Modern Art (Part 2)



Slowly, like a distant tickle on the back of her neck, the former human Jessica turned chrome angel statue Metangela felt herself waking up to warmth. It was strange… no one was touching her, and the man who owned this mansion - and her by extension - was nowhere to be found. The warmth tickled her exquisitely feathered wings and licked at the detail hair on the top of her head.





Suddenly the room around her erupted into flames. Metangela fully woke and looked around at her surroundings. For the first time in nearly a year, the silent statue stretched her wings and her legs, the flame fueling her mind and body.





With a thunderous crack, Metangela fell from her perch and landed on the floor below her, kneeling before the front door. Her metal glistened and shone as it caught infinite reflections of fire around her, twisting and glimmering as she stood in the small crater her impact created. She tried to raise a hand to her face, before remembering that her arms were the wings behind her, flexing slowly as if testing their own strength.





Her footfalls crashed through the tile floor beneath her as she walked deeper into the house. Her steps sounded like slow drum beats through the pervasive roar of the flames as she left featureless imprints in the vague shape of a human foot in her wake. The house was beautifully ornate, her owner certainly spared no expense. Looking through the halls it was easy to see she didn’t stand out amongst the decorations: the man collected gothic art depicting men and women, as well as various mythological creatures all in ornate poses.





Passing through hallway after hallway, Metangela reached a massive gallery with some of the most beautiful art. While most of the mansion was covered in art from recent artists, the art in this room was old. Under other circumstances, the atmosphere would have almost been oppressive, like the sensation of a well curated museum; instead, flaming paintings and destroyed marble busts formed a strange hell around her.





And at the center of this inferno was the devil himself: the thief, dressed in all black and knocked unconscious by a marble statue falling atop him.





Her job was clear, she was here to find him. Given the situation, she had an opportunity to apprehend him, and certainly there was no question that she had to take this opportunity. Metangela strode forward, the hard clack fading from her footsteps. She glanced down and saw her feet squishing and spreading out.





Silently, the statue cursed internally. Beads of chrome ‘sweat’ ran down her face, betraying her concern more than words could: time was limited, and melting into a puddle of metal would not be a good outcome. She marched forward once again and reached the man, trying to lift him up. His ankle withered under the intense heat of her metal grasp, her handprint indelibly scorching into the man’s leg while he let out a scream of anguish. He resumed unconsciousness moments later, his arm trapped under the statue. There was no time to lift the immense marble figure, something Metangela doubted she could accomplish anyway.





A nearby statue of Perseus, the once great Greek hero stood watching, silently observing her struggle. Adorned with the the sands of Hermes and Athena's shield on his back, with Hade’s helm and Zeus's sword, the statue depict the moment of triumph he had over Medusa in cutting off her head. Even lifeless, the shadows and flickering light seemed to cast strange likenesses on the Gorgon’s face, and as Metangela stared at the frozen statue she got an idea.





Violently she ripped the metal sword out of the marble statues hand, crumbling stray rocks to the ground in the process. She turned back to her prisoner and his pinned arm and considered the situation. Either they would both die here, together, or she could save his life...at the cost of his arm.





A moment later, the decision was made.





Before much mess could spill forth, Metangela pressed the shimmering blade of the sword to what remained of the thief's shoulder. Steam hissed in the air and the man groaned and whimpered in his unconscious state.





A large beam of wood crashed near her and woke her from the trance of the act she committed. It was a survival situation, but that didn't make her any more comfortable with the improvised amputation. She hoisted the man onto her back against one of her wings and winced as he let out another pained gasps, his flesh searing against her metal.





It was moments later that the metal statue leapt through a window and onto the yard of the mansion. Reddish orange light danced in scintillating patterns across across her wings, tracing flame against her silhouette. Her front captured the swirling blues and purples of the night ahead of her.





She hadn't been outside in a long time. She took a moment, and looked around. The roar of the distant fire, the man slowly writhing on her back...it all fell away as the moon shone down on her face.





For a moment, Jessica the human felt a bit of her life stirring in her. The magic that sealed her form and made her a living statue faded to the recesses of her mind, and she felt at peace. Sure, things weren't going great, and she had to admit that she was more along for the ride at this point, with her statue mindset being all consuming.





But it had turned out alright, she even saved a person.





She was a hero.





Jessica didn't notice as her thoughts slowed to a crawl. The cool night air robbed her of the energy she previously had, and she fell back into her hibernation.





Metangela didn't have to wait long before the touch of human hands woke her up. The sun was starting to rise, and a young man was in front of her, dragging her - and by extension, her captive - across the yard to a truck. She laid face down in the truck and fell asleep again as this new stranger drove her into the distance.