"So it's done?" Girston's voice was groggy.
Early morning the next day. While he watched the reports of Waterslum's sudden destruction on the news, he wanted to confirm it in person.
The High Breed was kneeling in front of him, head low, and if it had eyes their gaze would be on the floor. "Both boys? Truly gone, along with the past of that town."
High Breed nodded slowly, only looking up after Girston touched his shoulders. "Well done, but I'm afraid we should not rule out their survival just yet." He stepped past the creature, grabbing a mug from the table, stepping into the marble floored kitchen and opening the fridge.
They were in a luxurious loft.
Marble floors, a mini bar near the back areas, and a second floor made of a polished hardwood. Carlos was in the room furthest from the steps, eyes glued to the news about Waterslum. He bit his lip, taking calm breaths and holding in his anger.
Takabi was his to kill, that was the deal they made.
The fact that the city was wiped out completely, leaving nothing but a couple ruined buildings and a massive crater at the heart of it all, didn't seem to honor that.
He trusted Girston though, and knew somehow, someone would've saved Takabi's ass. They always did after all.
That's why he hated him.
He had everyone, everything, whenever he wanted and needed it. Carlos had everything ripped away from him, his family ruined because of his parents' selfish choices. His sister was locked up for being deemed insane, and his other sister was six feet under.
Right now, Power was the only thing he could truly depend on. Strength was absolute after all. Only the strongest rule the world. Only the cold hearted had the means to do what's best for everything and everyone.
A knock came to the door, and Girston stepped inside.
Carlos eyed him a moment, before returning his gaze to the report on the flatscreen. Silence sat in the air for a moment, Girston placed his hands in his pajama pants pocket. He was waiting to be addressed, so when he never was, he coughed into his fist and spoke. "We have another lesson after breakfast. Prepare properly."
"Did he live," Carlos asked. "Takabi I mean. Did he survive that?"
"I don't see why he wouldn't, but the chances are, admittedly, very slim." Girston rubbed his throat. "Your face has healed quite well."
Carlos glared at Girston, "Don't change the subject. I want to know, did he or did he NOT survive?"
"If my theory is right, which it is most of the time, he did." He said, looking to the ceiling. "You'll have a chance to face him again, if our paths are destined to cross once more. Hurry up, now, we have plans to discuss after training." He said, leaving the room and shutting the door.
Carlos got to his feet, looking at his reflection in the full body mirror. He narrowed his eyes, noting the darkness spreading faintly up his neck. Removing his burgundy shirt, his brown eyes watched over the spreading black that centered from his left side.
Dark as night, yet no pain. In fact, the muscle and veins in that area looked somewhat enlarged. Ugly at first glance, the longer he watched it, the more he began to realize what it meant.
He drank her blood.
The night he renounced his humanity, he drank the Goddess' blood, received her DNA.
Girston also gave him his cells one night through a ritual. Consume your master's DNA through any method deemed. Blood, flesh, hair, anything.
He ate without hesitation.
He consumed blood and flesh with the hope for more power.
And while the idea of being anything like Takabi disgusted him, he couldn't deny the truth.
Fallen Angels were pure power.
Bred for battle, used as soldiers. If he was anything, being a Fallen Angel didn't seem to be too bad a choice. His brown eyes altered a bit, changing into a thin violet. He smiled, looking between his hands, exhaling gently. "I will make this mine. If you are still alive, Takabi, watch your back. I'm coming for you."