Jacob shifted uncomfortably under the long, brown coat, and with good reason. It was in the
middle of August on a 25-degree Celsius sunny day and he was wearing a long trenchcoat and
a black, rimmed hat. It was better than the alternative, he thought, though he would have gotten faster service.

He imagined flying into the bank, his white feathery wings unencumbered, his constant aura of
light glowing strongly. Bare-chested people would scatter and whisper as he strode to the teller.

"I'd like to take out some money, " he would say in a deep commanding tone.

"Oh, no, Mr. Angel Sir, we'd like to give you all our money," the teller would sincerely reply.

Someone coughed, and another moved and Jacob caught the distinctive aroma of personal
body odor. He shifted under his coat again, realizing just how sweaty he was. He forced his
arms closer to his side, hoping his deodorant was still working.

To make matters worse he was waiting in a line that did not seem to be moving. He rolled his
eyes ever-so slightly. Why couldn't the Franciscan brothers, where he was staying, just join the
21st century and buy a computer? He doubted St. Francis would be that upset, and then Jacob would be able to do his banking online instead of having to do it in person. Admittedly, he didn't have to do it in the Royal Bank's main branch in downtown Toronto, but he had lost track of time while he was flying. It was getting late, and this was the closest Royal Bank in the area.

The thought of flying brought out a contented sigh from Jacob. Nothing in the world could
compare to flying. He had dreamed of taking to the sky when he was younger, but even dreams paled compared to the real thing. The feeling of unlimited freedom the sky gave was incredible and intoxicating. The pureness of movement, when thought and action became one, was a feeling he had never had when bound to the earth; but in the sky, it was how he lived. It was also how he played: chasing squeaky, angry pigeons from rooftop to rooftop, racing sparrows as they zipped across their element, even shadowing hawks, marveling at their speed and grace.

Up there Jacob could almost forget the trials and sacrifices he had faced since his sudden
transformation into a giant angel-like creature. He still had much to learn about flying. After all, it had only been five months since his change, and learning how to fully control the muscles in his wings -- muscles he had never had before -- would take time. But he was more than willing to take the time in the air to learn.

The line moved forward and Jacob turned his head to see how many others had joined it behind him. He shifted his coat once more, attempting to relieve the irritation it caused his wings. The eyes of the man behind widened and his mouth openly slightly in confusion. Jacob turned back to the front, making a mental note to remember to move his arms when he wanted to adjust his coat. He might have looked vaguely like a seven-foot tall hunchback with the coat, but most hunches in the back didn't move. With nothing much else to do, Jacob glanced around at the bank building for the umpteenth time.

As far as bank building interiors went, it was quite stunning. The roof was vaulted ending about
three or four floors up. Ornate Victorian chandlers hung down like reversed glass mushrooms.
The walls were painted in subtle shades of blue and the columns in the wall and out on the floor
were decorated in gold leaf, or something resembling it. Up above to the right and in front of
him was a mezzanine level balcony. He suspected that it probably contained the manager's
offices and other more important services.

Jacob turned towards the information desk and realized he was finally being waved forward.
"Um -- hi.  I was wondering if I could see a financial adviser?"

"Do you have an appointment?" the teller asked, slowing her speech as she looked up.

Jacob sheepishly shook his head.

The teller openly stared at Jacob a few moments before continuing. "Aahh, wait a second and I'll check and see how busy they are."

The teller moved away and walked towards a man behind a desk at the bottom of a set of stairs leading to the mezzanine level. Jacob sighed, glancing around at the other last minute bank clients. He assumed from their dress that most of them were business people. He turned back towards the teller.

And at that very moment, four men picked that time to launch their bank robbery attempt.

"Alright, everybody down on the ground!" a masked man shouted, brandishing a gun. "Face to the ground, hands behind your head!" Three other masked men joined him as one of them ran to a teller, another racing up the stairs.

What was it about bank robberies and metahumans that always seemed to bring the two
together? Even before his transformation, he had thought there seemed to be an abnormal
number of extra-powered-type beings foiling robbery attempts. Maybe it was just the way it
was played up in the media, maybe it was just some kind of strange cosmic coincidence, or
maybe the answer was so complicated yet so simple that if one thought about it too long their
head would explode.

Jacob decided not to think about it. He was no superhero and no one appeared to be in
eminent danger; he would just do what he was told, get as good a look at the robbers as he
could, and tell the police what he saw when they came for statements.

"Man, take a look at this freak! Yo guys, getta load of this," another man's voice said directly overtop of Jacob, kicking Jacob lightly to remove all doubt who he was talking about. "Hey you," the man added, kicking Jacob a little harder this time. "Stand up, slowly."

