Inter-mitten red and blue lights illuminated the night sky as shrill sirens split the silence. Footsteps of armored SWAT squads thundered throughout the halls of the abandoned house. The armed men combed through every room of the desolate place in search of one man, a fugitive, and menace to society, Asher Lloyd.
The men donned in thick, black leather body armor had guns firmly glued in their hands, and their ammo belts and side pouches were stocked full of additional ammunition. They proceeded with utmost caution, stealthily moving forward with the least amount of commotion. After all, their opponent was the illusive Asher Lloyd, who had a reputation for violent crimes and eluding capture for years.
Through the inter-mitten light beams of the torches the team had, they caught sight of a dark human figure slumped on the floor ahead of them. The person on the floor had ragged, dirt-stained clothes that were soaked through with blood. A shock of disheveled silver-grey hair obscured his facial features. Beside the body was a bloody dagger mere inches from the man's fingers. Above his head rivulets of blood crept down the wall from the large spatters, all tell-tale signs of a violent encounter.
"Come in Alpha, we have eyes on the target."
The leader of the sub-division reported to the squad leader through a radio headset. Asher Lloyd was sprawled across one of the corridors in the upper floors of the house in a pool of dark crimson blood. The SWAT squad approached him with caution, and the paramedic of the team moved in to check his vitals. The paramedic patted Asher down, his hands coming away soaked in blood, then he used his index and middle fingers to check for Asher's pulse. The paramedic checked Asher's neck and wrists, and leaned in to listen to his heartbeat and breathing. After a long moment, the paramedic shook his head towards his comrades.
"Sir, we have confirmed the target is Asher Lloyd." The team leader reported back to his superior. "Yes sir, but the target has been deceased."
Meanwhile, outside the building, the police and eager reporters were gathered. The police tried to suppress the reporters and their unending barrage of questions. Every news station in the country wanted a piece of the story that would make headlines; the sudden demise of one of the world's most notorious mafioso. The murder of Asher Lloyd was quite the mystery and a shock to all those who thought him untouchable. The police thought it to be an inside job, a fatal betrayal that had handed Asher right into their hands, but not before he had been silenced for good.
As expected, the death of Asher Lloyd made headlines for quite a while and the power scales in the criminal underworld of Zolfo shifted. The scavengers of the underworld made quick work of what was left over after Asher's death, their struggle for power and territory continued unabated as if nothing had ever happened. The traitors and enemies that had grown fat from sacrificing Asher continued to languish in luxury, happy that Asher had taken their secrets with him to his grave. Or so they thought.
3 days later.
Greystone City Hospital morgue, 11:11 pm
A heavy silence pervaded the morgue bereft of the living, worsened only by the ominous stench of death. In a plain room lay a steal berth raised to half the height of an average adult, and beside it was a table cluttered with surgical instruments. A motionless cadaver lay rigidly still on the berth covered by a white cloth from the waist down. The whole room seemed frozen in time, from the spotless desk monitors and desk surfaces, to the steel drawers that scaled half the height of two walls.
Asher's inanimate body lay cold on the steel berth looking deathly pale. Scar tissue and dark bruises stood in stark contrast to the pallid skin stretching tout on ample muscles. Dark shadows lay under Asher's eyes and slightly hollowed cheeks, painting his features in somber austere lines. The angry crimson streaks cut from either clavicle and intersected at his chest before running down his torso in a 'Y' shape. Haphazard stitches held the flesh together, a product of a half-assed autopsy. Besides the obvious head-shot wound from pointblank range, an investigation to identify other possible causes of death had been necessary.
Though already declared dead medically, Asher found himself wedged in a chasm between life and death; not alive, but not quite dead either. In the darkness of the abyss he saw a bright outline of a person. Asher couldn't be sure it was a person since the shape billowed around like smoke in the wind. The bright silhouette morphed shapes as it approached the apprehensive Asher. From a person to a bird, to some four-legged creature, the amorphous shapes continued to shift until it was at arm's length distance from Asher, assuming the shape of a man. A blinding glory adorned the figure, so much so that it made Asher tremble and prostrate on the ground.
The creature before Asher opened its mouth to speak. As it did so, Asher clutched his ears with a pained expression, an alien tongue had pierced his mind destroying every thought he had. The sheer power carried in the words he could not comprehend forced Asher to look within himself and remember all he had done, and a deep terror settled in the pit of his stomach. The voice he heard was not human, it was clear and crisp, commanding authority beyond what any human was capable of, the voice was nothing short of divine.
"Fear not." The large silhouette spoke once more. "Fear not for the Lord has chosen you."