The young boy sat steadily, holding the weapon between his fingers. There was just the slight shake of flight in his git, but it was only noticeable if you were looking for it. He had practiced for a long time, with his father's push. Be better, be stronger, be powerful. There was no such thing as a Lucas without power, not anymore. Now, he had to prove it to all who doubted it. Their shoes had been meant for him, but it hadn't been easy. The things expected of him, he had been far from a prodigy, but he worked for it, and now it fluttering through his blood as it boiled. This moment would decide it all, his entire future. He had been prepared, too prepared that they would have never let him leave even if he pleaded. He knew that this was his future, that wasn't his conflict, it was whether he wanted it to be his future.
"Boy" the voice to his side was expected, it didn't startle him. All he had to do was follow the marks, and test the wind by the blow across the cold end of his finger, but he could feel the eyes on him, not leaving the back of his head for a single moment. He had to hold firm, adjust just the slightest for every twitch, the view of a bird came across his scope. It looked like some sort of raven, coloured like it had been dumped in oil, but it flew high into the sun.
"Billy, we can't be here all day" another voice chimed to his left, annoyance within its tone.
"Quiet Tony" his father's retort was quick and hard, to which Max himself had become accustomed. The older he got, it seemed the harder his father's voice got, like his emotion had been leaking out over the years, drip by drip, leaving nothing but the barren body behind.
"You shut your mouth Billy-!" the voice seethed back "Your kid is supposed to be an expert sniper! and here we are, waiting for over twenty minutes without a single shot! he hasn't even chosen a fucking target!" The voice blistered like a disgusting sludge, dirtying the young boy's ears.
"Initiation doesn't have a time limit" a third voice spoke, that of Jake Castor, his Father's oldest friend and greatest confidant. Jake's son, Ace, had passed initiation the year previously, a good friend of Max but another fallen angel born without emotion. Max's grip hardened on the rifle, just tight enough without pulling the trigger.
"Ignore the voices Boy" his father's harsh voice came from his right. He was nothing but a hole, fingers gripping his elbows as he stood by the wall, arms crossed against his chest, and a cigarette between his pale lips. "Don't let your focus slip, you'll be nothing but a disappointment!" The young boy's fingers loosened on the weapon
"You wanna get rid of the white, don't you?! Become a son I can be proud of?!" his father, Max always imagined him as the snake in Eden, whispering pointless junk in his ear. But, every piece of junk was a chunk of his soul gone, and now would be the time to show just how little left stood, existed in the vast of a black chasm of nothingness. It wasn't a matter of whether he would bite the apple, but simply when. Now, he held it between tight, flexed fingers, staring at its perfection with a hunger for tart sweetness.
He wasn't putting off the shot because he was nervous, nor was he panicked, he was simply waiting. He wanted it to matter, despite how ridiculous that sounded. He wanted his first to matter the most, above all the ones he would commit later. Which meant that whoever it was that got his bullet, it had to be for good. One good thing didn't equal all the bad he was bound to commit in the future, but it would be something, right? Somehow the universe would right itself so he could sleep at night, it just had to.
That was when he spotted, through the small scope. She was a mother, he suspected her early thirties. She was pretty in the traditional sense, with pink lips and pale eyes of blue, like the sky. Her hair was curled, but messy, presenting a person that cared about their appearance, but not so much that it was vain. A simple life is what she lived, at least that's what he expected. She appeared to be in deep discussion with a friend, letting out a hearty laugh with bright white teeth. But, Max found himself more focused on her daughter, a young girl that shared the same color of hair, a pale blonde that tanned in the sun.
The girl wore a small pink dress with polka dots, walking next to her friend with their arms linked together, they must have been no older than six. The two small girls trailed behind their friendly mothers, walking just a few steps behind on the sidewalk. It was across the road from where he sat, his scope pointed out the window of an apartment long abandoned, the building falling into disrepair with peeling wallpaper and dirt-covered linoleum floors. People like that, those that hadn't known the harshness of reality, as much as he hated them, he felt drawn to them. It was like a craving to stare at the sun until your eyes burned and you were left blinded, alone in the dark. He would never kill an innocent, the child, nor the child's mother, it would be too much. No, he knew his target.
The man sat with his car door ajar on the edge of the curb, hair unkempt and eyes wide, a sense of wildness this man had. It appeared that rather than fighting the darkness inside, he had encountered it with open arms. In that way, they were similar. But, that's where the comparisons ended.
How many have you taken? He wanted to ask, even though he knew he'd never get the opportunity to do so.
As much as being in the shadows was lonely, it could also be fun. This man, he had no idea that he had a weapon pointed right at him past the broken glass of that empty room's window. The man had no idea his life was about to end, that thought was a rush in itself, it made the young boy twitch, just slightly.
It was clear what the man wanted, it was the girl, the little girl walking down the street with her arm with that of her friend, her mother only a few steps ahead. The man wanted the girl, his eyes were wide as he watched her walk down the street, with no clue he was even there. He thought himself the predator, and the young girl as his prey. But, little did he know that he wasn't the predator at all, but just as lowly as he thought that pure little girl was. He would be today's dinner, as the gazelle he was.
He aimed, doing the calculations in his head, the mathematical factoring necessary for a clean hit. The man started to move, walking down the street in quick, controlled steps obviously meant to make no noise. He would snatch the girl in broad daylight, and take her with him into the darkness to act out his perversions. She would be the perfect slave, begging for her mother with a voice of crumpling silk.
I've been thinking about you
Angels were devils in their own way, for the few souls they guided towards the light, there were millions that they left to suffer for slaughter. He wasn't supposed to play god, but he would, because no one else seemed to be doing it, and it was just one of those things that had to be done.
He didn't even hear the shot when it went off, probably because he was floating a few thousand miles above. But, he could hear the screams from below, the scrapes as they fell to the ground, in a state of panic for another bullet that wouldn't come. He had no need to shoot another, but they didn't know that. Only one body held touched, the man had taken the bullet right through the chest, his eyes wide, in shock at what had just transpired. He stood one moment only, letting out a horrid, garbled cough that had blood splattering from his mouth. The man, he couldn't breathe as his lungs filled with blood, his heart screamed and failed. He fell to his knees like a follower about to pray to a god, reaching his hand up to his white shirt, which started to morph, the red of blood and the crispest, freshest apple. He fell to the ground in a heap, leaving his disgusting blood all over the street, tainting it with his presence. It irritated Max, how the man could be so wasteful in public, simply letting his filth seep into the ground, how rude.
But, it was only moments later he turned away. He didn't care about the man, but the sight of the girl. Her friend had fallen to the ground per her mother's orders, but she, the innocent, was standing still. Her pink dress of pink polka dots was now ruined by high-impact red splatter, and the young girl only stared at the man as his blood ran away, leaving a husk of flesh behind for other people to clean up. He wanted to know what she was thinking, a young one watching a man die in front of her, entirely voiceless. But, worrying about that wasn't his responsibility.
"Good job Son" he turned back, meeting the dark grey of his father, like the clouds in the midst of a thunderstorm "Now, you'll finally be useful to me"
YOU ARE READING
His Angel
Romance"You have a name, don't you?" his voice was deep and irritable, but rather calm. Her eyes lifted just slightly, now staring at the edges of dark hair that hung an inch or two from his shoulders. Her lack of answer seemed to annoy him further, she co...