Jacob rolled his eyes, his face still pointed to the ground. Yeah, pick on the really big
freaky-looking guy, who's probably twice the size as you -- that makes sense, Jacob thought to himself, shaking his head as he started getting off the ground.

He hadn't wanted any of this. All he wanted was to talk to somebody about his student loans
and maybe about purchasing some mutual funds, that was all. And now here he was in the
middle of a bank robbery, being singled out for special attention. His mind raced ahead; they
would probably tell him to remove his trenchcoat and when they saw what he looked like, things would get much hotter and he would be facing a bad situation. The only thing that could be done was to make the first move and see how it played out from there. He got up slowly, unbuttoning his coat.

"Hands where I can see 'em!" the robber yelled as Jacob ripped out the last button and raised
his hands. Jacob turned slowly, hoping the move wasn't threatening. The man in front of him had dropped his gun to his side, his jaw dropping as well. "He's huge. And he's glowing!"

Glancing around briefly, Jacob took in the situation. There was one masked man by the tellers
getting the money, another right in front of him, and a third in the middle of the bank who
appeared to be the ringleader. Seeing how Jacob stood out, looming a head taller than anyone
in the bank, the leader started moving towards the trenchcoated angel, eyeing him carefully.

The robber directly in front of Jacob was watching him warily, poised for any movement. Any
human movement, that was. Jacob stretched his arms higher in the air, appearing to surrender
further, and also drawing the robber's eyes upwards towards his hands. But unlike most
humans, he didn't need hands to take off his coat. In one fluid movement Jacob's wings went out and up, throwing the coat above his head as his arms brought it down around the head of the robber. Shoving the now sightless man towards the leader, Jacob shot into the air, performing an aerobatic arc around the interior of the building. He glided about the large room like a giant kite, blurring this way and that, all in the hopes of confusing the robbers as to where he would land.

The muffled cries and curses below suggested he had done what he had hoped. Jacob landed
lightly near the back of the open stairs on the mezzanine level and was promptly startled by the
equally startled fourth robber. Jacob recovered quicker. Grabbing the man's gun hand, he
yanked the robber towards himself, grasping the robber's mouth to muffle any sound and lifting
him several feet in the air in the process. Jacob motioned the surprised customers and
employees to get off the ground, making the motion for silence before giving the fourth robber
into their care. Down below Jacob could hear the tension rising in the voices. He needed a way
to defuse the situation.

Jacob thought of flying into the midst of the three remaining would-be robbers, strafe them, but quickly dismissed the idea. The robbers, or someone else, might get hurt.

His mind flashed back to a night several months ago when he had gone into a dangerous situation with his angelic guns blazing, so to speak. There had been seven gang members in the building when he went in, he alone had left it still breathing. He forced the images of severed limb and heads, and broken bodies, smashed chests and unrecognizable faces from his mind. Now was not the time to pay private penance for those actions.  No, if he could keep the damage to a minimum in the here and now, that would be the best.

He looked over to the side and saw another small set of steps leading to the ground floor. He
moved towards the stairs as quietly as possible. Unfortunately, he forgot about the added room
his now free wings took up. They brushed over the top of a desk, knocking papers and a phone to the ground.

"Hey! Ross, are you alright up there?" a voice yelled.

Jacob moved to the stairs and went partway down, hoping to find an advantage from his new
position.

The situation threatened to get worse as the leader barked, "Fine. Getta hostage and we'll see
what kind of a 'hero' we're facing."

Jacob frowned.  He had never tried to stop a bank robbery before, so he had no idea how things were going; he got the feeling that things weren't going great. Jacob looked outside, through the front windows and caught a glimpse of something. Blinking his eyes and focusing again, he was able to make out details reflected on glass that no normal human would be able to.

Down the block, flashing red lights barely reflected off the glass. At this point Jacob wasn't sure if a police presence would help the situation or only hurt it. His thoughts were snapped back to the situation at hand as the robber that had gotten the money from the tellers moved forward, looking for a hostage.

Jacob's mouth went dry, he couldn't let that happen. He raised his fist towards the moving
robber, feeling the power surge around and through it. Out of sight on the stairs, he aimed his
hand towards the man's chest. No, Jacob thought, fighting himself, minimum damage,
remember.

He shifted his aim downwards as the man pointed his gun towards a middle-aged woman on the ground. Light lanced out of Jacob's hand, smashing into the man's hand and gun. The man screamed at the pain in his arm as Jacob jumped back up the stairs. Jacob could only hope that the shot had crippled the man's arm and made his gun useless. At the top of the stairs Jacob paused trying to think of a plan. He looked around at the people and noticed the awe and fear in their expressions as they took in the sight of him. Jacob had an idea.

