Five years ago, Asrael was met with a man that wanted revenge. He would remember that moment for a long time, a young man in ruin yet still so resilient. His dark skin glistening in sweat, his wrists bounded by a zip tie, yet his rage unrestrained.
The people surrounding Asrael at the time ranged from ages twenty to forty, three men and one older woman. In the center of the room, there was a teenager that was dropped at his feet. "What's this?" He asked lazily without losing his dominance, he sat on his couch as if it were his throne.
"Found him trying to break in." Said the one named Bertie.
"How courageous." Asrael looked down at the man mockingly.
On his back was an open wound leaking red, but he ignored it with his focus on Asrael. His gaze was laced with danger and hatred, but no one in the room seemed to be bothered.
"How do you want him dealt with?" The oldest man asked, and everyone paid attention for their leaders response, but it didn't come.
"With that wound, it won't be long before he dies of blood loss." Delorah nodded towards the teenager, urging Asrael to make a decision.
Asrael glanced at the women, then looked back at the teen. "What're you here for?"
His uneven breathing and burning eyes promised vengeance. "To kill you!" He spat.
"You can't, but would you like to try?" Asrael teased, and the teenager slowly brought himself to his feet as if not to miss an opportunity. He barely struggled to run at the cheery boy, but without the use of his hands one had to wonder what he planned to do.
"Argh!" Without even touching his nemesis, the teen was effortlessly kicked back onto the ground. He grunted painfully ans pushed himself to sit up.
Asrael was standing now, adjusting the black crown on the top of his head. "What's your name?"
The teenager looked up at him, not only angry but now distraught. The man he hates so much didn't know him, though he shouldn't have expected him to. "Do I even look familiar to you, bastard!?" He said with a raspy voice.
Asrael squinted his eyes. "No."
The teenager chuckled in self ridicule. "My name is Kane Baldwin, so you better remember it when you're in hell!"
"Can't go to hell if I'm already there." Asrael looked towards one of his men for guidance. "Lufti?"
"He's the heir of a rich family." Lufti answered.
"I don't care who he is, do you remember me ever crossing him?"
"Not particularly."
The rage in Kane's heart was further ignited when not even his name rang any bells. "You killed my parents, damnit!"
"Oh, I remember now, your parents." Asrael smiled evilly. "I take it that you don't even know why they died, do you? Poor thing. "
Kane looked menacingly at Asrael. "What are you getting at?"
"Avenging the people that never gave a damn about you? You're quite compassionate." Asrael sat back down on his couch with an amused gaze.
"They loved me!" He shouted back through gritted teeth.
"They tried to trade you for profit." Asrael expression held enjoyment.
'What is he even talking about? Why would my parents trade me for profit?' Kane was irritated. "You're lying."
"No, it's the truth. I know what it means to betray someone's trust, I couldn't let them live after hearing how they were going to sell you."
The teenager looked on. "I don't believe you. I was... I'm their son."
"You were money in their eyes, and they only loved money." Asrael didn't wait for an answer. "Delorah, start patching him up."
"Alright." The older women always had a kit on hand, and since she had no orders to bring the boy anywhere, she simply walked up to the teen and sat behind him.
"Lies..." Kane shook his head as he looked at the floor.
"Do you have any other business with me, Kane?" Asrael asked, and the teen raised his head to match his gaze.
"Not with you." He spoke while giving no reaction to his clothing being cut apart.
"May I ask then, with whom?" Asrael leaned against the back rest, then signalled for the rest of his people to leave.
"I'm not here to make small talk."
"No worries. But, if there is anything you need from me, I'd be glad to assist." He smiled.