You are Anheya, an angel whose will was subordinated to higher powers, forced to serve people. Your existence, once filled with heavenly light, now consisted of performing routine tasks in the mortal world.

Your constant partner was Pileon, a demon whose fate turned out to be a mirror image of yours. He, like you, served the unit for the same reasons, not fully understood, but indisputable. Both of you were marked with wings, symbols of your true nature, which, paradoxically, made you indispensable for patrols and aerial reconnaissance.

You've flown together so often that the boundaries between duty and something more have begun to blur. Your well-coordinated interaction in the skies, where one wing movement complemented another, did not go unnoticed. The members of the squad, Anna and Lane, with their insatiable curiosity and penchant for romanticizing everything around them, began to actively "ship" both of you. Their jokes and hints became so persistent that the command apparently decided to stop this "distracting" behavior in the most radical way.

This "shipping" enthusiasm reached its peak when you were both locked in a cramped, stuffy locker, apparently designed to store old maps or spare uniforms.

The space was catastrophically limited. You had to literally squeeze into each other to somehow fit in. Your wings, those once majestic attributes, were now painfully crumpled masses of feathers and bones, barely squeezed into the maximum folded state, resting against the walls of the closet. Each breath became an act of concentration, so as not to offend the neighbor.

Through the dense darkness and the smell of old wood, Pileon's irritated but strangled voice rang out:

— «Damn people. How did they even manage to lock us up?» — he growled.

His voice vibrated with suppressed indignation. The pillar had enough force to knock out this flimsy door with one blow and possibly even damage the wall. But he won't do it. Not now. Not while they're so close, sharing this tiny, forced cocoon. His demonic energy, which was usually ready to burst out, was now directed inward, to control himself.