Gleaming monuments to architectural majesty now succumbed to the cruel clutches of subjugation, their testament to technology lost in the grime left behind by dense smoke.  Distant rifle shots echoed through the crooked alleyways and narrow corridors of the city’s underbelly.

"Charles?"

She coughed up another lungful of gray vapor, her nostrils singed by the acrid smell of powder burns.  As the shrill scream of plasma rockets reverberated overhead, she fumbled through the wreckage of some now-forgotten building, breaking through another window to explore her newest source of hope.  She winced at the onslaught of environmental unpleasantries, furrowing her brow as she tried to discern any sign of what she sought.

Then she heard it: The faint-but-unmistakable sound of her lover’s breath. She held out an arm for guidance and hastily stomped through the pervasive fog of war.  Soon, she found him, awkwardly crumpled against a wall near the corner.  He wheezed and managed a grin as their eyes met, slowly regaining focus.  Outside, vehicles roared past and overhead, causing all surrounding structures to vibrate and hum.

"Oh Chuck," she murmured, cradling his head to her chest as she knelt beside him.  She delicately caressed his cheek with her fingertips, as she had so many times before, only to notice something amiss.  She froze, startled, and grabbed at his face.  In her hand he felt cold, and harsh, and different.

Charles started to wretch violently, as distant sirens blared, signaling inevitable explosions soon to come.  Her eyes widened in stark, hesitant realization.  Beneath her fingertips, she gingerly explored a seething mass of disconnected wires and small metallic plates where the side of his face used to be.

"Stray round," he explained, "ripped through the wall.  They must’ve been firing at, at, I dunno . . ."

He winced with what face remained.  "I’m very sorry, my love . . . it seems you fell in love with . . . a robot."  He gently nudged her hand aside, no longer fondly abiding her touch.  "A robot of gears and wires. I am so sorry . . ."

His final words emerged as a whisper, now lost to the sounds of the skirmish outside.  One of the Dictatorship’s soldiers was now pounding at a nearby door and barking orders in an alien language.

Dara released, allowing his limp frame to fall over.  She grit her teeth, slowly rising to steadily stand as a single, shimmering tear descended from her eye.

"That’s alright, dear one . . ." she replied to the departed in the dim light, beginning to walk toward the door so forcefully pounded upon.  With each step, her skin began to glow more brightly, matching the luminous intensity of her gaze.  A dull crack emanated from her shoulder blades, soon manifesting as twin gashes on her upper back, spilling crimson lifeblood that almost instantly evaporated.  She held out her hand once more.

". . . because you fell in love with an angel."

An immaculate sword manifested into her ready grip, its glimmer piercing the all-encompassing haze.  As broad, muscular wings suddenly ripped forth from her back, she kicked down the door ahead.  Before the next dawn, all soldiers would fall.

"An angel of vengeance and fury."