by Darby Krenshaw
Peter stared over the cubicle at the conference room. The buzz and crackle of ions radiating from it made him grimace.
“Hey, what’s with the four angry hot chicks?” Michael nodded at the glass enclosed room and sipped his coffee.
“Sh-shh!” Peter frantically waved. “They’ll hear you.”
“Back-stabbing hag!” Anila screeched. Her white blonde hair whipped around her head as she hurled a conference room chair at Terra.
Terra’s green eyes narrowed as she side stepped the flying chair. It stuck in the wall with a thwungg. “Blow all you want bitch. You’re nothing without me.”
“Please.” Una brushed tears away with a long graceful hand. “We need to stick together.”
“Shut up!” Terra and Anila shrieked.
Tandr, seeing her chance, sent a fire ball down the center of the table, sending Una crashing into the back wall and setting fire to the projection screen.
Terra dove over the flaming table, wrapping her strong brown arms around Tandr’s neck.
“What the hell?” Michael crouched behind the cubicle, his wings tucked into his back, coffee cup forgotten on the floor.
Peter sighed. “With the slow down of souls, we can no longer afford earth, wind, fire and water. We have to consolidate to two elementals. They’ve just been told.”
“They’re tearing the place apart! Aren’t you in charge of security?” Michael pointed at the pearly insignia on Peter’s lapel.
“Yes.” Peter sighed again, picking up the phone.
“Hey,” Michael tugged on Peter’s sleeve. “Did they say anything about the archangel department?”