Jacob ripped off his patchwork shirt, fluffed out his wings, and generally enhanced his angelic
appearance, as he turned to the closest person. The man trembled as he struggled to cross
himself. If they wanted an angel they'd get one.

"Excuse me good sir, but what is the code for the intercom system here?" Jacob whispered,
keeping an ear open on what was happening on the main floor.

"St-star, uh -- eight," the man stammered, eyes wide.

"Thank you," Jacob replied absently. He caught the wonder in the man's face, and wondered what his words meant to the man. "Your help and courage today will be remembered, here and in the world to come."  He lied smoothly before moving on.

Jacob carefully crept up to the railing surrounding the mezzanine level, overlooking the main
bank area. Cautiously peeking at the floor below, he hoped to find out where the robbers had
positioned themselves. The one he had hit was still kneeling on the ground, clutching his arm in
pain.

Jacob winced; perhaps he'd used a little too much force on the man. The other two men were
situated right in the middle of the bank floor. Jacob moved closer to the railing hoping to
overhear what the men were saying. The first part of his plan relied on playing to expectation
and putting on a show. If he could be seen as responding to things they were saying amongst
themselves, it would only add to the angelic illusion and make it that much more effective. Jacob strained to hear what the men were saying.

The second man was talking to the leader. "So, what are we gonna do, huh? We got some kind of freak who's shooting -- I don't know what -- out of his hands roaming around the building. The cops're gonna be coming soon, and we got two of our men down. So how are we gonna get out of this, genius? Can ya answer me that?"

A deep voice resonated behind and above the two men, where Jacob had positioned himself,
hovering in the air. "I will answer, in the hopes of saving both of you from what might occur."
Light surrounded him, infusing his body with an unearthly white glow. The eerie glow stretched
several meters in all direction. Jacob looked down on them, his face stern. "You will surrender,
dropping your weapons. You will wait for the police to arrive, at which time you will hand
yourself over to them and I will tell them you committed no sin, but the sin of greed within your
hearts."

The speech was a secondary to the effect he hoped it would have. He doubted they would be
willing to surrender that easily; the leader of the group looking far too set in his ways to ever
contemplate such an action.

During the speech Jacob had been increasing the light pouring from his body. He could feel the
energy washing through and over his body, pure and intoxicating, as he pushed the light
surrounding him out as much as it would go. He was nearly lost in the glow, eyes down on the
bank floor, turned away at the brightness. Still, he needed more. From somewhere deep he
could feel another source join his own inner reserves. Merging, joining, outside energy coursed
through his body. He used the new energy, absorbing it into himself and pushing it out again,
becoming nothing but a glow as he finished speaking. Somehow, through it all, he could see the would-be robbers below him.

Jacob watched as the one turned away from the light, shielding his eyes. He watched as the
other began to flinch, then raised his gun and shot into the light. The head man hit nothing but the wall behind.

"Didja see what that was?" the second robber yelled. "God, that was an angel! Your shooting at a friggin' angel."

From his perch back on the mezzanine level, Jacob could hear the leader's expletive response
and a dull thud, probably metal against flesh. Jacob propped himself up with a desk. He had
planned to strike the two remaining men as they were looking away from his glow, but he had
never stretched his power that far before. It had exhausted him. Yet, somehow he could feel his body adapting to the new levels to which he had pushed it. Jacob cocked his head to one side as he chastised himself, You committed no sin but the sin of greed?  If he had any desire to be a hero, he would have to think of better lines than that.

Jacob heard the voice of the head man again, this time addressing him directly. "Who are you,
angel-man? I'd like to know before I kill you."

"Who am I?" That was not a question Jacob had expected. Who was he, really? Or was the
question what was he?

He would have liked to continue the conversation if the man hadn't been holding a gun, and
basically holding dozens of people hostage. Jacob switched to plan B, picking up a phone and
dialing for the intercom. If he wanted to end this quickly, who he was didn't matter as much as
who people thought he was. Jacob thought of a line from a Television show he used to watch, and started with it, hoping the rest would follow.

"Who am I?" Jacob repeated into the telephone, his voice echoing throughout the building. The
startled leader walked slowly backwards as Jacob moved into position. "I am the right hand of
vengeance, the eyes of justice, the answer to the cries to the innocent. I move within the night
and no shadow touches me. I speak the words of my master and worlds tremble. I am a
thought of the divine given form and substance." Just keep walking, Jacob thought as he
paused, and I can really end this with a bang. The ringleader complied, moving towards
where Jacob was positioned. "But here, now, I am the brother of the fates, the servant of
destiny... And the last thing you are ever going to see."

