How long has it been?
In his mind it felt like eons. The heavy burden of killing one of the two people who brought him into the world was great, despite wanting to revoke his humanity. He had only one trip left, and then his ties to the humans would be cut.
The excitement in his stomach bubbled madly, and it made him shiver.
The elevator stopped, opening its heavy silver door and allowing him to step into the hallway. Cold checkered floors stretched to his left and right. On the right was a hall and closet. To his left was an office, and as expected, the light was on. His eyes fell on the clock above the elevator, and it read 2 am.
"Two in the morning, and he can't even drag himself home. Then again, if he doesn't have a home to go back to, what's the point, right?" He asked himself, walking ahead.
By the door to the office, he could see the city stretched out in all of its nighttime glory. Red and blue flashing lights gave a strange elegance to the neighborhood in the distance.
He was proud of his work, but surprised that officers responded so quickly to the murder of three. Maybe someone heard the gunshot and called the cops a little after he left.
The window to the office was blurred in a mural design, rainbow stained glass twisting in riverlike patterns that gave the illusion of multicolor water. Peaceful to look at from the outside, but an ugly eyesore from inside the office.
He would know. He had been here before.
His fingers brushed against the doorknob, and slowly, he turned the gold, opening the door and stepping inside.
The man looked up from the desk, his eyes tired and holding bags. Brown hair was slicked back and face clean shaven. Tall, broad shoulders with a glare that would terrify anyone who hasn't seen it before. He was dressed in a grey suit with blue tie and white collared silk shirt.
He seemed shocked, more so at the fact somebody was in the office, rather than who it was standing across from him. "Carlos? What the hell are you doing here? It's late."
"Early morning, actually." He corrected his father. "How's it been going, Jose?"
Jose craned his head and stood, walking around his desk and running his hand down his tie to flatten it. He didn't speak as he leaned against the wooden structure, watching his son with such intensity it could cause sparks.
Carlos bit his lip, holding his ground and keeping the blade hidden in the back of his pants pocket. His clothes were smeared with dried blood, but neither paid it any mind.
"Show some respect. Did your mother teach you it was okay to call me something other than Dad?" His voice was low, deep. It held a small earthquake behind it, despite being calm.
He was angry. Very, very angry.
"I don't care enough to call you that." Carlos kept his gaze hard and voice calm. "You were never much of a father in the past couple years anyway. I just wanted to get some things off my chest. That's the only reason I'm here."
"What? You're angry at me? ME? For taking care of our family? For making sure you and your sisters had a roof over your heads?!" He was screaming now. "You and your mother, both the same! Angry that I chose not to burden myself and let Carrie's death drag me down!"
"Don't you DARE speak her name," He yelled back, drawing the bloody dagger from his back pocket. "Her! Me! Anna! You abandoned all of us! WE needed you! YOU should've gone on that trip with us! Been there with Carrie so she wouldn't have at least died alone!"
Jose reached for his tie, loosening it. "Watch your fucking mouth. The fuck is wrong with you, Carlos! Pulling a god damn knife on your own father! How did you even get access to the elevator?" He reached over to the phone, picking it up and dialing the front desk. The tone was dead.
Slowly, he looked back at his son, the sight of the blood now dawning on him. He dropped the phone, standing straight up, and eyeing his son down.
Carlos was much smaller than him. He could rush out, or even disarm the kid.
"You've done something unforgivable. I don't know why, but maybe I can help you. It's not too late to put it down, and walk away like this night never happened ya know." He raised his palms, attempting to ease Carlos.
It only made him angrier.
"Jose, back the hell up. I'm done." He said, and watching the confused look on his father's face, he laughed. "I'm done with you. With school and friends. Worrying about things that will never matter in the grand scheme of life. I'm done with the human bullshit."
"Now I know you're mad." He replied. "You think you're like Takabi? That boy was a gift from the Gods to help humans, like us." He spoke softly, leaning back against the desk. "That boy saved this city, and didn't ask for a single thing in return."
"Because he has all he wants. He has a girlfriend like him. He has people, people that stand higher than humans ever would, but he's squandering that power. He's wasting it, doing nothing with any of it." He shook his head. "Not me. I'm on my own way to get that kind of power. I'll be better than him, and I'll change things."
Jose's eyes flashed with disappointment. "You can't change who you are because you're jealous of your friend."
"I'M NOT JEALOUS OF TAKABI!" He barked so loud the room shook a bit. "And he's not my friend. Not anymore. I hate him, from the bottom of my soul." He took a step forward, "It took me too long to see that, Jose. When I'm done with you, you can watch me prove you wrong from hell."
"Boy, back up!" He yelled. "Think about your mother! What if she found out you killed your own father! And for such a far fetched reason like this no less!"
"What makes you think I give a shit?" Carlos asked.
His words were so genuine. The coldness of his tone and in his eyes. The strong glare of pure hate brimming from his very presence.
This was not his son. This was some boy with his son's face. Carlos was never capable of something like this. At least, he didn't think he was.
"Besides, Mom can't think much anyway. Paid her a quick visit before I got here." He ran up to Jose, relishing in his father's shocked face.
Jose tried to punch his son, knock some sense into him, but Carlos dodged effortlessly, driving the blade deep into his father's left lung. "I met someone. He can teach me all I need to know."
Jose roared in anger, elbowing Carlos in the jaw and knocking him on his back. He pounced, trying to pin the boy down. Carlos raised his knees, stopping his father short and reaching up, ripping the blade from his lung. Air quickly escaped from his chest, and Jose stumbled against his desk, holding his wound as the blood oozed out from between his fingers. Carlos stood, smiling at his father, before spinning around and kicking him.
The kick had so much force it shattered Jose's ribs, forcing him and his desk out the window of his office, and he plummeted. Down further and further what must've been hundreds of floors, before his body splat in a heavy red and grey gush on the road, and the desk landed on top, smashing to pieces. Carlos looked over the edge, smiling, before looking out into the city.
"Did you do it," A voice asked.
Carlos turned around to the voice, nodding. "Yeah. I'm all done."
"What about your sister? You really want to leave her?"
"She did nothing wrong. She has the right to a normal life." He tossed the blade, handle first, to the voice.
A hand reached from the hall and caught it, stepping around the doorway and watching Carlos with his violet-green eyes. His hair was neatly brushed, a single curl hanging in front of his eyebrow. Dressed in a black button down and pants, he tapped his loafers against the floor and stepped further into the office, white feathered wings rushing out from his back.
"Very well. Come. You've proven yourself to be my student." He wrapped an arm around Carlos' underarms, and they took off through the window, soaring through the air into the night.