Dearil backstory

backstory

Smoke in the air. Fire blazing from all around. Houses destroyed with the burnt remains scattering across the ground. This was Dearil’s first memory. And what a horrible memory to begin a life with. But it would only get worse from there.

Almost two decades after that incident Dearil would think of it almost everyday. He got caught in a vicious war with nothing to do but cry. His family lay only a few feet from him, the blood from their lifeless bodies coating the ground. That memory haunted him everyday. Never letting him forget what he saw. He sat on the roof of what seemed to be just another office building, legs hanging off the edge. Smoke dissipated into the sky, blending in with the gray clouds left from the day's rainfall. This was the only time of day he could feel at peace, away from everyone who was against him. Though it wouldn’t last long. It never did anyways. The sound of his default ringtone echoed through his ears, interrupting his music. He gave an irritated sigh, pulling the jack of his earbuds out and letting it hang from his ears. Not even a second after he swiped the call icon up, he was met with an angry overbearing female voice. “Where the hell are you? I have been waiting for over an hour! We have a client you know? You can’t just run off because you don’t feel like doing your damn job. If I don’t see you in five minutes I’ll make sure I’ll never have to see you again.” The women hung up before Dearil was even able to open his mouth.
He pulled himself back up from the edge, shoving his phone and earbuds into the pocket of his gray jeans. They looked to be falling apart at the seams, but clothes were expensive and Dearil wasn’t made of money.

It was only a few minutes walk back to his workplace, but it was over five minutes. Dearil pulled an ID card out of his back pocket, holding it up to the scanner before a click sound came out and the door opened. Not even a few steps into the building he was berated by a woman. She stood tall at six feet, towering over Dearil’s smaller size. Her blond hair was pulled back tightly into a bun, matching well with her navy blue blazer, black dress pants, and bright red stilettos. Her face had two large scars covering her left cheek, leaving her mouth curled down on that side. “You’re late. Do you just not know how to listen or are you intentionally pissing me off today?” She folded her arms, eyes glaring down at Dearil’s direction.
“Sorry, Mother,” He mumbled, not daring to look up at her. He kept his eyes shut tight, already expecting as a hand ran its course on the side of his face. It didn’t show up much among the rest of the bruises. “We’ll deal with your bullshit later, D. We have a client wanting to meet you. So wipe that look off your face.” She turned her back to him, walking across the first floor into a small conference room.

Dearil felt no choice but to follow behind her, closing the door behind him with reluctance.
“So this is the guy we’re supposed to hire? That’s just a kid. How could he possibly know how to murder someone?” A tall bald man stood up from the black leather chair sitting in front of a wooden desk. “I can assure you he is more than qualified to get rid of your brother, sir. He’s the best we have. If you want him gone without a trace then he can do it.” The woman walked to the large chair behind the desk, pushing Dearil to stand beside her as she sat down.
“I’m paying a lot of money for this. If anything goes wrong I will not be happy. I need him gone.” He sat back down, looking over the boy with disgust.
Dearil grabbed a file on the desk, skimming through the pages of information. “I can have him gone tonight. He works late, correct? This gives me plenty of time to kill him before anyone would even notice.” Dearil glanced up from the file, his red eyes almost enough to kill someone alone. He wasn’t very talkative, but if he didn’t speak to a client his mother would have his head. “Good. I’ll be in touch, Ms. Cargon.” The man stood up once again and swiftly left the building.
“If you fuck this up like you did the last one there will be consequences.” Ms. Cargon shooed her son away, not even giving him half a glance. "Yes ma'am." Dearil kept the file with him, turning on his heels and leaving the room.