyes narrowing.

"You've got a price on your head, Barney," he drawls, "You got an idea why?"

Barney seems unwilling to talk, and swings at him with a meaty fist. Azra skips out of the way, then yells out a "Woah!" as Barney nearly slams him into the wall. "Fine, I'll tell ya!" Azra looks at the boy on the ground. "Hey, kid, are you Lucas Westfurth?"

"Huh? Y-yeah," the boy stammers.

Azra grins. "See, Barney, you made a girl very angry," he says, and ducks as Barney roars, throwing out another punch. It misses his head by an inch. "You treated her badly, then beat her to death. So, obviously, she wants you dead —"

Azra is just a second too late to dodge. Barney's right fist collides with his gut, and Azra wheezes as all theair leaves his lungs, crumpling against the wall behind him. Sensing motion coming towards his head, he quickly scrambles to the side, just out of the way of a kick that would have knocked him unconscious. His watch isn't quite so lucky — Barney's shoe catches the lip of it, and the force is strong enough that Azra's holograph disguise flickers, bright blue glitch marks speckling the air around him.

"Jeez, you're not much of a conversationalist," Azra coughs out with a wince as he gets to his feet. Barney seems confused by the flickering lights but moves to give another punch. Azra unholsters his blaster, its core lighting the alley in a soft blue glow. He twirls it once, the weight comfortable in his hand, then fires a shot that skims past Barney's ear and leaves a burn mark on the brick wall behind him. Barney stiffens, having obviously felt the heat from the laser blast. "Fine, let's cut the chit-chat."

"What on earth are you?" Barney whispers, his beady eyes wide as he watches Azra. To Barney, he must look like some strange, flickering being, half dirty street rat, half his true bounty-hunter self. Azra grins, broad.

"I'm an Angel," he replies. He aims his blaster at Barney. "'Do not be afraid' and all that bullshit. Oh, no trying to run." Azra shoots the ground by Barney's boot, stopping the big man in his tracks. He steps forward and rests the muzzle against Barney's forehead, going on tip-toe to whisper in the man's ear. "Do you believe in God, Barney?"

Sweat beads by Barney's hairline and he gives a stiff nod. "Of course," he blubbers, "I'm a devout believer, I give to the church —"

Azra laughs and sets his finger on the trigger. "Well, the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. You took a life, so I'm taking yours. Divine retribution, justice, revenge, call it what you like." He watches Barney's face pale, the big man a shaking mess. "Amelie Westfurth sends her regards."

He pulls the trigger. A laser blast sears through Barney's skull and the man topples to the ground, lifeless, his mouth open on a silent scream. Azra hopes Barney goes straight to Hell.

Only when Lucas makes a strangled sound and skitters into a corner does Azra remember him. He blinks, holstering his gun, and steps up to the boy.

"Hey," he says, comforting, "Hey, it's okay. The bad guy's dead now."

Lucas huddles in the corner, gaze darting between Azra and the dead body. Azra steps into the boy's line of sight, hiding the body from view, and the boy finally looks into his eyes.

"Is it true you're an angel?" Lucas asks, and besides the fear, there's a bit of hope in his innocent blue eyes, "And my sister sent you?"

"Yep, that's right," Azra says with a grin.

"So, my sister is in heaven?" Lucas asks.

Azra keeps his smile fixed in place. "Yeah, yeah, she is," he lies, then says a truth. "Amelie's doing great." He pats the boy on the head, ruffling his brown hair. "You take care of yourself, okay? Be good for your sis."

"I will," Lucas promises with a fervent nod.

Azra's grin quirks and he takes a step back. He glances at his watch — still in mostly working condition, though something's up with the holograph disguise since it's still flickering. The functions for making dimension hops still works, so Azra taps buttons until a destination shows up:

Asphodel, The Between

He punches it in and his watch whirrs, preparing to link together dimensions and pull him from one to another. When the connection's established, it beeps and glows bright blue. The space around him becomes weightless, the air charged with a hum of power as pebbles on the street slowly floating into the air around him. The digital watch face tells him to make the hop in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1...

"Take care, kid," Azra says. Giving a two-fingered salute, he steps forward and vanishes into thin air.

~*~

Hello, and welcome to Salem's crazy corner! We are here with — insert drum roll — yet another story for ONC!!! That I'm yet again writing in midterm season!!! — insert confetti emojis here —

Actually, to clear up some confusion, I'll not be participating in ONC, but rather in #NONC, an ONC alternative hosted by a tight-knit community in light of the rather predatory rules that appeared on the ONC rulebook before suddenly being replaced by its current rules. Seriously iffy.  No-fly zone. So imma toot my horn and honk for NONC instead.

But seriously, welcome, and thanks for taking a read. If you've enjoyed the chapter, leave a vote and stick around for more!