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DEATH

I couldn't shut it down. 

The last cigarette materialized between my gloved fingers and I lit it. The trembling in my hands finally lessened as I inhaled hard. I tossed the empty cigarette pack off the D & S Towers and watched it with my enhanced vision as it twirled through the night, thumping a pedestrian below on the head.

She's probably sucking faces with him right now. That brat...

"You summoned me, m–m-my lord?" a voice quaked.

I looked over my shoulder from the corner ledge of the roof I was perched on. A little man with red cheeks, glasses, and a clipboard clutched to his chest stood on the roof with his eyes locked on the ground in front of him.

"Glenn," I said in a detached voice and remained where I was. There was an odd comfort in being on the ledge. "What's it called when you want to possess something wholly, but there are limitations in the way? Limitations that are both internal and external?"

"I believe that's just life, my lord?"

"How repulsive." My lips slowly peeled back from my fangs in a sneer. I cracked my head sharply to the side and calmed the beast that was rumbling deep in my chest. "Are you surprised that I summoned you?" I asked, watching the little pathetic demon at the corner of my narrowed eye.

A frown knit Glenn's eyebrows together, eyes skeptical and darting. "Why y-y-yes sir, I was q-quite surprised when you summoned me away from my...execution."

"I know I have a tempter and we've had our differences. You screwed me over and potentially aided the release of the original Grim Reaper and the kidnapping of Scytherella. Plus, you're extremely awkward and dampen my style." I glanced at him. "What have I done to you, exactly? I often have difficulty remembering my own offenses. There can't be too many...?"

Glenn reddened. "Well besides the usual tormenting, n-n-name-calling, and the embarrassing tasks you've make me do for the past four-hundred years, you've also tossed me into a tank of piranhas for your own enjoyment and renamed me."

"Your name isn't Glenn?"

"No, my lord. It's not, but I've l-l-let you call me it four four-hundred years because you s-s-said, and I quote, 'I enjoy giving my slaves dorky n-n-names to make them feel lesser and unimportant. Don't ever correct me or I'll put your head against a cheese grater and m-m-make you the parmesan on my pasta.' Two weeks ago you also ripped my tongue out. And thrice you've made me s-s-soil myself."

"Wow, you remembered all that? I believe your calling is journalism, Glenn." I held back a beaming smirk and paid my cigarette some attention. "Well anyway, I'm willing to look past all of this if you something for me."

Glenn gave me a flat look, but the demon in him seemed intrigued by the obscurity. "What is it, my lord?" he sighed.

"I have something to say first," I began reluctantly. "Glenn, you do mean something to me. And as awfully insignificant as that something may be, this is still worth sharing. Jerry was the worst punching bag I've ever had. And damnit, I cracked and slit his sweaty nerd throat, so I have no other options here." I motioned to another shadowy part of the roof and Glenn turned his head to follow. "He's somewhere over there, by the way."

Glenn's eyes widened. "Is that...him slowly choking on his own b-b-blood, my lord?"

"It relaxes me," I said dismissively. "Anyway, I couldn't fücking take him anymore. And you're, well...you're...." I stared at Glenn a long time, gazing at the bubbles of sweat on his forehead and trying not to cringe. "Somewhat more tolerable than he was...in comparison." I struggled to say the rest. "When you worked for me, a small fraction of the things that you fucked up on were perhaps partially my fault. I understand now that I can be unapproachable and difficult to talk to. Those are some of my best qualities, if you ask me, but I digress..."

Glenn smiled. "That's..." He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "That's the n-nicest thing you've ever said to me, my lord."

"Don't make this fücking weird, Glenn. I could still enjoy watching you die."

He bowed his head. "I apologize, my lord."

"I want you to work for me again," I continued. "Do my bidding. Ding dong ditch my enemies." I looked down at my gloves and flexed my fingers. There was a rage in my gut that left my talons aching to be freed. "Either you work for me, or you get executed. Your choice."

