Vicious Saints [18+]

004: Angel

|Azarov Iatova|

Let's get one thing perfectly clear; The High Table will call you for two specific reasons. The first you have broken their rules and as punishment they seemingly cut off your head, execution style. The second; they want something from you.

I haven't broken any rules, unlikely since I make a conscious effort to stay out of the spotlight and out of their radar. That only leaves the second option, they require something from me. Frankly, if it was anyone else I would have declined in a heartbeat.
However I can't. I am walking blindly into the lions den but expecting the worst from everyone. Without predicting the malicious intent of others, you might find yourself in a grave sooner than you anticipated.

It baffled me that they personally requested for my presence. Diavolo and Isadora; the top tier in the hierarchy wasn't even invited. Which leaves me with the caution that tonight will be chaos.

Lucky bastard.

I couldn't fathom the concept of my presence. I wasn't thirsty for power like the rest, infact I resented the amount of power one can hold. Once you have everything, It will come crashing down. Those house of cards will fall because power and money comes at a catastrophic price.

The event is hosted in one of the castles in Ireland, Driving through the gigantic detalled ebony gates, rounding the spiral of the grim reaper statue that signifled a warning to all guests. Frankly, I found the detall with his scythe intriguing pulling up to the vast staircase leading to the entrance. One of the guards opened the door, Akiro and I went out of the leather seats and into the crunch of stones paving the ground.

People dressed extravagantly entered ahead and from behind us, all in tune with their own conversations rather than interact with strangers. Classic musle spewed as we ascended the stairs, the famillar burn gracing my calves with each step as I fit my hands into my midnight slacks.

Everything came into perspective once those doors opened, adorned with bright lights that practically highlighted every individual in the hall. It resembled a museum with the addition of a crystal chandelier taking up space above. Paintings aligned the walls; dark and thought-provoking. Only a selective few who took the time to dig beneath the surface would truly appreciate art, especially those hung on the prestine white walls.

The clinks of champagne glasses and heels moulded with the music, chatter amongst the crowd continued. Each face filled with angst, hatred and jealousy as their eyes danced on the new people emerging through the entrance. One by one, they were sucked into a vortex of scrutiny. We weren't the exception. Once they caught sight of us, more conversations and eyes were stricken. There is a selective few who are around my age but Its quite obvious that the mature generation are favourable. They probably knew the in's and out's of the underworld, faces and names racking their brain of the elite.

However I wasn't in that category, I am satisfied being in the shadows.

The High table pulling this stunt, allowing myself to be under harsh observation isn't my forte, I lack the decency or patience for people's bullshit and now I didn't have a choice but to endure comments of being called loser, outcast, etc.

"Karera wa watashitachi o ikita mama tabete iru." Akiro chuckled.

(They are eating us alive)

I was studying the attention we instantly received once our shoes touched the marble floors.

"Vultures at their finest." I added.

Years being with Akiro, I eventually understood his language, Japanese. He taught me on so many occasions. He is more friendlier than me if I had to compare us. But, of course others shouldn't take Akiro's kindness for granted. Although, many should be happy if they receive the opportunity to converse with him rather than myself. I am not nice, nor do I wish to bend those aspects of myself for anyone, infringing on other people's territory.