Rebecca was an ordinary schoolgirl from London, until she discovered an ancient relic long forgotten. Little did she know when she picked it up that she would become a soldier in the war between Heaven and Hell. This is a teenage superhero story with strong fantasy elements, written in a serial format, with each chapter standing as an episode.
Chapter I: The Headless Cross
Sickening red glimmer in the night sky. So bright one could not see the stars anymore. Though, if one looked closely, they could still perceive the looming shadow of the Zeppelins hovering above like silent, murderous flying whales. Below these, one could also perceive a strange ballet of metallic birds, circling around and chasing each others, illuminating the dark skies with the blaze of their machine guns, engaged in a creeping death contest. And below, far below, the buildings were burning, giving the horizon its red stain, and the deserted, smoke-drenched streets were echoing with the wailing of the sirens and the thunderous roar of yet another bomb exploding, yet another building collapsing. On this night of December 1940, London had become a gateway to Hell, and the Heavens far above, did not seem to care.
A high tower collapsed in a plume of fire, and suddenly, a Spitfire ripped through the blaze at full speed, its engine roaring like a wild tiger. The pilot knew his enemy was still there, chasing after him. It only took him one glance to notice the Messerschmidt. The British pilot lowered his plane, getting dangerously close to the burning rooftops, and yet the German kept following him, firing at him, missing him within a hair's breadth. The British was good, supernaturally good, but his foe was just as good, if not better. That was not a war they were fighting, that was a duel. The British took a nosedive into a large avenue and kept going straight on, completely blinded by the thick black smoke that had claimed the streets. Though he could not see, he knew he was so close to the ground that someone who reached out could touch his aircraft. At this altitude, a single mistake meant certain death, but he saw no other way of losing his opponent.
Once he thought he had gone far enough, he pulled up, gripping on the control stick with all his strength, and he felt a mighty pull as his aircraft went up almost completely vertically, rising from the smoke into the reddish sky, and even higher into the clear night. Then suddenly, there came a great shock, and the pilot saw with horror his propeller burst in flames, and he understood the German had managed to track him down through the smoke and had been waiting for an opening. The Spitfire began to tilt on its side, and rapidly lose altitude. Having no other choice, the pilot pushed the eject button, and was violently thrown high into the cold December sky. Spreading his arms and legs to slow down his fall, he witnessed his vehicle go down in the burning streets, and gritted his teeth at the irresistible pressure of the frozen winds. Then he cast a look to his left and saw the Messerschmidt was coming back at him, and this time he was defenseless. Unless...