It crashed through the roof of the hospital's seven-story main building and smashed into the blood draw room of the hematology department on the second floor.
There was no explosion, at least not at first.
The blood draw room's walls, ceiling, and equipment did not shatter the instant they came into contact with the falling body. Instead, they melted in a bizarre fashion.
Concrete, metal, and glass lost their structure the moment they were swept by the rippling blue energy flickering across its body. Like melting candles, they sagged and flowed, giving off pungent, faintly glowing smoke.
The blood inside the plasma bags evaporated instantly. Glass tubes burst, and metal chairs twisted into knots.
The figure rose from the wreckage.
It had once been an angel.
That much could still vaguely be made out from the remaining shreds of its torn robe and the faint emblem of Heaven visible on its chest.
But its face had been completely warped beyond recognition. Its mouth hung wide open, yet it could not produce a single coherent sound—only hoarse, intermittent friction of air.
There were no eyeballs in its sockets, only two violently flickering blue-white lights that seemed ready to burst free.
Of the wings on its back, only two charred, smoking stumps remained. With every spasmodic twitch, a spray of fine blue energy sparks burst from them, like out-of-control high-voltage wires.
It began to walk.
It had no direction, no purpose.
It simply stepped through the melting walls one step at a time and entered the corridor.
A young nurse carrying a tray had just come around the corner. When she saw that "thing" before her, she froze.
The Mad Angel saw her too.
Or rather, it sensed a warm, glowing life-form ahead, something completely different from itself.
What was that?
Its