Sequel to IRONY

4

FLASHBACK CHAPTER

He walked swiftly through the Dark streets, his dark suit billowing around him.

He didn't care for a moment where his feet would take him, as long as he got somewhere, as long as he was alone.

Angrily, he shoved a child out of his way that had been blocking his path. Another that had seen him coming jumped out of his way. The people stared at him as he went. He glared at every single one of them.

To think, he was finally able to come home and have a relaxing break at the Manor. Imagine his surprise when Damian suddenly had found him, of all people, awaiting his presence. Apparently, his parents had just happened to feel like inviting the man over for dinner.

Hawkmoth for a Christmas present. Oh joy.

He stared coldly at the group of giggling girls trailing after him. In effect, they only giggled harder (if that was even possible), making him want to pull all his hair out and curse them all to death.

"He's in one of his moods again," he heard a couple of people whisper as he passed. He would probably have killed anyone that dared cross his path at that moment. They ought know not to bother him when he was angry.

The next thing he knew he was trudging past rows of shelves. The smell of old books was almost unbearable, but it was quiet here and to his relief, The librarian wouldn't allow his blasted 'fan girls' inside due to their constant giggling. So really, he could care less about the disgusting smell.

He felt his legs slowly collapsing, felt his body slipping to the ground. Soon he was seated, one leg stretched carelessly on the floor and the other one bended. He banged his head against the shelf several times to forget the images that kept replaying in his mind, but to no avail.

He couldn't forget... Tall, thin and black-hooded, his terribly dressed face white and gaunt, his scarlet, slit-pupiled eyes staring.

He had tortured a few citizens while Damian was forced to watch, unable to look away. Damian could still hear their desperate screams in his ears, could still smell the stench of their dirty blood. The Hawkmoth hadn't killed them until they were so broken, so hurt, that they begged for it – for death – anything to relieve them of the pain.

He could still remember the way his skin had crawled as he somehow managed to stare back at those pitiless red eyes. The eyes of a monster.

.

"He wanted to make me his heir, Dupain Cheng, and he didn't want Master Fu to know. He wanted Master Fu to believe I was just a pawn."

.

"Ow!" Someone tripped and landed across his legs with a loud thud, snapping him out of his thoughts. "What the fuck!"

The books she was carrying were scattered everywhere. Her bushy brown locks were spread all over the floor. She cursed under her breath and tried to stand with her palms flat on the ground but since she was on top of his legs, Damian kneed her hard on the stomach, causing her to fall down again.

"Damian!" She groaned in pain.

"You can hardly blame me for putting you in your place, can you fool?" he answered lazily, staring at her as she clutched her stomach. "People like you belong on the floor."

Flashes of the screaming people writhing on the cellar floor appeared in his mind again. He rubbed his forehead roughly.

"Is that why you're here too, then?" he heard her say in an angry tone. She tried to get up again and this time, he didn't stop her. She sat beside him and winced, holding her right ankle gently. "Now look what you've done." She winced again.