Glenn looked off to the side.

My lip curled. "That was supposed to be hypothetical! Are you really contemplating an execution over working for me?" I barked out.

Glenn jumped a little from my volume. "Of c-c-course not, my lord! I was only spacing out!" He moved his clipboard to each armpit, wiping his sweaty hands on his slacks. "But..."

"But?" I hissed.

He puffed out his chest a little and straightened as if he were finding the courage to tell me off. "But, you are simply horrifying to w-work for–"

I glared at him.

"And I mean that in the m-most complimentary way possible," Glenn fixed quickly, bowing his head again. "Never mind, my lord. I am delighted to w-w-work for you again! What is it you request of me?"

"Give me a moment." I turned my back to him, swinging my legs over the edge of the building. I checked over my shoulder to see if Glenn was watching, which he was. I motioned for him to turn around. To my left in the shadows was an ugly paper bag. I reached into the bag and popped the lid of the box inside. I quickly pulled out a card from inside and stuffed it into my leather jacket. I stared down at the parcel that remained in the bag and felt an odd twinge in my stomach.

Scowling, I turned back around and hopped off the ledge, carefully handing the little man the paper bag. He stared down at it in utter confusion.

"Is this for me?"

"Yes, it's for you, you twit." I pushed the parcel closer to his chest and awkwardly patted his shoulder. "Happy....Welcome Back...Night."

Glenn frowned. "My lord, was this originally for the girl?"

I grinded my teeth. "No."

He slowly unwrapped the paper bag and peeked inside. "My lord, it's..."

"It wasn't for the fücking girl!" I exploded, suddenly unable to control my anger. "It's for you, so just fücking take it! Give it to someone else, or throw it out if you want! Just...just get it away from me!"

This time, instead of shuddering under my glare, Glenn looked me in the eyes and just nodded, as if understanding something. "Good night, my lord."

He vanished. I paced the roof and reflected on my ridiculous outburst. The more I thought about the gift, the more I thought about her. And the more I thought about her, the more I thought about him. Touching her. Kissing her.

Control yourself.

Kill, the Beast replied

Focus on Ahrimad. Focus on finding him. Focus on getting your scythe back. All will be well again.

Claim her. 

I stopped pacing and gripped the sides of my skull. I removed them just as my talons uncontrollably unleashed from my gloves. Everything tunneled and my vision pulsed with my thrashing undead heart. I couldn't shut it down, so I moved. I materialized somewhere else, where my growls echoed and the walls were familiar. My training room. 

I started to shift. My muscles began to expand and my ligaments and bones adjusted accordingly. The entire process was agonizing every time, but I was numb to it and my screams were more instinctive as my vocals shifted to something more animalistic.  I shrugged out of my now snug leather jacket. Gone went the rest of my clothes. My knees hit the mats with a heavy thump, and then my hands as my talons dug into the matts. I rocked into the transition, blackness overtaking the tan shade of my skin. The beast flared its nostrils and released its fangs. It was only then that I let out a private, thunderous howl that shook the sharp metal hanging on the walls.

I lost everything once and it didn't occur gradually. It was a series of tribulations and deaths so suddenly they felt like vanishing acts, leaving me questioning both my existence and the creator who had put me in my path. Why me? I'd been torn limb from limb with everything still intact. I'd fallen to my knees, defeated by a power far out of my control, that left me with only the flicker of fading memories and the waning ghosts of people I should have held on to tighter. To be so shattered with grief that you forget how to stand. To breathe. To live.

That was when I was alone against the world and the world was not merciful. I was its pawn and it continued to beat me while I was down. I let it. I lost myself to the madness of it all and became what I hated the most. Once, I was just a man unprepared with the cards I was dealt with. I let my fate grind me under its heel. Now I was a monster who held the deck. I could screw the world over and never look back. I felt nothing. How could I?

And yet...

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