Jacob leapt from his position and spread his wings, controlling his descent. The man turned at
the movement, his gun drawn. A sudden, intensely bright flash speared out of Jacob's hands,
barely inches away from the man's face. The man stumbled back, dropping his gun and clutching at his eyes.

"I... I-I can't see. I can't see!" the leader of the would-be-bank robbers screamed, falling to his
knees. "What's wrong with my eyes -- I can't see!"

There was still one man left who was now pointing his shaking gun in the direction of Jacob.
Jacob had begun this charade so he figured he should end, hopefully getting the last robber to
surrender peacefully. Jacob turned to stare at the man, spreading out his wings fully. He
concentrated and focused the energy from his body into a long shimmering streak that both his hands clasped onto -- it was a massive, brilliant scimitar, crackling with the glow of a sun. "His destiny is fulfilled. I would not rush into yours." Jacob tried to be as menacingly as he could.

Somewhat beyond exception, the robber placed his gun on the floor, surrendering. At a nod from Jacob, the bank security and other people moved to secure the would-be robbers. The now-blind robber grabbed Jacob and implored. "My sight. I'm sorry. Please, I wanna be able to see again. Please."

More than anything else Jacob just wanted to get out of the bank. The police would be in the
building soon with the media following close behind, probably showering attention on him that
he didn't want. And besides, as his stomach churned at the return from a flight-or-fight
response, he doubted vomiting in the middle of the bank would appear very angelic. Still, he
could feel the weight of the stares of people around him, expecting, wanting something. Looking into their eyes he found it difficult to refuse them this simple request.

Jacob turned back to the blinded man. "The choice is yours. Your sight will return to you or not.  You must choose your own path and follow it, the rest will take care of itself." He hoped what he said was vague enough to pass as wise and angelic. Excusing himself, Jacob found a rear exit.

Pausing to throw-up in a garbage bin, Jacob launched himself into the sky and away from
downtown Toronto. He absently wondered what the black cat and golden retriever would
have to say about this little excursion.

It was a little past 10 o'clock in the morning and Jacob already knew it was going to be a bad
day. As usual, he had only slept about five or six hours that night, still finding it difficult to
account for a pair of extra appendages sprouting out of his back -- even after five months.

To make matters worse, Mr. Cryptic-Dream-Guy had been in rare form last night. Every time
Jacob started to dream he would appear, doing cartwheels and whistling old television themes
or rhyming endlessly. Jacob was truly surprised at just how many things could be twisted to
rhyme with "day." Besides not being able to decipher if what the man was saying was important, Jacob's aim had been off; he'd only been able to barely clip the insanity-causing little man twice with his light blast. The upshot of all this was that he awoke with a stiff neck, a cramp in his right wing, and the theme to Gilligan's Island firmly implanted in his head.

Jacob had also woken up late and had completely missed morning mass. Granted, he wasn't a
Catholic, but he felt obliged to go seeing how he was staying in a Roman Catholic monastery.

Waking up late also meant missing breakfast. Meals were served at very specific times and he
had also managed to miss supper the night before. After the excitement of the previous day,
Jacob was famished. He made his way to the kitchen and moved around the tight spaces
awkwardly. Jacob shook his head. Sure, I'm in a house of God, but monks clearly weren't expecting any angelic visitors when they were designing this place.

The abbot appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. "We missed you at mass this morning," he said, no hint of judgement in his voice.

"Sorry about that, Father Joseph,"Jacob replied. "I was feeling a little tired."

When Jacob first arrived at the monastery's doorstep, he had told the abbot about his
transformation into his present form . Yet he didn't quite feel comfortable enough to talk to the abbot freely.

Father Joseph smiled at Jacob sympathetically before continuing. "It wouldn't have anything to
do with stopping a bank robbery would it?"

"What?"

Father Joseph moved into the kitchen, taking a seat at a table a little ways from Jacob. "Some
news people phoned me last night and this morning wondering if I might know anything about an angel in Toronto. I told them angels are all around us if we have eyes to see them. Then,
thinking they might be talking about you, I had one of the brothers pick up a newspaper." He
removed the paper from within his robes, offering it to Jacob.

Jacob took it quickly. There, splashed across the front page was the headline: "Torontonians
Have Own Guardian Angel". A smaller side article read "'I surrendered and he gave me back
my sight', robber claims."

"Oh crap." Jacob sighed, ignoring the abbot's upturned eyebrow. Things were going to be
getting a whole lot more complicated. Alright, maybe today won't be a bad day afterall -- but it's still going to be a hell of a day.
 

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